Tag Archives: Bisexuality

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts:  “Oh, By the Way…”

It’s a rather lazy Sunday afternoon and the kind of moment where my brain just wanders all over the place and, man, does it tend to think of some “weird shit” and just because it can.

I was working on a puzzle in my Magic Puzzles app, kinda zoned out a little as I swiped and rotated pieces into place when my brain brought up [yet] another memory and one that un-zoned me, made me blink and think, “Where did that come from?” as well as momentarily smile and frown.  Check this out…

I was positioned alongside a guy, perspiration dripping into my eyes and stinging them as I sucked his cock.  He was getting very close to giving up his spunk and, in the present, I remembered that I had been thinking something kinda funny, that he wanted me to make him cum but he was being very reluctant to do it… but, um, yeah, he was about to give it up.

He moaned, cursed, went from thrusting into my mouth to moving as if I’d jammed a cattle prod in his butt; his dick got a little longer and thicker and… ah, there it was, that first spurt that was quickly followed by more spurts.  As I held him in my mouth and absently went about the task of swallowing, my asshole of a brain “tapped” me on the shoulder and asked, “Oh, by the way… have you ever thought about all the children that won’t be born because of what you just did?”

Huh?  What?  Here in the present, yeah, I’m kinda laughing at myself because I can remember feeling the look on my face as I frowned with a mouthful of softening dick.  I remember him asking me if I were okay; maybe he sensed my surprise and bafflement or maybe he saw or felt me frowning but I recall telling him that I was fine but just thinking about something for a moment.

A minute or so later, I’m lying on my back, legs open, and the guy is between them cupping my balls as he sucks me… and the Asshole Known As My Brain decides to speak up once again, asking me, “Hey, did you forget what I asked a little while ago?”  No, I hadn’t forgotten it and, as a matter of fact, I was trying not to think about it while homie was returning the favor because the fact that my idiotic mind even brought that up was threatening to make me start laughing.

Which isn’t cool when you’re having your dick sucked.  I kept trying to shove the thought aside and to keep the laughter bubbling inside of me from coming out and pay attention to the really wonderful job he was doing sucking me.  Just as he was a while ago, I wanted him to make me cum and I wasn’t trying to make it easy for him… but he “cheated” by sliding a finger into my ass and shoving me right to the edge.

And, just as my release hit me, Asshole Brain said, “Now you got him doing it!” – and I couldn’t help it – I started laughing which, by the way, isn’t as easy as it sounds when you’ve got a nice orgasm kicking your ass at the same time; I don’t even wanna describe to you what I sounded like because, um, let’s just say that if you had heard it, you’d be laughing as well, okay?

I’m sure the guy was swallowing my “unborn children” and thinking that the somewhat sounds of laughter were escaping me because he did such a good job doing me that it made me giddy and, nope, I didn’t disagree with him when he sat up, smiling happily and implied that I must have busted on hell of a nut.  He was partially correct; he did, in fact, induced me to bust one hell of a nut… but, well, y’all know why I was trying to laugh even if I never told him why.

Why this popped into my head is something I couldn’t answer… but I wanted to write it down before I forgot it because to think of such a thing, even now, strikes me as totally hilarious… and this blog is, after all, about whatever happens to be in my head – even the silly stuff.


Posted by on 23 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Finding the Truth Where It Lives

It’s summer, 1970-something, and there are two guys “surrounding” me and not only calling me a cock sucker but, as they openly play with knives they pulled out of their pockets, they announced that despite few things – like, I didn’t know these guys personally even though they wore the colors of a well-known neighborhood gang and the automatic, “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m not a cock sucking faggot… or whatever you called me…” that came out once they started making false accusations – and false because I might be a lot of things, but a faggot ain’t one of them – that they were gonna make me suck their dicks… or else.

I’d heard through the grapevine that there were some dudes running around picking on little guys and making them suck dick and, once, bent this one kid over and gave him the business and I guess that, at a mere 4′ 11″, I had ‘victim’ written all over me… except, unlike those other rumored guys, I was trained to defend myself, even against a knife so when I told them they could suck each other’s dicks and, if they were smart, they’d go find someone else to pick on, well, they didn’t like that.  After looking at each other – and it was weird to see them thinking the same thing – they attacked, brandished switchblades gleaming in the afternoon sun…

And got their asses kicked.  No, it wasn’t a scuffle out of a Bruce Lee movie and I didn’t walk away without some damage – a busted lip, a small cut on my arm, a bloody nose along with one hell of a headache but, as they say, you should see the other guys who suffered more serious damage in the form of arms broken at the elbow, a dislocated knee (or two), one broken nose from a perfect heel-palm strike.  A couple of adults came to the rescue, late but appreciated, and not only did those guys limp away howling in pain, but I now had two rather nice switchblades.  Police arrived asking questions – officer, it was just a misunderstanding, yes, I’m okay, no, I didn’t know them and they went that way.  Maybe the police caught up with them, maybe they didn’t although I’m sure they both wound up at the ER at some point.

