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…dancing with the devil in the city of angels…

~ Ramblings, Rumblings and Travel Tales: Bangkok and Beyond

…dancing with the devil in the city of angels…

Monthly Archives: November 2012

Rubbing One Out

30 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in Dancing With the Devil

≈ 12 Comments

massage 1

I need to get a massage.

No, I don’t mean the stressed out or tired and sore muscle kind of massage. I mean the happy ending kind of massage. Shamelessmack’s blog has been dark long enough now that it’s a safe bet he’s not going to start it up again. Mack covered the massage scene in Thailand. And was quite detailed in his posts. I’d hate to steal his shtick but it’s been too long now and his readers are tired of waiting for his return. The massage parlor scene in Thailand beat needs to be covered. There’s only one problem. I’ve only had one happy ending massage in Thailand out of all of the visits I’ve made there. And the masseuses were women. Real ones. So I’m not the guy to be reporting on the state of the Kingdom’s rub and tug shops for gay men. Until I get some more experience under my belt. So to speak.

My singular experience in visiting a massage shop that offered more than just massages wasn’t my idea, nor is it something I need to experience again. But I was on holiday with my straight buddy Rick and he came up with the idea. Since I always thought it’d be cool to share an orgasm with Rick, I agreed.

Rick had discovered Thailand independently of me, we’d both been there a few times and decided a road trip to Bangkok as a duo was in order. We were both still in our early thirties, and neither of us had much of a problem in scoring hotties back home. Regardless, I’d been busy discovering the wonders of Thai male flesh from places like DJ Station on my visits to Bangkok. Rick had zeroed in on the city’s commercial sex world on his. And was ecstatic about it. He could barely contains himself on the flight over and couldn’t refrain from singing the glories of a soapy massage non-stop even while our flight made stops. It wasn’t until we checked into our hotel that he came up with the idea of the two of us hitting his favorite place together.

massage 2

“Sounds wonderful, dude. But ya know the sight of pussy tends to make me nauseous.”

“No, I’m, telling ya it won’t matter. It’s like being in heaven.”

“There are no fish in my version of heaven.”

“Come on, we’ll book a room together.”

“Well, if you need a bit more dick in the room to make your happy ending all it can be I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Rick was right. I am an asshole. And our joint massage of our joints was like being in heaven. Though that had more to do with Rick’s dick’s proximity than it did the massage. But even Rick’s dick aside, that visit spoiled me for any future massage orgasm experiences. There was no pretense about which muscle needed massaging. There was no question of whether or not the ending would be a happy one. And – thank the gods – there were no commercial sex workers unskilled at the art attempting to actually give me a real massage.

Obviously not the first time a double occupancy room had been requested, ours was humongous. And clean, bright, decorated, and cheery. It had two large separate sunken bath tubs, and two separate shower stalls big enough to fit a party into. More importantly, it had two queen size air mattresses spread out on the floor ready and waiting. We weren’t there for a simple hand job; Rick was determined that I’d get to discover the joys of Bangkok’s famous soapy massage. Even if that meant sacrificing a bit of his heterosexuality to make it happen.

massage 3

For those of you who have never had the experience, with or without Rick’s dick in the room, a soapy massage has nothing to do with the art of massage. Some jaded fools who think they know more than they do will tell you a soapy massage is just another name for a full body massage. It’s not. That’s like saying Oprah’s ass is a bit on the large side. The air mattress on the floor is important. The soap a must. And any place that specializes in soapy massages has a bar fixed at the head of the mattress for the masseuses to grab a hold of to keep on top of her job.

The massage starts with a shower which is only partially about getting clean. I think Rick enjoyed his shower more than I did, those the sight of his meaty buttocks pressed up against the glass shower enclosure added to my enjoyment. And that enjoyment didn’t pass the notice of my masseuse, who earned a large tip for making sure I had a good view of what I wanted to see for the rest of the massage. Next came the tubs where any suggestion of cleansing was totally discarded. Besides a good soak, that time was devoted to getting thoroughly dowsed and properly lathered up. It was obvious when he got out of the tub that Rick enjoyed that part of the service more than I did too. At least until Rick got out of his tub.

