What's a Bisexual? And am I?

Disclaiming Fine Print:

1. Everyone's waaaaaaay over 18,

2. Take note of the tags, please, cuz I don't wanna hear no belly aching, such as - "This story's falsely advertised, yadda...,"

3. Nothing is true here, as it ought not to be,

4. Please enjoy if you're a fan or curious about shemales and guys fucking each other in the ass, sucking their cocks and giving handjobs.

5. If you're not of the persuasion as described in #4, above, you might think of moving on before it's too late.

6. 'Nuff said! Read. Enjoy. Comment.

People are who they believe themselves to be, with legs.

Labels as applied to people are pure evil - gender, race, patriotism, orientation, genre, etc. It's all too often used as expressions of intentional ignorance and dislike towards a particular multitude. We're not a species, color, nationality, religion, language, political party nor any other characterization. Oh yeah, we're not a group either, just unique individuals. We may commune within a group, but that's as far as it goes. So why oh why do we tend to ascribe everyone belonging to a particular group? Protection, vanity, super/inferiority, competition? Most of these should be eliminated, lest their proliferation enact tenets of war, a direct affront to God's teachings.

Why, then, do I feel compelled to use "Bisexual" as a single adjective to describe my own sexual proclivities? 'Tis a puzzlement as to why, I too, am guilty of blanket assignment. Is it not that recognition of a personal problem is step 1 to cure? Would I not be an active contributor to the problem if I avoid the mirror when pointing an accusatory finger elsewhere? With this realization, I pledge to not define myself or others as anything but "sexual."

...........................................

This is what I say when seeking comfort in times of doubt following satisfying sexual congress with a man I once met. I considered him my FB, not my BF or BFF. Labels, again. I thoroughly enjoyed our sessions together as they quenched my un-outed craving for cock, man ass and balls. But, when it comes to matters of real intimacy I continue to crave the company of a woman. He may have been a lover of mine in the physical sense, but a lover of my mind can only be of female persuasion.

I say this because my once true love has departed this corporeal plane to assume her destined angelic station in the spiritual realm. She would've told me she wants me to be happy and adventurous in pursuing all my desires. Since I will never find another like her, I fear that I will not be able to give my heart away again, but if so it would only be to a woman. I have had no issue with women as paramores, however. In fact, I have been with a few since widowdom. It's mostly for fun and conversation. Some of the gals hinted at more but I tried to be clear early on that my matrimonial days are behind me.

Back to the sexual identity thing. I met D'vonne at a party. We chatted a bit and both seemed to tacitly express our attraction for each other. This was my first foray into non-hetero. It was an extended sexual abstinence, free liquor and an naughty streak that made it happen. A few nerves but that's all part of the fun. D, as I called him, was a bit of a cherub. I found out later in his nearby flat that he possessed an endearingly modest set of cock and balls as well as an overcompensating big ebony azz. He said that my ample white booty was really appealing and that was enough for him to want to talk to me. I found his CeeLo Green body type rather cute and non intimidating so I up'd my game.

He confessed that at first sight he couldn't shake the thought of breaching my ass with his cock and humping me. I said that was perfect since I mostly saw myself in a bottom's role. We started out petting each other's groins before I got the nerve to poke a finger in his a-hole. That's when he practically dragged me onto his bed, stripped me, and immediately devoured and bobbed on my similarly proportioned package. He teased under my cock head with his swirling tongue, broadly licking my balls and peri. Finally he rocked my legs up and back to circle his tongue around my anus. He drove me to the edge by jacking me at the same time by applying a corkscrew motion on my shaft.

Before I reached my peak he abruptly stepped back and flipped me onto my knees. I was so excited to finally get to present my ass to him as a vulnerable pleasure box for male plundering. He sidled up to me from behind and rubbed his warm cock along my butt crack. After a few round trips he stuck his pointed tongue in my hole and spit on his cock. Perspiration from my torturous anticipation infiltrated my anus to provide extra lubrication. He then nuzzled his engorged cock head against the entrance to my canal and wiggled his way inside. I relaxed my sphincter muscles so he slid home easily. My giving asshole felt stretched and fully plugged. Since it was my maiden man-to-man I wanted to experience it fully and have him hilt me to the max with his smallish rod.

