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I... don't play or fight fair. Trained not to. I'm on top of him and I latch onto his collarbone and give it a little tug; the pain freezes him in place and gives me time to slide down to his short, fat, dick and... make it disappear. For a jerk, he doesn't taste bad. I take him deep. He's trying to get away from me and I give his collarbone another tug and the pain reminds him that he might want to stop resisting. Will I really hurt him? Only if he makes me... but he doesn't know that. He says, "This ain't what I had in mind..." in between gasping because I'm sucking his fatty with my usual cocksucking gusto but I am intent on doing to him what he thought he could do to me and, yeah - let me show you how it's done.

He's begging me to stop because he's going to cum. He says he's not ready but I knew that but he's learned not to try to move me - that collarbone thing hurts like a bitch and I know because, well, I know. He's going to cum and there's nothing he's going to do to prevent me from making him cum. He braves the pain and tries to move me but I've also literally got him by the balls - he's not going anywhere.

I do stop sucking him long enough to ask him, "Are we having fun yet?" I know, cocky of me but he thought I was going to be his bitch, that his size would allow him to dominate me and that I was going to cower before him. Truth was, something inside of me wanted to submit and cower but my mom didn't raise any fools... or punks. I go back to sucking him; he's begging me not to make him cum because if he cums, he'll be done. I know that. He's not unlike most men in that regard.

He cums. I love feeling his fat dick pumping wildly in my mouth and as I swallow his cum, I almost giggle to think, "Yeah... he didn't know it was gonna be like this."

I release him and he's gasping and giving me a look I can't make sense of because I'm putting lots of spit on my dick; I float over him a little so that I'm between his legs and when I lift them to expose his hole, his eyes go wide and says, "I'm not down like that!"

I say, "I'm not down with that rough shit but that didn't stop you, did it?"

Some truth. He could have stopped me. He had the beef, the weight, and the muscle. But he laid there staring at me as I lifted his legs a little more and my spit-wet dick found his hole. He says, "No, not like this - it's not supposed to be like this..." I push. He resists for only a moment but when I keep up the pressure, he relaxes and... I'm in. At this point, I could have done whatever I wanted to do but, instead, I move until I'm right by his ear and say, "You don't like it when someone does it to you, do you? You didn't think what I did was even possible, did you? And now, I'm going to fuck you, okay?"

"Okay," he says and I fuck him but not as he would have ravaged my body. Gently but firmly; he knows he has a dick in his ass. I cum but I'm not taking much pleasure in it because he thought I was a victim and I was going to be his bitch. Oh, he's quite pissed with me but I withdraw, take a moment to apply all the spit I have left to my ass, and lie down beside him to await him fucking me.

He starts pawing at me, roughly handling my dick, balls, and ass. I know how this is going to go; do I "play victim" or not? I tell him not to be so rough, which only makes him grin and be rougher, twisting my nipples hard, still pawing at me and in a bold move, he picks me up and carries me to his bed and like I'm some wanton bitch! What nerve! But I don't resist this; I don't react when he throws me onto the bed and he's on me before I can finish bouncing on the mattress. He's going at me like I would a woman; slobbering in my ear, sucking on my neck and while it does feel good, he... lacks finesse. Still pawing me as he goes lower; he gets to me dick, squeezes my balls painfully hard for a moment, then speed-sucks me, going hard and fast and, again, I know how this is going to go and what he's doing.

He thinks that if he can suck me off now, I will be more pliable and helpless against what he really wants to do: Shove that short, fat dick in my ass while being rough with me because he thinks that this is how men are to have sex. The good thing is that he's sucking me so roughly that I couldn't cum even if I wanted to; the bad thing is that his opening ploy doesn't have the effect he was looking for. He starts to manhandle me and I tell him to stop, that I don't like it this rough but that encourages him; he took what I said in a submissive way, like I said what I did because I wanted it rougher. He's roughly trying to shove a finger in my ass and insults me by not even getting his finger wet first and then has the nerve to ask me if I like it.

I show him how much I don't like it by reaching down and grabbing his trapeze muscle and squeeze the pressure point. He freezes as the pain shoots all the way down to his fingers and I say, "I said, I don't like it that rough." He smiles because now he knows that I'm not going to be his victim but he still believes that his size gives him an advantage and... if I hadn't been trained the way I'd been trained, he'd be right. Now it's time for a test of strength. We wrestle and it excites him; at times, I can feel his pre-cum here and there - he's leaking a lot of it. But he's frustrated, too, because he can't gain an advantage but why would he when he doesn't know that I have a black belt in judo and expert in "working from the bottom?"

