SARD: Part 20 – Fantasies…

A couple of days ago, I had someone email me and were discussing dreams. I Was asked if I am the type of person that remembers dreams.  Typically, I am not.  I fall asleep and then I wake up. I can’t remember, regularly remembering my dreams, since I was a teenaged kid.  There is one type of dream I have, however, on a regular basis and it is a highly sexual and erotic dream…

Now, before you all get excited for me to post it, I’ll just mention I am not going to discuss it. I’m not going to go into the sordid details, nor the surrounding topics within the sexual fantasy I have.  Because, that’s not really the point of this post. The point of this post is that it is the only dream I can ever remember. I’m not sure why it is that I can only remember THIS dream when I wake up or struggle with sleeping because it invades my mind and doesn’t leave.

The only thing I can surmise is that it exposes something about myself that is extremely self-deprecating (Have any of you noticed this tendency about myself). It gives me an image of myself I am not comfortable with, but it surrounds a fact about myself that shouldn’t be an issue but it is. It is such a focus of my dream-fantasy, that my senses become heightened and I am so….hmmm….aroused, that I don’t know what to do about it.

Sure, I have had other fantasies, but those fantasies are usually fantasies I have while I’m awake.  And this particular fantasy is one that I have awake, asleep, eating dinner, going for a walk…whatever. It’s a fantasy that makes me hyper aware of my vulnerability and overwhelmed with the knowledge that there is nothing I can do about it.  But ultimately, it is the only fantasy I can remember dreaming about when I have been a sleep.

I know a lot of you are probably wanting me to just divulge it, based on the number of things I have discussed that demonstrates my ability to be vulnerable. But it is the kind of fantasy that has even caused issues within relationships.  It’s not something illegal, and it doesn’t involve anyone being physically hurt. It is literally a psychological mind-fuck (for lack of a better term) and I have never understood why I fantasize about it.

The other day, I was emailing with another blogger who had offered a suggestion about facets of my sexuality that made some sense to me.  Again, I won’t mention the details of the conversation, because it scratches the surface of the topic of my fantasies, but it is something that stands on the forefront of my mind as being utterly accurate. Ultimately, I have never understood where the fantasy originates, why it is there nor how to grasp it’s impact to my sexual desires. But it is there, it is a part of me and it is the only thing I can remember when I dream…

QFMR: Be a Slut to Find the Ideal Man?

So, I have a blogging friend that wrote a post today, somewhat as a response to my post about being a prude.  He proposes that I might be “cock-blocking” myself in finding some love from a guy. And on some level, I think he has a strong argument.  But at the same time, I feel like I’m in the process of finding myself a little bit and I’m doing it in a way I feel comfortable, but I can’t help but look at this issue from both sides of the coin – heads: engage in casual sex in search of true love or tails: hold out, make a man work for it!

Heads:

As a bisexual man, I kinda get how aggressive male sexuality can be – especially in hormonal teenaged males. I recognize that for a lot of guys there is an end game and if they don’t believe they are going to get any sex out of a relationship, then they will move on and not bother. There is sort of a push and pull mentality (not to use an innuendo) that guys use in leveraging a sexual escapade – to the point that some will literally lie about love just to get the sex they desire.

But in some way, I think there is this idea that it is expected that in order to find a boyfriend, one must engage in some casual sex until that perfect boyfriend is found. For me, I’m not afraid of having sex with a guy (oh my gosh, really?!?! Just read my blog, I have enjoyed it), so maybe there is some benefit to having enjoyable sex to find a suitable partner for a long term relationship. I mean, I do enjoy sex, so maybe I should be more open to a few casual romps…

Tails:

The other side of the argument, however, is that there needs to be some sort of control mechanism. I’ve often, said before, that I fall in love with someone easily. Knowing this about myself, I feel like I need to set some boundaries and I feel like I have to set them immediately, so there is no confusion. In my linked post above, that was one thing I was trying to stress. For me, I think it is readily obvious that if I’m seeking a relationship with someone that sex, passion and all of the stuff are on the table as parts of that relationship. I guess, in some ways, I know I want that. I want that close connection, that physical affection and the act of sharing myself with someone is certainly fun, if you ask me. But I also know I’ve done that, before, and having sex is the easy part – maybe not always the best part, but certainly the easiest part – of a relationship. So, I’ve had casual sex with guys before, but the one thing I have never had with a guy is a meaningful relationship. It’s definitely something I’m interested in exploring, so I am not sure I just want to hand myself over to every Tom, Dick and Harry around.

