Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “That’s Gotta Hurt a Little, Huh?”

As I sat astride him, I was sweating so much that it felt like being under a waterfall of sorts; I was hot and sticky with sweat trickling into my eyes. I ignored these things and just as I was ignoring the rather obscene, squishy sounds coming from beneath me as I moved myself all over his dick… and I couldn’t ignore that so much. He was huge – not just long but thick, too, with a cock knob so big that when I was sucking him, I had a bit of a problem getting it in my mouth… but that monstrosity got sucked.

Not five minutes ago, he had been where I was now and as he moved and gyrated, I was kind of in thrall watching his massive erection bobbing all over the place and, admittedly, just a bit envious. Not because he had a big dick; I hadn’t cared about dick size one bit. No: My envy was over the fact that he was hard to begin with, something that I’d never been able to do when someone was screwing me. I had shot my load into him and it seemed to delight him as he smiled broadly and… giggled while urging me to give it all to him.

He got off of me, grabbed the bottle of lubricant – and a lube that I wasn’t “happy” with. I’d tested its slickness and found it to be too thin for my liking and as I struggled to keep my eyes open to see him applying huge globs of it to his dick, I knew his impending entry into me was going to be a lot more not-easy than his size and girth was already predicting. He handed me the bottle and I used a lot of it to get myself as lubricated as possible; the scientist in me had already determined that given its lack of slickness, once he got inside me, it would wear away quickly. My thoughts, as I straddled him – and because he had said, “I want you on top…” was that this was going to be interesting to deal with his “monster meat” as well as the scorching friction I knew would show up at some point.

Truth was I wasn’t quite ready; my body hadn’t fully come down and “reset” after my release but this wasn’t just a matter of honor; I wanted him in me and, in part, “tired” of listening to him talk about how big his dick was and all that other stuff that, again, meant absolutely nothing to me. I positioned myself above him; I could see the anticipatory look in his eyes as I rubbed that huge knob against my hole before taking a long, deep breath and relaxing… and sat right down on him without a moment of hesitation. I felt his knob shove my muscles aside like they weren’t even there; I imagined a ripping sound as his head passed into me and I know I winced a little but kept going anyway until I got all of his dick in me that was going in me.

“Damn…” he had said as I took more deep breathes and willed my body to relax even more. He’d seen what I’d done and I guess that his exclamation was due to him not having someone do that often if at all. I began to move; the discomfort of his entry was almost forgotten; nothing mattered at this point other than his cock sliding in and out of me and getting to the moment when he’d cum in me. I “hated” to admit to how much I wanted to feel him do this… but I also remembered how I had been feeling before I’d met him: I needed to get screwed and nothing was going to make that need go away other than what was happening right now.

It was strangely quiet with little of the “usual verbalizations” one could expect. We were both breathing heavily, the bed was making noises due to our movements; that squishy sound was less noticeable – as predicted, the slipperiness didn’t hold up all that well and the friction being generated wasn’t totally unpleasant as it was doing a number on my prostate and sending orgasmic shivers through me as well as that feeling that I either had to pee… or I had to cum: I was never sure which was which. Despite all of that, I was still moving atop him and as a lot of women had inadvertently taught me every time they’d ridden me; his groans and increasing thrusts told me that he was enjoying being inside me and as much as I was enjoying him being there.

They say all good things must end… and this wasn’t any different. He was thrusting into me so hard and fast that it was to my benefit to stop moving. I was getting more and more uncomfortable; the friction he was creating in me could be felt a lot more and making me even more uncomfortable… but there was nothing to be done about it and only one thing could act as a salve. I felt his dick swell a mere moment before he gasped, started cussing – why do guys do that? – and then his dick was pulsing very strongly inside of me. I couldn’t feel his cum shooting into me but those pulses were telling me everything I needed to know. A crazy-assed thought flashed through my mind – well, two of them did. The first was a memory from my past of being screwed and the guy was cumming inside and had me thinking that he was trying to get me pregnant… and the next thought was that if I was a girl – and given how much his dick was still pumping strongly – he would probably well and truly knock me up.

Then, stillness. No other sounds than his heavy breathing that covered up my sigh of satisfaction and relief or, really, momentary relief because due to his length and thickness – and his gradual softening didn’t make him any less girthy – now I had to get him out of me and, um, kinda aiding that in that certain way wasn’t going to help much in this situation. I slowly eased myself off of him; I don’t know if he even noticed the look of concentration on my face. I could have just gotten off of him but experience had taught me about muscular rebounding and how some muscles act just like rubber bands and when they suddenly stop being stretched, they snap back to the way they were so, no – just hopping off wasn’t something I wanted to do because that “snapback” not only didn’t feel good, it had a tendancy to make me want to throw up. It took me a good minute to ease him out of me; he sighed and so did I but probably not for the same reasons. I flopped down next to him; between my earlier release and my efforts atop him, I was quite tired and, importantly, the need to be screwed and creamed had been sated.

For now. We lay side by side grinning at each other and telling each other how good everything was when he suddenly asked, “That’s gotta hurt a little, huh?”

Yeah, it did but that’s just part and parcel of things. I recall overhearing – and having others “testify” that being fucked in the ass hurts like a motherfucker and such a thing should be avoided at all times and at all costs. What I had learned, silly me, that it can hurt like that motherfucker going in but the more you relax – and the more slipperiness being involved – at some point the pain and other discomfort will fade into the background… as long as the guy isn’t trying to pound the crap out of you.

To his question, I just shrugged because it is what it is and I’d long since understood that in this, there is no pleasure without a modicum of discomfort… or a lot of it and depending. I did say, “That’s to be expected…” and since I was looking at him, I saw him nod in agreement and understanding. My mind flashed back to the moment I had entered him and while I wasn’t as long or as thick as he was, yeah, he felt me just the same.

“It just hurts so good,” he had said as he idly toyed with my nipple that was closest to him.

“Yeah, it does,” I agreed. My body involuntarily shuddered as it remembered what it felt like having him making contact with my prostate and what I’d been doing to… maximize that contact. It’s a weird feeling that feels good but not all that much; it’s always made me think that the male prostate is insane in that it likes being “touched” and doesn’t.

“You were doing a number on my prostate,” he said and as if he somehow knew what I was thinking about.

“Like you weren’t doing a number on mine?” I asked and he actually had the “nerve” to look sheepish and, perhaps, a bit embarrassed. I wasn’t sure… and I didn’t care all that much; I just wanted to come down off that orgasmic high I most certainly experienced… and to do a bit of cleaning since, um, I was, let’s say, leaky. We got up and made our way to the bathroom to take care of what was made necessary; I didn’t know about him but I was now a bit sore and my insides – and thanks to his probably cheap lube – felt like I had a bit of rug burn. It crossed my mind for a moment as we washed up that given his length and girth and how… vigorously I rode him, I was going to be “walking funny” until things settled down… and that, too, was to be expected just as not being able to sit comfortably for a few was.

“You know, I would have been happy if all we did was suck each other off,” he had said. “But, I knew I wanted you to fuck me – ain’t that weird?”

“Not really because I was thinking the same thing,” I said; I wasn’t about to tell him that I had been jonesing to get the high hard one for a few days and if we hadn’t agreed to screw each other, when we’d met, I was already hatching a plan to get him inside me and scratch that itch… and it was pure chance that he was very well equipped to scratch that itch really good.

“The first time I did this? I didn’t think I was going to like it,” he said. “Did you know that you would?”

“No – I had no idea about it at all until the guy who did me tried to stick it in me. He couldn’t and what little he did get in me did hurt… then it felt good and then he shot his load all over my hole and that felt even better,” I said, my mind racing back to that “fateful” day. “After that, it just made sense… if that makes sense. Just like sucking dick, it felt… deliciously wicked and nasty to do something we weren’t supposed to be doing.”

“I know that’s right,” he agreed. “Do you it every time you’re with a guy?”

“Not anymore,” I admitted. “When I was younger, getting fucked was a given; if a guy wanted to fuck you, there was no question about him being fucked. At some point, though, doing it as a matter of course stopped being the fun it once was so nowadays, I only do it when, well, when I feel the need to or, in your case, with someone I feel comfortable enough with.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he said as he nodded. “I found out that because my dick was so big and fat, a lot of girls would run away from me but the fellas? They liked that I was big and fat and, yeah, I felt that if I fucked them, it was only right that they fucked me, that and, um, I liked being fucked.”

“You said it right,” I said. “Besides – if guys wanna fuck each other, there’s only one place other than their mouths, right?”

“Yep!” he said with a laugh but quickly sobered up and said, “I used to feel bad to think that I’ve probably been fucked more than most women I know have.”

“I’ve felt like that myself,” I admitted. “And it’s probably true, to an extent. I just had to learn not to be embarrassed or feel weird about it. It feels good and that’s all that matters.”

“Guys are too scared because they think it’ll make them gay or some shit like that,” he said; I could pick up a hint of frustration in his voice and one that I, too, knew all too well.

“Most people are,” I said. “You’re either into it or you aren’t and there’s reason for both.”

We both got quiet after that and returned to his bedroom to start looking for our clothes that got discarded in a hurry not all that long ago. I was still looking for one of my socks when he asked, “Do you have time for us to, uh, suck each other off, you know, one for the road?”

I probably didn’t but since I had so much fun sucking him earlier, I thought it would be a great idea to do it again and this time be able to feel and taste his cum and I thought it would be “wicked” and “nasty” to suck the dick that, not all that long ago, had been buried in my ass and more so now that it was nice and clean again.

After we blew each other’s brains out, it was time to go. We both agreed that we should get together again to do this but I also had a sense that we were both just being polite and that chances were good that our first time together would be our last. Not that it hadn’t been fun having sex with him but, yeah, sometimes, that’s just the way it goes. If nothing else, I would always have the memory of what it was like to have him inside of me and so deep that I really could feel it in my stomach and I was definitely going to remember feeling his dick pumping like mad and filing me up with his cum as well as the havoc his length and girth wreaked on my prostate.

My butt was sore and I squirmed on the seat of my car trying to get comfortable… and it was worth it.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: So, Now What?

It’s now decision time. If you’ve managed to accept and validate yourself you have some choices which are, simply, to do… or do not. This is also the part of the “program” where I advise that when pondering “now what,” think first then act if you must… or if you can… and I really mean that one should really and seriously think about it and for as long as it’s deemed necessary.

There is this great… compulsion to dive right on in and I have never been able to figure out what’s driving this other than, after thinking through all of the stuff, one’s mind is now open to the possibilities and, perhaps, even more so when they’ve been observing folks in the same-sex way and they’re just horny as all get out just thinking about what it’s gonna be like to step into forbidden territory.

“What’s to think about? Just go ahead and do it!“

Yeah, not that simple. The thing that has to be thought about isn’t so much whether you’re gonna like it or not or making yourself cray-cray trying to figure out who you can do it with: The thing that has to be thought out is the consequences of your actions… and there will be consequences… and not all of them are the stuff of horror stories as everyone says they are… but they could be. What keeps a lot of people sitting on the bench is attempting to see every possible outcome and the consequences… and that’s fairly impossible since you will never know what’s going to happen until it actually happens. Then you tack on the fact that most people will spend a lot of time thinking about everything that could go wrong or, sometimes, assuming that if they’ve heard about someone else’s experiences – and they didn’t go all that well – then if it happened to that person, it’s definitely going to happen to them, too.

