Thursday, June 10, 2021

Riding a Dong...

What I’m going to tell you is gross, but I suppose it is somewhat normal for people who engage in butt-play.  

That sentence alone should provide you with the information you need before you proceed in reading.  

I think I was a late bloomer with regards to masturbation. I had heard about “faggots” jacking off, but wasn’t fully sure of what it entailed. I know that I used to rub my boner and it felt great but I never made the connection that it might result in an orgasm or that it was this so called gay activity known as jacking off, since that was for, you know, fags.  

Please note, this was the 1970’s. Today, guys joke about jacking off without the slightest bit of guilt or association with being gay, unless the kid in question is actually gay.  

So fast forward to whenever I first unloaded in the shower.  Aside from being shocked at the pleasure and sudden Catholic guilt, I was hooked.  I think it is fair to say that for the next probably five years, I took zero showers that did not include an extra cleaning of my dick and an emptying of my sack.  

And, as if it was some sort of instinctive signal, as I played with my balls, I found that my soap covered finger would begin to rub first my “taint” and then find the entry to my hole.  Within a month of engaging in my daily shower habit, a full finger as far up my ass as I could reach was the norm.  Soon, I graduated to my well washed toothbrush.  The handle end, of course.  

Within months, I had a favorite screwdriver that I’d take from the garage and use the handle to probe my ass.  Of course, if you looked through my dad’s toolbox, there was this one super clean screwdriver mixed in with the dirty tools.  

I stuck all sorts of things up my ass and make no mistake, though the idea of being gay or bi were concepts that simply did not exist in my mind, I fantasized about a bodiless penis fucking me.  I wanted the dick so bad but I simply did not equate it to sex with a man - at least for a while.  

My masturbation habits suddenly stopped when I started having near daily sex with my high school girlfriend.  But in short time, that was over and I was actually looking for bigger things to put up my butt.  By 18, I mentally knew I wanted some man to fuck me.  That wouldn’t come to fruition for at least a few decades.  

Strangely, as much as I was a horn dog for girls, I constantly jacked off with fingers or other objects up my ass, and by now I imagined seeing my friends nude and sucking their dicks.  I was constantly talking about the girls I wanted to fuck but secretly wanted the dick.  And even then, I was oblivious to what bisexuality meant.  

Fast forward many years.  Many, many years.  My wife already knew I was Bi.  We had the DADT thing going with regards to any sex I might have outside the marriage.  At some point we talked about things in my ass.  

At first it was the occasional vibrator and eventually a strap on.  The problem was, I just couldn’t get the feeling with my wife.  As much as I crave a woman taking my ass, it just doesn’t work with my wife.  I think may of you can understand.  There are super naughty things you crave sexually, but you just don't crave them with your wife.  Not saying that some marriages involve the super-kinky as a matter of routine, but I suppose I suffer the Madonna-Whore complex.

My wife would often, and still does offer to use the strap-on and I'm always quick to decline.  Honestly, I just kinda lost the interest for things in my ass.  No fingers, no vibes, nothing.  

Then, and here is where it gets gross.  I found this little strap on attachment that we had never used. It was still in a wrapper.  I set it aside - actually hid it in a shoe, with the idea that I’d slip it in when I mowed the yard.  Hear me out now.  I have a riding mower and the idea of the vibration as I mowed with this small rubber finger up my ass seemed great.  

I got home from work and ate dinner and shortly after, evacuated my bowls.  We’re all adults here. I shit.  

I went out to my shed to get on the mower but took a moment in the privacy of the shed to pull down my pants and slowly insert the toy.  I should back up.  When I say slowly, I mean that it took a few minutes for my fat ass to get it in.  I need to do some yoga.

In addition to taking the little dong with me, I brought a small bottle of lube that came as a sample for one of the many toys we've obtained over the years.  It took some bending and lifting, but I finally got the little toy into my butt and for the first time in some while, I enjoyed that sensation that only those of us brave enough to venture into this space will know.  Even if you have no desire to have some guy pounding your ass, there is definite pleasure in the feeling of a toy gently inserted into you butthole.

At the moment, I had no real sexual thoughts.  That is to say, there was no twitch in my dick to indicate arousal, rather, I found pleasure in the full feeling inside, even if this was just a small tool, the thickness of a slender finger.

