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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 22 March 23, 1650 hours

Today’s thoughts are… try it – you might like it.

I’ve often had some pretty good moments of laughing to hear people going on and on about how much they love sex and all kinds of sex but if you asked them if they’d do it in the same sex way, oh, hell, no! That shit’s nasty!

And me asking them, “Then how can you really say that you love all kinds of sex? Perhaps you should be more specific, huh?”

Yeah, I tend to piss people off with this one because when I say that I love sex, well, our definitions might differ because I don’t much care if the other person is male or female. Then again, this is one of the hallmarks and highlights of bisexuality. The emotional stuff is nice but, yeah, the sex. Cookies getting crumbled. Being able to leave any inhibitions at the door, get naked and get some.

I go back to how I started this: Try it – you might like it. If I had a dollar for every person who’s immediate reaction to this was, “I know I wouldn’t like it!” goodness – I’d need a warehouse to store all of the Lamborghinis I could by. And then rattling their apple cart by asking, “How you do know you wouldn’t?”

It’s… a trick question because I know the answer: They were told to not like it. So was I. Some get into how different it is and, well, okay, it is different but only in the context that you’re not supposed to have sex like that. Anatomical differences? Sure. Duh. But one day when I’d given a guy a blowjob and not twenty minutes later, I was eating a girl’s pussy, I realized that the act isn’t all that different but who you’re giving head to is different.

Duh. Finding out that, okay, females aren’t normally born with a dick but that doesn’t mean that a babe couldn’t fuck me since, you know, they make toys for that purpose and, well, yeah. Damn girl, you tore my ass up! Not the same as having the real thing in my ass but it had occurred to me that if I can do it to a woman, I can do it with a man and they can do it to me, too.

In all fairness, I got the same “don’t ever do that shit” stuff crammed into my head that a lot of people had to endure growing up. I… found out that it’s not quite right but as I’ve said a gazillion times, I also found out why sex should never be done in the same sex way of things. I understand it and like everyone is able to understand it; I just don’t pay any attention to it because, um, getting some dick can be good, too. I know that I have this… quirk that says, yes, who is about to give me da bizness is important but at the top of the ladder, it’s what that makes having sex da bomb.

There are, sad to say, men and women that I wouldn’t have sex with. Ever. But if we’re cool enough with each other, give me a reason to say no to you which is to say don’t give me a reason to not want to have sex with you. I get that people have… hangups about sex. I… don’t have any to speak of. I’m fairly uninhibited although experience has taught me that there are some things that are best left alone and a few more things, oh, like watersports, that’s just nasty – and that’s saying something given the kinds of sex I’ve had.

Fielding the question so many times of, “I don’t know what you get out of having sex with a dude!” and to the extent that my warehouse for cars would include more than the Lamborghinis I love so much. What I get out of it is (a) I get to have sex and (b) I get to cum. I get to tap into some emotions that I’ve learned that some people are afraid of; it doesn’t matter why they are but the fact they fear the emotions sex can bring to the table does matter.

Like, feeling vulnerable. Exposed in a way that must always be guarded against. Not really being in control of yourself. Ugh, right? Us guys who throw it down with other guys talk about… feeling bitchy and girly. I know the feeling all too well and it’s a motherfucker and a half because, well, guys aren’t supposed to feel like they’re… female. I get that connection because every time I’ve had sex with a female, I can understand what they’re feeling because I’ve been on that end of the dick, too.

The many people I’ve encountered who have emphatically said, “I would never do some shit like that! There is no scenario in the world that would find me doing that shit, let alone liking it!” But then, the impossible happens. Doesn’t really matter, at this point, why it did but, okay, yeah, it did. Some initial responses in the after-action report is… they didn’t like it but I’ve kept at them and not about what they said they didn’t like but why they didn’t like it.

Well, that’s because they weren’t supposed to. They literally mindfucked themselves into believing that they didn’t like it but I’ve gotten them to… be truthful with themselves and, okay, you get on my nerves. It felt good. I came. Are you satisfied?

But the real question is, “Were you satisfied?” I understand the difficulty in admitting that, yeah, you were satisfied but not much how that happened since, you know, you weren’t supposed to have sex like this; you swore that you would never do it and… you did it. I understand how this alone can fuck with someone but, hey, it’s okay – almost everyone goes through this so don’t get to kicking your ass over this particular thing.

Now it’s, “It’s not something I’d do all of the time…” which is laughable because I’m as bi as the day is long and… I don’t do it all of the time. Breaking it down to that which is preferred, like the many guys I know who make it a point to unnecessarily tell me how much they love pussy. Um, dude… duh. I’d be richer than Elon Musk if I had that dollar for every cotton pickin’ time I’ve had to deal with those “which do you prefer” questions. Duh, I’m bi. I prefer both. Let’s not get even get into all the being gay shit, okay? I might have a good downpayment on my own island over this one.

If you’re worried about that stuff, you… miss what’s at the high level of this: Having sex. Or, if only in my own rather biased opinion, there’s some stuff about sex that you don’t understand… because you’re not supposed to. Yep, I know about the horror stories and if I got paid for hearing them, that’ll be more money than I know what to do with. True enough, it doesn’t always go well but that’s part and parcel of having sex; sometimes, it’s all that and then some and sometimes it just isn’t. You really can’t please everyone and just like everyone isn’t going to be able to please you.

It’s okay to be the horniest person in the room… as long as you’re being smart about it and, importantly, you learn from your mistakes and, even more important, you don’t allow those mistakes to fuck with your joy of getting your rocks off and crush into powder. Shit, I’ve failed to please but the overall question asked and answered is: Did I have fun trying? You bet I did. I feel bad when I fail to please and I don’t accept failure all that well but I do enough to know that I have failed; I will fail, too. Learn from it and don’t shy away from it but continue to strive to do the best you can do because, really, that’s all you can do, right?

I remember the woman I was friends with and… a female friend of hers wanted them to have sex. She pretty much lost her shit because she never faced this situation. A woman eating her pussy? Her eating pussy? What the dooflicky fuck! She was terrified and had called me and asked me what she should do. My first question was, “What do you want to do?” She told me what the woman was offering and, okay, women eat pussy, too, and from what I’ve been told, better than most men can. I asked her if she’d ever been eaten and, of course, she had. I said, “This is no different except it’s a woman doing it.”

Oh, what about eating her pussy and she’s never even thought about it? I regaled her with what my father told me about that – don’t ever do it. Ten minutes later, I was eating a girl’s pussy and I didn’t lie to her when I said that it was the strangest thing and having my face down there almost made me barf… but I didn’t and… I ate that pussy. Yummy. Made me feel seriously good doing it and if the girl’s reaction was any indication, she was liking the shit out of it, too. I told her that it might take a moment to get up the nerve to eat this woman’s pussy but if it’s something you really want to do, you just say, “Fuck it…” and… learn how to eat pussy and just like everyone who has ever eaten pussy has had to do.

It’s sex. Duh. She said that she would try but was sure she wouldn’t like it and she would call me one way or the other. Well, folks, she called me at 3 in the morning to tell me that she slept with the woman and… went off the deep end trying to tell me how much she liked all of it. She reminded me of my youngest son; he had a girlfriend who wanted him to eat her and he didn’t have a clue so he came and asked me and I gave him a quick lesson in “Pussy Eating 101 and 102.” He left to go have sex with her. He… was gone for a while and I’d put the whole thing out of my mind.

He comes busting into the house a couple of hours later and literally got right in my face… so I could smell his girlfriend’s pussy on his face. I had to bite myself a few times to keep from laughing at how excited he was. This lady friend was the same way. She went from never even thinking about such a thing to being afraid to go for it to being seriously over the moon about it.

“You could have told me that eating pussy is da shit,” she had said.

“Well, I did tell you that – you didn’t believe me but now you know like I do, huh?” I asked.

I had not one but two poly wives who found out that having sex with a woman… ain’t bad at all. I had them both tell me to my face that I am very good at eating pussy… but not as good as (a) my wife was and (b) as good as they all learned to be with each other. I wasn’t offended at this but this is just another example of someone saying that they would never do some shit like this, wind up doing it and, why did I never do this before now?

Well, because you weren’t supposed to. Ever. And now you know like I do: Going both ways ain’t really as bad as it sounds and as people say it is and they say it is… because they don’t know a whole lot about having sex and how it really can be done but, yep, they’re intelligent and all that and it’s not like they don’t know but they don’t know because they’ve never experienced it.

Try it. You just might like it. Sucking a dick for the first time didn’t scare me; eating pussy for the first time scared the shit out of me. I tried it. Liked it. Okay, loved the shit out of it and, being the nerdy guy I was, I was able to make the connections and at the top of things was… sex. I can admit that I have busted a nut… sucking dick and eating pussy. Whoa… what the fuck? But, upon further review – and there’s always a further review – it spoke to how much I was enjoying what I was doing; I was deep into the moment and I kinda/sorta remember bringing them along with me which, um, isn’t that the “whole point” in having sex? That intimacy? Letting it all hang out and not being afraid to?

And one of the biggest lessons bisexuality taught me: I am responsible for my sexual pleasure first and foremost and that means doing whatever is necessary to take care of that and if, today, it’s sucking a guy off, that works. If it’s getting pussy, that works, too. Not just “any old person” because I learned some lessons about that when I was younger but the “right person” is the person I can like enough to want to have sex with them. Use the big head before using the little one. Having to get a grip on the fact that some guys and gals would have sex with me… and not because I was a wonderful person. Ugh. Ah, but was the sex we had good? Yeah it was so those feelings of being “used and abused” and feeling horribly dirty… went by the wayside because I was learning a lot about… having sex and what it could really mean as opposed to that “fairy tale” shit my parents and other elders had bullshitted me with.

They didn’t so much as lie to me as they didn’t tell me the whole truth of how it can be. But they, too, were brought up to not have anything to do with sex that wasn’t boy/girl, man/woman. I was pissed with both of them for a long time and it wasn’t until I became a father that… I understood why they didn’t tell me all of it. Understanding all the guys and gals who wound up with their own horror stories and it was just because whoever did them made it a nightmare: It was the fact that they weren’t told the whole story about how people can have sex and that some of it – yeah, the gay/lesbian part – really isn’t that bad but, yeah, God said it was.

I’ve told people, “Try it – you might like it!” Whether they do or not is all on them. Understanding that I can tell you everything I know about this and it might be helpful but you won’t ever know if you’d like or hate it… until you give a try and I have always recommended doing it more than once so that you can have something to compared stuff to. I’ve had folks give it a single try and, nope, it’s not for them but that’s understandable because not everyone can be bisexual – lots of reasons for this that I’m not going to get into today. They tried it. Didn’t like it… but I know a lot of people who… came back to it and now they like it. I get that, too.

We used to run around saying some stuff. You never know what you can do until you try. In the 1960s, “Try it – you might like it!” was the word of the times and there were an unimaginable number of people who were trying it and liking it. Yeah, some folks called me a pervert because I went both ways but those who did, well, I knew some shit about how they were getting down that made me look like a prude. Y’all can get all up in that kinky shit… but you give me shit because I suck dick and I’ve been screwed more times than I can remember?

Really? Guys today are clamoring to know what it’s like and I tell them, “If you really want to know, do it and make your own conclusions because it’s the only way you’re ever going to know – and don’t be afraid.” While The Big Three – love, sex, and relationships – is always in play, yeah, the sex. Hoo boy. The shame doesn’t come from having it – methinks it comes in not allowing yourself to having it but I know that we are supposed to be ashamed to love the shit out of having sex.

Fuck that. Yeah, I’m not trying to turn anyone to the bi side. Like mom used to say, “”To each his own,” said the woman who kissed the cow.” Laughed until I cried and hurt something but I understood what that meant. You don’t have to if you don’t want to… but, sure, if you can give a try, by all means – try it – you might like it.


Posted by on 22 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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The Daily Prompt: 22 March 23

Daily writing prompt
What is one word that describes you?

This thing is acting weird today but I gotta say that this question makes me get a look on my face. During my career, jeez, we’d often have seminars and other classes that, somewhere along the line, would ask this question and… I have never been able to find a lone, single word that accurately describes me.

It’s like asking me to count the stars in the sky or the grains of sand on a beach. I would think that… this is a trick question but one that makes you think about that one word and, for whatever reason, they want to know how you think by asking you a question that isn’t easy to answer, you know, given how multifaceted humans tend to be.

It’s taken me awhile to respond to this prompt because I was coming up with a lot of words but, of course, the Prompt is asking about one word. So here’s what I came up with:


Now you get to figure out what that might mean. Good luck with that and have fun with it.

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Posted by on 22 March 2023 in The Daily Prompt


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KDaddy’s General Observations: 21 March 23

Not really a political rant but Donald Trump needs to go to prison for his crimes and especially for his role in January 6th and attempts to fuck with elections. The other stuff going on are… white collar crimes and the type where there’s no real victim but a crime has been committed just the same; people who commit these crimes tend to… not get punished that harshly or the punishment doesn’t fit the crime all that much.

