Reflections in the Aloha Parking Lot

[White Devil]

Is there any finer moment in a man's life, than those few minutes subsequent to the shower, when he is lying face-down on the massage table, waiting for the lady's return? If not, then there could surely be nothing worse than to have that interlude of anticipatory reverie profaned, not by a discreetly professional visit from the police, but rather by actual hootin' and hollerin' from group of guys in the hallway. As the conversation went on and on, with one especially loud and twangy voice instructing the others on the finer points of tipping etiquette, I was reminded for all the world of some noisy grade-school field trip. Just when I was considering getting dressed and dragging my sac of blue balls out the door (and writing off a couple of days' hard-won wages), I heard the cool but commanding voice of my girl, asking another member of the staff to go talk to the gang for a while: “I need some quiet in there.” No kidding. Needless to say, it took both of us some time to regain focus, when we finally got down to business. I'd always thought the whole bachelor party thing--going to the strip joint with a bunch of buds-- was about as gay as it gets; when a bro' needs the moral support of his entire posse for a visit to the amp, though, it seems to me that he truly breaks new ground as regards the homoerotic side of the hobby. Are there any other horndog-psychologists out there who can offer a more charitable explanation of this compulsion to hunt pussy as a pack? Or is this a secret that I'm better off not knowing.

 

[Emily G]

I wonder how their session(s) went....

 

[iKNOWyouDO]

Best we can wish for is they all had a case of whiskey dick and somberly stammered an explanation for their lack of performance as they girls giggled at them.

 

[mat l]

What?