[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]Too many times after swearing off anal sex I’d find myself under some guy and filled with his dick, knowing it felt good to be there but not liking the fact that I was there and just enduring things. Too many times I found myself breaking my promise and stuffing myself into a very willing butt, knowing that this was what would really get me off but, again, hating myself that this was the only solution. I did see that picking my moments for this, to fuck and be fucked, was all about being with the right guy in the right moment; I had to make myself agree that when I wanted to feel a hard dick pulsing away inside me, well, that’s what I needed and to deny myself didn’t make sense - it could be fun again when it needed to be fun. Too many times a guy would be sucking me and it was so good and I’d hear myself say, “Fuck me...” when we agreed not to fuck. One time I’d been with a very gay dude and our first time was very good as we sucked each other off and agreed to meet again but that next time was so different. I’d sucked him off fairly quickly and settled in to enjoy his mouth on me and it was good... but not so much and I found myself pulling away from him, literally throwing him onto his back, and ramming my dick into him which, later, he said he loved despite it being unexpected. But I was still pissed with myself about it and kept searching for the source of my anger.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I’ve sucked more dick and have been fucked more than most women I know but after my experience with a guy with the biggest cock I’d ever seen and had, I lost interest in anal sex. For the longest time, I blamed this on Mr. Biggest Dick Ever until I re-examined my time with him and saw that, really, he didn’t do anything to turn that part of me off. It took me decades to figure out that getting dicked as a matter of course or habit just stopped being fun for me and I had, stupidly, felt there was no need to be fucked and, in turn, no need for me to slide my dick into some guy’s butt. Yet, there were, let’s say, too many times when cock would meet ass because it had to and I understood this... but didn’t like it, even when every fiber of my being was screaming for a guy to fuck me or there would be a guy doing his best to get me off like that and it wasn't happening and, no, it wasn’t him - it was me being silly and denying myself a pleasure I knew I needed.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I couldn't deny that I loved having sex with men and my live-in lover actually got on my nerves at one point with how much he wanted sex from me but I chilled that attitude because when you're in love, having tons of sex is just part of the deal... but it didn't help me answer the question and a question that I felt was taking me way too long to answer. It wasn't until one night I was dick deep in my wife when I realized that, duh, if I were gay, would I really be enjoying filling her with dick? I remember busting a nut in her, pulling out, and going back down on her, tasting my own spunk as it flowed out of her when the voice that asked the question spoke up and said, "Um, no, you're not gay at all!" It had taken me almost two years to answer the question and I was quite pissed with myself because had I been paying attention to what I was doing more than I was worrying about the "Am I really gay?" question, I could have answered it and as soon as the question was asked since, um, I had just finished fucking my wife and had a grand time doing it. But it did make me pay more attention to what I was doing and why. One night, we invited my lover to our bed because, for one, we both loved him and, two, we both thought it was strange that a gay man wanted to know what pussy tasted like and, according to my wife, he didn't do bad going down on her and even he admitted that she, as a woman, wasn't a slouch when it came to sucking dick. At one point during this grand experiment, I was deep inside her and sucking my lover's cock and noticed what I was doing and, importantly, how he was clinging to her and even fondling her boobs and my mind said, "See, if you were really gay, you wouldn't be enjoying any of this, would you?" Later, while she slept, my lover and I were up talking about this event and even he had wondered if he was as gay as he knew himself to be; he even said, "I can see why you like pussy so much! It's so different than what I've been used to!" But we both agreed that, no, I wasn't really gay any more than he was bi and it put the question to bed for good. I just never figured out why it took my so long to question my real sexuality and why it took so long to answer it other than, as I said, not paying attention to what I was doing all along.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I'd been throwing it down with boys/men and girls/women so much that it never dawned on me to question my sexuality and more so after an early trip to the public library taught me the word, "bisexual" and had me saying to myself, "So that's what I've been doing!" But when I was 20 - and after back to back to back days of running into guys who wanted to suck, fuck, or both, I'd just finished screwing the daylights out my wife and as she lay there dozing, a voice in my head asked, "Hey, are you gay?" The question had never crossed my mind before so it hit me pretty hard; it made me backtrack a lot of years and look at my sexual behavior closely and in ways I'd never done before... and I was very bothered by what I saw in my memories and, in particular, how stupidly easy it was for a guy to get me to have sex with him and, as I've shared, all a guy had to do was pull his dick out and look at me and I'd be all over it. Ask me if I wanted to do it and the answer was always, "Yeah!" and even if, after the fact, I was asking myself if it was that great an idea to do it with this guy. The question plagued me, distracted me as I searched for a definitive answer... but not paying one bit of attention to the fact that since my wife and I had given each other permission to do things with other people, I was really getting "more than my fair share" of cunt and cock and just as I'd been doing all along. Then I fell in love with a guy and it was magical and so very intense... and the question burned a hole in my mind even though I found myself doing double duty, making love with him and my wife damn near every day and that didn't really include those days when my love and lover would pounce on me to suck my dick and just because he knew I'd want it and he could do it.