First Article Published - Male Bisexuality

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Deep Throat Fucking

Was at a birthday play party a few weeks ago for my boyfriend. He had party games, as one does. And one was a deep-throating contest. What would you do at a kinky birthday party?

We started with a police night-stick. I do not recommend this as it is rather wide and not easy to get down. So it was really a competition of who had the deepest mouth. Not very satisfying. I clocked in at just 4 inches. Yes, I know, it's not the size that counts, but still, I knew I could do better.

Eventually someone got out a jelly double-ended dildo and things really heated up. I was going to demand a second chance, but the winner clocked in at 9.5 inches so I didn't bother.

Later, however, several of us were still wondering and I saw a hot girl in the main play area laying on her back and really jamming it down her throat. When she finished she went and washed it off. I grabbed a fresh condom and, when she returned, said I wanted another go as well.

I pushed it down my throat with her watching close by. I hadn't deep-throated in a while, so it didn't go very far. The girl smiled and then reached out and jammed it down further. "Come on," she said, "you can do better." I leaned back and took even more, feeling it push the back of my mouth open and enter my throat.

Now, I'm a perverted kitty and I really get off on the gag reflex. As in, it feels almost like an orgasm when it gets going. So I started gagging and drooling and begging for more.

My friend smiled and obliged. She jammed it down even more. We didn't measure, but I took almost the whole thing, feeling it sliding deep into my throat.

I had to time my breathing, taking extra deep breaths in rhythm to the fucking she was giving me. She kept jamming it down, causing my whole body to start shaking as my throat gagged and drool dripped from my lips.

Finally she pulled it from my throat and allowed me to catch my breath. She reached out and rubbed the spit and drool all over my face, calling me a dirty bitch. All I could do was agree, and beg for more. "Oh, you want more?" she asked. "Yes, yes," I gasped, still out of breath.

Back down the dildo went, deep into my throat. Several people were watching; several people had to turn away.

I gagged as she called me dirty, filthy names. A friend twittered about it.

I was trembling all over, my whole body on the edge of an orgasm. Or maybe I had gone over. Maybe I was having orgasm after orgasm as she jammed it in and out of my throat. All I could do was beg for more. I really didn't know what would cause me to stop. I didn't know if I could stop.

There comes a time when you're bottoming when you wonder if you can take any more. Will one more thrust be too much? Will I be able to keep going? But at the same time you know you can't possibly stop.

With all the gagging I even threw up a little, in the back of my throat, and swallowed it back down. As disgusting as that was, I wanted more. I wanted to throw up for her. She pulled out the dildo and I told her, "I want to throw up for you."

She smiled even more and called me dirty and sick.

"You want to throw up for me?" she asked.

"Yes," I panted.

"Really? You really do?"

"God yes."

She dropped the dildo and pushed her hand into my mouth, telling me she'd make me vomit.

"Do it, do it, throw up for me," her fingers pushing deep into the back of my mouth, down into my throat, my mouth open for her.

I had to grab her to stay standing. I was shaking and drooling and gagging. I thought I might faint.

Finally I couldn't take any more and we had to stop. She just smiled.

We went to clean up; my face covered in my drool. I washed my face, seeing a bit of blood in my saliva. Well, I guess that was to be expected.

We talked about what a hot scene it had been and then parted. I went and found my Mistress and Miss. They were sitting on a couch and I fell between them and just laid there, floating. I'm so lucky to have them. They'd watched the whole thing and were more than happy to snuggle me now that it was over, and I had cleaned up.

I had so much adrenaline and other drugs floating through me (all released by my brain; nothing artificial) that I was still shaking all over. When we finally got home I could barely sleep. I don't think I came down for about 24 hours.

And now I want more . . .

Why I Don't Like Non-Fetish Parties

This kitty loves to go to parties, but I'm finding that, more and more, I prefer attending fetish parties. It's not that I need to be a full-on pervert all the time (though I do enjoy that), it's just hard to be myself at a non-fetish (vanilla) party.

First off, I'm genderqueer and identify more on the female end of the gender spectrum (if there is such a thing, which I don't always believe). When I go to a fetish party I can dress up in a way that better expresses my true gender. I can wear cute skirts or a naughty or flirty dress. At a vanilla party I have to dress as a boy.

Of course I could wear girl clothes to vanilla parties. Many transsexual, transgender, and genderqueer people do that. I really admire them. I think they have a fierceness and determination that I really respect and admire, and that I lack. I mean, they still kill trans people, don't they. I've experienced enough violence so I probably err on the safe side to avoid it.

But I'm not always comfortable being a boy. Being a boy at a party brings certain expectations. You're supposed to make the first move, and behave in certain ways. And people make certain assumptions about who you are. It's harder to overcome all of that and push out who I really am when I'm dressed as a boy. It is possible, it just takes a lot more effort. I'm usually able to achieve it with people I know, like coworkers. But it's much harder with strangers in a five minute conversation.

I was at a vanilla party around Christmas that included some people I didn't know. Talking with them and interacting I felt like a bit of a phony. Like I was presenting a false view of who I am. One of my partners even commented to some of them, saying something about how they had no idea what I was really like at a fetish party. All I could do was blush and say that I'm a bit different there.

In addition, I know I'm still self-conscious about being polyamorous. I'm much more out about being genderqueer and pansexual than I am about being poly. I'm sure it's partly that my family is the least accepting of my being poly.

All parties are about flirting. But trying to explain poly at a vanilla party can be a bit difficult. Especially being the perceived male in a FFM triad, many people look at it like I "have" two women and am casting about to increase my harem. Really I just like connecting with people on an emotional and physical level. And then making out with them.

And my partners enjoy playing with others too. We all operate under the same rules.

So I feel awkward flirting at a vanilla party. I feel a bit like a creepy guy.

Most of the people at fetish parties get poly. Or they know people in similar situations. At most vanilla parties it's pretty rare to run into other poly people. So we are met either with fascination, like we are an oddity, or derision. And I'm not always sure which it is.

So, while the BDSM scene is certainly not paradise, I find it much more open and accepting than the vanilla world. A place where I can express who I really am and how I prefer to love.

Trying to do that at a vanilla party is just too difficult most of the time. And I end up hiding by the dessert table eating pie.