Gary was my best friend in high school - the first real friend I ever made outside my neighborhood. Back then, "the 'hood" was everything - we went to school there, went to church there, and the corner store was literally right around the corner. Your friends were the guys who lived up and down the block. So, making a friend in Gary was a big step when I went to the high school downtown. He was my first friend by choice rather than circumstance. He was my best man when I married Dee.
A few times a year Gary makes the six hour drive down here from Emerald Eyes' neck of the woods to see his brother and he always steals some time away from his family visit to get together with me. It was about a year and a half ago, during one of his visits, that I spilled the whole can of beans. He rang my bell, I answered the door, and he asked, "How are you?" In the five minutes or so that it took us to drive to the steakhouse for lunch I told him exactly how I was - ecstatic because I convinced my wife to try sex with another man, and she loved it - and to boot, I sucked the guy's cock.
"You?" Gary literally screamed with total incredulity as he pulled into the parking space outside the restaurant. "You had gay sex!"
I thought I'd just killed a perfectly good friendship of thirty-some years.
Until Gary told me over lunch that he was bi. That he'd been bi since about the fourth grade when a neighborhood friend of his and he started sucking each other's dicks. That he'd been bi the whole time I'd been hanging out in his room with him and enjoying looking at the Penthouses he hid in the hollow spaces of his speaker cabinets. That he was bi when he got married, when he became a father. That he was still getting a regular diet of dick, totally in the closet.
Though I'd never really considered the possibility that Gary was anything other than absolutely straight, things added up fast after his confession. He always did have too much of a leaning toward the Arts, a bit of a sashay in his gait, a little too much of a Liberace-like exuberance in his tone even when talking about relatively mundane things. I should have known - at least suspected, but I suppose the homophobe in me ignored what might have been obvious had I been even a little open minded.
Gary and I talk all the time now about our "dates" and each of us thinks that the other is somewhat nuts. He, for example, has no desire to watch his wife lift her legs high and wide for another man to mount her, and I have no desire to kiss a man or cuddle with him while to Gary that's a huge part of having sex with a guy.
And so I wonder if I'm truly bi. I love to suck a cock, lick a man's balls, and maybe even give a rim job if I'm in the mood and his ass is squeaky clean, but the thought of kissing a man on the mouth, or cuddling with him gives me the screaming willies.
Oh, I know that labels aren't really important and my asking if I'm really bi is more rhetorical than real, but I do wonder why I love to chow down on a dick, but avoid doing anything that might be even remotely considered "romantic" with another guy. My attraction to a man is entirely centered on what's under his boxers or briefs. So what am I, gang? An odd kind of bi, or just your friendly, neighborhood cocksucker?
(For the record, Gary and I have, since our mutual confessions, not had sex together. After being as close to him as I've been for over 30 years, it would be like sucking off my brother. I did have a delightful photo session with him in his motel room a while back, though. He wanted some good quality pics of himself to use on craigslist and I was happy to take them. Dee would like him to fuck her one of these days, but he says he doesn't want to cheat on his wife. This from a guy who's not averse to sucking off a stranger in a public toilet! Other people are so weird; aren't they?)
Now a little something for pussybloggingfriday that I snapped last night after Don, Mike, and I all enjoyed a special treat in Dee's soft, warm, wet, delicious bottom...
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