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The rules of attraction were meant to be broken, writes Barry Lowe.
We all know there’s no such thing as bisexuality. It’s just straight guys who haven’t made a full commitment to the joys of buddy sex. Alternatively, it’s gay boys who haven’t overcome their fear of pussy.
Yep, these attitudes are still rampant out in the wider community and while I don’t subscribe to these primitive constructs about bisexuals, hell, I still wouldn’t want to marry one! As they sing in the stage musical Avenue Q, “Everyone’s a little bi-phobic!”
My main experience with bisexuals was in my youth when I would blow straight studs in a public toilet on South Dowling Street on their way home from their girlfriends who’d left them with blue balls.
I tumbled in and out of bed with anyone with a dick and that included the occasional titted tranny with a swinging appendage. I flopped into relationships with the regularity of bowel movements. Some of my lovers left me for other men, some for women and, I hate to admit, some left me for a life of abstinence.
One of my first major love affairs was with a bisexual man. I met him in the change sheds at a harbourside beach the week before his wedding. He was the tenderest of lovers, the nicest of men, and hot sex. Perhaps he was attempting to exorcise his male-to-male desire. Ultimately he made a choice, not in his sexual interests but on the kind of life he wished to lead.
He wanted children, a stable home life (we were told back then that this was not possible in gay male relationships – it was the 1960s, after all) and he wanted what he perceived he could only attain through ‘passing’.
He would ring me from time to time for a quick romp, during which he filled me in on his life as a proud dad, a member of the local Lions Club, his progress in public speaking, etc. It bored me as much as it obviously pleased him. And in return I bored him with the ins and outs of open gay life before boring him rigid.
His visits became less frequent as he discovered other married men with his predilection and he identified more with that subculture than with my flagrant disregard for the niceties of heterosexual marriage.
During our on again/off again bed-hopping I watched with him a pile of bisexual porn, which I found hot enough to excite but not enough to experiment in the manner he often suggested. It was only the men and their dicks that excited me.
I did read, at his suggestion, bi porn stories but quickly turned the pages of man/woman sex to get to the ‘real’ stuff. ‘Real stuff’ for me was, and is, dick/dick or multiple variations thereof. This is not a personal choice – I was born a dick man and will die a dick man. It’s my birthright.
But that said, I recently received Handjobs magazine’s Bi Adventures VI with illustrations by one of my favourite erotic artists, Josman.
If you’re into daddy sex with a bisexual slant these stories are hot! hot! hot! One hundred and thirty pages of mainly gay slanted bi stories with graphic illustrations and titles like: Daddy Does Dallas; The Three of Us; Jeff Makes a Sandwich; Adam, Cindy and Me; and Leif the Teaser. The longest, and best, story is The Natcheral, about two trailer-trash boys and their dad and his girlfriend vs. the trailer-park nerd.
Volume 6 is not yet on their website but try the previous issue at http://www.hjmag.com/BiAdventures5.
[Anyone who wants to discuss the political/sexual ramifications of bisexuality/polysexuality (sex with parrots) contact
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