Fin Fang Foom Wonders about Palm Springs

[+ deej]

>A friend

>told me that you are either gay or Jewish in PS.

 

One of the locals told me basically the same thing.

[+ deej]

>A friend

>told me that you are either gay or Jewish in PS.

 

One of the locals told me basically the same thing.

[CT Dick]

Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

 

That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it worth posting.

 

Dick

[CT Dick]

Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

 

That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it worth posting.

 

Dick

[CT Dick]

Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

 

That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it worth posting.

 

Dick

[+ deej]

RE: Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

>

>That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that

>there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it

>worth posting.

 

ROFLMAO!!!!!

 

I needed a good belly-laugh this evening. Thanks Dick!

[+ deej]

RE: Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

>

>That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that

>there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it

>worth posting.

 

ROFLMAO!!!!!

 

I needed a good belly-laugh this evening. Thanks Dick!

[+ deej]

RE: Golf? Isn't that a gas station?

 

>>Palm Springs is actually a *major* destination for golfers.

>

>That is an interesting factoid, Deej, but I doubt that

>there are enough lesbians reading this board to make it

>worth posting.

 

ROFLMAO!!!!!

 

I needed a good belly-laugh this evening. Thanks Dick!

[Guest Chazzz69]

>Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to

>overdose.

 

Wait a minute! Wouldn't that be South Beach? :+

[Guest Chazzz69]

>Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to

>overdose.

 

Wait a minute! Wouldn't that be South Beach? :+

[Guest Chazzz69]

>Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to

>overdose.

 

Wait a minute! Wouldn't that be South Beach? :+

[FrancoDiSantisxxx]

Another 80 degree day in the shade

 

There are several pleasurable ways in which modern technology and small town life coexist nicely in Palm Springs. With DSL connections, one can solicit clients - assuming you are a high-priced, high class whore - or you could merely locate either trick or escort if you are not - all the while spending the afternoon basting under a very hot sun.

 

In my own case, I am presently reading back issues of the New Yorker, chatting with a nice man from Cleveland, making grilled sword fish, and typing in purple all at the same time. If I had some gum, life would be perfect.

 

The day before, Tuesday, after bike riding all afternoon, I stopped at Gold's gym for the daily high-priced, high class maintenance, after which I went into Extreme Blend for a smoothie. A gentlemen of at least 40 was joking with a young man of about 25, regarding a new gym in town opening. The young man, a Gold's sales employee, stated in response that the gym would be offering no "deals." After he left, the 40 year old gentlemen turned to the man who was clearly the owner and remarked that Gold's "better" as men like him were tired of showering at home and not even being able to take a leak without being gawked and stared at like so much rump roast. Personally, it took all my self-possession to keep from lowering myself to my knees and gentle taking my limp fingers under the waistband of his soiled and tattered Robert Bruce sweatpants and moving the down past his size 44 waist to expose his sweaty jock strap, so that I might bury my tongue next to his manhood. Why the very thought of it now, two days later, has just given me a "woody."

 

Yesterday, having riden around town on the bike to the thrift store again, I went by a great art deco consignment furniture store and then went to the leather shop and discussed designer aromas, leather versus copper arm bands, and appropriate harness wear with a nice young man who probably confused me with Rick Munroe. I guess I really should wear tighter fitting shorts when I bike ride and take more care while shaving my back.

 

Around the block, through downtown to a quick stop at Jamba Juice, another smoothie and this time the young black lady and I shared a conversation about the weather, the five planets aligned with the moon and visible at night fall and how clear the sky was in Palm Springs after dark.

 

Later that evening, I again thought about the clear sky, as I was outside in a ten man hot tub, hand sticky with J Lube, a collection of dildos and cock and ball torture devices that would made Cole Tucker proud, and debated why I was not curled up in bed finishing Weight Training For Dummies rather than waiting for a guy to show up from San Diego. As it was, I ended up fucking four grown men, none of whom was able to orgasm in three hours, which always makes it more work since you never know when to stop, other than when the agreed upon time had elapsed. At 4:00 a.m., I slipped my denim shorts back on, looked back up to the sky, slipped the fee into my back pocket, where it remains, uncounted.

 

The sword fish, by the way, is delicious.

[FrancoDiSantisxxx]

Another 80 degree day in the shade

 

There are several pleasurable ways in which modern technology and small town life coexist nicely in Palm Springs. With DSL connections, one can solicit clients - assuming you are a high-priced, high class whore - or you could merely locate either trick or escort if you are not - all the while spending the afternoon basting under a very hot sun.

 

In my own case, I am presently reading back issues of the New Yorker, chatting with a nice man from Cleveland, making grilled sword fish, and typing in purple all at the same time. If I had some gum, life would be perfect.

