[FASTLARRY]

xxx rated, 50 years on the road, is all about hustlin golf and pool, drinkin, getting laid and general decadence. If this offends you, exit at once, and move over to the Religious forum. This topic is not for you, and keep the little kiddies off it as well. If you knew what they were watching on HBO after midnight when you are asleep, it would blush a street whorie. in a sales carrer where I sold $100,000,000, traveled 3,000,000 miles, visited 70 countries, went non stop around the world 3 times, have been there, done it all, packed 3 lifetimes into one. I spent millions of dollars getting drunk and laid.
But to afford and to keep that playboy 007 lifestyle, I would get up early, go out and sell my ass off. I could sell ice cubes to fookin Eskimos. I was selling and movin so much she-yit, they could not fire me, even when they wanted to. So the first thing I learned was TCOB. To take care of business. Once that was done, then you could get drunk and pork hotties.

I lived for the big 3. Pool, Poosay and Panther Piss. Here is that story.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=fkm79KtNnc4

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Key Weird

That is what I called the place, because everything, every one there was weird, nobody was normal. They had no clue, what normal was, and if you explained it to them, they wanted no part of it. In the early 70’s was really when the sexual revolution got into high swing. Everyone was trying out the new sport, called sport fookin.

I had just moved to central Florida and my new territory was the entire Southeast, and the entire Caribbean. I had sales offices in Nassau, San Juan, and Charlotte Amalie in the Virgins, the Dominican Republic and in George Town, in the Grand Cayman, where I stashed my cash and bought all my Cuban cigars. Being able to travel to any of these islands on the company expense account also meant is was no big deal to pull little side trips to any other island without anyone knowing about it. Getting into Cuba was simple. I could go to any of the other legit islands looking for new business but the real reason was to just go there because I had never been there. I eventually hit every island, and there are a lot of ports there.

Most of the tourist hit the top islands, but the deep Caribbean below Puerto Rico is where they are the prettiest and some go all the way down to just off the coast of South America.
Getting from little out of the way island to island is a bitch by boat and the little planes they fly were scary. The best ways to see it is flying to Puerto Rico, and then take a Deep cruise ship into the area below it. Then there is no unpacking. I took a cruise down there about every 90 days. I always did a different ship just to check them out. I liked the Italian boats the best, fun people; let you get by with anything short of murder. Great food. I only did one English boat, the food sucked, and the tight ass limeys would hang yo ass from the yard arm if you broke one of their fookin rules. Never went near them again. I went through the Panama Canal once. Once was enough.

My list of my favorite sports were now pool, golf, sport fookin, drinking. It expanded into deep sea fishing for Marlin, scuba diving and flying planes. I was having the time of my life. Living the life, or a millionaire playboy, but doing it on other people’s money. I dived for 10 years without a certification, just learned it as I went along, and always put a con on them that I left it at home by mistake. Finally I got certified when they began to crack down on that in the US. I never had a pilot’s license, same thing; I learned how to fly up in the air. The planes I flew in we owned, or I rented, the pilots taught me there, and would let me fly. Up there, nobody knows?>

Besides, if I screwed up, there was always a licensed pilot sitting next to me to bail me out. I never flew alone, without backup. Taking off was simple, but landing was where you could put a tag on yo toe. Landing a small plane on a small airport with nothing going on is no big deal The first time I landed a twin prop in Miami Intl, I had a heavy right in front of me and a heavy right on my ass coming in. That was a real white knuckle landing.

I always said, I never wanted to be a millionaire, I just wanted to live like one, and now, I was.
Miami was so exciting in those years, full of Cubans and coke. It was dangerous, which was part of the allure. My favorite place to go was Key Weird as I called it, or Key West. I could fly down there, but why. I loved the drive through the keys. I would take my time and make a lot of stops along the way. You virtually were able to drive your car into the Caribbean to within 90 miles of Cuba.

No need to bring a pool cue, there were no pool halls. Maybe a she-yit bar box, in Islamorada and one at Captain Tony’s. Golf, same thing, the Islands are too small and being flat growing grass is tough in that heat without using a lot of water which they did not have there. There was one in Marathon and in Key West, but I did not see the reason to drag your clubs down there to play a lousy course in that heat. I could play at home. Down there, I wanted to do the things; I could not do at home, like deep sea fish and scuba dive.
Traveling I would never order sea food in KCMO, I would order steak. On the Ocean, I would never order steak, I would order seafood. So you go with what the area does best and not with what you like and want to do. Pool and Golf got a little vacation.
I would leave Miami early in the morning and stop in Looe Key around noon for an afternoon dive.

http://thefloridakey...esites/looe.htm

In Key West I would stay on the far back end at the Marriott, a first class joint, the only top one there at the time. Most of the motels were cheap. The road was narrow and the trip would take 4 hours. Once you got there, you had a great vacation. Everything was very affordable. In a decade all that would change. They would build new bridges, you could get there fast, the rich yuppies would come in and the prices on everything would go sky high. The old place, as it was, would be gone with the wind as greed and money took over.

You did not get laid at the Marriott, it was mostly rich couples on vacation and they booked a lot of Europeans. I hung out in the hot tub a lot and a young couple would come out, take off all their clothes and hop in, like they did at home. It was a nonstop nuddie show. I was a dirty young man at the time, which is where dirty old men, come from.

No action at the bar, you could not pick up a cold there. So I would drift down town where I drank during the day at Captain Tony’s saloon. Now and then, Jimmy Buffett would come in and belt down a few. He was just a local C&W singer, going nowhere fast, that Nashville laughed at, said his music sucked, which it did. He would later reinvent himself, get the Caribbean thing into his music, add some steel drums and he went on to fame, after he dropped the she-yit kicker stuff.

Captain Tony was this old grizzly drunk with a white beard and a LSMFT hanging out of his lip Bogey style. That old fart would live to be 92; he was tough as a buck sewer rat. He would tell the same stories over and over, some were hard to believe. Some say they were true and he was a legend, some say they were not. I am sure, they all had a basis of truth in them and he just embellished them as time went on. When some people tell of their exploits, the fish will grow, each time you tell the story.

He could care less about guys, and he would only hang around for a while to tell his stories, but if a lady came in, he would drop you like a hot potato and hang on her tight. He loved, women. he was a little small short wop, but he had a full head of beautiful hair late in life. You could see, in his prime, he was one hell of a fine man.

When the local fags and druggies got sick of their local government, the elected their favorite bar tender to be mayor. Captain Tony, that was Key West, it was the last place in this country that had an outlaw population and mentality. It was like the old Dodge City.
You don’t elect a Mayor who runs a saloon, who is a drunk, who goes out and buys a hooker every night, who was a drug and gun runner. Tony could hot have been elected dog catcher in any normal city. I loved the old guy and treasure all my times sitting, drinking and talking with him. He used to sell an 18 by 16 b&w picture of himself, which he would autograph for you, mine hangs behind my desk today, and it said at the top:

All you need in this life is a tremendous sex drive and a great ego. Brains don’t mean shit.
He said, Fast, you have too much of the first two, and none of the last one, so you will go far my boy.

The bar was small dark and dingy. He lived overhead and when he would come too in the early afternoon, he would drop down a staircase from the 2nd story into the back of the bar which most could not see from where they sat. After he would make his appearance, and tell all his BS stories, he would seem to vanish, right before your eyes. There he was, there he is gone, and where did he go? He would wait till you looked away and he would duck around the corner real fast, up the stairs, pull the stairs up and he made a clean getaway.

Making clean getaways, Tony had a lot of practice at.

His idea of love was poosay is not free, we all pay for it, none of these ho’s give it away, they are all selling their asses, some just charge, more than others. He would say Fast, will you get laid tonight. I said, probably, about a 75% probability, but one never knows what the night will bring. He said, you will take some bimbo to dinner, and then buy her drinks to get her drunk; you will spend 50 to 75 bucks, to get laid, 50 to 75% of the time. You will wear your ass out kissing her ass, working hard to get laid for 5 fookin hours for 5 fookin minutes of pleasure and relief.
He said, I got hip, I walk around the corner, grab one of the young hookers, I have a beautiful young doll every night, it’s the best $50 I spend every day. I get laid 100% of the time, I spend less money than you do, my broad is younger and better lookin than yours, and I take up a half hour of my time, and now I can do more important things with my evening the crawling all over some bimbo beggin for poosay.

http://www.freerepub...s/2122416/posts

http://www.ask.com/bar?q=utube+buffett+las...v%3DdT-2P031WJA

The Conch Republic and rebellion.
When you got to Key West, you knew, you were no longer in the USA; you were in a foreign country dude. I was there in April of 82 and there were so many drugs coming in there, and heading up to Miami, the Feds moved in to clean it all up. When they did that, they cut off the supply of drugs coming in, and everyone on the island went into DT’s, and got real bitch mad. There was talk of getting out the guns and having a war, smoking the pigs, she-yit like that. The wiser heads said let’s just succeed from the Union, and form our own country. Now that was one great fookin idea, but the US government has this hard ass attitude of giving up no territory to any one since 1863. When the Feds put up the roadblock I got the hell out of there before the she-yit hit the fan. I watched the rest of the show on TV from Miami.

http://www.conchrepu...com/history.htm

You pronounce it like a konk on the head, and not conch. A trip to the keys meant real key lime pie, green turtle soup, conch fritters, chowder, things I could not get at home. The shallow waters were full of conch shells.

Jimmy told me how to hustle chicks on Duval Street. He said, forget the tourists, and instead work the gift shops. Each one has some young very nice looking girl working in there. You cruise in, look around, talk some trash, and make a date to take her out to a very nice seafood restaurant and dancing later on. The problem back then moving to Florida is they thought you could eat sunshine, so the wages were half what you got back home. Key West, half that again. So many down and out bums there that would work for anything drove the wages down. So the gift shop ladies had very little money, and a date, a night out on the town, many would jump at it. It was like during or after WWII, when the GI’s in Italy, or Japan, could have most of the woman for a chocolate bar or a pair of hose. 80% of the female population there was fookin for food. About the same situation existed in Key West.

Most of the female population there was gay. You had butch, who looked like Ralph Crandon on the honeymooners, and a cute pretty one with a normal figure who played the female figure, but she would always have something wrong with her, bad tits, something like that. They would live together, and then snag a loose chick new in town. They loved to have a 3 some. Butch then had two old ladies.

http://en.wikipedia....ge_%C3%A0_trois

Mostly the 3rd chick was straight, but had some bad experience with a man, got a divorce, the guy left her cold, she got knocked up, he would not marry her, she had an abortion, every one of these broads had some real sob story to tell you. They all had a trauma; they all hated men at that time. Getting into a gay situation was their way of running away from men and using the fags to protect them. They went to Key West, to hide from men. Normally after a season, or about 6 months with the fags, she would heal, get better, and go back to her normal straight life and return to her home. She would tire of all the licking and suckin and long for the feel of a real man. Enter, the final solution for her, ME…..

I would take her out and pound the dog she-yit out of that bitch. You had to put gloves on some of them or they would scar your back with their finger nails digging into you. When they had not had a fook in 6 months, they would go wild. I have a hairy chest, and all the fag men there, have little hair, or they wax it off, and the chicks she slept with had no hair. They would always run their fingers through my chest hair and comment on how they missed that. That got them super hot. I remeber I was putting the hustle on one in Tony's and she asked if she could unbutton my shirt to see if I had hair. I said, go for it. She started running her fingers in their and got hotter than a stove. I loved taking those chicks away from those dykes and sending them back home to be porked by real men. I was doing my American duty, hoo rah, simper Fi.

When I showed her a real good time, and she clawed my back like a Tiger begging go deeper, deeper, I would say how about tamale, you find a friend, and the 3 of us have a real nice time. This was my favorite, 2 young sexy chicks in my bed, porkin the dog doo doo out of both of them. It's a wonder I did not die of a heart attack, but oh, to be 29 again.

So many, male and female, came to Key West to drop out. It was the perfect place to do that. Most dropped back in, some did not.

You did any god damn thing you wanted to, if you could make it stick. Drugs were wide open and nobody was enforcing anything. When I went there, I used to think I was the only straight on the island. It was filled with Gays. Everyone had this pirate attitude. It was where losers went to hide out, or heal. And, of course I learned how to prey on the female losers in love, any good hustler does that.

This was the actual Margaretville Jimmy sang about. Drunks and druggies stumbling around, looking for their lost shaker of salt, came there for the season, and wonder where the last 5 years went. God I loved that place. Now, I could care less about going down there. The place I loved, is gone.

We had our sales meeting in Miami and the guys ran all over town, got laid, and showed up late and drunk for the meeting. It was suggested to me to find a place where they could not get laid, where there were no women, where they would be hours away from getting to women. My solution. Duck Key. It was too far for them to drive to Miami or to Key West so they would just stay put.

Back then in the early 70’s it was just this one big hotel which was getting a little old and run down. It had seen better days and you could tell it was once a grand place. A few years later, there would be a massive renovation and rebuilding of the entire complex.

So I stick these ho monger drunks, my sales reps, in the middle of the keys. Rather than bore them with an all day sales meeting, where they went brain dead on you anyway all afternoon, they had to make the 8am meet which went till 1pm, breakfast and lunch included, then I let them go out to deep sea fish for the afternoon. Dinner and drinks in the private dining room that night. It all worked just great.

On the way down from Miami I went into a costume shop and rented a real gorilla suit used in the movies. This was the real deal and once a man got in it, you could not tell.
After the meal, I had a DJ in there, I said we will play some music and you can dance. But, we have a small problem. There are no females to dance with. And all of you have been complaining about my office manager, what a lousy job he has been doing, so I have fired him. In his place, I have hired a new, lovely young female. I’ll have the first dance with her, and then all of you can have a dance to get acquainted. And my office manager jumps out in the gorilla suit and we dance the boogaloo.

They were falling down laughing holding their ribs. After a few dances Tom said, get me out of here, I am burning up in this suit. We were heading down to his room for him to change and he saw two old people coming out of their room, with their backs to us, locking their door. He hid behind a big areca palm, and when they got close, he jumped out and jumped up and down going ooo ooohh and beating his chest with his fists. Then he charged them. Both of these 70 year olds turned and set the new world record for the 100 yard dash down the hall. I went damn Tom, don’t do that again, they could have a stroke.

Hotel security and the cops showed up looking for the loose gorilla which of course they never found. Our lips were sealed, we were all like sergeant Shultz, we saw nut zing, we know, nutzing.
So many found memories of the keys.

To be one, you are a parrot head, and have a lot of straw hats, and you have a flag of the Conch repubic hanging in your office like mine, long live, the conch republic.

Here is our national anthem.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=MUTf5qvS0Lo

Buffett, Captain Tony and I are now gone, and so is the Paradise, they fookin paved, to put up a parking lot, you don't know what you got, until they take it away from you.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=TsPh_8Dxl3E


click the pics to enlarge them and to see FL doing the boogaloo at duck key.

The picture of fast larry was taken on Oct, 1972.

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[FASTLARRY]

Eastern Airlines

It was based out of Atlanta. When I began flying out of Atl in the early 70’s it was a 737 and DC9 world, and a lot of DC 3 props were still being used to connect the smaller cities.
The year was 1981, I was 38 years old.

The stews on Delta, I called Delta dogs and most looked like they had been on the raft with Eddie Rickenbacker. Eastern hired a lot of very young, pretty sexy blond stews. They were all very fookable. I flew Eastern a lot. I fooked so many of their stews I lost count. I tried hard to fook em all, maybe got to 10% of them. I cried when they went bankrupt and shut down. I had to fly Delta full time and look at all those old dogs. I never fooked a Delta Dog. They were all too ugly. Double ugly.

In the 60’s and early 70’s a stew was a temporary job, they never intended for any of them to work there longer than 4 years. They were told that coming in, like in high school, after 4 they had to go. They were there to snag a pilot, a rich businessman, get married, and get out of the way for a new younger slimmer one coming in. It was great, with them constantly turning over none of them got old, gray and fat. They had to weigh in and if they started looking sloppy they would be grounded. Then they got a union, lawyers, and they fooked a great deal up. Now you have grannies up there, men who are mostly fags, wanting to get at all the men on the plane.

How many guys would eat at hooters if all of the waitresses were all 60. And fags, guys sued to be hooter boys. It got nuts real fast. Would you eat at hooters of all the waiters looked like this. Like the sign says, get a fooken grip.

http://www.usatoday.com/travel/gallery/hoo...nttemplate4.htm

I got to the point where most of the chicks I dated were stews. They were like me, in the air every day, on the move, did not have a lot of time to waste, and they would get right down to it fast. Being young and nice looking at the time, picking them up was no problem. You could tell in 5 minutes which ones who were married, or in some tight situation and unavailable and which ones who were on the lookout for some action. I always bought a rose before I boarded every flight and I gave it to the best looking one I thought I could bag. It created a good impression caught their attention.

I boarded a flight out of Reno back to Atlanta. I had been gambling in the Casino so I did not have on my usual business suit, I had on my Reddish brown leather jacket, that Jane in Bhm had given me, she was moving out, and soon Kim would be moving in, a Versace pink silk designer shirt, white slacks, gold chain, shades, Italian loafers, my Reno outfit. I was booked in first class and this 21 year old Blond was working my cabin. I look her over, nice figure, drop dead gorgeous, she was of Germanic stock, I liked her facial cut.

She said, what’s the rose for. I said I normally walk up and down the plane, and give it to the most beautiful woman on board, but looking at you, the contest is now over, nobody on here, could possibly be more beautiful than you, and I handed it to her. She had the most beautiful smile. When this lady was 17, and I saw the photos, she was world class beautiful, but she aged very fast. But at 21 she was still beautiful.

It is amazing the power a simple little cheap flower has on a woman, when presented to them in the proper way. They love this she-yit, and romance. Corny, old fashioned, BS, trust me it works, and some things are timeless and this is one of them. Now you know why I spend so much time in my flower garden. I give away, a lot of flowers. I get a lot of poosay. You might think, you are 17 years older than her, no chance, but when they are out there, first up in the air, during that first 6 months, they are easy to hustle and pick up. They are going for anything at that time, and soon, they get worked over by so many guys like me, they wise up, get smart, and their defenses are hardened and they become a bitch to get at.

The Cattle car was packed but first was light and she sat down beside me once things calmed down, which was unusual, and she said where do you live, I said Roswell, she said I live in Marietta, I said, how convenient, she said yes that is, and she put her hand on top of mine. She said, my name is Kim, I’ll write down my number, call me up. I said, bank on it.

The next week we hooked up, went out to dance at the hot Disco, and after an hour, she said I want to go home and when we got there she made me a scotch which she drank the same and soon she took me straight up to bed with her. It was a night of making love that was extraordinary. In the morning she said, I did not think and old guy like you could keep up. I said, I aint quite over the hill yet. Would you mind getting my teeth out of the jar and bring me my walker. Here’s lookin at you kid. I was in fantastic shape, with the body of an 18 year old marine recruit just out of boot camp. I was a world class athlete at the time, and a sexual fookin T Rex.

I was 17 years older than her and I thought that would be a problem, but she was dating a guy 20 years older, that had a lot of money, his dad was turning his company over to him and he was lavishing a lot of expensive gifts on her. He was giving her everything she wanted, but a good fook. I took care of that one for him. Now she had everything.

She would get in town, call me up saying I am glad you are home, I am so horny, can you do anything about it. I would say, hold on, don’t start without me, I’ll be right over. I would tell my old lady, I was going out to make a sales call.

One afternoon we were in her bed, which was on the 2nd floor of her apartment and I was giving her the high hard one and the front door knocks, she looks out the window and panics, she said, I have to let him in, you will have to go out the window, drop down to the patio when he comes in the front door beat it. I said who in the hell is that, she said my father, and he does not know I do these things, he thinks I am still a Virgin and some innocent little girl. I knew it was him, because she had a picture of her folks by her bed.

I had gone out a couple of 2nd story windows with my pants half on tossing my shoes and stocks out first a couple of times when a husband came home, but that was my first Daddy escape. She said she kept the Apartment because her folks were old fashioned and religious and would never accept the fact she had moved in with the rich guy without being married. So she hid that from them, and hid me, from the rich guy. I hid her from my old lady. Oh the tangled webs we weave, when we first practice to deceive. She was lying to everyone. Hell I did that for a living.

When she would get in my car, I would always play the Eagles for her. What I tried to explain to her in vain, was she had been out on the road and flying for 6 months and it was all fun and excitement. But it was like a chocolate covered terd, on day, her youth would be gone, the dazzle would be gone, and the chocolate would be gone, and all she would have left is the terd to eat. I said there was a reason they only wanted you to fly for four years. After 4, you were burned out, got a bad attitude and would no longer be worth a she-yit to anyone.

She said what about you? You have been on the road now for 17 years. I said, I am unusual, most people like me rarely make 10 years on the road, and then they go nuts, become a drunk and begin speaking in unknown tongues. If you are not promoted to a corner office and leave the road by then, you are toast. I said, you can only run in the fast lane for so long, stay to long, it will eat your brain and corrupt your soul to the point there is nothing left to salvage or save. At some point, you have to bail out. I plan to start my own company soon, and hire young people to do the heavy road work for me.

I told her, this was her theme song. She hated that first song. It struck true, to the quick.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=ED6q_x1lR34

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=IA_xZjR6Sxw

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=-NNYP691JUA

When this song came out I just turned 39, it described me perfect. I would catch Jerry Lee now and then playing some C&W joint, his career as a star had been long over. He was working bars. He was just a dope smoking burned out old man by the 80’s. He was not interesting to talk to, he seemed rather dumb and slow. A real hill Billy. It’s hard to talk to somebody who is stoned. Who has been brain dead since the 60’s.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=Yj_-qdUlB7k

Kim and I would arrange our schedules to meet up out on the road a lot. She loved Florida, lying out by the pool or the beach. Stews are all like lizards, they love to lie out and sun on stone. She loved to go to Doral in Miami, and we hit most of the upscale resorts. She was the perfect woman, loved to fook, eat like me, drank scotch like me, liked to dance, and was a lot of fun. Yes, it made me feel good to have her on my arm. She made me feel young again, even though I knew all along, it could never last. We hung out, traveled together, and had more fun that the law allowed for 5 years. She loved going to the Keys. She loved Key Largo and Key West.
She was not into sports, but she would go to the Masters Golf tourney with me every year, because anybody that was anybody on the planet was there. She was impressed I could get in during the event.

Then I had my almost fatal plane crash, and she and my old lady are both showing up at the hospital at the same time, and I am trying hard not for them to run into each other. She managed to dodge the old bag and see me when she was in town. I was flat on my back dying but I got a couple of BJ's that gave me reason to live and pull through. I could not die, not with that hot piece of ass hanging around.

Every good love affair, has its song. Its a song that connects the two, or the two fall in love when they are hearing it. The song endures long after their love dies.

She loved to play Birdie Higgins, she was so romantic, she wanted us to be, like Bogey and McCall. Playing bogey was no problem. We used to be pals in the 50's. It was the older guy, with the 19 year old chick and the fell in love in the movies. And they did it in real live as well. I had to take her to Key Largo, and romance her. This chick, lived for romance, and creating romance, and ultimate dates, I was the master at.

Wrapped around each other
Trying so hard to stay warm
That first cold winter together
Lying in each others arms
Watching those old movies
Falling in love so desperately
Honey, I was your hero
And you were my leading lady

We had it all
Just like Bogie and Bacall
Starring in our old late, late show
Sailing away to Key Largo

Here's lookin' at you kid
Missing all the things we did
We can find it once again, I know
Just like they did in Key Largo

Honey, can't you remember
We played all the parts
That sweet scene of surrender
When you gave me your heart
Please say you will
Play it again
'Cause I love you still
Baby, this can't be the end

We had it all
(We had it all)
Just like Bogie and Bacall
Starring in our old late, late show
Sailing away to Key Largo

Here's lookin' at you kid
(Here's lookin' at you kid)
Missing all the things we did
We can find it once again, I know
Just like they did in Key Largo

We had it all
(We had it all)
Just like Bogie and Bacall
Starring in our old late, late show
Sailing away to Key Largo

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=Ru2tsT32pHA

I fell in love with you watching Casablanca
Back row of the drive in show in the flickering light
Popcorn and cokes beneath the stars became champagne and caviar
Making love on a long hot summers night

I thought you fell in love with me watching Casablance
Holding hands 'neath the paddle fans in Rick's Candle lit cafe
Hiding in the shadows from the spies. Moroccan moonlight in your eyes
Making magic at the movies in my old chevrolet

Oh! A kiss is still a kiss in Casablanca
But a kiss is not a kiss without your sigh
Please come back to me in Casablanca
I love you more and more each day as time goes by

I guess there're many broken hearts in Casablanca
You know I've never really been there. so, I don't know
I guess our love story will never be seen on the big wide silver screen
But it hurt just as bad when I had to watch you go

Oh! A kiss is still a kiss in Casablanca
But a kiss is not a kiss without your sigh
Please come back to me in Casablanca
I love you more and more each day as time goes by
Oh! A kiss is still a kiss in Casablanca
But a kiss is not a kiss without your sigh

Please come back to me in Casablanca
I love you more and more each day as time goes by
I love you more and more each day as time goes by

Oh how I could make her, sigh. How I miss that, today.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=iLdqKUkkM6w

I finally got a divorce and when I was free, it scared the hell out of her. It was all great when we were just fook buddies, she used me, I used her, but when I suggested we might get married, she dumped me. I was not millionaire and I guess I was too old for her to marry. I understood, I did not pursue her, I let her go. It was for the best, and I started dating women in the early 30’s, early 20’s never worked out for anyone I ever knew at my age. That was a fools game, and it lasted a lot longer than I ever thought it would.

Her problem was, she had the millionaire, but he was old enough to be her father, and he would not marry her, he was just using her too. She became frustrated, they began to fight like cats and dogs, they broke up several times, made up, and then broke up and it stuck. I was now living right above the Chattahoochee River in a great singles apartment complex and I am beating the old broads off with a baseball bat, betting so much poosay I should be locked up for stealing, and she came by once, a year later, we made love, and she never called again. She loved Mexican food and it did her in. She gained so much weight she lost her stew job. She lost both of us. Soon she was super fat and nobody would want her any more. By 30, she was washed up, a very short prime.

She began as a really sweet kid, and then became a gold digger, which she would never accept to be true, tried to be a trophy wife to some rich guy, came close, never closed the deal, and it all ended badly for her. I loved her very much; it made me sad to see her end up that way.

http://en.wikipedia....stern_Air_Lines

She thought happiness was gold and money, she was wrong.

Flying back then was fun, glamorous for all. The stews were all young, beautiful, hot and available, today they are old ugly with bad attitudes. The seats were large and comfortable. Today you are in a fookin sardine can, you cant hardly move and if the fat boy in front of you drops his seat back, you are double fooked.
It used to be all young business men, all nice looking, dressed in suits, and now its become a 3rd world fookin greyhound bus with wings, where you are crammed in tight with all these foreign ass holes and you come off sick with their diseases. Flying now, sucks royal dick. They have fooked this up so bad, it is barely even bearable any more. I would rather drive now.

