My friend is dating troid, he used to be a straight man but is now struggling with the mouthfeel when he goes down on his girl. He's also probably going to have to take one for the team pretty soon.

1 2019-12-12 by OnlyRacistOnReddit

Ok spergs, here is a good story for you. I live in Utah just outside of Salt Lake City. The next little town over is called "Sugarhouse" and it hipster central. Guys walking around in clothes that they either stole from a girl or goodwill (it's got to be one or the other) and wearing $500 shoes to complete the outfit.

So it was bound to happen that I'd become friendly with a couple of people from there. Enter Dan (name changed to protect the guilty). I met him at the gym and he's a really nice guy in his early 30's, really handsome, with a good job. We've been hanging out with him for over a year and finally a few weeks ago he tells us that he's dating someone. Of course we were ecstatic for him, we know what a great guy he is (even though he dresses like a homeless person). We ask to meet her and he agrees.

So we have dinner with Dan and his new gal. She's about average height for a woman, kinda pretty and definitely a man.

A couple of days later Dan asks me to have a sit down so he can get my advice. Here's to the best of my memory how it went.

Dan, "So, what did you think about Lola"(I just decided that was what we should call her)

Me: Yeah, she was nice...

Dan: She's really great, I don't know if you noticed or not, but she's a little different from most girls.

Me: Are you referring to the fact that she was born a man?

Dan: Uh, yeah. How did you know?

Me: Um, she has some very masculine features (Dudes, she has an adams apple the size of my nose), and some stubble.

Dan: Oh, I didn't think it was that obvious.

Me: Maybe I'm just more perceptive than most people (I'm not).

Dan: Have you ever dated a girl like her?

Me: What? No Dan, I'm completely hetero, you know my wife. I'm into women, period.

Dan: (insert lecture about how trans women are women and blah blah blah)

Me: Dan, I don't want them mistreated or hurt, but your girlfriend doesn't have some critical parts that you need to be a woman. Oh, does she still have a dick?

Dan: We don't call it that. She has a clit. Besides, body parts are not what makes someone a woman or not.

Me: A big girthy clit?

Dan: That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm having a hard time getting over the mouth feel. It's just a lot different than going down on other girls I've dated.

Me: Would you say it's the difference between licking pussy and sucking a dick?

Dan: Kinda...

Me: Are you a 9 or a 10?

Dan: What do you mean?

Me: 9s spit, but a 10 swallows

I was pretty much laughing my ass off at this point and the rest of the conversation wasn't as productive. I guess Dan is going to continue to get throat fucked by that shenis for a while. Next I need to ask him if they are going to go ~~gay~~ all the way.

Comment something that you think will help Dan cheer up and learn to love the mouth feel.

119 comments

1 SnapshillBot 2019-12-12

I am thoroughly trouncing you. I've seen your mo and I spanked you at your own game. I found your flaw and exploited it quite nicely, my slaughtered braised goose.

Snapshots:

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1 rocinantebabieca 2019-12-12

