Final Post?

I have moved past this blog and my fears - with its help. Writing all this helped me sort out my feelings and explore fantasies in a free and anonymous environment. It served me well, but the time has come to move on.

Patrick and I broke up soon after I became disinterested in sex. I found myself thinking of nothing but women when he and I were having sex, I lost interest in gay porn and surfing the net for thick, juicy cocks. It's as if being with him brought me a greater clarity about my sexuality. But in a way that I did not expect. I don't know what I'd been afraid of all these years. Gay sex is really no big deal, it's just a matter of whether that gets you off or not. And everyone has a right to get off.

I used to be homophobic, until I realized that I was afraid of my own gay side. Once I got the courage to explore that side of me, I found out that it wasn't something to be afraid of.

To anyone who might just now be wondering if they're gay, please don't hesitate to get out there and get laid - find out NOW because life is too short to keep yourself from being happy. Just go for it.

-Benny

New Day New Year New Life

Oh my dear reader, where and how to begin? I have just had the most wonderful experience, a beautiful night with a fantastic man. He showed me things I have never known, our chemistry was like a nuclear explosion, he just showered me with love and affection and adoration. How can I possibly be so lucky? I'm still wondering when I will wake up from this incredible dream.

I always thought that if I finally ever had a gay experience, I would feel riddled with guilt. That I would become a monster of self-loathing. That I would second double guess and re-confuse my feelings, that I would place such harsh judgment on myself and fall deep into depression. Man, was I wrong. I feel whole, complete... utterly content. If only I had known that affection with a man could feel so comfortable, so right, without any reservations, regret or disgust... Yet if I had been with a man earlier, I wouldn't have had the same magical first time experience that I enjoyed last night.

As I pulled into Patrick's driveway at 6:55 PM, I thought, "oh my God, what if this is totally weird? What if he is a fucking serial killer!?" But somehow I managed to park and found his patio just as he had described, with a tiki torch lit for me, and with the porch light on. I immediately admired the design elements of the large, walled, covered patio. Nice brickwork, impeccable craftsmanship and style, garden beds, benches, a modest hot tub in a discrete corner of the yard, open to the sky, and large enough for only two, maybe three people. At this point my anti-adventurous and negative side yelled at me inside my head, "dude - RUN - A - WAY," But instead I knocked on the door.

I was a few minutes early, and at first I wondered if he had even heard me knock, I nervously pondered ringing the bell too, but within another moment he came to the door and it opened. I must have been very eager, because I guess I was standing too close to the door and as he opened it he stepped right out, nearly trampling my feet. He jumped back - startled to realize that I was a mere three inches from the door - but his surprise instantly turned to a smooth, inviting and generous calm. He backed into his home, and his warm smile drew me in like a magnet. For a moment I thought of the spider and the fly, but if this was indeed his wicked web, then I was as content as the fly to just give in to being eaten alive.

I felt comfortable right away, and he had a very gentle manner about him, just like he had during our phone conversations. I honestly did not feel attracted to him right away. He had said he was a young looking 49, and when I saw him I immediately thought that he looked young for maybe 55, "I've seen a lot hotter 49-year-olds along the way," I thought to myself. But it didn't really concern me because we had talked at length about what I might not feel entirely comfortable with, and we had prefaced our meeting on having absolutely no expectations except honesty. We would be meeting as new friends and to connect, to talk about whatever comes up. It was a relief to have such freedom when considering having my first sexual experience with a man.

Once inside, he immediately went into mothering mode, doting and pampering me, "Do you want to smoke some pot? Do you want a beer? Are you hungry? Can I make you some food?" Already I was saying yes to everything.

He made me a knock-down delicious salad with his homemade dressing, overflowing with avocados, olives, gorgonzola cheese, and ground black pepper. He laid out carne adovada, meat slices and crackers, grapes and blackberries. About the beer he got me, he said, "I don't know if this is what you like, I think it's imported," and he handed me my number one all time favorite beer in the whole wide world. I had told him the name, but this is no imported beer. This is rich and delicious handmade microbrew from the finest brewery in Oregon. He had remembered the exact type of beer that I had briefly mentioned during one of our phone conversations. His thoughtfulness and nurturing immediately notched him up on the attractive scale. Points scored for Patrick, I thought, though my inner negative was telling me to keep a critical eye out for rufies.

We relaxed and talked on the couch, and I could tell he wanted to get closer and start to get all touchy-feely, and he could tell that I wanted him to, but also that I was kinda still grappling with the idea. Though I felt comfortable, I was also pretty tense. He kept accenting the conversation by reaching out with his legs and feet to brush a touch off my knee or calf, and the more he did, the less I felt weird about it. Soon we were laying at opposite ends of the couch, our feet so close that it was inevitable that we started playing footsie. By then I had told him about my blog and we joked that tomorrow I would be pouring out all the gory details to my readers about how I finally played footsie with a man. We laughed and laughed and soon we were headed for the hot tub.

We undressed in his bedroom and the first thing I noticed was his nice, naturally toned shoulders, arms and gorgeous veins running the length. His chest was huge compared to the rest of his body. Not in a muscular way, but more skeletal: his ribcage was as big and round as a barrel keg, and it made his hips and ass look comparatively tiny. As soon as I was naked, he said, "you have a beautiful body, I don't think you are skinny one bit, you are very well proportioned, thin and very very sexy," and thus started a night of endless compliments and adoration. My cock had not yet responded, but I was honestly pretty glad to be rid of the inhibitions of the clothing.

The hot tub was the perfect temperature to the crisp night air. The stars were out and blinking at us, not a cloud in the sky. Soon our footsie game from inside evolved to having each other's feet in our crotches under the water, and I felt for the first time the softness of his cock and delicate sack. His hands inched up my legs and soon I was squirming with the anticipation of having him touch my cock. He teased a bit, and my boys instantly swelled just a little with the possibilities of the night. I could see him trying to sneak a peek through the water, to get a look at my cock on the sly. I knew exactly what he was up to, and neither gave permission nor shied away.

In a few minutes, he leaned toward me, staring into my eyes and said, "may I kiss you?"

"No." I said as kindly as I could. And he fell back onto his side of the tub, clearly dejected. I felt bad for turning him down, because I could tell he was getting pretty horny, that our stimulating and playful conversation just had him doing back flips with desire. At that moment, I knew I had him and that I was in charge and whatever was going to happen that night would be without question up to ME. It made me feel so empowered and free.

After only ten or fifteen minutes we got out of the water and went back inside. I dropped my towel and told him that I normally don't wear clothes and since I felt comfortable with him, I was just going to go nude. "Oh, okay," he tried to say nonchalantly, but I could tell that his heart had just literally dropped to the floor.

He asked if I thought I still might like the Tantric massage, and I tried to nonchalantly say, "sure," though my own heart had just literally dropped to the floor also. I didn't know if he noticed, but I certainly did.

