Living off campus
For the sake of preservation, this thread endeavors to recreate the legendary Tumblr blog str8guys4fags2serve. Written by a young God Alpha named “Jake”, its bluntly honest revelations form the bedrock of Hierarchical truth found on this website and all others. I thank Master Jake for sharing his wisdom. This thread is a tribute to you, Sir. CLICK HERE for all of these posts in chronological order!
By the end of my sophomore year at college I had about reached my limits on dormitory living, even though I had moved into the “Jock Dorm” with all the “privileges” and “benefits” that that was supposed to have provided. Fortunately, only football and basketball players HAD to live in the jock dorm. Those of us who played so-called “lesser” sports (like baseball – gimme a break) did not have to live in the jock dorm. (Professor Fag’s place was out because I also was fucking Mrs. Professor Fag regularly and even though each of them knew I was doing the other, it just would have been too awkward; not to mention exhausting and demanding – they both were such needy bitches.)
So a couple of months before the end of the school year I started looking for a place to live off campus. I checked out an on-line ad (Craigs List, I think) of this guy who was offering to rent out a room in his house close to campus. We met at a Starbucks and I could tell immediately that the dude was a total fag. (The dude was totally staring at the crotch of my shorts as I made my way slowly across Starbucks to where he was sitting.) We chatted up and he quickly (too quickly, really) offered to take me in. After all the arrangements were made, I finally said, “You know, we haven’t talked about how much.” He (the fag’s name was Bill) thought for a while and said, “how about $150 a month? How does that sound?”
“Well, no,” I said. “I was thinking that you should be paying me at least $200 a month.” Bill stared at me, saying nothing, his mouth quivering, but no sounds emerging. After about a minute or so of that, I stood up and started to walk away. “I guess you’re not interested,” I said.
“Oh, no,” Bill quickly recovered. “$200 a month will be fine.”
“And, you’ll want to wash my car once a week” I piled on.
“Yes, of course.” Bill was licking his lips – literally.
I moved in that afternoon. By the end of the week, I had invited a couple of my buddies on the baseball team to move in too. Bill didn’t know it yet, but his life was about to be amazingly transformed.