The problem here is that this man is making noises about running for president again. Being indicted is one thing; being found guilty and sentenced is something else but if this never happens, what does happen is that he becomes a martyr that his “cult” and the whole of the Republican Party can rally behind and keep doing all the crazy shit we’ve been hearing about in the news like making it a crime to be a female impersonator and, all of a sudden, Republicans got religion again and, as I previously wrote, trying to take this country back to the 1950s and the moral values that we did, in fact, move away from because they were outdated and a hinderance to the advancements we obviously made.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Here’s the other thing: If he doesn’t get his ass handed to him – and like regular people would if committing the crimes he’s being investigated for – then… he gets away with it. All of it. Even if his bid for another run at the White House is “bullshit,” he’s gotten a lot of people riled up and acting like this man has never, ever, done anything wrong and the allegations against him are false and he’s the real victim.

Like hell he is. His bid for the presidency should be shut down and he needs to spend some time in a cell with Bubba but because he’s a former POTUS and has this cult fucking shit up in his name, I fear that he will get a slap on the wrist, a bunch of fines, and… that’s all, folks.

This cannot be allowed. No one is above the law. No one. Except politicians. Let’s see… if I got caught up in a police sting/raid scooping up prostitutes, yeah, that’s a misdemeanor and I’d be subject to a fine, jail time, or both and, socially, that’s a huge black mark upon me. Every day becomes a “walk of shame” for me for getting caught buying pussy when “there are plenty of women who’d give it away for free.”

I’m thinking that if I got caught committing anything that even smelled like voter fraud and election tampering, I’d be in prison already and get there in a hurry. We have seen, however, that those who have lots of money… gets away with a lot of shit that us poorer folks wouldn’t. If I were running for, say, mayor where I live but they dig up the fact that I got arrested – for anything – I won’t be elected because, oh, back in 1979, I got busted for soliciting a prostitute. If I had sexually assaulted a woman, well, I wouldn’t be running for mayor because my ass would already be in prison, right? Right.

No, that never happened but perhaps you see where I’m going with this. I wouldn’t be allowed to get away with shit like this. I would never be able to run for public office, my chances of getting a good paying job would be severely limited and, again, every day becomes a walk of shame and I wouldn’t dare show my face in public and subject myself to stares and people whispering about how fucked up I am as a human being and one who dared to think that I could be a good mayor or some other public official.

We have seen public officials get removed from office from shit they did; we’ve even seen them be barred from running for office. Locally, and a lot of years ago, a County Executive got caught up in an FBI sting that was looking into corruption allegations in the county I live in and caught red-handed, indicted, arrested, and went to prison for a short bid. He got out. Ran for County Executive again. And won. Why? Because what he got busted and jailed for was a white collar and victimless crime even though what he did victimized everyone who lived in the county. Now, he couldn’t run for, say, a federal office but locally? Sure. What he did wasn’t a felony.

But at the highest level, it seems to me that Republicans in Congress are… cockblocking the legal processes being directed at Trump. Last I heard, that’s call obstruction of justice and that’s a felony at the federal level and just like lying to the FBI is. It seems to me that these cockblocking Republicans are forgetting that they have a duty to the American people to not only uphold the Constitution but to defend it against all enemies, foreign and domestic and, um, maybe it’s just me but Donald Trump is a domestic enemy but, ah, what you suspect is always one thing and what you can prove in a court of law a very different thing and this asshole has an army of lawyers who are doing everything they can think of to circumvent the legal process and everywhere he’s being investigated, facing indictment, and even facing arrest.

New York City was reported to be circling the wagons because of the pending arrest of Trump for the shit he was indicted for there. I don’t blame them because his cult is going to lose their fucking minds and wreak all sorts of havoc in the Big Apple and making him more of a martyr than he seems to be at this moment. I seriously question the intelligence of those who believe that this man has done no wrong. Innocent until proven guilty it’s hard to prove him guilty when there’s a army of people trying to circumvent that process.

When I read that NYC was going to arrest him, my first thought was, “Oh, shit…” and not in the surprised sense; no, I was thinking that NYC was wise to prepare for shit to go south. Okay. It’s not like the cops are going to go wherever he is and slap the cuffs on him and bring him in to be processed. Nope. He’ll show up – with all of his lawyers – get processed and… be on his way. He could be considered a flight risk but they probably won’t revoke his passport or make him sit in the pokey until he personally has his day in court. I’d be surprised if he even showed up in court personally but, maybe he will because that will be “good press” for his cult and the Republican Party who both believe he’s done no wrong and should be leading the country again.

I’m thinking that if I did what he did in the Stormy situation, I’d be in prison already. He let someone else spend some time as a guest of the state for something he did. I know about loyalty and all that but, fuck that – I’m not going to prison for something someone else did but if Trump doesn’t know how to do anything else, he knows how to cover his ass and how to wipe any dirt from his hands on someone else who, really, is dumb enough to let him do that to them.

He cannot be allowed to get away with the things we have evidence that he’s done. There are member of Congress cockblocking the attempts to legally prosecute him for, as I said, fiddling while Rome burned and trying to make us believe that he did everything in his power to prevent the overthrow of the government so he could illegally remain in office while trying to invalidate the election results. I don’t know how he gets away with this… but he probably will and still be allowed to run for the office again.

We, as Americans, should be wholly outraged over this. Congress has no business meddling in the Department of Justice’s business and what, exactly, makes them immune against the charge of obstructing justice? And I do not understand why we are willing to make this man a martyr, which I feel is going to happen and I sure as hell don’t understand why there are so many people who believes in him and wants to erase all the progress we’ve made by rolling us back to the moral values of the 1950s.

While he was in office, he damned well knew what he was being investigated for and accused of. The law says that a sitting president cannot be prosecuted for… stuff and stuff that doesn’t meet the criteria for impeachment which, by the way, this dude is the only president who’s been impeached – twice. I’m wondering why we’d want someone who made this kind of history back in that office again.

As I’ve mentioned before, there are people I know on Facebook who… has me rethinking some shit about them. They all support the Republican Party and Donald Trump and… why? The ones I really know insist that he had nothing to do with the attempt to overthrow the government and don’t seem to understand that because he did nothing, he had something to do with it and it violated the oath he took. And Congress, who I tend to see as the real enemy in a lot of things, is acting like they’re not sure if he really violated that oath and Trump’s supporters are trying to make us believe that he did everything in his power to prevent what happened from happening.

If you or I did some shit like that, you know, interfering in an official investigation, we’d be in the pokey already on obstruction of justice charges and conspiracy at the least. You and I wouldn’t get away with this… but politicians seem to be able to and if there’s some political reform that must be dealt with, it’s shit like this because the premise of law in this country is that no one is above the law.

We’ll see, won’t we? He was supposed to be arrested today and I’ve not seen where that’s happened yet. Trump-loving Republicans are saying that we have lost our way but what we have lost is… our minds if there are those who support this man and stand ready to make him a martyr or… he gets away with shit.


Posted by on 21 March 2023 in KDaddy's General Observations


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 20 March 23, 1559 hours

The conversation about male friends having sex with each other is gaining strength and steam. As I read what the membership has to say about this, some have had success in this and some haven’t and when this goes south, it tends to crash and burn in the worst ways.

The prevailing “logic” says… don’t have sex with your boy. No matter how bad either of you wants to needs to. If your boy “needs help,” well, don’t help him because it will always lead to disaster and, yup, trash the friendship. The truth is… this doesn’t always go badly… but one can drive themselves crazy just thinking, “Will he, or won’t he?” The prevailing logic gets… skewed a lot because when you’re friends – and good friends – with a guy, there isn’t a whole lot that you don’t know and find out about each other. But, then, there’s the sex thing that could happen. We say, “What are friends for?” and we maintain that if we’re friends, if I can help you, then doing so is a no-brainer unless the help you need is beyond my ability to provide it.

You kinda/sorta don’t want to tell a friend that you can’t help him but if he’s truly your friend, he’ll understand and maybe the two of you can put your heads together and find a way to resolve whatever the help is needed for. Here’s the rub, though. You and your boy are hanging, talking, doing guy stuff and if you’re like any other set of male friends, talking about sex – needing a blowjob and/or getting some pussy – as well as how you’re not getting any, who you’d love to tap, etc., is just a part of things but it takes x-amount of time before a budding friendship gets down to this very personal level.

“Man, I wouldn’t mind getting my dick sucked right about now,” he says.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind, either,” you says.

You both have stated a truth. It’s not a given that you and your boy are going to look at each other… and then get to blowing each other because it is assumed that both of you wouldn’t mind a woman doing it and, um, yeah, we know how that can be. As a voracious cocksucker, my “dilemma” is being with a good friend, and he says something like this and… what is he trying to tell me other than the obvious? The dilemma gets worse because chances are that he doesn’t know that I’m a cocksucker since, you know, you don’t tell your good friends everything about you; it gets compounded, at least for me, because I don’t know… anything about how he thinks and feels about such things and I learned that I’ve been friends with guys who bash homosexual men with glee… but, it’s a front; it’s just them saying things like that because others in the group of friends are saying it but, yeah, sometimes, your best friend can be a homophobe. For me, that’s a problem that doesn’t have anything to do with sex and that’ll have me reevaluating the friendship. But bear with me.

He says it; I say it, too. He’s my friend and, at the very least, I trust him… to an extent; you can imply that since I haven’t told him that I’m bisexual means that I don’t trust him that much and you’d be right. I mean, chances are that I’ve seen his dick and more than once; depending on a situation, I’ve probably seen him naked, oh, like, I’m at his crib, we’re going… somewhere; he’s just gotten out of the shower and I want to give him privacy to dry off and get dressed but he says, “Don’t be silly; we’re both guys and we don’t have anything we haven’t seen before, right?”

Right. But now, in the course of us shooting the shit or whatever, he says this and now I have to wonder about the context of what he said. Is he really saying that he wants his dick sucked by a woman or… is he hinting that if I were to suck his dick, um, that might not be a bad thing? I don’t know and I don’t know what he’s thinking other than wanting his dick sucked. Is our friendship strong enough for me to ask what he’s thinking? Probably; should I ask? Fuck if I know. Argh, this is why they say that friends shouldn’t have sex with each other or even think about it! Shit, for all I know, he wants us to suck each other off but he’s just as afraid as I am to be, ah, specific about who should suck the dicks. Do I take a chance or… leave it alone because, fuck, I’ve been wrong before and I’ve lost a few friends behind this?

What I’ll do or say next… depends on him. In other such situations, I’ve had those good friends go from talking about wanting their dick sucked to speaking “hypothetically” about what I’d do if guy asked me if he can suck my dick. Is this really a hypothetical or is he hinting at something? As many times as I’ve gone through this with a friend, I still don’t know which is which and, again, I learned some hard, painful lessons about assuming… anything. But if he’s asked me this question, how do I answer it? Okay, the best answer is the truthful one and, indeed, answering his question truthfully will tell me something more about him so I say, “Well, if a guy were to ask if he could suck my dick, I might not tell him no.”

Now to watch his reaction and pay close attention to what he says or asks next. Usually it’s, “Really? You let him blow you? I mean, why would you do that?” Again, more truth; I’d let him blow me because… I love getting my dick sucked. Now, let’s see how he handles this and, to toss the ball back into his court, I will ask him the same question that got this potential clusterfuck rolling and… will he lie or will he tell the truth because we’re friends; we can tell each other “little white lies” and that’s okay but this isn’t even in that category. And if he tries to avoid answering, that tells me something, too, oh, like he could be hiding the fact that he let some dude suck him off before.

Let’s see where this is going. This isn’t’ my first rodeo with this… uncomfortable and awkward situation. Depending on the tone of our friendship, he might be that guy who I wouldn’t blow for any reason; we’re friends but we’re not that tight. But if we are – and if we’re talking about this “hypothetically” – then we’re that tight and… I’ve already made up my mind that if this is what he’s talking about, I’ll blow him… because we’re friends like that. But… what’s really on his mind?

Please note that all of this is going through my mind at the speed of thought; from the moment he asked to the moment I tossed this back at him, only two minutes have passed. He says that, nah, I’ll pass on that. Okay; it’s a typical response but is he telling the truth or is he telling “a little white lie?” And do I really want to find out? It’s not always what a guy says that makes a difference; it’s how he says it and what his body language is saying and chances are that he doesn’t know that his body is telling me a wealth of information – but not enough, at this point, for me to want to cut to the chase and cut through the dumb shit and directly ask him if he’d like for me to suck his dick and that I would gladly do this for him… because in my thoughts and feelings, we’re friends like that.

I have learned that when such a friend “suddenly” asked, “If I asked you to suck my dick, would you?” This doesn’t mean that he wants me to; this is his way of testing me to see how I’m going to react to the question and how I answer it… and he’s about to find out why I’ve told him to never ask me a question he really doesn’t want to know the answer to. Now, if our friendship was… questionable, my “canned” response would be, “I might if we were close as friends…” and then watch his reaction. If our friendship has been pretty tight, my response would be, “If you asked, sure, I’ll blow you because I think our friendship is strong enough for that.”