Next up, I mounted my riding mower with the intention of at least an hour of riding back and forth, row after row, feeling the vibration of the small device moving around inside me.  Brief note, always use the type of butt plug or toy that includes a safety base, that flat part that prevents the toy from going fully inside. You don't want that sort of trouble.

I backed out of the shed, lowered the mowing deck, adjusted my headsets and started the blades spinning.  With that, I started the first pass around the front of the yard.  Yea, I didn't make it three-quarters of the way before I realized I had a situation.  I made it back to my starting point by the shed, stopped the blades, turned off the mower and walked back into the shed.  

I lowered my shorts, reached down and removed the toy from my ass only to reveal a slight mess.  My gay friend tells me this is referred to "an industrial accident".  It happens when the bottom is not completely cleaned out.  He said, it is something you deal with, you clean up and you move on.

I realized that this little well intended form of self-pleasure just wasn't my thing.  I grabbed some shop towels, wrapped the toy up, sealed it in a bag and tossed it in the trash.  And before I could finish mowing, I wisely went back inside to finish the business I had apparently not completed.  

I have to wonder why so many guys equate anal play with being gay.  It seems to me that these days, you can't find an image on Tumblr that doesn't include a straight female posing in her thong that just barely covers the jewel end of a butt-plug.  I'm not suggesting for a minute that I'm not a Bi guy, but my interest in having things up my butt started long before I imagined the logistics of a guy fucking me.  And likewise, when I fantasize about a woman using a strap-on on me, I assure you, there is nothing gay about that.

I'm not here to recruit straight identified men to go out and buy a butt plug.  If you want to give it a shot, start small and use lots of lube.  But you can save a lot of money by soaping up your finger while you shower, and giving it a shot.  You might be surprised with the results.  

Thursday, May 27, 2021

The Neighbor and The Cock Block...

I’ve mentioned my neighbors before. They are a couple who are ten years older than my wife and I, so mid to late 60’s.  We can go into all the sexual taboo I have with regards to my weird interest in silver haired ladies, but this particular woman is definitely on my radar as attractive.  She had to have been an athlete in school and she seems to have stayed fit over her lifetime.  

What makes it more interesting to me is that for several weeks now, I feel like she and her husband have had a question on the tips of their tongues.  It is hard to explain without witnessing it but I have this ongoing feeling that they are wondering just who this guy is who shows up to our house like clockwork every week.  He stays for an hour or two and then leaves shortly after I get home from work, or in some cases, before I arrive.  

We know that they are good neighbors.  Read that, the nosy Gladys Kravitz type (Google Bewitched if you don’t know the reference). We’ve often been in conversation and mentioned our son came by and the silver haired lady responds that she knows all about it.  I mean, she must be on guard duty all the time.  I say good neighbors though because when we are away, if the robbers came, I’m sure she’s the one who will call the police and give a full description.  

I started getting this weird look when we wound be outside at the same time, working on the yard or mowing.  It was as if they were hanging around at the fence hoping I would come over, but generally if one of us wants to talk, we’ll wave to the other motioning to the fence.  This time and several times, it has been as if they are afraid to make that motion to signal me.  

The other night I got home from work and decided to mow the front yard.  The silver haired lady was on her mower doing the same.  We both have large, 60 inch zero turn mowers just because the properties are large.  We would zoom back and forth, passing one another on some stretches and smile.  

Eventually she was on the opposite side of her yard and I was on the opposite side of mine.  I’d look over and there was no doubt that she kept looking my way but perhaps it was just some innocent competition to see whose mower went the fastest. In my mind though, I had built up an entire conversation that would take place.  

I was imagining that I’d ask a question related to mowing but something flirty and suggestive.  “How often do you have to get under the deck?” I’d ask.  I know she is hard of hearing in one ear so I guessed she would misunderstand deck as dick.  Then I would say, “You know, to clean off all the grass?

We’d have a quick conversation about keeping mowers in running order and then in my mind, she would ask, “Hey, about this guy who comes over each week...

I thought of multiple possibilities on how to respond to this.  As I rode the mower, I got an erection just at the thought of confessing proudly that my wife has a lover and I’m good with it.  Now how many guys do you know who mow the yard with an erection?

