Tag: Writing

Living With… Stuff: 07 June 26

I saw my oncologist on the 2nd and the short version is… she says there’s no sign of the cancer I had. The results of my NavDX blood test, which I understand is specifically designed to find the kind of cancer I had, was negative.

I forgot to ask her for a copy of the results, so I’ll have to send her a note. My weight is back in the 190s and probably still climbing to pre-cancer numbers although I’ve recently been considering stopping the Lyrica that I’ve been taking for years now because it made me gain like thirty pounds but, then again, if I stop it, there’s nothing else outside of hard narcotics that will keep my neuropathy at bay.

She asked if I saw my ENT doc and I said that I had and, yes, he shoved the scope into my nose and took a look in my throat while trying not to laugh at my reaction to the scope and one that I think I can suppress… until it starts going in. It’s not painful but it is weird. Still, she listened to my heart and lungs, took a quick peek at my mouth and felt my neck up and, yep, her hands were still cold.

She ordered blood work and yet another CT scan of my head and neck and she’ll see me again in December and as we were preparing to leave the exam room, my lady said what I was thinking: That we spent more time waiting to see her than we did actually seeing here. I laughed to myself because I know that if you don’t have insurance, it’s not even cheap to see her. We’re waiting a moment for the elevator and I’m thinking that, sure, as a hematologist and oncologist, she’s got a tough job and I remember getting to see her really at work one day when a woman not far from where I was getting my treatment started having some kind of problem/reaction; I looked up at the ruckus in time to see an EMT crew rushing in with a stretcher and my doctor right on their heels.

But outside of things like that – and whatever else she does during her time at work – it costs $1600 per visit to see her… for all of five or ten minutes and if she spends that much time. In truth – and at this stage in my treatment/recovery – unless I’m really complaining about something or one of my diagnostic tests comes back as something other than “he ain’t got no cancer,” there’s no need to spend a lot of time with me.

So, as far as my team goes, I’ve seen my ENT and my oncologist; my next appointment is with my palliative doc so we can talk about the lack of effect of the Cymbalta I’ve been taking and in the hopes it could put a dent in the neuropathy in my feet… and it hasn’t so we need to have a “what’s next” conversation and I think this is going to be interesting to see what he might have on his mind. I’d have to look at the calendar of events to be reminded of when I see my radiation oncologist’s NP and my own PCP.

It’s been almost three years since my cancer diagnosis; I’m well past the two-year mark post-treatment and I was thinking the other day about how far I’ve come since The Day the Shit Hit the Fan and having to recover from that as well being treated for the cancer that made the shit hit the fan. Speaking of which, I dreamed about that day again. It doesn’t disturb me as much as it did before, but I noted that there are just sometimes when my brain decides it needs to work on the stuff that I can’t and probably never will be able to remember.

At one point, reliving that day would wake me up and I’d be so fearful it wasn’t funny and especially in the last week I was in the hospital and, subsequently, the early moments of being back home and it didn’t help that I wasn’t getting much in the way of sleep at this point in time. My brain spends a couple of seconds to think about the trach and the “dirty trick” my ENT played on me when it had to be replaced and spends maybe a half-second or so to think about the feeding tube stuff I went through but, now, when the dream shows up, I somehow know that my brain is still asking, “What the fuck happened and why can’t I remember stuff?” even though I know exactly why I can’t remember it:

The trauma team and subsequent ICU doctors didn’t want me to remember any of it and especially, well, um, yeah, that part of the ordeal. Intelligently, I know there’s no reason or purpose in trying to remember the stuff they wiped from my memory and more so since, duh, I’m alive and well and trying to ignore my feet hurting and my mouth being drier than any desert you can name. It’s all rather moot… but I understand that my mind is still latched onto the worst trauma of my life and it’s not going to let go of it any time soon, so I’ve deemed that unless it really starts fucking with me, I don’t need to see anyone about it but if it does, I’ll be on the therapist’s couch PDQ because my mental health is just as important as my physical health.

So, this is pretty much it. My kidneys, lest I forget about them, are holding their own so that’s a good thing.

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 03 June 26 @ 1437

I awoke to temperatures in the mid-80s and living where I do, I don’t have to go outside to know how how and muggy it is – and this was another of those moments where the weather invoked another one of those “do you remember” montages.

The first thought was about all those hot and steamy days of the last day of school sitting in a classroom that you got tired of seeing 180 days ago and squirming uncomfortably as you wait for your final report card to be handed out so you can haul ass and be free of this educational prison until after Labor Day.

180+ days of hoping, wishing, and praying for the end of the school year so that you could do more… stuff that the school year was found to put a serious damper on and hilarity of bursting from the confines of the building and into the steamy heat of June and only to find that… you have no idea what you want to do other than to take that report card home and… then what?

In the early years, “then what” meant hooking up with the fellas to see who passed and who didn’t and to offer sympathies to those who had to go to summer school or they got kept back and there was no better way than to take them somewhere and sex the living daylights out of them and with the promise that unless they got grounded or had to go to summer school, there would be more of the same tomorrow.

And the day after that. So on and so forth. Even when I’d take my yearly stint at summer camp, ooh, yeah, it was even more exciting because I knew, due to history, that there would be guys in my cabin who either knew about cock like I did, they wanted to know about it and now was their first and only chance or, um, sometimes, a reluctant guy just got caught up in the group debauchery. Then coming home and, um, catching up with the fellas and to regale them with stories of the sex I had while at camp.

