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Definition of Bi?

I waited twenty-eight years to fulfill my curiosity.
Definition of Bi?

Almost thirty years ago, during my senior year in college, I went to a professor's home for a steak dinner. A lot of us had been there before--women and men--and nothing odd had ever happened.
On the Saturday I am recalling, no other students showed up. "You can have four steaks tonight if you want," he said. "The others all called in with excuses."

A flash of suspicion washed through me, but what the hell?

Herb served shots of Kahlua as well as beer and it seemed to me that he was trying to get me drunk. It occurred to me that I might soon be getting a blow job.

That interested me. I was horny as hell, but I didn't want to give the impression that I approved of homosexuality. That was looked down upon in that era.

At two AM Herb made his move. "I can't let you drive back to your dorm. You can sleep here and go back in the morning."

I stripped down to my boxers, got into his bed--the only bed--and feigned sleepiness. He offered to rub my back and soon was straddling my legs and rubbing up and down, with his fingers wrapping around toward my front.

My hardness encouraged him and soon he was touching my cock.

In a surprise instant, he flipped me around and started kissing me. I pulled away and reversed my orientation so he could suck my cock. Trouble was, my face was looking at his cock.

Without thinking, I took it in my mouth. It seemed completely okay. One second I was straight; the next I was a cocksucker. It felt absolutely great.

Instinct guided me. No longer caring to have my own cock sucked, I moved around so I could work from my knees between his legs. It was as good as any make-out session I'd ever had with a girl.

He was moaning and soon he was about to cum.

The idea of taking his load in my mouth was absolutely taboo, but I told him to go ahead. I definitely wanted to get him off.

"Here I cum," he grunted.

I blocked the ejaculate by squeezing his cock. I held my pinch until his spasms stopped, then I removed my mouth and let go.

A stream of cum spilled out onto my hands and on the bed. I knew right then and there that I wished it had been in my mouth. Something interesting had happened. I'd been intimately involved but I'd missed out on the main event.

I went to the sink to rinse and wash my hands. I spit about ten times to make myself pure again, and the rest of the night became a blur of embarrassment and confusion and silence. There was nothing to say.

Three decades of straightness later, I had never stopped wishing I'd swallowed that cum.

I'd tasted my own. I have kissed women after they sucked me off. I've jacked off in an inverted position and shot my own warm sperm into my mouth. I enjoyed that but didn't like pumping cum into my hand and then transferring it to my mouth.

A year ago I joined an adult sex website. I had no idea that such a thing existed. My girlfriend lived in a different city, so she didn't have to know. Moreover, and I lied in my profile and never posted a photo. This was my secret.

My first adventure was a series of chats and phone calls with a school teacher. She spotted me as curious guy and opened up about how she was using the site.

On the weekends when she didn't have her kids, she'd set up two rendezvous on Friday and four or five on Saturday and Sunday. She did whatever they wanted. One guy, she explained, just wanted to lie in bed and hug her. They didn't even get naked. Other guys fucked her wildly. A couple of guys took her to dinner and treated her like a date. Her plan was to keep that schedule going for a year and then never do it again. She said she would stop on a dime if a serious relationship came along, but she wasn't expecting that.

When I asked if she wanted to meet me, she wondered why I hadn't asked sooner.

For one thing, I'd seen her picture. For another, I was worried about catching something. But an hour later I was knocking on her door.

Before long I had pumped a load in her mouth and was driving home. Not satisfying at all, but it was a start.

Next I decided to make up for my college-age omission. MANY men--especially married guys--wanted to blow me but very few wanted to let me blow them.
That surprised me.

My big fear was that someone would recognize me. My friends and coworkers probably wouldn't be on this site, but you never know.

So I made my first date with a black guy. I mean, if you're going to suck a cock, what difference does it make what color it is? The advantage was that most of my friends were not black.

I parked at a Wal-Mart and walked four blocks toward his apartment. The teenagers who saw me probably pegged me as a drug customer. On the other hand, maybe they knew the truth. "Here's another white guy going to have perverted sex." No telling how many guests this guy had invited to his apartment.

He was wearing a towel. The freshly-showered part I liked. "Hey man," he said, "if you want to blow me it's going to cost you fifty bucks." This had been agreed upon in advance and I was ready with the right amount of cash.

He pulled the towel away to reveal a very big, nicely shaped cock. A ring was strapped behind his balls, something I'd never seen before except on video. He sat back on his bed and invited me to have at him.

I was finally going to get a mouthful of another man's cum. All I had to do was get safely back to my car and this would be one wonderful afternoon. I'll meet the next guy at a motel, I thought!

My first taste could not have been better. The texture was perfect, the size was just right and it was totally impersonal. There wasn't a man attached to this cock. It was just there for me to use. No past, no future.

I moved up and down, taking as much length as I could, and came up to catch my breath every now and then. I poked the end of his cock deep into my throat and used my knowledge of blow jobs to try and make this totally impersonal guy feel good.

Five minutes later I was a little worried. Was my desire to taste another man's cum going to be fulfilled?

I asked if there was anything I should do differently and he said I was doing great.

My next tactic was to count the strokes. I had done that many times when trying to bring a woman to her climax. My target number was always 400. I would count from 1 to 10 forty times. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Two, two, three, four...

Four hundred licks is no small feat but I could usually bring a hard-to-trigger woman to the point of no return in that amount of licks (along with some finger play and groping at the same time).

This time it was blow job strokes instead of licks. My guy was starting to thrust with his hips by the time I got to 350.

He blasted into my mouth at just past 440. It was so delicious, so worth the effort.

Hey, get over my counting fetish. I'm a CPA. And now I was a full-fledged cocksucker.

I still think of myself as straight, not as bi. I've never wanted to kiss a man. Don't want to do anal. Don't even want to be sucked off. But I definitely like sucking cock and swallowing cum.

I try to be cautious. No more walking from Wal-Mart. I've had 8 experiences in a little less than a year. Six have been good; two have been disappointing. And what does that mean? It means I've met with two guys who couldn't come.

I know you're thinking I am definitely bi. I think I'm a straight guy who likes to taste and swallow cum.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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