While we were still soaking the masseurs hopped out of the tub, wet the mattresses down and soaped them up a bit so that by the time we joined them it was an effort to not go slip sliding away. Possibly holding degrees in physics, the masseuses solved that problem by adding some weight. Theirs. On top of our bodies. And that’s when the soapy massage really begins.

massage 4

A firm ripe body gliding up and down your back, the friction between your two bodies slightly lessened by your lathered bodies is in fact a little bit of heaven. Having your naked straight buddy a few feet away, going through the same experience and enjoying himself so much he wants to talk about it doesn’t hurt either. Having said naked straight buddy then roll over to have his other side massaged, nonchalantly exposing his erect cock in the process starts the angels singing. And when you do the same and notice your naked straight buddy’s shit eating grin dims by a few watts when he realizes the two of you just established who really has the biggest dick . . . yes, there is a god.

I’m sure having less tit and more cock rubbing up against yours would be a much more pleasurable experience. No cock and bigger tits than any Asian woman was ever born with wasn’t too bad either. I think you’d have to be Charles Nelson Reily gay to not respond. And even if you were only Andy Dick gay, watching your hunky straight buddy – who is past the point of caring how much of your attention he has or what you are seeing – obviously building up a full head of steam should do the trick.

Rick had dissolved into a fit of giggles he was having such a grand time. His attitude was infectious and the girls went into hyper-mode taunting each other between their laughter with who’d finish first. More water and more soap were liberally applied as the need arose. A skilled soapy massage masseuse takes pride in providing a hands-free happy ending. And both of ours were highly skilled indeed.

massage 5

Rick came first. Loudly and with plenty of forewarning. It was a beautiful sight to see. And then, after allowing his blood pressure to drop back from its I’m About To Die level, he did what any straight buddy in a straight massage parlor with his gay friend would do and came over to perch between my legs staring me in the face with the shit-eating grin that had found its way back to its normal home. And he was still giggling, urging me on. With the proper visuals now in place, it didn’t take long. The masseuse hoped off to begin the cleaning up process, and Rick took her vacancy as an opportunity to spread himself out on top of me, faces but inches away.

“Dude! Wasn’t that awesome!” he crowed as happy about my orgasm as he was of his. “ I told you you would love it!”

“If you’d told me you were gonna give me a happy ending to my happy ending I’d have been easier to convince. I think you’re getting hard again.”

“You are such an asshole!”

Rick was right. Again. Even freshly sated, I’m still an asshole. And I did love it. But those few brief moments of feeling his naked body stretched out across mine reminded me of how much more enjoyable the experience would have been with a guy. There are still a few straight massage places in Bangkok that specialize in soapy massages. And do them right. There is still no gay massage places in Bangkok that offer the true soapy massage experience. And none, that I’ve heard of, that offer the room and luxury that Rick and I had shared.

massage 6

I was a regular reader of Mack’s blog, hoping that at some point he’d review a place that didn’t sound like it was either tiny and cramped or sleazy. Or both. Maybe if he’d had kept blogging he would have reported on one some day. I prefer walking into a gogo bar and seeing every square inch of a guy I plan on taking back to my hotel with me. But I feel an obligation to you, my readers, as well as to those countless souls surfing the net looking for the advice that Mack used to provide. So I’ll make the sacrifice and start hitting the happy ending places on your behalf. Or maybe I’ll give Rick a call and ask him for the name of the place we went to. I might enjoy visiting it with Noom as much as I did with Rick.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

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How Much Is That Puppy In The Window: The Cost of A Night With A Gogo Boy In Thailand