But I had experienced an epiphany as I fought to not only preserve my virtue but my life…

There was a time when someone would call me a cock sucker – out of anger or in jest – and, oh, I’d get quite offended and part of the epiphany I had that day included having me wonder why I’d get offended by being called that when the truth was, um, yeah, I really was a cock sucker, that being one of my favorite sexual things to do and second to eating pussy.  I knew that what offended me was being called – or accused of being – a homo, a faggot, or a queer because I knew I was none of those things (“Go ask your mom if I’m a faggot – I’m sure she’d disagree…”) but, yeah, they had the cock sucker part right so, yeah, why get offended by that?

As epiphanies go, this one was stunning in that shocked to the core way that, at first, makes you sit with that thousand yard stare look on your face and what makes it “worse” is having found the truth even though you’ve obviously known the truth all along.  No, I’m not a homo… but I am a cock sucker; whether or not I was a good one was a matter of opinion, I’d guess – just because you don’t hear a complaint doesn’t mean there wasn’t one but that’s not the point.  The point, of course, was starkly and sharply clear:  I’m a cock sucker and, for a moment, I wondered how I could be so totally taken aback by a ‘revelation’ I was very much aware of.

Some four decades later (and now, about an hour ago), I’m not sure what made this memory pop into my head but as I recalled that day, I also though about something I’d read in one of my favorite books, something about forgetting what you’ve learned and what you think you know… and finding the truth where it lives.  The epiphany experienced that day made me see the truth where it lived as a kind of connection was finally made; uh, duh, if you suck dick and you like sucking dick, doesn’t that make you a cock sucker?  Yes, of course it does but wait – there’s more!  Let’s go back to the part where you like sucking cock for a moment; if you truly do like sucking cock – and, apparently, you do – does it make any sense to get bent out of shape whenever someone facetiously or even maliciously calls you a cock sucker?  Because, um, well, yeah – the shoe fits, doesn’t it?

There are those who want to believe that bisexuals don’t think about whatever it is they do and while for some of us, being bisexual is so second-nature to us that we don’t really (or consciously) think about it, yeah, we do think about it, sometimes in the form of a guilt trip, sometimes as a logic check (and in the form of “Am I doing the right thing for myself?), and sometimes because it’s just really kinda cool to know that the truth is getting some dick or some pussy is not only fun but quite liberating from “normal” standards.

My mind is jogging that forty-year-old memory back and forth as I sit behind the keyboard to start writing this.  It wasn’t the first time someone had called me a cock sucking faggot and it wasn’t the first time I’d ever got into a tussle behind those words.  Inwardly, I nodded at the truth of this and as I did so, my mind did what I’d call an “in between flashback” to many moments where I was being exactly what I’d be called at times:  A cock sucker.  I’m writing this, my mind still has its “finger” on the jogging dial and just bouncing around all over the place to pick out moments where my cock sucking moments were glorious and, because it could, pointing out those moments when, um, okay, fuck, that could have been better, huh?  The jogging would stop at the moment I found the truth where it lived:  I was looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, gingerly dabbing at my busted lip and, even better, thinking that playing trumpet wasn’t gonna happen until it healed and, oh, yeah, you’re not gonna be eating any pussy… or sucking any dick for a few days at least.

All I could do was to stare at my reflection and, honestly, I’m not sure I was really breathing in that moment as I looked into the face of a cock sucker, looking at the busted lip that had, on more occasions that I could face in that moment, surrounded a guy’s cock, lips that would glad assist him in getting hard (if he wasn’t already), lips that, in concert with my tongue, would work to bring him to his release; lips that would be swiped with my tongue to capture any spunk that may have escaped and to savor the rather distinct taste of dick that lingered there well after cocks got put away and business resumed as normal.  I was stunned… and, even then, I couldn’t think of a word that would have proved to be a lot more suitable to describe that precise moment.  Jeez, I know I’m not a faggot or a homo… but I am a cock sucker… and I don’t know how I really feel about that.

