Five Gay Man’s Dilemmas That Will Make You Their Bitch – Unless You Read This First [Guest Blog by thePornpup]

Hey guys! I’m happy to introduce you to this talented blogger, Nick. He’s the blogger of The Porn Pup. I’m a fan of his blog, it has one of the nicest designs. Did I mention that Nick is super cute!?!? And you’re gonna love his sense of humor in his guest blog post:

Five Gay Man’s Dilemmas That Will Make You Their Bitch – Unless You Read This First

Being gay man in the modern world can be a tricky endeavour. In ancient times it was less of an obstacle course of dilemmas; you’d simply stroll beneath the nearest aqueduct, bend over and get pounded by a hunky Roman Centurion, then wander back to your village to barter for vegetables for the rest of the day. These days you have to wonder how many STD’s that hipster you’re fucking from Craigslist has, pray you didn’t rip a condom as you opened the wrapper with your teeth, consider whether that asparagus you ate last night was what made his nose wrinkle when he swallowed your load… Truly, there’s too many things to stress over when you’re a gay in the twenty-first century.

I want to help you. I’m going to take five modern gay dilemmas, shake them and see what falls out. Hopefully it’ll be an honest solution. Then if you’re ever faced with one of these problems you can ask yourself WWTPPD. That of course means ‘What Would ThePornPup Do’, and it’s what I ask myself every morning when I’m choosing between vodka or boxed wine.

The dilemma of: Just the tip.

You just met a guy. He’s super sweet, maybe even rich and handsome. You’ve gone on a date, smiled shyly across a candlelit first course and played footsie under the table. Now you’re back at his place, flat on your back and his cocks probing your hole. Any minute now, you think, any minute now he’s going to put on a condom and is gonna fuck me rotten. But he doesn’t- his precum has conveniently lubed you up enough for him to slip inside. It’s ok, he says as you catch your breath, it’s just the tip.

DILEMMA. It feels so good but you know it’s wrong. And you know it’s wrong because everyone tells you it is; your best friend; the bored doctor at the clinic, possibly even your mum. But damn, it really does feel good, the raw connection, skin against skin (well, circumcision scar against inner bum weirdness)… do you tell him to pull out, as he’s breathing heavily in your ear about how good you feel and slides in another inch?

YES. YES YOU DO. A fuck isn’t worth catching something nasty, even the curable ones. Tell him, politely and firmly, to pull out or you’re going to kill his dog. Whatever it takes for him to get that potential weapon-of-T-cell-destruction out of you. He’s using and abusing you, and that’s only hot in fantasies and TV prison dramas.

The dilemma of: STR8 Acting.

Let’s dissect the phrase:

STR8. Well, if you’re rubbing your weenie against another guys weenie then you’re probably not. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Aspiring to be straight is self-deluding, pointless and ultimately self-defeating. While you might be offended by the gay men that run around West Hollywood like over-medicated flower shop attendants, consider that at least they’re being themselves- and that truly takes a real man.

Acting. Well, you’re faking it then? Why would you want to admit to anyone that you’re living a fake lifestyle? Man up and be yourself, just like those flower shop attendants.

The dilemma of: Partaking in double penetration.

Porn teaches us that more is better. More muscle, more inches, more men, more anal probings than someone diagnosed with proctocolitis.

DILEMMA. We’re expected to find double penetration exciting and daring- it’s squeezing excitement back into boring old penetration. Well, fuck that. It feels crap and it looks stupid, like three men struggling to unblock a meat grinder.

The bottom/victim is doing his best to pretend to enjoy it as his hole is trying it’s best not to rip from stern to stem, while the tops dicks are so compressed that all the blood is being pushed back into their balls.

It’s one of those things that seems better as an abstract idea- like combining food & sex. Only when you’re picking dry Nutella out of your pubes do you concede that some things don’t mix.

Like two dicks in one rectum. Simply take one either end- that’s why evolution gave us two holes.

The dilemma of: Shaving your anus.

So you want your chosen top to be in awe of your cum-canyon. Pinkberry. Bruiser. Whatever pet name you’ve given your a-hole (or, like me, you might have given it the same name as your dog. Both enjoy frequent petting and treats).

DILEMMA. Some tops demand a freshly shaven hole. They seem to be either afraid of ‘remnants’ hiding amongst the bush or any reminder that they’re not fucking an 18 year old fresh from a dairy farm. Well, screw them. If they can’t handle a little fluff around a hole they shouldn’t be sticking their dick in it- and who wants carpet burn from fucking a stubbly hole anyway?

A-holes and razors are not meant to go together. One slip and you’ve given yourself a new smile on the wrong pair of lips. Stick to clippers– they can get the hair as short as a Republican’s tax return and all with a guard to protect even the most shaky-handed slut.

The dilemma of: Being a trashy, drunk mess when you’re over 30.

Sure, partying is fun; being drunk is a laugh (if you don’t mind having a face like a dried prune the next day). Getting high is uplifting/chilling, if dreadfully dull for anyone who has to listen to your ramblings. But…

DILEMMA. You’ve hit your mid thirties and you’re still out every other night. Your face resembles a sad clown even though you don’t wear makeup. The bags under your eyes are starting to flap in the breeze from the subway every morning. You only remember where you went last night when you find the receipts in your pocket and baulk at the size of the tip the bartender added on.

It’s time to grow up and slow down. You’re not in your twenties anymore; you’re past shrugging off the effects of a bottle of vodka and the resultant kidney infection. Slow down and accept that partying gets old. And so have you.

And there we go, five gay mans dilemmas efficiently digested by the internet colon and passed onto you. Totally not uninspired-hack-blogger crap. Am I at 1000 words yet? Oh thank God.

Yours,

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