Diaries of a Bisexual Teen

By Jay

Well, here we are. Finally I am in 9th grade. No more middle school. I was happy that finally I was here. Mind you the first few days, I didn't know if I was coming (no pun intended) or going. The quinine that I was on in London was still very strong. So I just sort of had a blank look on my face for the first week of school.

Of course by the second week, I had to snap out of it. My classes did require some thinking. How my schedule worked out that year, I will never know. My mom said to me I would get Biology and Algebra II, both Honors for 9th graders. I thought I would get English and World Cultures Honors, because my strong area was those two classes. It was as my mom said. I got the math and science, not the English and social studies. And I had a C+ average in Algebra I in 8th grade. May be there is something to be said for women's intuition...

Anyway, the jackasses lost no time in making fun of me. They thought they were all hip calling me gay in front of people. I wanted to say, "Yo, bitch! I'm bi!" Set the record straight (no pun intended there either). Maybe it was the way I walked. I doubt it. Maybe they were just bored, and I was a way to pass their time.

Well, I did better than them in all the tests and quizzes that we took. That was one step towards them giving me respect. I think the true clincher was when we were given group projects in Biology. In one it was about respiration. In my group, we had to make charts and graphs. My computer could handle that. But everyone else in my group had wanted this other girl to do it. She however mentioned that since I had a computer, I could do graphics, because she only had a word processor. Well needless to say, the project was beautiful. Everyone was impressed by it. The definite one was in my math class. A lot of people in my high school came from this one school, Thorne. Now the Algebra I teacher apparently didn't teach them anything, because they asked was a slope was. I was the only one who did great on the tests in that class. Well ... most of the time I did great.

I should point out that at this time, I was still a "questioning" youth. I knew I wasn't gay. I wasn't sure if I was bi. This was at the middle of the year. I finally realized it fully when one thing happened to me. Scott (not real name) happened. It was a good thing. He was nice, kind, caring. I think everyone thought he was gay too. But he had friends in the "inner circles" so he was accepted. I was in the "outer inner circles."

Well, he was in my gym class. And my Spanish class. Anyway, we both went to see the teacher right after homeroom and then we went to gym. By the time we got there, everyone was out side or in the two gyms. Now, do you know those chains that people, especially guys, where, the ones that hook up to wallets? Well he was wearing one of those, and so I ask him why he wears one. He said slyly, "So guys can lick and suck my chain (his chain being his dick, don't you just love slang words). Would you like to suck it?"

Well, I thought he was joking, so I played along and said, "Sure, get behind me real close so I can feel it along my butt."

I didn't think he would take me really seriously. But he did. He came up behind me, close enough to so I could feel his hard-on next to my rear, and asked if it was close enough. I said it needed to be closer.

Now let's see how graphic I can get here on the Net. Most people think I am quite and shy. They don't know me very well! And as for the never passed Communications Decency Act, I'm going to say to it the same thing Dolores Claiborne said about the dust bunnies in Vera's room. "And as for the dust bunnies, frig 'ya!"

On the subject of the Internet, I have a question for the guys, and gals, who are experienced surfers of the Net. Now I know I shouldn't be promoting this, and I am sure some day, this will be a test case for some conservative who wants to end free speech on the Internet. But every gay teen guy I have ever talked to on America Online has seen naughty picture of other guys. What is the point of putting up those stupid little warnings, "You are entering an explicit site. It you do not wish to see such images, please turn back." What crap is that? I don't think that there is a single guy or girl, gay or straight, with Internet access who has not seen those sort of images. And if they found them, I am sure as hell they knew what they were looking for.

Anyway, back to my dirty little story. He proceeded to put his hands down my jeans, and vice versa. He had nice stuff down there. Anyway, I took it out and put it in my mouth. I thought to myself, "I better stop, I might get to like this." Woo hoo!

After he came (this took 10 minutes only), we got dressed. He asked if I liked it, and I said I had. Then he grabbed me, pulled me close to him, right up to his face, and kissed me. A very long kiss. For the rest of the day, I was in a kind of shock. He asked if I was all right and I said I was fine. A few days after that, I was taken out of gym because of my asthma. A week after that Scott was taken out because he sprained his wrist playing tennis. At least that is what he told his doctor. He told me secretly that he sprained it jerking off! Can you believe that? I had noticed that first time I saw him jerk off, after I had given him head. He jerked it off very, very, hard. And not what you might call in a "normal fashion" if is any such thing. He held it in his hand so that his hand surrounded his dick. It is hard to describe.

We would fool around in our library, where study hall is. It is really big, and in the back there are really high book selves. And we would go back there, and do what we did best. Sometimes we would just make out, other times we would get more involved. By then, I was sure I was bi.

Then the climax (once again, no pun intended), of this whole story is when I went to his house. He lived close to the school, and it was a short walk across the football field. It was still cool (this took place around April/May) outside, and suddenly I noticed he was holding my hand. It felt nice to do that. And when we got there, we sat around, not doing much. Then we went into his room. We sat on the bed kissing and then he was lying down on top of me. Kissing me. It felt great to do that. And he asked me a question, one that probably changed my life, "Do you want to have sex?" He didn't pressure me into it. I went in (definitely no pun intended there) on my own will. He was very gentle, and slow. And it was safe. At first I felt a little guilty about it, but then I snapped out of it. It was a changing point in my life.

