Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “Man, If I Was Gay…”

“…I’d let some dude blow me,” the acquaintance I was hanging out with said – and out of the blue.

My eyebrows crawled up into my braids in a flash and I had that “what did he just say” look on my face as my eyelids were blinking so fast it was like looking at him with a strobe light flashing. Prior to this, we had been talking about the NFL games played the day before and other “mundane” stuff and while sitting on my steps and doing some people watching.

As my eyebrows “returned” to their proper place and my eyelids settled down – all that strobing was making me dizzy – and while waiting for him to explain this abrupt and unexpected change of topic, I was wracking my brain to think of any time I’d heard – or had heard of – him making such a statement. In a way, I shouldn’t have been all that surprised because that year, 1977, was a whirlwind of guys deciding that having sex with a dude was the thing to do and more so when there was a pointed lack of pussy and guys would have a lady today… and not have one the next day.

The silence after his announcement was deafening and I mentally slapped my forehead to realize that he was waiting for me to say something about what he said so I said the first thing that came to mind:

“Who says you have to be gay to have that done?”

“Um, because that’s what gay dudes do,” he said and looking at me with a look that suggested that I might not have known this… or that wasn’t the response he was expecting.

“I know but that doesn’t mean you have to be gay; all you gotta do is want a guy to blow you,” I said.

“And how do you know that?” he asked.

“Because I know stuff,” I said, giving him a rather indignant look. “I’m smarter than the average bear!”

“And?” he prompted. Yeah, shit, how do I respond to this and should I?

“Okay, okay, I’ve had guys suck my dick… and I’m not gay,” I said, mentally crossing my fingers as well as feeling my flight or fight thing immediately jumping to standby mode. If this was gonna get ugly, I’d be ready for it.

“No shit? What was it like?” he asked – and making me relax a bit.

“Honestly? Better than the head I’ve gotten from women,” I said.

“Did they get you off?” he asked.

“They sure did,” I said. “And they swallowed it, too.”

“But they were gay, right?” he asked.

“Uh, no, not all of them were,” I said. “So, no – you don’t have to be gay to want or let a guy suck your dick; you just gotta want him to do it, you know, if you can get your head around it.”

He sat there for a long moment and I was feeling some… trepidation because I could almost guess what his next question was going to be but since I had already fessed up that guys had blown me, it was one of those “in for a penny, in for a pound” moment which also included how I was going to respond when he would eventually get around to asking The Question and flipping a mental coin over whether he was gonna ask The Question or not.

“So, um, so does that mean that you’ve sucked dick, too?” he asked and I gave myself a pat on the back for correctly guessing that he was gonna ask me that.

“Yeah, I have and before you ask, more than once or twice, okay?” I replied.

“But you’re not gay…” he said.

“Not even,” I answered. I’m kinda on pins and needles for a couple of reasons at this point in the conversation. I’m waiting for him to ask The Question while going through some shit in my head, not about how I was gonna answer it but whether or not I really wanted to suck his dick and if it would turn out to be a big mistake. On the one hand, it was one of those boring Monday afternoons; I’d been out that morning following up on the job applications I had put in and with that bit of business done, I didn’t have anything else pressing to take care of and, um, when I get bored, I want to have sex… but my inner voice of wisdom suggested that I not put the cart before the horse.

“Hmm,” he said. “What’s it like to suck a dude’s dick?”

Well, that wasn’t the question I was expecting so I had to switch gears; I spent maybe five minutes trying to answer his question and felt myself frowning – but not intentionally – because while I knew exactly what it was like, I was beginning to understand that I wasn’t all that good at explaining it other than it makes me feel good and it feels good to do it. As I stumbled through my answer, he just nodded to himself and staring at… something, which told me he was deep in thought and I was thinking – and kinda hoping – that he was thinking about how he was gonna ask me if I’d blow him. The horny bastard that lived in my head was starting to get excited over the prospect of getting his dick in my mouth while the “angel and part-time devil” who also lived there was reminding me that he was still an unknown element.

The neighborhood grapevine was a good one and better than most; if The Word – and about anything – got out on someone, it was pretty damned accurate and a quick search told me that I hadn’t heard anything about him where this was concerned; no rumors, no innuendos – nothing. I knew him… but I didn’t know him. Now, you might think that we were sitting there for a really long time waiting for the other shoe to drop – and it felt like it to me – but, in real time, we’d only been sitting there in this quiet moment for about a minute.

“Damn, man, that’s, ah, hmm, that’s something,” he said and breaking the silence. When he kinda shifted his position on the step and cleared his throat, I knew The Question was coming and I even took a moment to ask myself why I was so sure that he was going to ask it… and got a busy signal for an answer. Okay. He’s getting ready to ask it… but how I am going to answer it? I didn’t have some great urge to blow him but the horny bastard was poking me and reminding me that I didn’t have anything else do to so if he asks, just say yes, take him inside, and suck his dick. And he didn’t “disappoint.”

“So, um, um, let’s say that if I asked you to suck me off, you wouldn’t get bent out of shape about it, would you?” he asked.

Okay – The Question Before The Question.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I said. “I mean, why would I when I’ve told you that I’ve sucked dick before?” Jesus… stop dicking around and just ask me what you know you wanna ask me already! I actually hated this part, having to sit and wait for the guy to make up his mind to ask and, in many of the more recent situations, get up the nerve to ask it by dancing all around the matter to avoid just coming out and asking.

“Cool. So, ahem, so it wouldn’t matter if, let’s say, you sucked me off but I didn’t do the same to you?” he asked.

“It does but I’m used to that,” I said. “You don’t have to if you can’t but if you think you can, okay.”

“What if I did but I wasn’t, um, good at it?” he asked.

“I appreciate a guy who tries more than I do a guy who won’t try,” I said with a shrug. “If I’m still being honest – and I am – some of the best times when I’ve been sucked has been by guys who give it a try than those guys who were really good at it.”

“Oh. Okay, I see. So, um…” he began… and my patience had finally come to an end.

“If you’re gonna ask me if we can do this, the answer is yes: We can do this if you want to,” I said and trying to keep the irritation out of my voice while kicking my ass over the thought that I might not have succeeded at that. The horny bastard was losing its mind while the angel/part-time devil was rolling its eyes and reminding me that if this went wrong, don’t say I wasn’t told that it might.

He blinked and I had no idea what he was thinking about until he asked, “And it doesn’t mean that either of us is gay, right?”

“Right. It doesn’t. I know I’m not gay and I’m pretty sure you aren’t and, no, if we do this, I’m not gonna say anything to anyone about it,” I said. Well, that was a little white lie because I’d have to tell my wife because it was part of the agreement we made to have an open marriage – but he didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, cool, so (clearing his throat), if I wanted to do it now, that would be cool?” he asked.

“It would be; I’m here by myself for the day,” I said.

He just nodded. Now for part one of the moment of truth: Him saying that he wants to do it right now.

“I’m down… because, man, I haven’t busted a nut in a long time and, well, shit, I guess I’ve always wanted to give it a try, you know, if you really don’t mind?” he asked… and I had had enough of this pussy-footing and beating bushes to death.

“Come on in,” I said, getting to my feet and turning to open the screen door. I didn’t even bother to wait or see if he was going to follow me inside; either we were going to do this or we weren’t. I held the door for him without looking back at him but, yep, he was right behind me. I went to the living room, turned to look at him and pointed to the sofa to invite him to take a seat.

“So, uh, uh, what do we do now?” he asked.

“This,” I said. I sat next to him and went right to unfastening his pants and extracting his dick and, oh, my – did he have some dick or what? He wasn’t even hard but it wasn’t all that easy getting him out of his pants and I think he realized that because he raised up and slide his pants and underwear down. I looked at him with a look that said, “Last chance to change your mind!” and he just kinda nodded… and I fell on his dick like I was starving – well, after I gave his dick a good looking at to make sure he didn’t have any sores or anything like that on his dick and giving it a pump to make sure what came out of the head of his dick was crystal clear.

He gasped and even shuddered as I went for all of that dick in one gulp; I heard him say, “Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” as I buried my face in his crotch and the horny bastard was howling like crazy as I pulled back and started to suck him in earnest and with great intent. His dick tasted kinda soapy and salty; the hot and musky scent of him smelled clean and pleasantly “funky;” his dick was now fully hard and taking up space in my mouth but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

I’m working him over and the horny bastard is insane to see and hear him responding to what I was doing to him… right up until the moment he said the word I didn’t want to hear.

“Wait, wait – stop! Just stop for a moment!”

And I stopped, letting his dick fall out of my mouth and not being happy about having to stop. “Are you okay?” I heard myself ask.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay… but I wanna suck your dick, too!” he said.

I was out of my pants and underwear so fast that I didn’t remember getting rid of them. We got arranged on the sofa so we could suck each other and I went right back to sucking him but noticing that he was tentative about sucking me. He kissed the head of my dick and I heard him say, “Hmm,” about… something. He licked the head of my dick and his… inexperience was driving me crazy as he spent a few long seconds doing that before I heard him mutter, “Fuck it…” before he took more of me into his mouth and even tried to do to me what I was doing to him.

And the whole time, I am seriously trying not to bust my nut. As I tried to lose myself in sucking him, that part of my mind that is always clear, focused, and paying attention to everything was wondering what it was about inexperienced guys sucking me that made me want to cum – and in a hurry. I put it out of my mind – more like trying to put it on the back burner – so I could have my way with him. I sucked his dick deep over and over then switched to suck on his balls; I thought about giving his taint some rubbing but decided against it since that was too close to his asshole and he might not like that.

I was in my element; the horny bastard was laughing evilly inside my head and I was literally a few scant seconds from stopping what I was doing – and stopping him – so I could announced that I was gonna cum. So I stopped and told him I was about to cum and he stopped and said, “Me, too – go for it!” And I went for it like I was on a mission… because I was. I could feel his dick twitching in my mouth and that the twitching was happening faster and faster; just as I felt his cock swell, he groaned and really started fucking into my mouth – then he came… and, boy, did he ever!

I got caught in between thinking about how much cum he was shooting into my mouth and swallowing it as fast as I could… while trying to do that as I was cumming. I heard him kinda grunt and I don’t know how I somehow knew he was deciding if my spunk tasted good or not and I guess it “didn’t” because I couldn’t feel him swallowing… and I really didn’t give a fuck about that as I continued to vacuum all of the spunk he had left. So good. So damned good.

“Damn, man – like, shit, man, I don’t know what to say,” he said as we “basked in the afterglow” and all that.

“You’re okay, right?” I asked.

“Shit, yeah,” he said. “I couldn’t swallow your shit – sorry about that.”

“Don’t be – there’s a reason why they say it’s an acquired taste,” I said with a laugh.

“You sure as fucked acquired it,” he said with a laugh of his own. “Damn, that was better than some babe could do it!”

That was a sentiment that I’d heard before and had been hearing during this crazy time when I’d wind up sucking a guy and, I’d guessed, a guy who somehow got caught up in this crazy period of time where getting some dick was the thing to be doing.

“As long as you’re really okay,” I said as I idly played with his balls.

“Um, dude, if you keep doing that, something’s gonna happen again,” he said.

“I’m counting on it,” I said before shifting my position to take his soft dick into my mouth again.

“Oh, shit,” he groaned.

It didn’t matter to me that he wasn’t paying any attention to my dick; if he did, he did. What did matter was he was down for me sucking him off again. My hunger had been awakened and I had to feed it… and I feasted on his dick and gave him big props for being able to get it up again having cum already. I sucked. He fucked my mouth. He even went back to sucking me and, for a moment, I wasn’t even aware that he was until I heard those deliciously obscene slurping sounds south of where I was. It was like I couldn’t get enough of his dick into my mouth even after making it all disappear… to my delight and definitely his. I knew this was “second wind” time and it was going to take both of us a few to be able to cum again – if at all. I got lost in the moment; my whole world was his dick in my mouth and his mouth on mine – and noting that he was better at it this time than the first.

I don’t know how much time had passed before I came in his mouth – and he swallowed this time – and he wasn’t too far behind me before he emptied his balls into my mouth again. There wasn’t a whole lot of it – not like the first time – but that didn’t matter one bit as I milked him with my mouth until he got soft. I was both sated and satisfied and was now hoping that he was as well.

I sat up… and the room spun crazily for a moment and I could barely see him adjusting to sitting up as well. That moment passed for the both of us and I looked at him and asked, “Well?”

He sighed and seemed to be gathering his thoughts before finally saying, “That shit was good, man. Shit, you’re good! I didn’t think I could suck your dick but, fuck, it was like I had to – ya know what I mean?”

I just nodded and waited to hear what else he was gonna say – and trying not to look at his dick.

“I, um, I don’t feel gay at all,” he said and like he had had a problem saying it.

“You don’t feel gay because you know – and I know – that you aren’t,” I said. “Man, a lot of dudes around here have been sucking dick and getting sucked like it is going out of style; I don’t know what’s going on but, um, ah, I ain’t complaining too much about it, if you know what I mean.”

“I do now,” he said. “So now what?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You wanna do it again or…” he said, letting the rest of the sentence trail off.

“That’s on you,” I said. “I don’t know about you but I’m not sure I can get it up again!”

“I don’t think I can either – shit, you are seriously good at this shit,” he said.

I just smiled.

“So, um, ah, whatcha doing tomorrow?” he asked.

“I don’t have anything planned,” I said after thinking about what I had to do tomorrow.

“So (clearing his throat), if I stopped by tomorrow…?” he asked.

“If you do and you wanna go for it again, I’m good with that,” I said.

He just nodded and started looking around to see where his pants and underwear got to… and I was looking myself and puzzled because I couldn’t remember either of us getting rid of them… or how my pants wound up on the chair on the other side of the living room.

As he got ready to leave, his whole demeanor changed which had me worried for a moment because with some guys, it’s all fun and games until nuts gets busted and the guy has that thing I was calling “the moment of clarity” where they stop being horny… and start thinking about what just happened. I was a bit on edge but confident that if he was now gonna freak out, I could deal with it… because it wasn’t like I never had to.

“I learned something today,” he said. “Yeah, this is some gay-ass shit but you were right – you don’t have to be gay to do it. Like I said, I didn’t think I could do any of it and I was scared to do it, ya know?”

“Yeah, it is pretty scary the first time until you realize that there’s nothing to be scared about,” I said. “You did pretty good, too, and I’m not lying about that.”

“I had hoped so,” he said. “Man, sucking your dick felt pretty weird but it didn’t – did that make sense?”

“Yup; I don’t know why it happens like that but, yeah, the first time you do it? It feels so fucking weird but it doesn’t at the same time.”

He just nodded before telling me that he might see me tomorrow… but I was sure that I would. I didn’t know how I knew but I knew he was hooked and hooked on having his dick sucked by a guy if nothing else. Oh, yeah, he’d be here tomorrow and as sure as the sun rises in the east… and I’d be ready to give him more of the same and until he couldn’t take any more.

After he left, I went back out to sit on the steps to ponder how dudes getting some dick – and mysteriously “deciding” that I was the guy to see about that – but really because The Word had gotten out about me – and how many of those guys were, to me, more worried about “being gay” than anything else. I kinda understood why because everyone knew that this was what gay dudes did and being gay was still a bad thing to be… but that didn’t change the fact that for some unknown reason, there were a lot of dude in the neighborhood – and outside of it – who were now looking to have some kind of sex with another guy. I wasn’t sure if it was some kind of sign of the times or something more than that…

But I was okay with it since it made it easier to feed my need to suck dick… and a lot of them found that sucking my dick and tasting my spunk wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be… and it didn’t make them gay at all. I laughed to myself to think about how so many guys were of a mind that being gay was… contagious; if you did something with a guy, you would instantly turn into a gay dude. I was really laughing thinking about this and had my moment of mirth interrupted when I heard a guy ask, “Yo… what’s so funny, my man?”

I looked up… and saw one of the local dudes who had found out that sucking dick wasn’t that bad and immediately knew that if he was here, he didn’t stop by just to ask me what’s happening.

“Just thinking about something,” I said. “You wanna come in?”

