Friday, December 12, 2008

Bisexual and Monoromantic (Plus Other Caveats)

A few notes on terminology before I get into this post. First, I’m going to be referring to myself as ‘bisexual’ instead of ‘bicurious’. Simply because it’s easier than having to keep adding in little disclaimers about how I really haven’t confirmed whether or not my interest in male-on-male sex is an actual sexual desire or just one of these things that seems like a good idea until I actually experience it.

Also, I’m going to be referring to sex between males as ‘gay sex’, again, for the sake of simplicity. Trying to accurately name sexual activities between same-sex partners and still keep in mind orientation labels such as gay, bi-curious, bi-sexual, and so on would just get confusing and turn my sentences into unreadable paragraph long run-on text abominations. (Like I don’t have that tendency to begin with.) So, ‘gay sex’ it is.

So instead of starting this out with, “I am bi-curious, and can trace the origin of my interest in having sex with another man . . .” I begin:


I am bisexual, and can trace the origin of my interest in gay sex (or at least my awareness of that interest) to the ‘Girls&Girls/Boys&Boys’ section of an issue of ‘Penthouse Letters’ I discovered hidden under Dad’s side of my parents’ bed during my high school years.

As I mentioned in my “Playboy is a Gateway Drug” post earlier this week, I’d frequently spend time laying on my parents’ bed, reading the letters in the issues of various Penthouse publications that I’d find hidden beneath. And I absolutely loved that particular issue. It had some great stuff in it. I spent lots of time in my parents’ bedroom whenever they weren’t home until that issue got rotated out to the garage stockpile, at which point, it became mine. Mine, mine, mine.

Once it was in my room, I continued to read and reread some of the letters in it. After a few weeks of this, it occurred to me that I had read and masturbated at least through if not actually to every letter in the magazine – except for the gay ones. I was having some fairly strong problems with what I now recognize as obsessive/compulsive disorder at the time, and knowing that I’d read everything but those letters meant that my reading of the issue was incomplete. And that just wouldn’t do.

So, I sat down and started to read some of them. There were several letters outside of the gay and lesbian section of the magazine that I’d previously read about half of before it became obvious that they were going to be gay sex letters. I started out by finishing all of those. Then I ventured into the Girls&Girls/Boys&Boys section to finish it out. I’d already devoured the letters depicting girl-on-girl action (what healthy, growing, 20th century, American boy doesn’t like his lesbianism?) Now it was time to read the boy-on-boy stuff. I decided to read through them all in a single sitting, simply to be finished with it. But when I was done, I was a little surprised to discover I was erect. So I flipped through the magazine to a nice (dirty) straight letter and jacked off until I came.

But over the course of the next week or so, I kept going back to some of those Boys&Boys letters.

All told, there were about a dozen letters in that issue with gay content. About three of which made me really, really horny. There was awhile where I would read those three letters, get incredibly aroused, and then read a nice, safe, heterosexual sex letter to actually masturbate to. Finally I just decided that I was being ridiculous and went ahead and jacked off to the letters that were getting me so horny in the first place.

Reading those letters, I could picture myself in the place of the letter writer. I could see me down on my knees with a hard cock in my mouth, or naked and on all fours, getting buttfucked. Did being able to picture these things make me want to try them out? Not really, no. Not in reality. Did the images in my mind still arouse me? Yeah. They certainly did.

Once I’d jacked off to those three particular letters a few times, I had pretty much gotten it out of my system, and things went back to normal. Except that from that point, I didn’t avoid any of the gay content letters that I found in subsequent Penthouse publications. And if they aroused me, I’d masturbate to them before moving on.

So that’s how it started with me. Letters to Penthouse. A traditionally straight porn magazine is what gave me my first taste of gay sex fantasy.

Basic gay sex is either oral or anal. Participating in gay sex is either performing or receiving. The combination of these factors gives you four basic gay sex acts. Performing oral (or sucking cock), performing anal (or fucking ass), receiving oral (or getting your cock sucked), and receiving anal (or getting your ass fucked).

