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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.

 
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Posted by on 22 December 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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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…

 
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Posted by on 1 December 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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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…

 
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Posted by on 24 November 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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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…

 
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Posted by on 20 October 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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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.

 
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Posted by on 16 October 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Ursine Plight

Yep, I’ve still got a case of bear-on-the-brain… and I was thinking that these guys just seem to be the kind of guy that some women would find repugnant because of their size, the amount of body hair they have and, yeah, because some of them may barely have five inches of dick when hard.  They may have good hearts and other qualities some women seek in men but, nah, if homeboy ain’t as fit and trim as a Chippendale – and hung like a horse – keep moving.

Yet, as I’ve seen, when bears meet each other, those… deficiencies that can make a woman reject them don’t seem to play into anything; indeed, for some, the more body hair, the better; if homey weighs in at 230+, so much the better.  His dick only three inches long when hard and you gotta move some belly fat to get at it?  No problem – it’s there somewhere and it works just fine!  These men fascinate me because, at least on the surface, they’re quite masculine and even the younger bears – cubs in the vernacular – seem to be some fairly macho guys and some of them, well, I just sit and wonder what it is about them that would turn a woman off but, of course, it’s not always what you see that provides a negative and I get that.

But, still…

I watch clips of these guys fucking and sucking each other, see clips of them masturbating privately and/or publicly and some of them have a pretty good-sized dick that even I wouldn’t object to playing with.  I did wonder, for a moment, that maybe they got to some point where, perhaps, they got tired of having women play them for fools or otherwise using them and, so, the only solace and succor they can find is with men who are just like they are.

Earlier today, I was clearing out my Tumblr messages and saw this one clip where a bear was getting his dick sucked – and because of his girth, it couldn’t have been any more than three or four inches fully erect… and the guy (yes, another bear) sucking him was pretty much eating his dick like it was a much-desired snack; the dude doing the sucking was having a field day and, yeah, I even thought that because the other guy didn’t have much in the way of dick, it made blowing him so much easier.

Then the bear being sucked got up, kissed the dude who was sucking him and proceed to stick his dick in; trust me, given how… thickly-built these two men were, you’d think any penetration wouldn’t be possible… but I’ll be damned if the guy didn’t just merely get his dick in, he was fucking the guy like his life depended on it!  Because they were in the missionary position, I could see that the bear being reamed out didn’t have much dick either and I thought, “Yeah, I don’t know too many women who’d want to deal with either guy like that…” but, still, wow, homey was getting his freak on at the other guy’s expense.  The bear being fucked busted a nut and, well, if ya like sperm, let’s say you wouldn’t have been disappointed, okay?  Predictably, the bear doing the fucking pulled out and shot a massive load all over the other guy’s belly.  For a moment, I actually laughed because I thought, “Hmm, I guess if you’re that big, you got a lot of body to store all that sperm!”

As I said, these guys fascinate me and they get me thinking about why they are the way they are; what drives and motivates them?  Are they all gay… or are they bisexual – they love pussy but maybe it’s so hard for them to get some, well, there are always guys who are willing to get naked and throw down.  Do these human ursine replicants get all into who’s dominant and who must always submit to being taken?

I have a zillion questions… and not much in the way of answers…

 
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Posted by on 28 September 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Gay Sex Roles Revisited

I wanted to come back and write something more about the roles involved when guys have sex with other guys, you know, that whole top, bottom, and versatile thing.  A recent conversation I had with someone who will remain nameless brought to my mind the thought of guys assuming one of these roles… but not really being comfortable with it and how this… discomfort can fuck with a guy’s head to some degree.  I guess there are guys who think, say, “Once a bottom, always a bottom” and, well, I don’t believe that this is entirely a given because, um, if you’re not comfortable with always literally and figuratively being on the bottom, er, you can change this if you choose to – but what makes a guy think he can’t change this thing about himself?

I know that in my exploits along these lines, I’ve been a top, a bottom, and versatile… and none of the above.  I know that for some guys, their personality and mindset play heavily into the role they find themselves in so a guy who’s mostly a top probably wouldn’t want to find out what it’s like to be a bottom and assume the role and duties therein; likewise, I’m thinking that they’d never have a reason to change their mind about finding out what it feels like to be fucked or, with some dudes, be the one giving mind-blowing head that’s guaranteed to get the other guy’s spunk flowing like a river of lava.  Indeed, in any of this, we see that once a guy makes up his mind that this is the way he’s gonna behave in this, changing one’s mind isn’t even a consideration and, again, there’d never be a reason why they’d want or have to change their minds.

It seems to me that if you find that you need more sexual excitement in this, change something about how you go about having this kind of sex:  There really isn’t some rule that says that once you adopt one of these particular roles, you have to always stay in that role if you don’t want to.  This behavior is a part of that thing that makes me laugh insanely when people start talking about choice, like, they have no choice but to behave in the way they’re behaving, i.e., they didn’t have a choice when it came to being bisexual when, in fact, choice plays into any of this big time because while it’s true that you don’t have a choice in the way you feel, you do have a choice in how you act upon those feelings so, nope, just because you settled into the role of being a bottom doesn’t mean you have to stay there if you choose not to be there.

