My First Daisy Chain Made Me Feel Really Bisexual
I didn't know back then it would soon become my signature move.
You have to really be in the mood for a seedy fuck club—one that vacillates between the stank of sex and bleach. But if you are in the right headspace to get nasty—to relish in the dark underbelly of society—then there is no place better to get your freak on.
Luckily, I was in the mood to get weird the night Jason, my then-boyfriend, and I headed to Choice Social Club, a sex club in Providence, Rhode Island, for a distant friend’s birthday party. Jason told me about fifty would be in attendance, including some of the club’s regulars, since the host didn’t rent out the entire venue.
The site for the club will give you more of its vibe than I ever could through words. It looks like a website created in the 90s with stock photos of faceless women in fetish gear. Words are seemingly capitalized at random, and you just know you’re going to get a virus by being on the website, which is accurate advertising, as you will also likely get a virus at the physical club.
However, I will acquiesce that the venue does have a pretty legitimate layout. They have a separate orgy room, stripper pole, voyeur room with a one-way mirror, a jail cell, a classroom to live out your teacher/student fantasy, and a doctor’s office for medical fetishists. Personally, I loved their dungeon with St. Andrew crosses, suspension beams, spanking benches, and stocks. Though, I didn’t use them that night. It was my first night out at an official sex venue, and there were randos there.
Upon arrival, Jason and I scoped out the venue, said hello to the folks we knew, and then proceeded to find a space with a little more privacy. The year was 2016, which marked the beginning of when straight, cis women started to openly fetishize man-on-man action. (Okay, this is likely false; straight women were fetishizing gay sex long before 2016, but that was when I first began experiencing “the female gaze.”)
I’ve met other bi men who get very upset when women fetishize them for being bisexual. They claim it’s the same thing as when men fetishize women, which I don’t agree with at all. There isn’t a long, rich history of gay male objectification by women. I never feel unsafe. I still have all the power even when they fetishize me. And this happens periodically, not all the goddamn time, so take your woke “meninism” elsewhere.
Still, there are times I like being ogled and times when I don’t. Since it was my first time at a sex club, I wanted a little privacy to explore my boyfriend’s body freely without prying eyes. That’s how Jason and I found ourselves in the doctor’s office.
Having a Ph.D., Jason technically was a doctor. So when I dropped my undies, propped my bare ass on the examination table, and placed my legs into the stirrups, I simply had to call him Doctor Hutchinson. It turned out he really needed to get a closer look at my anus. So, naturally, he put on latex gloves and gently inserted a finger to feel around. He then inserted a second finger with his other hand to gently spread my anus to get a better view. He was being thorough—so thorough that his face was merely an inch away, and then—I’m sure it was accidentally—his tongue landed flat on my tender hole.
Okay, enough of my corny porn narration. He ate my ass and fucked me on the table, and the two of us were happy campers. But the night was still young, and there was more fun to be had.
That’s when Bee, another partner of mine, arrived. I was excited to see her for one reason in particular. Beforehand, I floated the idea of all three of us playing together. J and B were very keen on the idea, so the moment Bee got settled, the three of us made our way to the room with the one way-mirror.
After some making out, pussy eating, and dick sucking, we did what I had never done before. I fucked Bee on her back while Jason fucked me from behind. My first-ever daisy chain. Little did I know that I would have many, many more daisy chains in my life—so much so that I now consider it my signature move. In nearly every threesome, I end up as the meat in the middle of that sandwich. (It’s truly incredible what you can get if you just ask for it!)
Alas, I couldn’t stay hard for more than a minute on my first go around. It was too intense. The pleasure was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head, and I felt possessed by the goddess Hedone. But goddamn, that minute was one of the best minutes of my life.
However, with my 20/20 hindsight, I now recognize that it wasn’t just the magnitude of pleasure that made that evening so special. I’ve been in countless daisy chains with two men since, but they haven’t been as rewarding as a daisy chain with a man and a woman. (They’re still great, though, obviously.)
There’s something about it being “bi sex” that’s affirming. When I’m fucking a big ol’ muscle bottom who looks like Gaston, I don’t think to myself, “This is very bisexual of me.” I think, “This is some gay ass-shit.” When I fuck a MILF with some mommy milkers, I don’t think, “This is biconic.” I think, “Shit, do I have Oedipal Complex?” And as we all know, Oedipal issues are very heterosexual.
But when I’m in the middle of a man and woman or nonbinary person, that’s bisexuality in action. I’m not “choosing” a side, which I do every time I decide to go on a date with someone. I have to choose whether I want to exist in gay society or the straight world for the evening because bi spaces are few and far between. We don’t have clubs and bars like gay people. And we don’t have the rest of the world, like straight people.
That’s why I can’t have it “both ways”—I actually prefer “all the ways” to be inclusive of nonbinary folks—unless if I go to a sex club, which is partly why I love them. In sex clubs, I can be with men, women, and nonbinary folks. I can talk to a little gay boy and say, “Yass, bitch work!” and then butch it up when talking to a curvy goddess. (I still say, “Yass, bitch work,” just an octave lower.) Then I plow the twink while the tattooed, nonbinary hottie with the Skrillex haircut pegs me. That’s some bisexual shit!
In a world that’s heavily divided into “gay” and “straight,” I need these sexual acts and physical places that make me feel bisexual. A daisy chain with people of different genders at a sex club does that. So, too, does having sex with femme boys, drag queens, and nonbinary folks, which is why I love me a little girly man and a butch bitch.
Thus the question becomes, how do I get some she-dick inside me while I plow a little man-pussy? That is the ultimate, affirming bisexual act.