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Bisexual Journey Ch. 01

By: diagones



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...

Bisexual Journey Ch. 02



Bi-sexual desire has a way of sneaking up on a man and hitting him from the blind side. My junior year in college I was at the pub with "our gang," and came to sudden recognition that Bryan Colter was beautiful. That night it really hit me. Bryan was a beautiful young man. I couldn't take my eyes off his face, the lively animation, the sparkle of his eyes and smile, and I wanted to kiss him.

I had known him for a few months. He was very popular with the girls, and was seriously attached to one. In fact, I was too, in love with a girl I thought I might some day marry. She sat beside me the very moment I felt that surge of desire to kiss Bryan. Memories of Andy, and after three years my first serious dislocation, with my woman sitting beside me.

From then on I began to look at Bryan with a single focus of kissing his lips and making love with him. He betrayed no hint he was bi or gay, but he was not a homophobe either. In short, until proven otherwise, he had the status of possibility for me, and I began a stealthy, calculated, extremely patient seduction. I gave him exclusive attention in the midst of general chatter, lingering and infatuated eye contact. I cut him from the herd as often as possible to be alone with him. In time I made "dates" with him, for coffee, a beer, cram studies for exams. In the way of college life we became very close buddies. Once, after my planned "date," we left a bar in a tipsy state, laughing like crazy over accumulated jokes and fun of the night, and on the corner of our parting ways we did that impulsive hug that society allows drunken men. It was a full frontal, tightly clasped hug, body to body, and a perfect night cap to our evening. For we both were sober enough for the body to body hug to leave an imprint on his sub-conscious, and a deep imprint on my full awareness.

Bryan became a regular visitor to my apartment. Our conversations had wide range and free flow. We eased into intimate details of sex with our girls. We drifted into the topic of gay boys on campus, which seemed to be a large number. Bryan admitted some curiosity about cock sucking, specifically the reason for doing it. What makes a guy want to? Curious, but something he couldn't see himself doing. 

"I wouldn't even know how to go about it," He said.

"I could teach you if you like," I said.

The penny dropped. The line in the sand. Make or break. Bryan gave me a stunned look. "You've... you've done it?"

"My senior year in high school. My best buddy. A discovery by pure accident, but after a few repeats I learned how to go about it. He was my first and last. No other guy since him."

"That's the last thing I would have imagined about you."

"No one else in the world knows, except you now. I trust you to keep my secret as deeply buried as I do."

"Of course. You can trust me on that." He suddenly seemed very wobbly, disoriented. "You sucked his cock?"

"Several times. Swallowed his cum."

"You like it then."

"It was an extremely exciting and enjoyable experience. Two eighteen year old boys who had never had a homosexual fantasy suddenly discovering the miracle of it."

He gave me a long steady look, and there was no censure at all. His look was filled with wonder. "I admit I have wondered about sucking a cock from time to time. I doubt I have the nerve to do it."

I gave him a warm inviting smile and left the ball in his court. I had planted the seed and I could do no more than wait to see if it would sprout and grow. I was certain his "curiosity" was far greater than he was letting on. 

In following days my revealed secret proved no damage to our relationship. Instead, Bryan was even more sunny and vivacious, and some of his smiles, saved exclusively for me, had a flavor of knowing mischief.

One evening he called my cell, said he was at loose ends, and if I was free he would drop over. Free as a bird. What time? Around seven. I timed my shower for around seven. When he knocked I went towel wrapped and dripping to the door. "Just got back from the gym," I lied.

Gym. Shower. Guy thing. I dried off in the door way of my bedroom, while doing innocuous conversation with him in an easy chair in the sitting room. Acting totally unselfconscious of my nude exhibition. Typical guy thing. He gave prolonged glances to my body, with unconcealed admiration and possibly envy. I am not muscle bound, but I am well toned and defined, and I'm very well hung. Many girls had said so, in an honest variety of direct and cryptic ways, 

I went into my bedroom and dressed in gray cotton gym pants and black T-shirt. I left off underwear. A strong intuitive sense was telling me my seed had sprouted and had emerged into sunshine. I fixed us vodka and tonics, stiff ones, and took a chair in the sitting room. Bryan really was at loose ends. Nervous and uncertain. Our chit chat was so irrelevant to anything outside the moment it only filled gaps in broken time. I sat low in my chair with my ankles crossed, legs angled to the floor, and Bryan kept glancing at the bulge of my cock and balls ballooning up under the soft gray cotton.

Finally he took a deep breath and said, "You said you would be happy to teach me how to go about it... with a guy."

Our eyes locked. "Very happy. We are buddies, Bryan, close buddies. We like each other a lot. You are extraordinarily beautiful in my eyes, if you will allow me to say so. Do you find me physically attractive?"

"Well... yeah...I guess."

"That's the starting point. Physical attraction, sexual attraction, the chemistry of desire."

"You are very good looking. Attractive."

"Is tonight the night? Have you made the choice? Do you want me to show you how?"

"I think so. I've thought about it a lot. That's about all I thought about for many days. That's why I called you and came over. I'm scared half out of my wits. I have no idea what to do."

"What would you do with a girl you were hot for at the right time and place?"

He silently reviewed all the common details of first encounter with a willing girl, and gave me a slightly puzzled look.

"It's really the same, Bryan. Boy girl. Boy boy. It's basically the same."

I stood and walked to him, took his hand and pulled him upright. "One step at a time," I said. "If it can't work for you, say stop at any time, and I will stop."

I hugged him tightly against me. "Man to man. Body to body. Feel it. Like it. Want it." I whispered in his ear. My cock grew long and rigid down the leg of my gym pants. He shied from the contact. I kissed his ears and neck with gentle lips and hot breath. He shivered like he was freezing, but his body was searing hot. He tightened his arms around me in a wild desperation.

"I'm going to kiss your lips," I whispered.

He opened his blue eyes wide and blinked, and was incapable of doing anything else. I touched my lips to his and kissed him, my dream of the past weeks come true. He let it happen, then slowly yielded and fully engaged in the kiss, lips parting, tongue exploring, lost in the unimaginable wonder of kissing another male. The sexual excitement, the wholly unexpected thrill of kissing another boy. The kiss that says I want you, I desire you, but most of all says I accept you totally, all of you. The kiss that opens all other sexual doors. His cock got hard. He broke away with a gasp, eyes wide and glassy and dazed.

"Kissing another man is more exciting than you could have imagined, isn't it?" I said.

"I couldn't imagine any of this." He gasped. "I'm lost. All my boundaries are gone. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Man to man sex. So different. So very exciting. I'm showing you the way. One step at a time." I kissed him again, with hot desire and passion, my beautiful Bryan, and he melted into it and kissed me with the same ardor. Kissing the mouth of another male, feeling the hard cock of another male pressing his own. He made faint sounds of surrender out his nose, a man in passion with no more boundaries. We lip kissed and kissed ears and neck, back and forth, and time stood still. We kissed a long time, standing, sometimes lurching.

Sex is energy, and energy is heat. Sexual heat seared us both and made our minds reel and our lungs constrict and our blood surge in wild speed. And the ravishing excitement of a kiss, the meeting and joining of lips and mouths and spearing tongues and exchange of juices so natural in kissing a girl, was ten times more powerful in the lips and mouth of another young man. Because it was taboo. 

"This is how two men go about making love. You want me to stop?"

"No. Teach me more." He said that in broken, ragged breath, holding on to me for dear life.

"Take your clothes off. I want to see you naked."

"Now?"

"Yes." 

I went to the door and turned the dead bolt, to be on the safe side. I returned, and soon Bryan's clothes and shoes and socks were in a heap on the floor and he stood naked. 

"Bryan, you are so beautiful you take my breath away." 

I said that with full and spontaneous sincerity, for he truly was beautiful. As much so as any naked girl is beautiful. Just in the male version, that's all. He was composed of perfectly proportioned parts - shoulders, arms, legs, torso. His white skin had a satin sheen in places, and not a blemish on any part. He tended toward slender. His stomach wasn't ab defined, but there was that hint of wishbone running from his hip bones to his pubes that framed his flat belly. His body hair was so sparse it was detectable only in certain angles of glancing light. It was lighter than the sandy blond color on his head. His cock stood up at thirty degrees, and the sculptural beauty of it was stunning. A perfect cylinder, satiny white with a glistening mauve head, slightly larger than my memory of Andy's. "Utterly beautiful," I repeated. My words seemed to please him. He had kissed another male for the first time. That prepared him for a another male to gaze on his naked body and pronounce him utterly beautiful, for the first time.

I undressed with the speed of a magician conjuring a trick.

"My God you're huge," Bryan said, his eyes riveted to my standing cock, his breathing shallow, fascinated and fearful.

I took him in my arms again and he rested his hands on my shoulders. We gazed into each other's eyes, mesmerized. The blue of his eyes took on a deep intensity, with a flood of pin point lights. The full length of our skin and flesh and hard bones slowly pasted together to spread a hot wash of physical and sexual sensations from our feet to our heads. Bare skin, man to man. Our erections trapped between us coming to grips.

"Kiss me," I said.

It was an order, a request, a direction, an instruction to my student, and he obeyed without thought. He had lost all his cultural boundaries, and was spinning in a whirlpool of totally new experience. Sex with another male. He put his hands on the back of my head and closed his eyes and kissed me without reservation, totally into it, accepting, giving. He was mine.