We went to his bedroom and I laid face down on the bed while he fanned a warm towel over me and then put his knee between my legs and stood on my back with his arms, pressing on me and flowing into me a very deep intense feeling of spiritual voltage. It felt like waves of love and goodness pulsing through me like lying under a love-wave energy magnetic Tesla Coil, if there ever was such a thing. It was transcendental. He seemed to fall into a trance of loving sensual massage that felt truly divine. My spirit inside my body was floating unleashed through time-space, like I was having an outerbody experience, yet his rough and masculine, strong hands kept me tethered to the bed, tethered to this Earth. His touch was at once sexual and sexless, sensual yet ethereal. It was simply amazing and nothing short of heavenly.

That's when I realized he was now massaging my feet with his boner, and I was promptly returned to the physical realm. Even though my feet felt ice cold, he was emphatically saying "you have such sexy feet, you're just so fucking hot," and I realized he was also massaging me with his words, praising me like I was the most beautiful being in the world. I said I liked feeling his cock on my feet, and how warm it felt. He asked if I wanted to flip over and I did, and a little wave of insecurity came over me because all of this had not yet gotten me hard. I mean, he had just been massaging my perineum, my ass cheeks, my balls, my asshole. He had been fucking my feet! It had not gotten me hard one bit and I worried that it would turn him off or let him down, or that maybe it meant somehow that I wasn't at all gay or bi or queer after all.

But that's when I saw his hard cock, just sticking out so proudly and beautifully, to see it swing back and forth with his movements, and to see his cute little dick hole peeking out sheepishly from behind his foreskin, seeing the beauty of that just swelled my cock half-mast in about half a second. That was the first time ever I had seen another man's erection in real life, and my God it was just so hot. Way better than any magazine, video or DVD I can just tell you that. He proceeded to massage my now-pulsing cock for several minutes, just like he had all my other muscles, parts and areas and it just felt so good.



Soon he crawled up on the bed and brought his cock closer to me, he could see that my eyes were fixating on it, and he asked if I wanted to touch him. And with near a whimper I said yes, and timidly reached out my hand to caress and cup his balls, and my own cock throbbed to a granite obelisk in an instant at the release of repression and fulfillment of fantasy. I explored his balls and scrotum and cock, squeezing, stroking, massaging. I felt like a seventeen year old boy and I giggled with the curiosity and fascination of it. The utter strangeness and alien feeling of actually jerking another guy's cock, that here I was finally doing it at 39 after so long. Too long. If I was dreaming, I did not want to be woken up - dear God not right now, don't wake up!

Exploring his half-erect cock and dangly balls with my hands and eyes, while his strokes were getting more and more intense, he asked me, "do you want to get me hard?" Which was a little disconcerting because that's exactly what I'd been trying to do all this time. Using my left hand and having no skill-set to get anyone hard except myself, I felt like a virgin teenage boy again, which added a wonderful, innocent, time-traveling quality to the experience. Here I am trying in earnest to get this wonderful guy hard, and he asks me if I want to try to get him hard? I told him my trip and we laughed and laughed together, and he collapsed on top of me, looked up playfully and asked if he could suck my cock. I nodded yes and managed a Cheshire smile, I could feel my eyes sparkling with delight, and tried to act calm, though my heartbeat was stuck in overdrive.

He took me into his mouth just a little at first, and I had to look away, I had to lean back to try to usher out that last little gremlin inside of my personality, the homophobic bigoted gremlin with the bony finger, poking my left shoulder abrasively, saying with venom and rancor, "dude... there's a freakin' guy sucking your cock. What the fuck?!" And as I struggled to finally push him out the door of the party inside my head, meanwhile my cock got soft, and then hard, and then soft again, and I was off in my own world battling my own demons and gargoyles, telling them all to finally FUCK OFF and just let me have a good time already. It felt like a goddamn sexual exorcism inside. "BE GONE YE CRIPPLING INNER BEASTS!"

Patrick sucked my cock like a fucking Electrolux plugged into 220V. A big wet schloppy perverted human vacuum cleaner with no off switch. He twirled his tongue around my cock tip like an impeller, his blowjobs felt like a moist rotary engine with all the loud noises and intensity of a skilled craftsman who really knows their way around a cock. Like a frenzied cock mechanic on speed, and he certainly had my undercarriage up on the lift and was definitely lubing my chassis. Damn near perfection of intent, this guy's blowjobs could be a fucking patented design.

Taking a break from sucking me off for a moment, he knelt over me and I told him I wanted him to cum on my chest. He grabbed my cock like a fighter jet joystick and set the controls for the sun. He vigorously jerked his cock over me while I watched his cock and soon he was dumping hot gobs onto my chest, thick cum blobs that nearly burned my skin as they landed. It was thrilling to finally see a cumshot right in front of me, and I set off with intensity to jerk one out myself and add my own to the cum parade strewn across my pecs; but alas, I could not come no matter the technique so we said fuck it, put on robes and went back into the living room. It was nice to not feel judged for not actually being able to come, it just was what it was and that didn't seem to matter one way or the other. I liked that. No drama. No talk of visits to the marriage counselor for help.

So we just hung out on the couch together again, talking and laughing, smoking pot, and I had another beer. Patrick got out some Maplethorpe books and some other book that was just so fucking sexy and beautifully photographed of this insanely hot and charismatic model, I mean hotter than the hottest movie star kind of hot. And I let my robe fall open so he could see I was hard as a rock again, and he nearly jumped my bones and pleasured me again with his fantastic technique. He has a full length mirror in the living room and I stood up and watched him suck my cock while I enjoyed my own voyeuristic world, he pushed me all the way down his throat and just showered me with compliments, "I love your cock, I love to suck your cock, you are just so fucking sexy, oh my God I just want you inside of me, I want you to come," and on and on with such praise and assurance and sweet dirty talk. It was a real turn on to have my ego so stroked, not to mention the masterful cocksucker kneeled before me, and watching in the mirror our own live gay sex show.

We hung out again for a few hours, late late into the evening, and I was content to just be pleasured on and off. And somehow I didn't let it bother me that I couldn't seem to cum, and it didn't seem to bother him. After a while though, I started to get horny again and I decided in my mind that if I was going to ever suck a cock, now's as good a time as any. So I shed my inhibitions and opened up his robe, pulled down his underwear, took his cock in my hand and began to kiss it, slowly at first, up and down the shaft, gradually letting my kisses get wetter and wetter. I smelled his cock to see if somehow his scent grossed me out, but it didn't. He smelled kind of good actually, and soon I found myself more comfortable with kissing the tip, and I timidly took him into my mouth. It felt so good, his hardening cock still so soft and smooth against my tongue and mouth and soon, my curiosity building, I was taking his cock into my throat. He was so gentle and never thrust, letting me find my own way and what worked for me. I was amazed to find his 6" cock fitting nearly all the way into my mouth! And I felt like such a dirty slut that my cock raged to rock hard once again, and I kissed his lips.

