The
things we have been reading lately.
John
Travolta propositioning Male Masseuses for sex?
Dinosaurs’
farts made the Dinosaurs extinct?
Possibly…
At the
very least scientists are saying their farting caused some global warming back
in early times- when the earth was flat and long before Jehovah Witnesses or
Scientologists prowled the earth.
Which
brings us back to Mr. Travolta? It may have seemed a set up when one young man
complained to authorities about John’s advances but then a second and now a third.
It seems there’s something “dirty” going on from where I sit.
Of
course the first strapping lad has now changed his story. I wonder how much
Johnny Boy’s Lawyers had to pay to get the boss out of that one. The other two
are still ripe.
Touching
him.
Asking
to be touched.
A bit
of dirty talk.
Would I
do John Travolta or give him a warm mano-a-mano release?
Not for
the 50 bucks he apparently offered one strongly-handed young man.
Travolta?
You got
to be kidding!
How
cheap are you?
You
have millions. An act like that is worth a lot…and I mean a lot- plus, I would
expect a “money” card every year on my birthday and at Christmas.
Now, when
talking about pleasuring Mr. Travolta, a much-younger, slimmer version of him
comes to mind- not the “Edna Turnblad” pile of fat he has become.
I’m
sorry but 50 bucks it wouldn't happen Mr. T.
I
suggest visiting a dark alley and stick your whazoo through a hole in the fence
and wait and see what happens. Maybe a friendly neighbourhood pervert- or dog
might wander by.
No sir!
Don’t
think you’re going to be sullying my sheets for a pittance. For you it would be
a major investment.
Now
look!
I don’t
ever remember prostituting myself for money.
I am
talking the 80’s.
Nope, I
chose my “flings”.
There
was nothing dirty going on back then. Just your typical one-night stands.
Now
inside this new millennium it would have to be a Hugh Jackman or a Mark
Tewkesbury or a Vampire from True Blood propositioning me before I’d spill my
goods for next to nothing.
I’d
want cash- or a cashier’s cheque or real estate to perform tasks similar to
those John Travolta asked for.
Problem
is, these days I am a bit of a dinosaur when it comes to that 80’s stuff- although,
I am proud to say that flatulence has never been a bodily function I share
either in public or in the privacy of my home, I do believe my time for
pleasuring handsome men has passed me by.
Like
farting into the wind, it just isn’t me…anymore.