“You know I do,” he said with a very knowing smile.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: I’m a Guy…

…who sucks dick. To many, this makes me one of the worst human beings born to have such an immoral and perverted interest in doing this. I write about this a lot because, for one, it’s the most popular thing guys like to do and have done; for another, it’s the one thing that gives guys “the creeps” about doing – it’s one thing to think about it, something else to do it; and for another, it tends to make some guys a bit paranoid because you just get that feeling that everyone who looks at you knows you suck dick…

And then, coming to terms with yourself about that. As you may know, “cocksucker” has long been a very derogatory epitaph that gets used like a knife to hurt someone’s feelings as well as it’s use to give someone “da bizness” and whether the subject of the ribbing is a cocksucker or not and, of course, inanimate objects can get called this when they don’t play nice with us when we’re trying to use them.

If there’s someone who doesn’t know that this is a gay thing to do, chances are they’ve been living in a cave somewhere; there’s no detaching the association to the orientation label – it just is what it is and even for bisexual guys. We’re not gay… until we do something that is. Okay. Just a matter of fact even though it’s a matter of fact that a lot of people are content to ignore because, I guess, it’s too much like work to pay attention or acknowledge the differences between bisexuality and homosexuality. If you’re a guy and you suck cock, you must be gay since everyone knows this is what gay men do.

And that’s true, for the most part and I put it that way because I knew some gay men who wouldn’t suck a dick if you paid them to do it. It’s a personal preference and that acquired taste thing and not totally about sperm but all about being weirded out having another dude’s dick in your mouth. The people who don’t understand these things all that well aren’t aware of these nuances… but for those of us who have reason to be aware of these things, I continue to find it curious that here in 2021, some of us can get to feeling some kind of way to be a practitioner of a form of sex that’s associated firmly with homosexuality.

Doing it is kinda easier that admitting to one’s self that, yeah, I’m a cocksucker. Harder for some than it is to admit that, yeah, I did it and, um, wow, um, I liked doing it and (wait for it) it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Accepting that you now resemble the word used to bash people (and even in a playful way) isn’t automatic. Indeed, a lot of guys don’t even think of themselves in those terms until someone calls them a cocksucker and something in the back of their minds says, “Yeah, you are a cocksucker…” and either this confirmation doesn’t bother them or it suddenly does.

I’d guess that the people who don’t know (or care) about the details of these things just assume that if you’re male and you suck cock, you do it and it’s never a big deal and, yeah, all you do is run around sucking every dick you can put eyes on. Not the truth of things all that much but the ever-present and ongoing social angst against all things homosexual just gets lodged in one’s mind and shaking it out can take a lot of mental effort so that you can say to yourself, “I’m a cocksucker… and that doesn’t bother me one bit!”

Of course, the real problem is that it does bother a lot of other people. Hell, even women – and they are traditionally the ones to suck dick and they are the sole owners of this – get to feeling some kind of way when someone gives them shit about the number of dicks they suck or how many times they do it over any specified period of time… and in either case, all this crap comes from people who have never sucked a dick as well as from those who tried it and found it not to their liking… but that doesn’t stop them from tossing some sour grapes into the mix and continuing the perception that being a cocksucker is a very bad thing.

Those of us who suck cock knows that it’s not a bad thing to do… unless whomever we’re sucking makes it a bad thing. Like a lot of bisexual men, shit, I’ve been subjected to a lot of ignorance on someone’s part and being preached to about being an avid fan of fellatio. The bad part, for me, isn’t listening to a bunch of shit that I’ve heard more times than I care to think about: It’s how… stupid some people can be about it. Once again, we are told how to have sex and who we are allowed to have sex with… and we believe that so when those believers come across someone who just fucks up their notion of how sex is supposed to be – and that would be someone like me – I dunno… I guess they get stuck on stupid and start talking about how morally wrong it is and talk some more about how they don’t believe in that and they’d never do such a thing…

And as if because they wouldn’t do it, no one should. Now, um, if they were truly as smart as they think they are, they’d know that there are men who suck cock and, yes, a lot of them are gay but it also stands to reason that there must be something about given the number of men who are, in fact and in deed, cocksuckers… and all of those men can’t possibly be wrong about it. I’ve pointed this out to detractors and, yep, it’s “Yeah, but…” time and with the “but” just the same old tired rhetoric about how men aren’t supposed to be doing that and not even recognizing the fact that it’s being done anyway. Our morality, as it seems to have turned out, has turned us into some pretty clueless people to keep making us believe that just because it’s said that sucking another man’s cock should not be done, um, it ain’t ever gonna happen.

It’s a bit of an aside but I very much remember the day my father told me to never put my mouth on a girl’s pussy. That, for me, was an epic and life-changing moment since, right after he told me this, I went out and put my mouth on a girl’s pussy since he declined to tell me why I shouldn’t do that. Almost a week later, my mother took me aside and told me to never let a girl “put her mouth on you down there” and, to me, it was actually funny because while I lied my ass off and told her that I wouldn’t let that happen, it was a matter of that train already leaving the station because “quite a few” boys and girls had had their mouth on me “down there” and as far as boys were concerned, well, dear mother, what you don’t know ain’t gonna hurt you… but I wouldn’t have been surprised if she already knew that about me because, well, you know how mothers are. Anyway, I digress.

Even though us guys have to content with the bullshit being thrown all over the place about being male and a cocksucker, all this riffing can mess with a guy’s mind and, as I’ve said, can induce a bit of paranoia to things, from worrying about someone finding out to even questioning if they’re really gay and some other stuff that can make accepting and being comfortable with themselves a bit difficult, to put it that way. I remember getting into it with a guy over some shit that hopped off and he called me a cocksucker and instead of getting bent out of shape about it, I said, “Hmph – you say that like it’s a bad thing…” It had the effect of shutting him down and, might I say, hilariously so as he stood there blinking rapidly and, to me, not unlike that little hard drive light on computers as they process information… and I’d just given him something to process. Of course, once he recovered, insisted that it was which led to me saying that it can’t be that bad of a thing given the number of men who are out there sucking dick and having a fun good time doing it. That got him stuck on stupid as well and I admit to having a great deal of fun fucking with him about it…

Because that’s what you get when you start messing with something you don’t know a damned thing about… and, yeah, I can be evil like that at times. Okay, I’m a cocksucker – so what? I think I’m very good at it and I’ve never heard any major complaints from the guys I’ve sucked but if they had any, I never heard about it. I am, in fact, not gay so being male and a cocksucker isn’t the exclusive domain owned by gay men and no more than cocksucking is solely owned by women. The thing is that, strangely, one can understand this but that might not make accepting being a cocksucker any easier. This is a “Yeah, but…” thing even for us because it’s not that we don’t know or eventually learn this but it’s a “different” thing when the cocksucker we’re thinking about is ourselves.

Seriously, even I had a moment with myself about this very same thing and I gotta tell you that, when it was all said and done inside my head, I felt pretty silly for even being worried about being a cocksucker. That logically cold and blunt part of my mind said, “You suck dick and you’ve sucked a lot of dicks so that makes you a cocksucker. Get over it and yourself and stop worrying about the dumb shit already!” I think that all of us male cocksuckers go through this at some point and it’s kind of “messed up” because actually sucking cock isn’t the thing that bothers us all that much:

It’s the people who’d give us shit about it. It’s the people who will spew all that tired-assed religious rhetoric and dogma about what we’re not supposed to even when, um, duh, they know it’s being done just the same, you perverted heathen – you’re gonna burn in hell for your sin! It’s also the way our own minds will fuck with us and, again, make us paranoid because, yeah, you really do get the impression that once you suck a dick, everyone will know that you did… and I’ll be damned if I know where that comes from or how it works. Indeed, a lot of guys have issues accepting that they’re a cocksucker or want to be one because they have it firmly in their mind that someone (and other than the guy who got sucked) is going to find out right after it happened. The reality that somehow gets overlooked in these moments of paranoia is that unless you or the other guys talks about it or, shit, you got caught in the act or seen coming out of a motel room with some guy, um, who’s gonna know that you sucked a dick?

Yeah, I’ve told guys that should they suck a dick, they might not want to kiss someone immediately afterward because no matter how much you wash your face or partake of mouthwash, the scent is going to hang around for a few because it gets into your skin… and those of us who eat pussy should, I think, know about this all too well. Absent these exceptions, making and letting this kind of stuff get in the way of accepting the fact that you’re a bona fide cocksucker, at some point, doesn’t make a lot of sense… but there are a lot of guys who do manage to convince themselves that just because they suck dick, it doesn’t “really” make them a cocksucker.

And you gotta know that I am not kidding about that. A lot of the mental damage some of us wind up having to deal with because we suck dick doesn’t always come from the guy whose dick we had fun sucking: We can tend to kick our own asses over it and, believe it or not, that’s actually pretty much par for the course… because there isn’t a male cocksucker anywhere in the world who doesn’t know that we’re not supposed to it. Ever. Shit… even I have admitted here many times that I’ve been happily sucking a dick and hear that voice in my head raising all kinds of hell and reminding me that I should not be doing this. Yeah, I know I shouldn’t… but I am so shut the fuck up and leave me alone – I’m busy trying to get this guy to cum.

That “constant reminder” also makes accepting the cocksucker label a difficult thing for guys to to. And, yes, some guys worry about this and excessively so and I know that because I did it, too. Feel pretty stupid because I did. The shoe fit. I was quacking like a duck. I was the droid I didn’t think I really was. You can’t imagine how silly I’d feel to be sucking a dick and while I’m doing it, I’m denying that I’m a cocksucker, well, that part of my mind that got hammered by the social conditioning is making me deny it. I’m a cocksucker. Deal with it. Get over it. It wasn’t easy for me to get this squared away in my head and, as such, it stands to reason that there are other guys who find this a difficult thing to deal with.

Of course, there are guys that get hit with this “revelation” and it gets kicked to the curb quick, fast, and in a hurry but, still, calling them a cocksucker is still in bad taste and subject to retribution… but in their head, yep, they’re okay with being a cocksucker. By the way, have I ever mentioned how funny guys are about this? We are, like, I’m a cocksucker… but don’t you dare call me one even if we’re joking around. Many of us, in this situation, tend to get highly offended… and I want you all to think about that for a moment or two. Some of us are… snarky enough to handle this in ways that aren’t really that novel… but it’s sure fun to fuck with someone. A guy calls me a cocksucker… and I’ve asked them, “Are you asking?”

My, my; the reactions to such a comeback have been epic… and as funny as anything can be. I don’t know about other guys but I’m thinking that if you hurl that insult at me, it’s only “fair” for me to hurl one right back at you like saying, “Hmm, I didn’t know you were into that – who knew?” or, one of my favorites, “Get over yourself – you’re not that interesting…” and the next one is, “If I am, I’m a damned good one… but you’ll never find out how good I might be!”

I’ll be here all week – don’t order the fish. That’s easy for me because I know and accept that I’m a cocksucker. No escaping the facts of the matter. No guilt or self-induced angst over it. Don’t much give a fuck who can’t deal with me being a cocksucker and there ain’t shit they can do about it because, clearly, I know some shit about sex that you don’t know and you don’t “know” it because you believe that shit they told you about not doing it. It takes a bit of effort to get to and past that self-acceptance point so that, if you wanted to, fuck with people the way I don’t mind doing or, absent that, when someone calls you – or accuses you of being – a cocksucker, it just doesn’t bother you one bit and you can even give them that “whatever” look that tells the other person that you kinda/sorta don’t give a shit about what they have to say about it.

We know that there are people out there who are prejudiced against male cocksuckers. However, knowing this, in my very humble opinion, shouldn’t make it hard for us to accept that, yep, we suck dick and that makes us a cocksucker and that applies to the man men who haven’t sucked a dick but they really and surely want to. Yet it does. And those who are having a hard time accepting this about themselves are now tasked with figuring out what they’re gonna have to do to accept that, yeah, buddy: You’re a cocksucker.

Most of the angst we have about being cocksuckers doesn’t really come from external sources all that much; we can and do make ourselves insane over it because there is a conflict in place between that “thing” in our head known as our moral compass… and then there’s the sure and certain fact that, uh-huh, we’ve sucked dick. And knowing it isn’t quite the same as accepting it and as I like to say about such things, the psychology is fascinating because what goes on about this isn’t as much about disobeying social norms as it is what goes on inside our head and what we tell ourselves in order to be comfortable, like some guys who have sex with men and women… but they’re not bisexual… but they know they are.

Time to think about something else to write…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: But When It Goes Good…

…it doesn’t get much better than that. One of the things I’ve loved about being bisexual is the freedom to be as sexual as I can and embracing spontaneity which, to be kinda honest, is a bit of a cover-up to make up for being the very impulsive dude I was way back when I was younger. Easier to be “less embarrassed” about having sex with guys by saying that I’m spontaneous and “gifted” with the ability to make correct snap decisions than it was for me to admit that my impulsive nature that I didn’t have a lot of control over was responsible for all the dick I was getting.

Yeah… I used to play a few mind games with myself. Not really fooling myself about it but putting things into perspective and with the understanding that whether I was still being very impulsive or took all the time necessary to make decisions, getting some dick was fun and very satisfying. Still and as with all things, you have good and “bad” days and I’ve had way more good days than “bad” days as a male bisexual.

I’d be hanging with da fellas and listening to them “whining and complaining” about not being able to have all the sex they wanted and needed and I’d often feel sorry for them because they had limitations that I didn’t. I knew that if I wanted to, I could have sex every day, several times a day because I wasn’t limited or restricted to just having sex with women. I’d often sit and listen to them complaining about this girl or that girl who couldn’t suck dick or wouldn’t do it or feeling put out or dissed because this girl or that one wanted them to eat them and they weren’t having any of that… and I’d sit and listen and smile to myself because I’d often have days where I’d find myself sucking three or four dicks a day on top of being able to have my face buried between some girl’s legs and feasting on her.

Some guys who tried sex with guys would talk about how it wasn’t all that… but sometimes they were lying like rugs and especially with the guys who tried it with me and more than once or twice but, yeah, I understood the deception because, as I’ve said many time, image is everything. Sure, you could wind up getting Da Bizness for giving it a try but if you said that you didn’t like it, eh, not many would feel a need to take you to task for doing it in the first place and more so when you could blame that “fall from grace” on being high/intoxicated.

Among those of us who were well and truly into it, the horror stories abounded and in greater quantity than the more positive stories did, giving me a lot of insight about how we think about sex and go about determine what’s good and what isn’t. I’d sit and listen to them putting the word out on this or that guy and for what was usually nitpicking stuff like lying about the size of his dick, cumming too fast and other such things but they’d not always be of a mind to say much about when it all was very good for them and when they did, um, sometimes, a bit of embellishment was added which was often met with a bit of eye-rolling and more so when chances were some of us had been with the guy or guys in question and had our own opinions about how good the sex was with them.

One of the things that often amazed me was being with da fellas who knew what the deal was and listening to them complaining about the lack of dick that would crop up at times and making me wonder why we weren’t taking up the slack with each other and, perhaps, more than we were already doing. Like, one guy had stopped by one day to say hi and to complain about having spent most of his day looking for dicks to suck and not finding any… and I had asked, “What am I… chopped liver?” The look he gave me said that he never considered asking me if we could do something and it wasn’t like we didn’t know that about each other which, in those situations, would have me wondering why we’d go out of our way to obtain the “unobtainable” instead of going for the known sure thing. Some of it was that “friends don’t have sex with each other” thing and I think some of it was along the lines of familiarity breeding contempt which, all by itself, is pretty weird to begin with.

He “had a problem” with asking me and even assumed that I had a similar problem since I’d never hit on him… and I didn’t for a reason: My luck with hitting on guys was mostly bad luck but if I didn’t hit on them, I got extremely lucky. Go figure. We sat and talked – or, really, he talked and I just listened with the odd question asked at times and we got to talking about how many dicks we’d sucked in a day… and he was shocked to hear that I’d had many days where I’d suck as many as six different dicks a day – doing the same guy twice in the same day didn’t count. He couldn’t figure out how I managed it and I told him that I managed it because the only objection I had about doing it was with guys with uncut dicks and my activities weren’t restricted to the immediate area I lived in (at that time). He just assumed – and I don’t know why – that the dick outside of our hood wasn’t all that good and I begged to differ with him and even pointed out that a lot of the dicks I sucked weren’t from where we lived even though there were, as a “group,” about a dozen of us who had no issues about getting some dick but, again, I guessed that it never occurred to many of those guys – and including the one I was talking to – to check each other out when other dicks were unavailable.