I flip his 230 pounds easily; judo is about leverage, too. Now I'm on top and I grin in his face and say, "Did you really think it was going to be this easy?"

The look of surprise on his face tells me that this is exactly what he thought. Surprise, motherfucker!

When he came over to introduce himself, something inside of me knew why he did; I could almost feel his desire for a man. Not only that, but I could feel his... manliness? Something told me that if I consented, this wasn't going to be a gentle romp in the hay. As he made his pitch, I decided to say yes because, um, I was horny and it was the reason why I came to this particular bar; it was rumored that one could find whatever sex they were looking for.

He proposes; I say yes. He grins like he's... gotten over on me, like there's something he knows that he's sure I'm not aware of. I'm going to have sex with him but my mother didn't raise any fools; there was something about him that didn't feel right - but not wrong enough to convince me to go with him. We get to his place; he tries to ply and weaken me with more booze and weed; I refuse both because I remember what happened to me the last time I went with a man and he offered me something to drink... and I came to tied to his bed, naked, and him having with way with me.

I tried to kill that guy. Let's not get to feeling that way again. Or now.

He's a big man, not taller than I am but big. Beefy. Fat that was probably really muscle. He nonchalantly undresses in front of me and as if to say, "Gaze upon my magnificent masculinity and want me!" I almost yawned. He steps out of his thong underwear and I thought he looked silly wearing them but kept my smile to myself. He's got a fat dick. Not long and fat but average in length but thick in the middle and no appreciable knob atop the thickness. He's... sashaying around the room and flexing and I'm assessing him. His dick? I can handle it; I've had thicker and longer in my mouth and ass so I'm not impressed. Let's just get to this already.

I undress and I can feel his eyes on me and for a moment, I feel uncomfortable since I can't see the look on his face; I turn to not only look at him but to see, in his features, if he likes what he sees... not that I care if he does. He thinks he can easily have his way with me; he's let the fact that I'm smaller in build than he is fool him... he just doesn't know that yet. He comes over to me and snatches me into a hug; he tries to kiss me and... I turn my head and say, "I don't kiss men." It's not a total lie because I have kissed men and it's not my idea of fun.

It's how I became bisexual and, of course, how I learned of the many ways to have sex and to enjoy it. Why does something that everyone says is so bad feel so good? This is the question I asked myself after getting dick for the first time and the answer is: It feels good because it's supposed to feel good because it's sex. Getting to have sex with guys, I learned from the beginning, was way easier than trying to talk a girl into it and I had learned why it was so hard. Okay. If you don't want to, I always knew a guy who would want to.

I didn't much care who the guy was until, of course, I'd learn that there are some guys you should never have sex with... but that's the way that goes, too. I learned why girls/women were funny about having sex because I was learning the same thing having sex with guys: Some guys are just total assholes; they're inconsiderate when their dick gets hard; some think they're entitled to have sex with you and you're never supposed to say no to them and, basically, they don't give a shit about you as a person.

I saw that I had made an important decision: I could be like everyone else and be afraid to have sex or... not be afraid. Take the good with the bad and learn from the bad. And keep learning because being bisexual was so very different from being straight or gay. I have a lifetime of experience being bisexual and I've always been a fast learner. I learned "the basics" of sex in a stupidly short period of time and, yeah, that's kinda embarrassing since I would do shit then that I wouldn't do today... but I did it; none of it can be changed and I had fun doing it - all of it. I learned from them so that I could be 100% comfortable about being bisexual and how I got to be this way was nothing to be guilty over or ashamed of. It's just how it can happen.

Both my sister and brother are dead now but if they were alive and asked me to have sex with them, I wouldn't think twice about it and not just because we were intimate before; if they didn't mind, why should I mind? And if no one minds, should it really matter?

This is what experience taught me and I stand by it. All of it. No guilt, no shame, no regrets or remorse. Does that make me a bad person? Some might say it does but at the end of any day, it's not about what they think or say... but what I think and say and, yeah, if I'm going to hell when I die, oh, well - I made sure I got my "money's worth" paying for my ticket - and I won't be the only one there so I'll be in good company.

"You're way smarter than I am," he said.

"Being smart helped but it doesn't take being smart to understand some stuff about sex and what people will do in order to have it," I said. "This isn't so much about what you did and who you did it with; it's deciding for yourself if feeling guilty and ashamed makes any damned sense - and you don't have to be smart to figure this out but you do have to accept some truths about it, too."

I don't know if he ever got over his shame and guilt but my involvement with him had me thinking about everything from the beginning to that moment in my life. I got a crash course in sex; I learned so much about it and before most kids did and especially the ones who had their first sexual experience at 16 or thereabouts. One of the things that made me popular was what I knew about sex and how to have sex... because I learned the majority of it before I was an adult and had a pretty good grip on things when I was 13. I had told him that morality says what it does about this... but real life doesn't give a fuck about morality and neither does human nature.