I caressed his silky body within all my hand reach. His ass cheeks were round and solid. My hand found his cock and explored it. He whimpered and sucked my tongue. I was whirling with him in the vortex of experiencing sex with another male. I too had lost all my cultural boundaries. I was making love with a boy again. A boy just like me, in form and construction. We kissed a long time, until our knees grew weak.

"Sit down."

He collapsed into the chair, panting, close to hyperventilating. I went to my knees and spread his legs.

"I have to kneel before the most beautiful cock I have ever seen," I said. That was true, even though I had intimate knowledge of only one other besides my own. Brian's was aesthetic perfection of length, girth, coloration. I licked his thighs and my tongue felt the blond downy hair not readily seen. I licked upward, slowly, wetly. His legs jerked and quivered.

It was all coming back to me in a rush, my experience with Andy. Like coming home after a long absence and forgotten scents all over the house going straight to your brain stem and announcing you are back home, this is where you grew up. I buried my nose in his pubic hair and the junctures of his inner thighs and balls and sniffed deeply the smell. I looked up at him. "The scent of masculinity," I said. "Male groin. Cock and balls."

"I hope I don't stink!" he said with genuine misgivings.

"God no. All males have it, to some degree or other. Soap and water can't wash it away. The scent of masculinity. It might be the most intense sexual smell there is. You'll find out," I added, his teacher, shaping his mind. I buried my nose in his crotch again and inhaled his aroma. "Your smell is so sexy it makes me dizzy."

It really did. The smell of male crotch, olfactory essences of his cock and balls and pubic hair confined all day and now open to the air, a powerful aphrodisiac to my desire to taste his cock. I lightly held it at the base with three fingers. Pre-cum oozed from the tip. I captured the ooze in a tongue lap.

"Delicious," I said. "You ever tasted yourself?"

"No. Never."

More oozed out of him and I caught a dollop on my finger tip and brought it to his mouth. "Try it." He stared at his own secretion on my finger tip with almost cross eyed reluctance. "It's you. It want hurt you. Try it." His tongue snaked out to sample. He made little short smacks to find the taste. He seemed relieved to find the taste of fluid from his balls rather neutral, whether or not delicious. I was teaching him, shaping his mind.

And mine. Andy was my foundation of knowledge, but he was now a shadow in memory after three years. Bryan was new and beautiful and I slipped the O ring of my lips over his mauve cock head and down the shaft with a genuine hunger. I engulfed his cock. Old familiarity became instant renewal. The taste, the shape, the bulk of his rigid meat filling my mouth, nudging the opening to my throat, opening my mind to that dreamy state of sucking cock, worshipping and adoring it. He fell apart. He jerked and quivered and buckled inward and outward. He was ready to cum.

I squeezed his cock base hard to suppress and reverse the momentum. 

"Did my mouth feel good?"

"Oh hell yes! Better than any girl, ever."

"Man to man sex is different. And very good. Once you learn and let go."

His cock gradually subsided from that ready to burst ripeness, and I thought he could go for some more. I licked his shaft from bottom to top. He hissed and whimpered. I sucked it again, and after two or three progressions I took him all and buried my nose in his pubic hair, his cock head in my throat. Bryan thrashed in his chair and sucked in a loud hiss of air. I held there for a second or two before gag reflex propelled me back up and off with a wet pop smack sound. Three years since I had deep throated Andy, and it all came back easily, naturally. 

I stood and pulled his head close to my crotch. He was primed, and sniffed with his nose touching me at place to place. "The scent of man," I said.

"Different from girls," he said. "Sexy. Just as you said."

"Are you ready? To make that choice? To cross that line? To know?"

"I want to hold it a minute. I have never had another cock in my hand before."

He held it tenderly, like it was a fabulous treasure he studied minutely, in awe. My cock throbbed in anticipation, a live thing. He stared at it, absorbing the visual of shape and color, the heat of hard desire, the feel of the skin on his fingers. He was poised and still on a moment of frozen time within himself, like a boy on the high platform for the first time, steeling himself to spring into space and dive in the water thirty feet below. He launched, and there was no turning back He opened his mouth wide to take me in.

I knew well the onslaught of emotions and physical sensations that seized him then. The enormity of conscious choice and doing, the taste and texture and aromas, the bulk and heat - first cock suck. Deliberate choice of doing the forbidden. I knew so well. He paused to absorb it all, the sensory and the mental elements, his eyes tightly clinched, his jaws opened to the limit in a strain. He drew back.

"God. I'm not sure I can do this. You're as big as a horse."

"You did do it, Bryan. You crossed the line and took my cock in your mouth. It takes some practice, that's all. Lick it with your tongue for now, get used to it. Make love to it, to give me pleasure."

My words had good effect. "To give me pleasure" wasn't something he had thought of. All the onslaught of emotion and sensory awareness was swallowed up in the enormity of unimaginable first experience of hard cock in his mouth. To give me pleasure was a different motive. Something he could do and wanted to do. That snapped the last threads of his inhibition, gave him permission to love my cock for my pleasure. He licked lovingly, explored all over, learning the shape, the taste. His saliva flowed to make it slick and slippery, and on sudden impulse he took the big head back into his mouth and sucked with new purpose. He choked.

"I'm no good at this."

"Oh yes you are. You're doing just fine. The pleasure you gave me was very sweet." I pulled him out of the chair. "Let's lie on the bed."

We walked unsteadily to the bed. My arm around his waist in possession and control of beautiful Bryan who had come to me to learn. To test his overpowering curiosity. We fell onto the bed and interlocked our arms and legs in close physical, sexual embrace. He kissed me, entirely on impulse of minutes old discovery that kissing another boy was an essential part of having sex with him, of making love. Just as natural and rewarding as kissing a girl. Bryan without boundaries. He kissed me, possessively, passionately, in complete release and trajectory from an inner propulsion of desire that an hour earlier he didn't know existed. I had shown him the way, and he had discovered himself, and me.

Our hands roamed, explored, caressed, made tactile communion with the warmth of skin and slopes and hills and valleys. Boy to boy. On my bed. Naked. Electric with sexual thrill. Engorged with want and need.

"I want you," I said. "I want to pleasure you and take all you have to give me."

I positioned myself to take the beautiful sculptural perfection of his cock into my mouth and I sucked him with devotion and a sense of privilege. It had been so long ago for me. I remembered - or fully realized for the first time - that sucking cock is an ultimate form of communication. Having him in my control was a part of it, but the larger part was a recognition of masculinity. His maleness was my maleness. He was feeling what I had felt many times. The gathering forces of his orgasm were the same as mine. I was him and he was me, in a fantasy circle.

I sucked him deep, up and down, with no gagging at all. Dreamy with want. He shattered into orgasmic parts, jerking, buckling, hissing and moaning, hunching, growing bigger and harder in my mouth. Communication and recognition. "Do it! I want you to cum in my mouth!"

He did. His cock head swelled larger and very tight. He yelled a horse strangled yell. My circling lips felt his cum pulse inside his rigid shaft as it shot from his balls into my waiting and wanting mouth. It was thick and clotted and pure by optimum health and vigor, and filling, and I swallowed repeatedly to swallow it all. He made a final jerk to expel the last of his cum, and I savored the clotted texture and incomparable taste on my tongue in that split second of identity before I swallowed it down.

Bryan lay flat, splayed, and gasping. I knew in a short while he would come back down to earth. That would be the dicey time. When he regained his rational faculties from the common world, how would he feel? Would guilt and remorse chill him? Would he want to dress and get the hell out of Dodge? I held his relaxing cock lovingly in my hand, claiming it, while I studied his face. His breathing came down to normal. He opened his shinning blue eyes to me. 




Bisexual Journey Ch. 02



"Wow!" He said.

I smiled with relief and joy. "Did you like it? Another guy sucking you off?"

"You kidding? That was fantastic! I don't think I have ever cum that hard in my life."

"Or maybe as much. You gave me a mighty load."

"What does it taste like? Salty?"

"Not so much. Hard to describe. A little salt, a little acid, a little sweetness. More of a mineral taste. Rich and thick. Maleness. Extremely sexy. And entirely you. You taste very, very good."

"I guess I will find out."

"You will. In due course. Of sucking my cock to give me pleasure, knowing I am about to cum, and you wanting just that in your mouth, to taste and swallow. To complete the circle of giving and receiving."

He stared into my eyes as I said that, with the rapt attention of a child hearing an adult tell an enchanting story. Imagining, identifying, becoming a part of the picture. In a fantasy land he had never glimpsed before. With no thought of getting the hell out of Dodge. His cock sprang erect in my hand, as hard and large as it had been in my mouth, declaring that at that moment, that night on my bed, his discovering the miracle of sex with me was all there was in his mind, in the world. I had never seen such instant recovery, and I was amazed.

"I want to return the favor now."

"Not a favor," I said. "Open your mind wider. You were curious and wanted to learn what it is all about. You are learning. Think of now as the opportunity of a life time. We are alone and no one else will ever know. You can let go completely. Allow yourself to worship and adore my cock with your mouth because you want to and need to. Let go and submit to your desire. To give me that honor and ultra sweet pleasure."

I realized my philosophical-poetics of the underlying meaning and purpose of sucking cock could have sounded a bit over the top to third party ears. But no third party was with us. I was speaking to Bryan, instructing and still very much seducing. Shaping his mind. And I was more than surprised that my seduction had taken such speedy and gigantic steps, in almost seamless progression. His pre-existing curiosity was far deeper and broader than he dared to admit before, and there was no question his bisexual fantasies had often seized his imagination. I was giving him release to experience and know. 

