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Let me start with this. I’m straight. No ifs, ands, or buts. If you’ve seen my “favorites,” though, you’re probably assuming I’m self-deluded. That’s understandable. But here’s why I’m sure I’m straight. I’ve never, ever felt romantic feelings of any kind towards a man. I have no desire to hug, snuggle, or even hold hands with a man. And the thought of kissing a man turns my stomach. If I’m watching a video, it’s an instant fast-forward through the kissing scenes. So how do I explain my faves? There are several things from my youth that have contributed to who I am in this regard.

First, I grew up on a farm. From a very young age, I was exposed to the sight of animals mating. By the time I was six or seven years old, I knew that dogs sometimes got “stuck” when they mated. What a hilarious sight to see two dogs, butt-to-butt trying to end their entanglement. Seeing dogs humping was fairly commonplace on the farm. But as fun as it was to watch the dogs, it was the horses that truly affected me. I can remember watching my father - many times - putting a halter on one of his stallions and walking it over to breed a mare. Horses are such truly magnificent animals. Muscular. Masculine. Powerful. And of course, it was impossible for my eyes to avoid the sight of his huge dick. It was long, thick, hard, and manly. He repeatedly snapped it to attention – slapping it against his belly. It was the outward manifestation of his lust and desire. It looked powerful and it had a hypnotic effect on the young boy that I was. It was the essence and epitome of masculinity. Approaching the mare from behind, he began to become excited – prancing – at full attention. He would sniff beneath the mare’s tail, throw his head back, curl back his upper lip – exposing his teeth – and make a strange throaty gasp.

Then he would mount her. It was never a gentle act. There was no tender moment in which he slipped the tip in and gently worked it deeper. No. It was a forceful thrust. And another. And another, until he was quickly spent. He was inside her for less than a minute before he pulled out his massive instrument, followed by a gush of semen from the mare. He looked totally satisfied. Triumphant. The conqueror. And more quickly than you might expect, his giant dick began to shrink – retracting its sheath into his loins and becoming completely invisible. I watched this scene many times as a young boy. It always left me breathless – heart pounding and wanting to rub my rock-hard, tiny dick through my trousers.

Going on in parallel with this was an unthinkable introduction of an unlimited supply of erotic magazines into my life. Not far from the home where I grew up was a community dump. It was a very rural area, and people took their garbage to this small dump, where they burned or abandoned it. I rode my bike nearby, and one day I discovered a cache of abandoned Playboy magazines. Someone would occasionally dump his girlie magazines when he was finished with them. I thought I was the luckiest kid in the world. But sadly, it sent me down a trail of lifelong addiction to erotica. This began before there was an internet. In fact, in the early days, Playboy and Penthouse pictured nothing but boobies. Female genitalia was absolutely prohibited in such magazines, at the threat of facing obscenity charges. Even a trace of pubic hair had to be airbrushed away. And images of nude men were no where to be found. This further heightened my desire to see what was being hidden from me. In 1968, Playboy showed the first photo that had a slight hint of pubic hair, and it wasn’t until 1972 that they featured a centerfold displaying full frontal nudity. I was privy to every issue during that transition – craving a more explicit look at things – especially men showing their dicks. One day, somewhere around the age of 14 or so, I discovered a stash of hardcore material hidden away by an older relative. It began to satisfy my curiosity – but only visually.

The second mind-altering event occurred at school. I attended a rural elementary school for grades 1 through 8. I’m pretty sure this incident occurred when I was in the 5th grade – about 11 years old or so. During recess one day, I ran in to use the boy’s restroom. Two older boys – eighth graders – held me by my arms and pushed me to my knees. A third boy, who was a little bigger than the other two, stood a few feet away and lowered his pants – exposing his dick, which was pointed straight at me at about eye level. I don’t remember being frightened or feeling threatened. I just remember being mesmerized by his dick. It was fat and meaty, but not rock-hard and stiff like mine got when I was aroused. Within a few seconds, one of them panicked – telling the other two that he knew my father, and that he would tear them limb-from-limb with his bare hands. They ran out together – leaving me to collect myself. I did my business in the bathroom and then ran back to recess. I never mentioned a word of this to anyone. I don’t recall if the boy told me to open my mouth, or to suck his dick, and I really don’t know what I would have done if it had gone that way. I don’t recall if he said anything at all. I just remember being fascinated at the sight of his dick. It was different than mine – bigger, somewhat flaccid, and uncircumcised. But it was so much smaller than a horse’s dick. It increased my desire to see other boy’s dicks – and men’s dicks, too. But I had no such opportunities.

The next significant event happened at the same school about three years later. I was in the eighth grade. Me and a couple of my best buddies – also eighth graders – found ourselves alone in the gymnasium. We wandered into a small room that must have been where the athletic uniforms were stored, so it didn’t get much foot traffic. We decided that it would be fun to jerk off. So we sat in near-darkness and jacked-off. We each jerked our own dicks. There was no thought of touching one another. We each had an orgasm, wiped off our own jizz, and left. What made its mark on me, though, was how long one of the boy’s dick was. It wasn’t impressively thick, but it was long. I often visualized that scene throughout my life, and it simply added to the mystique of the male anatomy in my mind, and it made me lust to see more guys’ dicks.

Now let me say this as to why I’m confident of my straightness. I have no desire to have my butt penetrated by a man or any object. It just doesn’t appeal to me. And I’m not longing to penetrate another guy’s butt, either. If given the opportunity and invitation, I guess I might. But it’s not on my bucket list. Nor can I imagine licking anyone’s butthole. These activities are common in gay videos, but, like the kissing scenes, they’re fast-forward material to me. So what is it that I want? I want to look – up close. I want to observe, touch, and explore. I think I would even be very tempted to lick and open my mouth to a man’s dick in a sort of phallic worship. I’m not too sure about taking a load in my mouth – much less swallowing it – but who knows. It would be so erotic to be with a couple who were involved in sexual activity – gay, straight, or whatever. My desire would be to watch, touch, and maybe participate in some way. But since I’m not actively pursuing such connections, I highly doubt that it will ever happen. So if I really had to choose a label, I guess I'd have to say that I'm solosexual.