I’m having sex like a heterosexual...

I suppose from the outside that makes sense, since I’m heterosexually married, but my wife and I are bisexual. And for the most part, we won’t shut up about it. To answer the follow-up question, we are polyamorous, and yes, some bisexuals are capable of monogamy.

We just don’t consider ourselves in that category.

What I mean to say with some amount of pride is that since my wife caught the coronavirus, we have made due better than most monogamous heterosexuals we know. 

For the foreseeable future, sex is only between the two of us. And with how severely sick she’s been, it’s short and just a few times a week when she wants it. 

Like heterosexuals in a sitcom.

Maybe our sample size is skewed, it helps that we’re young, dumb and full of the need to cum, but it is not the best sex of our lives. Then again, we both don’t understand how other people even get up in the morning without weekly sex party plans

Ironically, even before our home became a hotbed, we were frustrated. It’s embarrassing to admit, but being active members in the BDSM/kink/swinging scene, we had grown soft, spoiled, entitled… 

Accustomed to a certain standard of boning.

What a luxury we often take for granted, because it’s still very hot, pleasing my wife as she lays half naked on the couch most days. 

That’s the big trip of the day, from bed to couch for about two weeks. 

Along with one brief visit to the hospital.

Sometimes I’ll move aside her robe or the blankets. I’ll see that she’s a little wound up, a little wigged out, and I will kiss her forehead, then maybe her breasts, then lower. 

Most times, I don’t even come. 

Not because we are doing some chastity thing, my cage is currently resting in the closet, I just can’t bring myself to bother her. Her climaxes are more medicinal at the moment, almost like a sedative. It certainly relaxes a few muscles…

I’m attempting to be sneaky with my submission. There is sex, almost as sprinkles disguising a long-winded and sanctimonious speech that falls just barely within the conception of the category. It’s a fair warning, but it’s also a vain attempt to set the expectations so low to the ground that maybe I get a leg up and exceed at least a few expectations.

But this is the conversation in the Clementine household, when coherent.

We want to extend pride to the people we may not be inclined to include.

Because the joke about heterosexuals remains poignant for a reason. There are so many people, particularly men who write me with confessions they could never tell their wives, scared of revealing their true sexual urges.

And why should they be so ashamed?

I can’t imagine secreting something like my peculiar attraction to Lola Bunny, one of my two furry exceptions with artwork that makes me excited enough to hump my cock into my wife’s hand and cum quickly. 

It’s not just rule 34 iconoclasts, every fantasy and idea about sex I share, eagerly, excitedly, even if some she says are not for her. 

Here’s why I think sexual orientation plays a big role in this. See, I have been fucked up the ass over a couch by my pot dealer. It’s how I lost my virginity. 

Admit that to a significant other, and how bad can a tentacle fetish be?

I am rarely autobiographical. I am sorry to share my life so openly without decency to dress things up with the filter of other characters and pseudonyms. So a little more smut to start, then a little at the end, though it’s only fair to warn you it won’t be worth the wait…

I still remember skinny dipping with one of my best friends right after high school, joining me because I didn’t have a suit. The fear and excitement at being out in the open at his apartment pool, wondering what his dick looked like under the water because I’d only had the chance to see him from behind, trying to stare.

Without drawing attention to the fact I was pretty gay.

He instigated it, asking If he could suck me, and I had been thinking the same thing all night. But like so many curious heterosexual friends, I think he treated me like a needy object to be used in a drunken experiment and then discarded.

Most of my early experiences with the same-sex involved so much shame. My first thoughts on discovering my bisexuality was the feeling that I had essentially won the sexual lottery. I remember almost beaming about it to one of my girlfriends, and her being excited and already picking out a man for me to suck in front of her at the next party.  

Thank you for hearing about teenage Sam.

But there were plenty of other people with more vocal and visceral opinions. I think identifying as gay for a few years became almost an act of peer pressure, not wanting to admit that I’d never really been able to make much of any opportunity.

I met my wife on a Craigslist post looking for someone to go out to the gay bar with…

Because none of my friends would come.

That’s not to knock them, though some of them certainly deserve a slap atop the head. If anything, actually I want to extend pity for people who have segmented off parts of their personality, suppressed their sex drive, or squeezed their own genitals into knots in order to please God by not pleasing themselves with a partner.

It’s about those so clearly lacking pride, people who now need it more than us.

But what about… You say, and so do I.

No, no matter what John Roberts says, a bill doesn’t automatically make us equal, but neither does a day, a month, a festival, nor a parade. 

Equal would be a world in which someone might be just as proud of their panty wearing kink as we are of the things we do with our same-sex and transgendered partners, because to admit and accept either requires adopting both a little humility and a lot of humanity.

Again, not that partners and sex acts are the same things, but was I the only one who heard the hushed tones of quiet desperation from heterosexuals reading 50 Shades of Gray? 

And again, I’m stereotyping, but I never have had sex with a man who would’ve curled up into a ball and cried at the idea of me watching pornography, wearing panties, or even having sex with a woman.

Heterosexuals do not seem to have the same amount of pride in their sex lives.

