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If there's one thing you know about the devil you don't know, you know what his intentions are. Bluntly, he wants to get you naked and have sex with you but the problem is... you don't know a damned thing about him. He could be a rapist or an axe murderer or one of those really crazy motherfuckers who thinks it's a hoot to be infected with something and giving it to everyone they can manage to give it to!

In my personal experiences, all of these things and a lot more go through my mind the moment some guy I don't know makes his intentions known and now I have x-amount of a short period of time to think about it, try to get as much information about him as he's willing to give, and to decide to say yes or, no, but thanks for asking. I had to learn how to read a guy's body language and to "read between the lines" and with the understanding that guys will say anything they think they have to - and what you want to hear - so they can have sex with you... and not at all different from what we do when we're trying to have sex with a woman. It is said that a woman will decide to have sex with a guy within five minutes of meeting him and I've found this to be rather true given the many times I've "kicked my game" on her and, at some later point, tell me that she made up her mind to say yes - or no - within those five minutes.

I found that I do the same thing with guys I don't know. From the moment they approach me, I am deep into studying them and, yes, even as a threat assessment (and as I was trained to do via martial arts) and he's got... five minutes to convince me that it's gonna be okay and he's gonna have to get my instincts to agree, too. I learned to trust them without question; if a guy's kicking his game and my instincts are telling me to reject his proposal, it gets rejected because some guys... don't feel right. They can be charming and all that but at a subliminal level, they just feel wrong. And because I wound up having "bad sex" with a "stranger," I just learned to listen and trust my instincts as well as learning that they're not always right but 9 out of 10 times, they are.

I personally don't worry about the devil I don't know all that much because if I say no and he gets pushy about it, I know how to defend myself... and I will if I have to... and with deadly intent if necessary. As I've said here on the forum many times, I live by the rule, "When in doubt, do nothing." And if I tell a guy no and he wants to know why, I will tell him why I think it would be a bad idea and if he doesn't like it, he doesn't like it. I got drugged and raped one time because I bought into the guy's spiel and my instincts didn't "warn" me of anything. I didn't... blame him but blamed myself for not seeing the signs that I only saw after the fact and... lesson learned. But that didn't stop me from accepting propositions from men I didn't know because just because that happened didn't mean that every "stranger" I came in contact with was so... dastardly and underhanded. I will take that five minutes to see what kind of game he has and to give him the 3rd degree until I'm satisfied that he's not my idea of an asshole... but I will remain guarded just the same because it's like the instructions boxers get before they fight: Protect yourself at all times.

There are two devils: The one you know and the one you don't. I have seen and known guys who want to get into sex with guys to, first, wonder if some guy they know would be interested but not of a mind to approach - or be approached - by someone they don't know, well or if at all. Certainly, there are "dangers" in both situations. In the first, you run the risk of potentially losing a friend; in the second, there's the risk of violence at the worst.

What to do, what to do? We get schooled in "stranger danger" and for good reason since not everyone you might encounter is going to be a nice person so being wary is warranted... but one of the time-honored "hallmarks" of guys having sex with guys is those casual encounters that one can come across and from anyone and at any time and, as I learned, sometimes, from a "direction" that you least expected. Giving a stranger some head. Oooh, scary! I've had guys step to me and hit on me for sex and I don't know them (or know very little about them) and... it's decision time.

Rushing into it or allowing yourself to be pressured into it isn't a smart thing to do and there have been times when a guy has hit on me, we get to talking, and I'll ask his name - and knowing that he might not give me his real name and if I really want to know, um, show me your driver's licence or other ID because while your offer is tempting, my mother didn't raise any fools.

The devil you know might not be the best option. You can really get to know a guy and to the extent where... personal stuff can be talked about and what guys who are friends don't get around to talking about sex, generally or even specifically? You learn about each other and maybe even feel close to each other and, I dunno, the thought of having sex with him... just makes sense. I've talked to many a guy who was interested in a friend - or felt that his friend was interested in him and... what to do? What if he asks to have sex or what's he gonna say if I were to ask him if I could blow him (the #1 thing of interest)?

You could ask but, again, there's a risk involved because whatever you think you've learned about him... could be wrong. He's "sending the right signals" but they could be the "wrong" signals, too. Guys... often talk shit that they don't mean. Like, you can be hanging with your boy and somewhere along the line when you're poking fun at each other, he might say something like, "Aw, man, suck my dick!" and in a moment, you're wondering if he really means it or not or, if the thought of sex with a guy has somehow never crossed your mind, perhaps now it is and guys in this situation have told me that even for a split-second, they've thought about sucking his dick and while some guys rejected the thought a split-second later, sometimes, it... hangs around.