Of course, these things never pan out how you imagine them.  I had finished the front yard and started to go toward the back.  I thought if I made my way closer to her, there would be an opportunity to stop and just strike up the conversation, but as it turns out, she had had enough mowing.  Her husband came out and too the reigns of the mower and she she looked over at me one last time and walked in the house.  The old guy headed straight to the back of the property so he could start the task from the rear.

By the time I finished up the part of the back yard I needed to do, maybe another 20 minutes or so, I had put up my mower and off in the distance I could see the neighbor doing rows on the back part of his acreage.  I decided what I needed was a shower and a beer, but just then as I walked to the house, I saw the silver haired lady walking down her driveway in a thin blue house dress.  She was making her way to the front of the property to shut the gate for the night.  For God's sake people, invest in a gate opener with a remote!

I figured there was no time like the present, and my boner had subsided, so I wandered over to the fence that separates our property.  I walked further down than the usual place where we usually stand to talk.  The silver haired lady closed the gate and made the turn back up her driveway and by now, her little yappy dog had seen me and began to alert her to my presence.  Without a word, she walked off the driveway and headed across the freshly mowed grass toward me.  

And just like clockwork, my wife, the cock blocker walks out the door of our house and starts heading toward me.  I guess this won't be a private, flirty, innuendo filled conversation between me and the silver haired lady who by now I was feeling somewhat of a crush on.

I may have mentioned this before, but the woman must not own a bra.  And it appeared that just out of the shower, her thin housedress was clinging to her boobs giving me more than a enough to gander at every time we would break eye contact.  There is something so naughty about staring into this woman's beautiful blue eyes while my wife is standing next to me.  She has no idea that I'm trying to make some sort of connection beyond neighborly chatter.  And when the neighbor turns to look at my wife, I immediately take in the boobs which I'd call a C cup at best, so much smaller than my wife's very full breasts, but perky with the perfect amount of older woman sag.

Unlike my fantasy conversation, we do talk about the mowers and the need to clean under the mowing deck, and how she had seen me cleaning under mine the previous weekend, and how she saw me changing out my blades, and how nice my yard looks when it is freshly mowed, but there was no sexual innuendo and no questions about the visitor who shows up every week as if on some schedule.

I enjoyed staring into her eyes and occasionally staring at her boobs, doing my best to catch a glimpse of old lady side-boob when she would turn to the side to point out something in the yard.  My fantasy conversation totally shot down by my wife.  Of course, I'm smart enough to know that the conversation may have gone the exact same way had my wife not joined in, but in my mind, I'll chalk this one up to the cock block.

Friday, April 9, 2021

Hello Leakey, TX!

 We all use those logs that map where visitors come from, but you know with VPNs and such, it is really hard to tell.  But if anyone is actually visiting from Leakey, TX, I'd love for you to reach out via e-mail.  Just would love to say Howdy.

Sunday, March 7, 2021

Weekend Getaway...

 Or in my case, staying home alone.

This weekend, I had the house to myself.  My wife was visiting family and it gave me a chance to spend some time with myself.  I wanted to present some notes on what I learned while I had all this free time to myself.

I broke out of my normal routine - that's for sure. I've learned that we watch entirely too much TV.  While she was gone, I turned on the TV to watch the evening news twice, and then to watch the Sunday morning news show but only while I ate breakfast.

So what did I do with all that time?  I worked on several projects in my yard.  I had several fix-it things that had been put off that I tackled and resolved.  Oh, and I spent a few hours on the Internet.

The day before she left, JD stopped by for a visit.  When I walked into the house, he was stepping out the shower and she was just getting dressed.  We engaged in chit chat about topics of the day but there was no discussion of the sex they had engaged in moments earlier.  I think it has gotten that way.  When I'm present, they both make an effort to incorporate me into the sex, but I think the three of us all realize that I am perfectly comfortable with the two of them having their play time without me being involved.   

I mention this because the thought crossed my mind as I was watching a few enjoyable videos on the Internet that, so many of the people who make Cuckold videos professionally just don't get it.  I mean, sure, I suppose there are some husbands that want to be humiliated, and there are some husbands who want to feel like the butt of the joke, but I don't think we ever feel that way in our situation with JD.  