Then that really curious thing of not knowing how to do what you wanna do or, if you do have an inkling about how to do whatever it is, being overly worried about not being good at it. I’ve known a lot of men and women who have gotten lost overthinking things and including whether they can actually do a thing or not, which puts them in a quandary because chances are good that you’re not going to find out if you can actually do it until you try to do it.

Yes, some folks can make the decision that the first chance they get, they’re going for it and, yes, they just go ahead and do it… but that takes some internal meetings with one’s self – and depending on how much – or badly – they want and need to do this – to be able to “throw caution to the wind” and just dive on in and whatever happens, happens. This approach actually does work – I call it the “fuck it” moment but while this might sound careless or something like that, it really isn’t; the short version is one’s mind is going at Warp 10 to answer the question, “Do I do this or should I not do it?” and one’s mind can get overloaded to the point where it kinda shuts down and, yep, you think or say, “Fuck it…” and take the plunge.

This is also the point where you find out that fantasy and reality don’t always line up together; this is the part where you find out that whatever you’ve seen done by watching porn might not make it “easy” for you to do and that eye-opening slap in the face that lets you know that watching someone else do something just ain’t the same as you doing it.

Now, do you have to take the plunge? No, you do not if (a) you don’t want to or (b) your situation isn’t going to allow it. In my experiences, however, I can truthfully say that I have not known too many people who didn’t want to take the plunge and even if they’re waffling back and forth about whether they should or not. Those same experiences have taught me that in the “majority of times,” a lot of people just aren’t going to be happy with themselves until they dive on in because that urge to do this just does not go anywhere.

Then – and as if all of this ain’t bad enough – you still have to find someone who’s willing to have sex with you in this way… and good luck with that. The number one complaint heard from those who are sitting and waiting to have their first experience is not being able to find someone to have it with. The “truth” here isn’t that there aren’t others out there who’d be willing, ready, and able to throw it down with you because there sure as hell as a lot of such people; the problem is trying to find someone who can meet or exceed a predetermined set of conditions and qualifications that can be simple… or as complicated as quantum physics and then it gets even more complicated because most people cannot, do not, and will not simplify things or otherwise make it easy on themselves.

If one has issues with casual sex, well, you’re hosed and have shot yourself in both feet while you’re at it. One of those things that is, at the least, implied when I say to think first is to change your perspective about sex; how it’s supposed to be versus what can be done so if you’re not a casual sex kind of person, you’re going to have a very difficult time finding someone to take the plunge with. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, having the sex with anyone is a very serious and major trust issue and some folks, well, they’re not all that inclined to trust out of hand or, as Ronald Reagan said, “Trust, but verify…” and the verification process can be a bitch and a half and more so when most people require and demand verification before trust can be established.

What I do know is that you will never, ever, find someone to take the plunge with by sitting on your ass and doing absolutely nothing about it. What I know is that if you do what a lot of people do and create the “perfect” person and the “perfect” situation and conditions in your mind, chances are that nothing is going to happen because you just might be looking for someone who actually doesn’t exist anywhere in the world not to mention that if they do exist, um, you have no friggin’ idea where they are. I tell a lot of people stuck in the place that if you’re not willing to put yourself out there to (a) find someone and/or (b) allow yourself to be found, guess what ain’t gonna happen?

“What’s the best way to go about this?“

That’s a question I can’t answer because, as far as I know and in my many experiences, there is no sure way to go about this that’s guaranteed to work. Some folks prefer the devil they know over the one they don’t… and some prefer the devil they don’t know and more so when one of their big concerns is what’s gonna happen if the devils they do know find out that they wanna go both ways. Ideally, you want the person you can trust and be comfortable with and one who is going to understand that, um, you have no idea how to go about doing this and, because you don’t, they’re going to be very patient with you and, yeah, hopefully, they’re not going to go tell everyone on the planet that they just had sex with you. Who can be that person?

Anyone can… and that’s what you’re gonna have to figure out and I cannot tell you how to do it

“Well, how has this worked for you?“

Not counting my youthful experiences, I’d have to say that eight out of ten times, I’d find myself in the right place at the right time and a lot of my encounters happened by chance. My track record for deliberately finding someone to have fun with is, well, fucked up because I’ve failed a lot more than I’ve succeeded but I guess Mr. Murphy likes fucking with me because when I’m not really looking or even thinking about doing anything, I’m getting propositioned to the point where it’s annoying as hell. When being deliberate, I tend to piss people off because I’m not just going to jump into bed with them without any information or, as I’ve told a lot of guys, “If you don’t have time to talk to me, you don’t have time to have sex with me.”

One can give the various apps a try but with the understanding that (a) you’re gonna be putting in a lot of work to find the right person and (b) not everyone on an app is as “real” as they may appear to be. You could go hang out in a “gay bar” and that just might work… and it might not. The thing here is that if you don’t have a real person in mind, you just never know who might hit on you and if you have a problem with people trying to pick you up, well, yeah – not gonna help you. If you have a lot of sexual inhibitions and harboring a lot of fear over the unknown and see “everyone” as a potential risk to yourself, you’re going to fail at getting your chance to take the plunge.

Compounding all of this is that sense of urgency to have sex like this and sometimes it’s better to do your best to keep that down to a dull roar so you can let your intelligence – and not your libido – make these important decisions and even then with a caveat and one I actually learned from my mother: “If you study long, you study wrong.” What that means is that the longer you take making decisions about anything, the greater the chance you’re going to “make a mistake.” It’s just weird that in these things, the first answer you come up with is usually the right one even though it might not feel that way and the proof of this is any test you’ve ever taken that’s been multiple choice and nothing feels more sucky than getting your test paper back and finding out that the answer you selected – and after thinking about it a lot – was the wrong answer… and the first one you thought about was the right one.

“What if you make the wrong decision?”

It happens and I don’t know anyone who has been right 100% of the time and, nope, I know I haven’t. It’s not that you can guess wrongly – it’s what you do when you find out that you did that matters the most. In my experiences, a lot of people have said that they made a mistake… after the sex has happened and now they’re all fucked up in the head about it and usually the mistake is that things didn’t happen the way they expected them to and, yeah, whoever they were with did a Jekyll and Hyde on them and this, too, is to be expected and aware of because people do behave differently when they’re horny and when they’re not.

“This shit is way too complicated to be bothered with!”

I never said it was easy. I’m as experienced in this as the day is long… and I know it’s not easy. What I think one should do is to make doing something about their thoughts and feelings as easy on themselves to work with as they can manage. Again, if you’re not willing to put in the work that is necessary, you’re going to fail. “Dating” these days is even more of a clusterfuck than I can remember but, again, one of the things you should be thinking about before trying to act is learning a new way to date people, even if just for sex. It’s okay to have a plan for going about this… but a part of the reality says that no plan survives first contact or this stuff looks and sounds good on paper and can turn out otherwise in application. And that’s actually okay if you believe that you can’t learn to success without failing.

If you’re not willing to stick to this until you, well, get what you want, guess what’s never going to happen for you? I don’t mean you have to be running around and chasing “everyone” you come in contact with but you do have to be determined to experience sex in this way and have a list of what you will do that’s longer than the list of what you’re not going to do… and a lot of bisexuals looking to take their first dip in the pool tend to have a list of what they’re not ever going to do that’s lightyears longer than the list of what they will do.

That’s not going to work. No, you don’t have to “do it all” right out of the gate and you should never let anyone pressure you into such a situation if you just ain’t feeling it. It’s okay to take baby steps and it’s okay to take your time dipping your tootsies into the waters. Yes, that first time can be scarier than anything you’ve ever experienced and I won’t lie to you can tell you that getting past that moment of truth is a piece of cake… because it usually isn’t but, yep, it can be… and whether it is or isn’t depends on you more than anything or anyone else. I have found that if one doesn’t have a sexual sense of adventure or are otherwise risk-adverse, taking the initial plunge isn’t going to be easy…

Which is exactly why I tell people to think first, then act if they must, or if they even can at all. So now what? That’s up to you and doing nothing at all is a viable and legitimate choice. I have, at times, tried to talk people out of having their first time, not because I don’t think they can do it but they’ve “indicated” to me that they haven’t thought things out all that much and they’re acting more on impulse than anything else. Should you “just do it?” Well, how about you tell me why you want to and don’t leave anything out and I’ll let you know what I think one way or the other but what this really does is it will make you look at what you’re thinking and feeling so that you can make the right decision for yourself.

Or, as Morpheus said in The Matrix, I can show you the door but you still have to walk through it and I’m the guy who will tell you that it’s not that easy to do and your experiences will vary from anyone else’s… and you won’t know until you walk through the door. Some people pass this “test” with flying colors… and some just don’t; now it’s about which person do you wanna be? I will tell you that in my many experiences, I have had and heard more people say, after taking the plunge, “I don’t know why I never did this before now!” or “I don’t know what I was afraid of!” and, classically, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be!”

All of this is the answer to, “So, now what?”

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Pulse

One of the things I like to do as a bisexual man is to see what other bi guys (and curious guys) are doing and thinking and to compare what I know against whatever information I can pick up on just to be sure if I’m still on the same page with other like-minded guys. It’s fun and it’s quite educational for me to visit the bi guy forum and see all the new guys signing up – with or without experience – and to see how the current members are dealing with their sexuality… or not.

Today’s visit provided a thread by a guy looking to bottom which, in and of itself, I don’t find all that unusual nor do I find it unusual for a guy to have, ah, specific requirements for this, like the other guy being in excellent health and can be trusted. While several of the members jumped in with the pros and cons of condom usage – and in the sense that you can’t always trust them to be a good, um, containment vessel, the thing that stuck out to me was the trust thing and as in what does this mean?

We say a couple of things about this, that trust must be earned and not just given… but in order to gain trust, one must give trust. Given that we – men – have had a long history of being untrustworthy, I find this requirement to be interesting in that guy’s looking to dive into the M2M pool seem to be asking for a “guarantee” of rightness and from a subset of the species that’s not known for this most elusive quality.

If ya don’t believe me, go ask a woman about trusting a man and listen to everything she has to say about that. It’s not to say that all men are untrustworthy – and in whatever context that might mean – but, yeah, we’ve got a bad rep in this department.

Yeah, this is yet another one of those Mr. Right versus Mr. Right Now things and guys being, perhaps, too picky about the other guy they want to have sex with.  Trust is a judgement call, even after you’ve managed to collect all the information you can about the other guy so you wind up trusting that you can trust him to be who he says he is, that everything is as right about him as it appears to be and, yes, that he’s gonna do you in the way he said he would and the way you want to be done.  The thing is that shit doesn’t always work that way because people are not only different, we can be one way right now and a totally different way two seconds from now.  We speak in terms of sexuality being fluid and, it seems to be, totally and completely discount or even ignore how fluid people are.  Yes, we strive to be consistent in whatever we do but we’re not always as consistent as we’d like or ever think we can be.  Our thoughts are so fluid and so are our moods and that fluidity can be affected and impacted by external things and, yup, sometimes those external things come into conflict with our internal stuff and, doubly yup, it can put the issue of trust in doubt.