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[FASTLARRY]

Eastern Airlines. Part II

I was really down, at the time, and in need of some love and comfort. My prayer would be answered.

http://www.mefeedia.com/entry/marvin-gaye-...by-you/15575720

How sweet it is to be loved by you. How sweet it is to be loved by you.
I needed the shelter of someone's arms and there you were.
I needed someone to understand my ups and downs and there you were.
With sweet love and devotion, deeply touching my emotion,
I want to stop and thank you baby. I want to stop and thank you baby.
How sweet it is to be loved by you. How sweet it is to be loved by you.
I close my eyes at night wondering where would I be without you in my life.
Everything I did was just a bore, everywhere I went it seems I'd been there before.
But you brighten up for me all of my days with a love so sweet in so many ways,
I want to stop and thank you baby, I just want to stop and thank you baby.
How sweet it is to be loved by you, feels so fine. How sweet it is to be loved by you.
You were better for me than I was for myself,
for me, there's you and there ain't nobody else,
I want to stop and thank you baby. I just want to stop and thank you baby, yes I do,
how sweet it is to be loved by you. How sweet it is to be loved by you.
Feels so fine, how sweet it is to be loved by you.
Just like jelly baby, oh yeah, how sweet it is to be loved by you.
Just like honey to the bee, babe, how sweet it is to be loved by you.

And any time you take on a 2nd woman, the conflict of the right and wrong of it must be dealt with.

It was 1974, and this song, came along at exactly the right time.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=BzK-FoZ_Zpc

If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If being right means being without you
I'd rather live a wrong doing life
Your mama and daddy say it's a shame
It's a downright disgrace
Long as I got you by my side
I don't care what your people say

Your friends tell you there's no future
In loving a married man
If I can't see you when I want to
I'll see you when I can
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right

Am I wrong to fall so deeply in love with you
Knowing I got a wife and two little children
Depending on me too
And am I wrong to hunger
for the gentleness of your touch
knowing I got somebody else at home
who needs me just as much

And are you wrong to fall in love
With a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
To the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right

Are you wrong to give your love
To a married man
And am I wrong trying to hold on
To the best thing I ever had
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right
If loving you is wrong I don't wanna be right

I don't wanna be right
If it means sleeping alone at night
I don't wanna be right
If it means coming home at night
I don't wanna, I don't wanna
I don't wanna never, never, never be right

I board an Eastern airlines flight out of LA going to Atlanta. I am living in Birmingham, Alabama at the time.

The flight is full, I fail to upgrade and I am sitting back in the cattle car, in my business suit, looking just like the other 200 jerks. The head stew has black hair, is cute, not beautiful, but nice to look at. Later I would find out her figure in a bikini, was perfect, curves you would not believe. Not big hooters, just the right size for her body.

It’s a long flight and most stews after they feed you, go to the back and sit down to rest. This chick is full of energy, and is playing games with us. She is giving a free drink to the guy with the most keys on his ring, to the one with the most pens in his pocket, the most pictures of his kids in his wallet, it went on and one and she got most of us drunk. We had a ball. There was no time for a rose, no hustle, I was tired and just sat back and watched the show.

And for some unexplained reason, she picks me out of the 200 and begins talking to me. Do you live in Atlanta, no, I will just be there for the day, and then I’ll fly back to my home in Birmingham. She is amazed, and says, I live there too. Where, Hoover, so do I. How about that? I said, well, we have to have a drink. She said, give me your card and we will. I gave her a calling card not made out of paper, but made out of aluminum. She said I never saw one like that, I said, you never saw anything, until you see me in action. She called and we drank a few. She could drink most men under the table. She was road hard, been there, done all that she-yit.

Right off I told her I was married and that did not seem to bother her. When I would get close to her, touch her, she would get badly bothered, nervous, she would fidget, tug on her hair, then I realized I was making her so hot; she was having trouble concealing it. Rarely did women have that kind of reaction towards me. I knew then, I was in for something special and I was not wrong. I figured anything that attracted towards me, has to be some soul mate, or something from another life trying to connect to me, and it’s my duty to allow that connection. My Buddhist teachings.

She had been flying for four years and was now 25. I was 30. Age was not a problem. We met at a lot of international locations, like duns River falls in Jamaica and places like it.

http://www.dunnsrive...out_us_link.htm

I may put up some photos of us on the falls, soon.

She was flying full time and I was on the road also full time, so we only got together 4 or 5 times that first year. Each trip, she loved. She said, I should have been a travel agent, because I could always put on the ultimate trip.

I always had my birthday in Mobile, Alabama. I rented the Red room, which looked like Elvis’s bedroom or a New Orleans ho house. It was called the Malaga. When she arrived and walked in the place, to a bottle of Dom on ice, she said, fast, you finally outdid yourself.

http://www.expedia.c...pv/htid=1129443

The Malaga Inn, in the historic district of downtown Mobile, is the only hotel of its kind in Alabama. It was originally two townhouses built in 1862 by brothers-in-law when the war was going well for the south. The two homes have been lovingly restored around a quiet patio and garden. All the rooms have been furnished with a great deal of individuality, reminiscent of the finest in Southern Tradition. The friendly and courteous attention afforded to each guest, the convenient location next to the civic auditorium and all the historic sights of downtown Mobile, have for many years attracted those who relish the Malaga Inn's Old Town atmosphere.

The left house had the blue room; the right house had the red room. The single rooms were at the back. The red room, was large, very high ceiling, marble fireplace, and antiques everywhere. The 2nd room was the bedroom, another marble fireplace, and the 3rd room was the bathroom. It was like renting a small house. Few knew about it, and it was rented to the finest and best people. In Vegas, this room would go for 5 or 10K.

Then she says, she had had enough of eastern and flying around working her ass off for a bunch of jerks in a job that goes nowhere. I said, you were supposed to leave, a year ago, so leave. She said her brother, who was a very slick hustler ran insurance selling and had sales teams in several cities. She said before she went flying, he trained her in sales and she sold insurance back then. He turned Bmh, over to her since she wanted a new career. She wanted me to come work for her. I said, look, I call on Alabama Power, TVA, big time companies, and write million dollar orders. When you drive all over Alabama, and see all those aluminum towers, with those power lines, I sold all of that.

I walk into a Vp’s office and demand a 500k check that is past due. They shove million dollar orders in my pocket. And you want me to show up at Jose Heminze house and try to sell him a full life policy. She said yes. I said, that BS, I am so far above that she-yit it aint silly. She said, do it, I can learn from you, you can learn from me. I thought, what the hell, why not. The first call, she pounds this poor fooker into the dirt, drives the ambulance right up to the door, and he won’t pop. Going out the door, she kicks over his waste basket and whips him the Italian salute. I thought, I could use that one.

http://everything2.c...0Arm%2520Salute

I messed around with her for about a month, made several evening sales calls that always ended up in her bed. Frankly I learned a lot about closing. Those insurance sales people are all about closing. You are not a true salesman, if you can’t close. I backed off, wished her well, and said, you do your thing; I’ll do mine and let’s forget the insurance business. Can we go back to where we were, to just fookin and suckin. Porkin and torkin.

They were pulling some much shady she-yit, the feds came in and shut her down, and she went on the lamb fast. I had just landed a bigger job in Atlanta and moved and we never saw each other again. She did the right thing, to avoid jail; she cut the ties with anyone they could use, to trace back to her.

I loved that gal, I missed her, badly. She had become a real hustler. What I always said about broads, was, they come and they go, like street cars. One goes, no problemo, hold on, soon another one will arrive. There are millions of them, an unlimited supply, that is constantly renewing so I never mourned one leaving, knowing a replacement would soon appear.

Pining over something gone, over and done, is stupid. When they are gone, they are gone, just find a new one, and move on. Poosay, is poosay.

Tatoo this over your eyelids, then come, and they go like streecars, when one goes, find a new one.

What to do if you are in an airplane and its lost power in the engines and is going to crash. Take your two free bottles of Scotch, the little 1.5 oz, chug both, put your head between your legs, and kiss your ass goodbye. You are about to become, spam in a can.
The last picture is very close to what Kim looked like.
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[FASTLARRY]

TO ALL THE GIRLS I HAVE LOVED BEFORE.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=tOifaUXPk4g

To all the girls I have loved before
Who travelled in & out my door
I am glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the girls I have loved before

To all the girls I once caressed
And may I say I have held the best
For helping me to grow
I owe a lot I know
To all the girls I have loved before

The winds of change are always blowing
And every time I try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry me away

To all the girls who shared my life
Who now are someone else´s wives
I am glad they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the girls I have loved before

To all the girls who cared for me
Who filled my nights with ecstasy
They live within my heart
I will always be a part
Of all the girls I have loved before

The winds of change are always blowing
And every time I try to stay
The winds of change continue blowing
And they just carry me away

To all the girls we have loved before
Who travelled in & out our doors
We are glad they came along
We dedicate this song
To all the girls we have loved before

To all the girls we have loved before
Who travelled in & out our doors
We are glad they came along
We dedicate this song
To all the girls we have loved before

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[FASTLARRY]

STRANGERS IN Y0UR BED

Strangers in your bed. I have heard so many stories by so many guys over the years that I became pretty much bullet proof. They taught me what to do to not get ripped off. Let me share some of that with you now.

When you pick up some broad and bring her to your room and bed, never trust her. The majority are honest and just wanting to get laid. Now and then you will pick up a hustler who will try and work you. You know nothing about this person, so never assume what they tell you is true. She might be that innocent secretary, or just a petty thief, on an expensive drug habit and you are her mark. You don’t trust them until you have seen them a few times, and checked them out, know where they live and work. The fastest way to do that, if they spend the night, is when they are sound sleep, get in their purse, and copy down their address off of their driver’s license. You will also know how old they are. Women lie like dogs about that one.

I have on a 2 carat diamond ring, and 2nd 1 carrot ring, a Cartier watch, usually about $500 cash, plus several credit cards. Rob me, and you have made quite a nice score. You are out of town, will go back home so you won’t be out looking for her. She will change her wig every day from Blond to black hair, and her makeup, how she dresses. The cops could not find their dick in their pants with a flashlight. They are hard to catch and stop. After a few good hits, they drift to a new town.

Some are out looking for men who are dressed in expensive suits and look flush. They will work the 4 star hotel bars. If some broad comes on to you, who are too young for you, too good looking, you can’t believe it, then don’t believe it. As Ann Landers said, if the deal is too good, run up a red flag, you are being coned or hustled.

The first thing you have to protect around one is your drink. Never leave it, if you go to the head, take it with you. They can slip a sleeping pill in it when you are not looking and they take you to your room, get you in bed and you just drift off and when you wake up you are cleaned out and they are long gone. There was a team of good looking young gals working Atlanta a few years ago and they were using one of these really strong date rape drugs on the guys to knock them out fast, so they would not even have to have sex with them. A couple OD’ed and died. Getting mickied in a bar is as old as the hills.

http://en.wikipedia....ey_Finn_(drugs)

When I get to my room, I have to take a leak, and when I am in the head, I take off one of my socks, put my rings, my credit cards, drivers license, and $450 inside the sock, and lay down, and shove it up under the sink, under that pipe that makes the big bend. Nobody will ever look under there, trust me. I leave my wallet with $50 in my pants, return to the bed. So if she does spend the night, and then goes for my wallet, she will see cash, she is trained to grab it, put it in her purse and go fast, so as not to get caught and my loss is now acceptable. In Asia, they leave the wallet, empty it, and then turn it upside down so it stands up like an A, to let you know you have been had.

Most gals with a real job, after you nail them, they get up and go home, so they can make it to the office in the morning on time. I am always very suspicious of any broad who wants to spend the night with me. Especially in Vegas, which is filled with hustlers.

If you pick up a ho, you do her, you pay her, and then throw her out. You never ever let one spend the night. They will all rob you when you fall asleep. Some will try and make you some really good deal for an all nighter. Don’t fall for it.

This broad picked me up in Vegas, threw herself at me, 20 years younger than me, red flag, and she spends the night. I expected her to hit me up for money but she never did. The next morning, I have to leave early, and she wants to sleep in and leave later. No way Jose, I almost had to drag her to the door and shoved her out into the hall, and then I tossed her the high heels and said, thanks for the memories as I slammed and locked the door. You have to be tough, brutal with these bitches. What they will do is pack up all your stuff, even your clothes, put it in your suitcase and just walk right out the front door with it and hop a cab out front.

I am in New York City for a couple of days. My salesman picks me up at the airport, takes me to my downtown hotel, the Waldorf, then we made calls together. That night, I pick up this really good looking gal at the hotel bar. I hid my stuff in my sock and under the sink it went. The chick was straight and spent the night and rode me hard and put me up wet. When she finally left, I was running so late, the salesman was coming by that morning, to pick me up and to take me to the airport for me to fly home to Atlanta. I was slamming things in my suitcase, in a rush, I run downstairs, check out and made my flight. Back in the 70’s you did not have to show a drivers license at the airport, there was no security, you walked right to your gate if you had a ticket.

When I got my wallet out to buy a drink, there was only $50 in it, and then it dawned on me, the other $450, my rings, credit cards, driver’s license, was still in the room, under the sink. I could not believe how stupid I was to make such a mistake. I thought about calling the hotel manager and have him go get it, but it’s New York, and I did not trust him not to rob me and just say, it was not there. I knew for sure the maid would not find it; they never get on their knees unless they are giving the mgr a BJ. So I figured the best thing to do, was nothing?

I traveled every week, I could go anywhere I wanted to, in North or South America and nobody questioned where I went or why as long as I produced my sales quotas. Going back to NYC would look a little funny, so I booked a Monday flight into NYC, then on to Boston and up to Montreal and back home that Friday. I took a cab to the hotel, got with the manager, explained to him what I had done, and asked for him to take me to the room, and my luck, it was occupied. I said, can we just knock on the door, he is probably out working, and you go under the sink, and if the sock is there, and it has my driver’s license inside, you give it to me and I am gone. He knocked, no answer, he went in and got it for me. What a scare that one was. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor used to live there, it is a first class joint and they will do anything to please a guest.

http://hiltonfamilynewyork.com/the-waldorf...a.php?WT.srch=1


The only time I did get hit was so stupid is was funny. I was in a top hotel at a major airport, which had a very hot bar which was packed with people dancing. This little blond, is giving me the eye, smiling at me seductively. Nice looking, very small, very trim, and about 20 which was 20 years younger than me. I was of course, suspicious. She wants to get out of there way too fast and take me home. Red flag, and on the way, she has to stop by a payphone, and call her Mom, to let her know she’s OK, she always checks in with her when she goes out to bars. I smell a rat, so I get out with her, and stand next to her at the phone, so I can hear, what she is saying. I figure she was calling somebody, to set me up, and I was right.

Now she is telling me how she is hungry and has no food. What she was doing, was trying to hit me up for money, but did not have the guts to just come out and ask, so I stop, buy her some food, and when we got to her place, I opened the fridge and it was empty, there was almost nothing in there. 2 cans of cola.
She jerks me around for two hours and won’t get in the sack, and she finally says, $50 will do it. As soon as she got the $50, she said she would be right back, out the door she goes, I guess to go buy drugs with her 50.

She comes back, and does not want to take off her top. I can see, she does not have any tits, and I learned from experience, when they don’t want to, don’t, there is a reason and if you make them, you will regret it. One tit will be deformed, or they are tiny, probably her case, or they were hippies, ran around braless for years, and they are collapsed and deflated sagging down. She had these really nice thin hips, great snatch, and being 20, never having a kid, and being really small, it was the tightest thing I had ever been in and I had busted a lot of Virgins cherries.

I almost lost it on impact. What a great fook. It was so good, I wanted to do it again, but, it would be another 50, what the hell, I forked it out, she takes off out the door again. She had this one room apartment in this cheap ass place, and the bed was an out of the wall thing, and there was no place to hide my wallet under the mattress, it was all exposed springs. I did not trust the bitch, now knowing she is a hustler, and probably a druggie, so I ran out to my car, put my wallet in the trunk, and tossed my keys into the bushes by her door, where they could not be seen. I learned from that experience to have keyless entry in the future, then I can put everything in the trunk, including my keys, then I punch a code which opens the trunk.

I go back to bed, she shows back up 5 minutes later. I would have left, but I had been drinking a lot, did not want to risk a DUI, and did not want to be out looking for a motel at 4am, so I just went to sleep. She opens up the fookin front door, wide open. I keep telling her to close it, she said she was hot and needed the fresh air. I knew that she-yit did not fly. I guess her plan was to rob me, then say, somebody must have came in and did it when we were asleep, and when she searched my pants, then the room and no wallet and keys, she knew they had to be some place. I dose off, and that bitch found those fookin keys, she was good. She got in my trunk, took my wallet and my CB radio. She put the keys back behind the bush.

I got up, got dressed, said goodbye, and went out to the car, opened the trunk and saw I was robbed. I went back inside and she knew nothing, the lying bitch. So I did not push it, I drove right to the local police department, and talked to a detective, who said she was new in town, they did not have any arrests on her, and, she was married. Her old man was in on it. They were probably using that apartment just to take guys to and they were living in another one close by.

The dick was really cool, he said, I will go back to her with you. You go in, tell her I am outside. Tell her, give you the stuff back, or I come in, and she goes downtown and to jail. He said, don’t let her give you a free BJ to get off, get your she-yit and get out of there fast. I went inside, told her the deal, said go get my stuff, you have 5 minutes, when you go out the door, you will see the dick sitting in the plain clothes cop car. 5 minutes she is back with my stuff, I leave, and so did the Dick, but he said, I will keep an eye on her, now that we no she is running a hustle there.
5 gets you 10, that Sob went back in there and got a free BJ.
She probably rented that little one room she-yit hole in a fake name, which explains why there was no food in the fridge, nobody was living there. It was the fook room, where they robbed people.

What a stupid bitch, what a bad con, they were really bad thieves. I guess picking up older guys like me, who looked married, worked because they would not go to the cops. They would take the hit and let it ride. Her bad luck was I was single, and nobody steals from me, and gets away with it if I have any choice in the matter.

In a ho house, you always roll up your pants legs around your wallet and make it into a ball, like a pillow, and you lay your head on it. If you leave your pants on a chair, some other bitch will crawl in there when you are on top humpin away, and peal out half of your loot out of your wallet, then put it back in your pants. You had 400 in there; you get ready to pay; now there are only 100 left. You pay the bitch, and walk out broke.

You also have to be very careful about being pick pocketed also. I carry my main money in my front pocket, never in my rear one.

When I was a kid, there was this gorgeous late 20’s blond doll that lived next door. Great tits, nice figure, a real dish. Everyone wanted to fook that tomato. Her husband was a big bruiser, a pro wrestler who made a lot of money when he was young. Then he got in his mid 30’s, the bod began to go, so did his career, and soon he was doing dives and making very little money. He turned his wife, into a hustler. They would find and target people with a lot of money, in high positions in which a scandal would wreck them. This might be a VP in the bank, the president of a large local company, all married men, usually in their 40’s. She would find a way to meet them, at church, at the club, flirt with them, and get them to come by her place for a drink.

It is amazing how an innocent pretty girl from the farm, raised on hell and damnation old time religion can come to the big city and run with the wrong crowd and can become the devils own ho.

Older guys are a sucker for a beautiful doll working them. When she would get the guy in bed and would begin fookin him, he did not know her husband was hiding in the back room listening. When he would hear the moaning and groaning, he would sneak out the back, and come in the front door, making a lot of noise, yelling out, hi honey, I am home early today. She would whisper, oh my God, it’s my husband; he never comes home during the day, hide in the closet.

Here would be this skinny little 40 year old wimp, climbing out of bed naked and in walks this 270 lb monster bruiser, who now puts on an act of rage. He is going to break every bone is his body, kill him with his bare hands. And if you live, it will be in the papers, everyone will know you got caught fookin my wife you SOB. I wonder what your wife will think of that, and your boss where you work at?

As he begs for mercy, usually money comes up, and the guy pays them off, which was nothing more than a set up blackmail. In today’s money, they would get 5 or 10K off the chump. They made a living on that con for years until somebody compared notes and the cops got wise, then they folded the con and went back living normal lives, but he had corrupted his wife, into being a Ho who fooked for money. She had this great looking Mink coat, and I think she enjoyed her work and all the nice things the con got her.

In the beginning she is faithfull and true to her husband, who is out fookin everything under 30 with a pulse and he brings Syphlis home and infects her. This was some serious she-yit during the time frame of this story, the early 40's. They did not have the drugs to treat it like we do today and your chances of dying, or going insane were 50/50 if you let it get advanced. It was a great shame. That is what killed Al Capone. The treatment was long, painful and tough, but she did get cured, but the price was she could never have children. That experience totally warped her views of sex, moralilty and on people in general. Here she had done nothing wrong, was the perfect wife, and her life was almost taken and partially ruined. This causes a hatred of men, and explains how she could run the sex con, which got even with other men fookin around on their wifes.

http://www.womenshea.../syphilis.cfm#5

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[FASTLARRY]

The Polo Pony

It’s 1973 and I am living in central Florida. My office manager Tom, wants’ to take up Polo and wants to buy a Polo Pony, and he talks me into going in half on the horse. I was gone all the time and might get in a quick ride on the weekend. I named my horse, horse. Most of the big polo matches are in West Palm where the rich people live. Tom takes the horse down there with him to ride and play. Golf on a fookin horse, I did not get it.

I am working in Miami and come up to West Palm to say hello and meet Tom in a sports bar that was hot with the in crowd. He is drinking with 3 guys who he said he knew. They said they had a plane and when I said, I flew, they said, we can always use a co pilot. They were going diving for lobster and when they found out I was a scuba diver, they invited me to come along on their trip. They were flying over to the Grand Bahama Island and staying in a really nice big hotel ran by Jack Tar. They said, I could share a room with one of them, and the trip would not cost me a dime. I said, deal, when do we go, they said, right now, we are headed to the plane.

http://www.guidetocaribbeanvacations.com/b...owItBegan_2.htm


The Island sits right off the coast of West Palm, so it’s a short flight to the West End. The first red flag was they did not drive over to the West Palm airport, but went an hour up north to fly out of Ft Pierce. They said it was cheaper to keep the plane there, and they could come and go when they wanted to with no hassle since there was little traffic out of there. They said the airport closed at 6pm, and they could fly in late at 8pm and the airport manager would take care of the paper work for them in the morning.
What that meant was they were paying the guy off, to land at night, when the place was closed.

At that time, the drug cartels had paid off and controlled the president of the Bahamas. They operated in that region with total impunity. Their private island had daily chalks flights into it from Miami or Bimini and only the druggies could fly it. If you did, they fed you to the sharks.

The flight over was nice and the hotel was huge. It had seen better days and was beginning to get run down. In a few years, it would close. It had the biggest pool I ever saw, 100 yards long, filled with sea water.
The rooms were large and OK. These 3 guys were all about 50; I was 29 in great physical shape. When we hit the bar, they all went wild chasing all the gals there on vacation. I did not drink, nor did I try to dance with or hustle any of the chicks. I just sat there, and nursed my glass of OJ.
You Holy Roller ass holes would have been fookin proud of my ass. I was a pure as new fallen Kansas snow. But the Devil wont let me be, when he see's this, he jumps in and starts some she-yit.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=o7kzsZreG0o

They all ended up with some 30 something chicks and spent the night fookin. I put in my ear plugs, and my sleep mask on and ignored my roommate who was humpin away. That morning they were laying around in serious pain, I grabbed my Tennis racket and went down early that morning and got in 3 sets.

When we went diving around noon, I thought we would scuba, but to go after lobsters you have to free dive, no tanks, just go down with flippers and hold your breath. These boys had been doing this for a long time and knew right where to go. Huge conchs everywhere and it was loaded with lobsters. I thought, I’ll show these old guys how to dive. El Wrongo, they dove me into the dirt. Hell they could stay down there 2 minutes. The brought up twice the lobsters I did. In the two days of diving, we must have packed 200 in coolers of ice. I did not see the need to harvest or take than many home. Later on I would understand.

We hit the bar and they are making fun of me for not drinking. I try and explain every 90 days I go on the wagon, clean myself out, for a week, and this just happens to be that time to do it. Next week, I will be happy to drink and get drunk with them.

And they ask me if I am queer. I went, during the clean out, I usually also abstain from sex, to build up my strength. I said, women weaken the fookin knees. I like a woman like any man does, and if I wanted to fook one of these chicks, I could bed anyone of them with no problem. I have been getting so much poosay, I need to rest up for a few days. I am in danger of fookin my self to death.

They said you can fook anyone, would you bet $100 on it. I said pick one out and I’ll show you. They said, do you see that 18 year old blond sitting at the table with her old 50 year old aunt, I said not the old broad, forget that she-yit, I don't pork grannies or beasts of burden, they said, no no, the 18 year old blond is the bet. I went, ah so grasshopper, verily interesting. ooooooooooooooaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

They said, everyone in the hotel has tried to hustle that chick, and nobody has got to first base. That broad, is unfookable. I said, no broad is unfookable, make the bet $300, in USD, no colored funny money, they said, done, and we shook and spit on it.

I went out to the lobby gift shop, bought some nice flowers, and came back, asked auntie if I could join them for a while, she said yes, I gave her the flowers, and said, you are lovely, but your daughter is even lovelier, and could I have your permission to talk with her.

Madame bonsoir, peut j'avoir la permission de parler à votre belle fille, svp.

They were very French, from Montreal, and since I did not try and hustle her, but was so polite, the aunt thought I was terrific. I gave the aunt the flowers, and talked mostly to her, and she was delighted I knew all about Montreal since I did business there. It turned out that getting to Daniel was to be through the aunt. If she gave the green light, you were on, and so far, she was giving the red light to every guy in the bar, because they were all drunken jerks. Then later on, I heard her say, this is the one.
I finally got her alone, to walk the beach, and when we were at an isolated place, I laid her down in the sand, slide her panties down, and when I went in, she cried out, holy cow, the chick was a virgin.

She did not enjoy it at all.

I took her back to my room, to clean the sand off, got her back in my bed, and porked her again. This time, it was a little better, but still not there. On the way out, I dropped her panties in my roommates face and whispered to him and the chick he was snuggled up to, 300 in the morning, si vous svp monsieur.
The next morning, I told them I needed my privacy, and the virgin was not into fookin with them looking on, so I would rent my own room and pay for it, I moved out.

We went diving the next day again and they never paid the bet, the slime balls kept putting it off, saying we will pay it when we check out. Right. I had showed them who they had fooked with and kicked their dicks into the dirt. When I got back from the dive, I was shocked to see my red head two tennis rackets were gone from my room. I reported the theft to the manager. This was a huge red flag, why would somebody only steal the rackets, and leave more valuable stuff behind.

Another big red flag was when I would be taking pictures at the dock, during the dive; they would always turn their heads, hold of a hand over their face, or turn around fast. Why did they not want their pictures taken? I smell a rat now. I kept my camera film now in my pocket and my camera around my neck. I wanted the pictures of those guys, in case something went south.

That night I went to Daniels room and she made me close all the drapes, turn off all the lights, she was so shy. I hate fookin in total darkness, I have a problem with that. Finally we made love twice and this time she really enjoyed herself. Finally I got to hear some C'est Si Bon, si bon, si bon, si bon. I hid my camera and film in her room that night. I figured they wanted to steal that from me, big time. I figured they would come in during the night even to get it.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=VRTu215jJ4E

http://www.youtube.c...b87HRYSZ8g&NR=1
Marilyn fell for him, and hopped in bed with him, and was crushed, when he went back to his wife, she had problems realizing he saw her, as just a dizzy blond dame, to fook and move on from. He was too smart, to get tangled up in her BS.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDMzY4BzS7c...feature=related

For the rest of my days, I will rember her nails in my back and her moans of si bone, si bone.

Her story was she is from this very strict religious family and went to a Catholic school where the girls were kept separate from the boys. She would never have been allowed to have sex at home outside of marriage, which would be a family disgrace. Her aunt, as a graduation gift from completing high school, took her out of the country, to the Bahamas, where nobody would know them, and auntie would pick out the proper man, who would have the experience to show her how to make love properly, for her first time. And I was that lucky man, chosen. And she said, auntie sure knows how to choose them. It was so old school, and old school, is what I am all about.

