Gay man wondering how long until he’s no longer lumped in with the other sex freaks

Dane Miller considers himself a normal part of society.

He enjoys sushi, avenger movies and watching his beloved Broncos playing at Suncorp Stadium.

Except every night before bed he cuddles up with his partner and the undisputed bottom of their very gay relationship.

They make love like every other couple. Loud, beastly noises ring out from their bedroom while inch after inch of big gay dick pummels into the lubed up and sweaty, dripping asshole.

And when the love juice is finally unloaded, the temporarily ruined ass opening begins to twitch like the eye of a cyclops in a rain storm and a creamy tear threatens to drip down the gooch of his partner.

They exchange a loving kiss before his partner gets up and sits on the toilet in order to squeeze out the jizzy mess into the grateful water at the bottom of the bowl.

A peace comes over Dane as he listens to his partner fart out the last few drops and he can’t help but wonder when his love will be considered normal in society.

“I mean I get why they had to lump us all into a group.” he thinks to himself while his partner whistles a Liza Manelli song from the bathroom.

“Society is lazy and needed to box us all into one big group but i thought I was normal now?”

“Not still lumped in with the people who have sexual feelings for their sofas or the men who can’t be happy until they grow a big, juicy set of breasts”

“Am I allowed to leave this community or am I locked into the ABCDEFG group forever?”

“Will they all reject me the second I no longer agree with them? Will my partner still love me if I tell him I don’t think love between a man and an inanimate object is a real thing?”

“Who knows? But I’m definitely not ready to disagree with my group identity just yet.”

His partner returns from the bathroom to find Dane with a puzzled look on his face.

“What are you thinking about babe?” he asks.

“Oh nothing important” Dane replies before rolling over and pretending to fall asleep.