My Ass. As in, "You can kiss it."
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dildos and spankings and Lube, OH MY!

I was supposed to write this up for bootyquake, but I missed the deadline... I'll let you know why next tuesday.

Most of you have read about my travels through the wastelands collectively known as Wyoming, Nevada, and Utah. It was a tough drive, but I was highly motivated. I made it in good time, and there was a fine evening of entertainment aftrerwards.

This, of course, was nothing compared to the day to follow. Not one event in my entire life could have prepared me for this one.

The Folsom Street Fair is like the third biggest friggin tourist event in San Francisco. J works for a sex-toy company and they had a booth.

at the fair.

thats what the fair is all about - sex and setishes and stuff.

no, relly.

they have fairs for stuff like this in San Francisco.

I'm NOT kidding.

So we get there and the first thing i notice is that it looks a little... well, underwhelming. There are a few booths, we find her com's booth, we meet up with Paul Jack and get some food ( $5 dollars for a polish sausage - I know. I was going to complain too, untill I saw that the thing weighed damn near a pound and a half, and I'm not exaggerating. Must have been a "big dick-like food" thing for the sex fair or something...).

I'm looking around and thinking "THIS is the third biggest tourist event?" We go to the booth and hang a little bit, and they have all their dildos ('doldoEs', if you're Dan Quayle) and buttplugs and other various sundry items hanging all over the place, and they have lube.

One-Hitters of sex lube.

Two big boxes of them. Remember this for later.

Paul and I go out to give away coupons, and yes, he did have a big fake cock hanging out of his pants, and yes, I did yell things like "Thatís 100% of the dick for 85% of the price."

...and i had a few beers...

...we get back to the booth and EVERYONE there has big fake genitals sticking out of their pants and I grab one and people are doing live demos on the fake naughty bit and we're all yelling and I'm sky-hooking packets of lube to the shy people in the back and people are ALL INTO taking pictures of all of us with fake things hanging out of pants and these guys dressed up like nuns are in the next booth down are giving spankings for a $2 dontaion to something and lesbians are grabbing things and using them in front of the crowd in order to win them and this woman had a chain hanging from her punani that just looked far heavier than a punani was designed to have dangling from it...

Another thing I learned... You know how you can take a playing card and slap it on your forehead and it'll stick there for a while?

You can do the same thing with a postcard-like coupon and slap it on the bigass latex dong sticking out of your fly - and then walk around yelling "WHO WANTS THE COUPON I'VE SKILLFULLY SLAPPED ONTO THIS BIG FAKE COCK?"

Its marketing genius, I tell you.

There are partly, not-so partly, and totally naked people running around EVERYWHERE. I become the object of a humiliation demo so this guy can win this bigol' buttplug and they have to tell him "Sir, you got the prize... sir... SIR... HEY!" What can I say? The gay men, they just loved me that much.

my Pop would be proud, I'm sure.

By the time this all had happened and worked it up into a ferenzy it was like 4 o'clock and the street, like 4 blocks plus of it was COMPLETELY FULL of people. I don't mean in the you hadda push your way through way, i mean it in the you couldn't push your way through way. it was a huge mass of humnanity, and everyone was letting their freakishness just pour out and it was all in all the safest I've ever felt in a crowd that size - EVER.

You know what I mean - you go to a street fair or a hugeass concert or something of the sort and theres usually this presence that keeps the back of your mind that keeps you a little on edge, and it just wasn't there. At first I just thought it was the beer, but J had the same feeling and she was stone cold sober.

And I didn't see one act of violence - well, one act of not-requested-for violence.

The moral of this whole debaucherous entry?

Some of the safest places may just be with the freakiest of folks...

Oh yeah, and in case you didn't see the sidebar - and I wanna make sure everyone knows this: I really did get blown in the ladies room of the paradise lounge.

What a great town.

Slap Out

30 Sep 99

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