The next day we walked the grounds, which were extensive and very tropical, I put a hibiscus in her hair, she was so young and beautiful, with such a great figure. I may put some pictures up of us later on. She looked at me, like she was Elsa and I was Rick in Casablanca. That day was total joy. But the boys had checked out and said, it’s time to head for the airport and fly back home to Ft Pierce.

I could see they were setting it up to arrive around 8pm so nobody would be there at the airport. When we were putting the luggage in the plane, and loading all those lobsters in the coolers, I shoved some luggage around and I saw, the end of my tennis racket case. They had got a key, or paid off a maid to let them in, went into my room, stole them, and hid them in the plane. Why. My best guess would be, both rackets would hide and hold a lot of coke inside the frames when you took the butt cap off.

And I thought, I bet the bottom of the coolers is filled with sealed bags of coke as well. They are drug smugglers and using me as a patsy if they get busted at the us airport. They would blame it all on me. They would say I hid the coke in the coolers and they were just innocent tourists. They would say everyone at the hotel, saw me playing Tennis with those rackets which proves they belong to me. How could we pack coke in his rackets when he was staying in a different room from us. Back then, you did not need any passport to go to the Bahamas, or Mexico. You just got in your plane, filed a flight plan, and went.

So I said, guys, do you see that weather back there closing in on us fast. Yes, that’s why we have to take off fast, before it gets here. I said, I don’t feel comfortable flying in that, in a small plane, so I’ll just go back to the hotel, check back in, and book a commercial flight back in the morning, thanks for the dive and all your friendship and hospitality, I had so much fun. In a normal situation they would say that's Ok, say goodbye and that would be it. There would be no argument, one less body on board, less fuel burned.

They spend 10 minutes trying to talk me into going and when I won’t budge, they become angry, hostile, and scary. They are calling me a pussy, afraid of a little squall, don’t be a big baby, get on the fookin plane. They are calling me a coward. Finally I said, read my lips, no for the last time, I am not leaving with you, I said, if I were you, I would stop calling me a pussy, I'll be glad to bet you welching ass holes another $300 you owe me and never paid that I have a 2nd degree blackbelt and I can break your fookin jaw with a single blow of my foot. Which one of you punks, wants to be first? I have taken all of your she-yit I am going to. Who's gonna be first, batter up?
That shut up their fookin pie holes.

I grabbed my suitcase, turned and walked back to the terminal. They had to leave without me because they did not want to land in the dark with no runway lights. When they got violent about me not going, was when they proved to me it was a drug flight and losing their stooge meant they were wide open if any feds were waiting for them in Ft Pierce.

When they flew out, I felt I had dodged one. I got to spend another night in bed with Daniel. When I got back I told Tom, what had happened and who they were. A few months later, my boss fired Tom, and he went to work for them, and set up a new company importing plastic sewer pipe that had up to a 4" diamater that you would pack all kinds of cool she-yit in a 10' piece of it. Tom has crossed over to the other side, and I realized he had set me up on that trip as the patsie. I thought he was my friend. Your friend in that culture, was money. Hey amigo, do you want dee silver, or dee lead?Welcome to south Florida in the early 70's, when every body, was fookin everybody. Body's were everywhere. I never watched Miami vice, hell I lived all around it.

I was 29, she would be my last virgin. I had not had one since I was 19, Never wanted another one, they are for beginners. they were a giant pain in the ass and lousy fooks. I gave up on them a long time ago but this one, just fell into my lap and I could not resist the bet.

When I made the bet, later on I thought of the movie, Guys and dolls, when Sky Masterson shot off his mouth he could take any broad to Cuba he chose and lay her, and Nathan Detroit picked Sister Sarah, who was a holy roller virgin. Yo, what a parallel that one was.
The plot is essentially based around the activities of New York petty criminals and professional gamblers. Nathan Detroit makes a living by running an (illegal) "floating crap game", despite constant encouragement to "go straight" by Miss Adelaide, a nightclub singer to whom he has been engaged for fourteen years. Sky Masterson is also a gambler, who will lay a bet on almost anything. He is unwillingly drawn by Nathan into trying to win a bet by taking Sarah Brown, a sister at the Save a Soul mission to Havana for the night. If he porks da preachin tomato, he wins da bet. 1,000 clams, about $7,000 in todays money.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=4XE-vFyGKu0

I made a stupid bet, and I had to go all out then, to win it. And once I won, we both walked away, winners. Daniel with a smile and a beautiful memory she will always cherish.
Me, Ditto.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8Wvgs9q3js...feature=related

Porkin broads is not exactly rocket science, they are dying to get laid, but have to play the Virgin Mary routine, so you let them get drunk, so they can get laid, and then blame it on being passed out, drunk, or what did you do to me BS.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJLiOgNn-yo...feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfpTKNwWrgE...feature=related


http://www.youtube.c...h?v=aLooMzB_lgc


http://www.bahamas.c...hama-island/map

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=yl1C8-kG6P8

http://www.youtube.c...l6MHgh1vFQ&NR=1

After Tom got fired, I repoed his fookin horse, then sold it. I never trusted that little fooker again, but we kept in touch.

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[FASTLARRY]

BUMPER POOL And the Big Bunny of Playboy
BUNNY KATHY

3-7-04, REV, 12-31-06, 4-30-09, 3 pages CR, Fast Larry Guninger all rights reserved. Published in DC, Bpn, czm, upp, ppt, flp, rsb, btt.

This was a very popular game in the 50’s and 60’s and a lot of people had these tables because they were cheap. The pool table Makers of the day were making only commercial grade tables and did not see any need to offer home rec tables at that time. A bumper pool table will fit into every room. People began to call the rubber or cushions, bumpers. That flags you as a newbie who knows nothing. Always call the rubber cushions and the green stuff on the table cloth, it is not Felt, it is the same cloth as your business suit is made out of.

Finding bumper pool tables today is quite easy. All the pool table show rooms usually have them on display. To see what a table looks like and how it is played pick up a BCA rule book and the game and rules and table diagram is all in there for you. The best price on one is buying direct from www.billiards-superstore.com Any item that is not displayed just means all the shelves in the store have not been stocked yet. We can order the table for you at a sizeable savings. This is a great game for smaller children to learn and then gain an appreciation for the larger table and game of pool.

The tables were square like a regular pool table but smaller in size than a bar box, they were like 3x6 perhaps, I am not sure but that’s a good guess. I can order one like that but it’s expensive and there is only 2 people making them. One is junk, the other one is quality and being a commercial grade table it has a premium price.

Most of the bumper pool tables sold today is round and 3 way tables, which fit in your rec room nicely, you have a regular table top and it then converts to bumper pool, black jack or roulette, it’s just too cool. These models are more affordable.

A pool hall I play at has one of the old bumper pool tables in a far corner, the rectangle design. He lets the young kids play on it free when they come in with their parents which are a cool idea. Seeing them in pool halls is very rare today.


I have 5 white balls on my end and you have 5 reds. We both bank our first ball in front of the hole and I make mine every time, same on the next two. When I am really on and practiced on a nice table that is level I am unbeatable. It becomes like tic tack toe, all you can do is go 5 and out with me and tie me, you can not beat me. I will bank in 4 in a row 99% of the time.

As some of these tables are cheaply made and constructed you never find such a table and making the 2 wide balls then becomes iffy. I am then going to make the first 4 and lag and miss the 5th ball but leave it in scoring position. If you are behind you can have guts and try and bank out on me but the smart move it to cut my ball in the corner and bank your ball down table where it is hidden by the bumpers. The less balls make on the opening banks means the more defensive the game now becomes and involves shooting the opponents ball inside the center bumpers and banking off of them into the hole as well which is where the real winning skill of the game is at.
Being able to score from safe position banking off of bumpers.

I leaned how to first play as a 2 year old kid on a little table that lay on the floor. When I got to be 4 or 5 he put in a half size table. I sell these same tables today for you to train your children as well. Then we put in a bumper table. That was my first real table and when I got bigger all I did was run 5 and out, 5 and out on you. My dad would take me to a real pool hall when he could but I learned how to hold the cue and bank on this table. I am now one of the top 10 greatest bankers of all time and I credit that to those early years on the bumper pool table.

In the early 60's they had one of these in every playboy club in the country and I created havoc with the bunnies, taking out every one in over 20 cities. You paid a buck to play and if you beat the bunny 3 times in a row you got your name engraved on a plaque which said above it.

VENI VIDI VICI, Latin for “I came, I saw, I conquered. When Julius Caesar had his first major battle victory he sent that message to the Senate. Most of the patrons in the play boy club were drunk as a skunk when the bunny came on duty at 9pm and were so taken by staring at her boobs about to pop out of her skin tight out fit they were so distracted they could not play with their tongues hanging out. In the mid 60’s this was the most risqué thing there was.

You could go to the Burlesque house but even there the girls had on pasties and that place was considered sinful like a whorie house. The playboy club was respectable. Topless would not happen until the late 60’s in San Francisco North beach. Seeing a little booby back then drove all the boys wild. The bunnies would hustle you by letting you win a game, and then they win one but would never let you win 3 and get on that plaque. Not one plaque ever filled up and in fact most had fewer than 10 names on them after years of play.

Being a real pool hustler with papers at the time but working for a corporation I wore a suit during the day time and was a member of the club which did not want blue collar pool bums. If you had a credit card, Carte Blanche or American Express card you were in. It was for upper class business men, it was a very high class joint. I got my first American Express card in 1967.

You were issued a Playboy member ship card and you could not get in with out one. In the beginning they gave you a key, and later that was replaced by a metal card, that looked like a credit card. If I remember correctly the card was very thin aluminum. A few years later I was a sales engineer for a major aluminum company and when I called on people my business card was printed on aluminum. It made one terrific impression as I never handed it to you but laid it down so it went clink.

In most cities when Playboy opened up it was the place to be. Just as guys go to Hooters today to eat what I call marginal food and the real attraction there is to ogle at the lovely young girls with great hooters, that was the same thing with Playboy. They were just much more high class places. Most were on top of down town buildings with a great view. Everyone was men in nice business suits. There would be a quartet playing jazz in the corner. There were no women in those places and I am not even sure if a single one would have been allowed in. Nobody took their wives there.

After the new wore off that routine got old and a lot of guys wanted to go drink at a bar where they could pick chicks up. That is what eventually did them all in. Ewa Mataya was a bunny for a short time when she first came over with Jimmy from Sweden.

I walk in with a very expensive suit on and tie, buy a scotch, they served them with these tall black or white stirrers with bunnies head on top. She walks over and sits down your glass of water, then does her little bunny dip down and pours your jigger of scotch into the glass for you. When she did that you got the full view of her tits which was what that little dip was all about.
Playboy Club membership became a status symbol. Only 21% of all key holders ever went to a club. At $25.00 per membership which in today’s money would be $150.00. In the early years they booked many top entertainers to tour the clubs.

http://en.wikipedia....ki/Playboy_Club

http://www.worthpoin...hicago-club-key

http://fookembug.wor...metal-detector/

http://www.chibarpro...PlayboyClub.htm


As a teenager you could not wait for your playboy magazine to arrive in the mail hidden in its brown paper bag, and then make love to Miss March. You were always worried about going blind. That’s what yo momma said would happen to you if you bloped yo baloney. It was every boys and man’s dream, to go to bed with one of these gorgeous dolls. I had every magazine they published beginning with the Marilyn Monroe issue in 1953. By late 1960 I was getting harder to hide those magazines from my Mom who was a real prude about such things. I now had 85 issues hidden behind my bed, and I treasured every one of them. I came home one day, and they were gone, she said, I am not having the porn filth in my house. They all went into the trash pickup truck. I damn near had a stroke, a Grand Mal on the spot. The scene was right out of Throw Mamma from the train where I was getting ready to choke the old bitch to death. I damn near moved out and joined the circus. But I knew where the free food was, so I chilled and got over it.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=k1900A_ktEg

I resumed my magazine collection which I still have from 60 to date. I would kill today, to have all those early issues.

http://www.marilynmo...camera/Playboy/

In 1967 I was a salesman, with a brand new full sized company car, expense account, American Express card, expensive suit and a new playboy membership at Kansas City, Mo. And I tried to pick up and bed a bunny. That was tough, those ladies were so beautiful, and in such demand, they could pick and choose any guy they wanted. I think the club also did not want them dating the customers. Finally I got one out on a date, and back at her place, I talked her into getting into her bunny outfit, so I could then undress her and make love, bunny style.
It was the fulfillment of my boyhood fantasy. I was in, bunny heaven. My territory was the Midwest and I got to Chicago a lot.

In 1972 I would be promoted to a sales manager and was traveling all over the country.
When I would arrive at a playboy club, I would walk into the bathroom with my drink, splash the booze all over my face and neck so I smelled and reeked like a real drunk and made my way up to the pool bunny. I am of course sober as a judge. I give her my best drunk act and she lets me have game one. Game two she is still hustling me but I come on at the end and drop her 2-0. Most still have not made me yet and most thought I just got lucky. Even when the smart ones made me, we were now playing a race to one for the plaque and I had them right where I wanted them. I now ran 5 and out or 4 in a row and usually banked out when they safed me. They knew I hustled them but it was too late.

I had heard the bunny at the Chicago Headquarters was the one who trained them all and eventually these pool bunnies come home and she hears about me, the guy who is now on every plaque in every city, the only guy to have done that. Having my credit card they must have checked me out and found out I was a world class pool hustler and player and probably got my picture to her. Who knows?

The original playboy club in downtown Chicago is no longer there. It was a small very narrow building and you had to walk up stairs to get to the different floors. If I remember it was only 4 stories tall. I used to go to that building a lot when they sold it to the ERA. I had become an officer in the ERA, the electronic reps association & they would bring me in several times a year for meetings. When the ERA moved into a bigger and nicer facility the old Playboy club went the way of the wrecking ball. They should have made it a museum as it was one hell of a place of history.

When I showed up in the Playboy Chicago club for the first time they must have made me as soon as I gave them my card for entry. I bet my name and who I was came up. Somebody runs over to the big bunny and tells her, he’s here, he’s coming for you. I stagger up to the table and watch her hustle the drunks barely beating the bozos. I looked at her plaque and was used to seeing 8 to 10 names on it, hers had none. I thought to myself tonight I bust this ho’s cherry. When I get my turn and walked up she glares at me with snake eyes.
I knew right then the bitch had me cold and had made me. She knew this was the big one she had been waiting for, the world championship of bumper pool, who would be king or queen of that game. I just dropped the drunken act and said you’re going down bitch. She said we will see about that.

She was playing all out from the get go. I opened with a 5 and out and she matched it and we did that 3 times in a row.
Several times I had her 2-0 but could not get 3 in a row. Where she beat me was her fantastic banking off of those bumpers. She could 2 rail into a bumper and pot. The chick has shots perfected I had not even seen before. She was a fantastic player and had this killer instinct. She could have been a woman’s world pool champion, but back then, there was no woman’s tour.
I played her all night long and finally give up and left. She was just too good, unbeatable. At the end of the session I had won the most games between us by a narrow margin but that meant nothing, I had to take her 3 in a row and she would rather die than allow that. She had won, I had lost. She beat me.
When I was going out the door, the manger was there to open it for me and I said to him, that broad shoots one mean ass stick. He said tell me about it, Danny D and Willie Mosconi were both in here last month and she dropped both of them. She also took out Harold Worst. He then gives me this big over smile all teeth grin. I said, I’ll be back for da big bunny. He said, she will be waiting.

http://en.wikipedia..../Willie_Mosconi

http://www.billiards...ories/worst.php

I came back and played her several more times and this time carried in my Rambo with me and the result was the same each time. My name never got on her plaque; it was a thing of pride with her which I of course admired to see any one doing or playing any game better than any one on Earth. Somebody had to be the best and she was. I finally met my match.

This short story was first published by me on 3-7-04, and 5 years later the Big Bunny ran across it and sent me this email on 4-30-09.


Hi!

A friend sent me your published article about your bumper
pool escapades and the Playboy Pool Bunnies. Yes, I was the
Bunny you refer to ... the original one in Chicago, down in
the Playmate Bar. I was known as Bunny Kathy. I've
attached an old photo ... it's the only one I have on my
computer and all my scrapbook stuff is in storage in
Illinois. This is a somewhat "doctored" photo 'cause I was
using it for other purposes ... this was taken next to the
pool table and I was leaning against a built-in ledge ...
and a customer was standing next to me. (I cut him out for
this photo. He was a "regular" and spent many, many
hundreds of dollars trying to beat me at pool.) Your
article was fun to read, and although I might have a
different "take" on some things, it was entertaining to
read. A slight correction: I beat Willie Mosconi 5 of 5
games (he wouldn't play any more) and Harold Wirtz (?) who
was the world's 3-cushion billiard champ at the time, if I
remember correctly, I beat 3 of 3 ... and he wouldn't play
any more. He did come in the next night however, and
brought me my very own pool cue ... powder-blue leather
2-piece with its own powder-blue carrying case. What an
honor!

Looks like you've made quite a name for yourself over the
years. Congratulations!!!

Just thought it would be fun to touch bases with an fan from
the past.

Warmly,

Kathleen G

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((***)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
))))))))))))))))

THE POWER SOURCE POOL SCHOOL WWW.FASTLARRYPOOL.COM
POOL LESSONS FROM A MASTER LEVEL INSTRUCTOR AND WORLD CHAMPION. 770-381-6609
POOL QUESTIONS AND FREE INSTRUCTION IS ON
WWW.BILLIARDS-POOL.NET in the ask the pros forum.
“Fast Larry” Guninger and Wonder Dog, trick shot shows and entertainment.
WWW.FASTLARRY@BELLSOUTH.NET www dot fastlarry at bellsouth dot net

May God bless and peace be with you. May there now be peace between us. If you are a real pool player, then fast truly loves you. May the wind be always on your back and all 9 balls fall.
VENI VIDI VICI, OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. “Fastus Maximus. “ Latin for “I came, I saw, I conquered, love conquerors all. Yes I really did do it all and you can believe it, or not. If you don’t believe it, C’est La Vie. " Shoot straight, innovate, never give up, just run out on the other guy then there is no way for you to lose.

click the pic to enlarge it.

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[FASTLARRY]

TO THE REDHEADED HO

Are you lonesome tonight
do you miss me tonight
Are you sorry we drifted apart
Does your memory stray to a bright sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there
Do you gaze at your bald head, and wish you had hair?
Is your heart filled with pain, because I won't come back again
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the world's a stage
And each must play a part
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why I'll never know
Act three was when you began fookin every scum bum in town
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you
So I got sick of hearing your lies and putting up with yo she-yit
I learned to go on living without you
Now the stage is bare and yo standing there
With emptiness all around
And since I won't come back to you
Then they can bring the curtain down on yo wrinkled up prune face you bitch.

Is your heart filled with pain, I know it is, aint it great.
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=anzKcrHC-6s

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=evwMV30gAwA

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=aGMC9A_k6zQ

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=iy_gzM12Mzg

Donna, Donna the Prima Donna
Broke my heart. Fook that tart
We're apart.
Thinks she's smart.

I met a girl a month ago
I thought that she would love me so.
But in time I realized.
She had a pair of roving eyes

I remember the nights we dated,
fookin the dog she-yit out of her in my 58 chevy
Always acting sophisticated,
Talking about high society,
Then she tried to make a fool out of me.

They call her Donna, Donna the Prima Donna
Broke my heart now.
Thinks she's smart now.
We're apart now. Never been so happy now

Pretty little girl you're just having fun
You're running all around and breaking lover's hearts.
Pretty little girl, I don't stand a chance,
Without any money there goes our romance.

She always wears charms, diamonds, pearls galore,
She buys them at the 5 & 10 cents store.
She wants to be just like Zsa Zsa Gabor,
Even though she's the girl next door.

They call her Donna, Donna the Prima Donna, the ho from hell
Broke my heart.
Thinks she's smart.
We're apart.

Pretty little girl you're just having fun,
You're running all around, you're breaking lover's hearts.
Pretty little girl, I don't stand a chance,
Without any money there goes our romance.

She always wears charms, diamonds, pearls galore,
She buys them at the 5 & 10 cents store.
She wants to be just like Zsa Zsa Gabor,
Even though she's Donna next door.

Donna, Donna the Prima Donna, watch out, you'll catch a dose.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=evwMV30gAwA

Attached thumbnail(s)

• 

[FASTLARRY]

Sex

We all want it, we all get it now and then, and we all have no clue what to do with it?
Life is all about ass. You are either covering it, laughing it off, kicking it, kissing it, busting it, trying to get a piece of it, acting like it, behaving like one, or living with one.

This is a serious subject and take it's study serious. How you master this lesson, will determine what your life will be, happy, or a pile of she-yit. Your clues and paths to happiness are outlined for you.

First you have to be out in the open with your sex. You have to realize its a normal thing, like taking your morning she-yit or eating your cereal. You do it once a day, so don't make some big deal out of it, or pretend you don't do it, or its some kind of sin. Its a sin, not to do it dude. Too many good people have had their sexuality fooked beyond repair by their fooked up religious training and parents. They lived fooked up unhappy lives as a result.

Women, Venus and Mars. They are really fooked up. God definitely took her out of the oven too quick or used a defective rib. Men do not really like women. They only hang around them when they want to get laid. If women did not have poosays, there would be a large bounty for each ear. Men would rather hang around other men sippin suds and watching football eatin pizza and wings and baby back ribs. Women want to sit around and gossip about whose zoomin who and eat Quiche and sip white wine.
• Women speak 250 words per minute versus the 125 words a minute that are typical for men. Women never shut up; their constant babbling drives men nuts. You say, bitch, put a sock in that pie hole and then she goes boo hoo and you never get no poosay then.
• A woman uses 20,000 words per day, while a man uses only 7,000. 3 to 1 ratio. I rest my case.
• When boys don't listen to their mothers, there is a reason. He physically cannot hear the same tone of warning.
• Women know what other people are feeling. Men, not so much. With women you have to guess what they are feeling, men come right out and just tell you.
And all the studies say men think about sex every 52 seconds, and get 19 boners a day. Damn, you guys are perverts; you should be locked in cages, and let out when you are over 50. You perverts should not be allowed to run around in public with your boners at high mast.

Think that's a lot? It's nothing if neuropsychiatrist Dr. Louann Brizendine, author of "The Female Brain," is correct. She writes in her book that men think about sex every 52 seconds, while women tend to think of it just once a day. If men are thinking about sex more frequently than once a minute, how do they get any work done? Come on, get a fookin grip Dr. Lady. We only think about porkin yo ass, when you walk by and we see your firm tits and tight ass. When you are not around, we are thinking about pool, golf or football, or the cold beer coming up right after work.

Males have double the brain space and processing power devoted to sex as females. Just as women have an eight-lane superhighway for processing emotion while men have a small country road, men have O'Hare Airport as a hub of processing thoughts about sex whereas women have the airfield nearby that lands small and private planes. That probably explains why 85 percent of twenty- to thirty-year-old males think about sex every fifty-two seconds and women think about it once a day -- or up to three or four times on their most fertile days. That is the theory and shit these women publish and put out. That we are fookin animals. This is why they all feel superior to us. Behind your back, they look down on you.

This striking different in rates of sexual thoughts is also one of the bullet points on the book's jacket blurb -- but there, female sex-thought frequency is downgraded from "once a day" to "once every couple of days": Thoughts about sex may enter a woman’s brain once every couple of days but enter a man’s brain about once a minute? So I guess that means Men are much more oversexed than women. They seek it more, they want it more, and they must have it more.

That then means for the man to be happy, he has to be free to go out and get all he wants. But the female traps him into marriage and then binds him to the rules if he does; she takes all his worldly possessions and leaves him destitute for the next five fookin years. The poor fooker tries, but the new 21 year old secretary with those firm tits and that tight ass is just too much for him and bam, he loses everything along with his happiness.

The two biggest causes of divorce are financial, so keep getting promoted, when you get fired and down and out, she will start looking for a replacement. Women are like rats, few will go down with a sinking ship, when it springs a leak, and they go running for the portholes.
The 2nd one is sexual drive mismatching.

I have a very high sex drive; I am stuck with it and can’t do anything about it. What am I supposed to do, take cold showers and beat big Willie down with a club? That heat seeking missile has his mission. The average married couple has sex twice a week. I had sex once or twice a day up to age 60. So if I marry the average woman, I will drive her nuts and she won’t be able to handle all that porkin and soon she will begin saying no and soon, I’ll find what I need in the arms of a younger hotter woman, whose poosay has not dried up and retired to cold storage.

So the problem is, women are going to slow down on you, and let then drop a couple of yard apes and they really hit the brakes. But you don’t. So I married a red haired nympho and in a few years, she finally slowed down to match up with me, and it worked for a long time. But nothing works forever. The only thing you can be sure of in life, is change. You can’t keep anything as it is, for long. This you can bank on, women will dysfunction sexually a lot faster than you will. That is a medical fact.

Let’s go back to him as a teenager living at home. He wants to get laid; now he needs a car. Now he needs a job to pay for the car. Now he needs a high paying job to buy the best car and to attract the higher class females by taking them to nicer places, so he had to stay in school and graduate. These are all things he does not want to do, he is forced to, and they make him, unhappy. His motto is simple, the 4 F’s, find em, feel em, fook em, forget them. His life was once quite simple.

The busy bee goes from flower to flower, this makes him happy. Why buy the cow when you are getting the milk for free. But these ho’s are like drug pushers, they just give you samples for free, then later on when you are hooked, they begin charging you to make up for lost time. The bitch traps him and forces him into marriage, which he wants no part of. She makes him sell his hot rod, won’t let him hang out with his pals at the pool hall any more, she spits out a couple of brats, her poosay is now big and sloppy like her new fat ass she is growing sitting on it all day long while that poor bastard is out slaving to support her.

She now could care less about sex or making him happy and she has made him totally unhappy. Then she can’t believe he would go out and find real love, tenderness, real hot sex with somebody new whose poosay had not gone into cold storage, dried up like a prune and went into early retirement. The brute, he will pay she say.

Aristotle Onassis said the only reason he worked so hard to amass his great fortune was to buy and bed the top poosay on the planet. He said, if there were no women, then there would have been no reason for him to build his empire.
So the only reason man works, is to get laid.

Women go through life making men unhappy, because they do not care about his happiness; they are only seeking their own. And they are an emotional mess and have no clue what real happiness is. They could not find happiness if you tattooed a road map to it under their eyelids.

What really pisses me off are the Holy Rollers and a lot of the uptight Baptist assholes who come on to you with this holier than thou bull she-yit. Because I am out, giving some lady happiness for the night, in their book I am going to hell. No way, the total teaching and concept of Christ, was to love your fellow man. Loving others was what his message was all about. So heavens doors are wide open to me. Jesus married a lovely red head, Mary Magdalene and she had Jesus’ daughter who she named, Sarah, God’s princess. She was not a prostitute, she was his main disciple and #2, the church in 382 ad, smeared her name, and covered up Jesus being married and created his pure divinity because it sold better than the true version. He was a man, who loved a women, and all around him.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0382625/

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=l9XbC8QQ0jc


And these hypocrites are like Allen Cats out on a Saturday night. I know they are both out there doin it, but you can’t catch either one of them at it.

When I went on the road full time, I soon learned that happiness was every night at the Holiday Inn bar that was filled with lonely ladies, another heart, looking for love. Playing a fools game, hoping to win.

If you’re down and confused, and you don’t remember who you’re talkin’ to. Concentration slip away, ‘cause your baby is so far away.

