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

Patrick Hates My Crossdressing

I guess he's is not into queens. They turn him off the same way women do. So it stands to reason that he's not so into my crossdressing stuff. He's not into the skirts or dresses, heels or hose. The idea of me wearing my lacy top around his house just turns him off, he says. In a way it's kind of weird because I just want to feel natural around him, and a lot of times I just want to be nude or wear women's clothes because, well, that's what feels natural. It's only about comfort, so I find it pretty interesting that he doesn't want me to wear my girlie shit around him.

Maybe it makes him uncomfortable, I don't know. Maybe he's so gay that anything feminine turns him off on a fundamental level. When I asked him about it, he said that he was attracted to men, not women. He told me about another closeted bisexual lover who also likes that stuff, but that as for himself the women's shit just doesn't do it for him. [Note to self: gotta meet this other guy he's talking about!]

What's really interesting about it for me is the way it illustrates different people's arousal triggers. For him the arousal comes from the sexuality of masculinity. Whereas I think for me the arousal comes, perhaps, from the fantasy of being a woman. The clothes give me the experience of what women get to wear, while I get to role-play their gender and fantasize about having a straight women's sexuality. And get fucked by some handsome and manly guy.

This dynamic that I have with Patrick is really bringing up some deep introspection. What is the basis of my attraction to men? Is it physical or fantasy? A combination of both? Or do I simply have a fascination with being perverted - that I need to continually up the ante to get off? Is this gay experience authentic or is it just my attempts to raise my sexual bet: "I'll call your crossdressing, and raise with a blowjob and fuck in the ass."

I understand how men dressing up in women's clothes could turn off a gay guy. The same way I understood when one of my past girlfriends couldn't stop laughing any time I wore women's clothes. She just thought it was funny, not sexy. I have had girlfriends and lovers who thought it was really hot, though most of the time I've kept very private about my panty thievery, cock ring hobby, heel fetish, and other unmentionables.

Patrick Tells The Truth

Patrick has confessed something to me, and I'm surprised it doesn't bother me more.

When he responded to my craigslist ad, he said he was a young 49. When I got to his place the first night, I thought he didn't look so young for 49, but he still grew on me as the night went on. It was like our connection transcended age. It was more our spirits that connected. So what if he's ten years older?

Well, since we have such a strong connection, he decided to tell me his real age. According to him he has never told any lover his real age before. It honestly seems kind of foreign to me to live life that way, because I hate to try to keep track of all the lies out there, who I told what and trying to keep it all straight - what a waste of energy! I figured this out when I was a teen still living with my parents. All my other friends were trying to come up with elaborate schemes to get away with this or that or go to a drinking party or use their fake ID's to get into a strip club, etc. Because of my honesty I even got them in trouble sometimes, not being able to keep it together as to what the story was when this person or that person happens to be within earshot. Deception takes a lot out of me, and I generally avoid it at all costs.

So believe it or not, dear reader, my Patrick is 64 years old! My God! He's my friggin' parent's age! Regardless, I forgive him because if he had said he was that old from the start, I doubt I would have ever agreed to meet him. And besides, most all of the 25-year-old chicks that I'm interested in think 39 is over the hill. They would have no idea that I get carded for looking so young if I met them online, so I too have felt the urge to augment my youth when flirting online in chat rooms or whatever. It's so stupid that people place such high importance on just a number. They set limits and judgments in their mind about how people of a certain age act, and all it does is limit what experiences, friends and lovers they could have in their lives.

What really blows me away is that Patrick's only a couple years younger than my parents, but I still lust after him. I still dream about his cock. It's kind of weird because there's also this element of taboo there, like I'm fucking my grandpa. Gross huh? But he's not like any other sixty-plus year-old that I have ever met. He has opened my eyes in so many ways, that dirty old man! Lucky bastard gets a young, visceral, sex-crazed boyfriend out of the deal. Can I please be that lucky when I'm 64?

Our First Fight - Not Really

I finally confided in Patrick that I've been writing in my blog some pretty specific details about our love affair. "Like what, EVERYTHING?!" he cried, and I said, "pretty much, yeah."

He doesn't quite understand the blogging phenomenon, and I think maybe he thought I've got my real name and Social Security Number, street address and phone number published for all the world to see. He was convinced I was using his real name too, and was pretty well pissed off to think that I would betray his trust like that.

"[His real name], honey, I'm the one who's in the closet here, remember? Besides they all think your name is Patrick. And they don't even know what town we live in, let alone what state. There are a million anonymous bloggers out there. That's what makes it so cool, and such a release for me."