I’d return to discover that a few more guys had their first ejaculation or that there was a new guy in the Band of Horny Brothers or, sadly, one of the original members had moved somewhere else and, yeah, today’s muggy heat reminds me of coming home from camp and finding out that I didn’t live where I lived anymore. It made those lazy, hazy days of summer radically different having to make new friends… and to find new lovers, both male and female.

But even then, leaving school on that last day and shouting Dr. King’s “free at last” thing at the top of our lungs only to get up the next day and… what the hell am I gonna do? Oh, sure – there was the whole “get a summer job thing” that would get in the way of, um, sexual expression even though I had a job cutting grass and doing odd jobs that afforded me opportunities to have sex and to learn a bit more about people, sex, and the things they’ll do to be able to have it.

Those hot, steamy, sultry days where being outside felt like breathing water and sitting on the wall outside of the apartment building I lived in with four of my friends and we’re trying to figure out what, if anything, we can do. Let’s collect bottles and cash them in so we can go swimming! Oh, wait – two of us can’t leave the neighborhood, dang it. Anybody feel like playing a game? Nah, it’s too hot to be out here running around but in a move that probably doesn’t make sense, it wasn’t too hot to stop us from deciding that there was only one thing left to do:

Let’s go do it to each other! The “logic” was that if we were going to get all hot, sweaty and funky, we might as well get that way doing something we loved doing. Yeah, nothing like having sweat pouring into your eyes as you suck your friend’s dick or bearing up under not only his weight but his body heat as he fucks you nice and slow and the sweat is pouring off of you and creating a puddle under you.

Coming back to school in September and having to write about how I spent my summer vacation would be a case of, ah, yeah, let’s not mention that part of what I did over the summer but, thankfully, I had… cleaner stuff I could write or talk about. Well, up to the part where what I did most of my summer was… working.

Remembering those hot-as-fuck June days and I’m sitting at work and I’d rather be doing anything other than working and that one day when one my children asked me why I had to go to work since they weren’t in school – and I told them, “Just because you have summer vacation doesn’t mean that I do…” and, yeah, not liking that one bit but the bills do not pay themselves. But now I’m sitting in my office and trying not to count down the time where I can go play in the traffic on I-95 to get home… so I can have sex with my wife and #1 poly wife and living in a house that doesn’t have air conditioning.

Whew. Getting with a guy during lunch for what amounts to be quickie blowjobs or, sometimes, meeting a woman for a lusty roll in the hay – then going home to those two horny women and, oh, yeah, spending time with my #2 poly wife and, whew, having sex with her could easily defeat the best air conditioning and make both of us be in desperate need of a shower… or a couple of them.

The memories of hot June days flow through my mind and I just sigh…

Happy Anniversary!

When I sat down at the computer and clicked on the WP link, I wasn’t thinking about today is my 16th anniversary for doing a lot of scribbling on WordPress.

WordPress even presented me with a list of scribbles written on 28 May and… they go back a ways and I’ll spend a few minutes re-reading them since I have a “habit” of writing something then, after a period of time, I’ll see it (for some reason) and… I wonder what I wrote back then and why I wrote it.

Should be fun! This will be a great opportunity to maybe laugh at myself!

Gaming: Xbox Series X: Minecraft and Borderlands 4

First, Borderlands 4. I defeated the game again with the new Vault Hunter, C4SH, and I feel he was a great character to play with and his special skills and abilities served me well. Last night, I took down The Timekeeper, in both of his forms, in what would be for me record time: About six minutes or so.

Or, as I crowed afterward, “That ass got whupped! Take that, bitch, and die motherfucker!”

Yeah, um, I get kinda ugly when I play any of the Borderlands games. So, now it’s on to my second Xbox profile to whup that ass again with C4SH and once I do it with my third Xbox profile, I would have whupped the game’s ass with all Vault Hunters… unless they sneak another one in and there is supposed to be a major update coming tomorrow (28 May).

So, that’s where I am with Borderlands 4. Now, Minecraft. As you might recall, my granddaughter turned me on to a new theme and add-on as well as one of the best world seeds I’ve seen since I started playing the game. She was with me as I started to build things and even when I had to stop playing, I left the world open for her to keep working if she wanted to.

I can’t seem to stop building stuff, from bridges to buildings of all shapes and sizes. Every cotton picking time I think that I’ve run out of things/places to build, I find something else. Like, I built seven new houses yesterday and the last one was a little tricky because it has a main floor and two sub-floors. Why? Because I was looking at a spot that I felt was perfect for the “row houses” I eventually built. They’re so basic that they’re not equipped with the usual stuff – crafting table, chests, and furnace – but that’s not to say that I won’t retroactively outfit them all… and like I’ve been doing with some of the other places.

The area is starting to get a “city” kind of feel to it and something that, honestly, I had not intended to create but… it is what it keeps being for the moment. I already know there are at least five more spots that I can build… something in but I don’t know what at the moment but I’ll think of something. The Luminous Dreams theme is beautiful in its own way and there’s nothing more thrilling to discover a new cave location and in its darkness, see items like iron and redstone lighted and making the “normally” dark and dreary cave look exciting and rather pretty. The Biomes and More add-on brings some stuff to the party that can’t be seen if, say, I load up another add-on, like the one for caves which, er, I’m not sure how I feel about that one but I only have one version of my granddaughter’s world using that add-on.

