I have a favourite pervy picture. It’s not as explicit as you might imagine – in fact to certain eyes it could look like an innocent snap of two teenagers in love. But it is not that.

During my first year of University I fell what can only be described as ‘idiotically in love’ with a guy who was generous enough to reciprocate that love with spectacular and quite disgusting sex. He was a brunette. He was straight.

At the same time, I had a good friend in halls who was exquisitely pretty in a lithe, posh-boy way. He was a blond. He was also straight.

These two boys, lovely though they were to me, utterly despised each other.

Can you see where I’m going with this? Maybe not – I’m going to a kebab house at 3 am, on the evening of my 19^th birthday. We were waiting for food and I jokingly asked them to kiss. To my unending delight, they actually did. Forcefully, passionately, and with the kind of lustful instinct that you tend to only see in young ones. Luckily I was not completely paralysed with arousal and so, ever resourceful, I whipped out my camera faster than you can say ‘timeless wanking classic’ and took a snap.

If boys kiss in front of me I will probably perv on them

Watching two boys kiss is one of my absolute favourite things. I am frequently mesmerised in gay clubs at the sheer number of hot, lustful men eating at each other like it’s their final chance to do so.

But good though it is to watch any boys kissing, my personal favourite is seeing two otherwise straight guys pulling because they know it will turn me on.

Why? God knows. The kissing’s hot because boys are hot, and at that point it becomes a simple equation: if one thing is hot then if you double the number of hot things and attach them at the face you’ll increase the overall hotness output.

But I suspect there’s also something of a dictatorial streak in me. Despite being submissive when I’m fucking, as a general rule I love to see boys doing things that I’ve asked. Sometimes I can control boys purely by telling them it’ll make my cunt wet if they do stuff – I am God.

Part of the thrill with straight-boy kisses is definitely the fact that they’re usually a bit uncomfortable. In this situation the fact that the guys hated each other made it all the more arousing. I remembered the bitter rows they’d had, the way they snarked about each other to me to try and get me on side. I made these boys get over their mutual disdain just so they’d do dirty things to each other.

But mostly it’s hot because, even after initial reluctance, I’ve never seen guys snog timidly – gently – the way most try to kiss me for the first time. Boys snog more quickly, more passionately, almost angrily. Even reluctant straight ones.

And now if you could just take off your pants…

Of course sometimes, if I’m really lucky, it will develop into something else. I’ve been with a few guys who are willing to snog but no more – they’ll do it to make me happy then take me home and bang me with the force of someone trying to show how much they like girls.

But some of them are willing to go that bit further. Some will pull a boy and realise that perhaps boys aren’t so icky after all. Maybe this one will rub up against the other a bit. Perhaps he’ll start getting hard. Perhaps he’ll let me take off his trousers so the other guy can get a good, tight hold of his dick.

Even if that doesn’t happen, the promise of it is still there during their kiss. So whether I’m taking pictures on the sidelines or trying to crowbar myself in between them so they crush me with the force of their boylust, I’m grateful for every lip-locked minute.

I understand that not everyone’s into it. Not all straight guys are willing to get as stuck into another dude as they are into a woman. But honestly? If you are I’ll love you twice as much for it.

If you’ll pull a guy with the same force and passion as you’d pull me… If you’ll kneel down and suck on his cock like you want to draw all the spunk right out of him… If you’ll let him climb on top of you and bang you with quick, hard, grunting strokes while I lie underneath and feel the force pushing your cock deeper inside me… If you’ll do all of that then I will melt and drool and tremble and then fuck you until you have no fuck left.

I’m not sure she’s really bisexual – she just likes the attention.

There’s no such thing as bisexuals.

All women are a bit bi really, aren’t they?

All of the above statements are utter bullshit.

The main reason they’re bullshit is, of course, because they write off people’s sexual feelings as things that can be easily dismissed rather than things which can shape someone’s entire life. No matter what you believe about sexuality, I’d hope everyone can see why this is the sort of thing that only a total arsehole would do.

