Yesterday Afternoon…,

…I had this totally delicious thought in my head about masturbating, encompassing a lot of the feelings and thoughts that go into taking matters into your own hands… and other activities that had to be taken care of erased it from the blackboard of my mind.

I was unhappy, too, because while I was thinking about it, man, it was so very delicious, beginning with the thought that a guy can do this with or without a reason; he can do it ’cause it’s his cock and, hairy palms and ocular impairments aside, he can engage in some autoeroticism just because he can.  My thoughts had drifted to being in a place – any place – that’ll give a degree of privacy and, naturally, I was thinking about all the places I’ve ever grabbed myself a bit of nirvana and, sometimes, in locations where it wasn’t so very private.

I thought about what would be going through my mind as I dropped my pants and underwear and, um, since I’ve been doing this for a long time, I thought about the images that would begin to race along the HD screen of my mind, of all the sex I’ve ever had, the people I’ve had it with, the sex I want to have and even the sex that’s in the unseen future.  I thought about the changes my body would undergo, from that moment of a bit of dizziness as the blood rushes to my dick to the changes in my heart rate and breathing; I thought about thinking about how I want to get myself off – do I want to do it slowly and tease myself or do I just want to test my hand speed and break some kind of record for getting myself off?

I thought about how I’ll have all these things going through my head and how I could be paying attention to them as my hand works my shaft without having to think about it; I even thought about how many times I’ve done this to and for myself and how it just never really gets old or bothersome.  Then I thought about the moment where I kinda just stop thinking, working my shit with what I thought of as a mindless purpose, my eyes locked onto the erection encased by my hand or, sometimes, fixed and staring at nothing at all, seeing without seeing, and while jerking myself off is visually pleasing, it’s all about the feelings taking place before I get to the point of no return.

And I thought that it depends on whether or not I actually want to get to that point; maybe I do, maybe I don’t but that’s never predetermined – it’s one of those ‘decisions’ made on the fly and dependent upon how I’m feeling at that moment and a few other things I can’t put into words.  I thought about the ongoing physiological changes – increased breathing, increased heart rate and blood flow, increased body temperature and how it all combines to put me well into that mindless purpose.

I know I’m trying to recreate my original thoughts on this and I gotta tell you that this writing just does not do any justice to my original thoughts; it’s not even close to my thoughts and feelings as I thought about how good it feels to masturbate, that same naughty feeling I discovered the first time I pulled my pud.  I thought about those early times when I played with myself and just so I could not only marvel at the process of going from soft to hard but to get that rush of pleasure, realizing that I was giving myself an orgasm without even knowing the word existed – all I knew and cared about was it felt damned good.  Of course, my next thought was about jerking myself off so I could see that stuff come out of the end of my dick, my curiosity and heady pleasure combining so that I could really see myself cum… and I got to see it because I shot myself in the eye with that first spurt – now I knew why the old heads said that if you masturbated, you could go blind.

I know that I had a moment of silence for all those folks who either have no use for masturbation or sees it as a futile effort and major waste of one’s time, saying a quick prayer for them because circumstances won’t allow them to experience the most personal thing one can do to one’s self.  But, man, the thoughts that were going through my mind!  Even as I thought about it, I could feel my body starting to respond, that little nugget of sensation that seems to be able to tell me that, yeah, you should go spank the monkey and just because it sounds like a good idea.  Alas, all that hot and juicy (and sinfully detailed) stuff went by the wayside because of more important things that had to be dealt with.

Damn!

 

What Does It All Mean… If Anything?

It’s a rather cool Monday afternoon here and I was thinking (yeah, again) that those of you who have been following me for a while knows that from time to time, I think about my sexuality in various terms but then I start looking at the higher level stuff as a kind of self-check to determine if my sexuality still makes sense to me.

Sounds kinda weird, huh?  Y’all should know by now that I can do weird rather easily but, all jokes aside, I find it’s a good thing to think about because it doesn’t allow me to take sex or my sexuality for granted as in one of those “it is what it is” kind of things.

I think in terms of the sex that’s possible and while I’m not really focusing on anything specific, I am looking at what it all means… if anything.  I like to think of myself as being sexually liberated and that I’m not all that willing to put a high price on my satisfaction and pleasure.  Like probably everyone else – and regardless to their sexuality – I have that list of things I will and won’t do… but I don’t have much in the way of inhibitions or, I hope, major hangups about things sexual.  I look at this and ask myself, “Self, how do you feel about this?  And do you think being bisexual continues to make a difference in who you are?”