Well there’s a rose in the fisted glove and the eagle flies with the dove, and if you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with.

Don’t be angry, don’t be sad, and don’t sit cryin’ over good times you’ve had. There’s a girl right next to you, and she’s just waitin’ for something to do.

And there’s a rose in the fisted glove and the eagle flies with the dove, and if you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with.

Turn your heartache right into joy, she’s a girl, and you’re a boy. Well get it together, make it real nice,
You ain’t gonna need anymore advice.

And there’s a rose in the fisted glove and the eagle flies with the dove, and if you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with.
*****************************************************
I was young, nice looking, better than average, but no movie star. But, I have a 10.0 body, kept rock hard in muscle in the gym; women will sleep with an ugly man, even an older one, if he has a rock hard body. So keep in shape. You must be clean, bath and shower once or twice a day. You want neat hair, manicured nails. I always had a brand new company car, dressed in expensive business suits, had unlimited money via my company expense account, and could fly and go anywhere on my company American Express card.

This put me in a lot of fancy resorts where women went to vacation and see how many times they could get laid that week. That is why I got so much poosay. I was out there around it all the time. In the right place at the right time.

My theory is the fewer clothes a woman wears, the easier and faster it is to get her naked. If you are dating some Eskimo chick at Thunder Bay and it 49 below, she aint gonna get buck naked, she is going to keep the Polar bear skins on, you get no poosay until its next July. But if you are in Jamaica, and all the young chicks are living in string bikinis, which are 98% naked already, it’s not a biggie to get either one to get untied and dropped off. Try undressing a fookin Eskimo.

You get more poosay in Miami than you do in Buffalo; this is from FL’s research.

You learn how to smile at them, seductively, and see if there is a response back. Once you have the eye contract working, then you flirt, then you slowly move in, and touch them, slowly make more contact.

The woman has already noticed you. Now you want her to smell you, this plays a big part in your sex life, because it could be substantial. ... -The opposite sex will feel more relaxed and at ease with you ...If you look attractive, and smell nice to her. Just don’t blow the seduction with your mouth by saying dumb things, actually at this point, the less said, the better.

I use nice colognes I know attract, and they go on my neck and behind my ears. What I use is very expensive. On my chest, between my legs, goes a splash of Old Spice, women love it. Musk is also effective. These 2 are very cheap, and on blind smell tests, it always ranks up there with most of the expensive stuff. You want to go light on this when you are young, or use nothing, you don’t want to mask, your natural more powerful body scent. As you age and begin to lose it, then you can use more old spice.

Acqua Di Gio by Armani, L'eau D'Issey Pour Homme by Issey Miyake, Cool Water by Davidoff, Polo by Lauren, Curve by Liz Claiborne, Unforgivable by Sean John, Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche, Armani Code, Terre D'Hermes, Green Irish Tweed by Creed, John Varvatos.
Avon has a lot of really nice things at resonable prices, like Black Suede, Mesmerize.
I wear a different one every day, rotating them. I don't like to ride the same horse every day either, when there are plenty of fresh new young horses in the field to ride. Variety is the spice of life. Getting bored doing the same thing, is putting your self in jail, you are miserable, and you never know, you, and only you, have the key, to let you out.

Women have natural scents too, but most cover them by using strong perfume. Any woman wearing strong perfume, is looking for sex. It’s like a neon sign blinking, somebody please come fook me fast, I am so horny. Some of these dumb broads have so much on a herd of tuitsi flies follows them around. You are not supposed to pick it up, unti you get up close.

Here is the best one of them all and this is a proven fact. The more sex you have, the more you get. Why, you begin putting off sexual scents they pick up, and they are powerfully drawn to you and feel your power. It makes them want you; it drives then wild with passion. I have had many women get so hot; they could not wait to get back to the room and made me ravish them in the back seat of my car, or on the elevator going up, or in the toilet of an airplane. When you got it, they know it, and they want it.

So my motto was, if ya got it, flaunt it and do it. Run with what ya got till if falls off. You won’t have it long, and soon it will be gone.
Nature has put in these scents to keep our race from dying out and to keep us fookin and making new babies. You will see a pack of dogs going nuts following a female dog in heat. The same thing occurs in humans, but on a much milder scale.

Pheromones:
The Biological Scents That Trigger Sexual Attraction

A wide range of plants and animals use pheromones to elicit a desired behavioral response from potential prey, predators, competition, and fellow workers...as well as sexual mates.

Humans use pheromones - emitted through the skin - to communicate with, protect, recognize, and connect to each other - on what feels to be an "intuitive" level.

Pheromones are linked to some of the most crucial stages in our lives...from breastfeeding to mate selection. Studies have shown, for example, that breast-fed newborns are able to distinguish between a breast pad worn by its mother and one worn by a stranger. In a crib, the baby will turn quickly away from the unfamiliar breast pad...and turn towards his mother's.
Even your soul mate must have the "right" pheromones...

You may even pick your "soul mate" by subconsciously reacting to pheromones that transmit their genetic compatibility. You may be familiar with the landmark "white tee-shirt test" in which women consistently preferred the odors of tee-shirts that had been worn by strangers who were genetically compatible with them...and were actually turned off by those who were genetically incompatible. What's more, the odors they preferred reminded them of their boyfriends.
Use them to awaken your "sixth sense"...and more

Pheromones are your sixth sense. You use them to communicate without words...to "know" without knowing...and to instantly transmit and receive critical, even life-saving, information. Of course, the most exciting pheromones are those that drive sexual behavior. Pheromone levels heavily influence...
• How often you have sex...and with whom
• How sexual and confident you feel
• How sexually attractive you are
• How others perceive you...and how they act around you
• How close you are able to feel to others

As we age, however, our pheromone levels, along with our hormone levels, gradually decline. This can leave you feeling detached...irritable...unconfident...and less excited about sex and romance. To make matters worse, in an effort to make yourself attractive to people...you probably wash, deodorize, clothe and perfume away you’re most alluring quality. In other words, you may be suppressing your naturally unique and powerful allure!

Experience the pleasure and power of human sex pheromones!
You may recall a pheromone "explosion" in the late 80s, when perfumes and colognes claiming to contain pheromones were billed as potent aphrodisiacs. Many of those formulas did, in fact, contain a real pheromone, called androstenone - derived from pig saliva. Androstenone works great...if you happen to be a pig!

Meanwhile, a team of independent scientists with backgrounds ranging from dermatology (science of the skin) to olfactory and anti-aging medicine - after plugging away for nearly two decades - had identified and synthesized the first active human pheromone from the skin of healthy young males and females. When your power natural body scents are working, old, ingrained behavior patterns, like shyness or low self-confidence, may have kept you hidden from the rest of the world...but when you force yourself to get up close and touch women, old patterns suddenly fall away. People are drawn to you because your body language changes subtly...as does the way you move...the expression on your face...the glow in your eyes. And once people are within arm’s length of you, your own heightened pheromone output will trigger their more "basic instincts" too!

• You can get women to "sense" your presence from across the room - even if you're not doing anything special
• You need to then make eye contact with women more easily
• You then enhance your self-confidence and social ease
• You make people want to know you better - and even feel more open and loving in your presence
• You can Re-ignite the spark with your spouse...or, if you're single, bring as much excitement to your social life as you can handle! Put your nose and lips on her neck and make contact.
The answer lies in the mystery of the most primitive part of your brain, called the limbic system.

While the molecules that make up regular odors, like the smell of a rose, are detected by receptor cells in your nose and sent to your cerebral cortex, the newer part of the brain that makes calculations and associations...pheromones are a different story.

Pheromones are detected through an "alternative scent" organ in your nose called the vormeronasal organ, or the VNO. Up until about 15 years ago, the VNO was assumed to be vestigial - an organ leftover from primitive times that's no longer needed, and no longer in use. But in 1994, physiologists at the University of Utah examined 400 human subjects and found that they all had functioning vomeronasal organs...which were actively sending pheromonal messages not to the cerebral cortex...but to the limbic system.

The limbic system, your "primitive brain", drives your more basic, less complicated impulses - emotional connections, your awareness of the environment and how you interact in it, the "fight or flight" response...your sexual behavior.

Fascinating research shows that a woman’s sense of smell can lead to her to Mr. Right, at least reproductively speaking. Research has shown that each of us will be attracted to people who possess a particular set of genes, known as the major histocompatibility complex (MHC), which play a critical role in our immune systems. Mates with dissimilar MHC genes produce healthier offspring with broad immune systems.

How do people who differ in their MHC find each other? This isn't fully understood, but we know that smell is an important cue. People appear to literally sniff out their mates. In studies, women tend to rate the scent of T-shirts worn by men with dissimilar MHCs as most attractive, whereas T-shirts worn by guys with similar MHC profiles tend to be rated as “fatherly” or “brotherly,” but not boyfriend material. This is what sexual "chemistry" is all about. We’re drawn to certain people, without quite knowing why. In a bar situation a woman is going to size you up in seconds and make a decision, gong, pursue me. If you pass the initial he looks nice test, then you have to get up close within scent range, as soon as possible.

In my own surveys of men and women, women rate scent much more highly than men. This makes sense evolutionarily speaking, since women carry children for nine months during pregnancy and would need to sniff out a good mate who would stick around and support them.
And I always put scotch in my water, to kill the fluoridation. Dr Strangelove.

General Jack D. Ripper: Mandrake, do you realize that in addition to fluoridating water, why, there are studies underway to fluoridate salt, flour, fruit juices, soup, sugar, milk... ice cream. Ice cream, Mandrake, children's ice cream.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Lord, Jack.
General Jack D. Ripper: You know when fluoridation first began?
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: I... no, no. I don't, Jack.
General Jack D. Ripper: Nineteen hundred and forty-six. Nineteen forty-six, Mandrake. How does that coincide with your post-war Commie conspiracy, huh? It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. Certainly without any choice. That's the way your hard-core Commie works.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Uh, Jack, Jack, listen, tell me, tell me, Jack. When did you first... become... well, develop this theory?
General Jack D. Ripper: Well, I, uh... I... I... first became aware of it, Mandrake, during the physical act of love.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Hmm.
General Jack D. Ripper: Yes, a uh, a profound sense of fatigue... a feeling of emptiness followed. Luckily I... I was able to interpret these feelings correctly. Loss of essence.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Hmm.
General Jack D. Ripper: I can assure you it has not recurred, Mandrake. Women uh... women sense my power and they seek the life essence. I, uh... I do not avoid women, Mandrake.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: No.
General Jack D. Ripper: But I... I do deny them my essence. My Poe, purity of essence…

So when you have POE, you have to beat the ho’s off with a fookin baseball bat dudes.


And to all those gorgeous dolls I went all out to entertain and to curl their toes up and blow their socks off, someday, soon, we will meet again.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=wxrWz9XVvls

http://tr.youtube.co...h?v=EiB6OHXspt4


http://www.youtube.c...h?v=_5IVuN1N6-Y

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=byOzCJauEbw

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((***)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
The relevance of testosterone, oestradiol and certain peptides (oxytocin (OT), ß-endorphin and prolactin (PRL)) to sexual arousal in humans is reviewed. In addition to behavioural studies, evidence of distribution of gonadal steroid receptors in the brain and the limited evidence from brain imaging are also considered.

These two sentences are a good summary of the paper as a whole, which says nothing whatever about how often women or men think about sex.

2. The abstract for Laumann (1999):
Context While recent pharmacological advances have generated increased public interest and demand for clinical services regarding erectile dysfunction, epidemiologic data on sexual dysfunction are relatively scant for both women and men.

Objective To assess the prevalence and risk of experiencing sexual dysfunction across various social groups and examine the determinants and health consequences of these disorders.
Design Analysis of data from the National Health and Social Life Survey, a probability sample study of sexual behavior in a demographically representative, 1992 cohort of US adults.
Participants A national probability sample of 1749 women and 1410 men aged 18 to 59 years at the time of the survey.

Main Outcome Measures Risk of experiencing sexual dysfunction as well as negative concomitant outcomes.

Results Sexual dysfunction is more prevalent for women (43%) than men (31%) and is associated with various demographic characteristics, including age and educational attainment. Women of different racial groups demonstrate different patterns of sexual dysfunction. Differences among men are not as marked but generally consistent with women. Experience of sexual dysfunction is more likely among women and men with poor physical and emotional health. Moreover, sexual dysfunction is highly associated with negative experiences in sexual relationships and overall well-being.
Conclusions The results indicate that sexual dysfunction is an important public health concern, and emotional problems likely contribute to the experience of these problems.
There is nothing at all in this paper about how often women or men think about sex.

3. The abstract of Laumann (2005):
The Global Study of Sexual Attitudes and Behaviors (GSSAB) is an international survey of various aspects of sex and relationships among adults aged 40–80 y. An analysis of GSSAB data was performed to estimate the prevalence and correlates of sexual problems in 13 882 women and 13 618 men from 29 countries. The overall response rate was modest; however, the estimates of prevalence of sexual problems are comparable with published values. Several factors consistently elevated the likelihood of sexual problems. Age was an important correlate of lubrication difficulties among women and of several sexual problems, including a lack of interest in sex, the inability to reach orgasm, and erectile difficulties among men. We conclude that sexual difficulties are relatively common among mature adults throughout the world. Sexual problems tend to be more associated with physical health and aging among men than women.
Again, there is nothing at all in this paper about how often women or men think about sex.

4. I haven't been able to read Lunde (1991), because Penn's library doesn't have the Journal of Sex Education & Therapy before the year 2000. But here's the abstract from PsycInfo, which suggests that the article focused on the relevance of social factors (since women of different generations report rather different numbers).

Studied female sexuality in 3 generations. A standard interview schedule was used, consisting of 300 precoded questions about sexuality, social conditions, and health. At the time of interview the women in each generational group were 70, 40, and 22 yrs old. Of these women, 72%, 67%, and 95%, respectively, had experienced spontaneous sexual desire, and 88%, 96%, and 91% had experienced orgasm. Also, 38%, 47%, and 81%, respectively, had masturbated at least once, and fantasies during masturbation were used by 50%, 48%, and 68%. Seven percent of the women born in 1910 and 44% of women born in 1958 had sexual fantasies in general, and 14% and 39% had fantasies during intercourse.

It's not clear whether the frequency of these women's thoughts about sex was covered. In any case, the paper only deals with women, and so could not have included any relevant information about the frequency of men's sexual thoughts. This paper is discussed briefly in Andersen, Barbara L.; Cyranowski, Jill M. "Women's sexuality: Behaviors, responses, and individual differences." Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology. 63(6), Dec 1995, 891-906, which summarizes its relevant findings as follows:

Epidemiologic data indicate that women use sexual fantasies to increase sexual desire and facilitate orgasm (Lunde, Larsen, Fog, & Garde, 1991).
Andersen and Cyranowski do, as it happens, report some other research that actually measured the frequency of sexual thoughts among women and men -- with results totally at variance with Brizendine's assertions:

Data comparing the frequency of internally generated thoughts (fantasies) and externally prompted thoughts (sexual urges) among young heterosexual men and women indicate that men report a greater frequency of urges than do women (4.5/day vs. 2.0/day), although the frequency of fantasies were similar (2.5/day; Jones & Barlow, 1990).
That reference is Jones, J. C., & Barlow, D. H. (1990). "Self-reported frequency of sexual urges, fantasies, and masturbatory fantasies in heterosexual males and females." Archives of Sexual Behavior, 19, 269-279. (According to its PsycInfo abstract, this study involved "49 male and 47 female heterosexual undergraduates" -- probably one introductory psychology course -- who "self-monitored the frequency of fantasies, urges, and masturbatory fantasies for 7 consecutive days". And "urges" are "externally provoked sexual throughts", while "fantasies" are "internally generated sexual thoughts".)

Hmm. Adding up this study's tally of undergraduate male sexual thoughts, we get 4.5 male urges + 2.5 male fantasies per day on average, for a total of 7 sexual thoughts, or one every (24*60*60/7 =) 12,342 seconds. Compare Dr. Brizendine's figures: "85 percent of twenty- to thirty-year-old males think about sex every fifty-two seconds". That's more than 237 times hornier -- even if the other 15 percent never thought about sex at all, the average frequency would still be at least two orders of magnitude greater than Jones & Barlow report. (And they sampled male undergraduate psychology students, who must surely be near their life maximum of sexual consciousness.)
How about the female numbers? Jones and Barlow's student diaries yielded 2 female urges + 2.5 female fantasies per day on average, for a total of 4.5 sexual thoughts per day. That's 450% greater than the "once a day" that Brizendine cites in the book's text, and 900% greater than the "once every couple of days" rate in the jacket blurb. Not that the average self-reports from the "47 female undergraduates" in Jones and Barlow's 1990 American sample should be taken to stand for the nature of all women in all times and places -- but this is still 47 more women than we've been able to connect with Brizendine's estimates, at least so far.

Note also that the Jones and Barlow numbers for women amount to one sexual thought every (24*60*60/4.5 =) 19,200 seconds. But you're not going to sell any books by writing that "Men think about sex every 12,300 seconds, while women only have a sexual thought every 19,200 seconds".
OK, so where did Dr. Brizendine get her numbers? Not from the references that she cites, that's for sure. If you can find the source, please tell me.
While I'm waiting, I'll tentatively adopt the view that the 52-seconds part has something to do with these other statistics I found on the web:

Every 52 seconds, a marijuana smoker is arrested in America.
At high-volume sites, someone does a scan every four seconds and a search every 52 seconds, on average.
Once we got rolling, we were pushing an empty concrete truck out of here and back on the road every 52 seconds.
The site has become so popular that two million names are being added every month, with families being connected every 52 seconds.
Every 52 seconds during the school day, a Black high school student drops out.
Genes Connected has become so popular it is now connecting families every 52 seconds*² from a database of over 10 million names.
Ezzatollah Molainia, deputy director-general of State Prisons Organization, said yesterday: "The available statistics show that every 52 seconds, one person is taken to prison in Iran."
In continued testing, first-time users have proven to develop a unique idea every 52 seconds, and help solve a more significant "problem" within 30 minutes.
Diabetes, the body's failure to metabolize blood sugar properly, now strikes Americans at the rate of one new case every 52 seconds.
Unless sh*t blows up every 52 seconds, the audiance walks away with a "Worst. Movie. Ever." attitude.
Right now I'm in the second day of a bad cold, which has caused me to sneeze approximately every 52 seconds for 48 hours.
On the average, a home fire in the US breaks out once every 52 seconds.
Some of the moves they manage to pull off are incredible, and you have to realise that the 70 star one manages an average of a star every 52 seconds.
NARPAC's numerologist has developed some sympathy for the DC 911 operators who are apparently answering a call every 52 seconds, 24 hours a day, year round.
Seven years later the company was producing a lawnmower every 52 seconds.
Human Rights Watch estimates a man is raped every 52 seconds in the US.
There are three lines in Georgetown, so that means that they produce 3 brand new cars every 52 seconds, 18 hours a day!!!
The Seventh-day Adventist denomination is one of the fastest growing churches in the world, baptizing one new member on the average of every 52 seconds.
I'm already clearing out a spam from my inbox once every 52 seconds.
Every 52 seconds in the United States, someone has an acute ischemic stroke.
On the internet, we also find these alleged quotations involving the number 52:
I refuse to admit that I am more than fifty-two, even if that does make my sons illegitimate. (Nancy Astor)
The Eskimo has fifty-two names for snow because it is important to them; there ought to be as many for love. (Margaret Atwood)
When you get to fifty-two food becomes more important than sex. (Tom Lehrer)

For it was Saturday night, the best and bingiest glad-time of the week, one of the fifty-two holidays in the slow-turning Big Wheel of the year, a violent preamble to a prostrate Sabbath. (Alan Sillitoe)
Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan. Out of every hundred people, those who always know better: fifty-two. (Wislawa Szymborska)

I was asked to come to Chicago because Chicago is one of our fifty-two states. (Raquel Welch)
And where do all these people get the number 52? Well, 52 is the number of weeks in the year and the number of cards in the deck, as well as the fifty-two stages of bodhisattva practice. But in some cases, I'm guessing, people just kind of like how it sounds. For example, a paper by A K O Brady of the Judge Institute of Management at Cambridge University ("Profiling Corporate Imagery: a Sustainability Perspective") includes this sentence:
Last year Skoda sold one car every 52 seconds, enjoying total sales of just over 450000 units.
Um, one car every 52 seconds would be 365*24*60*60/52 = 606461.5 cars per year . The cited 450,000 units would actually be one car every 70 seconds. But this is a minor mistake, merely a deflation of 35%, small by the standards of the corporate accountants of our era, and nothing at all compared to Brizendine's 23,736% inflation of male sexual urges.

[My attempts at exact quantification are frivolous -- but this is a blog post, right? If you want a serious review of the literature on relevant issues, try Roy F. Baumeister et al. "Is There a Gender Difference in Strength of Sex Drive? Theoretical Views, Conceptual Distinctions, and a Review of Relevant Evidence", Personality and Social Psychology Review, 5(3) 242-273, 2001. They agree with Brizendine's general point that "the weight of evidence points strongly and unmistakably toward the conclusion that the male sex drive is stronger than the female", and that "there is increasing evidence for the role of hormones in determining human sexual behaviors and motivations". However, neither the "every 52 seconds" phrase nor anything implying it is mentioned anywhere in their 32-page article, although they describe a systematic search of the literature as of 2001, including "over 3,400 citations" from PsychInfo and "approximately 2,000 citations" from MEDLINE.
Another useful survey is Leitenberg, H., & Henning, K. (1995). "Sexual fantasy". Psychological Bulletin, 117, 469-496. One relevant paragraph:

In a different approach to assessing frequency of sexual fantasies in general, Cameron (1967) asked 103 male participants and 130 female participants to estimate what percentage of the time they thought about sex. Of those who responded with a specific number, 55% of the male participants and 42% of the female participants said greater than 10% of the time. In a related study, Cameron and Biber (1973) interviewed 4,420 individuals and asked them whether they had had a sexual thought in the past 5 min (“Did you think about sex or were your thoughts sexually colored even for a moment?”); some interviews were conducted in the morning, some in the afternoon, and some in the evening. In the age range 14 through 25, approximately 52% of the male participants said yes, in comparison with only 39% of the female participants. In the 26- to 55-year age bracket, the respective percentages were approximately 26% for men and 14% for women.

When asked what had been the central focus of their thought in the past 5 min, the percentage who indicated that it was related to sex was much less (approximately 9% for male participants 14 through 55 years old and 5% for female participants across this same age range), but the same gender difference was apparent. In the recently released national survey of human sexuality, in which a true random probability sample of 3,432 men and women were interviewed, 54% of the men and 19% of the women said they thought about sex every day or several times a day (Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, & Michaels, 1994). It appears clear from these studies that men report thinking about sex more often than do women, which is certainly consistent with the general stereotype.
So the studies certainly support the stereotype -- but nowhere can I find the slightest hint of empirical support for the "men every 52 seconds vs. women once a day" claim. Again, if you can turn up a source, please let me know, so that I can correct any perhaps erroneous implication that Dr. Brizendine is making stuff up.]
[Ellen Caswell writes:

About 30 years ago I read a book that may or may not be the source of these numbers, but it wouldn't surprise me if it is. I don't remember enough to identify the book, though someone else may recognize it, but it left a vivid impression.
What I do remember:

The book was written by two women who were consultants. It was advice to women in the workplace; I *believe* it was about taking on leadership roles--I associate it with the 1970s rise in feminism. I remember liking the book.
The section in question essentially said that it's useless for women to expect men to refrain from thinking of them sexually. My memory of it goes something like this:
Someone asked the authors to find out how often men and women think about sex, so they asked a number of people. The men said things like "All the time," "Once a minute," "Every thirty seconds." The women said things like "Every two or three days," "I don't have to think about sex because I have a satisfying sex life," "A couple of times a day." (All quotes, obviously after 30 years or so, are inexact.)

I originally figured that the "every 52 seconds vs. once a day" meme probably came from the demi-monde of self-help books, relationship counseling, pop psychology and workplace consulting. But in the case of the "words per day" meme, simple search techniques turned up dozens of instances -- whereas I haven't been able to find plausible prior or variant examples of the sex-thoughts frequency meme on the web, other than the even more preposterous urban legend, discussed on snopes.com, that "On average, men think about sex every seven seconds." If you locate some variants of this claim in semi-serious contexts, let me know.]
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((***))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Every day, 200 million couples around the world have sex, which is about over 2000 couples at any given moment.
Women are most likely to want to have sex when they are ovulating.
The Egyptian 'Ankh' is actually a symbol representing the male and female sex organs.
Sex is the safest tranquilizer in the world
30% of women over the age of 80 still have sexual intercourse either with their spouse or boyfriends.
Mosquitoes, which mate in the air, perform a sex act that lasts only 2 seconds.
Women with a Ph.D. are twice as likely to be interested in a one-night stand as those with only a Bachelor's degree.
Fellatio ranks as the number one sexual act desired by heterosexual men. It’s also the number one reason they will go to a ho to get it, because their frigid old lady won’t do it.
Australian women have sex on the first date more than women the same age in the USA and Canada. So go down under mate. This proves the Fl theory that you get more poosay in warmer tropical climates. Fl continues that one ignoring Rome, but moving to the next millennium and all countries that are warm and lush, the people just sit around and eat bananas and coconuts, get drunk, swim in the surf and fook their selves silly. They are too busy to invent anything, or build anything. An example is all the good things come out of Northern Italy, when you go south of Rome; they are all lazy drunk bums.

All the Great civilizations, Britain, Germany, were in northern climates where it was cold as hell. So you could not sit on your ass or you would freeze, so to keep from freezing, you moved around, and invented something, built something, just to keep warm. None of the local ho’s would give you any poosay until June when it warmed up, so with that time saver out of the way, you really got cooking.

It’s illegal to have sex without a condom in Nevada.
Today, Japan leads the world in condom use. Like cosmetics, they're sold door to door, by women.
More Americans lose their virginity in June than in any other month (must be all those weddings and prom nights).
A man’s penis not only shrinks during cold weather but also from nonsexual excitement like when his favorite football team scores a touchdown, etc. Back to Fl’s theory, when you are in Thunder Bay, it[s 49 below, you Willie has gone inside your body for heat, therefore you cannot mate until June, when it heats up, and Willie comes back outside.
Wyoming’s Grand Tetons mountain range literally means “Big Tits”. FL SAY, when I go out to Jackson hole to hunt elk, after a week, I get a hard on just lookin at em.
In the original Grimm fairly tale of 'Sleeping Beauty', the Prince rapes her while she sleeps and then leaves before she wakes up. (Good thing that was rewritten!)
The word 'gymnasium' comes from the Greek word gymnazein which means to exercise naked, which often was done in ancient Greece.
White women and those women with a college degree, when asked said they were more receptive to anal sex than women without college educations.
The word avocado comes from the Spanish word aguacate which is derived from the Aztec word ahuacati which means testicle.
The original representation of Cupid by the Greeks was that of a beautiful young boy whose naked form was considered to be the embodiment of sexual love.
The first condoms in the US were made from vulcanized rubber in the 1870s. They were expensive and annoyingly thick and meant to be reused. Condoms were used, washed and hung out to dry well up into WWII>
Women who went to college are more likely to enjoy both the giving and receiving of oral sex than high school dropouts. (Amazing what one learns in college). That is why you have to stay in school and graduate from college, you will get more head.
About 1% of the adult female population are able to achieve orgasm solely through breast stimulation.
14% of males said that they did not enjoy sex the first time. 14% of men, are computer nerds who make love to internet sites.
60% of women say they did not enjoy sex their first time. FL SAY: Marilyn Monroe, who had 3 prime husbands, tried them all from Joltin Joe, to an Egg head writer, she even fooked Einstein, she never once got off. I knew a lot of beautiful dames like her, who sexually were all fooked up. After a while, you learned no man can bring them to the big squeel. So I just fooked them and took care of my self.