This is gonna take a while to figure out.  I recall that, forty-something years ago, I sat on my bed, barely paying attention to my mom lecturing me about fighting even though I had done the right thing by defending myself… and I was barely paying attention to her because, oh, damn, I really am a cock sucker!  Not only that but, eh, despite those experiences where I could have – and probably should have – used better judgement, didn’t I really have fun using my mouth to make a guy cum?  Well, yeah, dummy!  Did you really think you sucked dick because you didn’t have anything better to do?  Oh, wait… you have done it because you didn’t have anything better to do – my bad!  As a matter of fact, weren’t you and whatshisname hanging out just the other day and he said something like, “What do you wanna do?” and you blurted out, “I feel like sucking some dick!” – and the two of you sucked each other until neither of you could get it up again?

Yeah… that was me.  Cock sucker.  Me.  I’d found where the truth lived… and I was okay with it.  Four-plus decades ago, I don’t remember my mom leaving my room, barely remember her doing her nurse thing and making sure I had no serious damages… but I do remember finding a kind of peace with myself because I was, indeed, a sucker of cocks.  I liked it – no, that’s not where the truth lives; I loved it, the feel, the taste, and even the sheer “nastiness” of doing something that, reportedly, boys just didn’t do to other boys and doing something everyone considered to be a girl’s thing to do.

Not homosexual… but bisexual.  The epiphany faded into the background, its job done; I’d found where the truth lived and now there was some things I needed to do.  One was to not ever get bent out of shape when someone called me a cock sucker but, yeah, since you kinda don’t want everyone knowing you’re a cock sucker (and a fairly decent one, thank you very much), ya might want to put up a protest or two, you know, because you’re expected to reject such a ridiculous, unmanly notion.  Oddly enough, the second thing I somehow really needed to do was to go check out one of my partners… and suck his dick until he cried for his mamma and Jesus to save him, make him bust a nut… then start all over again.  That’s exactly what I did – well, once my busted lip healed up, that is.

Oh, my.  I met up with a guy, told him point-blank that I was there to suck his dick – he was all for that but I knew he would be – and I fell to the task with what I could only call a renewed purpose and a purpose he didn’t mind… the first time… and I knew he was questioning my sanity and what had gotten into me the second and third time I emptied his balls and, for a moment, even I wondered what the fuck was going on until I realized – and you can call it a mini-epiphany if you want to – that I was reaffirming the fact and even moving in with the truth where it lived because I am, indeed, a cock sucker.  I’d been doing it for so long but now I was owning it, albeit at my friend’s expense that day.

Cock sucker.  Yep, me.  Nothing to be upset about, no reason to be fighting with someone just because they uttered a truth that you’ve now, really and truly, accepted.  You learn things and there are things that you know… and there comes a time when you have to forget those thing for a moment and find the truth where it lives and see it for what it really is…

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Posted by on 23 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Guilt Trips

A guy on the bi forum shared with the membership that, whilst playing a video game with his friend, he wound up having his first experience being screwed by a guy – it’s unsure if this was his very first experience.  He shared that it was fun and good but,after the  fact, felt somewhat guilty because he has a girlfriend… and his post included a “cry” for help.

Guilt, as I understand it, is one of those feelings that tends to show up when you’re either about to do something you’re probably not supposed to do, can show up even if you’re actually doing the right thing for yourself, and really tends to show up to stomp a mud hole in your ass after you’ve done something and in the form of that voice in your head that says, “Now, you know you shouldn’t have done that!”

Right… how kind of you to bring this to my attention after I’ve already done it – thanks a lot!

It is said that in order to avoid feeling guilt, well, one should never do anything that will invite Guilt to move in and, honestly, given the broad spectrum involved here, I’m not sure if that’s even possible because, sometimes, guilt isn’t about what you do – it can also be about what you don’t do.

So, two things that came together for the guy who wrote the post and asked for help:  He had sex with a guy and cheated on his girlfriend.  I commented that even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, he would have still felt guilty for willfully breaking a well-known taboo – well, technically, a few of them but you know what I mean, don’t you?  The guilt from the first thing can be very bad; add in some extra guilt for the second thing and, whew, talk about a recipe for disaster!

I commented that Guilt is funny; sometimes, you’ll think about, let’s say, finally getting around to sucking a cock… and the mere thought of of doing that will set off a guilt trip because, of course, men are not ever supposed to want to suck cock, let alone think about it and, depending on the individual, it can just shut you down and ensure that, nope, you ain’t sucking any dick today, fella.  Sometimes – and I think that, in collusion with the infamous Mr. Murphy – Guilt will remain silent and let you go right ahead and ravish that cock and to your heart’s content… then pounce on you so hard that I’ve seen guys get physically ill and revisit their stomach contents.