The behavioral add-ons may or may not work with all existing themes so it’s like a trial and error thing to see what the various combinations of themes and add-ons can bring to the game and I really need to do this… if I could stop building shit. I told my granddaughter about my “building fever” and she… laughed and said, “Good – glad you’re enjoying it.” And I am enjoying it and like I did when I found my favorite ChromaHills theme but, I dunno, Luminous Dreams might replace it as my #1 theme for all worlds going forward. I was a bit sad to find that the Biomes add-on doesn’t work with ChromaHills but that’s okay.

I sometimes get asked what I do to keep myself occupied in my retirement and my answer is, “I play games on my Xbox and Steam Deck…” which might sound like a waste of time but all of the games I have make me focus and think as well as having to pay attention to detail and while I’m now kinda feeling the ache of arthritis in my fingers when I’m not working the controller to death, they’re working just fine and to the point where I might need a new controller at some point because the buttons tend to take a beating.

I put some earbuds in – like the Monster AC530s I’m wearing right now – and I immerse myself in the game play while listening to a favorite playlist and to the extent where my lady will wander in and get my attention to the time by asking, “You gonna eat dinner?” What? It’s that time already? Shit, last time I looked at a clock, it wasn’t anywhere near dinnertime! My watch will remind me that it’s time to stand up which is a good thing to give me a chance to stop playing, stretch, hit the bathroom, etc., before getting back to it. I usually play until I can get to a stopping point; in BL4, I’ll say, “When I’m done with this part of the mission, I’ll take a break…” or when it’s time to shut everything down and go to bed. In Minecraft it’s, “I want to finish (whatever the hell I’m doing) before taking a break or, shit, is it time to go to bed already?

It’s time to play and I need to check Elite Dangerous for something…

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 23 May 26 @ 1413

“What is it like?”

I remember the first time a guy asked me this question after I had confirmed to him that, yes, I have not only done it with a boy, but I’d also done it with a whole lot of boys. I remember two things about him in that moment; the first was his eyes doing the “big as dinner plates” thing and his prick was making a tent in his pants, which had me pretty excited because I somehow understood that I wouldn’t have to “push” him hard to give me his dick to suck.

I remember thinking about what it was like, but I had a problem: How do I put it into words without sounding like an idiot? I told him that it was fun, that it felt good and that it could feel weird at first but then it felt okay. It had taken me almost ten minutes of hemming and hawing just to tell him that because I realized that I didn’t have the words to describe what it was like for me to have sex with a boy.

I’d grow up to understand that one of the reasons why I couldn’t really answer the question was that my own brain, which knew all about everything I did with every guy, said, “This is too much shit to put together so I’m just going to simplify it for you and whether you like it or not.” But I told him that and I guess it made sense to him because he stood up, stretched, and started taking off his clothes and saying, “I wanna do it with you…”

Right away, all the blood in my body rushed to my groin and so fast it made me dizzy for a moment and I couldn’t believe how hard my dick was. He asks me what I’m waiting for and I’m slow to answer him because I’m mesmerized by his erection and the drop of dew-like precum at the tip of his prick and I almost drool but got up to strip my clothes off, too.

And then I showed him what it was like. All the while, the part of my brain that I had learned pays attention to everything said, “Yes… you’re doing it to him to show him what it’s like, but you already know this…” and the thought distracted me for a moment before going back to finish sucking him off. However, it was right in that I knew exactly and precisely how I was feeling and what it was like to have him in my mouth and the indescribable… joy I felt when he spilt his cum into my mouth so I could swallow every bit of it.

He then wanted to know what it felt like to do what I’d just done to him and with a huge smile on his face, he went to go down on me. It took him a moment to get over that “What the fuck are you doing?” thing before he kissed the head of m y dick, then licked the drop of precum that was there – and I saw him analyzing what it tasted like and not all that dissimilar to what I’d do. He said, “Hmm…” and took me into his mouth and, yep, too much too soon but recovered quickly. In that moment, I knew exactly and precisely what this was like as the touch of his mouth and tongue sent wave after wave of pleasure through me and a kind of pleasure that if there were words to describe it, I didn’t know any of them other than “It feels really good!”

I tell him that I’m about to cum and he takes a moment to suck me hard before he nods but I’m getting way too close and I tell him again and this time he nods and keeps sucking until I get to the point of no return and it feels like I got gut-punched and the only thing I can physically feel is my dick pumping in his mouth; the only things I can hear was my grunt and him going “Urp!” as my cum shot into his mouth and then the sounds of swallowing.

It had taken a few before either of us could speak and when I could, I asked, “Do you know what it’s like now and do you now know why I have a hard time explaining it?”

He smiled, shook his head and said, “I understand but there’s one other thing I need to know.”

“What’s that?” I asked even though I had a good idea.

“What’s it like to be screwed in the ass?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

He found that out a couple of days later but until then, I shared what it was like for me and saw him learning what it was like for him.

The Daily Prompt: 23 May 26

Daily writing prompt
What is the meaning of life?
View all responses

At this point in my life, I think I know what the meaning of life could be other than you’re born, you live, and you die.

No choice in the first thing and the last thing is inevitable and there’s nothing to be done for it but it’s the thing in the middle that will define life as you understand it. Given all of the stuff that happened to me back in late 2023, the meaning of life is… do your best to live your life to its fullest because, as they say, tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.

I was watching something on TV the other day and they were talking about this Russian (?) guy who would climb stall structures and be hanging out way up there and the story actually captured the moment he fell off of a building and died. He was young and the narrator had said that the man talked about life being too short not to do the things you want to do, the things that thrill you and, I thought, the things you believe gives your life purpose.

