Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: It’s Not Just Me

I was still “high” on the euphoria of having discovered that boys do have sex with boys even though everyone said that it was evil. Evil? Sure didn’t feel that way and the very next day, I was off and running and well into my cock-crazy phase and beyond deliriously happy to find that my male friends were just as cock-crazy as I had become.

Yet and almost right away, I also had the very strong feeling that I was the only boy who was like this… even though I was having the grandest field day with my friends and at every opportunity. The feeling was… persistent and in those moments where I’d find myself just sitting and thinking about how wonderful it was to suck dick and be screwed as well as the great thrill of watching a friend sucking me and, sometimes, giggling insanely to see my dick between his butt cheek and knowing it was in his hole, the feeling that I was the only one like this would wrap around me like a warm blanket that, well, it was warm but not really – I don’t know how to describe it.

The feeling conflicted and contradicted the reality and so much that it actually took me a couple of years before I realized that, um, no – it wasn’t just me and the proof was the many guys I’d had sex with and how the fuck did I not see that before now? I knew I saw it – duh, right – but it didn’t “stick” in my head to dispel the feeling of being incredibly unique. Man, I don’t know how to explain what that feels like but I can tell you that I felt pretty stupid over how long it took for me to finally understand that in this, I wasn’t as unique and alone in this as I felt.

A lot of guys would tell me, when we revealed that we liked having sex with other guys, “I thought it was just me!” and the relief they felt to find out that, nope, it wasn’t just them. It’s weird in that you know that there are guys who like to do it with other guys, and you know that, um, if you were me, you’d do it with a guy faster than one can blink and it would be good (most of the time) and not so good (shit happens) but that feeling is just there. For myself, it wasn’t a matter of me feeling relieved that I wasn’t the only guy like this but it was a “duh” moment because I didn’t catch on; I wasn’t able to let the reality of my actions kick the feeling to the curb. It was weirder to be with a friend, we’re sucking each other like it was illegal and, yet the feeling of uniqueness was very much present. I just didn’t connect the dots and, of course, this older version of myself insists that I should have been able to and rolling my eyes at my younger self taking two years to finally understand that, nope, it wasn’t just me.

I don’t know what makes us feel this way; there isn’t a guy I knew of that was into this kind of sex and they didn’t have this indescribable feeling of uniqueness with a chase of feeling very alone in this… and even if they were having sex with guys all along. One the first things we tell new members who introduce themselves is that they’re not alone in this and it’s important to let them know this… because each and every one of us has felt like we were alone and it was just us.

I don’t know why. At one point, I had the thought that it was really a thing of me diving headfirst into something I shouldn’t have and knowing that I could get into all kinds of trouble and except for one moment, I got away with doing it but, nah, that wasn’t it; it wasn’t quite the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t have done and getting away with it, oh, like sneaking out of the house when you’d gotten grounded and then sneaking back in and no one knew you had escaped. Why did this feeling “blind” me to the facts of the matter?

Obviously, it couldn’t have just been me and, shit, I knew it wasn’t just me – duh, right? It didn’t click in my head; it didn’t click in the heads of a lot of guys; it still doesn’t quite click in the heads of men today because even the guys who are arriving late to the party say that they have this feeling of being unique and alone… even though these guys are old and worldly enough to know that there are men who have sex with men. So, if you know this, you should know that you’re not really that unique nor are you the only one and especially if you’re talking to a guy who, bluntly, likes dick, too.

Knowing this doesn’t dispel the feeling until it clicks in your head that you’re not that unique or alone or someone actually tells you that you’re not alone – and I don’t mean someone who isn’t bi like us stating the obvious; no – the feeling doesn’t go away until another guy who likes dick tells you that, nope, it’s not just you. It’s me, too. It takes a weight off your mind and a weight that I didn’t know was there. One of the things I talk about and I’ve heard other bisexuals say is that the moment you have sex in the same-sex mode, you just feel free. Liberated. The Matrix had you and now it doesn’t any longer. You’ve escaped traditional sexual dogma.

Free. Liberated. Eyes wide open. Feeling unique and alone. It doesn’t make any damned sense. I can remember sitting with my friends and gossiping about who among us was having sex with those among us. Comparing and critiquing things. So and so was good at sucking but was a baby about being fucked and other such gossipy things… and that feeling of being unique and alone was right the fuck there and making me feel different from the guys I knew weren’t different in this. I would often panic and think that, okay, there’s something wrong with me; I know that when I got hit by a car, my head took a seriously good whack at some point so maybe something got screwed up and I’m just now finding out?

No, that couldn’t be it or I didn’t think it was. I felt fine after I got over the bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes of getting hit by a car and the fact that it was like a week later that I was introduced to the joys of dick and it wasn’t until that moment when I started feeling like it was just me. Yeah, I got way older and would think about that moment and saw that in that precise moment, I’d totally overlooked the fact that it couldn’t have just been me… since I had sucked another guy’s dick. Duh, right? I couldn’t shake the feeling; I felt unique. Alone. Free. It didn’t make sense and even after getting that out of my head when I did, it still doesn’t make sense.

At another point, I thought that the departure from moral sexual norms had something to with this damned feeling. It would explain the sense of being free but it didn’t explain that irritating feeling of uniqueness and feeling that I was the only one when, again, I sure as hell wasn’t. How the hell can you know something but feel like you don’t know it? The good part was that I didn’t let this… disconnect bother me, well, any more than it was until it went away. Even the guys I grew up having sex with said that they felt like it was just them – wasn’t that crazy? I’d eventually meet (and get with) first-time guys and they, too, said the same thing. I didn’t and still don’t understand this anymore that I understand what makes so many of us say, after having that first experience with dick, that it felt right and normal. Wait, I think I kinda understand that one a little because it’s also that moment we find that everything we were told about having sex with someone who’s the same sex as you as being evil and all that was… a lie, for lack of a better word. Not the whole truth of things. Even a lie of omission. The truth set us free.

And we feel unique in this and all by ourselves, too. I don’t know about the other guys but in my head, there was some… shit going on. The feeling wasn’t bad; it was quite exhilarating, to be honest but it very much conflicted with some obvious stuff that, for some reason, didn’t allow me to really see that I wasn’t the only one. I would think that it was crazy to feel like this when I knew for a fact that it wasn’t just me… and, again, it took two years for it to finally click in my head and just go away, never to return. It’s like the damned feeling said, “My job here is done – it was nice fucking with you!”

I don’t know a bisexual – male or female – who hasn’t had this feeling. I can go on Twitter as many times a day I care to and will eventually see someone post something saying that they felt unique and alone but now that they’ve talked to other bisexuals, they no longer feel this way (and whether they’ve had the sex or not). And it remains a very important point in this to let other bisexuals know, right off the bat that, nope – it’s not just you. You’re not as alone in this as you think you are. Your individuality makes you – and all of us – unique but at the same time, all bisexuals are the same because we’re all bisexual and now it gets down to the details that are uniquely our experiences even though every last one of us has had that first time feeling this way and that first time having the sex and, well, shit, it’s not that complicated as it seems but let it suffice that it wasn’t just you who felt this way or had whatever sex that took place to make you feel like you were the only one.

I think this is one of those details about bisexuality that we don’t say a lot about and it’s definitely one of those things that occurs in every generation and maybe, just maybe, it’s true that every generation finds bisexuality to be such a new thing and because that “information” doesn’t get spread around so that, say, the generation after mine already knows that they’re not the only one because my generation knew it – and let “everyone else” know this. We know more about gay people than we do bisexual people but that makes sense giving how long we’ve been raising all kinds of hell about homosexuality. Perhaps this feeling is borne out of an understanding that we’re not homosexual but we’re no longer heterosexual and, as such, that sets us apart from “everyone else?” – but we don’t immediately or really get that until we meet someone who is like us and they say, “Yeah, I know what you mean but you’re really not as alone as you think you are.”

I kick my own ass looking back at this moment – and I know I shouldn’t and it’s not a problem but, yeah, it wasn’t just me. It was pretty much every guy I grew up with; it was a whole lot of guys I met and had sex with outside of my neighborhood. My city. My state. My country. I knew there were other guys like me but until it clicked into place, it continued to make me feel… uniquely alone in this and I’ll be dipped in shit if I know why, and I don’t know why it took two years for this to resolve itself in my head once and for all. I would learn that a lot of guys had this feeling and carried it with them – with or without the sex – for many more years than I did and, yep, until another bi guy – or sometimes, a bi gal – would say, “You’re not alone.” And it seems to me (and I’m probably way off base) that someone who isn’t bi and telling you this “doesn’t count.” They’ll tell you that there’s no way you could be the only one like this or you just hear them going off about anyone who isn’t straight and “logically” it makes sense because they wouldn’t be pitching a bitch about people who aren’t straight if there weren’t people who aren’t straight.

As such, you know this. You hear about this. Even I heard about this and it was very strongly suggested that I not be one of those people. I felt uniquely alone while being almost over my head having sex with guys and gals. Sounds very cray-cray, doesn’t it? I was not only quacking like that duck, I was the only duck… but how could that be? If I’m locked into a heated 69 with another guy – and it didn’t matter if he was gay or not – um, dude, there’s no way that you’re the only one… but it felt like I was.

Until the day when I finally realized that it was never just me. I’m not sure if you can “understand” what this feels like; maybe you do and for some reason. What I do know is that I didn’t know then and I don’t know now why these feeling manifests itself. Do some escape this? I dunno. If they do, I’ve never heard anyone say that they never had this feeling. I’ve met bisexuals who have said that they had an idea that it wasn’t just them but, oddly, there was no “proof” and, yeah, I know that doesn’t make a damned bit of sense, but this is some very real shit that, as far as I know, all bisexuals feel.

It’s also damned important for a bisexual to tell another bisexual that they’re not alone… and I don’t know why it works like this, either. Some have said that they knew they weren’t alone but, yeah, alone because they didn’t get the “confirmation.” You tell a fellow bisexual that they’re not alone and it’s a relief beyond imagination; that “great weight” lifted from them or that “ah-ha” moment that makes them say, “I knew it! I knew there was no way in hell that I could be the only one like this!”

And, yeah, feeling like this while up to their pretty eyes having the sex. I have no explanation for it other than it’s clear that bisexuality isn’t something that gets handed down and, in the sense, like we know for a fact that some people are straight and some are gay. Like, I knew – and because I’d hear older folks talking about it – that there were people who went both ways and that it didn’t make sense to them to be like that. Well, I was like that and having stupid fun, too… and it still didn’t dispel the feeling that it was just me.

I remember talking with a guy (and before we were about to get into it) and we were specifically talking about this feeling. He had asked, “Do you feel like you’re the only one who likes doing it with boys and girls?” and I said that I felt that way, too, but instead of us pondering how… impossible that was, we got all giddy about being able to do what we were getting ready to do… and then doing it. We were in heaven as we sucked on each other until we shot our loads into each other’s mouth and then, later, fucked each other into glorious orgasmic bliss…

And both of us still feeling like it was just us. And I fucking do not know why it didn’t click with either of us that it wasn’t just us and the proof was in what we’d just got finished doing. He was just like me in that having sex with a guy or a gal didn’t matter one bit. The key was, I think in the here and now, that neither of us said, “You’re not alone; you’re not the only one who feels this way about guys and gals.” Like I said earlier, it eventually clicked and stuck in my head that, nope – you weren’t the only one, dummy. Duh. But, again, I’d find myself talking to a guy and we get to talking about this and how we felt and I tell him that, nope, you’re not the only one but it sure feels like it. The moment he heard this, I could often see them do that “sigh of relief” and sometimes literally sigh and that feeling of being all alone in this just goes away.

And I do not know how that works. I don’t think that anyone really knows other than it being what it is. It’s not just me. It was never just me and I know this now and, oddly, I think I knew it way back then… but I didn’t know it. When I now factor in that generational thing? Yeah, it makes sense that, again, in every generation, we act as if bisexuality is something new and that’s fucking weird all by itself; we “carry over” that sense of being uniquely alone and even special because, maybe, just maybe, we have never really admitted that bisexuality is and has been a real thing all along and it’s probably quite normal to feel this way after being freed from the constraints and restraints applied by our morality but, weirdly, keep feeling this way until another bisexual specifically says, “Nope – it’s not just you and you’re not alone because I’m like you, too, and, um, I used to think that I was the only one, too…”

If nothing else, it “explains” why I’m often incredulous to hear today’s bisexuals talking and going batshit crazy over stuff and, now, rhetorically asking why they don’t know this or that but, of course, I have the advantage of having already learned about this even in an on-the-job-training kind of way and, yeah, methinks because they’re just now finding out what I’ve always known, they feel… uniquely alone even though, once more, they know that there are men who have sex with other men and not all of them are gay. It just doesn’t click that it isn’t just us and even if we intuitively know that it’s literally impossible that we’re the only guy who has ever lived and is bisexual.

But it sure feels that way. It’s one thing if it’s someone else but very damned different when you’re quacking like that duck and feeling like it’s just you and all by yourself in this. The feeling is real. No frigging idea why this happens or where it comes from. I felt like this and the guys I grew up with and having sex felt like it, too; a lot of guys across the following generations have and/or are feeling like this. There’s something going on about this… and I don’t have a clue about what that might be or why it exists in the first place.

I need more coffee…

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Focal Point

I was reading the latest comments to a very old and popular post that asks how old you were when you sucked your first dick. The latest comment not only bashed the fact that this topic gets rehashed a lot but pointed out that there are no topics about when and how old you were when you first ate pussy. Indeed, when we have discussions on the forum about male bisexuality, it’s not that we don’t talk about having sex with women because we do… just not a whole lot because the focal point is very much on having sex with men.