Yep, even I have been in the middle of working a cock over and have felt Guilt tapping me on the shoulder to remind me that, um, you know you’re wrong for doing what you’re doing, right?  Yeah, I know… we’ll talk about it after I get done here, okay?

The thing is, as usual, not that you feel guilty about sucking that dick or whatever it was you did – it’s how you deal with it.  The human mind is remarkable in that while Guilt is tap dancing all over your ass, you can convince yourself that you’ve not done anything to feel guilty about and you most certainly didn’t just do anything that you didn’t want to need to do.  Some consider this an act of denial but I’m of a mind that this is our innate ability to justify anything that we do and more so when The Rules, in this case, clearly says, “Thou shalt not lie down with another man and have fun doing it!”

When Guilt comes calling after the fact, it begs a question that’s not easily answered:  Why am I feeling bad about something after I’ve already done it?  Yeah, sure, perhaps you should have thought about that before you did it but that doesn’t change the fact that, um, you didn’t and that you didn’t is seen by some to be irresponsible because you should always think about these things before you do it and, as mentioned, if you are thinking about it, Guilt might step in and make you see things its way.

Or not. So how does this guy – or anyone, really, deal with Guilt?  You can’t really ignore it because, in this, the compulsion to feel guilty about sucking that dick or being screwed by a guy is deeply seated within us; you can’t act as if you didn’t do whatever you did and bullshitting yourself by saying that you really didn’t want to do it in the first place doesn’t fly since, uh, you did do it and enjoyed every moment of it.

I’ve been asked how I deal with it, which is by no means a one-size-fits-all solution, I’ve said that when Guilt wants to remind me that I shouldn’t have let that guy suck my dick, I’ve learned to tell it, “I know that but I accept the consequences of my actions, okay?  Besides, where were you when the guy asked me if he could blow me and I was considering his proposal, hmm?  Why is it that when I come back at you and ask why this is sucha wrong thing to do, all you have to say is because it is and because I said so?”

Yeah, it sounds cray-cray to be having an argument with yourself but it’s what we do, it’s what goes on inside our head at all times – I’ve just found an interesting way to describe the process.  Guilt is an emotional thing and pitting one’s intelligence against Guilt has been known to catastrophically fail at times since Guilt is such a powerful emotion.  So for me, sure, I know what then rules say about this – don’t think about it, don’t do it – and I accept that I like breaking those rules and if/when I have to answer for that, then I will… so you keep reminding me and I’ll do you a favor, Guilt, by reviewing the matter because, sometimes, you do tell me before the fact… but if you’re gonna keep interrupting me while I’m doing it or showing up all late and wrong after the fact, go bother someone else, will you?

I don’t know how the guy who wrote the post is gonna deal with the guilt he feels but I do know that it’s not all that easy to deal with. It’s my thought that Guilt shows up all late and wrong because the power behind our drive for sex can issue a gag order on Guilt and the gag order gets rescinded after nuts have been busted.  Ya might not be able to escape Guilt but you can strive to not let it fuck with you as badly as it can and, really, if you feel guilty, it’s a good sign that you don’t have that mental thing going on where you feel no guilt at all about anything…

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Posted by on 21 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: That Phobia Thing

phobia (n):  an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation (definition courtesy of the iPad version of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

I was checking out my notifications on Twitter and one of the new tweets I missed overnight contained the words “biphobia” and “transphobia,” the latest sexuality-related fear being given voice to… and it made me wonder (and, as usual, not for the first time) if the people who throw these words around understand what a phobia is – hence the moment it took for me to tap the icon on my iPad for the dictionary and look it up so I could display it here.  Humans are funny (and like you needed me to remind you of this?) in that we consider ourselves to be both rational and civilized even though we’ve proven over our existence as a species that we can be anything but.

The question that popped into my head was, “Is biphobia really an inexplicable and illogical fear… or is this a fear that’s been taught to us thanks to social conditioning?”  It’s one thing to think/believe that bisexuality is morally wrong and this is what we’re taught… but to develop a phobia?  I don’t know if you guys are aware of this but phobias are some pretty serious things that tend to defy explanation, like how some people are afraid of clouds (nephophobia) and seeing them can cause panic attacks and other uncomfortable things.