Before his fall, he’s on top of a radio tower and monkeying around and he looked happy; thrilled, not so much careless but probably wasn’t all that afraid of that one slip that would end it all for him and, of course, I’m sitting there watching this and thinking, “Oh, hell, no – I don’t care how exciting and challenging that is! You wouldn’t catch me up there like that!”

It’s not about playing it safe and whatever that really means. At the ripe old age of 70, I look back over the decades and look at my chills and thrills, my successes and my failures and with the understanding that, in the here and now, I did the best I could with my life and I think back to one specific moment in my life when a severe acid reflux episode had me thinking that I was having a heart attack.

I was rushed to the ER; doctors and nurses swarming all over me; found out that nitroglycerin gives me a major headache and as I lay there listening to the monitor that’s behind me and to my right, I asked myself if there was anything that I’d left undone and, if so, I hope that I get the chance to be able to do them. Well, the doctor comes in and tells me that after all the tests I underwent, what I had experienced was, again, a major acid reflux attack and that’s when he also put me on Plavix because, after a trip to the cardiac catheterization lab, he said that my blood was moving too slow for his liking.

Not a heart attack but in those moments when I thought my life hung in the balance, I vowed to do the things I hadn’t done and the ones I could do and while I could do them… and I did. I’d had a stroke several years later and while there was the chance that I could die – and especially after they gave me the “rotor rooter” drug that the doctor said would either save me or kill me – I felt like an idiot lying there and worrying about dying when it finally occurred to me that if the stroke was going to kill me, it would have done it already. I didn’t want to die but when I thought it was going to happen, I found that I had zero regrets about anything and it was true that the meaning of life didn’t mean some pie-in-the-sky, fairy tale stuff – it meant to make the best of your time.

And then, three years ago, I died. Twice, I found out. Temporarily, of course, but yeah, it was over for me and I do remember “waking up” and thinking, “I died…” and I still don’t know how I knew it before I really found out but when I was finally awake and functioning – and strongly suspecting that the thought I’d had was a valid one – I was… okay with it. Was there anything I’d left undone, something that I said I wanted to do but hadn’t and… nope, there was nothing I could think of, but this was another example of when you get another chance at life, you live it to the fullest extent possible.

I think that instead of there being some metaphysical meaning to life, you give your own life meaning or someone tells you what the meaning – and purpose – of your life is and even if you don’t necessarily agree with their assessment of something that doesn’t belong to them. You do what you can do; you do it to the best of your ability; you live to the fullest extent possible, and you do so without any regrets. I’ve said that other than dying, the worst thing I can think of is being on my death bed and realizing that there was a bunch of shit I never got around to doing and now, I’m not going to have the chance to do them.

Life means what you need it to mean…

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 22 May 26 @ 1356

To kiss or not to kiss, that is the question.

On the forum, there’s been a “rise” (no puns yet) in, let’s say, submissive bottoms getting very serious about kissing and cuddling with a guy and, as you might imagine, the topic has split into two distinct sides: The guys who want and need to play tonsil hockey with an FWB lover and the guys who wouldn’t do it for any reason so let’s just get to why we’re here together, aight?

Katy Perry set the music world afire with her “I Kissed A Girl” song and I thought, “So what?” but, of course, people were making a gigantic deal out of it and wondering if Katy really did kiss a girl and liked it as much as her song spoke to. I don’t remember if Katy confessed to kissing a girl or not but my point here is that no male singer has released a song entitled, “I Kissed A Boy.”

If Katy’s song got everyone’s panties in a bunch, I can imagine how “I Kissed A Boy” would fuck some shit up. Now, what we know is that men in our society do not kiss each other unless they’re gay. Plain and simple, right? During all of the kissing/cuddling discussions, I was wracking my brain trying to recall some specifics about any guy I kissed and the “final count” was Gay Guys 6, Bi Guys 0. Wait… is that right? I’ve never kissed another bi guy? Ever?

Nope, not that I can recall. I’ve had “a lot” of gay guys either attempt to kiss me or they managed to sneak it in on me and, um, shit, no need in pitching a bitch about it and like I would have in my teenaged years. What I had learned at the ripe old age of 12 was that the girls I knew were right: Guys were lousy kissers and too ham-handed at it. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a girl tell you that when you kissed her, you weren’t even close to doing it right. The first guy I ever kissed was, indeed, lousy at it and it is to note that he was gay (but not the resident gay guy in the Band of Horny Brothers).

He suggested that we try it and I agreed and our lips met and before I could process the contact, his tongue had bogarted itself past my lips and almost very like he was playing with my tonsils and, oh, yeah, large amounts of saliva included. Yuck. Now, every since that first kiss I had been trying to determine if there was anything I had liked about it and the jury remained out and, to this day, hasn’t returned yet and probably never will. In the meantime, I had initiated a kiss with five other guys, all of whom were gay, and after further review, eh, it wasn’t that bad but wasn’t that… exciting and not in the way that kissing a girl can be like, um, that time “Belinda Watson” kissed me and, shit, I came in my underwear and there’s only been one other woman who could kiss me like that… but no guy has ever done.

I added my three and half cents worth to the kissing conversation and my “take it or leave it but would rather leave it” position. It’s not like I’ve never kissed a guy because I have but the only guy I actually liked and wanted to kiss was my gay boyfriend and, believe me, the first time I locked my lips onto his, I don’t know which one of us were more surprised – him or me. Fuck me… I just kissed a guy and we both liked it! Wait, for scientific purposes, let’s kiss him again to see if it feels the same way… and it did.