I laid back with my feet up on the couch, he stood up to stick his cock in my face and I took him into my mouth again while I jerked my cock furiously, his hand cupped under my balls, his finger gently rubbing my asshole, I fucked him with my face and it got me ever closer to that orgasm that had thus far eluded me. I could tell that if we could get me there, this was going to be a cumload for the Ages, because we had been fooling around for some five hours, and my cock literally felt like a stick of dynamite finally reaching the end of it's mile-long, lit fuse.

As I built toward my climax, he put his face between my legs and sucked on my perineum and licked my balls and sucked the base of my shaft and that sent me over the edge, "oh yes, Patrick, I'm cumming!" and I shot loads upon loads of voluminous, wet hot cum all out onto my chest like a Mississippi flood. He was in his own world down there between my balls and hadn't even seen the eruption, and he laughed and said "HOLY SHIT THE VIGOR OF YOUTH!" once he saw what had actually happened there, and he ran to get a roll of paper towels before I spilled over my chest and arms and soiled the couch.

I was too drunk and stoned to drive home, and he made up the couch as a bed for me to sleep. Sweet man even gave me a valium, and he said that if I slept in his bed he would not be able to keep his hands off of me and he'd want to suck my cock until the morning light, but obviously we both needed sleep as it was already four o'clock in the morning.

All night I dreamt of making love to Patrick. My gremlin and demons and gargoyles even returned to the dream to try to make me feel guilty about fucking a guy and loving it, there at the party in my head they outed me in front of everyone but they all said to them, "yeah, so fucking what?" And in my dream, they were laughed out of the ballroom, and Patrick and I continued to dance, the focus of attention and the life of the party. It was a crazy, fitting dream. In the morning I told him about my dream and he fucked me with his masterful mouth again.

I can't wait to see him again. I can't believe I have a boyfriend, and it feels really, really good.

Houston Opportunities: Update

Well, I found the place that's my cover story, a sports bar where women go to pick up men (can you believe it?!). The odds still weren't that great though. Not counting the obvious couples, the ratio was maybe 3:1, men to women. Can't complain though, because those numbers beat my hometown odds by a factor of ten. Now if only I had the ability to be that jackass who hits on every woman in the bar.

Tonight I had the perfect opportunity to come out to my friends that I'm staying with here (though as I've said before, I think it would be wise to have a gay experience first before making such an extraordinary declaration about my lifestyle) when they mentioned their bisexual friend again. I almost said, "I want to meet him." Which would have been just as well to get them off my back, because they were grilling me about meeting a woman.

I do appreciate my friends' concern that I am alone, and I appreciate them wanting to help me figure out what is holding me back from having more confidence with women. But also I wish they would just leave me the fuck alone about it. It always seems like it's the couple, the man and woman, that can't imagine life as single. It's as if to them life isn't worth living if you don't have a spouse. It's really bullshit and I get sick of it. Do people really think they can't be happy until they find "the one?" Or do they just tell themselves that so they won't just up and admit to themselves that they are truly miserable? It's almost like they want to spread the misery, that no man should be allowed to live his own life... that a life led unmarried is one wasted.

In so many ways, I want to just get it over with and have an experience so I can tell these guys what's really going on. I do feel that their concern for me is genuine, but it would just put the whole "meeting a woman" question to rest. I'd just say that I'm not sure a woman is what I want, and that would relinquish me from having to explain my failures with women, save me from having to drudge over all the bullshit sex roles that the heterosexual world places on people. That men have to be the aggressors. That women have to sit and wait to be approached. That men who are in touch with their feelings are probably gay. I'm just so sick of all the stereotypes and the lines drawn. In so many ways I just want to be free of this struggle, and say "fuck you, I like guys too. SO WHAT."

Also, it might get my friend to cool it with the gay jokes, if he knew he was hurting my feelings.

Trip Today Shows Promise

I'm going to Houston for a few weeks on a working vacation. I'll be staying with my best friend and his wife. She's been pretty accepting of me, and my friend and I have been close friends for almost 25 years. He's always supported me no matter what I did, and the last time I was there, about a year ago, we were driving along to go out to eat and they told me about a friend of theirs who had recently gotten a divorce because he had realized that he was bisexual.

At the time, I was just past the point of realizing that and admitting it to myself, and for a split second I thought about coming out to them. It could have been so easy, too. I could have just said, "yeah, I've been dealing with a lot of those same feelings." It wouldn't have been a big deal, it was a perfect segue.

So now I'm going to visit them again. They are encouraging me to get out on my own, too, to go out to places and see the city on my own terms. After all, I might be accepting a job there.

The cool thing is that it's such a gay-friendly city. If I mustered the strength to go out - for I am truly a homebody - I could go to any gay bar or cruise spot that I wanted to. And because I'm in a strange big city, I could do it anonymously. Being there may be the perfect opportunity because I will be away from my small city where chance run-ins and gossip circles abound.

So I had this fantasy of asking my friend for that guy's phone number, the one who came out as bisexual. Then I could let my best friend know about my struggle, and immediately have a local support network to go out and flirt with some guys. I'd love to just talk to this guy about what it was like to come out, how his sex life has changed and is it for the better? Then ask him if he wants to go back to his place and play around, that I'd love to touch his cock. I'm getting stiff just fantasizing about it here!

While I'm away I'll try to keep up with this blog, and I'll definitely keep you all up to date on any adventures, encounters, or conquests along the way.

Thoughts On Coming Out

I was at a dinner party last night with good friends, most notably my homophobic friend. His mom was the hostess, and among her best group of friends there is a gay couple. They were there, and know me well. They are accepted in this group, but still are made fun of a little bit. Come to think of it everyone is made fun of a little bit - it's a fun group that likes kidding around.

Anyway I was thinking that it would be a great situation to come out to everyone, with that couple there as support. Like I've said I want to have a gay experience to be sure first. It wouldn't be polite or appropriate to announce, "hey everyone I like to masturbate to both straight and gay porn!" So I must be sure before taking such a drastic step.

Coming out might end up happening by accident. The other day another friend came over and later I noticed that my "Leather Half Off" DVD was in a slightly hidden spot in my office, and he could have easily seen it. A few times ago he was over and I left out "Bang That Teen Pussy v.10" and he saw that and commented on it. The lines between gay, bisexual, and straight porn are starting to become so blurred in my mind, it's hard to remember that most people are pretty uptight about it. I know I used to be.

Unknown Missed Opportunity

A long time ago, I think it was 1994, I had just moved to a new town, and I was in a small bar dancing to a rocking local band. Across the stage, there was a really attractive brunette that I was trying to make eye contact with, but she just wasn't looking over my way.

