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Brothers and sisters screwing each other was... just the way it was. Had zero effect on friendships. With the one white family I was friends with, I could go to their house and could have sex with all the brothers and their one sister who was very well versed in handling dick but, with four brothers, that just made sense and more so when they all shared the same room. We'd play games and stuff but all it took for one of them to say, "Hey, let's do it!" and we'd all be naked and going for what we knew.

I think their parents knew what they were doing with each other but never said anything or tried to make them stop; they all told me this and I had no reason not to believe them. I had the best friends in the world and while I made friends outside of our neighborhood - and had sex with them - there was really no place like home. My bisexuality was on full blast and display and, as you know, I was out of my mind about it. Anyone, anywhere. Sucking dick, being fucked, eating pussy like it was illegal - really, who the heck knew that could be so much fun, too?

While some friends moved away, more new friends moved in and if it was a boy, one of the first things he'd ask me was, "Have you ever done it with another boy?" You bet have I! Did I want to do it to him? You bet I do! What do you want to do? And whatever it was, we'd do it and it made us better friends although the new friends had to learn not to get mad because they weren't the only one's I was having sex with.

Later in life, I'm telling a guy about this (and before we're about to blow each other) and he says, "Man, did you have a cool childhood or what? I wish I could've been around then!" I laughed and told him that had he been one of us, we would have turned in out in short order. Still, I look back at these friends and wonder if our ease of having sex was because of our overall friendship with each other or... just how it can be with a bunch of kids who spent a lot of time with each other. I never figured it out and by this point in my life, it didn't matter.

I still had the best friends in the world. We weren't selfish but we did have our favorites. I was the first of us to cum and my male friends were both excited and quite jealous. Those who didn't believe that I could shoot found out when they sucked me and I shot in their mouth and now I had to shoot in their butt, you know, so they could find out what it felt like and provided they didn't know already since a lot of them had older brothers.

I'd understand why they say that friends can't have sex with each other and simply because we didn't always get along with each other, like, if we were friends and we're having sex but you made me mad, well, no sex. The same if I made you mad. We might not even speak to each other and depending on the offense which, from an adult point of view, were usually pretty petty. But once my family moved out, the whole dynamic changed for me and it sucked!

All the talk about sex with friends brings up so many memories of so many friends. In the younger days, we started out with one guy who was gay but, later, another gay kid had heard about us - he lived one block past the "barrier" we couldn't cross. I never knew who told him but I know I spent a lot of time getting sucked off by him and/or fucking him. He wasn't as "girly" as our original guy but he was close. Very "swishy" and "limp-wristed" but just as eager to please. I meet him for the first time and he says, "We ain't gonna do it until we're friends!" so we became friends... of a sort. We didn't really have much in common but I could shoot jizz and like our original guy, he made me look like I hate it.

Having sex with him was like getting beaten up. He was energetic and, I dunno, I guess he wanted me - us - to know that, yeah, he's a sissy but he's still a guy because he liked to rassle before sex. He was also one of the few guys I didn't mind kissing and, yes, with lots of tongue. He didn't hang around long, though - he took up with a bunch of teenagers from his side of the barrier and we didn't see much of him (except in school).

We had no concept of top or bottom; with the exception of our original gay dude, we all topped and bottomed - he loved to be fucked and his butt was so nice to fuck that we never thought about making him do it to us. You suck my dick, I suck yours; you fuck and cream me, I fuck and cream you. Simple, right? Our core friends included girls, too, and they were just as bisexual as us guys were. They sucked dick, swallowed cum, and liked to be fucked in their pussy and ass and when I learned about eating pussy, yeah. That.

Jealousies would crop up at times like, "You like him/her more than you like me!" and other such stuff; sometimes we fought like rabid dogs, only to kiss and make up in the one and only way we knew how to.

He's handling me like he's got sense in his head. His fat dick spreads my hole open nice and wide and he goes in easy; his original idea would have made this very painful for me or anyone else. He's in me and... not doing a bad job of fucking me. Grunting, groaning, his dick swells and he's pumping his cum into me; I'm thinking that he's surprised that he came as fast as he did but this isn't the first time I've been fucked and I've... learned some tricks with my muscles.

He withdraws and he's not happy with me because I ruined his whole MO. He wanted to dominate me, to impose his will upon me and not "fight back" against the imposition. I tell him that I know what he had in mind and... it offended me. I laugh when he said that I was too rough with him; his shoulder and collarbone are aching and I just shrug and say, "You thought you knew all there was to know about control... but never believed that you could be controlled. I had to control you so I could do to you what you were trying to do to me: Make me a victim and your bitch... and how does it feel?"

His look alone told me that he didn't like it. He was the taker and never the taken; yet, this night, he got taken. I get off his bed and go find my clothes and he wants to know where I'm going and I say that I'm going home. He asks why I'm leaving and I ask why he wants to know and he says, "So, um, so we can go like that again. You're a tough little motherfucker!"

I decline to stay. I head home with his cum in my belly and leaking out of my ass. They call this "the walk of shame" but in my heart, the same would have been being the bitch he thought he could make me because he saw "little old me" and saw victim. Someone he could manhandle and dominate because that's what he's used to. Not tonight, homeboy, but the dick was nice and good.

The next night, I'm back in the bar and there's a lady who keeps locking her eyes on mine and I think I have a chance with her. I hear loud laughter coming from a corner and glance that way and, what do you know: There's the guy from last night and, I guessed, with his boys. He sees me and waves; I salute him with my drink. The guy next to him looks to see who he's waving at, sees me, and I saw the moment he thought that he could take and use me. The guy starts to head in my direction and... I don't play this macho bullshit and already decided to say no but the guy from last night stops him, says something to him, and the guy... sits down. Later, that lady and I have agreed to hit a motel for some sex but I gotta pee. I'm taking care of this and the guy from last night comes in and he speaks and I do. But I ask him about his boy and what he said.

"I told him that he didn't want any of you because you fight dirty," he said with a laugh. I laugh. Take my leave of him, meet the lady outside and we spend the night having sex.

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.