Since then, no guys kissed and, really, I can’t remember the last time a guy tried to kiss me or wanted to just cuddle whilst we rolled around in the bed, well, other than my aforementioned gay boyfriend. The question I asked back in the beginning of this has a high degree of validity: Do bi guys have to kiss and cuddle or it is (a) very verboten or (b) not even needed. In the now much-dreaded hookup, even if you had the time to take the time to really do each other in, kissing and cuddling wasn’t a part of the festivities and I’d had a lot of guys express a great dislike to kissing another man.

In the “majority of times,” Guy A meets Guy B at the agreed upon location, spend a few moments idly chatting before the pregnant pause hits and now it’s time to get naked and to participate in the Rise of the Boners which will inevitably lead to the Fall of the Boners. Some guys don’t mind kissing other parts of a guy’s body, i.e., his neck, ears, nipples and some guys would rather eat homeboy’s ass than to kiss him as a part of getting ready to blow him.

Now there’s a rise of behavior that strongly suggests that Guy A meets Guy B and upon greeting each other, they kiss. Some small talk before getting naked and rolling around on the bed lip-locking each other while enjoying the ensuing cuddling before mouths meet cocks or cocks meet bung holes (or both). Guys are saying that they don’t want to get with a guy who isn’t into kissing and cuddling either as foreplay or as just a thing to do because it feels good. What “we know” is that kissing and cuddling is something “only gay men” do and that’s understandable… but is it necessary or mandatory that bi men require it?

I and a lot of other guys say that it isn’t mandatory and that, if nothing else, it should be considered optional but, at least for myself only, things get… muddied. When I kissed Gay Guy #5, I hadn’t planned on kissing him and, prior to actually doing it, wasn’t even thinking about it until we’re looking at each other and that voice in my head said, “Go on, kiss him…” so I did and it was pretty good even though another voice in my head asked, “Whoa – what the fuck are you doing?”

So, under the purview of never saying never, I wouldn’t say that I would never again kiss a guy because I know me and there could be another of those moments when that voice in my head says, “Kiss him…” or “Let him kiss you and just go with it…” I wouldn’t be looking for it nor would I be expected to kiss and cuddle but I wouldn’t dare say that I’d never do it because I just might. Maybe. Don’t hold your breath but don’t be surprised. For a “quick and messy” hookup? Let’s get right to the heart of the matter, shall we? Hold still while I swallow your prick down to your pubic bone and let the lusty cocksucking commence in earnest because as I’ve said time after time, time is the enemy more than anything else because you just might have a plan in mind about how you’re going to get with the guy you’re on your way to meet… but will either of you have the time to do any of the shit y’all talked about? Maybe but usually not.

Gay porn is chock full of guys kissing and cuddling and I could see how guys watching this (and spanking the monkey) could get it into their heads that kissing and cuddling has to be done since the dudes on the screen are doing it and like their very lives depend on it. I see them doing it and my mind immediately thinks, “Yuck.” As a visual, it doesn’t work for me but, then again and as crazy as it might sound, watching two guys having sex is a visual that doesn’t really work for me and I’ve tended to agree with some women who’ve watched gay porn (for some reason) and decided that it’s not pretty to look at… and when I take a big step back, those ladies are right: It’s not pretty to look at. How can I have done something that’s an ugly visual?

That’s easy: I’m not viewing things from that third person point of view; I’m all up in the middle of the sex and not really giving a fuck what it looks like from someone else’s point of view. Yeah, yeah, I know that sounds fucked up and I agree that it does and… I stopped trying to figure this one out a long time ago. I understand that a guy who wants to kiss and cuddle as a prelude to sex could and would kick me to the curb because, um, er, let’s not and say we did even though – and like I said earlier – there’s really no telling what I might do once I’m in the moment but I’m not gonna lie to the guy and tell him that, yeah, sure – let’s kiss and cuddle first!

The kiss-and-cuddle guys on the forum say that they will not sleep with any man who doesn’t want to kiss and cuddle with them. The guys not a part of this “clique” says there’s no way in hell they’d want to kiss and cuddle with a guy and then there are the guys who are more like me in that, yuck, not a fan of kissing guys… but no telling what I might do in the right moment with the right guy. But since men kissing each other is still consider to be a very gay thing to do, does it seem to be “out of place” for bi guys to embrace something that, until ‘now’ has been the sole purview of homosexual men?

I’m… not sure. When I take another big step back, I understand that it’s a part of getting really tuned up to have sex; it’s a way to express any feeling that isn’t just lust for your sexual partner and since it’s likely that the two of you are going to be having a lot of body contact when it’s time to get to doing the deed, well, why not do some of that before the fact?

I’ll be back in a moment – I need to change computers (out at 1452).

Okay, I’m back at 1510 – I needed to move to my laptop in the living room. So, where was I?

Oh, yeah – to kiss or not to kiss a guy. Kissing is erotic. I had read something interesting about why we kiss other than a way to show affection: When guys kiss, we actually impart a little of the testosterone that’s apparently in our saliva the premise that when we’re kissing a woman and swapping spit with her, the addition of a little more testosterone being given to her is supposed to enhance her level of excitement. If this is true – and I honestly don’t know if it is or not – then when guys kiss, we’re imparting that bit more testosterone… to someone who’s already loaded up with it, making me wonder if getting more testosterone has the same effect of making us more aroused or something.

I would suppose that there could be some truth to this as I remember how I’d feel kissing my boyfriend whether it was a small token of my affection for him or we’re locking lips like the end of the world is just around the corner. Did I feel… hornier kissing him? I don’t really remember but I was already pretty damned horny for him to begin with so I would say that it’s possible… but I can’t prove or substantiate it.