So, let me ask you, my wonderful readers:

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What’s the best way to go about finding the man of my dreams?

Should I be offering myself up to any guy I’m interested in – ya know, to make sure there is compatibility; or, should I maintain boundaries and make the guy work for my sweet ass? 😉

 

Maybe I’m a Prude….

Okay, okay, okay….I just decided I would kind of open myself up to talking to guys to get to know a few to see if I might begin dating and I can say I shouldn’t be shocked, but I am and I am wondering if I ever treated women this way when I was trying to date them.

But here is an example of a guy I just began talking with via email. He introduced himself to me as a latino man named “Manuel” and answered a post I had in an online forum. We began speaking to each other via email when I expressed I’m willing to begin meeting people. The conversation went something like this:

Me:  I’m not looking for a one night stand or trying to satisfy my curiosity, but I’d rather have a real relationship with someone. I want to be able to just be friends with someone before anything serious ever happens.

Manuel:  I am very interested in meeting a nice man, for a boyfriend

Me: Well, maybe someday long in the future. Right now, I just want to talk and get to know someone. So, tell me a little about you…

Manuel: I believe in making a man very happy. I love to make out and very oral.

Me: Um….great, I guess. But what do you do for a living?

Manuel: I make you feel good…

Me: Actually, I don’t know that you will…I’m sorry, this isn’t going to go the direction either of us want. Take care.

Manuel: Rub you or what?

Me: Good-bye.

I dunno. Maybe I’m just a prude, but this is really not where I’m at right now. I mean, sheesh…can’t find out what makes me tick first?

Waving Flags From The Rooftops…

…and not Fags, like they do in some countries! (Bad joke?  What?)

Warning: Some use of vulgarity exists in this post

Okay, I just read a post from a friend (Eh…hopefully, I can call her a friend, I know we just kind of shared some comments, although I have been a follower for quite some time) where she was discussing running into a teenaged girl that is discussing her sexuality in a rather loud and obvious way. Granted, my friend didn’t have an issue with the girl’s sexuality, nearly as much as the vulgar descriptions she gave of herself – it happened in front of my friend’s young son.

Now, I’m no stranger to vulgarity, but my daddy taught me a long time ago that there was a time and place for everything (Although, the concept may not have hit me until late in life…the jury is still out on that one. And my mommy? Oh my gawd, there is no reason anyone should have small children around her foul mouth…but I still love her). So, this was the wrong time and the wrong place for this girl to be so overt – Of course, I’m going off my friend’s description and I have no reason to believe it to be anything but accurate. But it made me contemplate a topic for this post: Being out, proud and public displays of affection (or vulgarity, as the case may be).

You’ve heard me mention before that I will not be the kind of person that stands on rooftops and waves the bi-pride or LGBT-pride flags.  I just won’t.  Shoot, I’ve blogged so many times about why I have never come out en-masse. And although, I tried to attend Pride in Denver this year (a topic for another time why this was a complete failure), I did make a small outing a little over a year ago. And although, I recognize that coming out and being out is a major sense of accomplishment and empowerment for a lot of those in my community, I am truly self-conscious about it.  The most comfort I have ever felt is right here among you all. In fact, I have even taken the time to express some of my activities as a means to try and accept myself a little more – I even make some games out of it.

But the reality is, selectivity and moderation in all things is a good idea. I mean, I have had experiences where someone knew and it didn’t necessarily go very well for me.  But there are a lot of reasons why being aware of your audiences are important in these things.  For many in the LGBTQ+ community, there is still a strong bias against us and we still need to have safety concerns in different settings (As I indicated, with the really tasteless and off-color joke I made at the beginning of this post). And although, I’m not against the idea of sticking up for oneself and doing it forcefully, I’m also a pacifist on some level and think there diplomatic ways to handle things. Granted, I’m sure my friend didn’t have the urge to slap this girl (Okay, maybe in defending her son’s ears), but there could certainly be people that would have done something bad.

