Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 02 June 23, 1320 hours

Exploring this new sex thing I’d been introduced to was exciting and more so when I learned that quite a few of my male friends had either found out about it or wanted to know about it. I’m remembering those early days and recalling how we’d make our pricks hard with our fingers or our mouth and… giggling like girls. Then being humped and, ah, that felt really nice and more so if a guy could get it between my cheeks – then one of us figured out how we could stick it in back there and, well, ouch, don’t stick it in that fast but that, too, felt wonderful and with or without giggling.

If it felt that good, it couldn’t have really been as bad as I was told. Once we all were onboard or chose not to do this (out of fear of all holy hell descending upon them), we were off and running with it; learning from and teaching each other the things we were learning on the whole. Having a favorite guy or two that you didn’t even have to ask him The Question because you knew that if you were with each other, doing it was a given – and depending on where we were and all that.

The guys you’d “just do it with” tended to ask if you wanted to and then there were the guys you may not have known – well or at all – who’d be eager to get you naked and, well, okay, I guess. I didn’t know about the other guys but if someone wasn’t one of my favorites, eh, I didn’t much mind or care if they didn’t want to do it or if they asked me… but one of my favorites? Heck yeah!

One day, I’m sitting on the wall outside of my apartment building and just… sitting there when I looked down the street and saw one my favorites coming; he saw me and waved and I waved back and I could tell by the smile on his face what we were going to be doing in a few minutes. No disappointment here and, again, asking wasn’t a requirement; he said “Let’s go!” and off we went to the closest hideout.

Clothes came off; dicks got sucked; cum was swallowed. Ah… so good… just so good. We’re resting to get ready for the next thing – screwing each other – and my favorite friend… didn’t seem like himself today but I didn’t pay much attention to that and having it make me ask him what was wrong. About, oh, five or ten minutes later, I sucked his dick until he got hard; he pulled out a baby food jar that contained some Vaseline that he swiped from home; we get greased up, he mounts me and I sigh because I “loved” the way his dick would slid into me and, man, he can do this to me all day!

He’s screwing me and covering me with his whole body and that’s what allowed to feel… something wet on my face; I kinda get my head turned to look at him and he’s crying and now I wanna know what’s wrong.

“This is the last time we can do this,” he says and on the verge of openly sobbing.

“Why?” I asked and having a feeling in my stomach that didn’t feel good.

“Because we gotta move,” he said.

I can’t recall what I was thinking to hear that but I know it made that feeling in my stomach worse. He screws me and cums in me; we switch places and as I’m screwing him, now he’s openly crying and talking about how he didn’t want to move away from me and the rest of our friends and I was getting all choked up because it seemed to me that every time I made a favorite friend like this guy, something always happened to separate us. Like, one of my favorite girls – and, I think, the “founding member” of the Hot in the Ass gang – loved doing it with me because, at first, I could shoot the baby-making stuff and she’d wanted to taste mine and to shoot it in her and, I wouldn’t “officially” say that we were in love but, looking back, it sure felt like it.

Then she died. We all had been wondering why we hadn’t seen her for a while but when her mother told us that she had died, it was because she’d gotten really sick and, well, she was in heaven now. Learning this hurt us all very hard and if nothing else, it made us cherish the friendships we still had but… things change; some of these sexually close friendships got ended due to “irreconcilable reasons;” some got broken up under parents invoking “bad influence” on someone and, yeah, they got broken when someone moved away.

This never felt good and since this was going to be our last time, it made the moment really special. This sad moment took place three weeks before I was due to head off for summer camp (again); my friend was gone a week after our last time together and, well, I had other friends to “console” me; I went to camp, kinda made myself have a good time – and being able to have sex with some of the guys in my cabin went a long way to ease the sadness I felt over losing a favorite friend and lover.

Then I get home from camp and find out that… we moved. I was pissed beyond being pissed! I hadn’t known anything about this and, worse, I’d been at camp for two weeks and my parents had more than enough time to write me and tell me about this; I’d get a letter from home and telling me what’s going on, asking how I’m doing, stuff like that but I would learn that my siblings were swore into silence about this event and… I was pissed. I let my parents know, on the way “home” that I wasn’t happy; I didn’t get to say goodbye to my friends, didn’t want to leave them – y’all know about this, right? – and even though they told me that I could always come back to the old neighborhood to see them, it… wasn’t the same and that was revealed when I first went back to where I grew up and it was good to see them again but I could tell that the bond I had with the fellas was irrevocably broken.

My father had said, “That’s just how life can be, Junior; you’ll get over it and make new friends.” He (and my mom) were right about that but handling the loss of the really close friends I grew up with – and explored sex with – was pretty devastating. One of the life lesson’s learned in junior high school was you could be some girl’s boyfriend in the morning… and she’d be someone else’s girlfriend by lunchtime. Dealing with a new form of pecking order that was a great departure from elementary school’s social atmosphere and while I didn’t have that much of a problem making new friends, it was difficult to make friends with guys who… wanted to have sex with me and who would be a favorite, you know, someone I could really relate to and having sex was a part of things.

I wouldn’t find such a guy until I met my boyfriend and in my early 20’s. By this time, I’d gotten thoroughly indoctrinated in the fact that nothing is forever. Nothing. Sure, I was having sex with guys all along because, um, why not, but I – and other guys – seemed to be looking for that one guy – or maybe two – who they could be totally open with and not having to hide our weird and dual sexual interests.

“If it wasn’t for bad luck, you wouldn’t have any luck at all.” I – and others – learned to say this… a lot. Just when you think you found someone who really resonated with you, something would come along to fuck it up and it didn’t matter if the person who resonated with you – and specifically me – was male or female. I would eventually meet the girl who’d I fall in love with, she had my baby, and we got married “down the road a little bit” and that part of things was good and right and even according to “plan,” as it were.

But being able to find that one “special” guy continued to elude me until, again, I met the guy who’d I’d fall in love with and we had a real-deal relationship. And, yeah, I was once again devastated when circumstances lined up to take him away from me but, intelligently, I understood why he had to go but emotionally? Yeah… if it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all in this. Now having permission to have sex with anyone I could convince, it wasn’t like there weren’t guys I could have sex with and it wasn’t like I didn’t have a few “repeat customers” but… that’s not the same as having that guy you could confide with and there were zero secrets between you. After losing my boyfriend, it wasn’t like I was looking for another boyfriend and, in retrospect, I was more likely to be looking for an FWB – but, at the time, I had no… notion of this concept.

I thought that because there was no real lack of dick, not having that confidant got put on the shelf. Guys I had sex with came and went and… fine. But I had grown up being told that men… didn’t get close to each other like that; the shit I was learning in school was that we were seen more like competitors to each other which actually made sense given that we were competing for female affections and, yeah, that delicious pussy. Like, in high school, there were a couple of guys who were close friends and close enough that if some sex was “what the doctor ordered,” well, okay, but we didn’t exactly bare our souls to each other and, remember, way back in the 1970s, it was still deemed to be impossible to have such deep feelings for a dude and I, too, didn’t believe it was possible.

In a way, being male and bisexual – and being deep into dick-slinging with like-minded guys – wasn’t that much of a problem (or, really, more than such things can be) but I’d become aware that there was some… emotional stuff that wasn’t being taken care of since I’d lost my last favorite friend/lover and prior to me moving to another part of the city. I needed it and… wasn’t finding it, well, until… my very gay boyfriend.

With him, good Lord, I learned some stuff about myself that I hadn’t known before and had my whole viewpoint changed about what being in love could really mean and that sexuality really didn’t mean a whole lot. I was bi; he was very gay and while he’d told me that one of the reasons why he fell in love with me was because I was bisexual, he’d given me a look into an aspect of sexuality I’d never really seen before outside of merely having sex with a gay guy and experiencing drama because he might be looking for a boyfriend and, yeah, that’s not gonna happpen because it’s not supposed to and it’s impossible and… hell, no, it wasn’t impossible and it did happen and… it was fucking amazing if not very damned weird.

I would, only then, realize that “back in the day,” I’d had feelings for those favorite friends/lovers… but it wasn’t like this. Not even close. I recalled the moment I fell in love with my wife and falling in love with my boyfriend… felt the same way. Recalling asking both of my parents how I would know when I fell in love with someone and them telling me, “Oh, you’ll know it!”

Yeah, I sure as hell did. We were friends; we were lovers and in love with each other and we could confide in each other and in a way that felt right and comfortable. We… learned some sexuality stuff with and from each other and I’d never felt so… complete. Then it was over. That reminder that nothing is forever and that, sometimes, the more you want something, you get it and… it goes away and just when it really starts to get good. It is, in fact, one of those facts of life that you kinda get used to but not really.

It would be decades before I found another guy that I felt that I was damned near in love with him and just like damned near every time this happened in the past, it was glorious and… eventually went away. Having my relationship with him vanish like smoke was something I knew was going to happen – I just didn’t know when but experience had taught me that I had to get the most out of every moment because that day was inevitably going to come and you’d think that if you know for a fact that it’s going to end, it would soften the blow when it did.

For me, it did and didn’t all that much. There’s nothing wrong with the sexual aspects of things because, um, we’re guys and known – and prone – to slinging the dick on each other. I felt that once I got my emotions “opened up” with and by my boyfriend, there was a… void to be filled and one that sex – and no matter how good it was – couldn’t begin to touch. It made me feel… incomplete. Would another boyfriend be the ticket? It could have save for the drama that had invaded the whole dynamic (and from my point of view). As a guy, I was used to women making demands – just part of the deal, a necessary evil, and occupational hazard, right? But now, men are making similar demands; I’d better have a job and making more money than minimum wage; I had to have a car and a house and… wait, am I really having this conversation with a guy?

And then the guys who wanted to make me their bitch and sex slave and this was their idea of a “relationship.” Sheesh. And, by the way, this didn’t include the gay men who were making such demands and… who wants to be in a relationship with some telling you how it’s going to be and offering up portents of evilness if cheating happens and… yeah – bad enough to be married to a woman but, as I would tell my protege one day, we put up with shit from women that we will not put up with coming from another dude..

I wasn’t – and I’m still not – looking to be in a relationship with a guy because I don’t need that level of drama and stress. I’d long since learned that sexuality and relationships are not joined at the hip and like it’s being said to be. Being told – and learning – that sex, in particular – is better when you’re in a relationship but also learning that you can be in a relationship with someone and having sex and… yawn. You pretty much wind up “phoning it in;” the thrill is gone and the fires we burned in back in the beginning may or may not be rekindled and… such is life, huh?

To me, a relationship based on sexuality… isn’t really a bad thing but I’ve never believed that it’s a necessity if all two guys wanted to do was get off at each other’s expense. It’s the environment I grew up in; we can suck/fuck/both – but the moment it even starts to feel like a relationship, the whole thing gets shut down. Having “repeat business” with a guy was fine because we’re friends and can have sex because it’s good when we get together or, yeah, friends with benefits but something handled without any emotional content other than a lot of lust and a degree of being friends… today. Later today, things could change. You… get to feeling some kind of way when the only time you saw a “regular” was when… he wasn’t getting any pussy; you could go a long time not seeing or even hearing anything about him but if he wasn’t getting any pussy, he comes a-knocking at your door and, um, yo, do you think we can do a little somethin’?

Oh, now you know and remember me, do you? No, I don’t think we can do anything… but this was still a big part of the dynamic and as I was beginning to get… a better look at. Being emotional with a guy was/is all well and good… but it wasn’t necessary. I’d get with a guy and the sex was all that and then some, but I wouldn’t even think about things going beyond this moment and even in those “rare” moments when I wouldn’t have minded things going to a next step… but if I don’t know about anyone else, I know about guys and how they can be about such things because, duh, I’m a guy.

As far as being in a “loving relationship” with a guy was concerned, for me, it became a question of… did I even want to be bothered with it? Relationships take work from beginning to end and it wasn’t like I wasn’t willing and able to put in that work when I was now in a relationship not only with my wife but two other women and, yeah, if you can handle that one, handling a relationship with a guy and doing all that work is a piece of cake… if I wanted to be bothered with it.

If you’re not willing to do the work, don’t take the job. I’m a very emotional guy and one who has worn my heart on my sleeve from the start and, yeah, who knew I could be that emotional with a guy? I sure as hell didn’t but that happened and… I’d never say never but as my venerable mother used to say, “You don’t go looking for trouble!” The last guy I’d gotten that close to… fucked it up for the both of us by making unreasonable demands on my time; started insisting that I drop whatever I’m doing because he wanted his dick sucked. Nothing is forever and, admittedly, I didn’t want to end what we had – and the bond that had been created – but, yeah, no, I don’t ask how high when you tell me to jump – had enough of that when I was in the military.

All of which tends to make me miss the good old days and waxing nostalgic. Things change and… nothing is forever. Nothing. You… take what you can get and do your best to make the best of it “while it lasts” because to not do this… is cheating and depriving yourself and regardless to sexuality but bisexuals aren’t immune to needing that special bond with a guy and, nope, it’s not gay at all.

But it is human.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 31 May 23, 1253 hours

I was reading the latest entry to a long-standing post about… the first time you sucked cock. As an avid cocksucker myself, I’ve always been interested and fascinated about how others started doing it and today’s most recent entry contained a phrase that I’ve heard a lot but tends to bring a smile to my face:

“Don’t cum in my mouth!” I learned how traumatizing a moment this can be for someone and especially when the guy promises that he won’t and… oops. There’s a lot of “shit” that plays into this being a traumatizing moment and, particularly, being lied to; making a promised that wasn’t kept; that… taste. That’s the bad side of it and I have no doubts that there are a lot of people who have experienced this particular trauma but, as you might expect, it’s not always traumatic.