To kiss or not to kiss. This is still the question and one that I don’t really have the answer to.

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 16 May 26 @ 1328

When I became aware of “gay dating sites,” one was recommended to me and, yeah, it was that app and, at first, I was reluctant to check it out because being literal-minded, I thought that (a) I wasn’t gay and (b) I wasn’t looking to date guys so while it was recommended to me, I didn’t go onto the site to sign up for, oh, maybe a month or two.

In fact, I wouldn’t have remembered to check the site out except I’d written the URL down and, for a moment, I was perplexed – what kind of site is this and why do I have a URL for it? It wasn’t until I’d gotten a phone call from my son-in-law that I remembered, oh, yeah, that’s right – he recommended the site. So, while we’re talking about diagnosing hard drive problems, I plug the URL into a browser and went about the process of signing up for the site.

Then I forgot about it again. Between being on-call that week and having a hectic work week to begin with, I was surprised that I could remember who I was without looking at my license so when I’m doing a search for something, I see a bookmark that, again, took me a moment to remember why it was there and I forgot all about what I was searching for, clicked the bookmark and up came the site and… I had 136 messages. And while I sat there with my mouth hanging open, four more messages arrived and… should I look or should I ignore them? It wasn’t like I was hurting for dick but 140 – no, 143 – messages? I had to look at them.

Most of them said, “Wazzup?” and nothing else. Another bunch of them had no profile worth looking at and I had wondered how those dudes expected to get some action when their profile just gave their handle and maybe their age. Those messages, along with the “Wazzup” messages were deleted, leaving me with maybe thirty messages that had full profiles written and by the time I read through them, there were only five prospects that really got my attention.

To shorten this up a bit, I slept with all five of those guys over a period of three days. I had to give it to my son-in-law – this site was a jackpot of sorts and I can’t remember any time over the next couple of months that I wasn’t 69ing with some guy and guys who, thanks to that early geolocation thing a few sites were trying, shit – a lot of guys were within walking distance while many more were maybe ten minutes away by car.

I was inundated by a flood of very eager cocksuckers and so many that I almost got tired of sucking dick. Almost. Between the two women I had in bed with me every night and the plethora of cock-hungry dudes, I was getting my ass kicked but in a very nice way. As I seem to recall, there were a couple of other “gay dating sites” out there that I did take a look at but the only dicks they had probably belonged to the guys who created the site.

Then the well ran dry. Oh, there were guys galore and hundreds of them within five miles of, whew, wherever I happened to be! I could meet a guy “for lunch,” we’d suck each other off, and hustle back to our respective jobs and, yeah, there were fifteen guys who worked where I did who were looking for lunchtime hookups and the nice part was that they didn’t care that we worked for the same company. But the number of genuine guys were being swamped by fakes and flakes and I don’t want to think of how many times I waited for a guy to show up and like he said he would and he didn’t show, didn’t call, didn’t leave a note and, shit, his site profile was deleted.

Or the number of guys who just want to talk the talk but scared to death to walk the walk and I asked one guy, “If you don’t want to do anything, why are you here and bothering me?” Or the number of guys who had profiles that I personally found offensive and like the ones where the guy who wrote it ranted and raved about making me his bitch, I’d better have a house, a job, a car, credit cards, so on and so forth. Yeah, fuck that shit. Or the number of guys who said that if the price was right, I could get their dick and I’m thinking that, damn, dude, you must think guys are seriously desperate for cock that they’d want to pay you $200 to get with your sorry ass.

Or the number of guys who’d hit me up with chat and… wassup? Check their profile – no useful info. One guy who decided to actually say more than “wassup” went on a tirade about how he was going to make me suck his dick, suck his dirty feet, and then how he was going to bend me over and fuck me so I’d better get in my car and come and get him and do it right now. I was somewhere between being seriously pissed and seriously amused and I asked him a question: “Can you read?”

He said he could. I asked, “Did you see the parts where I wrote that I was oral only and how specific I was in what I wrote?”

He said he saw it but, “I didn’t read all that shit so wazzup? You coming to get this dick or what?”

I left the chat and ignored his attempts to get me to chat with him but I respond with this: “When you learn how to read, let me know.” I’m sure he didn’t appreciate what I said and even implied but I thought it was fair since I didn’t appreciate all that shit he said he was going to do to me. I fended off a lot of guys who were, in their words, looking for a guy to be their bitch and, nope, that ain’t me and never will be. There were the guys who hit me up and wanting to get blown but they didn’t suck dick and never would and I’d ask them, “So why are you bothering me? Did you happen to see the part of my profile that said that I wanted my dick sucked, too?”

Um, no, many of them didn’t even bother to read my profile. Some of them said that they read it but was hoping that I’d blow them anyway. Still getting guys blathering about fucking me silly but they’d vanish into the ether when I’d say something about plugging them in the ass and them getting pissy and saying that they ain’t no bitch and no man was gonna touch their hole and, yeah, I figured that so you motherfuckers need to go find someone who is very willing to do what you want to do… and that ain’t me.

If being on this site didn’t teach me anything, it taught me how to weed out the assholes, fakes, and flakes. I could be on the site every day and dealing with a lot of messages, propositions, and those annoying one word chats and the end result that I could find maybe one or two guys who wanted to do what I wanted to do. Interestingly enough, most of those, ah, mutually oral guys were gay and many of them made it clear that if, by chance, I wanted to fuck them, I was cordially being invited to do so and, er, ah, there were a couple of guys who resonated with me enough that we’d suck each other silly and the moment I could get hard enough to get in there, I was in there. Two of them said that if I ever wanted another boyfriend, they’d make themselves available and, believe me – I seriously thought about it but between the pressures and stressors of my job – and living with two very horny women – having another boyfriend would have been too much and I didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with the guys who were already being clingy.

