Write a controversial opinion

That's the only way.

He turns to admire the size from different angles, but ends up lamenting how his balls are sagging a bit. Then he pulls the skin taut as he considers scrotoplasty to fend off the signs of aging. Those balls made two kids, though, so he should be proud of the sag.

Remind me never to read a Lit story that uses "scrotoplasty" as a tag.
 
Damn it, I saw the name of this thread and I got really excited to share my controversial hot take on how useless Colby Jack cheese is. It was a good post, too. But okay, fine, I'll share a hot take on stories, I guess.

I dread writing blowjob scenes. Other writers can make them interesting. I can't. Or at least, they don't feel that way. There are only so many ways you can write "he stuffed his wedding tackle into her bait shop entrance number one" before you get bored as fuck with them. Blowjobs in real life? God yes. Having to write them? God no.
 
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That's the only way.

He turns to admire the size from different angles, but ends up lamenting how his balls are sagging a bit. Then he pulls the skin taut as he considers scrotoplasty to fend off the signs of aging. Those balls made two kids, though, so he should be proud of the sag.
A wistful smile drifts across his face as he recalls his carefree younger days when they bounced freely, resplendent in their scrotum pasties. He'd wowed housewives, fashion execs, even a First Lady with his Newton's Cradle impression. His "Scrote to Scrote" tour had made the National Enquirer. I had it all wrong, he thought. You don't just wake up one morning and decide to trade all that for Marge, a Volvo SUV, and little Bobson and Melindabell. It creeps up on you so stealthily you don't even notice until it's done.
 
A wistful smile drifts across his face as he recalls his carefree younger days when they bounced freely, resplendent in their scrotum pasties. He'd wowed housewives, fashion execs, even a First Lady with his Newton's Cradle impression. His "Scrote to Scrote" tour had made the National Enquirer. I had it all wrong, he thought. You don't just wake up one morning and decide to trade all that for Marge, a Volvo SUV, and little Bobson and Melindabell. It creeps up on you so stealthily you don't even notice until it's done.
I might be wrong, but I believe that the Puppetry of the Penis guys might still do private parties. There's got to be a graceful way to do a managed exit from the stage, anyway.
 
Did you know that you're not done physically growing till your mid twenties, and that your brain isn't done developing till your late twenties. So maybe drugs and alcohol should wait till you're 30...

No, that'd just be prohibition all over again, it's safer as it is.
 
It isn't always abusive.

Shit, I didn't even know I was a 'trad guy' until after my first marriage exploded and went down in flames. The first Mrs. Baz was very liberated and decided that she had to be 'free'.

My second wife was someone who had been nursing a crush on me and when we got together we went bare, she moved in with me, she got pregnant, and we got married. Three kids and a thirty-one year marriage followed.

After we paid off the house in 1993 she stayed home and I fucking loved it. So did she.

Rae died in March 2020 and I've been single ever since.
I'm sorry for your loss. Your life's trajectory is, of course, entirely valid, and I hope it brought you happiness. But it's far from the only path towards happiness.
 
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