Bud sex

When Did Touch Between Male Friends Become Taboo? (Source)

The original of this article was in Spanish, but I have attempted to translate it.

What is "bud sex"?  Heterosexual men having sex with each other for pleasure.

A somewhat unconventional way to enjoy sex.

Each person experiences their sexuality how they want to and in the most pleasurable form possible.  With the sexual revolution, this terrain is in every case much broader where there is more space for experimentation.

In that framework, for some time now the term "bud sex" has begun to be used.  This expression refers to sex between male friends.  It is used for those heterosexual men who have intimate relations with another male with the sole objective of getting pleasure.

These men are not bisexual, nor homosexual, nor are they even confused in their sexual orientation: they are simply heterosexual guys who look to get pleasure without emotional or sentimental ties with people of the same sex.

The men taking part in "bud sex" can be married and even have children.  The practice is seen as obtaining sexual relief, caused sometimes by circumstances, for example in prisons, where there is no opportunity to share intimate moments with a woman.

Since these are heterosexual males, pre-agreed rules are set up before coitus so that there is no confusion.  Among those: no kissing, caresses, or any other manifestation of affection, nor to meet up with the other person (too) frequently.

I've been banging on about this for years, just like I've been talking about toxic masculinity: when being gay ceases to carry any stigma, then lots of men will have sex with other men.  "Bud sex" is at the extreme end of impersonal sex.  It's just fucking.

But it is equally possible to have what the French call une amitié amoureuse, a loving friendship, where you are not in love but nevertheless are fond of your sparring partner.  After all, how often does one fall in love?  Yet one may be attracted to someone, and what makes them attractive isn't just their bodies but their smile, their sense of fun, their integrity--those thousand things that draw us to other people, whether sexually or not.  In a world where male-to-male sex is no more noteworthy than male-to-female sex, it will be very likely that there will be buddies who do find each other in some sense attractive, and act on that perception.  And I try and show that in my writing.

Ronny and i

I want to recommend this charming, subtle, heart-warming (and heart-breaking) film.  It's beautiful and quite perfect.  A minor masterpiece.

Ronny and i

Dark House

Tennyson wrote In Memoriam to his very dear friend Arthur Hallam who died suddenly.  Modern readers might see their deep friendship as 'gay',  but it seems clear enough that it was a 'romantic friendship'  Whatever.  It was love.  This poem below is just one from In Memoriam.


DARK house, by which once more I stand
    Here in the long unlovely street,
    Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasp’d no more—      
    Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
    And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away
    The noise of life begins again,      
    And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

*        *        *        *        *

O days and hours, your work is this,
    To hold me from my proper place,
    A little while from his embrace,      
For fuller gain of after bliss:

That out of distance might ensue
    Desire of nearness doubly sweet;
    And unto meeting when we meet,
Delight a hundredfold accrue,      

For every grain of sand that runs,
    And every span of shade that steals,
    And every kiss of toothèd wheels,
And all the courses of the suns.

Anniversary

Thinking of you, my dear.  It's five years today since you died.   Dligo tson.

Mates

Best friend

from The Slab

Loyal, faithful, forgiving, accepting, loving, welcoming, happy, easy to please. Unlike people.

Amitié Amoureuse

Friendship with benefits.

Love is rainbow coloured.  Kinda wonderful, don't you think?

Thought Experiment

Let's suppose you're a straight man (just for argument's sake, since I'm assuming I have no straight male readers, though I know I have many straight female readers.)

Now, you haven't had sex (even the kind you bestow upon yourself) for a while.  A close male friend is with you.  He's good-looking, easy-going and fond of you, and you like him a lot too.  You've had a few beers together.  He also hasn't had sex for weeks.  Assume also (for the sake of the argument) that there are no Christian-Fascists, no constant churchly drip of homophobic poison, and society really, really doesn't give a toss whether you're straight or gay.  You and he pull each other's wires, have a bit of a cuddle and a kiss.  It's fun; the release of oxytocin binds you a little closer together; as you lie next to him afterwards, you admire the line of his jaw, the swell of his pecs, the muscles of his thighs thickening into gold; you congratulate yourself on having him as a friend.

Right, so far, so good -- a story which is a staple of Nifty wish-fulfillment.  But, does this encounter make you or him gay?  Even if you repeat it?  Or does it just make you friends with benefits, enjoying what the French delightfully call an amitié amoureuse? Both of you are essentially straight.  Does the fact that you have, and enjoy, sex with with each other make you gay?  Are you bisexual?  What kind of bisexual?

