Damn son, sup son, p house...

Damn son, sup son, p house son, off the chain son! As Paul Simon says, this place is still crazy after all these years. Unfortunately it's mostly the same chicks after all these years as well, which is not necessarily a terrible thing but it would be nice to see some new blood up in har, up in har. What's solid about this shack is the surety of strutting out with your sack shriveled and shrunken and your shorts solidly splattered with splooge. Got a couple of dances and probably if I tried hard coulda been 2 teaspoons lighter after one or two dances but I was lookin for a little sampling today, and wanted to fondle multiple fakies. My third working lady was the lovely lena who kinda pissed me off by asking me at bar if I was from Pakistan but I gave her the chance to make it up to be in the couch room and that she did, with the added bonus of lettin me gettin my fingers madd wett. That was wicked hot and wicked unexpected, I had a 1.5 hour drive back home and was sniffin my stink finger the whole ride back! Bonus!