That's when I noticed that a few dudes were crowding the space behind me. At the time I didn't realize they were chicken-hawking me, so I said to one of them that got too close, "wow there's some hot chicks in here, huh."

"Yeah, that's if you like chicks," he replied, and with that they all laughed and made grab-and-thrust fucking motions toward me. Immediately I realized what was going on, and moved away to another part of the bar. They could tell I was flustered and kept laughing and pointing at me, high-fiving each other, obviously psyched that they had gotten-to a straight guy. Being the butt of their joke and the butt of their desires made me feel disrespected, so I left the bar altogether. I wasn't prepared to be hit on by a bunch of obnoxious gay guys, I guess.

A college friend lived in town, she and I were pretty good friends and hung out pretty frequently. We had fooled around in college, but things were strictly platonic now. The next time I saw her, I told her about the incident at the bar. She laughed because it really was funny, and sympathized with my discomfort a bit. She also confided in me that she had always thought I was gay. She was bisexual and claimed to have a pretty accurate gaydar. She said there were other guys in my class year that she had predicted to be gay, that they had indeed come out afterward. She said I was the only one that she was wrong about.

I assured her that I wasn't gay, but in the back of my mind I still knew that I wasn't exactly sure of it. I never told her about any of the urges that I really did have in college, and to this day I don't know if my denials were even convincing to her. Could she really have seen that flicker of gay in me? It made me feel uncomfortable, because at the time I was in such a solid state of denial about my sexuality.

It's a shame, too. Aside from the fact that the guy who said that to me that night looked like Tony Little - CREEPY! - I might have had more fun in that situation. I might have even gotten to get some free drinks, played these guys out a bit, maybe even taken one of them home. Problem was I was too uptight to face my own gayness and just relax and have a bit of fun with it.

It was a lost opportunity and I didn't even know it.

Subconcious Gay Crush

Fifteen years ago, I had this friend in college, he was a few years younger than me. We used to hang out together, mostly in his room. I'd come over with a bunch of weed and we'd smoke it until it was gone, music loud. At the time I can remember wondering if he was any bit gay or bi, but I never had the balls to ask him. I remember secretly hoping he would come on to me, but I'm not sure I actually acknowledged to this myself. It was more of a secret crush -- a secret even to me.

Five years or so after college, he and his girlfriend came up to visit a few hours north. Later I visited him where he lived, and by then my gay urges had surfaced a bit more, but I was still oblivious to my sexual attraction to men. At the time it was a curious quirk that came and went, nothing that caused me too much concern. Some of the feelings I was having made me wonder if I was gay, but overall my sexual orientation was all straight. All straight porn, straight relationships, straight dreams and fantasies.

Now a full ten years after that, and upon reflection I realize that I had a crush on him. He was very good looking, slightly geeky, a bit effeminate. I knew he dated girls, but in this subconscious way I hoped maybe he had experience with men, and would show me a thing or two. Looking back now, I wish I had talked to him about it.

Today, I still fantasize about him. I imagine that he has a big cock and a smooth chest, and knows how to mentor a newbie gently. To this day I wish he was my first.

What Is Gay Sex?

It seems the word sex has many meanings. Bill Clinton got caught in the shaded area of the definition, the classic heterosexual male train of thought: sex does not occur unless I fuck her pussy. When Clinton uttered those infamous words, "I did not have sexual relations with that woman," he was providing a window into the male paradigm, one that bases the definition of sex on committing the act of laying the pipe. There's a few problems with this way of thinking about sex, none the least of which being a charge of perjury when under oath.

My now-bisexual lesbian friend who helped me realize I'm bisexual, was telling me about this time she hooked up with one of her lesbian friends for a one night stand. In the telling the story she said, "we had sex" and at that moment I realized -- neither of them has a penis so sex must mean a lot more than penile penetration. She told me about their tryst, and to her, the sex was everything that happened that night. Licking, sucking, grinding, kissing, fingering, fisting... everything. The whole experience was the sex, and since there was no penis or dildo involved, the meaning of the word had little to do with vaginal penetration.

I just read a really hot true story that got me thinking about gay experiences (again) and the meaning of the word sex. In the story, the blog's author, orange108, talks about his "truth or dare" sleep overs with one of his stepbrothers. They started with little touches of each other's dicks, then progressed to jerking and sucking each other off. Although they never had anal sex, in my opinion what they had was gay sex. And I'm jealous.

Sex has many meanings. Considering that not everyone has a penis, or one that gets hard, or one that's big enough to penetrate anything at all, and that they have a right to have sex as much as anyone, the word sex therefore must mean more than penetrating a pussy or ass with one's cock.

Closet Dweller Blues

Wouldn't my life be easier out of the closet? I'd rather keep my personal business to myself, but at the same time all this sneaking around is bullshit. I have to worry about leaving out gay pornos or not closing gay-surfed browser windows, friends come over unannounced and might see the stuff by accident. So that makes me think that at least if they knew, it wouldn't be such a surprise if they saw that my screensaver is a closeup of a big hard cock.

And if I fell in love with a man, I'd have to hide it from my parents or come out. So it might be better to just explain to my mom and dad that my sexuality is open, that I might date a man or a woman, and I am open to all possibilities. Then if I did meet a guy, it wouldn't be a shock to them, and they would have much less chance of misunderstanding. I'm not afraid that they would disown me, just that we are so close that they might be hurt that I didn't tell them earlier, before I brought home a "serious interest" who turned out to be a dude.

My brother pretty much knows already, though I never officially told him my bisexual discovery. Years ago I told him I thought I might be gay, and he said if I didn't know for sure by thirty I was probably bisexual. He even said he kissed a boy in college. I was like, "what was that like?" He said, "pretty much just like kissing a girl."

My best friend probably wouldn't care, he has supported me no matter what I have ever done in my life. We have been friends for 22 years, and he's stuck with me through some fucked up phases in my life. I think he might be a little uncomfortable with it, but he's already primed - his wife's friend's ex-husband just came out as bisexual.

My good friend here in town is the one who thinks people are all gay or not. So he'd probably be OK with me being gay, that's the way he'd have to understand it, I think. Because he wouldn't understand bisexual. So whatever.

The only person in my life that I think would have a really big problem with it is my business partner. He considers me his best friend, and far as I know he's against homosexuality. He was raised religiously, and thinks people can do whatever they want, but also thinks it's wrong. So coming out to him might put a strain on my professional life.

But other than that there's no one I can think of who is really important to me that would really have a serious problem. I have already disowned my most homophobic friends already for other reasons.

So I think I should probably come out, but since I'm only a theoretical bisexual - a virgin - how can I be sure I like gay sex? I like to jerk off to gay porn, and not much man-on-man action "bothers" be anymore. Not sure if I'm desensitized, or just found my inner gay; but I think I should have my first real gay experience to be sure that I don't false-alarm my friends and family.