It's worse when your boy says something like this and you'd give anything to be able to suck his dick. We... feel and believe that it's better to do this with a guy we know well... except, if you broach the subject with him and even generally, you might find out something about him that you didn't know but then, there's this: Some guys say... "anti-gay" stuff in public because it's all about keeping up the appearance of being 100% straight but in reality? Oh, yeah - if he could, he would and he, too, might be wondering if you'd be okay with it but as in the way these things tend to go, actually asking isn't really that easy... because you really don't know how either of you are going to react. I've seen guys do some pretty hilarious things when it comes to hinting about this and in order to avoid... just coming out and asking if they'd be opposed to having some kind of sex with you (or you with them).

These are the things I remember the most about him. My fondest memories of him. It took me a long time to admit to myself that it wasn't really that fucked up that this was the thing I remembered the most about him. Or maybe it is. After thirty-eight years, it doesn't matter. Remembering what my mother said when we were all gathered together for our traditional Christmas Eve shindig: As long as we remember him, he's not really gone. And I do remember him. Everything about him... and right along with the forbidden memories we created.

Was it a very weird kind of love? I don't know. It's like I loved him but, nah, not even. Hard to love someone who vowed to take me out and just as hard to love someone I knew that if I had to, I would kill him with my bare hands and not lose any sleep over it. Just so goddamned weird and it kinda sucks to have these memories come roaring back into my active thoughts. Sex with him brought my bisexuality right to the front of things because if we didn't have anything else in common, we had this. Being bisexual. Unashamedly bisexual. Getting used to him showing up at my front door and I knew he wasn't there just to say hello; listening to him telling me, on one such occasion, that he hated the fact that when he needed "the really good dick," he had to come to me to get it... and would show up anyway. I'd tell him that he didn't have to and, once, I told him we weren't going to fuck... and the fight started immediately. I kicked his ass - as usual and despite his rather good efforts to kick mine - and... we had sex.

Damn it. I could never tell him no. Still, being so very damned bisexual, I knew that good dick is where you find it and one of the best I ever had... was his. Just the facts of the matter. We had bisexuality in common and I learned and accepted that, okay, if this was all we had in common, I could live with it; if this was the only way we could really bond as brothers, I could live with it. And fuck the morality of it. At the end of the day - and at the end of his life, he was a bisexual man and just like I was and that, as he would sometimes tell me, made us fair game. I once asked him if he had any regrets and he looked at me like I'd lost my mind and said, "If this is the only way we can get along with each other, I'm good with it... because I'm sick and tired of you kicking my ass and I'd rather have you fucking my ass. Now, gimme that dick so I can suck it..."

I miss him.

If nothing else, it strengthened our bond and such as it was. Like I said, this time wasn't any different from any other time. Since he said that he needed some dick, we agreed that he should start us off by blowing me first. Yeah, sometimes - and rarely - we'd 69 and I don't know why we didn't 69 as a matter of course but we didn't and it didn't really matter. He's sucking me and it was comfortable and familiar, and he was always good at sucking me and his need for dick had him working "hard and fast" to get me to cum and, well, it worked.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" he had said as he stretched out on the bed, and I moved to suck his dick and just like I'd done so many times before. For some reason, he stopped me to ask, "Yo, do you remember when Mom caught us?" and I told him that I would never forget that day... but why was he bringing it up now? He never answered me, so I went back to sucking him until the very familiar taste of his cum was in my mouth.

We're resting up for the next phase and he pokes me in the ribs and says, "You were always better at sucking dick than I am."

I poked him back and said, "I should be since I've been doing it longer than you have!" We're... having a good time but this was my mortal enemy, my personal nemesis and I had time to think about the times when we'd fight, have sex, then go right back to fighting. I couldn't understand this weird-assed relationship we had but right now, it didn't matter because I had recovered enough to do what had to be done next.

Stuffing my dick into his ass. Easily. Such familiarity. A sin to end all sins and one we both knew about and didn't care. The way he'd respond to me being inside him and "knowing" why since we were both bisexual and we both knew what it was like to be the girl... and we could be the girl with each other, and it was no big deal and like it could be when having sex with other guys. I wanted to hurry up and cum in him so he could get his dick in me and work my ass until he came... so that's what I did. As I came, he said, "You know I fucking hate your ass... but you sure can fuck me really good."

