For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young Apex Alpha, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank the anonymous Alpha writer for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!
Sometimes it takes a while to bring out the fag in a guy, especially when the bitch did not know he was a fag, or a more serious challenge, when the guy has been suppressing his fagdom – trying to convince himself that he was not a fag – for years.
But my roommate my freshman year at college was instant fag. I could tell when I first walked into the tiny dorm room we had been assigned. I think his name was Goeff, but honestly, from the very first day I called the bitch nothing but fag. I didn’t go straight to the room upon registering. Instead, I went over to the gym to talk with the baseball coach about my scholarship and shit. So Goeff had pretty much set up his stuff and was relaxing, stretched out on the bottom bunk when I got to the room. I was wearing spandex biker-type shorts, flip-flops and a sleeveless Under Armour tee shirt. Goeff’s eyes just about popped out of his head as he sprung out of bed extending a hand to introduce himself. I suspected that my roomie was going to be my fag. So I tested this out. I ignored his outstretched hand, and interrupted him as he tried to tell me his name. I wasn’t at all interested in the bitch’s name.
“You’re on my bed. You get the top bunk.” I’m not usually an asshole, but the situation called for this now.
He hesitated for a moment, and then said “Oh sorry. I’ll switch now.”
He started to unmake the bottom bunk and make up the top bunk. I stopped him.
You’ll want to switch mattresses too. You already laid out on the bottom mattress, so that mattress is yours now.“
So, the bitch unmade the mattress on the top bunk and struggled with the mattresses. I just sat on one of the desk chairs, my muscular legs spread and my junk on display through the spandex shorts. Roomie kept glancing over in my direction. He was sweating. We were off to an awesome start. As soon as he finished making up his bed I said,
“Help me get my shit out of the car.” And he did.
Once we got some of my stuff up to the room, I suggested that he could make up my bed since he had done such a good job on his own, which he did. He also set up my computer, and I commandeered most of his desk for my electronic gear. He said he didn’t mind since he liked to study in bed.
“You got a car?” I asked. He said he had his mom’s minivan for a few days, then he would have to return it home.
“Perfect.” I said. “There’s not a whole lot of room for stuff in the Porsche, as you could see. I got a couple of boxes at UPS. Could you drive me down so we can pick them up.” It wasn’t intended as a question or a request. The bitch understood. “Of course.”
Walter had shipped up two pretty good-sized boxes of clothes, and bless his fag heart, had included a wallet that had a picture of him and me at the beach and a credit card. When we got the boxes back to the dorm room and unpacked, there was not enough room in the closet for all of my clothes, not to mention all the boots and shoes that Walter doted on buying me and then worshiping, so I took over most of Goeff’s closet as well. He said he didn’t mind as he folded his clothes and stacked them neatly in the corner.
I rewarded Goeff’s help by taking the bitch out to dinner at an off-campus restaurant. We put the top down on the Porsche. I also offered to drive home with Goeff over the weekend when he returned his mom’s minivan, and drive him back to campus. The fag just about creamed His pants.
That (Goeff creaming his jeans) actually came later that evening. I stepped out of the shower in the bathroom we shared with the two guys in the room next door, and strode into the room naked as I toweled myself off. Goeff just sighed.
“You like to suck dick, fag?” I asked.
“Yes Sir, you mean,” I corrected.
“Yes Sir, i sure do.”
“The go for it.”
Geoff got down on his knees and reached for my muscular thighs.
“No hands,” I corrected. “Hands behind your back whenever you’re servicing me.”
He complied, and went to work on my dick. I could tell Goeff had had some considerable experience. After a while I grabbed his head with both hands and thrust my dick deep into his throat which opened up nicely and I skull fucked the bitch. He blew his load, without touching himself, just about the same time I shot about 6 or 7 searing blasts of my cum directly into the fag’s stomach. The tone of my first year at college (which also was, as things turned out, Goeff’s last year at college – but that’s a story for a different time) was cast.