A “Converted Gay”

Do you ever just take a moment to think about your life and realise how happy you are? Everything could be going so bad right now, but it’s not. Things have never been better.

The first time I slept with a woman, I nearly ended up in a dark, downward spiral. I was like any other gay man out there who was utterly confident in their sexuality. I was disgusted by people like the future me who could so confidently say that they’d become interested in women despite being gay. It made no sense to me at the time and it made me so angry.

Now, I realise that those aggressive feelings were probably a defence mechanism for me trying to cope with my own changing feelings. For two years after “betraying my sexuality” I was burdened with guilt and regret about what I’d done. It lessened over time and my desires were strong enough that I gave in again and again, but it took far too many months to accept them. If I hadn’t been able to do that, I wouldn’t be here talking about all this now, but I am. I came out the other side a happier man, and now I can shout with confidence that I am bisexual.

My tumblr is “the main site?” Really? While I’m flattered that you think my blog is influential enough to be called a “main site,” I really do think you give me too much credit. I am just another member of the bisexual male community who has a life story that goes against activist orthodoxy.

Yes, I say “activist orthodoxy” because somebody somewhere decided that bicuriosity only works one way: from straight to bi to gay. This is particularly true if you are a male, as women are given the freedom to be more fluid in their sexuality. Nobody cares when a woman goes from being bisexual to straight to lesbian to back to straight. But the sexuality of men is only allowed to move in one direction.

And I get it. The LGBT civil rights movement was based on the notion that gay people are the way they are because they’re born that way and can’t change. There’s only one problem with that: it’s not true. It never was true. It never will be true. There is no gay gene. There is no gay brain. There is no physiological differences between gay, straight, and bisexual people.

Does that mean being gay is a choice? No. But here’s the thing…it doesn’t matter.

Instead of pushing pseudoscience, why not just not fight for civil rights with the premise that it doesn’t matter who we love, who we want to be with, who we want to marry? in a free society, people get to make those choices for themselves and nobody has the right to tell them otherwise. Instead of saying it’s your constitutional right as a man to marry another man, why not assert it’s your constitutional right to marry anybody you damn well please?

Seems to me like that civil rights premise has much more strength and power than “Oh! This is who I am and I can’t help it”

You say that you think sexual fluidity is a bunch of garbage, but you actually don’t believe that. You would welcome with open arms a man who says he has identified as straight all of his life, but has just now come to terms with his growing desires for other men. But yet you piss all over the guy who says he’s been gay most of his life but now has taken a sexual interest in women. You call his fantasies homophobic and say he’s playing into the religious right by describing his experience as “sexual fluidity.”

The gay community has created a very hostile environment for those who find themselves discovering latent heterosexual tendencies. In a way, it’s become somewhat of a forbidden lust– the new love that dare not speak its name. And where there’s a taboo, there’s a fetish. That’s why you see so many tumblrs that focus on the erotic aspects of relishing in this taboo and going against the activist orthodoxy. In a perverse way, it gives some of us a hard on to think that we are embracing pussy in a way that would offend the gay purists. Yes, I get why some would be put off by that imagery. But nevertheless, it makes for some very exciting jack off material.

As for myself, I embraced my bisexuality about 10 years ago. In my youth, I identified as 100% gay. I no longer do. I discovered my interest in women and I now identify as bisexual. As your piece states, I am an atheist, a progressive, and a Trump hater. I am also proudly bisexual and if you go to a mens’ sex club in Phoenix or Palm Springs, you might even run into me sometime. Until the day I find a partner, I place no restrictions on myself as far as who I’ll fuck.

DISCLAIMER: This is the first chapter of a series, about a hot, but dark story. I’m planning to do something very particular, something that will turn darker and more “disturbing”. So, if you’re just looking for a quick story to masturbate, this is not the right place for you.

LOLITA, QU'EST-CE QUE TU FAIS?

I am not proud. 

I am not proud of what I did and how I let things taking over.

Please, wait to read all my story, before judging: my name is Corey and yeah, I look much older, but I’m just 30.

My life has always been around the most famous gym of my city: it’s where I work as a fitness instructor and where I train as a wrestler.

Gym is also where I met Manny, my boyfriend, 7 years ago. I remember I had an instant crush on him, the new crossfit instructor, but I also thought he was straight. Cute thing is, he had the same thoughts on me!

Our relationship got real the night I won my first heavyweight title: since I was a villainous character (because of my monster size), I was supposed to keep dismantling my opponent.

As the referee counted 1-2-3 for the victory, I noticed Manny in the crowd. I didn’t know he was there, I was surprised and happy! 

