The Worst of Both Worlds

Time for another story-break. I have to admit that, even with a condom, I'm not really comfortable with a guy blowing his load in me. Now, I won't even let a guy in me without one, so I'm not crazy or anything. But no matter how good the fucking I'm getting is, the closer he gets, the more nervous I get. Yeah, condoms don't often break, but they're known to fail on occasion. And sure, it feels better to cum in somebody than on somebody. So what am I trying to say? Damned if I know. Just that the safer you play, the longer you'll be around to play. And if the guy (or girl!) you're screwing wants you to play safe - and if you're willing to - chances are you'll get some again. Think about it. We now return you to your regularly scheduled fucking.

Everybody knows what it feels like to cum. (If you don't, you have my deepest sympathies.) Hopefully you also know what it feels like when somebody else cums. Whether it's been in your mouth, in your hands or between your tits, you have some idea what it's like. Well, this was going to be the first time somebody came IN me and I had no idea what that'd be like.

It was honestly pretty cool. He was going to town on my ass, and I was enjoying watching him. I guess the view was pretty similar to what a woman sees when she's getting it - guy pumping away, muscles flexing, cock pistoning in and out. It was quite the sight. (Note to women: this is kind of why we like watching you give head. It's fun to watch. Don't get embarrassed. Just do your thing and let us enjoy the view, okay?) Finally his breathing was getting ragged and I knew he was just about there. I tried squeezing him a little from the inside and wrapped my legs around him. That was enough to push him over the brink. He groaned and fell on top of me, cramming himself as far inside me as he could get. I helped him by pulling his body tight against mine with my arms and legs. He groaned some more and I could feel his cock pulsing within me, pumping the condom (I hoped!) full of his spunk. He lay on top of me for another minute after the shuddering had ceased, getting his breath back. When he was more or less recovered, he pushed himself up on his arms. It was then that I realized what happens when you sandwich a load of cum between two sweaty bodies. "EWWWWWW!!!" you're saying. "Eww" is right. A big, sticky, gloppy mess that you'd swear you were going to need pressure washer to get off. Fortunately, the cleanup wasn't that tough, and we both laughed at the sight. He pulled out, condom intact (yay!), and flopped down next to me. I finally got to straighten my legs and damn, were they sore. I'm not sure how long we went at it, but according to my legs it was way too long.

While I wouldn't recommend people doing things outside the realm of their own sexual orientation (or comfort boundaries or whatever the hell term you want to use), there's no better way to find out what a girl goes through during sex than to get fucked yourself. Having a guy try and twist you into some of the fucked-up positions you've tried on your female partners will give you a new appreciation for the shit they put up with from us in the name of making us happy in bed. And this realization came from a simple missionary position variant, never mind that crazy shit you found in the Kama Sutra that has her bending backwards over the couch with a baked potato in one hand and.... you get the idea.

As I write this, I realize that what I said earlier wasn't quite right. The first time I got fucked was pretty cool. I still wouldn't rate it up there with the other "firsts" I listed, but it wasn't half-bad.

As we're nearly halfway through this, I'm sure more than a couple of you are wondering, "where does the 'Bi' part of the title come in? This has just been about guys so far." And you're right. But I felt the need to lay some groundwork here. Besides, when was the last time a guy who got with a lot of women was called a "slut?" Almost never. Besides, I've never been much of a "ladies' man." I'm not smooth. I can't make small talk or chat somebody up very well. I was horribly tongue-tied around girls when I was younger.

So is that why I started doing guys? Because I couldn't score with girls? No. I was curious about guys and really liked being with them. I went with nothing but guys for a couple of years. Until I met her. I think every guy has a "her." That one woman that makes you look at what's going on in your life and rethink a few things. For me, I was sure I was gay. Shit, I'd even come out to my parents as gay. How's that for being sure of your sexuality? Well, I met this woman and suddenly I wasn't so sure.

She was a friend's girlfriend's roommate, and she was weird. But cool weird, not that stupid, "not like the other girls" weird. She was an art student. She was in decent shape, carrying a few extra pounds ("few" meaning "few" here, not twenty or thirty) and had really nice boobs.