And I was also coming to final terms with myself. Preparing him with my poetry of cock sucking was also my talking to myself, tying up long dangling loose ends, a consolidation of meaning. The desire, the purpose, the fruition. What I had learned with Andy was scattered promise and potential. That night with Bryan, the true purpose of sucking cock was etched in my consciousness for ever lasting clarity of understanding. 

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Kneel between my legs." He did at once, docile and compliant. "It will be easier for you this way. It will also enhance the ceremony, on your knees before me, submitting to your desire to love and adore my cock, to experience and know. Fully and completely."

"Ceremony" was the perfect word. It fell on him like an aura, dispelling all fear and doubt, opening his mind to his rite of passage, making it perfectly right. "Ceremony" offered so much mental imagery he didn't know where to begin. He held my straining cock loosely in his fingers and gazed at it. He licked the head and pulled back to evaluate, like an artist would study his last paint stroke of highlight on a portrait. He buried his nose in my crotch and inhaled deeply. He was acting on all my suggestive mental preparation, perfectly right in rite of passage. When pre-cum bubbled from the slit, he lapped it up with his tongue tip.

"The taste of man," I said. "You like it?"

"I do. It has a sort of sweet taste. I like it."

"There's more to come. Much more."

The promise, the inevitability of his mouth and ceremonial loving extracting "much more" cum pushed him over the edge. He opened his mouth wide to suck the large head. He sucked with purpose, dedication, adoration, to give me pleasure. It wasn't easy. His jaw hinges began to ache, he struggled to find breathing patterns through his nose, or alternately through his mouth gaped a fraction wider. But he was determined, and propelled by his rite of passage.

"Oh baby, your mouth feels so damn good. You are doing it baby. You are giving me the sweetest pleasure there is. You are sucking my cock." I raked my fingers through his hair and tenderly fondled his ears. At that moment I felt pure love for him.

He had to come up and gasp air a few times, wiggle his lower jaw, but he quickly returned to his dedicated purpose, gradually finding ease of the strain, accommodation of the demanding volume that filled his mouth. A couple of times his teeth raked the tender skin, but not painfully so.

"I'm feeling it baby. I'm about to shoot. Be ready."

He sucked me with expectant intent far away from ceremony. Ready to experience this opportunity of a life time. He sucked so earnestly tears leaked from the corners of his tightly clinched eye lids.

"Here it comes!"

I exploded into his mouth. He coughed and sprayed seamen on my pubes, but he instantly regained control and swallowed all the rest I could pump into him. Swallowing quickly, in rhythm with necessity. His swallowing gulps were so audible I could have heard them in the other room. I ejaculated all I had. He drank it down.

Can the full scope of orgasm, the release and almost unbearable pleasure, really be described? It really can't. I flopped back on the bed, literally spent. My cock slipped from his mouth, and he gazed at it, breathing heavily, like a marathon runner who's chest snapped the finish tape, concluding his rite of passage. His face had an other worldly glow as he gazed at my cock, connecting it with what he had done, knowing, understanding. My erection did spasms, and aftermath cum, as an afterthought, bubbled up and out. The glob in its precarious balance had the lustrous sheen of a large misshapen pearl.

"Can't waste a drop," Bryan said, and pursed his lips to capture and smack and taste. I was deeply touched by his spontaneity to not waste a drop. What an enormous leap he had made, from the moment he called me to learn what it was all about, to giving my last cum drops such value!

We arranged ourselves on the bed, heads on pillows. He snuggled to me, nose at my neck.

"I did it," he said. "I sucked a cock." He said that with a clear tone of pride, accomplishment and deep satisfaction.

"Tell me what you are feeling right now, in your mind, in your body."

He hummed, gathering his thoughts. "So very strange," he finally said. "It was everything you said it would be. It really can't be imagined. It has to be done. I swallowed your cum."

"You sure did my lover." My right arm was draped over his chest, and I squeezed him.

"When you were about to cum, I knew it. It was the strangest excitement I've ever had. Knowing it would spurt out but not knowing exactly when. Then suddenly my mouth was full before the sensation of it hitting my tongue even registered. What is equally strange, I can actually feel your cum like a puddle lying in my stomach, and it is like some kind of super tonic. I feel clean and energized. My head is clear. So very strange."

"That is exactly what it feels like. I know. I believe you are a natural bisexual." That snapped me to a sudden detached view of us lying naked on my bed, my cum an invigorating tonic in his stomach. It had to be less than two hours since he had knocked on my door. "We made love, baby. We had man sex. And this is strictly for us alone. No one else can ever know or even suspect. It has to be that way."

"For sure," he said, and snuggled closer to me, and after a short while his breathing had the see-saw pattern of blissful sleep.



Bisexual Journey Ch. 03



Nothing in human affairs, except annoying habits, is entirely predictable. Brian and I became lovers. We got together as often as we could, as clandestine as secret agents in a hostile, dictatorial country. His bisexual apprenticeship was a mercurial soar of enthusiasm and mastery. I found my own inner core of truth: the spiritual, emotional, physical, erotic, sexual desire and joy in kissing his lips and sucking his cock. His wasn't humongous, but it certainly wasn't a toy either. By the grace of sucking communication alone, I mastered oral skills and expertise without even thinking about it. 

It took a month or so for me to understand that Bryan was a gay man waiting to happen. My seduction of him had the effect of giving sight to a blind person, who saw the real reflection of himself in the mirror for the first time. Red flags of warning started popping up. He could not hide his disappointment when I deflected his wants so I could partake of my girl friend Carol. That disappointment soon became resentment.

"We need to slow down, Bryan. As much as I enjoy you, I'm still primarily a straight man. I will always need a woman. I'm in love with Carol. You still have Ginny."

"I have her, I suppose. Whatever that might mean."

A big red flag. "Look," I said, "I am bisexual, not gay. And there is a huge difference. A gay man wants only another man, and that is his personal identity, even his politics. I am a gay with you when we make love, and I love you in the heat and passion of the moment. But when it is over I am still straight and want my Carol as much as ever. That is my personal identity. You must understand that." He looked at me with the wounded reproach of a puppy that had been scolded. Red flags. 

Bryan gave me public attentions that put me in panic. At the Pub one night he waited for my appearance, and by the time I sat down he was back from the bar to put a mug of Stout before me with a flourish. Eyebrows raised all around the table. I planned a very serious talk.

"Listen, dammit, I love sexual pleasure with you, but I am not in love with you. I told you no one else can know. I am deeply closeted and intend to stay that way. You are blowing our cover."

I cut him off, to teach him a lesson. He languished and lost all interest in Ginny. They had a fight and he confessed. Ginny told Carol. Carol was stricken. I thought about lying, fluffing it all off as some kind of psychotic episode Bryan was going through. Instead I let all the melodrama reach whatever head it had to, not really giving a shit anymore. The University had 30,000 students. Room to roam. I walked away from Bryan and "our gang," and Carol, and did just that, with more girls in the market place than could be counted.

*****

My fling with Bryan, and temporary exposure, had beneficial consequences. I loved sucking his cock, and accepted that part of me totally, knowing I could and would suck cock again somewhere in future time. And that produced another conclusion that almost became fixed - my ideal woman for life mating should also be bi-sexual. She would understand. I would understand her. If the need and desire and opportunity for bi-sex cropped up in our marriage, we both would allow it with no wrenching drama. 

A third benefit was unexpected and profound. I never again went down on a female the same way I had before. The communication with masculinity in sucking cock transferred in new understanding. When I gave my mouth to a 

vagina, I communicated with femininity, femaleness, the internal mystery of woman. That was the meaning of it. Her mystery making her pussy a sacred place, a Goddess to be worshipped and adored. Mechanical skills served that meaning. They didn't create it. And my women knew, though not a single one could explain in words just why or how my cunnilingus was different from other men. and so much better.

And so I lived happily with no man sex for six more years, until Barry came along.



Bisexual Journey Ch. 04



I met Barry at the gym. I had started a new workout program with heavy weights to increase upper body strength. Barry, from out of no where, volunteered to be my spotter, one who stood at the end of the bench as a safety to help me put the bar and weights back on the rack if I ran out of steam. I did the same for him, though he lifted such heavy weight I would have had to scream for help if he ever floundered. He never did. His strength was awesome.

His strength and power was not evident in the way of typical photos in muscle magazines. No clusters of definition like huge boils ready to pop. His muscle development was more like slabs of meat, large and small, that covered his frame. His bellly had the shape of a shallow vertical slice of a barrel. His legs were as solid as oak trees. His shoulders and arms looked like they could pull an oak tree from the ground. These impressions formed for me by occasional glimpses in the shower room. He wore sweat shirt and pants on the floor.

Barry was as easy going as he was strong. One of those nice guys by nature, with no self serving manners at all. We fell into friendship on the benches, and by calling to confirm gym schedules we did enough chat to get to know each other. Sometimes his wife Betty, and their two lively young daughters came to the gym, and I was much taken by them in the juice bar after work out. They were the picture of a happy family, and that was something that had been provoking me for the past two years or more - finding my mate and having children of my own. I had women friends in great variety, and all the sexual relief I needed, but my "biological clock" was marching to the time of choosing a mate, a wife, permanent lover to cherish and adore, and create a family. If only I could find the right one. 

Barry had no sexual attraction for me at all... until one night...

I was on my back on the bench and he stood at the end, ever ready to assist. I gripped the bar, flexing my fingers, focusing on the moment of exertion. My eyes strayed in the moment, and I saw, from upside down, or vice versa, his cock clearly outlined under the gray cotton pants. Why? Why then? It had always been there. Why was the outline so clear and prominent that night? My eyes lingered until I became aware and panicked that he might also be aware of my lingering eyes. I looked up at him and he was smiling down at me with benevolence and a fixed intensity too. That flicker of exchange passed and went somewhere, and was left alone.

