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CROSS DRESSING NEVER INTERESTED ME UNTIL LADIES NIGH AT CHIPENDALE'S
My buddies and I have a weekly routine that actually yields us a pretty damn good time for not a whole Hell of a lot of money. We usually help one another out especially on some of the make up application such as eye lashes and eye brows can be a total pain in the ass, but by five o'clock on Wednesday nigh, the boys and I are in a stretch limo tossing off and doing every kind of drug known to man. After giving the driver a little pin prick of what I call a "poison" dart in the neck one of us will have to get out and run as fast as we can to get up to the driver's door. If he was smart and left it unlocked good, but we haven't always been lucky. We've lost limos and drivers off of bridges, overpasses, and one fella went right off the ten floor parking structure. He might have survived had he not been such a smart ass punk and paid attention to our sexy tits made out of balloons filled with Jello. On a good night we don't really need the driver and limo because the entire gang of Chipendale dancers are burying our back doors with action you simply cannot find anywhere else except West Hollywood. There's nothing so rewarding as peeling the bikini open and reaching in hen pulling out the kind of man meat that leaves you speechless. No the cat doesn't have it, mine is stuck in this incredible young man who knows how to tap better than Sammy Davis Junior. Please tell blue balls that our gang is here for him when he is ready. Chow.
