Boasting? Confession? Or Do You Just Want To Fuck Around?

Often while in the company of men, whether gay or straight, I find myself feeling strange when they start telling me about all of the sordid, intimate details of their sex lives. It's not that I really mind hearing the stories. In fact, sometimes they are pretty hot, but I'm not really the kind to fuck and tell. I kind of wonder if this is a form of confession and they are looking to me for some sort of acceptance. Maybe they just want me to tell them, "Oh. it's okay. Just say a few ‘Hail Satans' and wash your mouth out with a bar of soap." On the other hand, I kind of think that maybe they are just bragging. Maybe it's some pumped up form of machoism and this is their way of saying "Ha ha! I'm getting laid more than you are! Ha ha!" Sometimes, I start to wonder if this is some sort of ancient biological male ritual where I am supposed to share one of my sexual experiences to try to bond with him or to top the one he just told me. And, if I can't think of one right off the top of my head, should I make one up?

I was out with a new friend on a bike ride. He's a pretty intelligent guy, and I enjoy talking to him but his end of the conversation kept going something like, "Dude, did I ever tell you about the frat house party I went to in college? Man you could smell the testosterone on the couch. I just wanted to hump it. I was chatting with this fucking hot buck with a goat and he invited me back to his place to get stoned. We started smoking, and he pulled out his dick and I just sucked him dry."

I'm thinking to myself, "Hmmm... I've never smelled the couch in a frat house full of a bunch of gnarly, party animal college guys. Let me guess... the fragrance of puke and piss and stinky farts? That sure gives me a boner."

Then, the conversation turned to "Dude did I ever tell you about the Viagra party I went to? There was this bear bottom there who was so tweaked out of his mind on Meth. He just laid there in a sling, and I fucked him hard. When I take Viagra, it takes me forever to cum. So, I just kept on fucking him for hours and hours."

I'm thinking to myself, "Is this just something that he needs to get off his chest and I just seem like a nice, understanding guy? Is this that male ritual exchange I was talking about? Does he just want to bond with me through sexual stories of experiences gone by, or am I supposed to bring up one of my sexual experiences that is one better than fucking a tweaked out bear in a sling who can't feel you fuck him for hours and hours while on Viagra?" Maybe it's kind of like playing that card game called War. You know, where he lays down a card and I lay down a card and if my card is higher/better I win.

Or ,should I just make something up? Hmmm... let me see... "Dude, did I ever tell you about the time that Bubala and I picked up this guy at a local cruising park? He was a real hot, bald, furry fuck face! Man, we took him back to our house, and I got him stoned. He got all fucked up and was grabbing at our dicks through our sweatpants and pulling them out and sucking on them. Then, Bubala turned him around and fucked him while I fed his hot, furry mouth. He wasn't even playing with his own dick, but Bubala fucked the cum right out of him. I blew my load all over his face. Then, Bubala, he cums in quarts right? So, he just drenched the dude." Instead. I say nothing and take his stories as his confession.

Then, my friend says, "Dude, are there any secluded woods around here? I need to stop and take a piss." Finally, it dawns on me what's really going on here. We ride a little further and then I stop and I point to a spot in some woods nearby and say, "That place always works for me. I'll wait here and watch our bikes."