More Thoughts on "the First Bisexual Exploration"

After I wrote this a few years ago, I have scoured my memory bank on what really was going on during this period of time. I'll insert my current day thoughts into the story.

I'm glad I have finally started to fully pursue my feelings and curiosities... I wish I had begun earlier in my life. This was my first experience:

When I was 19, I worked a summer in a factory. I was slim, very blond in the summer. I was probably 5-6, 28 waist, clean shaven face...cute boy. A guy I worked with was gay, about 45 or 46. He was tall, about 6-3, and pretty muscular, and quite good looking. He would talk to me about his experiences with other men all the time, and this night I went to his apartment, something I did quite a few times. I was quite amazed by his stories, and learned a lot about male gay life.

I was fascinated by him, maybe a little attracted, and would visit him a lot. He lived alone about 15 minutes away. We'd usually just talk and he'd touch my leg sometimes. He obviously liked me a lot. He talked about sex a lot, and even had a wax replica of his cock on his wall.

One time he had just come out of the shower when I got there, and asked me if I wanted to see it. I was curious and I did want to...because I assumed he was bigger than me. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had thought about his cock a lot, and wondered what it was like. I was dying to see it...hoping to see it!

I looked at it first, then I touched it and held it, but not for long. I was really very excited. I was still amazed how big he was, pretty thick, and he said 8 inches. And kissing it or putting my mouth on it was out of the question, I told myself. That denial always worked for me, but I really wondered how much he would like that.

I had visited him many times, and he was always very nice to me, and I saw him almost every day at work in the factory. He had a very sexy raspy voice, that I came to like a lot. He had a very statuesque look, and he dyed his hair this auburn brown.

That was the first time I held someone else's cock in my hand. In hindsight, I wanted it more, but I was too shy. I felt it starting to get hard, so I stopped holding it.

He rarely tried to kiss me, or even talked about kissing, which is quite unusual, in thinking back now. I remember thinking that he probably wanted to, and whenever he got very close to my face I thought he would try.

Another time I went to visit, we chatted for a while, and then he shyly confessed that he had wanted to see my body for a long time, and he asked me if I would undress for him. I was very flattered, and excited, and after thinking about it for a minute or two, I said I would. I remembered the excitement on his face as I undressed, his anticipation as I turned my back on him to take my underwear off, and how he looked me up and down, and the arousal I felt as I stood there completely nude in front of another man for the first time in my life. And, surprising to me, I was getting hard and aroused.

He couldn't take his hands off me, stroking and caressing...telling me how shocked he was at how much bigger I was than he expected, touching my cock lightly. It was so weird to feel another man's hand wrapped around my cock, but so exciting. I think he even kissed it a little... but he was cautious and afraid to offend me and risk that I'd leave. I was really wishing he would touch me more! He could have tried more. He kept telling me that I had the most beautiful body, and asked me to lay on his huge king bed...face down so he could look at my ass. I've always had a small ass, and he liked it a lot.

I was kind of relieved to lay face down...I was starting to get a little embarrassed about how hard I was, and I know he noticed. He was always so complimentary about my body. He asked me if I liked to dance. He said I should try to be a nude dancer in a gay theater in NYC, an idea that I looked into a couple of years later.

He stopped caressing me briefly, and he stood up and asked if I minded if he undressed too. I told him that I guessed it was ok. I remember turning to watch him, and getting excited watching him undress, an excitement I feel with other guys I watch now. I was waiting to see how hard he was. He was much bigger and thicker than me. I wanted him to touch me again, and I wasn't sure what else I wanted him to do, but I know I wanted him to do more...but I was too shy to ask him to.

I remember wondering how he'd feel if I tried to take his cock in my mouth. He was so obviously infatuated with me. But I couldn't. If I sucked him that would mean I was gay, and I knew I wasn't gay! I told myself that for years. That was a denial that I had for a long time.

He started telling me about another guy he met and had sex with, and he began showing me how he got on top of him the first time, just like he was doing to me. I wasn't sure whether I should stop him...I didn't know what to do, as he was kissing me across the back of my neck and my shoulders. He was very hard and big, and I felt the head of his cock against me from behind. I didn't fight him, for some reason. He was cautious with his pressure, he told me that's how he did it with his other guy, and how he had slid it all the way in with him. He kept adding more pressure, but eventually he stopped and gave up, saying I was just too tight and it wouldn't go in. I didn't see any way it would fit, and I had no idea then that with a little patience, foreplay, and lubrication, it might have eventually gone in. (I'm sure I was clenched up very tight!)

Why was I glad he stopped? There was that stigma, the conventional wisdom...that if you got fucked you were definitely gay, and I wasn't gay, another denial. But I really didn't know then what I came to accept years later. I had a girlfriend, who I played with sometimes. We had not been naked together, and had no sex, but I loved playing with her breasts and nipples. Nothing else other than passionate kissing, and she didn't even stroke me, except through my pants. I ended up going home to my self gratification a lot. It felt more pleasurable with him, and I liked it. I was completely nude, and I liked sensuality of the physical contact.

Another thing was my ego...he stroked that a lot too. I was a shy wallflower in high school, and now I was getting a lot of attention and admiration, and it was resulting in a lot of body worship from him, and maybe from some of his other gay friends in the future.

