All K9: Feline By Design

I say arguably because not everyone sees me that way but enough over the years have. Consequently I am a homosexual. And in the closet. Point being is I am neither. But once it has been decided that it walks like a duck? "Quack-quack!!!" Know what I'm saying? Now, I don't mean to say I have lovely flowing 'rock' locks or especially lithe limbs like those of many effeminate males. Nor do I wear lace beneath my clothing. In fact, I'm built rather strappingly. I think it's the gentility of my bearing, the ever present saccharine smile, the lack of any sort of clue as to the meaning of the yellow penalty flag and so on and so forth and such. And, sure, I've been in fisticuffs only twice in my gradeschool life.  Sure, I speak... well... fairly proper English.  But lo and behold, it's the crotch scratchin, mono-syllable grunting, stats spouting scrappers who are the one's greedily cramming cream-filled crullers down their throats these days, isn't it.  So what's to be considered even typical of the man-loving man these days?  (Admittedley, I saw a video of myself once - best man at a friend's wedding. Whuboy, what a mary.  I mean I was about ready to burst into flames, I had no idea I came off that way - had no clue what anyone was carrying on about all that time - must have been about 25 by time of that video. No wonder people have got me pegged. All this time, here I thought I was just proper, having been reared in the UK. In fact, a [really hot] female friend of mine explained this conversation she had with her boyfriend along those lines: "He's not gay, he's just proper." Then again, I always thought Sir John Gielgud was a proper Brit. Turns out he was gay.)

Anyway, so there I am cruising through life in this sort of semi-celibate/semi-lecherous heterosexual semi-bliss – I mean it was always lock up your wives or daughters, never your husbands or sons. Don’t get me wrong, I practically live in celibacy: I'm not promiscuous - I like relationship sex best. I think I’ve only had two one night stands. I don’t even like promiscuous women – that is, I like fully sexual women, but have a preference for those who have a singular preference for me, let’s just say - although there is that persisting double-penetration fantasy [and how the two natures exist alike in one, I shall never know: another design flaw?].  Anyway, either I’m cast as this villain of the bedroom for cuckolding other men - ok, it was more than one wife but I swear it was only by coincidence. And I never initiated any of it. OK, maybe just that one. Well, sort of. And he was a total jag off - or I'm cast as a brother on the down low. And, I mean, why should I have suspected otherwise, all my dreams were even in technicol- er… I mean were heterosexual – usually about the same woman, but not always. But sources everywhere I turned just absolutely knew I was a closet... well... pipe fitter. (Hah! I never heard that one-ltms. I think I just made that up! I’m hereby claiming it.)

You know, thinking back on school years, I’d had two friends try feeling me up – I was so naïve. Course, one was during a foursome of sorts: just post high school – one woman, much older than we three guys and only one of us was laying the ol' pipe. Ya, so she leaves the room and some moments later I emerge through a sort of chemical haze alerted to a hand sliding up and down my... well... pipe. I do admit this induced fantasies for him for some time, but I've always attached them to my molestation as nothing of the sort occurred to me before.  (Promiscuity is so costly, isn't it?)  Same sort of thing happened in middle school. Felt up by a friend – turns out this was the norm and I was just in the dark – and then fixated on him. Beyond that - both initiated by touch – there was not even the slightest sexual inkling toward either of them. I mean, c’mon, guys aren’t even as hot as women, for real. Sugar and Spice and Snips and Snails and all that. I’ve tasted all the secretions of a woman - I've tasted even their sweat. If I ever even accidentally tasted a guys sweat, I'd bloody rolph.  Ich. We're just not the same.  And kiss a guy? Are you bloody mad? 

Nevertheless, I’d heard it so much I convinced myself – “Almost Though Persuadest Me” – that I was in the closet and in deep-rooted denial. And I was just getting hornier and hornier, now that I’d experienced really good sex with my ex. And this other female friend, when I was 37, told me guys would fall all over me if I ever went into a gay bar.