Even I’m guilty of this when I write about it and Collaredmichael rightfully called me out on that a while back because, really, if you’re going to talk about being a male bisexual, not talking about the sex we have with women doesn’t speak to the whole picture all that much but it’s understandable that this doesn’t happen because chowing down on a pussy, well, that’s “old news” for those of us who eat pussy and it’s something we know about and understand which makes it a “common” kind of thing that, because of the focus, makes it a “non-issue…” but it’s all about men and dicks that a lot of bi guys want to find out about.

So, in response to the comment I read, I created a post asking the membership how old they were when they first ate a pussy and asked them to give up the tea on that important moment in our sexual lives. I’ve said here time and time again that I ate my first pussy when I was ten… and after I had my first dick the year before. I’ve mentioned that my father, for some reason, told me to never do it and, well, he shouldn’t have done that because since he didn’t tell me why I shouldn’t do it, that just spurred me to find out and as luck would have it, I found out maybe an hour after he told me to never do it. It was an… interesting experience and one that almost had me throwing up all over the girl – and I’ve never figured that sense of revulsion out but I got over it and, hmm, sucking and licking her “little man in the boat” was not only fun but produced the most interesting results in and for her and more so when it was the first time she’d been eaten – but her girlfriends had been talking about it.

I never found out why my father saw fit to warn me not to do it – and I did ask him later on in life – but, um, yeah, putting my mouth on a woman’s pussy is some seriously good shit although there are reasons not to and more so when I would learn what’s going on with pussies that aren’t exactly, um, nice and I’m not talking about a woman’s monthly visit by the cardinal. There are reasons not to eat a pussy but it’s just too much fun to do and more so if you happen to be as orally fixated as I am.

Indeed, I found out something that (1) my father never mentioned but (2) what the word on the street was saying: If you didn’t eat pussy, chances were that you weren’t gonna get a girlfriend and you sure wasn’t going to be able to keep her and no matter how good you could fuck or how big your dick was. Even the girls I’d be trying to fuck would make it clear that I had to lick it before I could stick it and, um, fortunately for them, I loved to lick it… and more often than not, more than they were willing to be licked down there. Girls/women would complain loudly about guys giving them “a few licks” and going right to fucking them… and they seriously did not like that so I had to listen to them telling me that if I wasn’t going to spend some time down there, I wasn’t going to get to fuck them.

Little did they know that if they wanted me to go and stay down on them, I was going to be there for a while so she’d better pack a lunch or I hoped she didn’t have anything else she needed to do for a very long time. You want me to eat you until you cum? Hold onto something because I’m going to eat you until you cum and keep right on going until you make me stop. What’s that you say? Guys can’t get you to cum like that? Lemme give it a try and let’s see what happens.

I didn’t get unmercifully teased about eating pussy when I was in high school for nothing. I’ve mentioned in the past that back then, I had a patch on my Wrangler jacket of my zodiac sign – Libra – and instead of the scales, it depicted a woman sitting on a man’s face and, man, I caught all kinds of shit about that from guys and earned the nickname, “Taster’s Choice.” The guys would talk about how they’d never eat a pussy and other such things and, again, they were on my case about it like a bad habit but, um, I’d also tell them that because I ate pussy, I was getting more than they were since girls would see that patch, ask me if I “did that” and when I said that I did, I was often invited to prove it and if what I said was true, I’d be allowed to fuck them if I could do it long enough for them.

I had some good pussy-eating teachers including the first girl I went down on. I paid close attention to what they’d tell me to do while I was eating them and, yeah, learned early on that what works on one woman might not work on another… and it might not work again on the same woman. As such, those guys who were giving me shit about being a carpet muncher would get to feeling some kind of way to find out that I was, in fact and in deed, getting more pussy than they were because I ate pussy and girls were finding out that I was good at it… but what they didn’t know is that one of the reasons why I was good at it was because I sucked dick, too. Even then, it wasn’t enough to just get my dick in her and hope that she gets off because maybe she would and maybe she wouldn’t… but I didn’t have to be as smart as I was to know that if I ate that pussy – and took all the time in the world to do it and with all the “dirty tricks” I learned from the girls I honed my newly found skills – yep, that was the ticket and more so when I’d do too good of a job of eating them that I didn’t get to fuck them.

No bragging here. Just a matter of fact in my many pussy-eating experiences. I’ve failed to please and I hate failing at anything but, okay; when you fail, you learn how not to fail so much the next time and a “bottom line” thing is that even if I failed to get her off the way she wanted to, I got to eat that pussy just the same.

They say that if you go down on a woman and when it’s all said and done she’s not looking at you like you tried to kill her, you didn’t do it right. I’ve gotten that look a lot and, yep, not gotten it. In terms of my bisexuality, the day I learned why I should put my mouth on a girl’s pussy completed my “basic sexual training” as it were. Fucking them wasn’t enough and as one girl told me, anyone can fuck… but not every guy has what it takes to eat a pussy until the woman is trying to escape. The more I failed, the more I learned how not to fail all that much and, in my head, eating pussy wasn’t “all that different” than sucking dick and in the early goings, if I didn’t know anything else, I knew how to suck a dick.

One woman I ate until she tapped out asked me why I was so goddamned good at it and I had replied, “Um, it might be because I suck dick, too…” I expected her to lose her mind but after a moment to process my confession, all she said was, “That would explain it. Now, get back down there and do it again!” And, no, I didn’t get to fuck her because, um, she went to sleep.

Another woman told me, “You’re dangerous.” I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing and when I asked her about that, she said, “Both. You’re intense and I don’t know how to deal with that since I’ve never had a guy spend that much time and effort to make me cum this way.”

I just blinked hearing that because, to me, it didn’t make sense to spend all the time necessary to get a woman to cum this way and, believe me, it’s often hard to do – and sometimes incredibly so – so one of the things I had to learn was to be… persistent. Get it into my head that I’m going to eat that pussy until one of us quits… and I’m not going to be the first one to quit. Yeah, um, sometimes I was the first to tap out; eating pussy is hard on the face and even on the body and depending on the position the pussy is being eaten in. Some women went out of their way to make it “impossible” to please them this way – and they even had the nerve to tell me after I’d spent an hour or more eating them. I’d ask if they had an orgasm and they’d admit that they did but they just weren’t going to make it easy for me to get them to have one or more. I didn’t pretend to understand that and I still don’t today but, okay. I still got to eat that pussy even if you were playing games with me about it.

On the forum, eh, we don’t talk about such things and in this way. The focus gets us to… comparing shit. What’s better – eating pussy or sucking dick? Which do you prefer to do? Stuff like that and while guys admit to eating pussy – and why wouldn’t they? – the focus makes them put more emphasis on sucking cock or topping/bottoming if anal sex is part of your thing to do. There were no posts that I knew of about that first pussy eating experience… so I wrote one and because we just don’t talk about stuff like that. The focal point almost doesn’t “allow” such discussions, not because it’s forbidden but the sex we have with women is seen as a given but, as I would find out, the two things aren’t all that dissimilar at a high level of thought since a lot of the things one can do to a woman can be done to a man, too, physical differences accounted for and notwithstanding.

I do go about sucking dick the same way I go about eating pussy – with great glee and “evil” intent to keep at it until the receiver cums or they can’t take any more of what I’m doing or, rarely, I just wear myself out trying to knock them into the next county with my mouth, tongue, and fingers. That’s just not bisexual – that’s being sexual… period. I just flat-out love eating pussy. I love it more than I do sucking dick. It excites the living daylight about of me and has to the point where I’ve ejaculated while eating pussy. Embarrassing but, yeah – it’s like that for me.

On the forum, we just don’t talk about this part of our bisexuality outside of “general” stuff because, again, the focal part is on the dick. It’s the “thing” that we don’t “know” a whole lot about or it’s a lot more… socially disturbing than getting into the dirty details of having sex with a woman. Some guys do write about it, but they don’t get much in the way of comments as compared to the flood of comments they’d get if they were talking about getting some dick unless the member is writing about how he got some pussy and dick at the same time.

A lot of guys have responded to that post and shared when they first got exposed to sucking dick and depending on how old they were and other factors, there’s a lot of discussion back and forth and, oddly, it includes guys who have yet to suck a dick. Yeah, they might mention having fooled around with a girl but it’s more in passing than anything else. Even at a higher level, it has never escaped my notice that the people who bitch about us having sex with men also overlook the fact that we have sex with women… unless they’re talking about how we’re just automatically giving women STDs and HIV/AIDS. Otherwise, their focal point is the same as the one the forum has:

It’s all about the dick. Sucking them. Taking them in the ass. Returning the favor. Debates about whether it’s better to give than received. Perhaps not really making the connection that sex with men and women really isn’t all that different other than, again, the obvious physical differences. If you can go down on a woman, you can go down on a man; her clit is just a smaller version of our dick and clits comes in different sizes, too. If you can fuck a woman, you can fuck a man even though we only have one place to stick a dick. These days, you can be fucked by a woman and with man-made cocks that you might not ever see on a human being. Some guys talk about that but, again, the focal point isn’t so much about having sex with her as it is being pegged and then wondering what it would be like to get the real thing in them.

I’ve had women put a vibrator in me and turn it on high. Holy shit. I’ve had women finger-fuck me and my first wife had a stupidly big dildo that she had no qualms about using on me at times and when she got a strap-on, well, that was interesting to be fucked by her even though she said it wasn’t as easy to do as she thought – but it was fun for her to fuck me for a very long time and until she eventually got tired… another “holy shit” moment and one that maybe some guys looking to be pegged don’t take into consideration all that much. They talk about this but the woman isn’t the focal point; it’s taking that fake dick in the ass and some guys opt for this because getting the real thing in them is too… scary or whatever.

On the forum, we should speak more about how sex with women ties into having sex with men and not in the afterthought way we tend to do so. As Collaredmicheal accurately pointed out, I don’t write a whole lot about my sexcapades with women or how sex with the ladies also helped to define my bisexuality and, yes, very much so when I ate my first pussy when I did. That was scarier than sucking dick was and today I just laugh at myself over what it took for me to not only get my face down there but to put my mouth on it and getting my tongue involved. “Weird” tastes and smells. Made her go through a lot of stuff from moaning and groaning to giggling and me down there trying to figure out what’s going on because I’m sucking on her clit… and it’s twitching just like a guy’s dick would when he’d shoot a load of cum in my mouth.

Hmm. Ain’t that interesting? I thought so and it occurred to me that the whole “trick” to doing this is to get her clit to do what even my dick would do when I came. Not “all that different” than sucking dick. Who knew it could make you feel so damned good to eat pussy? I didn’t know… but I found out and I’d learn that it made my bisexuality more… complete. Yeah… you can do the same thing to a girl that you can do to a guy – just different… but not all that much so. Pussy tastes better. Feels better to do it. Not as easy as sucking a guy off can be. Women are… funny about having their pussy eaten… but guys can be just as funny about having their dick sucked, too.

I didn’t know this before I ate my first pussy but because I ate one, I learned some stuff that later on I realized was more related than I had thought because the focal point should be on sex and not so much about who we’re having it with but, nope, on the forum? The focal point is dick… and I think I’m going to do something about that and here on my blog as well so I can practice what I preach.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The Games We Played

Last night, I was just sitting and watching the Monday Night Football game and the song, “Games People Play” popped into my head and, well, y’all know me – I have no idea why it did nor do I know why that made the Time Machine Operator wake up and take me back to the heights of my youthful debauchery and moments of sexual discovery… but it did and now I gotta get it out of my head.

One thought I had was that as adults, eh, we don’t often like having to “play games” to get sex or some find that playing sex-specific games is the cat’s pajamas. Now, I know I’ve written about this period in my life a lot but it seems like I write about it from “different perspectives” – that’s the best way I can put it. My peers and I – and like a lot of kids – had a “love/hate” kind of thing going on with each other where one moment, we’d be arguing and fighting and the next, everything would be cool.

Developmentally, it was smack dab in the middle of those times when our social skills were developing but also our sexual awareness, it seemed to me, hit a lot of us at about the same time even though there was this one guy who was a few steps ahead of the rest of us; we thought that we were onto something new and exciting but he would be like, “Oh… about time y’all got caught up!”

Russell Wilson is having a bad game at this point and the Washington Football Team is pretty much doing whatever they want on both sides of the ball… and I’m thinking about how we’d play and how that would turn into having sex. The Time Machine Operator said, “Man, those were the days, weren’t they? Even a simple game of “Tag” could get things started! Remember that time when “Petey” tagged you… by grabbing your dick?”

Yep, I sure did remember and I remember that after the game, Petey and I went to one of the hideouts and had glorious, exciting sex with each other… and giggling the whole time because we were being very bad and “getting away with it.” Much later in life, I’d think that our village of adults probably knew what we might be up to whenever we were out of their sight and it was just a given that if two or more of us were “missing,” those of us who noticed the absence was pretty sure where they were and what they were doing because we’d also be among the missing and on a rather regular basis and depending on the time of year and with summer being the ideal excuse to be out and about…

And exploring sex with each other. The Time Machine Operator isolated a specific moment in time where one of my friends and I decided to play “House” and we were “arguing” about who was going to be the “daddy” and who’d be the “mommy.” Now, if you think it was weird for boys to be playing a game that we normally played with girls, well, maybe it was but what we were really doing was trying to decide which one of us would try to “make a baby” first. As Russell Wilson got intercepted, I’m quietly laughing to myself thinking about that moment and thinking about how “silly” that argument was since, at one point, we’d switch roles in the game but, yeah, we played games as a prelude to having sex while, as adults, eh, we just want to get right to the heart of the matter, you know, after we’ve “kicked game” well enough to get someone to agree to have sex with us.