 

The day before, Tuesday, after bike riding all afternoon, I stopped at Gold's gym for the daily high-priced, high class maintenance, after which I went into Extreme Blend for a smoothie. A gentlemen of at least 40 was joking with a young man of about 25, regarding a new gym in town opening. The young man, a Gold's sales employee, stated in response that the gym would be offering no "deals." After he left, the 40 year old gentlemen turned to the man who was clearly the owner and remarked that Gold's "better" as men like him were tired of showering at home and not even being able to take a leak without being gawked and stared at like so much rump roast. Personally, it took all my self-possession to keep from lowering myself to my knees and gentle taking my limp fingers under the waistband of his soiled and tattered Robert Bruce sweatpants and moving the down past his size 44 waist to expose his sweaty jock strap, so that I might bury my tongue next to his manhood. Why the very thought of it now, two days later, has just given me a "woody."

 

Yesterday, having riden around town on the bike to the thrift store again, I went by a great art deco consignment furniture store and then went to the leather shop and discussed designer aromas, leather versus copper arm bands, and appropriate harness wear with a nice young man who probably confused me with Rick Munroe. I guess I really should wear tighter fitting shorts when I bike ride and take more care while shaving my back.

 

Around the block, through downtown to a quick stop at Jamba Juice, another smoothie and this time the young black lady and I shared a conversation about the weather, the five planets aligned with the moon and visible at night fall and how clear the sky was in Palm Springs after dark.

 

Later that evening, I again thought about the clear sky, as I was outside in a ten man hot tub, hand sticky with J Lube, a collection of dildos and cock and ball torture devices that would made Cole Tucker proud, and debated why I was not curled up in bed finishing Weight Training For Dummies rather than waiting for a guy to show up from San Diego. As it was, I ended up fucking four grown men, none of whom was able to orgasm in three hours, which always makes it more work since you never know when to stop, other than when the agreed upon time had elapsed. At 4:00 a.m., I slipped my denim shorts back on, looked back up to the sky, slipped the fee into my back pocket, where it remains, uncounted.

 

The sword fish, by the way, is delicious.

[FrancoDiSantisxxx]

Another 80 degree day in the shade

 

There are several pleasurable ways in which modern technology and small town life coexist nicely in Palm Springs. With DSL connections, one can solicit clients - assuming you are a high-priced, high class whore - or you could merely locate either trick or escort if you are not - all the while spending the afternoon basting under a very hot sun.

 

In my own case, I am presently reading back issues of the New Yorker, chatting with a nice man from Cleveland, making grilled sword fish, and typing in purple all at the same time. If I had some gum, life would be perfect.

 

The day before, Tuesday, after bike riding all afternoon, I stopped at Gold's gym for the daily high-priced, high class maintenance, after which I went into Extreme Blend for a smoothie. A gentlemen of at least 40 was joking with a young man of about 25, regarding a new gym in town opening. The young man, a Gold's sales employee, stated in response that the gym would be offering no "deals." After he left, the 40 year old gentlemen turned to the man who was clearly the owner and remarked that Gold's "better" as men like him were tired of showering at home and not even being able to take a leak without being gawked and stared at like so much rump roast. Personally, it took all my self-possession to keep from lowering myself to my knees and gentle taking my limp fingers under the waistband of his soiled and tattered Robert Bruce sweatpants and moving the down past his size 44 waist to expose his sweaty jock strap, so that I might bury my tongue next to his manhood. Why the very thought of it now, two days later, has just given me a "woody."

 

Yesterday, having riden around town on the bike to the thrift store again, I went by a great art deco consignment furniture store and then went to the leather shop and discussed designer aromas, leather versus copper arm bands, and appropriate harness wear with a nice young man who probably confused me with Rick Munroe. I guess I really should wear tighter fitting shorts when I bike ride and take more care while shaving my back.

 

Around the block, through downtown to a quick stop at Jamba Juice, another smoothie and this time the young black lady and I shared a conversation about the weather, the five planets aligned with the moon and visible at night fall and how clear the sky was in Palm Springs after dark.

 

Later that evening, I again thought about the clear sky, as I was outside in a ten man hot tub, hand sticky with J Lube, a collection of dildos and cock and ball torture devices that would made Cole Tucker proud, and debated why I was not curled up in bed finishing Weight Training For Dummies rather than waiting for a guy to show up from San Diego. As it was, I ended up fucking four grown men, none of whom was able to orgasm in three hours, which always makes it more work since you never know when to stop, other than when the agreed upon time had elapsed. At 4:00 a.m., I slipped my denim shorts back on, looked back up to the sky, slipped the fee into my back pocket, where it remains, uncounted.

 

The sword fish, by the way, is delicious.

[Rod Hagen]

Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to overdose.

[Rod Hagen]

Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to overdose.

[Rod Hagen]

Palm Springs is where the old go to die, and the gays go to overdose.

[+ Lucky]

Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

[+ Lucky]

Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

[+ Lucky]

Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

[Rod Hagen]

>Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

 

I'm young, and I don't do drugs, so I'm not quite sure I follow.

[Rod Hagen]

>Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

 

I'm young, and I don't do drugs, so I'm not quite sure I follow.

[Rod Hagen]

>Well, that gives Rod two reasons to go.

 

I'm young, and I don't do drugs, so I'm not quite sure I follow.