Recent Blogs Posts

I sometimes mention my "crazy" cousin who, in order for us to have sex, wanted to, well, roleplay with me as his "Master" and him as my obedient "slave" and a situation that drove me nutty because I was used to guys being straight up about having sex but, okay, if that's what it took, then that's what we'll do.

My thoughts about him go back to a night where I was going at him hot and heavy, our naked and sweaty bodies grinding together, and I was alternative between "screwing" him and sucking his dick and ordering my slave to suck mine after he begged me not to make him do it. I'd gone back to, essentially, frotting him when I clearly remember his whole body going stiff for a moment, followed by a little shudder, which was followed by him saying, "I think we should stop now."

I thought something was wrong; then I thought that maybe he had shot his stuff for the first time but as I moved away from him, his dick was still hard and there was no evidence that he'd shot his stuff - that would happen the following weekend and like it was for me, it wasn't exactly a good moment but he had me to explain to him what he'd just done in my mouth - and he was okay after that.

It took me a lot of years thinking about that particular night to realized that while he hadn't busted a nut, he did have a powerful orgasm that both scared him and shut him down and leaving me to think that I'd done something wrong, uh, I mean on top of the wrongness we were already doing.

Coming to terms with one's sexual orientation, including being bisexual, is a personal and often transformative journey. It's essential to be patient and compassionate with yourself during this process. Here are some steps that may help you come to terms with being bisexual:

Self-Acceptance: Acknowledge and accept your feelings and attractions without judgment. Remember that being bisexual is a valid and natural sexual orientation.

Educate Yourself: Learn more about bisexuality and its various forms. Understanding that bisexuality exists along a spectrum can help you recognize the diversity of experiences within this orientation.

Seek Support: Reach out to supportive friends, family members, or members of the LGBTQ+ community who can provide understanding and empathy. Connecting with others who have similar experiences can be empowering.

Find Resources: Read books, articles, and blogs about bisexuality to gain insights and perspectives from others who have gone through a similar journey.

Speak with a Professional: Consider talking to a counselor or therapist who specializes in LGBTQ+ issues. Professional support can be valuable in navigating complex feelings and emotions.

Explore Your Feelings: Take time for self-reflection and explore your feelings without pressure. Understanding your attractions and desires can lead to a deeper understanding of your identity.

Challenge Internalized Bias: Be aware of any internalized negative beliefs or societal biases you may have about bisexuality. Challenge these beliefs and replace them with positive affirmations.

Practice Self-Compassion: Be gentle with yourself as you navigate this process. Accept that it's okay to have questions and uncertainties, and remember that self-discovery is an ongoing journey.

Find Role Models: Look for positive role models who identify as bisexual and have embraced their identity. This can provide inspiration and reassurance.

Celebrate Your Identity: Embrace your bisexuality as an integral part of who you are. Celebrate the diversity and richness it brings to your life.

Be Patient: Coming to terms with your sexual orientation may take time, and that's okay. Allow yourself the space to grow and evolve.

Remember that the process of coming to terms with your sexual orientation is unique to each individual. Be kind to yourself throughout this journey, and know that it's okay to seek support from others. You are not alone, and many people have gone through similar experiences and found acceptance and peace with their identities.

Sexual orientation, including bisexuality, is a complex and multifaceted aspect of human identity that varies from person to person. It is essential to recognize that sexual orientation is not a choice; rather, it is believed to be influenced by a combination of biological, genetic, hormonal, environmental, and psychological factors. Sexual orientation emerges and develops over time, often during adolescence and early adulthood.

When it comes to bisexuality specifically, it refers to individuals who experience attraction to both genders, regardless of whether they are male or female. It is important to note that bisexuality is just as valid and natural as any other sexual orientation.

The reasons why some men may identify as bisexual can vary and are unique to each individual. Some possible factors that could contribute to a man identifying as bisexual include:

Sexual Attraction: Men may experience genuine and authentic attractions to both men and women.

Fluidity of Sexuality: For some individuals, sexual orientation may not fit into rigid categories like heterosexual or homosexual, and they may experience a degree of fluidity in their attractions.