The Archivist woke up and started pointing out how many time-honored childhood games would often lead to even more youthful debauchery. Like playing “Truth or Dare.” I don’t think we were interested in unlocking any truths about stuff since we all knew each other extremely well, which made daring someone to do something – and something involving a sexual act – was really a waste of time since if someone dared me to suck “Junebug’s” dick, it was going to gleefully get done but “balking” at it was just part of the game. With a group of us playing this game, you could always count on the pretenses of the game being abandoned but, “officially,” someone would dare the group to do the nasty with each other.

I’m still kinda laughing to myself at how predictable we were (as the Washington Football Team kicked a field goal) because it wasn’t like we didn’t know what we really wanted to do and that it was gonna get done… after we played whatever game we were into. At a slightly later point – and almost all at once – we just dropped using game playing as an “excuse” to have sex and just ask someone, “Hey… do you wanna do it?” I guessed that it just took us a few to “understand” that we didn’t have to play “Hide and Seek” to sneak off and do something… but, yeah, if we were playing this came and a couple of us (or sometimes, more of us) couldn’t be found, well, we knew why and it was funny because when they suddenly reappeared and we’d call them out on it, they’d categorically deny that they were off having sex… while grinning the whole time.

Man, we were so… obvious and disingenuous but, again, we were still in the process of developing our social skills and exploring sex but since us guys weren’t supposed to be doing that with each other, it kinda made sense that we’d “disguise” our intent and, dare I say, desire to have sex with each other by playing games and probably thinking that we were being sneaky about it since if we were asked where we’d been and what we had been doing, we could tell them that we were playing a game… and we wouldn’t be lying to the adult(s) who asked but, um, we weren’t telling the whole truth of what we’d been doing.

And I still think they knew we weren’t being totally honest and truthful and even more so when we’d be asked and our answer would be kinda vague and generalized which often had the adult(s) in question giving us a look that gave us the impression that they didn’t quite believe us. We all thought that we were the sneakiest people alive… and I’m pretty sure we really weren’t all that much.

The rest of my “head time” was spent with the assholes living in my head going back and forth and pointing out this moment or that moment when playing a game would lead to having sex. Even playing something as innocent as “Monopoly” could be a good reason to have sex and especially when someone was running out of money and getting a loan from the bank required… collateral. Now, we all hated losing as such games but, at the same time, I was pretty sure that some of us would lose on purpose since losing would involve something sexual. If we were playing “Marbles” and someone got cleaned out and lost their favorite marbles, well, um, if they wanted them back, well, you know.

Yeah… a kind of blackmail but those of us involved in the, ah, exploration wouldn’t object all that much to what we had to do to get our favorite marbles back. We learned the necessary social skills about winning and losing and I know I hated losing but, sometimes, losing would be a good thing – and I could always get more marbles. Sometimes, losing a game was also a win because that meant I could suck dick and get screwed and as much as the winner decided and since reversing the “roles” was a given among us, it would be a win/win.

We played because that’s what we were supposed to do; we just took playing to a different level. Like having races, for example. The good part was that I was one of the fastest among us and I rarely lost a race but, um, sometimes it wasn’t as much about the thrill of victory as it was the even bigger thrill of consoling the loser by giving him a blowjob. Did some guys lose on purpose? I’m sure they did because, um, yeah, man, I don’t know what happened – I must’ve tripped on something and that’s why I lost and more so when the stakes were, um, if you lost, get ready to do the nasty.

Losing, as it turned out, sucked… in both a good and bad way. Playing games like “Army,” were the perfect excuse to have sex since if you got captured, you’d be “tortured” for information on where the rest of your guys were so they could be captured and the game won. Um, shit, well, I didn’t like being captured but I didn’t mind being “tortured” all that much either; giving a few blowjobs or my “torturers” fucking me until I gave them the information – and information they kinda really didn’t want – was good, nasty fun. And, for the record, I never gave up any information on the rest of my team because, um, yeah. That. I’d tell my captors, “You can torture me all you want to – I’m not telling you anything!”

Hell, yeah. Boy, did they ever torture me and the more I “resisted,” the more I got… probed for information. It was a game within a game and we knew that both games was… bullshit. We wanted to have sex with each other. It was glorious. Being very, very bad. Some guys drifted away from the sex and those who moved away would be replaced by someone moving into the ‘hood so there were always new guys willing to play games… and play the game within the game. Sucking and fucking each other and with reckless abandon. Make a bet with someone and lose the bet? Man, that sucked but the price of losing the bet was also a win because the whole purpose of making the bet – and playing the game of it – was just a flimsy excuse to have sex.

Yeah, like I really hated being fucked because I lost a bet… and, yeah, I lost on purpose because I knew what the payment would be. Suck the winner off or feeling him cumming in me. Sometimes, the payment was having to do the winner. Yeah… losing sucked. Uh-huh. We eventually moved away from doing stuff like this to just asking The Question… and we’d often sit around and talk about the way we used to go about doing the stuff we weren’t supposed to do and laugh at how “childish” we were because, again, we knew good and damned well what we really wanted to do.

So I had to run out to take care of some stuff and while I was out, it came to mind that guys who discover their bisexuality later on in life – and missed this part of things – would often tell me how exciting it must have been growing up when I did. It was and I’d tell them that if they grew up when and where I did, they could bet that it wouldn’t have taken them long to join the “club,” as it were. I thought about the “new kids on the block” and how some of them arrived with some expectation that they could continue doing what they did in their old neighborhood while some of them would eventually find out what the rest of us were doing and got their curiosity piqued or just stayed out that part of things.

I thought, “There are so many people who are, I guess, confused about how guys wind up being bisexual but maybe they don’t think about those early developmental years that everyone goes through… and that it also includes discovering and exploring sex and if it’s with each other, it is what it is. I think that those fighting the good fight about bisexuality are concerned with the obvious social issues, which is a good thing but even when I see discussions about the issues, some troll always seems to have something negative to say about not knowing or understanding why a guy would want to go both ways and, I’d guess, that even among us bisexuals, the why of how we became this way is a closely guarded secret or, none of your bee’s wax.

Stuff like this is just a part of growing up. It’s a part that not everyone winds up experiencing as they go about the task of developing and refining their social skills since if they’re gonna fool around with sex, it’s in the preferred heterosexual way and with all the “standard warnings” to not even go there at all. It’s a part of the “deal” that I don’t think society, as a whole, gives much thought about but, then again, I’ve never been able to shake the feeling and suspicion that as we were running around having a field day having sex with each other, the adults knew that we were. They hoped that we weren’t but, yeah, I think they knew and were keeping an eye out for any problems and, I think, more so if a guy was being seen as being queerer than he should have been or he was gonna be gay.

It’s always interesting to see what the guys in the generation after me went about this and I’ve often found that they, too, played games of some kind and definitely the classic “Show Me Yours” game that would get… interesting. I think that in every generation, there’s always that one guy who somehow seemed to know all about this boy-on-boy thing and would be eager to share what he knew with anyone he thought might want to know.

For those people who say that they have no idea what would possess us to do such a thing or how we learned about it, the answer is raging hormones possessed us and we learned about it from and with each other. I’m sure that my generation wasn’t the first one to figure out how to include sex into the games we played but, yeah, it was all new to us. We… indulged. Learned some stuff and whether or not we were aware that we were. They call it experimentation and I seem to recall, much later in life, a discussion I was taking part in about this very same thing and someone said that all that sexual experimentation with each other was just preparing us to fulfill our manly roles once we became of age… and I didn’t think he was too far off base about that but he was also of a mind that such experimentation had to stop once we reached whatever age we reached so it could be said that we knew what we were doing.

I remember kinda laughing at that one because it’s something that a lot of people – and in every generation – thinks is what happens. It does and there’s no questioning or debating that but, um, nope, waiting to be “old enough” wasn’t what was really going on for so many of us. Why wait when we can do it now? I look back at that period of my life and just shake my head to see how different I am now as compared to how cock crazy I was back then… and admitting that I was but I wasn’t the only one; not that it’s some kind of justification or anything like that but, yeah, being able to play games that often led to having sex with da fellas?

Exciting. Naughty and gloriously nasty. The only cares were being able to do it with a guy and not getting caught doing it. Made wanting to have sex with girls even more of a thing to do because, um, why not and more so when adults made it clear that if we were going to have sex, it had to be with a girl. Okay – fine. I was good with that but to have sex with da fellas? Good with that, too, even if today I see how we went about it to be, well, childish. But we learned to be more… direct; we didn’t have to play those old games to want to have sex with each other – hence, The Question. Do I want to do it? Do bears shit in the woods? Shit, you don’t have to ask me twice! Where can we go? And, for me, we couldn’t get someplace fast enough. And, yeah, we’d get our stories straight because one of the village adults just might stop us and ask us where we’ve been and what we’ve been doing.

Whether they believed us or not is a whole different thing. Just how we went about boys being boys. When asked if I could go back and do it all over again, would things be different or would I do them differently and the answer is hell, no: I wouldn’t change a thing. Not only did I discover that it was educational in a very weird way but it was fun. It felt good. Why change any of that even if it were possible? Well, okay – if there was something I would change it would be the one and only time I got caught in the act; that was… about as scary as anything I’d experienced. Otherwise? Nope – wouldn’t change a thing. I liked the games we played and playing them taught me a lot of stuff and, yep, some of it was… extra credit.

Good times. Formative ones. The kind our very polite society insists should never be a part of boys growing up even though, across every generation, it is known that we play the game and explore the sex so telling us that we shouldn’t have done it, while morally right, doesn’t change the reality. I sucked dick and guys sucked mine; I got fucked and did my fair share of fucking my male friends. It’s just what we figured out we could do if we wanted to.

The games we played – and to the extent we often did – taught the adult version of myself a lot of things that I’m aware of today but not so much back then. In the beginning, I had questions that needed answering and I found the answers while playing games with my friends.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Is It Kinky?

About, oh, I think, thirty years ago, I was talking to someone and we got to talking about sexuality and we both wound up admitting that we were bisexual and they said, “That makes us pretty kinky!”

It does? It wasn’t the first time I’d heard someone say that if you went both ways, that made you kinky although, being the literal minded person I tend to be most of the time, I didn’t see it that way; it’s different from just being straight or gay but, okay, it could be seen by others as kinky.

Kinky. What an interesting word. Probably has a few different meanings depending on context like how a kid I was talking to at summer camp asked me how and why my hair was kinky (and how could he get his very straight hair to be kinky.) If something is all tied up in knots or otherwise twisted, the object is kinky or has kinks in it; that nagging pain, stiffness, or ache in your back or neck (or shoulders or any other part of your body that applies) is just a kink.

If you have sex in a way that’s outside of what’s considered to be “normal,” kinky applies. And sometimes, kinky can be substituted with freaky, a connotation I’ve heard a lot since I’m bisexual. Okay. Whatever. Tomatoes are a fruit, not a vegetable; to-may-to and to-mah-to is just a semantical difference. But is being bisexual really kinky?

I don’t think it is but some, apparently, think it is… which brings me to some of the stuff guys have wanted to do and their idea of having their way with me… and I’ve heard some pretty kinky stuff suggested. Now, there’s kinky and then there are fetishes which, I dunno, could be a subset of kink, like the one guy who I was having a great conversation with until we got to the “what do you want to do” part of the conversation and he allowed that it would be a great turn-on for him if I were to urinate on him… or urinate in him. Pick one. Either would give him great pleasure. Let’s not exclude the guy who wanted to me in or on me.

Or the guy who wanted to do some stuff with my feet and, preferably, with them being all sweaty and funky. Then another guy who wanted me to do some stuff with his feet; another guy suggested that I not wash under my arms so he could enjoy my, ah, overly manly scent. There was the guy who asked if I’d be upset and break the deal if I came over and he answered the door wearing his best lingerie and one other guy who asked if I’d be bothered if, while sucking my dick, he was wearing his diaper.

One guy wanted me to talk dirty… to his dick. Another guy told me how terribly exciting he’d be if I were to cum in a glass so he could take it to the head that way. A guy sent me a picture and asked if the lipstick he was wearing really complimented his complexion. The many guys who wanted to role play and particularly the guy who wanted me to “break into his house” and force him to have sex and while he was pleading with me to not make him do such a sinful thing.

Um, yeah, nope – I can see myself trying to explain to the police that I really wasn’t breaking into the guy’s house, you know, after a nosy neighbor reported a suspicious Black man checking the house’s windows and other points of entry.

I’ve had my “fair share” of guys wanting to tie me up or wanting to be tied up and spanked or a lot of other stuff that makes me blink and say, “What the fuck, dude?” One guy said that it would really make him cum hard if, while he sucked me, I’d “slap the shit” out of him and, yes, that’s a direct quote. One guy wanted me to show up wearing women’s underwear and the lacier, the better and, to top off the list, there was the guy who answered the door and had me thinking I had the wrong house because a woman answered the door instead of the man I had been expecting but, yep, I was at the right place… but he failed to mention this to me.