Sometimes, it’s… funny and, yeah, I know about my sense of humor but bear with me. Some… bullshit. I hadn’t even ejaculated for the first time when I would overhear those old guys talking about stuff that I knew I shouldn’t be overhearing and one of the things they’d sometimes get to talking about was how bad it was to be a… scum sucker. Okay, no idea what that was but overhearing this a bit more revealed that if you were a guy and a scum sucker, you were fucked up. What confused me was overhearing things that suggested that if a girl/woman was a scum sucker, well, that was all well and good and very much preferred and… old people are crazy.

Puberty hits me like someone dropped a planet on me and now I’m shooting the “baby making stuff” that I’d heard about and would later find that it was also known as scum but prior to that, I’m now shooting the stuff, I’m telling all my friends about it – and the news was met with mixed results; some guys were happy for me and some were pissed off because I could do it and they couldn’t but I had to prove that I could. After my announcement, one guy said, “Prove it!” and off we went to do it and doing it started out with dicks being sucked. He’s sucking me, it’s feeling good and then it’s feeling really good and… the “lights go out” and I can feel my dick pumping in his mouth and he’s… not doing well with it but, yeah, I proved that I could shoot it. He was… mad because he’d swallowed some of it but, I’ll say later and when we’d do it, he didn’t complain a whole lot if I shot it in his mouth.

Girls did once the girl I first came into spread the word that I could shoot the stuff. They clearly didn’t want it in their mouth and my first warning that if I felt like I was going to do it, I’d better tell them so they could stop sucking me and…. um, let’s say that I wasn’t all that successful with this which led to those girls who weren’t happy with me not sucking my dick (but I could still fuck them). Other girls liked having it shot in their mouth and guys, well, once that first friend confirmed that I could shoot it – and talked about how it tasted – some guys wanted to taste it and some guys were, like some girls, saying, “Don’t shoot it in my mouth!”

I would eventually learn that we don’t have as much control over that as might be preferred. You get the “don’t shoot it in my mouth” thing and you learn to either tell the person sucking you that you’re gonna shoot or, a bit harder (at first), snatch your dick away from them and now, the stuff is flying all over the place and, uh-oh, sometimes on the person who got you to shoot it. I still couldn’t understand why it was bad to be a guy and a “scum sucker” but it was okay for a girl to be one and overhearing those old guys not being happy with a woman who wouldn’t let them “cum” in her mouth and, okay, what’s cum? Oh, it’s the same as scum and jizz and… adults sure use some funny words, don’t they.

I’d suck some guys who’d gotten bitch-slapped by puberty and are now ejaculating and they’d tell me that they’re not going to shoot it in my mouth but I’d tell them that if they did, it’s be okay – I wanted them to do that so it wasn’t like I was going to tell a guy not to do it; I’d gotten my first taste of it and, yeah, it tasted good and swallowing it – and as I and others would learn – leaves no evidence, well, evidence that can be seen.

Guys and gals were funny about it; I’d learn that some were funny about it because someone wanted them to suck their dick and they promised not to shoot in their mouth and… that’s what they did and, at this point, it didn’t make a difference if it was accidental or done purposely but, yeah, some guys thought it was funny to promise not to do that and do it anyway and, perhaps, not really understanding that they just scarred this person for life or, at the least, stole their joy of sucking dick. Now, one of the “after affects” of this was since girls didn’t want it (a) in their mouth and/or (b) in their pussy (even though they’d not yet had their first period, but they knew our stuff would put a baby in them), it made us guys sucking each other off… a thing.

You either liked having it in your mouth or you didn’t. Accidents, as I would learn, happened and grudgingly forgiven… or not. In today’s terms, there were many of us who were “cum sluts” and, yeah, I probably “led the league” in this category because the thing that would make me mad – and fighting mad at times – was when a guy didn’t shoot it in my mouth. Although, yeah, sometimes, I’d get a mouthful of stuff that just didn’t taste good and now a split-second decision: Swallow it anyway or spit it out and some guys were in the mode of being quite unhappy if you spit their stuff out and even unhappier to be told that their stuff tasted nasty.

For me, the message was clear: If I wanted people to suck my dick (and I most definitely did), if they tell me not to cum in their mouth, then don’t do that. Do my best to warn them and, hopefully, at the first signs that I’m gonna cum but, yeah, accidents happen and now it was all about being able to convince them that I did not do this on purpose! Still, the “word on the street” was that only faggots and sissies – gay dudes – sucked scum and loved to do it and since these were nasty and evil guys, the fear of being gay was being perpetrated among us guys and now some of the “evil” shit was being perpetrated on those who liked to suck dick… but their requests not to have it in their mouth would be ignored.

Then consider that there’s that… expectation that if you were giving a guy a blowup, getting that mouthful of spunk was part of getting one and for me and other guys, we expected to get it and woe be unto you if you didn’t deliver the goods. In my own experiences alone, I didn’t run into too many guys who said, “Don’t shoots/bust/cum in my mouth/head;” and the last time I heard it was way back when I was 25 or so and with Mr. Holy Shit Your Dick Is Long and him… being a pussy about me possibly cumming in his mouth – but he was very much looking forward to cumming in mine. He’d said, “Don’t bust a nut in my head…” while I was sucking him and… I stopped because he had, again, made it clear that he was going to bust one in my head and… we had a conversation about that and I bluntly told him that if he was gonna bust in my head, he was gonna get one busted in his and if he had a problem with it, we can stop right here and he can leave.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t learned some stuff about this from both men and women because I had but this event occurred at a time when I was getting fed up with guys wanting to do stuff to me – but didn’t want it done to them and, oh, hell, no. Now, I wasn’t an asshole and if a guy didn’t want cum in his mouth, I’d warn him in advance but if he didn’t stop, well, that’s not on me and more so if/when I told you twice. I’d learned that it is proper etiquette to warn someone who’s sucking you that you’re going to cum – and provided that they weren’t able to pick up on the clues that this is about to happen – and, again, if you warned them and they didn’t stop, not my fault and I’ll say “usually” with women, I’d do my best to get them to stop sucking me by moving away or gently using my hands on their head to remove them before I get yelled at.

Yeah, I’m a nice guy about it, both in my mindset and because I like having my dick sucked. But it was like I told a woman who was stupidly good at doing it and I came in her mouth and, shit, one moment it was fucking amazing and – boom. She’s pissed; she says I had to tell her, and I told her that I didn’t have time to tell her, and she said that I should have been in control of it and… how the fuck does that really work? Okay, yeah – you’re screwing a woman (or a guy) and they want you to go for as long as you can and more so when doing it before they want you to is… very bad.

I have gotten guys to cum in my mouth in less than a minute and we’ve both been surprised by it, him embarrassingly so and me pleasantly so. We are… compelled to hold off from cumming so the sex can be good for the other person but, yeah, sometimes… you just can’t and I’d learn that there are a lot of things that play into not being able to hold off for a long time but how being overstimulated can result in not cumming which tends to make the other person unhappy and… you can’t win for losing. A guy tells me, before I go down on him, that’s he not gonna cum in my mouth; I tell him that it’s okay and I want him to but he’s adamant that he’s not going to and I’d find out later – and after he came in my mouth in about 30 seconds or so – that he said it because… women don’t like it.

“I’m not a woman,” I said. “If I didn’t like having cum in my mouth, I wouldn’t suck dick. Do you think you can go again?” I knew and accepted two things: One is… I love to swallow cum and the other was that if I’m giving a guy a blowjob, there’s the expectation and unwritten/unspoken agreement that he’s to cum in my mouth. I’ve gotten accidental facials and they just reminded me that as much as we think we have some control over this, sometimes, we really don’t. Guys who came in under a minute but then guys who took a long time to cum (thanks, ladies) or all kinds of other crap that resulted in me not getting cum in my mouth and… lots of drama and other shit that I understood is a part of what it means to have sex.

Being in the online days and one of the things that got put out there first is do you suck and swallow? Of course, I do but there were many men who sucked but didn’t swallow because they either never swallowed or they had reason to not like it, like not acquiring the taste or, as a lot of females have had happened to them, the guy promised not to do that and… it happened anyway, and accidents were seen at being the same as a deliberate and insensitive thing to do. If you said that you sucked but didn’t swallow, for a lot of guys, that was a major deal breaker and while I’d… gotten used to being sucked but not sucked off, if a guy said that he didn’t swallow, it wasn’t that big of a deal because I made it clear that I’m going to suck him and suck him off and swallow all of it.

I know that I don’t have to swallow it; I can spit it out or, as I’ve done, stop sucking him and use my hands to get him off – and learning that some guys weren’t happy with me… because I didn’t let them cum in my mouth and… okay, there has to be something about this that I’m missing and/or not understanding. I’d be sucking some guys and not get warned but I learned to pick up on some subtle clues from his dick that would tell me that, uh-huh, he’s about cut loose and, yeah, it’s about damned time!

A guy asks, “Why do you swallow it?” and I had a hard time answering his question. The first time I had a dick in my mouth, I got cum in my mouth and while I didn’t swallow it on purpose, I swallowed it just the same and, wow, that tastes… good? Weird? After that I was, perhaps, way too keen to swallow it because getting it out of a guy… made me feel wonderful. And, yes, guys who could shoot expected to shoot in my mouth and since they would, I’d… swallow it unless it tasted nasty but, yeah, sometimes the best way to deal with the nasty-tasting stuff was to swallow it or, if I could, just hold it in my mouth and let it dribble out; I would learn that with some guys, that was okay if I let it dribble or I spit it out because… they came in my mouth and… just like I expected them to do.

Being “confused” when someone says, “Don’t cum in my mouth!” and I’d warn them and… they didn’t stop and I do the thing they didn’t want me to do but why did they change their mind? I’d ask because, yeah, I’m confused now… not that I’m complaining about it but, still. A lot of different answers up to an including them saying that they didn’t hear me warning them and… well, okay. What giving a blowjob meant had… meaning. You sucked the guy until he came (or he didn’t and now it’s about getting him off some other way) and he would prefer to cum in your mouth and it would be nice if you swallowed it and, no, I do not know why. One guy told me that by swallowing my cum, he’s taking a part of me and, indeed, when I was deep into researching cocksucking, I’d come across stuff where in some cultures, taking a man’s seed was a way to capture a man’s essence i.e., if he was a great warrior, his “power” could be transferred to the one taking his seed… although, um, that kinda didn’t make sense where women were concerned since there weren’t that many female warriors and… okay, there’s a lot about this that doesn’t make sense but the rule remained that if you gave a guy a blowjob, you took the cum in your mouth and… what you did with it after you got it was up to you.

Now, some girls wanted it in their mouth and for the same reason I did: It tastes good, and you get a great sense of accomplishment in making him cum in your mouth. Some girls did it… to keep the dick and cum out of their pussies and for obvious reasons; some girls did it to… get the guy hooked on them and then, at some point, refuse to do it again and dangle sucking him off as a carrot that, hopefully, kept him hooked on her. Us guys did it… because we are supposed and expected to and if that doesn’t make a lot of sense to you, welcome to the club.

It’s been a damned long time since I’ve had someone tell me not to cum in their mouth. I’m sure that there are guys today who’d tell another guy that and, yeah, I used to hear it a lot in the younger days because it was well and truly known that cum… tastes nasty and it’s the infamous acquired taste and, as such, a lot of folks were seriously afraid of it because of what they heard… but not because they found out if they could acquire the taste or not.

What you learn is that you do not ever cum in someone’s mouth without their prior and express permission. You are expected and required to warn the person who’s sucking you that you’re going to cum and even if it only feels like you are. If you think you have the right to do it and regardless to being told not do, then what kind of inconsiderate, fucked up motherfucking son-of-a-bitch are you?

Among guys, I learned that one of the reasons why they can be afraid of sucking dick is… getting that mouthful of spunk and, these days, there’s a lot of fear attached to it in the form of STDs which isn’t unwarranted but a lot of guys work under the assumption that if they take a man’s cum in their mouth, they will be infected with something; telling them that you can’t get something if the other person doesn’t have it to give… doesn’t quite register with them and, yeah, the CDC says there’s a 96% chance that you won’t catch something nasty in your mouth but that’s… science stuff and the kind few people want to be bothered with knowing and, yeah, again, assuming that sucking a guy off under the auspices of a relationship makes them safe.

Sigh. Girls/women would suck me and tell me that I’d better not cum in their mouth because the cum is supposed to go in their pussies and, well, yeah – okay. But it’s like I’ve told guys who’ve sucked dick and got surprised over getting that mouthful, “What did you think was gonna happen if you sucked him long enough and in the right way… and how come you didn’t know this?”

Now… the drama. A woman is pitching a bitch at me because she found out that her man was being sucked off by a guy – and it wasn’t me, by the way – and she’s flying off the rails about it and when I could get words in edgewise, I tell her that, for one, we – men – know that if a woman’s not going to do that, there’s a guy who will and, shit, it doesn’t really mean anything but it also does. She says that she doesn’t have to do that if she doesn’t want to and I say that she’s right – she doesn’t – but I also point out to her something I knew as a fact: If you don’t or won’t do it, someone else will. But wait – it gets weirder!

She does a “Yeah, but…” on me and says that if another bitch had sucked him off, she wouldn’t be all that pissed the fuck off but because it was a gay-assed punk bitch dude, well, he was as wrong as anyone can be. I made the “mistake” of asking her what the difference was because in my mind, getting sucked off really doesn’t have anything to do with who does it but, yeah, it does and… why is she yelling at me about what her man did and more so since I wasn’t the guy who’s sucking him off?