He and I got into it… and it was very good but he was again shocked when I mentioned that he was the fourth guy I’d sucked off that day and when he asked how I managed that when he’d been searching the hood all morning, I just shrugged and said that I’m just not of a mind to say no if/when a guy wants his dick sucked. Did I worry about it not being good? Yeah… and not so much since those of us in the know knew of the guys who were assholes about it and they were studiously avoided… which left all the guys who weren’t assholes about it and, yep, many of them would come to me because not only was I willing to blow them or be fucked by them or fucking them, apparently, they felt I was good at it.

“What’s your secret?” he had asked.

“My secret? I don’t have one except, like I said, I don’t say no very often,” I said.

“What if it wasn’t all that?” he asked.

“Depends on what you mean by that,” I replied. “Some guys, well, they’re not as good in bed as they think they are but that doesn’t mean a whole lot, well, not to me. Sometimes they’ll leave me wanting more or things don’t quite go the way we “planned” them but I think what makes me different from everyone else is that if nothing else, I got some dick and that’s what really matters. But when it’s good, it’s good and if I can get some dick a few times a day, it doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Damn, I wish I had that kind of luck,” he said.

“It’s not really about luck; more about being willing to take the opportunities when they present themselves. Like, I have no idea why we never did this before now; it’s not like neither of us didn’t want to but it just didn’t happen before now and when you asked, I didn’t say no. I don’t care about shit like how big the dick is or much of anything else except that ugly-assed foreskin but I won’t suck it but a dude with foreskin can fuck me with it. It’s still an opportunity to get laid and to bust a nut or two and it doesn’t make much sense to let those opportunities go by the wayside. Sometimes they do and there’s nothing to be done about that… except to wait for the next opportunity to come along and around here? They come around a lot if you’re not gonna be too weird about it.”

We went at it again – his dick was a joy to suck and I had zero issues or complaints about his ability to suck a dick. I saw him the next day and the first thing he asked me was if I did it with anyone else after him… and I had truthfully said that I’d had two more dicks after he left me. He got this… weird look on his face that suggested that he wasn’t happy that I did a couple of other guys after he went home but I ignored it. He did confess that just that day, he’d been with five guys and was on his way to meet with guy number six but decided to stop by and let me know that I was right in that if you say yes more than you say no, you get more dick to play with and shit like good and bad doesn’t mean a whole lot. He told me about this one guy – no names were mentioned but by his description, I knew who he was talking about – and, well, the sex wasn’t that good with him even though my personal thoughts about this guy was that he was okay because what he lacked in skill he made up with enthusiasm but, yeah, the dude could be better at this.

He told me that, again, I was right when I’d said that the thing to think about wasn’t how things ended but to think more about how things went before they ended. I had mentioned that when you’re horny, being overly picky about it or saying no when you know you want to say yes will make sure that you ain’t getting any dick anytime soon. I told him that I knew the guy he was talking about and shared his critique that sex with him wasn’t all that great… but he was eager to suck dick and to take it in the ass and was prone to being, ah, overly demonstrative about it which was annoying… but it didn’t make having sex with him any less satisfying and with him, the positives outweighed the negatives.

“When you’re thinking like that, I think it makes saying yes easier,” I said with a shrug. “And because, if nothing else, you want to bust a nut and not a lot else matters other than that; seriously, it ain’t like the guy’s gonna be your boyfriend or something like that, right? Like, I know the guy you’re on your way to hook up with and all I’m gonna say is that I’ve told him no every time after the first time we got busy because he’s an asshole about it… but you gotta find out for yourself – don’t just take my word for it but let’s just say that if I needed to have sex with him to save my life, I’d be dead as a motherfucker.”

He went off to meet this guy and in the two hours before I saw him again, I had gotten with four other guys in a group setting and, yeah, it could have gone better but nuts got busted and swallowed and I didn’t know about them but I was happy about how it all turned out. I was sitting outside and kinda lost in thought when I saw him coming around the corner and, nope, he did not look happy at all.

“You know like I know, don’t you?” I had asked by way of greeting.

“Man, you ain’t said shit!” he replied. “You live and learn, right?”

“Yep, you sure do,” I agreed. I told him what I’d done since he left and he had me laughing when he said that, in retrospect, he should have just hung out with me… but he also said that he felt I was still right in that if you want some dick, you shouldn’t turn down many opportunities to get some unless you have a reason to.

“Man, some dudes just don’t know what’s up, ya know?” he asked – then launched in to a literal blow-by-blow description of how it went with that guy… and all I could do was nod in agreement. It wasn’t that homey wasn’t a nice guy – he was just a total asshole about things when his dick got hard.

“You just learn to not let the assholes ruin shit for you,” I said. “Otherwise, it doesn’t get any better than this and more so when you’re still getting pussy on top of it all. It’s sex and if you’re about having sex, well…”

I’ve had my bad moments but I’ve had, again, way more good ones than bad ones. I could easily have sex with quite a few guys over the course of a day because for one, I wanted to have sex and, for another, I wasn’t of a mind to say no all that often. A lot of those guys tended to focus on whatever negatives they perceived and some of them, depending on the other guy, were justified but if there was a secret to my successes, it was not saying no a lot and being able to find the pleasure in it even when, sometimes, the way things ended weren’t up to par or whatever.

When it goes good, it just doesn’t get any better than that. In these things, I often feel that a lot of guys use the “thinking the worst” method of getting the dick they want or letting the horror stories told by others influence them. I’d hear guys moaning and bitching about this, that, or the other – and whether it was justified or not – and would, at some point ask them what I thought to be the most important question: Did you get laid? Did you get to cum? If the answer is yes to both questions, um, what are you really bitching about? Another question I’ve pondered and have asked others at times is which is better: Quantity or quality and then what do those things mean? I think that we tend to glamorize getting some dick and, these days, romanticize the daylights out of it rather than to keep it simple. Agree on something to do. Get the dicks out. Make them hard. Make them soft again. Repeat as necessary or as time will allow. Be flexible and adaptive if and when possible. Find more reasons to say yes to an offer rather than spending a lot of time thinking about why you should or have to say no to offers. Understand that it’s not always going to turn out the way you might want or expect it to and if it doesn’t, just chalk it up to experience and then don’t let those “bad” moments steal your joy.

Good sex is where you find it… and you can find it almost anywhere and usually in the most unexpected places and people. The thing that matters most isn’t deciding whether you had fun after the fact but seeing if you had fun during the fact and I don’t know about other guys but it’s rare that I didn’t have fun during the fact but, yeah – occupational hazard and all that. Maybe not the best decision made but the one that did make sense at the time. Being able to embrace how sex can make you vulnerable instead of being leery about it. One guy – and one of many – got terribly upset because he came in my mouth “too fast” and didn’t understand why I wasn’t upset about it.

“No need for you to be upset about something that I wanted you to do,” I said as I waved off his objections. “I agreed to suck your dick because, one, I wanted to do it and, two, I did it with the express purpose of making you cum – and you did that and that you did it sooner than you wanted to, well, I get that but, yeah, you did exactly what I wanted and needed you to do. Now the question is do you think you can do it again?”

The same with a guy who lost his load right after getting the head of his dick in me. Oh, he was not happy about that one bit… but I was because, um, he did what I wanted him to do: Stick it in there and cum. Too soon? Yeah, okay, there was that but I know that it’s not something us guys have any real control over. I told him this and said that we should just take a moment or two to see if he could get it up and go for it again. He could… and came faster than he did the first time. He was pissy. I wasn’t. Many would see these two things as “bad” things… and I learned not to see them that way.

Because in both of those situations, I got laid. I got to bust my nuts wide open with the guys. Took a great deal of pleasure from enticing them to give up their nut before they wanted to. The “secret” to my many successes in these things. When it goes good – and that would be my idea of being good – it just doesn’t get any better than that… other than to do it again and if not right away, at the next available opportunity.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “It’s Naughty!”

I was sitting next to a naked “Chad,” who was very nervous about going forward with his first sexual experience with a guy. I knew he’d be nervous so when we got undressed and he asked if we had to jump right into it, my response that said we didn’t came right out as well as reminding him that when we talked about this, I had made it very clear that not only did he not have to go through with it if he thought he couldn’t, once things got going, he could call it off at any time, for any reason, and it wouldn’t be a problem.

It was… curious to watch him go through the gamut of emotions; his words were saying one thing and his body was saying something else as his cock, seriously engorged with blood, was moving in time with his rapidly beating heart. Ah, man… this moment of truth moment is never easy for some guys to get past, that internal battle with themselves that says, on the one hand, that they want and need to do this and, on the other, what the fuck have I gotten myself into? I knew this was going on inside of him because he kept asking me if I was upset – or if I would be upset – if he called it off and I didn’t make things easy for him by repeating that I wasn’t upset and I wouldn’t be.

So when he said that he didn’t understand what the big deal was about this, I knew he was on the verge of doing one of two things: Calling it off or saying, “Fuck it…” to himself and it was going to be on. I had responded to what he said since there was a question in there that wasn’t in the form of a question and beginning with, “You mean outside of the fact that it’s sex? The big deal, other than that, is that it’s… naughty. Being a bad boy. Going against all the rules that have forever said that men don’t have sex with each other even though one understands that the reason why there is a rule against it is because men do, in fact, have sex with each other.”

Chad continued to just sit and think; his dick was, I thought at this point, painfully erect and I could see him “shivering” as if he was cold. He was still very much at war with himself but it was a war that he was going to have to resolve for himself. He had asked, “What if I don’t really want to be a bad boy?” and I responded by saying, “Then you don’t want to. You don’t have to. It’s okay if you don’t and before you ask, no – if you don’t wanna be a bad boy, I’m not going to be upset about it or think poorly about you. It’s like I told you: Either you can… or you just can’t. If you can’t, we can just sit here and talk and we can even get dressed if that’ll make you comfortable. This isn’t a decision I can make for you but I will go along with whatever you decide and as promised.”

He sat and continued to think and, yes, squirm. I admitted to myself that I was a bit amused thinking that his dick and balls had to be pitching a royal bitch at this point given that he was totally hard from the moment I arrived, we got undressed, and just sat here and that was almost an hour ago at this point. While it truly didn’t matter to me if he wanted to go forward with this or not, I wasn’t going to “make the call” for him, well, not yet; there’s a point in this very disturbing moment when it becomes… prudent for me to say that we’re not going to do this given how disturbed things are as well as staying true to what I had told him over the many times we talked about this: The final decision is yours to make. So all I had to do, all that I was going to do, was wait to see what Chad was going to do even though I had a fairly good idea about that.

Then came the moment he made the decision. I heard him mutter to himself, “Fuck it…” and I would have laughed to myself had it not been for the fact that he uttered those two fateful words an instant before he shoved me onto my back and swooped down to cover my dick with his mouth. It was on at this point and, if past experience is any real indication of future behavior, once he started sucking me, he wasn’t going to stop. The only thing I did to “disturb” him was to get more comfortable on his bed and “urging” him to move so that I could get at his dick and fulfill my part of both the bargain and his fantasy of sucking a man’s dick while having his sucked at the same time.

Ten minutes later, we both lay there gasping like the proverbial fish out of water and I had that moment of thought that was about whether or not he had fibbed to me about this being his first time ever because he sucked my dick like he’d been at it for as long as I had been but that was, in reality, that “weird” thing that says if you can see yourself doing a thing in your mind, you can probably do it in actuality. He had told me about the many times he had gotten himself off thinking about the very thing we’d just got finished doing and I was already getting ready to answer the next set of questions I had good reason to expect and he didn’t disappoint in that regard when he asked, “Did I do it right?”

“You most certainly did!” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “I’m, wow, holy shit, that was fucking amazing! I don’t know if I’ve ever cum so hard before!”

I didn’t know if he had either but what I did know was how much spunk he had pumped into my mouth and how strongly he did it, just as I knew I hadn’t gotten all of it since we were still lying side by side and I could see the last bits of his cum oozing out so, yeah, I had to make it disappear by gently covering his knob with my mouth and using my tongue to gently swipe it away and feeling pretty “evil” to feel his body shudder as I did it. No need in letting it go to waste.

“How do you feel?” I asked him; experience had taught me that if a guy is going to have a bad moment, now is the time it’s going to hit him and pretty hard, too. My asking him was also part of the deal since I had told time, almost at every turn during our talks, that I was going to ask him how he felt whether we went through with it or not and how important it was for me to ask… so I asked.

“I feel like a bad boy,” he said while barely suppressing a giggle. “I feel so… naughty, you know? Like I did something bad but it was so much fun to be bad? But you probably knew that already, huh?”

“Yeah, I did but the question is still valid,” I said. “Some guys realize what they just did and, as I had said, just freak the hell out and I have a responsibility to not let you freak out even if you wind up going through something like that later.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I could go through with it but, shit, I wanted to – does that make sense?”

“It does,” I said. At this point and since we were talking, making eye contact with him was the thing I should have been doing but, um, his dick was still right there in my field of vision and, um, his cock looked rather nice being soft, that and in order for me to look him in the eye, I would have had to move and he’d done such a number on me that I just didn’t feel like moving. Chad’s talking about… something and I wasn’t paying attention all that much because my mind had already fast-forwarded to getting his dick in my mouth again. I felt… bad about that and was about to ask him what he had said when he “saved” me the embarrassment by asking, “Are you sure you want to do this again?”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “You ready to be a naughty bad boy again?”

He was… and so was I. Less urgent than the first time but not by a whole lot. I wouldn’t say that we “lovingly took our time with each other” the second time around but it took some time for the both of us to suck each other hard so that we could spill into each other’s mouth again and, yeah, wow, he must have been “saving it up” because he delivered even more spunk than he had the first time… or so it seemed.

Chad was… bubbly. Speed rapping as we used to call it when someone was talking so fast that you couldn’t really understand what they were saying but I didn’t fail to hear or understand him saying how “deliciously naughty” he was feeling. I understood all too well how he felt since every time I’ve sucked a guy’s dick, I’ve felt amazingly naughty and like the baddest boy ever. He was hilarious when he said, “Who knew this could be so goddamned good? Oh, shit, what am I saying? You knew and now I know! Damn! Um, do you think we can go one more time for the road?”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure that I could… but nothing beats a failure but a try, right? It took a long time for us to get hard enough to be able to cum and even longer for our bodies to, at the least, go through the motions of cumming but, as Chad had said when he came up for air for a moment, “Who knew that sucking a soft dick could still feel nice and naughty? Oh, yeah – I keep forgetting that you already knew this…”

I was beyond spent and, to be honest, I had been having a hard time staying awake after the second time we got each other off and having barely managed it a third time? I was ready for a nap and I knew I had to move my ass before I nodded off. I started to move and say something to Chad when I heard him… snoring. Well, damn. It was fine since he was at home and in his own bed and it was all I could do to sit up before I wound up taking that much-needed nap myself. I sat up – a bit too quickly – and suffered through the room spinning like an out of control top before I felt steady enough to get to my feet and stumble to Chad’s bathroom so I could splash some water on my face which helped me fight the urge to curl up next to Chad and catch a few Z’s. When I returned to the bedroom to look for my clothes, Chad was awake and trying to sit up; he saw me and started grinning, which told me that he wasn’t going to be bothered by this going forward.

“Now I know what the big deal is,” he said after returning from his trip to the bathroom. “I can’t get over how normal it felt to do this and, you’ve probably heard this before but I’ll be damned if I know why I never did this before now!”

“Yep, I’ve heard it before,” I said with a laugh. “It’s pretty normal for guys to say something like that because if they had any doubts about it before the fact, those doubts become moot after the fact and when they realize that the only thing that actually happened is that they had sex and got off and nothing has really changed about them other than maybe wanting to do it again.”

“I couldn’t get it up now if my life depended on it,” he said, which made me laugh even more.

“I wasn’t talking about right now – I meant doing it again some other day or time!” I said. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Drained. Naughty. But that’s what it’s really about, ain’t it? Being a bad boy and doing something men ain’t supposed to do and let alone like doing?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “It’s ‘just sex’ at the end of the day. Giving and getting sucked off and having fun doing it. Doesn’t mean that you’re gay – and that’s something some guys get to thinking about – but it does mean that you care enough about your sexual pleasure to not let the rules get in the way all that much.”

“I think I understand,” he said. “You were right – this was pretty scary and you were right when you said that I’d either keep being scared or just stop being scared about it. Hah, you really do know some shit about this, don’t you?”

“I should since I’ve done this many times before,” I said and I wasn’t bragging about it – just stating a well-known fact. “You wanted to do this, to find out what it was like and, yeah, to find out what the big deal was – is – about it… and now you know.”