And they say being bisexual is kinky? Given some of the stuff I’ve been presented with, being bisexual is pretty vanilla, all things considered. It makes me laugh when I hear people talk about how perverted bisexuals are and, yep, specifically men. Fucking a guy in the ass and/or sucking his dick is perverted, could be kinky, one of the highlights of sexual deviancy and pretty damned freaky, which made the thought pop into my head that if a woman was sucking me and she wanted to be fucked in the ass, no one would think twice about that or call it kinky… but if I did that to another guy, yup – kinky.

It’s “eye of the beholder” stuff and I get it; one person’s normal is another person’s kink. Participating in group sex is either kinky or freaky and I guess that having Iron Butterfly’s ” In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on the stereo and the volume on 15 while sucking dick just might count as being kinky or freaky. Yeah, that one was pretty weird and more so when I happen to love the song… just not that damned loud and definitely not a song I’d choose to have playing while having sex.

I’ve been asked – and probably because I’m bisexual – if I have any kinks and as far as I know, I don’t. I’ve had to learn some… stuff along the way to cater to the kinks of others as long as they don’t get into that point I won’t go beyond. Like, oh, spanking. Now, I never really liked it when I got spanked since it was in connection with something I did wrong or, sometimes, I got blamed for something I didn’t do, let alone knew about. I get the erotic connection but when a guy tells me that he’d really get off to paddle me for being a bad boy while sucking his dick, um, dude, you do that and we’re going to have a problem. Indeed, I was being screwed by a guy, it was feeling good and then he literally started beating my ass with a paddle he had hidden while cussing me out like I’d never been cussed out before.

I broke his nose. The fucked up part? He shot his load all over the place after I open-palmed him in the face. He liked it. Wanted me to hurt him even more. I got out of there so fast that when I got home, I realized that I had my pants on inside-out and so was my T-shirt. Oh, and I was going commando… because he kept my underwear and, yeah, I was wondering why I couldn’t find them in my rush to get the hell away from him.

And some folks say that being bisexual is kinky? Freaky? Oh, do I ever beg to differ! Like I said, compared to some of the people I’ve been in contact with? I’m pretty vanilla because I don’t have any kinks. Of all the “kinky shit” I’ve seen in my time, I haven’t seen one that has made me say, “Hmm, that might be fun!”

Okay. I had to take a break to get my chicken noodle soup going which also had me making a trash run to empty the can. As I hustled around in the kitchen, dicing celery and onion and getting my herbs and spices together, I got reminded of the guy who wanted to ride me… wearing his cowboy regalia. He had said that since riding dick cowboy style was his kinky thing to do, dressing the part made sense. I actually went along with this one just to see if he was really gonna wear his gear… and I’ll be damned if he didn’t. It didn’t do anything for my pleasure and I found it distracting to hear him yelping, “Tell me to “ride it cowboy!”” over and over and while waving his arms around as if he was riding a bull.

I recalled this and I was glad that I didn’t have the knife in my hand because I was really trying not to laugh and wind up cutting myself. Afterward, he gave me a hug and thanked me for… being kinky. When I wasn’t but perhaps I was guilty by association? I dunno.

Don’t get me all kinked up but I understand most of the kinks people have; I might think it’s… unusual but it is what it is for them. It’s what floats their boat but, nope, I’m not singing, “The Star Spangled Banner” while homey blows me; that, by the way, was a deal-breaker that I actually felt sad about because the guy was more than okay with me… until he mentioned this one. I have, in fact and at times, been kicked to the curb because I don’t have any kinks or fetishes. If the deal is to suck dick, that’s what I’m going to do and, hopefully, without any distractions that aren’t a part of what I’m doing. One guy wanted to tickle me as I sucked him and, well, given that I’m very ticklish, that wasn’t going to work for me; he was either going to have me laughing until I damned near peed myself or he was going to get his dick sucked… but both just wasn’t going to happen.

One guy wanted me to pretend I was a girl and another guy wanted me to show up dressed like one. Not that I was gonna do that and more so because I refused to remove my facial and body hair just to satisfy his kink but, okay, it was what would have floated his boat the most. I get it even if whatever the kink is might not make a whole lot of sense to me. People are… kinky when it comes to having sex but I still don’t think that being bisexual is kinky, in and of itself unless you want to consider that it’s outside of what we consider to be normal… but I’ve never heard gay folks being called kinky just because they’re gay.

I mean, okay, if you want to wear nipple clamps while we’re wrecking the bed, go for it but, nope, I’ll pass on having my nipples clamped, thank you very much. In the pain department, a guy I was talking to online was going on and on about how much he loved having his balls slapped and punched and, according to him, the harder, the better. I cringed and wanted to throw up just listening to him talk about how that would make him cum hard. That’s a hard pass; I have a major issue with causing someone that much pain. I understood that he was used to it but even though I’m pretty decent at multitasking during sex, even if I were to agree to do that to him – and I wasn’t – it would be too much of a distraction for me to be mindful not to punch his boys too hard… and I know how to punch to cause damage.

Yeah… no. I respect your right and need to be as kinky and freaky as you need to be. Some of them? Okay, we can talk about it, you know, as long as it doesn’t take me to that point which I won’t ever go beyond. Hell, it just might be fun! It remains true, however, that I don’t have any kinks and I don’t think that my being bisexual is kinky at all; it’s just the way I am. I can be… devilish and, oh, do the ice cube thing on you while giving you head but I don’t think that’s kinky. When I’ve been asked what’s the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done, um, well, hmm – let me get back to you on that one, okay? I’ve done some… stuff and, yeah, stuff that others might say is me being kinky but if I’ve done that stuff, it’s because someone wanted me to more than me indulging in a kink that I own.

Unless one thinks that my being bisexual is kinky or even freaky. Some might say that I am since I don’t have a problem having sex with men and, okay, I get that, too, because it’s outside of what we consider to be “normal” sexual behavior but “normal” means whatever it does to the person you’re talking to like, um, no, I don’t think it’s “normal” to be all gassy and farting in someone’s face because it gives them a great thrill. I heard about this one from someone else and all I did was that slow blink thing. Different strokes for different folks. If I’ve learned nothing else about sex, it’s that humans are very creative when it comes to getting off and “unbelievably” so, you know, depending on one’s kink or fetish of choice.

To be bisexual, it helps to have a sense of adventure which I think is needed just to have same-sex sex alone. It helps to be… versatile in things as well as being adaptable in order to push other people’s buttons the right way so they can get off the way they want to. I’d even go as far as to say that having a “bag of dirty tricks” should be standard equipment but only opened when all else fails to produce the desired results. To me, that’s not being kinky – that’s just being… informed. Understanding that what works on one person might not work on the next… or even the same person the next time. I understand that kinks are just a way for someone to express their deepest sexual desires and needs, well, beyond “merely” having sex to begin with but I often find it funny to have people think I’m weird because I don’t have any kinks to call my own and I’m sure I don’t have them because I don’t need them.

Group sex is considered to be kinky but to me? Nothing kinky about that as far as I’m concerned… but, okay, a lot of people think it is and probably – and usually – if they’ve never done it before. I understand. I’ve been writing this and wracking my brain to suss out what the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done is and read this as something “kinky” that I wanted to do… and I got nothing. Zero kinks. Do I need one? I dunno and more so when I can’t think of anything that I know of that, again, makes me say, “Yeah, that’s what I need to get off!” Although I do kinda/sorta think that some of the Tantric stuff I was taught is kinky but I’m really not sure about that just like I don’t think knowing most of the Kama Sutra stuff is kinky.

It is, if nothing else, information. “Tricks of the trade” that I’ve picked up in my sexual journey and as demonstrated by those I’ve had sex with… or just flat out refused to have sex with. One guy actually wanted me to use his stun gun on him and just before he was ready to cum and in a way, I actually understood that one. One day, while working on my car, I did a dumb thing: Pulled the coil wire while the car was running. Holy shit. I pulled it and wound up on my ass and, wow, did that ever feel interesting but I didn’t immediately think about that since I was more concerned about putting myself into cardiac arrest. But, boy, did I feel seriously good or what? It was, I determined later, a rather orgasmic experience and since I knew what that felt like, I understood why that guy wanted to get zapped at the right moment…

And I wasn’t going to even go there. One of the things that ties in to that point I will not go beyond for no one and for any reason. Choking someone during sex? Oh, hell, no and even though I understand the euphoria that can be experienced when you’re on the verge of being choked out – and a thing I learned while studying judo and our sensei being of a mind that we had to know what it was like to be choked out in order to do it without killing our opponent in a contest. I was… embarrassed to get choked out and realized that I had an erection under my gi pants and even if no one else knew it. I get it. Don’t ask me to do it. Yeah, I’m bisexual and if that’s considered to be kinky, that’s enough of a kink for me to have and own.

For this one, I’ll add that in a contest, I choked a guy out; he just wouldn’t tap and like he should have. Just as he was passing out, um, he came on himself and I knew he was because the position I had him in allowed me to feel his dick pumping away and once I released the hold, he had quite the wet spot as evidence. I asked him after the contest why he didn’t tap and he told me that he didn’t tap… because it made him have an orgasm and cum. It was his kink and the first one I’d come in contact with and, well, it didn’t make sense to me then… but it does now.

Just don’t ask me to do it. I’m really not that kinky and if that makes me quite vanilla, I’m good with that. I’ve seen and heard of the kinks of others; there are those who think that being bisexual is kinky but I gotta tell you that I’ve seen straight people do some shit having sex that makes being bisexual look terribly tame and of no real consequence by comparison.

As such, I don’t think bisexuality, in and of itself, is all that kinky… but what do I know?

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: You Never Know

A lot of bi guys are aching to know how they can find out or tell if another guy is interested in doing something. I’ve seen so many “tips and tricks” offered up by successful guys, from the look to other things like hand signals, wearing something that you hope some guy will see and know what it means. Such things work for some guys and not even close for others but the thing I sometimes talk about is that you can’t look at a guy and tell that he’d be interested because, unlike, um, certain gay men, bi guys look like any and every other guy.

Some guys are “classically” fixated on a friend they’re quite close to and wonder how to find out if he’d be interested in being more than friends. They often see “clues” that, at first glance, might indicate that the friend might be interested and in thinking about this particular thing, I’ve had friends whose normal behaviors would give me the thought that if I were to ask them, they just might say yes and, “What took you so long to ask?” Yeah, that one has failed more than it was successful but that’s really to be expected since just because you can talk about very personal stuff with a friend or y’all can play grab-ass with each other doesn’t necessarily mean that if you asked for the dick, he’s going to be game to give it to you.

Or he might. One of my biggest “problems” was my inability to pick up on hints so I’d often wind up totally surprised to have a guy hit on me and then tell me, “I was trying to give you a hint!” Yeah, no… went right over my head. I’ve been with friends and somewhere along the line, his mood changes from “normally friendly” to “some kind of not happy” and I’ve noticed the change and have asked what’s wrong, they say, “Nothing…” but sometime later, I’d find out that they were trying to get me to pick up on their hints that they wanted to do something with me… and got salty because, again, it all went right past me.

Or everything I’ve been seeing about a friend – and over a long period of time – is telling me that if I asked him if I could suck his dick, he wouldn’t be opposed to it but after having this one blow up in my face a few times, um, am I seeing what I think I’m seeing. Sometimes it’s pretty damned frustrating because what you see might not be the truth of the other guy, whether it’s a friend or that guy sitting at the end of the bar who has been looking your way enough to get your attention.

Like the one friend I had spent the weekend with. Got there on Friday (and in time for dinner) and we were hyped to have this time to hang out but a little after we got sent to his room for the night – we were old enough to not be told to go to bed and sleep – his mood changed; I’d noticed it but didn’t give it my full attention. He was… antsy. Seemed to be nervous about something. Hmm. Maybe I need to ask him if he’s okay… nah, if there was something wrong, he’d tell me because he usually does. By the time we settled in to sleep, I didn’t sleep well that night because he was tossing and turning a lot and even then, during one such moment where I got awakened and it looked like he was, I never bothered to ask him what was wrong and understandable since I was trying to get some sleep.

Saturday morning finally arrives and I feel sleep-deprived and tired and he’s so cranky that you’d think someone dropped a house on his mom or sister. I asked him what was going on – finally – but he brushed me off with the usual, “Nothing…” but now he’s got my attention because throughout the day, he just got crankier and irritable and to the point where I’m thinking that cutting this sleepover short and spending the rest of my weekend at home. But he insisted that he was really okay and he was… better – less cranky – so I put it out of my mind.

We’re getting ready for bed and I’d come back from the bathroom and the shower I had to take because the day’s activities had me too funky for my own liking. I came in with a towel wrapped around me and digging in my bag for underwear; the towel came undone and dropped to the floor but I wasn’t concerned about that because, for one, eh, I wasn’t a very modest kind of guy and, for another, it wasn’t like he’d never seen me naked before; we were in the same gym class in high school and often showered next to each other after class to talk about whatever was going on. Indeed, I’d gone to his home, told he was in his room and I could go on up and I’d go into his room and he’s naked and rummaging around for clothes and dripping water all over the floor. We’d seen each other naked so many times that we were comfortable with each other so when my towel decided to fall to the floor, I didn’t give a single thought about picking it up and covering up and more so when I had my underwear in my hand.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed and not more than two feet from where I was standing; I’m talking to him about… something and not even noticing that he wasn’t saying anything as I dug in my bag looking for the T-shirt I was sure I’d put in the bag when he said, “I’m sorry.”