So I did. And they didn't.   Well... not visibly. But I did leave with the hottest guy in the place. Under the influence. Pretty face. He was built nice, but oh my gall, this one image - which I will most considerately and lovingly not share - will positively traumatize me for the rest of my natural life. Anyway, I fellated him. Not so big - it was user friendly and no fluids. And I was too big for'im - or just didn't know how to use it, I guess. Great body but really, there just wasn't that... well... arousal: it just didn’t do it for me. Plus guys are just crazy/stupid once we’ve gone to lust and this easy, careless, casual lifestyle of his just terrified me. And I almost gave him my... well... tail: but caught this evil look on his face right when he was about to savagely spear me. I mean the night was just fraught with danger.

So what was the deal?

Meanwhile, I’d thitherto - is that gay-like? - befriended a guy who had the total hots for me, let him take me and a then girlfriend to his hangout, seen that gay guys don’t all look... well... gay – like apparently I do. Wait a minute. What’s the deal? I also had a friend working in an adult book store where there’s a gay mag/gay vid section and on the covers are all these guys that look... well... totally straight. And I’m the one saddled with all this... this... 'pipe fitter' business? Hey, this is just like back when I eventually befriended this initially antagonistic guy from work who insisted we go to his hangout for a change so my other then girlfriend and I, plus another co-worker - she had the hots for him - go to his... well... gay spot and see all these buff-could-get-any-single-girl-they want... well... straightlookin'n'actin gay guys who haven’t the slightest hint of... well... gaydom to their aspect and me with the taste of all this carpet fiber in my mouth, yet still saddled with all this... 'pipe fittin' business. Well, just look at these guys.  I mean they're buffed?  They're butch?  They're freakin' gorgeous.  [Hey, I went to school with him.  So he's not just artistic?  He actually is...] They actually are... pipe fitters?  Well, say, that's... how come I get... Say, that’s practically license for me to just jump on in, join the party.  Well... isn't it?

But what’s the deal? How come I'm not into it?  I mean even secretly.  Sure, they’re pretty, some of'em, but they’re just not... well... mad hot. But hey, wait a minute, I’m feline by design. I must still be lyin'n denyin. I better dig a little deeper - deep set roots, remember?  Back in the closet. Try again.

Maybe three years pass since Mr. User Friendly. I’m now divorced and she just took my libido to a whole new level.  I'm single, enjoying neither marital nor monogamous bliss, still subject to the ol' pipe fitter’ assignations.  Sooo back in the closet I forage. This time? Reckless. Complete stranger. Again. Under the influence. Again.  Appalling looks but I'm bound to have a cruller today. Look, this one's even chocolate.  Might even try the cream. Ladies and gentleman, this not-so-very-comely fellow has the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen visible on a male creature-even plenty of females. He apparently was quite a looker in his day-just look at that photo: pick of the hottest chics, poor thing. So what happened? Somehow it all went sour-chemical romance, I bet. Anyway, I fellated him.  And, reckless state I was in, would have taken the cream but - angels and ministers of grace - he was just too cracked up to whip any up.  Either way, I was too big for'im.  Or just didn't know how to use it, I guess.  So now I'm two guys in: one white - Scottish (airline steward: sounds just like Ms. Doubtfire, no word of a lie) and overall cool except for that instance of trauma and flash of evil; the other black as in crackiswhack kin'o black - probably out lookin for his dealer when I met'im out there so early on my run pre-dawn run. By this time I’m affirmed: I need to go ahead and schedule that surgery if this manlove thing is ever going' do it for me-always knew it would take a lobotomy.