Easy, right?  And, yes, in a way, I am saying that if I could effect such changes over my sexuality experiences, then it stands to reason that other men who aren’t as comfortable in their adopted roles can also effect changes as necessary or even as required.  Yeah, I know some guys who are bottoms who just couldn’t ever conceive being anything other than a bottom but, at the same time, some of these guys are wont to rant and rave about how they’re being “used and abused” so much but continue to feel that they have no choice than to keep being the bottom they’ve always been… and that’s just not the truth.  If a guy feels that he’s “stuck” in one of these roles, the only reason why he’s stuck is because he continues to allow himself to be typecast in that role.

Even when it comes to sex, we tend to get set in our ways and assume the mindset that if it ain’t broken, don’t fuck with it – but that assumes that it won’t ever need to be fucked with because it is broken to some degree or another… and that, at least on the surface, doesn’t make a lot of sense.  I don’t know about other guys but when I was in my “bottom incarnation,” at some point, I got tired of always being the one who wound up with sperm leaking out of my butt – I wanted to be the one making someone else’s ass leak spunk… so I changed.  At one point, I got tired of always being the one doing the fucking and getting my dick sucked when I also wanted to get fucked and do some cock sucking of my own – so I changed.  At one point, I got tired of actually being versatile, you know, flip-flopping sexual roles because, well, I was just tired of it… so I changed to be none of these roles… but with the sure knowledge that at any time and for any reason that makes sense to me, I can effect change.

You truly will never know what you can do until you try… but you do have to try, dontcha?  Now, I can understand if you tried to be in a role other than the one you’ve always been in and, after trying in on for a while, find that, nope, staying in that original role just makes things work better in this.  The thing is that you tried to do things differently, right?  Lord knows I’ve been with a lot of guys who’ve wanted to get out of their role… or I wanted them to get out of it, like all the times I wanted to be fucked but found myself with a guy who, understandably, says he’s not all that comfortable being the one doing the fucking and I’ve said to them, “If you never try it, how can you ever be comfortable with it?” or something similar.  Sometimes, those guys have found that they could, in fact, fuck me and found it enjoyable while others have been so entrenched in their belief that they can’t do it that, um, they can’t even get hard enough to affect penetration.

The same with guys who have it in their head to try sucking dick but have convinced themselves that they can’t; they feel that since they’ve “always been like this” that they can’t change and like my previous example, some guys found that, oh, yeah, sucking dick is a lot of fun while others just can’t bring themselves to make this change in their head.  Going back to the conversation I mentioned way back in the beginning of this, there are some guys who feel that their, ah, social status doesn’t match with their sexual behavior… and maybe it’s not really supposed to but, then again, if you want to make your sexual behavior – being a bottom – match your social status – a go-getting, hard-charging, assertive individual, um, if you wanted to, you could change things so that your bedroom behavior aligns with your behavior when you’re out and about handling your business with your clothes on.

If you’re an aggressive top in bed but you’re not having a lot of fun being this way, then why not change shit around until you are having fun?  If you’re a “submissive” bottom but you’d like to have some fun with your cock in some dude’s butt, change some shit so you can make this happen to your satisfaction – and keep in mind that you can always change shit back whenever it suits your purposes.  I see guys who get “stuck” in these roles and while I understand it, there are times when I feel that they don’t really understand that if you wanna change some shit, you can; you don’t have to stay stuck in a role that isn’t exactly working well for you, either situationally or on the whole of things.  I think that we can get so caught up in our preferences that, more often than not, we think that we have no reason to change; again, if it ain’t broke and all that shit.  One of the things that I find magnificent about being bisexual is being able to explore as many aspects of sex that’s possible and not limiting yourself to just one role and, yes, that even goes with being with women even though women do expect us to behave in a certain manner with them… and even when we might not really feel like, say, being the one to initiate sex or to be the one calling all the shots and doing the taking when what would really be a nice thing would be for her to take charge, get the sex started, and being the more dominant one in bed.

Yeah… we do tend to stick with the things we like and not pay much attention to that which we don’t like and, to this end, well, we’re kinda crazy about this particular thing because we tend to behave like this:  If we had a bad experience doing something, not only will we decide to not ever do that thing again, we automatically assume that just because shit went south in that instance, things will always turn out badly so, going forward, we’re not going to change anything.  We also tend to let our fears make us foolish in this and, even better, are afraid of things that we’ve not, in fact, never tried to do; I know top dudes who would rather eat shit and die before they sucked a dick… but they’ve never tried to do it and all because they were afraid to do it; I know bottom dudes who have never fucked another man because they’re afraid that they won’t be able to do it, let alone do it “right” – but they’ve never actually tried to do it.  If you’re not happy in the sexual role you’ve gotten yourself into, um, why not make some changes so that you can get the sexual pleasure you really want to have?