Now it’s back on him or the moment where he has to shit or get off the pot. This can go either way and, yes, that last answer could destroy our friendship because I just told him something about me that he didn’t know… or maybe he suspected. Wait and see. This conversation is now about ten minutes old but it feels like we’ve been talking about it for an hour or more. I’m watching him closely and if I look close enough, I can “see” him thinking. Experience in this has taught me that if he’s for-real about wanting his dick sucked right now and now he knows that I’d do it, he might… back out and play it all off like he was “kidding” – right this moment but at a later moment, well, things might be different.

Having sex with your friend makes sense but comes with some risks and the question both of us have to answer for ourselves is… would it be worth ruining a good friendship? For me – and depending on the friend – yeah, it’s worth it because, if nothing else, this will be a severe test of our friendship and one we might not pass. It’s been about a minute since I threw the ball back at him but my “analysis” of this situation has, again, being taking place at the speed of thought and there are other things I don’t have any words for that have been going through my mind including what I’m going to do if this goes wrong.

He finally says, “Wow. I didn’t know you were down like that!”

“Well, now you know,” I say. “Does knowing this fuck up our friendship?” How he answers this question is going to be pivotal and I’ve put him into that shit or get off the pot moment; if you want your dick sucked, I’ll suck your dick because we’re friends… and now that you have me thinking about all of this, if I wasn’t horny before, I am now.

He pushes it back at me by asking, “Do you think that if we do this, it’s going to fuck shit up?” Almost classic as far as I’m concerned but I throw it right back at him by saying, “If I thought it would fuck shit up and badly, I wouldn’t have said a thing to you about this. I’m being honest and real; if you really need your dick sucked right now, I’ll suck your dick. You don’t have to do anything. If you say no, then you say no and life goes on. I’m your friend and if this is something that would make you feel better (and I damned well know that it will), then I’m good with it and, of course, no one else needs to know that it happened.”

A few moments of him asking me “the usual questions” like have I done it before and other such stuff. He now knows where I stand on this and in my head, I’m thinking that if this has fucked up our friendship, well, that’s fucked up but you do find out who your real friends are because your real and true friend would have had his dick out already because he not only wants to get sucked off, he trusts me.

In this real life situation I went through with such a friend, he said that he needed to think about it and I thought that whatever happens, happens. I’m good with it one way or the other. He took seven minutes to think about it and, yeah, I was timing him because I’ve always been interested in how long someone takes to think about this. He said, “Well, okay, um, you know, as long as nobody find outs; man, I’m seriously horny.”

I can tell. I’ve been discretely looking at his boner. We were close to my place and I took him home and gave him a blowjob he wasn’t going to forget and now it’s going to be all about what happens… after he cums. He has a… “heat of the moment” moment. I was sucking him and the next thing I know, he’s tugging on me to move and I let him move me and, oh, okay, it’s 69 time and now he’s going to town on my dick and… I hate this part and I’ll tell you why: Guys who are sucking dick for the first time tend to make me cum stupidly fast and it’s their inexperience and fumbly way that does it to me. I’m holding it back as hard as I can because I’d rather him cum first and I redouble my efforts and he blows a huge load of cum into my mouth. At this point, he’d stopped sucking me (thank you, Jesus!) and, eh, if he goes back to it, fine, but if he doesn’t, it’s not a problem: I’ve fulfilled my side of this special pact in our friendship.

But now it’s all about how he’s going to behave now that he’s busted a nut. He goes back to sucking me; I tell him I’m going to cum and add that unless he wants a mouthful of cum, now’s the time to move. He doesn’t. I cum. He… urps but swallows it. Once I remember how to talk, I ask him if he’s okay; he says he is. We’re talking and it is to note that neither of us have bothered to get dressed. We go for it again and since we’re both on our “second wind,” it takes quite a bit of time before we cum again.

The next day, he comes by to tell me… that we can’t be friends anymore. Ouch. Damn it. He says that when he got home, he thought about what we did and now he feels guilty. Tells me that I tricked him into turning into a gay motherfucker. In the space of a single thought, I go from being pissed with myself because we’re not friends to getting offended and cussing him out and telling him that since he chose to end our friendship over something he wanted to do, then go. Get the fuck out of my house and don’t show your face around here again. I had asked you if you were sure, you could handle this and I even told you that in my experience, some guys find that they can’t handle it. Grow the fuck up already; maybe one day you’ll look back at this moment and regret losing my friendship. Begone.

Instead of vacating the premises, he… wants to talk. He tells me how he was feeling when he got home and it wasn’t good. I tell him that I understand that but he had to know that as his friend, I wasn’t going to do anything to hurt him and, besides, this is a “guy thing” that friends are doing right now somewhere. It’s a big deal but it isn’t because, if nothing else, it’s just sex – a blowjob or two. I tell him that, um, while we were at it, he seemed like he was having a good time and he laughs and says that he had an amazing time – has anyone ever told me that I suck dick better than a woman can?

Yes, I’ve heard this before and more time that I care to admit to. Thanks. I just need to know if we can still be friends despite what we did because I do value your friendship. This won’t ever happen again but, well, what are real friends for? I manage to get him “calmed down” about it. Oh, hell, no – it does not mean that you’re gay or going to be! Where do guys get this stupid shit from (but I know the answer)? We’re boys; you were horny and wanted to get sucked off and so did I; no women around and it ain’t like we can roll up on a babe or babes and ask them to blow us, right? Lots of laughing. Look, we’re friends; it was just sex as far as I’m concerned and I have always been of a mind that if you can’t have sex with your friend, who can you have sex with and who are you going to trust the most – the devil you know – me – or the devil you don’t, oh, like that guy walking over there or that guy that just drove by?

He asks if I’m being real when I said that it’ll never happen again and I assure him that if he says we can never do this again, it will never happen again. He’s… asking me to reconsider that and I’m not sure if I want to. He’s letting that old saw out of his mouth: Friends should never have sex with friends. I point out to him that we did – twice. I’m not the one having a problem other than you deciding that our friendship has to end… over something you wanted me to do. Not something I made you do. Not my fault that you now hate the decision you made and I did tell you that we didn’t have to do this, didn’t I?

I tell him that we’re adults and prone to making adult decisions which often means being adult enough to stand by that decision and no matter what happened. I tell him that in this case, he obviously decided two things: The first was that we were friends and he could trust me and the second was… giving up that nice dick to be sucked and, surprise, surprise, not doing a bad job of sucking my dick, either. I didn’t ask but I’m sure you’ve done this before; what, it was your first time? Ya fooled me. Look, if our friendship is over, I’m sorry but I’m not sorry about being the kind of friend to you that I’d suck your dick.

He opined that if we were do, oh, I dunno, do it again and now, things would be better and our friendship tighter. Maybe he’s telling the truth about that or, maybe, I gave him such a hellified sucking that he wants another one. A quick pat on my own back because I like to believe that I am very good at this because I’ve been doing it for a long time. Now it’s on me to say, “Let’s do it!” or “Maybe we shouldn’t…” It… doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.

He stands up and starts getting out of his clothes. That tells me the decision he made. I undressed. I do a serious number on him because I’m a cocksucking fiend… but he’s my friend. He stayed my friend until he moved down south, and we lost contact with each other. But it had gone very wrong for a moment. I knew why it did: He busted a couple of nuts in my mouth and refraction stomped a mudhole in his ass. He thought he had made a mistake, but he made two: The other was not trusting the strength of our friendship and not trusting me.

Did I care that he wanted to end the friendship? This’ll sound fucked up: I cared… and I didn’t. I’ve had this happen too many times in my life to really be bothered by it because at the end of the day, we’re both adults; we both made an informed decision and I did tell him that at some point, some guys freak out about it and I gave him an out. He didn’t take it. Always be careful what you ask for because you just might get it… because, really, what are friends for? He needed… help with his horniness and, um, guys aren’t good at waiting to take care of it later. I was his friend; I could help him with this… and accepted the responsibility and consequences.

It is the way. I don’t regret blowing him. I made a decision and stuck to it. I won’t lie – the dick was good and he did very well, too. Our friendship survived the clusterfuck. Barely. It got better and that’s all I could hope for. That this can go wrong is a given and it really does suck and hasn’t made me feel good because I don’t like losing friends but if I’m your friend and we’re tight, sure – I’ll have sex with you because we’re friends and more so if your need is great. I can help. Let me help. You might have some regrets and I understand that; come talk to me and let me help ease your mind about it.

Because friends do that, too.

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Posted by on 20 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 19 March 23, 1610 hours

I read this the other day: and I thought, hmm, it’s about time someone addressed this… lack of knowledge. You’d have to read it to know what the author is talking about but as I scrolled through the Reader to see if there was anything I missed, one of the things I thought about was how being bisexual… taught me a lot about sex – and not just how to do it.

Early in my development as a bisexual male, one of the first things I needed to know was… why do guys have sex with each other when the only people we’re supposed to have sex with is girls? It might sound like a “duh” kind of thing since the question lodged in my mind after I’d had my first sexual experience with a guy which, um, whew, it was amazing… but why?

I was that kid who questioned everything and often in ways that tended to get me into trouble because you don’t question what is or that which has already been established and, I found, believed. The author speaks to a specific aspect of having sex (and got in trouble for having the nerve to speak on things bisexual) but one of the things being bisexual taught me was that if you think you know about sex, you really don’t. My quest to find the answers to the many questions I had unearthed a lot about sex and stuff that, admittedly, was pretty scary to someone as young as I was.

I learned that there are some questions I didn’t want to know the answers to but once you “see” the answers, you can’t unsee them or act like you didn’t and, indeed, homosexual sex is one of those things that we keep trying to act like isn’t supposed to happen and, in the here in now, that people really aren’t bisexual. I learned that some who discovered that I had sex with guys firmly believed that (a) I was gay and (b) I was a pervert; a sexual deviant. Why? Because those who said that had a very narrow and dim view about sex and were content to “settle” for what they were told about sex and, usually, what not to do.

But not a whole lot about what you could do, let alone what humans are capable of. One of the sayings I grew up hearing was, “Whatever floats your boat…” and I was learning that there’s a lot of stuff that can float someone’s boat and, again, a lot of it that scared the bejeezus out of me and, like I’ve heard a lot of people say about bisexuality, some of the stuff I learned about sex that scared me made me say, “I wouldn’t do that!” And learning that just because I wouldn’t do it didn’t mean that no one would and that, duh, someone was doing this or that to float their boat.

The author of the article wrote about furries, those folks who dress up like their favorite animal and congregate and, yeah, some or most of the time, to have sex. I… don’t find this surprising at all because I learned that one of the things that doesn’t seem to weird us out is… animals having sex. Like, one day, me and my friends are outside playing, and we saw a dog doing it to another dog; we knew what the dogs were doing, thought it was funny because they didn’t care that they were being seen having sex. You see it for the first time and… you don’t pay any attention to it because it’s what animals do.

And not giving a single thought to the fact that humans are animals, too. We just have a highly developed brain that gives us the ability to be very damned creative when it comes to having sex; we are one of the few animals in the kingdom that has sex just for the fun of it and not just for procreative purposes but, yeah, we can make babies, too. I learned that bisexuality exists in other animals and… no one really thinks about this but I also learn that because we’re at the top of the intelligence chain, other creatures are beneath us and that religious beliefs sought to prevent us from, well, being “animalistic” about having sex and specifically in the homosexual way sex can be done.

I learned that some folks get… really weird when you point to the famous or infamous bonobo monkeys who were not only having sex like there was no tomorrow but were also quite bisexual in their pursuit to have sex. I got to see our collective hubris in the believe that those monkeys weren’t… civilized like we were and how that hubris blinded us to what sex was and how it can be and, yeah, morality be damned. I’d hear shit about homosexuality being unnatural but, well, that didn’t make sense since people were homosexual but I’d also hear that bisexuality or being a switch-hitter, was just as unnatural and that, too, didn’t make any sense to me because I knew the answer to this: Why would someone want to have both? The answer is… because they want to and, um, its pretty damned exciting, too, and the sex isn’t the only reason why it’s so damned exciting.

That would be that it defies morality and the way it’s supposed to be. I learned a lot of stuff about sex and why people have sex the way they do or how they want to. There is a great fear of a departure from our morality because it would “free” us to have sex… any damned way we wanted to. Oh, wait – we do that anyway. We slapped the privacy label on sex; it’s no one else’s business. We don’t talk about it and to the extent that we can’t talk about sex with the person we’re having sex with sometimes. Sex that is outside that which is considered to be normal is kinky or freaky and, indeed, I’ve heard quite a few people say that being bisexual is kinky and/or freaky and because of their perception and, um, lack of knowledge about sex.

It’s not what or how but why… and there is a mind-boggling about of biology and psychology involved. Women have said to me, “Is that all you think about?” and my answer, once I learned why was, “Well, yeah, it is because I’m biologically hard-wired to have sex.” Social niceties say that I shouldn’t be like this, but the fact remains that I am. I’m a guy. To expect me not to think about it is… unnatural and, in some circles and schools of thought, abnormal.