However, more subtly, they’re bullshit because they assume that it is easy for us to put ourselves in someone else’s position and make judgments about what it is that floats their boat.

Being a bat

Philosophers and people who are generally interested in this sort of thing will be familiar with a paper on the nature of consciousness called ‘what is it like to be a bat?‘ It’s by a dude called Thomas Nagel and is an excellent intro to the problem of inner qualia – that feeling that it is like to be a thing.

I have massively simplified the issues here for the sake of analogy, but please do read the paper – it’s ace. 

I can know that bats ‘see’ using sonar, and I can (if I study a bit more than I have) understand exactly how they do that. But the problem is that no matter how detailed my studies I will never be able to experience the feeling of what it is like to actually be that thing.

More simply: picture something sexual. A slim guy being bear-hug-fucked by a much larger guy, for example. You’ve got an image in your head now, right?

I can look at a number of physical things to try and work out what’s going on – I can see if you’re turned on, I can measure your erection/wetness, and if I have kickass equipment I can even see exactly which parts of your brain are active – the synapses that are firing.

But no matter how much I study I will never be able to fully experience the feeling that you have. I won’t see the same image, nor understand exactly how you feel about this particular instance of guy-on-guy action.

Sexual feelings and consciousness

People have physical reactions to sexual things, which we can measure and replicate. They’re deliciously and delightfully scientific, which is why scientists love them. If you want to find out what someone likes the most simple way to measure it is to show it to them and see if they get hard.

But the problem with people is that they also have opinions and emotions which, to be frank, are a pain in the arse to measure. So what’s the best way, in day-to-day life, to establish what someone likes? Well, we fucking ask them.

And when we ask them, we do have to take what they say at face value. I no more know what’s going on in your head than you know that right now I’m wishing you’d slide your trousers down and start slowly stroking your growing erection.

I don’t know what turns you on. The only possible way I can know is for you to tell me. And you can tell me anything – you like being fucked by men, you like rubbing your cock against fully-clothed women, you like rolling around in a mish-mash of people of all different sizes, shapes, colours and genders – I believe you.

Am I bisexual?

Depends on whether you feel like one. Sometimes I like to fuck women, but it’s quite a rare thing for me to find girls that I genuinely fancy. I have a very specific type of girl, and there are some women who make me giggle and drool and stare longingly at their tits, wishing I could pick them up, have them wrap their legs around me, and push them up against a wall while I bury my face in the smooth warmth of their cleavage.

So I fuck women sometimes. But I’m not bi – I’m straight. I feel straight. I don’t wake up in the night craving passionate lesbian embraces, I wake up in the night sweating and panting and reaching for the nearest cock.

You might have a similar mix of sexual preferences, but think that the occasional fucking of your non-preference gender does make you bi. And that, kids, is absolutely fucking fine. Tick whichever box you like on your equal opportunities form, because only you know exactly what’s going on inside your head.

If you tell me you like a particular sexual act or type of person not only will I believe you but I will march loudly through the streets to defend your right to do it with any consenting adult you choose.

People can listen to you and advise and discuss and disagree, but no one has the right to tell you that you’re ‘not a proper bi guy’ because you’ve never been anally fucked. No one has the right to say that you’re definitely gay because you’ve only ever fucked people of the same gender, despite the fact that you have wide-ranging masturbatory fantasies that include both genders banging you until your body aches. On a personal note, no one has the right to tell me I’m bi because sometimes I look at ladies’ tits.

People can know what you do and are and say, but no one knows the feeling that it is like to be you. It’s unique and individual and brilliant and personal – assuming that I know your exact sexual feelings is like assuming I can navigate Oxford Circus using sonar.

So the next time someone tries to tell you there’s no such thing as bisexuals, or that all women are ‘a bit bi’ or that so-and-so is only bi for the attention, ask them what it’s like to be a bat. Thomas Nagel would like to know. And so would I.