Bi — Why?

     I think my entries here will not be strictly chronological, but will skip around according to what’s on my mind at the moment. I think I mentioned in my opening entry that I have had experiences with women AND with men. While I don’t tend to fantasize about men or watch gay porn, I have rarely passed up an opportunity in real life to do something dirty with another guy. And I guess I have always been that way. When I was just entering puberty, I remember sleepovers and camping trips with boys my age and a couple of years older. It was not at all uncommon to touch the hard cock of the boy in the sleeping bag next to me, squeezing and stroking it, and having him return the favor. I don’t suppose that I knew what else to do at that point in my life beyond just squeezing and stroking. Only a couple years later, in junior high and high school, of course, all the guys seemed to have “forgotten” their experimental days and it was never spoken of. Nobody wanted to be called a “queer.”

      Because I was basically taught that sex was dirty and sleazy, I could not WAIT to do dirty and sleazy things…and it didn’t matter much to me who wanted to do them with me. I remember when I was barely 18, going into my first adult movie arcade, back when they were 8mm film instead of video. You’d enter a pitch-black booth with a curtain about down to your waist, drop a quarter into a slot, and watch 30 seconds or a minute of grainy film projected on a painted white rectangle. [The HBO series The Deuce really takes me back to that era.]

     On my first visit to such a place, I was wandering through the dark maze, trying to decide where to drop my quarters. An old man beckoned to me and asked if I wanted to watch with him. “I’ll supply the quarters,” he added. I didn’t even think about it for a moment, I just squeezed in beside him. 

     He commented on the man and woman in the film as they fucked, saying things like, “Yeah, look at that…oh, that guy’s got a big dick…” As he talked, he moved his hand to the front of my jeans; I was, of course, rock-hard, a teenager in my prime stage of unfulfilled horniness. He squeezed my cock through my pants and I figured I should probably reciprocate in some way (this was my first time in such a place, remember). I reached over and found that he’d taken his dick out of his pants. He wasn’t fully hard, but I felt my face flush because I was being dirty and sleazy and—without a moment’s thought—I dropped to my knees and sucked him for just a moment or two. He came very quickly and then left in a bit of a rush, leaving me all revved-up with no place to go. I didn’t feel comfortable (yet) trying to entice someone new into my booth, so I watched some more film by myself. I somehow felt that I should not attempt to masturbate in the arcade because that would be illegal, right? I eventually learned that that’s what everyone was doing there. After a few minutes, I softened enough to walk out without pointing the way. 

     I became very fond of such places, because they totally reinforced my belief that sex is dirty and clandestine. That hot, flushed feeling in my face became like a drug to me, made of equal parts of shame, lust, sin, and thrills. And that first experience with the old man in the peep show merely upgraded my fetish for older people to now include older men, too. It’s such a mistake to think that elderly people aren’t horny; they are!

     I miss those peepshow theaters. Video eventually replaced the 8mm film loops, and the booths began to manufactured in units that were smooth and professional. I sort of preferred the homemade, nailed-together plywood walls painted black. It really did feel like you were descending into a darkened underworld…which I guess, in fact, I was.

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