"Oh," he said, and a playful smile curled his lips, "Patrick? ... That was my first boyfriend's name." And with that we kissed and made up. Well, kissed and made out was more like it.

Without trust, there is no romance anywhere. Period.

Bad Words Gone Good

Here's a mental exercise, see if you can think of a positive way to use any of these "negative" words in a sentence. It's a good demonstration of how my recent new experience has changed the way I look at myself and the world.

UPDATE: I just realized how stupid and trivial this post looks here. What the hell am I, a perverted high school English teacher giving out homework assignments? So to lessen the effect of such a dumb post, I filled in my own sentences. Apologies to the reader, but must all of my posts be brilliant genius? JUST KIDDING!

Slut - Fucking men makes me feel so good, like a lucky sex-craved slut.

Whore - Only a dirty whore can satisfy my vivacious sexual appetite.

Cunt - She came like a thundercloud after I fisted her cunt for the better part of an hour.

Bitch - My boyfriend acts like such a girlie bitch sometimes, I just love it.

Cocksucker - I am seeing the most fantastic cocksucker I have ever met.

Asshole - He fingered and licked my asshole while I came all over the place.

Bastard - My gay lover has fucked hundreds of gorgeous men, the lucky bastard.

Dick - He sucked my dick like no woman ever has.

Fuck - Who the fuck ever decided this was a bad word?

Faggot - Now that I've made love to a man, I feel much more comfortable acting a little faggoty.

Pervert - My gay lover is so relieved that I, too, am a pervert.

How to Fart Like a Girl

I can remember a joke from high school that girls don't fart, they "poof." It wasn't a very good joke, but like all the best jokes it was based on a truism. I always attributed it to social pressures on women to suppress the fact that they have normal bodily functions just like men. It always seemed like they wanted to pretend that they never spit, shit, pissed or puked, as if being ladylike was the antithesis of being just plain human.

Then I shaved the hair from my ass crack, and it quickly became obvious why they do, indeed, poof instead of fart.

Without wanting to be accused of gross generalizations by the PC Police, as part of my theory I must state that women tend to have less body hair. I'm sure there are some women who would know just what I'm talking about when I complain that ass crack hair gets torn out by the roots with a hefty dry shit, but many would say with incredulity, "really?" Yes, really. And it sucks.

Much as I hate having tufts of hair that grapple with bowel movements desperate for liberation, though, I hate not being able to expressively flatulate even more. As a raunch-loving adult male still swayed by third grade humor, a good forced room-clearing fart still cracks me up. I can see myself as a decrepit octogenarian still letting out a devious little chuckle with that most satisfying sound of a good rowdy fart. When it comes to farting, I'll simply never grow up.

Farts become a real disappointment with a shaved ass crack, let me tell ya. No matter how hard you push, they just seem to get lost between the cheeks. There's no vibrato, no reverberation, no satisfying crackle, rumble or crunk. They often just sit there like a bubble trapped under cellophane, like methane stored beneath a lake. At best they might let out a wimpy little sound like a dying duck or a tree frog with laryngitis. They come out as if your ass was under a gag order, unable to pronounce anything more than a pathetic little whimper.

I've often wondered why, if God created evolution, why he didn't let ass crack hair remain with the primates. Now I know: God laughs at farts too!

Zen and the Art of Letting Go

I couldn't count on two hands all the times I've gotten blown off by women and all the ways they've managed to flake out and say without words the "no" that they must have meant to say when I asked them out. I've posted before on this blog about the negative effects that this type of deception has had on my attitude towards women and dating.

So the other night I was at one of my regular bar/restaurants and I noticed a woman working there again who I have not seen in a couple of years. Back then, she was the friend of my best friend's girlfriend, and she approached me one night to say hi. A little bit into the conversation I mentioned one of my favorite activities, snowshoeing, and she said she had never been. Seizing the opportunity, and knowing from her friend that she was single, I asked her if she'd like to go with me. "Yeah, that sounds fun," she said, and I got her phone number to get the date figured out and take this gorgeous woman up into the mountains for the beauty and serenity that only snowshoeing can bring. Only problem was, she must have meant, "oh you mean with you? Hell no!" because she never even had the courtesy to call me back.

So imagine my surprise to see her working at the place again, and it suddenly brought up the bitter memory of the subversive rejection that she callously dished out those few years ago. Our eyes met for a second and she seemed to recognize me, but she was sure to avoid me it seemed, making her way around the restaurant being sure to always have her back turned and to never walk past my table. Crazy thing was, that I realized at that moment that I had forgotten all about her. I couldn't even remember her name. So thankfully I was spared the embarrassment of having to talk to her, and she was spared the guilt of having to face up to her flakiness, but it definitely got me thinking.