The psychology that’s in play here is just too fascinating for words but, yeah, if you’re not happy just being a top, a bottom, or even being versatile, make whatever changes you gotta make in order for you to be happy again – and, yeah, even if you change shit up just for the moment you find yourself in and not necessarily a wholesale change.  In that conversation I mentioned, I got the impression that the bottom guy who was mentioned in said conversation wasn’t all that comfortable with just being a bottom and he had it in his mind to, in certain moments or with certain people, not be the only one getting some hard dick in his ass… but he stays stuck in his role as a bottom and all because he very well could be afraid to make changes and maybe he even thinks that he’s not supposed to change anything.  I know that I thought, after the conversation was over, that I would just love to have a conversation with this bottom guy…

Okay, that’s enough rambling for today; I got some shit I need to look at on TV, games to be attended to, and my office chair is starting to make my ass numb… and, now, I see my iPad is telling me that its battery is low and I need to get off my numb ass and plug it in…

 
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Posted by on 15 September 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Plight of the Bear

We see them all the time, men we’d describe as chubby, chunky, husky, stocky, overweight, fat and obese.  They are men who, as far as their personalities are concerned, are decent and friendly guys but some are the kind of men a woman wouldn’t pay much attention to, let alone agree to have sex with them – and not even if they were paid to do it – because the sight of such a man, as naked as the day he was born, is often seen as revolting, unappetizing, unappealing and definitely unattractive… and Lord help them if they had all of these undesirable things and they had just the nub of a dick, a pitiful piece of manly equipment that, when erect, isn’t longer than a finger, let alone able to poke out past their more than ample bellies.

We see them as being lazy and slovenly because of their physical build; we think of them as being sloppy and unkempt even though they keep themselves as clean and neat as anyone else; it’s just the image that their… portliness puts into our heads, we the members of a society that have been forever brainwashed to believe that skinny is sexy, that the man with the biggest dick or the woman with the biggest tits and ass are the only ones allowed to have the most sexual fun… which leaves the men also known as bears out of the picture where “normal” boy/girl sex is concerned, giving them few choices:  Masturbate for their sexual relief and release… or turn to men who are just like them or other guys who aren’t put off by their girth and weight.

I’ve met these guys in my travels; I’ve sucked and fucked them, have first-hand felt their sense of desperation and a sense that’s been hidden under the veneer of sexual pleasure.  Most of these men, these bears, live to be taken for another man’s pleasure, to suck cock and then take that hardness in the cushy comfort of their ass.  Indeed, a lot of these ursine-like men are submissive out of necessity; the only way they’re going to have any sex is to just give themselves up willingly and to whatever the other guy wants and/or likes to do.  Some, if not most, like it rough and, indeed, their bodies seem tailor made to be manhandled, their anuses designed to be ruthlessly hammered by the biggest, thickest, cocks that are owned by men who feel it’s their divine right to treat a bear or the men known as bear cubs in less than a manly fashion.  And they endure it and learn to love being taken and used in this fashion and if they had any thoughts about what it would be like to lie with a woman, they’ve had them shoved aside in favor of cocks and balls and the taste and feel of a man’s seminal offerings.

I’ve met the more aggressive version of the bear, men whose body type, often covered with thick mats of hair that really do resemble a real bear’s furry coat, is seen as a more manly, more powerful physique, one that is better suited for being the one to do the taking, to make lesser men and bear cubs cower and do their bidding – and all because to them, the bear resembles strength and power, aggression and cunning as displayed by the way they often stalk other men for sex.  I’ve met these guys, felt the strength of their personality, have watched them look at me as if I were easy prey… but they learned that they’re not the only apex predator in the room and that if anyone is going to submit to sex, it will always be them.  Even when I’ve had them, you just can’t take anything away from them; they are fiercely focused cock suckers, willing to suck the longest and thickest cock right down to the root and as easily as one might stick their little finger into their mouth.  They will go about eating ass with great passion and desire and the kind that’s so familiar to me because they’ll eat ass like I eat pussy – and that’s something I can get my head around easily enough.  And, as can be expected, they have zero qualms about taking a hard dick in the ass and, hah, most guys probably don’t have a cock big or thick enough to give them any sense of worry because, again and perhaps oddly, their bodies are built to be fucked.

I see these men and I wonder why they are the way they are; what tortures did they endure in their youth from their parents, their peers, and others in their environment?  As a man, I know what it’s like to be rejected out of hand by a woman and for the tiniest of things… but what levels of rejection did these chubby, chunky guys have to go through and endure.  I’ve seen what verbal and physical abuse can be handed down who, for whatever reason, isn’t all stick-thin and up to our society’s standard of beauty and sensuality… and it’s so cruel as to border on the inhumane and more so if the person in question is more submissive than aggressive because, after all, you can run a great many risks when you anger a bear.

