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I was sitting and reliving those early days and how they set the stage for who I am today. I was ten when I learned about eating pussy - because my father told me to never do it and I didn't know what the heck he was talking about. I had gone out and ran into my sister, who realized something was bothering me and when she asked, I told her and she said, "Let's find out why you shouldn't!"

Snuck back in the house (my dad had gone somewhere) and we're in her room, we're both naked and I have my face between her legs and doing my best not to throw up but after getting it under control, I stuck my tongue out and licked her pussy and, holy crap: This was better than sucking a dick! I remember finding her "little man in the boat" and licking and sucking it until she practically screamed at me to stick it in her and fuck her and... why not even though I knew this was even more wrong than having sex with my brother but at ten years old, I understood something important: My sister was a girl and just like any other girl except she was my sister. I fucked her and came in her and she said, "We should do this more often!"

And we did and I didn't feel bad about it but one day I was worried about us doing it and that's when she famously said that as long as I didn't get her pregnant, what's the problem - and get to eating her pussy. I knocked on wood because a week after we stopped having sex, her boyfriend got her pregnant when she was 14. Still, by this time, I knew there was a word for what I was doing with boys and girls and it was "bisexual" and learning this word earlier was a major revelation for me and... I needed to know more about it, which meant having more sex with boys, girls, quite a few adult men and that one time when me and one of my friends... had sex with his drunken mom - and I found out that she was the reason why he knew how to do it because she'd get drunk and, well, he had to have sex with her.

I learned some stuff about having sex that I knew I wasn't supposed to know and between what I was learning about sex and my great desire to do it, by the time I was 16, I knew more about having sex than most adults did and more so when I no longer believed what they had to say about having sex: You could really have sex with anyone as long as they wanted to. And I do mean anyone and I was learning so much about why people had sex and it didn't have anything to do with making babies which, by the way, I did that when I was 15 and with the girl who would become my wife.

The first friend I told... already knew about this. We both got highly excited as I told him what had happened and we wound up going to one of our hideouts so we could suck on each other's dicks and tried fucking each other and both things felt so good. More friends got told that day - some of them already knew about this and some didn't but wanted to and... I was off and running with it and to the extent that even today, I'm embarrassed at how easy it was for a guy - any guy - to get me to suck his dick and swallow his stuff - cum - if he had it. I'd let so many guys and, yes, grown men fuck me that getting their dicks into my ass was kinda easier; the adults who fucked me didn't want to really hurt or damage me (and I'd later in life understand why) but I never complained or cried when they'd get the head of their dick in me and shoot their warm stuff in me.

Of course, my friends all had smaller dicks so with some spit, Vaseline, lotions, or hair grease, getting their dicks into my ass was easy and I loved how it felt to have a dick in me and feel the guy on top of me and... I couldn't understand how something that we were told was so bad could feel so good. And then my little and only brother wanted in on the act and he knew what I was doing because the jerk would follow me around or would be sneaky about it and he bugged me for the longest time for us to "do the nasty." He never threatened to tell our parents and I didn't want to do it with him because I knew that if we got caught, the beatings would be terrible but I eventually caved in. By this time, puberty had showed up early for me so I was shooting lots of stuff and my brother liked it when I shot it in his mouth and his butt; I liked sucking him even though he couldn't shoot and he never complained the first time I fucked him.

He would become one of the best male lovers I've ever had. To me, it didn't get better than being able to have sex with guys and girls and my innate curiosity was hard at work trying to make sense of all of this. Being a homo was very bad but I would hear adults saying that anyone who went both ways were crazy because no one should ever want to have sex with men and women... but I wanted to so did that mean I was crazy? I didn't know... and I didn't care because even when I couldn't fuck a girl, I had plenty of male friends who'd want to have sex and if there was a way to have sex with a guy, we pretty much did it.

Group sex was... par for the course for us, either with each other or with certain girls involved and girls who weren't afraid to do the nasty; when puberty kicked my ass and I'd shot my stuff in a girl, she must've told other girls because a lot of them wanted me to do it to them and shoot my stuff in their pussy or their butt and I was more than happy to do it. Whenever one of us learned something new, we told everyone else and we had to try it out!

Having just celebrated my 68th birthday - and on Bisexual Day at that - I found myself sitting and thinking about my life in total and especially being bisexual. I went all the way back to the beginning when one of my father's drinking buddies paid me to let him stick his dick in my mouth and realizing that the moment the head of his dick was in there and I started moving my tongue on it, I was hooked. It felt so good and I remember being so focused on the new sensations that when he came in my mouth, well, not only did I not know what was going on but it caught me off-guard; the stuff in my mouth tasted sweet - and later in life I'd realize that it was that sweet because he'd been drinking - and so much of it that I swallowed purely by reflex and to keep from choking on it.