I thought about it the next day, though. The more I thought, the outline became so clear I could see the flare ridge of the head under the fabric. Did Barry see that while smiling down on me? Did I expose myself in that helpless moment? Naw. It was too swift, too fleeting. Still, the next day I had the strongest cock fantasy in six years since Bryan. And that was out of character for me. My sex with Andy and Bryan began with a kiss. That was the turn on switch of my bisexual desire. A man so beautiful and physically attractive my first urge was to kiss him. Did I want to kiss Barry? An interesting question.

I did a mental inventory of his face. He was definitely not a pretty boy. But he was definitely handsome, in an ordinary way, I supposed. Pleasing facial structure, nice shaped nose, chin. Very warm and friendly eyes. Generous smile. Lips that... I couldn't create a clear image of his lips. I couldn't produce an image of me holding his face in my hands and kissing him, making him mine. But the remembered outline of his cock under the gym pants made my lips purse. My bisexual side had definitely awakened, after a six year sleep, with a single glance at Barry's cock under gym pants. Who can predict these things? Moreover, was he not wearing a jock strap? Deliberately not wearing one?

"Things" were set in motion at our next scheduled meet in the gym. I was again on my back on the bench, readying myself to lift. Barry positioned himself closer to the bar, much closer than before. The outline of his cock under the pants was ever more clearly defined. It drew my eyes like iron filings to a magnet. It was so close to my fingers flexing on the bar that my fingers felt a tugging current to move the few inches and touch it. The moment was fleeting, but it was filled with that sexual electricity that is all the more powerful when equally recognized and shared. Barry and I locked eyes in recognition. He had deliberately led his cock close to the bar to see my response, and my response was a smile that dovetailed with his. I knew what he had done. He knew that I knew.

That was enough. Our workout proceeded as usual, with no further transfer of signals. We went to the showers. The cubicles were in facing lines with a six foot wide aisle between. There were plastic curtains, but few men bothered to close them. I went into a cubicle, and Barry took the opposite one. We started with shampoo, then bar soap, lathering and cleaning. I made a surreptitious glance across the aisle. He was foaming his hair with his eyes closed. I stared at his naked body, seeing for the first time, really, the mass and muscle of him. The shape of his cock fully exposed to my gaze. It seemed to be mostly a large bulb resting on a bed of curly hair. As I gazed at his cock, his hand gripped it and pointed it right in my direction. I looked up at his face and saw his smile, unambiguous, offering what I had gazed at.

Damn! I had been caught. And I felt my face burn hot and red with embarrassment at being caught out. I turned my back to him and finished my shower.

We dried off and dressed, without speaking, our exchanged signals echoing in both our minds, silently declaring that sexual interest had arrived and staked its claim.

As we walked to the juice bar, I said, quietly, "Uh, back there in the showers, I was only admiring your muscles."

"About time," he said, "I have been admiring yours since I first laid eyes on you."

"It seems we have created a mutual admiration society."

"Which calls for a first official meeting." He said.

I felt an attack of different emotions and sensations inside me when he said that. A hollowness in my chest, a tingle in my groin, blood racing in my veins, dizziness in my head. With Bryan, I had been the initiator, the seducer, with a methodical and managed build up. With Barry walking beside me, I realized he was the initiator, the leader. That was new territory. That big powerful man had all but said at the weight bar and in the shower, "Here is my cock, I want you to have it." He was no stranger, but this was happening very fast. More over, it was only a week earlier that I had my first fantasy of his cock in my mouth. My first person I actually knew real life cock fantasy in six years. And he wanted me. There was no mistaking that. My decision did its own making. Because he wanted me, I wanted him. 

"I have my own juice mixings I can make at my place, if you like. Unless you have to get home."

"I would like," he said. "Betty and the girls are away visiting her mom, and I have all night."

I gave him my address, and added I would drive slow enough for him to easily follow.

I drove in a pitch of high excitement. Tonight, after six years, I would have sex with a man again. Definitely a man and not a boy. The deal had been made so quickly it was nearly the same as picking up a woman in a singles bar. But reversed. He had come on to me. I had accepted. 

Barry was outside my experience. Of course I had the occasional man fantasy over the past six years. The men were faceless, but beautiful, in a shimmery reflection of Bryan. I conquered and ravished them, while masturbating extremely powerful orgasms. Barry did not fit any of those fantastical images. He was bigger, taller, and ten times stronger than me. His "beauty" was coming together in my mind, but it was so wholly masculine it was a universe removed from the exquisite lines and form of Bryan's face and body. Because of that difference, sex with Barry would be an experience of new deminsions I couldn't quite visualize. And that sent my excitement level to even a higher pitch as I drove, frequently checking the rear view mirror to see he remained on my tail, wanting me, as I wanted him.



Bisexual Journey Ch. 05



"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. 

"My darling."

"My man."

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."

"None recently?"

"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."




Bisexual Journey Ch. 05



Barry laughed a deep happy roll of amusement. "Oh no. Haven't you looked down on the face of woman you fucked, and saw her face all twisted like she was being 'tortured'? And you knew she was totally wracked with the pleasure you were giving her?"

I thought about that. "I see what you mean," I conceded.

"Penetration hurts, there's no getting around that. But it is brief, and quickly replaced with pleasure. Trust me on that. And of course the first time hurts most, because you don't know what to expect. The next time will hurt some, but not nearly as much. Penetration pain is just a part of it. All the men I've fucked actually anticipated that initial pain as paying a due for the delirious pleasure to follow."

"All the men you've fucked... I thought you said I am your first man sex in eight years."

"You are. Believe me. Trust me. What I am telling about myself happened in high school and college. When I went to college I left my high school fuck buddy behind and was all into girls. There was pussy everywhere. Easy to be had. And fucking boy ass had really taught me some skills and expertise, especially the ability to fuck a long time without cuming. So I was quite the stud. But... There was boy ass all over the place too. I had built in radar for them, and they were easy to spot. Now and then a guy would turn me on and I wanted to fuck him more than a girl. The unique excitement and knowing how good it felt just wouldn't go away. That Superman feeling. Being top gun. I was highly selective, and my flings were widely spaced apart, but I loved fucking boys and men, and I did. It was an option, not an obsession, and what a thrilling option it was when I wanted."

"The table never turned? You the fuckee instead of the fucker?"

"Once. I had to know and gave my ass to a guy, once. He was special. He was the only guy I sort of fell in love with. Nothing like falling in love with a woman, but my feelings for him were deep and tender. He wanted to top me just to experience it. I said okay."

"Ah haaaa! Did you like it?"

"Yes and no. It was an extremely valuable experience for me. Just to know what a guy felt when I fucked him. Knowing the penetration pain, and pain of complete entry too. Knowing the pain was brief and quickly forgotten. The feeling of being filled up with cock. And the strange, mysterious zaps of pleasure deep inside. He couldn't hold back and it didn't last long, but I learned what it meant to be a bottom. I was glad I did. I knew how important it was to last a long time inside a guy, for his complete enjoyment. And I mastered that, holding back a long time to fuck him out of his mind. Actually, I did like it. Some. The snag was psychological. I was not mentally wired to be fucked by a man. I was wired to love fucking him. Nature."

"Jesus, Barry. You are fucking with my mind."

His smile was a leer of certainty. "You might be wired for it. You might like it. A lot. I'm sure you will."

"And I might not." I changed tack. "Let's close some gaps here. When I met you, you were all straight. Outside, anyway. How is it you haven't fucked a man in eight years?"

"I fell in love with Betty. It was my first falling in love ever. That great, earth moving, completely gone falling in love. I thought I had loved other women. Not even close. Betty was my plunge into the infinity of love. I worshiped and adored her. Sex with a man was no longer even conceivable. I was very cautious in fucking men, condoms, with one or two exceptions, so I was clean. But I did some secret blood work anyway to confirm my clean bill of health. And gave up men forever. I married Betty the summer after college graduation. Straight arrow all the way. For eight years. Then I saw you. And fell apart. I mean that. The most beautiful, sexy, erotic, alluring, desirable man ass I had ever looked at was yours, and all my years of suppression vaporized. I wanted to fuck a man again. You. You, you, you. Can you understand that now?"

"Well, in a way. The same thing happened to me after a three year hiatus. Except I wanted to kiss a boy, and suck his cock. I know bi-sex desire can suddenly spring up and wallop a man from the blind side. I certainly know that. After six years it happened again, just two weeks ago, when I saw the outline of your cock close to my hands on the weight bar." I looked into his eyes, and looked him over, my man, my big powerful man. He was beautiful. He was most desirable. "I have to admit I am flattered you want to take me that way, but... This is too sudden and new. I don't even know what to think about it. What I should think."

"But... Doesn't your confusion have a touch of wonder and electric excitement also?"

"You are a witch," I laughed. I changed tack again. "I take it Betty has no idea of your bi side."

"God no. Never. It would destroy her, us." His face grew somber, almost painful. "You ask if I ever felt guilty about being a queer, and I honestly told you I never did. Or very little. But cheating on Betty did rip me apart. I have jerked off fantasying you and your marvelous ass and shot cum four feet high. And then felt guilty for betraying Betty, even in fantasy. But I am what I am. I can't change what I am. I have to be Jeckel and Hyde. To be me."