And echoing the same way I felt about him. I even said what he said while he was nicely screwing me and he did what I had done: He laughed and fucked me harder and faster until I felt his dick swell in my ass and that first splash of his cum. His "nasty" cum. Cum we both had because we had the same parents.

It all ended a few short days later. I'd lost my brother and my long-time lover. We weren't friends; we didn't exactly treat each other with brotherly love and sometimes wouldn't even acknowledge that we were related to each other. But we had had this. So highly immoral and forbidden but I had long since accepted that if this was the only way we could get along, it was better this than it would be for me to totally lose my temper and... kill him myself. And he knew I would, too, just like I knew that he wouldn't hesitate to try to take me out... and all because we didn't agree on the decision our mother made about our father.

Shit. Thirty-eight years ago today, I personally flipped the lever on the bier that lowered him into his final resting place. The irony of this final act wasn't lost on me. Today is the first time in a long time when this day just... fucks with me. Makes me remember the day he died in my arms and while I was futilely trying to save his life - and knowing that I couldn't. For the first time in a long time, I feel... the anger I felt so long ago. Having the very... fucked up thought that we had fought the day he died because I was protecting his lady from him wanting to beat on her for some shit that never happened but he kept insisting that it did. It was, ironically, the last time we'd fight... and there would be no sex to follow.

The morality - or the immorality - of what we were doing wasn't lost on either of us. We often talked about it and agreed that because we shouldn't be having sex, it made having sex even better. That we would fight "to the death" was weird because, sure, we couldn't stand each other, and he hated that he could never best me in a fight and even if he tried to sneak me but that made us... respect each other. It was like we were different people; one way when we were arguing and fighting, totally different when we were naked and working on urging each other to cum in both mouth and ass.

I loved how he felt in my mouth and ass and he made no bones about loving those same feelings. We would talk about other guys we had sex with and while they were from okay to good to decent, it wasn't the same when it was me and him and I would spend a lot of time thinking about why it wasn't the same other than what was readily obvious. Maybe it was the taboo. Maybe it was something else. I can't say that I ever really figured it out but having sex with him was special even if it was the only time we got along with each other.

We had had sex just mere days before his death. Our routine had never changed since that very first day after I caved into him. We'd suck each other off, rest up for a bit, then fuck each other; who went first in something didn't matter a whole lot. Even in those moments when we'd have sex after I kicked his ass, we'd quickly decide who would be sucked off first and then it would happen. And this last time wasn't any different. Since he and his family was living with me and my family, we'd often be alone in the apartment while the women were doing... women stuff and the kids would be with them or in school and we'd both come in from a long day of pounding the pavements looking for a decent paying job and as we sat and talked about the prospects and failures, it just made sense to have sex and, again, this last time wasn't any different.

He had come in from another futile attempt to find a job and said, "I need some dick." And I was more than happy to give it to him - and we would sometimes have to remind each other that we had better have something left for our women or we'd be in the doghouse - and if you're wondering if they knew, they did know and got to watch us since it "made perfectly good sense" for the four of us to get it on with each other.

Thirty-eight years ago today, we buried my one and only brother. He had died a violent death at the hands of his girlfriend and over some dumb shit. I can remember that moment and like it just happened earlier today except, thirty-eight years ago, it had snowed, then rained a little, and I remember trudging through the mud and muck in the cemetery and those of us who were pall bearers couldn't do the task given us because it was muddy and slick and none of us wanted to drop him. I'd spent two summers, back when I was in high school, working in a cemetery and, yeah, I'd seen pall bearers drop the casket and, yeah, you can probably imagine what happened and especially with the cheaper caskets.

Weird thought, huh? Anyway, those of you who have read what I've written here knows that my brother was also my lover and that I don't make any bones about it and more so when the only time we got along was... when we were having sex. It used to bother me that my best memories of him were those when we were naked and taking turns making each other cum; remembering how he pestered me continuously before I gave in to his request that we do it to each other and, really, just like other brothers in our neighborhood were doing. I didn't want to. Our parents would murder me if we got caught doing it to each other. I caved in... and I would find that I didn't regret him defeating me in this and, yeah, the only thing he had ever beaten me in.