So when this guy said that he wants to bottom for a guy he can trust, man, I wish he had been a bit more specific about what that meant to him.  It seems that a lot of guys are of a mind that Mr. Right Now is someone who cannot be trusted and I’m not sure I understand their thinking along these lines because, um, Mr. Right Now, more often than not, can be Mr. Right but if you believe that Mr. Right Now is some shady, devious, lying, back-stabbing son of a bitch, well, um, what makes you think and/or believe that Mr. Right wouldn’t be like that?  Oh, yeah, that trust thing again, huh?  Yes, you should be able to “trust” that the guy you’re looking to deal with has the qualities you desire but methinks that if you can’t trust yourself, well, you have a problem.  Sometimes, you gotta go with your gut feeling and with most people, their gut feeling is more accurate than what their mind can be; you can think that “Gary” has all the qualities and other qualifications that meet and/or exceed your needs… but your gut is saying something very different.  If you engage with “Gary” based on what you thought and ignore what your gut was telling you, when “‘Gary” turns out to be something other than what you thought, where’s the issue with trust here?  Is it with “Gary” or does that lack of trust really lie with you?

The guy who wrote this post – and like so many other men are saying – said that he’s having a hard time finding a guy to top him even though he lives in a city that, at least in my opinion, ain’t what I’d call a “dick desert.”  The truth is that where this guy lives, there are probably way too many guys who’d be genuinely willing to fill his ass with cock and cum… but when you start nitpicking things, you greatly reduce your chances of finding a guy you can truly resonate with and now this situation is akin to the old saying, “Water, water everywhere – but not a drop to drink.”  It’s like wanting steak but you can only afford hamburger (which, by the way, can also be ground steak) and you’re just being so extraordinarily picky that you don’t want to admit that hamburger would satisfy your hunger just as much as a steak would.  But guys are, seemingly, now very much into instant gratification:  I want what I want and the way I want it and nothing else will ever be good enough and while this might be all well and good because, you know, you deserve to have exactly what you want, it still seems to me that thinking like this is a damned good way to make sure you never, ever, get dick.

Period.  There are guys who have been sitting on the bench for years waiting for that one guy they can trust but they’re also unwilling to expand what this means to themselves and, again, to really trust themselves.  Sure, no one likes making a mistake in these things but I maintain and submit that if you never make a mistake, you never learn how to make things right.  On a different topic, a member was talking about his quest to find Mr. Right and, for him, that meant turning down any guy who seemed to be Mr. Right Now… but, now he was wondering why he wasn’t getting the dick he so very much craved.  I pointed out to him that if one doesn’t check out Mr. Right Now, uh, how do you know he couldn’t be Mr. Right?  Yes, it’s a chance one winds up taking but, again, it’s not as much of a thing of trusting him as it is trusting yourself to make the best decision you can make.

Trust isn’t instantaneous; trust has to be built over time but it seems that some guys are treating the trust issue in the same way they deal with attraction:  If it doesn’t happen immediately and instantly, then it’s no deal and, I dunno, maybe this is easier than taking the time to find the attraction in the other person and if the “chemistry” isn’t there right away, well, it can be worked on just like everything else can, oh, like trust, for example.  Bi guys want it to be “perfect” each and every time and that’s just pie-in-the-sky thinking that doesn’t quite jive with reality.  We have expectations and it seems that if a guy doesn’t or can’t meet those expectations, well, perhaps, he cannot be trusted or even shouldn’t be trusted… but can anyone really and truly live up to the expectations of others?  Hell, can you live up to your own expectations?  We all try to… doesn’t always work that way so now we’re back to the trust thing, i.e., we trust that the other guy is gonna do his best in whatever we need him to do with, to and for us – and we trust that we’ve made the best decision possible for ourselves.

And if you never put yourself in a position to get this particular ball rolling in the first place, guess what ain’t gonna happen?  With my finger gently on the pulse of male bisexuality, I see things that I find disturbing in that while we expect women to make getting with them a fairly difficult thing to do, some guys appear to be borrowing that inherent female difficulty and using it to make decisions that, at the end of the day, finds them not getting the M2M sex they want.  Now, I understand the concerns women have that makes getting with them hard to do and, yes, it’s a trust issue but when you’ve had guys just abuse the trust you gave them, well, sure, it makes it pretty damned hard to trust another guy going forward.  And that makes sense… what doesn’t make sense is a guy who has never, ever had sex with another man behaving in this manner or if another guy has never betrayed your trust, why are you behaving this way?  If a guy is instantly or automatically not trust another man – and, believe me, that actually makes sense because we know good and damned well how we can be when it comes to sex – then, um, exactly what the hell are you doing wanting to trust someone who, historically, could be untrustworthy?  Kinda doesn’t make sense, does it?

Someone asked me what I thought was the biggest hurdle faced by bisexual men and my answer was that we make this shit harder to do than it needs to be; we set the bar ridiculously high as well as entertaining unrealistic expectations; we seek “perfection” in something that is, by its very nature, imperfect.  We let our fears stop us dead in our tracks and assume that all of those fears will be realized the moment we wrap our hand around another man’s cock – and we fear being displeased and disappointed just as much as we fear displeasing someone and disappointing them.  It remains true, however, that if you don’t do a thing, you cannot fail at doing it… but if you don’t fail, you never learn how to do it without failing a whole lot.  The pulse says that male bisexuality is alive and well but, perhaps, running a little fast and all because, again, we’re making this harder than it has to be and as long as men keep doing this in their pursuit of M2M sex, a whole lot of guys are never gonna get to play with a dick and no matter much they want and need to do this.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Path

In often hushed conversations, we talk about what two men do when they decide to get naked and have sex with each other.  In somewhat louder conversations, we talk about the issues, including mental and physical health.  In a cacophony of voices, we debate whether or not bisexual men really do exist; they question the motives of bisexual women who, allegedly dangle the word bisexual before men and in the form of bait or simply a bald-faced lie as well as whether or not bisexuality is a true sexual orientation or it’s just a way point on the road to full homosexuality.  Researchers do their best to study, to identify, to qualify and quantify; science brings the scientific principles to bear and apply the tools of their respective trades to look for the source of this behavior and even to the genetic level within the double helix known as our DNA.  Some say it’s biological and speak to the potential that exists within all of us while some say it’s social and that life’s pressures – as well as a disregard for morality and its norms – is the culprit for this sinful behavior.

The things we don’t talk a lot about are why someone decides that bisexuality works for them and how someone winds up on the path.  One of the reasons, I think, is that while many can find themselves walking this path, the devil is in the details and if you asked one hundred bisexual men about the how and why of their choice, you’ll get one hundred answers that, at first, doesn’t seem to have any… uniformity or, trying to find better words here, it seems as if everyone’s reason is unique and lacks a type of consistency so that we can use a blanketing approach and say that all men are bisexual because of this or that element or method.  We can point to things like youthful experimentation; we can point to events like the scandal the Catholic Church is still trying to sweep under the rug (and, apparently, not for the first time).  I’ve heard it said that the recent accomplishments made on the political front where the growing alphabet soup of the LGBT community has had an effect in lessening the angst toward homosexuality and this is allowing these alleged bisexuals to jump on the bandwagon and in greater numbers and this is despite some in-house fighting and discussions about the validity of the “B” in LGBT.

Cityman, in his opening statement for one of our many conversations asked, “So, what is that enables men to go from cock aversion to cock positive and carefree?”  In many ways, the question is somewhat rhetorical because, as one such guy, he’s made this transition and he knows, obviously, exactly how he got to where he is now on the path – that and we’ve had this particular conversations hundreds of times, not because of a lack of understanding on anyone’s part but because it’s such an interesting thing to talk about and more so when, these days, there seems to be a lot of men stepping onto the path but, curiously, aren’t really sure why this path has gone from something they don’t think about to becoming a nearly all-consuming and somewhat obsessive need.  Adding a bit more intrigue to this question are indications of men deciding to walk this path – but many without, ahem, prior experience – and displaying a sense of certainty of what it is they wish to experience at this point.

Just how does a guy go from, “Ew – that’s some nasty shit!” to “Man, I had no idea what I was missing all this time!”?  Again, the devil is in the details and one of the things researchers have a problem with is finding enough men (in particular) who are willing to sit down with them and tell their stories so that they can find a focal point or some other commonality that they can point to and say, with a high degree of certainty, “Aha! This is why bisexual men are bisexual men!”  Certainly, youthful curiosity, which often leads to experimentation, can be pointed to although I’m not sure it’s understood just how the idea or though to do this appears in the first place.  We grudgingly accept that it happens, that it’s not really all that unusual for young boys to develop an interest in sex and experimentation is off and running and that particular trigger could very well be linked to the moment our testicles descend into their proper place and we’re now on our way to puberty.  It must be mentioned that not all boys experiment with other boys; some do limit their early experimentation to girls or they don’t experiment at all because, well, that can kinda get you into trouble – I’m sure you’ve all heard the warnings and admonishment about this sex thing, right?

Sometimes, it begins with a question:  What is it like to suck someone’s dick or to get screwed?  I don’t know of too many guys who haven’t asked a gal this question and if she answers, the best she can offer is, “I dunno… it feels good…” or whatever their opinion of this sex thing is.  Sometimes the question/answer lingers in the back of their minds, sometimes it’s asked, answered, and forgotten since, “It feels good” isn’t a very detailed answer and some have equated this to trying to describe color to someone who can’t see; it can be done but it ain’t easy.  We can, in part, point to instances where men and their interactions with women, um, don’t quite go well; I’ve seen and heard many times how some guy who has some issue with women go through the gamut of negative emotions and because of this, wind up on the path; some guys ask another question, like, “Is this all there is to it?” and they know it isn’t because, as I’ve written more times than I care to think about, there aren’t too many people who don’t know that there are men who have sex with other men and if they don’t know this, it’s because they haven’t found out yet.

Some guys wind up on the path and can legitimately blame it on the alcohol, which is well-known for lowering inhibitions; in some men, other life issues can open the door for a guy to wind up on the path, i.e., depression, frustration, grief and, to some extent, anger.  Under these conditions, it’s not like a guy experiences these things and says that he’s gonna go suck a dick as a “cure” for these things… but for a lot of men, everything just lines up in the right way and at the right time and something like the bro-job happens.  Some guys are just curious – period.  They become aware of the conversations about homosexuality and, at times, just wonders what the big deal is other than what’s obviously being said about it.  There must be something to it because if there wasn’t, there wouldn’t be so many men doing it to each other, right?  Doesn’t mean they’re suddenly gonna run out and find the answer to this… but it also doesn’t mean that some guys won’t think that doing some further investigation is, indeed, warranted.

This is one of those things where thinking and doing aren’t the same things; a guy can have some thoughts about this – good, bad, or indifferent – but that’s usually not enough impetus to nudge a guy onto the path.  There are some events that will just shove a guy onto the path but it also seems that there are things going on in the background – in one’s subconscious – that are hard at work and building in strength… and things that our conscious mind isn’t even aware of.  As I’ve said, there was a time when I’d say that a man just does not wake up one morning and decide that having sex with another guy is a good thing to do… and I’ve since recanted this because, apparently, it’s quite possible that this is what can happen and is evidenced by a huge number of men asking, “Why do I have this urge to suck cock?” – but it’s something that happens over time and all that’s needed is something to trigger a guy from though to action.  We wonder just how a guy just seems to know that doing this simply makes sense and as if there’s some logical progression at work and if a guy speaks about this and is asked why, all of a sudden, he wants to do something like this, the answer usually boils down to them just having a feeling… but they have no idea where this feeling came from.  In my opinion, I think we can point the finger at the subconscious, that sneaky bastard but I’ll be damned if it can be definitely proven.