My curiosity drove me to learn everything I could about sex and why we did and, yeah, why we would and could break the rules that prohibits a lot of sex. I knew why I'd better not get my sister pregnant and it wasn't all about my mother killing me - birth defects. I couldn't foist that on my sister because I loved her although she had said that if I knocked her up, she had plenty of guys she could blame it on. By the way, her boyfriend knocked her up a week after we had this conversation. I had asked her why she still wanted to have sex with me since she was in love with him and she said, "You're just better at it and I love you more than I love him... and you are a pussy eating fiend." Well, she turned me into one and I saw that, in a way, it was better that I learned about this with her than with some other girl who... wouldn't care. That my sister and I had sex after finding out that a boy putting his mouth on a girl's pussy felt really damned good... just made sense to the both of us or, as she said when she came to me and asked if I'd fuck her, "We might as well go all the way since we're having oral sex, right?"

I couldn't disagree. About as wrong as it gets and it wasn't that I didn't care about that; it was that I didn't feel guilty about it. My sister and I had "one for old times sake" when we were much older and it was special. Of course, I asked her why and she said that the men she'd been having sex with didn't really give a fuck about her like I did back in the day and she was horny and said that it didn't make sense to go looking for a guy when I was sitting right there talking to her. She said, "I know that you will make double damned sure that I get satisfied."

She was right. I felt no guilt or shame over it. It's just what men and women do and, well, what people do. Period. Real life doesn't care about morality and that's the biggest lesson that I learned and, in my review of things, I opined that I felt no guilt or shame because I "intuitively knew" this. It was sex and sex was good even when you were "bad" doing it.

And I had vowed, way before I was a legal adult, to not feel guilt over something I wanted to do.

I had that near insatiable curiosity about sex and sexuality; he didn't so much. He just accepted his sexual role with males and he had admitted that while he had a lot of the same questions I did, he felt too guilty to find them. Me, on the other hand, I absorbed EVERYTHING I could learn about sex and sexuality so I wound up having a lot of book learning to go with the sexual experiences I was gleefully having.

He felt very guilty about sucking adult dicks; I didn't. I asked if he felt... molested in any way and he said that he didn't but where he lived, there were a lot of adult males who wanted young boys to blow them; I asked he felt that those men were pedophiles and he said that he hadn't thought that way but as he told me about life on his side of town, there were a lot of men who were under what we identified as social stresses - being unemployed, under employed, drank a lot, and had women who often refused to have sex with them.

When he asked me the same question about being molested and abused, I told him that I never felt that way since, sometimes, when an adult wanted sex with me, I would say no and nothing happened. It was just that I wasn't of a mind to say no a whole lot, which made him laugh and say, "You were way more into it than I was!"

Yeah, I seriously was. I liked sucking dick and swallowing cum more than I did being fucked but, sure, come on and stick it in and cream me. I realized that because I had adults "training" my ass, it made it way easier to take my friends' dicks in me. He'd said the same thing but the difference here was the adults who fucked him didn't take much care not to injure him while "my guys" took every precaution not to injure me. I learned how to deep throat on an adult with a small dick - maybe 4" when hard, which made it a piece of cake doing that to my friends.

His brothers made him take them deep and if he gagged, oh, well. I felt that his brothers were more "abusive" with him because if he said no to him, he usually got beaten up or faced the threat of it. He was surprised that me and my brother were still having sex as adults and I told him that every time we talked about stopping, it didn't "make sense" for us to stop. I did tell him about our mother catching us but I didn't get beaten and like I had expected to; he told me that he felt that his parents knew what was going on with his brothers and sisters and didn't say or do anything to stop it.

He had asked me, "What do I have to do to stop feeling guilty and ashamed?"

I told him that he had to be able to understand some stuff about sex - the real stuff and not the stuff we were told. I said that it happens and it's also pretty common, too, but I also pointed out to him that it didn't make sense to be guilty over something that happened a long time ago. I had asked him to be totally honest with me: Despite everything, did he like having sex? He had to really think about that but finally said that he did. I said, "If you keep holding onto the guilt, it's never going to leave. I know that I should feel seriously guilty... but I don't because I learned some stuff about sex that we are never taught or were told was bad, evil, and nasty. When I'd have sex with my sister, it wasn't any different from having sex with the girl next door (except my sister was way better at it); she was a girl just like my sister was... except it was my sister. I'd have sex with my brother and it was just like having sex wtih any other guy, my age or older. It wasn't always a good experience with some guys but that's just the way it is and, for me, it's not so much what I did but what I learned from what I did."