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Bangkok Gay Gogo Bar Dos And Don’ts For The Newbie: The Hotel Room Edition

iPhone Friday #48

30 Friday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in iPhone Fridays, It's A Gay World

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Pay no attention to today’s Asians with iPhones post. I’m just working on my Christmas wish list.

asian with iPhone 281

asian with iPhone  282

asian with iPhone  283

asian with iPhone  284

asian with iPhone  285

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I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Dirty Dancing

29 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy

≈ 9 Comments

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Stupid Tourist Tricks

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, makes his living as a gogo boy. A quasi-stripper who doesn’t actually strip, by definition his job should involve dancing. But these days gogo boys in Bangkok at best shuffle; the days when they actually danced on stage are long gone. And that’s a good thing. Showing his muscular body off Noom does well. Dancing is not one of his talents. Not that he doesn’t try when he has to. It’s just that he can only get as close to the beat of the music as his genes allow.

They say that white guys can’t dance, which isn’t exactly correct. Some can. Usually the gay ones. That saying really should be a warning that white guys shouldn’t dance in public. Though you have to admit their doing so is always good for a laugh. Sometimes I think the gods put straight men on the earth to amuse the rest of us. Whether that is from watching them attempt to move to music that never reaches their soul, or teaching them about the joys of gay sex. Straight Thai guys should just stick to the gay sex thingy.

Bar boys dancing, or even moving during their rotation, is a thing of the distant past. During the show you still occasionally see them do the ‘snake’ dance, though not as often as once was the case. I was never sure what to call that strange gyration until I saw someone call it the snake dance on one of the forums. It’s a weird serpentine-like movement that reminds me of someone getting ready to hurl. Not erotic in the least bit to me, but it does have many fans. But then so do ladyboys. Ladyboys, I’ve noticed, have the good sense to never do the snake dance.

Fortunately most bar boys don’t attempt dancing on stage much these days either. Which is fine by me. It really isn’t necessary. And it can ruin the fantasy when a hottie starts moving about performing moves he saw some straight white guy doing at the club the night before. Shucking their underwear is a much easier move. If they feel the need to do something other than standing there and looking hot. And it’s a lot more appreciated by the crowd too.

I’ve never seen Noom do the snake dance. Once, it was close. We must have been talking about it or something close one night at our hotel and he started the move. I immediately stopped him. Before I had that visual to contend with for years to come. I love Noom. And love all of his faults. But the double whammy of being both straight and Thai means when the beat is upon him and his feet begin to move, it’s best to just look away. Not that dancing has been completely excluded from our relationship. Slow dancing, a good excuse for body contact even in public, is too enjoyable to completely prohibit. Besides, if I take the lead it keeps him from trying to move both his arms and legs at the same time.

Much like with kissing, the Thai traditional version of dancing is basic, simple, and fails to properly lay the groundwork for an attempt to emulate the Westerner version. Though at least with kissing, practice makes perfect and lots of practice can be a perfect way to spend an evening. As difficult as it is for a straight Thai boy to master the non-straight white boy’s skill at moving on a dance floor, gay farang have no problem picking up the moves of traditional Thai dancing. Restraint is the key. Not allowing the music to reach inside of you is important too. If a Thai is singing along with the music, it helps. Much of your attention then is on trying to not wince when the locals are watching you.

Noom, who like most Thais believes there are things Farang are allowed to know about Thais and things they are not supposed to understand, is always taken back when I slip up and prove differently. Usually that invokes a, “How you know dat?” response out of him. Occasionally he lets his Thai-ness take a backseat and instead shows a bit of pride in his strange farang’s abilities in things Thai. Sometimes it makes him suspicious. On those few occasions when I manage to out-Thai even him, it ruins his whole day. I try to remember to act appropriately farang, ‘cuz Noom’s happiness is part of my happiness, but on the rare occasion when gayness and Thai-ness meet I have no choice. I’m already not-gay-acting, it’s too much effort to be not-Thai-acting too.