My point of view on these, taken one by one –

Receiving Oral: I want my cock sucked. If I had a whole bunch of people, both men and women, willing to give me a blowjob, I’d choose a woman. That being said, if the only one offering me a blowjob was a man, then I’d be receiving oral from a man. So while it’s definitely a sex act that I want, it’s not specifically a gay sex act that I’m clamoring for simply because it’s a gay sex act.

Performing Anal: I’d eventually like to fuck somebody in the ass. Similar to my stance on receiving oral, my preference would be to buttfuck a woman. However, if a guy offers to let me fuck his tight little butthole, it’s not like I’m going to turn him down. So, just like with the previous gay sex act: it’s the sex act part of it that I want. The ‘gay’ component of it isn’t why I’d be there.

Performing Oral: Now we’re getting closer. I sometimes fantasize about sucking cock. Due to a series of incredibly disgusting horror stories told to me about going down on women before I ever even saw a real live pussy, I was kind of turned off of that before ever getting the opportunity. So there were years where if I ever mused about performing oral sex, I was sucking cock, not eating pussy. (I’ve gotten better since then, and actually went down on CJ in our second-to-last physical encounter. Nothing horrible happened, and I actually kind of enjoyed it a little. I’d’ve done it again if we’d’ve continued getting together.) So, yeah. I’d kind of like to do a little cock sucking.

Receiving Anal: Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner! This is what I want. I want to get fucked in the ass. My big gay sex fantasy involves someone lubing up my asshole, then putting on a condom, lubing themselves up, and sliding their cock slowly and carefully up inside of me. Moving gently in and out of me until I’m used to it, and then going ahead and just fucking me until they cum.

[I’d like to state for the record that I’m not a giant man-slut who is going to have sex with just anyone who offers, despite what it may sound like in the four paragraphs above (and despite how desperately, desperately horny and virginal I am.) But once again, it was easier to give this disclaimer once than it was to try and work that info into each example above.]

I want to have someone fuck me in the ass. I plan to have someone fuck me in the ass. (It’s not a very detailed plan – in fact, the full version reads: Have someone, somewhere fuck me in the ass at sometime, somehow. Lots of details, there.)

I also want to suck a cock, but I very much doubt that will ever happen. Let’s ignore for the moment the fact that I’ve got bad teeth which would probably make the recipient of my first ever inexperienced blowjob better off just sticking his dick into a wood chipper. (My dentist is currently engaged in a battle with the insurance company over the concept of getting me an upper denture plate.) You’ll notice that when I talked about my anal gay sex fantasy, I specifically mentioned the use of a condom. There was no such reference in the oral paragraph.

Like I said, the genesis of my gay sex interest was letters to Penthouse. It may be different nowadays (it’s been ages since I’ve picked up an issue), but back in the day, nobody who wrote to Penthouse ever wore condoms. On the rare occasions that they did, it was for the purposes of birth control. Very little chance of knocking another guy up, so nobody wore protection when putting their cock in a guy’s mouth or up his ass.

And while I have a vivid recollection of phrases like, “I felt a load of hot come explode inside of me” and “I could actually feel his love juices spurting into my colon”, what I primarily want out of anal sex is the cock pumping in and out of my ass. But with oral, it’s different. My fantasies of gay oral sex, implanted in my head first by letters to Penthouse and then by internet erotica, involve sucking a guy’s cock until he cums in my mouth. Do I spit? Do I swallow? It really doesn’t matter. (Although I know that I’d like to swallow at least once, probably that first time.) What matters to me is his cumming in my mouth.

Of course, bodily fluids carry disease. And my immune system is all shot to Hell (thank you, Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome). So unless I can somehow find a person guaranteed to be completely clean and disease free (and not just lying about it to get a bareback blowjob), what I want in a cocksucking encounter just isn’t going to come true.