Well, that’s because I’m a guy and guilty by association and we all are a bunch of no good, cheating, gay-assed motherfuckers who doesn’t respect women and… when I got more words in I asked her, “If you aren’t going to do it, who’s supposed to?” and she said, “Nobody is and if he don’t like it, he can fucking leave!”

“But what if he doesn’t want to leave?” I had asked… because some guys really don’t want to. And she looked at me like I was crazy and kept going off about it and while I didn’t like being bitched at for something I didn’t do, it continued to confirm in my mind that there are some guys who will turn to a guy to get sucked off… because women aren’t of a mind to do it all that much and… I understood that, too.

She’s asking me why we want to put that nasty shit in a woman’s mouth and I tell her, honestly, “Because it feels good to do that and that’s because we are biologically programmed to cum in something. Preferably your pussy but your mouth works, too.” And… now she has a reason to go off on me… because I told her the truth as I knew and understood it.

In the younger days, first time guys would tell me that, yes, they want to suck my dick – but don’t shoot in their mouth, okay? Okay but if I’m about to do it, I will let you know so you can stop. I’ve warned them and sometimes they stop and sometimes… they kept right on going; maybe I have the wherewithal to warn them again but sometimes I didn’t and… yeah. That. Now I’m feeling bad about it and afraid that they’re going to be mad at me and sometimes they were and most of the time… they weren’t.

When a guy says, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be…” it’s because they got that mouthful of spunk when they didn’t want or expect it but, hmm, yeah, not that bad. I clearly remember talking to my protege about this and, man, he was seriously weird about it. He didn’t have a problem with a guy sucking his dick but he was afraid to cum in the guy’s mouth – and the dude was expecting him to. Likewise, he was “scared shitless” to suck a guy because he was afraid of getting HIV/AIDS if the dude were to cum in his mouth – and I told him that unless a condom was being used, the moment he put the guy’s dick in his mouth, he’s already exposed himself to any potential risk and he didn’t have to cum for that to happen. He said that he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t like the taste of it and I asked, “How do you know you wouldn’t?”

But, of course, it was rhetorical because I knew why: They still say it’s an acquired taste and a nasty-tasting one to acquire. He gets comfortable with cumming in a guy’s mouth but, yeah, telling guys not to cum in his mouth and I asked him, “If you expect to be able to cum in a guy’s mouth and he swallow you cum, why would you think that it’s unrealistic if you’re sucking him and he’s not supposed to do the thing that you expect him to do? Doesn’t that sound a bit hypocritical?”

Kinda funny to hear a guy say, “I don’t have to if I don’t want to!” and, true enough, he doesn’t but I told him that when it comes to giving a blowjob – and that’s the thing that’s been agreed to – sucking each other off is… an expectation; it’s the way it’s supposed to be done and it’s always been this way and unless the guy tells you not to suck him off, um, really – what do you think is supposed to happen?

He asked me why it’s an expectation and I honestly told him, “I really don’t know – I just know that it is. It comes down to this: You’re either going to suck him off – and either spit or swallow – or you aren’t but I think it’s a bit irresponsible for you to expect the other guy to suck your balls dry and you gotta ask yourself why you’re afraid of doing something you would, say, expect me to do if I’m giving you a blowjob?”

“And you need to understand that there are men out there who are of a mind that if they swallow your cum, you have to swallow theirs and if you don’t, well, your reputation as a cocksucker is going to get dinged and not in a good way because in the online world, it’s not unheard of for guys to put the word out on other guys, like, don’t make a deal with this guy because he doesn’t want cum in his mouth – but he expects you to take his cum and swallow it!”

It is deemed that if you suck a guy and he doesn’t cum in your mouth, the blowjob is a bad one and… you don’t know how to suck dick. Yeah, I can “hear” the outrage over this one, but it’ll do you no good to shoot the messenger because I’m telling you what I know and have experienced with this. A woman says, “If you expect me to suck you off, you can forget that shit!”

I tell her, “I don’t ever expect it and other women have conditioned me to not expect it, don’t ask for it, and even if it’s an accident, it’s my fault and all that.” She looked at me like I was some kind of alien – which I thought was funny but that’s me – and… she didn’t believe me and I very much understood why she didn’t… because I suck dick, too, and I know how guys are about getting their dick sucked.

“If you suck me and I can’t cum in your mouth, I’m not going to be upset about it – I’m used to it and I will tell you if you’re about to make me cum.”

“No, you wouldn’t because all you motherfuckers will lie in a heartbeat!” and… yeah, this is the kind of shit that we are capable of that ruins our chances to get sucked off.

I have, in my lifetimes, been sucked off more by men than women and… I respect their “don’t cum in my mouth” position because… I know some stuff about that. I have never told a guy not to cum in my mouth; I’ve actually had guys apologize for cumming in my mouth and have asked them, “Why are you apologizing for something that I wanted you to do?”

And I’ve been of a mind that if there’s a reason why you shouldn’t bust one in my mouth, it’s also a damned good reason not to give you a blowjob. A guys asks, “What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you because you swallowed?” That one was easy: “Sometimes, it gives me the runs.” Ah, but your friendly neighborhood science nerd knows why it does at times and, okay, I understand that, and I understand that the only… nastiness transferred isn’t an STD; his cum just upset the water balance in my stomach and intestines… and like I’ve had stuff I’ve eaten – food – that’s done that.

I’ve had guys ask me to not make them cum – and I know some stuff about that and it doesn’t have to do with fucking being on the menu – and, okay, I’ll do my best to but I’m not going to be responsible if you do cum and if you don’t warn me, that’s your fault. I’ll end this with what I think is a funny story.

I’d spent an entire day with a woman and having sex with her and, yes, she sucked me off a couple of times during the festivities. Nighttime comes and she’s going to give me a ride home but… her car won’t start because the battery’s quite dead. So I gotta Flintstone it home and, fuck, it’s gonna be a long walk but that’s fine. I’m walking along when a car slows, then stops alongside me and a guy rolls down the window and asks me if I want a ride. I quickly do a risk assessment and, okay, if he gets weird, I’m gonna do my best to fuck him up. I accepted his offer because… girlfriend wore my ass out and I’m more tired from walking.

I get in and tell him that it’s okay for him to let me off where he lives because it’s only a few blocks from where I live and then he asks me… how much I would charge him to suck my dick. I’m finding this funny – my sense of humor – and I’m throwing ridiculous numbers at him for the fun of it but deep down inside, yeah – sucking him off (and he had asked how much he’d have to pay for me to suck him off) doesn’t sound like a bad idea right about now. I’d do it for free but since he’s offered money, I tell him that it’ll cost him $20 – $10 to suck me off and $10 for me to suck him off. He readily agrees and, a few minutes later, we get to his place and go straight to his bedroom.

We get undressed and onto the bed; he goes to suck me and pulls back like my dick tried to bite him and says, “You’ve had this in pussy!” Well, um, yeah – I most certainly have and did. Now he’s going off because I smell like pussy and… it pissed me off. I’ve already got his $20 in my pocket and… the devil jumps on my shoulder and says, “Blow his brains out!” Now we’re tussling because I want his dick in my mouth; he’s yelling about not wanting anything to do with me because I fucked a woman and I said, “You paid for it so you should get your money’s worth!”

He relents and I get to sucking him and, yeah, this is what I needed and I’m going at him and like I would any other guy and he starts screaming at me to… not make him cum. Despite my dick being “pussy-flavored,” he moves to get into position to suck me and, hmm, he sure acquired the taste of pussy pretty quickly and I know he’s sucking me as a distraction to keep me from making him cum and… that doesn’t work on me all that much because, from the beginning, I had to learn how to stay focused on sucking a dick while mine was being sucked. He stops sucking me and screaming at me not to make him cum too fast and… that sounds like a great idea!

In real time, we’ve only been at this for a couple of minutes and after he begged me to not make him cum too fast, it only took me another thirty seconds or so (and, yeah, I kept count in my head) to make him cum and it made me feel so good to feel his dick pumping it in and it didn’t taste bad at all and… he was pissed and I didn’t much care that he was. Now he says that he’s not going to suck me off and that I have to give him $10 back – but he gave me a $20 bill and I only had like $3 in my pocket. I tell him this and he’s even more pissed but says that he’s going to suck my dick but “Don’t cum in my mouth!” Which had me scratching my head (in my head) but, okay… I guess. Dudes are so weird sometimes.

Honestly, I didn’t think I would because… he’s not all that good at it but, I dunno what happened but he got good at it and I tell him that I’m gonna cum – three times. He even looked up at me the second time I told him and nodded so, okay, he understood me but he kept right on sucking me and I cum. I hear him go “urp” but he’s swallowing it and when he got done… he was well and truly pissed because I came in his mouth after he told me not to.

And I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I managed to ask him, “If you didn’t want me to cum in your mouth, why didn’t you stop when I told you three times that I was gonna cum?”

He didn’t answer me; told me to get the fuck out of his house and that he never wanted to see me again because I made him cum too fast and I came in his mouth.

Have I ever told you how fucking weird and funny guys are? I saw him a couple of days later and, no shit, he saw me coming toward him, recognized me and… turned around and went back the way he came and cussing me out the whole time. Some other guy who happened to witness this asked, “What the fuck is wrong with him?” and I said, “I have no idea…” but, of course, I did know what was wrong with him.

“Don’t cum in my mouth” should always be respected. I learned that those who got traumatized by cum in the mouth has to get up a lot of nerve just to suck a dick again and I respect what that takes and, again, you never cut loose in someone’s mouth without their permission and if you do, most people aren’t going to accept you saying that you didn’t mean to and it was an accident… because men have a bad reputation for doing it on purpose. Two guys decide to suck each other and it’s their first time doing such a thing and… don’t cum in my mouth gets put out there and… it happens anyway and, well, what did you think was gonna happen if you did it for the right amount of time and in the right way?

Now, in this somewhat humorous situation, it’s all about whether the guys in question find that, hmm, that wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be or as they’d been told it is. A guy online asks, “Do you always swallow?” and it’s a good question because sometimes I don’t – but it’s not because I’m afraid to swallow it. Hints of a bad taste; it’s taking too long to get him off; he’s either said or done something to piss me off and now, if he cums, it’ll be all over my hand and definitely not in my mouth and like he expected and he expected it because… that’s the way it’s supposed to be when dudes suck cock but, yeah, guys will invoke “don’t cum in my mouth” because they haven’t acquired the taste or… they’re afraid to for some reason and, yeah, I’ve have guys tell me not to because… it’s gay.

Um, hmm, isn’t a guy sucking a guy’s prick a thing that gay men are known to do? A guy tells me not to cum in his mouth because he knows (for a fact) that if I do, he’s going to turn into a gay man. If you’re laughing, trust me – I was laughing, too. I have had guys tell me this… because they actually want me to cum in their mouth and not unlike reverse psychology… and, um, guys are weird.

The dramatic reality some women wind up knowing in that if they exercise their right not to suck a guy off – and especially in a relationship setting – there’s a chance that someone else might wind up doing it… and it just might be another guy and then… getting a guy to do it might not have anything to do with you but a lot of women find this hard to believe. “Don’t cum in my mouth” can cause… performance issues; indeed, I have sucked off quite a few guys who have told me that they can’t cum like that and… I know why they can’t… because women have conditioned us not to.

They’ve been surprised when I’ve made them cum, quickly or otherwise. Oh, yeah it’s true – if you wanna get sucked off and your cum swallowed, there are plenty of men who’d give their right arm to suck that cum right out of you. I understand and know how nice it is to… just suck a dick but also knowing that at some point, he’s gonna cum and he might be prone to cumming and not wanting to stay around for anything else and… occupational hazard. Despite preferences and other social niceties, I have been of a mind that if you suck a man’s dick and demand that he not cum in your mouth – but that winds up happening – um, really: What did you think was gonna happen or what could happen? And do you really believe that we have some kind of absolute control over it?

ln the early part of my relationship with my current lady, she’s giving me a blowjob and, whew, oh, boy, she’s doing a number on me and I’m “automatically” on hold and enjoying the orgasms she’s giving me but now I gotta cum and I tell her and move away from her and… she asked me why. I tell her that it’s bad form to cum in a woman’s mouth without her prior permission to do so and she hadn’t given me that permission and I didn’t expect her to. She… jumps dead in my case about it and, rightfully, tells me that she can suck me off any damned time she wants to or feels like it and… sucks me off. But she was miffed that I pulled away… because, as she would say later, she knew that if she’s giving a guy a blowjob – and there’s not going to be any fucking – then sucking him off is the thing that has to be done and… that’s how male cocksuckers tend to feel about it.

It’s always comes down to preference and reserving the right to change your mind. If you get told to not cum in their mouth, then, duh, don’t do it. Accidents are not likely to be understood or forgiven and definitely not forgotten. If you can’t warn them, then just move away or, if you have to, move them. I… understand some stuff about this that can be, at times, quite humorous… just as I understand some stuff that is anything but humorous when it comes to “Don’t cum in my mouth!”

 

The Daily Prompt: 30 May 23

Daily writing prompt

Do you remember life before the internet?

View all responses

I most certainly do! I first learned about it when I was in the USAF because it was, well, a government/military thing and it spurred me to get into computers. My job had access to it and I was required, at times, to do Archie, Jughead and Veronica searches. In 1990, I was able to get my first computer and couldn’t wait to crank up it’s 9600 baud modem and explore it for myself and just about at the beginning of the World Wide Web.

Life before the internet was… life. If you wanted to know something, you hunted for someone who might know or you spent time in a public library; if you were looking for products and services, you had to do some footwork – and, sometimes, literally. Almost all personal business was handled by phone and/or tapping into your supply of stamps to communicate with others, pay bills, make other inquiries.