The Romans would crush a first time rapist’s gonads between two stones. FL SAY: Lets bring that one back?
It’s illegal to have sex with a corpse anywhere in the United States.
In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, it’s against the law to have sex with a truck driver in a toll booth.
In Fairbanks, Alaska it’s illegal for moose to have sex on the city sidewalks. (I don't know how this is enforced.)
In Florida having sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal. FL SAY: How do to porcupines do it?
According to a survey of sex shop owners, cherry is the most popular flavor of edible underwear.

When Viagra became available, operators of Nevada brothels reported that business "shot up" about 20 percent. FL SAY: He will never take it, when God decides to retire him, he will go in peace. He said, too many old geezers are dying in the arms of some 22 year old ho they just bought.
Male bats have the highest rate of homosexuality of any mammal.
Up until 1884, a Victorian-era woman could be sent to prison for denying a husband sex.
FL SAY: Lets bring this one back.
During the Middle Ages, if you were guilty of bestiality you’d be burned at the stake, along with the other party to your crime.
The sperm of a mouse is longer than the sperm of an elephant.
A "Dork' is a whale's penis. The whales, as you might have the world's largest penises. The blue whale is the champ, due to his size, with a ten foot long member that is one foot in diameter.

Research shows that 25% of men and 17% of women planned their first sexual encounter.
FL never planned any of his, he says; just let it happen, naturally.
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The walrus has the largest penis of any land animal, measuring 24.5 inches when erect.
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Orgies were originally religious events, being offerings to the gods.
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"Not Able to Fornicate" was the name of a 19th-century northwestern American Indian chief.
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The words "naked" and "nude" are not the same thing. Naked implies unprotected. Nude means unclothed.
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Over the same period of time, women who read romance novels tend to have twice as many lovers as those who don't. FL says, most of them, are ugly, old, fat, unfookable. That is why they sit around and dream up all these stories, because the last time they got fooked, Trickey Dickie was VP. FL is too busy out fookin, to be writing dirty novels. He is living these novels, every day of his life. The dooers don't write about it, the non dooers do.
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According to the Kinsey Institute, masturbation is more common among white-collar workers than blue-collar workers. FL say, how are you gonna blop yo baloney out on the shipping dock. But a nerd, sitting inside a cubicle, looking at some internet porn, can jerk his chicken off fast.
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Women with a Ph.D. are twice as likely to be interested in a one-night stand as those with only a bachelor's degree. FL SAY: Only pork high IQ chicks. They only want a quick high hard one, with no follow ups.
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Dishabiliophobia is the fear of undressing in front of someone.
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On average, 20% of women who live with their boyfriends have another sex partner. FL say, like I said, you can’t trust these ho’s.
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The two leading causes of temporary impotence are prolonged cigarette smoking and tight pants.
FL SAY: I GUESS THAT IS WHAT TANKED Tom Jones career.
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Acrotomophilia occurs when you have a sexual attraction to amputees.
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According to the Kama Sutra, a mixture of camel's milk and honey will keep a man erect night and day. Where can you get Camel’s milk at?
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According to Penthouse magazine, more women complain about infrequent sex than men do. All women do, it bitch about everything anyway. You soon learn, it’s impossible to make one happy.
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The frequency with which a woman has orgasms during her sleep actually increases as she ages during her childbearing years.
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Forty percent of women have said they had an orgasm while dreaming about sex. That number is 80% for men.
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According to a Kinsey survey, 75% of men ejaculate within three minutes penetration.
FL says that is why so many women do not like sex. Some won’t get off until 8 to 15 minutes. It is not successful sex, unless both get off together, so FL held back until she went off, then he pleased himself. When you please a woman in bed, she will want you back. When you only please yourself, is when she does not care about seeing you again.
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The typical lovemaking session averages 15 minutes in length. Fl say, you boys have to train yourself to go 20 minutes. Sometimes you have to blank out your mine and think of football so as not to be a 3 minute man. Once you get past that first test, then you can be strokin. You peg Willie in there to the hilt, then jam it in another inch, when you feel those 10 finger nails dig in your back, you hit bottom. Then son, you begin strokin, but you learn to stoke slow, don’t be a in a rush, silly wabbit. Learn to have slow hands. She then, won’t be able to get enough of your love. Jerry Lee sang, too much love, drives a man insane. FL says, that is why I am nuts today. What a way to go out, nuts from too much love.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=tGVnH39UzI8

http://www.youtube.c...yzP80qgeKM&NR=1

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=x0I6mhZ5wMw

You need to learn how to become a true lover. The cool thing about this, is, it takes years of practice. And, the more you practice, the better you get at it. You tell them, you are a love machine, that they can have, unlimited love, and if you back that she-yit up, they will follow you to hells front gate. All of life, is but a stage, and if you create a great stage, the actors will appear. Your stage, is your date, where you give her, the fantasy date, and then her fantasy fook.
That is your mission, to learn.

Males under the age of forty are typically able to achieve an erection in less than ten seconds.
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Three out of a thousand men (0.3%) are well endowed enough to fellate (blow) themselves to orgasm. FL says that’s bull she-yit, and yes, don’t think I have not tried. I am 7.5 inches; you would have to have a yard of cock to pull that one off. You can’t do it unless you work in the circus or a gymnast on the Olympic team. If I could do it, I would not have to live with women, I would be free. I see Dogs and monkeys do it, and I wonder why God did not give us the same thing he gave them. Come on God, that aint fair they get to have all the fun, and we have to do all the work to feed their asses.
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The French tickler was invented by a Tibetan monk. FL SAY, that figures, to be one, with the poosay.
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Rabbits have been the emblem of fertility because of its well-known talents for multiplying.
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Timmie Jean Lindsey of Houston, TX became the first person to get silicone breast implants in 1962.
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A typical orgasm lasts from three to ten seconds, with contractions occurring every 0.8 seconds for both men and women.
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The Kama Sutra details techniques on ten types of kisses, 64 different caresses, eight variations on oral sex, and 84 positions for intercourse. It is a great book, everyone should have a copy, and follow the diagrams and learn to enjoy sex and its many variations.
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Medomalacuphobia is the fear of losing an erection.
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There are five calories in a teaspoon of semen.
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According to Playboy, more women talk dirty during sex than men.
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Somebody actually timed a rattlesnake mating session that lasted 22.75 hours. FL say, when I die, I want to come back as a rattler.
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According to recent surveys, the man is the most likely partner to be tied up during sex.
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Among primates, man has the largest and thickest penis.
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A study of pet owners found that 66% claimed they allowed their pets to remain in the bedroom during intercourse. FL say, he has to put JR, the Jack Russell out of the room, because he tries to bite him, to protect his mommie. When he is done, the female Jack Russell gets on him to lick all the mommie smell off of him.
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The average bra is designed to last for only 180 days of use.
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The most recorded orgasms in an hour by researchers at the Center for Marital and Sexual Studies in Long Beach, CA, was 134 by one female and sixteen for a male. FL SAY 16, that's impossible, the body cant refil the testicles that fast. They guy must have had probes on his head and he went off, in his head, 16 times, but he never ejaculated 16 times. , My record was 6 and I only did that twice. Damn near killed me both times. Most guys consider it great to do 2. I have only know one guy to say 7. I used to pork this very sexy chick with a fantastic body, who said when she was young, a teenage lover got so excited he did her 8 times in a night. I think, that has to be the outside extreme edge of it. And why, would you even try to do that? You could die doing that.
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A small flaccid penis generally has a greater percentage increase during erection than a larger flaccid penis.
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According to Playboy, the most popular sexual aid is erotic literature.
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Besides the genitals and the breasts, the inner nose is the only other body part that routinely swells during intercourse.
FL did a Hypnosis regression and found out in his former life, he was Doc Holliday, and his woman, was the dirtiest ho in the state of Kansas, and she was called Big Nose Kate. She was a hooker who liked men and after bedding over a thousand, she said, men with big noses, have the biggest willies. That’s a little free tip, to you ladies. And don’t give me that female BS, size does not matter, us guys, who are well endowed, know the truth. You all want a big schlong; you don’t want some putz with a 3” weiner. You want the foot long dog.
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Women who are housewives are, as a whole, more faithful than working women. That is because they are not around men hitting on them every day, or they have become old, fat and ugly.
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According to a recent survey, more Americans lose their virginity in June than any other month.
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Women say that the part of a man's body that they admire the most is his buttocks. This is why FL wears tight pants tailored and never put anything in the back pockets. Never carry a billfold back there. Keep just money and a driver’s license in your front pocket.
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Studies have shown that men become sexually aroused nearly every time they dream.
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Studies show that, for some unknown reason, the higher the level of education, the more men tend to have wet dreams. FL SAY, the last time I had a wet dream, Ike was in office.
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Menstrual cramps have been known, in rare cases, to induce orgasms.
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A "buckle bunny" is a woman who goes to rodeos with the express intent of having sex with a rodeo cowboy.
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Women who went to college are more likely than high school dropouts to enjoy both the giving and receiving of oral sex.
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Semen contains small amounts of more than thirty elements, including fructose, ascorbic acid, cholesterol, creatine, citric acid, lactic acid, nitrogen, vitamin B12, and various salts and enzymes.
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Studies have proven that it's harder to tell a convincing lie to someone you find sexually attractive.
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The name of Wyoming's Grand Teton peak literally means "big tit." FL SAY, after a week in Jackson Hole hunting Elk, he gets a hard on just looking at them. After a week in the woods, FL SAY, he would fook a snake if you would hold its head still. It was the horny trappers who named the bit tit mountains.
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The same chemical responsible for the ecstatic highs of love and sexual attraction, phenylethylamine, is also found in chocolate. You will note, all women, love chocolate.
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The male fetus is capable of attaining an erection during the last trimester.
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Exhibitionists are most likely to be married men.
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The usual result of ingesting Spanish Fly is vomiting.
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The Kama Sutra was written by Mallanga Vatsyayana, who was rumored to be celibate. FL SAY, GREAT BOOK, everyone should own, study, and follow. Most romance novelists are ugly fat old people who never get porked. If you are thinking of sex all the time, then you are not getting enough, so go get some, then you can clear your mind and think of important stuff like pool, golf, football, beer, pizza, stuff you really desire.
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Compulsive or pathological sexual behavior has a 12-step program available to them through SLAA, the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous. FL SAY, I never joined, because I never wanted to be cured of something I loved to do?
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A survey conducted by Masters and Johnson in the early 1980s revealed that the third-most frequent fantasy amongst both homosexual men and women was a heterosexual encounter.
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Sperm banks keep their donor semen at approximately -321 degrees Fahrenheit. At that temperature, it could be kept indefinitely.
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Among transsexuals who choose sex-change operations, females who elect to become males are reportedly happier and better adjusted after the procedures than males who elect to become female.
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The most successful X-rated movie of all time is Deep Throat. It cost less than $50,000 to make it and has earned more than $100 million. No matter what you do, your kids are going to see everything out there, trust me; they are 10 times more aware than you were at their age. I was in Miami on business, that movie came out in 1972. It was 1973 and I checked my family in the Fontainebleau, the top hotel on the beach.

http://en.wikipedia....ainebleau_Hotel

I brought along a teenage baby sitter who would take care of my small 3 children while my wife and I were out on the town in the evenings. I took her to Les Violines, for a great meal and a recreation of the fabulous casino floor shows of the late 50’s in Cuba. It was on Biscayne just north of the Omni Center. It operated from 1962 to 1996.

It was the top night club in town at the time. You got to see a Vegas style spectacular floor show. When we got back to the hotel, my room was a suite, 2 rooms, and when we entered it, nobody in my 2nd room knew we were home, this had an adjoining two rooms, one for the baby sitter, one with 2 beds, for the kids. When I opened the door and snuck in, so as not to wake them, the baby sitter was sound asleep, it was 1am, and all 3 kids were sitting in front of the TV, staring at the XXX movie that was available for guest after midnight, Deep Throat. I had no idea; it was even on the TV menu. I about had a stroke.

Here is a little test, to see how pure your morals are, I give you the actual 72 movie, which will show Linda Lovelace in action. If you are moral and pure, you will not click the link> Before you decide, remember this movie was banned in 22 states. This was before porn took over the net. If your mind is pure, and you are totally moral, you wont watch this wicked video.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=QjZ_D1j8cis


http://www.youtube.c...h?v=QjZ_D1j8cis

________________________________________
While nudity was considered commonplace to the ancient Greeks, a man was considered indecent if he had an exposed erection.
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Believe it or not, there's actually a word for the fear of seeing, thinking about, or having an erect penis. It's called ithyphallophobia.
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Homosexuality remained on the American Psychiatric Association's list of mental illnesses until 1973. FL say, this only proves what I have been saying all along, doctors are real dumb asses.
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Oculolinctus is a fetish whereby people are sexually aroused by licking a partner's eyeball. A word of caution if you want to try this: oral herpes can be transferred to the eye.
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At age seventy, 73% of men are still potent. This is why they call them dirty old men.
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The first "official" vasectomy was performed in 1893.
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The smallest erect penis on record was one centimeter long.
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Oneirogmophobia is the fear of wet dreams.
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The Roman emperor Nero used to dress up young boys in his dead wife's clothes and make love to them.
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According to the Kinsey Institute, half of the men raised on farms have had a sexual encounter with an animal. FL say, baa baa.
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An agalmatophiliac is someone who has a fetish for statues or mannequins. These people tend to have an uncontrollable desire to masturbate whenever they see a nude mannequin.
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It takes a sperm one hour to swim seven inches.
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A man's testicles increase in size by 50% when he is aroused.
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Women who respond to sex surveys in magazines have had five times as many lovers as non-respondents. FL SAY: The more you think about it, the more you do it. You will find a way, to get laid. If you are old, ugly, fat, covered with wrinkles like my Ex, there is some guy out there just as ugly and fooked up as you are, the two of you, can fook each others brains out till the cows come home. Every person has somebody looking for them, just open the gates, and they will walk in.
________________________________________
Black women are 50% more likely than white women to have an orgasm when they have sex. Well there it is dudes, dump that white bitch and go get you something that fooks. That is why the white race, is dying off, they are being out fooked 10 to 1 by the brownies and blacks. They do not discover the joy of sex, most white women, are too hung up to enjoy it.

You are not a true lover until you find the G spot, and learn how to make it dance. There are many books on this very subject.
________________________________________
Micropenis is a rare disorder where the afflicted suffers from an unusually small penis, roughly .75 to one inch long...and that's erect.
________________________________________
An unobstructed penis is capable of shooting semen anywhere from 12 to 24 inches.
________________________________________
One of the reasons male deer rub their antlers on a tree or the ground is to masturbate.
________________________________________
In 1995, Mo Ka Wang, a Chi Kung master in Hong Kong, lifted over 250 pounds of weight two feet off the floor with his erect penis. Fl say, this I would pay to see.
________________________________________
It's been said that Adolph Hitler was a coprophiliac, which means he had a fetish for women's feces. He also had a thing for being urinated on by women.
FL SAY, HE IS like Michael Jackson, a virgin, never had no poosay since poosay had him. Hitler was one sick fuck. They kept all this perverts secrets for years, for if you told, you died. His mitress Eva Braun, he never touched, Martin Borman porked her once a day to keep her happy, so she would not blow her brains out like the first one did, his niece.
________________________________________
It's been estimated that the practice of autoerotic asphyxiation (temporarily suffocating yourself while masturbating) takes the lives of 250 to a thousand people each year. I guess going blind is the least of your worries.
________________________________________
It's been estimated that one out of every two hundred women is born with an extra nipple.
________________________________________
The initial spurt of ejaculate travels at 28 miles per hour. By way of comparison, the world record for the 100 yard dash is 27.1 miles per hour.
________________________________________
In earlier times, virginity on one's wedding night was of the greatest importance. To prove that the bride was a virgin, it was customary that the couple would display the bloodstained bed sheet for all to see once the wedding was consummated.
________________________________________
The first known contraceptive was crocodile dung, used by the Egyptians in 2000 B.C. It was replaced with elephant droppings when they realized it wouldn't work.
________________________________________
The left testicle usually hangs lower than the right for right-handed men. The opposite is true for lefties. Ok, you can go run into the bathroom now and take a look……

click the pics to enlarge them

#1, picture of FL, saying yo ho, come jump in my bed, and ride em pony
#3 What fl would kill to be able to do.

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[FASTLARRY]

Doc Holliday.

I grew up not knowing much about Doc Holliday. All the TV shows were about Wyatt Earp and doc was just a side show with a bad name and reputation. If you wanted to pick out some western hero to be, he would be your last choice at that time. They showed him as some 50 year old drunk. In reality he was a young suave man.

But that changed when two modern movies were made and they brought out Doc as who he really was. He saved Earp’s life several times, so there would have been no Wyatt Earp legend, without Doc.
In 1994 we had the movie Wyatt Earp.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0111756/

If was very good.

My favorite is the 1993 version, Tombstone: I think all the characters there, are the best. Val played the best doc, but I thought he was too young for the role because he had always been portrayed to be in his 50’s. I was very surprised to find out he was 30 at the time of the OK Corral fight. What was the truth of it all, nobody really knows, everyone has their own version, so just believe any one of them you would like to? Legends of the West tend to grow like the big fish story.

I went to bed with this really good psychic, might even have been a witch in the late 70’s who proved to me she was the real deal. She told me I was a very old and ancient immortal thetan who kept coming back to terra, the cosmic name for Earth, to raise hell and plunder. She could trace me back to Atlantis. I thought at the time, what a pos I am, in 12,000 years, I have to keep coming back and doing it over and over again. If I was any good, I would have evolved back up into Heavens higher levels and my reincarnations would have ceased. It was my goal this time around, not to kill any one, live a good life and evolve up the ladder and make this my last life on Earth. So far, I have not killed anyone, but the day is still young.

In 1980 my Buddhist beliefs or reincarnation expanding, I decided to consult with an expert in that field in Atlanta. Remember at that time, my feelings of doc, were he was scum, a murder and a lowlife drunk. TV shows had not been kind to him. If I would have wanted to be somebody from the past, I would have chosen Wyatt Earp, my early western hero. Anybody but Doc.

As a small child, and growing up I had recurring nightmares about dying in pain in a fire in a windmill, which under research would have been in Holland in the 1500, 1600’s. I was wearing wooden shoes. I did the session, to go back to there, to try and understand and resolve that issue. I had this terrible fear of heights as a child, apparently from jumping out of the top of it. As a child you are in touch with the other side, and then as you grow up that window closes. The guardian let’s you find things then out for your own self.

In a session, you lay down, they hypnotize you into a sleep like state, and you talk, and they recorded it all for me on tape. They walk you back. I was warned, most people find they were nobody’s, doing nothing of interest, not my luck. You die, go to heaven and all of your family dies and assemble, and then you are reborn and try to connect again. In one life you may have been the son, the next one the mother and some never find each other. You can die, and come right back, but most wait and rest and come back after a 50 to75 year wait. My wait apparently was 56 years after I last died in bed with my boots on in Colorado, which I found to be rather funny, since a gunman, never dies in bed, but face down in the street.

When the session began, we planned to go back to the 1500’s and the fire, but we hit the last life, I was shocked to hear, I had been Doc Holliday. I am hearing me speak of all these times and historical things I would have had no knowledge of and the awful truth hit home, I had been him, this pos murdering scum. I wanted to be somebody, and not this criminal.
I could not take any more of it; this revelation was too much for me to accept and to bear. This could not be true. I woke up, took off the mic and shut down the session early. I was horrified. I was thinking, holy she-yit, if we go back far enough; I was probably Genghis Khan as well. If I was Doc, I did not want to know who else I was, behind him in history. I was afraid to then know. I never did another session.

I was so ashamed of whom I had been, what I had done, I kept this awful secret and told nobody about it for 30 years. Western people do not believe in reincarnation, they are raised to reject and ridicule it. If you tell them you were the Dalai yam in your last life, they will only laugh at you with ridicule and cut you off of their mailing list. They will then assume, you’re nuts or a Cuckoo.
A lot of important people feel they have been reincarnated, like General Patton, Henry Ford, Richard Gere, Shirley McClain and Steven Seagal and my teacher, his holiness the Dalai Lama to name a few. So I am not the only nut running around loose here. 20% of the American population now believes.

More people in the world believe in reincarnation than the Christians who do not believe.

http://en.wikipedia....i/Reincarnation

http://www.ciis.edu/cayce/melton.html

In the mid 90’s Doc Holliday was revealed to be a hero and true friend of Earp. My impression of him changed. 15 more years would go by, until I would begin to discuss and reveal this issue. I do it now, because now, I do not give a flyin fook what you think of me, laugh at this, all you want to, have a nice day. I do not do it to gain anything, or to impress you, because doing this I know, all I will get is hurt and rejection from my honesty about it all.

I am writing my memories of my past, getting ready to retire, shut it all down and move to Costa Rica and wait for the angels to come for me. I am getting ready to die, which won’t be long. This is a part of my past, who I once was, is a part of who I am now. That is why it took 29 years for this to be discussed and released by me. Because I do not expect a single one of you, to believe it. I went through decades of trying hard not to believe it, but I now do.

There are parallels, Doc and I, we are both from Georgia, both educated men, speak several languages, both are Doctors, I have a PHD, both were sophisticated ladies men, both drink heavily, both are gamblers, we both married the nastiest ho in Kansas, both became professional road men and after a previous legitimate professional careers, Doc a Dentist, me an Electrical Engineer. He became a professional poker player; I became a professional pool player. We were both regarded as sporting men. Both of us, show up, armed to the teeth and always carry heat. Both of us, have a short fuse. You don’t want to fook with either one of us. We are both very loyal to our friends, neither one of us, had many real friends, only those who hung around to use us. He was a killer, I was a lover, but a killer in bed.

You will say, bull she-yit, stepped in what? You are goin to hell for all your wicked ways. And I say, when I show up at the pearly gates, with my Bushka in hand and say, tell Willie I am here, the gates will open for me. This is really gonna chap yo Holy Roller asses to be sharin the same cloud with me. You had no fun, I had more fun that the law allows, and we both ended up in the same place, chump.

I will not have a tombstone, I have already paid to be cremated, and when my balls goes up in smoke, you can then say, good God, great balls of fire. Bob Byrne once wrote, FL has more balls than a snooker table. If I had a tombstone, it would read, try and follow that fuckin act.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=rCehyiNYzAs

http://www.tombstone...ries/facts.html


click the pics to enlarge them

And if you don't believe my story, open the one from your uncle sam, this message is for you bozo.

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[FASTLARRY]

DISCO

Old time rock N roll slowly turned into disco. Not everyone wanted to go along with it.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=j6UJZtCz1-c

Suddenly you had million dollar clubs, where the elite cool people went, and a door man, turned away the bozos, if you were not young, and a beautiful person, yo ass did not get in the door. NYC has too many locals trying to get into one place at night, so the tourists were not welcome there. The owner of studio 54 was a queer and druggie, Steve Rubell so he catered to that clientel. Being one of them got you on his door list. He died of Aids when it came along, which thinned out most of his pals. When Truman Capote came in, he was the queen of the club.

The other New York queer and druggie was Peter Gatien who was the owner of several New York nightclubs, including the The Limelight, Palladium, Club USA, and Tunnel. He was once dubbed as the "King of New York Clubs", during his time in New York City. His drugs got him in jail, and then deported. He watched me play pool one night, and he had on his arm, the most beautiful sexy dame I had ever seen. I whispered in her ear, you aint getting none from this fag tonight, if you want some real fun, meet me at this address at midnight and dump his ass early. You are only window dressing to him. She showed, and it was a night to remember.

http://nymag.com/nig...60522_1_560.jpg

It was a seen right out of the blues brothers where Ackroid hits on Twigy saying, maybe later on, we could like meet, up at the motel? Part of that clip runs at the end of the trailer.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=tjGfnsjdJec

That music that was the Blue Brothers theme was from Peter Gunn.

http://www.tvduck.com/Peter-Gunn.html

In the mid 60's I was running a large company for Johnnie a former spitfire pilot in the Battle of Brittan, and ace, who was a war hero. He had gone to school with Craig Stevens and they were close friends. After the war Johnnie was helping to make war movies in Hollywood and Craig was just breaking in getting small parts here and there.
They were both, carbon copies of Cary Grant. Both tried out out Cary, Cary.

In the mid 60's Craig would come back to his home town a couple of times a year, and the 3 of us would go out drinking together. Scotch of course. Johhny J&B, Craig Pinch, me Johnny Walker. Being around these two super sophisticated and very sauve men, of course I wanted to dress very elegant just like them, and I learned to be like them. Now you know what I was like in the Discos, a young Cary Grant imitation, without the english accent. Women ate it up, loved it, always have. Craig was a cool as a cat back then could get. Why would I not want to try and copy that act?
I was so impressed with him, when my 2nd son came along, I named him, after Peter Gunn, his first and middle name would be Craig steven.

http://www.tvduck.com/Peter-Gunn.html

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0301887/bio


http://www.disco-dis...o/history.shtml

Disco was a late 70’s thing. Once it got rolling real strong, they made a movie of it in 77 and then it exploded. Where once only the big cities had discos, soon every place had one. Every cool thing begins in NYC or LA, then move in land, from the East and from the West and once you see it in Topeka, Kansas, or in Alabama you know it’s dead and ran its course.

I was 32 at the time, still was in my prime, and looked great, and could still snake the early 20 chicks, and the early 30 ones went wild over me. Sorry, no brag, just the facts man, just the facts as they were. So if I got a lot more poosay than you did, tough shit.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0076666/

Then the ultimate disco opened the same year, which became the boiler plate for all others to copy it.

Studio 54 photos

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1249693/bio

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0076666/

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=69VsAEafSgM

In the early 80’s we got our own studio 54 in Atlanta, we called it the slime light.

http://en.wikipedia....i/The_Limelight

Disco could not last long and by 81 to 83 in the big cities it would be dead, but it would be years for that news to reach Topeka or Alabama which bought all the expensive lighting from those clubs that closed. Alabama is always going to be at least a decade behind NYC.

The creative juices were done and all the songs were being produced in sound labs and they were terrible. No name stars were being created. People in the business said kill it off, and they did it.
Donna Summers:

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=h1ArZEFwRsY

http://www.youtube.c...wGE31pEw6c&NR=1

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=QZ_KbwEVBjU

So basically depending on where you lived, Disco went on for a decade. Once it was killed, and there was nothing close to replace it. Discos could come back years later and today operate worldwide. I moved right into the she-kicker bars and into the Urban Cowboy routine but a lot of city people could not handle that music.

When I was a kid my mother wanted me to have a full education. I had to take music lessons, and ball room dancing. She said, learn how to dance well and cut a rug, and you won’t have to worry about getting married. How right she was. I learned every step and dance. I was so good at it; they invited me to stay on as an instructor. What you see on dancing with the stars, I was taught to do many years ago by the real pros. I hate to brag, but I was a great dancer, pro level. I spent years in training, that is why. I was in world class shape, had great legs, 27" thighs, my legs were very strong, which is vital to dance well and for a long time.

Once you have all that down, you can handle anything new that comes along. So when Disco hit, I would already dance like a pro you see on Dancing with the stars, but I wanted to be the best and I took more dancing lessons with the best in town. The rest of the steps, as they came along, I only had to see them one time and I stole them.