I realized that in forgetting her altogether, I had been freed of the pain of the silent rejection she handed down those years ago. I had been able to toss her onto my forgotten pile, and seeing her again was difficult because it brought up all that residual pain of rejection. I wanted to flag her down and say, "hey how come you never called me back, bitch?" but I figured the sooner I could forget about her again the better.

Some of My Favorite Quotes

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself. -Leo Tolstoy

Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something. -Plato

You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. -Mark Twain

Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm. -Winston Churchill

I’d rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on earth. -Steve McQueen

If you want something for nothing, go jerk off. -Bob Weir

Eat shit, ten million flies can't be wrong! -Anonymous

He who wonders discovers that this in itself is wonder. -M.C. Escher

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings. -William Blake

When choosing between two evils I always like to take the one I’ve never tried before. -Mae West

People’s Preconceived Perceptions

I live in a small city with a large art scene and a huge gay population. So there’s no shortage of gallery openings with gay couples frolicking about, but also these gallery openings are well known to be meat market gold for both straight and queer people alike.

So a straight friend and I hit the openings last night in search of some babes. Most of the women ended up being in the bars that we hit along the way, and one of the galleries in particular was completely empty when we came in.

Being a brisk night, the hostess offered us some hot cider and we set about to small talk.

"Chilly night out tonight, but not too bad… quite nice actually," my friend offered.

"Yes it is," the gallery hostess said, "a beautiful night for couples."

"A very nice night," I managed, cracking up inside, had I just heard this woman mistake us for a gay couple? Aw man, I thought, this is too much!

Right then half a dozen other wanderers crowded into the small gallery. I decided to run with it, and began to intently observe the art, chatting with my friend, "look, this one is only $900, but the frame just doesn’t do it for me."

The hostess was apparently hanging on our every word, and chimed in, "we can customize any frame to your liking."

"Oh of course, thank you," I replied, and we promptly left for another gallery, making our way to a bar up the street. "A beautiful night for couples," I mocked, and we both had a good laugh over that one.

Her assumptions about my friend and I, were they essentially based in homophobia? Did she make a generalization about two men together in the same way she might stereotype some ethnic minority that came in? Was her statement about couples an opportunity to experience the bias of a homophobic world? What would her assumption be if my friend had been a woman? Or even black or Hispanic for that matter? What would her construed reaction be? Would her words reveal the same subtext?

Gay Club Outsider

I wonder if there is discrimination in the gay world against bisexuals. Are they seen as half-assed turncoats who want their cake and eat it too? For some gay people, coming out has meant rejection from their own family, and they may have made huge sacrifices in their lives and suffered persecution, while the bisexual gets to dabble and experiment privately, but can perhaps more easily maintain the outward public appearance of "normalcy".

My basis for this pondering was an interaction I had on IMVU. I was at a gay virtual club flirting with some guys and it came up I was bi. They asked me to leave, saying I wasn't really queer. It was like they were against me still being attracted to women, and for being confused and in the closet. They made it out like I wasn't someone who had paid his dues, that I was just greedily grazing from the sexual banquet, too afraid to commit to the gay lifestyle. It kinda sucked to get kicked out for not being queer enough.

It started me thinking that bisexual men are not allowed to have an authentic sexual identity. They're just confused or curious or experimenting, they're really gay but are just greedy double-dippers, or whatever. I'm kind of getting tired of the way people treat bisexuality, and I haven't even come out yet! I totally agree with orange108 that coming out would be easier if the world wasn't so anti-gay. That's how I feel about having all these permanent bisexual feelings, and how much easier it would be if there was more acceptance.

There's so little general understanding of gayness. You see an effeminate man and think "oh he's gay" - or see a butch woman and say "oh she's a lesbian". They get categorized for their behavior, easily defined and easier to grasp for ignorant people. How do bisexuals act? There doesn't seem to be an easy way to single them out or pinpoint how they act, so do gay men see them as cheaters in a tough homophobic world?

A Funny Thing Happened Online

I've noticed before that the more desperate a guy acts around women, the more turned off by him they become. It's a strange dynamic, very similar to a predator/prey relationship. The hunters gather for the kill, and the hunted panic the closer he gets. The successful hunter is the one with the most patience, the one who lays in wait, intentions disguised, then pounces unexpectedly. A successful kill always requires cunning, deception, and skill.

As I've decided to branch out and explore my sexuality, I've been flirting a bit with guys online. Since I'm pretty new at this, I find myself taking the roll of the hunted. Which is fine, because having to always be the aggressor in the heterosexual world can get kind of exhausting. As the prey, you just relax and have them come to you, if you want to be preyed upon, that is.