Understanding of Self: As people explore their feelings and attractions, they may come to understand their sexual orientation better.

Social and Cultural Influences: Social and cultural factors, such as attitudes towards sexuality, acceptance, and visibility of diverse sexual orientations, can play a role in how people perceive and express their sexual orientation.

Individual Experiences: Personal experiences and relationships can also shape and influence one's understanding of their sexual orientation.

It is essential to avoid generalizations and assumptions about why someone identifies as bisexual or any other sexual orientation. Every person's journey of self-discovery and understanding of their sexuality is unique and valid.

Lastly, it is crucial to support and respect individuals' autonomy and self-identification when it comes to sexual orientation. Everyone deserves acceptance and understanding as they navigate their identities and experiences.

There are videos of men and women coming on to a plumber, pizza guy, etc. Have you had a service person come to your place and you fantasized about doing them? Or even better, have you actually done something with one? Or maybe you are a service person with a true story?

[FONT=arial][SIZE=4][FONT=verdana]When I came into my bisexuality way back in 1964, there was no such animal as top and bottom; you were either versatile... or "nothing" - you just didn't partake in such sexual fun. That guys would get older and, via experience, decide that it's better to give than receive - or better to receive than give - wasn't unusual... but every guy I knew growing up with this - and with one exception - was versatile and in what I'd say was as about as "fair and equal" as any of this can be; if you wanted someone to suck your dick, you knew you'd be sucking dick, too, and even if, privately, you didn't like sucking dick.

Likewise, if you wanted to fuck a guy's ass, you already had it in your mind and was prepared to be fucked in return and, again, even if it wasn't your favorite thing to do. You couldn't want to cum in a guy's mouth... then tell him not to cum in yours; ya didn't have to swallow it if you couldn't or didn't want to but you were gonna get a mouthful of youthful spunk in your mouth and no matter what you did with it after you got it. Otherwise, your first time with one of us would probably be your last time... and ya might not even get to complete that first time.

The only exception to our group of horny motherfuckers was the one guy who, today, would be a gay and submissive bottom; that dude loved to suck cock as much as he loved being fucked and to the point where if there were a few of us present and he was there, you could count on him taking on everyone who was there - and while the rest of us were doing each other while waiting for our turn with him and, believe me, it was very much and well worth the wait.

It was amazing in that if there was a way guys could have sex with each other, we pretty much did all of it, from one on one to full blown "orgies" to gang-banging each other - and especially our gay exception; it just was business as usual for us to create chains to suck or fuck so that no one would be all that left out of the action. Today, some guys drool over thinking about being in a MMM... and we did that as a matter of course and the way we'd do it is that everyone took a turn at being the guy on the bottom of the pile, the guy in the middle, and the "tail-end Charlie" guy; no one left without being fucked and everyone sucked cock and got sucked.

We had girls in our group... and they weren't all that different than we were in this and every last one of them ate pussy and got eaten - because that's just the way it was. When us guys started producing sperm, the girls changed up from being fucked in their pussies to being fucked in their ass because, duh, they didn't want to "get in trouble" (read this as getting pregnant) but they still wanted to be fucked. And they all sucked cock and swallowed spunk and did so eagerly.

To do it any other way just didn't make sense to us.

I see guys today coming right out of the gate and deciding that whenever they have their first time, they're gonna be a top or a bottom, have already decided what they're gonna do and not ever gonna do and I'd have to say that this is most likely due to the amount of information that's available today about this as opposed to the utter lack of information available back in 1964, which was pretty much limited to, "Boys do have sex with other boys" and "Boys aren't supposed to have sex with other boys."

I tell folks this... and they're shocked at the depths of our youthful debauchery and how we'd do shit that would make most grownups throw up or soil themselves. We were a unique group of kids who all discovered sex at almost the same time and, um, were bold enough - or insane enough - to get together and do it to each other and in every damned way it was possible.[/FONT][/SIZE][/FONT]

[FONT=arial][SIZE=3]I'd been having sex with guys since I was nine and just sucking and fucking my way through those early years of my life with near reckless abandon and to the point where it became as normal a thing to do as breathing is. One day, I was at the park across the street from my house and working on my basketballs skills and, in particular, working on my left-handed shots when a guy stepped onto the court and asked if he could join me. I said he could, we introduced ourselves, and for a while, we were just shooting around before playing several games of one-on-one (and I wrecked shop on him, by the way) until we were both drenched in sweat and damned near dehydrated.

