Bisexual Journey Ch. 05bydiagones©
"Make yourself at home," I said. "I will see what I can concoct in the kitchen."
He followed me, and when I touched the refrigerator handle he circled his arms around me from behind. "This is what I want to concoct," He said, pushing his cock against my ass.
I turned in his arms. Our eyes locked in question, then in answer. His powerful arms pulled me tight to his body, and he bent his head down to put his mouth to mine.
The kiss was greatly different from any with Andy and Bryan. Barry broke all the molds of my experience. His mass of muscular flesh, his strength of embrace, his direct to the point of our being in the kitchen, was a force far beyond Andy and Bryan. Our kiss bore no resemblance to kissing a girl. Except that I had to tilt my head back and lift my chin to receive his mouth on mine from his greater height. An absolute first, with male or female. Lifting my mouth up to receive the lowering lips of a standing lover. That, and the utter maleness of his big body and capturing arms; that and his wet, hot, demanding mouth taking mine, lips mashing mine, sucking my lips, his tongue plunging deep; the conquering kiss of a man; that made me sink into a feminine state of yielding I had never felt before.
Never had I felt anything like it. That soft feminine yielding. It was surprisingly pleasant, and seemed perfectly fitting. For I was being physically and erotically overpowered by Barry. My hands went to the back of his head and my fingers ruffled his hair and ears and gently clasped his head bent down to feed on my lips. Yielding. Feeling his cock under his pants swell and lengthen and became granite hard. His hands went to my ass to explore the contours and shape all over, to squeeze, to hold, to pull my groin and hard cock to his. We kissed a long time, his mouth feeding on mine, his hands making a personal claim of my ass, me skirting about the strange fantasy feeling of feminine yielding to his massive bulk, strength, and passion of his desire. He wanted me. He really wanted me. And I wanted him.
"Man!" I gasped. "This is like a lightening flash in the sky. All the time we have known each other...suddenly... I never imagined you for this."
"Nor I you. But I have been hot for you since our first partnership in the gym. You have the most beautiful, erotic, sexy, perfectly sculpted ass I have ever seen on a man."
"Do I? I've never seen my ass. I don't know quite what to think of your admiration. You have a splendid one yourself." I cupped his ass in my hands. "There's enough muscle power here to drive a freight train."
His glutes flexed and tightened with such force that had my finger been in the valley he would have broken it. He flushed and glowed with pleasure at my suggestion of the potential power in his ass to drive a freight train. He smiled at me with touching sweetness, but with something hidden and kinetic too. He pulled me tight and kissed me again. His mouth a teasing, loving exploration on mine, less demanding. His hands on my ass again, the most beautiful, erotic, sexy, perfectly sculpted man ass he had ever seen, feeling, caressing it like it was his now his property. That time I didn't have the feminine yielding fantasy. I was all man in his arms; man to man.
"Let's get out of these clothes."
We walked to my bed room, my arm around his waist, his hand on my ass, holding it like it might disappear. We undressed matter of factly, neatly folding our clothes and placing them on the bureau. We calmly assessed the naked bodies we presented to each other.
Barry's body was coated with hair on his chest and stomach and groin and legs. His skin had a tinge of brown that hinted of a mysterious ethnic history. Mediterranean? Native American? His cock was hard and erect at an angle, with a slight up bend to it. The head was large and flaring, burgundy red, the back ridge of the head spread beyond the circumference of the shaft.
"You are the most beautiful man I have ever had." Barry said.
Had? Was I being had already? But his flattery pleased me. "It's been six years since I had sex with a man," I said.
"Longer than that for me," he said.
He walked close and circled his arms around me. He kissed me, like I was the most beautiful man he ever had. I didn't experience that sense of feminine yielding, not exactly, but I felt beautiful and delicate in his arms. My awareness of his maleness took on an expansion beyond memory of Andy or Bryan. The great bulb of his cock head poking my stomach. My chin raised to receive his man kiss that took total command of my lips and tongue. His hands possessing my ass cheeks like they held more potential promise than a winning lottery ticket. His raspy body hair grinding my flesh. His searing heat enflaming me.