I grabbed hold of the headboard and pushed my ass backwards to elicit his nice long strokes that I could feel sliding through my rectal lumen. He was more than obliging and began butting his thighs on the back of mine on each fore stroke. The friction of his cock head scraping along my walls and p-spot, in combination with the slapping of leg flesh, helped me disregard any discomfort. If there were any, it was from my sore arms staving off repeated crashes with the headboard, his thrusts were that strong.

When he was getting close he let me know loudly that he was loving my fat ass and how my hole was going to suck him dry soon. He emphasized with bilateral hand smacks against my meaty ass cheeks. He thoughtfully grabbed my hanging cock to jerk me, but he was too far gone to be effective. After a gradual ramping up of his intensity he grabbed my love handles and drew me forwards and back as he remained still. I felt like a fuck doll and that's exactly what I wanted.

His body then suddenly stiffened and I felt the swelling of his member and the subsequent rush of warm jiz into my bowels. It was like a shallow enema with very warm water, both tickling and stimulating. He collapsed his body on top of me and whispered in my ear how this was a culmination of hours of anticipation. He half asked me if he could do something for me. I said I needed a timeout first as I was too sore in my legs and arms to partake in the positions I would find most pleasurable for me.

After a short time he started to gently stroke me back to full mast. The trigger for my orgasm was his ever so slight grazing of his "ok" fingers along my frenum, alternating with tightly fisting my shaft. I shot out a generous pent up cum-cascade all over my torso and his hand. Afterwards, I thought it awkward for me to stay the night so we exchanged phone #'s and parting pleasantries. On the way back to my auto I felt I was committing the walk of shame. That got me to laugh, but then the gravity of events weighed heavily upon me. It was a conflicting competition of joy and remorse.

D and I have had several wild liaisons since. I ass fucked him in missionary and enjoyed watching his scrunched up face and jiggling man boobs. I got to lick and suck on his fat stubby cock and barely existent balls. We often traded analingus mixed with backward handjobs. We also bookended in doggy with big double headed dildos stuffing both our tush holes while we wantonly smashing our asses together. That was work, but fun.

About our 4th or 5th liason it became mutually evident that the physical only relationship between us had played out. I always had the sense he was getting attached to me while I was becoming more distant. The breaking straw was my avoidance of his deep french kiss, or any kind for that matter. I could not honor his insistence. Call it that aversion to male intimacy again. We parted permanently on good terms, albeit poignantly. The guilt of our mutual jilt still haunts me to this day. Since then I have had fleeting desires of being with a man again, but the sourness of that previous failure (of mine really) kept it only within my upper head. Maybe I could try with a closeted married man. I laughed at the thought of acting as the kept "other man," living clandestinely in his paid flat conveniently located for 'nooners near his downtown corner office.

My eventual return to female relations was somewhat of a relief, for it confirmed my drothers of female companionship being my dominant tendency. I still had yearnings for assplay and hit the jackpot with a large and assertive short haired redhead who felt likewise. We've even planned for MMF's so she can watch me succumb to an ass fucking by a man at her direction. We'd also concocted a cuckoldry scenario where I could only get to witness her getting the best of another man. She had a 'switch hitter' buddy at work (that's not a label it's a whimsical ascribing - nice try, right?) He possessed somewhat of a martyr complex that would work out well. Sounded like a plan to me.

Her disposition towards sex is that to fancy herself as in control of all matters in the bedroom. She would often direct me to take a position accentuating the exposure of my asshole for her viewing pleasure. I've got to hold myself in that pose for a little bit longer than I'd like, 'butt it all works out in the end.' (; °) She also likes to pretend that she's gracing me with a strapon pegging if I sufficiently grovel. That kinda works for me too as it ratchets up my desperation to be railed by cock. Something about having to beg for it that's relieving. Guess it's the forced admission to another that provides release.

This situation between us might last a bit. We're both a bit wary about mentally committing to 'us', but working on it together. Best way to confirm you're on the right path - try convincing someone else. Our together-time gives me what I truly need in a way that my time with D'vonne could not, freedom to revel in WHO I am, not WHAT I am. I have then finally realized who that someone is - one NEEDING a female counterpart. This makes my bisexuality decidedly more sexual than bilaterally affectionate with other men. Perhaps a transgendered M2F might work. In that case I would think of myself as being 'tri-sexual'. Whatever. In the words of the infamous Rodney King - the man that launched a thousand looters - "can't we all just get along?" I guess I just like to 'get it on' with whom I like. Problem solved!

Labels: Happiness and Resolution, I could live with those tags.