Of those I have met, I’ve asked them many questions about their sexual preferences, taking note of how similar their answers were from being so rudely rejected by women to even suffering sexual abuse at the hands or, really, cocks of others who could never see the good person they were – all they saw was easy prey to take and conquer.  Such tales always served to remind me of the nature of what we really are, that even when it comes to this we are, in turn, predator and prey and, sometimes, all it takes is to be very different from everyone else, to not be all svelte and stunningly handsome to wind up being the object of another man’s sexual attention.

I’ve often sat and watched men go on what can only be called a bear hunt, looking for the young cubs or the older, more experience ursines; I’ve watched their eyes roam over their perspective “victim’s” body, from the twin bulges under the prey’s shirt that so very much hint at womanly breasts, to peering intently at the prey’s crotch as if they could see through clothing and underclothing as see what kind of meat the prey is packing; once, I saw a guy actually drool gazing at a chubby guy’s ass and I thought, wow, this guy has it bad… but that other guy does seem to have a rather nice ass if I must say so myself.  I’ve seen the reverse, too; I’ve watched guys who no one would pay much attention to look intently at other men, some who are built like themselves and men who are, say, built as I am; even though they might prefer to “be with their own kind,” these nearly invisible men will, more often than not, take any cock that they can get.  Hell, I’ve watched them watching me; I’ve felt their hunger as their eyes roam over me and doing that undressing thing that makes most women get offended.  The more submissive bears may lack that “aggression” that some of their counterparts have… but they know what they want and need just as much as any other man does so despite their submissive nature, they’re just as much a predator as they are prey.

There are bears and cubs all around us; we see them but, then again, we pay little attention to them except maybe to make a snide remark about how they need to lose weight and stop being a lazy son-of-a-bitch.  They are among us but, by and large, they are invisible due to their lack of attractiveness or lack of good, overall healthiness.  He could be that burly guy next door who works at a construction company, the big, beefy guy delivering that heavy box to you and a box that he handled all by himself… but you need help to move.  He could be that really friends chubby guy who’s really fun to be around; hell, he could even be related to you, a cousin or an uncle, someone you feel you have free reign to poke and jab them with those, “Your ass is so big…!” jokes, someone that you might even pity and all because they’re not exactly what anyone would call averaged-sized and since being so, ah, overweight is deemed as wholly unattractive, you may even pity them because you know that no woman in her right mind would ever want to be with them for love or money so they’d never, ever get laid.

And you’d probably be dead wrong about that last thing…

 
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Posted by on 14 September 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Fuck Me…”

Without shame, I know I’ve uttered these two words, either in a pleading sort of way – or even begging, if you will – or as a forceful demand, like, stop fucking around and teasing me and let’s get real about this shit and, yes, when I’ve said this being with a guy, most if not all of them were more than happy to oblige me and fulfill my request.  I’ve also had my share of moments where these two words were directed at me and there was a time when I’d be the one scrambling to get into position to push my hardness into him and without giving much thought to it because, well, wasn’t this just an implied thing that’s expected to take place?  I eventually learned that, no… that’s not always the case and more so when you kinda/sorta ain’t trying to hear any of it… but it doesn’t mean that somewhere down the road, I’d hear a guy utter these two words to me.

I was happily sucking on his cock, my mind both focused on what I was doing along with how grateful I felt to have run across this guy and being equally grateful that he didn’t have one of those stupidly large cocks that tended to challenge my ability to give head; it was never a problem but there are times when you want to suck a man’s cock and spend that time relishing the pleasure more than thinking about the logistics involved with eating a big dick.

I was sucking him easily, going from nibbling on his knob to burying my nose in his pubic hairs and just enjoying the sensation of his dick pulsating while entrapped in my mouth and throat – those of you who don’t suck dick or aren’t able to deep throat a dick might not understand the thrill of this but, trust me, it is oh, so thrilling a feeling.  Anyway, he’s got his hands on my head, not exactly holding me in place or making me move my head in any way – he’s just kinda resting his hands on my head, his body trembling as he kinda struggles to move his legs so that he can wrap them around me, again, not in a way meant to hold me in place but a way to fully surrender his body to me.

I’m not taking it easy on him because, gods, it’s been a while since I had some white boy dick and one that I didn’t have to work hard at eating so I’m subjecting him to all that pent-up lust as I try to suck the flesh off of his dick and threatening to eat his heavy balls as I suck them into my mouth.  Ah, man… this shit is so fucking good!  The taste of him is divine and so much better than the last dick I sucked and one that belonged to a man whose skin was much darker than my own; that particular guy had a sour taste to his flesh and a taste that I could deal with… but didn’t really care for.  It wasn’t at all like the guy who was now instinctively fucking into my mouth; his taste was so… clean and fresh-tasting, not too salty but with a hint of sweetness that I’ve always found so pleasurable.  I am so into eating this man’s cock, increasing my efforts so that I can get him to cum in my mouth.