"And I would rather die myself than do anything to hurt Betty."

"We will make certain that never happens. We will shut ourselves off from the other world and be lovers. Just as tonight. Just as we need and want and must do. There is no other way."

He took my spongy cock in his hand and gently squeezed it to rampant glory. He gazed at it with awe. "So damn big," he whispered. "Such perfect beauty." He kissed it, almost reverently. He licked it. He opened his mouth wide and engulfed the shiny head. He sucked me, wetly, sweetly. He lifted his head and looked far off at nowhere. "My first taste of cock in over eight years," he said in wonder, in a momentary daze. He dipped his head and sucked more, home at last.

Internally wired to fuck men he was, but he had no psychological barrier to sucking cock. He went down on me further than any male or female had before. He was good, damn good, but something more than skilled. He moved his finger to the crease of my ass and probed, rubbed, teased. A brand new feeling zapped the spot. I liked the feeling. He seemed to know I did. He raised his head to spit on the feisty finger and when his mouth claimed my cock again his wet finger pushed in at the same time. No object had ever entered my ass before. It didn't hurt, but I was keenly aware of the intrusion, the finger sliding in to the knuckle, then curling and wiggling around in my ass. So utterly strange and strangely exciting. So much was happening at once. The intense pleasure surging in my cock, enhanced by his busy finger contacting with nerves I didn't even know I had... I bellowed and was swept away in orgasm. I might have even fainted.

"Oh fuck me blind," I said, when I could speak at all. "That was powerful. Very powerful. That was a biggie. A blast of pure white blinding light. Oh man did I cum hard!" The orgasm had lifted me so high I broke into a spacey, mindless giggle of wonder as I swirled and floated back to earth.

Barry kneeled between my legs, grinning and smacking after taste of my cum he had swallowed, studying me intently. "Happy to oblige," he said. 

"Kiss me," I said.

He covered me with his broad hairy weight, and kissed my lips, suckled them, licked them, made love to them. "Did my finger feel good?" He whispered.

"Yes, it did," I whispered back. "First finger there. First anything ever there. A nice surprise, and...addition."

"Just a hint of the pleasure you will know when my cock is in you."

"When. The operative word. I simply don't know, Barry. I will think about it. At this point, that's all I can say. I will think about it."

"At this point that is all I ask. Think about it. Seriously. My sweetheart, my darling." And he kissed me again. Seriously.



Bisexual Journey Ch. 06



The clear, blatant fact that another man wants to push his hard cock into your ass has a way of seizing a man's thoughts. I certainly didn't want to fuck him, or any man. A psychological barrier on my end of the stick, apparently. When it came to fucking, my cock pointed straight to women. But... A man fucking me? Ideas of what it would feel like, do to me, came seeping in through numerous holes in what I had always assumed to be well constructed barriers. The biggest hole was his desire to do that to me. A desire so strong he lost all control of his eight year man sex suppression at first sight of my sexy ass. Flattering, yes, I could not deny that. But I had no more awareness of my ass that I did of my elbows, so I did a lot of head twisting to look in the mirror to see what he saw. I couldn't see it. Not his point of view. A view that made his cock hard, his kiss devouring, and his calling me his "darling."

Falling so easily into the role of his darling was the second biggest hole. Those fantasy feelings of soft yielding femaleness in his overpowering arms was totally new to me. Those feelings were strangely pleasing and comforting, but also a little scary. I thought I knew exactly who I was kissing a boy and sucking his cock. I wondered if there were places in me yet to be discovered, that I didn't know at all. Being another man's sweetheart. Surrendering my ass to him to enter, actually wanting it.

Why did countless millions of men want other men to fuck them? Was the mind bending pleasure as transforming as lore and literature claimed?

We were so cool at our next gym session it was almost funny. And not only because Betty and the girls showed up with him. We sweated, grunted, lifted, with him appropriately distant from the weight bar. It was like we had never been on my bed. Except for a single exchange. "Still thinking about it?" He asked, hopeful but nonchalant. I answered with honesty that pleased him. "I'm thinking about it. A lot." - "Good, good," he said with a smile, patting me on my shoulder, like I was an employee reporting a work assignment progress to my boss. 

We joined Betty and the girls in the juice bar and my dirty thoughts received an elevating boost. Barry as married man. Husband, father, provider. Happy family. Betty was a large woman, curvaceous, not fat so much as...pneumatic. Firmly controlled spread. Not conventionally beautiful, but charming and pretty. A generous, happy woman. A loving mother. And no doubt well fucked by her husband as often as she needed. That was apparent in her basic happiness. And my swift conclusions of all that did not bring on a black cloud of betrayal of her by what Barry and I had done. Just the opposite. I saw him in a different and brighter light. He was as clean and pure and majestic in his desire to fuck me as he was being loving husband and father. And that night in the juice bar matched my own experience of suddenly desiring Bryan Colter that night in the pub back in college. With the girl I thought I was in love with sitting beside me. I knew exactly what it was like to have that thunderbolt of bi-sexual desire strike with no warning. But Barry and I were mature men. Our making love would not have the same consequences. I felt certain of that.

When I was at home that night, I thought back on my affair with Bryan, and realized something else. I had wanted him desperately, and I seduced him. Now Barry wanted me desperately, and I was the one being seduced. He was shaping my mind, planting seeds to grow there. And I had to face the truth of my mind being fertile soil. The persistent, tingling excitement of being seduced by an irresistible man, the first time ever, was tunneling deeper into my head and sending mysterious but welcomed resonance throughout my body. Me, Jack, a straight man, a well developed muscle toned man, not given to violence but more than capable of fighting if a situation required, proud carrier of bigger than average cock, an accomplished lover and fucker of women... I was being seduced by another man, and it was strangely but deliciously exciting. So strangely exciting and persistent I declined some invitations from a couple of lady friends.

The next week Barry came alone to the gym. He was on a business triumph high. He owned his own real estate company, and had sold a large commercial property to a big gun in the cell phone industry that needed it for a billing factory. Billing only, for those millions of customers and their greater millions of minutes to talk and text. "They will eventually have two hundred employees," he said. "Billing and raking in money." Barry raked in money of his own, a very fat commission. He practically strutted. He glowed. When a moment of absolute privacy occurred, the triumphant real estate tycoon put his hand on my ass cheek and squeezed with authority.

"Still thinking about it?"

"Yes, I am. But we need to talk more."

"I can't stay too long tonight."

*****

As soon as my apartment door closed he gathered me in his arms and kissed me. I dropped my gym bag to the floor and folded into his massive strength and hot body and instantly hard cock. Raised my chin to receive his suckling lips and licking tongue. Felt that soft feminine sensation of yielding to him, but at the same felt my cock grow erect with all male assertion. I hunched my groin to his. He put his hands on my ass to pull me tighter.

"It seems longer than two weeks," I said. "I want your cock in my mouth again. Taste your cum."

"I am your man. You are my darling. You need your man. Oh yes."

He placed his hands on my shoulders and bore down, making clear the proper context of the moment was my kneeling to him, to serve him. And it was so perfectly right, on my knees on my apartment floor, looking up at his towering stature, his smile of expectation mixed with that same flush of triumph by the huge sale closing he made that day. My man. I shivered with desire to serve him, to please him, to drink cum from his balls.

I undid his belt, the waist button, and pulled his pants and boxer shorts down to his ankles. His cock sprang free and thumped my face. That singular smell of masculinity flowed from his groin and went in my nose and had its intoxicating effect. Our position was stripped of all romantic adornment. Me on my knees, fully dressed. Him standing with his pants and underwear at his ankles. He lifted his shirt tails and put his hands on his hips and made a slight bow forward. "Suck my cock," he said. 

His words were an order. A new chord in the music of our evolving man sex. A new excitement gripping my chest. A first sinking in to obedience of another man. A first glimpse of submission. I had not known these things with Andy and Bryan. Barry was taking me to new places, other worlds. He ordered me to suck his cock, and that enflamed desire and need in me to obey, to serve him, to please him. I did that. Not as his darling. As a full fledged man making love to another man. Feeling the wondrous edges of submission, but at the same time feeling manly and powerful.

He shot his cum into my mouth and I gulped it down. He held on to my shoulders to keep from tripping over the pants tangled at his ankles. He broke into helpless laughter at his precarious stance, and the joy of cumming in my serving mouth. "Oh my God you are good. So damn good. The best ever... Help me out of these." He kicked his right foot. I untied his laces and slipped off his shoes and socks. He stepped free of his entanglement, holding my shoulders for balance. He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He was breathing heavily, smiling down on me. His tumescence began to decline. A last big cum drop oozed out. I claimed it. He twitched and spasmed in high sensitivity. "I need to lie down," he said.

He walked naked to my bed and plopped on his back on the mattress. Almost like it was his place and his bed and I was the visitor, following where he went. His breathing was still heavy. His smile of satisfaction even heavier. "Get those clothes off," he ordered.

I obeyed. I lay close to him in that familiar state of exhilaration, his cum a puddle in my belly, radiating that sense of pure clean energy through out my system, polishing my mind to bright understanding of the deep satisfaction in sucking him off. An isolated knowledge that only a cock sucker, and no other, can attain. I touched my lips to see if the friction tingle still there would transmit to my finger tip. I didn't have an erection. I was serene, at peace.

Barry lay with his eyes closed, breathing evenly. He said: "You are amazing. Hard to believe you've only had two men. You give me the best blow jobs I've ever had."

"Just obeying your command," I said.

He opened his eyes and rose to his elbow to turn and look into my eyes. "It was something special, wasn't it, obeying my command."