Nope. You just don’t wanna be gay. You’re still in the closet. Next? Back to that same gay bar where I'd gone with that firs gay friend - same summer as Mr. Cruller. Wait, that's... I am promiscuous and that's now - what, like - five one night stands? Oh, good governor.  Just what my brother always wanted.  I am a *****.  Just like him.  Meanwhile back at the bar.  Complete stranger. Under the influence. Average looks, small frame, smaller package, thank the good governor: gave'im my... well... tail and h]e was so small it  still feels all virginy. (Hey, I don’t even let my own fingers do the walkin and am just never going to see that proctologist, I don’t care how small his hands are.) But this guy? Wow. He starts, like, grooming me. I mean, like monkeys groom each other? OK, now I’m weirded out. What the flip is this guy doing – it’s not, like, cool. And it’s not, like, hot. OK, that’s it, I’m so done with this investigation.

Meanwhile, though, there daily emerges more and more of all these straight/bi guy stories on the web and some of them – certainly not all but some – are... well... mad hot.  The stories, I mean. OK, yar, honestly, every now and then – maybe once a year – one or two of the guys look fairly edible. I mean, if I weren’t going to get a lobotomy and I were going to eat… well... that? Well, yar, I could pick and choose: this one's way too hairy, this one's not worth the rosary, that one's just too chubby-for my tastes, this one... this one's... hmm...  ...  ...  Yup.  Ya, I'd do him.  I'd do that one. But when it all boils down to it, I think there’s nothing in my closet and I’m really just in denial about my heterosexuality. I mean, I think I’d like to try this jerk buddy thing. I can totally see that - release?  With another straight guy. Alright, maybe even a bi-guy – just some guy that identifies women as delicious is cool, I guess: I mean common frame of reference and all. Let me go to that kraig’s log site and put out an ad for a bud to jerk off with – none of my friends are hot enough. Hey, I got one. Hey, he wants to meet. Hey, he’s not that hot. I mean, ya, cool hair, great eyes but – I don’t know, somethin’ just says... lobotomize me. Alright, they’re never going to look smell or taste like women, so just go with it. Get some booze. OK. Good. Under the influence. But, ya-no, I’m not feelin this, I’m just gonna politely back out – oh, he’s rubbing my back, “Is this alright?” [No, it’s actually not, I was just trying to think of a way to leave cuz you’re just not what I had in mind as somebody I’d maybe like to 69 wi-ok, well, maybe just another glass. Yah, you got a nice place. Oh, sure, I listen to that station, too. I think he’s a big windba-woah, that’s a full glass–and I think most of his call-in audience is way smarter than he i-woah, how’d my pipe get in his mouth… No, I don’t need another-ok, sure, I’ll have another gla-woah, how'd my pipe get in his ashtra-what? Damn right, it's too big.  Should'a just stuck with the hands as planned.] Yah, but you know? Half a bottle does not a lobotomy make. I didn't fellate him. Nah: he just… didn’t scream “Eat me.” And I guess I was too big for him.  And I'm not even that big.  [Quit lying to yourself, that stipper had said.  No, she wasn't a one-nighter - we dated.]  Just didn't know how to use it, I guess. Why didn’t I just leave when he headed for more’n a jerk off – they never stick to the ad and always lie about who they are? Hey, never mind that: why did it take four guys to tell me what I already knew? And if I’m so altogether gay, how is it that to savor the flavor of a woman never seems like... well... work? Screw the stupid yellow flag!

IT’S THE TASTE OF HER SWEET NECTAR – THE VERY TASTE OF HER SWEET WINE 

I'LL WASTE NO MORE PRECIOUS DROPLETS - SORTING FAULTS WITH MY DESIGN

SoCravingHer SoCravingHer
41-45, M
1 Response Jul 22, 2010

wow SoCravingher... What an amazing foray into your life. Thanks for sharing that. So what are you feeling lately.. more straight than gay? Or stick to the bi idea til the right guy comes along? You are absolutely delicious with women. All that beautiful appreciation and description and the fact that it comes so easy to you. We girls lovvvve big pipefitters too.. my goodness.. It does seem like from what you wrote that it is harder to make the pipe fit with a guy. Caveat.. of course until the right guy comes along and it feels like magic. So i just loved your story and your free feeling about sharing it. I hope you do fall in love again. You're such an interesting person, the way you express yourself. Take care SCH :) great writing and sharing. xox phat