To the question of why I have sex with men, the answer is, “Um, because it’s sex and it feels good – why else would I do it with a guy?” Just having sex “for the hell of it” spits in the face of our morality and just like not having sex in the mandated way does. It really does come down to whatever floats your boat but because our morality has instilled a lot of fear, guilt, and shame about having sex, most are not of a mind to let their boat float all that much because no one really wants their peers to see them as a freak or sexual deviant of some flavor or another. And, for some, to the extent that they can’t allow themselves to think about how their boat might get afloat.

And as evidenced to the many guys I’ve talked to who have said, with a high degree of certainty, that they wouldn’t like a guy blowing them. I’ve asked them how they know that they wouldn’t and, to be a bit general, their answers are along the lines of they’re not supposed to like it; it’s immoral, a sin, and quite evil. Well, um, until they happen to experience it and find that, hmm, it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be; but for those who said that it was as bad as they thought it would be or worse, well, why would they think this? Ah, that’s rights: We’ve been programmed to think this way and you’d be surprised at how many people don’t believe this.

I’ve had sex with people in some… interesting ways. Some of it I wouldn’t do again, but I tried it more than once because one time… might not prove anything as far as liking or disliking something. And learning that just because you didn’t like it that first time doesn’t mean that you wont’ like it a second time… unless you mindfuck yourself into believing that you won’t and “insist” that you weren’t supposed to in the first place.

Humans are among the most sexual animals on the planet; we’re also the weirdest about it. All of it. Any of it. I get into these conversations with my protege and we talk about his preferences and what he’s not going to do; yet, he sometimes asks, in his own way, “Is this all there is to this?” and my answer to him is, no – but he, like so many of us, are more focused on what we want to do and not of a mind to consider what we can do or that which is possible, you know, if you didn’t mind all that much. The author writes about transsexuals and transgenders and my protege… is pretty weird about having sex with those who have partially reassigned their sex and gender or, “chicks with dicks,” to be a bit crude for a moment.

It’s odd that he says that he’d have sex with a FTM who has, crudely, kept her pussy intact and might even still have his female reproductive equipment. But he gets weird when we talk about having sex with an MTF who has kept their cock and balls which, to me, is pretty weird since he does, in fact, have sex with men. He’s sucked their dicks, swallowed their cum, and have taken their cocks in his ass and gotten it creamed. But he, and like so many others, is only looking at who and not what all that much and what is… you can have sex with anyone and provided they’re legally able to consent to sex which, yeah, that’s important but in my search for answers, I learned some stuff about that, too, that would make a lot of people have to change their underwear and willing to overlook the fact that we – humans – have a very long history in this, well, until it became immoral and illegal by law.

Because we’re supposed to be above such behaviors; we are too civilized to give into our basal instincts. Dressing up as an animal? What’s up with that shit? I have had practitioners of BDSM say that I’m some kind of freaky because I have sex with men and women and, please, it’d be nice if you thought about that one for a moment. Some things of an BDSM ilk might “give me the creeps” but… I understand it because we – humans – are more than capable of going there if it floats our boat.

And if we do, um, mind your own damned business. When it comes to bisexuality and, specifically in males, that’s some really fucked up shit. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve been told that I don’t need to have sex with men because – wait for it – there are plenty of women who are willing to have sex and… okay, I can accept that… theoretically, because, okay, we believe that it should be really easy to have sex with a woman except women do have something to say about that and… I learned some stuff about why women are so funny about having sex – biology and psychology. Our mindset about sexuality, for as long as I’ve been alive, has been pick a side and stay on it but if you pick the homosexual side to say on, well, what the fuck is wrong with you?

There are those who advocate bisexuality but… they only talk about the social stuff and not so much about the sex; I thought that, perhaps, they don’t because it’s pretty much a given but, then again, I also thought that they don’t get into the why of the sexual stuff… because we’re not supposed to talk about it. When they do, it’s usually in terms of being abused or molested and while this is a a part of the reality we don’t want to see or know about, it’s been my thought that if you present the sex in this way only, there are going to be a lot of “new bisexuals” who won’t be of a mind to fully be bisexual because of all the negatives being thrown out there but I also understand that this… awareness of sexual negativity is more of a social thing that anything else or, just because we learned about sex in a way that isn’t according to that which we consider moral, don’t stomp mudholes in us.

I’ve been seeing stuff on Twitter about getting therapy and in a tone that makes me think that those tweeting it thinks bisexuals should be in therapy since, you know, everyone is giving us a cruise ship amount of shit about being bisexual. I’m never going to say that therapy isn’t indicated for some because I know how… devastating the angst can be since I’ve experienced it… and no therapy needed because I know some stuff about this and, again, I’ve learned some stuff about sex that makes some folks weird out… because it’s not the way it’s supposed to be. It’s perverted; it being a deviant, and some kind of freak that needs professional mental health help. It’s not really about advancing our knowledge of sex; it’s about getting our heads out of our collective asses about sex and, well, being weird about it.

I am a bisexual male. I have had and enjoyed lot of sex with both males and females; I’ve even had sex with someone who was making the move from male to female. I’ve had it one on one and in groups and I’ve seen the sexual side of some people who makes me look at them sideways and, okay, you’re into this, huh? There’s sex and sexuality and then there’s kinks and fetishes that are, in my opinion, subsets of the first two things because you can be bisexual and have a fetish, like some guys I’ve come across who want to play with my feet… and I’m ticklish. Leave my feet alone! But when you start digging into the rabbit hole that is sex, you uncover… some shit and you can’t “unsee” or “un-know” it.

I would say that “in the beginning,” our knowledge of sex is severely limited by our morality; who you can do have it with and under which conditions sex is allowed and what sex isn’t allowed – that would be any sex that does not promote conception. I grew up being told what not to do and that I could only have sex with females; I had to learn, on my own, how to have sex and if you’ve ever wondered how and why people get in trouble via sex, it’s because we’re not told anything about it other than what not to do. Women get pretty pissy with us because we don’t know how to have sex with them and we don’t know… because weren’t taught how to and, welp, if you leave us to our own devices, your results will most definitely vary. If you wanna have some fun, ask a woman what it’s gonna take to leave her wondering what bus just ran them over and, surprise – most of them either can’t tell or they won’t. I wanted to know why… and I found out why. Whew.

We are weird about sex because, on the whole, we lack knowledge and understanding about it. It’s… not really our fault because, again, we’ve been programmed to only look at one aspect of having sex even though we like to talk about the spectrum of sexuality and, methinks, glossing over the sex that can float the shit out of a boat or, because of moral shaming and guilt, sink it faster than the Titantic. I learned that it’s not what we know about sex that gets us into trouble:

It’s what we don’t know. Bisexuality… isn’t that hard to figure out. Social niceties insist that sex, if you have it, should only be done when a relationship is in place. Puts the kibosh on any sex that happens without this being in place; it’s bad, dangerous, empty, meaningless and we were, in fact, programmed and conditioned to believe this as, yeah, the gospel truth… and it isn’t, and it never was until such things were mandated. It’s not our fault that we lack knowledge and understanding about sex but some of us gain it. Holy shit. For shits and giggles, do some reading about the Victorian Age. I did. Had me saying to myself, “What the fuck? And they have the nerve to say that I’m a pervert?” Those of the Victorian Age made me look like I was chaste and pure by comparison… and I’ve done some stuff.

All manners of sex were indulged in that period of time. All of it. If you can think of it, they were doing it and acting like they weren’t because they were civilized and God-fearing. Uh-huh. Sure, they were but, in my reading, I saw that they… understood sex in a way that we no longer did. Those folks were seriously immoral and therein lies the “key” to our lack of understanding. At this point, you might be wondering what this has to do with bisexuality and the answer is…

Everything. Bisexuality challenges and changes whatever you think you know about sex. Being sexually active in this moves things from theory to some very real stuff. It… befuddles and confuses a lot of new bisexuals because… we hide this knowledge. I had wondered why so many guys would have sex like this for the first time and say, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be!” or, what really piqued my curiosity, “It felt normal and natural.” And my question of, “Why does it?”

Um, because it is and that’s because it’s normal and natural for us to have sex. We are… terrible creative in the ways we can have sex. It’s not that we have to agree with… stuff but it is important to know about it and to understand it. I suck dick. People know that men do this to each other but now it gets… personal. They wouldn’t. They don’t believe in it. No man should stoop that low to actually want to have sex with another man. Our morality… limits our knowledge and understanding. Purposely so. Hides that which we are capable of. That which can float someone’s boat. The way we can… personalize it to fit our needs and desires and, indeed, that which piques our curiosity.

Oh, like, what’s it like to have sex with another guy? And why would a guy even want to? Er, um, because it feels good? Or it could if it wasn’t loaded with a lot of fears. We think in terms of sex in terms of sexuality – straight, bi, gay – but what we don’t see or understand is what drives all of this and that at the top of it all is… sex. Ya mon. Why would I even want a man to fuck me in the ass? It can feel pretty good and satisfies… a lot of things that I don’t have the words for. Is it perverted… or just how it can be? Again, morality wants to suppress such things in all of us, male or female. Do not ever give into the temptation and only have sex in the way morality approves of. No homosexuality of any kind; no fornication; no adultery; you do not need to know anything about what can be done… you know, if you think it might float your boat and you don’t mind all that much.

The author of the referenced piece wrote… a nice piece. Yeah, it’s rather specific in what it talks about, but the author had the nerve to talk about some stuff that social norms say they shouldn’t have and, well, I liked the article. It’s not what we think we know that makes sex problematic: It’s what we don’t know and what we’re not supposed to know. It… stinks of not being moral and civilized to know what sex can really be like and the many ways it can be. Sometimes in ways that makes bisexuality look tame in comparison. I know straight people who make me look like I’m chaste where their pursuit of floating their boats go… but I’m the weirdo because I have sex with men and women?

If you’re of a mind to, go read what that author wrote and gain some knowledge even if you don’t believe in it or, yeah, it’s not something that you’d get into or whatever. Then, if you will – and as I’ve asked before – ask yourself why you wouldn’t.

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Posted by on 19 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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The Daily Prompt: 19 March 23

How would you rate your confidence level?

I am supremely confident. I learned two things: If you don’t have confidence, you don’t have anything and if you’re not going to be confident in yourself, no one else will be confident in you.

I’ve been told that my confidence borders on cockiness, but I’ve always known that being cocky is a very slippery slope and I’ve seen cocky guys crash and burn big time. I know what I know; I know what I can and can’t do. And, I think, part of being confident is knowing what you can’t do and admitting that you can’t.

My mom would tell me and my siblings to, “Never write a check your ass can’t cash.” The first time she told us this, we were on the floor laughing hysterically… because she said “ass.” She let us laugh for a few then told us that she was very serious, and we had to take it seriously. I’ve felt that part of being confident is knowing not to do this or, don’t talk shit that you can’t back up.

Mine’s a… quiet confidence. I know it; I feel it; there’s no need to tell people that I’m confident and at every turn; to me, those who do this aren’t really all that confident. If I can do a thing, I can do it and I’m confident that I can; if I know a thing, I know it but in either case, if I can’t or I don’t know, I’m confident enough to say that, nope, can’t do it or, nope, I don’t know it… but I might know who does, you know, if you really want the answer.

The other thing my mom taught us was to never let someone else take your confidence in yourself away. She said that there are people who do not like confident people because they aren’t all that confident and misery loves company. She said that we had to confident that we won’t let someone take it away from us. She said that there will be people who will challenge your confidence in yourself and… you don’t have to accept such challenges but, sometimes, you can’t let someone get away with doing this.

Mothers are so wise, aren’t they?

Another person told me, “If you don’t toot your own horn, no one else is going to.” He was right because it takes confidence in yourself to be able to toot your own horn. He’d told me this in response to my response to my performance review and one that I wasn’t happy about and… I “lit into him” about it; pretty much ripped him a new one because he had the audacity to question my ability to do a job that I could do with one hand tied behind my back and, as such, I earned a raise and promotion and wasn’t happy to keep being overlooked and my dedication and skills dismissed.

I got the raise and the promotion because I tooted my own horn. He’d said that if I hadn’t responded the way I did, no raise or promotion and he would have concerned in my apparent lack of confidence in myself.

I’m bisexual (for those of you who don’t “know” me via my blogs) and I’ve mentored other guys in the ways of male bisexuality and one of the first things I tell them is… if you don’t have confidence, you don’t have anything. You’re screwed and not in a good way. That they have to know that they can be this way and stand tall in the face of the real backlash they will face and then, be confident that they will strive to be the best bisexual they can be. You can do this; be confident that you can and never let anyone tell you that you cannot or should not be what you know yourself to be.

If you lack confidence or it’s low, well, something’s wrong and this needs to be addressed immediately if not sooner. Those who would prefer that you not be confident aren’t going to be happy about you becoming more confident in yourself and you must be confident that you can stand in the face of this and not whither or be in fear when they try to take it away from you.

I am supremely confident because if I’m not, I have nothing and no one will have confidence in me… and I’m not ever feeling that.