“Yeah… and I can’t wait to do it again,” Chad said. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

We met again the next day for more of the same and it was a very different Chad that met me at the door and beginning with the mildly shocking fact that he answered the door buck naked and with his dick standing at attention. We didn’t make it to his bedroom; after peeling me out of my clothes, we went for it right there on his living room floor and getting that first nut sucked out of me was as mind-blowing as it gets as Chad fairly attacked me and took so much pleasure from feasting on my dick as well as pumping his dick in and out of my mouth. My goodness… they learn fast, don’t they?

He took me by the hand and led me to his bedroom, telling me that he had been jumping out of his skin waiting for me to arrive so he could taste and feel me in his mouth again and I admitted to feeling the same way myself. Halfway through round two, Chad stopped sucking me and pulled away from me and kinda surprised me by asking, “Can we fuck each other? I wanna be such the bad boy with you…”

I had anticipated this, well, kinda to the point where I was prepared for it. He took me from the back and it was so good that I was a bit disappointed when he shot his load into me; his dick felt so good inside me that I wanted him to “fuck me forever” but the reality of the moment dictated otherwise.

“My turn,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stick it in me and make me feel very bad and naughty!”

After confirming that this is what he really wanted to do, I lubed us up and, in the time-honored missionary position, slid into him, watching him closely as I did so for any signs of distress. We had talked about it and had tabled it and now here I was slowly thrusting into him as he clung to me; I could feel his dick between our bodies and felt… jealous that he could get hard while being screwed and something I very rarely had happen to me. He moaned and groaned; he egged me on to fuck him, to make him the baddest and naughiest boy ever and to stop playing around and cum inside of him… so I did even though I wanted to stay inside of him “forever” and not end this moment… but the power of suggestion had other ideas.

I laid within his embrace breathing hard and waiting for my foggy brain to clear up; I looked down at him and he had such a dreamy look on his face. He opened his eyes and looked back at me and, well, that just made the moment more… complete. “Don’t move,” he whispered to me. “Stay where you are if you can.”

Not that I was going anywhere since he still had his legs wrapped around my waist and hips. We just stayed like that for a very long moment before he asked, “You know what I like about this?”

“What’s that?” I asked – and because I had no idea what he was thinking about.

“I like being fucked more than fucking, not that fucking you wasn’t nice,” he said. “This is what I was meant to do, I think, and it made me – you made me – feel as bad and as naughty as I realize I want to feel so thank you for this.” Then he lifted his head up and gave me a little kiss on my lips, which felt weird but also felt… right. I surprised myself by returning his kiss and, wow, my dick was starting to harden inside of him! He felt it, too, and smiled and said, “Yes… fuck me again because I need to be a very naughty boy…”

What’s the “big deal” about all of this? It’s sex. Being naughty. A bad-boy rule-breaker. Being intimate and as physically close to another person as humanly possible. It’s also about finding yourself, too, and in the two days spent with Chad was not just about the sex but very much about him finding himself and just being human. Not straight or bi or gay. Being human.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Back in the Day…

And by that I mean back in the late 1990s and once the World Wide Web was easy to search for information, I ran across two written articles about how to suck dick.

One was written by a woman and the other was written by a gay man and, at first, I thought they were the same article with some stuff changed to reflect the respective authors’ points of view but, no, two different articles about how to pleasure a guy with your mouth, lips, tongue and, yes, even including a hand or two.

Both articles were very well written and with many of the same tips, tricks, and techniques being employed and including how to deep throat and all of it aimed at giving pleasure and being able to take pleasure in the giving and as if giving a guy a blow job was one’s most solemn duty and that there was no other reason to give him one other than for his pleasure… and I had a “problem” with that since I knew that I wasn’t one of those guys who sucked dick just to make the other guy a happy camper. I hadn’t learned or grasped the concept of oral fixation at that point in time and something I learned I have a very “bad” case of when it comes to oral sex but while both articles, again, spoke to how to suck a guy’s dick and wind up having to peel him off of the ceiling, the way they were both written had me asking, “Well, what does one get out of focusing all of the pleasure on him other than knowing that he was giving the best blow job possible?”

I had read both articles a few times and felt that, really, only one such “how to” article would serve regardless of sex or sexuality since, again, they were very similar in what to do and how to do it and with emphasis on taking as much time as needed to get him off while also emphasizing patience. Both articles also spoke to how to acquire the taste of semen and the tips and tricks to be able to swallow it and even how to get used to having something, um, in your mouth like that: Brush your teeth and the more foamier the toothpaste, the better and, um, yeah, I actually stopped reading and went to brush my teeth… and they were right about what they were saying about this.

Who knew?

What neither article spoke to was… reciprocation. Okay, so I knew how much work went into sucking a guy’s dick and getting him to cum and had learned those tips, tricks, techniques, etc., via on the job training, like how to suck a guy’s nuts without causing him any undue pain. I grew up with the thing that if I sucked a guy’s dick, it was a given that he was going to suck mine, too, but the thing that “bothered” me about both articles was the total focus on making it supremely good for him even if you encountered… difficulties in the doing. The other “problem” I had was the overall premise both articles spoke to that implied that the guy would “just lie there” and let you do your thing and a notion that, when I read it, had me rolling my eyes a little because, sure, some guys knew to just kinda/sorta be still – and as much as that winds up being possible – while others were of a mind that their, ah, help was needed. Both articles did mention that if he, um, if he wanted to help you, well, just let him do whatever since sucking his dick was all about him.

Yeah… not feeling that then or now. Reading those articles gave me the impression that sucking a guy’s dick should make one feel honored or something along those lines. While neither article spoke to reciprocation, neither of them really spoke to exactly why one should worship homey’s dick and to the exclusion of all else except the insistence that this is the best way to give head and deliver satisfaction. Going forward after reading those different but very similar articles, it really had me thinking about whether I was sucking dick “for the right reason” or not – and not that I was really questioning this, mind you, but I just love to be able to take something like this and break it all down and I couldn’t get away from the “simple fact” that the only reason to suck a guy’s dick is because you like or love doing it… and not necessarily because he’s demanding or insisting that you do.

I’d gotten to thinking about the many times I’d had a girl/woman ask, “If I give you a blow job, what am I getting out of it?” Answering this question by saying that they’d get the pleasure of making me a happy camper wasn’t exactly the answer to the question and knowing this had me asking myself, “Well, what do you get out of it other than the obvious?” – and the “obvious” being a mouthful of warm, salty spunk and the satisfaction of a job well done and done well. I really had to think about that and more so given the many times I’d heard people ask or opine about why a guy would even want to suck another dude’s cock to begin with and more so when guys had the very bad reputation of being assholes about it and, yep, one of those things learned along the way.

Both articles didn’t say a whole lot about what to do if/when things became unmanageable other than to knuckle down and keep at it because this wasn’t about you and I very much begged to disagree about that and given the many times I’d knuckled down, kept at it, made him deliriously happy and not feeling so happy about it myself. Serious – this is supposed to be fun, right? Not just for him but for me, too, right? By and large, it was fun for the both of us and the not-so-fun times were far and few between… but I couldn’t seem to get past the premise of those articles saying that when you suck a guy’s cock, it’s all about him and that you should be willing to do it for him whenever he wants it. I realized that the articles were more idealistic than realistic and written from the perspective two different authors; good things to know from a “how can I do this” perspective but, perhaps, not all that helpful outside of theory.

I remember showing a woman both articles… and it didn’t take her long to start laughing her ass off and more over the one written by a woman and she agreed that, if you wanted to be real about it, there was no need for two such writings. She was pointing out things in both articles that, as a sucker of cocks, she would never do and sentiment I’d heard echoed by other women (and men) and she really got to laughing uncontrollably over the parts that said that sucking his dick should always be about him and that should be your only reason to suck dick. She had said that this sentiment alone is what makes it a chore that one doesn’t always feel like being bothered with and didn’t say a thing about favors being returned.

She had said, “You either love doing it or you don’t and if you don’t, you can bet the house it’s because some dude made you not love it. Technique and all that shit is all well and good but if you’re not of a mind to blow him and it’s not going to be fun for you, too, these articles are just some pie in the sky bullshit!”

I’d found myself agreeing with her but I hadn’t quite figured out exactly what makes giving head so much fun – then I stumbled upon being orally fixated and it all came home to roost for me even though the article I read mostly talked about things like chewing gum, smoking, and even eating foods. It didn’t take a whole lot to see how sucking dick (or eating pussy) played into this fixation as well and more so when the articles also spoke to one of the first things we learn how to do when we’re born: Sucking on a nipple. Knowing this answered the question of “what do I get out of doing it” rather nicely although it made me feel “kinda bad” to fully understand that my purpose wasn’t totally about giving the other person a whole lot of pleasure and more so when, duh, even if they made giving them head a “nightmare,” it sure as fuck felt good to give it.

Those articles from way back then meant well but they didn’t tell the whole story and didn’t answer the question of what you get out of it other than making the other person happy… or, at the least, trying to. The what of it is “easy” but the why of it – and, again, other than making the other guy very happy – went by the wayside and, I think, the articles were more for those who were already cocksuckers but not all that good at it or wanted to be better. Both articles had “romantic overtones” to them; it wasn’t just a labor of love but something to be done magnificently because of love and I had thought that, okay, that makes sense unless you weren’t in love with the guy or didn’t care for him like that… but you wanted to get at that dick just the same. The one written by the gay man was “syrupy sweet” in its more romantic overtones but, again and again, didn’t seem to address the “mindset” required to suck the cock of a guy that, if nothing else, you just merely liked or was sexually attracted to.

If those articles were to be written today – and if I were… motivated to write one – it would be very different. It’s why that, when I write about this stuff, I rarely – if ever – write about how to suck a dick because one pretty much has to find out how they can best do this. I would tell newbies to this and when they asked how to suck my dick, “Do it like you’d want it done to you…” and, of course, provided they’d ever been sucked before but most guys had so that wasn’t much of an issue. And it worked. Some refinement needed but the thing that the articles didn’t say much about was, “Don’t think about it – feel it.” Technique and all that is what it is but if you’re thinking about that, you’re not feeling it. The articles sought to “teach” people how to be good at it and depending on what “being good at it” meant to the reader and in rather general terms but if I hadn’t learned anything about giving head, it was that you had to want to be good at it, that you had to have that strong desire to do it; otherwise, all the technique in the world wasn’t going to make doing it good for you… and the only thing you’d get out of it is a mouthful of warm, salty, spunk.

You can feel good about having made him feel good; there’s this sense of accomplishment that can be felt but if sucking a guy’s dick doesn’t make you feel really good, then you’re just going through the motions and if you’d even want to be bothered doing that. The articles told a reader how to make the other guy feel good… but not how to make themselves feel good about doing it. I would guess that at the time they were written, perhaps this wasn’t that big of a concern or the scope of the writings weren’t intended to get this deep into the matter… and I thought that was a “mistake” back then and it’s still a mistake today if there are folks out there writing about how to suck a dick and it’s all about making the guy you’re sucking happy.

Because if you’re not going to be happy and, dare I say, thrilled to do it, maybe you’ll make him happy and maybe you won’t and I’ll say dependent upon whether or not he’s able to be observant enough to pick up on the fact that you’re not having fun trying to get him to cum. Just going through the motions while employing whatever techniques you’ve learned along the way and then sitting back after all that work, looking at him grinning like an idiot or some other post-ejaculatory expression and wondering why you even did it to begin with. Many years later, I was talking to a guy about sucking dick and what it took to be able to do it; his side of the conversation was about technique and I allowed that technique does play into being able to do this… but if you don’t have the passion and desire to do it, you don’t have much of anything and you’re probably not going to get a whole lot out of it other than, well, you know. That same guy appeared to be miffed with me when I said that when I suck dick or eat pussy, I’m not doing it for the other person’s satisfaction alone… and he had the temerity to call me selfish and even implied that I was giving head for the wrong reason. He didn’t seem to be able to understand when I said that when it came to someone going down on me, I appreciate enthusiasm more than technique because technique can be taught… but enthusiasm can’t. The desire to give head cannot be taught; you have to feel it. and not all that dissimilar to the hunger I feel when I’m about to go down on someone. Yeah, I’m seriously orally fixated and I understand that… now. But in the early goings? Just the thought of going down on someone would induce feelings in me that until I did it, would make me want to jump out of my skin… and I’m still very much like that.

And that’s the thing those 1990-era writings didn’t say much about. Not sure if anything written today even gets into this most important aspect of giving head, be it sucking dick or eating pussy or both if that doesn’t matter to you as long as you can do it. It’s technique-driven but without having that passion and desire to drive the technique, if you give head and feel like you’re not getting anything out of doing it, well, perhaps you have something to think about, huh? And if, once upon a time, you had this passion and desire but, today, ain’t feeling it all that much, ask yourself why you don’t – and then ask yourself what it is you have to do to recapture this, not for them but for yourself.

In all of the times I’ve been asked what I get out of giving someone head, I have the hardest time trying to explain it because it’s not easy to put words to those very specific and rather intangible feelings. It always boils down to me saying, “It makes me feel seriously good to be able to do it. I love doing it. I could do one or both every day, several times a day (and I have on a lot of occasions but that’s not really the point).” It’s a… hunger. No matter how “messed up” the other person might make doing it, the hunger, desire, and passion for giving head just remains. The question I have always asked myself after the fact – and no matter how the, ah, outcome was – is, “Did I have fun doing it to them?”

And the answer is always, “Yes… I had fun even if they didn’t think they did.” Oh, sure – I want it to be very good for them but I’ve come to understand that if that’s my only focus, I’m missing out on something that’s at the root of why I love to suck cock and eat pussy:

It makes me feel wonderful beyond belief. Being able to feed that constantly present hunger that lives inside of me and a hunger than feels like it can never be sated. The thing that those well-written and very technical articles didn’t say a damned thing about. Technique alone doesn’t make you good at it; it doesn’t hurt to be technically good at it nor does it hurt to feel that sense of pride that you are technically good at it… but if technique isn’t driven by desire and passion, what are you really getting out of it? Why won’t I write and publish an article about this? Because I know that this isn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. Again, technique can be taught… but desire and passion can’t be taught; you have to feel it and I don’t know how to tell or teach someone how to feel it. I don’t know how to tell or teach someone to forget all the times they’ve given head and it didn’t end well other than to say don’t go there; living in the past like that will most definitely rob you of any joy you had or even want in the here and now. If you say to yourself, “I like/love giving head, but…” well, hmm, what are the exceptions and how much would you care to wager that if you have some exceptions that’ll follow the “but,” it’s probably because of something someone else did to steal your joy, to put out that fire that may have once been inside of you and now giving head is… a chore. Just going through the motions. Maybe even bullshitting yourself into believing that caring/loving/whatever the other person is a main thing to be considered. And the thought that if you’re doing for their pleasure alone, you might be doing it for all the wrong reasons since, um, you can’t give pleasure if you’re not getting any pleasure from the doing.

Those articles were both right and, eh, not so much because of what neither of them spoke to. Passion for it. The desire to do it. That intangible thing that you get out of doing it that has nothing to do with making the other person happy and as a reason to do it. Because if you’re not hyped to do it and you don’t get all edgy and itchy when you can’t do it, you’re probably not getting much of anything out of it… and now they’re happy… and you ain’t so much.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: And the One You Don’t

There’s something… gritty about the devil you don’t know or don’t know a whole lot about. Gritty. Kinda scary in some way. Being hit on and being in the position to either accept the proposal or reject it. Your imagination starts going off the rails and conjuring up all kinds of shit – both good and bad. Or one of those situations where you make eye contact with someone and you just know that they’re either gonna head your way or, if they’re already right there, the conversation is about to take an interesting turn and one that you may or may not really be interested in.

Or, sometimes, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is staring at you and you almost automatically start looking and, oh, shit, there he is! Sometimes they look away quickly but in the brief moment your eyes made contact, you just know why he was staring at you and now – and depending on some stuff – you’re either hoping he stays where he is… or hoping that he comes on over to introduce himself. Of course, I’m all too aware of what goes on in my head in these moments and I could spend three or four days trying to write it down but I can boil it down to a couple of things: Don’t bother me or, hmm, let’s hear what he’s gonna say about what he most likely wants do.