Nothing else seems to make sense, though.

Even though turning thought into action is pretty damned scary – and I’m probably understating this a bit – should a guy get triggered to act or Mr. Murphy shows up in the right place and time and gives a guy a good shove in that direction, a guy will have an experience and he’ll either like it, won’t like it, or even be unsure about whether he liked it or not.  Some guys try it and, yuck; some guys try it and have an epiphany – God only knows how many men I’ve personally heard say that it wasn’t as bad as they though it was and asking why they waited so long before doing this.  Then it’s all about narrowing down that which they like doing – and before I forget, I must mention that some guys try it, find it not to their liking, vow to never do it again… and do it again and I think that their subconscious waves its mysterious fingers and points out to the guy that, hey, you know, just because you didn’t like it that first time doesn’t mean that, if you give it another guy, you still won’t like it.  Indeed, some guys have a less than stellar first experience… but the second one?  Wow… just wow.

The problem comes up when we get conflicted:  We’re thinking and/or doing something that, historically, is seen as being as wrong as anything can be… but if this is true, why does doing it make so much sense and, importantly, why does it feel right?  I remember asking Cityman, during a conversation some time ago and along this same topic of discussion, if he had noticed that when he sucked dick for the first time, he just knew how to do it.  He thought about it for a moment and allowed that, yeah, it did seem like he knew exactly what to do and even allowed that he knew this because, duh, it’s not like he’s never seen a woman blowing him before and, double duh, there’s a guy in the middle of sucking his dick so figuring out what to do is kinda like a no-brainer.  Or is it?  Sure, this explanation makes a lot of sense but how does a guy who has never had oral sex figure this out?  Ah, you might be thinking that porn is the easy answer and you’d be right in that “if you can see it, you can do it” kind of way… but that doesn’t explain how a guy who hasn’t watched porn (and for whatever reason he hasn’t) also just knows how to do something he’s never seen or experienced before the moment he gives in to the urge to do it.

And if all of this is giving you a mild headache, you can probably imagine what it does to those people whose job it is to figure this all out and make sense of it.  Homosexuals have long insisted that they were born this way and that choice had nothing to do with it… and they’re partially right, I think.  We are all born with the potential to do this and thanks to evolutionary process, like the famous flatworm experiment where a flatworm was taught a trick and once it had it down pat, it was dissected and fed to other flatworms who could now perform the same trick taught to the late-lamented original flatworm.  We’re more complex than flatworms, of course, but there’s the fact that way back in time, two guys somehow got together and had sex with each other and it just kept going until it became a part of our makeup – those first men learned the “trick” and the rest of us have learned it as well but that’s where choice comes in because, sorry gay folks, you do choose to act on your feelings or not but it’s such a “natural” thing that choice doesn’t seem to play a part – it just makes sense.

When we look at sexuality, it’s not always about what we do:  It’s all in why we do what we do.  What drives us, what conditions exist or are happened upon that are powerful enough to break our social conditioning and set us on the path of doing something that’s morally reprehensible and, to many, just down right nasty?  The path has always been there and many have walked upon it prior to bisexuality becoming a hot-button topic.  We talk about what – all that cock sucking and ass fucking – but, clearly, we need to look to the why and how of this.  How does a guy who says that there’s no way in hell that he’d let some dude suck his dick one day find himself getting sucked off by a guy… and loving every moment of the experience?  How does a guy who’d say that he’d fight to the death to keep himself from getting fucked in the ass “suddenly” have a change of heart and mind and determine that having this experience is just what the doctor ordered?  How does anyone go from, “I’d never do some shit like that!” to “I can’t get enough of doing this shit!”?

In the here and now, we have more questions than answers but in order to understand the path, we must keep asking the questions and looking for the answers although, at a high level, it’s probably just easier to say that people are bisexual because they can and want to be… but you should know how we are – it’s just not enough to accept such a simple answer because there’s got to be some other reason that explains this…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Caught in Another Moment

He had his left forearm under the small of my back to hold up most of my 195 pounds off the bed; his right hand was alternating between cupping my nuts and fingering my butt hole and all in concert as he furiously sucked my dick.  As I was watching him blow me, he’d look up at me, our eyes locking and so many things were being said in this rather intimate form of nonverbal communication.

Minutes ago, I had done pretty much the same thing to him; I could still taste him in my mouth and on my lips, just as I could remember the tactile sensations left behind when his dick was in my mouth.  It felt so good… and his cock had that fresh, clean taste that I loved so much; his spunk, which was now being taken apart in my stomach, was a lot sweet with just a tang of sourness and there was a lot of it, too.

He broke the connection we had with our eyes to focus on what he was doing and that was fine with me, not that I didn’t want to know if he was truly enjoying himself – I could see and feel that easily enough.  I was enjoying what he was doing although some of the things he did – like fucking my ass with his fingertip – wasn’t going to make me cum any time soon; it was more of a distraction than anything else but, damn, I was impressed by the strength of his left arm as he effortlessly kept my ass from touching the bed.  I was also impressed at his ability to eat my cock right down to my pubic bone and more so because he had told me, way back before any of this got started, that he had problems doing the deep throat thing and the same thing he was doing right at this moment.

I could feel his teeth gently against the base of my cock; I could feel his tongue moving around, tantalizing me as he strove to keep it out of his way lest he gag again; he was sucking me so good at this point that I had already made up my mind that when he got finished with me, I was going to do him again.  But until he got done, I was very much into what he was doing as he now sucked with varying pressures on my knob, which was so sensitized that it felt numb… but not so much that I  couldn’t feel his tongue as it worked against my crown, the sensations threatening to make me a little nuts.  I had both of my hands on his head, not forcing any of the action but because I didn’t have anything else to do with them; I had, at one point, hoped that he’d position himself so that I could at least fondle his balls… but I think he was holding me the way he was so I couldn’t really move – hard to use your legs for this when they were draped over the other guy’s shoulders.

He was working on my dick faster; I actually heard myself say, “Make me cum…” albeit distantly and those were the most intelligent words that I’d been able to say once he got started on me… and the closest I’d gotten to a complete sentence with, “Oh, fuck…” being the next closest.  I was lost in this moment but the part of my mind that was tasked to pay attention to every little thing was hard at work doing its job, like reviewing how much I loved having  my dick sucked, the fact that even though I didn’t know everything about this man, I agreed with him rather quickly when he said I should come over to his place so that we could explore the possibilities.  That part of my mind was paying close attention to everything he was doing, analyzing things, making copious notes on his level of enthusiasm, his techniques, the amount of saliva he was using to sloppily keep me wet, right along with how many breaths per minute he was taking and, oh, yeah, I was holding his head in such a way that I had my fingers on the pulse points just in front of his ears so I would know how fast his heart was beating.

He stopped playing with my ass and balls, slipped his right arm under me and after sucking in a lot of air through his nose, lifted me even higher; he let my dick fall from his mouth – it landed on my belly with a wet, plopping sound – and I groaned as I felt his tongue sliding between my ass cheeks… and cursed rather loudly when I felt it playing against my butt hole.  I’m not a huge fan of analingus even though I had made sure that my ass was as clean as I could get it without going through the hassle of giving myself an enema… and he was taking advantage of my thoughtfulness, working his mouth and tongue on my ass as if he were eating pussy.  I wanted him to go back to sucking me because, damn it to hell, I was getting close to cumming… but, holy fuck, his mouth and tongue felt good down there and the part of me that was enjoying the sheer nastiness of this didn’t want him to stop.

“I gotta cum…” I managed to say; my mouth was so damned dry!  I had started out breathing through my nose but, fuck, yeah, he turned me into a mouth breather pretty quickly and now I was paying for that, trying to say shit to him when my mouth and throat were feeling as if a desert had been created, leaving my throat scratchy and parched.  But he heard me even though I had my thighs pressed against his head and, reluctantly, gave my back door a few more deep probings with his tongue before he made his way back to my dick – but he did stop along the way to suck my balls gently, and I did very much appreciate that gesture.

His mouth covered me again; he took me deep over and over, going as fast as he could; the attentive part of my mind noted that he wasn’t breathing and I let go of his head because, fuck, I really didn’t know what to do with my hands at this point.  I could feel the little tremors that had been racing up and down my shaft turn into really big spasms and, oh, my God… I was gonna cum and I wanted to… and I didn’t want to…

But I did it anyway.  I cursed loud enough for his next door neighbors to hear me; I grabbed his head and held it right where I wanted it to be as my dick pumped sperm into his mouth.  Oh, what a heavenly feeling it was to feel his tongue working to gather up my goo and to feel his mouth and throat working to swallow my stuff!  I was thrusting into his mouth as best I could given the position I was in but, again, that part of my mind that wasn’t being affected by my orgasm/release was making sure that I didn’t ram my dick down his throat – that would have been quite rude and even dangerous for him.

I finished making my creamy delivery, my body shuddering, goosebumps appearing all over me and in such a way that they were actually tickling me and I was trying not to laugh hysterically as he gently milked my cock, taking care to stay away from my knob which was now insanely sensitive.  He finally released me and my very limp noodle slipped from his lips and fell onto my still-heaving belly.  I managed to lift my head – it felt as if it weighed a ton – and looked at him looking at me and with such a beatific smile on his face.  He sucked my shit good but the thing that made me give his big time props and Brownie points was him asking me, “Are you okay?”

I told him that I was even though we both knew that I wasn’t as evidenced by the way my body was still involuntarily twitching like someone was giving me little electric shocks… and I would kill for about a gallon of water right about now.  While I was thinking about how fucking thirsty I was, he disengaged from me and stretched out beside me; I could hear his joints popping at he stretched and almost laughed at the way he was groaning as he got the kinks out of his body.  It was now both a good and bad thing; good that he had stretched out in a way that put his dick within my reach and bad for him because I had my mouth on him again and if he thought I meant business the first time I sucked him, well, he had another thought about to bitch slap him.

I was physically and emotionally spent and what I really wanted to do was take a quick nap… but I was determined to suck his cock again so I banished that tired feeling and ate his dick as if my life depended on it.  He tried to fight me off but his attempts to dislodge me were feeble, not that I thought he was seriously trying to remove me; anyone who could hold my weight the way he did shouldn’t have a problem making me stop.  The analytical part of my brain suggested that he had a really long refraction period that prevented him from wanting to be sucked again – but it revised it suggestion because he was, indeed, beginning to get hard again.

That was good… and bad.  I wanted him hard again but I was enjoying sucking his prick while it was flaccid, too.  I heard him say, “Oh, no… not again… please… I can’t…” and I let my mouth convince that he could… and he would.  His cock was perfect for sucking; his girth and length made things comfortable and easy for me; I could take a nine-inch dick  all the way down with little effort so, no,his six and half inches wasn’t going to cause me any difficulties.