Some fears are ingrained into us over our evolution, like arachnophobia (the fear of spiders) and ophidiophobia (the fear of snakes) and, well, both of these animals are not only creepy looking but some of them can kill the shit out of us and, at the least, make us sick, cause disfiguring damage, etc., so these two phobias kinda make sense, don’t they… for something that, by definition, is said to be an inexplicable and illogical fear.  Think about that one for a moment while I keep typing.

So what’s the fear invoked by bisexuals, homosexuals, and transgender?  The next and, I think, obvious question isn’t so much that these phobias exist but why they exist and it’s just a guess on my part but it’s probably because we’ve always had a fear of that which is different from us, better known as the fear of the other or, “If you aren’t like us, you’re against us.”  It begs a question:  Is this a true phobia… or just our natural tendency to be prejudiced against those who are not like us?  We know that religion has literally put the fear of God into us about being anything but heterosexual so we have been conditioned to fear homosexuals and it seems that this has been expanded to include everyone else who isn’t heterosexual… and while I haven’t looked it up, uh, is there such a thing as heterophobia?

Well, damn… apparently, there is!  From what I’m looking at (courtesy of http:/, “The term heterophobia is, perhaps, only less than two decades old – a much shorter period than its more familiar sibling, homophobia, which dates to 1958.”

Who knew?  Which again makes me wonder:  Is this a genuine, 100% for-real, by the book phobia… or is this just “mere” prejudice toward those who aren’t like us?

Cityman and I talk about this at times and we’ve opined that bisexuality can be perceived as a “threat” to the ways of life for both heterosexuals and homosexuals and, simply, because bisexuals take what we know – and what we’ve been taught – about sex and flushes it down the toilet… but is this a true phobia… or just another way for us to put our ability to be prejudiced on display?  Now…

I see some folks write about how biphobia has a negative effect on the lives of bisexuals and, well, I don’t see it… although, admittedly, I’m kinda sure no one would really wanna fuck with me about being bisexual and those who have found reason to regret it.  But, my point here is that if you don’t buy into this biphobia bullshit, how can it have a negative effect on you?  No, this isn’t a case of pretending it doesn’t exist; this is me coming to the conclusion of not worrying myself about something that most people don’t really understand and especially those people who, inexplicably and illogically, assume that bisexuals and homosexuals are one and the same… and we aren’t.  Or, like I said to a guy – and way, way before the word “biphobia” was coined, “If you don’t believe that I’m not homosexual, I can prove it to you; all you have to do is bring me your woman and watch what happens…”

Funny that he suddenly didn’t seem to require any proof…

So, perhaps one can conclude that biphobia – and the other sexuality-related phobias – is a real phobia albeit one that we’ve been taught to have?  Yes, I know:  There are many people who believe that having such phobias makes no sense at all, that all they do is to perpetuate our fear of that which isn’t like us, to keep drawing lines of division between us even though we are the same species.  But if it made sense, um, would it really be a phobia as defined?  I’ll leave that up to y’all to figure out…

PS:  If you’ve ever wonder why I often say that our fears make us foolish, maybe this scribbling will serve to illustrate why I say this.

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Posted by on 20 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Oops!

I was in the moment, happily and busily sucking on the hard dick in my mouth and not only being flooded by those sensations but the extra sensations of being, ah, vigourously sucked.  In such moments, time doesn’t behave properly; sometimes it speeds by impossibly fast, sometimes it gets incredibly slow and it’s all because of being intensely focused on what’s being done in the moment.

He’s getting close to cumming – well, so am I and my focus was momentarily broken by being surprised that I hadn’t already, given the aggressive way he going at me.  Ah, yes… I can feel the tremors racing along his shaft, feel and taste the increased amount of pre-cum on my tongue and if I do this right now, he should…

Yes!  He’s shuddering and shaking, cussing and, important to the moment, flooding my greedy (yes, I did use that word) mouth with salty spunk… when I heard a “voice” say, “You know you’re gonna burn in hell for this, don’t you?”  It’s not that I’d never heard this before and, normally, it would have distracted me but, ah, let’s just say that I found myself in the same situation as the guy whose dick was now getting soft in my mouth, but minus the verbal outbursts, okay?

Not for the first time, I thought about that burning in hell thing, albeit after the fact and how troubling that thought was.  After all, I’d broken a top-level taboo by sucking that guy’s dick as well as being sucked by him – and then compounded the violation by doing it all over again and, yes, despite hearing that voice in my head practically screaming at me to stop breaking the rules unless you want your immortal soul to be in eternal torment.

