Bisexual Journey

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.