"I confess it was. An altogether new experience for me. I love your cock anyway, but your demand that I suck it, a very strange new thrill. There's a lot about bi-sex I don't know."

"Yes. Oh yes. My cock filling your ass, fucking you to oblivion." He kissed my lips with ineffable softness and tenderness. "You are my sweetheart, you know. You do know that, now."

"I still can't imagine it, Barry. So many unknowns. I don't really believe I have the nerve. What if I like it, and like it too much? What if I feel only revulsion and revolt and fight you off?"

"Those questions can be answered only one way. Doing it, having the experience, knowing once and for all. You might very well revolt and fight me off. You might also know that sweet surrender to my cock in your ass, and feel those delirious pleasures that cannot be imagined."

"I can imagine this - the stinky and messy."

He laughed with superior knowledge. "There are ways around that. Preliminary hygiene is par for the course, and a necessity. There are practical matters involved when a man fucks a man. Unlike fucking a woman. No matter the desire and passion is just as great, or even greater. A douche or enema before hand, lots of lube. Practical matters before that lift off to paradise. When I fuck you I might pull out a speck or two, but so what?"

"Enema. God. I can't even imagine THAT!"

"Try too. That time comes when you are ready to know. To give me your virgin ass. You do the hygiene ritual in complicity with my desire to fuck you. Because you want me to fuck you. There is nothing romantic about an enema, but it will be explicitly and deliberately erotic and sexual, making your chamber squeaky clean to receive my cock. You have given in and you want to experience it. Just as much as I do. And God in heaven I do want to fuck you, so very much, my beautiful man, my sweetheart. And you are very close to giving in. Admit it."

"Closer. Much closer. I think about it all the time. I'm not there yet."

"We have time. I can wait."

He moved his hand slowly over my body, the fingers making light feathery contact. His eyes tracked his hand movement. His fingers barely brushed my left nipple, a light staccato movement, flicking it. A gentle squeeze and pull, more brushing and teasing.

"That feels damn good," I said. My tone of compete surprise was ringing to both our ears.

"You didn't know?"

"No one has ever done that to me. Keep doing it."

He put each of his hands to each of my nipples and performed his magic, and I lay in utter amazement at the feelings that washed me. A pleasure unlike any other I had ever known. So delicate and soft and warm and sweet, so sexual and so erotic. I purred and squirmed and pressed my chest up for firmer contact with his fingers. Never had I felt anything like that. Not with any man, nor any woman. He pinched and soothed, alternately, teasing and tickling, a hard painful pinch that sent an electric current straight to my cock head. Then soothing the pain with feathery finger brushes. My God it felt good! I writhed and purred and moaned.

Barry starred into my eyes with a deep intensity that contained boundless delight. "There is so much I will teach you," he promised. He bent down and put his mouth on my nipple. Hot, wet, man mouth sucking it in, tongue teasing, alternately teeth nipping and licking. His fingers busy on the other nipple. The sweet new pleasure, soft and electric, burst and rippled without cease, and I floated on a buoyant sea of identifying with a woman.

"Is this what all my girls felt when I sucked their breasts?" I asked, truly curious and wanting to know.

"It is possible your tits feel every bit as much a girl feels," Barry said. "It all comes down to individual wiring. I don't have it. Obviously you do. You are lucky. Most of the men I fucked in college had it too. Their tits were wired for it. Man flat, but still capable of feeling what a girl feels. You are lucky."

"My tits," I mused. "Until now, I couldn't possibly form any idea of me having tits. Now I discover I not only have tits, but they can feel the same pleasure a girl feels. How is it possible I never knew this? Even by some accidental discovery?"

"Because you were waiting for me to come along. Open you up to marvelous discoveries about yourself, your sexuality. Open up to your man. Become his sweetheart and darling. I am your lover man. I love making love to your tits. Let the pleasure flow. Let your fantasy of feeling like a girl go free."

He sucked and loved my tits more, with certain purpose and dedicated skill, and drew out the female in me that had lain dormant all my life. Because I was wired that way. And because he was a man, with a hot passionate man mouth and a beard stubble that rasped my tender tits. He gave me pleasure that was so gentle and sweet and zippy with electric excitement, all having source in his enormous masculinity compressed in a focused desire to ravish the tits of his darling, and I let go. I became a girl. His girl. The feminine feeling I had when I first tilted my chin up to kiss him was only a hint. His loving my tits flung the door wide open, and I let myself go. I became a girl. I gazed down my chest at this working mouth and fingers, and for an instant flash I hallucinated. My chest formed barely detectable mounds, and after a struggle pushed the mounds to low pyramids and my tits were breasts in a man's mouth. The hallucination lasted only a millisecond, but it seared my brain for evermore.

"Oh my God I love this! I could take my lover man's mouth on my tits all night long."

He raised up and chuckled from deep in his belly. He glanced at the clock on the bed side table. "If only we had all night. I really have to go, my darling. I really do." He got off the bed. "Sorry I have to leave you hanging. "

"No problem. My belly is full of your cum. My newly discovered tits have felt pleasures I didn't know existed. I am very happy."

He hugged me tight with one arm as we walked to the door. He gathered his clothes from the floor and dressed. He embraced my naked body and kissed me. My feminine feeling in lifting my chin up to meet his lips was much stronger, with my tits still tingling. He cupped my ass in his strong hands and squeezed and kneaded and spread the globes wide apart and pressed them back together. "There are other pleasure discoveries, far more powerful, in store for you, my darling. You are wired for them too. We know it. We want it."

"Yes." I said, my voice high and tremulous, girlish. "I'll tell you when."



Bisexual Journey Ch. 07



When Barry was gone I walked to my mirror to examine myself. Who are you? What are you? A twenty seven year old man stared back at me. Six feet tall, well developed, big cock dangling. Good looking, hell yes, vanity justified by too many genuine compliments from women. Chestnut colored hair full and half long on my neck below my ears. Green hazel eyes. Fair skin with body hair confined to a modest T across my pecs and down my stomach to my chestnut bush. A sprinkle of hair on my thighs and shins. A splendid specimen of masculine perfection. A most worthy lover of women. Who now knew he had tits that could feel the same pleasures a female felt. 

I gazed at my tits. My pecs were pretty much flat muscle. The nipples were average, but the areoles were a touch larger than average. My man tits. Wired to feel what a female feels. I touched my nipples with my finger tips and produced that fuzzy sweet feeling. Who am I? What am I?

Two days later I went shopping at the drug store I usually frequented. A long boxed tube of KY jelly was close to the boxed condoms. Something called a "rectal syringe" almost jumped off the shelf into my hand. With my goodies in hand I walked towards the cash register, and froze. Shit! What would the woman at the register think? What if a line formed behind me and looked at my goodies and looked at me, with shock, with disgust? I wasn't prepared for that. I turned to put my goodies back on the shelf, but a woman was in the aisle doing her own browsing for private needs. I was trapped.

After weeks of being seduced by Barry, I had surrendered myself to his desire to fuck me, but that was to be in hermetically sealed privacy, no one else on earth ever knowing or even suspecting. I never considered my public exposure in buying the paraphernalia to bring that about. Practically shouting to the world that I am making myself ready to be fucked by another man. Or the opposite, that I had a sweetheart boy I was going to fuck. Which would provoke the same disgust in those in line. There was a slim chance the public voyeurs might imagine I had a girl who liked anal sex. My predicament was so silly I almost laughed out loud. Never the less, I sidled about until the moment the register was very much idle before I dashed up to pay.

The woman was professional. Only a flicker of recognition tweaked her face as she scanned my goods and put them in a concealing bag. She carefully avoided eye contact, taking my money and pronouncing her "thank you." Nice and civilized. There are perverts out there, just try not to look at them.

My public exposure in the drug store was amusing. It was less amusing when I became my own voyeur of my own exposure in the privacy of my apartment. Did I really and truly want to do this? This perversion? What if I really liked Barry's cock in my ass, loved it? Would that transform me into a gay man that would never desire a woman again? The unknowns. The risks. Scary. For a moment terrifying. Just like with Andy when I was eighteen and had to battle the truth I was half a faggot and half a normal guy. Things like that, giving in to desire to take a first cock in my mouth, are things that can't be reversed or taken back. And the consequence was my learning I loved to suck cock. 

Even so, I still desired and made love with girls. I knew how to separate the two, being a faggot and a stud. I had that firmly in my control. For now. But my self control was undergoing seismic movements, tectonic plates deep inside me grinding together, creating rifts and upheavals. The temblor of thrill in being seduced by a man, a big, big man who had claimed me for his darling, who gave me the fantastic discovery I had tits, as fully wired for pleasure as a girl feels. And that was not scary at all. That was marvelous, precious, a discovery of inestimable value. Barry could suck my tits all night long and I would know bliss. What would his cock buried deep in my ass feel like? 

I called Barry to cancel out of our Wednesday night gym meet. An urgent business matter I couldn't ignore. No problem, he said, see you the next week. But his tone betrayed a mild suspicion I might be drifting away from the passion that had detonated between us. Frightened by it, stepping back from it, feeling about for protection. Which in fact I was doing to some degree. Mostly I was vacillating. 

The sensation of his finger in my ass was a very exciting and alien thrill. But did that really portend the experience of his big hard cock in there? I seriously doubted it. But I couldn't imagine just what other truth his big hard cock in my ass would generate either. When he fucked me, would I discover something comparable to learning I had tits with the same wiring as a girl? When he fucked me. Not if. In the end I went back to my seduction of Bryan years ago. The stress on his opportunity of a life time to know what man sex was all about. Here was my opportunity. Barry teaching me. Just us alone. No one else would know.