And he does cum and I automatically moan to feel those first heavy spurts shoot into my mouth; his whole body is locked in the paralysis of ejaculation but the only thing that’s moving is his dick as it jerks and twitches and convulses to deliver his load into my mouth and as it does so, I get just a hint of the taste of his sperm – a little salty, a little fruit-flavored and as I swallow his spunk, I’m also idly wondering what he had for lunch and if it included some fruit on the side or some other sweet thing.

I’m the happiest motherfucker in the world right now as I continue to suck gently on his dick even as it begins to shrink and, yes, I’m doing it carefully so as not to make much contact with his cock knob… because I did abuse the shit out of it.  Hell, I’m even thinking about sucking him off again and right in the middle of me trying to decide if I was going to keep right on sucking him until he got hard again or if I was going to let him go and let him regroup, I hear him say, “Fuck me…”

“Excuse me?” I asked after I reluctantly let his flaccid prick slip from my mouth.

“Fuck me,” he repeated, his voice just above a whisper.  “Put that big-assed dick of your inside me… please do it… I need you to do it…”

I thought that had he said this to me, oh, maybe ten years ago, I would have had my cock in his ass before he even finished saying, “Fuck me!” but now?   I was baffled and, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have been but when I’m negotiating with a guy for sex and he says that he doesn’t want any anal sex to jump off, yeah, I guess I’m just a little “naive” enough to take him at his word:  This is what you said you wanted to do, so this is what we’re gonna do… even though I know that shit can change at any time and for any reason and, yep, things have definitely changed and, at least for me, not for the better because I was really looking forward to feeling his mouth on me and unleashing my load into his mouth.  I get up from the place I had between his legs and sit back on my haunches, my hands on my thighs as I watch him continue to writhe on the bed and listen to his pleas for me to fuck him and I just don’t know what to say to him even though a large part of me is saying to me, “Tell him no; remind him that you’re not into that anymore… go ahead, tell him…”

I would have told him, too, except he took advantage of being freed from my grasp and maneuvered himself so he could get his mouth on my painfully erect dick; he wasted no time burying his nose in my pubic hair and, damn, that shit felt so good that my mind went totally silent, that inner voice cut off in mid-sentence.  The guy pushed me onto my back, never taking his mouth off of me and despite that I had to unfold my legs in order to move… but I managed to get them straightened out and even open so that he could get into position and to be more comfortable as he tried to suck the black off my dick.  His mouth was all over me, sucking me from tip to root and then going down further to suck my balls; his fingers were like claws as they dug into my thighs as his hands elevated my legs – and with a bit of help from me – so that he could not only suck on my nut sack but also to suck that place between my balls and my ass and, yes, my whole body shook with delight to feel his tongue flicking at my back door and, yes, I had made sure I was totally clean there, you know, just in case.

I was so into what he was doing that I never noticed that he had stopped his oral attack on me; I was so engrossed at having my asshole tongued that I never felt the bed shift, never felt or saw him straddle me and my first awareness of what was taking place was when I felt my cock sliding into his ass..  My eyes,which had been understandably tightly closed, flew open and in enough time to take in the sight of my cock disappearing into his ass; I started to protest and, honestly, my mind was now gearing up to forcibly remove him from atop me because I didn’t want to do this, I no longer liked doing this… but before I could do or say anything, he locked his hazel-colored eyes on my brown ones and said, “I know what I said… but I need you inside me…”

And I surrendered; my mind was raising all kinds of hell with me as I felt my body relax and “stand down” from its alert status.  He smiled at me and began to ride me, slowly at first; I watched in some weird sense of fascination as his face reflected both the pain and pleasure he was feeling with my cock now firmly embedded in his rectum and, yes, it was such a delicious sight to see – I would never be tired of seeing the contrast of our skin joined in this fashion and, yes, I could admit that I was enjoying the words that flowed from him,well, up until I heard him ask, “Oh, God… what am I doing?  I didn’t want this, oh, fuck, but, shit, it feels so good…”

For a moment, I was a little confused, my mind unable to figure out why he was doing something he said that he wasn’t interested in doing in the first place, uh, um, not that it was all that important, mind you, because he was now grinding his ass on my dick and commanding me to cum inside him.  Something in my head said, “Ha – that never works!” and was then proven to be quite wrong as I gasped, feeling my dick expanding within the tight grip of his ass… and then cursed as I felt myself go over the edge and into the abyss of orgasmic release.  I was barely aware of the feeling of my dick pumping sperm into him and was equally barely aware of him working his rectal muscles in concert with my spurting dick, using them to milk every drop of spunk from me.