But I am not excusing the young woman’s actions, in fact, I am critical of them and here’s why: Our actions and words do have consequences and we need to be aware of who we might influence. I would never discuss my sexual activities in front of children and I think children, being the innocent members of our society, should only be made aware of sexual matters in a way that helps them understand relationships – typically when mom and dad sit down and have the “birds and the bees” talk. (Which, by the way, when my parents had one with me, it was seriously short of any decent understanding. I had a wet dream one night and my dad said my laundry looked like I was enjoying my dreams and my mom told me to…and I quote…”Make sure you wear a fucking condom, if you fuck anyone!” as she tossed my underwear into the wash.) Decency is still a good quality and being overtly sexual in public defies boundaries. Period!

Now this leads me to the idea of PDAs – or Public Displays of Affection. I look at this concept in terms of time and place again. For example, if I am at some family venue with children present, they do not need a sex-ed lesson from anyone – myself included. Is hand holding appropriate? Sure. Is hugging appropriate? Of course. Is a small kiss from time to time an okay thing to see? Absolutely! Should we be subjected to overt groping and faces getting sucked right off their foundations? Absofuckinglutely not! Some people, seriously need to get a room, and it has absolutely nothing to do with their sexual orientation.

Like my daddy said, “There is a time and place for everything!”

Or we can take my mommy’s route and tell people like this, “Wear a fucking condom before you fuck!”

 

A friendly poll on my sexuality and gender”

Okay, truthfully, I’m only having a little fun with this, because I don’t know how to create a poll on my blog. At the same time, however, I’m curious what a lot of your opinions might be (please be honest, I won’t bite…well, maybe playfully).

Also, please feel free to comment below or email me, if you’d like to privately discuss this.

SARD: Part 19 – Unable to Tell (Warning: NSFW 21+)

********Warning: This post is highly sexual in nature. It has a homoerotic theme and sexual assault connected to it. I am going to use sexual and vulgar language, simply because that is the only way I know how to tell this story. Some of you may be shocked at the brutal vulgarity, others may not. Some of you may find this hard to accept, some of you may not. Some of you might be aroused by this and some of you might be disgusted. Some of you might pity me, and some of you may find sorrow. Some of you may never understand why I wrote it and some of you might understand better than I do. I have always tried to be honest, but sometimes honesty is raw and not very nice.*******

I don’t know why this memory came to me, but it happened when I was a teenager, with a friend that I had…hmmm…”experimented” on a previous occasion. I’m not going to mention his name…mostly because I don’t want to. But, I had this memory occur today…


“Put your mouth on it…” his words sounded void of emotion other than lust raging in his eyes and escaping on the heat of his breath. I grabbed a hold of his penis, doing what I was ordered to do and put my mouth on it.

“Now suck it..”  Slowly, like he told me to do before, I moved my mouth up and down the shaft of his penis, taking his swelling member into my mouth and touching the back of my throat. I knew he liked what I was doing. I didn’t like this feeling I had. It felt different than the last time I was with him.  The last time, he seemed to care about my enjoyment in our sexual encounter, but this seemed forced – by whom, I couldn’t tell. I began to gag a little as he put his hands on the back of my head and thrusted upward forcing me to take him as far down my throat as he would go. His balls smashed against my chin as he let out a guttural sound.

Tears formed in my eyes as I tried to take him over and over, fighting back the urge to gag. I felt like vomiting. ‘This is nothing like before’, I thought to myself, as he continued to fuck my face with my on my knees and he stood in front of his chair. So many thoughts came rushing in as I tried to concentrate on breathing and trying not to gag.

“I’m going to fuck your ass just like I’m fucking your face, you little bitch!” came the words that oddly aroused me and disgusted me at the same time. It felt different than the first time he and I made love. I thought I mattered, but this was making me feel like I didn’t matter.  His forcefulness said all he wanted from me was sex. There was a loss of emotion in today, like loving me wasn’t going to be involved like he led me to believe the first time we did it.  Maybe I am nothing more than a whore? A faggot whore, I thought to myself.

