All Blog Entries

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]We got to more current events and I got an eye-brow raise out of him talking about my open marriage and the live-in girlfriend my wife and I shared as well as raising two kids our girlfriend brought to the relationship - he was writing copious notes during this part of the discussion. Then he said, "Okay, thanks - let's backtrack just a bit; how does being bisexual make you feel?"

What an odd question but I answered it by saying, "Whole. Complete. It's not a big deal."

"I should think not, given how long you've been having sex in this way," he said. "So, here comes the biggest question."

"Oh, here we go...," I said, trying to inject a bit of humor.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Um, because the surgeon said he wanted me to come here," I answered, confused by his question. "He said I'm depressed and he wasn't going to fix my neck with my head messed up and, speaking of which, that antidepressant is really doing a number on me; sometimes I find myself staring blankly with nothing really going on inside my head."

"You can stop taking it," he said,making yet another note. "Despite everything you've told me, you seem to be quite well-adjusted and I have to admit that I find you a bit unusual in this context; given your sexual history, a lot of people present with various levels of emotional trauma being exposed to sex at such a young age... yet, you don't present with any of those issues."

"I've had a long time to put things into perspective," I said with a shrug. "It's just sex, just another way to express myself both physically and even emotionally and while there are rules about that, I understand the rules are, well, nothing more than well-meant bullshit."

"Interesting," he said - and in that way I'd come to be annoyed. "Still, I don't quite understand why you're here."

"Did you miss the part where I said the surgeon said I had to be here?" I asked.

"No," he said, laughing. "I was under the impression that he thought your depression was being caused by something other than the medical issue but, well, I don't see any signs of that. You've had an... interesting way of life; you're comfortable with things that would normally unnerve a great many people... so this is what I'm going to do. I'll send the surgeon my final report and clear you for having the surgery you obviously need."

"Thanks," I said. "I know that once he fixes my neck, all of this is going to go away although, um, I'm not thrilled about him cutting my throat."

He laughed again and I laughed with him. "You've got a good sense of humor about it."

"It's either that or freak out over it," I said with a shrug.

"Does your sexuality give you any real problems?" he asked.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Do you ever feel... guilty? As if you've been going about having sex in a wrong way?" he asked.

"No, not really," I said. "I know what I was told about sex and I've since learned that what I was told wasn't the real deal, not the whole story. I had to pretty much learn this on my own, through trial and error, doing a lot of reading, talking to those I could talk to and, of course, having sex."

"If you could change any of it, would you?" he asked.


[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]In early 1990, I was diagnosed with multi-level herniated discs in my neck that had me in great agony for just about two years before changing doctors and being properly checked out and pointed toward a surgeon who promised to make the pain go away... but first, he wanted me to see a mental health professional to help me deal with the depression I was suffering because of the literal pain in my neck and the surgeon didn't feel comfortable operating on me with my head all messed up.

I didn't want to do that - I wanted and needed my neck to be fixed but, under the HMO terms at the time, I had no choice in the matter so I made an appointment and went to get my head checked out and it was all I could do to show up and not be resistant to what the therapist had to say. For the next month, I saw the therapist twice a week and he wanted to know [B]everything[/B] about me, how I grew up, my relationship with my parents and siblings, wife, kids, job, etc., and on one particular day, he began the session with a topic/question: "Let's talk about sex - do you feel comfortable with this?"

"Sure, why not?" I answered rather sullenly because the antidepressant had me feeling like a zombie.

He launched into a Q&A - when did I become sexually active? Did I masturbate? When did I first ejaculate? and I told him [B]everything[/B] about myself and sex. Part of me wanted to shock him, to disrupt his ultra-cool demeanor and mannerism and as I revealed all, well, my "plan" backfired because he remained undisturbed; I later thought that had I been thinking "right," I would have realized that he had probably heard more shocking stuff from his other patients and over the duration of his practice. Still, it took a couple more sessions before I got finished responding to his line of questioning and instead of disturbing him, I was disturbed because he'd just nod a lot, take a couple of notes, and move on to the next question and not giving me any real feedback.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]After we both got redressed, I ran home to wash up and to, um, shit out whatever jizz he had shot into me that hadn't already oozed out. Yeah, didn't like that part so much but wasn't much to be done about it. My butt was sore after taking three dicks in it and as I finished up and went back outside, I knew I wanted to be fucked again because, stupid brain, being fucked - and having sex, period - was just a whole lot of fun even if boys weren't supposed to have sex with each other.