The internet/World Wide Web changed all of that. As an up-and-coming computer scientist, it was the greatest thing since 80-hole Hollerith punch cards!

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 29 May 23, 1433 hours

“Would you go gay?”

This is a question that appeared on the forum and has become a rather spirited conversation about what one would or wouldn’t do in this regard (as well as the expected unrelated stuff) and, yeah, my “archnemesis” on the site chiming in with some rhetorical stuff about picking a side and staying on it and “once you’re gay, you’re there to stay.”

I challenged his assertions by asking him if he really believed that a person cannot change their mind about their sexuality and how they want to go about handling it. Indeed, one of the very curious things I’ve observed over the years is the notion that once you decide what -sexual you’re going to be, well, that’s it – you’re stuck with it for the rest of whatever and now it’s deemed to be unthinkable or even impossible for one to have reason to change their mind about it.

This is where misconception tends to be believed more than the truth and it also tends to obscure the obvious, i.e., I was raised to be heterosexual and… I’m not. My situation isn’t all that unique; given that I was quite young when I discovered and embraced bisexuality, I didn’t have “a long time” being indoctrinated into the heteronormative narrative but, sure, I became aware that people are either straight or they’re gay and given those locked down definitions, well, what the heck am I because I’m… both?

It wasn’t a… decision; it wasn’t like I sat down with myself and had to really think about a lot of stuff and, well, decided that going both ways was the best place for me to be. Wait… guys can have sex with each other and it can feel amazingly good, too? Heck yeah! And girls aren’t all that yucky and laced with cooties? On your marks, get set… go and run like the wind with it. I’ve not had reason to change my mind about my sexuality or, in the times I’d think that, you know, this might not be a good thing for me to do, I’ve yet to come up with a reason to not be bisexual.

But there remained this thing of picking a side and staying on it. No “going back and forth” as it were… and implying that a person couldn’t change their mind about it… and people do and… where do you think bisexuals come from? Many of them are formerly heterosexual and some are formerly homosexual… because moving more toward the middle… is what works for them. We have finally allowed that human sexuality is very damned fluid and we still refer to the vaunted Kinsey Scale to, at the least, put things into perspective… but human sexuality is so fluid that a person can, if it suited their needs and purposes, go from 0 to 6 and back again or even hang out from 2 to 5… but sociosexual norms insist that, again, once you pick a side, that’s it for the rest of your life.

Really? One of the knocks against bisexuality is that it’s merely a “rest stop” on the way to really being gay and there is some truth to this but what gets lost in the muck is that someone who started out straight, became bi, and went on to being gay… changed their mind about it. What we don’t consider is that, sometimes, it’s not about what we’re doing but what we’re thinking and feeling; I don’t see where we – the people debating the pros and cons of bisexuality – are considering how fluid our thoughts and feelings are and at any given moment and I mean this literally because I’ve had moments where my thoughts and feelings are 100% heterosexual and, moments later, they’re 100% homosexual and/or all over the middle of things – but they don’t have anything to do with what I might do and more so when I learned to not believe in picking a side and staying on it… except, I did pick a side: The middle.

I’ve known gay men and women that are now bisexual; I knew one guy who was gay and decided that being straight made more sense to him. People thought he was crazy or he was lying about what he wanted to be because, as everyone knew, you pick a side, you stay on it and there is no going back… and even my younger self knew this was a stupid way to think because… people change their minds.

What I understand is that “going gay” is a lifestyle change more than it is a sex-related kind of things. Sure, there are guys who have “given up” having sex with women in favor of the relative ease of having sex with men but their sexual attraction to women remains in place even if they never have sex with a woman again. There are guys who are more emotionally attracted and connected to men more than they are women and now they consider themselves to be gay and, well, women are still somewhat attractive, but I saw that if a guy “went gay,” that meant that he had to give up and forget about any or all attractions to women and… how does that really work?

I know gay men who have sex with women and they’ll tell you quick and in a hurry that they’re still gay because men are still their primary focus; ditto for gay women who aren’t all that opposed to sex with a man – and despite the fact that in both situations, one could be convicted of being a traitor to the gay cause… and believing that no one can or should be able to change their minds about what they need in their lives.

I have known a great many men who have given being bisexual a try and… went back to being straight or, in one or two guys, back to being gay… because being bisexual wasn’t working for them or, likely, they were getting their heads handed to them for not picking a side and staying on it.

Really, when you consider that there are straight men who have sex with guys and will insist that they’re still straight, that should tell you something. A lot of this is… us mindfucking ourselves and allowing social and moral norms to mindfuck us and as I’ve seen with guys who fool themselves into believing that as long as there’s no cum involved, whatever sexual act that’s taking place… isn’t gay.

“Conventional” kind of thinking suggests that if being homosexual is “a great evil,” why would anyone want to be homosexual? Indeed, the elders in my village went out of their way to paint homosexuality in the worst light possible and to scare us away from finding out anything about it and while it worked for some, it didn’t for others… and really didn’t work on me. Okay. We’re “allowed” to experiment with each other as long as (a) it doesn’t become a major problem and (b) you give it up and be straight and like you’re supposed to be. This isn’t… changing your mind: This is an edict that demands that you cease and desist at the point where you’re deemed to be grown enough “to know better” – which I believed was 16.

I’ve known guys and gals to walk away from it and like they’re supposed to… and then they came back to it; they changed their minds or had their minds changed due to circumstances, like, some women who got totally fed up relying on men to do right by them sexually and emotionally and, well, when they were fooling around with other girls, it worked nicely for them so let’s go back to that and see how it goes; doesn’t mean that they’re going to give up men… or maybe they decide that giving up on men and living a more lesbian lifestyle is what’s needed.

And there’s nothing that really says that she couldn’t change her mind at some point and for some reason and go back to being bi or straight… except that annoying “pick a side and stay the fuck on it” thing. There’s a reason why they say that bisexuals are confused and in denial because… we didn’t pick one of the two “accepted” sides.

“Would you go gay?” My answer to this was, “No, because I wouldn’t want to be monosexual.” But, you see, if only in my own mind, being gay isn’t a thing to do – it’s a way to be and, oh, that’s right – just like bisexuality is and as a way to be, it may or may not have “everything” with the way you have sex; it’s what you think and feel, too.

I’ve had gay men get in my case because I wasn’t of a mind to be gay and like they were. Nope, not gonna do that because I know that I love women and pussy and as much… shit I’ve had flung at me dealing with women, I couldn’t imagine a situation that would make me totally give up on them and even though, as you know, I had a boyfriend who I truly loved, I’ve not met a man who has evoked these deep feelings in me but even if I did, I’m… still bisexual and being monosexual… doesn’t work for me and, really, if it did, I wouldn’t be bisexual – but I might have chosen to be gay and live my life this way.

But that’s me. I could change my mind; something could happen that could change my mind for me (although I can’t imagine what that would be). I could change my mind and commit myself to being 100% heterosexual, but the “rub” comes in at the point where… I know how I feel; I know how my mind works in these things and… it’s not what I do but how I know I want and need to be and, importantly, not falling into that trap that’ll get me to mindfuck myself into believing that I’m now something that… I know that I’m not and I wouldn’t want to be.

Because I have been cussed out by gay men who have made it clear that if I wanted to be with them – and I mean in a relationship way – I had to give up women and I’d better not cheat on them – at all or, gasp, with a woman – and, well, you assume that I want to be in a relationship with you and given all that shit you just said? If I was going to consider it, your diatribe just convinced me not to.

I could, if I wanted or needed to, change my mind and no one gets to tell me that I can’t change my mind or, as I’ve done, stayed the course. Some of the members spoke in terms of having more sex with men than women – and maybe being somewhere between 4 and 6 on the Kinsey – and, okay, if that’s what they feel might work for them, it is what it is. My archnemesis did his usual raining on the parade with his single-minded rhetoric and, well, we kinda got into it and… his arms are still too short to box with me but all the things he’d said pointed to the supposition that a bisexual – male or female – couldn’t change their minds about their sexuality and/or sexual attractions and stank of “pick a side and stay on it.”

I allowed that when it comes to things bisexual, being gay is and should be part of the dialog because human sexuality is well and truly fluid… even if social perceptions insist that it can’t and shouldn’t be. One of the things I’d hear homosexuals going on and on about was all about their perception that they didn’t have a choice in their homosexuality and… they’re wrong about that and told me that, um, they don’t really understand choice. Okay. You can’t do a damned thing about how you feel… but you do choose to do something about those feelings or choose to do nothing about them. I know male and female bisexuals who accept their feelings… and haven’t been of a mind to do something about them and that, ladies and gentlemen, is choice; it’s a decision point and it doesn’t really matter how or why someone makes this choice and, really, if you want to know why, ask them – and not everyone makes such a choice for the exact same reasons and more so when our thoughts and feelings are in a constant state of flux to begin with… because this is how our brains work.

Shit… how many straight men and women have vehemently told me, “I would never do some shit like that!”? A lot. I couldn’t count them if I tried to. I understand that because, well, they wouldn’t ever do some shit like that and based on what they believe and even what they may have experienced and “definitely” based upon whatever they’ve heard about going both ways – and none of that was good.

And… some of them had or found reason to change their minds or, yup, had it changed for them and, hmm, not really that bad but… slicing and dicing time: “It’s not something I’d do all of the time” and that means… being gay. But, yeah, with the right person and at the right place, situation, and time? Sure – why not? Yep, it’s homosexual sex but, duh, homosexuals don’t “own” this and like they think they do but many are of a mind that as long as their attraction to the opposite sex doesn’t get fucked with, um, okay, we can do something because… the sex can be very damned good and satisfying.

Doesn’t mean that you’re gay; it doesn’t mean that somewhere down the road, you’re gonna wind up being gay, either. Combined, it’s what you think, what you feel, what you do and how all of this comes together to form a way to live your life and with the understanding that you can change your mind about it and for any reason that makes sense to you… and no one gets to tell you anything different.

You’re allowed to change your mind if it suits your purpose in life to do so. For the longest time, we’ve viewed sexuality as being static when, in truth, it’s very damned dynamic because… it’s not what we do as much as it’s about how we’re thinking and feeling and these things are always subject to change… and even if we don’t think they are. A woman tells me that she’s “strictly dickly” and there is no fucking way that she’d be anything other than that. But… she had sex with a woman and, according to her, it “just happened” and… she changed her mind. Oh, she still loves her dick but, um, yeah, getting some coochie works, too – but like men have been made to be afraid of being gay, women have been made to be afraid of being lesbian as well. It’s a fixed things in their minds and it’s going to stay there… until they get their mind changed and even if they do, there’s still nothing that says that they’re not allowed to change their mind again.

My protege and I sometimes talk about his gay friends and how they give him a raft of shit for being bisexual and telling him to make up his mind and pick a side and, “preferably,” the gay side of things. He comes back at them by suggesting that, hmm, maybe you should give sex with women a try because if you do, you might understand why he wouldn’t want to be gay and like they are.

They get miffed with him – and we both think it’s hilarious – but the sad part is that they have been so institutionalized in the gay lifestyle that they really do believe that they can’t change their minds about it and, yeah, there’s no way on God’s green earth that they’d ever sleep with a woman because that’s not what gay men do.

Yeah… sure they don’t. I grew up believing this, too, until I… learned some stuff. There’s “gay sex” and then there’s the gay lifestyle and we see them as being part and parcel of the same thing… and they never were because I can have sex with a guy with the best of them… and turn right around and have sex with a woman because… that’s what works for me and in quite a few ways. If I never have a reason to change my mind – or some situation comes along that “makes” me change my mind, well, I’m not going to change my mind about being bisexual… but you still don’t get to tell me that I can’t change my mind.

No one does. People have tried and they’ve failed. In my head, I am… all three sexualities because that’s what’s going on in my head and in every moment of every day. What I will do is… have sex both ways and never discounting emotional attachments. Being bisexual taught me, again, that thinking and doing aren’t always the same things and that nonsense that says that if you think it, you’re going to do it because I’ve thought it… and chose not to do it. Go back to being straight? Yep, I’ve considered it and have thought hard about it and, once, thinking hard about it while a guy was blowing me and, nope, not changing my mind… because I don’t have to if I don’t want to but reality says that I could change my mind, or some circumstance could change my mind, oh, like the one that took me from being straight to bisexual. I didn’t “want to be” in that sense but I literally got a taste of it and, oh, hell, yeah. Hell, yeah.

But I grew up and learned some shit about… life. Being taught that once I make a decision, I have to stick with it and no matter how it turns out and… like I can’t change my mind once a decision has been made… because I know that I’ve done it and, yup, you’ve done it, too – but not in the context of your sexuality because of that “pick a side and stay on it” bullshit that you don’t have to do… if you don’t want to.

Living life as a gay man… doesn’t suit my purposes and even if you just consider that, bluntly and unashamedly so, I love women and pussy. Learning that a relationship does not and cannot qualify, quantify, or validate one’s sexuality. That and, again, it’s not what you do sexually that’s a definitive thing but it’s how you choose to live your life and, yeah, you could have reason to change your mind or life can change your mind for you. If it’s not broke, don’t fuck with it, right?

Right. But if it is broken, do you fix it… or leave it broken? You could, for some reason, choose to leave it broken because it’s not worth fixing and… turn right around and change your mind and either fix it… or replace it. Depends on some shit, right? Right. If you’re straight and happy in your straightness, there is no need for you to change your mind and, well, that’s just how we’re supposed to behave and in that “pick a side” way and presuming that you have no reason – and there are no reasons – for you to be anything other than straight.