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Posted by on 19 March 2023 in The Daily Prompt


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The Daily Prompt: 17 March 23

What activities do you lose yourself in?

That’s easy: Reading and playing video games.

When I read, I immerse myself in the story and if it’s written well, oh, man, I can easily get lost in it… and wind up getting “yelled” at for not hearing something my lady said.

Same with video games. I play on the Xbox Series X and I play the type of games that, for one, require me to pay attention and, for the other, they’re so… involved that there have been times when I’ve been sitting still for hours being immersed in the game’s world.

And wind up getting “yelled” at.

I can get lost writing a blog and depending on what happens to be on my mind and then all the “related stuff” that shows up… and wind up getting “yelled” at.

Being honest, I… lose myself giving head. Getting yelled at for different reasons. So much fun.

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Posted by on 17 March 2023 in The Daily Prompt


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 16 March 23, 1622 hours

Growing up, I had a lot of friends that I was really close to, mostly guys but a few girls, too. In today’s vernacular, we just clicked; we connected instantly and not being friends wasn’t an option.

Having sex with them seemed like the most sensible thing in the world. Not intentionally as it would be with my other male friends, you know, raging hormones, availability, being bored silly; no, these friendships started out as genuine friendships without, um, such interests. A friendship that was so close that if you saw one of us, you’d automatically start looking for the other one. Gemmi72 wrote a story that accurately describes how sex between close friends can happen (

I say “accurately” because with those close friends, that’s how we wound up having sex. I have some very fond memories of hanging out with them and just enjoying their company and no matter what we were doing or, since we were boys, wondering what kind of trouble we could get into. There was nothing we couldn’t and wouldn’t talk about; we knew each other’s family as if they were our own family. In the heat of summer days, we’d go skinny dipping along the creek – we had favorite places and some with rope swings – and seeing each other naked wasn’t a big deal.

Gemmi’s story really resonated with me because it was a moment of drying off in the sun – and on a rock – where one of my really close friends asked me, “Do you wanna have sex with me? I want to with you.” There was none of the “trepidation” or fear on my part but this friend was demonstrating all of it: Excited, uncertain, afraid of a lot of things including me saying no.

Which didn’t even cross my mind. In fact, I had zero thoughts about having sex with him. I just said, “Sure, okay…” I knew how to give a blowjob and, boy, did I give him one! I had the honor of being the person he ejaculated with for the first time and since I’d already gone through that scary moment, I was able to let him know that he was okay, nothing was wrong with him, and it gets better the more that happens.

He gave me a blowjob. He… fumbled through it for a few moments but like other guys who were doing this for the first time did, he figured it out. I told him that I was going to shoot and just like he did – girls made it very clear that if they were giving a blowjob, I’d better tell them that I was gonna do this so they could not get it in their mouth. He just nodded. He kept sucking me and fondling my balls and… I shot. I happened to be looking at him so I saw the look on his face and if I hadn’t been in the throes of my release, I would have been laughing my ass off.

“It tastes funny but not really bad,” he said after swallowing my stuff. I’m looking at him and he seemed… different. It would take me some time to figure out what that meant but kinda understood that we were now even closer than we were before. We both knew and felt it. We jumped back into the creek because, now, we were all hot and sweaty and had collected… stuff from the rock on us. We never had a problem being in each other’s “personal space” but after what we’d done on the rock, I wanted him in my space and I felt that he felt the same way because we were body to body in the water and it just felt right.

Out of the water, back on the hot rock and he asks, “Do you know what we have to do now?”

I did. We had to fuck. I needed him to fuck me and, at the time, I didn’t understand it but it made all the sense in the world. I had to tell him how to get it in me and, kinda funny, he zipped right into me so fast that I threw up a little but I assured him that I was okay. It was kinda awkward for me to reach behind me, grab his butt, and move him up and down; he caught on instantly and there we were, on a hot-assed rock on a hot summer day and he’s screwing me and… there was no other place I would wanted to be than under him and with his dick in me.

“This feels so good,” he said into my ear. “How come we never thought about this before?”

“I dunno,” I said. “I’m glad we did, though. It feels really good!”

He… had another moment when he shot his stuff into me but he didn’t “freak out” like he did in his first ejaculatory experience. He shot it in me and kept fucking me because, to me, his dick was even harder than it was before. It was so dreamy and I almost nodded off but he was shooting again and it was heavenly. He withdrew and said, “Back in the water!” I agreed but, honestly, I wasn’t really ready to get wet again; I just wanted to lie on the rock and enjoy what I was feeling including all of the stuff he shot into me now oozing out and making me feel very squishy.

Yeah, okay, back in the water. Thinking back about this particular moment, we were feeling that our friendship had changed and in a good and special way. We’re splashing around in the water, trying to dunk each other but, as I recall, it all felt… different. I think we were messing around in the water for maybe ten minutes when he said, “We have to get out so you can screw me now.” Back on the rock. Trying to generate enough spit to put on both of us. Him lying on his stomach and saying, “Hurry up. You gotta do it…”

I slipped into him, he gasped and tensed up for a moment but relaxed. For me, this obviously wasn’t the first time I’d screwed a boy, but this felt… different and I mean really different. You would have thought that we’d been doing this from the start and were used to each other.

“Wow, this really feels good,” he said and in a rather dreamy voice that I recognized since when I was talking to him as he screwed me, my voice had been just as dreamy.

“I’m glad it does,” I said. A couple of minutes later, I shot my stuff into him and… he giggled.

“That feels funny but it feels good – do you know what I mean?” he asked

It took me a moment to be able to answer him but I’d said that I did know. I’m about to pull out and probably hit the water again but he says, “Let’s do it the other way.”

That meant doing it the way I’d do it to a girl and it never occurred to me to ask him how he knew what “the other way” was because, in that moment, I didn’t care how he knew. My dick was still kinda hard (and what was going on with this?) and I slid back into him easily and the moment I was all the way in him, he wrapped me up with his arms and legs and pulling me close enough to kiss him… and I did. It made my head swim. Tongues got involved and I thought I was going to pass out. I was feeling like I’d shot my stuff but I knew I hadn’t and while I kinda remember feeling this weird thing before, this time, it felt different. Stronger. Better.

“Shoot it in me again,” he whispers into my ear. “Shoot it now and gimme all of it again.”

It felt like I wasn’t going to stop shooting. Today, the word I’d use to describe how I felt in that moment would be… intense. It had never felt like this with other boys. But I did stop and he’s all wrapped up around me, I’m still in him and… we’re both giggling because he said that he could feel my stuff going out and I could feel it, too and, well, it was funny.

“We should swim one more time,” he said. “But I don’t want to move – that’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah – I don’t want to move, either,” I said. I knew we had to and for a lot of reasons and beginning with that damned rock wasn’t exactly comfortable and my knees had gotten a little skinned from screwing him both time. But move we did. We dove into the water, got close to each other and… kissed again.

“We have to do this again tomorrow,” he said after we got out of the water, spent a few minutes getting sun-dried, and got dressed. He now looked the way I felt: Sad but happy and sad because we had to stop doing it because it was getting a little late. As we walked toward his home, we were… quiet. Today, I would say that we were… assimilating what we’d done and how it changed our friendship.

“We should have done this before now,” he said and he even sounded angry. “But I’m glad we did. I wanted to have sex with you.”

“I’m glad we did, too,” I said. Again, I had never thought or felt that way about him but when he said what he did, I knew it was the right thing for us to do. “It really felt good to me – did it feel good to you?”

Yeah, that part. I had to know if it felt good to him and I was afraid that he would say that it didn’t. Really afraid.

“It all felt really good to me and I liked everything we did,” he said.

I wanted to hold his hand while we were walking. Badly. We’re walking along and… bumping into each other and not in that intentional and playful way we sometimes did and trying to make each other stumble. This was… different. Like our bodies had to be close to each other. I… didn’t understand it but I liked it. We get to his house and we both greet his parents and… I didn’t want to leave him; the last thing I wanted to do was to go home but I knew I had to.

“See you tomorrow?” we both asked at the same time and… giggling like idiots.

The next day was a lot more of the same. At every turn, he kept saying or asking why we had never done this before we did and I kept saying that I didn’t know. Ditto for the next day. And the one after that. Almost every day for two weeks. Spending the night with him and neither of us getting much in the way of sleep.

One day – and after sucking and screwing each other silly he said, “Would it be weird if I said that I think I love you?”

My head swam. I felt so dizzy. I’m pretty sure that I told him that I loved him, too. I think. He kissed me with lots of tongue. My head swam even more. He sucked me again. Laid me down “in the other way” and screwed me and kissing me the whole time. Shot his cream into me. I felt like crying for some reason. Switched. I sucked him. His dick, for some reason, felt and tasted better than any other dick I’d sucked. He shot. I think he might have been crying.

“Do it to me now,” he said.

I did. Beyond amazing. I would later think and remember the times I’d actually felt this exact same way with the other close friends I had and we had sex… because it just felt like the thing we had to do. I didn’t understand it; didn’t understand the way I felt as I screwed him; felt like passing out when I shot my stuff into him and he’s clinging to me and just like some girls did. When he let me go, I saw that he had shot again; it was all over his stomach and mine, too.

We giggled. Went for a last swim. Dried off, got dressed, and started walking. He mentions that we are going to have to do it a lot more often because he heard his parents talking about moving but he wasn’t sure what was going on. My heart… skipped a beat or two; I wanted to barf for some reason. I knew this feeling, though, because every time I got to be this close to a friend, they wound up moving away and to another part of the city that there was no way my parents would let me walk to. I felt sick. He wasn’t looking all that good either.

We… had so much sex that we almost got caught quite a few times. There was a great urgency because he confirmed that they would be moving. We were in his room one day and going for it like tomorrow would never come. We’d just got done doing it for the second time, had barely gotten our clothes back on and… his dad knocked on his door. I knew this moment, too, and it was a scary one but that time, um, his dad sat me down and explained some “facts of life” to me. His dad asked us to do something for him and we went to do it but my heart was somewhere around my eyeballs and waiting for him to yell at us because he knew what we’d been doing… but that never happened.

Whew. Close call. The last time I saw him was both joyful and, like such things were before, one of the worst days in my life. We had sex in our favorite place. We laughed. We cried. We promised to write each other. He was gone the next day. I think the only thing that kept me from failing into despair was… I had other friends that I was that close to. Close enough that having sex… was the thing we had to do even though we’d never given it any thought before. And I didn’t know why.

I’m recalling all of this, and I can feel the sadness that I felt but I can also feel the joy and, dare I say, love that I must’ve really felt for him. I remember running into another of my really close friends – a girl this time – and I was telling her about why I was looking like somebody stole my lunch and her empathy and compassion was amazing.

“You need to have sex with me,” she said with authority. “Right now and because it’ll make you feel better… and I’m horny after you telling me how you two had sex.”

We went to have sex. Lot of oral; she knew that I ate pussy because I had told her all about that one. I screwed her twice. She was right: I did feel better and not because of all the sex we’d had but because I still had a friend – friends – that I was that close to. With her and the other girls, it wasn’t like we were going to be “going together,” and as we used to call it. We were friends. Really good friends and good enough that we could have sex and it didn’t mess up our friendship.

It would take me a lot of years before I was able to understand this better. That… connection that just happens and it’s such a wonderful feeling even though trying to figure out why it happens… is something I don’t think about anymore. Being friends and being, let’s call it, being intimate but not in a sexual way but then, that moment arrives and having sex… just makes all the sense in the world. One girl said, “What are friends for?” and on an occasion where the boyfriend she had… dumped her. I wanted to go beat him up for hurting my friend’s feelings.

“If you’re really my friend, um, you’ll have sex with me,” she said.

I’d never had a single thought about having sex with her. I… hesitated and that’s when she hit me with what she said and… we had sex. I remember her asking me, while I was screwing her for a second time, “Does it feel like this when you’re screwing a guy?” and… I couldn’t answer her. I actually stopped screwing her so I could think about it. Realized that with the friend who had moved, yeah, it did feel like this and said as much to her.

“Good. I think this is the way it’s supposed to feel,” she said. “And you wanna know the good part?”

“What’s that?” I said.

“We’ll still be friends,” she said.

Gemma’s story brought back a lot of memories. Good ones but kinda sad ones, too. I knew others who were close and like Gemma’s story was about and they’d gone through the same moment she wrote about; indeed, she could have been writing about quite a few girls that I knew.

This was about bisexuality but, in a way, it really wasn’t about that. It was about that very special intimacy that really close friends can share and… sex can happen. My friend “wasn’t like me” in that he had said that he’d never thought about having sex with a boy and when we had sex, it was his first time. It wasn’t about “liking boys” but very much about two guys who were very good friends… and even better friends afterward. He did say, oh, maybe after the third time we’d had sex, that he wouldn’t do this with anyone else, well, except girls. It made me feel… special. I could have sex with someone else and talk to him about it which usually resulted in us having sex because what we were doing was… different from being friends with someone else.

What a wonderful memory. Thanks, Gemma!