When I contemplated this later and the voice in my head asked why I did this (not once but twice, mind you), my answer was, “Oops!” and I probably don’t need to tell you that The Voice of Morality did not find my answer amusing or satisfactory and, for being so blatantly flippant, it sent me on a guilt trip that, I guess, was supposed to cow me and make me toe the line going forward… not that this ever worked.

This time, however, I found myself distracted by wondering if I would really wind up being a crispy critter in whatever hell I could be consigned to in the afterlife and for an unknown amount of time, I was genuinely worried about that… until the “no bullshit” part of my mind pointed out that, um, you’re not dead yet, are you?

Obviously not… but this is something that bisexuals (in particular) worry about, the issue at hand being whether or not they’re really doing something horribly wrong if they’re thinking about getting into this or if, as I had, just got finished thumbing my nose at The Rules of Moral Behavior.  Again.  Did I mention that I thumbed my nose twice this particular time?

One of the questions I strove to understand early on was, “How can something that feels so good be a bad thing to do?” and, no, not in the sense of having a bad experience – those are never fun, are they?  Yet, there can be a clusterfuck of a problem rattling around inside your head like a BB in a tin can because, on one side, there’s The Rules that prohibit such behavior and, on the other side, there’s the sure and certain knowledge that if you’ve broken the boy/girl only rule, um, you couldn’t possibly be the only person who’s broken that rule.

Some people get deeply conflicted about this as the battle between what they believe and reality comes together (no, not a pun) and, yes, it can cause one to experience severe bouts of depression that require hours of therapy and dealing with the effects of medications designed to combat depression.  Then again, some folks, when faced with this moral dilemma say to themselves, “If God didn’t want me to be like this, I wouldn’t be like this!” and, going forward, accept the risks of their behavior under the auspices of YOLO – You Only Live Once so ya better make the most out of the time you have.

Someone asked me what I thought was a good question:  What if when you die, you find out that you really do have to stand in judgement for what you’ve done?  My answer, after really thinking hard about it, was twofold:  I’ve got some explaining to do and, um, yeah, my ass just might be in a lot of trouble.  The person who asked the question thought I was being a smart-ass about what they thought was a very real and serious issue but, no, that was simply the answer I came up with and I further made that person miffed when I asked, “But aren’t our sins, whatever they may be, already forgiven because Jesus died on the cross for us?”

“And didn’t God give us free will?”

Yeah… they didn’t like having their argument of moral righteousness used against them.  But, as I also explained to them, it’s not like I don’t know what The Rules are; I just opt to not pay much attention to them at certain times.  Yes, it’s a conscious decision to do so and exercising my right to free will and all that and, really, just because you’re not of a mind to commit a Rules violation where boys having sex with boys is concerned, that doesn’t mean that someone won’t be of a mind to shatter the rules like a cheap piece of glass.

Some believe that bisexuals are totally ignorant of their wrongdoings and that’s not true; they believe that we tread upon a path of immoral thoughts and behaviors without considering the possible consequences of our actions… when, in fact, our awareness of this contributes itself to those severe bouts of depression I mentioned earlier in this rambling.  Our awareness can make us question and second guess ourselves and, yes, sometimes, that internal conflict can be so complicated that we just “shut down…”

Or find ourselves saying, “Oops!” a lot and, um, usually after the fact, as it can turn out.  Or like one guy told me, “I might hate myself in the morning… but it’s not morning yet!”

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Posted by on 19 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Sitting on the Bench

I have always been interested in why other folks are bi-curious or bisexual and I’ve been fortunate to hear or read about how so many people are actually riding on the same boat as I am, whether they’re all into it up to their eyes… or sitting on the bench and wondering if they’re ever gonna get sent into the game… or being worried about what’ll happen if they do get sent in.

A few trips to the bi guy forum yesterday brought to my attention (and not for the first time) just how many guys are sitting on the bench, don’t particular like sitting on the bench, and are either itching to get into the game or, as I said above, really worried about what might happen.  A lot of it is understandable; there are a lot of married (or otherwise hooked up) guys who have legitimate reasons to sit on the bench and be worried about getting into the game, namely, having their woman find out that her man’s sexual interests goes beyond the fairer sex.

But as I sat and read various things written by the membership, I got to wondering (and, again, not for the first time) why the guys who are unattached are still sitting on the bench, talking about what they’ll do when they get into the game… but also very worried about being sent in or, in this case, invited in.  Their reasons for keeping themselves benched aren’t what I’d call invalid but they represent what is to me an ongoing theme, from being as shy as a wallflower to being worried about catching something fatally nasty.  Now, while I’ll allow that shyness isn’t an easy thing to overcome, some of the other reasons why these unattached men are riding the pine are things that can be dealt with or, as I commented on a post where a guy said he wasn’t in the game because he was afraid of an STD, “Use condoms and do whatever you gotta do to prove that the guy you want to sleep with is as healthy as he says he is.”