And I very much beg to differ because you are allowed to change your mind and for whatever reason makes sense to you. Being gay is… a choice. You choose to do/be or to do not/not be and… you are still allowed to change your mind about changing your mind…

And I don’t know why people don’t seem to really understand this and, yeah, why there are bisexuals who don’t seem to understand this and more so when… they changed their minds, or had it changed in a way that they found… acceptable. Sex versus lifestyle. You can choose one or both and… you can change your mind about all of it. People do it all of the time and there’s someone in the world right now who is changing their minds about their sexuality and/or sexual behaviors and their very lifestyle.

Because, duh, you can change your mind if you want or need to, and no one gets to tell you that you can’t – but they sure as fuck try to impose their moral will upon you and as we’ve been doing to each other since religion and morality came into existence. It’s, okay, society – you’re not the boss of me and while there are some things that I have to do, when it comes to my sexuality, you don’t get to dictate to me what that’s supposed to be and, yeah, even if I drank the Kool-Aid, I could find reason to… change my mind and drink a different flavor of the Kool-Aid or… yeah, Coke but never Pepsi. Yuck. And I still reserve the right to change my mind.

“Would you go gay?” I personally don’t think that I would because there is no reason or situation that I can imagine that would make me want to be… monosexual. Being bisexual – and in all things – has continued to prove that it just works for me and how I want to live my life and… if it ain’t broke – and it isn’t – I’m not going to fuck with it.

And I still could change my mind because you never say never. Would you go bi? And, yes, I’m asking if you would because your answer – if you choose to answer – is going to teach you something that you may or may not been aware of.

P.S.: My archnemesis is of a mind that I’m not right about what I said about this but his following reply… had him backpedaling and, methinks, grudgingly agreeing that I was, in fact, right about what I said about a person being able to change their mind about being bi or gay. He “changed the subject” on me pretty quickly and, okay, another point and “win” for me. He just likes to believe that I don’t know what I’m talking about and…

I love whupping his ass like this and about this. Even bisexuals can be… narrow minded and of a mind to not allow themselves to… see the obvious.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 28 May 23, 1321 hours

Thirteen years ago, and when I dove into writing about bisexuality, one of the first things I understood was that by doing so, I was going to out myself to, um, the whole damned world. I normally treat my sexuality as being on a need-to-know basis and with great awareness that there are some people who just do not need to know and those who do know, well, they know and whether they’re okay with it or not.

I’d long since learned and understood that my bisexuality is… all about me. It’s one of the things that makes me tick and the sexual liberation I’ve enjoyed to date remains exhilarating and exciting and, importantly, my near-insatiable curiosity keeps being taken care of as I continue to learn how men and women today deal with the complexities of being bisexual and in the face of the ongoing clusterfuck that either makes me scratch my head a lot or gives me a sense of satisfaction to see so many people who are – or have – discovered the same thing I did so many decades ago:

Being bisexual is fun. It’s just as normal and natural as being straight or gay is even though, yeah, all the associated drama and having moments of sadness to learn that we’re not as better about these things as I had, perhaps, foolishly hoped we would be and once, after having my eyes opened, seemed to be the thing that we, on the whole, had to be. Then gaining an understanding that since we failed to eradicate homosexuality, we would also fail to eradicate bisexuality because… you can’t stop it and more so when humans are a force of nature all unto ourselves.

I found that I enjoy a rather “unique” advantage in that I was born in the baby boom era and when the Moral Majority held sway over our social norms and behaviors and, yes, bringing the fight to homosexuals and in a way that was, on the whole, pretty heinous and, as such, gave me a serious look at man’s inhumanity to man and in ways that I often wished I hadn’t been exposed to. I grew up knowing what was being said about homosexuality, but my “problem” was that what I’d experienced… contradicted what I was being told, taught, and heard and now, experienced.

Going from believing that I was the only guy who was like this to finding out that, nope, I really wasn’t and there were girls who were also… not playing by the rules. I think about my origins and how young I was and… c’est la vie: This is life and in a way that we know about but don’t approve of and, well, adults are insane, aren’t they? Finding out that we are quick to go on and on about everything that’s bad about not being straight (while not saying shit about what’s bad about being straight) and not so willing to say anything about what’s good about not being all that straight… or all that gay, either.

The person I am right this moment is very damned glad that I didn’t learn about bisexuality as an adult because I’m not sure if my mind could handle it. Bisexuals who become this way as an adult, I found, has a lot of shit that they have to… get rid of; comparatively, I “got rid of it” before it fully set in and kid logic played a big role in “easily” parsing some stuff that some adults have a problem with; it’s… not easy to be an adult and having been heterosexual “from the start” and now, bisexuality shows up.

What the fuck, right? From my early perspective, I saw guys and gals struggling with something that, well, I wasn’t struggling with – and learning that just because being bi didn’t bother me didn’t mean that it didn’t bother someone else and… I wanted to know why. I still want to know why but it’s somewhat rhetorical on my part because I’ve seen, heard, or been involved with so many who struggled with this and, well, maybe I could help them to stop struggling by sharing what I was learning, that if they had questions – and just like I had – well, I just might know the answer.

If not being straight is all that bad, why is not being all that straight or gay such a wonderful way to be? And, once again, the answer being… because it is a wonderful way to be. This current version of myself maintains that bisexuality isn’t the problem: That would be all of the people who don’t believe in it. It’s a social problem more than anything else. And then, spending a whole lot of years and decades wondering if I was the only one who really understood this – and there are moments when I still feel this way even though I know that there are others who understand this as well.

A few years into writing about this had me realize that I had… a legacy of sorts; a responsibility to pass on my knowledge and while I was able to and as I would start to write, someone has to do it and if not me, then who’s supposed to? But the many times I’ve sat down at the keyboard and felt that… maybe I should stop writing about this. It wasn’t about a lack of an audience; it wasn’t about the lack of comments – good or bad – but it was about… I wasn’t sure and because I didn’t have a “good reason” to stop writing about bisexuality, I’ve kept writing about it and, yes, at great length and all too often repeating myself but… you can’t say enough about this and I just could never know when someone might find this blog, read it, and it makes a difference to them in some way or another.

I would read stuff written about bisexuality and a lot of it was heavily dosed with sugar and political correctness; a lot of what I call psychobabble – people writing shit and not really saying anything other than to keep rehashing all the shit regarding homosexuality and, well, bisexuals aren’t homosexuals, are they? Reading a lot of stuff that didn’t even come close to what I’d been experiencing and observing and, again, in terms that I found to be more pie-in-the-sky than being couched in reality, like, if you think that being in a relationship has anything to do with qualifying, quantifying, and validating bisexuality, I’ve been here for thirteen years to tell you to… guess again. I know that it doesn’t because, yup, been there, done that and, importantly, learned some “intellectual” shit about sex and sexuality and… us. Humans.

If homophobia didn’t make sense – and understanding that a phobia is an irrational fear of something – then this new biphobia thing doesn’t make sense, either. Oh, there are people who are scared to death of bisexuals because they feel they have reason to be scared to death and I, again, grew up being indoctrinated to be homophobic because “everyone else” was homophobic and because… God said so. And then learning that, um, maybe He really didn’t… but we did. Or, one day, reading that Sigmund Freud – I think – said that the only abnormal sex was… not having sex at all. There were some worthy men and women back before I was born that understood some stuff about us that no one wanted to hear, let alone believe and after reading the whole Kinsey Report on Human Sexuality, wow, they pretty much nailed it… and us but we were being choked off from really getting to know how we can really be by religious and moral righteousness.

And in the face of the fact that what they believed was – and always had been – debunked because there were people who just weren’t as straight as they were ordered to be. I would often be perplexed to hear someone spouting anti-homosexual rhetoric and saying that no one should be homosexual… but there are homosexuals so how could someone keep saying that it’s not real and all that other shit when… there are homosexuals? And… there are bisexuals, too, as it turned out and learning, again, that I wasn’t the only one. I just had little or no fear over asking questions that, as far as the adults around me were concerned, I shouldn’t be asking and shouldn’t have known to ask them.

All too often being amused seeing the look on someone’s face when they ask, “How do you know?” and I’d say, “How do you think I know?” and… that moment when it dawns on them how I know about having sex with guys. Not always a good moment when you out yourself to someone that, um, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have but the cat’s out of the bag just the same. And, oh, yes, the many times when a guy wanted to know what I know and not just the intellectual side of things: What’s it really like to have sex with a guy?

Here… let me show you what I can do and what I’ve learned and maybe you’ll like it as much as I’ve learned to like it. If not, well, sorry about that but at least you gave it a shot and… never say never. Does it hurt going in there? Yep, it sure as hell can! Does sperm taste bad? It can taste bad but, usually, no, it doesn’t – it depends on some stuff that you may or may not be interested in. Does it mean that you’re really gay? Oh, fuck no! Getting some dick is all well and good but, at least for me, it ain’t better than pussy – just saying.

And, one day, growing up and seeing that human sexuality is a hell of a lot more fluid than we know or, perhaps, unwilling to admit to or, like I said to a guy, “Where do you think bisexuals come from?” and in the context of my knowing both men and women who started out straight and now they’re bi. Or gay men and women who find that, um, you know, getting some in the opposite sex way ain’t all that bad – but appearances must always be maintained, and reputations upheld and, hopefully, not all that tarnished. Reading a blog one day when a lesbian who wanted children but couldn’t afford IVF took to having sex with a guy so she could get pregnant… and her sister lesbians tarred and feathered her then ran her out of town on a rail because she broke their long-standing code that says lesbians do not ever have sex with men.

Yeah, right – sure they don’t. I believed that, too, until I had sex with a lesbian and, um, two of them. And both of them being “tickled” to learn that I was bisexual. I’m sure we learned some shit about each other that didn’t have much to do with having sex and, really, if a lesbian tells me that I’m not that bad at eating pussy, that’s like a badge of honor even if they also said that I could learn some stuff, too. But, on the whole, understanding some stuff about us that we’d prefer to not say a whole lot about:

We’re human and we seriously love having sex; it’s in our nature but, ah, morality would prefer that you don’t know anything about that and… do as you’re told or else. That “thrill” of knowing that I know something about this that most people don’t know or want to know and, yeah, I don’t look like the type because I’m… something different; something that’s been on the inside the whole time, but we were so busy trying to squash homosexuality that it was easy for us to keep flying under the radar. Lots of downsides about being both but the good of it, I found – and others have found – tend to outweigh the bad because if nothing else, you learn the truth about some stuff.

And I’ve been putting it out there via WordPress for an amazing 13 years… because as I’ve said, someone has to. Someone has to speak to the myths, misconceptions, and stereotypes that we tend to believe in more than someone’s truth in this, like, okay, if there’s supposedly no such thing as a Black male bisexual, um, what am I – chopped liver? I remember reading this and from someone who supposedly knew what they were talking about and… laughing my ass off because they didn’t know shit, but I also knew why they believed this and, yeah, um, us Black folks aren’t all as homophobic as we’re said to be and, well, how do you think I know that?

For thirteen years, I’ve been challenging whoever might read this stuff a question: If you don’t believe in bisexuality, have you ever wondered why you don’t? I’ve challenged those who might read this stuff to, if nothing else, question their sexual and sexuality beliefs and, no, I’m not trying to turn people over to the bi side but, hmm, if one was of a mind to, I might know some stuff that one can find useful and beginning with… forget all that shit you were taught and/or think you know because you’re about to get one hell of a wakeup call.

I’ve asked, “Who are you going to really believe? Your own thought and feelings – the very true ones – or all that dumb shit people have to say about it?” Truly, you don’t have to believe but, yeah, do you really know what you’re believing in and in the face that there’s a male bisexual telling you some stuff? I have no reason to lie and, as those who read my blog have seen, I’m… sugar free. I can talk about the sex I’ve had because I have no reason to be ashamed of it; the good times and the “what the fuck was I thinking about” times and what I learned about it and… myself. What would others think of me?

Ask me if I really give a fuck what they think and especially if they don’t like me because of my bisexuality. I’d had enough of this bullshit before I was 16 and declared that if you don’t like the fact that I’m bisexual, nothing you’re gonna say or try to do is ever going to change the fact that I am. Nothing. And if the only thing you pay attention to is my having sex with guys, you’re not seeing all of me; if I have to remind someone that I love the shit out of women and pussies, um, which one of us has the real problem? I’m thinking it’s not me and, yeah, as I have said time and time again, I have the fucking nerve to speak on some shit that our prudish society would prefer I not say a thing about.

Because someone has to. The thing that makes bisexuality so complex and, in essence, fucked up isn’t what we know: It’s what we don’t know and the continuing mistake a lot of people make by comparing bisexuality to homosexuality and… they have never been the same thing and, um, duh, as the words themselves say. Learning that a lot of the problems with bisexuality is about being unable or unwilling to suspend belief and not allowing belief to trump the truth. Are male bisexuals really as bad as everyone seems to think? The truth is… some of us are. That’s not all of us, though. Guess which thing most people are more likely to believe? Understanding some… science shit that says that as a bisexual man, I can’t give you an STD or HIV… if I don’t have it to give. Ah, but guess what a lot of men and women have been made to believe?

In the early moment of this particular part of the clusterfuck, the haters were putting out one hell of a smear campaign against bisexual men and inferring that if you get involved with one, you’re going to get infected and die and as a matter of course and this one was specifically aimed at women but I’m not bullshitting you when I tell you that I know guys who believe that if they take another man’s cock in hand, they’re going to be infected… and they actually believe that relationship sex is safer than casual sex. It can be… as long as you are 100% sure that you know where your FWB’s dick has been when it’s not with you.

