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» Cougars and Sugar Daddies
Otter
Otter was the stage name for an American burlesque cabaret dancer who graced the nightclubs of Amsterdam in their late 80’s / early 90’s heyday. She – for she was most demonstrably a genuine she – often performed at the Roxy for Wednesday’s gay night cabaret. Her acts? Well, the weeks before the events set out below she had, amongst other things, performed her fire breathing pussy show, which – guess what? – involved her squirting fire out of her fanny, and had also pierced herself – live on stage - in her holiest of holies (which presumably got even holier as a result). No shy Otter, she!
To the night in question.
A fresh-faced school-age Ja For Sure had been dragged to the Roxy Gay Night by his fag hag older sister Win (who was a friend of Otter), dosed with half a phenomenally powerful disco biscuit and let loose on the dance floor, dreamily oblivious to the attentions of the circling slavering homosexualists.
Otter had performed that night, and was walking around the club naked, her hair in two cutesy pig-tails and body-painted head-to-toe as a Frisian cow. She cornered me in the bar whilst I was chatting to my Sis.
“So, hello Win, who is this de-lect-able young boy you have here?” Otter purred as she slid an arm around me which promptly dropped to my arse.
Laughing, my sister indicated that I was her baby brother.
I myself was still in la-la land and my head was finding it quite hard to process this unfolding reality. Mutely I stood as Otter turned, pressed her naked body against me, looked me in the eye and asked my sister (!): “Can I take him home and fuck him, please Win?”
Languidly I stirred. Her frotting was leaving a white body-paint smear on my leg. And I was starting to get a painful boner.
“ Er … Mmmmmmm?” quoth I.
“So, are you gay, or straight, or bi?” Otter asked as her hands wandered and pussy rodeo-d. “Cos I can really show you some fun”.
At this point I was mesmerised. Her naked body pressed against me, her hot crotch, the promises of pleasures illicit, the pierced nipples, belly-button, clit …
And then she smiled up at me. Showing her fangs.
FANGS!!
She’s had her fucking canine teeth extended and sharpened!! And then I knew. I had a Moment of Lucidity. I was not going home with this girl. O, no siree! Because no matter where I’d stick it, it would get sliced. Or burned. Or something worse.
She was 35. Old Otters are scary.
(Mon 8th Dec 2008, 11:35, More)
Otter
Otter was the stage name for an American burlesque cabaret dancer who graced the nightclubs of Amsterdam in their late 80’s / early 90’s heyday. She – for she was most demonstrably a genuine she – often performed at the Roxy for Wednesday’s gay night cabaret. Her acts? Well, the weeks before the events set out below she had, amongst other things, performed her fire breathing pussy show, which – guess what? – involved her squirting fire out of her fanny, and had also pierced herself – live on stage - in her holiest of holies (which presumably got even holier as a result). No shy Otter, she!
To the night in question.
A fresh-faced school-age Ja For Sure had been dragged to the Roxy Gay Night by his fag hag older sister Win (who was a friend of Otter), dosed with half a phenomenally powerful disco biscuit and let loose on the dance floor, dreamily oblivious to the attentions of the circling slavering homosexualists.
Otter had performed that night, and was walking around the club naked, her hair in two cutesy pig-tails and body-painted head-to-toe as a Frisian cow. She cornered me in the bar whilst I was chatting to my Sis.
“So, hello Win, who is this de-lect-able young boy you have here?” Otter purred as she slid an arm around me which promptly dropped to my arse.
Laughing, my sister indicated that I was her baby brother.
I myself was still in la-la land and my head was finding it quite hard to process this unfolding reality. Mutely I stood as Otter turned, pressed her naked body against me, looked me in the eye and asked my sister (!): “Can I take him home and fuck him, please Win?”
Languidly I stirred. Her frotting was leaving a white body-paint smear on my leg. And I was starting to get a painful boner.
“ Er … Mmmmmmm?” quoth I.
“So, are you gay, or straight, or bi?” Otter asked as her hands wandered and pussy rodeo-d. “Cos I can really show you some fun”.
At this point I was mesmerised. Her naked body pressed against me, her hot crotch, the promises of pleasures illicit, the pierced nipples, belly-button, clit …
And then she smiled up at me. Showing her fangs.
FANGS!!
She’s had her fucking canine teeth extended and sharpened!! And then I knew. I had a Moment of Lucidity. I was not going home with this girl. O, no siree! Because no matter where I’d stick it, it would get sliced. Or burned. Or something worse.
She was 35. Old Otters are scary.
(Mon 8th Dec 2008, 11:35, More)