The title, that title, was in my hands: I was so happy, tears were coming out of my eyes. Following my heart, I got off the ring and celebrated giving a kiss, I mean a real kiss, to my boyfriend.

Right in front of my colleagues and the attendance.

It took 10 seconds to realize that I didn’t respect the original booking and most importantly, I came out to everyone there!

With much surprise, people started clapping and cheering for us. And I became a fan favourite, who still smashes skulls, tears bodies apart and breaks guys in a half. Later that night, Manny and I made the sweetest and most passionated love ever. And we’ve always been together, since then.

Until… 

Everything started in a rainy afternoon of september: I was just getting out of home, ready to go to work. 

I’ve noticed a man, staring at the house next to mine. He approached me: “Excuse me, do you know the owner of this house? I’ve seen it was on rent, yesterday with my wife, but there was no number so we couldn’t contact the owner” 

 “Well, I pay the rent for my house at the same person. I can give you his phone number, if you want”

 “That would be awesome! Thank you very much. I’m Russ.” 

“Corey, nice to meet you.” I answered with a smile as I gave him my owner’s business card: “So, we’re gonna be neighbours, hopefully” 

“It’s not for me, actually. My daughter, Lucrèce… for her 21st birthday, she asked to leave her life in Marseille, France, where she was born, to come to study in her parents’ hometown, all by herself.“

“Oh, that’s a good choice. We have a lot of valuable colleges here in Columbus” 

“Yeah, well…”, the man sobbed; he had a sad and pretty tired smile on his face: “Lucrèce still goes to school. She keeps losing years. She… She gets bored easily.”

In a second, I could see on that face his sense of failure, his frustration: it’s actually close to impossible, to disappoint your parents, but when you “succeed” to do that, it means they completely lost any hope on you.

My mind immediately ran to my family: I never knew my mother and my father died in his work as a firefighter when I was a child.

Among my few memories of him, he was a bodybuilder: his second wife, my stepmother, used to show me his pictures around the time they met. 

So, I decided I would have followed his steps: and whenever I flex in the mirror , I try to seek those same facial expressions of him, those same body details, the same progress.

I wish I had the chance to ask my dad if he was proud of the man I become.

Only once…

Pretty safe to say I wasn’t the biggest fan of a girl who was wasting that chance I would die to take.

Anyway, Russ got the house and within 3 weeks, Lucrèce has arrived. 

As I said, I would lie if I told you I was happy to meet someone like this girl: yet, everyone needs a chance in their life.

Russ texted me cause he wanted to introduce his daughter to me, but I was at work.

I came back home late at night: lights were on, in the house next to mine. 

The new girl was still awake.

I literally dived on my couch, exhausted. I’ve checked my feeds on Twitter: among the many interactions, there was a direct message from a guy, a fan of mine. A very nice person, who saw me at some events in Buffalo, but was too shy to come and say hi.

Despite I was tired as fuck, my stinking feet urged me to take a shower. 

Water was falling down, the bathroom was steamy, so I opened the window and I noticed I had a full view on Lucrèce’s bedroom… And on Lucrèce herself, as she was in the room.

Long brunette hair, paired with zaffire eyes on a quite tall and thin girl, white t-shirt and white pajama pants.

Trying to not looking a like a perv, I’ve switched my attention to the temperature of the shower.

She was talking to a close friend of hers, I could understand most of what she said, despite my acknowledge of French wasn’t properly French, but a francophone idiome like Canadian.

My shower was still waiting for me, so I took off my clothes and got inside. 

I so needed a good shower, but I needed more a good sleep, so it didn’t last that long; I grabbed my towel and quickly dried myself, then went to close the window: I couldn’t believe what I saw.

Lucrèce was on her bed, still talking at the phone, but her pants were off and there were no panties: she was masturbating!

My first thought was to immediately close the window and hide behind the glass.

I felt so embarassed, so guilty: I was breaking in the private moment of a young girl.

But, I don’t know if it was because of her being european, or her being… 

A HER.

The elegant way her hand was touching her most sensible part, those sofisticated fingers moving to satisfy herself.

Her closed eyes, her mouth breathing harder, her pleasure expanding as whispers in the silent air.

Feminine masturbation is so delicate, compared to the vulgar way we men beat our meat, stroking till the cumshot.

And speaking of beating meat, I surprised myself when my hand swiped under the towel and grabbed my hard cock, to jerk it off.

Close to edge, I suddenly felt like the power in my brain was restored and I realized it was just wrong, so I immediately stopped.

But I kept looking at my penis, so erected, so fierce, so willing to eiaculate: most of times, wrong is what makes you feel so right…

I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to tell you everyhting, not now.