To be fair, they do not risk as much. Because saying that the LGBT movement is not about sex is kind of like saying the Civil War was not about slavery. 

Sure, there are exceptions, but most people want to have sex with their romantic partners, it’s largely the difference between them and the other people in their lives.

So maybe PRIDE could be a celebration of all sex, because as queer folk, my wife and I would ask how heterosexual it is when I talk about her pounding into another girl or me with a strap or. Or when I took it up the ass by a big black cock while fucking her.

I almost instantly came. 

These are the integral things getting us through the moments when we have sex, allowing us to make do with maintenance sex we might otherwise consider mundane.

Fuck me slowly and gently, until what, we fall asleep?

We are more the whips and chains, fists and flogger, the pet play, the public sex and orgy sort.

And if for a second, you think I am boastful or become jealous, think about the way society treats people who act publicly on these urges and actually do these things.

Can we change that? 

And who can we extend PRIDE to include, so that they fight along with us?

What about the straight guy who fantasizes about being tricked into having his cock sucked, or the one who wears his wife’s panties now and then? 

The girl who wants to make out with a friend now and then, but never any further? 

What about those dirty stories that we don’t share, and those forbidden fantasies or pictures that we put on secret files or search for only with incognito mode? 

Can’t we find some pride there?

It means making ourselves vulnerable, and waiting to see how really alone and fucked up everyone will find us if only they knew the truth…

My wife and I are very open and honest about our lifestyle, walking the line between out and oversharing, because our desires deserve that pride. Still, we’ve had to be careful, since back before last month, our careers were threatened by being out in our personal lives. 

Real cancel culture.

So even now, I’m used to a certain openness about my sex life with my friends, those I consider close enough to label as family, and understand there is both an inquisitiveness and an insensitivity that often spills out into their language and questions. I would explain things, because I had to explain things. 

In all fairness, like a hetreoflexible girl, I did switch between bisexual and homosexual for several years, partly because twenty-year-old bisexual virgin sounded so much worse than gay guy who has never done it with a woman, but does sometimes wonder about it.

But hey, I did listen to my pastor and save myself for the woman I married.

Butt stuff doesn’t count, right?

Try going back into the closet. 

Eventually you just give up and call it an open door.

And I think that’s for the best. Because I found myself needing to think about what I wanted, and how I could possibly have the experiences my wife and I fantasized about, so that from time to time, our fantasies become more than dirty talk from in between her legs. 

Sex makes us happy.

So why do we all feel the need to treat each segment of our sexual identity as something that needs to be examined and studied to make sure that we are sane?

I’m totally fucked up and weird.

Not just because of my writing... 

And the only reason I do not feel that way all the time, wanting to disappear as I torture myself with every dumb cruel and callous thing I have ever thought, said, or done in my life is because there’s that special someone out there who needs me.

Who I have these happy sexual memories with...

The blankets need to go on, then off, then again. The soup will not cook itself, even if some days I have to let her chop the onions.

Because at the end of the day, when I finish pushing the rock up the hill and watch it fall back down only so that I can start all over again the next day it doesn’t matter that the hill is steep, that the rock is heavy, that I feel so tired…

That my hands hurt too much to write like I want…

There is someone by my side, finding a little time to work on my hill before it becomes a mountain…

There is no pain like the kind that is self-inflicted, no disease like loneliness, and I say this not to disparage the single, but to ennoble us all to realize that our entire being cannot exist only in one person. 

And that is a plea for you to find someone else, then another, and extend the community.

Until we trample the mountains.

I know, easy to say as a bisexual polyamorous collection of alphabet soup letters, but from what I gather, it seems the reason that so many of you are here instead of elsewhere, carving from the ether a kind of community.

Sadly, one in the shadows.

I’m sure there are exceptions, only I am not one of them. I hide behind a pseudonym for fear of what would happen to my movie career, and others for more meaningful reasons. 

Some for their marriage, others for their literal safety. 

And for every reason, I cannot help but think why?

This and other erotic outlets have kept couples like us sane and happy, but it’s still so taboo to admit everyone has sex, everyone has a weird fetish, everyone has taken a nude pic.  

What twists some men with power and privilege to support laws that ban dildos while watching threesome porn in the middle of an airport?

Let me quote the Almighty.

“Oh shame, I don’t know why I thought we needed shame. One of my mistakes.”

It’s John Denver’s God, perhaps the best one if you have seen the film.

Or if you have really read the Bible…

We have the separation between what we do online and ourselves, even as the barrier is slowly broken down with every tweet and viral video. And sex remains that last unspoken barrier, something that could unite us all in its awkward and awesome moments. 

It’s why I think the heterosexuals deserve a bigger place in the parade. 

Not just because of the high minded idea that in one bright future there will be no need for black history, women’s history, or LGBT history, because all of those things will simply be known as history. 

Because we all make our way through life and sex with so many of the same fears and prejudices. Because the man who fears posting a picture of himself in women’s panties has also been robbed of something that should be really special and celebrated.

For too long heterosexuals haven’t celebrated sexuality.

The LGBT already include the asexual’s, why not the heterosexuals, and if them, why don’t we simply sell sex like a corporation, including everyone until equality is achieved through a universal pursuit of happiness?