So my gay sex focus is on my ass. Or rather, in my ass. (Up my ass? Whatever.) I want a guy to bend me over and fuck me. And the more time passes, the more I seem to want this. There have been times lately where the only thing keeping me from going to this one place in Salem notorious for having men meet up for anonymous sex with each other is a lack of transportation. (And probably also things like a lack of courage and the presence of common sense. But mainly a lack of transportation.)


I don’t know if ‘monoromantic’ is a real word or not. I think that it gets my point across, though. (I hope it does, anyway.) I almost used the equally not-a-real-word heteroromantic. But I couldn’t decide if the word would be heteroromantic, or the easier to say (and vaguely portmanteau-like) heteromantic, and in the end just decided to go with monoromantic.

I want to have sex with women. I want to have romantic relationships with women.

I want to have gay sex with men. End of statement.

I don’t think that I could ever fall in love with a man. I mean, I’m aware that “anything is possible”, but I’d be very surprised if that were to happen.

I want to fall in love. I want a girlfriend. I want a steady girlfriend. I want a fiancée. I want a wife. That’s the progression of love. I don’t want a boyfriend. I just can’t see it.

I want to make out with my girlfriend. I want to kiss her. Soft kiss on the forehead. A kiss behind the ear, then gently suck her earlobe into my mouth. Tender kiss on the lips. Entwining of my tongue with hers. Exploring the inside of her mouth with my tongue. A trail of kisses down her neck en route to other erotic destinations . . .

I can’t imagine doing that with a guy. More accurately, I don’t imagine doing that with a guy. I can, but it turns me completely off.

Can I be desperate to get a guy’s cock buried deep in my ass, but be almost homophobic on the subject of kissing? Does it make sense that I fantasize about licking and sucking on a sweaty bare cock, but my stomach turns at the thought of touching my tongue to any other part of the male anatomy?

It’s a confirmation in my mind that there’s a definite difference between the desire for sex and the desire for love. I want sex from a woman. I want sex from a man. But I ONLY want love from a woman.

Other Caveats

This is actually just more information. I don’t really know why I’m referring to them as ‘warnings’ other than that it’s been in the working title of this post since I started taking notes for it way back when I started doing the blog in August. I suppose if you were to consider this post a type of personals ad to get me some hot anal action, then the following info does sort of fit into the whole ‘Caveat Emptor’ theme.

The majority of my sexual fetishes are as straight as my thoughts on romance.

I get hard thinking about bare female feet. Note my use of the word ‘female’ in there. Also note the fact that (to the best of my recollection) I’ve used the word ‘female’ every time I’ve mentioned my foot fetish throughout the entire history of this blog. Especially since mentioning that I was bi-curious.

I want to pull off HER shoes and stockings, lick the soles of HER bare feet, and suck on HER toes. Then I want to wrap HER feet around my cock and have her jack me off with them until I cum all over HER legs and feet.

Having this desire to suck cock and take it up the ass, I used to occasionally download the odd piece of gay porn when I was left alone at my sister’s apartment. The times that I could get it fully downloaded, burned to disk, and deleted from the hard drive before my sister and her fiancé would get home and peer over my shoulder to see what I was downloading.

One time I got home from her place and loaded several disks worth of various downloads onto my computer, then started to go through everything to make sure the files all worked. So I start up this gay porn movie, and I’m skipping around through it, just to make sure that it’s got moving image and sound all the way through. And about halfway through, I land on this scene where one guy is licking and sucking another guy’s bare feet and toes. I swear, I almost threw up. I hadn’t been expecting it. I immediately deleted the file.

Now, I’ve got nothing against guys having a gay foot fetish. I’m so into girls’ feet that I can’t understand the straight guys who aren’t. So if you find the male body attractive, then it makes sense to me that you’d dig their feet. But aside from the cock, I’m not really attracted to the male form.