Being able to sit back, as potential suitors stumble and fall all over themselves, and effortlessly employ selectivity preferences fucking rules. Now I feel the power and privilege that women do as they sit on the throne of sexual dynamics, possible mates paraded in front of them like a carnal banquet, "no, no, no, yes, no, no, no."

It's been a real eye opener to see what men are like when it's clear they are thinking with their dicks, and most notably what my reaction is when they come on so strong, and how similar that reaction is to those that I have gotten from women when desperation has taken control of my brain.

A recent exchange was a prime example of this. A gentleman with nice photos of a thick, juicy cock sent me a few messages saying he liked my profile. After an exchange or two, we started to discuss the possibility of meeting for a tryst. That's when he said, "sounds good, I'm up for anything, I'm free tonight and all this weekend."

Right away I lost interest. "Tonight?!" I thought, "wow, this guy moves fast. Too fast!" And suddenly I felt that deer-in-the-headlights sensation, like I'd been singled out for the kill but like I wasn't ready to be taken. Don't these predators know when to strike and to do it gracefully and subversively? Didn't he know that I was playing the selectivity role and he was supposed to cleverly make it seem like sleeping with him was my idea all along?

Immediately I realized that I was playing that role, that I had become the fickle love interest that had left me so confused with women before. It made me realize that all the women I had pursued but never gotten throughout my life had all acted out of this basic principle of attraction/repulsion. I had come on too strong and extinguished their desire with my advances, and now I was getting a chance to wear the other shoe. To see how a strong advance could diffuse my curiosity in an instant.

Sure seems easier to let the suitors come to me, to pick and choose as I please, rather than to make a fool of myself trying to be the potential mate among the pack of dumb-ass hyenas clambering all over each other, snapping, nipping, yelping, fighting amongst themselves for the tiny scraps of pussy-meat tossed their way.

Califirnia Prop 8 Equals Hatred

If the civil rights movement against inequality in the south had been put to vote, we may still have segregated schools, bathrooms, and buildings today. These types of decisions belong in the US Supreme Court where equality and constitutional rights are guaranteed, not in the living rooms of shallow-minded citizens. A vote for granting a certain segment of society (and not another) equal rights is nothing more than a show of hands for bigotry and ignorance.

All arguments against gay marriage are based on fallacy and fear. And I have heard them all. In fact, I used to believe many of them myself, before I grew to accept my very real and undeniable gay side.

For any of you still clinging to this outdated point of view, here are the major talking points debunked one by one:

"Being gay is a choice."
Well, I can tell you that it's not; but even if it was, is it fair to ban a choice that you don't happen to like? That'd be like banning foie gras because most people think it's gross. But to some it is sublime. To each his own, live and let live.

"Marriage is for man and woman only."
No rights for the transgendered, either. Whether through no "fault" of their own or by choice, right?

"Marriage is for making babies."
So then, we should forbid marriage to people who can't physically have children. And when do we force married couples who don't want kids to divorce? After say, five years? And what about elderly couples who met late in life, should they also be banned from marriage because they're too old to have kids? What about the couple who only wanted one or two kids, should they be forced to make more or get divorced? Naturally, men who have had vasectomies should be forced out of their current marriage, and banned from future marriage if you follow this faulty logic to its end point.

"The Bible forbids homosexuality."
For the sake of argument, let's just say the Bible is a legitimate authority on the subject. I would like to point out, however, that homosexuality is not mentioned in the Ten Commandments. Why not ban all those other things first? How come we don't send people to jail who don't honor their parents? Why not imprison people for graven images? Execute them for not remembering the Sabbath. I'm sure some religious nuts would be all for it, but they forget that their god supposedly gave us free will. So convenient to cherry pick your moral code, isn't it?

"It's gross."
Maybe it is, to you. But obviously you never considered that straight sex might be gross to a gay person.

"Children can't be raised properly in a gay household."
I made the same mistake once, where I repeated this ridiculous notion to a friend who, unbeknown to me, had been raised by a loving, committed, healthy lesbian couple. And yes, he is straight, and yes he is now married, and yes - shocker! - he and his wife are expecting. There was nothing about him that fit my own bigoted viewpoint of whether a gay-raised child could have the skills to be "normal" in our society. So much that I never even suspected him of being the product of such an "unholy" union. Boy, did I sure make an ass out of myself.

"Children need both male and female role models."
Okay then, by that rationale, we should take away the children of single parents. No matter if they split up, or maybe just while he's on tour in Iraq; or maybe they got divorced, maybe one of the parents died. Doesn't matter, because that kid is doomed without both parents, so let's go ahead and ban single parenthood while we're at it, and absentee fathers, and working mothers... in fact let's ban fathers working overtime, and why not ban women working altogether for good measure? Keep the women at home barefoot in the kitchen, right? After all, the moral fiber of our society depends on it.