If you go to about the 9:10 mark in this video where a woman is with a younger guy,  you can appreciate the exchange between her and her husband.  It may prompt you to go back and watch the whole thing.  It may also want you to help them clean their apartment.

Aside from my usual fare of husbands watching their wives being ravaged by other men, I also found myself viewing a lot of guys jerking off in public places, or guys blowing each other in parks or public restrooms.  Not something I'm likely to try in person, but on the Internet it seems worth a look.

Which might lead to something you are wondering.  Yes, I did for a few moments think about maybe using this time on my own to meet up with a penis attached to a guy to engage in a little male on male action.  I thought about it for a good minute or two and decided not to even consider it.  COVID aside, I just don't feel the urge to invite some random guy to my house.

Plus, let's be honest. I'm slowing down sexually. Sure, I wake up with a boner, but even if I scroll through my Tumblr feed (yes, folks. Tumblr is back), a few times a day, I'm not necessarily sneaking off to the men's room at work to rub one out.  And as I mentioned above, years ago, if I had walked in the door as my wife and JD were finishing up with sex, I would have wanted to dive right into my wife's pussy.  Now, I'm good.

I mean, look, I'm not gonna lie.  I did take a moment of pleasure after working in the yard all day with one of my favorite subjects.  You know her as Kim.  She is that naughty housewife who left her husband at home on his birthday so she could go get some side action.  well, you can see some of it here.  I've always wished I could track down a web page for this woman or the story behind her.  Is she a porn star and I just don't know enough about these things to realize it?

I think all in all, it was nice to have a break from the routine.  I have a lot of yard to mow this afternoon.  I do a lot of self reflection while I mow.  It's funny, my wife wonders why I find so much joy in getting on the mower and just riding for hours, these large rectangles in the yard that eventually get smaller and smaller until I'm finished.  And then I start on another section.  It's a big yard.  In Texas, it's a big yard. In other places, it might be called a small ranch.  

I put on these sound cancelling bluetooth headphones, turn on Sirius XM and usually listen to music that takes me back to when I was 18 or so, back when I had all these ideas about how my life might work out and completely unaware of what turns and forks in the road I would encounter. I mean, at that age, you simply don't know what to expect.

I'll occasionally bring a beer with me, but truth be told, you can't manage a zero-turn mower and drink a beer, or a water or much of anything.  It's the thought that counts though.  Like Morgan Freeman said in Shawshank Redemption, "I think a man workin' outdoors feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds."

Do you suppose that's really what I think?  Has this weekend getaway for my wife been more about a weekend getaway for me?  Is my escape those hours I spend on the mower in the yard, or the extra time I spend at work, or the taking of the long way home after work, just some reason to eek out a few extra moments of time for myself?   

Just more things to ponder.  Welp.  This yard ain't gonna mow itself.

Thursday, March 4, 2021

Investigating a Memory: The Candy Man...

 In a way this post is a follow-up to the last post I made not so many weeks ago where I delved into how my sexuality might have been different had I been exposed to the Internet of today in my youth so many years ago.  You can read all about it here. Or you can just scroll down.

I have a lot of very specific memories that take me back to a very early age, under two years old in some cases.  When I was a lot younger, I would relay these memories to my parents and they would be astounded at how accurately I could describe the memory.  A lot of the details were so specific that I simply could not have been describing something I thought of or had seen on TV or had heard a story about, and my parents then confused.  My point here is not to give myself credit for some super incredible brain, but to say that at least for me, I do have a track record of at least some cases where I have demonstrated moments or flashes of retaining memories from along time ago.  

Now, years later, I can't remember what I had for lunch, much less half the shit I did several weeks ago.  But there are some of these long term memories that have become bookmarks in my life.  There is one specific memory that comes from a time when I was as best I can tell between the age of three and four years old.  I base that approximate age on the year that we lived in the specific house and place where the memory occurred. 

As a military brat, we moved a lot and I grew up knowing a lot of kids and a lot of parents.  I had a lot of teachers and honestly, I can't recall the names of most these people.  But there is a man who lived just a few houses away from us and after all these years, I have always remembered his name.  Of course, I won't write it here, but I know his name and I know his address.  Of course, the man is long dead.  