World-wide, there is nothing a group of locals enjoys more than the amusement of forcing a white guy to get up on the dance floor and take a stab at their version of dancing. I learned enough basic hula moves when I lived in Hawaii to avoid embarrassing myself when that happened. And have to admit as much as the crowd enjoys laughing at a haole’s attempt at swinging his hips, they are just as appreciative when you get it right. I hadn’t planned on that experience when Noom and I visited Laos. I blame the results on being gay and not bothering to be not-Thai-acting too, even if it was the Laotian version of Thai-ness.

Out touring wats one afternoon, we stumbled on a wedding party being held under a few massive canopies streetside as large family celebrations often are in SE Asia. It was hot, we were both tired, and since the canopies offered some shade we stopped, grabbed a pair of chairs (ubiquitous plastic stools, just for the record) and settled in to rest a bit and watch the locals party. The dancing soon began. I could tell because there was music playing and several different couples had taken turns standing in an open area and attempting to walk in time with the music. Not that they were too successful at it. Their attempts got better when they moved to the local version of line dancing, which if you’ve ever watched Asians attempt to form a line needs no further explanation. But they were having fun. Until one old crone decided to ratchet up the gathering’s amusement factor by grabbing my hand and pulling me into their circle.

Had we been wearing our matching ‘I’m Not Gay But My Boyfriend Is’ T-shirts, she would probably have not made that mistake. Noom squirmed in anticipation of the embarrassment I was about to inflict on him; the seated crowd waited in breathless anticipation for the wild gyrations the old white guy was about to make that would bring them much mirth. I restrained myself, stilled the urge to throw a few tap dance shuffles into the mix for effect, reminded myself that I’d winced at the singing enough already and that people were watching, and plodded out the two beat move that everyone else confused with dancing.

What was supposed to be laughter instead turned into applause. Noom beamed proudly. I ended up dancing with a progression of women, ending with the bride who had either already tired of her new husband, assumed dancing with a farang at her wedding might be a form of merit making, or was just relieved a gay guy had shown up at her wedding so that at least one of the men was capable of moving his feet to the same beat as the music. Never one to take a crowd’s amusement lightly, and since what’s good for the gander is good for the gander (it’s important to keep your fowl genders straight even if you are using a cliche) I grabbed Noom’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

I never considered that two guys dancing together at a local wedding in Luang Prabang might not be appropriate. That there were two guys dancing together wasn’t really noticed by anyone in the crowd. The muscle stud Thai boy with two left feet got all the attention. And the crowd finally got their chance to laugh. Maybe Noom should have just started doing his snake dance thingy instead.

The local form of dancing I’ve seen in Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia is all the same. It’s a three step dance ‘cuz just two steps would be too easy and rather silly. Noom was still working on his one step. Meanwhile I’d progressed to an impressive display of the second part of the dance, the arms. It’s a Zorba The Greek type of posture with arms, slightly bent at the elbow, held out perpendicular to the body. Except unlike Anthony Quinn’s version, there is no finger snapping (some tricks are best left to the professionals. Or at least to Europeans). Instead, with hands held not unlike a symphony conductor ready to begin a flourish, on every third step you rotate your hands in a circular movement from the wrist. Expert-mode is a quickly reached goal for even a not-gay-acting gay guy. The not-gay-acting straight guy was still trying to master what came after step #1.

Normally when one song ends and before the next begins you can politely quit dancing even when it is questionable of just who it is you are dancing with. All the music at a Lao wedding feast sounds the same, where one songs begins and the other ends is a crap shoot. While Noom had one foot raised and was deeply contemplating when it would be best to put it back down again, I turned him toward where we had been sitting and managed our escape from the dance floor. Now part of the festivities instead of just rude intruders, we hung out for several more hours before heading back to our hotel.

