But did you know?

I tried so hard to be what I was taught to be, good. I'm a man. I married a woman at 21. We divorced 8 years later. I can’t count the times I’ve been asked, “when did you know you were gay?” or “Did you know you were gay before you got married?” The answer was the same for 30 years, NO, I didn't know.

That answer served me well for a long time. I didn’t have to feel guilt for pulling anyone into a situation they weren’t prepared for. I protected myself and my ex-wife. I didn’t question any other option and I didn’t want to. 

Having sex with guys means your gay or does it? Don't people experiment all the time? Then they marry, have kids and live a “normal” life. What was true, I was having small encounters with guys from the age of seventeen. I married my wife at 21. We got together when I was 18. How could I? Why would I allow things to continue with men? I didn’t fool around with the kid next door, cousins, siblings. I was good. I didn’t fool around with anyone, male or female through high school, minus a few hugs and kisses with girls on awkward dates. By college I found a dirty movie theatre. As I watched the straight movies, I watched other guys jerk off. Some cared that I looked, other didn’t. Soon this escalated to sitting close to others and jerking off, then next to them and jerking. Excitedly shooting loads over the top of the theater seats, then touching, jerking each other and eye contact with handsome random men, many with wedding bands on their finger. We intimately shared a secret. Although It still feels good today, the dribble of cum, the excitement that causes a man to explode ten feet into the air was thrilling.

It took me years to face reality and look back. At 6 years old, he was alone in a new world of woods, streams and new houses being built. He was a curious kid. He would disappear to a new neighbor’s house and ask for cookies or treats. His mother fed him well and tried to explain how it wasn't smart to disappear or talk to strangers or ask for food but that didn't stop him. He was curious, creative, and thin. He could eat all day and look underfed. 

One day rumors that a boy his age moved into one of the newly completed houses. His mother brought him by and rang the bell. An unkept sandy blonde-haired, blue-eyed Irish kid came to the door. The skinny Italian and the Irish boy looked at each other, love at first sight. The Irish kid said. “You're my new best friend, oh I'm Ronnie. Let me show you my toy soldiers. What’s your name?” the Italian boy replied and the loveFest began. In love like any other love at age 6.

As the encounters in the theater’s or movie houses stopped for months due to guilt, they would eventually escalate when I went back. Eventually my marriage ended and I was sucking cock on my knees in the dirty theatre. Drunk, I would let many men at the same time touch me and if their cocks were big enough I would suck them. At first I said don't cum in my mouth. Later I'd spit the fuck juice out. Eventually I’d swallow load after load of their hot cum while guys shoved poopers under my nose and fought for my mouth. I truly loved it. I loved it for hours, several days a week without guilt or recourse. Many of the men were married and just wanted a good blowjob. Sometimes I could taste or smell their wives pussy on their big dicks. Guys I didn't want to suck were useful. They could touch me, rub me and play with my nipples. Many guys wanted or tried to fuck me. That didn't happen. Not yet. I would allow hot guys to ride my jean covered ass like teenagers rubbing together. I loved aggressive guys that grabbed my hips and pounded my ass. They would try to get to my hole but I was not letting that happen.

To this day I remember a handful of guys I saw regularly. Of course they were huge, cocky and good, but so was I. I had no guilt then nor do I now. In a way I was using them for what I wanted. I miss those days with a stranger. The power I had as I skillfully brought a guy to the edge, over and over and had them begging me to let them cum. Then the minute I allow it. The realization that gave them, the excitement right before. The control I had as I forced their cock deep down my throat. Their cum shot out and into me. The excitement with those strangers can’t be duplicated.

I was living in-between two or three worlds, closeted gay at work, everyone thought I was straight. I was a dirty cocksucker in the dark, on my knees, mostly anonymous. I was also starting to meet gay friends and I was going on dates. That was complicated because I was so sexually satisfied at the theatre. I'd date and find a nice guy, small dick, small personality, uninteresting and I’d dump them, one after another. 

Again, “did you know you were gay before you married her?” I quickly answered no and told myself it was true but I remember that 6-year-old Italian kid, me. Ronnie was my world from 6 years old to 15 years old. We never had sex. We slept in the same bed. I was jealous of new friends. I'd stalk his house on Saturdays until he woke up. We hugged as little kids often and eventually separated as we grew older because I was just too much. I had to move on and it was painful for me then but I had to. Ronnie was straight. I wasn't. I was in love. If Ronnie felt the same, We’d probably be together today, 50 years later. How do I know that? I still think of him. Recently we spoke on Facebook after year's of separation. He said, “love you brother.” and I melted. I do love him from afar, my first love. 

The two significant relationships with men I’ve had were with Ronnie types. My husband of 26 years is a sandy-haired blue-eyed man with a beautiful heart and tendervdisposition. He's also a hammer in bed. I wouldn't give him up for anyone or anything, not Ronnie, anyone.

Eventually I let the first blonde, blue-eyed boyfriend that was more exciting than the theatre guys fuck me. I met him in a traditional way. He was a pig. I liked pigs. I learned how to take cock in my ass, prepare and be good at it. He was proud to be me first and wouldn't let anyone near me as he fucked around constant. 

 In a months time, he was plowing me every night and I couldn't get enough of his cock in me. He used me. He cheated and then he'd fuck the crap out of me and I’d foolishly forgive him. Eventually, I realized I a new toy, my ass and I used it. I kept out of the dirty theatre, On most days. I wasn't perfect and I had this great new talent to share. I never got fucked in the theater but occasionally I took a guy home and let him fuck me there. The boyfriend was even less perfect, he cheated all the time.

I remember one man I blew several times. He had the fattest cock I’ve seen, even to the day. I took him home and bent over as the second man to ever fuck me slid in. I loved feeling full and nasty. I let him pound me hard and long in the bed I shared with me man. I remember him grunting and moaning as he shot his load inside my ass. I carelessly wiped off after he left. I let my boyfriend fuck me hours later. As he slid around in the strangers juices I felt like I got him back for hurting me so many times. I’m sure he knew but he wouldn’t allow himself to believe I could be so vindictive. I was young, not proud but it was hot.

Did I know I was gay when I got married? Honestly, today I can say I knew at 6 years old. Ive already posted many adventures. They are mostly inspired by my relationship with the ex and my long-term love, the good guy, bigger cock with the golden heart. He will always be the love of my life.