Bisexual Journey Ch. 01

I finally made a decision and a choice. I would do it. I thought about it for weeks after our first love making, and the building curiosity became a positive want to do it, to be fucked by a man to know what it meant. I would do it to satisfy Barry's tremendous desire to take me that way, but much more so I would do it in capitulation to my own fully developed desire for an experience I really couldn't imagine. I had to know....

Obviously, I had never been fucked before. I had never really thought about it. My bi-sexual "career" so to speak began with a prank kiss of my best buddy Andy. We were alone at my house, in my room. He had done me a trifling cash favor and refused all my offers to repay him. "I'll give you a kiss then," I said. "Promises, promises," was his witty retort. And a prank erupted. I put a lascivious leer on my face and slowly walked to him. He stood perfectly still with a "you wouldn't dare" look," which quickly changed to a "that son-of-a-bitch is really going to do it!" look. And in that instant I really was going to kiss him. I think he was daring me right down to the wire, to see which of us would blink first. I held his face in my hands and kissed his lips.

We both were stunned. "That was much nicer than I could have possibly imagined," I said. "Let's do that again." Andy didn't resist. I think he was paralyzed by the effect of our brief kiss and had no volition left. I kissed him again, the same as I would kiss a girl.

Kissing him excited every cell in my body. His lips were soft, and responsive. The kiss was as meaningful as kissing a girl.

"My God, Jack, what just happened?"

"We kissed, Andy."

"We're not queers!"

"I know that!"

We both had girls we fucked regularly, and neither of us had ever had a homosexual fantasy in our lives. We had never seen gay video porn. We knew some guys like to suck cock and that was cool, each to his own. But guys kissing?! That was worse than guys wearing dresses and make up. We swore to forget all about it, and never, never tell anyone else what had happened.

But I couldn't forget it. The alien excitement had seared my brain. A few weeks later we were at my house alone, in my room, doing whatever, and I said, "Andy, I tried, but I can't forget our kiss."

"I can't either."

"It excited the hell out of me."

"It certainly was different."

"Let's do it one more time."

We did, and the excitement set us on fire. Our kissing opened all the doors to our bi-sexuality that neither of us knew before we even had. All the rest fell into place naturally, when we could find the private place and time. Kissing his lips the same as I would kiss a girl. Which evolved to holding his naked body in my arms. The sheer beauty of his hard cock, the silky skin, the shinning purple head. Holding it in my hand, studying it like I had never seen one before, taking it into my mouth. Learning the skill of sucking to give him all the pleasure I could. Learning that his moans and spastic body language, the cock head in my mouth swelling tighter and larger, had him poised on the edge, and at that moment his spurting cum into my mouth in orgasm was more important to me than anything else on earth.

Andy and I went to different colleges, and got back into girls. We did not call or email, and our love making was a precious memory but not alive with urgency for me. He had a crisis of conscience and on Christmas break told me that sex with a male was all over for him, for ever. I wasn't heart broken. I thought it was all over for me too, for that matter. I had spent many hours working out the terror that I might well be a queer, a faggot, a pansy. When I held Andy in my arms, kissed his lips, sucked his cock, I was "gay" at the time, and truly loved being so. But apart from him, my desire for females was as strong as ever. So I wasn't a queer's queer. I was convinced of that. I knew how, and would like do it again if the right guy came along, but for three years I never felt the compelling need. Until...