"Gay couples can't love each other as much as straight couples do."
Sounds like YOU are the one who has a problem with love. Sounds like you are searching so hard to find ways that you can categorize and legitimatize types of love in your own head, that you forgot that love conquers all. I know at least one gay couple who love each other more completely and purely than most all the straight couples I've ever met.

"I'm not against gay unions, just call it something else besides marriage."
Separate but equal is the same twisted logic used by Jim Crow and George Wallace to perpetuate segregation in the south. Remember those dark days in our nation's history? Many of the same arguments against gay marriage were used to deny citizens equal rights for generations. Overcoming these prejudices is what makes this country great.

When people manipulate their world view to fit a narrow perspective, justice and equality suffer.

No government has the right to tell its citizens whom to love. The only queer people are those who don't love anybody.
- Rita Mae Brown

The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.
-Anais Nin

Chastity: the most unnatural of the sexual perversions.
- Aldous Huxley

Yeah So I Like Small Tits

I just don't understand the fascination in our society with large breasts. Sure large breasts are great, but small ones are better. Way better. I can't say I know everything about 'em, but personal experience has indicated that small tits have greater sensitivity, a greater contrast of shape and size when aroused. Little tits are a treasured and delicate treat, particularly now that they have become so underappreciated and rare, especially in straight porn where it seems every starlet has silicone implants.

If I was starting a relationship with a woman with fake tits, it would immediately be an irreconcilable difference. I'm just not into it, anymore than I'd be into a guy with pectoral implants or collagen lips. The truth is that natural beauty is best, and the thought of fake, hard bags under someone's skin makes my dick shrivel up and run for cover. Viagra wouldn't even help.

It is a shame that women get so bombarded with images of "the ideal woman" day in and day out, that they soon start to devalue their own natural breasts. After all, if nearly every famous woman has fake tits, then it stands to reason that you need them to be famous, and since you have to be pretty to be famous, you must have to have fake tits to be pretty.

Bullshit!

Augmented breasts generally bolster a manufactured self worth. I once happened to overhear a conversation at a wedding, a plastic surgeon's wife was talking to a group of about ten female friends. She told them that her augmentation made her feel more confident, more womanly, more sexy. Her friends all chimed in accord. After hearing this I honestly felt disturbed. Was that whole group of gorgeous women really that shallow? I wondered how it couldn't be obvious that her REAL tits were inherently more womanly than twin bags of liquid plastic? How can a silicone balloon possibly be more feminine than a real breast? It didn't and still makes no fucking sense to me whatsoever.

Now, I don't want to insult anyone out there with fake tits. Some women may have no choice. But you ought to know that men make fun of fake breasts and the guys that date them. I seriously don't know of one man who takes fake tits seriously. When I'm at the strip club, for instance, I take extra time to find the only girl who hasn't gone and ruined a perfectly perky pair tits with a scalpel and plastic inserts. I'll tell her too, "you've got the best tits in the place, you're a fucking goddess. All these balloon bags have nothing on you."

So, yes, I do prefer small tits. A cups, B cups, even the "mosquito bite" tits. Put me in a room with ten attractive women and let me choose one, I'll pick the one with the smallest breasts. It's that simple. I just don't know where this big breast fascination came from and why women feel they have to surgically augment themselves to be beautiful. It's a mammagraphic crime, a cruel joke taken out on us guys who really do like small tops, despite what society tries to force down our women's proverbial throats.

If there are any women out there considering breast implants, please hear my plea. It's totally gross, not sexy or attractive, and accentuates nothing but your low self esteem. You may think that there are no men out there who'd like your tiny chest just the way it is, but I can tell you that based on experience, small breasts rule!

Save your money. Keep 'em real. Let's put an end to this unhealthy body image and admire all women for the breast size they have, not the size they think they have been told that they should have. Natural is always better than artificial anyway. Think about it.

OBSERVATION: A woman's brain and breasts are the only parts of her body you can't say are small without pissing her off.

Fickle Follicles Hate Shaving

I saw some nerdy TV program recently that said that evolutionarily speaking, human skin is most advanced. Apparently our sweat glands are pretty far ahead of the game, and as we learned to live in different climates (by building better shelters, making warmer clothes, etc.) hair adapted to be less and less important to our survival.