I learned that his older brothers had, upon finding out that he'd had sex with an adult, kind of "blackmailed" him into having sex with them and, I thought, what was what turned him into a bottom; he had said that he was almost always sucking them off and being fucked by them when, by comparison, my sexual relationship with my brother - and a few other male relatives - was more in the versatile way of things. He'd asked if I "made" my brother get into it and I said that I hadn't and, in fact, I didn't want to but he kept bugging me about it and I caved in; we both allowed that little brothers were a pain in the ass.

This extensive conversation with him had me really looking at how I became experienced and, importantly, great insight into my bisexuality. To me, being able to have sex with guys and gals just felt right where this guy felt all kinds of bad about having sex with guys but, at the same time, he rarely said no and admitted that he liked sucking dick and being fucked but, as I had learned, what made this bad was the guy we might be with. I would compare my feelings about being bisexual to the "main" gay dude in our group who was all about being a bottom and getting all the dick he could get but he also emotionally liked guys where, as far as I knew, I wasn't.

It would be decades later when I would realize that there were some guys I was very emotional with and before I had a real boyfriend. You live and learn and while so many of us believe that the past should stay in the past, being able to look back at my past lent itself to my being able to be totally comfortable being bisexual. While this guy got conscripted into sex with males and bisexuality because he was having sex with females (mostly his sisters), I... dove right into the deep end of the pool and with a lot of embarrassing gusto. He had to learn how to enjoy sex and I didn't so much; from that first time learning that my ding-dong could go inside of a girl, wow, man, did that ever feel weird but really good or what?

He busted his first nut being sucked by one of his brothers; I busted mine with my "girlfriend" and we both laughed over thinking that we were dying. We were so much alike but so very different in how we looked at sex and sexuality. His sisters made him eat their pussies; my sister invited me to because she wanted to know why I wasn't supposed to; one day, I asked her why she wanted me to eat her and she said that she felt that she could trust me more than other other guys trying to get into her panties. I suspected that our mother told her not to let a boy do that to her and like she'd told me to not let a girl put my penis into her mouth.

Oops. Too late, mom.

We'd had sex which, of course, what had brought us together but after we did, that's when he revealed how he became sexually experienced and I could do no less than to "come clean" as well. I found our similarities to be fascinating and since we were born a week a part - him a week after me - that we grew up in the exact same era, in the same city, but had very similar sexual beginnings told me a lot more about those early days of discovery and exploration of the sex thing I found to be terribly wonderful but adults at the time went out of our way to dissuade us from ever having sex until we were 21 - the legal age of adulthood at the time.

Because I was able to be "out and about" in the city before he was able to, I had learned that there were so many boys who wanted to have sex with boys and some of them also had similar beginnings to my own and the one "glaring" difference was those kids were... white. I had thought it was only us black kids but, duh, there was a white family with sons and a daughter who were all into the sex like we were but branching out in the city had taught me that sex was... everywhere. And there were more boys who wanted to have sex than girls.

Jesus... I got a lot of dick and gave a lot of it. If a guy - any guy - wanted to have sex with me, I never said no and even when, a few times, I realized late that I should have but as my mother taught, if you make a mistake, learn from it and I sure as hell did. The guy I ran into echoed these experiences but, again, was carrying so much guilt and shame and he wanted to know why I didn't and... I couldn't answer him except to say that I just didn't feel that way or, if I did, I "ignored" it or something.

While I grew up to be versatile, he grew up as a bottom; he wasn't gay but he felt that his role when having sex with a guy was to always be the girl and, as I would learn from what he told me, it was the role he got "conscripted" into and didn't really have a choice. When we'd had sex, we had sucked each other off and I fucked him; round two got going with more oral but this time, I wanted his dick in my ass and he said, "But I'm not supposed to do that!" Which got him telling me how the males he had sex with "made" him be the girl in everything and I would think that this was a big part of the guilt he carried. The other part was about how his sisters, who were older, used him for sex but not in a forceful way but since he knew that this wasn't supposed to happen, yeah, the guilt and shame of it laid heavily upon him.

When he asked if I'd felt the same about having sex with my sister, I told him that I didn't; the only thing I was afraid of was our mother catching us. I'd told him what my sister said one day when were fucking and over a big concern I had: As long as you don't get me pregnant, I don't see what the problem is. I told him that I realized that she was right and that the only difference between her and the other girls I was having sex with was... she was my sister. If she wasn't worried about it, then I shouldn't worry about it. I did but I felt no guilt about it.