I say that because think about the last time you were really laid, completely satisfied sexually. Did the next hour, the next day, or even the next week you treat the people around you a little bit better? Now think about your dry spells, were you then a bundle of joy?

Neither of us are getting that same release, and while we make due remembering the orgies of yesteryear, it’s hard, we hurt, but we had it.

Better to have loved and lost…

To actually pursue happiness.

Maybe heterosexuals just do not have the experience from figuring out how particular pieces need to align for them to feel satisfied. Many aren’t able to have conversations about sex, I’m assuming...

I’m not bigoted.

I have a lot of heterosexual friends!

But I’m not just talking about extending pride to mean heterosexuality, I’m asking for it to encompass all ethical forms of sexual expression, even the ones that extend past our personal boundaries. I wonder where so many of us got this idea that should we be interested in something sexually that our partner either does not enjoy, or frankly finds repulsive, this would be the terminal end of our relationship.

Then again I’m biased.

I contradict myself because I think right now emphasizing equality for those who received it in the LBGT remains essential. I stand on a fence between two sides of grass, looking down and saying both seem good, why decide, but then again this is my nature. There must be so much progress made before we can get to that point that everyone just automatically assumes people are people.

Only writing the wake of our victory in personhood, I want to reach back across the aisle and thank those that helped us here, making them feel more secure in their own sexual desires and validating their tame and reliably adorable fantasies.

I practice what I preach. Currently I run a shelter where I teach heterosexuals how to have anal sex. For just the cost of a cup of coffee, you and your significant other can have a clean, comfortable anal, just call this number and ask for Samuel...

Let’s extend equality to all forms of sexual expression. I want to work for a future where anyone can post pictures, stories, drawings, and all manner of art and erotica without worrying about losing someone or something from their life. And I think that starts with some of us outing ourselves, encouraging each other to experiment, and all of us realizing that what we do, online or off of it, loving or hateful, ripples out into the world.

And that if we laugh at ourselves, If we include our common ground, if we think about what would make me happy, and how could I spread that happiness? 

Realizing it’s just as good to help someone else.

Because sometimes the sharing, even of the sorrow, let’s something beautiful blossom on the other side of the fence.

A place to sit in the shade for a little while avoid the spotlight that comes with sex. 

Is anonymity, secrecy, and ultimately shame something to be treasured? I don’t think so. But it sure seems like the people doing real damage to the world aren’t the type that are getting laid on a regular basis.

I’m sorry, it’s too tempting to pick on Ted Cruz.

Then again, maybe right now I have reason to sympathize with the heterosexuals. After a few months of pretending, we can’t imagine how anyone makes monogamy work. 

How would sex even work right now if I couldn’t describe in detail how one day I will lead my wife around the next sex party blindfolded, letting several men cum on her tits…

She told me it would be so hot if I never told her who it was, but made her tell everyone thank you and good night.

Not just that, I can’t imagine not at least telling her what type of story I was writing, even if I omit the details about the tentacles and focus on my cool back story. 

Then again I’ve seen another man cum in her, felt it warm and wet as I pushed inside of her. I remember how much dripped down when she stood, not sure what belonged to her husband.

I guess when I put it that way, it seems so silly to hide that piss drinking scene. She’s happy to indulge if I lay down in the tub. And on the nights she’s too sick, it becomes a dom/sub scene, where I just haven’t earned an orgasm from my mistress.

Sexual options have kept us sane at a time that seems far from it.

And I can’t be the only one who looks out and back at all the heterosexuals who helped out along the way and wishes more for their sexual future.

A day where we can be separate but equal in the bedrooms.

Let us trickle down some of our pride, leaving also the heterosexuals awash in our victory. Let us convert them and each other to the cause of openly embracing any sexual fantasy so long as it results in consensual action. 

And smut?

Why shouldn’t heterosexuals get to be as proud of things, even pornography, without feeling ashamed like some loser jerking off at home?

Or have to hear about the warped view of pornography without hearing about the solace and sanity from a husband and wife trapped inside, wanting desperately to touch their parts on others, sharing together the screen as we intertwine watching girls bound and taken in public use scenes.

She also loves the videos when the straight guy is tricked into gay sex. I like the cuckold videos where the man is forced to suck the bull’s cock. 

Somehow we make it work.

But it is a secret that we have unlocked. That we can share our fantasies even if they are exclusive, with the other reacting to kinky things neutrally or even obliging in acts that do not harm. We’ve tried everything, from pee play to pet play, and other acts even too lewd to mention without one necessarily drawing anything other than the pleasure in their partner.

But I can tell her anything about sex while I’m inside her, and that she can say the same, with the two of us stopping or adjusting to things depending on the situation, but never worrying about awakening something weird or new, wanting to share with next fetish or fantasy, even if it wasn’t the others thing right this second.

Forgive me for my candor, but in these troubled times, it has been what we’ve talked about while remembering how happy and lucky we have been. 

And we wish others the same,

Because I do have a few heterosexual friends.

And they need pride.

Sex itself, in every ethical form, certainly deserves that much.