Her, her roommate, my friend and I started hanging around as a group, and she and I just hung together sometimes when they were off doing the relationship thing. I guess she thought nothing would come of our hanging out together since somebody had told her I was gay. She was cool with it, so we spent lots of time goofing around doing stuff by ourselves. It was fun to have somebody to pal around with without all the typical boy/girl tensions that often come up. And they probably wouldn't have come up at all if I hadn't brought them up. Now, to understand this you need to know one thing. I'd never hit on anybody before in my life. Any connection I'd made with somebody had been socially, or on a date or something like that. I'd had a few crushes that ended up with somebody else because I couldn't bring myself to try anything. I'd always bought into the "it'll ruin our friendship" myth that gets tossed around. (Remember that line, it will make another appearance later on.) For once, I wasn't going to let things stay the way they were. I was going to try something.

After we'd known each other for a while, I got the request every guy gets at least once in his life - can you help me move? Most guys dread this, knowing it'll be a day of moving heavy shit and the only payoff will be cold drinks - maybe a pizza if you're helping somebody cool. The lease was up on the place she had with my friend's girlfriend and she'd found a place with a classmate. (Friend's gf had graduated and was moving out of the area.) I agreed to help her and we spent the better part of a day moving her stuff. When we were all done we were relaxing on the couch at the new place. I had no idea where they got the couch from, but it had clearly been dumped on them by somebody, since it had no legs. But it was decent enough so we just sat there recovering from the day's labor.

She said her feet were sore, so I offered to rub them for her. (My intentions were totally innocent at this point, I swear.) She put them up in my lap and I got to work. After I'd finished both feet I just moved on to legs and massaged them. She liked how this was working out (for her) so she rolled over and asked me to do her back next. I decided to give her the works and started rubbing her from the base of her neck all the way to the top of her ass. Things got a little more interesting from there and I finally ended up sitting in front of the couch with her leaning back resting her head in my lap. I finished up the massage by doing her scalp and neck, but my eyes kept drifting to her chest and body. I'm not sure exactly when my intentions had gone from friendly rubdown to wanting to see her naked, but they had. So there I was, rubbing her temples as she sighed and all I could think of was leaning down to kiss her. It took me about 10 minutes to work up the nerve to do it, but I did it. Twice.

The first time got no reaction, so I did it again to see if she'd reciprocate. After the second kiss she asked, "why are you kissing me?"

"You looked like you could use it," I said. Oh man, had I just screwed up?

"Uh-huh," she replied.

"Okay," I confessed, "I could use it too."

She didn't say anything else, but changed her position so that we were facing each other. I took this as a good sign and gave her a third kiss.

This time she kissed back. YES!!

The next few minutes are lost somewhere in my head. I think I was so happy she was willing to fool around that I didn't care about anything else. The next thing I remember, she was naked on the couch and was telling me to hurry up and take my clothes off. I hastily complied and there we were, naked and making out, her laying on top of me. After a bit of that she broke our kiss and said, "we're not going to have sex."

"Okay," I said, rubbing her ass and back.

"No," she insisted, "we're really not going to have sex."

"Hey, I'm cool with that," I explained. "There's lots of other stuff we can do."

(Now, a lot of guys may have gotten pissed at this, but it really didn't matter to me. With the first girl I'd had sex with, the four months leading up to our finally doing it were nothing but one extended session of foreplay. I'd learned all kinds of stuff you can do without actually having sex.)

She agreed and we were back at it. Things were going great and we were doing all sorts of stuff with and to each other. Then she starts trying to have sex with me.

"I want you in me," she said.

"What?" I asked. "You said you didn't want to do it."

"I know, but I want to," she insisted.

Great. Just fucking great. She's hot for me. I'm hard as all hell, and I don't have any condoms. I pointed this out.

"Ummm, condoms?" I asked.

"I don't care," she said. "Just do me."

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

("I don't care" is not something you want to hear from anybody when you suggest using birth control / protection of any kind.)