The rush of orgasm flowed over and through me and, yeah, it felt so damned good; his ass was so delicious to fuck even though I did nothing but lie there and let him have his way with me.  My mind, now recovering from the sensory onslaught, latched onto that thought and slammed me into full clarity… and I was so unhappy with him and myself because, like him, I hadn’t wanted to do this.  I looked at him and I knew that my gaze was very serious, a precursor to me getting ready to say something that would make this moment unpleasant when he looked back at me, still somehow seated on my shriveled-up cock and said, “I’m sorry… but I just had to.”

And I understood – I really did so I managed to smile at him and reply, “It’s okay – it’s just the way it goes sometimes, right?”

I sucked him off again, partially out of a desire to do so, partly as “punishment” for “taking advantage”of me and let’s just say that didn’t go well for him… but it was damned satisfying for the both of us.  We showered together – he blew me again and, honestly, I was sure I’d not be able to get it up again but he proved me wrong; we dried off and got dressed and thanked each other for one hell of a good time – and I got in my car and headed home, my mind now kicking my ass for once again breaking that stupid promise I made to myself to never again engage in anal sex in any way.  I realized – and not for the first time – that the vow I made to myself was, in fact, a stupid one.  Yeah, if anal sex came up during the negotiation phase, I’d emphatically kick it off the table; uh-uh, nope, ain’t gonna do that and I don’t care how much you wanna do it… but I realized that my so-called vow never really allowed for those moments where, in the heat of that moment, the other guy says in some way, “Fuck me…” and the reality that upon hearing those unexpected words, I would do as I’d been asked…

 
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Posted by on 11 September 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Make Me…”

I was never really a fan of combining role playing and sex when I was a much younger man but at least in the environment I grew up in, you really couldn’t escape it unless, of course, you were one of those folks who’d hear the word “sex” and go running for the hills.  For those of us brave enough – or, if you like, crazy enough – to stay put, well, let the games begin.  I’ve mentioned this in past scribblings but the adult in me is often amazed how a lot of the childhood games we played were just an excuse to have sex (again, depending on who you were playing with); games like “Hide and Seek,” “Cowboys and Indians,” and “Army” were perfect situations to get laid because you were out of the sight of the other players or you got captured and “tortured” for information.

One of the games I’d find myself playing – and with a lot of initial reluctance – was “Master and Slave…” and it always seemed to turn out that I’d be the Master, a role that the adult who’s writing this kinda cringes over but the kid I was, well, okay, I thought it was quite crazy but if we agreed that we wanted to do it and you looked at me with that sexual hunger in your eyes and said, “Make me…,” it would be on… and I can admit that the resulting sex was pretty damned good because at the other guy’s request, I’d make him give it up even though I’d have to do some “work” to get to the delightful end result.

Making someone submit to the sex – and when they wanted to do it all along – didn’t make sense to me; I mean, if you wanna do it, let’s just do it.  I had an “edge” in that I was quite the accomplished judoka (someone who learns judo) and one of the things we learned to do is how to make someone submit or surrender; what you want to do is to make an opponent stop wanting to fight you and anyone reading this who has been trained in this art knows that you learn some pretty interesting ways to make someone submit or surrender by tapping out or say, “Matei!” – I quit!  I learned rather quickly how to apply this mindset with those guys who liked to be made to submit and surrender – and happily so, I might add; the more they resisted, the harder I tried to make them submit, imposing my will, physical prowess and, yep, a few things I learned in judo to make them give up and do my bidding.  My “victims” enjoyed it; they’d either get the mouthful of cum they wanted or feel good about having my spunk leaking out of their asshole.  Me?  Well, okay, I can admit that once I got into my role as Master, I was in it to win it… but it wasn’t that big of a turn-on for me… but I also had to admit that conquering them and, as a result of my, um, dominance, spilling my load into them in some way felt pretty damned good.

Back then, I was learning something important about men and sex… but it was a lesson that actually escaped me for quite a few years and I had thought about those earlier days in more detail.  I saw what “Master and Slave” was really all about and, well, it didn’t make me feel all that good and, on top of that, the “slave” behavior confused me because when I wasn’t having sex with these guys, some of them were the kind of dudes you did not ever want to fuck with unless getting your ass kicked was something you truly enjoyed.  Yet and still, when they wanted to do it, they always wanted to be the slave, the one to be commanded and made to submit to the demands of the master – me even though I will also admit at this point is I don’t know why these guys would single me out for this, um, honor; I knew that if and when they did it with other guys, “Master and Slave” wasn’t even being played.

I remember this one guy who, when he got horny, would challenge me to a test of skill, his wrestling against my judo and he’d always tell me, “If you win, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”  Okay, the first time this jumped off, I won – I made him quit and, um, okay, I’m sure you can guess what things I made him do per the conditions of his surrender.  But every time after that?  I was baffled because, one, he kept coming back with this challenge and two, he never won and it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying to win either – he’d put up great resistance, believe me.  After his latest “loss,” I asked him why we always had to do it like that – after a while, you kinda get tired of the scrapes and bruises – and he told me that he just liked it more when I made him do it.  Even more baffling was the fact that he wasn’t the only guy who’d said something like that when the game was anything like “Master and Slave.”

