5 Types of Guys I’ve Made Out With

| October 22, 2012


Words by Kristoffer Reynoso


I have no shame in disclosing what it’s like when two (possibly three) fun, frivolous, and fabulous fairies fight…with their tongues. Not gonna lie, but it’s reminiscent of that Cruel Intentions moment in which the seductress Kathryn, played by Buffy babe Sarah Michelle Gellar, swaps a sufficient volume of saliva with Selma Blair’s sheltered and naive Cecile. Girls. *rolls eyes*

Lesbian curiosity aside, twinks are the “fresh meat” of the rainbow community, usually straight out of high school, Starbucks, or Narnia. Barely legal, they strut their shit as they enter the club with “fag-hags” in tow and an attitude with which their hair may potentially whip back and/or forth (watch it, Willow Smith).

I once made out with a schoolmate while we were drunk, horny, and dancing to the beat at – you guessed it – The Beat. Making out with twinks just screams “ARGH I’M NEW TO THE GAY SCENE AND GAH, GET ME A MAN’S MOUTH TO GAG ON!” Twinks taste of innocence, inexperience and, if I’m lucky, Smirnoff Double Blacks with a hint of red food colouring. Funnily enough, the aforementioned schoolmate was a bit of a hoe, so it didn’t surprise me when nek minit, he was lapping on someone else. Oh, testosterone!


If my milkshake did bring all the boys to the yard then every once in a while, I’ll come across that Edward Cullen douchebag who’ll just gnaw on my neck. Did you miss my macking memo? Forget to RSVP to my pout party? My neck is not your “plus 1” so please stop sucking on it. I feel uncomfortable and ticklish, and it’s not the greatest of pleasures I’ve encountered.

Come on, gentlemen, we’re not 16 anymore. I don’t want to be sashaying my way through Paddington on a Sunday morning, still dressed in last night’s gear with an additional accessory the size of Jupiter applied to my neckline. Mother would be displeased, indeed.



I don’t know if I just made out with Mr Chong’s nephew who works at Lucky Wok or my own cousin, but for the sake of my professional future, let’s keep this as incest-free as possible. When I was canoodling Than (Vin? Tran? Julio?), not only was there an exchange of tongue and dribble but his breath reeked of some kind of moon cake, pork bun, and soy sauce amalgamation.

Now, I love eating all these Oriental delights, but in that instance, let’s just say I almost vommed, so I quickly excused myself from the situation, and promised to stay away from anyone resembling myself. Just imagine what our future children would look like! Oh wait…



Not too old, though, I draw my line at 40. Settled, financially secure, and a little kinky, older men are a different breed of fun. They take pleasure in simple things (like my lips) and make the journey from North to South Pole without a GPS. Daddies come with their perks, too: I’ve been shouted brunch, free lifts and even a vintage Chanel tee shirt, all because of the magical menagerie that is my mouth.

On more than one occasion, I try a DILF for the heck of it to get an idea of what I would taste like in the near future (I’m only 21). So far, I’ve got remnants of brew on tap, divorce, and money. Predicted occupation: gold-digger.



Nothing gets me wetter than a cute, European, twenty-something communications graduate turned PR professional living the high life overseas. I hope my luscious lips make their way elsewhere on your immaculate body…before your ex-boyfriend in the other room discovers us. True story.

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Category: FEATURED, Serious Section

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