I had better looks, better hair, better teeth, a better body, and definably better shoes than that little punk wop Travolta. I could dance his ass into the dirt. White fookin suit, give me a break, in pool the bald headed wop Lou ran around in one of those clown outfits for years trying to look cool. I showed up in no fookin polyester she-yit, mine was tailored of silk in Honk Kong, it was a 3 piece suit of key lime green, with a silk light green shirt, yes I looked like the Jolly fookin green giant, thank you very much, ho ho, I knew that one was fookin coming, but chicks ate it up. I had a backup of very light brown.

Gold thick chain, diamond rings, Italian shoes, and that was the problem, you had to have money to put on the show, and when you wore the right rags, you had to put on a show on the floor, which I could out dance everyone, being in great physical shape, being in my late 20’s, I could dance a 18 year old under the table in an all nighter. I loved to dance, I found it to be great exercise. Drinkin, dancing and fookin, was how I spent my evenings out on the road. I could definetly talk da talk, and walk da walk, and make em squell out when I said, Hu's yo daddy, they would say FL's my daddy.

But being so good on the floor, looking so sexy, they would not let me dance all night long. Soon I would hear, do you fook as good as you dance. And I would say, the only way you will know, is not talking about it, but doing it. If you do it, your every wish will be my command. How would you like your ultimate fantasy fulfilled. Your place, or mine. The majority of the 9 to 10’s, the beautiful women, on the list of 1,000, came out of these discos in that era. I was in my prime, so was disco, and I made the most of it all. I had money, expensive clothes, I could play the role. I almost fooked my self, to death.

But soon the big city discos would be over ran by the fags, the coke heads, the perverts, and it would turn into slime city. Drugs fooked up a beautiful thing.

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qi...18201239AA4IEg7

http://www.youtube.c...S9OO0S5w2k&NR=1

It was really hard to get into studio 54, they had these fookin gorillas out there worked the line, the beautifully people they knew went right in, Truman did not wait in line, the rest had to wait to be allowed in or rejected. They were considered the tourists, the ones they did not want in there. Good looking chicks got in, most men got gonged. If you could not drop names, if you could not convince them you were somebody important, you were fooked. I worked out of White Plains at the time for the boys and I could drop the names and get in. Some found showing up in a Tux was simple insurance and that sometimes got them in. You had to get there early, before the line got going. Once the joint got packed, and they did not know yo ass by sight, you did not get in there.

The first time I got in I go up to the bar and there is this gorgeous slim chick standing next to me. It’s 8 pm, I buy her two drinks and by 9pm, I have my hands all over her and the more I rub the more she purrs. Finally I run my hand up under her skirt. I find out she is not wearing under ware as I am finger fookin her right at the bar. She is coming all over my finger, by now I have all 3 in there. It was nice and tight. The bar was crowded and with people standing in front of us, this was shielded.

Yo, I had not done that since the late 60’s in my back seat of my car. By 10:00 I have her back at her apartment and after a really nice long love making session, I am asked to leave by 11. It turned out she was one of the big supermodels of the time, she was on all the top magazine covers. She was really concerned with her face and not getting wrinkles and she had to get up a 6 to make those shoots and she needed her beauty rest. That was fine with me because the real beautiful people did not show up until midnight and I would go back, snake another chick out and fook two beautiful women in one night. I was a sexual T Rex back then. One night, I fooked 3 beautiful women, all on different dates. And sometimes I would end up with two in bed, they would bring along their pal. I loved NY. In that place, in that era, everyone was so stoned in those clubs, just about anything went on and was accepted.

People kept showing up later and later and the entire scene got IMHO sick. They would get off work, go home, sleep or nap for 3 or 4 hours, hit the club at midnight, get stoned and dance until 3 or 4am, go home, grab another 1 or 2 hours sleep and head to work. A total stupid and decadent existence. When you are living on drugs to stay up or to keep going, you are living life in the fast lane and burning the candle at both ends. It was too many people all trying to act like and be somebody important, when most were not. It was a fantasy world that had no truth or honor in it. It was all, make believe.

I walked into a top disco in Tampa at that time, saw this 10.0 redhead at the bar, with this guy hanging all over her. I just walked up on the other side, whispered in her ear, you are buring up time sitting here, with this beautiful guy, who I hate to break the news to you, who I know is gay, and when you could be out on the dance floor with me, and having the dance of your life. She turned, looked me up and down, and said, lets go. Man, that chick could dance, she was great and she followed all of my moves and twirls. After dancing a full set, we came back, had a drink, and the poor guy who was not gay, had given up and left.

It was a first class snake job, and she took me right to her apartment and rode me hard and put me up wet. I love those redheads that have their collars and cuffs matching. They are always hot. It was unusual to find one that was really beautiful and this one was. That was my power back then, I could take over a woman and snake her out of a place fast and go right to bed with her. The bolder you were, the more outrageous, the more it worked.

The same kind of she-yit was going on in Atlanta, Miami, LA.
The mob was financing the top clubs in order to push their drugs through them. Just up the street a short way was 42nd street, which they had turned it into one giant whorie house complex. This was total Sodom and Gomorrah. I have seen a lot of sick she-yit in Havana and Mexico, broads picking up an egg with their pussy and pulling it inside, getting fooked by cucumbers, but this was 3rd world and expected. You did not expect to see this same thing in NYC in America.

Store after store was filled with sex. They had the peep show booths, were guys would go in to jerk off, but there was no movies, but a real chick on the other side of the glass to help you get off.
I went into an old run down theatre and the show was broads naked on stage, then fookin on stage with a man. One teenager walked across the entire front row of seats and would sit on the face of each guy, when she got to me, looked down, she about flipped out. She used to baby sit my kids in Kcmo. I used to have dreams of fookin her 14 year old ass, and her she was, with her pussy in my face.

A great looking broad would come out on stage and invite guys from the audience to come up, and she would let them, stick it in for a few seconds. I found all of that a little over the top and disgusting. After seeing it all once, I never went back into them again. NYC has the most corrupt police force, right up there with New Orleans. The cops were all paid off to let it run wild.

A lot of drop dead gorgeous teenage girls with nice bodies, cheerleader class, would grow up being fooked by their daddies and in time this incest would get old to them, and then want to date other boys and he would refuse and it would cause them to runaway. They would hop a greyhound to NYC and when they got off, the pimps were waiting for them. There would be several real whorie houses where you would walk in and there would be a dozen of them in thin bedroom lingerie. Everyone was a full 9 to some knockout 10’s. You would pick out the one you wanted, and go back to a massage type table, pay your $30 or 40, in today’s money that would be about a C note, they get naked and you fooked them without a rubber. They were all clean and kept that way. Each place was like an office cubicle, you could not see who was being fooked next door, but you could hear some sailor pounding it home and the slapping in and out and the chick doing her fake moans and groans they teach them to do, to get the marks off faster. The GD place, was a fook factory.

Aids and crack had not hit yet and it would change everything. All those perverts would die by the millions.
A 30 year old guy could never get a beautiful 15 or 16 year old in bed and fook her, and if he did, and got caught with the jail bait, they would send him up. Here, it was legal. You could live your fantasy and did have to fly all the way to Bangkok. You could be fooking the cheerleader of your dreams, for 40 bucks. There was a never ending supply of them that kept coming in, so none of them got old and worn out like you see in most ho houses. Great sex and drugs was wide open and cheap.

I was lucky, I fooked 1500 strange chicks over the years, and never caught a disease. I am clean now and always have been. If I thought one was suspect, I would cover my Willie, but back then, few did. None of the whories made you use a rubber then.
Some of my friends who lived there used to say, thank God, for the Minnesota strip. They never had so much fun. Others saw the evil, the exploitation going on and in time, with Mayor Juliana’s help, they would clean it all out and run all the filth out.
Castellano had been running it along with Gotti and Gravano. Everyone then, was on the take.

http://en.wikipedia....Paul_Castellano

http://www.barrypopik.com/index.php/new_yo...ntry/minnesota/

In Atlanta we had our copy of Studio 54. It was always packed but anyone could get in. I was sitting at the bar and this good looking early 20's chick said why are you looking at my boobs. Do you like them, I said yes, she takes off her top, lays it on the bar; she was braless and said, what do you think of them now. I said, they are magnificent. She said, you think they look good, how would you like to see my little toosh. I said, I can’t wait, so she hops out of her chair, pulls off her dress and is standing in front of me completely naked in the club. She did not have on any undies. I said, that is one outstanding Beaver if I may say so, she laid the dress on the bar and hopped back up into the bar stool. She said, and I bet now, you want to fook me, don’t you. I said, read my mind?

She was either drunk or stoned on her ass and she leaned back in her chair and it went over dumping her on the floor where she kissed canvas and was out for the count of 10. A couple of bouncers picked her up and carried her away. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to it, she-yet like that went on all the time which was why the locals did not call it the Lime light, but the slime light. The fags would get up on top of the giant speakers, take off their shirt and dance. Now and then, a chick would do the same thing, topless.

In the beginning I could get laid in there, but after a while the place was totally taken over by every queer, drag queen and pervert in town. Nobody went in there to get laid; they went in there, to get stoned. Few were drinking. I stopped going in that place once it became the slime light and a butt bangers hang out. And they did not name it the slime light for nothing. It was tail gunner heaven.

I was king of the discos for years. I dressed the part and could out dance most unless they were a dancing teacher. Women loved to dance with me, once they saw my moves. It was so easy to get laid back then in that culture. But you had to wear expensive clothes and jewelry, the clubs were expensive to get in and drink prices were high. You had to have a lot of money to run in that pack. I did not care; all of these expenses ended up on my expense account and was paid for by my company. A little pad here and there. I was living the life of a rich playboy and it was all being financed by somebody else. I could fly to NYC, stay at the Plaza, take a cab over to studio 54, and write it all off as a business expense. That is how I pulled all of this off.

God how I loved Disco, the great songs, and being king out on the floor. But soon the music sucked and so did the entire scene, and as it was dying and being killed off, a new thing would come along to take its place when a new movie came out in 1980. In a few years all the top discos would be closed.

http://movies.ask.com/c/video/Urban-Cowboy...y&qsrc=2247

I would say goodbye discos, hello she-hit kicker bars and honky tonks.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=KKsVhyiISY8

click the picture of the 2nd ball to have it come alive.

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[FASTLARRY]

The Red Head who took the picture in St Joseph, Mo.

I met her in a bar, the usual dance, have a few drinks and end up at her place and hop in bed. She was simply fantastic. She said she worked in the mall and asked me to come by the next day to have lunch with her, which I did. I was in my business suit and making sales calls in the area that day. It was late October, 1972. I was surprised to find out she was a photographer and she asked to take my picture, one for her, one for me. When I looked up at her beautiful face, and smiled at her beauty, she clicked.

It was like the scene in the movie, somewhere in time, where they are taking her picture, and she looks up to see her new lover standing there, and glows with a smile and the picture captured her emotions displayed.


<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_JmUMkLy7g...feature=related" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8_JmUMkLy7g...feature=related</a>



<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQOrPxe6y7E...feature=related" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQOrPxe6y7E...feature=related</a>



<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQRW2xj8Mws...feature=related" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQRW2xj8Mws...feature=related</a>

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=YkKue_MEnkk

IMHO< easily the most beautiful song ever written. I am a hopeless romantic which is why I guess I like to create these fantasy dates for beautiful women and show them, the time of their life. Why I cry like some cunt when I watch this movie, or at the end of An Affair to remember.

Women are waiting for the man of their dreams to appear and I tried to fulfill that image and desire. Most men, are just after sex, as fast as they can get it. Most women are after romance, and so was I. Fooking is sort of pointless without real love and romance; you might as well just jerk off and save the time and money.

I had been a road salesman traveling MO, Iowa, Kansas, and Nebraska for four years and had became the companies # 1 salesman in one of the least populated regions which nobody could figure out how I pulled that off selling wire. The more people, the more construction, the more wire you sell. How could I out sell all of these NE, California or SE territories. Simple, I cheated and lied of course.

Cooper was the main product and aluminum was just coming in and nobody wanted to use it. They were just starting to learn how to irrigate the farm fields then which was my entire 4 state area, which was 95% farm land. They drilled a well, then ran a pipe out 1400’ long and a motor pumped out the water and the pipe did a big circle sprinkling water all over the crops. They wanted to buy wire on 1400’ reels and the company would only make 2500 and refused my request to make the 1400’. They would not budge and they could not see the vast potential in front of them.

I could, to me; it was a fookin lay down, a slam dunk. They were not going to buy 2500 feet and cut off 1400 and have 1100 scrap. The company wanted them to buy 5000’ reels, but they did not want to mess with doing 3 cuts and measuring and still tossing out 800’ of scrap.

So I simply wrote up a bunch of phony orders that did not exist, which put the factory to work making several hundred thousand feet on 1400’ reels, which they could never sell if I did not come through. If I failed, I would have been fired, maybe worse. I would have been through. On the come, I went out to all these people in this business, guaranteed them immediate same day shipment on 1400’ reels, at the best price, and all they had to do was sign a yearly contract giving me all of their business for me holding the price firm for a year.

They all jumped at it, I signed everyone up and overnight cornered the entire market and caught all of our competition with their pants down. What a coup. Back then, they did not call me Fast, they called me Flash, or carload Larry, because if you did not buy carloads, I did not have time to call on you. I only handled the big boys, and wined and dined them like kings.

I came back to the factory in a couple of weeks and there was the entire product, I put in the orders which covered my ass and out the door it went. Nobody knew about it and the con, but my female office manager, who was late 30’s and had a so so body and a face like a dog, well I had been porkin her for years, she insisted, everyone who had the job before me porked her, and when you did, she did all your work for you and covered your ass tight. So a little coyote fook now and then insured my success. So she let me do what I wanted to and found the entire adventure, she said, exciting, to see if I went down the shitter, or rose to fame and glory.

When I pulled it off, Continental Oil found about that this kid could sell fookin ice cubes to Eskimos and they hired me as a Regional sales manager, jumping 2 levels up. You normally are promoted from salesman, like a sergeant, to district manager, like a lieutenant, to Regional sales manager, like a major. It was a big jump up, and I had my salary doubled, and my skimpy expense account, was now, unlimited. No more driving, I would fly everywhere I went, and I got to move out of the winter cold and down to sunny Florida. Did I score and kick ass or what? All because I had the balls, to go for it. If I had not done that, I would still be back there selling Romex by the box. It would lead to me later becoming a national sales mgr, lt colonel, international sales mgr, full bird colonel, and CEO. A General.

I gave them a months’ notice, which allowed me to make one final swing through the territory and say goodbye to my many clients I had become very good friends with. I was like a sailor; I had a doll in every port. Actually at some, 2 or 3. I did not like to sleep alone. Finding very attractive women was not easy; you could not hold them, unless you married them. I was married at the time, so I had to accept they would come and go like streetcars because I was not around every day to keep they busy. Some guy would come along, engage then, marry them and they would be gone. Then I had to go out and recruit a new one.

So I learned to have my A chick I took out on wed, my B chick, I took out on Thur, and if I lost one, I came in a day early on Tue to recruit and add back another one to the corral. It was a constant revolving door because few of them were going to wait around for me to come in once a month.

When I broke the news to all of them, I was moving away, half way across the country to Florida, and I would never be back and never see them again, most took it hard. The one in Grand Island, who loved me something fierce, tried to kill herself. Then she went total anorexia and tried to starve herself to death. She kept saying, without me, there was no reason to continue to live on. No matter how hard I tried to talk sense into her, she was determined to die. When I left, she was down to 90 lbs. It was really sad, but I am sure, she snapped out of it, when she finally accepted and I was truly gone and not coming back.

I am making my last call on the HQ of my biggest account who was in St Jo. The receptionist out front, was this gorgeous blond, about 24. I was always very polite and formal with her, and she of course knew I was an important vender, working for a billion dollar company, and I called on the president and all the high ranking executives there.
She said, we are having a company picnic tomorrow and we would like you to come since you are in town and I accepted.

At the picnic, she got me aside and said, I want to know something, since I hear you are leaving us. I have worked here 4 years, since I was 21; every salesman who has walked in our door has hit on me but you. Why, don’t you find me attractive? I said, don’t think I did not want to, or would have killed to have got you out on a nice date to romance you. I think you are gorgeous, on a scale of 1 to 10, a full 10, you have it all. My company has a very strict policy that you do not she-yit where you eat, and that means, you don’t date or go out with any of our customers and if you get caught, you get fired with a bad reference.

She smiled sweetly and said, you have quit, therefore you have nullified their policy, you can now, do what you want to do. You can ask me out if you wish to. I said; let’s go out, she said, Okie Dokie.

The brand new KCI international airport was about to have it’s opening and dedication. To cap it off they would have the first 747 plane there to make the first take off, to break the airports cherry. We had the worst airport in the country, a total she-hit hole, designed for prop DC-3’s. You virtually flew through the downtown buildings, you could see people inside, there was the mighty mo river, right over it you had to slam it down and burn rubber to keep from going over the run way and going into the Kaw river behind it. Several planes had done just that.

Bringing in the new DC 9 jets was like slamming down on an aircraft carrier deck. It was a white knuckle damn near crash landing with both feet on the breaks. It was rated, the worst and most dangerous. The 747’s had been flying for 2 years, but we had never seen one. But now we had the biggest and best airport in the country and 555 lucky people would get a boarding pass to take off and spend several hours going nowhere but in circles around KCMO. It would be one big ass party in the air, the bar would be open, the best champagne, the best food, and everyone wanted on board. It was the flight to nowhere, for the very elite and powerful.

I had no rank or importance to get on that plane. I was just a little salesman. The mayor, the governor, and hell the Vice President Spiro Agnew was on there. When I went to my pal, the former DA, who had the contacts to make that happen, he said, you got to be kidding, you want 2 seats, no fookin way, no how, forget it. So I went into a little subtle blackmail, telling him about all the times I saved his ass when he was caught out fookin around and all the favors he owned me, I had never once cashed in a single marker. I said, I cash them all in now, I want on that fookin plane.

Ok, he said, I’ll make you a part of my group, and I’ll get two more, but it won’t be easy. He said, we won’t be up top in the vip lounge, or in first class, but we will be at the very front of the cattle car. I said, I don’t give a flyin fook if you put my ass in the cargo hole, just get me on that plane.

So when the blond in St Jo said, where will we go, I go into my fantasy date mode. I said, have you ever been on an airplane before. St jo is a really small town, and as I figured she said no. I said, how about tomorrow, you fly out on the first 747 which dedicates the new airport in KCMO. I had sort of promised to take this fox I was trying to bag who was from New Zealand who had a 10.0 bod,l but she got dumped and I made an excuse to change plans with her. I said to the Blond, you will meet the Vice President, the governor, the mayor, anyone who is really somebody in this state, will be on that plane. She said, you have got to be kidding, and I showed her the two tickets. I said this will be in two days, so be sure to wear something really nice, but sexy.

I spent the night with her in St Jo and she made love to me like a tiger in heat. I drove home the next morning, spent the night, then the next morning, I drove up to get here, early that morning, it’s not a long drive, brought her down and we boarded and had the party flight.

I did not fly much then, and had come up in an era of Connie’s and prop planes. Our company did have a 737 party jet, but hell it was small compared to the giant 747. I never saw anything so huge, and on the take off roll, I could not see any way that big ass plane with all those people could get air borne, but it did. A few years later, I would fly one in a simulator, it flew like she-yit, slow, sluggish, you would make a turn, it would delay, and then tug over. In an F-16, if you made that same tug, you would do a double barrel roll it was that fast and responsive.

When we were deplaning, walking down the ramp, they had a problem then, to handle the 747’s at the gate, they could not do it, here is this handsome 28 year old guy, with his arm around this drop dead gorgeous blond, with great hooters showing, long blond hair in the wind, and a picture was taken, along with thousands made that day, and my fookin luck, which one gets decided to be on the fookin front page of the Newspaper, us. With the story about the plane flight and the airport dedication, it was front page news. I take her home, knock off a quickie, and head back home to Kcmo.

I wake up Sunday morning to a early call, it’s my Mom, she is screaming at me, you Sob, you have done it now, let’s see you talk your way out of this. I went what, she said, you and some blond slut, are on the front page of the Sunday paper, I hung up the phone, ran out, opened the paper, and there is this stunning blond, and me. I went, oh she-yit. So while my wife slept, I un plugged all the phones, then went all over the subdivision stealing every ones paper, hoping they would not see the picture and tell her.

When they woke up, I said, we all need a little vacation, who wants to head south and go down to the Ozarks for a week, I packed up the car and got everyone out of town for a week so nobody could reach us. There were no cell phones, back then. It worked, me mom kept her mouth shut, and my old lady never saw the picture.

click the pic to enlarge it. FL in 1972, the cue was not in the original picture. I was a very poor cut and paste in for a door poster.

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[FASTLARRY]

Vegas Casinos

Luck be a lady tonight

http://www.youtube.c...VlQXvrWC_A&NR=1

A pool player is going to be around casinos and going out to Vegas a lot. You better get hip about this place, real fast. I actually live out there a couple of months during the year. I'll be spending the entire month of June out there this year. I have seen every kind of weather there you can imagine, boats floating down Las Vegas blvd due to floods, snow, cold. But, normally its a great place to be in the winter where the tempertures can be just great. I hate it in the summer time, July, August can be hell there. 110 to 120. I was there once when it hit 125 F. Dry heat sure, but you have to stay inside during the day in the AC and you only walk around outside when the sun is going down.

When I arrive I go to costco to stock up and I put a case of bottled water in my trunk. You dont go outside, without a bottle of water.

I had this pal who took his team again in 95 to Vegas and he let his daughter come with me because she had never been out there. He had been divorced and was no longer living with her. He did not realize her morals had collapsed. He took the team to a hot singles bar and had rented a big caddy so he could drive her down to the Grand Canyon the next day. The idea was a little quality time, just her and him, I guess, that was a really stupid fookin idea. He said, it's 11pm, we have to be up at 6am as its a long drive down there and back, 10 hours just on the road. We can't stay up late and make the Canyon, lets head back to the room. She begs to stay out a little longer but promises to be home by midnight, so he tossed her the keys to the Caddy, caught a cab back to the Casino. He was doing everything he could, to insure every one had a good time and the trip was a success.

She gets drunk, fooks one of the players all night long, and comes dragging in at 5am like some alley cat. He tries in vain to get her up at 6am and she flat refuses. She blew the trip and his plans. Fookin ho, just like her momma he said. He said, I run into that scum bum now and then she fooked, 14 years later, he is making minimum wage working in a liquor store on Plesant hill road working for a Gook.

So when she finally woke up at noon, he said, your punishment for this, is the caddy is repoded and don't ask me for a fookin dime. I know you came out here broke expecting to mooch off of me. I will only feed you to keep you from starving. Your ass is on foot. I will go where I want, do what I want, and you will not be welcome to tag along. Fook U. Breakfast is at 8, miss it and you can catch me for dinner at 8. Miss that, find a soup kitchen.

She stomps out saying I dont need yo fookin caddy, I will walk where I want to go. he said, BS, its 120 out there, you wont make 2 fookin blocks and you will be back. 15 mintues later, she comes back to the room, dripping wet, mascara running, madder than a wet hen. He said, when you travel with me, I have simple rules, simple schedules, you get on the bus, or I dump yo ass. I am too old to baby sit for bozos. A true story.

Vegas was called sin city because it had gambling. Now casinos are everywhere. And they had show girls who showed boobies. There are tittie bars everywhere and most go totally nude. Gambling and sex has spread to every state almost.

People who go there enjoy the excitement of gambling. They like to see a great floor show and the guys love to see the showgirls in their skimpy outfits.

If you are looking for sex and to pick up chicks you would be better to spend your money to fly to some Caribbean resort or the Florida SE coast. There are a lot of beautiful women there on vacation and in some places there might be more of them than you, then they get desperate. But in Vegas most hot chikcs come in with a rich date. There is always many more men that the available chicks that are not ho's. There are not that many single women running around looking to get picked up and with it being so crowded, the ones that are there, get lost in the crowd.

You have to find your single oriented bars and hangouts. You have to get off the strip. Hookers are not allowed to work the casinos or hang out on the street corners. The good ones do if they stay hard to detect. You will find a few walking around the stratosphere trying to look like tourists. There have always been whorie houses, but they keep them out of town. It's stupid, Hell they should just come out of the closit and open one up in Caesars Palace and get on with it.

The prostitutes do work the video poker bars in most casinos. They will try and start a conversation with a guy, and tell them they have the night off from some name strip club.). They will proposition guys for a private dance back in your room.
If the gals don't toss some cash to the bartenders, they let security know, and they get removed from the premises.
The ones that grease the bartenders can hang around if they aren't too obvious.
The pain in the ass meth head tweeker ones get banned and trespassed from the casinos. The smart good looking ones are tipping the doorman, the pit boss, spreading the wealth around. You will always see hustlers hanging around crowded crap tables looking for a rich high roller.

There are prostitutes all over Vegas. Of course it's not legal, but it may as well be because you can see it when you go to the strip. There are loads of booklets you can pick up that are filled with call girls. So while it's not technically "legal" it is done in abundance. You see this gorgeous gal, you make a call, you want the one in the picture to be sent over, sure they will. None of them look that good. They send over what they have in stock at the time. It gets expensive as most places want 100 for taking the call and the gal when she gets there wants 100-150 for her cut, so you can expect to pay 250-300 for a good time. They are running all over the hotels, you are riding in the elevators with them and you don’t ever know they are hookers because they don’t dress like them. They dress just like some chick staying there, to stay unnoticed. She will have on shorts and a regular top and no tits hanging out. Most are young and fairly good looking.

Illegal prostitution goes on in Las Vegas the same as anywhere. Many of the hookers are school teachers and secretaries from Southern California who come here on weekends to supplement their incomes. The "escort" business is a big industry here, but it's hard to prove they are hookers so they get away with it.

It’s hard to spot them. They are there... prostitutes on the strip aren't walking around looking like $2.00 crack hoe's or Donna Summer. Many look like upscale women to cater to the business crowd that comes in for conventions. Others look like your average 22 year old college student. They come in all shapes, sizes, looks, etc. Some could look like your wife, your daughter, your mother, even your son. Others are strippers that for a few dollars more will do more than dance.

20,000 women are brought into the USA every year to be put right into the sex for hire business. Sex is big business and it’s huge in Vegas. The entertainment capital will pull in for hire entertainers. When hookers grow up they want to be hookers in Vegas! :-) It's like their Mecca. It’s the big leagues.

Over 40 million visitors a year in Las Vegas, nearly 4,000 conventions and trade shows a year. Prostitutes know that those people come here with money to burn on big expense accounts and expect to let everything go as it were. 9,000 or so prostitutes in a resort town where that many people go to have a good time doesn't seem to me to be a lot considering. The point is, Las Vegas is only different than other cities in that entertainment is the reason people come here, and they come by the millions, so you could expect there to be thousands of prostitutes working that lucrative market. So no one should be surprised there is a lot of prostitution going on, even though it is illegal. Over a million locals live there full time and they are customers also.

http://www.mediabistro.com/fishbowlLA/news...kers_109103.asp


http://en.wikipedia....ution_in_Nevada

Hey mister, you got a dime, hey mister, you want to spend some time. You’ve got what I want and I’ve got what you need, some come spend it on me. Donna Summer. Bad girls, sad girls.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=n-wW7rIRVew


In the orient they will say, you want, suckie fuckie, I boom boom rong time for you. Everyone wants to get laid.