Thankfully the big head was able to wrest control of the body away from the little head. And none too soon. The whole time we were having the above conversation, she was trying to lower herself onto my cock. I raised my knees up and pushed her off target, but she kept trying to get me inside her.

"We can't." I was practically whimpering. I wanted her so badly, but wasn't going to take the chance.

"Come on," she pleaded, trying to force my legs back down to the couch.

"No," I said in the firmest tone I could muster.

We went back and forth like this a few more times until I took her by the waist and sat her on my stomach. I held her there until she cooled back down and came to her senses. She finally got the idea that sex + no condom = bad idea. Now that she was firmly grounded in reality we got back to business and made each other quite happy. After wearing each other out on the couch, we went to her bedroom and passed out together.

The next morning I was half-awake when she crawled over me and got out of bed, saying something about the shower. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Or tried to anyway.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Damn, what the hell is that noise?

Wham! Wham! Wham!

I got up and went to the bathroom door. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," came her reply. "I want you to get in here with me."

Hell, who am I to argue with an offer like that?

At first it was an ordinary shower. Take turns getting wet, shampoo each other's hair, start washing each other... Then it was, make sure the boobs get cleaned, wash between each other's legs.... You get the idea. Eventually I took her ass in my hands and lifted her up to kiss her better. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I pressed her up against the wall. I was kissing her nice and hard and she'd reached down and was playing with my cock. Everything was feeling really good. Then she went over that line again.

She'd started rubbing her clit with my cockhead, and we were both moaning as we kissed. When we came up for air I started having flashbacks to last night on the couch.

"Fuck me," she demanded.

Shit, there oughta be a law against saying stuff like this.

"You know we can't. No condoms," I reminded her.

"So what?" she asked, continuing to massage her clit with my head. (Now, if you were to ask anybody who knows me, they'd tell you "good impulse control" is not among my list of personality traits. To this day I can't say why I just didn't do it.

There I was, my morning wood about two inches from where it really wanted to be, a woman I was hot for telling me to fuck her, and I'm not doing it. I guess the big head paid more attention in those "safe sex" talks than the little head.)

I didn't try to reason with her, knowing she was beyond that, and just lifted her up until she took her legs from around my waist. Once her legs were beneath her I pinned her waist to the wall and went down to my knees. I tuned out her pleas for sex and just went to work on her, not taking my mouth off her until she came. She tried to return the favor by jacking me off, but I was too weirded out by her to get off. I was totally hard, but it was like my cock finally saw what she was like and said, "dude, are you sure you want to cum around her?"

Well, I did, just not right then. (Let the record show that I did indeed cum for her many more times on different occasions. Thank you.) After that first night, and morning, together she never tried to get me to have sex again. She said she really didn't want to have sex, but when she got really horny she just lost control and that it'd be my job to make sure we didn't have sex. Excuse me?

I think she just had issues about sex, and the only time they disappeared was when she was fooling around. We'd talked about it another time and her parents had given her some whacked out puritanical speech about sex when she was a kid "Sex is filthy, dirty, and disgusting. You should only do it with somebody you truly love and care about." and she never could get past that. (I'd like to take the time to give a hearty "FUCK YOU!" to her parents, wherever they may be. Thanks a lot for screwing up a really cool girl, you fucking idiots.)

After that first time together we hooked up pretty regularly for a couple weeks, each of us having a great time and the "fuck me" incidents not repeating. Then the issues started popping up. At first, since we weren't having sex it was okay. I got her off, she got me off - everybody goes home happy. Then she started thinking that maybe what we were doing was just as bad. Oddly enough, these thoughts only showed up when it was my turn to get off. She was always happy to get together, get naked and get off, but once she'd had her orgasm, what we were doing wasn't quite so okay anymore.

Was I being used? Probably. Was I happy about the situation? Nope. But I kept doing it, hoping that the next time would be the time she'd get back to the way she'd been earlier on in our little fling. It never happened though. And this went on until she moved away. Towards the end, we didn't even fool around anymore. Her "issues" had gotten to the point where even me seeing her without her shirt off was "bad." Whatever. At least things got back to some semblance of normality without her being an emotional tornado on the trailer park of my emotions.