The sites, followed by apps for the sites, were getting worse. Out of seven days of being online, I could now only find maybe – maybe – one or two guys who were genuine and looking to suck cock as much as I wanted to. I’d hear other guys complaining about the sites and apps they were unhappy with and was the site I was on any better? Well, it used to be but not so much these days and I was having enough of some 19-year-old trying to sugar daddy me or he’s acting like a little whore and like I’d pay to have sex with him. Shit, I’d never paid a woman for sex so what made these dude think I’d pay for dick?

Things got so bad that I was down to being able to find one guy who was genuine and he could pass my third condition: Don’t be my idea of an asshole. The site was overwhelmed with guys making demands about their ideal guy not be feminine in any way, was man enough to take their big dick in the ass, willing to suck their dick anywhere and be willing to drop whatever they were doing to come service them and… I don’t have the time nor the patience for this shit.

One dude said, “You’d better come get me or else!” and I asked, “Or else what?”

“I’ll tell everybody I know that you’re a cocksucker!” he said.

“Tell them,” I said. “You act like I give a fuck. By the way, no one likes a snitch but, yeah, do what you gotta do.”

The other sites and apps were, in my opinion, not all that better. One guy wanted me to piss on and in him. Another guy wanted me to dress up like a woman and yet another guy had asked if I had a problem with him wearing panties and a bra. A guy who was in “baby mode” and wanting to wear a diaper that I’d have to change and, okay, look, I changed diapers for all of my children so I’m not of a mind to be changing his dirty diapers – I just wanted to 69 with him.

I got to one guy’s house and when the door opened and I saw a woman standing there, I thought I was at the wrong house but, nope – I had the right house but he had, ah, neglected to tell me that he’d be dressed to the nines in his finest womanly gear. The “funny part?” He was amazing to have sex with. Go figure. Then there was the guy who literally lived two doors away from me and I was thinking, “Ka-ching!” but, alas, he didn’t want to “shit where he ate” and, okay, I understood that until one Saturday he comes a-knocking at my door and he wants to suck my dick. So much for what he said the other day, huh?

I would occasionally find a guy via the app; I had more luck just being in the right place at the right time. I already knew that finding a guy to have any kind of sex with took a lot of work and while the sites, early on, made it stupidly easy to find a guy – or way too many guys – that degraded quickly and disappointingly so. Surprisingly enough, I would move forward in time and tell guys who are looking for an app with possibilities that the app I was on was… still the best option out there. My protege is on every “gay dating” app out there and he often regales me with the problems he runs into and, no thanks, man – I have enough problems as it is.

Today’s Bisexual Thoughts: 15 May 26 @ 1127

I climbed from underneath my twenty-pound weighted blanket and the relative coolness of the room started to wash over me and made me think, “Move your ass…”

I’m into the morning routine and as I walk into the bathroom, whew, it feels like an early winter day in there and making me wonder, never for the first time, why bathrooms are cooler than the rest of the place. But I don’t have time to ponder this, so I push it to the back of my mind and get to handling the business.

I’m getting dressed and thinking about my morning cup of coffee; I check my watch to make sure I’m thinking that today is the 15th so I can grab the right container of medication and as I do so, I have another one of those flashbacks in time and back to those crazy days of going to school and thinking that, yeah, there won’t be any school on the 31st and school will be done with for the year in less than a month!

Perfect timing to be on a serious hunt for cock. I’m listening to the Keurig pouring the hot coffee into my cup and thinking about how the older I got, the less interest I had in the holidays leading up to school being done for the summer but until I got to that point, oh, yeah – these were good days to hook up with the fellas and find out who wants a blowjob.

As I pour a nice amount of hazelnut CoffeeMate into my cup, I’m smiling as I remember those times in the middle of May and the weather’s getting warmer most days and I – along with my fellow members of the Band of Horny Brothers – are eagerly seeking each other out so as to catch up on all the sex that evaded us during the winter and early spring.

I catch myself grinning and thinking that, on a day like today in the month of May, I could look forward to blowing five, maybe six guys; I have images of either being between a guy’s legs and sucking him as if both of our lives depend on it or we’re in a 69 and going at each other like starving animals or, depending what year is flashing through my mind, I’m face down/ass up and being pounded or hearing myself sighing as a guy’s hot cum shoots into me or mine is shooting into him and going on about the rest of my day and with the thought of it being young and… there’s also pussy to be had.

Life as a bisexual was really good back then. Well, sure, it’s always been good but I’m sitting at the computer and waiting for it to update its antivirus software, and my mind has slipped into those dividing spaces between being a pre-teen, a teen, and finally, an adult. The social situations during these specific moments in my life tend to stand out which didn’t help with growing into my sexuality all that much since not a lot of people believed that bisexuality was a real thing and men who went both ways were really in denial of being gay and women were in denial of really being lesbians and…

Year after year, none of this shit ever seemed to change so it was important to be aware of the shit being thrown around all over the place while looking for – and taking advantage of – every opportunity to get a guy’s dick hard and to make it soft again. To be in that moment just before he’s about to cum and maybe I look up at him and see him looking back at me with a “I don’t believe he’s gonna make me cum!” look on his face until his prick swells and that first spurt explodes into my mouth, making me moan and, yeah, um, sometimes, embarrassingly so but he’s so busy riding out the storm that he may not have noticed…

…and me not caring if he heard me or not and the older I got. Those moments where a guy is trying to eat my dick right off of my body carried more importance that the social clusterfuck that I’d long since been aware of and one that I realized was important to be able to understand but, um, when in a 69 with a guy, I’m not even thinking about the fact that someone who might see us would think that we were both gay.