You’ll need to wait…

My hetero shift was almost exclusively about growing sexual interest in women:

– I was becoming more and more attracted to the women in my life.   Eventually this grew to include just random women on the street.

– I found that I could only enjoy pornography that somehow included women.

– Despite actively fighting these desires, women were starting to take over my fantasies.

— I found my desire for Actual Sex with Actual Men slackening.  One night, I found myself reluctantly dragging out to my usual gay bar – a trip that I made less and less often.  My inner voice said, “If there was a bar filled with women ready to go to bed with you, you’d be face-down in muff three times a week.”  It was a freaky realization, particularly since I thought no one had ever made such a transition.  (This was about the time I was afraid I was turning ex-gay).

– Oddly enough, when I did seek out sex with men, I was almost exclusively interested in men that didn’t identify as gay.  And, yes, sometimes I liked to talk about women with them.

Why didn’t all this change my perception of my masculinity?  Maybe because I already identified with the more “masculine” parts of the gay community.  (I started waxing my back after I began pursuing relationships with women, not before).  Having sex with women changed my view of my dick (because I had always been a bottom with men), but it didn’t make me feel more masculine.  And since the default setting for straight men is already “masculine,” I felt no need to be self-conscious about it.   Sharing my life with women actually made me more comfortable with the feminine aspects of my personality.  

I’m just not a macho guy, and I don’t feel any need to be one.  I don’t how it would help my relationship with my wife, which is the most important thing in my life.  My male friends tend to be pretty much “nerds” rather than “jocks,” so I feel no need to be a “bro.”  Are there some “masculine” parts of my personality?  Sure, I have what I’ve told is a nice dick.  Especially when I work out regularly, I can lift heavy objects.  My wife despairs of my becoming a better listener.

I think what you’re finding is that every journey is different. In your case, sexuality is not viewed in a masculine/feminine kind of context. As to the reasons why, I think you pretty much answered your own question. For some of us, the union of masculine and feminine, male and female, is a big part of the sexual appeal. And I would disagree strongly with your characterization of how that represents a fantasy “less about women, but themselves.” 

When having sex with men, I visualize myself in a more submissive, passive role. And that’s because I’m attracted to masculinity and dominance in men. I actually find it to be a turnoff when a masculine/macho guy wants to submit to me. Fem guys, while I have always on some level identified with them, have also been a huge sexual turnoff for me.

When it comes to women, the opposite is true. I prefer to be in a more masculine, dominant role and I seek out women who are passive and feminine. Aggressive, assertive women are a turnoff in the same way submissive feminine men are. And it would turn me off to have a woman view me as less than masculine.

In either case, however, my fantasy is about the other person appearing and behaving in ways that turn me on. It isn’t about me “fantasizing about being a straight macho man.” It’s about me being attracted to a beautiful feminine woman (inside and out) who compliments my masculinity.

A lot of guys do find that fucking women makes them feel more masculine. The bisexual man who is submissive with men and dominant with women is a definite type. Although so is the top who doesn’t much care which hole he is fucking. And I once chatted with a woman who told me that every bi man she knew (she loved bi men) enjoyed submitting to women. So it takes all kinds. My wife and I are actually pretty vanilla in terms of what we do day-to-day.

There was always this girl at the gym who I sorta thought was watching me. She’s 28 and about 5'4 with a very slim build. I can’t say I paid her much mind until a month ago when she came over to shat as I was on the way to the lockers.

Since bulking up, I’ve had a habit of taking off my tank before actually getting in the locker room. They don’t frown on shirtlessness at my gym. Anyway, she wasn’t hiding the fact that she was blatantly checking me out. Can’t say I wasn’t flattered. Next thing I know, she hits on me and asks me if I want to hang out later.

I tell her I’m gay and taken but express interest in hanging out. We make plans and I go wash up and change. During this, I can’t say I’m not thinking about things. Since getting bigger and stronger, I’d been having bizarre fantasies about guys and girls as opposed to just guys. I’d also been watching a lot of straight porn. I may have been entertaining the idea…

We hung out around town, having a few drinks, talking about something. I can’t remember what. What I do remember is what happened when I went to her apartment.

She got flirty and asked if she could see me without a shirt again. I remember she said something about boulder shoulders and furry pecs. Something about this got a rise out of me. I took it off. The situation escalated from there and before I knew it I was sitting naked on her couch while she sucked me off.

I got more curious from here and ended up carrying her to her room. I was getting nervous at this point so she offered to take charge. She got me to lie down while she took off her clothes and we just made out in the buff on her bed. A few minutes later she was riding me. It was fucking heaven. I’m pretty versatile, but I’ve usually been the bottom. Fucking a different hole was new and exciting.