I slowly sank to my knees, under the weight of masculine sexuality that flowed from Barry, that big, tall, hairy, immensely strong and commanding man. His cock was at my nose, and I pressed it to my cheek to say hello. His groin smell was strong, no matter the recent shower. I sniffed and inhaled. His balls were the size of small hen eggs, and hung low in his sack. His cock had an aesthetic perfection different from Andy's or Bryan's. It looked like a weapon designed by nature for specific function, like a battering ram. The shaft skin was dark brownish, with visible purple veins, the outsized burgundy head shaped like a helmet on an ancient warrior. I kissed the head and licked it, top and bottom and all around. Barry's legs quivered, and he raked his fingers in my hair. I sucked in the big head.
He was a challenge. He was a mouthful. Much more than my experience. But doable. After six years, it was much like my first time. And truly, it was my first Barry cock suck. A new man, a different man, big powerful Barry with crackling body hair, with a powerful cock distended to the limit, as hard as granite with desire for me. I had to adjust to the size that filled my mouth. Make it wet and slippery to my serving tongue. To give him pleasure. My sole focus. And the metaphysical occurred. The odor of masculinity wafting from his crotch became a buttery film of taste coating his cock. The taste was exactly the same as the smell. I lost my mind. My state of being was pure cock sucking devotion. Once again, after six years.
"Oh yes," Barry whimpered. "Oh my sweetheart, my darling, yes, suck my cock!"
To give him that sweetest of pleasure was my only focus. And I was doing that. His calling me his "sweetheart" and "darling" was a mental thrill, as was his redundant order to suck. It was a statement of the pleasure my loving mouth gave him. Of my serving him. And serving him then was more important to me than anything else in the world. I made no attempt to deep throat him. I wasn't sure I even could. But no matter. My ring of lips went far down his shaft. My saliva flowed and slurp sounds cracked the air. The sexual passion was all, giving and taking, purely male, a merging of need and imperative.
He gave no warning. He didn't need to. Every detail of his building orgasm was vivid in my mind. His spastic, buckling body, his hands squeezing my head, the great silky bulb swelling even larger in my mouth, hot and twice as hard. His cum was shot from a cannon. Thick and viscous. Clumpy and stringy. More and more, and still more. I swallowed and swallowed, and swallowed more. I was forced to, but it was just what I wanted, desired, had worked for. That volume of cum from his balls, delivered to me in return for my reduction to a single desire to worship and adore his cock with my mouth.
We were on our backs on the bed, heads on pillows. Barry had one arm flung back behind his head, his eyes closed, his massive chest in rhythmic rise and fall to breathe his return from the outer universe of orgasm back to earth of here and now. His resting fat cock flopped on his thigh like a walrus sunning on a rock. I was in the cock sucker's state, serene, almost euphoric, deeply satisfied, his mighty volume of cum in my belly a tonic of accomplishment, a transference of energy. The residual taste of his cum in my mouth. Such a unique and thrilling and exciting taste, a man's cum. Barry's cum. My new lover.
I did, without thinking about it, what many women have done to me after I have given them a glorious fuck. I turned and snuggled to Barry. I touched my nose and lips to that neck pocket below his ear. There was a slight film of sweat. "Thank you," I breathed.
He laughed. "Thank me? Thank you! That was the most stupendous blow job I've ever had."
"Well, I was inspired," I said modestly. Blow job? The power of words. The truth they can hold. I had indeed given him a blow job. Cocksucker that I am and fully accept in myself. Like to do, want to do, take pride in doing. I felt proud. I felt fulfilled. "You called me 'sweetheart, darling.'"
"I was in another world. Your mouth felt so good you were my darling. My lover." He turned to kiss my lips, very softly. "Are you okay with that, my sweetheart?" His smiling eyes gave me a multifaceted message. Genuine inquiry. A prickle of naughtiness. A fizz of humor. A clear assertion. And more beyond my grasp.
The power of words. I felt like his sweetheart, his darling, as much of his body weight pressed down on me and his lips nibbled mine. My arm circled his neck.
"I'm okay with that. I felt like your darling when you first kissed me. A strange new feeling, but I felt it. You are so much... MAN!"
He moved to lie on me. I spread my legs to accommodate him. He was heavy, and hairy, and hot.
The power of words. A concept was spot lighted. A tacit understanding was forged. My man smothered me with his dominate position, and I lay captive under his power. He kissed me with passionate frenzy of possession and control. I absorbed. I absorbed my man.