Knowing that this social perception was about as cockeyed and wrong as anything could possibly be and while you could explain it to some folks, there were still too many who believed that if a guy is having sex with a guy, he has to be gay or he had to be desperate to have sex to take a chance of becoming gay… and like getting and/or giving a blowjob would ever and instantly make a guy gay. Sure, some guys would decide that being gay suited their purposes better and as I thought of this while typing all of this, I see the faces of the many guys who wanted to have sex with me but were afraid of turning into a flaming fag and me trying to convince them that, no, that’s not going to happen and taking the time and making the effort to convince him because I really want to suck him off.

I took a sip of coffee, feeling its warmth going down the hatch and I’m thinking about how much more difficult things got as I got older. Yes, indeed – still plenty of guys who are down with the dick and uncaring about the social stigma attached to it but that same stigma, along with “the usual societal pressures,” keeping many a guy who feels the need to do this but they can’t, they won’t, because… what would someone think of him if he did this?

I remember sitting down with myself – and after a failed attempt to get into a guy’s underwear – and pondering why guys who say they want this won’t go for it and the realization hitting me that said, “Just because you don’t have a problem with it doesn’t mean another guy wouldn’t. Remember, you’re used to this; you grew up with this and grew into it so, for you, this isn’t that big of a deal and more so when you don’t give a fuck about what someone else might say.”

And laughing at that weird moment where I “hate it” when I’m getting in my own case and being right about it. I don’t think about this in terms of oh, my goodness – what will my friends think of me – or the other reasons why guys would love a blowjob or love to give one… but. Always that “but.” Almost always the same concerns and, yes, even fears. And having to keep firmly in mind that just because I’m not afraid doesn’t mean some other guys wouldn’t be afraid… and trying to understand why they are sore afraid.

It’s not glamorous. I tell guys, “Forget that stuff you can see when you’re watching porn…” because what one can experience in real life could be seriously different. It’s… primal. Gritty. Lust fueled by that built-in imperative to sow our seed… and even recreationally. The shock and awe I’ve seen on a guy’s face when he realizes that while watching me sucking on his dick is pretty fucking surreal, it… it feels good. Many a guy has said that it feels better than when a girl/woman does it; they’ve asked themselves (or me) what they were afraid of or why didn’t they do this before now or expressing a bit of regret of having passed on chances to do it in their past but… times change. Situations change. The social stigma is a powerful thing but so is that need to bust a nut.

Would a guy have to be desperate to let a guy blow him? Honestly? No, he wouldn’t but you can never discount desperation playing into things. Absent this, uh, all that’s needed is one wanting to do it and then, not being afraid to do it which is easier said than done for the man who, before now, didn’t have a reason to be seriously considering this way to get his rocks off… or to satisfy his own curiosity because if there’s one thing that I found tends to stand out in the clear, it’s the sure and certain fact that sucking cock can’t be that bad of a thing considering all the gay men who do it… and how is it possible for all of them to be wrong?

Social norms say it is… and like that really means something when you get right down to some nitty grittiness. May and June has always been a good time to renew sexual connections with friends who are in the know and to introduce a guy to some realities he may not have really been aware of and understanding that despite what we tend to think, sucking cock isn’t always a sexuality-related thing.

It’s just sex. Maybe “not as good” as fucking but better than giving yourself friction burns beating the bishop. Do you have to like guys “like that?” Nope; you just have to want to do it. And if you want to do it, um, hmm, why haven’t you? Sure enough, there are reasons not to but if you could, would you? In my pre-teen and teen years there were more guys who would not only want to, but they seriously needed to because… testicular vascular constriction is a very real and painful thing. You might know this by another name: Blue balls. Why? Well, apparently, when it happens, the congested blood gets to clogging shit up, blood isn’t flowing the way it should and in guys who you can see this in, yeah – his balls really are blue but you probably wouldn’t see that coloring in my balls other than maybe seeing how dark they’re getting… and how much I’m pitching a bitch about my balls hurting.

Sometimes, jerking off doesn’t help and can make things hurt even more and I’ve had many a guy who was suffering from this “break down” and ask me if I’ve ever blown a guy – and, yes, I have blown a lot of guys, so what are you proposing? Well, if no one else were to find out, not only would he be willing to let me suck him off, but he’d also be willing to give sucking my dick a try – and I haven’t run across many guys (in this situation) who didn’t wind up going down on me and didn’t even think twice about it.

Why would I want to blow him? Um, because it’s fun? It makes me feel incredibly good? Why not? Yes, yes, I know that I’m not gay but if you’re of a mind to, sure – pull it out and let me at it and, hopefully, you won’t find a reason to regret the decision to do so. And, before you ask, no one is going to find out because I’m not going to tell and people you know aren’t going to kick your ass for doing it because unless you tell them, how are they going to find out?

Spring is a time of renewal and growth… and a good time to get into a guy’s underwear, you know, if you can convince him to give up the dick and it’s clear to me that it’s harder now than it was before and for a lot of the same reasons why guys may have wanted to do it in their youthful past but never got around to experiencing it… but as an adult, they most certainly do and would if the social stigma and strictures and other things weren’t getting in the way of things.