Get me somewhere, get me naked, and have his way with me or he very much wants me to have my way with him. Okay, either way, I can do that – not like I’ve never done it before but the “problem” is that I don’t know anything about him; I can see him which means I can try to read his body language and especially if he’s trying to hide it… but it’s only going to tell me so much but if they’re not standing “right next” to me, it’s sometimes funny to watch them trying to stay put when they know that they want to come on over and introduce themselves or the exact moment when they’ve decided to make their move and now, again, I’m like, “Fuck… here he comes…” or, “Yay! He’s coming over! Let’s hear what he has to say!”

I’d learned to switch over to “learning mode” because, um, sometimes, the devil you don’t know can be a lot of fun to be with but it’s prudent to absorb all the information you can about them and with the understanding that, well, he’s a guy with sex on his mind and he may or may not be, ah, honestly forthcoming about who he is but you can be sure of what he wants to do – and now it’s a matter of the details. Guys use pickup lines on other guys and I’ve heard a lot of them; some of them are actually pretty good and some are just… corny but, uh-huh, sometimes it’s deliberate. I’ve had the devil I didn’t know roll up to me and get right to the point: “I want to have sex with you!” and, wow, that’s both rather bold and right to the point… and that’s not necessarily a bad thing given how some guys hem and haw and tap dance all around them wanting to do something that I know they want to and now I’m like, “Hurry up and get to the point already so I can say yes or no!”

In that situation, the first thing out of my mouth is, “Do you now? I’m flattered… but I don’t know you so who are you?” Or, if I don’t feel like being bothered, a polite, “Thanks but no, thanks…” is the response and sometimes that’s the response when I do feel like being bothered… but my instincts are 100% sure that this is a devil I don’t want to know anything about and sometimes I know this before he even sidles up to me so he can work his way up to the indecent proposal.

As I wrote yesterday, the devil I don’t know doesn’t scare me because I’ve learned to trust my instincts and, um, yeah, kinda/sorta the hard way; there’s nothing worse than meeting the devil I didn’t know, have sex with him, and my instincts are kicking my ass for ignoring them and usually because the guy didn’t make the sex as good as promised or he said or did something that completely turned me off or something else along those lines. Bad enough to have someone else tell you, “I told you so!” and that “someone else” is that little voice in your head.

Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time. You have enough of those moments and you learn some shit and beginning with you can be “prey” just like anyone else can be and now it’s all about finding out what kind of “hunter” he is. I don’t fear the devil I don’t know because I only have three sub-preferences: Be of legal age (and I will ask for proof if I think you aren’t), be healthy enough for sex – and I know what to look for – and don’t be my idea of an asshole… and that will be determined the moment the devil I don’t know starts talking.

Do you remember me telling you that one of the things bisexual men wind up learning is what we put women through when we’re trying to get into their panties? Contrary to “popular belief,” we really don’t just roll up on each other and get right into jumping each other’s bones; nope, you gotta be convincing and in a way that tells us that doing some bone jumping with you isn’t going to be a huge mistake for either of us. Okay… part of the very bad rep guys have is that we’ll say anything to get you out of your clothes… and we most certain do that with each other. And, just like women, if you get “bullshitted” enough, you get to know when what he’s saying is a load of shit or not and one red flag issue with the devil you don’t know is him not really wanting to be bothered to say much about himself or find out about you other than, of course, can we go somewhere and do this thing he’s proposing.

Believe it or not, the devil you don’t know is… a known entity. You know they’re out there and they can literally be anyone and, as such, you’re bound to attract someone’s attention and whether you want it or not – just the way such things go and now it’s all about how you’re going to deal with this particular devil. Having said that, I think the more… “scarier” devil is the one you thought you knew and finding out that you really didn’t. I think that a lot of us have a “plan” for the devils we don’t know but that plan doesn’t quite work when the devil we do know turns out to be the devil you didn’t think they were.

That… bothers me more than the devil I don’t know shit about, because, um, yeah, I know them… but I didn’t know this. Didn’t have a clue or there was no indication of being a devil I really didn’t know. It’s… bothersome because, like most people, it’s unsettling to find out that someone you thought you knew quite well is now someone that, well, you didn’t know this about them and especially when you’ve gotten so comfortable with them that you would never expect them to ask you to have sex with them since, you know, friends don’t screw each other. Now, when I say that it bothers me, it doesn’t really upset me or anything like that but, um, I kinda don’t like surprises and, again, like a lot of people, I don’t like having what I thought I knew turn into something I sure as shit didn’t know or even think about.

The devil you don’t know, well, if you run into them, you pretty much know what they have on their mind and now it’s a matter of whether or not you’re gonna feel like buying or renting what they’re gonna try to sell you. The devil you know and the one you didn’t know this about is more of a “problem” since, again, friends don’t screw each other but now the devil you thought you knew is putting it on the table and, worst, I think, the existing mood in that moment is, ah, highly suggesting that getting naked and getting busy is the thing that should happen… and while that sounds like a good idea, it also sounds like the worst idea you’ve ever had because the other thing you don’t know is what’s gonna happen if you do… and what’s gonna happen if you say no.

Kinda makes dealing with the devil you don’t know shit about “easier” to deal with. Telling them no is, at best, a missed opportunity but with the devil you thought you knew, there can be other things “at risk” and in the form of your continued friendship with them at the very least. Okay – I’ve talked about the bro-job quite a bit and, um, that can manifest itself if your “bro” happens to be female, too. I’ve looked at this as one of those damned if you do and damned if you don’t kind of situations. You know them to some degree. You trust them and also to some degree. The person who, if they asked you to do them a favor, your first thought wouldn’t be that you’d not do the favor they’re about to ask you… then you hear what that favor is and, oh, shit. You know them… but you didn’t know this; you didn’t see it coming and for good reason because, at some point, you both agreed that you like each other… but you didn’t like each other that much and I think you know what I mean by that.

The devil you find out that you didn’t really know can be scarier than the one you don’t know shit about or even wanted to. Now there’s a lot at stake here and, again, your friendship with them. With a guy, even if you knew he was bi, the “friends don’t screw friends” rule is, by “default,” in effect and it’s just a given that he’s not gonna hit on you and, yeah, I’ve seen and heard of this happening with women. You want to say no to their proposition but you don’t know how that rejection is going to affect them and it might not be a good thing and could add a very sour note to the friendship. There is, of course, the thing that almost everyone says about this: You agree to their very surprising proposition, get it on with them, and now the relationship gets ruined and in that, “We shouldn’t have done this” kind of way but, of course, you can’t undo it.

Shit. Give me the devil I don’t know shit about any day; at least I know what’s going to happen or, most likely, what’s not going to happen. You’d think that I would have learned that the devil I thought I knew could turn into the devil I didn’t know this about and that it really doesn’t take a whole lot for that to happen because I’ve met that devil I thought I knew quite a few times and, most of the time, I got blindsided to find out that I didn’t know this about them and, of course, the “this” is them wanting to have sex with me. Yeah, it’s, um, kinda nice to let your imagination have fun wondering what it would be like to have sex with them but, nah, that’ll never happen; indeed, some really weird shit would have to line up just right and some much weird shit that it makes such a “fantasy” nothing more than that because you know they don’t like you that much or like that… then you find out that they do.

And then they hit you “low” and give you the, “If you’re really my friend, you’ll say yes… because I need you to say yes” thing. Or hit you even “lower” and say that, “I thought we were friends and that there isn’t too many things we wouldn’t do for each other” thing that I know makes me feel pretty shitty because now my honor is at risk. Shit. Where’s the devil I don’t know shit about hiding? Dealing with them is way easier than dealing with this devil I thought I knew and now I know that I didn’t.

I might be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I’ve seen myself doing some serious backpedaling in this situation from my “usual” thought of being willing and able to have sex with anyone who wants to… but this is different. This is the devil I know and the devil who, up to this moment, was smack dab in the middle of the friend zone and that rule is applicable even though I know that it’s… a bit of bullshit because friends do screw each other and more so when I’ve screwed quite a few of my friend because I wanted to or, yeah, I didn’t have a clue that they’d want to have sex with me – ever. For no reason whatsoever and I “knew for a fact” that they wouldn’t even in that “to save their life” thing… and realizing that in some way, the devil you thought you knew is now the devil you didn’t know this about because you just might be “saving their life” and in the sense that if you can’t ask a friend to take you to bed, who can you ask? The devil you don’t know shit about and probably don’t want to know anything about?

I don’t know about y’all… but I’m more “afraid” of the devil I think I know because there’s always that chance that there’s going to be, ah, that something I didn’t know about them. That “If we weren’t friends I’d have sex with you!” thing that has that… unspoken question of “What does our being friends have to do with this? If you want to, why not? Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, right?”

Yeah, not always. You know what the devil you don’t know is about… but you didn’t know this about the devil you thought you knew. I’ve heard guys ask, “What would you do it so-and-so – and usually another guy who’s a friend – hit on you for sex?” I’ve heard guys state emphatically that such a thing would never come up with that guy and even if it did, it ain’t gonna happen. I’d learned that my answer to that question is, “Well, that depends on why they’d ask and if we’re that close as friends…” which is, on the surface, a good and sensible answer since if you’re close friends with someone, is there really a whole lot of things you wouldn’t do for them if they asked you to? Sure there is! But this? To have that close friend and the one you thought you knew ask you to give him some dick… and you didn’t even know that he was like that and even if you did, you knew – because of the rule – that you’d be the last person on the planet that he’d hit on because of the great risk of totally destroying the friendship?

Way scarier than the devil you don’t know jack shit about other than what their intentions are. You can tell that devil no and risk nothing other than them being pissed at being rejected. But with the devil you thought you knew and found out that you really didn’t? Shit. Shit, shit, shit. All that stuff about consenting adults and all that gets a bit shattered and, of course, your honor as their friend is being called into question. Shit. Because you don’t know – and didn’t know – what’s been going on inside their head or there’s something going on in their life that they’ve now suggested “the impossible” because you are their friend and “duty and honor bound” to help them in their times of need and if you’re able to.

Having sex, well, you know how to do that but this is the devil you know and you just found out something that you didn’t know about them and now things have gotten… complicated. Potentially messy and not necessarily in a good way. Or maybe it would be – that depends on what they’re going to say toward why they’re asking you to break that rule and it had better be a “life or death” kind of thing… then the more, um, complicated thing when they say, “We’re friends so why not?” Um, did you not get the email about friends not screwing each other? I know you did because I got the same email and, for the moment, let’s just forget about the fact that I’ve broken this rule… a lot… because my friend needed me to and, yeah – what are friends for? If you can’t do it with a friend and someone you both know and trust, who can you do it with and more so when the devil you don’t know jack shit about could be out there looking to “prey” upon you and especially them not giving a shit about you other than just another conquest?

Makes the devil I don’t know shit about look rather attractive in that I know what they want and while that can come with some risks, it’s not as bad as dealing with the consequences of your actions or inactions with the devil you thought you knew… but you didn’t know this about them. Or maybe you did and never expected them to take the friendship to a whole different level. You can ruin the friendship by saying no or you could deepen the bond between you if you say yes and, yeah, if this is a same-sex situation, shit. You just missed it. You know what they’ve said about such things and not in a favorable kind of way and you’ve heard this enough times that you’re not worried about them wanting to get with you and on top of friends don’t have sex with each other.

Then the devil you know turns into the devil you didn’t know this about… and that’s scarier than the devil you don’t know jack shit about. I’ve broken that rule. With mixed results and, knock on wood, not always in that ruined friendship kind of way but, yeah, it’s taken a bit of a hit because they, more than myself, have had regrets about it in some way; for some, it doesn’t feel good to break that particular friend rule even when (1) it sounded like a good idea at the time and (2) the thing that says that if you can’t do this with a friend and someone you know and trust, who can you do it with and without having to worry about some kind of “harm” happening?

It is… awkward. Kinda exciting and kinda scary. Feeling… honored that they hit you with this thing you didn’t know about them and bothered by it because you could be damned if you do and damned if you don’t… and an innate understanding that they’re thinking the same thing. They have… a need and in their mind, it really is better the devil you know than the one you don’t although the one you don’t might be a better option because you don’t really stand to lose anything or gain anything other than having an itch scratched.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I’ve heard myself say, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship…” and knowing that it might… or it might not. We could be closer friends or the level of regret and “guilt” could be such that we’re now lesser friends or, yeah, any feelings we had for each other has crossed over into that “way more than just friends” area that may or may not be a good… or a bad thing. Shit. Give me the devil I don’t know a damned thing about because they’re less scary than the devil I thought I knew… and found out I really didn’t.

Okay, if you really want to do this, there’s some shit that goes with it and beginning with it’s really not a mistake or a bad thing if we do this. We’re all adults here. Capable of not only making such decisions and understanding – and being able and prepared – the consequences of our actions or the lack thereof. If we do this, I won’t think any less of you and I’m not going to regret it as long as you don’t; if you think you might regret it, nothing’s gonna happen and “we didn’t have this conversation.” I don’t know what’s going to happen but this is going to severely test our friendship and in ways that could be good… or not so much. I’m your friend. I’ve told you that there’s nothing you can’t ask me and not too many things that I won’t do; if I can do it, I’ll do it… and this is included and whatever happens if we do this, happens and I’m prepared to deal with the consequences of my saying yes or no… and you’d better be, too.

Shit. The devil you don’t know is easier to deal with. Less scary in a lot of ways. You don’t know if you can trust this devil and you probably shouldn’t until, by chance and if possible at all, they become the devil you do know something about and can only trust them so much since you already know what their intentions are. And when you’re bisexual, these devils can literally be anyone. It can put the saying into question whether it is better the devil you know than the one you don’t since the devil you know could be the devil you didn’t know this about and that kinda puts them into the devil you don’t area.

And you really don’t know what to do because that rule is what it is and many take it as the gospel truth or, um, shit, they did until this moment because, sure – what are friends for and if you can’t trust a friend, who can you trust since the devil you don’t know is said to be a very bad choice and extremely risky.

What would you do?

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: If You’re Gonna Do It, Finish It

Cityman and I had the most interesting conversation yesterday regarding anal sex; if this topic gives you the creeps, you can stop reading now.

So… he sent me a clip of a guy being screwed and my first thoughts were, “Okay, I don’t see what got his attention about this…” but I kinda patiently waited to see how this was going to turn out. The guy doing the fucking pulls out the expected long-assed dick and shot a couple of rather impressive gouts of spunk all over the other guy’s back. I had rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, and responded, “Wow… but what a waste; he should’ve put all of that in the other guy.”

The clip was in the amateur porn category and, as such, the time-honored money shot is a must – I get it even if, like much of porn, it doesn’t reflect real-life stuff all that much. And since I mentioned this to Cityman – and it’s not like he didn’t know this already since we’ve had this conversation a few times – we got into a differently worded discussion about finishing the job, to use this term. When he mentioned that, for real, there are probably reasons why the guy doing the fucking pulls out and hoses everything down, I wanted to know what those reasons were since, in my mind and experiences, there were no reasons for it that I was aware of.

He mention the risk of disease (not unexpected) and I said that all that went out the window the moment homey went in there raw… so what other reasons could there be? Cityman mentioned… um, the mess to be cleaned up and I said, “Of course it’s messy – duh!” At this point, I was sure that he really couldn’t point to a reason but I provided him one or two and beginning with the porn money shot and how some guys are… fascinated with watching themselves cum all over the place… but then often find themselves having to deal with an unhappy bottom because from this guy’s perspective, the job didn’t get finished as he expected it to be.

There is an… expectation that may not make a lot of sense to some folks but guys who like to be screwed expect you to leave the dick in there when you cum – and even if you do it in a condom – because to snatch it out in that moment is… pretty fucked up. Makes one feel incomplete and, as a few guys have related to me over the years, doing that can make one feel like they went through all of that… for nothing. Homey busted his nut and like he wanted to and by pulling out, deprived them of that… good feeling of being inseminated and, yeah, even if things get messy after the fact.

I really don’t pretend to fully understand why this is so important but it is. I allowed that as a form of birth control, yeah – pulling out of a woman who doesn’t want to get pregnant and/or not a fan of condoms or even allergic makes sense but even some women who employ this method have told me that it doesn’t feel the same; doesn’t mean the sex leading up to his release wasn’t good but it was… incomplete. The “job” wasn’t finished. It’s a sentiment I can identify with and ya might be… surprised that men can feel this way when we get screwed.

I kinda went off the rails at this point and short version is that if I deem that I want you to screw me – and it’s safe – okay, stick it in and get to fucking and, oh, yeah, don’t even think about pulling it out and shooting all over me because there will be… trouble and as the only two guys who did that to me found out. I was not amused nor was I all that understanding about them wanting to see their nut shooting out and even less amused when I said that because they did that, I left incomplete; unfinished; went through all of that pounding and stretching and didn’t get what I wanted out of the deal and, yeah, the motherfuckers just didn’t do and finish the job.