And the clusterfuck growing into an even bigger clusterfuck to see bisexuals… losing their shit over what it means, what it looks like, and how one is supposed to be bisexual and… are you fucking kidding me? I’ve wondered if they realize that by slicing and dicing the shit out of this, they’re doing what our morality has tried to do: Tell us how to be a sexual human being. And, um, how is that supposed to work? What does relationships have to do with anything and, my pet peeve, what does gender have to do with it? I’ll say that I used to know the definition of “gender” – the act of being male or female. Those are roles and roles that were defined for us a damned long time ago and, okay, some people ain’t buying into the roles because it doesn’t fit their gender identity which, last I knew, doesn’t have anything to do with being born male or female but, yeah, humans are inherently insane, as it seems to turn out.

If you’re a guy and you believe yourself not to be a guy, okay… but I can still be intimate with you, you know, if you wanna do something. But, you see, I come from a time where gender identity… wasn’t that much of a hot-button topic. Yep, there were transvestites and cross-dressers way back in the day and… okay, they’re weird but if you got to know one, they weren’t bad people and, um, as I discovered, some of them are very good in bed but, on the whole – and just looking at things basically, humans are and can be very good in bed with each other if and when they want to be and… not always according to those rules that were laid on us so very long ago.

I found and had theorized that the moment we totally lose sight of human nature and the history of our sexual proclivities, we’ve drank the Kool-Aid that religion and our religiously based social norms wants to pour into us and without a straw and, really, waterboarding us with stuff that can work for some… but doesn’t and hasn’t worked for all and one of those things is… bisexuality. Completely defies that long-held notion that people are either straight or they’re gay and, um, by making such statements, does it not acknowledge that gay is a real thing? I thought so (and I still do) but, hey, what do I know?

Lemme talk to ya… because I know some stuff and, yeah, how do you think I know it? While there are those out there in the world who pay lip service to bisexuality, I have lived it. Experienced it in almost every way it can be experienced or, in every way I wanted to. Oh, that’s right: I’m old school and also old. Things change and, yes, they do but the basic and simple premise of bisexuality hasn’t. We’re human and, as such, if we can fuck something up, we’re gonna fuck it up big time and… that’s what I see us doing and I understand it… and I don’t.

Ah, but if I know it, now you do, too, because I have no problem telling you about it. How I learned it; how I’ve experienced it; the stuff I’ve observed that has painted a pretty interesting picture about sex, sexuality and… us. Humans. And how we… mindfuck ourselves about some stuff and all because of some other stuff that we hold to be the whole truth of things… and I’m living proof that it isn’t.

I am bisexual. I’m actually a pretty decent person to know because there is more to me than how I like to have sex. Women believe that us guys don’t know the shit they have to put up with being female and, for the most part, they’re right… but I know because guys have put me through a lot of the same shit. A guy wants to know why his lady won’t suck him off (and like she’s supposed to do, by the way) and I tell him, “Well, you could ask her and she might tell you… and you might not want to hear it or you can get into sucking dick and find out for yourself why she won’t suck you off.”

What? Am I crazy? Um, yeah, I am but that’s not the point. Because I know why I wouldn’t suck a guy off, too… because I’ve not sucked a guy off. Another guy, for some reason, doesn’t understand why his lady doesn’t want to do anal (and like she should, by the way) and, okay, homey: If you really want to know, I’d be more than happy to allow you to feel what it’s like and I’d be just as happy to let you know what some women have told me about not giving up their ass to a guy and it’s not always about it hurting.

What? I done gone and lost my motherfucking mind! Yeah, probably… but I know a lot of what they know about us… and what they don’t like about us because there are guys I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. And if you think that gay folks should just accept us because we have something in common with them, well, don’t think that. The truth is a lot of gay people… don’t give a fuck if we’re bi but that’s because… they get it. A gay man is giving me a lot of shit about being one of those bi motherfuckers and going on at length about how fucked up we are, and I got a chance to stop him and ask, “How do you know? Have you ever gotten involved with a bisexual to know these things for a fact?”

What he knew was… the bullshit everyone tends to hear about bisexuals. I said, “Oh, so you have no real point of reference to base your opinion on? Isn’t that interesting! You’d rather believe what someone else said about guys like me than to find out for yourself? And you think that I’m the one who’s all fucked up?”

Oh, he not only had a fit, but he had a couple of them and… I just watched him have them and with great clinical interest because he was teaching me something important. What was even funnier about this is that despite all the fussing and fuming he was doing, he still… wanted to give me a blowjob.

Go figure and, yeah, I wanted to know why so I could understand. Ideology is one thing but, um, when you’re horny, well. He said (after he blew me) that he wouldn’t dare be in a relationship with me, so I’d better be clear that this was sex only and… I just smiled because no one in their right mind gets into a relationship with someone who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you… as far as I know. He declared that… I was good enough to have sex with and nothing more than that; it was a sentiment that I’ve had women tell me, too, so, hmm, a lot of… the dumb shit isn’t so much about sexuality as it is about having sex and under a premise I learned and learned to understand:

If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter… and I won’t tell if you won’t. Bisexuality is more than sex because, duh, people are more than the sexual objects nature designed us to be. Understanding one day that I, as a bisexual man, am not different from anyone else because, just like everyone does, I get out of bed every day and I do… stuff and stuff that has nothing to do with my sexuality… but I also learned that we like to make differences when, perhaps, they shouldn’t exist.

And… I write about it because someone has to and minus the sugary bullshit.

 

KDaddy’s General Observations: Happy Anniversary!

It’s almost hard to believe that I started blogging on WordPress 13 years ago today. On a sadder note, I learned that my son-in-law had died two years ago today as well.

I’m still upset about that. So upset that I started writing a blog about his passing and… I can’t finish it and it’s still sitting there waiting for me to do so. His death came on the heels of my mother’s death and… damn.

Thirteen years ago, a female friend who was in the swinging lifestyle took to writing about swinging on a site called WordPress and I thought it was seriously cool for a woman to not only write about her experiences, thoughts, and feelings about swinging, but to also put it out there for everyone to read.

She convinced me that I should start a blog, too. Just as she had started out doing, I was writing stuff on the swinger’s forum and my missives were… rocking the boat but in good ways and she had told me, “You need to let everyone know what’s on your mind!”

And… here I am. As I’ve mentioned before, I found blogging to be… therapeutic after my stroke from allowing me to access some memories I had feared were gone forever to working on the fine motor skills necessary to type at a high rate of speed and onto being… somewhat Zen-like and making me focus and not pay much attention to the pain I was trying to also deal with.

Once I started writing about bisexuality – and male bisexuality in particular – I was really off and running and I’m still running and hope to continue running for many more years.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 27 May 23, 1200 hours

Before I passed out last night, I remember seeing a tweet where someone was bitching about sex and bisexuality being so closely associated with each other and like sex is the only thing that bisexuals are interested in. I thought the tweeter was… naive because the “sex” part of bisexual is… part of the whole.

Not everyone can or wants to slide over to the other side and find out what having same-sex sex is like but, yeah. This. The thing that one might know about because, well, we know how homosexuals have sex. Knowing about it isn’t the same as indulging in it but I’ve been aware, for the longest time, about a… push to make bisexuality less about the sex and more about relationship stuff.

Or “hearts, not parts.” I clearly remember being told and taught that when it comes to girls, I should not just want to have sex with them and if I do, it’s because we’re in a relationship… and such as those things tended to be when you’re young and even more so when you start going to school, are very damned interested in girls and you could be her boyfriend this morning… and she’d be someone else’s girlfriend by lunch time. Having that awareness that while there were girls I wanted to be my girlfriend, there were many more I just wanted to have sex with but since this was iffy, it wasn’t that much of a problem because there was always a guy who’d want to have sex.

And it could be pretty damned good. “Nasty” and in that way that’s actually a good thing. That indescribable thrill of doing something that you know good and damned well that you’re not ever supposed to do and for any reason… because there are girls who’ll let you get at them and happily so. Which was all well and good if you could convince her to give you some, right? Right. I would say that I had… less problems with this than a lot of the guys I knew and hung around with and, yep, had sex with “quite a few” of them.

I grew up learning how… weird we can be about having sex. Learning that there are rules that are to be followed that mandate who you can have sex and under some specific conditions and, well, okay… but I’d already found out that the rules were bullshit because while guys are supposed to only have sex with girls, yeah, the people who made these rules assumed that you could hit on a female for sex and she’s just gonna give it up and that’s because it’s what she’s supposed to do… but women, back in those days, didn’t have a lot of value and, yeah, you could buy a wife for the price of a couple of goats, four sheep, and a decent oxen or two. I understood that because women were treated as chattel, that… changed a lot of shit with them and more so when they put their foot down and decreed that they had more value than someone to use as a cum dump and baby-making machine.

You either learn to understand why women are the way they are about sex and you accept it as-is… or you don’t and chances are that your chances to get between their legs will be severely limited – there’s a reason why we call it “getting lucky.” So, yeah, the alternative was to… have sex with a guy. Masturbating is a fun thing to do if not inherently… messy but there are times when you can spend the whole day jerking off and… it’s not all that satisfying… but if you were to actually have some kind of sex with someone, yeah – that’s the ticket but… yeah, girls. But if you didn’t mind – and you were desperate and not of a mind to suffer another painful bout of blue balls – um, shit, doing something with a guy was “better than nothing” and a lot of guys found that it’s way better than nothing and, really, what’s all the fuss about guys getting busy with each other because, on the whole, it’s not that bad!

And give that us guys are hard-wired to want to have sex, um, having sex with another guy… takes care of that need. Can be very damned scary at first but if you can get used to it – and as long as nobody else finds out that you’re doing it with a guy – yeah, it just works and more so when, usually, you didn’t have to go through all that stuff that girls required and demanded before you could even touch her goodies, let alone do anything else. And if you weren’t willing to meet their demands, you weren’t getting any pussy. When you consider that, in my generation, we were told and taught not to display any emotion that could be seen as being weak and that included… being pussy-whipped. Wrapped around a girl’s finger and, essentially, enslaved to her and girls knew that their pussies gave them great power over us and they weren’t afraid to wield it and not always in a nice way.

Not that us guys were saints, mind you. But as I’ve written so many times, you stood a better chance of getting a blowjob from a guy than you did convincing a girl that it’d be okay if she’d let you fuck her. The… same result without all the muss and fuss. A lot of guys mindfucking themselves into believing that if they did something with a guy, um, it’s not really gay because it wasn’t like we were gonna be real boyfriends. It remained true that if you couldn’t convince a girl to give you some, your options were severely limited and, hmm, I wonder what it’s like to do it with a guy? You hear… stuff about it and especially being fucked in the ass and ew and ouch, right?

An “innate” understanding that you can have sex with a guy and still be “the man” in this deal but, hmm, “being the girl…” might be fun, too, and I firmly believe that we innately understood that one of us had to be the girl and, yeah, we could take turns being the girl. Sucking a guy’s dick… wasn’t that bad, well, until guys got smacked upside the head with puberty and could ejaculate but that… wasn’t really that bad if you could get past how it tasted and felt in your mouth. Having a guy squeezing it in your ass was, okay, yeah – it does hurt but, hmm, if you relax and all that, it gets to feel good and weirdly good when he cums in you.

And if this is what you had to do to take care of that persistent need to have sex, well, okay… as long as no one else finds out that you did and now you’re like those faggots and sissies that we were told were the worst people who were ever born. And, yeah, finding out that having sex with a real-deal sissy… could be better than having sex with a girl since sissies acted like girls to begin with.

Despite what that tweeter said, sex and bisexuality has always been hand-in-hand. The more emotional and/or romantic aspects have never been off the table and, depending on some stuff, it could be just as good of a thing and… when you like someone like that, it just makes whatever sex you have… better. But you also didn’t have to like guys in the same way that gay dudes liked guys and, as I’ve said, you just had to like the guy enough to want to have sex with him and that made sense given that you weren’t likely to get busy with an enemy or someone you just didn’t like for some reason.

It’s okay to be able to get into your feelings with someone because, if nothing else, it’s just how you feel about them and whether they feel the same about you or not and there’s nothing you can do about the way you feel but when you’re a guy, well, yeah, that’s not where your feelings should be going and directed at and more so in a sexual way. The truth in this is that you don’t have to have the sex to be bisexual, but you also don’t have to be in a relationship in order to validate your bisexual thoughts and feelings. It’s about what you think and how you feel but the thing is that… we want to act on our feelings because there are some “rules” about what you’re supposed to do when you really, really like someone – but those rules don’t take into account or consideration that you can really, really like… another guy… and, yeah, enough that if sex was proposed, um, er, sure – why not?

I know bisexuals who have never taken the plunge and they don’t want or need to. The sex doesn’t define bisexuality… but it sure ain’t bad. If you can, you can and if you can’t, you can’t. It’s not rocket science and when you can strip away all of the social silliness, it’s not really all that complicated and, yeah, it’s okay to like girls one way and to like guys in a different way; a lot of bisexual men will tell you in a hurry that they love women for love, sex, and relationships and the like guys… for the sex and, at best, friendship. Nothing to see here as far as I’m concerned but these “modern bisexuals” have some… interesting notions about what bisexuality is and yeah, hearts should be the primary focus and the parts… somewhere down the list and way down there.

And that’s actually okay since this is how we are told and taught to go about interacting with each other in the opposite sex way of things and… nothing to see here but… sex. Yeah, buddy. “June Bug” asks me if he can suck my dick and… if I like him, I’m not going to say no and it’s just part of the deal for me to suck his dick. Likewise, for fucking but, yeah, stuff changes and all that and you learn what you like and don’t and all that good stuff and, yeah, it’s… just sex. You also learn that while you might not mind, there are many who do mind and, yeah, all that social/moral stuff that, again, bisexuality takes and… trashes the shit out of it and especially in the having sex department.