So in the space of a few months I'd gone from completely gay to being a wreck over a girl. Where did that put me on the sexuality map? Well, before I'd even gotten with my first guy, I'd figured I was bi. No way could I be with a woman, yet want a guy and not be at least bi. Then after I'd been with a guy, I was sure I was totally gay. Women did nothing for me anymore. Then little miss "fuck me" came into my life and I had a thing for girls again, but I still liked guys. Bi again? Who knows.

I don't really like any of the terms out there since they all have too much baggage associated with them. I guess I can use "bi" if I have to, but I kinda like saying "gender indifferent" or "equal opportunity service provider." To me, that means the gender of who I date, fuck, or get fucked by, really doesn't matter. There are so many more important reasons not to be with somebody than what's between their legs. If somebody's an asshole, I don't care how they present themselves to the world. They do nothing for me no matter how good they look. Same goes for airheads, vapid twits, and morons. If I don't like you, I won't be with you. I don't care what everybody else thinks about you. If my interest meter flatlines, you don't stand a chance.

"Gee," you're saying, "that was fun. Trying to bore us or get us to look for the next part with sex?"

Nope. Just venting a little. My writing, my rules. Don't like it? Stop reading.

"My, aren't you the pissy one?"

Whatever.

"Okay, then. You talked about nailing (almost) a girl, but where's the slut part come into it?"

Finally, a relevant question.

To me "slut" is one of those words that doesn't really have a definition.

"Then why put it in the titl-"

I think I can take it from here, thank you.

In my opinion "slut" is the label that prudes toss on a girl who's having more fun with her body than they're having with theirs. The girl who discovers her body at 15 and becomes sexually active isn't a slut. Face it, that girl is envied. She knows something the prudes don't. They're jealous of this, but could never admit it. That would make them as bad as her.

I use the word in the title because most of the time when I'm with a guy, I feel the way the prudes who use "slut" wish people would feel when they call them a slut. Does that mean I feel cheap and degraded when I'm with a guy? Probably not, but definitely "used." If I hook up with a guy, it's for one thing only - to make him cum. Sure, I get to cum too (I'd damn well better!), but my focus is always on taking care of the guy I'm with.

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

Yeah, but it's not just that. I like being subservient to a guy. I like knowing that I serve a purpose to that guy. My sole value to him is to make his cock shoot. I'm not a companion, a buddy or a date - I'm there to get him off.

"So you're like a whore?"

Now you're getting it! Except that I'm not. I've never been paid for sex (unless you count dinner or something like that) or tried to get paid for sex. But the mentality is the same. What's a whore's job? To get you off. That's it. That's how I feel when I'm with a guy.

"Dude, you've got some serious issues."

Perhaps, but despite what I've just said, I'm happy. I don't have any complaints about my life or how I live it. I enjoy sex with both men and women, but the dynamic is different with each gender. I've had "romantic" sex with guys, but it doesn't feel as good to me as the way I like it. Maybe a shrink would say I enjoy feeling used during sex with men because I subconsciously disapprove of what I'm doing. Interesting theory, but probably not true. After all, it was my subconscious that had me pretending I was sucking cock while jacking off before I ever got with a guy.

And I don't mind if anybody else thinks of how I look at sex with guys as "slutty." Shit, what else would you call somebody who's done several threesomes with two other guys? What would you say if I told you I once did an all-male four-way and the other guys were all tops? And what if I said during that four-way they each got a turn in my ass and the ones who weren't fucking me were either getting blown or getting a handjob while I was getting my ass stuffed?

"I think I'd have to say you're a slut."

And now you understand the title.

"Well, not completely. Where does the 'Worst of Both Worlds' part come into it? Since you've had good times with women and you like being a slut for guys, so what's so bad about any of it?"

I guess that has to do with baggage that comes with being bi. (I won't go into that again and will just use the term for simplicity's sake.) To gay people, you're not really gay, so you're "half-straight" at best and can't really understand what they go through. To most straight people a bi guy may as well be totally gay. Like Andrew Dice Clay once said, "you either suck dick, or you do not suck dick." That's how a lot of straights feel about bi guys.