I turned toward him to ask what he’s sorry about and the next thing I know, he’s got his face plastered to my dick and crotch and just seriously going to town on me. I’m shocked and surprised and trying to stupidly ask him what he’s doing but, um, whew, holy shit, he’s got me feeling really good and the feelings sent my “what the fuck” thoughts into some dark corner. I got… amnesia because one moment I’m standing there and the next thing I know, we’re on the bed and I have his dick in my mouth and no idea how that happened. Man… was he good at this or what? It didn’t take all that long for us to unload into each other’s mouth and as the “fog of sex” started to lift, my mind went back to wondering what the fuck just happened and why and as soon as I remembered how to form words and sentences, I asked him.

“I’ve been trying to get to you pick up on the fact that I wanted to do this Friday night,” he said and he sounded a little salty about it, too. “But you weren’t paying attention!”

Well, shit – now I know why he was so antsy and why he was all cranky and pissy the next day… and I didn’t connect any of this with him wanting to do what he did – went right over my head. I felt… stupid but also confused because I knew him but, obviously, I didn’t know this about him, you know, not that I really minded all that much but, still, I had a really long moment to sit there and make sense of it all and, well, that wasn’t producing any results.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked.

“No – I’m just… surprised. I didn’t know you felt this way and I’m feeling pretty silly because I wasn’t catching your hints,” I said.

“Okay. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind,” he said, clearly relieved.

“I didn’t but, damn,” was all I could say.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he said.

“How’d you know that?” I asked.

He just shrugged and said, “I just knew and I don’t know how I knew – I just knew you wouldn’t mind. Maybe I should have told you but…”

I immediately understood why he didn’t and probably for the same reason I never told him that I liked having sex with guys. We never generally talked about it so, to me, there was no reason to bring it up; it wasn’t a matter of not liking him or not being “attracted” to him or even thinking about him like that – the topic just never came up. But, okay – now we both know something about each other that we didn’t know before. The mood was… awkward in that we needed to talk some more about this and we’re waiting on each other to start the conversation – and one I only now realized we should have had a long time ago.

“Start from the beginning,” I said, breaking the silence between us. We spent, oh, maybe the next hour telling each other how we got hooked on dick and we were so much into this that I hadn’t noticed that we were kinda cuddling – more like lying very close to each other more than all wrapped up in each other and, um, both of us were very hard and we both seemed to notice that at the same time.

“You seem to have a problem,” he said, his face so close to mine that he could have kissed me… and I might not have objected.

“So do you,” I said, staring into his eyes because… well, they were right there and he was staring deeply into mine.

“I’m thinking we need to do something about that, don’t you?” he asked.

“I think so, too,” I replied.

“Cool!” he said – then moved his head enough to kiss me; not a quick peck but not one of those “steal your breath away” kisses… and it was nice and I actually shivered as I kissed him back before he flipped himself around and now my vision was filled with his erection. I didn’t know what to do or think about the kiss – I didn’t like kissing guys all that much but I knew what to do with his boner…

And he knew what to do with mine. At one point I got to thinking about us getting caught in the act, realizing that we’d been so into things that it only now dawned on me that his parents might want to check on us and more so when we were quiet… except for our moans as we sucked each other. That was one of those weird moments where I was thinking that if we got busted, we just got busted and face the music. However, any further thoughts got shoved aside because he was fucking into my mouth faster than he was before; I felt his whole body stiffen, felt his dick swell in my mouth and, wow… he must have been storing all this cum somewhere and for a long time!

We got untangled and lying next to each other again and grinning like idiots. Complimenting each other on how good it was but, at the same time, I’m back to wondering why I had no idea that we had this in common and still kinda kicking my own ass because I had seen the signs since Friday night and hadn’t really paid that much attention to them; I just didn’t make the connection. I didn’t like that I had this blind spot and one, to be honest, I knew I had and was a bit of a bane to me because it made me miss a lot of opportunities or things happened but only because they had to explain to me the hints and other signs that should have told me that they’d be more than interested in getting me naked.

Shit. For the moment, it didn’t matter because if I hadn’t known before, I knew now and that’s what really mattered. I knew that he liked me but, as I reviewed all of our prior interactions, now I could see that he really liked me… and I missed it. All of it. Some of it I’d seen in other guys, too. Once again totally blindsided even if pleasantly so.

As we kissed – and with some seriousness this time – I was still… pissy to understand that you just never know if a guy is going to be interested in having sex… until it becomes obvious or a moot point because the interest was there… and I never picked up on the signs.

“Are you sure you’re not pissed with me?” he asked after we broke the kiss.

“I’m sure but, um, how come you just didn’t tell me?” I asked.

“I wanted to but I wasn’t that sure how you’d react even though I did feel that it would okay to tell you,” he said. “You know what’s that like, don’t you?”

I did and said as much. If I’d had a dollar for every time I felt the same way he did and chose not to say anything, I’d have quite a bit of money. When you think you know, you find out that you really didn’t and sometimes when you’re very sure that the other guy wouldn’t be interested, you might find out otherwise. Or not. There’s just no definitive way to know unless you ask, they tell you or, like my friend and newest lover did, just “take advantage” of a situation and hope for the best.

“Did you hear me?” he asked and snapping me out of my somewhat “funky” mood which was now replaced with me feeling stupid because he had been talking to me and I wasn’t paying attention… again.

“I’m sorry – what did you say?” I asked while thinking that if he could see me blush, he would have been treated to quite the event.

“I was asking you how you feel about fucking me,” he said. “I’d really like it if you did and before you ask, no – I wouldn’t be interested in fucking you, you know, if you liked that.”

“If that’s what you wanna do…” I said. Man, he was really taking my mind to places I never suspected coming from him and this revelation was distracting me as we got ready for me to fuck him and, once that was done, I fell into his embrace and entered him, our eyes locked onto each other’s face and I saw how… happy? he was.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted and waited for this,” he said.

I didn’t say anything – I just kissed him deeply and kept moving inside of him but, yeah, he was right: I had no idea. I came inside of him and, after a moment, withdrew so I could suck him and finish him. It all felt good and right but I was still being bothered with not knowing that he felt this way – but understanding why he, one, did what he did to get all of this started and, two, didn’t say a word about it.

It was a tender moment between us as we did that “bask in the afterglow” thing and, true to his nature, he just messed it up by saying, “Um, you do know that I’m not gay, right?”

“Neither am I and you know that I know about you and Kathy Anderson, right?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You ready to go to sleep?”

“Are you?” I asked.

“I asked you first!” he said.

“I’m older,” I said.

“Only by a week!” he said, poking me in the side with a finger.

As it turned out, um, neither of us were ready to go to sleep but we eventually did and the last thing I saw was sunlight coming into his window. My sleep was… troubled. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had no clue that he wanted this and, shit, I thought I knew him. I did… and didn’t. To make matters “worse,” he was sure about me even if he was unsure about saying something about this.

How can you know? I still don’t know even though I’ve learned – and have gotten better – about picking up on hints and even trusting my instincts when I’ve been sure that the guy I’m talking to would be interested in some sex and either saying something or, if the vibe doesn’t feel right, saying nothing – and then, sometimes, I was wrong about that.

It’s a situation that drives a lot of bi guys insane and understandably so. I’d come to develop the position that if I wanted to know, the best way to find out is to ask and then be… subtly direct and not get into playing the silly games I’d seen so many guys do and would get on my nerves. If I could “demand” that they just say it, then the same thing applied to me. I might be right and I might be wrong but it seems to me that it’s one of those occupational hazards that a guy is either going to dive into or avoid because it just sucks to find that you guessed wrong.

You just never know.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: It Was Right There

I was dreaming and I knew I was and, in my dream, I had figured out how to get the world to accept bisexuality. I was dreaming of the details; saw how everything was coming together and knowing that I knew I was dreaming was that weird thing where I’m “watching” myself doing something and even paying attention.

In my dream, I’d just finished the speech I wrote that would lay out the plan and how to implement it world-wide and the part of me that knew I was dreaming said, “Yes – that will work!” In my dream, I went to the UN to give my speech to the General Assembly and it was magnificent and very well received and just as they were about to vote to implement my resolution to the Sexuality War and end it forever, my traitorous bladder said, “Get your ass up… now.

I finished waking up and, man, was I pissed because with each step I took to the bathroom, the dream was quickly fading away to the place unrecoverable dreams seem to go. By the time I got done, I couldn’t remember any of the details of the plan I had come up with and no matter how hard I tried to remember them.

Shit. It was right there and I lost it. As I became more awake, I realized that this wasn’t the first time I had this particular dream and lost it upon fully awakening or awake enough to get to the bathroom without walking into a wall or something. I’ve never been one to think that my dreams have meanings and I’m enough of a science nerd to understand that while we don’t know exactly why we dream, yeah, it’s just my subconscious processing… stuff. As I was shaving and looking at my reflection in the mirror, I kinda laughed to myself to think that if I had been dreaming about something that wasn’t as important as this, I’d remember every nitpicking detail of the dream and no matter how ridiculous I thought the dream to be, like the time I dreamed that my cat was a vampire and I found this out all late and wrong in my dream and got bitten.

I woke up from that dream and was looking at the cat sideways for a few moments and especially when she yawned and I got the usual good look at her fangs. But something like what I was dreaming about? Something with “earth-shattering” implications? Nope. I know I dreamed it and it’s like my awakened mind only has a synopsis of what I was dreaming but the details? Gone. Sometimes, I’m in that “I know I’m dreaming” state and have thought of some kick-ass shit to blog about but in the time it takes for me to fully awaken and start to get out of bed, the contents of that kick-ass blog are… gone. I knew I had something seriously good to write about but not anymore.

Shit. I can vividly remember any sex-related dream and even more if it turned out to be a wet-one or exciting enough that I’ve come fully awake and looking for the mess I know I made but, nope, no mess but I had one hell of an orgasm and fantastic enough to jolt me out of being asleep. I can remember the dream and in detail… but, again: Something like this? Not even. In that very internal way, I’ll “ask” myself, “Where’s the details of that dream?” and my conscious mind asks, “What dream?” I mean, like, come on – there had to be a dream since I’m asking you about it so how come you don’t seem to know about it?

Rhetorical question… because I know why but that’s not the point so much.

One night and again in that state, I dreamed of playing Minecraft and building something spectacular that would test my building skills. I woke up, got my act together, got into Minecraft and built it exactly as I had dreamed it. Oh, yeah – you can remember something like that but you don’t know that I dreamt about how to get the whole damned world to accept bisexuality?

By the way, here’s the Minecraft thing I dreamt about and actually built…

Yep. I can dream and remember something this detailed – and this is just the outside; the inside is even more detailed and exactly as I dreamed. But it seems that every time I have some really good bisexuality-related stuff, I come fully awake and it’s right there but slowing fading away. It’s… frustrating at times and while I know it’s an effort in futility to get my subconscious to tell my conscious mind what went on in that dreaming but aware of that state, I gets no cooperation and my conscious mind says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” which is weird, huh, since – and all kidding aside – I know I had the dream and remember having it but my consciousness has no recollection in part, whole, or at all.

Again, I don’t think or believe that my dreams mean anything other than my subconscious at work now that my consciousness is out to lunch. I’ve often thought that when I have dreams like this, it’s like my subconscious is trying to tell me something… but something that never gets into my consciousness so I can remember it in detail… unless I’m building something in Minecraft or any other thing that gets moved into my consciousness that’s not so… earth-shattering like this dream was. My consciousness is like, “Oh, yeah, I know about the dream but I can’t access the details but I know a little something about it.”

Not helping at all and more so when even now, I can feel some… residual excitement about the plan I can’t remember the details of. It was epic. It would end the Sexuality War forever. And I fucking can’t remember how to do it or how I was about to do it. Oh, well. Nothing I can do about it. What makes this even more frustrating at times is knowing that I suffered some brain damage when I had my stroke and there are gaps in my memories and I often get that feeling that I should know or remember something but, nope, nobody’s home. Whatever it was is gone and the only way I’d find out about whatever went missing is when someone tells me about it. But, apparently, the extent of the damage doesn’t include the parts of my brain that makes me dream…

And makes me forget what I was dreaming about even though I know I dreamt it. I don’t forget all bisexuality-related dreams like when a forum member contacted me off-line and presented me with a situation that he needed to be able to do something about and at the time, I told him that I’d have to think about it. And I did and I hadn’t thought of a solution but when I went to sleep, I figured it out and when I woke up, I remembered it and in detail. I contacted the member and relayed my solution and he contacted me later that day to tell me that thanks to me, he had successfully sucked his first dick and acquired the taste of cum because I told him exactly how to make it happen…

I just neglected to tell him that it literally came to me in a dream and one that I was “awake” for. Yep. I can dream and remember that just fine. Anything that’s a revelation and game-changer? “What dream are you talking about?” Or, “Sorry – whatever you were dreaming about is inaccessible.” The good thing is that I can laugh at myself whenever this happens. As I recall, it’s called “lucid dreaming” and I think it’s pretty cool even though experts don’t know exactly why this happens or how it does – they just know it does. Not asleep but not awake; dreaming and being very much aware of the fact that I’m dreaming since, um, I’m pretty sure I don’t own a Lamborghini like the one I remember arriving at the UN in. I can recall that much of it but, shit, I need the details! Send the plan over to my consciousness so I can make a whole lot of bisexuals very happy!