God… he tasted so good… his renewed erection felt just as good in my mouth; I used my tongue to trace the veins that bulged along his shaft, making him moan in appreciation.  I could hear him mumbling about how good it was, how good it felt and he even managed to say that it had been a long time since he’d had someone suck his dick this good… and I realized that if he could say this, I wasn’t getting the job done correctly… so I picked up the pace and tapped into the raving beast within me…

I don’t remember much after the energy of my beast enveloped me; I kinda remember having two fingers in his ass at some point; I also dimly remember eating his ass, too… and I only remember that because I could really get my tongue in his tight hole.  I know I went back to devouring his prick because he was fucking my face, slamming his pubic bone against my nose – that shit hurt, too, but I wasn’t letting that discomfort dissuade me from what had to be done to him.  He was mine to do with as I pleased… and I did what I pleased despite his howls of protest against being made to cum again.

Like I was gonna listen to his pleas to begin with.  My heart was racing, my pulse pounding loudly in my ears, pulling in deep breaths of air in through my nose as I gently bit down on the base of his cock and applied a great deal of suction against his erection so I could hold him in place.  I could feel the tremors racing along his shaft; they were telling me that he was getting close.  I had his rather large nut sack in my hand so I knew his balls were tightening up and preparing to deliver their payload.  That part of my mind that always pays attention no matter what was amused that he was loudly protesting my treatment of his dick and maybe because I was taking him somewhere he’d never been before… or hadn’t been in a long time… and I actually shrugged and thought, “Too bad…” and sucked down harder on him.

I felt his cock swell… and my beast screamed in glorious victory as he began to spill into my mouth – and I didn’t bother to back off like I did the first time; no, I kept all of his dick trapped in my mouth as he came and, lord, how he cursed me!  A part me of wanted to laugh at him but it decided to pay attention to what was going on so I wouldn’t fuck up and have sperm shooting out of my nose – that really didn’t feel good.  He fucked against my mouth as I siphoned off his seed; I could feel rivers of perspiration cascading down my face, some of it getting into my eyes and stinging the hell out of me but I tightened my focus so I could ignore the burning so I could take every drop of spunk he had to offer.

I could feel him getting soft in my mouth but I wasn’t ready to let go him, no, not just yet.  I stayed away from his knob but I kept on sucking him even though he had given up all that he had… and just because his dick felt good in my mouth despite being hammered into softness… again.  My head was swimming dizzily as I now fought to normalize my breathing and heart rate before I hyperventilated; it would be quite embarrassing to pass out at this point, ya know?  With a rather loud groan, I let go of his dick and slowly sat up, feeling as if the room was spinning around for a moment or two before things settled down.  I looked at him with a mixture of feelings, none of which I think I could describe even if there were words for what was going on in my head.

He was trashed… and my beast was so pleased to see him lying where I had left him, unable to move, his eyes rolling up at times as so much that I was a little concerned about his well-being although if he somehow passed out, shit, there would be no talking to my beast.  But he was thankfully okay – my beast was a little pissed but was happy just the same.  He opened his eyes and, for a moment, he looked at me as if I just tried to kill him… and that wasn’t all that far from the truth… and I smiled at him… and he shuddered again and, honestly, I’m not sure what kind of smile I had on my face but he was visibly bothered by it and he even said as much:  “Why are you smiling at me like I’m something good to eat?”

“Because you are something good to eat,” I said, licking my lips.  “Now…are you ready to do this again?  Because I am…”

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: What is a Real Man?

When one goes hacking around in the dense undergrowth of the DL and looking to satisfy their urges for dick, you might come across site profiles written by men who like to state that they don’t have any time for any motherfucker who ain’t a real man… and just what the fuck does that mean?

I’ve come to understand that for one man to get sexually intimate with another man takes a high degree of personal courage.  I know it’s one thing to want to suck another man’s cock, as an example, another thing to be able to sit and imagine what it would be like, and something very different when the real thing is right there in your face and waiting to be orally stimulated.  Now, I’m not saying that any man is a coward when it comes to this by any means; I’m just saying that you can think and/or believe what you want and the moment of truth is always the turning point… and I’ve seen a lot of men admit that they just couldn’t do it.

And that’s fine; at least in my opinion, it takes a real man to admit that he can’t do something. But, on the DL, wow, the attitudes of some of the men trolling for cock can be quite unbelievable; you can read the profile of one of these guys and get the impression that they believe that any man who doesn’t want to do what they want to do are beneath them – or not real men, according to a couple of  conversations I’ve had with such men.  It’s an implied insult, one man telling another that he’s not man enough to sexually do whatever’s supposed to be done and without reservation, complaint, or any other form of, “I ain’t doing that” which can be said.

Some of these rather arrogant – and I might add, clueless – dudes try to shame  you into having sex with them by, again, insulting your masculinity, like, suggesting that if you weren’t willing to have your ass reamed out, well, you must be some kind of effeminate punk bitch and the same goes for not wanting someone busting a nut in your mouth… and I wonder where these dudes get this shit from.  I know we all have this idea in our head about what a man’s supposed to be, how he’s supposed to act and all that and my version of a real man is any guy who’s willing to throw down with me – again, I know and understand how much courage it takes to go against everything we’ve been taught about this – and you can read this as men aren’t supposed to be doing this shit with other men.

Once again, I sense the thug mentality at work here… and while I do kinda understand the underlying philosophy in this, well, while there are things I wouldn’t object to doing for another “brother,” there are also some things I’m not going to do and if that, in the other guy’s opinion, doesn’t make me a real man, well, I’d normally say he could suck my dick – but this so-called real man usually isn’t of a mind to do that.  I actually asked a guy once what being a real man meant to him and, of course, he said that a real man would get on his knees and worship his dick, take that nut in his mouth and swallow it all down – and then eat his ass and suck his dick again to get him hard and ready to fuck the other guy good and hard in the ass.

I then asked him if he was gonna be willing to suck some dick, eat some sperm, eat some ass, and then offer up his own ass to be fucked… and he said, “I don’t do none of that shit!”  He even found it necessary to question my sanity by asking him such things and all I said was, “Hmm… you’re not as real as you want someone else to be, are you?”  He never answered the question and I saw that he had gone offline; I laughed to myself and said to no one in particular, “Who’s the punk bitch now?”

So, what, are there two different types of real men here?  There’s the one “real man” who doesn’t suck dick, won’t be fucked, etc., then, apparently, there’s the “real man” who is supposed to submit to all of this and not expect any reciprocation at all?  Sadly, this is part of the reality when it comes to gay sex and our inability to erase the lines of demarcation that divides us into tops and bottoms, which holds us to an inescapable behavior when it comes to sex:  Someone has to be the “male” in this and someone has to be the “female” and, I’d have to say ‘rarely’ is there someone who’d be quite comfortable in either role – those versatile guys you see me writing about from time to time.

I personally tend to question the manhood of any dude who’s looking to have sex with another dude but won’t, at the very least, suck some dick.  Yep, I know and even respect the fact that there are some guys who just can’t get their head around giving head (see what I did there?  Yuk, yuk!)  But we see in this the hypocrisy that takes place:  You want another man to do something that, apparently, you’re not man enough to do yourself… and how, exactly, does that make you a real man?  I’ve seen profiles written (if you wanna call it that) by such men and have read them ranting and raving about what they expect right alongside what they’re not gonna do… and it’s beyond being sad.  It’s a kind of arrogance that insults my intelligence; you’re gonna state that your preferences in this are inviolate and not subject to change… but you’re gonna disregard any preferences I might have… and then say that I’m not a real man when I tell you to take your preferences and shove them up your own ass?

It doesn’t surprise me when these arrogant bastards whine and complain about not being able get what they want; I laugh a lot when I see them writing that they don’t know where all the real men are; I frown a lot to see them writing and saying that if a dude is effeminate in any way, he needs to step to the side because his kind ain’t wanted here – and I think this is funny and points to their cluelessness because, um, if you’re asking another man to lie down and submit himself to being fucked, you’re asking him to to assume the feminine role in sex but, um, obviously, you’re not smart enough to understand any of this, are you?

A real man knows and understands that not everyone does everything, that every man who is into this knows what he likes to do and all of the things that aren’t  liked – and then accepts this reality so that he  can find someone who’s more compatible.  Oh, and a real man knows not to push his own agenda onto someone who isn’t of a mind to go along with that.  One more thing:  Real men can read and comprehend what “I’m not into anal sex” means and can see the sense of not asking for something that’s not being made available.  Hang on for this one:  A real man can want what he wants and in the way he wants it… but just because he wants it this way doesn’t mean other men are gonna want the exact same thing… because they, too, want what they want and in the way they want it.  Yep, I deliberately said it like this… because it was fun to think and write it this way – it’s too easy to just say, um, one man’s meat is another man’s poison or some other overly used cliché…

A real man knows what he can and can’t do; he knows what he should and shouldn’t do and a real man sure as hell isn’t going to allow himself to be bullied into doing something that ain’t on his list of things to do.  So if you’re out there trolling the various sites looking for some dick and you run across someone looking for real men, just go find another profile to read unless, of course, your idea of being a real man says that any time another man wants to top you, that’s fine… but I know some bottoms who wouldn’t put up with any insults to their masculinity.

 

Ah, The Good Old Days!

I know I talk about this a lot but it’s not only because it happens to keep popping into my thoughts but to also illustrate a few things about guys and how we “adapt” to having sex with each other and, yeah, how damned easy it was.  I miss those days and because it was so easy to do it with another guy and as simply as asking each other, “What do you wanna do?”

i got to thinking about this and looking at why doing it with a guy had so much appeal.  For one, there was that flood of hormones hitting us, driving to dive into the sex pool at every turn, which wasn’t that easy when it came to girls.  Oh, yeah, you could get them to give it up but sometimes not without a great deal of resistance.  Even when it came to sex with guys, you pretty much had to know that the guy you’d be with wouldn’t say no and he wouldn’t because, more than likely, you’d done it with him before.  You could develop that “feel” that says to you that if you frame it the right way, you could get a guy you weren’t familiar with to let you do it to him; it was a sure bet that his hormones would be raging within him and shoving him into finding a way to scratch that very intense itch.

While doing it with a girl was the preferred way, uh, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that even though we weren’t supposed to, doing it with a guy would satisfy that hormonal urge and, again, without all the begging and pleading one would have to do to get a girl to drop her panties for you.  So… the answer to the question of what to do was fairly easy:  “Let’s do it!” with “it” being the nasty or, plainly, fucking and sucking until it couldn’t be done anymore.

Adults, well, we don’t make it easy for this to happen no matter how much we want it to happen; it has to be the right person, the right time, the right place, and in the right way, that being the way you wanna do it or have it done.  As kids, well, we were probably just beginning to develop these preferences but, um… well, if there was something you didn’t want to do, not much attention was paid to that by either guy because this was about responding to our hormonal urges and they didn’t allow us to do much in the way of thinking.

So we’d do it; we’d suck each other’s dicks and take turns fucking each other, still very much aware that we weren’t supposed to but not caring one bit because having that “good feeling” if you weren’t shooting the stuff yet or feeling even better when you were shooting the stuff was all that mattered.  So what if you were sticking it in some guy’s hiney-hole?  So what if it was your hole that he was sticking his dick in?  As disgusting as it always sounded, yeah, buddy:  It felt good and in a lot of ways.

