Sunday, May 13, 2012


The things we have been reading lately.

John Travolta propositioning Male Masseuses for sex?

Dinosaurs’ farts made the Dinosaurs extinct?
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.
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.