Of course, I remember other things about him and good things, too; we... didn't like each other after our mom tossed our dad out because of his alcoholism (and other shit I'd learn about one day). He felt our mother was wrong and he was pissed with me because I agreed with what she had done and when she sat me down and explained to me what she did and why she did it and more so when I was the oldest and I needed to know before she explained it to the rest of my siblings. My brother had a fit and an even bigger one when he found that we weren't on his side in the matter. His life went downhill after that and I wasn't going to let him talk shit about our mother and like it was all her fault that our father was gone. We became enemies and mortal ones at that... except the one thing that continued to bind us other than our blood.

We both loved having sex with each other. Those moments when he'd "give me grief" because my dick was longer and fatter than his and him wondering why since we had the same father and me asking him what difference it made and he'd agree that it didn't make a difference and we'd get to the business at hand or, sometimes, get back to it.

I knew I had dodged a bullet. I head on home, my stomach full of three loads of cum, and the only thing I'm thinking about now is not running into my mom and having to explain why my pants are ripped up beyond repair. The funny thing is that when they first confronted me, I wasn't afraid, but I was kinda shaking because the adrenaline that had been running through my veins had finally worn off.

As I let myself in, I was thinking about what could have happened if they decided that fucking me was in order. Having taken the measure of their dicks, I knew I could take them in my ass with no problem including Guy #2's thick fireplug of a dick; I'd had bigger and thicker in my ass and even just a couple of days ago. My mom was upstairs in her room and I heard her yell down for me to make sure I locked the door and I yelled back that all the doors were locked for the night and went to my room and seriously counting my blessings because this whole encounter could have gone seriously wrong.

Three days later, I'm once again walking home from my girlfriend's house and along the same route I always took. I got to the last block and... three guys jumped out of the darkness - again. I thought, "Oh, shit..." and was easing into a fighting stance when I heard a familiar voice say, "Oh, hell no - it's that crazy motherfucker again!"

They walked away without another word. A shame because if they had asked, I would have sucked them all off again; if they had wanted to fuck me this time, okay. But they were quickly walking into the darkness like they really had someplace else to be. I laughed to myself, shook my head, and went on home to find my brother waiting for me so we could have yet another fun night with each other.

Guy #2 steps to me and shoves his dick right into my mouth and I guess he was expecting me to gag or something but I didn't; I grabbed his ass and pulled him toward me so I could get all of his dick in my mouth that I could since, like the others, he still had his pants and underwear on.

"Oh, shit," one of them said. "This motherfucker is seriously crazy!"

I had to admit that Guy #2's girth was giving me a bit of a problem but I put it out of my mind and focused on feeling him in my mouth. The hard-packed dirt I was kneeling was doing a number on my knees and the damned mosquitos decided to visit the scene and we're all getting bitten and I'm all itchy and I want to rub or scratch the bites but I didn't dare stop sucking Guy #2 because I sensed that he was the more violent of the three. I had a plan in mind that began with an uppercut to Guy #2's crotch, coming to my feet and taking out Guy #3 since he was practically down there with me as he watched what I was doing. Guy #1 would be momentarily stunned which gave me time to put Guy #3 down and then turn to #1 to finish the trifecta.

But I didn't need to execute the plan. After sucking off the first two guys, I had them all "in my power." Guy #2 is trying to hold back his cum and I was determined to have it and after a brief struggle on his part - he tried to move away from me but I wasn't letting go of him, he gave up his cum, which didn't taste all that good but down the hatch it went anyway. Now it's "moment of truth time." They're either going to let me go or they just might get it into their head to gang rape me which, um, on the one hand, sure - I could handle them all in my ass but it was the principle of the matter.

I got to my feet, looked at the three of them and asked, "Who's ready to go again?"

They looked at each other with that "he's fucking crazy look" then looked at me and Guy #1 said, "Nah, man, we're good... but you are one crazy-assed son-of-a-bitch!"

"You have no idea," I said. "So, um, I'm gonna jet, okay?"

"Not so fast," Guy #3 said.

"What's up?" I asked.

He answered me by pushing me against the pool entrance wall and literally ripping my pants open; he drops down and starts sucking me and his boys are saying, "What the fuck?" to each other. He went at me hard and fast and it was kinda painful; I said, "Easy..." to him and he actually eased up but he was determined to make me cum and maybe five minutes later, I came so hard that if they were going to fuck me up, that would have been the best time to make their move.

But nothing happened. Guy #3 stands up, licks his lips, and just nods at me. Guy #2 says, "If you tell anybody about this, we'll find out and we'll come looking for you!"

"So I can suck y'all off again?" I asked.

They gave me a triple dose of the "this motherfucker is crazy" look, looked at each other, and just walked way into the darkness.