You’ve got his dingaling in your mouth?  No biggie! He’s got yours in his mouth and sucking it like a madman?  Even better!  Not shooting the baby-making stuff?  Not a problem because it would feel so good anyway.  Shooting the stuff?  Well, okay, yuck – but you dealt with it and, well, it’s not really all that bad… most of the time.

As adult males, we think that we do this better than the younger version of ourselves… and we actually don’t.  We learn to develop preferences as we go along and find that while they might get us what we want, they also serve to prevent us from having sex – period.  It gets the question of why we’d want to make having sex like this harder and not easier, you know, like it was when we were younger (and provided one did this when they were younger)?  Yeah, I know – if you wanted to do it with me, I wouldn’t even think about saying no until I learned that sometimes you need to say no, like if the other guy was stinky or smelled like shit, and a whole bunch of other things that, as I grew up, I’d carry along with me as the basis for the preferences I have today.

When I was younger and you had all that extra skin on your ding-dong?  Oh, no – get that ugly thing away from me!  Otherwise, yeah, let’s hurry up and start doing it!  The older I got, the more preferences I developed and the chances to get some dick would keep diminishing until one day, I asked myself, “Whatever happened to the good old days?”

And the answer is, “You grew up, dude.  You’ve changed your thinking and behavior to the adult versions and that just can’t make things as easy as they once were.  Still, it’s not you, man – you do try to make it easy for a guy to get your dick… but they grew up, too, and as you can see, they aren’t always making it all that easy for you to get their dick to suck, since that’s what you now prefer to do.”

Ah, damn…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Why Bother?

Quite a few years ago, I was having an interesting discussion with a female friend about my being bisexual and she asked, “Why bother with that?  Aren’t women enough for you?”

I frowned at her question, having heard the underlying admonishment:  She thought I was being greedy, that old-assed stereotypical assumption that, in my mind, never made a lot of sense since I’ve always been sure that I’m not the only person interested in getting all the sex that I can – and that included the woman I was talking to, someone who was very well-known for her, ah, voracious appetites.

But I laughed and said, “While I don’t believe there’s such a thing as too much pussy, there’s more to be had in the sexual world; what’s wrong with feasting at the table?”

It was her turn to frown and I resisted the urge to laugh at her consternation; over the years, I’d gotten used to having conversations like this with women in particular and now found it amusing that they couldn’t see the connection between how I liked getting my rocks off and how they were doing it.

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” she finally said.  “If you needed to get laid that bad, all you have to do is ask me and I’d break you off some…”

“I appreciate the offer but it’s not about needing badly to get laid,” I said – after I stopped laughing.  “You think that what I like to do is one of those situations where I’m desperate for sex and this is the only alternative… but you’d be quite wrong; I simply like dick.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said again.  “If you’re getting punany, why do you need dick?”

Okay, here we go…

“Why do you need it?” I asked.  “Shit, woman, you get laid more than I do!  So why do you need so much dick?”

“That shit is off the hook!” she exclaimed, smiling salaciously.  “Shit, man, you don’t know…”

She stopped in mid-stride, suddenly understanding that I did, in fact, know – and the laughter was starting to build again.

“Oh, snap,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, you get it now, don’t you?” I asked – after biting my lip for a moment.  “See, the reason why I bother – as you put it – is because I understand some of the same shit you do.  You’re always bragging about how you sucked some dude’s dick and had him crying for his mama… and I know exactly what you mean because I’ve had a few dudes calling for someone to help them that won’t be able to save their asses.  I know that this shit is fun… just like you do.”

“I get that now,” she said, nodding.  “You just don’t look like the type!”

Here we go again…

“What does the type look like?  You don’t look like the type of girl who spends six out of seven days fucking four or five times a day!” I pointed out, hitting her with facts she had previously revealed to me – and facts that ensured that I wouldn’t ever be sticking my dick in her even though she was damned delicious.

“That’s cold, dude,” she said, trying not to smile.

“I’m not gay by any means,” I continued.  “I found out a long time ago  that I didn’t have to be gay to like dick; hell, I wouldn’t want to be gay!”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because being gay is just as limiting as being straight – not enough diversity just sticking with men or women only to make me happy,” I said.

“So what you saying?  I’m missing out on some shit by being strickly dickly?” she asked, giving me one of those looks that only women can pull off successfully.

“I’m not saying anything although if the shoe fits, either wear it or let your feet hurt,” I said.

“I couldn’t do that shit,” she said.

“How do you know you can’t?” I  asked – oh, was I ever gonna fuck with her now!  “You ever try to do it?”

“No!” she practically shouted.

“Then how do you know you couldn’t do it… or like it?” I pressed.

“Man, I’ve heard…” she began but I cut her off quickly.

“See, that’s what wrong with some people; you hear some shit from other people – and it’s usually some fucked up shit – and then you just assume that just because they had a fucked up experience doing it, you’re gonna have one as well,” I said.

“I know I can’t play with no pussy!” she said, getting predictably louder.

“You play with your own pussy, don’t you?” I asked slyly.

“That’s different!” she countered, the words exploding from her mouth and now the people in the area we were sitting in were looking in our direction.

“Well, I figure that if you can play with your own shit, it’s not that big of a reach to play with another woman’s stuff… unless the real reason is that you’re afraid,” I said.

“I ain’t afraid of shit,” she said, keeping her voice down.

“That’s a lie – you’re obviously afraid of pussy,” I said while failing to suppress a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” she said, trying to sound pissed off.

“Yeah, a little,” I admitted.  “But the point remains valid – you probably wouldn’t do it because you’re afraid people will start thinking that you’re a lesbian, huh?”

Her silence told me that I had hit the nail on the proverbial head… and I kept right on fucking with her… because I could and I liked pushing her buttons.

“I remember you told me a couple of weeks ago that you were watching some porn flick and there were two women – how did you put it? – munching on some carpet and you said that, at first, you thought that shit was nasty… but then you started to think that it was pretty hot,” I said.  “Were you telling the truth about that?”

“I can’t stand you sometimes,” she said.

“But you did say that,” I said, keeping the pressure on her.

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?  Look, if you thought it was hot – and I agree that it is – then what’s the problem?  What, you ashamed that watching two women go down on each other turned you on?”

Another one of those nail-hitting silences ensued, this one lasting a whole five minutes.  I sat there picking at my now-cold French fries and watched her think, marveling at how you can look at some people and pretty much know what’s going on inside their skull and seeing them go through their thought progressions.

“So, um, you saying that if it turns me on, I should try it?” she asked.

“Do you really want to?” I asked.  “You don’t have to if you really can’t… but for the purposes of this conversation, if you did try it, maybe you’d better understand why I am the way I am, ya know?”

Two days later, she invited me to have lunch with her again.  As we settled down to start grubbing, she said, “I did it…” and so quietly that I wasn’t sure I heard  her.

“Did what?” I asked – and because I really didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Got with a woman,” she said, her voice so low I had to strain to hear her over the background noise.

“Oh!  So, how was it?” I asked and like I was asking her about the weather or something.

“Now I know why you bother,” she said, her head down like she was talking to her burger instead of me.  “I fucking hate you sometimes, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know you do,” I agreed, not taking any offense at all.  “So, how was it?  Seriously now.”

“Man, damn, that shit was good,” she said.  “I ain’t never got off like that before!  I gotta admit that it was so good, not only did she spend the night with me but that’s all we did all night… and the most of the next day.”

Ah!  That would explain why I hadn’t seen her at work, then.

“Oh, okay,” I said  nonchalantly.  “So… now you know like I know, don’t you?”

“I fucking hate your ass!  You’re always making me do shit I wasn’t even thinking about doing!” she said, reaching across the table and poking me in the chest with her finger.

“I didn’t make you do a damned thing!” I said laughing.  “All I did was ask you a question!  Is it my fault that you decided to go looking for the answer?”

“Yeah it is!” she said, finally letting her smile light up the joint.  “You always putting these ideas in my head!”

“I’m not gonna apologize but I figure that if you wanted to know why I do the things  I do, well, maybe you should do them yourself and find out – that kinda makes sense, wouldn’t you agree?”  I asked, setting my humor aside.

“I fucking hate your smart ass…” she said.  “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything – you usually do,” I said.

“When she kissed me, um, shit, I had an orgasm,” she said meekly.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said.

“Then, when we got naked, she started sucking on my titties and it happened again,” she said.  “No dude ever made me do that shit fucking with my nipples!  But when she went down on me, damn, oh, damn…”

“It’s okay,” I said, seeing that she was getting flustered.

“I went down on her and I couldn’t believe that I was doing it…: she said quietly.  “I was scared like a motherfucker… but I wasn’t scared – does that make sense?”

“It makes sense,” I said with equal quietness.

“She tasted so good… I couldn’t stop licking her pussy…, oh, fuck me…” she said, suddenly shuddering.

Did she just have an orgasm?  Holy shit, I think she did!

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked.

“I just nutted in my drawers,” she said.  “I fucking hate your ass!”

She got up and went to the ladies room… and it was all I could do not to start laughing even though this was a really serious situation for her.  I honestly never gave any thought to her actually wanting to find out what it was like even though I had meant everything I had said to her.  Over the years, I’d be hit with questions like the ones she asked, had to listen to the stereotypical claptrap that never seemed to go away and it made me adopt the position that if you really wanna know why I like pussy and dick, why don’t you give a try and find out for yourself?

She returned to the table and stood next to me for a moment, tapping me on the shoulder and said, “Here, take this.”

I held out my hand and she dropped a rather nice pair of panties in my hand, all scrunched up in a ball but very recognizable.

“Oh, no you didn’t,” I said, slipping the panties into my jacket pocket.  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do with them,” she said, plopping her butt down in the booth.  “It’s a good thing I keep a pair in my desk!  Oh, did I mention that you can be a real bastard?”

“You usually do mention that and I keep telling you that my parents were married when I was born,” I replied and, no, this time, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.  “Shit, you wanna blame me because you had a pleasant memory – what kind of shit is that?  How the fuck am I gonna explain to my wife why I have your panties in my pocket?”

“That’s your problem,” she said with a bit of disdain.  “That’s the price you pay for making me remember that shit!”

“Oh, like it’s my fault you tried it and  liked it?”  Man, this was getting kinda funny because I knew she was just embarrassed by what happened.

“Yeah!  It is your fault, damn it!”

“Okay, well, good thing I’m used to getting blamed for shit,” I said, picking up my burger and taking a big bite out of it before it got too cold.

We were silent for a few moments, me eating my lunch, her deep in thought.

“So now what?” I asked after polishing off the remainder of my milkshake.

“I’m supposed to spend the weekend with her,” she said after a moment.  “She told me not to bother bringing any clothes because I wasn’t gonna be needing them until I went home.”

“Wow, that sounds like some serious shit,” I said.  “Are you gonna go?”

“Would you go?” she asked – but I knew the question was rhetorical, just like I already knew that she was going to go no matter what I said.

“Of course I would,” I said truthfully.  “There’s no shame in it at all.”

“I still hate you, you know,” she said, grabbing the check that the waitress had discretely placed on the table.