I had never been in this position before with Andy or Bryan. Maybe briefly, in a tight squeeze, twisting and turning on the mattress. But nothing like this. Lying on my back with my thighs spread to funnel the press of absolute masculinity down on me. His cock caught between our bellies bullying about and rubbing mine. His hairy stomach and broad chest sweaty and squiggly on mine. His impassioned lips practically eating my face with desire. All man. Total man. With a cock that suddenly expanded to full dimension again. His powerful ass muscles drove two rapid hunches of his hard swollen cock against my stomach. I gave a very soft and wholly involuntary grunt. Absorbing my man.
He raised up on stiff arms and looked down on me. His look was flooded with desire and purpose. "It's time for the towels and lube," he said.
It took a moment for me to understand. "You want to fuck me?"
"More than I have ever wanted to fuck any other man in my life. You are the ultimate. You are perfection. And I want to fuck your sexy ass with the greatest desire I've ever had for a man."
I was all shock and awe. Breathless. My mind clawed for scraps to make sense of what he said. The sense became perfectly clear. He wanted to push is big hard cock into my sexy ass with the greatest desire he ever had for a man. He wanted to fuck me.
"Whoa. Wait a minute. I've never done that before. I have to draw the line there."
He looked at me with undisguised disbelief. "Never? You are virgin?"
"Most assuredly so. Move over. We need to talk."
He rolled off of me and we sat up to pow wow. "I am really something of a novice," I said. "I've only had sex with two other guys. You are my third." I told him my story of Andy and Bryan.
"Amazing," he grinned. "You certainly learned how to suck cock with little schooling."
"Thank you for the compliment. But that's really all I learned. Kissing a man and loving his cock in my mouth."
"You never fucked either of them?"
"No. Never really thought about it. I have never had a fantasy of fucking a man, or of one fucking me. No particular reason. Just never wondered about it."
Barry very slowly leaned to me and framed my face with his hands. His lips touched mine softly, with exquisite tenderness. He spoke with his lips a fraction of an inch from mine. "My darling?"
The inflection made my chest flutter. "My man," I breathed, confirming the playful roles we had adopted. I kissed him softly and gently. Then remembered my man was on fire with desire to fuck me.
"I take it you have... fucked other men before."
"Several. In years past."
"Not since I married, eight years ago."
I felt relief from a rising concern. Bi-sexual men never really know where the other has been, what he has done, how often. What risks he has taken. That night we had made love on a geyser of sudden boiling lust. But he was a married man with a wife and two darling daughters he surely wouldn't endanger. Surely he was clean. He hadn't fucked male ass in eight years, he said. Surely he was safe. I was confident he was. I had to trust him. But he was suddenly a brand new category for me to think about.
"How did you get into it? Fucking guys. Several of them, you said. Tell me your story."
"My first piece of ass was literally that," he began. "A boy in high school." Barry was a junior and had never gotten laid. He dated but had no finesse with girls. "I was a big bruiser even back then. I intimidated girls, maybe even scared the hell out of them." He was horny, frustrated, desperate. He had a good buddy he hung out with and confided in. "If I don't get laid soon, I might have to fuck you," he joked to his buddy. His buddy reacted in a way that changed Barry's life forever. "I might let you, if you promise to never tell anybody." - "You mean that?" - "Yes. If you promise to never tell." - "Well," Barry said to me, "I was like you. I never had a gay, bi, homosexual fantasy in my life. But his offering his ass to me drove me crazy. At that time, I would have fucked a girl, a boy, a sheep or a cow, anything live that would hold still. I didn't have a single thought about perversion or anything. I gave him fervent promises I would never tell a soul if he would let me." Barry smiled in nostalgia. "It took some days to arrange the privacy at his place, but he lay on his stomach on a pillow on the bed, and I lost my cherry in his ass."
"First time," I laughed. "Precious and life changing no matter the combination."
"Definitely. I wasn't his first. Someone had fucked him before, but he wouldn't talk about it with me, except to say he liked it. He was a very secretive guy, lucky for me. He knew what he was doing. I didn't know anything, but I learned."
"How long did that go on?"
"Until I went to college. I did have my first girl, of course, and a couple of other girls. I was as normal and mainstream as it gets, so I didn't need him anymore. But..."
"But?" I echoed.