"Hi guy. I'm missing you. How easy is it for you to get away from your office?"

"Very easy, usually, I'm the boss."

"Today?"

"Hang on." I heard some paper sounds. "Tomorrow is better."

"Early afternoon. One, one thirty, somewhere around there?"

"Can do. Will do.... No more thinking about it?"

"I'm ready."

"So am I. Tomorrow, Tuesday, one thirty. Till then, anticipate."

I awoke early Tuesday morning and consumed a hearty breakfast. Somehow I shuffled my anticipation into the deck of business chores ever calling for my attention. I was also my own boss, and my computer was my office. The simple explanation is I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I was an only child, and yes, the beneficiary of a trust fund. To think "Rockefeller" would be absurd. To think comfortable nest egg would get it. The income became mine when I turned twenty one. I used it to dabble in stocks and bonds. I made money and the dabbles increased to chunks. I was a moderately wealthy young man at age twenty seven. But deviously secret about it. My private financial affairs were as closely guarded as my bi-sexuality. Both offered opportunities of a life time, with attending risk. And I was my own boss.

Barron's, The Wall Street Journal, ticker tape quotations, interspersed with my fingers stimulating my nipples. Anticipating. Watching the clock. A timely bowl movement. Filling the basin with warm water. Filling the large blue bulb of the syringe. Bending over to fill my dark chamber with jets of water, expelling it and the unpleasant feel of swollen invasion into the toilet. Once, twice, thrice. A clinical procedure, but a deliberate one, and just as Barry said, psychologically and emotionally edgy with determined complicity in my own deflowering. Squeaky clean. Shave, shower, soaping my ass to make it cleaner still.

What should I wear? My black silk pajama pants, loose in the legs, sensual on the skin, simple but suggestive. My upper body bare, my tits exposed and available. The lighting was perfect, sunshine diffused by the blinds, but giving clear vision to all aspects of what was to take place. KY, condoms, a stack of towels on the night table. The knock on the door was as startling as gun shots.



Bisexual Journey Ch. 08



Final Chapter

There he was, the man who was going to fuck me. He looked searchingly into my eyes, at my body clad only in black silk pajama pants. We couldn't speak. We didn't know what words would fit. He took me in his arms and kissed my lips. He took control of me and our time. He kissed me tenderly and lovingly. His hands caressed my shoulders and back, slowly, and down to the silk on my ass that became ever more sensual by the possessive caress of his hands.

"Barry, Barry, Barry. I feel like a virgin bride on her wedding night."

He laughed with a release that spread over both of us. "You are my virgin bride," he whispered on my lips. "My sweetheart. My darling. You are surrendering your virginity to your man. To know." His erection was a mighty thing of power, potential and self evident.

He walked me to the bedroom, calm and in control. I put his suit jacket on a hanger. His necktie. His pants. He could not stop looking into my eyes, and smiling. I brushed his hands aside to unbutton his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, with nervous fingers, glancing up at his calm smile and smoldering eyes. Filled with quivers and currents of a virgin bride. Ready to experience and know. I knelt and kissed his rigid cock, just to acknowledge it. His half a day of crotch smell was extra strong, gamy, like the scent a buck or a boar would smear on trees in a forest. He looked at the bedside table, well stocked, and said, "You are ready."

We lay naked on the bed, and he made love to me, his beautiful man, his darling, his virgin. Slowly. With all the time in the world progression. With his hands and fingers and his mouth. Opening doors in me. Stimulating, arousing, igniting flames. And I lay under him, acquiescent, anticipating, wanting it to happen. He loved my tits and I dove into identifying with a woman with full breasts. That was my release. To luxuriate in everything happening to me, embrace any fantasy. Gone. 

"I'm extra clean for you," I said.

"My darling," he murmured.

He got off the bed and came back on with a supply of towels and the KY. He folded a pillow length wise. "Raise up," he said. I planted my feet and hoisted my pelvis. He covered the pillow with the towel and slid it under my ass near the small of my back. Practical matters. He uncapped the jelly tube and lubed his fingers. "Put your hands behind your knees and pull your legs back," he said. I obeyed. On my back, jackknifed, legs pulled back and spread wide, my virgin ass was offered up to him like a gift on a platter. And any lingering female fantasy fled from the stark reality I was a man who had willfully positioned himself to be fucked by another man.

He pushed a gooey finger in and moved it around. Then a second finger. A few sawing strokes of the two fingers. "To acquaint you," he said. "Help you relax." His kind intentions didn't work. My sphincter clamped his fingers like a vice. He didn't relent, and gradually I did relax. Some. His sawing fingers were less abrasive. I felt growing excitation there, if not genuine pleasure. The excitation was the keen edge of understanding that my position and the sensation his fingers produced was isolated anticipation, as thrilling as scary, of his big stiff cock about to penetrate me. He withdrew the fingers. He squeezed the tube and slathered a thick coat of lube on his cock.

"Uh, you're forgetting the condom," I said.

He stared into my eyes. "We'll use one if you insist. But it's the same cum I pump into my wife. I am clean and safe for her, and for you. Trust me."

It made sense, what he said. I couldn't imagine him rolling on a condom every time he fucked Betty. For eight years. Disease free made sense. I made a snap decision. "Okay. No condom."

"Skin in skin. All natural. The best for me, and you too. You will see."

That concluded practical matters. It was time for him to take my virginity. On that point all my senses fell into shifting patterns of awareness of extreme clarity and vividness. Like the shift of patterns when you twist the tube of a kaleidoscope. He was on his knees spread wide, much like a flexible child on spread knees on the floor to play a game, jacks or something. He adjusted his knees to approach. His cock looked larger and harder, shiny with lube, a specific tool for a specific job. I lifted my head and stared between my spread legs at the awesome man tool advance, at a goal and a purpose that could not be altered. The mighty head, a flaring helmet on an ancient warrior, made contact.

My head dropped back to the mattress, my eyes closed, and my mental awareness was intensely vivid. The cock head so silky and fitting in my mouth seemed to have doubled in size, and was as hard and unyielding as steel. It seemed to press against all the surface I had down there, far beyond the margins of my tiny, tight anus. Vivid clarity of awareness. It was too big. It couldn't be done. It was simply not possible. But his too big cock was more than tangible measure. It was also stark reality that his penetration was a predetermined, non-negotiable event. That the impossible was not only possible, but was going to happen, by his desire for me and implacable force of masculine imperative, and by my position of submission to him. I was past the point of no return. The hard bulging head was firmly pressed on the entrance to open it and push into me. I could not stop it. I had deliberately submitted myself, mentally, emotionally, physically, including an enema, to experience the meaning of being fucked by a man, and I had no will left to stop it.

The pain was instant, and confounding. It was like the huge hard ball of flesh had changed itself into a sharp point to puncture. The pain was stinging and sharp. I sucked in a hiss of air to ward it off.

I shot a desperate look at Barry. His eyes were riveted to mine. His face seemed detached from emotion. Calm and confident, like a doctor performing a necessary medical procedure. The pressure increased. And the pain. The pain was beyond understanding. A part of it was pain of contraction, like the blow from touching an electrified wire on a fence. But the greater part was expansion, my tight hole being opened, widened, forced to yield. And the pain was intensely sharp. I hissed like a tea kettle. "Oh God go easy!" 

Suddenly he popped in. A pop I thought I actually heard. I felt my sphincter muscle snap behind the extended rim of his cock head like a wide rubber band.

"I'm in you, baby. My cock is in you." He said that with proud achievement, and reassurance the necessary ordeal was over. But it wasn't over. He moved further into me, with infinite care, but pain of a different sort awaited. It wasn't hot searing pain. It was pain of blunt force. It was like his cock was forced to reconfigure the design of my rectum. Flatten out things, push things aside, straighten out corners. 

"Easy! Easy! Please go as easy as you can."

"Push out from inside. Reverse the resistance."

Like taking a shit, he didn't say. I pushed out from inside with all I had, grimacing with strain, and hope. Reversing resistance to the reverse of his massive cock moving in, in fractions of an inch, to the end, like a plow point turning a furrow.

He fell on me and kissed my mouth. "I'm in you baby. All the way in your delicious ass. You have taken in all that I have. I have taken your virginity." He kissed me more. "My sweetheart, my darling. You are now mine. I have taken you."

I hugged him to me and clung tightly, uncertain if there were more flashes of pain I had to face. There didn't seem to be. It seemed to be all over, pain retreated from a last ditch battle, replaced with activity of accommodation. I felt stuffed, expanded, filled. Barry lay still, kissing me and humming sounds of depthless pleasure his cock relayed from the gripping heat of my ass far inside. The great head pulsed like a beating heart deep inside me. I could feel it. Vivid awareness. He had taken me. His big, hard, throbbing cock had taken total possession of all that I was at that time. He owned me. I was his.

He raised up on stiff arms and moved in me with infinite care and consideration. Very, very slowly. Vivid awareness with perfect clarity; the flared rim of his cock head rubbing the muscle walls of my chamber. It was like the sensations of a great bowl movement. At first. But it didn't hurt, not really. Much like a massage of knotty shoulder muscles by strong fingers, that smarts at first, then relaxes. There was no pleasure in his slow strokes, but no real pain either. And the "meaning" of me a man being fucked by another man was crystal clear. The penetration, being filled and expanded, the initial pain giving way to seizures of sensations deep in my body of rigid cock cylinder rubbing flesh that had never been rubbed before. Cock movement and exploration of the tight confines of a place in the center of my body. Vivid, internal sensations of the conquering cock rubbing back and forth and doing what it wanted to do, apart from anything I might think about it. Barry had taken me, and he was going to take me completely, use my ass to pleasure his cock, and I sank into submission to the process, the "meaning" of being fucked by man. 