“I got it,” I said, reaching for the check.

“No, this is my treat – you can pay the next time,” she said.

From what I heard, going down the road and according to the rumor mill, my friend and this mysterious girl were becoming an item.  Yep, she was still on her serious dick diet but had apparently added pussy to the menu.  Sometimes, it’s good to ask questions about things you don’t understand but as in the case of my friend, sometimes, if you really wanna know, you just have to find out for yourself.  I really hadn’t expected her to go and do it and I figured that the only reason why she did was because she had some latent desires she had been keeping secret – and understandably so, I might add.

People attach so much shame to being bisexual, calling us greedy and shit like that and all because we like more sexual diversity than most people and like one of our purposes in life isn’t to have all the enjoyable sex we can have.  I still get a little miffed today to hear people calling bisexuals greedy and like we’re the only ones who like getting laid a lot and more so when I knew other people who, like my lady friend, spent the majority of their time fucking like it was gonna be declared illegal any moment now.  But I know that the greedy sentiment exists because you’re supposed to pick a side – straight or gay – and stay there; it’s okay for someone who has picked a  side to then chase down all the sex they can catch… but if that’s okay, then why isn’t it  okay for a bisexual to have the same pursuits?

I’ll leave you to ponder this question…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Doing the Nasty

Once we – the kids I grew up with – discovered the “joys” of sex, man, the rush to have it was contagious, from privately getting your dick hard and doing that jerking off thing to those moments when we’d all congregate and sex would, eventually, wind up on the menu.  You just couldn’t wait for that next time to come around and, um, I can’t honestly say that we were all that picky about who we were doing it with; even that kid you never seemed to really get along with was a lot more acceptable when the clothes came off and it was time to do the nasty…and if the girls were around and wanted to do it, so much the better.

You just got up for it, literally and figuratively; you could have been having a rather shitty day but that would all change the moment you walked into wherever everyone was gathering because you could feel the sexual tension in the air and, sometimes, you could even smell it as all the horny motherfuckers doused the room with pheromones.  Hell, doing the nasty could have been the very last thing on your mind but feeling that tension and that heady, musky smell of sexual excitement would make getting rid of your clothes and diving into things a very high priority, well, once someone got bold enough to get things started, that is.  Everyone would be just standing around, the anticipation making everyone jumpy and very eager for the festivities to begin; I can remember a lot of times when my impatience would start to get the best of me and I’d be a whole second away from asking, “Who wants to do the nasty?” – but someone else would always ask the question before I could open my mouth… and then it would be on.

As children, shit, the way we went about having sex with each other would put today’s swingers to shame; it didn’t matter who you were doing it with as long as you were doing it even though pretty much everyone had their favorite person to do the nasty with but, um, since that was pretty much everyone who was brave (and horny) enough to be there, getting “settled in” was rarely a problem unless, of course, two people had the same favorite and both were there to have fun with them – but it was a problem that, more often than not, was easily solved; if you had to wait your turn, it wasn’t like you’d be left out in the cold while waiting or, what would happen most of the time, the two people vying for their favorite would agree that all three of them can do it together.

It wasn’t unusual for me to be dick-deep in someone and have someone dick-deep in my ass or humping my mouth; it wasn’t unusual to see large daisy chains of oral sex forming and it didn’t make a difference if there was a dick or a pussy right there in your face; if it was there, you put your mouth on it, plain and simple and any hesitation to do so would be met with a response that only kids can bring to the table, that brutal form of peer pressure that, today, can make an angry adult look calm by comparison.  Then again, if you were not of a mind to do the nasty, you wouldn’t be allowed to be there with us in the first place – hanging out with us wasn’t for the scardy-cats… even though every last one of us basked in the fear of getting caught; shit, if you weren’t afraid of getting caught, you just weren’t living!

I think back to those early days and say to myself, “Wow, we just didn’t give a fuck about a lot of shit, not like we tend to do as adults!”  Guys would suck dick, girls would eat pussy, and no one gave it a second thought; if a girl was really afraid of “getting into trouble” – but she wanted to have sex – she’d offer up her ass and insist that you shoot your stuff in that hole – everyone just understood that if that sticky stuff went into that hole, a girl couldn’t get in trouble and a suspicious parent could take her to a doctor to be checked and would find no evidence of her being sexually active.  Indeed, when you think about how difficult it can be to get a girl to suck your dick these days, shit, for us and in this time, a girl would gladly suck your dick and not risk getting her pussy creamed.

We’d get “new members” who’d somehow hear about the fun we would be having and they’d want in on the action or, sometimes, they might not believe that a bunch of us were doing the one thing the adults told us to never do so they wanted to see it for themselves although, admittedly, um, they rarely remained as observers.  If we had rules, they were simple:  Never tell an adult what we’re doing and if you weren’t willing to do everything that everyone else was doing, you couldn’t hang out with us… and, yes, you did have to prove yourself worthy of doing the nasty with us… and not very many new kids passed the “ultimate” test but the ones who did would wind up catching the “sex fever” right along with the rest of us.

As boys, it was true that if we couldn’t find something constructive to do, ah, chances were great that we’d wind up getting into some kind of trouble… except, with us, when we’d get into trouble, it wasn’t because we were breaking out someone’s windows or vandalizing stuff or running around terrorizing the other kids.  Nah, if you got any of us together and we were bored out of our minds, the dicks would come out fairly quickly once someone asked, “What do you guys want to do?” and no one could come up with anything we could all agree upon… but we could all agree to suck and fuck each other until we wore ourselves out.  Today, I look back at those moments and laugh because I can clearly see that in those moments, no one really tried to suggest an alternative to having sex with each other; if we were hanging out and there was “nothing” to do, well, let’s do the nasty!  And, yes, it would jump off even if there were only two us; we’d meet up outside and go through the whole, “What do you want to do?” thing and wind up somewhere “private” to do the nasty.  With all the abandoned and boarded up places in the neighborhood, finding a place to do it was easy and getting into them a piece of cake and, once inside, we would literally spend hours fucking and sucking each other until the urge to do the nasty went away… for that moment, anyway.

I can remember too many times when I had to “sneak” into the apartment we lived in and hit the bathroom so I could wash up and then try to hide my underwear because it sopped up all the sperm that would eventually wind up leaking out of my ass,well, whatever there was that didn’t get wiped away before heading home.  Today, wow, I wonder why my parents, who did the laundry, never asked me why my underwear would be stiff and crusty; maybe they noticed it, maybe they didn’t and, honestly, I am glad that neither of them ever questioned me about it.  Likewise, I wondered why they’d never call me out on the carpet whenever I came home smelling like sex; shit, if I could smell it, they had to be able to smell it!  Well, one time, I came home reeking of sex and my father looked at me really hard and asked, “You ain’t out there doing something you shouldn’t be doing, are you, boy?”  And I did what any kid would do in that situation:  Lied my ass off and told him that I’d just been outside running around and stuff. Maybe he knew or suspected, maybe he didn’t and, yeah, just thinking about the possibility of getting grilled about what I’d really been doing was, often, scary enough to make my stomach queasy and my guts watery… which didn’t seem to deter me from doing the nasty whenever the opportunity arose.

It didn’t seem to deter a lot of us  One very boring summer day, I sucked off nine guys, one right after the other – and then let those same nine guys fuck me… and it was all so good and nasty but not without a price or two, like my having swallowed so much sperm it made me throw up (no one laughed) and after they all unloaded in my butt, I had a very difficult time sitting down later and my amazement to find myself shitting out sperm… but it was worth it and more so when it was time for another guy to take my place.  Like I said, we would have sex with each other that would make adults cringe; being part of a gang-bang was just a matter of course and one that most of us looked forward to… because it was yet another opportunity to do the nasty.  Yep, quite a few of the girls wanted to be the object of our lust, taking on every guy there – and then rightfully brag that they took us all on… and wore us the fuck out but, as you might expect, not all of the girls were willing to let a bunch of guys line up to do the nasty to her; sometimes, all the girls would go to the other side of whatever room we were in and put on a pussy-eating demonstration that would just blow your mind and, of course, give us guys more incentive to have sex with each other.

No remorse, no shame, very little real fear, and not much in the way of inhibitions.  For us, this was such a common and ordinary thing for us to do and I know I’d often be surprised to learn that not “everyone” was doing what we were doing; to run into someone who hadn’t done the nasty was just… weird.  I think about the times when I’d get into a fight with someone for, say, talking about my mother, and we’d beat each other up pretty good… and then turn around maybe an hour later and be doing the nasty with each other, having totally forgotten why we had been fighting earlier but, then again, having a chance to do the nasty pretty much trumped other considerations.  As these moments roll through my mind, yeah, I find it amazing how I could be pissed with someone one moment and be enjoying having sex with them the next moment; today, if I’m pissed with you, well, let’s just say you wouldn’t like it.

I realize that I grew up in an environment where doing the nasty was easy to do and, no, I honestly couldn’t blame any parents for a lack of diligence or not giving a fuck what we were doing; the almost constant warnings about the evils of sex served to remind all of us of the consequences of getting caught doing anything that looked like sex; quite a few guys related tales of the hell they caught when they got busted jerking off.  It was often quite funny to hear an adult telling us we shouldn’t be having sex because we didn’t know what we were doing… and I’m almost sure that some of us knew more about having sex than they did and were almost certainly having more sex than they were.  We knew the dangers of getting a girl in trouble – the biggest warning us boys would get right along with the admonishment to keep it in our pants; we knew – and because a few of us had gotten busted for it – that if you were a boy and got caught doing the nasty with another boy, fuck, you would have made out better knocking a girl up and, as I’ve mentioned before, some of the beatings handed out were legendary for the unlucky guys.

So, no – it wasn’t like we didn’t know that we shouldn’t be doing the nasty… it just didn’t seem to do much to stop us from doing it.  I can easily remember lying on my stomach with some guy’s dick moving in and out of my ass and him saying, “You know, if we ever got caught…” – and feeling the real fear of getting caught but instead of that fear making us cease and desist, um, it just made what we were doing more exciting.  I’d done the nasty with a lot of guys who have said, at some point, “We shouldn’t be doing this!” – and while we were doing that which we both knew we shouldn’t be doing.  One guy said to me one day, “I know I shouldn’t want to suck your dick… but I’m gonna do it anyway because it makes me feel good!”  Even I would be in the middle of doing something and the thought would cross my mind that what me and the other guy were doing could get us into more trouble than we could imagine… but, um, well, if you were already doing it, it didn’t make sense to stop doing it… but if the thought or even the words were spoken before the fact, nah, again, it wasn’t much of a deterrent.  We were all old enough to know better but we were also all old enough to know that doing the nasty was just too much fun and, basically, worth any trouble we could get into which, of course, is so easy to say when you could do it and not get into trouble, right?  The trick of it was always about doing it and not getting caught and subsequently punished for our transgressions… and most of us were quite good at not getting caught.