So here's the set up.  As kids, we would play out in the front yard. I had older brothers and sisters and this is back in those years when your parents just sent you out and kids fended for themselves. I don't mean this as a nostalgic look back at the days when, if you were thirsty, you drank water from the hose.  I just mean to say that, as hard as it is to imagine, even for me as a grandparent now, parents in the 1960's and 1970's would send the kids out to play and the only supervision was other kids and perhaps other parents that happened to be outside doing yard work.

This man was older, I speculate he was late fifties, perhaps even late sixties, but how do you know as a child.  He had grey hair, so he was old.  Certainly older than my young parents who were in their mid to late thirties at the time.  We all called him, "The Candy Man" and he had a shiny car that he was always washing and waxing. lest you get any mental images of Sammy Davis Jr, or some old pimp and a Cadillac our Candy Man was an old white guy and his car was probably an old Ford Torino along the lines of Clint Eastwood's.  

I don't want to prolong getting to the point of the story, but I have these really mixed feelings about people who have what I have heard called suppressed memories or resurfaced memories or things like this.  Look, When my kids were in elementary school, we lived next door to a house where the people ran a day care.  Very nice people.  It was basically a retired couple and they had an adult aged son who was my wife's age, in fact, the son went to high school with my wife.  These were super nice people and though we never had the need to leave our own kids with them, we felt very grateful to have these kind of people living next door to us, especially as we raised our own kids.

And then there was the case of the McMartin Daycare Scandal.  It seems as all these kids were being interviewed and they seemed to have these same memories of playing weird satanic games that involved sex while in daycare.   Suddenly, we started thinking, wait a second, how well do we know these people, and why the hell is that guy who went to high school with my wife still living at home with his mom watching pre-schoolers.  

I'll save you the big long read.  There is no real proof that any of those memories were actually real.  And this is why you will understand that when I finally get to this memory that I promise I will tell you about, I am hesitant to go to some doctor and ask them to pull the rest of the memory from my brain.  Because what if they extract some bullshit that is just that? Bullshit.

So here it is.  My memory goes like this. The Candy Man is out in his front yard and he is as usual working on washing or waxing his car.  This time, I am there by myself.  No telling why I am alone.  My brothers and sister may have been at school, and this may have simply been in the middle of the day. My father may have been at work, and my mom may have simply been in the house while I was outside by myself.  This would have been perfectly normal.

I recall walking with the Candy Man into his garage and I know he had a workbench like most men do.  I couldn't necessarily see what was on the workbench because I was too small, but I just know we were standing inside the garage.  There have been times in this memory where I feel like the garage door closes, but not always.  I feel like that is my mind adding a detail that is probably not accurate.

The Candy Man took me by my hand and we walked to the door that lead into the house. When he opened it, I looked in and could see a person sitting inside.  In my mind, I see a small person who I believe to be a small Asian woman with short hair.  My assumption all these years later is that this was his wife, but I have nothing to base that on because I have no memory of the the Candy Man's wife, and I have not found any evidence that he was married.

Let's talk about a few things here before I go any further.  

  • I have no understanding of the relationship my parents had with this man or these people
  • I have no memory of anything good or bad happening immediately after the door was opened and where my memory stops, nor any time after (like days later, weeks later, etc) involving the Candy Man.
  • I don't know if I have other memories of the Candy Man where my brothers and sisters are involved that happened after this incident, but that I have perceived to have happened before this incident. 

I have brought up this memory in various blog posts over the years but about a week ago, I finally had the urge to do a little investigating.  I was emailing back and forth with a fellow blogger who has some experience in the world of investigations and he gave me a few important tips.  Ultimately, the Library of Congress' website and archive of old phone books led me to the Candy Man's full name and address (and phone number).  But of course, I already knew he was long dead.  Using the address and Google Maps, there was a since of relief in at least seeing what the driveway and the house looked like today, over fifty years later.

I went on to do some searches in the state's sex offender registry, but keep in mind, not only would this guy have most likely have died before his information would have been recorded on the Internet, if in fact some act had taken place, it is very, very unlikely that my Catholic parents would have reported it.  It is more likely that my Catholic father would have kicked the Candy Man's ass and then drank himself into the next confessional.