I relaxed to the feel of his cock moving in me, and the physical sensations were tolerable, beginning to feel pleasant, if not really pleasurable. I could, and would, and was happy to do this for him. To give him that intense pleasure of fucking me. His strokes back and forth quickly erased all the penetration pain from my memory. My ass stuffed with his hard cock, my sudden sense of total acceptenc of being the instrument of his selfish pleasure. That his cock and person realized the joy of fucking me was all that mattered. I wanted to give him that, even if I experienced no real pleasure in return. For another flash of insight had struck me. The cock that had entered me to define the meaning of being fucked was attached to Barry, my man, my lover man, who had for months burned with desire to do to me just what he was now doing. He was my lover, making love to me by fucking me, and the total man was involved, not just his big cock moving inside me. 

Perspective. I looked up at him on stiff straight arms, massive man looming over me, and I had a vision of him as every man. Every man who had fucked a woman, from the time we left trees and walked on hind legs. And every man was now my man, and he was fucking me. And I had a vision of me as every woman who had been fucked, from the time of leaving the trees. On my back, legs spread wide, the receptacle of his need and desire. I relaxed even more, and his cock moving in me felt good. Very nice. Enjoyable. A strange genuine pleasure. No memory of any pain. His strokes gained tempo and length.

Something happened. A burst of marvelous pleasure deep inside me. Like a silent fireworks bomb in the night sky on fourth of July. The pleasure explosion had color in my mind - countless particles of red-orange tailing off into yellow then white. Sending an instant flood of physical and sexual pleasure through out the center of me. Which melted, became soft and hot and mushy for his tunneling cock. I whimpered a tone of magical wonder.

"Feel good?"

"It does now. I like it. I love it!"

"I promised it would. I'm fucking you, baby. I'm fucking your sweet ass."

He slammed deep to the limits. I saw his stomach fold and spring. In my mind I saw his ass with the power to drive a freight train expand and clinch. He slammed deep in my ass, and the great cock head battering my center catapulted a helpless, ragged, all male "nuuuuugh" from my stomach and lungs, and out of my nose. My helpless grunt from the depths of my soul put a glitter of certainty in Barry's eyes, a certainty contained in the depths of his masculine sexuality. His slam didn't hurt. It couldn't. I was loose and soft and mushy. I was pure receptacle for his unleashed power. My man was fucking me.

I became a woman. On my back, legs folded back and spread wide and rocking on their pelvic hinges in rhythm with his powerful buttocks expanding and clinching, rising and dipping, driving his cock back and forth in the center of me. Detonating those internal starbursts of rarest, intense pleasure in staggered, unpredictable sequence. They were low key orgasms. Sweet, gripping pleasures beneath the threshold of ejaculation. One after the other. On and on. Each moment an eternity. I was a woman being fucked by a man. "Barry, Barry, oh God yes, my man, fuck me fuck me."

I gazed up at my man. The hovering, topping mass of him. The power of him. His eyes were closed, his teeth clinched, his head tilted back. A sheen of sweat lighting his labors to reach his ultimate reward. His breathing broken into gasps and grunts. And he was beautiful. For all his bulk, he fucked me with athletic grace, his massive strength organized in a symphony of primal beat and rhythm. Punctuated with gasps and grunts out of his control. We were joined. I squeezed my rectal muscles around his thrusting cock to join us even more.

"Yes, yes!" He hissed.

He went into lope for awhile, then full gallop. All pure man in fierce pursuit of his goal. And I became all man once again. Seeing in him, and feeling from him, the exact state of masculine sexual being I have been so many times. He made his cock a tireless piston plunging in me. Orgasms not quite orgasms and without an exact center exploding inside me. In rolling waves. I moaned and wailed and thrashed about on my back. In total surrender to him, and to myself. He lost control of his athletic grace. He was wracked with jerks and spasms and sweat broke out on his face. He was all male animal laboring for that ultimate release. He found it. He bellowed in triumph.

His cock head grew even larger, tight and throbbing. I felt it, clearly and vividly. His cum shot into me, rivers of it. I felt it streaking over the fleshy landscape deep inside my hot ass. Spastic hunches, a gargling sound in his throat, and another salvo of his cum shot into me. It felt surprisingly cool. Soothing. His essence emptying into me. And it felt absolutely, perfectly right.

He collapsed on me, spent and helpless, my mighty sweaty man who had emptied all his power into me. His breath in my ear having the sound of angry snorts. Spent, helpless man. I circled my arms around his sweaty back and clung to him, feeling a delirious kind of love. I had been transformed. He had made me into something new. I squeezed my ass muscle around his cock to possess it longer, praise it for transforming me, wanting to hold the fantastic filling power of it inside me for ever.

He gradually regained his senses. He pulled out, and the trapped air made a loud pop sound when his semi hard cock broke the vacuum. I felt instant loss, a desolate emptiness. I wanted him back inside me at once, to restore that fullness that had produced the miracle of transformation. But we were finished. He lay back with his head on the pillow, his eyes closed, his breathing settling down. I squirmed and stretched and took mental inventory of the still sizzling feelings and sensations in my body. In my mind.

"I have been fucked by a man." I said. I turned to kiss his neck and lick the dew of sweat there. "And what a man! What a hell of a man."

Barry chuckled with pride mingling with his orgasmic after glow. "You loved it, didn't you."

"God help me I did. I really, really did. You pushed your cock in my ass and lifted me off planet earth and took me to a place I had never been before. Couldn't even imagine." He beamed with flattery and also a smug certainty. "You fucked me and I loved it. I loved you. Was I as good for you?"

He rose up and turned to kiss my lips. "Better than good. Better than any fantasy I had of you. Your beautiful, sexy, perfectly sculpted man ass gave me the mind blowing pleasure I knew it would. After eight years, I found you. I fucked you, and I went to paradise." He kissed my lips. "You are mine now. You belong to me. I am your man and you are my darling." He kissed me again. "Did I turn you into a girl?"

"At times. Halfway. I imagined I was female, I knew I was a man. Your fucking switched me back and forth. I was aware, with vivid clarity, that you were a man. All man. Taking me in absolute control of me. I now know what total surrender means."

He kissed me. "My darling, my girl, my beautiful man."

I wasn't certain, but I thought I felt his cum trickling out of my ass. I felt for the towel and diapered myself. "I'm glad we dispensed with the condom."

"Yes?"

"To feel your cum shoot deep inside me. I did feel it, every particle. It felt so right. It was like your signature on your creation. Now permanently stamped in there. I will recall that feeling of your cum shooting into me as long as I live."

"My signature of truth I made you mine. You now belong to me. Your lover man. My sweet, sweet surrendered darling."

*****

Barry and I were lovers for years. He fucked no other man. No other man fucked me. Although I did have a few cock sucking only affairs. I delayed our second time. There was much I had to sort out in my psyche. Arrive at a balance. I delayed our third time even longer. Over the years we found optimum satisfaction in him fucking me one or two or sometimes three times a year. He had to make inner adjustments to give Betty her deserved and proper place in his life. In two years I found the love of my life, and became bound in deliriously happy married man sex. She was also bi, and there was no conflict whatever in my having sex with Barry. Our lengthy spacing made us pretty much forgot each other for months. But then the urge would arise, and slowly build, need and desire increasing by independent growth, phone calls more frequent and purposeful. Each time was like losing my virginity all over again. Every time hurt, some, but nothing like the first time. I grew to welcome the pain that promised the pleasure, the pain of surrender to his desire and ordained power. After he took my virginity, he proved his boast of lasting a long time. He could easily fuck me for twenty minutes. Often he would recover and fuck me twice in the same afternoon, leaving me limp and satiated with inner metamorphosis.

I understood how important it was for him to be the dominant Superman. That was the driving need to seek his bliss, his joy, his orgasmic climax in the ass of another man. Me. His sweet darling. And I also understood, from the beginning, the perfect balance of my utter submission to him, for that's exactly what it was. In no other circumstances would it be remotely possible that I would submit anything to another man, but when he fucked me, his taking me into his arms to kiss me, even the palpable heat of his desire for my ass, released me to melt into that sweet and helpless submission to the overpowering masculine dominance of another man. Just as a female would do. He was never arrogant or harsh or even disrespectful. Our roles were spoken only in endearments of possession by him, and by my confirming words of euphemism and actions that I was subservient to his manhood, his desire and his will. And this verbal communication was strictly restricted to last pre-meeting phone calls and in the privacy of my apartment, which I kept as a love nest after I married. But the mutual understanding and acceptance was fixed. Fixed by position and internal wiring.

Conventional wisdom holds there is female in every male, and vise-versa. The amount or degree varies from tiny to considerable. I was considerable. My pulling my legs back to my chest to give my crinkled portal to his cock penetration was an extension of my tits feeling as much pleasure as a woman feels. It was a singular, and very valuable release for me to submit to him and his desire, his dominant topping and the fixed conquest of his cock forcing in and taking control of me. Totally let go. Leave all the slings and arrows and stress of ordinary living behind. Be a woman in a man's body for a few hours. Submit to my overpowering man who loved me by his loving to transform me. It was perfectly right, and cleansing, and purifying.