On Gayness and Misogyny

Misogyny is defined as the hatred of women. So, what about sexual hatred of women? I had this thought the other day, as I was reflecting on my path to get where I am now with my sexuality. I wondered if my bisexuality is just a natural outcome of my failures with women. Am I so embittered and hurt that I'm intensifying my gay urges, focusing on them, when it's nothing more than pure, unmitigated desperation?

Women always seem threatened by me. I am an intense person, yes, but I think that my outward honesty and the fact that I "wear my emotions on my sleeve" just turns them off. Women have an uncanny way of being able to sniff out my desperation, so it has a snowball effect. The less I get laid, the less chance I have of getting laid. It is one of life's cruel ironies. I don't know if I have an angry or violent vibe (with what I've been through I suppose I do), but I always strike out with women. I have not had a relationship in seven years, though I have been "dating" this whole time, and that's a whole other tragic story too lengthy and off-topic for this post.

A few years ago when I was exploring my inner feelings, mustering the courage to face my gayness, I asked a gay friend of mine how and why he knew he was homosexual. He said, "I'm gay because of my mother." I didn't question his reason, or ask him to go into it further. I wish I had now, because I wonder if his gayness is an expression of misogyny. Did something happen to make him hate his mother, and that hatred now extends to all women? Or was he merely saying that she gave him the "gay gene"? Regardless, the whole idea of blame in being gay doesn't make sense to me anymore. Blame is nothing more than a transference of guilt.

As I become more distanced, more lonely, more desperate, I become less and less attractive to women. This leads to a feeling of helplessness, because each interaction with women becomes worse than the last. Soon I am practically weighing jail time against pussy. Should I just get a whore, or worse, rape my way to satisfaction? With the seemingly impossible task of ever getting any pussy again in my life, cock gets more attractive by the minute.

Cocks Have Character!

I think male genitalia is beautiful. Cock, balls, yeah it's a beautiful thing. About ten years ago I hadn't realized this yet, although I had this overwhelming urge to photograph my own cock. It had been a lingering fantasy for a long time, but this was before the days of digital technology. Photos had to be professionally printed at the time, and the technician was sure to see.

The first closeup I took of myself naked was with film, outdoors, on top of a large rock outcrop. The feeling was amazing, my cock stiffened immediately under the attention of the lens. At that moment I realized that a lot of the thrill of watching pornos was imagining fucking someone under all those lights and cameras, that the exhibitionism aspect was that much more enhanced. Once my cock and balls got out there under the sun, exposed and scrutinized, knowing that the film technician would get an anonymous glimpse of my sunlit erection, I knew that I wanted more. I craved having my cock the focus of the lens.

My first digital camera was purchased practically with the sole intent of taking lurid closeups of my dick. I wanted to document every stage of erectness, every shape, size and character that my cock is capable of. But for years I couldn't even get a shot of it soft, because every time I reached for the camera to take a picture of it in that stage, it would bulge up before I could even turn the camera on. To this day I have not gotten a shot of my dick in the most flaccid, shrunken turtle head way it gets, because it always reacts a little bit before I get the picture off. That shot of my smallest state has alluded me like the giant squid alluded science.

Erections are monumental symbols of power, strength and pride, standing tall and firm. They are like pillars of sex, a flesh obelisk of pulsing, throbbing, cum delivering passion. Cock is a pipe organ of pleasure, a heat seeking missile designed to fuck. The shape is purely penetrative, intended to deliver the payload as effectively as possible.

A cock wants to feel its head pushing against a wet hole, to feel the rim succumb to its stiff mass, to feel its head part open the entry and slide in. To be gripped on all sides, enveloped in warmth moisture, to be sliding in and out, plunging in balls deep, the smooth friction along the shaft and tickling of the head, this is why a cock exists in this world: to fuck.

Some cocks stick up, some straight out, some straight down, some one side or the other, some curved, some bent. Cocks come in as many shapes, types and sizes as trees, and each one has infinite stages of hard to soft, shriveled to swollen. Individualistic and unique veining, ripples along the shaft, a muscular thickness, aggressive character, and a sinewy, tenacious sexual physique.

The ball sack that accompanies the dick has just as many personality moods, stretching, bending, moving, adjusting. It is the temperature regulator, pulling the nuts in close when cold and letting them out when hot, constantly adapting to microscopic environmental factors.

It wasn't long after I started photographing and filming my own cock that I accepted the urge to see other guys cocks. Just to compare, I told myself at first, but soon I was collecting favorite cock shots off the internet. This is the first cock pic I ever saved (left), I just had to have this amazing beautiful black snake. Not long after that, having jerked off to my own masturbation videos so many times, I gave in to the urge to watch another guy jerk off, and I bought a gay masturbation video. Soon after that I bought my first gay prono.

It has all been a progression of acceptance, becoming self aware, and brave enough to admit that I love cock. And to not judge myself for that, but to embrace it, own it, love it, and act upon it.

Latent Homophobia

About a year ago when I was exploring my sexuality and first accepting that I was probably bi, I heard about these rumors going around about men who are "on the down low." Supposedly they are outwardly straight men who secretly have sex with each other on the side.

I asked a good friend of mine what he thought about this, in general, and if he had ever heard about it. His answer surprised me. "Dude, I don't care what anyone says, if you sleep with a guy, you are fucking GAY."

At the time, I had already purchased a few gay magazines and pornos, and gay surfed and masturbated to homosexual material quite a few times. By asking him this general question, I was sort of feeling out how he might react if I told him that I was bisexual. He surprised me because of the stark nature of his answer: when it comes to being gay, you either are or you aren't. His answer made me feel like I could never tell him that I was bisexual, because he would just label me as gay, and perhaps feel betrayed, maybe even get defensive and wonder if our friendship was merely based on misguided affections.

It must be terribly difficult for closeted gay men to come out to their friends and family. The fears of being rejected must be very strong, especially for those raised in more conservative families. But in our society, gay men are less misunderstood and more accepted every day, albeit often only in jokes and on comedy sitcoms (Will & Grace). The fact that there are gay people in the world is no longer a secret, at least in America. Americans can understand gayness, on a basic level, and although they may not agree with it or accept it, they know it exists.

Bisexuality in men, on the other hand, seems far more misunderstood in our society. We are perhaps thirty years behind the curve when it comes to our viewpoint of male bisexuality. I think a lot of men, like my friend, are threatened by gayness. So they have to draw a line in the sand, create contrasting definitions between gay and straight, ideology reduced to absolutes, as a defense mechanism. Perhaps they have felt a tinge of gayness, and in an attempt to reject that side of themselves, have repressed their urges to comply with their enforced heterosexuality. It is this artificial pigeonholing of sexuality that I believe keeps many people in the closet from themselves, never able to figure out why they are so unhappy. What they really crave is a homosexual tryst. They are the Larry Craig's of the world. Afraid to face their inner gay.