OK, what about those famed circle jerks?  I haven't experienced one myself, but then I missed out on all that adolescent male bonding stuff.  Are the guys who strip off their kit and wank themselves in front of each other gay?  Bi?  Straight with a gay edge?

Let's invert the scenario.  You're a 100% gay bloke, so you thought.  You see what you assume is a beaut bloke (as I did on the train once).  His hair is longish but cut boyishly.  He's wearing a checked man's shirt with the sleeves rolled up, loose worn blue jeans, and rather cool hiking boots.  You enjoy a fantasy with him and you and then suddenly realise he is in fact a she.  Does (s)he suddenly become less desirable, now you know there's no cock between her legs?  Why?

Or take Dil in The Crying Game, a transvestite with whom a straight man falls in love thinking he is a woman, who vomits when he discovers that Dil is not a woman, yet remains in love with him, and has sex with him.  Or the bloke described by the Nick Archer in The End of Gay who goes to bars in drag, picks up straight men and when it's clear they're attracted, tells them he's a transvestite and invites them home with him. Most accept; some even bottom for him.

Or two straight best friends, who love each other and have sex together yet remain primarily attracted to women?  Or the attraction so many men feel for other androgynous men?  The "straight" blokes who have sex with men, and admit they enjoy it, and are happy to continue as long as you don't tell their friends.

I could go on.  What all this suggests is that in the right circumstances with the right person, straights are capable of enjoying sex with (and loving) a man, and gays are as capable of enjoying sex with (and loving) a woman.  It doesn't mean that the straights aren't straight, or the gays gay.  It certainly doesn't mean that the Christian-Fascists are right and that there is no such thing as "gay".  That would be like saying that just because you can have different shades of grey, black doesn't exist.  But look at it another way.  Perhaps it really means that almost everybody is potentially bisexual: in the right place, at the right time, with the right person.  The popular perception of a bisexual is someone who is attracted to both genders equally.  This is plainly wrong.  There are many bisexualities, in all the flavours I've talked about above, and in others too.

When I was wrestling with my sexuality, I conducted a similar thought experiment.  I said to myself, what if I found this really sexy man, and took him home and when we got down to naked skin discovered that he wasn't a man?  Would I stop making love to him (her) or would I go right ahead?  I concluded that if I were randy enough I would go ahead.  I then asked myself what the difference would be if I found a really beautiful woman, and took her home, only to find a cock neatly concealed under her dress.  What was I really?  Gay or straight?  Or bi?  What?  I realised then that it was silly to turn away from someone just because they weren't a man.  And I stopped automatically assuming that women weren't sexy.

Don't get me wrong.  I myself am mostly attracted to men, and mostly for emotional rather than sexual reasons.  But I also love my wife and find her intensely erotic.  Am I a closeted gay married man?  A bisexual?  A straight in denial?  Is it just, as the ex-gay movement persists in maintaining, that I don't have enough straight, manly hugs from straight manly men?  (I'm open to offers, all you straight, manly men out there.)  Am I in fact looking, in a relationship with a man, for friendship? No, as it happens, you ex-gay fanatics out there: just because my primary connection to other men is emotional doesn't also mean I don't find some of them sexy and fuckable.  There's something very erotic about a chin with stubble; the narrow hips of a man; even his smell.  In the end what is it we're attracted to?  How much of attraction is mystery and layers and inner and outer perceptions?  Labels -- so misleading, so useful.

What is, I think, unarguable, something we can all agree on:  we are programmed to love.  Even our own gender.  And it doesn't necessarily make us gay or bi or even confused.  It just makes us human.

[There have been some insightful and illuminating comments, so have a look at them too]

I remember

Three years ago today, a dear friend died too young, much too young, after a year-long illness.  I haven't forgotten him nor ever will I, I suspect.  I miss ya, my dear.

Διὸς δ' ἐτελείετο βουλή

Not that that brings any comfort.

Footy, chapter 11

I've just uploaded it to my website, here.

They decided to eat at the Italian pizza place half a block away. They ordered pizzas and beers, and leaned back on their chairs with a sigh.

“Well, that’s over,” said Tom, with a mixture of satisfaction and sadness. “Anita persuaded me to buy the house, and I’ve done well out of it, but it doesn’t have good memories for me.”

“You may feel the same about the flat in a while. After we’ve had our first blazing row, for example.”

“What would we argue about? I’m too relaxed and you never disagree with me.” He took a long swallow of his beer. “Oh, that’s good!”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I just keep quiet.” Adam drank some of his beer too. Beer went well with pizza for some reason.

“Which could be a good reason to quarrel. If we’re going to live together, I want you to tell me about the things that piss you off.”

“Oh yeah. ’Course you do!”