Noom hadn’t mastered dancing Lao, but from previous experience with me had gotten proficient at slow dancing to pop songs from the west. Still in the mood to dance, back in our room I planted an iPod earbud into one of each of our ears and holding him close began swaying to the music. The good part of slow dancing with Noom is when he rests his head against my chest. The bad part is when we are dancing to a song he thinks he knows and begins singing in the wrong key, injecting lyrics he’s misinterpreted since the first time he’d heard the song.

I suppose it’s too much to expect a Thai to dance and sing well at the same time. That he’s translating English lyrics into the Thai version of English lyrics while simultaneously slightly moving his feet is enough of a challenge. But that’s cool. It’s a good reminder that straight Thai guys are not very skilled at kissing either. And a good excuse to immediately start practicing that act.

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Absolutely Thursday #48

29 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in Absolutely Thursdays, It's A Gay World

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Beautiful. And nice abs too.

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Happy Holidays!

28 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World

≈ 18 Comments

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That's Gay

Loi Krathong, Yi Peng, Christmas, Hanukkah or Kwanzaa, the holiday season is upon us.

That’d be Happy Loi Krathong for those of you in Thailand and those of you who wish they were. As with many things Thai the date of Loi Krathong is not finite though the entire country seems to celebrate their version at sometime during this week. The holiday may be a month early, but otherwise fits the traditional winter solstice celebrations practiced elsewhere in the world. While there is a debate over the holiday’s beginnings and original purpose, today most Thais see it as a celebration of renewal, the opportunity of letting go of negativity and of hoping for an upcoming year filled with good luck. So it fits with the other High Holidays headed our way. At least with their original purposes.

I have some shopping that needs to be done today and briefly considered wishing store clerks a Happy Loi Krathong just to confuse them. We are now in the midst of the busy Xmas shopping season and it is de rigueur to wish customers a Merry Christmas. Or maybe that’s Happy Holidays. You no longer know which phrase is correct. Use either and someone will object and correct you. Maybe it’d be safer to adopt Happy Loi Krathong as your holiday greeting and just keep using it until it is safe to switch over to Happy New Year!

For several years now the accepted greeting was Happy Holidays. It was a nice noncommittal phrase that expressed the appropriate sentiment while being inclusive of other faith and races’ winter holidays such as Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. I’m not particularly PC, but do on the occasion try to act as though I care and used Happy Holidays figuring that even if you don’t really mean it you should at least be polite enough to make room for whatever holiday it is that the person you are greeting celebrates. Except while in Hawaii. Then I used Mele Kalikimaka. Especially to tourists who felt obligated to say that phrase back and would screw it up so badly they’d just end up slinking away in shame. It’s important to take joy in whatever holiday you celebrate, regardless of how you go about doing so. With both Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas on the hot list these days, maybe the best choice would be using the Thai version of Melly Clitmas! It may end up having the same affect that using Mele Kalikimaka had in Hawaii. So at least I’d be having a happy holiday season.

Decking your boughs with balls is an important part of the season whether you call it a Xmas tree or not.

Seasons Greeting might be an acceptable phrase to use as a fall back. But seriously, that greeting works better on a Christmas card than it does spoken. And who even knows what a Christmas card is anymore?

I used Happy Holidays the other day and got an instant and quite stern reply of, “You mean Merry Christmas!” as a thanks for my trouble. In the spirit of the holidays I kept my Christmas retort of “Fuck you and the reindeer you rode in on,” to myself. Okay, I get the Christian backlash against not using the name of their lord god and savior in a holiday greeting, but it just doesn’t seem to me to be a very Christian thing to do. At least not if Christ is part of your Christian religion. Which is suspect in how many of the faithful practice their religion in America these days. I just can’t imagine Jesus running around during the month of December singing out, “Say my name, Say my name!”

I just read that some Christian hate group hated the fact that The Gap failed to use Merry Christmas in its holiday advertising campaign this year and is calling for a boycott by all right-thinking right-wing nutters. Right. Because that worked so well in getting JC Penny to stop using gay people in theirs. I have no problem with Christians wanting to put Christ back in Christmas, though as in all things you should take care of your own house first. And I don’t think if Jesus came back this holiday season his focus would be on an international corporation’s advertising scheme. Know what I mean Vern?