One of my all time favorite movies is Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It's about forbidden love, and the tragedy of not having the courage to shun social mores and give in to true love, to just accept the loving gifts of the universe. The main character, Shu Lien, says, "that which we try to suppress, only becomes stronger." This line was rather profound for me when I first saw the movie, as I was myself struggling with feelings I was trying to suppress. I had not yet figured out that I was bisexual, and was fighting to keep from "becoming" gay. I was confused and paralyzed by a strict mis-perception of sexuality that didn't match the urges I was having inside.

A reality show I like on Bravo TV, called Million Dollar Listing, has a character named Madison who explained his sexuality as "open." That makes a lot of sense to me, it strikes a chord. The fact that he is so comfortably blunt about it really turns me on. Not to mention he is SO friggin hot I can hardly stand it. All the guys on that show are totally hot, but that's besides the point. The point is that sexuality is far more complex than gay or not gay. I hope that one day our society can outgrow its myopic view of sexuality.

Is Using Porn the Same as Cheating?

They say if you love someone set them free. It seems that's easier said than done, as jealousy often prevents us from allowing our girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands and wives true freedom. Instead we want them to be committed to us and only us, we want to believe that their eyes never wander, that all their sexual fantasies involve us alone, and that we can fulfill their every desire. Though I do recognize that monogamy is a choice that most of us make by default, I also think that such strict interpretations of commitment are detrimental to healthy relationships. Honestly.

A friend of mine is married but has probably the world's most wandering eyes. He points out hot women constantly, and his wife is no ugly duckling, but still his eyes wander lustfully. I asked him once, "doesn't Amy get upset with you scoping out other women all the time?"

"Nope." He explained, "she knows who I am and knew what she was getting into when we got married. Besides, my philosophy is that it doesn't matter where you get your appetite, so long as you eat at home." Amy knew that the more looking her husband did, the hornier he got, and the more vigorous fucking she was going to get once they got home. Talk about trust and a higher understanding!

I've heard here and there, read blogs and posts on the internet, about spouses who are worried that their significant other is "cheating" on the internet via porn surfing, flirtatious chat, cybersex, or what have you. Once they find out that he or she really is doing it, the guilty feelings are projected inward and internalized. It becomes the cuckold's fault that the other went looking elsewhere, because they alone weren't good enough for them. I think that this is a trap that many of us fall into: distilling someone else's feelings through our own viewpoint, not able to see that each person is an individual driven by their own needs and desires. To further my point, how many of us make all of our decisions initially based solely on someone else? None perhaps except for a mother and her child. Marriage is a union between two individuals. And individuals, at the most basic level, are always driven by survival and self-preservation. Being considerate of others is a learned behavior, not instinctual.

Monogamy is not necessarily human nature. I have a friend, she is a bisexual single mom, who is a strict polygamist. Not that she lives on an FLDS compound, but that she is honest enough with her lovers and more serious relationships to say to them, "look, I don't believe in monogamy." In other words, she knows that she will need sexual fulfillment outside of any relationship she may have, and has the self-awareness and courage to tell the truth from the get go. I think this kind of honesty is lacking in many relationships, primarily because of social constraints and learned guilt responses that have us terrified of unconventional sexual encounters, whether gay, deviant, extramarital, or all of the above.

How many marriages could be improved with more honesty, trust, openness, and willingness to try to understand someone's perspective not viewed through our own personal kaleidescope of judgment? One of my favorite bloggers, Anginae, is dealing with lots of confusion and guilt since her husband came out to her, and I commend her willingness to try to step outside of herself to analyze the situation. It is probably this rare ability to interpret her husband's feelings detached from her own that has saved their marriage so far. Many others with a shallow understanding might have already filed for divorce!

Spouses who find their significant others "cheating" online might do well to try to put their own feelings aside, take a few steps back, and glean some perspective. If not seen through our own fogged lens of jealousy, we might be able to learn more about our mate, delve deeper into who they really are, offering support and understanding so that they feel completely comfortable telling us that they have been having gay fantasies, or that they want to deflower the babysitter; or how she fantasizes about the gardener fucking her in the dirt behind the bushes. Often times it is the taboo that is the most magnetic, especially for those that are severely repressed. It's a classic vicious cycle.

So many people are unknowingly kept unhappy because they can't express their sexual fantasies out of fear of repulsion, rejection, and reprisal. I believe that to have true honestly, openness and understanding in a relationship, we need to commit to know our significant others on their own terms, through their own eyes and not just ours. As for the "cheating" aspect, how much control you exert over your spouse directly reflects your own level of insecurity. Control amounts to selfishness, as we view our own needs of how we want someone else to be as more important than who that person really is, and limits our ability to love that person for who they really are. How can we truly know them if we fabricate our own mental barriers around them?

Give Me A Passable Tranny

I'd love to have a passable tranny girlfriend. For an in-the-closet bisexual, that'd be an ideal situation. Introduce her to all my homophobic straight friends, kiss her in front of them, all the while only she and I know that she's got a dick under her skirt. Some of my friends might even lust after her if she was pretty enough, now that'd be funny. Poetic justice.

I've heard some supposedly straight guys say they'd sleep with a tranny. So basically they wouldn't kick a dick out of bed, as long as the person attached didn't look like a man. Weird. I have a feeling that's just an extension of the social stigma placed on men against bisexuality. Female bisexuality somehow seems to be more accepted in our society. Again, I think this is just a subconscious form of homophobia.

I've heard countless homophobic guys say something like, "I'm not against gay men, I just think what they do is gross." Yet in the same breath they'll say how hot is is for two women to be together, or that they like girl-on-girl porn. Talk about a double standard! Pass judgment on two men as gross, but then to like the idea of two women together. I would consider that to be a homophobic projection of one's own insecurities. But who am I to judge?! ;)

So give me a hot ass glamorous tranny girlfriend with the curves of a woman, yet she's all man between the legs. Now that's hot.

Gay? The All Or None Myth

Dan Savage, in his August 7th, 2008, syndicated column, Savage Love, "So I Married a Fag Hag" said, "As for 'playing for the other team' ... that can indeed be just a phase — but for women, not men. Men... prefer erotica that plays exclusively to their professed sexual orientation. Which means, of course, that female sexuality is a fluid and male sexuality is a solid."

Though his statement is based on "scientific" research, I wholeheartedly disagree. I would like to know what methods were used in the study that he cited, what the control group was, and how well they designed the experiment to eliminate subjectivity? Were the men asked to personally rate their arousal when shown nude photographs? Or was the data drawn from more objective methods? It seems to me that with the strong social pressure for men to be either straight or gay, few would openly admit arousal when shown a picture of a nude man. In my opinion, to get the most accurate results researchers would need to observe changes in the test subjects' physiology, more deep seated than merely the conscious. I believe that arousal occurs in the subconscious, on a level deeper than that over which we have control.