One day, a whole lot of years later, I was sitting and thinking about these particular moments and I kinda/sorta understood the role playing thing; it still wasn’t my cup of tea but, yeah, I could play the game just the same.  But something hit me:  They’d always say, “Make me…” and I’d go about making them do what I wanted… or was I really the “slave” and was really doing what they wanted me to do?  Man, didn’t that fuck with my head!  I thought about things like me telling my “slave,”  “Crawl over here and suck my dick… now!” and how he’d “whimper” and “plead” with me to not make him do this bad thing… even as they crawled over and greedily latched onto my dick.  Or how I’d “force” them onto their belly and commanding that they be still and while they “begged and pleaded” for me not to stick in them… even when they were already arching their asses upward to make it easier for me to get into them.

I saw that I would command my slave to let me suck his dick – and with the usual “complaining” going on and, sometimes, with a little physical resistance so that I’d have to hold them down so I could eat their dick – and right along when I would command them to fuck me and, yep, I’d have to “make” them put it in me and, for a little more fun, command and make them cum inside me.  The older version of myself looked at this and would shake his head about all of it and the things we’d do as kids to have sex with each other; I also saw that, upon further review of the detail, nah, I wasn’t fond of “Master and Slave” but, yeah, if that was the game being played, I’d play it, I’d do whatever the game called for and, no, the resulting sex never really bothered me but, again, the grown up did seriously wonder who was the master and who was the slave when I was doing exactly what they wanted me to do.

Shit, I still wonder about that at times.  I don’t pretend to fully understand the whole “make me” dynamic and that in those moments, I was actually into a BDSM form of role playing; understanding this, well, it troubled me since there’s this “directive” to never make anyone have sex even when doing so wasn’t really a problem.  When I was older, I’d play “Master and Slave” with women who got off nicely when I’d do whatever they wanted to get them to submit, some “easily,” some with a degree of, ah, effort that still bothers me to this day because during these, ah, sessions, I was learning that taking the role of “Master” to the more, um, ‘extreme’ levels was pretty damned enjoyable… and very damned scary, like whenever a woman would beg me to slap her and do it like I really meant to slap the shit out of her; once, I damn near knocked this one woman out and it scared the shit out of me (don’t forget, I know how to hit people in some very effective ways); not only did she enjoy the force of the slap, it made her squirt like a fire hose!

It bothered me so much that after we finished fucking, I went into the bathroom and threw up all over the place (none of it made it to the toilet); I was not only sick because of the things I did to her, I was sick because I fucking loved every second of it.  Given the way my mind works, I quickly learned that there’s a danger in this and more so since I know some interesting ways to inflict pain and I also knew that being able to control this just wasn’t gonna happen.  Sure, I’ll “wrestle” with a woman and hold her down as she “resists” and I’m okay with that but anything more than that?  Nope – ain’t no fucking way I’m ever going there again.  I’ve run into men who wanna play the grownup version of “Master and Slave” and, yes, I understand that it gets them off like a motherfucker to be made to submit and the harder I put the hammer down on them, the more they like it.  I was at the point where I’d tell such men, “Look, if I gotta go through all of this to have sex with you, I’d rather not do it at all…”  They’d be disappointed that I didn’t want to play the game with them and I could never really get them to understand why I didn’t want to play it the way they needed it, like the one guy who, once he understood that I’m a judo black belt, wanted me to forcibly take him using those skills… and I asked him, “Are you out of your fucking mind?  You do understand that I’m a trained killer, don’t you?”

Apparently, that was a great turn-on for him.  I wasn’t going to oblige him – there is a point I will not go beyond – but, yeah, I got played because he took a swing at me and my instincts kicked in and, well, let’s just say that when the sex was over and done with, he needed an arm in a sling for a few.  He loved getting his ass kicked; he was nutting all over the place and that was way before I got my dick into him.  I felt… disgusted with myself because (a) he used my automatic response to his “attack” to get me to respond and (b), um, that was a rather nice release I had after pounding his ass as hard as I could.  He made me feel even worse when he actually thanked me for giving him what he wanted and needed and, once again, even though he was being forced into the role of the “unwilling slave” and being forcibly made to do my bidding, I wondered who was really the slave in all of this because, after all, he did get me to do something I really didn’t want to do, didn’t he?