Because if you liked doing the nasty, you just found ways to do it and avoid the wrath of some potentially pissed-off adults and parents.  It was becoming more and more difficult to convince a girl to give you some pussy; if you couldn’t sing or dance or didn’t have good hair, nice clothes, stuff like that, the chances of you getting some pussy were slim.  If your dick was deemed to be too big, you weren’t getting any; ditto if your dick was determined to be too small.  If you weren’t into eating pussy, well, you sure as hell wasn’t going to get a chance to fuck it unless you happened to run into a girl who didn’t like or want to be eaten – but that was rare.  Ah, but if getting your rocks off with another guy wasn’t that big of a deal for you, that worked and you didn’t even have to jump through all those hoops girls would put in place, either.  I’d often be surprised at how many guys would, publicly, talk big shit against any dude who’d have sex with another dude… but if they couldn’t get any pussy, they’d be singing a very different song privately.  Guys who would incessantly chirp about how they’d never let another guy suck their dick or how they’d never fuck another dude would “mysteriously” be all for doing those things – and more – because, yeah, one’s image and reputation was something that had to be protected at all costs… but not so much when that lack of pussy left you with few options.

I mean, seriously, I found it quite interesting and often funny when the toughest dude in the neighborhood – and the one making the most noise about not doing “that gay shit” would be eating my dick like it was his last meal or moaning with great delight as I plowed his ass – but, oh, yeah, I’d better not even think about telling anyone about it!  Not that I would tell and it’s kinda funny to be threatening the guy who has his dick in your ass already.  And, yeah, he could be one of the lucky guys who could get some pussy which didn’t mean a whole lot when you wanted some dick.  Things went from doing it because there was nothing else better to do to doing it because that lack of pussy would just drive you doing it with another guy… and a lot of guys were like me in that they never “grew out of” wanting to do it with another guy, that and being able to do it a guy or a gal just made a lot of sense and more so when the sources of pussy would just vanish and that manly need to have sex wouldn’t go away.  There were a lot of guys (in particular) who’d get with another guy because of the drought and say, “Man, I thought I outgrew this shit!”  As a teen, I don’t know how many times I’d be hanging out with the fellas and someone would just pull their dick out and start jerking off while telling everyone how much they would love to have their dick sucked.

It was kinda bothersome to hear guys begging and pleading for another guy to have sex with them – but, again, these were the same guys who’d try their best to kick your ass if you even joked with them about sex with another guy.  I’d often think about how things went from guys doing guys as a matter of course to having to beg for this form of release, let alone see them having to beg a girl to give up the box.  It was hard for me to understand how some guys went from being shameless and fearless about getting some dick to being desperate for it… but I got to understand it:  That drive to do the nasty continued to trump all other considerations.  It was just easier to throw down with a guy than it was to convince a girl that you’d respect them after the fact or that you weren’t just going to fuck them and leave them in the dust

Your image and reputation meant little when getting some dick was on the table.  I continued to see a lot of guys who, on the surface, were homophobic… unless I had my mouth on their dick or they were able to dump a load of cum in my ass or be on the receiving end of my own load.  I’d even have guys ask me – after the fact – “Man, how can you just do this shit and not feel bad about it?” and the answer, for me, was easy:  I never had a reason to feel bad about it because fucking a girl or doing the nasty with a guy was second nature to me.  Sucking dick and eating pussy was all the same to me – just another chance to do the nasty and delight in all the fun it provided.  Yeah, I’d hear all the shit being said about such things – and a lot of it is still being said today… but I learned a long time ago not to be surprised when someone who’d be riffing about how nasty and dirty is was for two dudes to do it would “suddenly” change their minds about it; Mr. “I Would Never Suck Dick!” would be sucking on mine while getting his sucked; Mr. “I Would Never Let Another Dude Fuck Me In The Ass!” would be under me and, yeah, egging me on to cum in his ass because it felt so good.  Anyone who believed that all Black men were homophobic just really didn’t know the truth… but I did.  Oh, to be sure, a lot of guys were actually homophobic… but not all of them, well, again, not privately…

Ah, man… the things I learned.  I often write about these things so I can see my evolution and to understand my sexuality.  Sometimes, wow, I just gotta shake my head and say to myself, “Man, you did a lot of shit back then…”  I write about it so those folks who don’t quite understand why a guy would love pussy and dick can get an idea of just how that can happen.  Sure, a lot of guys are like me but didn’t have my kind of experiences but, as I love saying these days, it’s about understanding why a guy would love both and not so much what he might be doing.  Why would a guy want to have sex with another guy?  Because it’s sex – it’s a chance to do the nasty, plain and simple; maybe for them getting pussy is a nigh impossible thing to do, maybe they’re just continuing a behavior that lots of men actually do outgrow; maybe for them, they’re just now realizing and/or understanding that getting naked with another guy and doing whatever really isn’t as horrific as everyone says it is.  Ha, being bisexual brings a very new meaning to the phrase, “I like having sex!” because it really doesn’t matter if the person we’re having sex with is a guy or a gal because it’s still sex.  You get to understand a few things, like, if you like getting your dick sucked, it doesn’t really matter if the person who’s sucking you has a dick that’s begging to be sucked; you understand that fucking a woman in the ass isn’t all that different from doing the same thing to a guy and, yeah, as I say over and over, you can understand what it’s like to be fucked… provided you can summon up the courage to lie down and let another man slide his hard dick into your ass.

If you ever wondered why some people just love to suck cock, well, you can get the chance to find out for yourself just how much fun – and how personally satisfying – it can be… and all because it’s yet another chance to do the nasty and in a way that’s still quite prohibited.  The sex is what it is but I still think that the most important thing is what you can learn from being bisexual and, man, it’s a lot to learn and, no, you never really stop learning no matter how deep your experiences go.  Guys doing the nasty with guys isn’t always about love and romance even though a lot of people seem to think that love and romance must be present, even in gay men… and sometimes it is… but I’d have to say that in the majority of times, nah, love and romance has nothing to do with it and even that can take a back seat when doing the nasty is the thing that’ll best serve the purpose.

I publicly write about this from time to time, not with the purpose of turning anyone on or even making anyone feel disgusted – I do it because, as I said, there are a lot of people who don’t understand it as well as there are people who do want to understand it.  I just love being bisexual; I cherish the path I took in this and not because of the wild and crazy sex I was having so, yeah, when I write – or ramble – about it, man, it’s such a rush to be able to understand and appreciate an aspect of sex that most people are deathly afraid of.  I had no shame about doing the nasty back then, and I sure as hell don’t have any shame about it now so when I write about this, I want people to see and understand – if they can – that there’s really no shame in loving women and pussy and being able to enjoy sex with a man.  So many people make a fuss about bisexuality being a choice or not being one when the truth, as I understand it, is that bisexuals choose not to put too many restrictions on their sexual and even emotional pleasure.  Yeah, yeah, the actual person does factor into things and all that happy shit but outside of that, getting a heaping helping of pussy and/or dick is really no big deal, not if you really love sex as much as you may profess because sometimes it just really comes down to being able to do the nasty.

I write about this so I can see how I’ve changed over the years and admit to myself that, um, I haven’t changed a whole lot and I’m still just as shameless about it today as I was way back when I first got into it.  Yep… I’d do a lot more thinking before the fact; I wouldn’t just “mindlessly” do it like I did when I was much younger but, yeah, if I decide to go for it, I’m going for it because it’s all about doing the nasty and expressing myself.  It’s about pleasing and being pleased and, yep, a man’s cock can serve that purpose just as well as a woman’s pussy can.  If that makes me stereotypically greedy, well, I guess I’ve always been guilty – how can there be such a thing as too much sexual pleasure?  Why just limit the source of that pleasure ?

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As I try to finish this, Jesus, I was just rambling… but when I start writing what’s going on in my head, eh, I guess it can sound pretty fucked up.  So many people have issues with bisexuality; they fear it, they don’t understand it, or just find it unacceptable and the dirty, nasty, immoral behavior it has always been chalked up to be… and it’s just people being able to get the most out of their sexual experiences and desires as humanly possible and still be a decent person about it.  I’ve had decades to analyze being bisexual and while there are a lot of pitfalls, it’s not all that unusual if you can consider all of the things that can possibly go wrong when you combine people and sex.  Here of late, we want to romanticize bisexuality and maybe because it makes it more… palatable and easier to justify our actions against the mandate to always be heterosexual and while I would never discount the romantic aspects of being bi, sometimes – and maybe most of the time – it’s about the sex and, if nothing else, proving to yourself that you are unwilling to put a lot of restrictions on your sexual pleasure.

Now I gotta finish the other thing I started writing yesterday…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Who Wants to be the Girl This Time?”

This question used to come up a lot when the fellas got together and were so bored that having sex was the only logical thing to do to ease said boredom.  It wasn’t until a great many years later when  I was able to recognize some changes in the way those early days went down, from guys falling all over each other to be “the girl” to a growing reluctance to assume that sexual role.

And, ladies, my apologies if this sounds fucked up in any way, okay?  It’s just that we’d long since figured out that girls weren’t as yucky as we somehow believed and that fucking them was such fun so when the fellas decided that just because there weren’t any girls around, well, someone could, at the least, play the role of the girl.

I saw how we ‘evolved’ in this and managed to settle into the roles that, today, are known as top, bottom, and versatile; there were still a couple of guys who only wants to be the girl, sucking cock and taking it in the ass at every possible opportunity.  Some of us – like me – didn’t care one way or the other as long as the sex got started; to us, taking turns “being the girl” wasn’t something to be argued over because either way, it felt good.  A lot of the fellas had ‘migrated’ to not wanting to be the girl in our sinful fun – but had few problems busting a nut in someone’s mouth and/or ass… but if it was suggested that they be the girl, well, that could get a fight started.

As we got older, many guys dropped out of the loop and I can only guess it was because the novelty of having sex with another guy wore off or the fear instilled in us early on just got the better of them; the chances of getting caught were greater and we’d seen first-hand what happened to some guys who got caught in the act… and it wasn’t pretty.

There was a time when I thought that our “love” of doing this was just our thing to do until I’d get outside of my “home environment” and find that the question of who wanted to be the girl was very much alive and well elsewhere.  There were just other guys who didn’t mind always being the girl, guys who didn’t care either way, and those guys who just wouldn’t be the girl even if threatened with severe violence and, no, ethnicity didn’t really play into any of this even though I had been hearing that Black guys just didn’t do it with other guys.

Which confused me because, um, not only was I Black and doing it, a lot of Black guys were.  Yep, it was a half-truth at best but I also saw how the stereotypes that exist today were very prevalent back then and how guys of any ethnicity would go out of their way to denounce that they’d ever want to be the girl… publicly, that is; privately, many guys wanted only to be the girl in this and many more didn’t care one way or the other as long as some nuts got busted.

It didn’t escape my attention that there were a lot of white guys who were just fine with doing it with other guys; I admired their fearlessness and their utter lack of shame when it came to this.  Yeah, they knew it was about as wrong as anything got but they just didn’t care; they’d easily volunteer to be the girl first and, sometimes, even when they weren’t of a mind to be the girl – but it was sex so it didn’t matter.

Well, it didn’t matter as long as things were being done fairly and equally; you just began to learn that the guy who never wanted to be the girl wasn’t a lot of fun to have sex with; things got to be so bad that even the guys who loved being the girl would avoid these dudes like the plague.  You just really didn’t care to be the girl for some dude who didn’t know what that was like or what it all meant; yep, you got to learn why real girls behaved the way they did when you asked to fuck them.