In this way, hair is primitive. Makes sense then that most of our hair left over from the evolutionary process is located in primal areas: the pits, the chest, genitals, around the ass hole. [Side note: what benefit to survival does having hair that wraps around your shit logs and gets ripped out by the roots as you push have to mankind, is far beyond me. Intelligent design, my ass! lol]

Anyway, I have a feminist friend who insists that women who shave anything at all [CLARIFICATION: I spoke with her by chance last night, and her theory is for women who haven't NOT ever shaved, therefore they have no basis to make an informed choice... I see her point] are just victims of male-dominated society that falsely equates hairlessness with femininity. But isn't that viewpoint an affront to each woman's individual freedom and personal choice to shave? Are women really only driven subversively by male dominance when it comes to their body image? Is it not beyond the realm of possibility that hair is uncomfortable and some women prefer to be smooth according to their own sensibilities?

And on the flip side, what then about men who prefer to shave their faces? On which undue societal pressure can we blame men's drive to remove their beards? Could we not argue that men shave because their women prefer to kiss a smooth face? Which brings us full circle, what of men who choose to shave their face on their own accord, because they like it that way? Not to mention the comfort factor.

In what other ways, dear reader, can one's hyper-liberal views lead to a hypocritical conservatism?

Fact is women and men can and do shave whatever they want for whatever reason they want all over the world, and have for centuries. By observation, though, not all hair is privy to being shaved, and not all people can shave without dire consequences.

Take for example shaving the pubic area in whatever form. It's done for surgery, vanity, some cultures and tribes do it ritualistically, I've heard even of some modern religions doing it. Probably for most people, shaving their pubes results in red bumps, days of itching and scratching, the stubbly hair being grated back and forth, stuffed into underwear and pants, getting irritated all day with each step and bend. Those who can shave it all bear without discomfort certainly have this author's envy!

Speaking of which, there are only a few parts on my body I can shave without getting a rash. My toes (I know, right?), my face, neck and scalp, my cock and balls, my perineum and asshole. That's it. I tried to shave (I used Nair type depilatory actually) my chest once but it turned to a firepit of ingrown hairs. I shaved my thighs once and it resulted in the same living hell, not worth the days of discomfort for even a second of smooth bliss. I waxed my hairy ass cheeks and regretted it for weeks. Damn it!

I still SO miss my ex girlfriend who could shave it ALL without a bump, itch, or ingrown hair. Her body was an evolutionary step toward having no body hair at all. None of her follicles protested to being shaved, and thus eating her pussy was like diving face-first into a cream pudding pie. You could just get right in to the goods, no comb, curlers or mustache wax required to get the mess out of the way and get to munching! Her pussy was like smooth velvety white chocolate mousse and just as sweet. Wow.

In closing, who is to judge why anyone shaves anything? It's their body and their choice, and though sometimes the hair reacts in unpleasant ways, shouldn't it always be up to the individual? And shouldn't they be allowed to have their own reasons? I say yes. And get to shaving!

What is Bisensuality?

Bisensual. This was a word I thought I made up. Since I've not yet had sex with a man, I didn't feel 100% truthful is naming this blog "Bisexual", because I can't yet be sure that that's where this journey is bringing me.

Since I have fantasies about both men and women, that I masturbate to both gay and straight porn depending on my mood, and since the idea of touching a cock (and maybe doing more) arouses me, I thought I'd go with "Bisensual".

But then I did a Google search on the word and was surprised at the primary results, and not only because I thought I had made up the word. According to most of the search results, bisensual means people who are emotionally or romantically (bot not sexually) attracted both men and women. Hello? Sensuality is physical enjoyment, the word itself is based on the root word "sense" which has little to do with emotions and relationships. The five senses enhance those things, not replace them entirely. So this definition is completely off the mark, in my opinion. The second definition in the results at Urban Dictionary make much more sense to me, though readers have not voted it "up" as much, probably because the definition is far too intellectual for the average moron.

I would argue that bisensuality has absolutely nothing to do with romance. Sensuality can be romantic, true, but we humans have five senses, and emotions isn't one of them! Frustrating that so many people can vote "up" on a definition that's so intellectually bankrupt.

Subversive Rejection Feeds Misogyny

Another post by HyperSexualGirl got me thinking about the battle of the sexes.

Well over a year ago I had the best first date I have ever had. We hit it off, we shared the same philosophies and ideas, same favorite movies, same books, favorite bands and more. I couldn't believe it. Could my luck with women finally be turning around? All hints to the positive.

Before the date even ended, she asked me out on the second date. Unprecedented, I thought, this is new territory and it feels great! But alas, how short the euphoria would last!