I knew he wasn't from the hood so when he asked where he could get some water, the least I could do was take him home with me and water him - and myself - and I even gave him use of the bathroom to wash the funk and crusty, salty, sweat residue off, which he was very happy to do. After washing up, we sat and inhaled large quantities of nice, ice cold water and started talking about the other courts scattered throughout the city and the best ballers at each place and, in particular, he asked me if I knew about this one court that some city planner decided would be better placed within a wooded area near the outskirts of the city limits - and I knew the court he was talking about and it wasn't famous for the high level of basketball talent being displayed.

It was best known for what some guys were doing in the woods between games or while waiting to have next, namely, fucking and sucking each other. It was pretty common at this particular court given the amount of testosterone being let loose in the air as guys sought to imitate their favorite NBA players and especially the amazing Julius "Dr. J." Erving. He confessed that he'd spent some time in the woods between games and I just nodded knowingly because I'd spent some time in the woods as well... so I wasn't all that surprised when he asked if we could blow each other.

We stripped down right there in my living room, took a moment to look at and appreciate each other's cock, and got to sucking right there on the floor and I thought it was funny that we both were trying to outdo each other just like when we were playing ball and the race was on to see who could get the other guy to cum first. He lost that one, too, filling my mouth with a good amount of spunk but I wasn't too far behind him in that regard.

We disengaged and sat there grinning at each other as well as complimenting each other on our most excellent cock sucking skills and agreeing that after we gulp down some more water, we should do it again. We got at each other again, both of us kinda/sorta taking our time when he stopped sucking me and said, "You know, we should fuck each other - what do you think?"

I thought it was a great idea given that during our second round, we had our fingers in each other's butts. We literally flipped a coin to see who'd get fucked first - he lost that one, too, and after hauling ass to the bedroom to get some lube, I lubed us up and gratefully slide into his ass and fucked him until I exploded inside him.

"Damn, that felt so good!" he said as I withdrew and flopped over onto my stomach to await his penetration. A few seconds later, I felt his lubed finger sliding into my hole like the proverbial hot knife through butter and I couldn't wait to feel the head of his dick going in there when I thought, "He's gonna fuck me..."

And for the first time in my bisexual life, that thought seemed to bother me - a lot. It bothered me so much that I barely noticed when he got on top of me and pushed his dick into me and started fucking me nice and slow... and I felt so girly that I almost had a panic attack because in all the years that I'd been in this exact same position and situation, I'd never felt anything like this before.

He's fucking me, telling me how good my hole feels around his dick and that he loved it when I'd tighten my muscles around him - and something I was doing automatically because my mind was having a fit dealing with the fact that there was a guy fucking me and just like I was a girl... and, my god, it was feeling... too good? He had just the right amount of dick to nudge my prostate on the down stroke, sending those amazing orgasmic feelings through me and actually making me spill my seed despite not being hard. Still, my mind was kinda/sorta paying attention to how good he was fucking me but was still distracted about how it was making me feel in other ways.

Bitchy. Girly. Submissive. Vulnerable. He pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back, threw my legs up and open, and re-entered me... I and clung to him in a position that my body just didn't like being in - I could never get my hips to behave properly in the missionary position (and I still can't). I looked down between us and I could see his cock working in and out of me, could see the intense look on his face and I felt even more... feminine. Girly. Bitchy. Horribly vulnerable. One part of me want him to stop while another part of me wanted him to not stop making me feel this way.

He grunted; I felt his cock swell in my ass... then felt him releasing into me and, god, it was always, for me, the best part of being fucked but this time? Better than any other time I'd had my hole creamed... and it was very damned scary because I could feel myself losing control of my emotions and could hear myself begging and pleading for him to give me more dick, to keep fucking me.

