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Joey, I'll admit up front, is a mess, and everyone around knows it. But he's a HOT mess and, since he isn't gay, it's not like I was ever in danger of sleeping with him and finding my body making a commitment my heart wanted to keep and, against all better judgment, allowing myself to fall into fantasizing that I'd be the one to show him he really did want to be with a man - this particular man - and that he should move not only into my colon, but into my heart permanently, which I would then start trying to remind him of on such a painfully constant basis that he would eventually have to change his cell and home phone numbers in an effort to end the onslaught of text and voicemail messages begging him to open his eyes and take the chance and realize who he really is and that, deep down, he knows (Oh God he has to know!) we belong together forever, and that I bought matching plush animals and named them JoJo and CC, and that they were symbols of us and our love, and couldn't he just understand that I knew what was best for him, and, God DAMN it, stop screening my fucking calls, you fucking pussy-eating asshole!

Anyway, Joey isn't gay, so it was easy as hell to fuck around with his head and eventually his body. We met at a bar we both frequented in my neighborhood. A straight bar. He offered me a hit of coke out of the blue, and I snapped "put that shit away, asshole," and walked away. A few days later, cruising the park to find validation for a questionable new haircut I'd just gotten, I bumped into him while he was out clearing his head, pissed off from having just had a fight with his girlfriend.

Italian men like me have only two options when we get mad at something: kill it or fuck it. His girlfriend wasn't there to provide either source of relief, so I took him off the hiking trail and blew him behind a bush. That was the first of many encounters which usually took place at my place in the middle of the night after he'd gotten juiced up at the bar and, with enough drugs in his system, couldn't get up an adequate hard on to fuck whatever chick he was preying on. So still being horny, he'd show up at my door because, knowing how much I love to give head, I would eventually be able to work him up to an admirable stiffy and make him cum. But it was always as a product of being horned up for some chick, or pissed off at some girlfriend that brought him to me. Never because he was actually horny for me. Yes, I say that with a bit of a wry smirk, because I'm not that stupid. But I enjoyed servicing him, so I played along.

Eventually Joey got more and more curious about my body and my needs, and the day he actually got bold enough while staring at my cock, really closely, to actually touch it and then to take just the head into his mouth, was the last time I ever saw him.

Blowjob Good. If you're the straight guy receiving it.

Victor was much more comfortable with playing around, and he too had a girlfriend - one whom I'd met. But Vic was both European and artistic, so he knew he SHOULD have been gay, but just wasn't. Or wasn't ready to make that a social statement. But we'd hang out, we'd party, we'd mingle, and talk and share ideas. And one day, after seeing me come home to the apartment he shared with my best friend at the time after a nice but uneventful date I'd been on, he just got all warm and fuzzy on me and said simply, with a generous and truly affectionate hug, "you make me wish I was gay."

About two weeks later and several times thereafter, I gave him the chance to be gay in hour-long spurts. Again, these were always the same sort of scenarios you'd see with the hot "gay for pay" porn actors who are straight but will do all the non-committal topping duties in a gay flick like fucking and being sucked off. But also again, the point is that there was something essential - something he could ask for, reach for maybe, but which was still almost entirely alien to him - missing from the way he'd interacted with a man up to that point. And with an apparent comfort in his own orientation and a perceived agreement in the social contract of modern sexuality that assured him it was well within his rights as a straight man to explore this form of interaction, he did just that.

And while some gay men would very easily turn to ridicule and call out these guys as being anything but solidly heterosexual in orientation, I find neither the desire nor honestly the ability to do any such thing. I know that whatever fantasies I may harbor about converting the straight masses and quadrupling my sexual partnering prospects are just that: fantasies. Much like the fantasies, or in some cases even just notions, that may now lead my straight brothers to dip their usually lady-loving toes into my man-for-man pool.

Sometimes, you just want a carnivore to grill your steak, instead of the vegetarian chef who's been heating your meat all these years. Facts are facts, and a meat-eater knows how to do things to a piece of Grade-A Prime that a vegan couldn't even wrap her head around. Tiring myself and no doubt my readers with this stupid beef metaphor, I'll now just state it clearly that I suck cock, and I HAVE a cock, and that gives me a major advantage over a cocksucker who can never empathize your side of the action, as talented and as pleasing as she may nonetheless be.

But back to our kitchen similes: As long as your dish is being served up hot (and as long as you are polite to your server and tip generously in the form of excitement and gratitude for his or her efforts), a blowjob - like a good meal - should be satisfying. And unquestionably, it should be savored.

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Cas Salient, I bestow on you this week's "Get's the Point" award -- and the cocktail or hot beverage of your choice when we're lucky enough to bump into one another. "Straight men don't have as many ways to participate in the atmosphere of free sexual exploration that others enjoy -- nor are they encouraged to explore." Truer words are rarely spoken. And just think how many wars might have been avoided throughout history if all that pent up hostility had been allowed to vent properly.
salientgreen "And while some gay men would very easily turn to ridicule and call out these guys as being anything but solidly heterosexual in orientation, I find neither the desire nor honestly the ability to do any such thing." This has been my experience as well. Arousal is more complex than people make it out to be. I've definitely been with guys who were seriously straight who accepted the idea of receiving (or even giving) head as simply something their body was capable of doing on occasion. Straight men don't have as many ways to participate in the atmosphere of free sexual exploration that others enjoy -- nor are they encouraged to explore. Those adventurous types who are interested in putting tab A into slots C-Z (or maybe even serving as a slots themselves)deserve the chance to broaden their perspective without re-routing their entire identity. That goes just the same for gay guys like me who've been known to go down on a lady or two.

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