When he offered more money to stick his dick between my butt cheeks, I didn't say no and now I had $50 in my hands and maybe you can imagine how far $50 would go back in 1964 - I was rich! He laid me on my stomach and stuck his dick between my cheeks and started to fuck me until he got hard; I could feel the head of his dick pressing against my hole and it felt curiously good; at one point, he had oozed enough pre-cum so that the tip of his dick would slip into me a little; it hurt but kind of not really. I remember lying there thinking about two things: How I was going to spend the $50 and how I was going to keep my parents from knowing that I had it; if they knew or found it, they would take it and, like they did one time when I found an envelope with $1,500 in it, they'd accuse me of stealing it.

I remember hearing grunt - then feeling something warm and sticky in my butt crack and it all felt so nice even though I also realized that what he was doing was wrong and I could get in trouble. He's done with me and my dad comes back with another bag full of booze for them to share and I was excited and scared; I thought that I should tell my father what happened but also thought that if I did, he would beat me for lying on an adult and one of his buddies, at that so I said nothing. But what he did had had me so excited that I couldn't sleep that night and I couldn't wait until morning so I could tell my friends what I had found out!

Now he wanted to be fucked and wasn't happy to hear that it was going to take a while before I could get hard again but while we wait for me to recharge, I can suck him again and, if nothing else, it took his mind off of me not getting instantly hard again after cumming - but he wasn't letting go of his desire to be fucked and as happened in his dreams.

Trying to fuck him was like trying to ride a mechanical bull. He couldn't stay still so I could get inside of him and stay there and even then he was trying to fuck back against me so much and moaning like a ghost that I just wanted this to be over with so he could stop asking me if I had cum yet over and over.

I like enthusiasm over experience but this eager beaver taught me that there's such a thing as being too enthusiastic. I would eventually get him to calm down so that we could have great sex together but it took some doing!

...he went from fondling my nuts to putting quite the grip on them and then used them like a handle to really start shoving my dick into his mouth. I had to tell him to ease up on my nuts, which he kind of did because he didn't let go of them and going at it with a fury that had me concerned about me getting my dick hurt or his gag reflex kicking in and things getting messy.

He was going at me so fast and furious that I couldn't get into what he was doing; his vigor was distracting me and to the point where I also couldn't get into sucking his dick when he stopped long enough to ask if we could 69. The more he sucked me, the more frustrated he seemed to be and he got too rough and I told him to stop and then asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.

He said that he was frustrated because I didn't cum. He didn't think that he was doing it good enough so he had to go harder and faster and I had to tell him that all that did was make me not want to cum because I was now paying more attention to the pain I was feeling. I had to tell him that it takes me a long time to cum being sucked and what he should have done was to start slowly and then build up from there.

My words made him cry and it took me a while to get him settled down so I could suck his dick and show him how it's done. I started slowly, lavishing attention on his knob and licking and sucking his shaft and balls before getting into sucking him, slowly at first but letting my horniness pick up the pace until five minutes later, Stanley was flooding my mouth with his warm cum.

Which only seemed to frustrate him even more because it didn't take a lot to get him to cum - and he felt that he should be able to make me cum quickly, too. Still, once he duplicated the way I'd sucked him, I was finally able to cum and that seemed to make him a very happy camper.

But.

When I first met "Stanley," he was quite likeable and we became friends rather quickly and it didn't take all that long before Stanley confessed to me that he dreams of sucking my cock and asked if I was offended or if I thought this to be weird.

I wasn't offended nor did I think it weird since he wasn't the only guy who'd said such things to me... but I wasn't sure if Stanley was someone I wanted to have sex with even though every time we got together, there was a lot of sexual tension being felt. It wasn't that there was something about him that was off or anything like that; it was that I hadn't gotten to the point in our friendship where having sex with him was in my head and like it was for him but after he told me this and we talked about it, I decided that having sex with him would be fine.

What I didn't know was how badly he wanted to blow me. The moment I said that we could do this, Stanley was out of his clothes so fast that if I hadn't known he was dressed, I could have sworn that he was already naked. His dick was already hard and as I got out of my clothes, I could see that he was already oozing a lot of pre-cum. I'd say that as far as size and girth went, Stanley was pretty average and I did have a moment or two convincing him that I didn't care that he didn't have a big dick.

The moment I got out of my underwear, Stanley tackled me onto his bed, catching me totally off-guard and my martial arts training almost kicked in (that would have been very bad); he tells me again how much he's dreamt of this moment, took a moment to heap praises on my "big" cock - and I was, in fact, longer and thicker than he was but this wasn't a big deal to me.