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Posted by on 16 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 15 March 23, 1519 hours

Beware the ides of March! I dunno, on this date, this warning the oracle gave Caesar about his impending doom stuck with me ever since we learned about his demise in school. Now, on to what I was thinking about.

In the beginning and upon discovering that dick was good, I ventured forth into the sexual world to explore this wonderful thing called sex and having many wonderful and, often, comical adventures with my peers, both male and female. The whole world had opened up before me and sex was everywhere. Alas, there were attempts to make us fear sex and by those who, due to being of an adult age, knew that sex could be bad, that there were forms of sex that were taboo and immoral, and did their level best to prevent us from discovering these things.

They were, of a kind, oracles whose sworn duty was to warn us, to dissuade us, to offer portents of a dark and foreboding future that may or may not come to pass – but with a certainty that warned that the worst would happen. Keep it in your pants; keep your legs closed; do not think about things homosexual lest God – not the gods of the days when Rome and Romans, along with the Greeks, were practicing debauchery with reckless abandon – sees your sins and strikes you down from heaven above and casts you into the hell below, to suffer for all eternity in pain and agony. Heed the warnings, young ones; be chaste, pure of thought and deed, and retain your virginity at all costs.

Yeah, it didn’t work all that well. While many heeded the words of our elder oracles, many of us were not of a mind to listen… because this sex thing is totally groovy! The intimacy of sex driven by the onset of puberty was so new and wonderful and quite scary; however, and despite this, I – along with my peers – would risk the severest of punishments to have sex and in any way it could be had, done, and enjoyed.

There were lessons learned, both good and bad. There were “bad” moments that weren’t that bad; there were good moments that weren’t all that good. So much confusion; so many questions that begged for answers and no one who had them being willing to offer them for consideration. You’re on your own, kiddo – good luck.

Yeah, thanks for nothing. There were rules and even laws for having sex. Well – ain’t that about nothing? The rules and laws were to be obeyed but there was awareness that there were those who did not obey them but there was the conflicting rules and laws about being a consenting adult. In the early days of becoming a legal and consenting adult, a man who was wedded to a woman and as such things should be wanted to… inseminate me, both orally and anally as well as wanting to similarly inseminated. Adultery was committed and, dare I say, enjoyed? The plight of the married was glaringly on my radar and more so when I had been totally disabused about the sanctity of marriage not long before another married man sought and had sexual congress with me.

While there were many single men to be found and had, it came to my attention that there were many men, married or otherwise relationally involved with someone, who sought sexual succor from, well, anyone other than the person they were relating with. Indeed, even I had learned that being a married man drew both men and women to me like moths to a flame and… what the hell is up with this? I could easily recall certain women who, prior to my being married, wouldn’t give me the time of day if I needed it to preserve my life – and who rejected me for sex out of hand – flocking to me in droves and bearing the gift of their pussies and, okay, now you want me to have it? Really?

Being hunted by single men when I was single was… just the way it was. It came to pass, however, that the best sex – and in this very taboo way – was to be found with those men who were married (or otherwise hooked up) and I wanted – nay, needed – to know the truth of this. Why the pursuit to get a man to commit adultery in this way? I learned about… forbidden fruit. Well, actually, started getting a masterclass on the subject because in my youth, all of my male peers were forbidden fruit as well, not that we cared about that all that much because, as we learned, discovered, and experienced, having sex and inseminating each other was pretty damned good but for many of us, not as good as having sex and inseminating females.

But I digress. One of the… misconceptions that was foisted upon us was that being married… guaranteed sex. Not stated specifically but it was very much and greatly implied because in marriage, there are… duties that must be performed and without exception and, yeah, that was a bunch of bullshit because it might start out like that but at some point, these duties would be neglected and set aside, leaving partners, both male and female, at odds and in dire straits to have this matter of great import discarded and either in favor of a gross lack of interest or the myth of grass being greener on the other side of the fence. Men who either preferred or to whom it made no difference if it was another man had a… thing for married men and men, by rule, law, and the morality of mankind, were off-limits. Period. Commanded by God Himself and by way of His Commandments which were handed to Moses and, specifically, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.”

Oops. Yet, there was an abundance of married men willing to commit adultery because of their need to heed the call of cock and cum, sometimes to satisfy a need that, by necessity, was hidden and, sometimes, um, because they weren’t getting the pussy that was allegedly promised to them via the vows of holy matrimony. Aye, there were some married men who continued to savor the flesh of she he was married to but deemed to be… not enough. Not that her flesh was not delectable and desirable but because… there had to be more to sex than just this… and daring to commit a sin before God – adultery – to discover, relish, and savor the touch of a man as well.

Those greedy motherfuckers. It was said throughout the land that men were not the only ones guilty of this sin; aye, many a female learned what their mates were learning, and, in this, the word spread far and wide that the best pussy to be had was… married pussy (and the only thing better than married pussy was pregnant pussy). However, with the great abundance of unmarried and unattached males throughout the lands who had no qualms about entering into sexual congress with other males, there should have been no need to seek out married and attached males… right?

Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I was beset upon by many a single male and mostly because of the band of gold encircling the third finger of my left hand. I was beset upon by many a married male, who was similarly adorned with the symbol of promise and fidelity. And at turns, I wondered… why. Not that I was complaining about all the dick, ass, and cum I was getting – and let’s not forget all of the pussy I was getting from single and married females alike because… it’s good to have permission – but there was a point in time where I was being besieged by those looking to have sex with me because I was married that I was turning them down in great numbers because… there are only so many hours in a day and, okay, this is getting seriously crazy. In those early days, I couldn’t figure out what the allure was because, the ring on my finger aside, I was still the same and very bisexual guy I was before I accepted the ring. What changed, I mean, other than that band of gold?

I’d become… forbidden fruit. Well, more than I already was given how nice it was to lie with a man, but I’d become even more of a forbidden thing and there were many, it seemed, who were drawn to the forbidden and, well, I understood that but… it couldn’t be that simple. I would learn of the perception and belief that one who was married was more… stable. Reliable. Well-schooled in the ways of carnal knowledge. The thrill of obtaining the unobtainable. An equal thrill of infidelity and adultery to also pursue that fruit which was forbidden by oath and vows to keep only unto yourselves. The many who said that they would never violate this oath and commit this sin but found themselves drawn to it so that they may commit the sin of engaging in sexual congress via the ways of homosexuality and lesbianism. The undeniable sense of freedom and liberation when you could, um, commit both of the latter sins because… it’s good to be able to go both ways. The best of both worlds and quite forbidden under any circumstance.

Because, as it came to be learned, needs always must. Oracle and ministers of faith would, on the seventh day of rest, warn against giving into temptations and partaking of the sins of the flesh and… their words and portents of eternal damnation falling upon ear that could not hear. If the heart wanted what it wanted, so did the flesh and, in context of this missive, the flesh which was forbidden to us was of the sweeter taste. It could taste bitter, of course, and many found the forbidden fruit to be spoiled and fermented beyond the possibility of being edible. You live and learn and you live and learn that just because that particular piece of forbidden fruit was inedible and unpalatable, there was always more of it to be had, partaken of and, yea, verily, enjoyed.

An unmarried and unattached male pursued me for a number of days. I asked him why he was pursuing me and pleading to be inseminated by me, both orally and anally, and his answer was, “Because you’re married, bro.” I was, indeed, stable even in my open marriage. I was reliable and very well-schooled in the ways of carnal knowledge and, dare I say, most excellent in my understanding of giving pleasure to flesh that was similar to my own.

Yeah, I could suck a seriously mean dick. It appeared that I could make it hurt real good going in that most forbidden of orifices. After inseminating him several times and over the course of a few hours, I found myself sitting and thinking, not about the sins I had committed but contemplating why the ring I wore made so much of a difference when I knew that there were unattached males who were just as capable – and more than capable – in these things that I was. I… dropped my pursuit of meaningful answers. It all… was what it was. Understanding that the fallacies of the way it’s supposed to be get exposed because of the stark light of reality.

Then it came to pass the era of bisexual males seeking a male… friend with benefits and the preferred male was… the one who was attached. Married in deed as well as “in thought.” The continued perception that married men are stable, reliable, knowledgeable and above all else, safe because a married man needed to be safe so as not to bring disease to an unknowing spouse or partner which would also expose the man’s infidelity and adultery via sexual congress with other males… or that hot babe over there that proved to be hotter in a very different and undesirable way and now, the embarrassment and personal humiliation of having to get large doses of antibiotics because of errors in judgement and… thinking with the wrong head.

I understand the allure a married man has to some. What I don’t understand is why there is this belief that if your male FWB is in a relationship, that guarantees good health and safety. I see the sense of this; I understand the logic under which this perception came to be. I also know about the reality of things; um, that dick might not be all that safe and it is foolish to presume that it is because, as I tell those who are seeking a married/attached male as an FWB, um, you have no idea where his dick has been – or who has been in his ass – when he’s not with you and getting busy in the ways which were already agreed upon.

By mutual consent. Having one of those quirky moments when I was wondering how one can consent to something when they’re in a situation that doesn’t allow them to consent. Yeah, this gets quite messy when you start digging around in this. I was sitting at a departure gate in an airport and noticed a guy who seemed to be checking out men and while trying to behave like he wasn’t. I guess it takes one to know one but he’d gotten my attention because he was being sneaky about checking the other men at the gate out and I didn’t know why. I found out a couple of minutes later when he sat next to me and started talking… about a lot of nothing and I cut him off by asking, “Why were you checking out these other dues and now you’re talking to me?”

“Because I like married men and you’re the only guy sitting here wearing a ring,” he said. He offered to fellate me in the men’s room. I declined because, really dude? In the men’s room? He “sweetened the pot” by saying that he’d not only blow me but I could bugger him and, yes, he actually used that word. I again declined and more so when it was getting close to boarding time. Having been spurned and rejected, the guy got up and went to the next departure gate to begin his search anew. What was funny and in the ironic way such things can be, I was sitting next to a guy, we’re airborne and he asked me if I saw the guy who was checking out other guys and I said that I’d seen him and actually talked to him and found out why he was doing it.

“He was looking to, excuse me for saying it this way, get some married dick,” I said.

“That’s what I thought,” the man said and… reached into his pocket, pulled out his wedding ring, and placed it back on his finger. “Do you get hit on a lot by guys like him?”

“Yeah, and more than I care to admit to,” I said.

“That’s why when I get to an airport, I take my ring off,” he said.

I saw the sense of his “logic” but experience had already taught me that I can attract a guy whether I have my ring on or not, not that I have ever been in the habit of taking it off, mind you. It got better because my row partner asked me if I would have taken the guy up on his offer and I truthfully said that I wouldn’t because… the men’s room. Allowed that we both knew how… disgusting airport men’s rooms can be and the inability of some of us to direct streams into openings that are somehow very easy to miss – and some men deliberately miss because… it’s not their bathroom and they don’t have to clean up any… messes.

The man said that he would have told this guy no for the same reason I did. Well, now, isn’t that interesting? No, not really, because in my many travels while slaving away for the company I worked for, I’d had sex with more married men than single ones when I was on the road – and I’d gotten their attention because of the ring I wore on my finger and, um, sometimes, because of the color of my skin as well. And propositioned a lot more but found reason to reject the offer of sex.

That the man sitting next to me offered to jerk me off as we flew into the night… didn’t surprise me. Nor was I surprised that he preferred married men. He even offered to blow me in the lavatory, and did I know about the Mile High Club? I allowed that I did and that I was a member in good standing but, thanks, I’m good. Not worth getting caught and going through some shit with the flight crew and, more than likely, police. He was “unhappy” and, honestly, I was because he had a rather nice boner hiding in his pants. In a different situation and location…

A woman asked me, “Do you know why a dude would risk everything in a relationship just to get some dick?”

I allowed that I did know why. “It’s… kinda complicated. No, it’s not always because of sex – or a lack of sex – in the relationship but, okay, I’ll ask you to forgive me for saying this but when a guy needs a guy, all the pussy in the world isn’t going to satisfy that need. The problem, of course, is that when you’re in a relationship, you’re not allowed to do stuff like this but if you understand that needs always must, then you’d understand why anyone would take such a risk and court disaster. That and that it’s easier to beg forgiveness than it is to ask – and get – permission.”

She allowed that it was some fucked up shit. We were friends enough that she admitted that she’d slept with a married man, but it all went to hell when his wife found out. I asked her, “Why a married man? Would you have slept with him if he’d been single and, really, like you are supposed to be sleeping with?”

She had to think about that. She allowed that single dudes were… iffy. Married men, not so much. Well, they could be. She just didn’t understand why a guy would risk it all over another man’s dick.

“If you were the kind of lady who liked sex with other ladies – and you needed it and in a bad kind of way – and even though the dick you were getting was good and all that, would you take the risk to get what you need from a woman or would you resist the temptation?” I asked.

She allowed that she would resist the temptation because she is supposed to. I… pressed her by asking, “But what if you couldn’t resist it? What if you found yourself in what I’ll call that “perfect moment” when you and a woman connect with each other and even if, let’s say, you’re not into it? What if you felt it and really felt it? Would you, if only for a moment, think that getting into bed with her might be worth the risk… if you could do it and essentially get away with it?”