Later, one of my "regular" adults wanted me to "run an errand" for him and after returning with the items he wanted from the store - and pocketing the money he gave me for running the errand, I was on my belly with his much bigger dick worming its way in and out of me after having spent some very delicious time sucking on it. I knew, with this man, that our "ritual" was for me to suck him until he was good and hard, then he'd fuck me and shoot a "gallon" of jizz into me, followed by him easing out, flipping me over, and sucking my dick until I shot my stuff in his mouth - and I remembered his reaction the first time I shot in his mouth and him saying that I was awfully young to be doing that now.

Afterward, I roamed the neighborhood, not looking for any more sex but to walk off the soreness in my butt left behind by the "very big" adult dick. As I roamed, I thought about that question again and found that I really did know what I was doing and even why I was doing it... because I was truly bisexual and as evidence by the joy I felt when one of the girls who liked to fuck wanted me to eat her pussy and fuck her.

So much fun. So much sex. And the next day would start things all over again.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Maybe three weeks before, I had learned a new word: Bisexual and it did explain what I'd been doing all along - having sex with boys and girls. I'm conjuring up enough spit to make my dick go in the other guy - he kinda squealed when I started pushing my dick into him and he even said, "That fucker is bigger than it looks!" I kinda laughed and kept pushing until I got as much of my dick in his ass as I could - and started fucking him, feeling him squirming under me, feeling his ass trying to shit me out of there, listening to him moaning and groaning and saying something about this is what he needed.

But my mind is just distracted enough wondering why I was doing this that I felt... detached. It felt good and I loved looked down and seeing my dick jammed in his butt but it wasn't as crazy exciting as such a sight usually was - and it was taking me longer to shoot my stuff and not that he seemed to be complaining about too much. I was so distracted that I could feel myself getting ready to shoot... then it would stop, then almost ready again, nope, not ready and it's starting to bother me but he's egging me on to keep doing it to him harder and faster... but even that didn't make me shoot - it just got me paying some very clear attention that I had my very hard dick stuck in a boy's ass and I was fucking him.

What the hell is going on here? I want to shoot but I can't! I remember taking a deep but frustrated breath and I guess my whole body relaxed because instead of feeling myself getting ready to shoot, I was (once again) shooting and the feeling hit me pretty hard and so hard it actually made my head hurt. He's underneath of me and practically shouting, "Shoot it in me! Shoot all of it in me!" Of course, that's what I did to his delight and, eventually, my own... but, damn, this took longer than it should have and all because my stupid brain wanted to mess with me.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]He was three years older than I was and his dick was fatter than the guys who were my age but as he said when we got to a hideout and undressed, I had a big dick (whatever that meant) and he was happy to see that. We settled in to suck each other and he told me that he had heard that I was good at sucking dick and was very impressed that I could suck down all of his dick - but, then again, I was practicing on dicks way longer and fatter than his so for me, that was easy and after sucking down all of his dick twice, he shot his jizz in my mouth and I shot mine in his a moment or two later.

Now we were going to fuck each other and I couldn't wait to feel his hard prick going in; it was going to hurt a bit more than the other two times I'd been fucked that day but I had learned that it was gonna do that strange thing of hurting but feeling good at the same time. He wanted to be fucked first but I said I wanted to go first and after he applied as much spit as he could generated, he laid on top of me and pushed his dick into my ass and we both sighed... and my brain said, "You're doing it again! What are you doing?"

I hated this because I didn't know the answer; I went from feeling heavenly to not feeling heavenly even as the guy fucked me, sometimes really slow, sometimes really hard and fast. His bigger dick was stretching my hole enough to be comfortably uncomfortable and I liked hearing that slapping sound every time he plunged his dick into me and his belly slapped my butt cheeks. Oh, I was going to love it when he shot his stuff into me and I squirmed under him, something I had learned could make a guy shoot even faster - and that voice in my head said, "I understand what you're doing and why..."

The guy cried out; I felt his dick get bigger inside me and I felt it when that first shot of jizz flew into me; he's shooting and just lying atop me and I can feel it all and it felt so damned good because, in truth, there was no other reason to be doing what I was doing other than it felt good to have a guy shoot his stuff in my ass.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]He pulled out and I could already feel his jizz starting to ooze out of me; he rolled me over, sucked on my dick to get it good and hard before putting a big glob of Vaseline on me - then straddled me so he could sit down on my dick (another cool thing we learned could be done just a week before). As he rode me, it was so good... but that question was still bouncing around in my head and distracting me from being able to see my dick going in and out of him as well as watching his dick - which was hard again - bouncing up and down as he moved. Eventually, he made me shoot in his butt, the question forgotten for the time being and after getting all cleaned up, I went on my way and hoping that I'd run into someone else who wanted to fuck me.