I have always got laid in Vegas just by hanging around. Eventually some chick comes on to me without me even looking for it. I never paid for it there. I dress nice, look the look, shoot crap, play blackjack. The see me, bump into me.

But I have hit the ho houses in foreign countries; where that is the life style, and that is the only way you are going to get laid because all the young girls are hooking. I think it should be legal and we should tightly control, tax and regulate it. It’s been around since the dawn of time and there is no getting rid of it.

I saw a program on TV where they took you into the chicken ranch, met all the girls, and even showed them in the rooms fookin and suckin. It was one of those after midnight shows I surfed into by accident. Nice gals, a very expensive fook. They have a menue like Friday’s, several pages with prices for anything you could desire.

My pals who go out there a lot and call the escort services and have some chick over in an hour, many ho’s don’t even leave a single hotel and gets calls and just go from room to room, tell me most are young, nice looking and again, its high priced, but worth it, if you got the money to spend. 3,000 rooms in one hotel, it will keep a lot of girls busy in that one place.

There are a lot of ugly fat nerds who can’t go out to the pool at the hard rock and snake a chick out of there and into bed. They need love to, and the escort services takes care of these boys just fine. Ho’s have a place, they work hard for their money, I have no problem with them, I would just never bring one home to meet momma.


When I first began going to Vegas, there was no strip. That was early 1950. There were a couple of joints that went up a few years earlier, but they were small and it was a long way out there. All the action was downtown then. I watched this town grow up from nothing to where it is today during the last 59 years I have been gambling out there.

The El Rancho went up in 1941.
December 26, 1946 - Third, Flamingo Hotel opening with 105 rooms.
March 1, 1947 - Fabulous Flamingo
September 2, 1948 - Fourth, The Thunderbird opening with 76 rooms.

Note how small these were, a Holiday Inn was bigger. This shows how few people were going out there. They all looked like a holiday Inn also. The modern ones now are huge, like Paris Las Vegas opening with 2,914 rooms in 1999.

The success of the El Rancho Vegas triggered a small building boom in the late 1940s including construction of several hotel- casinos fronting on a two-lane highway leading into Las Vegas from Los Angeles. The stretch of road evolved into today's Las Vegas Strip. Early hotels included the Last Frontier, Thunderbird (Still standing as the Arubu Hotel & Spa) and Club Bingo.

The El Rancho Vegas was razed by fire on June 17, 1960. As time passed, many other first-generation Strip resorts lost their identity through absorption by new owners, demolition, extensive renovation and name changes.

By far the most celebrated of the early resorts was the Flamingo Hotel, built by mobster Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel, a member of the Meyer Lansky crime organization.

The Flamingo with a giant pink neon sign and replicas of pink flamingos on the lawn, opened on New Year's Eve 1946. Six months later, Siegel was murdered by an unknown gunman who fired a shotgun blast as Siegel sat in the living room of the Beverly Hills, Calif., home of his girlfriend, Virginia Hill.

I liked the old Vegas when the mob ran it, rooms were cheap, 30, now they want 200, and buffets were a couple of bucks, now they want 30. Vegas were turned into a Disneyland for adults. They would give you a nice but inexpensive room and cheap food so you would come gamble. The average guy would drop 100 a day, in today’s money that might be 300 and they came out well on these low rollers. I like driving right up to my room’s front door and walking 5 steps and I am inside. The Stardust had the Casino up front by the road, then several blocks of small motel strips behind it. Walk right up to your room. A cheap room, no hassle. They tore all that down, now you have a 32 floor tower, you have to walk a mile through the casino to get to your room and it takes forever to get there. Now it’s expensive, and a pain in the ass.

My little Mom and Pop motel was right across from Treasure Island, it’s gone, all the cheap places are gone, unless you get deep down into the north part of the strip where it gets sleazy real fast, or off the strip.

My Dad just bought a brand new 1950 Ford and we took off from KCMO to Vegas. We went into the Golden Nugget. The Casinos were flooded with 1880 Morgan silver dollars then. In 64, when they took the silver out of coins and their value went up, they all vanished. Now it’s all chips, so you don't think of them, as real money.

I was 8, and I asked him for a silver dollar which he gave me to get rid of me, he was shootin crap, I walk over, shove it in a slot machine, and hit the fookin jackpot. Viva fookin Las Vegas, hot damn, at 8, I am fookin rich beyond my wildest dreams, and I am a real fookin gambler dude. I am shovin them in all my pockets and there is a tap on my shoulder, there stands two gorillas, and Bruno say, kid, you’re too young to gamble, you have to leave. I said, Ok, as soon as I scoop up the rest of the loot. Puggy say, the money stays, you go. I said not until I have all of my money.

Both of the no neck goombas pick me up and I am going out the front door feet first, with my teeth dug deeply into Bruno’s wrist with him yelling out in pain. I am like a pit bull, I aint turning loose and he can pry all he wants to. He gets out side and he turns me upside down and begins shaking me and dollars are dropping out everywhere. Then he drops me on my head, they are trying to pick them up and I am kicking him in his shins, biting him on the leg and finally they give up and go back inside. Well I did not get the big score, but ended up with about $15, and for being 8, I was flush. They turned around to have one final look at me, and I whipped them, the Italian salute. Bruno said, I dunno wanna be around, when that thing grows up and comes back for me.

It would be 1994 and for the 2nd time, I would go out the front door of the nugget feet first. My team just won the city championship of Atlanta in the APA and we arrive in Vegas at the Riviera. I had been an APA 6 for a couple of years, losing half of my matches on purpose, to keep from becoming a 7, the highest rank. Everyone on my team cheated as well and most were 2 on the wire, all 1 on the wire. That was how you got to Vegas.

I got put in a spot where we were about to lose and be put out of the event, I they put up a ringer to take us out. I knew this guy, a real roadie. So I had to go all out on him, or he would get me. It was a race to 6, and I broke and ran 6 and out, he never made a ball. The problem was, two LO's saw me do it, and they reported it. It was made a 7 for life, then later after I got home, they declared my playing abilities were of a professional level and I was graduated out of the amateur ranks. I was officially now a pro player.

I came down with the flu before I left as was sick as a dog. I went to the doctor and he put me on some real strong antibiotics. That night, I might have lost track and taken on more that I was supposed to. When we were doing the town, I ate a pizza, washed it down with 6 scotches, and then ate a big chocolate sundae. Somehow all of that, somehow cross linked with the antibiotics and the booze, and I was sitting at a black jack table and it hit, damn, I am about to pass out. I told my pal, help me get to the John and I staggered in there and collapsed on the floor. I am not drunk. I had done a full OD. He went to get the rest of the team and I was in bad shape. So I said, get me out of this shitter and out on sidewalk so I can get some fresh air. They picked me up, and out the door I went feet first, for the 2nd time. Just sitting and breathing, in about 10 minutes, it began to clear, so I said, take me home and get me in bed.

The next day, I was fine and I won my match.

Luck be a lady tonight

I have been in every casino in the USA and most of the better ones worldwide. It’s hard to believe how many of them, there are. When you travel the entire country on business and have been in 70 countries since the 60’s like me, eventually you hit them all. The exclusive clubs in London are boring; I prefer the old time rowdy places like Binion’s on Freemont Street.
They range from some real dives along the rivers here, to some elegant ones on the French Riviera.

http://en.wikipedia....te_Carlo_Casino

If you want to brag about taking a lot of money off them, then you have to put a lot up
for risk. Yes a whale might win a million today, but before he leaves he drops 5.
Everyone you talk to always brags about their trip out to Vegas where they won 3K. Have you ever heard one talk about losing 3K? Did they win 3K once, sure, probably, they got drunk, hot and lucky.

Then they came back and lost 1 or 2K, 10 times. They are deep in the hole, to the house. I know a lot of very talented magicians and card sharks who live in Vegas who thought they could beat the system honestly and fairly. They get up 2 or 3K, slowly it goes away, the longer you play, the more the house odds are taking you out, then they are down 1K and now, chasing their loss, which they will always get hot and get it back. Then the loss keeps growing. When it gets too painful, they stop, and learn to stay away. I would think, if these experts could not beat them, then what are my chances of doing it?

I had this one Chinese who would book me in Vegas always brag about him being comped into this suite by the Casino. They always comped him because the sucker always dropped 5 to 10K per trip. They comp the big losers, and only a big winner, to try and keep him in house and playing so he can blow it all back. So I never get comped because I am not going to set at some blackjack table and bet 100 per hand because I know in 8 hours, I will be bust. I could care less about comps, which I think are a fools play, but for some people, they are some prestige symbol of acceptance and of approval.

They give free comp trips to casinos only if you agree to gamble 8 hours a day. Remember that one, the longer you play, the more you will lose. If you budget to gamble 100 to 200 a day, you are a pos she-yit to them, and they will treat you like a pos. Only until they have a player’s card on you and can track you betting black chips and losing over a thousand a day, will they show you any respect. Never use a player’s card unless you are betting at a limit to get something back of value. You are better being unknown, under their radar.

How does the comps work?
on 6/30/2008 I've worked in Las Vegas hotels for the last 32 years,(now retired) the last 17 years at Caesars Palace and recently the Venetian, as a floor supervisor and Pit Manager. Comps are now generated by a computer matrix based on time played and average bet. Your history with that casino is also thrown in. I can tell you that $5 to about $15 per bet for an hour will not get you free anything. If you kept playing you might qualify for the buffet (Venetian doesn't have one) or coffee shop. To qualify for a room or one of the gourmet rooms you need to be betting minimum $100-$200 hand for at least 2-3 hours, if not more. In which case it would cost less if you just went and bought it yourself. I don't know how the other casinos work but in the higher echelon ones this is the case. (Wynn, Bellagio, MGM, Caesars, Venetian, Palazzo, Mandalay Bay, Mirage etc.) Each one having their own criteria

http://www.casinocam...CasinoComps.htm

I walked in the Casino at Santo Domingo once, laid a $25 chip on 17, which is a bad bet, the middle of the board, most go low or high, and I won, paying 35 to 1. I cashed out and went to bed, made only one bet that night. A psychic witch gave me the number to play. I began to listen to her after that hit.

The hotel fire. That bitch then tells me I am going to be in a big hotel fire where many people will die. I said, ok, when and where. She says, I don’t know, it all did not come through. I said, that’s great. So I know, she is the real deal and I react to this warning. This was 1979. So for over two years, everywhere I went, I wanted to be on the ground floor. This was a real problem. I was a sales manager and my people were used to putting me up in 4 star high rise hotels, on the highest floor possible.

All of a sudden, I changed. Hotels really don’t have any rooms until about the 5th floor, below it are restaurants, meeting rooms, machinery, all the stuff that will and does catch fire, so my staying on the lowest floor, the 4th or 5th, was the most dangerous place. And try and jump out of a 5th story window and survive the fall; it may as well be 20 stories up. My people did not understand why I am giving up these high class hotels, for down and out rooms at the holiday Inn, I am back staying in the same rooms when I was a salesman.

When over 2 years went by, and no fire, I felt it was a false alarm, the witch just blew it. I had been in a motel in Ohio years ago, that had a fire and a couple of people died and I got out. It was scary. You can’t breathe in that heavy smoke. Get on your hands and knees, hold your breath and see how far you can get? I had a 3 day meeting coming up in Vegas, and I told my office book me in a nice classy place, and forget the low floor thing, give me a top room. They booked me into the MGM Grand with a room on the 23 rd floor, a nice suite; it was November 19, 1980.

I had two nice days there and on the evening of the 21st as fate would have it, I met this lovely lady from England, late 20’s on her first trip to Vegas while I was out playing in her Casino. A few drinks and I ended up in her room for the night. English women, are very loose about sex. The next morning, not far away, about 8am, all hell broke loose; every fire truck in town was sailing by. This scared me to death because I thought where I was staying was on fire. Then we saw on the news, it was the MGM, and if I had been in that room at the top, I would have probably perished. Getting lucky in love that night, saved my life.

I had gone through so much hell over all of that, I cut the witch off saying; I don’t want to ever know anything coming again. If it’s my time, I’ll will accept it. I do not want to know, the future.

http://en.wikipedia..../MGM_Grand_Fire

Back to the story at Santo Domingo. I came in the next night and nailed them for 50 grand. I got them to raise the limit, then when I won, I just kept letting it all ride and when I had 50, I quit. They about had a giant she-yit over that. I came in the next night, and lost it all back. My goal was to take them for 250. That is what gamblers do; keep playing until it’s all gone. If I had hung on to that 50 G’s, it could have changed my life at the time. All I had to do was keep the 50 and leave town.

After a while, I just accepted that trying to beat these people out of any serious cash is a fool’s game, and a giant waste of time. I would go in there and play 8 hours hard, exhaust myself mentally, and break even and it would feel like a victory. Long sessions are stupid.

Everyone has a book for only $25 to give you the latest new system to make a 6 figure income gambling. There is a sucker, born every minute.

http://www.slotadvis...ng-systems.html

First, go into a casino and do not gamble. Just watch all evening long at all the table games. Pay attention to what you see. 99% of the gamblers, are losing, getting totaled. It’s right in front of your eyes. Yes there are a few winners, a few high rollers. But the majority are being gutted. So why do it, when it’s such a bad bet. After a few trips out most of you get smart and set limits of how much you will wager a day, which is what you can comfortably afford to lose. That is smart because money management is the first thing to learn. Reduce your loss exposure to them.

My high stakes dealer lady friend years ago took me out front, and said, look at this billion dollar skyscraper, it was built on losers, not winners. They only like losers, they hate winners. If you can go out there and beat them with pure skill at the table games, by simply remembering cards played, they will ban you. That means, you are welcome to come lose, but you are not welcome to come beat them with superior skill and play. If you can win every time you are no longer welcome. Remember that one.

There are no clocks, they want you to lose track of time. The dealers take a break every hour, to rest. So should you, so when the dealer leaves the table, so do I. If I am up, a winner, they might run in a high stakes dealer, who might even cheat, to take me out. I let them chase me around. I never get a players card, I don’t want them knowing what my play is, or my bets. When I begin to win, I don’t leave my winnings out there to stack up, so they can count it. I put it in my pockets in my jacket. I am careful to not let anyone get close to me so they can’t dip in and help their selves. Some women out there will steal black chips from right under your eyes from your tray. So if some honey starts rubbing on you, beware, be alert. Vegas is filled with hustlers and cons, they are everywhere, so trust no one.

A dealer is dead sober. Minnesota Fats only drank milk, so did Bert in the Hustler movie, he said, I never drink when I work, it only gives you an excuse for losing. Drinks are free, and I prefer to play during the day when the lower limit tables are open, and I don’t drink until after 5pm. in the evening it gets too crowded for me. After 5, I may have 1 or 2 drinks, but one per hour, and I don’t even let myself get a little high. The loser who gets drunk soon loses all of his money.

I am only going to play, an hour or two, win or lose in that time. It reduces their advantage. If I am down, I leave, and accept that loss of the day, I will not stay and try and get it back. If I am up, I quit a winner and won’t keep playing to give it all back. That is the entire key, to it all.

The old Vegas had all kinds of $5 blackjack tables, now it’s hard to find one, most are 10, some of the higher class joints they are all 25 a play. If they run 600 hands an hour at you at 25 a play, you are exposing a potential $15K loss.

A good casino blackjack dealer can deal up to 500-600 hands per hour. Blackjack is dealt very fast on the Las Vegas Strip and dealers are frequently evaluated by the number of hands dealt per hour. The figure of 500-600 hands assumes that the dealer is using an automatic shuffler and the players know how to play. In smaller "tourist" casinos the dealers frequently have to stop and explain the rules, answer questions and correct mistakes. This can reduce the number of hands dealt per hour to a certain degree, but the dealers are still expected to keep up the pace of the game even under these circumstances.

My level or budget is $500 a day. I need enough to weather a few bad runs and to have enough capital to get into their money. But if I lose, they never can get deep into my capital. $500 is all they can get, but I have the chance, to get deep into theirs and win 15K. When I am on my money, I want to bet light. If I don’t think I can beat this dealer, I bail out a loser and search for a new one to play. When I am a winner, up, on their money, I open up and will free wheel at times, especially of the dealer is cold and busting out a lot.

I try and stay out of the fancy upscale places and find myself a lesser place that has a $5 table. The dealers will have less skill and be slower. They will be easier to beat. You cannot sit there and bet $5 on each hand, or the odds will take you out. But if you are on a bad run, the dealer wins 4 in a row; you are not getting hurt as bad as having a 25 minimum. When you feel the deck is flush, or the cards ripe, by paying attention to how many high cards are left, or you get that feeling, I may open up and bet 50, and double down, or play a black chip. I bet high in streaks, when I feel the deck going cold; I drop back to $5. To win, you have to bet high, when the feeling is there, and pray the dealer busts. That is the only way you can get ahead.

You need to have good skills, read the books, so you don’t make any stupid mistakes and beat yourself.

I usually begin with roulette. My high stakes dealer pal, told me she could toss and control the ball, to hit high or low, and sometimes in the middle. I have seen several hit the same number 4 times in a row, which is very suspicious. I figure if everyone is putting chips on the low numbers, then the dealer is going to roll to hit high. So at the last second, after the ball is gone and rolling, I place my bets the opposite of what the rest are doing. I try and figure where the dealer wants the ball to go, and cover that area.

I usually pick up 3 or 4 hundred, get bored, and take my new stake to the blackjack table. If I make 500 there, then I move to the crap table and try and find a hot table that has some action. I am careful now being up, not to do anything dumb here and give it all back. If I don’t start winning right off, I pack it in for the evening. As I play, once I have got into their money, my original 500, goes deep into my pocket and will never come back out. As I begin to win, I am keeping my money in my right pocket, but I am putting about 20% of those winnings in my left pocket.

Those winnings in that left pocket, always walk out the door, so once I am up, I walk out a winner every time. If everyone did that, Vegas would collapse.

If my right pocket runs out of money, they finally beat me, I quit. I count them at home and then know what my profit is in my left pocket. I don’t get greedy and play too long, but if I feel I am on a streak and I am hot, I will stick and stay. But I won’t sit there and lose nonstop for an hour.

At blackjack I search hard for the right dealer. I will not play with an oriental, they are too good. I look for a late 40’s older woman, maybe looking for a date, who really does not care what happens.

Tipping the dealer when you win. BS, they are your enemy, why pay your enemy. What, you tip her and she is going to deal seconds to let you win, get real. If the eye in the sky sees her slipping you a card, her ass is gone. She is going to do absolutely nothing for you, but smile and con yo ass. So, Fook that bitch, I don’t give her a dime. She is out to destroy me, and when she does, she feels good about it. If you are a beginner, and she is trying to help you not make mistakes, and is giving you some advice, then toss her a chip now and then when you blackjack.

Everybody in that town, has his hand out wanting you to tip them for doing their job. It’s all BS. They have a tip jar on the counter at the Burger King.

I do not stay in fancy casinos paying out $250- a night for a room and end up on foot. I stay in a $50 room, off the strip, rent a car for 30 day, my food is 50, I love the top buffets, 50 to drink and chase women, 100 for a show. I only have to win 300 a day, to have one hell of a fine time and live like a king, on their money. If I make 400, I play golf that day. If I make more, I take a plane down to the Grand Canyon and I buy some stuff like a new silk shirt. My last trip out there, I gambled a couple of hours a day, and made my nut for 21 days until they finally busted me out and I was dead even, then I came home. The 3 week vacation was totally paid for by them.

Slots, they don’t call them one armed bandits for nothing, and anything that make 80% of their profits, I want nothing to do with. I won’t go near one. They are for broads and old people with no money.

Poker, pool players have kept real poker players flush for years. Every pool player thinks he is some kick ass poker player. If you were, you would already be in Vegas, playing all day long, taking out the suckers and the tourists and people like you. Let a pool player make a score of 5K, he runs right to Vegas and jumps in a poker tourney so he can run it up to 50K in his mind. 2 days later, he is broke. Don’t play, another man’s game. These people are pros, they work in teams, and the best ones cheat so well, they are undetectable.

http://www.math.byu.edu/~jarvis/gambling/g...g/gambling.html

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=Jj231TLCbD4

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=fkm79KtNnc4





click the pics to enlarge them

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[FASTLARRY]

The Goombas of New York

It was the late 70’s and I went to work for a company out of White Plaines NY> It was important to have respect, to be a stand up guy, a real goomba. If they asked you do to do something, you did it. Being able to get things done, was very important.
I was their sales manager and soon I found out the entire staff were all goombas. None of them had a fookin clue or knew she-yit. They were using me, to teach it all to them.

They were great to me and I worked for them for 7 years. They treated me with great respect and took care of me well. I could drop some names to impress you, but I won’t, on this one, just take my word on it. Everything done there, was totally legit. It was a bunch of scary people, all going legit at the same time. All learning how to run a legit business and to form normal lives.

The mobsters were mostly Italian and Jewish. For example, Frank Costello, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, and Benjamin Siegel worked together although much remains unknown about that working relationship, in New York City and later on the Las Vegas Strip. Did Italians work for Jews? Or were Jews front men for Italians who kept their real ownership hidden because they could not be licensed? This much is clear: usually, Italians provided the muscle in organized crime while Jews were administrators and accountants.

http://en.wikipedia....taly,_Manhattan

At that time the mob was trying to go legit and they were moving their money into legit businesses. They were moving out of Vegas. They were moving their 2nd & 3rd generation kids in to run new companies they were buying for them so they would be respectable. I would come up to NYC about once a month and they would take me out on the town which would usually mean dinner in little Italy. Mulberry street back then was still somewhat like you saw in the Godfather movie. We would eat in a restaurant there, but in the back private room few were allowed into, and they had this one chair, which this gold plate on the back that said, the chairman of the board, it was Frankie’s chair, and nobody could sit in it but him, when he came to town.

They designed this big truck that had product displayed so you could drive up, open panels and our customers could come out and see all that we sold. They wanted to tour the entire country with it. They wanted me to be giving the sales pitches to the customers. I said, that I don’t mind, but I don’t drive trucks. They said, of course, we have a full time driver for you. You fly out Monday to a different city every week, travel to a different city every day, fly home on Friday, repeat week after week. The driver lies over and waits for you to return. They said, you are a great teacher and public speaker.

I was a teacher like Sam; I had passion in my views and concepts:

http://www.youtube.c...fi4s8cjLFI&NR=1

I said, you guys have never done anything like this, what goes, who is behind this. They said, it was Meyer’s idea, to give his grandson something to do, to get him out of trouble.

I said, the old man in Miami, Lansky, they nodded. I went; you want me to babysit some punk kid? They nodded. I went, what goes with him. They said, he’s strung out on drugs, and we want you to try and help clean him up. We want to bring him into the business, once he grows up and gets off the she-yit. He’s a good kid and we thought if he hung around somebody like you, you’re a young guy, not too old for him, he could learn from you, how to act and how to become a businessman. We want you to grow the kid up. I said and rehab did not work, they nodded.

I said, GD, everything in my life was going so nice, and now this. They said, if you pull this off, there will be people, who will be most grateful.

I said, I don’t want to do this, get somebody else. They said, there is nobody but you, who can do this. Think of it, as an offer you cannot refuse?

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=G4KRDVsSsKE

I am thinkin, just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPw-3e_pzqU...feature=related

I said, when do I leave, they said, next Monday.

I was very worried as he was a great responsibility and a lot could go wrong. What if he od’ed and died on me, what would happen to me? So I knew, I had to watch him like a hawk. They wanted weekly progress reports from me.

When I met Julian, he looked just like John Travolta and dressed and acted like him in Saturday night fever. What the hell, he was from the same hood. He was very friendly, very cooperative, did not have an attitude, did what I asked and could drive all day long and not get tired. He would work hard. Oh to be 20 again. But he would get badly fooked up at night.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=69VsAEafSgM

During the next couple of months I had a lot of time to talk to him about what he wanted in the future and his battle with drugs. My message was, he could never be the success they wanted him to be and run around stoned. He had to get off the she-hit and slowly wean himself away. I taught him how to drink, trying to move from one bad habit, to one lesser one.

We traveled from NYC, down the entire east coast and in and out of Florida and ended up in Houston, Texas. I took him over to Cutter Bills, the finest C&W clothing store in the SW and had him totally outfitted. I taught him how to ride the mechanical bull and drink boiler makers in a real honky tonk. We had a lot of fun, and for an Italian kid from NYC, this lifestyle was like something from another planet to him.

Cutter Bill's legendary western wear store rode high in the saddle with the booming oil economy and the "Urban Cowboy" craze of the early 1980s. The prominent hat-and-boot emporium near The Galleria was as well known for its backroom bar as its fancy duds. Beginning shortly after the lunch hour, sales clerks were saying "its 5 o'clock somewhere" plying customers with complimentary cocktails to loosen up their wallets.
But Cutter Bill's wild ride came to a screeching halt when federal agents impounded the owner's assets and auctioned off everything that was left -- including the store's landmark golden horse.

The kid was making great progress but when I would leave him for the weekend and go home, he would of course get out and find his drugs as they were everywhere. I would keep him straight during the week and he would revert back to what he was on those weekends.

We got off work and I wanted to go out to this hot C&W cowboy bar. He was having real problems getting into this and he said, I’m tired; I want to go to bed early. That meant he had a stash and he wanted to do them alone, so I took off and right off, ran into two mid 20 blond foxes who were roommates and I talked them into coming back to my room. I fooked them both, had a brief rest, and then did them both again. Holy cow, they wanted more and I said, I am done for the evening, but I have a pal that might come to the rescue, I call, and said, I have to horny ladies here in my bed, and I need help, come down and help.
He was down in a flash and I thought I packed a lot of meat, that little she-yit had a full inch longer than me. And that is not easy to do. He pounded those two foxes into tamale. Oh to be 20 again.

I could write a book on our year on the road; this was just one of many such encounters.
By the time we finally got out to La, we had his drug problem fully under control and now and then he would smoke a joint, but he was off all the hard stuff. They took him home and got him in a nice company and continued to groom him. They sold off the truck as its purpose had been fulfilled. I got to go back working in the SE and back into my normal routine traveling by myself.

I was told, I had earned a favor, one that could not be refused. Any time, I wanted to cash it, I could. I never cashed it, I still hold it today.

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[FASTLARRY]

Me, Bogey and the Caine.

Early 1954, I am 11 years old.

We got in our 50 ford and drove from KCMO to La, and spent a full month there. We were living with my Dad’s older brother, who had a really nice large house and his wife raised and sold parquets birds in the back yard. She had hundreds of them in this huge wood cage. He was the head of security on the Columbia movie sets and that was how we got in the studio. He had a great German shepherd that one day playing with him, fanged my left forearm grabbing me in an accident leaving a nasty scar.

After a few days of seeing all the area hot spots, we all went to the studio to see a movie being made. That was my first time in LA. Back then they kicked them out fast, but the Caine had been tied up all of 53 by the Navy, and now with them behind it, they were frantic to rush up and finish it. I went in every day with my uncle and saw then finish up the movie and make all the main scenes. Bogey would come by and pat me on the head and smile. He was a great guy and everyone there loved him. Lauren would stop in now and then. I of course, had to sit back in the corner and keep my mouth shut.

http://www.imdb.com/...ay/vi972030233/

http://en.wikipedia....he_Caine_Mutiny

And being able to be around all those big stars and be right on the set watching them act was a dream come true. My mom went wild over the young handsome Robert Francis who would die in a plane crash right after the movie. In the big typhoon scene, they put a toy ship in this big tub of water and turned fans on to make waves.
The scene in the courtroom, where bogey was rolling around the two steel balls, when it was over and cut was heard, everyone on the set, went wild with applause. They all thought it was an academy award performance, and it was getting a nomination.