Which, of course, now that he'd flooded my ass with sperm, wasn't going to happen. When he pulled out of me, I felt so empty and lost that I could feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes - what the hell is going on? That he leaned forward and planted a light kiss on my lips didn't make me feel better... but it also did. He got up and went upstairs to the bathroom and I just laid where I was, legs splayed open, his spunk oozing out of my ass; he returned with a soapy wash cloth and cleaned me up from cock to ass before going back down on me to get me good and hard.

I didn't think that was gonna happen; I was physically and, now, emotionally spent but I'll be damned if he didn't get me back up again before lubing me up so he could have a seat on my dick.

"Are you okay?" he asked once he had every inch of me that could go inside him.

"Yeah... no, not really," I said.

"You wanna stop?"

"No... you're already there so let's do it," I said, trying to shake that very weird feeling away. And it was fading away as I watched him riding my dick effortlessly; he was enjoying himself and, to be honest, I was enjoying it, too, right up until I heard him say, "God you're really making me feel so girly... and I love it!"

As he rode me - and I was yanking on his cock - his words hit me hard because that's exactly how I'd been feeling but that didn't seem to upset him as much as it shocked the living daylights out of me. It took a while but he eventually shot a load onto my stomach and I got around to shooting a load into him once more. We disengaged and stumbled up the steps for one last clean up and even though we were both telling each other how good the sex had been, I was very disturbed by what I'd felt and I just couldn't understand why, after all the years I'd been fucked, I'd never felt anything like this before.

And to this very day, I still don't know although I did get to understand the feeling and come to terms with it. But what I couldn't figure out was if he was the reason why I felt like a wanton, needy bitch in heat... or it was an evolution of sorts in my bisexuality or had I finally "grown up" enough for my mind and body to reveal and accept the real truth of what it meant to have sex with another guy?

I never was able to answer the question; my mind just accepted - finally - that it is what it is so instead of letting it bother me should I feel that way again (and I sure as hell did), just accept it; go with it. Revel in what it meant to be fucked and rejoice even more in that moment when the guy fucking me got to the bursting point and inseminated me...

And just as if I were a girl.[/SIZE][/FONT]

“You’ve been a bad girl.”


He towered over me. I nervously went to take a sip from my glass, but he took it from me before it reached my lips. After setting the wine on the bedside table, he pulled me to him roughly, his hands pressed into my lower back.


This kiss this time was more forceful, more urgent. At first, our tongues intertwined, but then he pulled back, our lips barely touching, making me strain to press my lips to his. He was in control of the situation, and I was in trouble.


Just the way I like it.


His hands slid down my back and over my butt, and he grabbed it forcefully, wadding the fabric up in his hands. My dress was quickly pulled over my head and off and thrown into the corner of the room. He lifted his lips away from mine and kissed down my chin, under my ear, down my neck, to my collar bone.


Meanwhile, his hands expertly released the hooks on my bra. My heavy breasts pressed the fabric forward and away from my body. His lips followed the strap off of one shoulder and down my arm. Then the bra was tossed in the general direction of my dress.


With his hands on my upper arms, he pressed his face into my breasts. First the right, then the left, his mouth encircled my nipple. His teeth pressed into my skin with a large but gentle bite, while his tongue circled around with the added occasional flick. Then with some suction, he dragged his teeth over my skin and bit the nipple before drawing away.


His hands moved from my arms to my shoulders, and he pushed me down to the floor. The tip of his hard cock trailed over my body as I descended, and it sprung up in front of my face. I did not start sucking as he had done with Mr. Calloway. Instead of immediately taking his cock in my mouth, I went to his balls first. Kissing them, licking them, I cupped them in my hand and pressed my middle finger at the base.


Normally I would kiss my way up his shaft, but he was too impatient for that now. He put his hand on the back of my head and made a fist, grabbing a handful of hair. My head bobbed back and forth under his control as he fucked my mouth. His cock filled my mouth with a silkiness, but I made an effort not to gag when it forced its way down my throat.