I have always felt an attraction to both men and women, even before I came out to myself, so the conclusions of the study are simply not in step with my own personal experience. I have strong gay urges sometimes, but have never felt the repulsion to pussy that many gay men have professed. One gay man I know said he never felt an attraction to women on any level, even from when he was a boy. For me, on the other hand, I was always intrigued by women, even from an early age. When I see an attractive woman now, I feel waves of lust, my loins stirred by her curves. I feel magnetized to the delicate skin between her breasts, intoxicated by the thought of her pussy folds cradled by her underwear, hidden and out of sight. To me pussy is a delight. To many gay men, pussy is a disgusting mess.

It is my opinion that we are all a little bit gay, men and women alike. If all social constraints were stripped down, and men weren't afraid of their naturally gay urges, would we have such cut and dry definitions for sexual orientation? I seriously doubt it.

First Glimpse at Gay Mag

When I was a teenager, I used to find porno mags in a 2,200 acre preserve near my house. Its one of those weird things that just kept happening to me. I guess sometimes some of the city people came out to the suburbs with a dirty mag they got in the city, found a private spot in the woods and had their way with the images. I had found a Hustler and a few Penthouses at other times, so when I saw the familiar glossy cover one day I was met with the young teenage hormone thrill and anticipation of getting to see some skin.

This time though, when I picked up the magazine, it was a gay porno mag! Startled, I threw it back on to the ground, half-sickened at what it was, but then felt instantaneously curious about what was in those pages. I tried to drive the urges away by walking away from it, but convinced myself that I'd look at it to see if I was gay, that if I got hard like with the girlie mags, that's how I'd know.

So I went back to the magazine feeling simultaneously too scared to look, too curious not to, but I did and suddenly felt faint. I put the magazine down and left it there, feeling guilty yet relieved that my dick didn't get hard. I did like what I saw in the back of my mind, but I was too afraid to admit it. That would take me another 20 years.

Early Gay Crushes, Barbies, Leotards

When I was five, I had an overwhelming desire to play with Barbies. I can remember one such case where I was with my family at a grown up party, and the all kids had been let loose in the house to play on their own. The boy who lived there had an older sister, and I went to her room to see if her and her friends had any Barbies, and asked if I could play with them, they laughed and said, "boys don't play with Barbies." I never asked to play with Barbies again.

When I was around the same age, I wanted to wear a leotard, like the ones girls wear in gymnastics. So I asked my mom, and she got me a black one with white tights, and a green one with yellow tights. We would make the green and yellow one into a Robin costume with a red belt, yellow cape and yellow ® on the chest. The black leotard was for my own superhero. I can remember even at that young age getting boners in those leotards. I felt ashamed that girls clothes made my little PP hard.

I was a shy and reserved kid, always afraid of sexual curiosity. I chickened out when it came my turn to strip after an older girl and I had made a deal. I couldn't get the courage to make my "two minutes in the closet" a worthwhile event. I was a repressed kid, crippled by my own fears and confusion about intimacy and attraction.

Only a year ago I figured out and admitted to myself that I am bisexual. I wonder how my life would have been different had I the courage to accept my childhood TV crushes on Ponch, BJ McKay, and the Karate Kid. If I had the support of family and community that bisexuality was as beautiful as any part of me, if those feelings weren't repressed for all these years, how would I be different?

I'm still in the closet. I've only told a few people, and one of them I don't even trust anymore. I'm living a virtually celibate life of secret desires and lonely desperation, still too afraid to reach out and act on these indelible urges.

Early Urges

From when I was a kid right on through high school to college, whenever in the locker rooms or showers, I always found it hard not to glance at other guy’s cocks.

At the community pool in my hometown, grown men walked around the locker rooms naked, open showers lined the walls, the room had no privacy and I was always curious of their penises and their thick, dark tufts of pubic hair.

At summer camp, I can remember at age 12 maybe, the whole age group took showers together with the counselors. It was a different time than now, when these things were looked upon as normal. All of the boys had small, hairless cock and balls like me, but there was one kid who had already reached puberty, and his cock hung low to his knees. A little boy with a huge grown man penis!

In college, which is long before I realized I was bi, a guy friend and I used to play racquetball and use the gym and showers afterward. I quickly noticed that I never caught him glancing at my package, but that I glanced casually all the time. Was he just not looking? Or was he catching a glimpse on the sly? Did he notice me glancing? I never said anything about it to him.

I always cop a scope. There’s too much beauty in a cock not to look!

Mountain Man's First Time

I was hiking alone in the National Forest, climbing a small easy peak just outside of town. It was mid week and the trails were all but vacant. I had seen an elderly couple at the trailhead a mile or so back, but they were heading out. Being the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, it was a pleasure to find myself alone among the fresh air and pine trees.

On the five miles to the summit, there was only the sound of the breeze through the trees, the occasional songbird, and my footsteps. When I got to the top and rounded the final bend to the crested rocky outcrop, I was surprised and a little bummed to see someone else there.

As I walked up, I noticed it was just a regular guy about my age taking in the view. He glanced over casually and said, "hey, whats up, hows it goin?"

"Pretty good – great views… I usually like to find my own scenic overlook" I said, not hiding my disappointment to find company where I had hoped to be alone.

"The best view is definitely from here. Anyway I dont care if other people are around," he said.

"OK cool – thanks," I said, and went over to join him on the rocks, because it really was the best view. You could look out and see the whole city and the valley and the big mountains beyond.

You live in town? I said, just trying to keep polite. "Yeah, 8 years," he said. "Same here."

I had chosen a spot on the rocks slightly lower than him, and when I turned up to meet eyes in normal conversation, I could not help but notice that his cock and balls were readily hanging out of his shorts! I had never gotten such a full look up a guys shorts before. Shocked and ashamed, I turned my head away and tried to pretend not to have seen. But it was hard to imagine he had not seen that my eyes had simultaneously glanced and stared, and that I had appeared both curious and repelled at the same time.

"These summer days its too damn hot for shorts," he said, and stood up, then with one motion removed his shorts, turned around and placed them on the rocks like a seat, then sat back down, his bottom half naked, with the warm glow of sun shining on his thighs and package. I was surprised to feel my stomach drop and my cock tingle to a slight bulge instantly. It was a thrilling moment, because I had never been knowingly aroused by a man before.

I found myself staring at his cock in the sun, as it twitched and pulsed and sprung to life in the sunlit warmth. I looked up and meet his eyes, he smiled a comforting look, and bashfully looked away, lifting his hips so that the semi fullness of his manhood sprung momentarily off his tanned thigh, pulsing now more intently. It was a beautiful sight that stirred backflips of lust in my gut. My cock ached to be freed from the confines of my underwear and shorts, and to be free in the breeze as he was.

