- Joined
- Feb 15, 2019
I bring you a case study of a heckin' valid dooderino named Davey Davis.
Pics courtesy of @OttoWest
I was introduced to this pooner via the cursed Substack of Mallory "Daniel Lavery" Ortberg. Mallory and Davey are both self-loathing pooners who are trying to convince themselves that they are really gay men. Both of them write on Substack about their "steamy" "gay" hookups.
Here, Mallory comments on Davey's Substack. You can practically feel the torrid gay lust throbbing out of them, n'est-ce pas?
Now, let's dive in to Davey herself. She looks like, and is, a woman, but is neurotic to the point of paranoia about using the bathroom: link | archive.
She writes about her genderfeels: link | archive. Naturally, they are EXTREMELY COMPLICATED. Is she "Uncle"? Is she "Auntie"? What if she changes her mind?!?!?
Despite having a ~mysterious~ ~complicated~ ~mercurial~ gender herself, Davey does not tolerate this in others. A nonbinary dares to message her on Grindr and she takes to Twitter to complain that her profile CLEARLY states MEN ONLY!!!!!! Why can't they/them learn to fucking read?!?!?!?
She is using a suboptimal forum (Grindr) to do it, but Davey is still offering pussy on the internet. She finds takers. In one Substack entry (Archive), she recounts the tale of one anonymous hookup:
Another one. Link | Archive. I challenge you to finish reading this excerpt without having at least eight spontaneous orgasms from the raw animalistic sexuality of our cock-hungry Grindrista:
Davey's Substack goes back to 2020 and I'm sure there's more insanity therein, but I'll leave it there for now, I'm sure you're all spent.
Pics courtesy of @OttoWest
I was introduced to this pooner via the cursed Substack of Mallory "Daniel Lavery" Ortberg. Mallory and Davey are both self-loathing pooners who are trying to convince themselves that they are really gay men. Both of them write on Substack about their "steamy" "gay" hookups.
Here, Mallory comments on Davey's Substack. You can practically feel the torrid gay lust throbbing out of them, n'est-ce pas?
Now, let's dive in to Davey herself. She looks like, and is, a woman, but is neurotic to the point of paranoia about using the bathroom: link | archive.
Now, this is all very reasonable. When entering a public bathroom, every man on Earth immediately endeavors to ascertain whether the person inside each stall is sitting or standing, peeing or shitting. Freaking out about this is a productive use of your energy, Davey. Great job.[In public bathrooms with three or four stalls], if I use the women’s I’ll get stared or screamed at, and if I use the men’s I’ll get clocked. By how I pee, you see, because it’s obvious when someone is using the stall to pee and easy to determine whether they’re using it while seated.
She writes about her genderfeels: link | archive. Naturally, they are EXTREMELY COMPLICATED. Is she "Uncle"? Is she "Auntie"? What if she changes her mind?!?!?
Lego gun = man. Our poon wishes everyone would act like this preschooler, adjusting the pronouns they use for her according to the gender role she is occupying at that particular nanosecond:Prior to this most recent visit, my godson was unable to call me much of anything at all, so the title of uncle had always been theoretical, aspirational. It had been a somewhat queasy concession on my part—I wasn’t so sure I didn’t feel like an Auntie David. And you also want to be mindful of your gender’s inconstancy (suppose I wake up some morning with a changed mind?).
The most important thing about this growing child is what he thinks about my gender:As usual, my pronouns were even more problematic than my name...When I cuddled him, I was she. When I showed him how to load the tiny Lego gun with tinier Lego projectiles, I was he. ... I [began] to wistfully wonder what it would be like if other people—adult people—could gender me as he did.
I’m the first person he’s ever met—or has ever built Lego boats with, anyway—whose gender is a mystery.
Despite having a ~mysterious~ ~complicated~ ~mercurial~ gender herself, Davey does not tolerate this in others. A nonbinary dares to message her on Grindr and she takes to Twitter to complain that her profile CLEARLY states MEN ONLY!!!!!! Why can't they/them learn to fucking read?!?!?!?
She is using a suboptimal forum (Grindr) to do it, but Davey is still offering pussy on the internet. She finds takers. In one Substack entry (Archive), she recounts the tale of one anonymous hookup:
After a while, he picked me up and placed me on the bed. He sucked too hard on my clit, but when I told him so, he modulated his technique. This made me happy, which is not the same thing as aroused, but not so different, either; I don’t like receiving head, but I let guys do it because it’s easier than having a conversation about it. Having overcome something together, after a few minutes I felt sturdy enough to tell him I was done.
Dallas did what they all do and threw my legs over his ox-like shoulders to penetrate deeper, harder, faster. It hurt.
So hot, right!?!?!?!?!?! She clearly loves getting railed by strange men.But after just a few strokes, he told me to lie on my belly and close my legs. I knew this was a signal that he wanted to finish, and I, too, was ready to go home, but this vaguely irritated me. In my experience, this is a favored position among chasers who prefer someone with a different anatomy from mine because it both tightens the hole, so it’s easier to cum (damn those condoms, the foe of middle-aged fuckers everywhere!), and obscures the fact that I have a vagina. Or so I think.
Another one. Link | Archive. I challenge you to finish reading this excerpt without having at least eight spontaneous orgasms from the raw animalistic sexuality of our cock-hungry Grindrista:
He talked to me, stroking my hair, and I began to relax. But when he reached down into my pants, his fingers went immediately to my asshole. Well, shit, I thought. Flattered as I was, gender-wise, by his homosexual instincts, I knew their next stop would be my pussy, even my clit, and the specter of a UTI ruined the mood I was in the process of summoning. The effort of stopping, negotiating, sending him to wash his hands, starting it up all over again—it just wasn’t worth it. I sucked his cock for a few minutes longer, trying to ascertain, by his sounds and shifting tumescences, what gave him true pleasure and what was merely encouragement or good manners, and then I stood up, apologized, put my shirt back on, and left.
Davey's Substack goes back to 2020 and I'm sure there's more insanity therein, but I'll leave it there for now, I'm sure you're all spent.
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