But also in talking with that fellow blogger, I have once again come back to that self reflection that I find myself in over and over again.  So what?  

What happened when the Candy Man took me in the house and I don't remember? Was I molested and I don't remember and it made me the person I am today?  Do I care?  Did they show me TV for the first time because my parents couldn't afford a TV, and I was sworn to secrecy?  Was that the big mystery?

There is simply no way for me to know what happened, and while I'm pretty sure I can come up with a lot of good guesses based upon a lot of the things that I did in the next several years as a precocious little kid, I simply cannot go back and unlock those minutes that followed.  So why obsess over it?

This chapter is closed. For now.

Tuesday, January 26, 2021

How Would My Sexuality Have Been Different if I Had the Internet?

I’m in my mid-fifties yet I have been going over memories of my life as a young kid.  I feel awkward writing about these memories simply because out of context, it could appear I’m interested now, at this adult age, in the things that happened then.  Maybe that isn’t clear; obviously I keep having these memories.  

To explain further, for years in fact into my forties, I hung on to a picture of my high school girlfriend. There was nothing sexual about it, just her standing in front of my car in shorts and a tank top.  She was 16 or 17, had incredible legs, and a petite little body.  When I would look at this picture later, I saw her, my girlfriend and those memories, not a 16 year old I'd desire as a 40-year-old.  Does that make sense at all?

Okay one more attempt.  Imagine being a professional football star with all the skills and experience of required to play at the highest level, but pondering back on those early years in pee-wee football.  How those games may have been better had only our star known then what he knows now?  It isn't that he, as an adult athlete wants to go back and play a bunch of kids, but but rather he relives those memories through an adult lens.  I think that is as close as I can get to making the point, I don't want to fuck kids.  Get it?

When I am looking back on the things that have happened in my life, the early promiscuity that I had with others in my group, it all seems like it was so tame.  Kids playing doctor, showing off our genitals to one another, all the things I did before I learned to and finally rubbed my dick in the right way that made it explode.  I talk to other people and many are completely shocked that kids in the third grade were sneaking off behind the garden shed and looking at each other's junk.  I did this often, with boys and girls. Military base housing seemed to give our parents a feeling of safety, enough to let the kids out to play without a hovering parent nearby as a chaperone.  

I've talked to others who tell me that yes, they and their friends all did the same stuff and even more.  I think most of those people see this as harmless exploration and curiosity.  Of course, you have the faction (Dr. Drew) who believes that any pre-pubescent exploration of this nature means that the kid who initiated it had to have been negatively exposed to some sexual influence. I don't know.  

There is a very good possibility that I was molested in some fashion at a very early age, but I just can't pinpoint it for certain, and the potential perpetrator(s) cannot possibly be found because they would be dead by now, and without having had records from the 1960's on the Internet to locate who I'm looking for (you know, to see if the person had a record of molesting kids), I pretty much have chosen to let that die.

I also don't want to roll out some claims against the Catholic Church, but in my mind, there has to be a reason that I've blocked out all memory of my First Holy Communion and the confession that goes along with it.   Considering I have so many vivid memories of that age that my parents can confirm, of things that happened when I was two and three years old, why would I not have any memory of a period of time but only related to church?  I have loads of memories from the age that I did make my first communion,  including going to church at that time.  Yet, when my wife and I were about to get married in the Catholic church, I told her I had not made my first communion, and my mother promptly sent the paperwork to show I had.  

I'm way off topic here, but my point is, some kids did these things (play the "you show me yours, I'll show you mine" game), and others didn't.  I'm certainly not the only perverted little kid that loved showing my hard-on to others.

By the time I hit fifth and sixth grade there was some actual touching.  At that point, I still had not found masturbation, but I craved seeing the dicks of my male friends.  In base housing, we had a group of neighbor kids that would hang out together.  The oldest in our group was 16 and could drive.  Kids ranged from fifth grade to tenth grade.  My guess is the 16 year old may have been held back a grade.  I'm not going to say that we had this range of kids hanging out on a daily basis, but for games like hide & seek, or playing football, we'd span the entire group of ages.  Most other times, I think it would be the fifth, sixth and seventh graders hanging out together.  