And I keep getting an, “Information not found” message. It’s not like one of those things where you’re trying to recall something and the best way to recall it is to not think about it which, by the way, I get a busy signal and that’s really to be expected since there seems to be no way to connect with your subconscious while you’re fully awake. Indeed, I’ve been of a mind that the urge guys get to have sex with a man just might originate in their subconscious. There’s enough of an… active connection that they feel this urge but when they’re trying to figure out why they have it, nope – information not found. It’s that “voice” that “whispers in your ear” about something and now you find yourself thinking about something… but you don’t know why you’re thinking about it or where the thought came from to begin with. Geneticists have been digging through the results of having mapped human DNA and looking for a “gay gene” which may or may not really exist and just might be “lost” in the “junk DNA” we all have… and that’s probably way easier than trying to figure out how our brains work.

I used to think that a guy doesn’t just wake up one morning and decide that today’s a good day to suck a dick… and I admit to being wrong about that because that’s exactly what happens and when I’ve had a guy tell me about this weird thought in their head and not knowing why they had it – or were maybe lucidly dreaming about it – yeah, that’s probably their subconscious telling them that, sure – today’s a good day to suck a dick… but not telling them how to actually go about it and if that information was provided – and it probably isn’t but the compulsion is there just the same.

Our brains are… just fucking amazing. Scientist have been, well, wracking their brains trying to figure out why we’re conscious to begin with and I don’t think they’ve gotten any closer in their quest to figure it out, let alone have the definitive answer to why we dream and what exactly makes us dream or do that interesting yet frustrating lucid dreaming thing. I think it’s cool to know that I’m asleep and dreaming whatever… totally uncool when I was dreaming about something “important” and all I’m left with is knowing that I dreamt it but the details are just gone. I can dream about sucking dick and remember every detail of that moment and be aware of my body’s orgasmic response… but I can’t remember the details of something like ending the Sexuality War once and for all.

I’m not worried about it and I’m not going to stress myself out trying to remember; if I can’t, I can’t. Yeah, if you’ve ever wondered why I often call my brain an asshole, now you know.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Boys Being Boys

Some stuff going on with this. Okay, so, um, yeah, we know that boys can get to a certain point in their growth and development and find themselves in the experimental phase and sex is the thing to be experimented with and explored… with other boys. Morality and social norms says this is a no-no but, yeah, while it’s not a given that all boys are going to experiment in this way, we have enough “historical data” to correctly assume that if a boy is going to experiment with sex with other boys, well, that’s what’s going to happen.

It is preferred that they don’t but if they do, at some point, that has to stop so that they can get into doing all the things that our social contracts and norms say that men are supposed to do and that includes directing one’s sexual urges toward women… only. Two realities at this point: Some get onto the “right” path and do what they’re supposed to do… and some don’t so much, not because they’re still under the influence of raging hormones but because they’ve now obtained some conflicting information and more so when they get old enough to understand “boys being boys” and in this particular context and I’ve found that this conflict is what makes some guys who were, well, being boys behave as if it has no real meaning since they made the switch to being men.

Well, um, right up to the moment they realize that boys being boys just isn’t a youthful thing to be experienced – now it’s “men being men” and in direct conflict with all that stuff that gets pounded into our heads early on about what men are supposed to do and what we’re not supposed to do… like keep having sex with each other. Just like in the “boys being boys” phase, not all boys experiment and, as adult males, nope – no grown-up experimentation either. But even when guys bypass the youthful experimentation part of the show, that doesn’t always mean that it won’t pay them a visit somewhere down the road and, at the least, get them thinking about it even if they never intend to do anything about it.

Cityman and I were talking last night and getting all philosophical about male bisexuality or, really, male sexuality and I had mentioned to him that thing I was recently hit with that every generation thinks this is something new until they eventually discover that it isn’t: Boys have been boys like forever and since boys grow into men, well, let’s say that putting away childish things doesn’t always happen or some guys really do find themselves wanting to be… boys, in that sense. Cityman spoke to being masculine and male bonding as the “high points” of male sexuality and, okay, he has some good points here since when boys are being boys, it’s not unusual that we bond and the sex is the thing that binds us and that includes being able to talk about it and it not have any impact on our masculinity as in the dual way of how we see ourselves and what the social norms are regarding masculinity…

Except it’s really kinda masculine for guys to have sex with each other; we just don’t, in our very polite society, see it that way and, indeed, having sex with other men gets… confusing because there’s a great fear of the loss of our masculinity and as observed in… effeminate gay men who are famous – or infamous – for adopting a “boys being boys” lifestyle and just a way to be. In my generation, those of us who were being boys were also influenced by the behaviors of those queer guys who were, in a few ways, more like girls than boys and being aware of this – and, back then, effeminate gay men were very much targeted and held up as a very bad example and reason why boys should not ever experiment with sex with each other.

It didn’t stop any of us from being boys then… and it’s not stopping grown men now from finding out that while we just tend to make having sex complicated as fuck, um, it’s not all that bad of a thing to – and as Cityman had said – do some bonding via cock sucking and because it’s the “easiest” thing to do. It’s not about “love and affection” so much and while male bonding is, in actuality, a thing we do and a thing we avoid – think bromance – it’s still quite the masculine thing to suck each other’s dicks because it’s sex… and boys being boys. As such, the labels we use to define sexuality are what they are and because we have to be able to call a thing something but when it comes to boys being boys – and of any age – the labels are… meaningless because this is just a part of being male; you either find this out or you don’t but bypassing it – and because that’s what we’re supposed to do – doesn’t change anything other than a lot of men saying that they didn’t do that growing and wouldn’t do it now.

It’s not so much about attraction although it does play a huge role in this and because of what we’re told about such things growing up. I’ve often given Cityman da bizness when he tells me that some guy wanted to hook up and blow each other’s brains out and he says that he turned down the offer because he didn’t find the guy attractive but that lack of attraction didn’t do much for his need and desire to want to do it; he wants to be a “boy” but there’s a lot of social shit getting in the way of doing what he knows he wants to do… and he’s not the only one. I often point out the… huge gap in our experiences which isn’t anyone’s “fault;” I’m older and dove into that aspect of boys being boys when I was a boy… and he didn’t get there until he was like 40 and, interestingly enough, about the age some men find that “boys being boys” might be a good thing to check out and, nope, I have no idea why – I just know that it happens and often between the ages of 30 and 40 and, yes, with guys in their 50s, 60s and even 70s.

If there is a “culprit,” it’s that boys being boys is… also programmed into us and now it’s just a matter of whether or not we get the wakeup call or not or we get it and hit the snooze button over and over because that’s not the way we’re supposed to behave sexually. In my generation, if you were into sex like this, it was considered to be very unmanly and that perception carried over to the following generation but with less impact. That generation knew what my generation said about this but that generation questioned it more than mine did and to the point where, oh, maybe about the mid-point of the generation following mine, it was determined that having sex with a guy wasn’t girly – it’s very masculine and they actually had it right… because it always was a very masculine thing to do given that boys have always been boys like this.

I decided to write about this – and probably again – because it came to my mind that in every generation, there are always those people who look at this and have no idea why boys and/or grown-ass men would do such a thing and there’s a lot of “shock and awe” and much disdain about it and it made me go, “Hmm, that’s really interesting…” to really consider the circular nature of this particular male behavior and the associated riffing against it. I get it. We’re not supposed to. It is strictly forbidden. Yet, in every generation, we do, on the whole, look the other way about boys being boys. Not all of the time but it’s not like we don’t know this because we do and we’ll “allow” it as long as no one “gets hurt” or, again, they reach adulthood and now they’re expected, required, and demanded to give it up and the funny part is that we, collectively, work on the assumption that men have no reason to get into any “boys being boys” stuff as adults and, yeah, it’s an assumption that I now see that every generation makes… and incorrectly so.

Sometimes, when someone asks me about this, I often say, “We’re just being boys…” and they get it – sometimes (but not always) – but it conflicts with what men are supposed to and who they’re supposed to have sex with and those who don’t get it are quick to point this out… and like I don’t know it. They’re right in that, yep, there are “rules” about being a man and masculine and all that and our gender role, well, it just is what it’s always been but to expect us to follow the implied and expected behaviors and at any time in our growth and development, well, um, how’s that been working since in every generation, the number of bisexual men keeps growing and “boys being boys” even when we’re men… just makes sense and that’s probably because it’s always made sense since we are expected to experiment with sex and with each other but, again, it’s preferred that we not and we go forward with the expectation that no adult male would ever find reason to, well, be a boy in this.

Because in every generation, grown men do find reason. Those reasons vary, of course – we all don’t get there via the same route but there are similarities with enough differences to make getting there unique to us as an individual – but if there’s a bi guy out there doing his thing, he’s just… being a boy. I’ve heard of guys even saying that despite being grown and knowing better, they want to experiment with having sex with a guy and, usually I’ve found, because they bypassed this when growing up. I see the… schism that gets put into place because we don’t seem to see that experimenting when younger and getting into it now isn’t really as different as we make it out to be: It’s just the grown-up version of boys being boys and a cycle that really does keep repeating itself and as if this is some new shit from generation to generation.

It is not – and as it’s said to be – on the way to being gay. Gay is something else and let’s call it a more focused approach to boys being boys. I mentioned to Cityman a conversation with the guy I fell in love with and being totally baffled about that and asking him, “Why me? Why are you attracted to me when I’m not gay?” His answer – and one that just added to my befuddlement – was, “Outside of being a handsome man? I was attracted to you because you’re not gay.”

Wait, what? As the conversation continued – and the shit got deeper for me – I was understanding some important shit about boys being boys and experimenting – and continuing to practice – sex with men. It can bind us in some interesting ways that, for that moment, nullifies the labels and makes them meaningless because at the very root of it, it’s still boys being boys even where are boys who never go there at all. We make… decisions about this; we can get into it to some degree but then give it up and never return to those hormone-enraged days. Or we don’t and we’re… gay. Or we don’t and we’re bi. Or we get straight and stay that way until and/or unless that wakeup call shows up.

He had said, “You’re a boy and so am I.” Duh and damn; strip some stuff away and he was right. I probably already knew this but he got me to really know this, if you know what I mean. He also said that the only real difference between us is that I also like girls… and he doesn’t but he likes being “a girl by proxy.” He had a very interesting way of looking at this and one that made a lot of sense to me and opened my eyes even more to see that at the root of it all, it’s still boys being boys and, yes, some of us skip this part of it but it doesn’t mean that we don’t and can’t bond with each other because we do and sex has nothing to do with it.

Giving it up when expected to happens… and it doesn’t. Some give it up and find themselves… being boys again or, at the least, wanting to but being grown comes with complications for many of us… but not all of us. I think that across every generation, this isn’t easy to understand… because it’s too simple an answer to why any man and regardless to their chosen orientation, would want to have sex with another guy. It’s us boys being boys. Something that we’re known to do. A big deal thing and, eh, not so much of one unless we don’t “grow out of it” when we’re expected and supposed to. Something that drives parents insane because they know it could happen while doing whatever they can to make sure it doesn’t… and with the understanding that, um, they really can’t watch them 24/7 because we have adult shit we need to be doing and if we suspect that they’re being boys in this context, well, they’d better cut that shit short so they can be about the business of what it means to be a grown man…

And not understanding that there’s a “men being men” part that is in play and men who know better find reason to be… boys.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: The MMF Threesome

For some male bisexuals, this is not only a “holy grail” kind of thing, it is the “ultimate” proof and way to be bisexual to be able to openly have sex with both a male and female partner. Some guys on the forum will invariably ask the membership how they can do this, what it’s like to be in one, and if they’re married, how they can get their wife to agree to participate.

As someone who has participated in a lot of these, I know they can be exciting and not so much and, I’ve felt, because of the way we look at having sex – one-on-one only and no witnesses. When it comes to sex – and given the way it’s supposed to be – we’re not all that good at sharing something that’s also a very private thing. Bisexual women get miffed because once a guy finds out that she’s bisexual, the dreaded threesome word comes up but even though a lot of bi guys clamor to be a part of one, sometimes, they find that they should have been careful about what they wished for since wishing for it – and getting it – can be two very different things.

A guy once asked me, as we talked about this, why I felt so comfortable and I told him, “I grew up with them. I grew up with a lot of very horny kids and a bunch of us getting together to have sex was pretty much par for the course but the main thing was that only the guys and girls who didn’t have modesty or privacy issues or, really, no shame in their game at all would participate; those who weren’t like this would mumble and grumble and leave the rest of us alone to do whatever we were going to do.”

“I got used to it; it was usually a ton of fun but sometimes it wasn’t but I wouldn’t be the one who made it less fun and since there weren’t that many girls who’d be interested in having two guys doing it to her, well, things would get interesting and even more so if/when one of us had done it to her before and she had a favorite or, kinda rarely, when me and the other guy started to do each other, the girl would demand that she get all of the attention or she was going to leave. It would get messy at times but that seemed to be normal to me even if, at the time, I really didn’t understand the dynamic all that well and, truthfully, none of us did. Having group sex was just another way to have sex… and a lot of it in one sitting.”

Another guy has asked why some guys wanted the MMF threesome and it was one of those things where I really couldn’t say why but I knew that there were guys who’d give their left nut to be in one; I’d eventually “figure out” that it is the real expression of bisexuality to be able to have sex with both a man and a woman… but it’s not without its problems and issues. The forum members drool over this – and the MMM threesome and even the “M+” bang where they are the only focus for all the horny M’s in attendance. I’ve been there, done that a few times and it was good… and sometimes not so much and I reasoned that we, generally speaking, aren’t good at sharing sex and when there’s men involved, once dicks get hard and the testosterone really gets to flowing, we can be too… territorial and it gets pretty clumsy trying to have one-on-one sex in a group setting.