"Do you want to touch it?" he said smoothly and matter of fact. My cock pounded against my shorts at the taboo of his question, my mind raced with anticipation and guilt, the instilled fears of a strict upbringing confusing my thoughts. I longed to have my cock enjoy the sunshine and breeze to tangle and bump against his in a naked manly embrace. Looking lustfully at is now fully erect cock and balls, I noticed they were trimmed and shaved perfectly, the result of a meticulous manscape. I have been grooming for years, and was glad to see an attention to detail and style.

"I’ve never done this before, would you take me out first?" and with that I could resist no longer, and stood up next to him and unzipped my shorts, undid the button and let them drop to my ankles. "Take me out of my underwear," I said, and he pulled out my throbbing cock and balls. The breeze across my scrotum sent throbs of pleasure through my shaft and balls, from my toes to the top of my head. The release of lust was wonderful and at long last.

With my hard dick now in his face, he took me whole in his mouth, enveloped my head and shaft in moist warmth and caring technique, and within one half second this expert had my balls on his chin, my cock fully down his throat. This man could deep throat, a feeling on the cock of unexplainable pleasures. I knew I would blow my load any second if this kept up. We were out in the open at the summit of the little peak, anyone could approach us and see our tryst at any moment. The added likelihood of getting caught enhanced the experience even further.

By now my hand had found its way to caressing his left pectoral, and I wanted to feel another man in my hand finally now after fantasizing an encounter scenario just like this for so long. So I pulled away from the most fantastic blowjob of my life, with cock-sucking talent like no woman I had ever known, and knelt down to explore his neatly trimmed region.

I had remembered this game of exploration I played with my first girlfriend. She would lay me down on a table and strip me bare to investigate my body. I got so hard there on the table, she touched me a bit and caressed me and I remember being so turned on and excited by being played with and laying up on that table so exposed, because my cock stuck straight up in the air!

Looking back now, I know that I was secretly jealous of her, that she got to play with this hard and beautiful glorious thing, and I envied her, because I wanted to play with a cock too! Her pussy was a beautiful sight, and exploring her is one of my most beloved teenage memories; but it was her fascination in the discovery of how interactive a scrotum can be, and her excitement at my cocks seemingly magical growth in the palm of her hand, that was when I first felt the urge to touch another guys dick.

Now here in the sun with this gorgeous man atop this mountain with both of our excited cocks, tip glistened and gleaming in the sunlight, the breeze tickling our balls, it is almost too much to take. I can tell that my excitement has built to a head already, and if there is so much of a brush against my dick, I will spasm into orgasm and spew my hot cum all over the place. It would feel so good and my cock aches for release, but I must see how it responds to touching another man, see if my cock gets hard when I caress his balls; utilize my erection as a meter to determine how much Ive been missing, what possible fulfillment my cock has missed out on while I’ve kept myself forcibly in my own closet.

I take his now half-hard cock in my hands, and I am immediately taken back and turned on by how it feels. I throbs and pulses in my hand, slowly filling back up with blood. The heat of his cock is surprising to the touch, and it stiffens right in my hands. The feeling is amazing, and in no time my own my cock is back to standing full mast, hard and erect in the midday sun. He reaches down to caress me, as I lean in to kiss the tip of his beautiful cock, to feel for the first time a cock in my mouth.

The bead of clear precum on his tip surprises me with its sweet salty taste. I had known my girlfriends to mention it, I had never tasted the nectar myself, and to feel his erection under the soft glide of his python-like head against my lips was one that I had been longing for. Finally I felt at home with my sexuality, denying neither side of the barrier in my mind: that both men and women turn me on and always have and I should never hate myself for that.

As these thoughts raced through my mind, and the blood pulsed through my cock, I wanted to feel more of his meat in my mouth, I wanted to take in his full erection, down my throat expertly like he had, but I gagged a bit as his cockhead filled up the back of my throat completely. I pulled away ashamed and he eased me out of my fears, so he said, "its okay, I dont have any expectations, I know this is your first time."

So I settled for giving my first handjob. Just like any guy, I knew he wanted more, but there was something really nice about just jerking him off there in the sun, my cock free in the breeze, my inhibitions free of previously harsh self-judgment. As I squatted there stroking this complete strangers cock, he looked down and me, saw me smiling and said, "you like that don’t you."

"Yes," I said and turned up the pace, looking up at him sheepishly, stroking him harder and faster, pumping his cock in my hand. I could feel his shaft fucking my hands as I held the skin tight against his cock and pumped him with my fists. Soon he shuddered a bit leaned back, and cum exploded from his cock in glorious throbbing spurts. I could feel his hot jizz well up and shoot out through his shaft, bursting in a wonderful torrent of cum, spurt after spurt, three, four, five gushing gobs of hot juicy cum welled from his cum hole. It was a geyser of lust, a gorgeous fountain of man juice spurting right before my eyes. The feeling of his pipeworks in my hand as I drained the last spasms of cum from his cock, put me over the edge.

I stood up, my cock standing so erect and ready, aching with precum glistening on the head, and he guided my hard-on immediately into his throat. I was so aroused to have my beloved wonderful cock out in the sunshine, fully erect, and to now have his incredibly special treatment. It was a feeling of arousal and curiosity like never before. The fascination of new experience just enhanced the fact that we were outdoors, in the sun and breeze, my balls caressed and gently held while I received the best blowjob of my life. He gobbled my cock, pounding his chin on my balls, thrusting my head deep into his throat with guided abandon and practiced expertise.

It quickly became to much to bare and I tensed up into a fierce orgasm and dumped spurt after spurt of my hot love juice deep into his awaiting throat. He swallowed right in sync with every burst, sucking the cum from my balls like a vacuum cleaner. All the while staring me straight in my astonished face.

Flushed, we gathered our clothes, and walked down the mountain together, and parted ways with a friendly goodbye. I wonder if I will ever meet him on the mountain again.

Introduction to Myself

For the longest time in my life, I worried about whether or not I was gay. I went through phases of denial, whether religious, philosophical, or anger turned inward, but I finally realized that it was my mind that was keeping me from sexual happiness. I was stuck in the false notion that someone is either 100% gay or 100% not gay.

A girlfriend I had in the fall of 2000 caught me by surprise when she said she was attracted to women, too. She said that she didn’t mind me looking at other women, because she was looking at them too and wanted to talk about it later. Though our relationship was short, it was very honest and open. We talked about the 100% “gay or not gay” myth, and she asked me point blank what percentage gay I thought I was, and without thinking I said “30 percent.” I was taken back by my answer, and started to feel ashamed, but she assured me that those feeling were perfectly natural. She said that she was more comfortable with the idea of me cheating on her with a man rather than a woman. She freed me to explore a side of me that had been repressed for too long.