Stanley wasted no time scooting down between my legs and licking and kissing my dick until I was fully hard - and then, things got interesting. Stanley started sucking me like his life depended on it and doing it roughly enough that I had to ask him to ease up some, which he did until...

It has fascinated the shit out of me how I'll hear a guy say that, yeah, they fooled around with a guy (and no matter who the guy was) and (a) they didn't know what they were doing or, sadly, because there was no cum involved, it didn't happen... and I'm here today to let you know that if you're one of those guys, you might not have known what you were doing but you found or figured it out and whether there was cum or not, it still happened and it did mean something.

When a guy gets introduced, it seriously conflicts with a lot of stuff and our minds are all about not only simplifying things but also protecting itself; "Billy" and "Charley" showed each other their dicks and got to sucking them and because this is wrong, well, those two "excuses" are pretty common up to and including denying that they liked it when they know that they did.

Everyone has a first time and when it happens, it happens so growing into adulthood and, bluntly, lying to yourself shouldn't make sense to you - but I get it; the long-standing social and moral angst against homosexuality puts a lot of fear into us over what someone else is going to say or do if they were to find out that we got introduced to sex with men when the thing to really be concerned with is how you're going to deal with knowing that you did it, you liked it, and you wouldn't mind doing a lot more of it.

Even I learned that no matter what someone says or tries to do, it... changes nothing. And, oh, yeah: If I think you don't need to know, you're never going to know. I know what it's like to be introduced and now... you just gotta tell everyone about it and, sometimes, finding out that it was a mistake and, sometimes, a "costly one." No matter how you were introduced, there are some people who do not need to know... unless you like someone chewing you out over not being straight and like you're supposed to be.

As such, being introduced isn't the problem: It's how you deal with yourself after the fact that becomes of greater import.

We share our beginnings with each other here and this is a good thing and especially for those guys who, today, are feeling some kind of way over how they got introduced but... feel better about it knowing that they were never alone in this and that there is someone here who found out about dick like you did and that, again, many of us here had that first time, too. Or they're waiting to have it.

I've asked, "What are you waiting for?" and it's been interesting to see what those of you who are sitting on the bench has to say about this and citing many things that, in actuality, can be dealt with, minimized, or totally mitigated so that taking the plunge isn't going to be the problem it's believed to be. It's okay to fantasize about having that first time but there comes a point in time where reality asserts itself and you're either going to find a way to formally introduce yourself or... you never will and you gotta ask yourself if not doing any of the stuff you've fantasized and jerked off about is really a good thing for yourself as a person and as a man.'

If it truly is something you really want and need to do, you'll find a way to do it but it you don't, it's not someone else stopping you from experience being introduced - that's you doing it to yourself and, again, does it really make sense to suppress yourself?

It's not that one can be introduced to this; it's about how one handles it that really matters. There was a time when I almost drove myself crazy thinking that if I hadn't been at home that day, I wouldn't have gotten introduced to this and in the way I did. I eventually realized the folly of such thinking because you cannot change what has already happened and, being the highly intelligent and stupidly curious kid I was, I would realize that the man who introduced me to this... did me a favor and as weird as that may sound.

It begs the other question of... would I have eventually been introduced at some later point? And understanding that the point is... moot because my introduction happened when it did. Having a momentary "struggle" in admitting that, okay, it was wrong for it to happen... but I liked it. Yeah, buddy! The excitement I felt to find out that many of my male friends... found out about this before I did and, yes, I know how they got introduced and, again, it wasn't "pretty" but it happened to them and they thrived with it as a result up to and until they gave it up - and like we're supposed to do.

And some of us... just didn't. Or the many of us who gave it up but came back to it at some later point. Or those who were much older and either got introduced or introduced themselves to sex with men - and the reasons why are legion and, as I would learn, the only person it really has to make sense to is... you. The sooner you understand that there will be a lot of people who aren't going to like you because you have sex with other men, the easier it is to put this behind you so that you can keep moving forward and being the person you want to be.

The many guys I personally introduced to this and how they've said that they don't know why they didn't do it before now, or that it wasn't as bad as they thought and/or was told it was; that doing whatever we did felt right, normal, and natural - and me confirming to them that it feels that way... because it really is and no matter what our morality has to say about it.

And no matter how you were introduced to this, well, you know what an untold number of men who aren't gay knows: Sex with men can be good, satisfying and, importantly, gets you to know yourself and in ways that those who know nothing about this find it difficult to understand or accept.

It's only a problem when it proves itself to be a problem and the sad thing is that for a great many men, their introduction was - and remains - a problem and the question to be answered is, "Does it make any sense to keep kicking your own ass about it?"