It even goes beyond that for me. There’s a professional in the internet sex industry that I lust after. She’s a model and a photographer. She’s a bondage rigger. She’s a sexual educator. And she’s got one of the sexiest pairs of feet that I’ve ever seen in my life. I’ve never met her, never seen her in person, but I periodically read her Livejournal. I want to meet her. I always used to fantasize about meeting her, and ending up having sex with her. Especially engaging in footplay with her.

Since then, she’s gone transgender. He’s changed his first name, and had his breasts removed. He’s taking hormones. Now: I still really want to meet him. I’d still like to have sex with him, for that matter. I’d like to put my cock in his ass. Or his vagina, if he’d allow it. I’d definitely bend over for his strap-on. But the thought of playing with his feet – the exact same feet that I’ve jacked off to photos of – turns me off, because he’s a guy now.

It makes no sense to me, but it’s apparently how my brain works.

Watersports is another purely heterosexual fetish. (I’ve GOT to get that watersports post written one of these days.) As I’ll explain more fully in my eventual post on watersports, I have an interest in peeing on a naked woman. And in having a naked woman pee on me. (There’s more to it than that, and there’s meaning behind it, and I’ve really got to get a full post about it written.) Anyway, the thought of having a guy pee on me is . . . well, just disgusting. I can’t really see it in a sensual, sexual, or fetish context. I could see it as a form of humiliation, but if I’m going to be involved in the humiliation aspect of BDSM games, I’m not going to be the one getting humiliated.

I’d like to lick a girl’s asshole. This is another thing I won’t do because it’s a ridiculously unsafe activity, healthwise, but it is something that I fantasize about. It is not a fantasy that crosses the gender barrier over to the male butthole, however. (Although I don’t think I’d have a problem getting a rimjob from either sex, if they were willing to give one.)

Pretty much all of the kinky stuff that I’m into (at least, in my head) is stuff that I’m into heterosexually. I’ve thought about the concept of gay BDSM. Not out of a specific interest in pursuing it, but because I was sitting there, bored, thinking about BDSM, and that’s the particular direction my thoughts were wandering that day. I could tie a guy up if that’s what got him off. I could beat him with a paddle or a flogger if he was into pain. I’m sure I could dominate a guy. (Like I said, I want blowjobs, and I want to fuck asses . . . so sexually dominating a guy would work for me. What I’d really like is the creative challenge of dominating a guy in a sexual session wherein he ended up fucking my ass.) But I don’t think that I’d want to do any of that as the majority of my BDSM play. Certainly not on a regular basis.

Could I have a guy as a regular submissive? Hmm. I could if he wasn’t my only regular submissive. I’d have no problems regularly (or even [semi-]permanently) dominating a guy if I already had a female submissive.

But for the most part, my BDSM interests are also primarily heterosexual.


Using gay terminology, the person who gets sucked and who fucks is called a ‘top’. The person who sucks and gets fucked is called a ‘bottom’. This troubles me a little. Because I am into BDSM. And in BDSM, the person holding the paddle or the whip or other instrument of pleasurable pain is the ‘top’. And the person squirming and writhing in ecstatic agony is the ‘bottom’. In a much broader (and sometimes wholly inaccurate) sense, ‘top’ is considered synonymous with ‘dominant’ and ‘bottom’ with ‘submissive’.

According to the BDSM dictionary, I’m a top. According to gay dictionary, I’m a bottom. That’s a confusing thing to try and explain. I’ve got it all figured out in my head, but it seems like it could easily get garbled in translation.

I’m bisexual. Breaking bisexual in half, I’m both straight and gay. My straight half is kinky. Into BDSM, fetishes, and all other manner of neat-o erotic depravity. My gay half, on the other hand, is pretty much just into vanilla sex. (Gay vanilla sex.) My straight pervert half wants to be in control. My plain gay half just wants to get fucked in the ass.

Which means that the breakdown of my bisexual preference is that I’m a straight kinky top and a gay vanilla bottom. Heterosexually monoromantic. And incredibly horny.


I’m afraid that I’m going to need to carry a detailed chart around with me.

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