At that age, I had seen every penis in my group, a lot.  I can't even explain why.  At that time, this is the early 1970's, streaking was a popular thing.  There was a song by Ray Stevens called "The Streak", so we thought it was perfectly normal to go off into the woods surrounding a nearby creek and everyone piled up our clothes and ran back and forth along the creek bed in the nude.  I wouldn't say that I was sexually attracted to any of the guys (the idea of being gay just wasn't a thing in my world), yet I loved seeing the older boys dicks, larger than mine, swinging back and forth as they ran in the nude. 

The kid at that age who was my closest friend was a year younger than me.  We lived two houses down from one another and he and I were inseparable.  If we had known what gay was at that time, we were probably it.  In fact, when I looked this guy up several years ago, it was apparent that he was in fact, gay. At any rate, we were fixated on each other's dicks and asses, and strangely stomachs.  We would hide nude in a closet (hah!) or under a bed and compare our erections, compare our stomachs and our asses.  We had no concept of a blowjob, so when we would dare one another to lick the other shaft, it was not sexual, but just the dare that you would place your tongue somewhere associated with pee.  Likewise, we had licked each other's stomachs and butt cheeks.  But we never kissed, so clearly we were not gay in any way!

Once a year, my parents would take several of the kids in our large family, usually the four youngest, to a small town in Maryland to visit our grandparents.  There, we met neighborhood kids each year and would often hang out.  I became close to one kid my age and would be allowed to spend the night at his house.  His parents had a basement converted into a game room and of course, during my visits there, he and I would spend an hour or two just running around the room naked or showing each other our dicks.  

I recall a time where a group of boys, the number and age range escapes me, but there were at least five and maybe more of us who were fooling around out behind someone's barn. At some point, a kid dares the others to show our dicks.  You know I'm game.  I don't know what led to it or who's idea it was, but we spent at least fifteen minutes with the entire line of us marching behind this barn with each kid having his erection placed in the butt cheeks of the kid in front of him, and so on.  Imagine a parent walking back there (especially in a small hick town) and seeing a line of boys with their dicks planted in the asses of the next.  The fact that we were able to march the length of this huge barn was amazing.  A drill sergeant would be proud.   I do recall that there was one kid who insisted we make it the entire length unbroken, so each time someone moved out of step and a dick came out, we'd go back and start over.

I wanted so badly to repeat this march once I got home, but only my close friend and I tried it.  We still had no concept of the sexual aspect of it.  The penis never actually touched the anus, but we both enjoyed the feeling of having the other place ihs erect penis between our ass cheeks.  

One more thing sticks out in my mind.  When I was in the 7th grade, I had a neighbor who was in the 8th grade.  His family had a large RV that he and I would routinely hang out in and just talk.  Of course, lots of dick time.  He had such a huge cock compared to mine.  I thought perhaps it was an age thing, that maybe over the next year I would enjoy a growth spurt that would increase the thickness and the length. I’m still waiting for that growth spurt today.  

I used to admire his dick and tell him how much I wished mine would get bigger.  He told me that a kid at school asked him if they could compare dicks, and if his was bigger, the kid would give him $2.  The funny thing is, this other kid paid him $2 a day for a whole week because they were comparing dicks each day.  As an older person now, I suspect the kid paying the $2 was gay and it was the only way he could see another guy’s dick, while playing it off as a comparison.  

I remember  all these things from my youth and just wonder how I may have turned out differently had the Internet been around.  Here I was as a kid who craved looking at dicks, but there was never any moment that clicked me into the next gear.  The 8th grader probably would have let me blow him had I thought of blowing him.   It just never occurred to me to do it.  

It’s funny too because at this same time in my life, I was girl crazy.  I recall at the very time I was spending afternoons after school admiring a thick cock in an RV, I would then go and hang out with my girlfriend who lived a few houses over.  I was busy making out with her and routinely playing with her tits.  Bare boob was as far as I ever got with her, but I had that inclination to go for it.  

What would this girl and I have pushed for if we had some hints from the Internet?  

You know, I scroll through my Tumblr feed, a mix of straight, bi, and gay images, all of which can give me a thrill depending on my mood.  I see college aged guys engaged in threesomes or performing oral on a friend.  If I had seen these images at much less on a mass scale like is available to kids today, I imagine I would be much different sexually than I am today.  