With all the excitement, I thought surely he would cum soon. I was wrong. Instead, he yanked my head back and pulled me to my feet. His hands pressed into my back again, firmly pushing my breasts into his bare chest. He put his lips next to my ear and said, “I’m going to fuck you just as your Mr. Calloway fucked me. And there is nothing you can do about it.”


He grabbed my arm, spun me around, and pushed me forcefully onto the bed. I heard him pick up the oil. His hand slid down my stomach and his fingers spread around my clit, and he used that to grip my hip and pull me into standing. My legs were locked with my ass in the air, while my head stayed buried in the covers.


His other hand reached between my thighs and spread my legs apart. I stiffened and waited for the feeling of the oil dripping down my crack. It didn’t come. Everything stood still for a moment. His fingers didn’t move over my clit, and his other hand didn’t touch me at all.


I felt the movement of his body and knew what was coming a split second before it happened. As soon as I had begun to wonder what the stillness was about, his open hand smacked my buttcheek with a painful slap. And then again, slowly, deliberately, another blow was dealt to the other cheek.


“In addition,” he said, with another smack, “you disobeyed me.” Smack! Smack!


Suddenly, his hand was in my hair again, and he pulled me up to a standing position. He put the half full glass of wine in front of me. “Finish it.” I drained the glass. He pushed my head back into the bed.


I stiffened, expecting the next spank, but it didn’t come. Instead, as I expected earlier, he deliberately poured the oil over my ass. It dripped between my cheeks, then between my lips and down my inner thigh, although I couldn’t confirm that all of that was just oil. His hands went to work rubbing it in, making sure I was well coated.


A finger massaged its way around my asshole, teasing, tempting to go in. I took a deep breath and focused on relaxing, arching my back and raising my butt high in the air to make it more accessible. For my efforts, I unexpectedly got another series of smacks. By being off guard, it made them sting more. I lost my footing and collapsed onto the bed. My lover again reached between my legs, teased me by coming so close yet so far away from my clit, and pulled me to my feet again.


“Also,” he said while his finger went back to work, slowly circling it’s way into my ass, “How do you know Mr. Calloway?” He plunged his middle finger in several time before quickly removing in and delivering a few more blows to my cheeks.


He continued to alternate between smacks and fingers, giving my poor pussy and clit no attention whatsoever. Once my butt was sufficiently warmed, instead of fingers, it was his cock he slipped in this time. The head pried me open wider and wider, when I thought that it would surely be in all the way, it spread me even more. Finally, with a pop, the ridge passed my sphincter, and his cock began to fill me.


My pussy ached from the lack of attention. Yet even as he drove himself into my ass, I felt the orgasm swell up within me. He pulled his cock completely out, then plunged it back in again, never letting me get acclimated to the rhythm, delaying my release.


Finally, he sunk himself into me to the hilt and held steady. My muscles involuntarily contracted against him, tightening and loosening against my lover’s cock. He leaned over me, his bare torso completely connecting with my back, and as he came into my ass, he whispered in my ear, “Thank you.”

My lover stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room. I was in the rare position to ogle as much as I liked, and I could see the bulge in the front of his Dockers grow as the Mr. Calloway approached him.


The large, muscular man circled around him, while my lover remained frozen in place. First Mr. Calloway just inspected him, looking him up and down from all angles. He seemed pleased. I didn't blame him, I quite enjoyed taking in the sight of my handsome lover from my vantage point as well.


And then he began to touch. First, Mr. Calloway ran his hands through my lover's hair, catching him off guard. He faced him while his fingers continued their way down his neck and over his chest. His hands briefly brushed the front of his pants before he walked around him, letting his fingers trail over the curve of his buttocks and up his back.


Then from behind, Mr. Calloway grabbed the hem of my lover's shirt and pulled it up over his head. Normally, my lover was the one in control, and I enjoyed seeing him vulnerable like this. Mr. Calloway was good at surprising him, doing things in a way that made my lover unsure of what was coming, and that made him nervous. But I knew my lover, because behind those nerves, I saw the look in his eyes, the goosebumps over his skin, and the tightness in his pants. He was excited.


