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Is this some variation on bobbing for apples? I like it!

Am I, perhaps, too Gay when my first thoughts on seeing this photo were: OH, what awful wallpaper. Thank God it's not in color!

We can only hope. Maybe in a chow line one day, the prison cook will them both of them that, "Tomorrow you'll be having meatballs for dinner. Yours."

Sounds like what the woman told friends as they entered a new, very posh, very expensive restaurant in town: I've heard the food here isn't very good, but fortunately the portions are small. You might have been lucky that he left early?

Hold on, Sweetness. Let me get a broom to give you a boost.

I was once considered for a nude photospread in a nationally known magazine but, sadly, it never happened. The rental for an outdoor space large enough to accommodate the set, as well as the number of wide-angle lenses that would be needed, made National Geographic reconsider their plans.

This news makes me sad to be an atheist and to know there is no Hell for these two to eventually go. These monsters deserve every minute of what I hope will be an absolutely horribly primitive, excruciatingly painful, and wholey degrading prison experience. Sadly, however, that experience will likely be cut short as their life expectancy in state custody, amongst all their caring and compassionate co-inmates who are so notoriously understanding and tolerant and take so kindly to molesters of children, will be, in a word, brief.

You'd only need to leave Florida virtually. I'm assuming the issue is legislation intended to protect the "innocent children" from accessing porn sites. Some sites don't even want to bother with the age verification protocols, so they just block all traffic from the jurisdiction. Among other things, your IP address identifies your location, including your state; otherwise, the site you're accessing wouldn't know you were in Florida. Get a VPN program (paid or free) and use it to mask your actual location, making the site you want to visit see your connection coming from New York, or California, or some other state not enacting your problem-causing legislation. That's part of the stupidity of such legislation, that's it's so easy to bypass. And if I know how to do it, I'm sure any kid over 12 knows how, too.

O. M. G. What a chest! What abs! What a face! What hair! What perfection! I'm speechless, simply speechless. Except, of course, to say, "Yes, Sir. Starting where, Sir?" As Oliver Twist asked, May I have some more? (Who is this hunk?)

Seems harder to pin down than a gnat on speed.

John Waters' description is spot-on. Whether arriving on foot or for valet parking, you entered on the second floor in the back, which was ground level for the back of the building, owing to the hill those businesses were built on. The bar was downstairs on the first floor, with no access (that I can recall) from the street front. And there was a "grand" spiral staircase to take you down to your land of hopes and dreams where the food, booze, and boys awaited your arrival. The "long" bar -it was something of a smaller space so, like other things there, was only as long as it could get - and yes, that is a metaphor - was on your left as you entered and red-leather upholstered booths were along the right wall. At the far end of the bar was a small open area with space for leaning against the walls so sellers could better display their merchandise to interested buyers. Damn! I miss those days!

The chest says "be nice," but the eyes say "or else."

And yet, getting worked over like that by Topher Dimaggio -with the domineering sex still to come- makes me think of the lyrics "somewhere in my youth - or childhood - I must have done something good."

Well, if Mr. Hammer is as endowed as the 10.5 mentioned in his ad, I'm afraid that after our session I'd just be too thor to walk home.

For me, that would make them thongs. Not a good look.

On November 22, 1963, a newsman in Dallas, Texas asked Mrs. J. D. Tippit, widowed earlier that day when her police officer husband was shot and killed by Lee Harvey Oswald, which death that day she was more upset about, her husband's or the President's. Not all journalists are Walter Cronkite. Or even close.

Ditto. Ditto. Ditto.

A man's wife had slipped into a coma and the doctor told the husband that there was very little modern medicine could do to help her. He did say, however, that there was one method that had had some limited success but was rather radical. "Well, what is it?" asked the husband, "I'll try anything!" "Well," said the doctor, "you have to go into your wife's room and have oral sex with her." "Oh my god, man! That's practicality repulsive," blurted the husband. "I know, I know," said the doctor. "But I have seen it work." So, reluctantly, the man went into his wife's room but came out after only a few minutes. "Doc, I don't think this is working," he said. "She keeps choking." [Adapted from a Norm Macdonald joke.]

What a blessing it is, I now realize, to suffer from my degree of MMTI (Mild Modern Technology Impairment). I couldn't find grinder or a game gift card with both hands and a flashlight. And for that I am truly grateful.

Some pics just force scenarios to pop into my head. In this case it was: I was keeping it together until he shoved my face into the floor and said, "Shut up and take it, bitch!" I came right then and there.

When wresting resembles bowling - there's somewhere to put your fingers.

By his stats, he's a big boy, and I really like his body; nice muscles and not overdone. What's shown of his face looks fine but wish there were more.

For those here who resemble this very delectable and desirable morsel, when you go out dressed for this kind of weather, please, I beg you, do not wear shoes and socks, by instead wear some variety of flip-flop. Otherwise, you will leave me certainly appreciative, yet not altogether sated in my search for mental images I may store up for later use.😛

My tongue is already exhausted!

I spent six years in the US Navy with 350,000 other sailors and we all got screwed a little every day.