The next day upon reflection, how well the date went, how the conversation just flowed, how we had so much in common, I realized that on the date something happened that has never happened to me before. She spoke in language that connected with my soul. The way she formed her sentences, the way she put her words together and the way she expressed her ideas, it turned me on! My heart and mind felt relieved that maybe I had finally found The One. Her personality was truly that attractive to me. I felt so blessed to have met this person!

Resisting the foolish temptation to become her husband in my imagination, and not wanting to seem desperate, I waited until the next day after to call and thank her for a great date. Just a regular message: hey it was great I had an awesome time, looking forward to seeing you again. Not overbearing, not over the top, not over-impassioned, not psycho, just casual.

Contrary to all prominent indicators, however, she never called me back.

Three weeks later she finally emailed me (what could be more cowardly?) saying she got back together with her "ex" and that I was a "great guy" and all that. Now, it's fine for her to get "more serious again" with her ex, but what she doesn't know is that we have mutual friends... And there is no ex!

Was she suffering from an utter lack of integrity? Did she flat-out lie? Was it all because I didn't kiss her after the date? If only she'd tell me the truth. I knew the ex story was BS, and leaving me for three weeks to contemplate why I might be getting blown off after such a great date was just absolute cruelty. Was my time and emotions not even worth a 15-second return phone call?! Apparently not, and it amounted to absolute disrespect.

Despite my determination to not blame all women for the pain and anguish caused me by the few, stuff like this plays tricks on one's mind. It fucks with your self esteem, diminishes your self worth. The guy comes away with nothing positive, nothing constructive, no advice or direction to learn from the experience. The guy is left with nothing more than one big "WHAT THE FUCK?!" and that's only one step away from saying "FUCKING LYING BITCH" and that happens enough times and the next step is "FUCKING WOMEN" because the culmination of experiences has no positive return for your emotional investment. All you get is confusion, wasted time, and the painful conclusion that you must have gotten rejected. The let down is a thousand times worse, because not only are you rejected, but you didn't even get the respect of her honesty, which could have saved you thinking about her so much, all that empty wishing, the hoping beyond hope that it's REAL this time.

In some ways I believe this reactive misogyny has happened to me. I have been deceived and hurt so many times by women: blown off, given the wrong phone number, told "yes" to a date then they drop off the face of the earth... one woman even gave me her boyfriend's phone number! Now it's hard to think of a more dishonest, disrespectful, manipulative, cruel and inhumane way to treat another human being. To use me as an instrument of jealousy, to realize rejection in the form of the threat of violence: "I'll kick your ass for asking out my girlfriend!"

Ladies, understand that by not having the GUTS to tell us men the truth when it comes to how you react to our advances, you are only doing humankind a terrible disservice, and merely making peace and love an even more distant dream. Men who face constant and continuous rejection without courtesy or explanation, become the Hitlers, Kilmer Rouge, and Ted Bundy's of the world.

Yes, women, believe it or not you do have that much power. Please use it wisely, and just be honest with men.

Thanks.

Bi-Curious Poll Results

Nearly sixty percent of voters said they wish this site had more bisexual pics and vids. So of course it got me thinking. They must mean threesomes, MMF (male-male-female). So is that the dominant paradigm in bisexual desires? Is it merely a group-of-three fetish? Do some men gather some form of comfort with having a woman there? Would they stay hard if she left? Would they think they were gay if they did stay hard?

To me, my bisexuality is more about a duality of lust. My attraction for one sex seems to wax and wane, like the phases of the moon. My gayness surges in a tide, then will wither down until only straight sex consumes my fantasies, then will come rushing back. For me, the beauty of bisexuality is the option to sleep with a man or a woman, that both can get me hard and, presumably, get me off and satisfy my lustful cravings. That just feels like it opens so many doors for me, that I don't need to be pigeonholed into a straight or gay category. It feels like goddamn freedom.

Despite my decision to admit my bisexuality to myself, and to continue to be more honest with myself, I still struggle with having to have a label at all. "Bisexual". Does that word exactly describe my shade of gay? Not really. Come to think of it, bisexual can mean a lot of things and describes little. Would a better term for men who only get off on MMF be "trisexual"? Are guys who would sleep with either a guy or girl but not both "polarsexual"? Are people who'd fuck anything, human or animal, "omnisexual"? Are anything-goes group sex participants "polysexual"? All these labels... are they really necessary?

Women and the Control of Men

A comment by HyperSexualGirl on one of my recent posts got me thinking about how women control men. She said she found it curious that I was jealous of women's control over men, because she didn't think of it that way. I can respect that and responded in kind; but I also would ask, does someone have to be cognizant of control to have it? I would have to argue a resounding no.