I must have been curious, because I don't remember trying to stop him or give him any resistance. My subconscious probably wanted him to take me, to suck me, and maybe eventually fuck me! I'm sure I would have justified it in my mind by telling myself that I didn't do it, he did it to me, and I was just helping out a guy who needed something from me. That didn't make me gay, did it? Noooo. It was a psychological tactic I used on myself years later when I started spending more time with guys. They would come on to me, they would undress me, they would suck me, and then they would beg me to fuck them. I didn't initiate anything, I just gave them what they needed. It all seemed SO convenient!

I do remember a pleasurable feeling as he pushed, but I was probably kind of relieved when he stopped. He didn't try to use any lube, or lick me, or make any effort to enter me more easily. I felt a little guilty that he was disappointed, and I wished that I could have pleased him somehow.

Then I had that thinking that being the bottom guy, the guy getting fucked, was totally a service for, or a submission to, the top guy doing the fucking. There was never a thought, or any conventional wisdom on the street, that there was any pleasure in it for the guy on the bottom getting fucked, and that was my thought, that there'd be nothing in it for me except pain. It seemed degrading to be the bottom. I didn't know it, but that thinking couldn't be more wrong.

What I had no idea of, at that young age, and what I've come to appreciate in sex with guys since, is that the bottom guy can get as much pleasure out of getting the fucking as the top guy does, if not more. The bottom guy can move around with the guy inside him. The constant deep thrusting of the top is a tremendous pleasure factor, and I discovered that I can even cum just that way, and quite intensely. And I had not yet learned the magic of the male G spot, and the tremendous climax it can trigger!

I don't remember seeing him too much after that. It had only started as a summer job, and ended up going a little longer. But nothing went any further with him at all. The girlfriend at the time knew about him, my gay friend Pete, but I never told her about those nights I had with him.

He had no idea how I much closer I was getting to him, and how much I had come to like him, and I had come to look forward to my erotic times with him. He didn't seem to really want sex with me, but he did seem to like being with me, caressing me, and looking at me nude. With just a little more effort and attention, he would have had me. He could have gotten me to suck him every time I went over there, and I would have discovered how much I liked sucking, something I eventually learned years later. I had no idea of the anal pleasures that awaited me inside my body that I would eventually discover, but why didn't he tell me about those things? Looking back, I could see myself starting by sitting down on that cock, carefully and cautiously, with him watching me lovingly.

I had never been fingered, obviously, by myself or anyone else. He could have told me about those pleasures, and started me in beginning to feel them. He could have had me lay back, maybe give me some wine, and slowly finger me with lube. He could have introduced me to all those feelings. But...he didn't. He could have invited me to touch him more, put my hand on his cock (which I was fascinated with) and tell me how great it felt for me to stroke him. He could have easily talked me into all those things.

He'd often refer to the girlfriend, saying things like "I hope she appreciates you." His reminders of her just added to my guilt feelings. I would have rather have been stepping into his place and feeling like I was in another world, my new world of carnal pleasure. Reminders of her didn't help. It was much like...years later, when I'd go out of town, like to Key West to be anonymous, and in my own little world of my gay pleasure, being able to be whoever I wanted to be.

What I always wondered was what if things worked out differently that night? What if he had relaxed me, got me drunk, lubed me up, and slid it into me? Would I have liked it? Maybe. Would I have seen him regularly for sex? Maybe, or other guys. I would have been very popular, as cute as I was! Would I have had sex with every guy who came onto me? I would think I would have been somewhat selective, but maybe not. (Those were the pre-HIV days...)

Reflecting back, I can only assume what would have happened. If he had mentored me into the world of gay sex, he could have slowly taught me about all the physical pleasures, and he would have been the willing recipient of my education. I would have learned all the sucking talents that I discovered years later, on a cock of his size. He could have shown me the anal pleasures that I had yet to experience, with his lubed fingers. I would have experienced the sensuality of another man touching and caressing me, and we could have had so much nude playtimes at his place. I would assume that he would have introduced me to other men in his gay circle of friends, and I may have experienced a wide variety of other sexual tastes and styles. I would have learned the talent of my deep throat, and the feeling of another man's cum on me, in my mouth, and down my throat.

Who knows which way my life would have gone? In my 20s, but more in my 30s, a lot of guys came onto me. I would only let them touch me, and some begged me for more. I was never oral on a guy until I moved to Florida many years later, and that even required some gradual, slow, and cautious experimentation.

Would I have stayed with the girlfriend? Probably, at least for the immediate future. But she was going away to school, so I would have had more time to be with him. I probably would have had to come up with different stories, to my family, to spend more late nights with him, and possibly his friends. I knew I would enjoy being nude with him a lot, and I know I would have spent a lot more time with him.

Many of the things I learned about myself during that period of my life continue, and remind me of those days. I still have an excitement whenever I am completely nude, with that totally vulnerable feeling, in a new guy's place, where I've never been before. I still love watching guys stare at me when I undress, which has lead to me enjoying the look on their faces when I suck them way down my deep throat.

I'll never forget those times, or my mentor.