I ended up going home shortly afterwards, but I saw her several other times during the month. She taught me how to eat pussy. Apparently my stache and beard feel amazing her clit. She also showed me other pussy-fucking positions. I took a liking to missionary. Something about the vision of my large, muscular frame holding down her lithe body really got me going.

She likes sitting on my cock with her hands massaging my pecs, shoulders and biceps. She asks me to flex a lot and calls me her hunky fag. Kinda turns me on. It was the first time she called me that that I flipped her over and sucked my first tit. I had no idea what I was missing all these years…

Sometimes I’d spend the night, eating and fucking that pussy for hours. Obviously I lied to my boyfriend about where I was. He’s a bit of biphobe, something that’s pissed me off of late. About a week ago, we were drunk and joked about watching him fuck a chick. He got really upset. I decided to play a prank.

I saw the gym girl a day later and we had a glorious fuck session. I ate her out and got her juices all over my facial hair. I fucked her tits and then we did some bareback missionary. I shot my load all over her face and then I went home without showering.

My boyfriend and I had sex not long after. He sucked me off not knowing that my dick was still coated in her fluids. We made out while my face was still fresh from pussy eating. The idea of my sexy boyfriend unknowingly experiencing this chick’s pussy just made me harder. And he never suspected. He just thought I was all sweaty from my work out, a turn-on of his.

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I’d just stopped myself from coming out when I did. If I’d waited and then lost my virginity to that girl in college as just a man (rather than as a gay man), would things have been simpler?

Would I have realised my bisexuality much sooner and never confessed to believing I was gay?

Would I have found it easier to be honest with friends and family about my sexuality and who I was being intimate with?

Would I have actually had (or currently be in) a proper relationship with woman?

Coming out is supposed to be a huge release - a weight off of one’s shoulders - but for a while now all it’s been for me is this prison that I willingly locked myself inside. Trying to come out as bisexual when you’ve previously identified as gay is basically like throwing yourself to the wolves. It’s furious how much of a double standard it is considering the comparatively minor backlash received from going straight to bi (unless you’re surrounded by people who consider any kind of homosexual attraction to be a flaw).

I don’t regret coming out, because it was right at the time and was how I identified back then. It’s just been on my mind recently how different things might have turned out if I’d kept my mouth shut.

I’ve often thought what if I had just given in to that girl in the 9th grade who had a massive crush on me. What if we ended up being the “power couple” everyone else thought we would end up to be?

Here’s what probably would have happened.

At the end of my freshman year, I would have finally asked her to go out with me. Having bowed to the pressure of virtually all of my friends, I would have just simply done it. That summer, the summer before her senior year, would have been spent making out– always at her initiation, because I wasn’t ready for anything sexual at that time. This was proven when a friend of mine pulled out his dick and asked me to suck it and I wasn’t able to bring myself to, even though my attraction to guys was never in question.

When our summer of love was over, we would have returned to school as the new campus couple: she as a senior, me as a sophomore. It would have been very awkward walking around holding hands with her and kissing her as I was checking out other guys. Let’s assume we were able to get past all that weirdness and remain together throughout the course of the year.

I would take her to her senior prom. By now, we’ve probably been physical enough that I would be ready to take that next step. Yes, tonight we would get a room– she’d have to pay because I didn’t have a job at 16 and because I was a minor. Whatever happened would happen. I would probably be hoping for nothing more than just sleeping together in the same bed. And I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t have brought any condoms, since they weren’t available to me. Knowing her, however, we would have ended up fucking. I would have lost my virginity that night, right along with probably half of the other guys at the prom. That rite of passage that happens to most guys aged 16-18 would have happened to me too.

A few weeks later, I would have got the devastating news: yep, she’s pregnant. I’m gonna be a daddy.

Even in the 1990s, it was still somewhat common for teens to get married once they get pregnant. I would have probably found a way to get my GED and then I would have proposed to her. I would have got myself a job to support a wife and a kid.

But I’d still be hot for guys.

Over time, the novelty of being married with a couple of kids would wear thin. I’d be fantasizing about sucking dick while working to support a wife and family.

In other words, I’d be a bisexual cliche.

Thankfully, that story never came to pass. I got the “gay” out of my system. I sucked lots of dick and kissed a lot of guys. I even played house a couple of times. And my interest in women developed after I had already experienced sex and love with guys. I now feel like I can give a wife and a family the love and attention that they need and deserve without the nagging thought of “what would it be like to suck a dick?”