If you’re bisexual and not having the sex, well, okay… but if you are throwing it all down? It’s not the problem that I think people are making it out to be because… it’s just sex. It’s going to be whatever you want it to be or can make it. I mean, I can just have sex with a woman and more so if she’s not of a mind to be bothered with a relationship; we’re just scratching each other’s itches although, sure, if we find that we’re good at it, sure – the next time she needs that itch scratched, I might get another chance to scratch them for her and… nothing more than that. I’ll say that guys “used to” do things in this very NSA way but things change and, today, methinks that I’d have an easier time getting some pussy than I would getting some dick.

And if you have any idea of the way this used to be, you understand how… surprising this is. You would never, ever, hear me say that bisexuality shouldn’t be all about the sex… because I know that for many men and women, it is all about the sex and a form of intimacy that our morals don’t approve of… because getting laid feels pretty fucking good. I started to say something to the tweeter about… how fucking naive they are to imply that bisexuality shouldn’t be “sex-focused” because, um, duh, do you not know how bisexuals become bisexual? Almost all of the bisexual men and women I personally know became bisexual… because they had the sex and it just frigging worked for them but, then again, sex is supposed to work for us… right?

By implying or “insisting” that bisexuality shouldn’t be “all about the sex” is the same kind of slut shaming we’ve employed against having sex to begin with; being told who you can have sex with; being told when you’re allowed to have sex with someone; being told what you can do when you have sex with someone and what you can’t do. I learned that… this doesn’t work like they say it’s supposed to but if this tweeter is trying to invoke hearts over parts and at every turn, yeah, that’s some pretty naive shit and, methinks, they don’t know shit about the reality of things because it is not wrong to lust after someone’s parts; it’s not wrong to… um, fornicate even though it’s a sin and one that I’m pretty sure most of us have been guilty of and more than “a few times.”

If you carry some shame about your thoughts and feelings about having sex, well, that’s you. If you wanna do things the way they’re supposed to be done – and adjusted to accommodate your bisexuality – that’s you, too… but it ain’t all of us and it will never be all of us. I’m sure that what the tweeter tweeted is their take on things – it’s their opinion but from where I’m sitting, they’ve drank the Kool-Aid if they believe that the parts have less importance than the hearts and that the sex part of bisexuality shouldn’t garner so much attention and importance.

I’m thinking that person needs a serious wakeup call and pay more attention to the reality of things. Humans… love having sex; it is very damned important and in a lot of ways that, well, you should know this even if you, too, believe that hearts have more importance than partaking of the parts. It’s… okay to think about bisexuality having to be handled a certain way but the moment you start peeking between your fingers at the way it can be – and being weird about it – then, methinks, that’s a problem and more so when, on the whole, we’re weird about just having sex to begin with.

That person, ideally, should accept that for a lot of bisexuals, it is about the sex… but not without any understanding of the non-sexual aspects that comes with bisexuality, you know, if that’s how you’re feeling. Still, if I’m kicked back and watching the game with a guy and that… moment comes when, um, yeah, we can do something else while we’re watching the game, okay – I won’t mind if he doesn’t and more so when it’s very damned unlikely that I’d be there with him if he was someone I had reason not to like and in any way that means to me. At the root of it, it is… just sex. We both get our nuts busted and… back to watching the game and we both might act like… it never happened. Nothing to see here. Grown up boys being grow up boys and all that. If we… make this a thing between us, all well and good. A guy I consider to be a friend, um, needs some help? Sure, I’ll give him some help if he wants it and it’s… nothing more than that. Whatever happens after that – or doesn’t happen – will be… whatever it’s gonna be. It’s… better when you, bluntly, give a fuck about each other but parts before hearts… isn’t as evil as we believe it to be…

But it is very damned human. I get that we “want” bisexuality to follow heteronormative norms; I understand that they can if that’s how someone wants to go about things but to insinuate that all bisexuals have to play by these rules is… unrealistic and quite naive in my opinion. I know all too well the way it’s supposed to be and regardless to sexual orientation… but I also know how it can be, too.

 

Living With… Stuff: 27 May 23

I have what looks like mild osteoarthritis in my right ankle when you look at the X-ray of said ankle. My doctor prescribed therapy and a tie-up ankle brace and… therapy. Pretty much standard in these things unless whatever’s bothering you is serious enough to warrant surgery. He writes the script for this and I… sigh because I’m not sure if physical therapy is going to do any good but, I know the program.

Day one wasn’t bad; I spent the majority of my first day talking about my ankle and my assigned therapist doing his own kind of examination. He tells me that I look familiar to him – had I been here before? I tell him that I’ve only had physical therapy a couple of times in my life and the last time was when I had my stroke back in 2006; I named the facility and he’s thinking that he may have, at the least, seen me since that facility got bought up by the facility I’m now sitting in. Yeah, maybe we did meet way back then but he’s talking about making my ankle stronger, which doesn’t surprise me – but I tell him what I’ve learned about my right-side deficits and how they affect my right foot as well as what I had to do to relearn how to walk and all that.

He introduces me to a different kind of electrical stimulation and asks if I’m willing to try it because… it’s kinda weird and some patients have found that they can’t deal with it but, I’m game and I tell him, “I like weird!” As he puts on the leads, he’s telling me that this machine will make my foot move to the right and, as such, strengthen that particular group of muscles and my first real indication of how different this is was seeing a setting on the machine that said, “Russian.”

“I’m thinking this isn’t a good thing,” I say to him. He laughs and starts cranking the machine up and telling me to let him know when I start feeling something. Well, he was pushing that button for “a while” before I started feeling something and now he tells me that he’s gonna crank it up and I have to tell him if/when it gets to be too much. After maybe another thirty seconds or so of increasing the voltage, I tell him that this is good; he was right: It feels weird as I watch my foot move to the right for a few, then return to its normal position, then back to the right again.

Okay, this is kinda weird but cool and my foot as a whole… feels weird; I can’t explain it but it’s tingly but not really. Anyway, I have to get zapped for fifteen minutes and when my therapist returns, I tell him that, yeah, 63 felt okay but maybe we need to go a bit higher and he agrees. Time’s up, he disconnects me and I’ll be back Thursday for my next session. I note that when I got up and moving to get to this appointment, my ankle wasn’t bothering me but after being zapped? My ankle is… achy and, all late and wrong, I realize that after he finished zapping me, I should have put my ankle brace back on (and after he made me take it off, and I figured he would but wore it anyway). But, no real biggie.

Day two… reminded me too much of the therapy sessions I had post-stroke. I’m shucking and jiving with the young man assigned to me today as he puts me through some stretching stuff as well as balance, which I can probably go to therapy for that every day for the next year and my balance isn’t going to improve any and more so when I’ve been doing those things on my own. But I get through these things, he’s telling me how great I’m doing but he’s… thinking of some stuff because I’m just blowing through “the standard” stuff.

Then… marbles. The first time I was asked to do my best to pick up marbles with my toes and put them into a container, oh, man, it was so fucking frustrating because I could barely wiggle my toes, let alone perform the fine motor control actions to actually pick them up! That therapist gave me some homework: When I get home, I can practice curling my toes and “scooting” my foot as much as I want to. The next session comes and… I’m doing a better job of getting some marbles into the container and, indeed, this is an exercise that I do a lot – and, sometimes, I’m not aware that I’m doing it.

My young Torquemada spills the marbles onto the towel that I’ve been “massaging” with my toes and I was even picking it up and moving it around and… I don’t think he really anticipated my being able to do that, all things considered. I start picking up the marbles and dropping them into the cup and he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do it that fast!” Well, my homework, back in 2006, called for me to pick up coins with my toes so marbles… not a big deal. The only “bad” but funny part was that one of the marbles got stuck between my fourth and baby toe and… I couldn’t get rid of it but that doesn’t surprise me because I know why I can’t.

Time for another fifteen minutes with the zapper on Russian mode. I get cranked up to 73 or so and… I’m not sure that the guy who hooked me up put the pads on the right way because my foot starts out moving to the right and… then to the left. Hmm. I shift my leg a little and my foot goes to the right but, at a point, it starts to drift back to the left – and I had pointed that out during my first session and I make a note to talk about this at my next session.

I get up the next morning and… I feel like Jet Li has been using my back for his kicking practice and my ankle is hurting like a bitch… and I need to get my ass in gear because we gotta go shopping and… I barely survived it. It didn’t affect my ability to drive but the seat has lumbar support and just sitting there felt good and, okay, none of this feels good and I know why it doesn’t. One of the stretching exercises he gave me called for me to have my heels flat on the floor but the rest of my foot on an inclined thingy and I had to keep both feet planted while leaning forward and, like the kid said, “Michael Jackson in Smooth Criminal.” I know the move and, as an aside, that was some cool-assed shit to see!

I realize that doing this leaning… fucked with my back. I am one seriously miserable puppy; I’m taking Tylenol and considering popping a Flexeril and to make things worse for me, I’m tired and sleepy because I’ve been up since 9:30… and I’m not normally awake and I’ve been operating on maybe four hours of sleep. I eventually crawl into bed and… I go to sleep at some point. I wake up and… it’s 9:30. Not all that unusual because… I gotta pee and the bane of men with enlarged prostates; I hobble to the bathroom and absently note that, yeah, I’m strapping on the ankle brace today but my back… feels a lot better. It’s a tad bit achy and that tells me to move around carefully and, oh, yeah, do not bend over!

I finish peeing and climb back into bed but now… I’m awake. I lie there and chill until my body says, “Get your ass up, fool!” I get washed up, put the brace on which, by the way, is interesting because I have to bend or lean over to see what I’m doing and my belly is in the way and making bending over… a pain in the ass and that’s on a regular day since my kidneys “blew me up.” I’m… feeling some kind of way about all of this; it… bothers me and more so when there’s not a lot I can do about any of this. I’m fighting with the brace because the straps that support my arch and heel… are sticking to the rug and, shit, this is some strong-assed Velcro! I get one strap off the rug and… it gets stuck to my sock. Get it unstuck and put in place, and then fight with the other strap to get it fixed place and doing it by feel… because I can’t see what I’m doing and thinking that if my belly wasn’t all blown the fuck up, seeing what I’m doing wouldn’t be a problem.

And, not for the first time, sighing over the fact that you just gotta… live with stuff. I am not looking forward to my next session and definitely not looking forward to my appointment to find out what the fuck is going on with my thumb/wrist. This doctor, who is in the same practice as the doctor checking out my ankle, is one of the best – if not the best – orthopedic doctors in the state but he has a reputation for wanting to do surgeries, not unnecessarily but, yeah, if surgery is the answer, let’s not beat around the bush and get it done. I’m curious about what the report says about my thumb/wrist and I’m a bit worried about what he’s gonna want to do about it; at the least, my ankle sessions will include stuff for my wrist and… it’s gonna hurt. Badly. Might need surgery.

And I have some trips coming up that I’m not of a mind to miss and more so when I’ve already paid for them so we’re just gonna have to work around the planned trips. We’ll see.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 24 May 23, 1351 hours

Teenage Me is on my knees and sucking a guy’s cock and, yeah, fuck, this is so goddamned good! I’m into it, he’s into it and then he fucked it all up by saying, “Yeah… suck my dick like a good little girl…”

I was on my feet and swinging before I had realized that I’d moved. My fist connected with his nose and I heard it break. Of course, he’s shocked and stunned and asking me why I broke his nose and I told him, “I’m not a good little girl…” Yeah, I apologized to him but I kinda/sorta didn’t really mean it because he not only ruined what was a good thing, he had offended me.

Teenage Me had a major problem that I didn’t handle very well. I knew that if I was sucking a guy’s dick or he was fucking me, I was doing what girls did and Younger Me also knew this but, nah, I didn’t get offended behind it because while we might ask, “Do you wanna be the girl first or what?” that was, in my mind, very different from those moments as Teenage Me and guys…

Talking to me like I was female. Calling me honey, baby, and the worse, a bitch and the same shit I knew guys were saying to females while having sex with them and I knew because they’d tell me that one of the conditions for us having sex was… don’t even let the word “bitch” or “whore” come out of your mouth. I’d understood this but got to understand it better when guys started saying these things to me and… I didn’t like it one bit and I was quick to be… violent about it.

I’m sucking another guy and he says that I’m a good dick-sucking faggot and… he got an uppercut to the nuts and as hard as I could deliver it. He drops like a stone, and I was in a rage and he’s down and I’m of a mind to make sure he never gets up and… I stop myself. Yep, now he’s fighting mad and wants to know why I jacked him in the sack, and I said, “I’m not a faggot.”

He says that, okay, he said it but he knew I wasn’t a faggot and now I understand that, sometimes when one is caught up in the throes of sexual pleasure, they can say… shit; sometimes they meant what they said and sometimes… it just came out of their mouth. That guy says, “Yeah, you are one because only faggots suck dick!” and… the fight was on and blood was shed – more of his than mine. I go home and I’m bloodied, I know I have a black eye and my mom loses her shit and wants to know why I was fighting and I tell her the truth, well, part of it: “Some guy called me a faggot and I got offended and that’s what started the fight.”

I saw my mom trying not to laugh and that just pissed me off more than I already was but she says that she understands but being called a name isn’t a good reason to resort to violence and, of course, she was right. I’m in my room with an icepack on my eye and thinking that I need to learn how not to get upset hearing this shit when I’m having sex with a guy because if I can’t, well, it’s gonna be a problem. I had to learn the difference between talking dirty during sex and actually being intentionally denigrated and, going forward, fuck, it was often hard to tell the difference and, at the least, hearing a guy say, “You’re sucking my dick really good, baby…” would ruin the whole thing for me and keeping my temper in check was difficult.