"I couldn't forget how damn good it felt to push my dick in his tight ass. And I couldn't forget how really pretty his ass was when he pulled his pants off and moved about the room. It was all boy ass, but it was a full round one, and even the first time he let me do him I was conscious of how pretty and sexy the shape was and that increased my excitement many fold. Pretty and sexy and warm and so very tight. I pushed in to the hilt and blew my load in ten seconds."
He paused to smile at his explosive first piece of ass. "That's where the BUT comes in," he said, smiling at the pun. "Fucking my girls was all the sweet glorious pleasure it was supposed to be, but... My buddy's ass was also good. Different. But good. It felt very, very damn good to be inside him. Simple as that. Until we graduated, he was my secret girlfriend, so to speak. Maybe two or three months would pass and I would need that crazy, wild excitement of penetrating his pretty ass, and he was always there. Well, not at the snap of a finger. But any resistance he might have felt didn't last long."
"You make it all sound easy and carefree."
"Well, it was, actually. It took me a while to understand he was a gay boy, from birth most likely. But he had no effeminate mannerisms at all. He was a normal guy in all respects. Not my girls, none of our friends had any inkling we were fuck buddies. He was quiet and self contained. He dated girls but never talked about sex with them. He wasn't really in my crowd either. He was mostly a loner, with a tightly guarded secret. A secret I would never make public. Not when I became half of it. You notice even now I don't reveal his name."
"I was wondering about the trauma of discovering you were a queer guy."
Barry chuckled. "No problem at all. I was the top, he was the bottom. He was the queer, not me." He chuckled again. "Isn't that how bisexual men rationalize it?"
"Not me. I had to accept I was a cock sucking faggot queer when I was with a guy. But a totally straight guy otherwise."
"Same with me, of course. But honestly, it wasn't all that much of a trauma for me. Keep in mind he was my first experience, and the excitement and pleasure his ass gave me was extremely intense. My finally fucking girls could not completely erase that experience. He was good. Too good to give up." He gave me long steady look. "This might not be easy to understand, but when I fuck a man something changes in me. My sense of man hood, masculinity, power, takes a hell of a leap. I think I am Superman."
I smoothed my hands over his muscle strapped shoulders and arms. "You are a superman. You are also a excellent kisser."
"That came naturally. The second time I fucked him, he said doggie style wasn't the only way. Face to face was equally good. Maybe even better. So he lay on his back like a girl, and made me slow down to put it in, and before I came it felt so mind shattering good I swooped down and kissed his mouth with no thoughts at all except I wanted to, I had to, kiss him like he was my girl. From that point on kissing his lips was a part of it. Kissing him made my cock all the bigger and harder. And still, I never thought of myself as being a homo. I was Superman, he was my boy sweetheart."
"So, how often did you have him?"
"Infrequently. Maybe ten times total all junior and senior years. Finding the time and privacy was very iffy. We had our separate lives. We just had this deep, deep secret that no one else knew about or even suspected. He really liked my cock filling his ass, and man did I ever like putting it there... He also loved to suck me. And man did I ever like that too. I was Superman, not a queer!" he laughed. "Even if I did learn to suck him off too. It was the polite thing to do. I mean, after all, I cum so hard in his ass I turned myself inside out, I had to give him relief. Not to mention I acquired a taste for it, his cock in my mouth."
"That's nice to know," I smiled.
"I haven't forgotten you," he smiled back, and then kissed me, to demonstrate his acquired and fully developed tastes. "You wanted to know how I became a top. I'm telling you. Because I want you to know why I am so hot for your beautiful sexy ass. And oh my God I do desire you, so very, very much. I want to fuck you, my darling." He kissed me again, his mouth practically shouting his desire to fuck me. And I felt soft and vulnerable and quivery and feminine and jolted with the electric currents of his openly expressed desire to fuck me.
Fuck me. Press his large flaring cock head against my tiny pucker, push in, spread me wide, enter my body. Me, a man. I pushed him away.
"Too much. Too soon," I gasped. "No man has fucked me. I don't even know how or what to think about it."
"I understand that," he said. "It's like first cock suck. You simply can't know until you do it."
"Not nearly the same," I said. "I haven't watched a lot of porn, but I've seen enough, gay, straight, all the mix. My impression is it hurts like hell for the guy being fucked. On film, they act like they are being tortured."