Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Happiest Confession

I talk to a lot of men who want to confess or discuss their bisexual fantasies or escapades. As you might expect, the calls often overlap with Big Black Cock conversations.

I've heard about trips to glory holes to suck off anonymous cocks that appear through the hole in the wall at adult video stores. And I've heard from a previously straight jock-type guy who was seduced on a cruise by a guy who remained a lover for weeks after, struggling with how his friends would never understand (he thinks... but then, they all probably think the same of him, right?).

But last night, I got a call from a guy, we'll call him "BNGM", which you'll understand in a sec, who started off confessing that he'd sucked his first cock, and been fucked by his first dick, a few weeks ago. I thought it was going the way of most confession calls: he'd describe what happened, I'd be thrilled (because I love gay male sex enough to put that in all caps if I believed in non-acronym all caps), I'd ask questions, and both of us would get off to the gritty details in the stories. Yummy.

But BNGM kept veering off the sex to talk about the guy. What he does for a living. How patient he was while teaching how to give head. How much he loved holding hands with him walking down the street. How tender he was during the first penetration. When he said, "He's out of town tonight," it sounded downright wistful.

I started asking questions. They've been spending the night at each others' places. They've been meeting each others' friends. They'd had a lovely dinner with another gay couple in the building, including an adorably bonding "girls' chat" between he and the flamboyant bottom of the other couple. They joined the same gym. They danced together and shared a kiss in public.

With every description, his voice would catch. And when he would mention the sex, his lust would wash over me through the phone like a wave breaking overhead while body surfing during high tide.

I made up a back story of why he was calling me: he'd called phone sex lines when he was straight. He felt a little lonely and a little horny that night, and calling phone sex is what he knew to do. He meant to tell me sexy stories and get off fast and go to sleep.

But he couldn't get aroused with me, or he couldn't share his arousal with me. He kept backing off of it. And yet, the more he spoke of his lover, the closer he crawled to raw emotion. He had described being happy to be introduced as the "new boyfriend," and his voice cracked a little.

I said, "It sounds like you have an amazing friendship and smoking hot sex. That's the dream, isn't it?"

When he replied, "It is. It feels like a dream. I never thought I'd say this, but ... I ... think ... I think I might be falling for him," something about the way the words choked themselves out suggested he had never said them aloud before.

My eyes welled up with happy tears, and I congratulated him and wished them both the very best. He laughed, sounding a little teary-eyed himself, and said, "I guess you're talking to a Brand New Gay Male."

Yes. Yes, indeed, I was.

I'm so happy for you both, BNGM. Sorry I'm not at all interesting to you sexually, but I couldn't be more pleased about the reason why.You go, girl.

P.S. His lover is black and has a huge cock. I swear I'm not making it up, and I don't think he is either. It's not my fault he's the luckiest guy in the world!

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