“Adam, I don’t like secrets or hidden things. I don’t like lies. I want to know if there’s something wrong, else how can I fix it?”

As Tom spoke, Adam could feel his heart sinking. If Tom ever found out the truth, he would never forgive him. It would be bad enough when he learned that he’d been sharing a bed with a homo. But when he found out that all Adam’s secrets were connected with this, that Adam had fancied him from day one, and that he’d helped him because of that, their friendship would be over.

-- 

Footy, chapter 10

Uploaded here.

 “Are you happy, Adam?” 

The question came out of the blue, and Adam was so surprised he answered truthfully. “Yes. Well, mostly.” 

“Me too.” 

Nothing else needed to be said. The thought struck Tom that if Adam had been a woman, he would be in love with him by now. They would probably have been lovers for a while. This wayward reflection didn’t bother him. He was happy, after months of misery, and years of an unacknowledged emptiness. 

While Tom was contemplating the nature of love and happiness, Adam was thinking how, if Tom had been gay, they would be in the middle of an affair. And then he recalled that if Tom had been gay, he would not have been interested in Adam, because this was the iron rule. Tom was buff, beautiful, manly. Why would he have ever been interested in a thirty-something guy with couple of inches too much flobbing on top of his belly? That they were together at all was due to Adam’s own willingness to overlook a lot in a bloke he was attracted to, and Tom’s straight sensibility, which made how Adam looked irrelevant. Tom liked Adam for what Adam was, not the size of his pectorals or the shape of his butt.

Majorca Flats -- 213

Keith sat quietly holding both Esme's hands.

“I'm not much help, am I, Ezz? What you need is a 100% stright blaoke who loves ya. And ya've got me instaid.”

Esme squeezed his hands. “You're my best friend and I love you.”

“Yeah, but ya knaow all the reasons … Ezzaloona, I love you. You're my best friend. But I love Tom, too. And I think I'm … well … Jason is a top blaoke.”

“Yeah. I know. I like him immensely. He's so different to what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno. An upper-class twit. All teeth and fruity voice and bobbing Adam's apple. He does speak very posh but he's seems so ordinary. I really like him.”

“Me too. He's … he's lovely.”

They looked at each other then smiled simultaneously. Keith pulled her close and hugged her. She could feel his hard-on pressed against her. She looked at him her eyes dark. “That's not a good idea.”

“Naow. Maybe not. But I want to.”

They set off for his flat.

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Episodes 1 to 180 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

Fathers

I find fathers sexy.  All that tiresome aggression and exaggerated maleness of the male teenager is transformed by their love for their children into something that is tender and precious; and all the more so because of their maleness, their strength. 

This story was written for a dear friend and the guy he married, and both of them loved it.   It wasn't their story, but as one does when one writes, I took elements of their story and bits and pieces from other stories and combined them to create this one.  Joe's looks were based on a rather femme guy of Italian origin at the print shop we used, who was cute as.  Luke's were based on a very sexy guy who used to be a conductor on the train.  But their characters are their own. 


I hope you enjoy it.


[Image from Speedo Junkie]

Majorca Flats -- 168

He pushed his paper coffee beaker round the table in front of him.

“But I still like women.” Very quietly, looking away, anywhere but at the other two, he added, “I still hope I'll find somebody, maybe get married, have kids. But there's the, ya knaow, virus, and anyway, what woman would want a strayt kid, a whore?”

“C'mere!” said Jason. Keith shook his head. Jason stood up and went over to Keith's end of the bench, and standing behind him, put his arms round the other man and rested his head in Keith's curls. “What woman would want a man who's clever, kind, and sexy? Hmm?” he said, and then he bent his head to one side and kissed Keith's ear. Keith reached up with his hand and squeezed Jason's arm.

“I didn't mean to be shitty,” offered Luigi. “I just … well for me, I'm only interested in blokes. I couldn't … you know … get hard for a woman. I suppose it's because I'm such a queen.”

“You reckon, Lou? I reckon if I was up you, pounding away, you'd be hard as, with any woman.” Keith's eyes glinted.

Luigi coloured.

Keith grinned. “No shame here, mate. Sex is sex, and love is love, and never the twain shall meet. No, I don't mean that, I knaow they can. But, Lou, I'd get hard just doing you, ya knaow that?”