I know a lot of those guys have consigned themselves to the sidelines because, as I’ve mentioned before, they have this ideal situation or set of conditions in mind and they’re finding it damn near impossible to find that right guy or even if they believe they’ve found the right guy, they’ve put themselves on hold waiting for the perfect conditions to show up before they rip off their warm-ups and take the field of play and, sometimes, it seems to me that these guy are not really aware that the perfect conditions they’re waiting on may never present themselves… or that “right guy” only really exists within the confines of their own minds.

I sit and read just how incredibly picky these bench sitters are and, without any offense to any women reading this, if you gals think you’re picky about who gets to have sex with you, um, you should see how picky men are and I’ll be honest with you when I say some guys can put the pickiest woman to shame in this department.  I’ve even been of a mind to think that this overly picky mindset has been deliberately created not to ensure the “perfect” partner but to make sure that no human male alive can qualify.  What, you think that sounds a little cray-cray?  At first, I thought so, too; it didn’t make sense to me that a guy would write that he’d do anything to suck cock… but then go into excruciating detail about the kind of guy (and cock) he wants to suck on, be fucked by, whatever.  When I read these detail it kinda surprised me that the Order of Pine Riders all seemed to share the same level of detail about the ideal man that would, officially, expel them from the order – it’s really kinda creepy that so many different men are sharing those details.  And while I have no doubt that there are, indeed, quite a few men who fit this eerily general description, it seems to me that these guys have constructed a model that, essentially, can’t be found.

Or so they think.  I’ve sat and read where some fellas did, in fact, find the “man of their dreams,” only to disqualify him for stuff like not liking the same football team (soccer or American football) or, get this, preferring briefs over boxers.  One guy recently wrote that he found his “perfect” guy… and chose not to engage with him because the dude has neatly trimmed pubic hair.  Someone asked whether or not he preferred guys to be shaved and the answer was no; he was just turned off because the guy had hair down there – period.  Someone else pointed out that it was clear to them that the author of the post really didn’t want to do all the shit with the guy he’d written about, to which the author vigorously denied but I think that the man who pointed this out (and who saved me the trouble of saying it) was right on the money.

It makes me wonder what goes on inside the minds of the guys who choose to sit on the bench when they don’t have to.  I understand there are some fears; many of them express the fear of being outed and as if finding ways to be discrete are foreign to them.  As mentioned, some fear catching something that safe sex practices can minimize, if not eliminate.  Some state that they don’t know how to go about finding a guy or what to say to him if they did meet a like-minded dude – but the guys who use this as an excuse to stay on the bench don’t seem to have any problems trying to get into a woman’s panties.  Yes, if you have concerns about taking the field, the best and smartest thing to do is to not get out there until you can address your concerns adequately… but when you voice your concerns openly to several hundred men and most of them are providing solutions to your concerns and you are still sitting on the bench by choice, um, what’s really going on here?

I know there are guys who are masters at talking the talk but when they manage to convince another guy that, hell, yeah, going to bed is an excellent idea and the sooner, the better, they turn tail and head back to the bench, very and mysteriously unwilling to walk the walk… but speaking to how much they really need to get naked with another man and do whatever.  When they’re asked what they’re afraid of, they say that they’re not afraid and I’ve seen some guys accused of “cowardice” launch into a lengthy explanation that, upon further review, is very much like talking loud and saying nothing.

Sometimes I chime in and tell such guys that if they let their fears rule the day, they will never find out what it’s like to do the things they say they fervently want to do; sometimes, I just sit and wonder…

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Posted by on 18 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Earrings

While I was in the bathroom, I happened to look down and saw that, um, when I was washing my face, I pulled one of my earrings out!  I took a frantic moment to see if the back was there as well, thinking that – gasp – I could have lost it anywhere… but I found it and mentally knocking on wood, put my earring back in…

And my mind zipped back to 1985 in an instant, bringing up a scene of the first time someone asked me if I were gay because I was now sporting a shiny gold earring in my left ear.  Way back then, even though the “style” of men wearing earrings was just getting started in my neck of the woods, eh, wearing earrings was something only women did so if a man was wearing earrings, well, he must be gay… and I’m guessing the perception wasn’t helped by the fact that the flamboyantly age men roaming the city were not only wearing earrings but wearing some that made some women jealous.