“I used to like you,” she said. She allowed that if the woman in question was married or in a relationship, then, yeah, it could happen like that.”

“Now you know why a man in a relationship would do the same thing,” I said. “It’s about satisfying a need that your partner cannot do a damned thing about because they are not what’s needed,” I said.

“Do I want to know how you know that?” she asked.

“Probably not,” I said. “That doesn’t change the fact that I know what I know about it. I have learned that, in such things, married people… prefer other married people. It’s forbidden and all that but married people… understand each other and in ways that single people might not. For many, it is not worth risking it all… but the reality and truth is that for others, yeah, it is worth it because needs always must even in a situation where they’re not ever supposed to. If – and I’m not implying anything – you had a choice between having sex with someone who’s married and someone who wasn’t, which person, truthfully, would you choose to have sex with?”

Her silence told me her choice and she knew that I knew. “I can’t stand you sometimes,” she said. “The married person is… the safer option but it might not really be all that safe. Single people… play too much.”

“And, again, you have answered your own question,” I said. “If you, by chance, found that you needed the touch of a woman – but you’re in a relationship – would you take on the risk so that you could get what you need?”

“I… don’t know,” she said.

“Married people do this and take the risk because as long as no one is the wiser, it’s like something I heard in the military: It’s only illegal if you get caught. Now, yes, such a thing is immoral but for some, it comes down to… what are you willing to do in order to get that which you know you need and don’t want to do without?” I asked. “And if you were to take that bold step to take care of your need for a woman’s touch, which woman would you prefer – a single one or a married one?”

“It scares me that you even know this shit,” she said – and trying to avoid answering the question, too.

“I know it because I wanted to know why married people attract single people and other married people,” I said. “We’re both married and, I’m not saying or implying anything but I would prefer to have sex with you than a single woman because… you know what it’s like to be married.”

“That’s crazy,” she said.

“I agree but it is what it has always been,” I said. “If you needed a woman, there is nothing a man is going to be able to do to satisfy that need and no matter how good in bed he is. As a man, if I needed some dick, you can have the best pussy I’ve ever hand and it will do nothing to satisfy that need. Now, it would become a question of… would it be worth losing everything with you in order to satisfy this need. Some men determine that it is. It’s all fun and games until someone gets busted and, it seems to me, that a married dude would prefer to risk it all with another married dude and because, well, we understand what it’s like to be married. Single dudes are some flaky motherfuckers, but I’ll say that most married men just aren’t. Settled. Not of a mind to be playing kiddy games. Very well-versed in managing situations. A bunch of other things that I have learned makes married people the most ideal person to have any kind of sex with… because they’re married and forbidden fruit.”

“So you’re saying that if it’s forbidden, that’s actually an attractive thing?” she asked.

“I am,” I said. “Weird how that works but it works even when it’s not supposed to. This whole thing is seriously complicated but, yeah, there are married men who are willing to risk it all… because they need dick. Doesn’t always matter why they do but the need is there and something has to be done about it because doing nothing about it ain’t cutting it.”

The morality is seriously questionable. If you’re married, you have no business wanting anything other than what you’re bound to. If I were to discount the sex I had with guys prior to being a married adult, I have had more sex with married men than single ones. Married women, too, but that’s not the point at this time and in the context of being a male bisexual. Or wanting to be. Hearing the call of cock and that very weird and powerful urge to answer it – but knowing that because you’re married, you can’t. You’d better not.

Guys looking for an FWB they can have sex with is… a thing. If the man in question is married, even more of a thing and deemed to be… the better option. Stable. Reliable. Knowledgeable. Presumed to be safe and very healthy to have sex with. My protege is often… in awe of the number of men in a relationship who are willing to risk it all to get some dick – and dick that they are morally prohibited to get but… they can legally consent to.

Many, many years ago, I sought to peform an… experiment. I removed my band of gold and set upon the world and seeking others to have sex with, both male and female. The results were… sporadic. More miss than hit. I then replaced my band of gold and sallied forth into the world and… had more sex and by a factor of two compared to when I wore not my ring. It acted like a magnet and I thought, “Ain’t this about a bitch…” because it’s not supposed to be like this. The sanctity of marriage is said to be inviolate, but it is also an idealistic illusion. I attracted more married men than single ones; most of the single ones preferred to avoid marital drama. It didn’t matter, for the purposes of the experiment, whether I had sex with these attached men or not but it was about how and why wearing my ring made a difference. Knowing that by both oath and law, we were off-limits; we were forbidden fruit that couldn’t and shouldn’t be lusted after, let alone partaken of.

Some guys who said, “Man, if I wasn’t married…” and what they would do if they weren’t but some coming to the understanding that while being married has everything to do with any of this, if they had the need, it had to be taken care of and no matter the cost or risks that all of us know about. I had permission. I hadn’t asked for it but I got it because my wife needed it and because of something I could not give her and in the way it was needed. Better to have it than to beg for forgiveness and find that you will never be forgiven for it and there will be a very heavy price to pay… but adults can consent.

On a daily basis, I get to see men, both single and not, wishing, hoping, and even praying for a married man they can invoke FWB status with. For some, eh, an unattached single FWB would do in a pinch and is, after all, better than no FWB at all. I learned that the forbidden is… very damned attractive, the temptation that no one should ever give into. Resist it. Deny that you even feel it. Go forth and sin no more.

Yeah, that doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to because needs always must. One of the things I learned about infidelity is that it almost always happens when needs are not met or being attended to and needs that become so great that one finds reason to take matters into their own hands as well as the inherent risks involved. It doesn’t make sense, does it? It’s not supposed to make sense. Yet, when you’re bisexual, you… learn some shit about that which is supposed to make sense and the reality that says, um, yeah, no, it doesn’t. The understanding that it makes no sense to want it and deprive yourself of it and more so when it can – and does – create other problems that are, essentially, harmful and detrimental to one’s healthy and their ability to… do things the way they’re supposed to be done.

I’m not saying that it right. It isn’t. It is forbidden in many ways. I’m just the bisexual man who, at the risk of losing my “man card” will tell you about the reality we all turn a blind eye to. The reality that we insist cannot and does not exist. The “odd” thing that defies what we believe where opposites attracting is concerned because, in this, there is a… sameness which is quite attractive: Being married. The shock, awe, and even dismay to learn that you are and can be… fair game because you’re married. That’s not how it’s supposed to be; the ring is to be respected; the sanctity is to remain inviolate and beyond reproach and staying firmly in role of being that forbidden fruit that is to never be lusted, wanted, or partaken of.

The assumption and presumption that a married man is and can be… the best option when it becomes necessary to answer the call of cock and the joy of inseminating and being inseminated because, yeah, that shit feels pretty fucking good and it does… because it’s supposed to feel good. Married pussy is… da shit. Hands down. It speaks to… experience because if she wasn’t all that experienced and knowledgeable in the carnal arts, chances are she wouldn’t be married and, yes, there are exceptions that I’m not talking about. It’s… safer; more… settled than the games single people have to play in order to take care of their needs for intimacy, both sexual and emotional. You know that they… understand what it’s like to wear the ring. The good of it. What can be… inhibiting and repressive about it.

Like things, it seems, can be quite attractive but this is about commonality and… being legally allowed to consent to sex. But when you’re married, that consent is… taken away. Thou shalt not covet. Thou shalt not commit adultery. You violate the vows made and taken and lawyers will get involved and your honor besmirched because you failed to keep only unto yourselves but… needs always must.

Always. Not everyone succumbs to the call of like flesh. Or the opposite flesh. This is good. Reality is a harsh teacher, though. It no longer amazes me that one of the things that makes me attractive to another man is… the ring I wear on my finger. I am… safe. All that other stuff I’ve mentioned. And, I think, even more so when I know what it’s like to wear the ring, both the good and bad of it and, um, being bisexual, I long since learned that… getting some dick is good, too. Funny that even I would prefer a guy who is married because… he knows like I do. Single guys wouldn’t be my first choice because I know about dealing with them because I dealt with them before I wore the ring. Way too much drama and other bullshit.

It’s not that I’m immoral; I just understand some stuff about this because, if nothing else, I wanted to know why. I learned that bending the rules is… better than breaking them. In a very confusing way, I can consent but, of course, not without risk or other repercussions but I can consent. The ring… never loses it meaning. But needs must. Rule Number One in having permission is… always take care of home first. No exceptions but, yeah, sometimes, shit happens. You make room for shit to happen and especially when you’d prefer it not to because of Rule Number One.

There are many men and women who need this special permission. More than likely, they will never get it and be punished in some way for having the audacity to ask for it. In this, I have learned that when you leave someone to their own devices and it’s a condition where something becomes a matter of self-preservation, well, guess what could happen but, again, isn’t it odd that if one is willing to accept the risks, they prefer to take those risks with… someone who is also married?

Isn’t it odd that there are men and women who well and truly believe that same sex… dalliances aren’t really cheating? I thought so since I know that it is but I also know that many men and women who have given into their need to do the forbidden often get forgiven because it didn’t happen in the opposite sex way of things. I know men who would lose all of their shit to find out that their woman likes and is getting pussy. Likewise, I know women who would rain down great hell and damnation on their man and one who likes dick.

And I know a lot more who… wouldn’t blink. Or, at the worse, they’re never going to forget it and forgiveness, such as it might be, can be iffy. The seriously odd thing that suggests that taking this risk is… preferable than to voluntarily throw it all away. That the ring still has meaning but needs always must… and another ring bearer is preferable. It… makes sense even though it’s not supposed to.

In explaining this to my poly wife, I said, “Baby, I love you and I love having sex with you but when I crave dick, you don’t have one.” In her mind, I wasn’t supposed to crave dick to begin with. I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to take care of that craving but, oh, yeah, that’s right: I have permission. Having it also means not abusing it and I didn’t but when I need it, I need it and, preferably, with a guy who wears the ring because he can… understand some stuff that single people don’t really know a lot about. Not like us married people do… and that’s just being married.

And we are forbidden fruit that others find very damned attractive.

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Posted by on 15 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 14 March 23, 1636 hours

It’s something that I’ve been aware of since I became aware of my bisexuality: Bi erasure. That thing going around today where people are poo-pooing bisexuality and bisexuals as not being real, i.e., we didn’t pick a side and like we’re supposed to. Hang with me for a few.

I’d spent an afternoon having very torrid sex with a gay guy and, giving the devil his due, it was some of the best sex I’d with a guy and in a while. So good that, at one point, I had thought that if I hadn’t known that I was in bed with a guy, I could easily believe that there was a girl with me and, um, he was better in bed than some of the girls I’d been having sex with.

A few hours later, we’re both worn out and sated and he says – and in a rather self-deprecating way, “I guess you’re going back to your boyfriend now, huh?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend but I do kinda have a girlfriend,” I said – and it was the truth.

“Oh. What’s his name? Maybe I know him,” he says.

“You mean what’s her name, don’t you?” I asked.

It took about a second for my question to hit his brain; he went from looking like someone had stolen his lunch money to looking like he’d just been shot or something and it took another second for him to be able to say that there was no way that I had a girl as a girlfriend because I had to be gay and like he was. Now, this wasn’t something I hadn’t heard before because I could tell someone that I went both ways and… disbelief on top of great surprise. I had to be gay; why wasn’t I just admitting that I was?

This guy is now having a fit because now he can’t believe that he slept with a guy who wasn’t gay. He’s going off on me and… I’m kinda tickled watching him but when I could get a word in I said, “Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.”

He, um, got over it but this was about the time when I’d really gotten tired of people telling me that I wasn’t what I said I was and knew myself to be. As I’ve said before, you hear this enough and you either let it keep fucking with you or… you ignore it. I hear what you’re saying (because I’ve heard it too many times before) but if you don’t believe me, that’s not my problem. I mean, it used to be: What, are you calling me a liar? Them’s fighting words! I would realize that I was getting into arguments and fights over… nothing, when you get right down to it.

It’s not my fault that you don’t believe that I’m bisexual. Like or hate me, I am what I am and while you might think that I’m in denial of being gay, I can assure you that I’m not because if I was, um, duh, I’d be gay. Seriously, what part of “I like girls and pussy, too” didn’t you hear and are not believing? I knew why, though: It was the ongoing belief that people are either straight or gay and someone who was both, well, who does that and why would someone want both?

Um, ah, because believe it or not, there are people like me who wants both because it works for us. You can stand or sit there and give yourself a very sore throat trying to tell me that I can’t possibly be what I say I am and… it’s not going to change anything because when you get done telling me what you think and don’t believe, I’m going to walk away and still be bisexual.

A lot of bisexuals today are still whining and moaning about bi erasure and how to combat it and the way I learned to do this was realizing what I wrote four paragraphs ago: Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. You’re just upset and feeling some kind of way because it is true and… I just took everything you believed in and shredded it. Yeah, bisexuality tends to do that to some folks and it really is a shame that it does but when you’re made to believe something that, in fact, isn’t true, I understand how it can mess with you.