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Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10           Majorca Flats Episodes 101 to 110
Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20         Majorca Flats Episodes 111 to 120
Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30         Majorca Flats Episodes 121 to 130
Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40         Majorca Flats Episodes 131 to 140
Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 50         Majorca Flats Episodes 141 to 150   
Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60         Majorca Flats Episodes 151 to 160
Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70
Majorca Flats Episodes 71 to 80
Majorca Flats Episodes 81 to 90
Majorca Flats Episodes 91 to 100

Majorca Flats -- 121

“I think I fell in love with him right then. Love at first sight. Ridiculous, hey? I was so happy. So fucking happy. I suppose the gods were watching. But no, useless to blame anyone else. It was my own fucking fault.”

“Why?” asked Luigi, his warm shiny black-olive eyes filled with compassion.

“Yeah. Just what I was going to ask, too.” Keith was as concerned as Luigi, his eyes troubled. Jason felt a rush of affection for both of them.

“I'm coming to that. This is so hard.” He shook his head and looked away. There was a silence, neither strained nor impatient, while the other two waited for him to continue.

“Well, it wasn't long before we were a couple. The guys in his team didn't seem to care about us. They liked him. He was very likable, not just sexy, not just an incredibly hot guy. He was charming and funny and could get on with everyone. They just treated me like I was his girlfriend and friend all wrapped up into one, and they never hassled me or him about us. In fact they used to tease us a little, you know, saying when he got a bit ratty about something, or his game was off, that he needed a bit of nookie. And once, when we were in the pub and Brent got all amorous and pashed me, they all cheered and laughed. Holy fuck, I miss them too. They were the realest and best friends a man could have.”

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Majorca Flats Episodes 1 to 10           Majorca Flats Episodes 61 to 70
Majorca Flats Episodes 11 to 20         Majorca Flats Episodes 71 to 80
Majorca Flats Episodes 21 to 30         Majorca Flats Episodes 81 to 90
Majorca Flats Episodes 31 to 40         Majorca Flats Episodes 91 to 100
Majorca Flats Episodes 41 to 50         Majorca Flats Episodes 101 to 110   
Majorca Flats Episodes 51 to 60         Majorca Flats Episodes 111 to 120  

Zack

A short story you might enjoy.

Love, Sex and Friendship

I often talk about how these three things intersect.  Then I found this very clever Venn diagram on The Slab.  (Dunno where he got it from!)

It sums it up, doesn't it?   We can't always get into the 'perfect match' centre of the diagram, but maybe any one of the overlapping segments might work quite well.  Second-best isn't always a bad thing.  And it's certainly much better than nothing.

By the way, I think they're talking about romantic love rather than the broader meanings of love when they label one circle "love".

My Buds

Good-looking guys, showing their affection for each other.

 

I was never this close to any straight-ish guy. Alas.

Time, Time, Time

Time, Time, Time.  Busy, busy, busy.

Putting Wilde Oats to bed, so I haven't got a spare second.  Will start posting again soon.

Made me think of this:

A Hazy Shade Of Winter
Simon & Garfunkel


Time,
Time,
Time, see what's become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
Look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.


Hear the Salvation Army band.
Down by the riverside's
Bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned.
Carry your cup in your hand.
And look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.


Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say,
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again.
Look around,
The grass is high,
The fields are ripe,
It's the springtime of my life


Seasons change with the scenery;
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me


At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme.
Drinking my vodka and lime,
I look around
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

Were they a couple? My lady (who knows heaps more than me about popular music) reckons they were; I've always assumed Art Garfunkel was gay, but Paul Simon was married several times; they were best friends; and I remember reading an article in Time, years ago where Paul Simon told studio executives that he had an edge because of his gayness and gay connexions.  Who knows?  It doesn't matter, really.  They made sublime music.

Majorca Flats -- 91

“Have you had any other girlfriends?”

“Nah.”

“I suppose ...”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jason had been thinking that if you'd had to survive on the streets selling your arse, perhaps it was too hard to believe that you could have a normal life with a wife and kids – or a husband and kids – making your house a home. And maybe that's why Keith was so needy.

“Go on. You were going to say something.”

“Just that … we live in a society which is het dominated. So everything we believe in is irrelevant to other people, And whereas they wouldn't try man on man stuff, because it would never enter their heads, we see all these symbols of a happy hetero life around us. You know … marriages, happy het couples, babies, the whole thing of life passages, of watching your kids growing up. So we end up trying it, trying to fit in, be like everyone else.”

“Yeah.” Keith looked forlorn. He added, “I think I might have hurt Esmé.”

“She knew about you, right?”

“Oh, yeah. But all the same, I think she had hopes.”

“Don't we all?”

It was time to go a few doors down the road and start work. On impulse, as they were leaving the café, Jason pulled Keith into a fierce hug.

“And that?” But Keith looked pleased.

“Friends,” said Jason, emphasising the word. “We need to look after each other. I think we both need it.”

[image from GayTwoGether]

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