Scott moved away. As for me, I am still here. The last time I saw him was on the final day of school. I saw him outside my testing room, and since I was done took the hall pass and went out with him. We walked into the bathroom together, and talked a short while. I realized that it was the last time I would see him again.

"So, this is it?" he asked.

"Yes, it is." I said.

He looked at me with some regret in his eyes, as did I. I hugged him, hard. He hugged me back. I kissed him, for a long time, must have been 5 minutes at least. He kissed me back. At that point in time, I didn't care if anyone saw us together, because it really didn't matter. All I knew was that this kid, this kid that I had been with and really liked, was going away and I was never going to see him again. That was when he told me he was bi.

I had to stop while we were ahead. I told him good-bye. I walked out. I couldn't bring myself to turn around, but something made me. I needed one last look. So I turned around for one last look at him. I hadn't realized he was right behind me, and I banged my head into his. I had to kiss him one more time. Just a quick one. Then I had to get out of there. I turned once more to look at him going the other way. He had the nicest butt! I was really going to miss him.

Now then, for everyone who isn't totally offended and stopped reading when the sex started, and for those of you have gotten this far without starting to jerk off, please take a moment to e-mail me on whether or not you are out to anyone you could be out to. And if you are, I hate you. Just kidding. Seriously, kudos to you if you are out to the people in your life. I am out on the Internet and to my family. My mom think I am to young to know. I never told about Scott or the others. Don't ask me why, that's just how it is. I hope that I can someday come out to everyone that I would like to.

I wish I had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I wish every gay/bi teen had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. If you have one, then I hate you. Just kidding. But if you do, kudos to you and may you both be happy. I guess Scott does sort of count.

With my online experiences, I have seen that there are in fact some gay teens in New Jersey, quite a few really. But very few are in this county. And those who are live in Freehold, 20 minutes away, and a different calling area, Matawan, 30 minutes away different calling area, Ocean, 30 minutes away different calling area. Not a single gay teen, male or female, on the Internet, lives in my town. And I know there has to be(at least I hope). I demand that all the gay teens in New Jersey, and have access to the Internet e-mail me this second. If you don't, I'll use my "gay-dar" and find you. What is gay-dar by the way? Some gay teen told me that every gay teen has it. Is it some sort sixth sense that we gay teens have? I have had thoughts that go like this: "He's gay," or "He's bi," but I am not sure. Is that what it is? E-mail me on that one too.(I finally did find a gay teen who live in my home town and who is online. I just decide to keep the above in here because I don't feel like taking it out.)

Also e-mail me on this. For every guy (sorry gals, nothing against you, but this is kind of a guy thing) who has come out to any of his friends who are also guys, did any of them, well to put it mildly, want to do something with you. That happened to me once.

I had already come out to this guy I know. Well, one day, he came over my house. We were just talking and we started to fool around. Call it a higher level of "playing fag(is that right?)" that Matt from Nova Scotia uses. Well anyway, he asked me to turn so my butt was facing him. And for some dumb reason, I did. I don't know why, but I did. And he rammed his dick into me. Rammed is the only word to describe it. It hurt like a bitch! I wanted to tell him to stop, but I didn't, and he wasn't about to. Well, I wasn't to happy about it. He said he was sorry later. Has this ever happened to you guys? Or am I am the only one that this has happened to. E-mail me on this.

And on somewhat of a similar note, do the readers of this passage ever see a key chain that went like, "Why are all the cute guys gay, married, or broke?" on some girls back pack? Well there is some truth in that. A lot of gay teen guys are so, so cute. And since not many teen guys are married, and all the ones I know are anything but broke, does that make them gay, because a lot of them are cute.

Once again, on that same note, who here know the comic strip, "Dilbert"? if you don't it is one of the "in" strips of today. It is mostly about the corporate workplace. You can visit his site at http://www.unitedmedia.com/comics/dilbert. Anyway, his power hungry dog, Dogbert, has his own little book, called Clues for the Clueless. In it he has a section called, "Men hugging men." It went like this: Dogbert says, "In the Western world, when heterosexual men hug other men, they must follow these rules: 1) Keep naughty parts at least 4 ft away 2) Never reveal your feminine side when you are hugging another guy 3) Never show that you got the heebie-jeebies from it afterwards." I am glad us gays have it so much easier.

Well, a year has past. Now, I am in the tenth grade. I have come (once again everybody, no pun intended) to terms with myself, on who I am. I wish every gay teen had an easy life. Some wise person said "In order to live, suffer." Well, I wish that wasn't the case, but he was so right. I don't know if people will accept me for who I am. I know I can. If they have a problem, they have to live with it, not me. In the words on DCI Jane Tennison when she transferred from South Hampton Row, "Fuck all."

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