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[the Spartan]

Originally posted by Shape Shifter
Sorry I couldn't join you in your bead tossing, RT, but frankly I had bigger fish to fry at this year's Pride Parade. The evening started on the 365-foot luxury float of Saudi prince Rasheed al Rusheed. I was there with my friends Fabulia, Denise and the Beckwiths.

The party really started when Puffy arrived to perform his new single, a highly creative work featuring him rapping over Taffy's "Midnight Radio." VIPs ordered crates of Cristal. Some of the bubbly were consumed, but mostly it was shaken up and sprayed on other partygoers. When I asked Sebby about this, he explained through a bevy of Russian prostitutes that it was a way of saying, "I'm throwing money down the toilet. Now fuck me, bitch."

Recent monsoons in Houston had done nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the Pride Parade, but the tropical mugginess and stale champagne left me uncomfortable in my groinal area. I walked down lower Westheimer towards Montrose, through empty beer cans, discarded popper bottles, over gaily flashing beads, past the tranny hookers, superfab drag queens, and lean, hungry hustlers looking to have their dick sucked by Hank-types for extra meth money, searching for relief.

I finally came across The Nut Hut (slogan: Go Yankees. And Go Nads!). Curious and weary, I explained my situation to the receptionist She led me to a softly lit back room with the aroma of incense and single malt.

A heavily tattooed and pierced man soon entered. His look was familiar, frightening, and exciting at once. I audibly gasped when he whipped out his imposing M3Power, but I could do nothing but comply when he demanded that I disrobe.

"Looks like I caught you on a BDD," he cooed.

"It's a little warm, " I said.

He licked his lips with his split tongue as he lovingly cupped my balls in his girl-like hands. Touched by an angel, indeed. I shivered as the vibrations from his M3Power did its magic on my sensitive scrotal skin. Overcoming my fears, I manged to look in his eyes.

Was it . . . Him? "Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got, I'm still I'm still Slave from the quad," he sang. He quickly smoothed me and applied a cool, soothing powder that he described as "cocaine for the balls."

"Are you sure you should be drinking so much when you do this?"

He answered, "Don't worry. I've got Viagra and I know how to snort it."

I didn't know what this meant, but I felt cool and refreshed and was ready to rejoin the festivities. I thanked him and started to leave.

"Where are you going? We're together again after all these years. I've got tickets to Cats! Are you crazy, you crazy fucking crackwhore?"

I left hurriedly (you can keep the clothes, Slave) and I'm still confused about the entire exhange.

Slave, is being crazy a prerequisite to your attempted passed out seductions, or is it more of a cause and effect thing?

Why don't I get invited to parties like this. Why bilmo', why?