I mean, duh, the guy obviously knows that I’m not a girl and that I’m not one of those flamboyant gay dudes. Yeah, when having sex with girls, they were baby and honey and sweetheart – but never, ever bitch or whore – and, indeed, some girls would get upset if they didn’t hear these… terms of endearment coming out of a guy’s mouth because if he didn’t say them, that meant that he really didn’t give a fuck about her. I’m eating a girl’s pussy and she shouts out, “Yeah – eat my pussy, bitch!” and… I don’t react to it other than to step up my efforts but the question was… why didn’t I get bent out of shape because she called me a bitch and, as an aside, what girl has been eating her pussy?

Everyone knew that only homos had sex with other dudes and some, if not most, homos acted like… bitches when you had sex with them so, obviously, a guy who sucked dick and got fucked was… a girly bitch and, as I would sometimes painfully learn, that was the reason why guys were saying such things to me. Understanding it – and to the extent I could – didn’t help with getting that “urge to kill” being called baby, honey, bitch, whore, faggot, sissy, so on and so forth… but a girl could call me baby and honey and… that was fine.

Okay – something’s not right here. My version of teenaged logic said that if I’m screwing “Patty” and she’s calling me all kinds of names – including motherfucker – and I’m not getting upset, then I shouldn’t get upset when a guy is doing the same thing… right? Yeah, let’s not and say we get upset anyway and I knew I had a major problem and didn’t know how I was going to handle it, let alone resolve it – but I knew that if I couldn’t, sex with guys was going to take a serious downward plunge.

Sure, it can just be something they say in the heat of the moment – but if what’s being said offends you, do you say or do something about it or… let them keep offending you? A girl slapped the shit out of me because we were fucking and energetically so and I got a very serious cramp in my foot and yelled, “Son of a bitch!” and she slapped me silly and said that she was nobody’s bitch – then apologized for it because all she heard was “bitch.”

Oops. Yet another guy says that, “Suck my dick good, bitch!” and… I realized that I was about to give his dick a biting he was never, ever, going to forget – and stopped myself. I’m still sucking him and I get him off but it stopped being fun for me the moment I heard what he said. He sucks me off and, well, he had noticed that my whole mood had changed while I was blowing him and asked if he did something wrong and I said, “I don’t like being called a bitch.” Okay, it… just came out of his mouth unbidden but, again, I had to be able to tell the difference between this and when a guy was really insulting me.

It took me a whole lot of years before (a) I could tell the difference and (b) to not let shit like this bother me one way or the other. Into the online years and a guy says, “You best believe that I’m gonna make you my bitch!” and my first thought was that he should be glad that we weren’t face-to-face and he said that and my other thoughts were all about the many ways I could… take him out. I broke the deal and, on one hand, it was a crying shame because negotiations were going well… until he said that.

I had learned to tell guys before the fact to not call me baby, honey, or a bitch because it offended me and most guys complied with my request but some guys let me know that if I’m doing shit that women are known to do, then the shoe fit as far as they’re concerned and the fucked up part was… they were right but I would still get offended. I back up a bit at this point and go back to having a gay boyfriend and one who hit me with all kinds of stuff coming out of his mouth when we had sex and including calling me a bitch quite a few times and… I wasn’t offended. He had asked me one night why I didn’t really talk that dirty to him – like calling him a bitch or a whore – and I said, “Because it’s offensive and I don’t think about you like that.”

“But I am both a bitch and a whore for you,” he had said. “It’s okay – if you call me that, I’m not offended.”

Yeah, it didn’t offend him, but it offended me just the same and even then, my problem persisted. How and why did I not get offended when he – or some woman – were calling me names and saying shit that, if some other dude said it, I’d be ready to punch his lights out? I was talking to another bi guy and we got to talking about this and he had the same problem that I did and he said, “Just don’t pay any attention to it!” Yeah, easier said than done because once you hear it, you can’t unhear it and if it’s something that offends you, um, how can you not hear it and react to it in some way?

I’d learned to, in those moments, just stop whatever was happening and tell the guy not to say those things to me and, one day, realizing that I sounded like… a whiny little bitch. Well, fuck me. Culturally, calling someone a bitch, well, don’t be calling anyone a bitch unless you’re trying to start a fight. Women didn’t like that – and, yeah, definitely and especially Black women – and I knew that I was conditioned not to let that word come out of my mouth even accidentally. Being confused because some women – and a few really gay men – demanded that I call them a bitch or a whore or a slut because… that’s exactly how they saw themselves and it was okay. No, really, it’s okay!

It’s hard to not be offended by something that offends you. My dilemma was both clear and confusing: Women and those really gay men could get away with this… but other guys couldn’t. I would realize that I had some internal dissonance going on. The facts and truths were that I did, indeed, suck dick and like women would and guys fucked me… and really no damned different from what I did with women and… guys who liked and wanted it like that. I would say that the intelligent parts of my brain could make all the “necessary connections” and, well, heat of the moment stuff more than a deliberate attempt to insult or demean but, sure, some guys were just assholes like that. Emotionally, it wasn’t clicking. A guy is screwing me and it’s good and comforting and he goes deep in me; he groans, I moan and he says, “Damn, your pussy is good!”

And I was instantly offended; I wanted to get him off me and beat that ass and… I didn’t. I “sacrificed” some satisfaction to concentrate on not being offended and it kinda/worked. He nuts in me, we’re groaning and all that and he apologizes for “implying” that I had a pussy like a girl but before he got with me, he had gotten with a woman and, welp, she had some good pussy. My intelligence could understand how this… stuck in his head and he didn’t really mean anything offensive, but it was a compliment. My emotions were having a fit; they wanted to rage and wage war over this “slight” and pissed off because my intelligence held those emotions at bay.

It’s well-known that when we’re having sex and seriously in the moment, there’s not telling what might come out of someone’s mouth, oh, like how this one woman yelled out some other guy’s name as she was cumming and, yeah – what the fuck, right? Oh, she knew she did it and, yeah, I was not happy about that but I would intelligently understand some stuff like, hmm, what really goes on in someone’s mind when they’re having sex? I had no idea who “Kenny” was but, yeah, if he could get her off and in spectacular fashion and I was doing the same thing to her, sure, I can see how that might work. Emotionally, I was having a fit because how dare you be thinking about some other dude when I’m having sex with you and then shouting out his name!

Yeah, I remember the one time I did that and, yeah, it did not go over well with the woman at all. I tried to explain it to her; she had, in fact, made me have a serious orgasm and just like the woman whose name I blurted out had… way back when I was a teenager. I think that little factoid was what saved me from having my skin flayed off me with a dull and rusty knife. I saw that, intelligently, she understood why but emotionally? Not so much. In those situations, I learned to not get offended; I’d just tell her – gently and with some humor added, “Um, I’m not him but I am glad that you’re enjoying yourself!”

Oops. Or another woman who called out another guy’s name and told “him” not to do that and, okay, whoever that guy was made a mistake with her and I just made the exact same mistake. I get it. What I still had a problem with was guys calling me baby and a bitch and since this was still bothering me, I had to find a way to make it stop bothering me because, again: It wasn’t like I didn’t know that anything could be said during sex. I mean, I’ve done it and, sometimes, totally unaware of what I said and, yup, said something the other person didn’t like.

At one point, such stuff rendered me… silent. I wouldn’t verbally express myself during sex because there was no telling what I might say. One day, a woman told me that while she enjoyed my intensity and focus, to her, if I was being verbal, that told her that I wasn’t enjoying her or sex at all… and that was a mistake even if it wasn’t the truth. We had sex again but this time she said, “Let me hear you…” and it was pretty fucking weird hearing myself being verbal but she was right: The sex felt… better – not that the first time was bad but I understood what she was saying. I’m being verbal, she’s hearing me and it’s doing some stuff to her and, well, I made this mistake… and you bet your ass that I won’t ever make it again.

And that’s when I stopped getting seriously pissy about hearing terms of endearment coming out of a guy’s mouth or, yeah, him shouting out, “Suck it, bitch!” I still don’t like being called a bitch – that’s always been a fighting word but with certain exceptions because there’s that familiar “bitch” and then there’s the “We getting ready to fight, bitch!” thing. One’s offensive, the other isn’t. A guy I’m sucking says, “Damn, baby, you are good at this!” and… it’s a compliment. “Suck that dick, bitch!” can also be a compliment albeit a somewhat backhanded one because, duh, homey knows that I’m not a female dog and I learned that I just… knew when it was meant to be offensive and insulting and when it was, just stop whatever’s going on and leave.

Yeah, I wish I had learned that when I was younger. But I think “everyone” kinda/maybe/sorta deals with, ah, verbalizations that doesn’t sit well with them when they’re having sex with someone. I had to intelligently learn about… context. I had to try to understand the male mind when they’re having sex and beginning with trying to understand what goes on in my head when I’m having sex with anyone – but being mindful (in the future) of not letting something come out of my mouth that could be offensive and insulting. It’s a… communication thing and one that is best employed before the fact but, sometimes, yeah, that doesn’t happen. Understanding that if something said was insulting, offensive, and/or demeaning, you didn’t have to put up with it and you either tell them to keep those words out of their mouth or… just leave. Thanks for fucking up what was a good thing… before your big mouth fucked it up.

I learned that once one’s inhibitions get put on the bench, yeah, you might hear some truths from the other person and, yeah, they said something, know that they did, but couldn’t stop it from coming out. My bad; no offense meant and I’m sorry; can we continue or are we done? And, of course, the price to be paid is… no more sex happening. Once the mood gets killed, it’s not easy to pick it up again and now I had a personal remit to not let the mood get killed – and to not let something that someone else might say kill the mood and my joy.

It’s not a true sexuality thing but there’s no debating or denying the fact that I had this problem because of what guys would say when having sex with me because, okay, are you blind? Do I look like a girl? No? Then why are you calling me a girl or acting like I’m your woman or some shit like that? If a woman, in the heat of the moment, can be very verbal and all that, why is that okay… but guys being verbal isn’t? Intelligently, this didn’t make sense to me but I’d eventually figure out – intelligently – that it was my emotions getting all pissy about things and, well, I had to do something about that. It’s okay – and even preferred – to get your emotions engaged during sex but if, by chance, your partner says something offensive, don’t fly off the handle and that’s exactly what your emotions are gonna make you do when your intelligence – and knowing that sex makes people say the damnedest things – should tell your emotion to chill and enjoy getting laid.

And you have zero control over someone else’s emotions. One of the things that got my attention was women saying that… men overthink sex. We do but for good reason and one of them happens to be not knowing what we can and can’t say to a woman when having sex. Do we think the same way when having sex with a guy? Good question, huh? I know that I’m mindful of not letting some stuff that may pop into my head come out of my mouth and especially stuff that I wouldn’t want to hear, oh, like… bitch or slut, not that being a slut is that bad of a thing but, again, you get it… programmed into your head that “slut” is bad and your hear a guy calling you a slut and your mind… ain’t happy about that but, hmm, is it not better to be “slutty” than to be a stick in the mud when you’re in bed with someone?

It’s about context and emotional response to a set of pre-programmed conditions and Teenage Me… did not react well or understood contextual stuff or that guys sometimes… just say shit when their dick is hard and it’s feeling good to them. There’s talking dirty and then there’s insulting someone and… you just gotta know which is which.

 

The Daily Prompt: 23 May 23

Daily writing prompt

How do you feel about cold weather?

View all responses

I despise being cold. I have never liked being cold. There was an… incident where Younger Me thought it was a good idea to walk across a frozen body of water and… the ice broke and I fell in. I was in no danger of drowning but… cold like I’d never experienced before but learning the lesson that being wet and cold is very damned bad. I’d fallen in and got myself out in less than a minute… but I was in there long enough to literally get chilled to the bone.

All that did was make me not like being cold a hell of a lot more. Okay, there were some cold days that made me feel… invigorated. Pushing that event of getting an icy cold bath out of my system but then… “The Hawk.” Those high and strong winds that often accompany the coldest of days – aka, wind chill factors. Days when the temperature is 31 degrees and feels like -2 or some other ridiculous number.

Rolling my eyes at people who seemed to think that because I was born in the fall, I should like cool/cold weather and, oh, hell, no I don’t! Remembering being a Boy Scout and participating in “Operation Frostbite” and earning a merit badge for camping out in the coldest fucking place in the Boy Scout camp and, yeah, having to deal with “The Hawk” and it brought… all of its friends. But I survived it and, um, let’s say that me and my tent mate found a nice way to generate heat and stay warm at night.

And then… I had a stroke that came with neuropathic pain and finding out that being cold… hurts like you wouldn’t believe. Or, really, one side of my body feels that way. My right side tells my brain, “I’m freezing!” and my left side says, “What is he talking about?” Being hot and sweaty… still doesn’t feel good on my right side – but it’s better than those winter days and having to go out in it and, oh, yeah, living with a woman who even in winter, likes to sleep with the fan on.

And there’s nothing I can do about it. I know it’s my brain fucking with me but when it’s cold, I can’t put enough clothing on because my right side convinces the rest of me that it’s colder than it really is and when my left side agrees that, shit, The Hawk is here with its relatives and friends, I’m going to really be in pain and suffering so, yeah, this is how I feel about cold weather.

A 70-degree day feels okay on the left… and hurts like a bitch on the right. I… gotta live with it… but I sure as hell don’t like it and if I hated being cold before, you can imagine how I feel about it now being… temperature sensitive. Often being tickled at how and why this works with me and knowing that there’s a very narrow temperature range that doesn’t cause me any pain – that’s between 74 and 76 degrees but, yeah, I’d rather be hot than cold… because the cold hurts me more.