Whatever the holiday you are celebrating is, donning your gay apparel shouldn’t be overlooked either.

President Obama will undoubtedly turn the lights on the White Houses’s Holiday Tree this year, and will undoubtedly pose with his family for the cover shot of their Holiday card too, and FOX will go apeshit over his attempt at being politically correct and all inclusive. Because that too is a holiday tradition these days. Most of us recognize that whichever greeting is used, it’s only a matter of someone being polite and they don’t really mean it any more than when they say, “Have a nice day.” Neither Happy Holidays nor Merry Christmas is a political slogan. Nor are either a religious one either. Maybe I’ll go back to the greeting I used in my younger days, “Have A Cool Yule!” – that works well in California.

Since the only people who seem to take offense over using any other greeting than Merry Christmas are those whose hearts have no room for people of other faiths, I’ll just use Happy Kwanzaa! this year. Anyone who takes issue with the PC greeting of Happy Holidays is probably a racist to boot – though they know better than to admit it – so using Happy Kwanzaa forces them to behave, smile, and offer a polite Merry Christmas back. I think Jesus would approve.

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Wednesday Wetness #48

28 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Wednesday Wetness

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nude dude

. . . a back that is just crying out to be washed by someone.

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Conversations With My Father

27 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World

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And More!

“Hey! How you doing?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you too. How you been?”

“Good. You?”

“I’m still here. How’s the weather out there?”

“Nice. Supposed to be in the 70s today. How’s it been back there?”

“Well, we haven’t had any real snow yet.”
[Real men take whatever Mother Nature throws at them without flinching. My father described the record snow fall setting Great Blizzard of 2005 as ‘a light dusting’.]

“Hey! Did you see Obama won?”

“Uh, yeah Dad I heard that.”

“I voted for Romney.”

“Dad!”

“Well, I knew your mother would vote for Obama and I had to cancel out her vote.”

“She voted for Romney Dad. She’s in love with Bill O’Reilly these days and votes the FOX party line.”

“That bitch. That’s why they should have never given women the right to vote.”

“Right Dad. They just don’t take voting seriously enough, huh?”

“Well it’s a good thing Romney never showed up here on the campaign trail or we would have showed him what’s what.”

“Okay Dad.”

“Well, I know you are a busy man so I’ll let you go. Thanks for calling.”

“Yeah, it was good talking with you Dad.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

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Toast

Toast

Tighty Whitey Tuesday #48

27 Tuesday Nov 2012

Posted by Bangkokbois in It's A Gay World, Tighty Whitey Tuesday

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nude dude

Looks like snow. Or the photographer really liked his model.

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Sawatdee and welcome to the new and improved Bangkokbois Gay Thailand Blog! Okay, so it’s not necessarily improved, just hosted on a new site. And it’s not just about Thailand, though that still is the main focus. And it’s not all gay either, unless you’re not and then you’ll think it’s pretty damn gay I’m sure. All of the penis might tip you off. Which means if you are not of the required legal age to be looking at penis other than your own, you should leave. And go tell your parental units they suck at their job.

But it is a blog and one out of three ain’t bad. Besides, Bangkokbois Pretty Gay Mostly About Thailand Blog For People Of Legal Age is just too wordy. But so is Dancing With The Devil In The City Of Angels, which is really the title of this blog.

As cool of a title as that is, Google just ain’t sharp enough to figure out that means this blog is mostly about Thailand. And pretty damn gay to boot. The penis part even Google figured out. Which is a good thing. ‘Cuz Bangkokbois Pretty Gay Mostly About Thailand With Lots Of Penis Blog For People Of Legal Age, I think, was taken by someone else.

Move along, there’s nothing to see here folks; pay no attention to that man behind the curtain:

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