I enjoy the sexual diversity and, in this, being a bit of a sexual maverick in that there’s a side of me that doesn’t stick with conventional things, like keeping the sex I may have to just boy/girl things.  It’s not as if there aren’t a lot of things a man and woman can do together to float boats and rock worlds… but being bisexual (at least for me) adds that extra dimension to things, the thrill of knowing that when I’m gulping down a man’s sperm, I’m stepping out of the box and in a way that would upset most guys’ comfort levels.

It’s about being able to ‘switch gears’ without a whole lot of thinking about it or having to feel a certain way or be in a particular situation.  For years, I’ve always joked that if given the choice between pussy or dick, I’d take the pussy first… but wouldn’t say no to the dick.  That whole ‘either/or’ thing tends to bug me whenever it comes to my attention because, of course, I’ve been this way for so long that it’s not either/or – it’s both so for me to play mind games with myself about preferences really doesn’t do a lot of good – at least not for me because the preference, at the high levels, is to have sex, satisfy, and be satisfied and all in a way that I’m comfortable with.

I used to spend a lot of time wondering what I’d be like if I weren’t bisexual… and I gave up because I realized it’s an exercise in futility – there’s just really no way for me to know exactly how I might have turned out had I not gotten that first taste of dick.  Nowadays I spend periods of time thinking about my sexuality versus my age and how that’s going to affect things in my life.  I don’t really worry about it and more so when I know a couple of men in their 60’s who are still sucking dick and taking it in the butt and despite however their age has impacted them, like the one gentleman who told me that even though he has ED and had his prostate removed, the only thing putting a crimp in his style is finding other men to accommodate him.

I pay attention to how others deal with being bisexual – there’s a lot to be learned from this, maybe not so much from the physical side of things but from the direction of where their head is on the matter.  Sometimes I see… reluctance in someone’s position, like, they know they enjoy going both ways but societal norms and maybe even morality keeps tugging them back to the left side of the scale – Kinsey, that is.  It says to me that while being straight is something we’ve all been conditioned to be, even when we dare to cross the line, some of us aren’t alway able to resist the pull to do things in the conventional and expected way.  This is of some interest to me when I get to thinking whether or not just being straight makes sense as I go forward in my life because it’s not as if I don’t feel that pull that wants to drag me kicking and screaming back to the straight side – I just choose to ignore it.

I see and/or read about other bisexuals and it’s like comparing notes or doing a bit of a reality check because for me not to think about my sexuality means that I’m content with it and that means that I might not be willing to step any farther outside of my comfort zones, like maybe the next time I have a sure chance of sucking a guy off, I might not be willing to take it, preferring to stay wherever my level of contentment is.  Sure, these days, you have to be more careful than at any time that I can recall because the health risks are pretty fucking scary.  I do ask myself whether or not I should let these concerns change what I am… and the answer is no even though it does call for changes in behavior because while I’m a horny motherfucker, I’m not stupid or entirely off my rocker.

What does it all mean?  It means that I’m still very much willing and able to continue my exploration of my sexuality and, of course, my ongoing desire for sex.  As it stands, I figure that if there’s a time where thinking about pussy and dick fails to get my blood simmering, I might need a CAT scan to find out just what went wrong with my brain at the most, check my own ID to make sure I am who I think I am at the least – and I’d be checking my pulse!

Just a thought about being bi that popped into my head…

 

The Thrill

I was just thinking – this time with plenty of coffee in my system – about those bi guy moments when you know something is about to jump off – let’s call it ‘The Thrill’ because, um, it sounds very close to the actual feeling.  As always, I don’t know about what other guys are feeling at the moment the deal is made to have sex, but I’ve always felt an odd mixture of fear and excitement; in my younger days, things always happened faster than I could organize my thoughts, you know, getting my head into ‘sex mode’ and in those same younger days, it wasn’t about what I wanted to do versus what I didn’t want to do because, as most of you know, when I was younger, I was doing it all and was damned happy about it.

The Thrill used to hit me so hard that I would literally be vibrating; my hands would shake, my legs felt as if they didn’t want to hold me up, and those damned butterflies would be dogfighting in my belly.  I would have a moment to collect myself because me and the other guy would now have to agree who was going to do what first – and that was provided my partner-of-the-moment didn’t know about being in a 69; yeah, all encounters back then started out with blowjobs 99% of the time ’cause going straight to fucking was allowable but it just didn’t get you all amped up for that part – it’s like going in cold and unprepared.

You get older and more experienced and you get to know for a fact that something’s gonna jump off between you and him but now since you’re negotiating with him about what you want to do versus what he wants, you have some extra time to let your mind slip into sex mode… and The Thrill is there and just as strong as it was when I was younger… except I learned to control my nervousness and grounding the dogfighting butterflies by taking them off of flight status for the duration so that by the time the negotiations are done – and keep in mind that they usually only took a couple of minutes – I was ready to throw down and in whatever mode we agreed to.