Cityman got “quiet” at this point and the only thing he said was that he found being screwed and inseminated to be very pleasing and strangely so. And I agreed; it is strangely pleasing and, eh, not so much if the insemination doesn’t happen. I even mentioned how some women get to feeling some kind of way when you don’t cum in them (or not at all) and many a guy has been baffled about this… unpleasantness coming from her and I figured out that it’s because homey either didn’t do the job or finish it and like he was supposed to, you know, once it’d been established that pregnancy wasn’t an issue or a concern or if the two of them were agreeable about having kids.

I’d mentioned that in my experiences, I have never fucked a guy and he’s told me not to cum in him and it’s implied that it’s exactly what I’m going to do since, um, what other reason would I have to go there other than to inseminate him to make myself – and him – a happy camper? As I continued my mini-rant, I allowed to myself that, indeed, things are different these days; some guys actually want to be ridden hard and have the, um, mess on them rather than in them and if they can see the guy losing his load, so much the better… and there’s… something about watching semen issuing forth that’s just fascinating to us – and I have no idea why. Part of my “rant” was that if you wanted to watch yourself bust a nut, you could’ve jerked off and spared me the discomfort and all that. Hell, if you wanted to see it “that bad,” I could have jerked you off so we both could see it.

Okay, yeah – very old school guy here and I do have the expectation that if you’re gonna stick it in me, you sure as hell better cum in me because I won’t be satisfied with anything that happened before this… even if I don’t really know why I’d be so dissatisfied and, again, I don’t pretend to understand what’s really going on with this except it’s something very… primal. “Nasty” in a good way. It’s not all that different from sucking a guy off; you want him to cum in your mouth (and provided you’ve acquired the taste) because to have him snatch the dick away and cum anywhere else feels… incomplete; like you did all of that work for nothing and whatever enjoyment you had having him in your mouth just went by the wayside.

Dude says, “I wanna cum on your face!” and my response will be, “Do it… and find out what’s gonna happen and I guarantee that you’re not going to like it.” Yeah… homey just does not play that shit anymore than I’m okay with getting boned and not being inseminated; if you’re not gonna do that, it would be best for both of us not to go there because, to be honest, I’m not in the mood to be pissed off about having sex. In negotiations with guys, every time they’ve expressed that they wanna “fuck the shit out of me then pull out and cum,” I have let them know that the deal has now been broken and that’s not negotiable. And the fucked up part is that I know why… and I don’t know. Now, I’ve had guys lose it before they could get it in – and I learned to be understanding about that and because it’s happened to me, too; it happens and there’s no need to get bent out of shape about it since it’s one of those “beyond your ability to really control” kind of things.

But, yeah – if you get it in, finish it. Cum in me because it strangely feels incredibly good to feel that dick pumping away and that “nasty, bitchy” feeling of being inseminated… like I’d do with a woman. It just doesn’t feel… right without it. Nowadays, guys get all into throwing the disease card around and that’s understandable and even their fears are understandable. Feeling a guy cutting loose inside a condom is… different. He finished inside you but not really. It’s “funny” that even though the risks of anal sex are always present and using a condom makes all the sense in the world (other than not going there at all), guys will go up in there raw because it… it doesn’t feel the same. Kinda satisfying but not really. Less messy and definitely safer but in the times I’ve been screwed with a condom it didn’t feel the same and I’ll be damned if I can explain it – and admit that, once again, I’m doing a poor job trying to.

During my “rant,” Cityman remained quiet and I didn’t find that unusual at all; not our first time talking about this particular thing. I remember him asking me why a guy he pulled out of got salty with him because he pulled out, I’d told him that he got pissy because you didn’t do what you were expected and supposed to do and, really, if the guy didn’t want him to cum inside him, he would have said so and maybe even decline to be screwed. And then I poorly tried to explain why getting splooged matters so much… and failed.

I wrote about this a little while ago and had mentioned me asking him, “Have you ever watched how a woman reacts when you cum in her?” and he allowed that he hadn’t – and that’s “okay” because most guys aren’t, um, paying attention to such things in that moment… but I had noticed it. They get… this look on their face and their body responds a certain way in that moment. Now, whether they have complaints or compliments after the fact is totally different but I’d seen this… look and as opposed to not seeing it when I had to pull out. Hmm. It took… a while before I’d get around to associating that look with how I’d feel when a guy was unloading in me and, holy shit: How much did I want to bet that I was reacting the same way? I really had to think about being just in that moment and, um, damn, yeah I probably did have that look on my face and I most certainly could recall how I felt in that moment.

Complete. Now, how I felt about it all afterwards was, again, different but in that moment? Homey did what he was supposed to do and, indeed, what I expected him to do: Finish me by finishing the job and making things… messy because it doesn’t feel all that good for that not to happen. I thought it was just me but a lot of guys have said similar things and there’s a connection or something going on that, well, I just suck at trying to explain.

For many of us guys who like to be screwed, if you’re gonna do it, finish it because you can probably bet anything you want that if you don’t, you will not be invited back for more of the same. Some guys say that it’s safer to pull out… and I call bullshit on that one because I know that it isn’t; the moment you came in contact, you assumed the risks and, really, you mean to tell me that you really believe that you spent all that time in homey’s butt and thought it would be safer not to cum in him… and considering where your dick was? What gets funnier is that guys don’t seem to have that same thought process when having anal sex with women who are into it and, yeah, if you stick it in them, you’d better finish it unless you’re instructed not to or it’ll suck to be you. Then again, having anal sex with a woman is often seen as being different than having it with a guy… and, nope, I have no idea why and few guys can explain it other than to keep saying that it’s different.

I get to rolling my eyes hearing guys going on and on about being bred and having their “pussy” fucked and creamed and if that’s the way they see it and how the reconcile it in their minds, okay – whatever works, my man – but the “key” point in this somewhat cockeyed way of looking at anal sex is being screwed and inseminated… because anything less than that is unacceptable. Ya had one job to do… and you didn’t do it, fella. All that interaction with our prostate is all well and good… but doesn’t serve as a “replacement” for being inseminated. Ya didn’t finish it, you selfish bastard and because you didn’t, you’ve left me feeling… incomplete. Personally pissed the fuck off. You were thinking more about what you wanted to do than you were about what the fuck you were supposed to do and it ain’t like you don’t or didn’t know what the fuck you were supposed to do. You just made everything that happened before… less than satisfying. And I’ll still be damned if I know why it feels that way…

I just know it does. Getting internally hosed down, I think, tells us how much you enjoyed being inside of us and the thought is that if you don’t do that, um, did you really enjoy us all that much? And by “us,” I mean both men and women. Sure… we might complain about the mess to be cleaned up but if we’re messy, it “says” that we both had a good time at it barring any other critiques like doing it too soon or taking too long and other such after action reports. Still, you came in us and that’s exactly what you were supposed and expected to do because until you do, things are… unfinished. Incomplete.

I can’t explain it…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Going All-in

Sixty-six years and one day later, I’m looking through the forum for new items and new comments to topic of interest and on one such topic, I see a member saying that for his first time, he just went all in and did it all… and I smiled to myself as my brain flashed back to the good old days and how us horny motherfuckers did everything except kiss each other although I won’t say that some of the guys didn’t give it a try but I was an adult before I actually kissed a guy (it was yucky because homey couldn’t kiss worth a damn).

In a time where guys are more likely to pick and choose the things they want to experience with a guy (one from column A, one from column B), the unspoken rule between us was that if you were gonna do it with any or all of us, everything got done and if you had objections, well, you might get kicked out of the club or subject to a peer review. As things got heated up, eh, okay, you might not get kicked out if there was something you didn’t like doing – but we’d talk about your chicken ass like a dog – and on things went. In a time where one of the choices a guy “has to” make between being a top or a bottom, all of us – except that one gay kid among us – were versatile and it was just “proper etiquette” that if you sucked a guy’s dick, he’d suck yours and if he fucked you, he’d be fucked as well.

Yeah, I kinda recall some initial… resistance to this “equal opportunity” thing but while no one was ever coerced into doing anything, peer pressure – which should never be underestimated – went a long way to making that resistance going away; no one wanted to be labeled as being a chicken or scardy-cat or wind up being outside of our horny-assed group. True enough, some guys weren’t having any of it and, yeah, we talked about them like dogs (and you thought girls were vicious gossipers?) and kept it going.

Even when we got “invaded” by some of the teens in the ‘hood, you both were either going to do it all or not at all; their bigger cocks were, I felt, a delightful challenge to suck and take in the ass but, sure, if ya wanted to do it, let’s go somewhere and do it! While some guys weren’t particularly thrilled to wind up with a mouthful of cum, they’d hang in there just the same and, probably, more so when they’d get to give the other guy a mouthful; likewise, whew, getting it stuck in was getting easier for the majority of us but as dicks got bigger, yeah, ouch, but that’s okay because it’d stop hurting pretty quickly. Some guys weren’t particularly of a mind to be screwed but just like getting that mouthful, they knew they’d get an opportunity to, ah, return that particular favor but, for the most part, everyone looked forward to being able to have sex with someone and, I’d have to guess that any initial “trepidation” would tend to go by the wayside.

While the number and composition of our group would begin to change as we got older and with some guys either giving it up or moving away, if you were gonna do it with a guy, everything that could be done would be done… except that kissing thing. I wouldn’t say that we exactly cuddled in that sense given that a lot of “sessions” would sometimes start out as “wrassling,” which was pretty much guaranteed to get one’s blood flowing and getting heated up and that thrill of feeling each other’s hard dicks. I’d have to say at this point that the fellas didn’t like wrassling with me because I was well into learning judo so them trying to pin me down would often frustrate them since I knew how to escape and since they’d complain about it, well, okay – I’ll play along and more so when I knew what other wrassling we’d be doing.

As memory serves, about the time we were a couple of years into being teens, things began to change; some guys weren’t as all in as they were before and running into new guys in our travels would often result in some good sex but, eh, not so much in that “equal” way many of us had adopted from the start. Now, in a nod to things cultural, white guys were, to me, a lot of fun because they were usually all in while my Black peers weren’t so much; the few Hispanic guys were kinda/sorta all in but, on the whole, it wasn’t something I paid a lot of attention to since the end result would be we’d both get laid in some way and, at the least, we’d suck each other off a couple of times. Those white guys, though; man, many of the ones I met would make me and the guys I grew up with look like we didn’t know anything about doing it to guys! Way more eager for the most part and pretty “brazen” about it, too, and given the many times I’d meet a white guy for the first time, we’d exchange names, and the next thing out of his mouth would be, “Have you ever done it with a boy?” and the question was asked because he sure as hell wanted to do it and some would even say, “Um, ah, I wanna do it to you so you can do it to me, okay?”

Okay! Still, even with those horny fuckers, going all in was becoming a thing of the past because, I think, guys were settling into just doing their favorite things to do and totally avoiding those things they didn’t like so much. I’d be… disappointed at times with guys who refused to suck or fuck – and read this as returning favors – but, okay, not having my dick sucked was something else to get used to since a lot of girls weren’t of a mind to do it, either; or happily screwing a guy and being hyped in anticipation of being screwed… and he’d say that he didn’t like doing that and other such disconnects that really took a lot of the fun out of doing it with a guy.

It was becoming rare to run into a guy whose idea of doing it was going all in, well, um, hmm, except some of the new guys I’d wind up being the first guy they had sex with. Most wanted to find out about cock sucking; some wanted to find out about fucking as that first thing but some guys were either totally gung ho to do it all as their first time or since they weren’t sure what thing they might like the most, let’s do all of it and see how things go. But by and large, guys were starting to… specialize. The dynamic was turning into a top/bottom thing even though those terms were unknown at the time and few guys were of the versatile way of things and, oddly in my experiences, especially gay guys; using today’s terms, most of the gay guys I had sex with were bottoms, a scant few of them were versatile (like myself) and I rarely came across a guy who’d just want to top me and I’d better not expect any reciprocation. Which, um, sometimes, that was okay but for the most part, eh, not all that much; I’d find myself walking away from such encounters thinking, “At least I got laid…” and calling it a day.

Not all encounters started out in that “one way” way that was becoming more prevalent… but with some guys, it’d become that way; some guy who’d did it to me but didn’t want it done to him would, the next time we’d happen to meet, would be all for getting my dick stuffed in their butt. If they weren’t of a mind to suck my dick the first time, they were now of a mindset that said, “I don’t do this with every guy I meet… but I wanna do this with you, okay?” and, um, since I very much loved getting my dick sucked, I wasn’t of a mind to object a whole lot – and even if the guy couldn’t bring himself to finish me off because a lot of girls weren’t having any of that as well.

I was discovering that some guys thought I was “weird” for being versatile and maybe because in their experience, they weren’t running into guys like me all that often and that included gay guys who, admittedly, were hard for me to figure out. My gay roommate in the service was a bottom; the guy I fell in love with was also a bottom and while it shouldn’t have been a problem, well, it was; it wasn’t that I was naïve about these things but I knew what I liked and wanted and why should they have all of the fun? Meeting men who’d initially lay out what they like and didn’t like and, okay, we can do something but then, when we’re all naked and shit, they’d want to do the things they said they didn’t like doing and a “persistent” behavior I had to get used to like those guys who’d make it very clear that they’d suck my dick but I’d better not cum in their mouth and when I’d warn them, they’d just nod or say, “Mmm-mmm” and keep going until I came.

Same with the guys who were adamant that no dick was going in their ass… then hearing guys blurt out, “Fuck me!” or after giving me the high hard one saying, “Okay, your turn to do me…” or, like one guy said, “What are you waiting for, an invitation?” before assuming the position (on his knees) and giving me shit about dawdling when the truth was I’d be in shock for a moment.

I was learning a lot of stuff about being in the heat of the moment being with guys who, for the most part, weren’t like me so much, well, as a “default.” That top/bottom way of things had now become a… thing, for lack of a better word. Being a top meant that you got your dick sucked but you weren’t sucking any dick; you’d fuck the other guy but the only thing happening with his ass was you’d get to see it and nothing more than that. Being a bottom harkened back to the early days were guys got a kick out of taking their turn “being the girl…” except bottoms were “the girl” all of the time and many just outright refused to be sucked and don’t even ask them to stick it in you unless, of course, you wanted a “cheap thrill” from the look they’d get on their face.

Versatile guys like myself had… vanished. Or were incredibly difficult to find/meet. From the advent of bulletin board chat rooms to the advent of websites and apps dedicated to the purpose of men “dating,” the first question usually asked was, “Are you a top or a bottom?” and, for me, that question was hard to answer because I was both… and because I was, that would, more often than not be a deal-breaker unless we could agree to limiting things to dicks getting sucked… but those guys “dedicated” to being either a top or a bottom, well, that made shit… interesting and difficult. Don’t get me wrong: There were a lot of times where I’d be happy to suck a guy’s dick and not be sucked in return since, um, oral sex was my most favorite thing to do with anyone; even if he offered to blow me, I was okay with saying, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to – it’s okay.” If they did, fine but if they didn’t, I was good… but I was very much wondering where the guys who were like me were, the ones who, in today’s terms, were very much into flip-flopping (and a term I actually don’t like for some reason but it is what it is).

I’d also learned a lot of stuff about instant gratification or, as I’d put it, “I want what I want and in the exact way I want it and without exception and I want it right the fuck now!” Guys were, from my point of view, going out of their way to make sure that they weren’t going to get any action at all; many would DQ me in a flat skinny second and for a lot of shit that didn’t make sense to me; imagine my surprise and discomfiture to have been talking to a guy online, we were about to make the deal and when he found out that I was Black, he didn’t ghost me… but he made it clear that there was no way we could do anything – then he ghosted me. What the fuck? Guys were making it clear that if I didn’t have 9 to 12 inches of dick, no deal and don’t get me started on the very aggressive guys who’d just ignore my likes and dislikes and be all about my dislikes… then dissing my manhood because I wasn’t having any of that shit, like the guy who demanded I drop what I was doing and come worship his feet before fucking me like the whore I was (or he wanted me to be).