He’s standing in the stall, his back to me, wearing a cashmere blazer, pleated wool trousers, a cotton-silk white shirt, pissing into the toilet. I can tell he senses movement in the stall because he stiffens noticeably and the sound of his urine hitting water stops abruptly in midstream. In slow motion, my own heavy breathing blocking out all other sounds, my vision blurring slightly around the edges, my hands move up over the collar of his cashmere blazer and cotton-flannel shirt, circling his neck until my thumbs meet at the nape and my index fingers touch each other just above Luis’s Adam’s apple. I start to squeeze, tightening my grip, but it’s loose enough to let Luis turn around—still in slow motion—so he can stand facing me, one hand over his wool and silk Polo sweater, the other hand reaching up. His eyelids flutter for an instant, then widen, which is exactly what I want. I want to see Luis’s face contort and turn purple and I want him to know who it is who is killing him. I want to be the last face, the last thing, that Luis sees before he dies and I want to cry out, “I’m fucking Courtney. Do you hear me? I’m fucking Courtney. Ha-ha-ha,” and have these be the last words, the last sounds he hears until his own gurglings, accompanied by the crunching of his trachea, drown everything else out. Luis stares at me and I tense the muscles in my arms, preparing myself for a struggle that, disappointingly, never comes. Instead he looks down at my wrists and for a moment wavers, as if he’s undecided about something, and then he lowers ‘his head and… kisses my left wrist, and when he looks back up at me, shyly, it’s with an expression that’s… loving and only part awkward. His right hand reaches up and tenderly touches the side of my face. I stand there, frozen, my arms still stretched out in front of me, fingers still circled around Luis’s throat. “God, Patrick,.. he whispers. “Why here? ” His hand is playing with my hair now. I look over at the side of the stall, where someone has scratched into the paint Edwin gives marvelous head, and I’m still paralyzed in this position and gazing at the words, confused, studying the frame surrounding the words as if that contained an answer, a truth. Edwin? Edwin who? I shake my head to clear it and look back at Luis, who has this horrible, love-struck grin plastered on his face, and I try to squeeze harder, my face twisted with exertion, but I can’t do it, my hands won’t tighten, and my arms, still stretched out, look ludicrous and useless in their fixed position. “I’ve seen you looking at me,” he says, panting. “I’ve noticed your”—he gulps—“hot body.” He tries to kiss me on the lips but I back away, into the stall door, accidentally closing it. I drop my hands from Luis’s neck and he takes them and immediately places them back. I drop them once again and stand there contemplating my next move, but I’m immobile. “Don’t be… shy,” he says. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, count to ten, open them and make a helpless attempt to lift my arms back up to strangle Luis, but they feel weighed down and lifting them becomes an impossible task. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted it…” He’s sighing, rubbing my shoulders, trembling. “Ever since that Christmas party at Arizona 206. You know the one, you were wearing that red striped paisley Armani tie.” For the first time I notice his pants are still unzipped and calmly and without difficulty I turn out of the stall and move over to a sink to wash my hands, but my gloves are still on and I don’t want to take them off. The bathroom at the Yale Club suddenly seems to me to be the coldest room in the universe and I shudder involuntarily. Luis trails behind, touching my jacket, leaning next to me at the sink. “I want you,” he says in a low, faggoty whisper and when I slowly turn my head to glare at him, while hunched over the sink, seething, my eye contact radiating revulsion, he adds, “too.” I storm out of the men’s room, bumping into Brewster Whipple, I think. I smile at the ma^itre d’ and after shaking his hand I make a run for the closing elevator but I’m too late and I cry out, pounding a fist against the doors, cursing. Composing myself, I notice the ma^itre d’ conferring with a waiter, the two of them looking my way questioningly, and so I straighten up, smile shyly and wave at them. Luis strides over calmly, still grinning, flushed, and I just stand there and let him walk up to me. He says nothing. “What… is… it?” I finally hiss. “Where are you going?” he whispers, bewildered. “I… I’ve gotta…” Stumped, I look around the crowded dining room, then back at Luis’s quivering, yearning face. “I’ve gotta return some videotapes,” I say, jabbing at the elevator button, then, my patience shot, I start to walk away and head back toward my table. “Patrick,” he calls out. I whirl around. “What? ” He mouths “I’ll call you” with this expression on his face that lets me know, that assures me, my “secret” is safe with him. “Oh my god,” I practically gag, and shaking visibly I sit back at our table, completely defeated, my gloves still on, and gulp down the rest of a watery J&B on the rocks. As soon as I’ve seated myself Van Patten asks, “Hey Bateman, what’s the right way to wear a tie bar or clasp?” “While a tie holder is by no means required businesswear, it adds to a clean, neat overall appearance. But the accessory shouldn’t dominate the tie. Choose a simple gold bar or a small clip and place it at the lower end of the tie at a downward forty-five-degree angle.”

1 LongPostBot 2019-12-12

Ma'am we've been over this before. You need to stop.

My friend is dating troid, he used to be a straight man but is now struggling with the mouthfeel when he goes down on his girl. He's also probably going to have to take one for the team pretty soon.

119 comments

OwO