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]In the morning, wow, he got up and I was also awake and didn't miss the confused look on his face or the fact that he did a double take or two or three looking at me. I faked like I was just waking up and spoke to him as if nothing had happened and enjoying the look on his face that was telling me that he knew something had happened - he just didn't know if it was real or imagined. And I was still pissed off enough that I wasn't gonna say a word even if he asked. All during getting washed and dressed and him fixing breakfast, he's looking at me as if trying to figure out if I had done what he was thinking I may have done, like he somehow knew he had gotten sucked off but, again, couldn't figure out if he had been dreaming or not... and I sat there looking as innocent as anyone could be. I could tell he wanted to ask me something and I was sitting there deciding to confess to the deed... or to act like I had no idea what he was talking about. He never asked, though and I knew it was fucking with him to not know or be able to confirm whether he had been dreaming... Or that his oldest boy had sucked his dick and made him cum. To be honest, I think he eventually figured it out; I'd run into him in my travels around the city and he always looked like he wanted to ask me something about that night but he never did ask. A lot of years later, I did ask him, you know, just being "curious," why he said what he said that night and, at first, he acted like he didn't remember what he said - but I knew that he did but he eventually said that he wanted to assure me that he didn't have any homosexual thoughts about me or make me feel uncomfortable about sleeping in the same bed with him. I just said, "Oh, okay, Dad - see ya later, okay?" I started to tell him what I'd done and why I did it - well, as much as I understood it but I didn't. He knew what I'd done that night; he was a drunkard but he wasn't a stupid man and I knew he'd figure it out but it was now a matter of whether or not he was ever going to say anything to me about it. But I got to taste the sperm that made me, the ultimate of tastes...[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=verdana]This was, without any doubt, the nastiest thing I'd ever done (or would ever do again) and I was caught up in between being very concerned about this... and not giving a fuck. He was oozing pre-cum almost like a fountain and I found the taste of it to be... curious. It was a bit salty but also quite sweet and the smart part of my brain said it was because of the booze, which is just a complex sugar so that it was sweet-tasting was fine.[/FONT] [FONT=verdana]It's hot and I'm sweating like a fiend, resisting the urge to leap into "full suck mode" and treat his dick like any other I'd suck but, nah, waking him up would still be very bad. He's rambling on and on and even muttered his alcoholic girlfriend's name, something that almost made me laugh but I was determined to get even with him for that "no funny stuff" comment. He's thrusting into my mouth and I just stayed as still as I could and I could tell he was about to cum and I wanted him to and, in a way, I was hoping that as he busted his nut, he'd wake up and find out it was me blowing him - that would serve him right, wouldn't it? Funny stuff indeed! He grunted and his whole body got as stiff as his dick was as he cut loose a pretty good first shot, followed by a whole lot of spunk and I made it all disappear. I felt so nasty and wicked as I finished him off until I felt him getting soft. I released him and I felt so good... yet so goddamned guilty that I almost jumped up to put my clothes back on and leave. But that evil part of me said I should stay and see what happens in the morning and before I dropped off to sleep, I spent some time beating my meat until I blew a pretty big load for me.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]I gave my father a blow job, not because he wanted it or "made" me do it but out of sheer spite and because of something he said that I took offense to but don't ask me why it offended me because I really don't know why. My parents had separated and mostly due to his alcoholism and chronic unemployment because he couldn't stay out of the bottle long enough to get and keep a job. I went to visit him where he stayed with his new girlfriend and her slew of children and agreed to spend the night with him. By the time everyone was ready for bed, he was in his usual state of being seriously drunk; we opened up the sofa bed and he explained that because there were so many people in the tiny apartment, we'd have to share the sofa bed and I was fine with that. We both stripped down to our underwear and got into bed and just as we were settling in, he said, "Don't worry - ain't gonna be no funny stuff!" And it somehow pissed me off - again, I still don't know why it did. He's lying there snoring and I'm wide awake and more pissed off than I'd ever been; he turns over onto his back, muttering something, and the sheet comes off of him and I look over and saw his very hard dick sticking out of his underwear and, well, the devil jumped all over me. I said to myself, "No funny stuff, huh?" leaned over, grabbed his dick, and sucked the knob into my mouth. I knew he wasn't going to wake up and beat me within an inch of my life; when he was that drunk, we could have had a major earthquake and he wouldn't have woken up. It was scary but so exciting at the same time; as I worked my mouth on his dick, I was thinking that I was sucking on the dick that participated in giving me life and if things continued to go well, I'd soon be tasting the same sperm he'd put into my mother that conceived me. There were all kinds of "alarms" going off in my head as I got bolder and sucked more of his big dick into my mouth and my focus was divided; one "eye" on what I was doing and one "eye" on him for any signs that he was waking up. Again, I knew for a fact that if he woke up, my ass was going to be grass big time. He was moaning unintelligent things as I sucked him; that automatic reaction kicked in that had him fucking into my mouth and, getting even more bold, I cupped his balls gently to kinda "urge" him to put more of his dick into my mouth. I was enjoying it... but I was still very pissed off at the same time.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[FONT=verdana][SIZE=3]It made sense to me and it still does today. I often feel embarrassed to think about how easy it was for someone to have sex with me; I don't remember ever telling someone that I didn't want to do it. Sometimes, all a guy had to do was show me his dick and I wanted to suck it and have it in me and if a girl wanted to do it, I'd practically fall all over myself to get us naked so I could lick her pussy and stick it in her somewhere; a lot of girls preferred to be fucked in the ass to preserve their virginity and to avoid getting pregnant; it was a thing for parents to drag their daughter in and have a doctor verify that she hadn't been having sex and they'd do it in a heartbeat if they thought she was. Not so much with boys, though, which made it "safer" for us to have sex with each other since, um, there was nothing to check on us except to make sure our nuts had dropped down like they were supposed to. Otherwise, we could suck and fuck each other with near impunity and the only real worry was getting caught in the act... and even if that did happen, it didn't stop things and, perhaps, as parents thought it would. I enjoy reading about the guys who, like me, got started early...[/SIZE][/FONT]
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