He Licked My Cock

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10 Straight Guys On the First Time a Guy Sucked Their Dick

Posted on September 19, 2018 by Andrew Christian

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Although sexuality is a spectrum, many straight men are still shy when it comes to admit that a man that sucked their penis. While many would argue that once a dude has touched your dick, you're not truly gay-- we're not sure we can agree.
We asked 10 straight guys (out of a bunch who said they've never received head from a dude) and here are the top answers of straight men giving into carnal desires.
I was a freshman in college and my roommate was gay. One night I got back from one of those black light parties wasted out of my mind and caught him jerking off; at first I pretended like I didn't notice but then once he kept going I figured 'why not?' he swallowed me and we never talked about it again.
When my gay buddies told me about Grindr I thought I would give it a whirl. My girlfriend was away from a long weekend and I figured a mouth is a mouth. I went to him and he sucked me like a hoover and then I left. Was a pretty satisfying experience and none of the weird guilt I had expected.

I sought it out. I was in Liberal Arts college and thought "how will I ever really know I'm not gay unless I try it. We met through a mutual friend and he blew me in my car parked a Shop-Rite parking lot at midnight. The best blowjob I've ever gotten.
We were coming back from the bar late and me and my buddy were both really horny and he wasn't able to drive. The conversation turned to porn which turned into jerking off in silence; without a word he just went all the way down on my cock and it was probably the best thing I've ever felt just because it was so unexpected. I ended up busting in his mouth before we went to sleep.
One time a dude offered to drive me back home from college because we were from the same hometown. Eventually, we got tired and stopped for a quick bite to eat. We had been sitting in the car for what felt like days and I was feeling pretty horny. He asked if I would ever consider letting a dude suck my dick and after talking about it for a while, I agreed. I slept so soundly for the rest of the ride home.
Wasted from a frat party I was trying to get with this girl but she wasn't having it, I was going back to my dorm to rub one out when I accidentally tried to get into my neighbor's door. He opened the door and could tell I look frazzled so invited me inside; one thing led to another and we sucked each other's dicks.
I used to have some circle jerks with a few college buddies of mine. We would get drunk and jerk it to porn. One day one of my jerk buddies was over and we started going at it. He put on bisexual porn and started making jokes about how good it would feel to have a girl on your face and a mouth on your cock...from there it sort of escalated and we 69ed.
The first time I got my dick sucked was at a gloryhole at my college. I had heard about it from a few friends and decided to go check it out. I noticed there was someone in the other stall so I stuck my dick through and it felt like a vacuum was on my cock. I came in, like, 2 minutes flat.
My buddy and I were going shot for shot playing truth or dare. He lost, I got some awesome throat.

The first time a dude sucked my dick was when four of my buddies were camping and we were hanging out by the fire. My bro said he was going to take a leak, and not wanting to wandering into the woods alone later I decided to join him. He reached for me in the dark and one thing led to another and I was fully in his mouth. We got interrupted before either of us could finish and we've never brought it up.

*** Andrew Christian Inc. does not claim rights to any images posted in this blog post. If you find your picture here and would like to have it credited or removed please email acblog@AndrewChristian.com
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I Was 10 When My Grandfather Touched Me “Down There”. My Parents Were Just Upstairs.
I Made Some Extra Cash Last Week Just By Doing A Little Swiping, And Unlocking My Phone

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Partnered Post | Joycelyn Tan

8 Jul 2022

It happened when I was 10. It’s not like most stories that you might have read about; there was no struggling, no screaming, no taunting or violence. It was silent—mostly because I had no idea what was going on.
It didn’t happen in an alleyway, or in a sleazy motel room. Not even in my own bedroom. It was in a dusty half-lit store pantry on the ground floor of my grandfather’s house. With about 9 other relatives on the first floor. It happened when I wasn’t alone.
Was it frightening? Hardly. If anything, it was confusing. I was only 10.
I grew up in a conservative home. I didn’t know the word ‘f*ck’ until I was 15. I only understood its meaning a whole year later. And yet now we have 8-year-olds using the word in grammatically correct sentences. My parents were traditional in their ways (and very strict).
I never once asked them, “Mommy, where do babies come from?” Maybe I wasn’t quite an inquisitive child. I knew there was a hole somewhere in my nether regions but I thought it was just for peeing.
So when grandfather asked me to follow him into the pantry and put his hands down my panties, I just stood there like the good doll I was while he sat on a stool behind me. He was gentle. But determined. Quick—before anyone else came into the kitchen—but long enough for me to remember his stubby beard rubbing against my neck.
I can’t remember when I realised the disturbing intentions of his action. Maybe it was when I discovered porn by accident. Maybe it was when I studied Chapter 4 of Science in Form 3. Maybe it was during “girl talk” with my guy friends in school.
But even before I figured it out, I knew my grandfather did something bad. Bad enough for my parents to tell me to avoid going near him when we visit after I told them about how he touched me “down there”. However, in my 10-year-old mind, it couldn’t have been that bad since they never confronted him about it. There wasn’t any big hoo-ha or dramatic family intervention. They simply told me not to tell anyone about it—sorry, mom and dad, for this.
In their defence, they couldn’t have prevented it. Not before it happened anyway. They couldn’t have known that they shouldn’t leave me alone downstairs while they chatted happily just several metres away. They couldn’t have known that they should have told me from a young age to “scream for help and run if someone touches you here or here “. And for that, I’ve never blamed them.
That’s not the case for my grandfather. Although I listened to my parents and avoided him, it was out of obedience and ignorance. Not because I actually understood why I should. And when I finally did many years later, I hated him for it. Which is a difficult task to do even after all these years.
It might be because it’s hard to hate someone who’s been dead for at least 10 years (I don’t keep count of the exact number). There’s only so much hate that you can give to a dead person because you can’t really do anything about it.
I don’t have any extraordinary lesson for you, other than the predictable ones. Educate your children so that their understanding of “down there” is not lacking; be observant so that any changes in your child’s behaviour doesn’t go by unnoticed; and do something when your child confides in you so that they know they can trust you.
Because not every case of child sexual abuse and molestation is about a child kicking and screaming.
Sometimes it’s a silent one, not because they are unafraid, but because they are confused, unaware, and simply just don’t know any better.
I consider myself very lucky. It only happened once and I was still ignorant. Nevertheless I’m in no way belittling it. I’ve heard of horrific experiences from victims of abuse, and even if it happened once, twice, or many times, there is always one similarity between them—they will be affected.
I sometimes wish that my parents did make a big deal out of it. I wish my relatives knew what a creep grandfather was.
On the other hand, I’m relieved that they didn’t. I can’t imagine having to face the embarrassment and the humiliation. More importantly, I also can’t imagine handling the rejection if they all knew but still did nothing about it. Or worse still, didn’t believe me.
Am I traumatised and never able to trust men again? Not quite. I am, after all, happily married. But till this day, I can’t stand stubby beards.
Editor’s note: This article is in response to the sudden (but very necessary) interest in the ugly truth of child sexual abuse cases in Malaysia . The writer would like to remain anonymous; however she’d like to remind readers that if they have a sexually abused child, it’s your responsibility to make them feel secure and accepted. Lodge a police report, or seek professional advice from a child psychologist/counsellor. Let them know that they are significant and that their well-being matters.
Feature image adapted from http://www.doctorinsta.com/
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Vulcan Post aims to be the knowledge hub of Singapore and Malaysia.
© 2021 GRVTY Media Pte. Ltd. (UEN 201431998C.)

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