I didn't cum on her face. But I left my trace all over the place.

So I’m smoking crack in the back of the shack with jack (that’s a metaphor and jack is my penis) when the anticipated moment arrives. Now let me tell you how this story drives. From the beginning we go. Soon we’ll meet a man named Tido.

I pulled up and parked about a block down the road. And to my chagrin there was a toad. As I walked to the shack there was a man outside who said, "Aha! Is it really nice in there man?" This man seems to be always there. Like a big ugly bear. He's been heckling me for years. Almost to the point of tears. "A Strip Club heckler you say? I've never seen that day." Well I have and he sits out on Main Street in Orange. This man is real. There is no metaphor. And its really weird. Not a big deal I suppose. And its a detail that I could dispose. But it does make walking discreetly gone completely.

I walked in the club with an intention to rub and not in the bathtub.