My wife and I are friends with a gay couple and both of them had been in heterosexual marriages prior to coming out.  They are close in age to us and I recall having a conversation where I asked, “when did you know?”  

One friend said he had no inkling at all until he was in the military, married with a kid.  The other said he knew at a very early age.  We started comparing notes and he had early sexual experiences like mine. He told me a fascinating story about being eleven or twelve and driving with his parents somewhere when they pulled into a rest stop so he could run into the bathroom. To his surprise and delight, a penis came through a hole in the stall and in spite of the fact that it was obviously attached to a full grown man on the other side, he gave his first bathroom head.  When he was finished, he washed his face and raced outside to his waiting family.  

I told him that the man on the other side should have been arrested for child rape and my friend agreed, but said he’d have sucked that dick again in a heartbeat. 

He told me tales of cousins playing the same games I did with friends.  Both male and female.  When he married his wife, he knew he was gay but back even in the 1980’s, a lot of people just married and assumed they would secretly suck dick for the rest of their lives.  Like his husband, eventually the gay overpowered the ability to remain in a heterosexual marriage.  

So why all the self reflection on my part?   My interests in porn has always been extremely varied.  I guess we all get off on something until we tire and move on to the next thing.  But more and more, my interests have a gayer theme.  Even when I knew that I was fascinated with dicks, I would cringe at the image of men kissing.  Now, I'm into it.  I used to shy away of seeing men engaged in anal play, yet now I enjoy seeing it.  None of this stops me from enjoying females or heterosexual play, but is it possible that at this stage in my life I'm changing teams?  

If the Internet had been around to tell me that being gay was a choice back when I was a teen, is it possible that I would have been more open to it?  I am a believer that you are born how you are.  I don't think it is a matter of the Internet turning a person gay or turning a person into a transgender person.  But with the lack of valid sex education in schools and the failure for people to communicate, I suspect that are loads of men my age all wondering the same thing.  Have I been trapped in a heterosexual life because that was the norm?

Friday, January 1, 2021

It's a New Year...

My wife has this thing which is probably not that uncommon.  She likes to have sex on New Year’s Eve timed so that she orgasms as the people on TV are counting down.  It represents crossing from the outgoing year into the new one, with a bang, so to speak.  

It was funny to me that as she rode my dick to a well timed O, I had been imagining this last I work with.  I’m sure my wife didn’t mind that I had been going through my mental Rolodex of fantasy lovers.  Hell, she was probably motivated by thoughts of JD and his thick cock.  

I don’t keep my phone volume up so it wasn’t until the morning that I saw a well wish from the very lady I was imagining, sent at the moment in my mind, she has her body straddling mine.  As I imagined her hair up in a bun, smart glasses giving her the look of a sexy librarian, she had sent a funny comment about how my dry wit and sage wisdom kept her sane during the past year.  

If she only knew.  It wasn’t like I could respond in a way that revealed the coincidence.  

I suspect much of my life is like this in a way.  I quietly observe unsuspecting women, and occasionally men, as if they were yet another image scrolling through my Tumblr feed.  People I know or don’t, providing me with visual and mental stimulation.  In the same way I would never cat call some lady walking down a street, I keep my ogling to a minimum or at least I try to be discreet about it.  

I consider myself a feminist in the way that I see women genuinely equal to or in probably most cases, superior to their male counterparts.  But I don’t think it is wrong to find a professional colleague attractive, and still see her as professional.  Likewise, I’ve demonstrated the ability to have a colleague suck my dick and then take work related direction from that same man 15 minutes later.  

None of this makes me special.  I think most people try not to confuse their sexual ideas and thoughts with their real interactions with the people they encounter at work or at the local grocery store.  It is common courtesy.  

Not sure how this went down this rabbit hole but back to what I wanted to say.  

This past year was primarily shitty.  I want to be positive and say that starting today, it will all be a fresh new year and a whole better life for us all.  But honestly, I don’t think we are there yet.  

To each of you out there, I wish you a safe and prosperous new year.  I hope each of you looks around at your neighbors and your coworkers and the people at the park or the grocery store and see them as equals, as people who deserve respect, and that you yourself are treated with kindness by those you imagine naked.