The prospect excites the living daylights out of a lot of bi guys… and I tend to be kinda ho-hum about it; again, been there, done that and probably “easier” for me since I don’t have much in the way of inhibitions to begin with. It is to say that not all threesomes and other forms of group sex always goes south but it is also to note that it can; I’ve seen it first hand and, man, talk about a fugly situation! For those guys who want to have their wife involved, one of the questions I’ll ask them is if they could see some other guy having his way with her and how would they react if she winds up having a lot of fun with the other guy or “too much” fun. Sometimes the question gives them pause and some will stand upon the fact that they talked about this and they’d be okay with it… right up until the moment they’re right there and seeing her “getting her freak on” with the other guy. Yeah… believe me when I tell you that this is a motherfucker and then some seeing this for the first time and discovering that you’re not as okay with it as you thought.

The question remains that if this is something that could be less than a happy ending for one and all, why bother… and I really can’t tell you other than what I’ve already said. See, for a guy, it’s one thing to be able to bring yourself to getting the dick you’ve been dreaming and jerking off to; I’ve talked about the moment of truth in this where now the guy has to put up or shut up and if the guy gets past this moment successfully, great. They’ve now proven to themselves that they can play with a dick and in whatever way was desired. But the ultimate proof? Having sex with both a man and a woman. Bisexual in its truest form to go both ways at the same time. You’re either going to have a grand old time or the shit is going to hit the industrial-sized fan in some way. Some guys get a… script for this in their heads and while that’s all well and good, um, yeah – sometimes, things don’t follow the script all that much when it comes to who is doing what to whom, when, and how and, well, it can get complicated.

I don’t know how many times I’ve been with a couple and the flow of the moment got interrupted because the two of them are, um, having a conversation about something going off script and now I’m sitting there watching the X-rated version of “Family Feud.” With one couple, that got so bad that I got up, got dressed, and left… and neither of them noticed that I did and I was almost back home before my cell rang and he was asking me why I left and admitted that he “just now” realized that I was gone. I don’t remember exactly what I told him but it was a version of, “When y’all get this figured out, give me a call…”

It’s one thing to want this. It can be something else to actually do it. I had met with a guy so we could blow each other and as a “warm up,” he put on some “bisexual porn” and was going on and on about how much he’d love to do the threesome on the screen and, well, the porn was a turn-off for me and his blathering about how great it would be was getting on my nerves and I finally asked, “Do you really think that the real situation goes the way it does on the screen? I can assure you that it doesn’t…”

Sometimes, I think guys clamoring for the MMF threesome watch too much porn and get it into their head that whatever they’re seeing on the screen is not only some hot-assed shit but “the way” it’s supposed to be. Sometimes, it does but, again, I’ve seen it go south too many times when the guy realizes that the reality is very damned different and more often than not. I’ve told guys that if they have a lot of inhibitions or a big list of things they’re not going to do, being in a threesome or even a moresome might be… problematic. I’d never say that following a script makes the sex less satisfying but they are inhibiting since there’s a long list of what can’t be done and applicable to everyone in attendance… but I’ve wondered, and in the times this didn’t work, if the person or persons “writing” the script ever factored in heat of the moment stuff and the overall power sex has to get someone to change their mind and go off-script because, for them, it’s what the moment now calls for… and then being somewhat bummed out to be confined within the script.

And given that we aren’t “taught” how to have sex with more than one person at a time, it can be one hell of a learning curve that could be tons of fun or anything but.. Oh, my; I remember a time where I was invited to join a couple in bed and things were going well and according to the script I was told about when, out of the blue, he whispered in my ear, “I want you to fuck me…” and she heard him and, well, everything came to a screeching halt and they’re now arguing because the script strictly said that he couldn’t ask or want to be fucked. As I sat and listened to them arguing, all I could do was shake my head and think that they just did not account for what could come up being in the moment. They were apologetic and I told them that I understood… then told them why everything just stopped and the look on their faces told me that, nope, neither of them took into serious consideration that the script might be abandoned and in favor of being in the moment. Like the script disallowed her sucking me… but she did and in a way that he didn’t see and I wasn’t about to remind her that she wasn’t supposed to do that. As such – and when I did mention this (and he didn’t like that one bit) – I told her that she shouldn’t get pissy for him going off script when she did by sucking me and, yeah, he shouldn’t be pissed because she did and he didn’t know that she did.

The night of sex got trashed beyond salvage but the three of us had a long conversation and with me telling them that if they weren’t prepared to deal with things going off script and/or someone shedding inhibitions in favor of something they’d find pleasing, this can present a big problem going forward. I understand the scripting thing and I’d never say that it doesn’t make sense… but I know how some people can be when they’re in the moment and the last thing they have on their mind is sticking to the script and since I know this, I’ve been of a mind that the best way to have a threesome is to not put too many limits on what can happen because having hard limits, while reasonable, can also be inhibiting and a source of turning someone off.

This can get messy and not always in a good way. It might be the ultimate expression of bisexuality but it’s also often the ultimate proof that thinking and doing aren’t always the same thing. I’ve been in some amazing MMF situations and especially the ones where the script got tossed out and everyone when for what they knew; I do enjoy an all-out free for all and more so when, again, I don’t have much in the way of inhibitions and I learned that when you get into these situations, anything can happen and I should always be prepared for anything that might happen. Sure, I’ve been “surprised” to have the guy mount me while I’m eating her pussy – and that wasn’t agreed to but, okay – it’s not like I’ve never been fucked before. Or the couple of times when the guy decided to take a ride on me while his lady was sitting on my face and having a grand time at my expense. it surprised me and “disrupted” my focus for a moment and, yeah, if you think the mental effort it takes to handle all that sexual input is easy, try it.

We talked about that one after the fact; he just felt it was what he needed to do even though anal was excluded. She didn’t give him any grief about it and she was actually surprised that he did it and found it excited her even more. Admittedly, they did a number on me and the funny thing was that I wasn’t to be the focus of things – that was supposed to be him – but, yeah, that went out the window. She and I tag-teamed him and as per the script but, yeah, it all went out the window because she got tag-teamed just like I did. It was fun. Exciting. Extremely pleasurable. They handled the off-script stuff the way it should be handled.

Doesn’t always go that well. Be careful what you wish for because you might not get it the way you wished to. Sometimes, such scripting goes very well but I’m the guy who’s done this more times than I care to remember who will tell a guy looking to experience the ultimate expression of bisexuality that it’s not as easy as he might think it is… but it could be if they can get their head in a certain place and not make what he wants to experience a hard-set and unchangeable kind of thing. I know it’s probably just me but the best MMF threesomes are the ones where everyone can express themselves in whatever way the moment calls for. Leave your inhibitions outside. Enjoy being in whatever the moment calls for. If the script plays out as written, fine but if it doesn’t – and it might not – then fussing and fighting over it and totally killing the mood should be avoided; we can fuss about it afterward.

Let’s just have some good, sexy fun with each other. And this will test someone’s resolve big time and they might even find out something about themselves as well. Threesomes of any kind are, if nothing else, educational.

It is one of the holy grails of male bisexuality and the ultimate form of bisexual expression. Not everyone can express themselves in this way and it’s not as easy as it might appear to be and especially if you’ve been drooling over what porn has to offer in this. The biggest problem, I think, is that to be able to have sex this way, you have to be able to get rid of the way sex is supposed to be and that’s not easy to do. For those married guys, I’ll ask them to think about me making love to their wife and how they feel about it while giving them the “hint” that thinking about it might be horribly exciting but seeing it for the first time? And she’s having a whole lot of fun? Oh, boy… that doesn’t feel good and that’s an understatement and, as such, it’s a “growing up” kind of thing that some adjust to quickly and easily… and some just don’t. Any of this calls for rethinking sex because it defies the convention of sex being one-on-one and private. One has to learn how to share sex and, well, many find that they learn this the hard way – by trying it because thinking and doing still and really ain’t the same things.

Man. So many guys want to experience this and all I tend to say is, “Good luck…” because I know how amazing it can be… and how it can be one’s worst nightmare made real.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: Things That Make Me Go, “Hmm…”

At the computer and into this part of my routine; checking for Windows and other program updates and checking the overnight email from three of my four accounts when I see one of the usual email from that app that, normally, I just take a quick look at the subject and hit delete but today’s email was asking – paraphrasing – if I liked big cocks.

I didn’t have enough coffee in my system to do a good eye-roll but I did the best I could and had two thoughts: The first was I’ve never cared about whether a cock was small or ginormous but my other thought was from my memory files in that I have never gotten an email from that app that portrayed guys who weren’t white. I took a sip of my coffee (didn’t add enough sugar but that’s okay) and it fired up two more brain cells and The Archivist, who said, “Thanks for the caffeine. As you might recall, Tumblr was like that for the longest time and the only time you saw men of color was them being pictured dominating white men. You also saw this when those in favor of being sissified took the stage and members who were totally on board with this had the fondest wish of being a sissy for a stupidly hung Black man. Now, take another sip of coffee, if you don’t mind?”

It really did make me go, “Hmm.” Six more brain cells came online and “reminded” me not to make a whole lot out of this and that just because I’m colorblind, it doesn’t mean that everyone else is or should be… and that PSA was brought to me by CoffeeMate (hazelnut flavor) and the 2022 Medicare Annual Enrollment Period – call now before the deadline arrives!

In a way, I kinda “hate” it when my brain notices something like this and now it’s off and running all over the place and pissing off The Archivist, which is trying to “pull files” as fast as I can think but I kinda enjoy those crazy moments because it’s like I can sit back and watch what’s going on instead of trying to remember or recall specific things. The main thrust (okay, a pun if you’re so inclined) was about guys I’ve had sex with and, um, my “preference” to taste the rainbow and, um, literally while the secondary thrust was about all the discussions The Archivist could retrieve where I’ve talked to other men about their, shit, color preference… and then the ongoing subtask to discover why they have the preference they do.

The Time Machine Operator woke up (after The Archivist jabbed it in the ribs) and quickly took me back to the early 1970s and when there was a major clusterfuck about things interracial… and I do mean major and mostly in the form of the race riots my hometown was dealing with and especially the one that jumped off at the high school I was going to attend. One of the big pushes was a large helping of the truth in that the color of one’s skin doesn’t define a person nor does it make us all that different. The call was going out to look at the big picture instead of fussing and fighting – literally – over the nitpicking things.

It was yet another display of human behavior at its very worst. Walking the halls of my high school saw
“birds of a feather flocking together” and anyone who dared to flock with “those people” were either cracker lovers or, yeah, nigger lovers or whatever other racist epitaph depending on who was seen interacting. It was stupid given how highly multiracial my high school was because you could easily find yourself liking someone – and enough for sex to happen – but sometimes not because the peer pressure to stay with your own kind was a bitch to deal with and, as such, only the bravest of us would dare to “break away” and let our attractions be whatever they felt like being.

An ugly time in my life and I overrode the Time Machine Operator and skipped over a lot of the dumb shit that didn’t make any sense to me then or now. However, both The Archivist and Time Machine Operator bogarted my command override and stopped my move back to the here and now to a moment where a guy – and a white guy at that – had asked me how many Black guys I’d slept with and compared to how many white (or other colors) guys and those assholes made me remember how totally dumbfounded and confused his question made me… because I didn’t think in those terms (and I still don’t). His question had merit and was valid given that, at the time, we were talking about opposites attracting and how similar things tended to either blend nicely or repel each other and, yep, we both had said something about the science experience with magnets and since we were both science nerds, we included electromagnets and those powerful enough to not care if something was metallic or not.

We talked about this and neither of us could come up with an answer to why racial opposites just seemed to naturally attract despite what had taken place during the “Interracial Wars” that I found myself living through and, as an aside, talking about what being attracted really meant. Those “evil” social norms of the early 1970s said one thing but, clearly, plain old human nature was saying something else about that and, yep, trumped the misguided and very hideous norms that had be exacerbated and just another round of something that had been going on for hundreds of years – it just circled back around again.

To answer his question, I honestly said that I had never really paid attention to this particular numbers game but allowed that I’d slept with a lot of white guys and gals… but not because they were white or any other color but simply because the attraction was there and enough that getting naked and doing something just made sense… because it’s supposed to. He kept prodding me for definitive answers and seeking to find out if I had a preference; he wanted me to nail down what I specifically liked about having sex with white guys and what I liked about sucking their cocks and, honestly, the only thing that popped into my head – and around the headache this conversation had given me – was probably one of the “dumbest” things I’ve ever said in these things – was, “They taste better.”

The look on his face was precious and, I thought, more so because it wasn’t any of the answers he might have been looking for and, indeed, he had said, “That doesn’t make sense!” It was a sentiment I agreed with even though it kinda exposed a flaw I had about being unable to qualify or quantify something that I hadn’t given any thought to because, in this particular thing, I was taught not to think like that. I did remember that after he said that, that light bulb came on over my head and made me ask him, “Why are we talking about this and why are you asking?” even though at the moment the bulb lit up, I was 90% sure what the answer would be.