The way straight guys act around women is cold, hard evidence that they are under control like puppets on a string. At the bars, men encircle single women with attention, each hoping to get a piece of action, and it is she who decides who is going to get it, if any of them at all. She decides. Under these circumstances, who is in control? Who holds the power?

Straight men, whether married, single, or in a relationship, all act completely different around their buddies than they do in front of women. Why? Because they know if they say something piggish they might not be getting laid for a while. Again, men's behavior indicates they are manipulated by the chance of getting some pussy.

Need more examples? Guys do stupid, stupid things to try to get laid. Guys will clear their schedule if it means they have a chance at hooking up. They'll drive 400 miles. They'll spend hundreds at the bar or on a date. Think of it this way, have you ever seen a hot woman on the side of the road with car trouble? Ten guys will inevitably be clambering over each other to help her first. Because they are nice? Ha! Just put a regular Joe on the side of the road and see how fast he gets help. Women control men. Period.

How else do women use the prospect of sex to gain benefits in countless situations? Ladies Night no cover, getting bought drinks, passing out fake phone numbers, it's all a ruse to manipulate and control men. Some women are very verbal about their abuse of foolish guys who will shell out for drinks all night long. I have personally overheard them boast of their abilities to keep the drinks flowing from guys they know don't have a chance at any action. The manipulative control can make an innocent bystander completely sick.

Not all women can control all men, though. The factors include two things, and two things only: her relative attractiveness, and his relative attraction to her. Without the attraction, there is no want or need for her pussy, so her power to control him is limited at best. There are certainly other ways that she could make his life hell, but if you're withholding a pussy that he doesn't want, sorry sister, you've got no chips left. And when your sex life is bankrupt, he'll be going to get controlled somewhere else. Maybe a girlfriend or a hooker, who knows, but he's going to get it somewhere. Else.

And what, may I ask, makes strip clubs so popular with men? It's probably not the food, big screen TV's or the great deals on drinks. If women had no power or control over men, the guys sure as hell wouldn't be sitting there bleeding money, getting cock-teased and blue-balled all night, unless of course he can afford enough lap dances to actually get off dry. And that's a double-edged sword, believe me, as it will make a guy ten times hornier than he was before. And men practically become gorillas when they're super horny.

Still need more evidence that women control sex and therefore control men? The fact that rape exists. Don't get me wrong, rape is a terrible crime, my point is that the woman decides whether sex is consensual or not. Even after the fact she could technically decide that she had really said "no," and he had raped her. Even if that's not what happened, it could quickly become, literally, a he-said-she-said case. Now, who is the judge likely to believe? Furthermore, what man could go into a hospital, claiming he was raped last night by a woman, saying, "she fucked me!" They'd congratulate him, give him a ribbon and a pat on the back, and send him on his merry way.

The fact is, women decide who gets laid and when. And after men fall all over themselves trying to impress them with society's ridiculous Cinderella games and knightly expectations, what do they get? You can be certain, if it's anything at all, she controls that decision.

Women control sex. Men want sex. Therefore women control men. Straight men, that is.

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.

Gay Urges Explained

Lately I've been masturbating to gay material pretty much exclusively. I don't know if this is because I'm becoming more gay, less bisexual, or if I'm gearing up for my first experience, or if I'm finally giving up on women or what. It's weird because usually I'm pretty self aware and clued-in to what's going on inside of me. This one is kind of confusing though. I've been on the gay/straight fence for so long, sometimes I wonder if I'm hanging on to bisexuality in the hopes that there's a women out there for me. It's like I'm afraid to give up on women, afraid to totally disavow my attraction to them, for fear that I'd be letting something go that I still want. But then the pain of failure surfaces again and I immediately feel the bitterness bubble up... They make it so hard! And I'm not just talking about my dick.

I simply want my cock worshiped. I don't care what gender gives it the attention it needs, just as long as I'm attracted to them, and as long as they treat my trouser snake like a friggin' king-god. Kneel before it, kiss it, lick it, suck it, shower it with love and affection. Treat it like an altar, a sacrament, show it respect and admiration. Force it down your throat, expertly guide it deep into your ass. Love every inch.

The most alluring thing about having a gay experience is the assumption that my cock will be treated to the attentive affections of someone who knows what the hell they are doing. What makes dicks feel good is no mystery to gay men. They understand cock intimately, what it craves, what makes it tick. The penis is not an extraordinarily complex organ, yet it can shrivel in the hands of the inexperienced and the timid.

I want to be naked on a bed, lean back with my hands behind my head, and have some muscular masseuse oil my engine and coax out a cumload. I want an intimate massage from some hot beefcake, and see him get hard through high-cut silky gym shorts. Then reach out while he stands over me and stroke his cum out all over my chest and abs.