There was even some meaning lent to which ear contained the earring:  If in the right ear, well, you must be gay… but in the left lobe, you were either a musician or other kind of artist.  I had gotten my ear pierced to fulfill a promise to my brother who had gotten an earring and, at the time, had the nerve to suggest that I’d look good with one… and I told him that he’d be dead and gone before I’d get my ear pierced.

Then he died so honor him and to keep that promise I unwittingly made, I went to the mall, went to one of the two Piercing Pagodas there, and got my ear pierced.  I almost chickened out because I realized that I didn’t know how they got the earring in; I’d only seen girls getting their ears pierced with a sterilized sewing needle, an ice cube (or several of them), a pice of string or a cleaned piece of straw from a broom to keep the hole open until the earrings could be put in.  But, duh, none of those “tools” were in evidence and there was only one way to find out how it was done, wasn’t it?

I didn’t have the benefit of seeing it done to someone else; I walked up, picked out an earring for rookies, and a minute later, the girl was ready to put it in.  Ah, man, I was quite nervous and a glance showed that I was drawing a crowd of onlookers because it was unusual to see a guy about to get pierced.  The girl made a mark on my left earlobe (after I told her which ear I wanted done), I verified the spot and watched, with trepidation, as she loaded the earring and its back into a gun-looking device, put it in place on my ear, asked if I was ready… and pulled the trigger.

I was ready to totally embarrass myself by yelping out in pain… except it didn’t hurt; all I felt was a pinch, heard a click, and, yup, there was my brand new earring.  Got some after care instructions and a solution to care for it and I was going on about my business… and very aware (and even self-conscious) of all the looks I was getting.

By the way, I still wear that original earring and I did buy the pair instead of just a single earring, you know, so I’d have a spare…

And then I wound up having a lot of people asking me if I was gay and I’d gotten quickly tired of explaining to those folks why I’d done something so “unmanly” as to wear an earring; once they heard the why of it, well, I’ll admit that it gave me some satisfaction to see the look on their faces to learn that I wasn’t wearing anearring because I was homosexual – and my very legitimately reason didn’t give anyone reason to think or suspect that, in truth, I was quite bisexual.

Worked for me…

Today, I wear four earrings, two in each ear.  I’ll admit that getting my right ear pierced was kinda daring despite having seen a lot of men who were sporting one in each ear and thinking, hell, why not?  Then seeing that I had room for two more? Sure, why not fill them with gold?  Over the years, I’ve collected quite a few earrings, from studs to hoops, some given to me as gifts, some because, uh, I liked them.  I had some fairly gaudy earrings that I may have tried on but never really wore because while my employer wasn’t too keen about the men working for them wearing earrings, as long as they were tasteful, they were kinda okay with it, especially after I explained why I was wearing an earring to begin with and if I couldn’t wear it/them at work, thenmwomen shouldn’t be allowed to wear the at work, either.

But it did feel good to not have people asking me if I were gay… but I’d often be annoyed and even felt disheartened to hear people “whispering behind my back” that despite my explanation, the only reason why I was wearing earrings was being I was secretly a flaming fag.  I heard a guy a work offer up this thought as I walked by and what he said andnhowmhe said it offended me enough that I stopped, gave it a moment of thought, then went to him and, quite unprofessionally, stepped off in his ass and in front of his so-called peers.

It was one of my better tongue lashings, including a suggestion that he was raised by animals instead of having human parents and hinting that his knowledge of flaming fags must have most certainly come from personal experience on his part.  Oh, yeah, he was looking as if he wanted to take a swing at me and I smiled at him and said, “It’ll be the last thing you ever do… so go for it, homie…”

He was terminated a half an hour later.  They were gonna fire me, not that I cared, but I did tell them that there were some things I wasn’t gonna tolerate from anyone, like being called a faggot just because I wear earrings; I told my boss that he could fire me if he wanted to… and I’ll see him in court.  The matter was dropped and the message was sent clearly:  Yes, I wear earrings, no, I’m not homosexual, and if you have a comment about it, don’t let me hear it.

So what earrings do I wear, you might be wondering?  In my left ear, I wear my birthstone (sapphire) and a diamond earring given to me by my mother; in my right ear, I wear the original earring from 1985 and a diamond given to me by my baby, Linda.  The only time I remove them is when they need cleaning and if I’m being X-rayed.  I don’t change them because these four earrings have a special meaning to me…

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Posted by on 16 April 2017 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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