Then, in a sudden motion, he yanked himself clear of my mouth and I looked up at him with tears in my eyes, gasping for a little breath and thankful I was no longer choking.  He looked down at me with a grin and I gave him my hand to assist me in getting up. I rose to my feet and he pulled me over and slightly shoved me past him. He put one hand on my upper back and pushed me over the chair. I knew what he wanted and I didn’t feel like it today, because he felt so rough, but I wanted the feeling of being wanted. And he wanted me, he wanted me for his own use.

“Bend over, so I can fuck you…” he whispered in me ear and I could feel his hot breath on my neck and upper back. He pulled my shorts down and I heard him spit on his hand.  I always thought this form of lubrication was disgusting and I’m not a huge fan of anyone’s spit outside of kissing.  He kicked my legs apart, unlike how he caressed me into submission the last time we were together. I knew what was coming, as I began to breath and try to relax. I spread my feet, giving him access to what he wanted. I leaned against the soft back of his chair.

“I hope you’re ready for my dick, baby”, he said, half giggling. I felt horrified this time.

I raised my head and turned to look at him and whimpered, “Can we do this another time?”

“Don’t be a pussy. You know you love my dick!” and he began to shove himself inside of me. I cringed, as the pressure of his penis pushed inside of me. I bit the back of the chair and tried to bear down to take it.  My knees buckled and he pushed me to a kneeling position on the arms of the chair.  This forced my ass apart even further and it allowed him to burrow right into me. The little bit of saliva on his dick helped, but it still hurt and I can feel the heat of friction.

I began to whimper a little as I bit the back of the chair. My forceful lover seemed to muster some sensitivity and spit on the entrance some more, providing a little more ease in getting himself into me. I knew it wasn’t for me, however, because he was pushing himself in further. Eventually, my rectum took him and he pushed in and out of me, slowly. I was thankful for it, because I was in pain.

His cock was huge and I could barely take it the last time we made love. This time, he felt monstrous and I began to cry as he began to pound into me. He grunted which each thrust as he held my hips into place, making sure he was not obstructed entering me.  I continued to bite the back of the chair, wishing it was over, in spite of my own arousal.  I didn’t understand why I was excited and wishing it would end at the same time.

I pulled my mouth off the back of the chair and became remotely aware that I was weak all over. He was holding me up as he fucked me. I was moaning, but holding still, worried about the pain and how to handle it.  He kept fucking me harder and harder. IT went on for so long, I couldn’t stand it and began to have an orgasm.  He noticed and leaned over slightly slowing his pace and bellowed, “I knew you loved this. You love it when I fuck you, bitch!”

I practically collapsed at this point and thankful he was so strong and could hold me up as he continued his assault on my tight hole.  Eventually, he began to slow and I could feel his penis start to pulsate, recognizing he was in the throes of his own orgasm.

“Take it out, take it out…!” I pleaded, and he finally did something I had hoped. He pulled himself out and it felt like my ass was on fire. He plopped his thick cock on me, between my butt cheeks and I could feel the heat of his spurt on my lower back as he rocked back and forth ejecting all of his cum onto me.

He began caressing my back, as I recovered strength in my legs to hold myself into position. I was still panting and began to turn to look at him.  A couple of weeks ago, I thought I might have loved him as he made love to me; but today?  Today, I felt disgusted. I couldn’t even fake a smile.

He backed away from me, and pulled up his underwear and jeans, saying, “Thanks. I really needed that.”  He finished dressing as I stood up and asked, “I need to shower, do you want to shower with me?”

I asked it, half hoping there was some sort of romantic notion salvageable in his being.  He simply shook his head and said, “I got to go, so you got to leave…”

I figured one of his parents were on their way home or something, so I put my clothes back on. Not even cleaning myself off. I felt completely used and disgusted with myself. I didn’t like anything that happened this time.

I drove myself home, feeling the sticky ooze he left on my backside. I was thankful to get home to an empty house. None of my family was home, which made it easier to get in and showered before anyone knew anything.

Although, I had seen him again, I still to this day can’t distinguish between knowing if this was a sexual assault or simply engaging in my own temptations.