Disqualifying guys now became very much a part of my online behavior and it helped that a lot of guys would DQ themselves right off the bat. Much of it was attitude and them being my idea of an asshole or I’d test them when they’d go on and on about what they were gonna do to me and I’d come back with, “Well, I won’t be the only one getting done like that…” and, yep, ghosted. Fine and more so when there were plenty of guys who’d be willing to make the deal for us to blow each other and if anything were to happen other than that, I just went with the flow of things but even I had noticed that the “majority” of the guys I made deals with were… bottoms. Some were of the variety of not wanting to be sucked and I’d just have to set aside my fondness for sucking dick… at first because we’d meet and they’d usually change their minds about being sucked and the thing that would fuck with me was whether or not they changed their mind because of the type of guy I was or they really had second thoughts about it.

Again, that heat of the moment thing would often happen and with any of this, eh, I just learned to go with the flow of things and not be all that disappointed when I’d hear myself blurt out, “I want you to fuck me!” and they didn’t or they’d change the terms of the deal by blurting that particular thing out or, if they weren’t of a mind to get sucked, well, now they were. I had to get used to that, “This isn’t something I do all of the time” thing that was also going around and, again, making me wonder where all the guys who were versatile “by default” were. It was… curious that the guys who were versatile were more of a mind to be bottoms and not tops so much or, to my dismay, would find something to cause any deal on the table to be broken, like the race thing or me not having that “preferred” monster-sized dick… or having body hair or my age or, well, just pick something – anything. One versatile guy broke the deal because I was taller than he was and, no, I sure as fuck ain’t making that up. Or the versatile guy who was two years older than I was telling me that I was too young for him. Wait, what? All manners of “nonsense” that was – and still is – part of the dynamic… and let’s not forget all the guys with fetishes and of the kind that are firmly on my list of shit I ain’t ever gonna do for or with anyone like the guy who wanted me to urinate on and inside him. Yeah, no – not even going there.

You just learn to play the hand you’re dealt and if not, just fold. And, as I guess fate would have it, the guys who’d be gung ho to go all in… live hundreds or thousands of miles away; getting on a plane for what amounts to a booty call is not all that practical even though such a meeting would be more than just that but, still. I went from an aspect of the dynamic where it was stupidly easy to get with a guy and one who’d be down for all that could happen and, yeah, sometimes, even kissing and cuddling, to a dynamic that is so… specific and often limiting that, to me, it’s no wonder a lot of guys aren’t getting the dick they want… because they tend to make it damned near impossible for them to do so. Their preferences, while respected, are more important that getting with a guy and seeing what the two of them can do with each other; when a guy tells me that we can’t do anything because I don’t weigh 225 pounds or more, yeah, there’s something not quite right about that, methinks. Methinks something ain’t quite right when a guy’s preferences include him wanting me to, literally, kick his ass and slap him around because if I don’t, he can’t cum and not doing it means the sex wasn’t good.

It was “bad enough” that I went through that part of the dynamic where guys wanted to get with me… just because I was Black and not so much because I am, in fact, a pretty decent kind of guy and one you wouldn’t mind being friends with at the least. But, alas, that aspect changed when all the size queens showed up and, again, I might be Black and as they prefer but since I don’t have wrap my dick around my waist a few times to keep from tripping over it, deal broken. Or, yeah, I’m Black and I’m to be avoided like, well, like COVID-19 and at all costs.

I’m not complaining, whining, or bitching about this – I’m just painting yet another picture of how things have changed over the decades and from my perspective. From eagerly wanting to be all in to, yeah, let’s not and say we did. Oh, and I did forget to mention all of the guys who are scared to death of having casual sex and no amount of convincing them that I am, in fact, safe doesn’t mean a whole lot. No deal.

All of which has me wondering how the dynamic is going to change going forward… and it will change because it always does. I understand the instant gratification thing and wanting exactly what one wants but, more often than not, the sex becomes one-sided if it happens at all and even my protégé, Cityman, gets to riffing about guys who are not about mutual satisfaction in all things; they just want what they want and nothing more than that and do not ever expect them to change their minds. He’s very much like me in that if we can’t agree to suck each other off at the very least, then there’s nothing we can do.

Yeah, even the two of us have been caught up in this instant gratification thing but we’re willing to give a guy a chance to change his mind… and not all that different from how we, as men, are to always give a lady a chance to say no and change her mind if she wants to. Yeah, when I say that a lot of guys are now behaving as I’ve known women to behave, I’m really not trying to be funny because everything I’m seeing is pointing right at this and I don’t yet know if this is a good or bad thing seeing how the lines that exist are now being blurred and maybe even on their way to being erased.

Or that, wow, bisexual is the new heterosexual or on its way to being so. I’ve not said a whole lot about gay men because there’s still that… line in the sand that has gay men not being fans of bisexual men or they’re… uncomfortable with being sexually involved with a bi guy; I hear about this one from Cityman a lot and we often talk about why us being bi should make such a difference but, yeah, for some, it does and most likely because some bi guys aren’t of a mind to add a literal boyfriend to their life or, if that’s what they want, it’s going to be… complicated and more so with all the married guys who are bisexual and, yeah, gay. I see a slight “return” to the way things used to be in that some gay men are of a mind that just because you’re bisexual really doesn’t mean that the sex won’t be all that and then some; we’re men; we both have dicks so why not put them to use on each other and that sexuality difference between us, well, we can talk about that later if at all. The top/bottom thing is still very much in place although the dynamic has seen the emergence of guys declaring that they’re top/verse or bottom/verse and, maybe it’s because I’m an old fuck now but that doesn’t make much sense to me; you’re either versatile or you aren’t but, okay, I get it; that means that one is either primarily a top or bottom but can be versatile with the right guy – and whatever that means.

Man… do I ever miss the good old days where the only thing that mattered was two guys wanting to do it to each other and for the purpose of being mutually satisfied. You suck me, I suck you; you fuck me, I fuck you. Repeat. See you later or tomorrow so we can go all in with each other again? Sure – you know where to find me! What wasn’t an issue but where and when most certainly was and when, oh, let’s say 99% of the time was right now or as soon as humanly possible and dependent upon where. For the first seven or so years of my bisexual life, guys were all in and by “default” both out of “fairness” and, um, why should you have all of the fun?

But things change – they always do – and this isn’t immune to change. There are more bisexual men today than at any time in the past and I think this is a good thing but the jury is still out on how guys are going about getting the dick they want and not being of a mind to be returning any favors.

Bummer… but very damned interesting just the same.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: One Day…

…five other guys and I had been out on the basketball court and deep into a 3-on-3 battle for basketball supremacy. That we were evenly matched just added to that need to soundly defeat each other for those most important bragging rights.

The games were energetic and everyone’s skill level was pushed to the next level; in the early goings, there was lots of trash talking and attempts to duplicate the eye-popping moves as seen by the very best NBA players but as the games got to be more serious, all you could hear was the sounds of the game: The squeak and scuff of sneakers on the asphalt-like surface; the sounds of heavy breathing and exertion along with a few choice curse words and, not all that often, someone calling a foul and, more often, someone being congratulated for a good shot or play.

The games finally ended with both teams winning three games – a stalemate and while no bragging rights were claimed, there was great camaraderie between us just the same along with promises of a different outcome the next time we played against each other. The six of us retired to my place, which was right across the street from the park and courts, to consume large quantities of water as well as washing off the salt crust and musky funk we all wore as badges of honor and a testimony of our hustle on the courts.

Predictably, the water was replaced first with beer, then with more stronger hairs of the dog and it didn’t take long for the six of us to develop a very nice buzz as I had music playing in the background and we talked about the highlights of the game played which included some after-the-game trash talking and some trash talkers getting clowned when their moment of basketball glory got stolen by a missed or blocked shot or some other basketball faux pax that saw the trash talker trying to save face while the rest of us laughed.

Also predictably – and given the state most of us were in – the topic of sex came up, from getting laid to dicks being sucked; nothing all that unusual about that given how much our collective testosterone levels had been raised during the games and were still so elevated that you could actually smell it in the room; a hot, musky and somewhat cloying scent that tickled the nose and caused dicks to stir. So when the conversation got to a tipping point, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when one guy said, “Um, yo, you know, if we were to, ah, take care of things with each other, it wouldn’t a big deal, you know, if, um, um, y’all were okay with it?”

Four of the guys I knew would be more than okay with it but the fifth guy? I wasn’t sure about him; it wasn’t that he was unknown to any of us because we all knew him but my slightly buzzed brain dredged up the fact that this was the first time he’d come to my place after the games and, as such, hadn’t been aware or exposed to what was about to take place. Even as I heard him agree that “a little action would be nice right about now,” I could see he was… nervous? Excited? I couldn’t quite put my finger on what I was seeing as shirts and shorts came off to reveal very erect cocks and balls hanging low with heavy loads of unspent sperm.

The “new guy” looked… uncertain as we started to pair off; I could feel great anxiety starting to flow from him and thought that he only now realized that he’d agreed to something that he probably didn’t think was really going to happen. As one of the fellas settled in between my legs and lowered his head to my dick, I could see the new guy’s eyes go very wide and shuffling from side to side to see the other guys settling in to suck dick and before he realized that the guy he got “stuck” with had just swallowed his dick right down to his pubic bone… and the look on his face told me that he was going to be in trouble at some point but my view of him got blocked as I joined the guy sucking me on the floor and my vision was filled with his large, fat dick lowering itself to slide right into my open and welcoming mouth.

It was… a bit difficult for me to focus on what I was doing and what was being done to me because over the sounds of moans and groan and the “obscene” slurping that was the hallmark of cock sucking, I could hear him, could hear the… fear in his moaning as well as his rather weak attempts at refusing to take his “partner’s” dick into his mouth. I knew he was in trouble but there was nothing I could do to help him at the moment. I’d heard him saying that he couldn’t then I heard the unmistakable sound of a voice being muffled and silenced by a dick being inserted into a mouth; I was about to stop what I was doing (and what was deliciously being done to me) to intercede on his behalf when I noticed that his sounds of protest had changed to sounds of unexpected pleasure. Things were really heating up there on my living room floor; the two guys behind me and to my left had stopped the, ah, vigorous 69 they’d been in and in favor of asses being fucked and with both guys flip-flopping with each other like it was a marathon or something like that.

The dick in my mouth was growing harder and fatter; its owner displayed excellent coordination as he fucked into my mouth while never “missing a beat” as he continued to devour my hardness… then I heard and felt him grunt as his cock rapidly swelled and followed by a lot of pretty big gouts of cum and that nearly indescribable feeling of his dick pulsing in my mouth. He tasted… salty. A bit malty and boozy-sweet. I didn’t get to make any other “observations” because I was cumming and I got lost in the intensity of my release while being dimly aware of my partner’s fingers digging into my ass cheeks as he held me deep in his mouth and throat.

Then that moment of absolute clarity arrived and as my partner and I disengaged, I immediately looked to my right to see how the new guy was fairing and because, honestly, I’d forgotten about him. One look showed him on his back, his legs being held high and wide as his partner’s cock was being, well, slammed into him and, for a moment, I was greatly concerned but his eyes met mine and I saw that, at least for now, he was okay and even more so when he actually smiled at me.

If the six games of basketball we’d played were fierce and energetic, they just paled in comparison to how fiercely we went at each other as we pretty much wound up in a pile of hot and sweaty bodies. Dicks were sucked and no ass went unfucked before it was all said and done. And as if on cue, one by one, we all got cleaned up and guys got dressed and went on their way and with a promise to be on the courts bright and early the next day and it was only at that moment when I realized that it was dark outside and that meant we had been at this for hours. As I moved around the living room in all my naked glory to collect empty beer cans and the few bottles of vodka and whiskey that had been emptied, I realized that I wasn’t alone, that not every one had left… and the new guy was sitting there with a look on his face that told me that he was having a serious problem as he tried cope with what had happened and what he’d done.

Talking to him was… difficult and with me starting the discussion with, “If you weren’t okay with this, why didn’t you just leave? There would have been no shame in you begging off and you wouldn’t have been the first guy who’d begged off for some reason.”

“I started to but, shit, a part of me didn’t want to since, aw, man, you guys were obviously game for it,” he said and making it hard for me to hear him since he was talking to the floor between his feet.

“I saw you and you looked like you hadn’t believed that we were going to actually do this, huh?” I asked – and he confirmed it with a nod.

“I didn’t think y’all was really gonna do anything,” he said. “Then y’all got right into it and I was like ‘Oh shit’ and it was like I couldn’t move, couldn’t take my eyes off what I was seeing and then, um, shit, then homeboy was sucking my dick and…”

His voice trailed off and I felt… bad for him but said, “Okay, yeah, I know how you feel; you weren’t of a mind to get into it but once he started sucking you, a different story and all that and then it got even more different when he slid his dick into your mouth, right?”

He just nodded without saying anything.

“I think you were about to shit yourself or something being all caught up in this but you realized that, hmm, this ain’t all that bad, right?” I asked – and he just nodded.

“I saw him fucking you and, frankly, I was surprised myself,” I said. “But I’m thinking that you agreed to it but maybe didn’t really want to but, again, found out that it wasn’t all that bad.”

“Yeah, that covers it,” he said. “I feel… good but not really, like I just made the biggest mistake in my life but, shit, damn, that shit was good…”

“And now you’re trying to deal with it and that’s not easy but I’m gonna tell you not to kick your own ass about it. See, the rest of us? This wasn’t anything new and it usually happens after we play ball and get buzzed but, then again, we all knew that we’d be down for it because it wasn’t anything none of had never done before – and not necessarily with each other.”

“Yeah, you all looked like you knew what you were doing,” he said. “Man, I was scared but I wanted to do what everyone else was doing, ya know? But it was like now I was all up in it and I wanted to stop… but I couldn’t – that make any sense?”

“It does make sense,” I said with a sigh. “Shit hops off, you know you’re all horny and shit and your brain is screaming at you to haul ass but another part of you ain’t trying to move – I get it; I gotta apologize because I saw that you were in trouble but, um, I couldn’t get to you because, well, you know.”

“That’s okay,” he said – and finally looking up at me. “I just don’t know if I can handle what I did or how I’m supposed to handle it!”

“Start by understanding that no matter what you might have heard about this, it’s just sex and it’s really not that unusual for guys to get horny and decide that doing something about it now is better than doing something about it later and the rule is always what we do with each other doesn’t go any further than whoever’s there… and you gotta know that a lot of the fellas have been here after playing… and the same thing has happened and you’re not the first guy to get caught up in it, like, the guy you were with? I remember his first time and he was so upset that he barfed all over me as I was sucking his dick.”

“He did? Damn…” he said.

“Yeah, today was like his third time,” I said. “But you wouldn’t know it, right?”

“Nah but how many times was this for you?” he asked.

“This is old news to me,” I said. “As a matter of fact – and because I know it – no one that was here has more experience in this than I do.”

“No shit?” he asked. “But you’re not gay… are you?”

“Not even,” I said. “But I’m no stranger to getting some dick and now you aren’t, either. I just wanna make sure that you ain’t gonna lose your mind over this. I need you to understand that what happened doesn’t mean that you’re gay; all it means was that you got horny just like the rest of us did and, well, that got taken care of, didn’t it?”

“Yeah… and that’s the part that’s fucking with me,” he said. “I ain’t never done no shit like this before and, shit, it wasn’t all that bad but, shit, I dunno.”

“Yeah, quite a few of the fellas found out that it wasn’t as bad as they thought it was or would be,” I said. “It’s really okay but it’s going to take some time for you to digest all of this and it might not be easy and if it isn’t, just come on by and we’ll talk, okay?”

Two days later, he did stop by and when I saw him at my door, I knew why he was there and I also knew why we hadn’t seen him on the court for those two days. I let him in and we took seats in the living room; I saw him looking around and was sure he was remembering what he’d gotten himself into two days ago. I just sat and watched him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“What if I wanted to do that shit again?” he asked and surprising me a little – that’s not what I’d expected to hear out of him first.

“Then you do,” I said. “Shit, everybody thinks this is some fucked up shit, that it means you gotta be gay and all that shit when, really, it’s just having sex and it really doesn’t mean anything more than that. I’m guessing that you’ve been thinking hard about it and you probably couldn’t find a reason to, um, hate yourself for it and had to admit that as weird as it was, you liked it and it was okay.”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. “I just can’t get it out of my head, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” I said. “It was very different; really scary but then not all that scary. Exciting as a motherfucker and there’s probably a part of you that is shocked and maybe even ashamed that you did some shit you knew you weren’t supposed to do… but another part that is happy as a motherfucker that you did so, no, I’m not really surprised that you might want to do it again – it happens with a lot of guys who experience this for the first time.