Not everyone who tried to “erase” me behaved like that.

Oh, wait – you really go both ways?

Yes, I do.

Wow… I didn’t really believe what I heard about that but, damn, it must be true, huh?

Oh, it is… because I am the “thing” you didn’t believe in.

You don’t look like the type!

Yes, I know I don’t and I happen to know that “the type” means gay. Trust me, I’m a lot of things but gay isn’t one of them.

Well, different strokes for different folks, huh?


I don’t think I could be like that.

I hear that a lot, too.

The guy I’d spent the afternoon having sex with was… beside himself. He couldn’t seem to get his head around a guy who had a girlfriend being able to have sex with a guy and as we’d done, and I felt this way because… he kept saying that. In the space of a couple of minutes, he went from being all nice, happy, and satisfied to being seriously distraught… and over something that he didn’t believe to be true and now, he’s having a major problem because what he believed, again, just got shredded. I felt badly for him and didn’t so much console him as I let him know that no matter what you’ve were told or believed, yeah – I’m bi. I go both ways. I have been for a while now. We had amazing sex because… we had amazing sex. Nothing can change that. If we were to do it again right now, well, I suspect that it might not be as amazing as it really was because what you think has been trashed.

He was either trying to convince me or convince himself that there was no way that a guy who dealt with, gasp, women could be good in bed with a guy – such a guy had to be gay. Well, no, not really and now you know it. I was saddened to sit there and watch him going through this shakeup – but I felt no guilt over having shook him up: It’s not my fault that you don’t believe that there are guys who go both ways. That’s society’s fault and maybe his own fault but if he didn’t believe it before, he learned the truth. He eventually accepted the truth and. like I said, he, ah, got over it.

Some people don’t. I was, at this point in things, learning how bisexuality was and could fuck with someone and not in a good way. I was learning that when you challenge – and debunk – what someone believes, there’s no telling how they’re going to react to it and, in this, not everyone “behaved well.” I would better see why adults said that you never talk about religion or politics because it challenges beliefs and if you fuck with someone’s beliefs, that’s a bad thing to do. Being bisexual, it seemed to me, was like this and right along about another topic not to be discussed in ‘polite company’: Sex and as a follow-on, sexuality.

When the current clusterfuck over bi erasure blew up, I’d said and maintained that you cannot erase me. You can believe what you want, and you can say whatever you want to say but what remains true is… I’m bisexual. The thing is that I’m not going to allow your disbelief to bother me (and like it used to) and if you have a problem with my bisexuality, it would be in the best interest of both of us that you not try to make it my problem because I don’t have patience like that and more so when I grew up hearing it time and time again. True enough, it wasn’t always bad; a lot of guys and gals thought that it was pretty cool and, well, they were right about that and if I may say so myself.

But folks like this were the exception more than the rule and now I was finding myself having to decide to “make” someone a believer or… just leave it alone. Losing friends and lovers… suck. Some might think that such losses is an indication and proof that I shouldn’t be bisexual and there was a time when I… considered it. But I’m very real with myself and saw that, to put it in today’s terms, if I did that, I… erased myself. I might lie to someone about my sexuality, but I couldn’t lie to myself about it since, hmm, this was me and as a matter of course. My problem wasn’t my sexuality: It was all the people who didn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t believe that I wasn’t really gay and I go both ways. It was all the people who accused me of being in denial about being gay. It was all the people who couldn’t buy into the “fact” that just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean that it’s not true.

Like, this one: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? I have heard people insist and, often, vehemently so, that it does not make a sound. Why? Because no one heard it. Well, hmm, that’s not true because whether you were standing there to hear it or not, when the tree fell, it made a sound, from its branches swishing as they cut through the air and definitely if it hit the ground. I found that even when I hit them with this, they refused to believe it but, yeah, just because they wouldn’t believe didn’t still mean that it wasn’t true.

You can’t really look at me and see, with your eyes, that I’m bisexual. I would theorize that one of the reasons why bi erasure exploded the way it did was because of what I just said: You can’t look at someone and tell if they’re bisexual. We look like… everyone. Anyone. Yes, if you ask one of us if we’re bi, we just might lie to you because we know how badly people can react to the truth and… you get tired of that, too. Still, regardless to what you think you know or what you care to believe, bisexuals are real and the proof is that I’m bisexual and if you require more proof, well, you might want to sit down because it’s going to take a long time for me to go over my sexual history with you. Yes, I could be lying about that but at this point, I have no reason to lie and, yeah, no, if you want some proof that your eyes are going to accept, okay, if you wanna go there, let’s go there but if you’re, ah, opposed to that level of truth, well, it could be in our joint best interest for you to believe that I am bisexual.

And if you don’t, that’s… sad and not my problem. You can tell me that I shouldn’t be – heard this too much, too – and considering what we think about sex and sexuality, you’re right: I shouldn’t be. Yet, I am. I don’t really know what to tell you at this point since I have long since learned that you’re either going to believe me or you aren’t and if you don’t, I will still be very much bisexual. Your disbelief… changes nothing other than your opinion of me. I would often find it to be extremely odd that someone would be more “accepting” of me being really gay than they’d accept that I’m bi.

Just more lessons on how bisexuality just doesn’t upset apple carts: It obliterates them and the apples, too. I hope you like applesauce. More and greater lessons in the power of belief. Like this one time? I’d had sex with a guy and a gal and, yeah, we were all pretty lit and the three of us having sex sounded like the best idea ever. We had it in a way that, as a bisexual male, is the ultimate expression: I had sex with both of them and they with me. Shit yeah. Does not ever get any better than this. A couple of days later, a guy who knew all three of us obviously heard that we had “mad crazy sex with each other” and asked, “I don’t understand how you could have had sex with her if you’re gay.”

I wanted to laugh but I didn’t. I did say, “Well, I could have sex with her because I’m not gay.”

A sort of footnote at this point and a relevant one: This was at a time where it was deemed to be impossible that a gay man would even think about having sex with a woman, let alone actually have sex with her. We didn’t believe it. I didn’t. I got disabused of it.

He kept insisting that if me and homeboy were getting it on with each other, that meant that I was gay. He believed this to be true. I allowed that, nope, not really. He then insisted and implied that I had sex with her to hide the fact that I was gay. Nope, I had sex with her because having sex with women was a part of my deal, too. And might I add that the pussy was pretty damned good? We’re having this conversation but given what I now knew, I was watching his belief system getting destroyed. Did I have sex with him because we were both high? I ain’t gonna lie: That probably was part of it but here’s the thing: I would have had sex with him even if I hadn’t been high, but I don’t know about him.

This guy’s belief system was crumbling right before my eyes. He didn’t want it to be true. Yeah, it’s true and I wasn’t going to tell him that the three of us were getting together later so we could do what we did the other day – and we weren’t going to be high which said something about the other guy. But, right now, I have someone who knew us having a problem with me being something that he didn’t believe in – and I wasn’t what he did believe in and as such as that might have been. He’s having quite the fit telling me that he doesn’t believe that I’m one of those freaks who goes both ways.

“Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean that it’s not true,” I said. Did I make a believer out of him? No. I understood, at this point in time, that if one person tells you this, eh, it might not be true, or it can be perceived as an untruth. However, if more than one person tells you this, what are the chances and odds that all of them are wrong? The exception, of course, is the disbelief that bisexuality and bisexual are real because there are an untold number of people who don’t believe it and they do share their disbelief with others. I found this to be pretty damned interesting but, okay, I’m sure that one of both of them told you what went down between us and if they told you, why would they both lie about it? If you’re asking me if what they told you was true and I say that it most certainly was, well, yeah. This. Thrice confirmed.

He went with me to meet my partners of the other day. He got to watch us going at each other and like he wasn’t even there. He was asked if he wanted to get in on this and he said no (even though he was obviously sporting a seriously huge bulge in his pants and complete with a big wet spot. Why not? Because what we were doing wasn’t something he believed in. Do you think that seeing the three of us having sex – and me and the other guy giving each other da bizness – changed what he believed?

It didn’t. His beliefs continued to disintegrate because we were just putting on a show for his benefit. He left. We didn’t care that he did but the three of us did agree that it wasn’t our fault that he couldn’t and didn’t believe what he was seeing. There was – and might still be – this saying: Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear. In this case, though, I had a hard time understanding why he couldn’t believe all of what he was seeing. It would a lot of years before I would fully understand that belief, and like perception, always trumps the truth… until one becomes disabused of that belief.

What did make him a believer was that my two partners… did him. From what they told me, he protested mightily but took to it like a duck to water. All of it. I saw him a few days after I was told this and when he saw me, he must’ve known I was going to say something because he said, “Don’t. Don’t say shit, okay?”

He learned that just because he didn’t believe meant that it wasn’t true. I’d had a talk with him about it because he was greatly bothered by his actions and learning the truth in a way that is, in my opinion at the time, undeniable. You can have sex with a guy and not be gay. It’s okay even though everyone believes that it isn’t. Bisexuality is like that, too. It’s quite okay even though there are still a lot of people who says that it isn’t.

And my contention and position that if bisexuality isn’t real, what is everyone fussing about? I was seeing belief being chipped away as people were insisting that this was a phase or something “trendy” and like it was hip and cool to say that you’re bi – and even if you really weren’t. Bi women get slapped with this one, by the way and, yeah, if there’s a truth with them, they’re either lying about being bi or in denial of being a lesbian. Oh, and there are lesbians who have sex with guys. I know that one for a fact, too. Even in this, just because you don’t believe that it’s true doesn’t mean that it isn’t. I will never say that what someone believes in this doesn’t have meaning or stuff like that but, hmm, I hate to tell you that if you don’t believe that bisexuality and bisexuals are real, you’re about to get one hell of a wakeup call… because we are very damned real.

No such thing as a Black, male bisexual? Truly you jest! Or, seriously, that’s what a lot of people believe, and I know why they do but, yeah, we are real because, duh, right? I’ve felt that the plight that homosexuals had to deal with… didn’t do bisexuals any favors. Yeah, we’ll lie about our sexuality because we know how people can react to homosexuality and, yeah, it can mess with someone’s head to find out that, um, uh, no – we aren’t homosexual. Not quite all that heterosexual, either, but this… varies. It’s fluid and, I think, a lot more fluid than we’re ready to believe at this point in things.

Your disbelief in bisexuality cannot erase it. Nothing you can say to this end can erase it. It’s like playing peek-a-boo with a child who covers their eyes and says that you can’t see them when, okay, honey – I’m still looking right at you. What do you mean that I can’t see you? You can’t see me because your eyes are closed but mine are open and… I see you. But if you were to open your eyes, you can see me, too. It’s just that in this, you can see me just fine, but I am something that you might not believe in… and that can never mean that that I’m not what I say I am.

And it’s still being said that bisexuals are in denial? I beg to differ. You can go on believing that none of this is real and we’re faking at being straight and, again, in denial of really being gay and… it changes nothing. I am bisexual and no matter what I’m doing because, as I’ve said repeatedly, this isn’t just a thing to do: It’s a way to be. I’ll never lie about the sex: It can be all that and then some because sex is supposed to be like that… right? Bisexuality is being “faced with erasure” because of… relationships. Okay, relationships are nice or whatever they’re going to be. However, relationships cannot define, qualify, or quantity sexuality because, well, that doesn’t make any sense. If you were around and saw me with my boyfriend – and there was no mistaking the fact that he was very gay – sure: You’d assume that we both were gay… and you would have been quite wrong. You can see me with my lady and assume that we’re both straight and, well, you’d be wrong about that, too.

It is, however, unadulterated bullshit that if you’re not in a same-sex relationship with someone, that erases the fact that you’re bisexual. And it’s… insane that there are people who believe this but, in my eyes, this is their belief… being systematically destroyed because they’re coming up with every “excuse” they can think of to not believe that bisexuality and bisexuals are just as real as everyone else is. It’s pretty sad to hear people believing in this and even sadder to know that there are bisexuals who are scared to death of… being erased and losing their shit because they believe that they’re being erased.

Are you really fucking kidding me? Okay. On the real. The truth is… you don’t have to believe that bisexuality and bisexuals are both real things. What you don’t believe… changes nothing. You cannot erase this because this has been a part of humanity since forever. You might not like it and you have the right to not like it but your dislike, like your disbelief, changes nothing. If you’re bisexual and you’re buying into this erasure bullshit?

Stop. Just stop. Because you’re believing in something that isn’t true or even possible. Know that we have been trying to erase and even eradicate homosexuality… and it’s very much alive and well, isn’t it? It cannot be done. Your sexuality cannot be erased but, sure, you can change it and we believe that it can’t be changed, too. There are those who try to erase us with meaningless words and that should tell you something about them and more than what it says about us as bisexuals.

Bisexuality isn’t the problem. It’s all the people who don’t believe in it. It’s all the people who think this can be erased. It’s their right not to believe but trying to erase bisexuality? Bisexuals are still real.

Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.

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Posted by on 14 March 2023 in Today's Bisexual Thoughts


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