As I roamed the neighborhood, I went back to the question that almost - and again - ruined my fun. Sure... boys weren't supposed to fuck other boys but they do and it felt good to be fucked just as much as it felt to be the one doing the fucking. It was nasty to fuck each other in the ass because dooky came out of there... but despite that, eh, no one really cared - I didn't but most of us had the good sense not to fuck if someone needed to poop.

I knew what I was doing - I was having sex but what I didn't really understand was [I]why[/I] I liked having sex with boys as much as I did, other than the obvious fact that it felt good, it was "nasty," and one could get into some very serious trouble if they got caught doing it to another boy. It wouldn't occur to me until many years later than I liked being fucked because, simply, being fucked was just a normal thing to happen. It didn't seem right to me that only girls could be fucked and it didn't quite feel right to fuck a girl and, of course, she couldn't fuck me as I did to her - only boys could do that and while I couldn't really answer the question, it didn't stop me from looking for someone else to fuck me. And twenty minutes later, I ran into one of the older boys and he wanted to have sex - so off we went to do just that.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]For the second time that day, one of my friends was fucking me and I was in heaven feeling him moving inside of me. About an hour before that, a friend and I were sitting around thinking of something to do and, predictably, he asked if I wanted to do it, I said that I did... and we did it. First, we sucked each other off since we'd figured out how both dicks could be sucked at the same time; then after a really short break, I slid my dick into his butt after applying some hair grease (and because he couldn't find the Vaseline) and fucked him until I came, then immediately switched places with him so he could fuck me and squirt his stuff inside me.

Delicious and so much fun. So here I was again, with another friend and after completing the "ritual" of sucking each other off first, I wanted to be fucked first and I literally sighed happily when he pushed his dick into my ass and started slowly fucking me and like he had all day. I could feel him inside me and I could hear the squishy sounds being made as his Vaseline coated dick moved in and out of me and I was so comfortable that I almost nodded off for a moment... but my brain prevented that by asking me, "What are you doing? Why is he fucking you in the ass and like you're a girl?"

And that question, coming when it did and pretty much out of the blue, kinda bothered me. It wasn't the first time I "heard" that question in my head (and it wouldn't be the last time) but I ignored it enough to get back to enjoy being fucked and once more sighing when I felt his dick pumping jizz into my butt.[/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]The guy who did the sucking stands up - they both can see me now; the guy who got sucked looks at me, nods, then asks, "Yo... are you down? Let me suck that dick!"

And it took me a whole two seconds to think about it and say, "Sure... why not?"

I put my bag down and lean against the tree; homey kneels down and frees my dick, mutters something I couldn't quite make out - and gets to sucking. I gasp because of the cold then the warmth of his mouth and I'm looking at the other guy who's just standing by and stroking his dick... and I'll be damned if he wasn't getting hard again. The guy working me over is going to town on me and it didn't take him very long to get me fucking into his mouth and busting a nut of my own.

"That was decent, my man," the guy said to me after swallowing my load. I'm gasping and all that and thinking about doing some cock sucking myself - and, preferably, the dick that hadn't been in somebody's ass already. But the cold is a great motivator and despite the excitement, I can feel the cold getting to me. I zip back up, the guy who sucked me off thanks me... then grabs the tree again and the other guy steps up and slides all that dick in his ass - again. As I pick up my bag, I'm impressed that homey doing the fucking again has that kind of stamina and as I start on my way home, I hear the guy who blew me tell the other guy, "Old dude has a nice dick..."

The other guy says, "Yeah, I saw - should've gotten some of that myself..."

Shit... had it been warmer, he could have sucked me, too; he might have been able to slide that python in my ass, all things considered. The rest of my walk home was on rather shaky legs and I'm laughing to myself as I think about having done something that, given the conditions, I still don't remember ever doing; again, having sex outdoors was a been there, done that thing for me - but never in cold weather. I was a bit miffed that I didn't get to suck either of those big dicks - but not just because they were big; that never mattered to me and I kept thinking that had it been much warmer, the guy who sucked me would have gotten the favor returned - I was sure that even though he had just recently busted, he could've gotten it up again.

Oh, well. As I returned to the warmth of my home, I realized that I was no longer frustrated about the car not starting and reminded myself that there's really no "bad time" to get a blow job even when you're not thinking about one or expecting it. Sometimes - most of the time, really - I seem to wind up in the right place at the right time.[/SIZE][/FONT]