With his body pressed up against the back of my lover, his cock trying to escape from his pants to plant itself between my lovers clothed cheeks, he slid his hands down my lover's chest and to his belt. He unbuckled the belt, unbuttoned the pants, and unzipped his zipper, all while his breath was hot on my lover's neck. Slipping his hands under the waistband, he pushed his pants and underwear down to the floor in one swift motion.


My lover obediently kicked off his shoes and socks and stepped out of his slacks. Mr. Calloway's face was at my lover's hip level, and he hovered over his ass slightly before standing back up again. With one hand on his shoulder, he spun my lover around so they faced each other, positioning both of them with their sides to me, so as to give me the best view. They could see me out of the corners of their eyes. I poured myself another glass of wine, leaned back, uncrossed and recrossed my legs, and took a sip.


Mr. Calloway put both hands on my lover's shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. Then he unbuttoned his tight jeans. With no underwear in the way, his cock popped out of his pants, seemingly relieved to be freed from its prison. With his hands in my lover's hair again, Mr. Calloway pulled his face closer so the head of his cock was almost touching his lips.


His hands moved to Mr. Calloway's balls and cupped them while my lover took his cock into his mouth. He started quick, quicker than I would have, bobbing his head back and forth. I couldn't help myself, I compared his technique to mine and mentally took notes. Mr. Calloway closed his eyes and let his head fall back, obviously enjoying the sensation.


Sooner than I expected, Mr. Calloway's muscles started to tighten. His hand made a fist in my lover's hair. And then, when I was about to be disappointed that it was over too soon, my lover pulled his head back, letting the cock fall out of his mouth.


Anger flashed briefly over Mr. Calloway's face, and then realization hit. He roughly grabbed my lover by his arm and pulled him to his feet. He pushed him over to the bed, grasped the back of his neck, and pushed his face down into the comforter. Next to the bed, on the table, sat the jar of coconut oil I had placed there earlier. The large man scooped some out and slathered it generously over my lover's gorgeous ass, slipping his fingers in as he did so.


My view was now from the back, so not only could I clearly see each of their asses, but I got the best angle to watch Mr. Calloway slowly enter my lover. My lover grabbed at the bedding and moaned as his ass was filled with the large cock. He was held down on the bed, unable to move, as Mr. Calloway sat still, waiting for him to adjust to the size.


Finally, he began to pump, slowly at first, pulling nearly all the way out before pushing it back in again. Soon, he was overcome by his own desires, and Mr. Calloway thrusted into my lover with more force. I downed a full glass of wine and leaned forward to watch.


With each thrust, Mr. Calloway grunted, and my lover moaned, their voices combining to a harmonous bass rhythm. In time, the beat sped up, until they took on one continuous note. My lover's voice fluctuated up and down an octive depending on the position of the cock inside of him.


My wine forgotten, I leaned forward in the chair to watch. My lover was hard, and I could tell from his cries that he enjoyed the experience. Mr. Calloway's thrusts became more frantic, and he went silent as he came within my lover.


A towel lay on the end of the bed, and Mr. Calloway used it to wipe the oil from his skin. But he wasn't entirely without compassion. My lover lay face down on the bed, tired from the excursion, and Mr. Calloway used this opportunity to wipe him off with the towel as well.


Meanwhile, I poured myself another glass of wine. I stood up, the glass in my hand, and took a sip. Although I'm short even in my stilletto heels, I felt tall. I was the one in control, at least for the moment. Mr. Calloway's shirt hung on a hanger on the bar inside the door, and I retrieved it for him. After he put his shoes on, sitting on the bed next to my lover who still lay face down, his head resting on his arms, I handed Mr. Calloway his shirt.


He took it from me, then took me delicately in his arms, a different man from the rough one who had just handed my lover. "Thank you," I said.


"My pleasure," he replied with a smile, then kissed me softly, a mixture of polite and passionate. My lover rolled over and sat up, watching the exchange. Mr. Calloway nodded to him, and left the room.


I took another sip from my glass and turned to my lover. He stood, towering over me even though he was barefoot and I wore my heels, and the control of power shifted.


"You've been a bad girl."