San Francisco

San Francisco

My father lives in the city.  I come here as often as I can but I always have to entertain the reality that I am in close proximity to the family.  He is stressful, as family members are apt to be.  I finally got through the part of my adventure that required me to hang out with my clan.  I have a few days to myself in this wonderful city.  I’m heading to a conference in Oakland next weekend.

I have through Wednesday morning to find someone to have sexy times with.  I love it here.  I wish I could stay forever.  I’m jonesing for something fun and wonderful.  I want to piss on someone all over this city.  To skip and frolic in the land of kinky fun!

Oh, how I wish I could find a short-term bitch to amuse me.

I want to haul you to yoga and watch you suffer as I stand strong in my one legged backbend.  I want to piss on you everywhere – in public toilets, in back alleys, on the bus, in the park, on the beach, in glass elevators, in a cab, at a church.  I want to take you to a snooty place, way overdressed, then when I’m done enjoying myself I want to get uppity and loud, humiliating you verbally in an elitist establishment.

I’m looking for some fun.

I’m just sitting in this place, listening to people who think they know something talk about how workers unions are the root of all evil.  How did this myth begin to take root?  Geez, talk about believing an ideology that is certain to further widen the separation between rich and poor. Oy!

I can’t get into it with them.  There is no easy way to argue on behalf of the proletariat when people are happily submitting to hegemonic colonialism.  I’m drinking my coffee and writing porn.  I’m trying to figure out how I can make enough money to get home.

I’m not having very much fun here. I’m bleeding money. I don’t have any friends in this area. I’m just kicking it, hoping to find a perv who is adventurous and not afraid to pay me.  I like it more when I am being paid.

Come on perverts, this is San Francisco.

This isn’t really happening, is it?  I’m gonna go to yoga, get dressed in something tight and shinny, head to the Castro.  I’m sure to find something to do.


It’s ten in the morning.  I have been up all night.  I was out playing with a perv I met who is just as adventurous as I. …

I can’t write first person adventure porn with nothing but desperation to drive me. I’m going broke here.  I need to get off this crazy coast.  I thought I could come to San Francisco and that kinky based sex work would be everywhere.  It is not.  I have had one guy flaking on me all week.  The phone is not ringing, the emails not coming.  I don’t; think it is me.  California has no money, the overall rate of personal enjoyment is way down here.  People are financially destitute at a time when a puritanical ideology embracing a sex free lifestyle has taken serous root.


I’m going a little nuts.  I’m tired of having to make my money offering sexy services, but more so even still I’m tired of offering them and getting no where.  It isn’t good for anything.  I need sex, we all need sex.  I have a preference for paid sex, I know others have a preference for paying for it, so why are we not finding one another?

I’m reading.  I’ll get dressed up and go to the library to read.  That sounds like a lot of fun.  Fetish wear, Foucault, the library stacks.

I’m really gonna do that.

If you want to schedule a public golden shower (or a day of play) in San Francisco I’m here till Wednesday morning, then I’m in Oakland for a conference.  I need to make some money now.  I’m hungry.

One thought on “San Francisco

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  1. I’m fastidious. I don’t want your pee on my clothes. I don’t want to have sticky skin from drying pee. I just want it all—in my mouth, in my belly. I want you to fill me. I want you on top, holding me down, your ass covering my nose so I have to open my mouth, and then you filling my mouth, again and again, as fast as I can swallow. And if some guy—a _real_ man—has filled you with cum the night before, and you fill me with some of what’s left of that too, so much the better.
    Oh, and one more thing: I want it first thing in the morning, when it’s rich and yellow and pungent.

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