“Man, you know a lot of shit about this shit,” he said with a laugh – and that was a good sign.

“I should; I’ve been doing it for a long time,” I said. “And I’m not ashamed of it, either.”

“I don’t think I really am either,” he said. “Man, this is some shit to get your head around!”

We sat and talked about pretty much all of it; I could tell two things about him. The first was that he was okay with all that had happened and the other was… his dick was hard and, to be honest, mine wasn’t all that soft. I could very much remember how good it felt when I got to suck his dick and my sense of… disappointment that I wasn’t the one to suck that nut out of him – one of the other guys had literally picked me up and set me aside so he could take my place – and we had had a good laugh about that the next day. I was now thinking that if he wanted to do something, I wasn’t going to object and by the way he was now fidgeting in place, I was pretty sure he wanted to.

“So, um, um, if I said that I wouldn’t mind if we sucked each other off, you’d be okay with it?” he asked – and, hmm, how did I know he was gonna ask?

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” I asked. “The main thing is would you be okay with it. I understand that what happened the other day was a huge shock to your system but if there’s even the slightest hint that you’re really not okay with it then, no – I’m not gonna be okay with us doing that; I’ve seen it go really bad for some guys and since we’re cool and all that, I’d rather not see it go bad for you.”

“I’m okay – seriously,” he said. “So, um, can we do this?”

And we did it… twice. He wasn’t what I would have called “a natural” but what he lacked in skill, he made up with enthusiasm and, in a way, I envied him because he was discovering how pleasurable it was to suck dick and be sucked and a moment that was long behind me. It was… funny that he’d often stop to ask me if I thought he was doing it right and making me stop blowing him to tell him – and assure him – that he was doing it right… and he should just keep on doing it right. Sucking his dick was comfortable and I could take him deep and hold him easily. He tasted… good. Not all that salty and just a little sweet. I liked the way he gently thrust into my mouth and I was kinda laughing in my head as he tried to get the hang of the coordination that being in a 69 calls for or trying to keep sucking me when I was doing such a number on him that he’d often let go of me but, um, that was a “game” I was playing with him. I wanted him to lose it; I needed him to lose it and pump his nut into my mouth so I could swallow all of it… and he didn’t disappoint me one bit.

He took my nut with only a little difficulty and when we were resting and recharging he had said, “Man, um, yeah, swallowing that stuff takes a little something, don’t it?”

“Yeah, it does but the more you do it, the easier it gets and you don’t even think about it… unless his shit tastes nasty,” I had said.

“Yours doesn’t taste bad at all – did mine taste okay?” he asked.

“I didn’t spit it out so, yeah, it did,” I said and returning the compliment he’d payed me.

The first round was… frantic as we both gave into our hungers; the second one was a lot less frantic as we took our time sucking each other’s dick and balls and he even had the “nerve” to push a finger into me and two could play that game so I pushed a finger into him; I heard and felt him gasp – then he flooded my mouth with spunk and caught me off guard for a moment but I caught up with it, swallowing his load while gently fucking into his mouth until I gave up my pent-up load as well.

“Man, that was something,” he said. “Shit, if I had known this shit could feel this good, I’d have been all over it before now! Ya know what I mean?”

“Yeah – I’ve heard a lot of guys say the exact same thing,” I said. “You’re good, right?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said. “You gonna be on the court tomorrow?”

“Yep but it’s supposed to rain at some point,” I said. “But I’ll be there and the other guys probably will be, too.”

He’d left and I sat there thinking about what we’d done and feeling a little shitty that I didn’t tell him what the other guys had said about him. It wasn’t bad in any way but I think he might have been a little freaked out to know how much they enjoyed breaking him in and how disappointed they were that he hadn’t shown up for a couple of days… so they could get at him again. I’d decided that he’d find out at some point so telling him before he did, well, better to just let him find out how much the other guys enjoyed the shit out of him.

I felt… bad that he just got tossed into this and chided myself because I had assumed that he’d done something like this before and as the other guys had and to some extent but that look he had on his face as dicks started getting sucked told me that, shit, he was new to this and, at that moment, in trouble. It turned out well for him and that was a huge weight off of my mind both then and now. He was now “one of us,” men who weren’t gay (or even wanted to be) but being able to enjoy having sex with each other just the same and in the time-honored “boys being boys” way.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Wearing That Invisible Sign

Between, oh, 1975 and 1985 (or thereabouts), it seemed like I couldn’t go anywhere in the city without some guy hitting on me for sex and as if – and as the title says – I was wearing a sign that said, “If you wanna have sex with a dude, ask this guy right here!”

It was one thing being in the neighborhood and having quite a few of the guys being down with it and running into each other and, well, hmm, someone feels like doing something and it gets done. I knew those guys and in those “rare” occasions when a new like-minded guy moved into the area, the 411 would make the rounds about the guy and more so if he had a taste for male flesh and, eventually, introductions would be made, well, formally because if the word got out on the new guy, you already knew damned near everything about him already.

We had one known gay bar in the city – but it didn’t used to be until new owners took over and even I didn’t know it was a gay bar until, as a cab driver, I went there to pick up a fare, didn’t see them outside, and went inside to ask who called a cab… and got quite a surprise at all the gay men and women in there and having fun. I note this because, driving a cab, I spent a lot of time going in there to find a fare and not one time did I ever get hit on, well, not inside the bar anyway; once the fare was in my cab, that would often be a different story and even then it was more heavy flirting than anything else… most of the time. So, yeah, I’d expect some… stuff anytime I had to go there to pick up someone.

But I could be walking down the street, minding my own business and some guy I didn’t know would get to talking to me and asking, “Can I get that dick/ass?” and I’d politely tell them that, no, you can’t and move on; or I could be sitting in a bar having an after work drink… and either some guy would sit next to me and start hitting on me or I’d wind up with two or three drinks before me that I didn’t ask for then see that some guy sitting over there is raising his glass… and giving me that look that instantly told me that he wouldn’t mind one bit getting into my underwear… and that’s if he didn’t come on over and make his intentions known. Um, uh, most of the time, I was agreeable – after doing some quick fact finding but many more times, man – what the fuck is going on around here?

Do I have some kind of sign on me that only dudes who were into dick could see… and the sign let them know that, for a good time, ask me? Shit… I was at the unemployment office one day and the guy standing in line behind me leaned forward and whispered, “If you’re not doing anything after you get done here, can I get that dick? I’d love to blow you…” and I thought, “What the hell…?” and, being focused on why I was there, told him, “Thanks but I got other shit to do…” and because I really did… but I was almost constantly dumbfounded at the number of men – and not all of them gay – who just seemed to home in on me and not unlike that “gaydar” thing that eventually started being talked about.

I’d ask some guys, “Why me?” and they’d tell me that they just knew I’d be down for something and making me wonder if there was something about my body language that was “talking” to these guys without me knowing it… but it’s pretty weird trying to pay attention to your own body language, as it turns out. One guy said, “I liked the way you walked across the room…” and that was something I could pay attention to and more so when one guy said that there was something graceful and easy about the way I walked that told him that the two of us could do something if I were agreeable. I realized that I moved the way I did because of years of martial arts training and that quiet, economy of motion that you just learn… but I had a hard time figuring out how that would tell some guy that, yeah, if you’re looking for some action, just hit on me and forget all the other guys that might be in the immediate area.

I thought about all the guys on the forum who constantly complain about not being able to find a suitable guy or getting ghosted or stood up… and I think that they have no idea what it’s like to have men approaching them in “droves” and wanting to have sex with them. I think that given how things are, if that were to happen to a majority of them, they’d either run away as fast as their legs could carry them and probably after soiling themselves over having some strange dude giving them the indecent proposal; or they’re putting themselves in places where they can be seen and, hopefully, propositioned… and no one is giving them any nibbles.

I wish I had had that “problem.” It made me a little paranoid and more so when I just couldn’t figure out what it was about me that was telling guys that I liked dick… and I still don’t know. I remember sitting on my front steps one day and planning my job search for the next day and my thoughts got interrupted by a guy who just stopped and started talking to me; he had asked me what time it was and I told him but instead of him moving on, he, um, he wanted to suck my dick and when I asked him how he knew I’d be interested in such a thing he said, “I just know – can I get that dick? You won’t regret it!”

Well, um, I didn’t – but that’s not the point. Even the local guys would say that there was… something about me that just told them that I’d be down for it and even more with those guys looking for their first experience… but none of the fellas referred me to them. They all pretty much alluded to there being something about me that told them that not only would I hear them out but I’d give them that experience, not that I always did but, still. I’d eventually come to the conclusion that for some guys, I just was attractive to them and in some way or it’d be my good or bad luck to be in the right place at the right time and the guy making the proposal was looking to get with the first guy he saw.

Like one guy said, “No harm in asking, right?” and I guess he had a point although the “overall mood” of things would often say otherwise as stories of other guys getting hit on by dudes – and the resulting violent response – had been making the rounds for a while and I was beginning to get the idea that some of those guys who were protesting too much about getting hit on and saying no just might not have been telling the truth. I couldn’t quite figure out why some of those “protesters” would sometimes be talking to me about their protest and total objection to this kind of sex… but would be dropping hints that Stevie Wonder could see that, you know, if you wanted to, man, I wouldn’t tell anybody that we did. That I’d either “catch” the hint and we did something or I just sat there looking as clueless as possible also isn’t the point… as much as the point was that they were hitting on me and like they knew there was a chance they’d get lucky.

I remember talking to one of the women in the neighborhood about this and she laughed at me and said, “Well, yeah, there is… something about you that makes someone want to check you out because, um, I wouldn’t mind checking you out either.” When I asked why, she didn’t help matters any by replying with, “Why not? You’re a guy, ain’t you? You ain’t that bad looking!”

I guess not… but still. I got a lot of dick when I was younger because, well, we all pretty much wanted to get some and, more often than not, went out of our way to get into each other’s underwear and even when I’d make new friends in other parts of the city, well, a lot of those guys wanted to get some dick, too. It was “rare” that someone I didn’t know – or knew of – would approach me for sex and, at the very least, they lived maybe a block or two “outside” of my immediate neighborhood and, as such, someone I knew would know them. But what I was and had been running into? I felt that this was very different and, later, would understand that I was seeing a different “phase” of guys wanting to have sex with guys and one that was more… expansive than my youthful experiences had been able to prepare me for.

In one moment of just one day, I got hit on six times… just by walking five blocks. I’d seen five of those guys in the area before but never interacted with them except maybe seeing them on the basketball court and playing with or against them and that sixth guy, well, never saw him before and learned that he’d been canvassing the city looking for a guy he could have sex with… but that didn’t explain how and why he’d passed a lot of guys before he got to me but didn’t even speak to them as he passed… but he stopped me and asked me if I’d be interested in letting him fuck me and fucking him in return. I’d said, “No, thanks…” and kept on walking… but my “paranoia” was increasing and I even got to thinking that maybe one of the guy I was having sex with had “put the word” out on me – and I could neither confirm nor deny that this happened but I just couldn’t really explain why I seemed to have that sign on me.

I remember talking to one of the fellas who was kinda complaining about needing some “fresh meat” to have fun with but he wasn’t finding it and I told him that all he had to do was get out of our neighborhood and he might be surprised at how many dudes would run up on him and hit on him… because that’s what was happening to me… a lot. I saw him a couple of days later and he had said, “Man, you were right! I was downtown taking care of something and like ten guys rolled up on me and wanted to know if we could do something!”

It didn’t seem to matter what ethnicity the guys on the prowl was; it was like the “whole rainbow” just knew for a fact that for a good time, just ask me but, really, just ask any guy and it got me thinking about why there were so many men – and men who weren’t gay – looking for dick. One thing that came to mind was that the job market was hard to break into and Reaganomics had done a number on a lot of inner city men and their ability to get work, leaving them stressed and even more so when, if they had a woman, they wouldn’t have her very long with him not having a steady job and that steady paycheck that was better than the minimum wage at the time. I’d thought back to the early days when us guys would be sitting around with nothing productive to do… and having sex just made sense so maybe, given the conditions and other contributing factors, this is what I was really seeing and it was just my dumb luck to keep winding up as a potential sex partner.

Maybe I really didn’t have “that sign” on me but what was going on was just a sign of the times and, again, one that my youthful experiences didn’t really prepare me for all that much but, hmm, maybe it really did and I just wasn’t paying any attention to it. It’s hard for some guys today to believe this since being randomly hit on doesn’t happen all that much if at all; I can’t remember the last time some guy I didn’t know propositioned me but I’m sure it was in the late 1980s/early 1990s. After that time, if I got hit on, it was by someone I knew… and didn’t know they were even into it or, sometimes, I suspected their intent because if I hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention before, I was now and, yeah, how ’bout that: I could just look at a guy and know that he was down with getting some dick and had no idea how I knew other than that “gaydar” thing that had really taken off. I didn’t really believe in that but since I didn’t have any other explanation for being able to see “signs” on other guys, it worked. If a guy I knew came to me and asked if he could talk to me about something, there was a good chance I’d know what that “something” was before he even got to it because he was wearing a sign just like I was. Sometimes I’d hear the expected something but from a guy who wasn’t wearing one or he hadn’t gotten his sign yet but “wanted to” since it would be his first time… but there was still the mystery of why me? I couldn’t have been the only guy these guys knew!

But I’d gotten used to it. There wasn’t the… rush to get some dick at there had been just a few short years earlier and I’m sure the HIV threat was responsible for the sharp decline and, as such, the push was more toward the devil you knew than it was toward the one you didn’t… still didn’t give me a “definitive” answer as to why a guy I knew would just know he could talk to me about getting some dick… and asking if I’d be interested. More like the “adult version” of boys being boys. How some guys just gave off “signals” that just told you that if you asked them nicely, you just might be able to get into their underwear… and I happened to be one of those guys who gave off those signals and unintentionally so; I’d see a lot of guys who pretty much did everything except come right out and let “everyone” know that they liked dick… and it was funny watching them trying to get another guy’s attention; sometimes it worked for them and sometimes all that happened was the people around him wondering if he was gay.

As an adult, I can probably count the number of times I actually asked a guy if I can get his dick on both hands and maybe one foot… because I didn’t have to ask and that’s because, invariably, some guy would come along and make me an offer and especially when I wasn’t looking for any offers; when I would be looking, I’d consistently come up empty handed so… I stopped looking. Because some interested guy will somehow see I’m wearing a sign and make me an offer and now it’s all about whether I accept it or not. If that period of time taught me anything, it was that if you wanted to get some dick – or wanted someone to give you some – just be where other men can see you… and that can be literally anywhere. I went to the bank one day and the guy behind me whispered, “You have a nice ass…” and when I turned to look at him, he just smiled and gave me that look that clearly said he wouldn’t mind seeing my naked ass. You get to understand that if there’s a guy staring at your crotch – and acting like he’s not staring at it – yep, if he gets up the nerve, he’s gonna ask if he can play with what the clothes aren’t so much hiding.

Like the guy who kinda/sorta hit on me and his reason for it was, “You have a nice print in those pants!” He wasn’t hitting on me – just complimenting on the niceness of the print in my pants and like I really believed that he was just paying me a compliment… because I didn’t. I just thanked him for the compliment but now he got my attention and I wanted to see how long it was going to take him to make me an indecent proposal. He never got the chance to because his wife snatched him up and they left the event I’d been attending… but still.

You wanna get some dick? Just be where other men can see you and be approachable. Yeah, be on guard at all times because it is better to be safe than sorry and while you might not be of a mind to do anything “right there and then,” there’s nothing saying that the conversation can’t continue until both of you feel comfortable enough to do something together. Alas, so many men are, bluntly, scared shitless to find themselves having their sign noticed; they’d rather rely on the very dubious apps that are more work than the result may be worth or they’re just sitting on their asses and doing nothing toward getting the dick they say that they want and need. I can do something as innocuous as going to the market… and there will almost always be that one guy checking me out… and I tend to act like I don’t know that they are but, yeah, I’ve already checked them out to see if they’re wearing a sign, too. Sometimes you can just feel that someone is looking at you and it’s not a passing glance and I’ve felt it – and in a lot of places – and when I’ve turned to look to see who’s giving me this feeling, yep, that guy over there in the red shirt and jeans just looked away real quick… and he’s wearing a sign.

I might be wearing one… but I’m not the only one…