And then he wanted to see me again and me, like an idiot, went to see him… but I walked out when I saw he had broken out the handcuffs, a couple of nasty looking flails, and some even nastier looking nipple clips.  When he asked why I was leaving, I just told him, “There’s a point I will not go beyond – and this is that point.  You got me the last time… but that was the last time.  Now, if you wanna do this without all that… shit, then fine; if not, I’m just gonna go.”  I wound up just going, too, even though I felt I understood his need to be made a slave, to be made to submit and by any means necessary and, yes, I knew I could do it, too, and in the way he preferred…

I also knew that I shouldn’t do it, that the ends, in this case, didn’t justify the means; I also knew that the beast inside of me who actually loved this shit shouldn’t ever be allowed out of its prison because I lacked the mindset to keep it safely under control.  Future encounters with men who’d say, “Make me…” were disappointing for them because it just wasn’t worth it to me to make them do something they wanted to do in the first place and, no, it still fucked with my head trying to figure out who was really the “master” in this and simply because I’d slavishly give them exactly what they wanted and in the way they wanted it.

I have a dark side that loves shit like this; I know it, I’ve seen it… and it needs to stay locked away.  The last time I ran into a guy who was into this, he was into being choked while trying to suck dick and, yes, I know a few ways to do that… but I also know how fucking dangerous it is, too, so I told him that while I’d be happy for him to suck me off, there was no fucking way in hell that I was going to choke him while he was doing it, emphasizing that even thought I know how to choke someone out, it’s way too easy to accidentally kill them – and no sex is worth running that risk.  He verbally abused me pretty good, I have to say, and he was still cursing me lustily as I walked out… and I didn’t care how pissed he was or how cowardly he felt I was by denying him his particular pleasure; what I did care about was never going beyond that point for any reason unless, of course, I’m protecting myself.

I even pissed off the guy I fell in love with; he, too, tricked me into forcibly impose my will upon him, something I never forgave him for even though I understood it; still, whenever he wanted me to make him have sex with me, well, he’d be unhappy because I wasn’t going there and, nope, ya fooled me once, darling one, but don’t kid yourself into thinking you can fool me twice.  He’d beg and plead to be made to submit; this wasn’t his “usual” way to have sex but, well, he liked being roughed up and enslaved from time to time.  Oh, he’d try his best to fuck with my head, telling me that if I really loved him, I would do this because it would make him happier and that beast would hear this and whisper in my ear, “Come on, unlock this fucking cage and let me at him!  It’ll be fun!  Don’t worry – nothing’s gonna happen, okay?”

And I wouldn’t do it, not even for the sake of love.  Okay, yeah… I’d spank him whenever I’d take him from behind and talk big time shit to him… but to let the beast out so he could be taken the way he really wanted to be taken?  Nope – not gonna happen… and I was okay with that and was okay with him being unhappy about it.  Sometimes, he’d ask me about the times I played the game of “Master and Slave” and I found it fascinating how excited he’d get as I told him of the things I’d done to other men; shit, he’d get so excited that he’d bust a nut in his pants/underwear!  If we were naked and talking about it, damn, imagine the look on my face when I’m talking about how my “slave” wanted me to rough him up – and my lover shot a huge load of sperm into the space between us!  I was like, “Did you just…?”

And he’d look at me with those dreamy green eyes and say, “Oh, I sure as hell did!  Make me do it again, just like that…”

Today, as I thought about writing all of this, man, it kinda makes me uncomfortable; of course, you can’t see me as I’m typing this but I’ve been shaking my head, rolling my eyes, and making all kinds of faces that you’d probably find pretty funny.  Am I ashamed of having been cast into the role of “Master?”  Do I feel guilty about some of the shit I did to make a guy willing to have sex with me submit even further… and because that’s what got him off the best?  Nah, not really – I got over the shame and guilt of this particular thing a long time ago… but I remember it and I know that even though I can do it, it’s not my idea of fun in the bedroom; I also remember being introduced to the dark side of myself and, well, I don’t really like that side of myself too much; I remember how much that side of me would enjoy it when a guy “defiantly” said, “Make me… come on, make me do it…”  Today, I understand the level of control that is mandatory to play the game like this… and I can now easily admit that I lack that kind of control so when someone says to me, “Make me…,” well, I hope you forgive me when I don’t try to make you do something you wanted to do in the first place.  The logic of it tends to escape me but, again, at the same time, I kinda/sorta understand it but, yeah, even though I will never profess to fully understanding it, I do understand myself.

There are some things that are best left alone.  Way back in the beginning, it was all relatively harmless sexual fun… but it’s really not my idea of fun.  Yes, I’ve told y’all that there is something sexual that I will not do and it doesn’t make me feel badly about writing about this; writing this was actually kinda therapeutic because, if nothing else, it keeps me in touch with myself and how far I’m willing to go to please and be pleased and the real bottom line about being bisexual:  Always understand who and what you are… and never, ever forget it and that there is a point you should never go beyond for any reason.  Yeah, that point varies from person to person but, damned right, it’s something you should always be aware of.

Time to go and check out Linda’s new wallpaper on her tablet and iPad… and I’ll talk to y’all some other time, okay?

 
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Posted by on 25 August 2015 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts

 

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