The Thrill isn’t just associated with having sex with men – it’s just as prevalent when women are involved so for the purpose of this writing, accept this as a given; I don’t want anyone to think that I’d feel one way about having sex with men and feel another way with women.  Nope, The Thrill is all about knowing that you’re about to have sex and it made me understand that if you can’t get hyped up about having sex and without someone having to push you in that direction, well, perhaps you need to rethink your position on what it means to get laid, check your pulse, or in some other way verify that you’re alive and horny.

The Thrill is one of those emotional moments that defy explanation; being intangible, there are very few words that can accurately describe what is going on in mind and body at the moment when you know that, yeah, I’m about to get naked with this guy.  I would sometimes think, “Oh, shit!” or even “I don’t believe I’m getting ready to do this!” right along with thinking, “Why did I agree to do this?” or “I don’t really think I should be doing this!” and all the while I’m getting undressed, my body letting him know that I’m happy to see him in his birthday suit and while my obvious excitement may not be particularly about him as whatever kind of guy he is, it’s definitely about having the sure knowledge that in mere moments, I’m going to have my mouth on his cock and for however long it takes for me to make it go soft again.

Okay, so there are those moments, once the sex gets started, where doubt could enter into the equation, which takes a lot of the edge off of The Thrill because not every encounter goes swimmingly well.  It doesn’t completely go away… well, a few times it did but even in the face of having a reason not to like what’s happening, The Thrill is still in the background and reassuring me that no matter how this turns out, you still got to get some dick in your mouth, right?  The Thrill is great at putting a positive spin on even the worse situation most of the time and in those rare occasions that getting down with this guy was a pure bust, The Thrill gets wiser than I was in that situation and tells me that, okay, it wasn’t a good moment for you… but you’ve learned something for the next time.

In the moments where everything’s going just fine, The Thrill envelopes me like a warm blanket, suffusing me within its comforting embrace as I work on him; it kinda changes to become The Drive which is something within me that makes me determined to get this guy off and is also responsible for being in charge of how I might do that, you know, like whether or not I’m going to deal with his cock like the rare treat it is or whether or not I’m going to attack it like I’m starving.  Time plays into how The Drive behaves because, most of the time, it’s not like you have all day to suck that dick over and over; you have maybe an hour to work your magic and make him cum while he’s working similar magic on you; there are times when you don’t even have an hour because even though this is one of life’s delightful pleasures, there are other matters that require and demand your attention and all that.

The Thrill and The Drive are partners, of course, feeding off of each other and infusing their lusty energies into me before, during, and after the fact.  They’re both very old friends and I’ve spent countless hours examining why they appear within me, when they do, how they both play within me as the action progresses and, of course, when it’s all said and done; we’re both limp and spent and maybe fervently wishing there was time to do it again.

See, being a bisexual isn’t always about going both ways to have sex.  A lot of it is so internalized because despite this new and emotionless approach to bi sex, it is still very much about what you think and feel.  I’ve always examined these things about me because it’s important that I understand myself in this, what motivates me, what drives me, and even the logic of being – and remaining – bisexual.  It’s about the sex, about being very comfortable with going batshit when it’s time to get some pussy and having that same level of comfort when that erection is staring me in the face – the “One-eyed Wonder Worm,” if you’ve never heard that one before.

It’s about embracing that love for sex, recognizing that you have this ingrained need for it and while you learn not to let that need completely run your life, you fully acknowledge that, yes, this is just as much a part of me as getting ready to have sex with a woman is.  After a while, the thoughts of good sex versus bad sex begin to lose their meaning; The Thrill lets me understand that if it’s sex, then how can it be all that bad… and, to be honest, it really isn’t – you get to understand that while a particular experience wasn’t the best it could be, uh, you did have sex, didn’t you?  You got him off even if he didn’t get you off for whatever reason.

It all ties into The Joy, which you’ve seen me write about and, on the whole… looking at the big picture (and now being old enough, mature enough, and experienced enough to see it)… it’s just not about the sex – it’s about The Thrill of being able to have sex – period.  Being bisexual has taught me, via The Thrill, that good sex is where you find it… because it’s a chance to have sex… that good and bad means nothing to The Thrill… because The Thrill is about making any sex as good as it can be.  I might only have an hour with a guy’s cock… and The Thrill says, “Make the best of your time with this dick – and I will help you with this.”

I understand The Thrill but in ways that I just can’t put into words.  It’s fear and excitement, one controlled, the other not so much at times; it’s that rush of pleasure knowing that you’re about to do something that a lot of people can’t or won’t do and all because we’re told and taught that it’s not supposed to be done.

And, yeah, I’m about to do it, about to break all the rules… and how can that not be Thrilling?