I have a private space I can go to indulge myself and my fantasies -- it's my RV. Parked in the country, I leave it there on land I own. Since I've put in a power line, water and septic, I can live there any time. And if I'm not living there, I can stay there and soak up the quiet and privacy. And indulge. It's also where I can indulge in some of my fantasies.
I'm approaching 70 -- next year -- and over that time, I've found out a few things about my sexuality. First off, I'm bi. I love women; I'm nuts about boobs and fascinated by nipples. I still check out the fashion and styles on my newsfeed, somehow thinking that I'm going to see something I shouldn't (or that shouldn't be shown) in the latest "lingerie trends for everyone" or "this year's best bikinis" stories. You know -- the darker shadows of areolae behind a sheer top, or the protrusions of hard, erect nipples. I know better -- those days of the accidental views are long gone.
At the same time, I love to watch women take on big cocks. I mean, those videos of women, on their knees, pulling down some dude's shorts and revealing a monstrously big dick have always sent blood rushing to my (somewhat smaller) male organ. And then I tumbled on those hypno videos and learned something: I was more interested in the cocks than the women. No, I wasn't "hypnotized" or converted in some way. That's a bunch of bullshit. But I was genuinely aroused by big, hard cocks.
My attraction to them isn't new, but it's been a long time since I've enjoyed one. I made a promise to my wife -- no cheating. That's after I had cheated while away on business. The toughest part of telling her (because keeping that secret was driving us apart) was admitting that I had cheated with a guy. Instead of divorcing me, or being disgusted, she took it in stride and made me promise it would never happen again. And so far, I've been keeping that promise.
That's not to say I haven't been tempted. When it was still around, I made good use of the personals in Craigslist to get pictures. To contemplate setting up meetings. But I never went through with them. If I had somehow found a public glory holes, I might have made use of it -- but all were private ones, and all posted by guys wanting to suck me. When I wanted to be on my knees, driving some stranger's hard cock down my throat and devoting myself to giving him the best possible blowjob he'd ever had.
Before I was married, before the internet, I had found a few, in adult bookstores in New Jersey. Places where I could wander in, exchange money for either quarters or tokens, wait for one a booth with a hole in it, and then spend time satisfying every hard dick that showed up. It was anonymous. In my twisted world view, it was safe. Never mind that I risked a boatload of STD's. And HIV. In my mind, if you couldn't see the guy, you couldn't catch his disease. Twisted and insane, I know -- but since I never caught anything, it wasn't completely useless as a justification. So yeah, I already knew I liked cock. And there were even a few times where it led to his place and giving up my ass to a big cock.