“You should have said that from the beginning,” I complained – then we fell on each other like starving wolves and the funny part was that when he came in my mouth, um, it did taste better than what a Puerto Rican guy had offered a couple of days prior and that was different from the Black guy I’d been with. Even then, those assholes that lived in my head started to analyze and form questions about the differences in taste (and they’d later learn the why of it) and I had to do a command override to put it all on the back burner because my “new lover” was talking to me about how exciting it was for him to have sex with a guy who, basically, didn’t look like him but we did have a lot of things in common with each other. And then he fucked with my head and said that, to him, guys who weren’t white tasted better. And our cocks were bigger. But then he threw all of that crap out the window by saying that he was understanding that we were different… but really the same when you set those differences aside.

Which, in the here and now – and half my coffee had been consumed and my brain firing on all cylinders – made me go, “Hmm…” again to wonder why that app never shows any men who isn’t white. It came to mind – and not for the first time – that if that app is really about and for gay men (but bi guys are allowed), the way they advertise their various products do not represent non-heterosexual stuff in an all-inclusive kind of way or not showing the rainbow and as I feel they should. I was able – barely – to recall a moment when I got an email from that app where there was a man of color in the picture but that was years ago and so long ago that it really wasn’t worth the effort to think about approximately when I might have seen it.

What I don’t know is why this is. I know when I’d see this on Tumblr – and before they turned into prudes and eliminated all sexual content or tried to in order to comply with that new law – it made sense that I was seeing this… disparity because of who was posting the stuff but then I saw that yeah, that might be true but it was also true that things were being posted and highlighted based upon the poster’s attractions and/or preferences. Okay. That made more sense… still didn’t – or doesn’t – explain the lack of racial or ethnic diversity coming from in the form of those email advertisements I get. For a brief moment – and before I started writing this – I started to reach out and contact them to ask them about this – and I still might just on general principles because if this aspect of male sexuality is going to be touted, tout all of it because to not go all in about this, to me, sends an incorrect message.

M2M sex, in reality, happens across the rainbow. Now, back to that guy I mentioned earlier.

He was hyped to have, for the second time in his life, broken away from the stay with your own kind edict and I was tickled to watch him being all hyped while understanding why he was as he speed-rapped his way through telling me how different it was with me and as compared to the guys he “routinely” had sex with but how we were also the same. As he continued to “lose his mind,” I was thinking about asking him if he really and just now figured this out – then realized that he probably did just now figure out something I had already known. Hmm. Let’s file this one away for future reference. He got a bit somber for a moment when he got to talking about how his parents would react if they knew he had slept with me and because I’m Black; apparently, his parents knew he was sleeping with his friends and wasn’t giving him any shit about it – lucky guy and if I was right about what I was thinking but, nah, I didn’t bother to ask him about that since I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

He was even more somber and, I thought, a bit worried about how his friends would react to find out that he stepped “way outside” of their sexual circle and while he didn’t speak to what they might say, it was clear to me that he was worried about it and as he stopped to breathe, I said, “Well, the only way they’re gonna be shitty about it is if you tell them, right? You know you don’t have to, don’t you?”

“Would you tell your friends who are like us?” he asked.

“Sure – why wouldn’t I, not that it’s any of their business to begin with but I don’t see any reason why the color of our skin matters in this. I’m sure most of them would feel the same way and given what I know about them but those who don’t? It’s their opinion and they’re entitled to it and I don’t have to let whatever they think about this influence me. I have sex with whomever I want to and if they don’t like that I have sex with those who ain’t of our kind, that’s their problem and not mine… and they know better than to fuck with me about it.

“That is so cool,” he said. “I wish more of my friends were like that. They’re okay but, well, you probably know what they say about shit like this.”

“I can guess,” I said.

We were silent for quite a bit of time and I spent my part of that moment just watching him and wondering what else he was thinking about regarding this. He looked up, blinked, and literally pounced on me and round two got started with a great deal of gusto and I could swear that, at one point, I heard him say, “None of this shit matters because I like you and that’s all that matters…” before he went back to trying to eat me alive and with a renewed vigor that was kinda scary in its intensity.

Two more rounds found us lying on his bed and sweating like fiends and unable to do anything else. When he could speak, he said that he was glad that he had met me and glad that we had the conversation about things being different, opposites attracting, and everything else that had led up to us having sex. He said, “I learned something about and from you – none of this race shit should ever matter but what does matter is we can have sex with each other as long as we both want to.”

“True,” I said. “My parents taught me not to look at the color of someone’s skin but to look at who they are on the inside. Some people are ugly on the inside and some aren’t; some people are still very prejudiced and judgmental but a lot of people are starting to set that bullshit aside and that’s a good thing, I think.”

He nodded and appeared to once again be deep in thought before he snapped out of it and asked, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

I laughed and said, “Probably us doing what we’ve been doing almost all day.”

Sigh. We get into an aspect of this on the forum where someone will post their love of BBC and there is always a bunch of guys who see fit to express their preferences for non-BBC and how they’d never want to get with one, you know, not that all of us are hung down to our ankles. I sit and read them going back and forth about this and it makes me sigh unhappily to see more of the same racial bullshit I had to not only grow up with but learn to ignore. To me, none of that stuff matters but it’s stuff that continues to divide us and keeps us from seeing that, yeah, we’re different but we’re the same and this one thing that makes us different is something that, uh, um, we didn’t have any choice or say in. Another thing that makes us different is… environmental stuff like what we’re taught growing up and the stuff we hear from those around us… and a lot of it, in this context, isn’t good all of the time. I’d get pissed when a guy would contact me looking for sex and the only reason why he wanted to was because I’m Black and not because I’m really a great guy on the inside and I had to learn to not let this bother me; people have preferences and they like what they like and for whatever reason they like it.

I had to learn not to be “bothered” to hear guys saying that they’d never have sex “with someone like me” and when I’d ask them why, the short version is that they couldn’t explain why and more so when they’d emphatically state that they’ve never had sex with a Black guy – but they have a preference not to and, again, the more glaring thing is them not being able to explain the basis of that preference. Or those guys who, as the song went, had “jungle fever” and who couldn’t explain why they had it other than the myth that’s been going around since forever… and some of them had a bad case of it but had yet to actually have the sex their “fever” was giving them.

More sighing. My coffee cup is empty and I need to do something about that. The assholes in my head are back in stand-by mode and that’s a good thing. But I had to get this out of my head so I did. If you’re going to judge me in regards to having sex, look past the color of my skin or how big my dick might be. Look at the person I am and, yeah, see that I’m not only colorblind but I don’t give a flying fuck about all that crap that others find so alluring and important as a deciding factor to get the dicks out, make them hard, then make them soft again.

See ya tomorrow.

 

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: “International Incidents”

Living here in the US often has me writing about male bisexuality and based upon the moral and social norms here so I realized that I’ve been a bit remiss to say a few syllables about this in the other countries I’ve been to in my travels and the things I can read written by male bisexuals who don’t live here.

The first thing that stands out is that a lot of countries are either a lot more relaxed about such things or “extreme” in their resistance to anything that looks like homosexuality. I’ve been to the UK, Canada and even Japan and, well, let’s just say that I came into contact with bisexual men in these countries, you know, to be nice about it for a change. Having said that, the one thing that I take note of is that if we here in the US think that bisexuality is some kind of “sky falling” thing, it pales in comparison to what other bisexuals in other countries have to deal with. I get to see what bisexual men in African countries are saying about things where they live and much of it ain’t pretty given the level of violence against bisexuals and having to live under the threat of death or other severe punishment for not being straight…

And it gives me chills and, without offence, makes me glad that I live here. Like us, a lot of countries are making a push to get and make male bisexuality – and bisexuality on the whole – acceptable but it seems to me that they have more of an uphill battle than we do and it does, I think, speak to why a lot of bisexuals who live in repressive countries are immigrating to the US since, we might be fussing and fighting about all of this but, um, you’re not going to be subject to the death penalty just because you’re not straight and not likely to experience the level of violence I’ve been reading about and especially in those places we consider to be “third world” countries and those who are subject to Sharia law which I don’t pretend to really understand but I’ve heard some stuff about it that gives me chills, too.

Bisexuality isn’t an issue here at home: It’s a global issue and the devil is in the details involved in those places outside of the US. It does suffice to say that in some place, eh, it’s not “that big of a deal” while in others, it is very much a big deal and more so when there’s a lack of… social services that we here in the US kinda/sorta take for granted, like the LGBTQ+ community being “large and in charge” here as they lead the fight for sexuality equality but their presence in other countries is minimal at best… and if it exists at all.

Bisexuality advocates here are trying to spread the word about what our bisexual brothers and sisters are experiencing in those suppressed countries and doing their best to let those who care to listen that this really is a global issue that needs a global resolution and, again, what happens in other countries makes the fussing we’re doing look insignificant and, dare I say, somewhat petty in nature with a lot of finger-pointing and pontificating about our morals and social norms and the evils of domestic violence and rape along with depression and other real or imagined forms of suppression but, again, whew, all of this, while important, just doesn’t hold a candle to being bisexual, say, in an African country, and knowing that if you got caught, you could either wind up in prison for the rest of your life or be summarily executed. There’s a greater chance of experiencing extreme acts of violence as well as being gang-raped and other abuses and the thing that gets me is that all of this… inhumane stuff is all because of a global belief in some stuff that I keep saying doesn’t want to tell the whole story about the sexual nature of humans.

Like, I saw a documentary about the ladyboys in Thailand and what they have to go through to be the person they want and need to be and some of it wasn’t pretty but they’ve made a few inroads to greater acceptance because there are a lot of ladyboys and they are getting together to fight against the suppression and, I’d say, “overloading the system” to the point where officials are in over their heads trying to do anything to stop ladyboys being… ladyboys. I’ve read a lot about the Brazilian version and they’re a lot more “famous” than their Thai counterparts and they have no problems flaunting their appearance or sexuality; Japan, who has always been “funny” about sex doesn’t seem to give citizens who aren’t straight that much grief and if they are, they’re not talking about it all that much but that doesn’t surprise me given their centuries-long privacy about a great many things even with having fun with Western influences (read that as the US “teaching them bad habits but not in bad ways all that much).

Here at home, bisexuality – and especially male bisexuality – is seen as a tremendous moral issue but, eh, yeah, not all that surprising given what our moral beliefs are and where they stem from. We’re the bad guys plain and simple and, depending on who you’re talking to, a clear and present danger not only to our fragile and crumbling morality but to everyone around us. Bisexual women are either being vilified or victimized in unsavory ways and none of this is right but, again, in other and more “extreme” countries?

I remember my first trip to Jamaica and my lady seeing fit to warn me not to “be bisexual” given how infamously homophobic Jamaican are. Of course, I’ve heard about this and probably like a lot of people have but the truth about this is that, sure, a lot of Jamaicans are homophobic… but not all of them are since, um, there are Jamaican bisexuals and a lot of them are male. Hmm. I don’t and didn’t see this as being all that different from that thing I heard about all Blacks being homophobic and, well, I know that’s a lie and for obvious reasons. In these things, we’d rather believe the stereotype and being made fearful of that “reputation” rather than to see the truth: There are bisexuals everywhere and even in countries who aren’t all that much in touch with the rest of the world given how isolated they may be but, yeah, if they’re that isolated and out of touch, there’s not a whole lot we know about them specifically and what information we may have is miniscule at best.

Still, the main point is that bisexuality – and male bisexuality – is very much a globally human thing. I had been reading about the uptick in women being raped in parts of India and one article that suggested that the uptick was taking place because of cultural and religious restriction on men having sex with each other and with some pretty nasty punishments for those who get caught or otherwise outed. I know that Cityman and I talk about this aspect a lot in that these crimes against women could be very much lessened if society-at-large wasn’t so pissy about us – men – doing each other without fear of reprisal and other prejudices. All of this aside, what is to be noted and taken as a given that even in those repressed countries, men are very much having sex with each other which, in the more undeveloped countries has given rise and reason for us here in the US to be slamming down the disease card and not without justification.

We bitch and moan and cower over this aspect but the big difference between us and some other countries is that we have access to better medicines to combat STDs and HIV/AIDS. As such – and as we’re prone to do – we emphasis this aspect of global bisexuality as a reason for people to not be bisexual and with the assumption that if one bisexual gets infected and infects someone else, all male bisexuals are going to infect someone and by some very weird default and, no, I am seriously not joking about this peculiar mindset because I’ve seen it way too much and you just can’t make this up; I have a great imagination but it ain’t that great or good.

The global battle is fierce; the resistance to bisexuality is great but moral and social norms are being overwhelmed and overrun by the sheer number of bisexuals who, despite all the bitching and moaning, are being bisexual nonetheless and it’s like I been saying over the last couple of days: Human nature always seems to trump the rules of man; don’t be anything but straight is all well and good and if it works for you, fine… but it doesn’t work for everyone and needs always musts even if it means taking some “risks” to see to those needs which, really, ain’t all that different from having sex – period.

The awareness must be universal; the push for acceptance must be universal and uniform; we should not “take care of home” and then tell the others who are suffering great suppression and oppression that their problems ain’t our problems – we fixed ours so now get your own house in order… and even though bisexuals everywhere “live” in the same house.

Ideally, we should take a more expansive view about men having sex with each other as well as working toward getting rid our rather prudish beliefs about sex in general. The reality says we’re not like that even here in the US and, I think, more unlike that because of our belief that men are supposed to only be a certain way but glossing over our inherent need for sex to begin with.

We will eventually get this squared away but “eventually” does nothing for the immediate need for global bisexuality – and male bisexuality – to be the crime against nature that everyone believes it to be. Oh, and it’s not going to stop guys anywhere in the world from doing what they gotta do in this and the unspoken “hope” is that it’s done as responsibly as possible and with whatever means are available.