He was the first big star I met, so he was always my favorite. Later, I would collect every movie he made. He once said, nobody ever made more bad movies than me. He was not kidding. Most of his early stuff was really lousy. But he ended up with at least 5 great classics.
Humphrey Bogart
... Lt. Cmdr. Philip Francis Queeg

José Ferrer
... Lt. Barney Greenwald (as Jose Ferrer)

Van Johnson
... Lt. Steve Maryk

Fred MacMurray
... Lt. Thomas 'Tom' Keefer

Robert Francis
... Ens. Willis Seward 'Willie' Keith

May Wynn
... May Wynn
Tom Tully
... Comdr. DeVriess
E.G. Marshall
... Lt. Comdr. Challee

Arthur Franz
... Lt. JG H. Paynter Jr.
Lee Marvin


He was looking fine on the set; it was a shock when he died 2 years later. He was 80 lbs and 57 years old dying from cancer. He was voted the 13th Greatest Movie Star of all time by Premiere Magazine.

His last words were, "I should never have switched from scotch to martinis." That will kill anyone.
The only good reason to have money is this: so that you can tell any SOB in the world to go to hell.
I hate funerals. They aren't for the guy who's dead. They're for the guys who are left alive and enjoy mourning.
The whole world is three drinks behind. If everybody in the world would take three drinks, we would have no trouble.

Acting is like sex: you either do it and don't talk about it, or you talk about it and don't do it. That's why I'm always suspicious of people who talk too much about either.
The only thing you owe the public is a good performance.
You're not a star until they can spell your name in Karachi.

And he pulled off what IMHO is the greatest movie, of all time. I rate it #1.

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=INBmVxAsdFE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wo2Lof_5dy4...feature=related

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[FASTLARRY]

FASTLARRY, on May 5 2009, 11:23 AM, said:

Butch and me in Gainesville

It’s 1973 and I have just moved into Gainesville, Fla, a college town. My office is a few miles up the road in High Springs, where the plant is. Most of the office staff, about 7 young ladies drive up from Gnv. Tom, my office manager, a young guy, is very small and short, not good looking and getting chicks in bed is hard for him. Because he is getting so little he is running around horny and is a dirty old man way before his time.

Tom sits out in the main office with all the girls working and sitting around him. My office was in the back corner and was private with a door. When I was in there I could not see the main office. My secretary sat in front of my door so whatever I needed, she got for me. She was a real young looker also, but a real southern redneck dumb she-yit. She was dumber than a rock.

She was coming on to me hard and I guess she must have figured the best way to insure her job was to fook me. She would come into my office to talk, and not sit down in the chair next to my desk, but would instead sit down on this big leather sofa and look at me seductively trying to entice me to come join her there. She was very fookable and I wanted to, but I always had this training that you do not she-yit where you eat because it always has a bad ending and later interferes with your business.

When I was in my office, I saw or knew very little of what was going on outside in the main room. I would be in on Monday, and then be out on the road the rest of the week.

Running the office was Tom’s job, and the orders got out and there were few complaints. All these young girls were early 20’s and lookers. Several were wearing short shirts and sexy tops. I was out in the main office and one bent over to get into the bottom file and she did not have on underpants and there was a glance at her privates and my eyes about bugged out. I said a little later to Tom, did you see that, and with a big grin he said, aint it wonderful.

Tom had hired them all and they were all loyal to him. I could see right off, I needed somebody in there, loyal to me, that would tell me everything going on when I was out of town.

That night Tom and I are out drinking at the local hangout in Gnv and I see this gorgeous young very attractive chick sitting with this dog and I slide over and ask to join them and they say OK. The big one is late 20’s and I called her Butch, an obvious Bull Dyke, and the pretty cute on early 20’s with long brown hair. Butch said she had just gotten fired and was so pissed. I said, what did you do, punch out your boss. She said, that was close to it.

She was in the Marine Corps for 4 years and I asked her why, and she said, because I dig pain. She was apparently a good secretary and administrator with a lot of experience. She said, you keep looking at my old lady; you want to fook her, don’t you. I said, I would not kick her out of bed if she crawled in. She said, I’ll bust your balls if you try. I said, relax, I am getting so much pussy in this town; I could care less about another piece of ass. I am turning it down, not hunting for more.

I said, so other that being able to type so fast and good what else can you do well. She said, I can drink any man, under the table. I went, bad news, you can’t put me under, nobody has ever done that. I said, I have had lots of challenges and won every time. If there was an Olympic scotch drinking team, I would have 4 fookin gold medals around my neck.

She said, what’s the rules, I said, we drink whiskey, you name your brand, mine will be scotch, you can pick anything, wild turkey, blackjack, I don’t care. We get a jigger of 1.5 oz, you can slug it, sip it, drink it neat, or pour in a glass of water or any chaser you choose. You might want coke, 7 up, soda, on the rocks.

If you puke, pass out, your head touches the table or floor you lose. Or you win if either one drinks and gets 3 full drinks down and ahead of the other one. She said, let’s do it, it’s your funeral. I am gonna really enjoy kicking your dick into the dirt. It was 9pm. She tried to get 3 ahead fast and I let her, and tried to pace myself putting my scotch into a full glass of water. I would let her get 2, 2l/2 ahead and just hold back and tease her.

We closed the place and went to some shady joint that stayed up all night long and I was one behind at 6am. 9am I was one ahead, 10am 2, by 11am, 2.5 and her forehead hit the deck with a thud and it was all over. I paid the tab, left her right where she was, called a cab and went home and slept all day long, or passed out. I gave the bartender a 20 and said, call a cab for her and give this to the cab and tell the cabbie to help get her inside, get her driver’s license out of her purse to find out where she lives. Don’t try and wake her up, she is down for the count.
It was the greatest drinking performance for a woman I had ever seen, but these real Butch’s are nothing but a man, trapped in a woman’s body.

The office was told, I was in private job interviews. The next day, I told Tom, who knew how to get a hold of her, to come into my office to see me about a job.

I wanted my personal secretary to be fast and good, but to be ugly enough I would not be tempted to fook her and Butch was perfect. I fired my secretary and explained to Tom we would reorganize how things ran. He was like a Lieutenant running the enlisted men, and what we needed was a sergeant, another enlisted man, to be in charge of them, Butch, and she would report to Tom, Lt, who would report to me, Colonel.

A Bull Dyke looks like Janet Reno, Rose O'Donnell, and about a third of the womens pool tour, some of them, look like Ralph Crandon on the Honeymoomers.

The first thing I had butch do was make them all wear undies, longer shirts and gong the tight sweaters. Bare twats being flashed in the office has to stop. I said, this office looks like a hooters restaurant. When butch whipped every one into shape and got them all working, she found she could let 2 go and run the place with 5 instead of 7. Two were total dead weight. Tom was hiring them, to lure at them all day long.

Now I was getting exact Intel on everything going on there, when I was gone. She ruled the place, with an iron fist and allowed no BS. Like she said, I am hard, but I am fair.

I loved it there, all the non stop free very young and tight poosay. At that time, it was rated the #1 party town to get laid in. Go fookin gators. I learned how to dive caves as they were everywhere around there. I also learned how dangerous they were, as Ginny Springs was close by. Many died in there, and they eventually put up iron bars to keep people from going deep back in there. Experts, beginners, they all died inside this place. It scared the she-yit out of me, I would never go back in that place deep.

http://www.ginniespringsoutdoors.com/

I dove all the major caves in that region, I was aware 600 people had died in them, and then one day, diving 125' down in one, I would become lost, and almost died as well, but that is in another story. People who are cave divers, are a bunch of crazy Mf'ers. After my near death experience, I never went in one again.

I would go out to one of the local rivers, the water was cool and clear in the summer time, hop in a big innertube with a 6 pack, tie it to the tube, and drift down to my car, which I had set at a place that was 6 beers away. That was fun, and safe.

With my home base now secure, I went out on the road, to clean up and out, the bunch of drunken salesmen I had inherited. I soon realized I did not come on board a tight ship; I was the skipper of the Caine.

click the pic, to have it come alive.

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[FASTLARRY]

The High stakes dealer of Tahoe

It’s 1973 and I am living in Florida. I have a sales office in Nassau so I am now traveling there and to my other 5 offices on 5 other islands in the Caribbean. I have a Tan darker than a Mexican, I am dressing in White slacks, pink shirt, white sport coat, I am now, a tropical man, sun glasses and Cuban cigars in my pocket. I began to have a fondness for flying to a lot of Islands on Chalks because they were sea planes and I felt they were safer.

If a big jet crashes at sea, you are triple fooked. The engines are under the wing and if they do a landing at sea, lose the engines, when they touch down and slow down, The engine fills with water, then digs in, tears off the wing and the plane begins to cartwheel and breaks in half, then sinks like a rock. A sea plane has the engines on top of the wing, so if they make a dead stick landing with no power, they have a great chance of surviving and not sinking. Very soon I would be in such a crash and my theory came true.

This is what a crash at sea usually looks like, the wing tip catches a wave, then its goodbye.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob8nE4f2ZWc...player_embedded

The chalks plane is small and does not hold that many people. It was pretty informal and you end up talking with the pilots and hanging around them during the loading. I guess when they found out I flew jets, there was a connection. They would let me sit in the jump seat behind them in the cockpit. They were young about my age. They see me coming and going in and out of the Caribbean a lot so they know I am not a tourist. They invited me to play golf with them out at Doral, that course always ate my lunch, played it 25 times and never shot par, but my 75 beat their 85’s. The 3 of us began to pal around Miami and liked each other’s company. I took them out on a deep sea fishing trip out of Islamorada and we all 3 caught a sail fish. We hit a few discos together and scored with some nice chicks.

They said, any time I wanted to go to the Bahamas I no longer had to pay; I could just deadhead in the jump seat behind them. I did that on a couple of out of the way islands I had no real good excuse to go to since there was no business there, like Binimi. When I went to Nassau and Freeport I always paid, since my company was covering it for me.

Binimi was too cool. The sea plane lands in the water, taxi’s up to a cement ramp and powers up on land. You hop out, pay a local to carry your bag and you head up the street, there is only one road, the island is very narrow and there are no cars, since its only a couple miles long. There is only one nice hotel there and half way there the Island ho’s are all over you wanting to show you a good time and you try hard to ignore them. Most of them are semi coyotes. They are dirt cheap, but ugly. The hotel is lovely. Great bar, great dinks, and you never knew who would be there. I ran into Jimmy Buffett and a lot of big shots coming and going. Once Buffett became a big success, he got and flew his own seaplane so he could hit the small islands and beaches and avoid the tourists.

http://en.wikipedia....at_Angler_Hotel

Nice Marina that has some really nice boats come into port. A lot of pot was flying in there at night.
I would dive with Neal Watson, 40 years ago; the man had the most perfect body I ever saw in a man. He was so powerful it was amazing. He taught me how to do some really deep dives down to 200, 250. I was always trained to never go below 100, but with a world record holder, I was safe. Plus, I was in perfect shape also. I was now diving with a God, the best in the world. Most of the waters were shallow and the Binimi wall many thought was a part of Atlantis.

http://timescorrespondents.typepad.com/cha...ually-jumps-to-
conclusions-and-gets-the-story-wrong-this-is-unlikely-to-be-the-case-with-us.html

http://www.nealwatso...NealWatson.html

The deep sea fishing for marlin was outstanding. I soon fell in love with this little island and brought a lot of my important Florida clients over from Florida Power and Light to fish and party for the weekend.
I would walk down to this native restaurant, really a shack, and say mon, I want some turtle soup, and some turtle steak. You tink you can find one mon? Ya mon, he say, no problem, we go out and get you a turtle from the sea. You come at 8 and we have dinner ready. I said, there will be four. They came a got me when they brought the turtle in, he was huge, but I did not stick around to see the slaughter. The lobsters we ate had just come out of the ocean, this was seafood heaven. I loved couch, konk, and they did it so nice.

It was another world, so laid back and slow, it was hard to get used to it. I tried to make a call out from the hotel once, and for 2 hours I got a busy. The desk said, Mon, you can walk down to Chalks; there is a pay phone on the dock. I said, where is the telephone exchange. They said, a couple blocks out of the hotel, turn right. I walked up there, went in, and the single employee, this big fat Bahamian woman, had been asleep at the switchboard for the last 2 hours. I woke her up, said I wanted to make a call. Welcome to binimi.

My trips to Nassau were on business and I had customers there and a sales office. I would fly in using a commercial jet, and then have to pay to go over the bridge in a cab, and it would take an hour to get to my hotel on Paradise Island plus cost a pretty penny. Finally I got smart, fly in using the sea plane, Chalks, land right in front of the island, taxi up on the beach, and there was the hotel, right in front of you. You could hit it with a sand wedge you were so close.

My pals, the pilots showed me how they lived. Right in front of the hotel, which at the time, Howard Hughes occupied the two top floors, was two big house boats anchored and tied up to the pool, which you could jump right into. You walked off the plane and were into the house boat in 2 minutes. The first boat was for the commercial airline, the 2nd boat right next to it was for Chalks.

There were several bunks, mostly they used it to change clothes, rest up for a couple hours before flying back to Miami, or some times to party and screw around. Some would lie over for the night just to get drunk and screw. The stews could bounce back and forth between both of the house boats. Getting laid there, was an automatic. There was no way, you could not.

Then they walked me down the dirt road a short way and we walked into Club med.

Back then, they pulled a lot of young chicks in from Montreal, Paris, Germany, it was known as a party place to go fook your self silly. When aids came along, it killed that off big time and they did a big down sizing. Sport fookin on vacation suddenly went out of style. Now for the first time, you went out and fooked around like I used to do, and now you died. Welcome to your current all fooked up world.

http://www.clubmed.us/cm/resorts-the-carib...COLC-ac-vh.html

They said, we will set you up with the manager; she comes up all the time to party with us. We just walk in, get this string of brown beads around our neck, they buy them to pay for food and booze, we get them free, so when you want a drink, you un pop a bead and give it to the bartender. When you run out of beads, go back and ask for more, from her.
Holy Christ, I am now in fook heaven. Chicks come to club med to see how many times they can get laid in a week. They are all young foxes. I have the deal of a lifetime, a dream come true, and it’s all free.
I watched Sean Connery run around Nassau and I always dreamed of doing it. Hell, I am running the same ground, and getting a lot more top pussy than he did and living a much bigger life. The fact I would be outdoing 007, just blew my fookin mind. I was on a roll.

These were very exciting times, the Bahamas has just became a new country and got its independence from England and the drug cartels had moved in and were bringing in dope to all the islands. They were all littered back them with old DC-3’s that missed the landing and crashed at sea. They would steal small planes, load them with pot, crash them in shallow water and unload them by boats.

Hughes was on the top floor of his new hotel in Paradise Island, so he just bought Chalks airways which was why the house boats were tied up to his hotel.

I went into the disco bar, it was getting later in the evening and it was crowded. Everyone there was young and beautiful but everyone seemed to be coupled up. Then she snuggles up to me at the bar, bats those eyes with the long eyelashes and said, hey. I said, hey you too. 30, pretty face, about 8.0, long brown hair, wearing a nice summer dress. I would later find out this broad had the most perfect fookin legs of any chick on earth. Great big ass natural tits, and curves. Nice and slim. Body, 10.0.

I said, what is a gorgeous dame like you, being alone in a place like this. She said, I fooked them all to death, just got back from the funeral. I said, I always wanted to die like that. With this big ass smile on my face. She said, at your service. We danced for an hour, remember I am the disco dance king, she was just Ok, and obviously she did not dance much. I said, if you dance like you fook, I am really in trouble. She said, I know, I can’t dance worth a she-yit, but I can fook like a mink.

She led me to her room, which was like a fookin clothes closet. I said, where is the rest of the place. She said, the concept is this place has so much to do, it’s like a cruise ship, you never spend any time in your room, just to sleep. So you don’t get much more of a room than on a cruise ship. I screwed her, she faked an orgasm, and she was not real good at the fake. I was kind of turned off by that, so she got no seconds and I went to sleep.

The next night I took her out to the fabulous restaurant at Howard’s hotel. The Cafe Martinique seen of course in the Bond movie, and of course, ordered a bottle of Dom, sorry, it was not 53. We danced at the hotel and went back to my house boat, which by then was empty and we had the run of it and more space. She faked another orgasm. I am going what in the hell is going on. I just gave her this fantasy date, at the top place on earth, and she can’t get off. That was one of the very sad things about the lady, nobody had ever gotten her off, and she could not get off. It took me a while to realize, it was not me, and it was her problem. It kind of took a lot of the pressure off, I did not have to pork her for 30 minutes, I could get off in 5, and she was just about as happy with that as I was.

I later found out that the most gorgeous broad on the planet, had the same problem, Marilyn Monroe, she never once got off either. Yes, both of them, were mentally fooked up, but who cared that was fookin them at the time. My chick, had a body, better than Monroe. I figured, if she had not gotten to the bottom of this by age 30, she was not going to so I let it ride and left her sexual dysfunction alone. She let me fook her, any time I wanted to, she had a great body, I had no problem with it, I had a great time. Too bad, she didn’t, but that was not my problem. I really did not give a flyin fook, she did not get off.

Every perfect thing is given a flaw by a painter or artist. Nothing should be perfect, that is not normal or natural. Trying to seek the perfect woman is an illusion. She does not exist. There is no such thing, as a 10. When you meet them, they are 10’s, they open their mouths and drop to 9’s, when you go to bed, they drop to 8’s, when you meet their parents, they drop to 7’s. When they want to get married, and change you, they drop to 6’s.
That restaurant is now gone, and so is the original hotel, which was made into and swallowed up by this mega monster which built on both sides of it into a Vegas style place.

http://www.atlantis....mmodations.aspx

Her story was, she was the high stakes dealer at Harrah’s at state line. Back then, the IRS was not counting or taxing their tips and these dealers were making a lot of dough. She had it to spend. Every 90 days, she would take an R&R and I&I vacation into the Caribbean, or out to Hawaii. Military lingo, R&R, rest and recreation, I&I, intoxication and intercourse. A military leave, is to get drunk and to try and fook yo self to death.

I said, I play world class pool, if there was a pool hall here, I would take you there, and show you how good I am, win a couple of dimes, and let you sleep on silk sheets tonight. All I would make, I would spend back on you, to show you the dream trip of a lifetime. She said, I am that good, I am the best. I said, there is a casino inside, let’s go see.

She said, look, I am on vacation, that is what I do for a living; I don’t come here, to gamble in casinos. I said, this I understand, play just long enough, to buy us dinner tomorrow night, a bottle of dom, and the silk sheets. She went in and totaled that poor Sob dealer at blackjack. He never knew what hit him. She had her nut in less than an hour, and we walked out. I said, damn that was good. She went out the next day and bought a set of silk sheets for me, and every time she flew in to see me, she brought them with her, and I would have the Dom on ice.

Our deal then became, she would only gamble, until she made enough, to finance the ultimate date, and every dime had to be spent on that pursuit of total luxury. And she would only gamble for one hour, and she would never let me finance her, she would only play on her money, which I really respected. That was one stand up broad, they don't make em like that any more.

After our lovely 2 days there, I had to leave, but when she found out I had 5 offices in the Caribbean and could go anywhere there, at will, she said, how about I come back to see you, every 90 days, and we do a different islands each time. I am so tired of Hawaii. Where do we go next, I said, Jamaica mon, you will love, Ocho Rios and Duns River falls.

We met, every 90 days, 40 times, for a decade. We went, to all the top islands and most romantic spots on earth. She had a lot of money to spend, so did I, and we had a fookin ball. I always picked places that had a casino, so she could make the nut, and now and then, she hit some shit head cheating, dealing seconds, the casinos out of the USA, and especially on some cruise ships, are crooked as a 3 dollar bill, I would say, fook it, we have the money, don’t worry about it, the game is fixed, fook em, lets walk.

I flew out to her place many times when later on I moved out of Florida and was working for a company out of Dego and later out of Silicon Valley. I would fly out to California, and switch and change tickets at the last minute, and lay over in Reno and she would pick me up and drive me up to her very nice home right above Lake Tahoe. When the God father moved out of White Plaines, NY, that is where he moved. It is one of the most beautiful places on earth.

When I would be in Silicon valley at HQ, she would drive in to be with me on the way back, we would spend the night at the Fairmont hotel, then spend a couple of days in Yosemite. She was very hard to get away from. She had this really nice and fast Porsch car and she would let me drive it.

One time we were coming out of Yosemite and it was getting dark and I came flying over this hill at high speed and right in front of me is a herd of deep, about 7 of them, standing all over the road, I locked it down, slid the car sideways, went right through all of them backwards at 80 mph, the car came back around and I am going again straight and I came to a stop, sweating like a pig, saying how did I not touch one of them, that was a miracle. She said, where did you learn to drive like that. I said, Nebraska on ice every day for 4 months.

http://www.fairmont.com/sanfrancisco/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yosemite

When we would get home from the Casino at Tahoe. She wanted total silence, no TV, radio, music, being around that constant noisy din all day long made you long to have silence. She made me see the beauty of that. I now go on the road for months, and never turn on the radio in my car, or drop a CD. Once you get into pure silence, it becomes addictive.

When I would go over to the Casino, I could not go near her table or gamble with her. My first time there, I got up $500, she walked by and said, nice going, then I lost it, and the thou I had on me. I had to ask her for 10 to get my car out of the parking lot. She was so pissed, saying you chump, you are broke, you don't have one thin fookin dime, you gambling pos degenerate, you lost everything. I said, I have Platinum AX card? She took me under her wing and taught me everything that goes on in that place. I had private lessons from the top pro. I never, busted out ever again.

I loved to ski, so I went out to her place to get on the slopes, in more ways than one, day and night.
She loved to deal Roulette and taught me how to win at it. But, she was their high stakes blackjack dealer, when a whale came in and went big money, she dealt. They did not mind a lucky winner now and then, but if some guy got drunk and abusive, blew smoke in the dealers face and called her a cunt, they brought her in, and she gutted the guy. She was their pit bull. Every Casino has one, just like her.

I watched her do it many times. That was where and how she got off. She loved, stickin it to some guy at the table. She must have had some kind of fooked up childhood, and her first marriage was some kind of disaster and she would never talk much about it. She never remarried, or even wanted to. I think she hated men, knew it, and used me for therapy trying hard to learn to love them, and she never got there. She was a sportin lady, I was a sportin man, in my former life as Doc Holliday I had big nosed Kate, in my current life, I had her. She was one hell of a broad. I said, with fookin legs like that, you deserve a fookin marble statue in front of Harrahs. She said, it's been discussed.

The Irs taked her tips, and her big income tanked. In time, she just burned out and life in that fast lane took its toll on her, she just could not do the casino thing, any more. When she turned 40, this gorgeous doll, went over the hill big time, her looks went, and so did that 10.0 body. I had several dolls I dated for years, and they all did the same thing, turned 40, and they fell off a cliff. 30, they are a doll, 40, nobody gives them a 2nd look. Age is a cruel mother fooker.

She moved down to Dego, I saw her a few times, and then we just, drifted away.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chalk's_I...tional_Airlines

http://www.nassauparadiseisland.com/nassau...-island-videos/

http://www.harrahslaketahoe.com/casinos/ha...erty-home.shtml

http://en.wikipedia....wiki/Lake_Tahoe

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[FASTLARRY]

THE PAR 5 AT SWOPE PARK NUMBER ONE

There were 2 courses at Swope Park, #1, very hilly, very tough to play. #2 was fairly flat, much shorter and easier to play and the beginners went there. #1 had a lot of very good black players. Back then, it was the only course in town they would let them play on. Because it had no underground watering system and no way to water the greens, in the summer they became rock hard. If you hit a couple of them that were in the sun all day, you just bounced off the back. You had to come up short and run up like in Scotland.

They say, if you remember the 60's, you were not there. BS, I was there, and I remember everything.

#4 stayed fairly soft because the big trees behind it protected it from the Sun. It was not a long par 5, just a narrow bitch of a hole with heavy forest on both sides. When I was short the hole played easy because I was not long enough to get into trouble. I would drive it about 230 which had a big wide landing area, then is sloped off down a very steep hill into a very small flat narrow place, then it went uphill very steep again, into a narrow green which was never meant to hold a long iron coming in.
I would hit my 3 wood over the ravine and it would hit the upslope coming in and stop. I would have a ¾ wedge in so I pared the hole a lot and now and then got lucky with a bird. Life was simple and sweet. I could not come close to reaching it in two, so I did not try to. It was in the 60’s and I was a 90’s player, short, no power and had never had an eagle because I could not reach any par 5’s in two.
I drive 230, and pull out my 925 McGregor wood, I have 260 to the green, so I just take my usual smooth swing and figure to leave it 60 short and it explodes off the club head. It took off like a frozen rope rocket. My jaw dropped, and it hit just in front of the green which took the heat off of it, it rolled up and went into the hole for a double eagle. I dropped to my knees in wonder and amazement. I was playing by myself and nobody was there to witness it. When I told the people in the club house what I had done, they went, yeah yeah, knuck knuck knuck.

An albatross, the rarest shot in golf. And, that would be my only one, I would never do it again and I tried for 50 years. Ok, now and then a blind squirrel finds a nut. Hitting my first perfect shot, pro shot, woke me up. I did not hit another one the rest of the round but I knew I had the power and all I had to do was figure out where that shot came from. I still shot in the low 90's that day. It would take me a month to find it. It was all about hitting the ball pure, dead on the sweet spot, and 120 mph club head speed. I learned to use my legs more, and to roll over the hands at impact. This lead to me shooting my first score in the 60’s 4 weeks later. From the 90’s, to the 60’s, without ever shooting in the 80’s or 70’s first. I don’t know anyone who has ever done that.

The story is up top pinned called: A golf story of FAST LARRY GUNINGER

Once I got long then the hole began to eat me up. Where it was always a sure 5, I began taking 6 and 7’s. I would drive it over the hill and get that big kick to run down the slope down into the bottom of the ravine. But that area was so narrow there, the ground was always being washed out, your ball could hit a rock and go anywhere. I would usually be in the woods with no shot. If I had a shot, it would be a 3 or 4 iron, so uphill you could not even see the pin from down in that hole and many times I would hit the green and bounce off the back into the trees, or go OB into the parking lot, which the green was very close to.

Part of my golf education was learning to take what the hole gave you and do not challenge a hole when the risk is too high. I went back to my old way I played the hole but now went off with a 1 iron into the big flat landing area. 1 iron again, leaves ¾ wedge in. The pars returned. Winning golf, is hitting fairways and greens.

As a teenager I had a really nice 58 Chevy with a nice big back seat which at the time I was trying very hard to wear out. Having a low paying job at the grocery store did not give me an income to rent motels. Now and then, me and my pal, would split the cost of a room with 2 beds at the sleaze bag motel and take a couple of ho’s in there to bang. You would turn out all the lights and then listen to the other two moaning and groaning like a wilder beast giving birth.

Or, you went to the drive in movie on 63rd, parked on the back row, fogged up the windows and porked the bitch in the back seat. You never saw the movie, ever. It was always something awful anyway. But that cost money. I had this sexy redhead that really did not care where I took her, as long as she got the high hard one.

So I tried the lover’s lanes and the problem there is some bull comes up with a flashlight, they just wanted to see you screwing, the dirty old men. I did not find these places to be safe, especially during the summer when you had to have your windows down.

Back then the Swope Park zoo was wide open, no admission, no fences, you just walked in. Right next to the zoo was a drive way that made a 90 degree turn into several buildings where they stored their equipment. At night, I would drive in there, park, and nobody knew I was there. Not once did any one come up on me and if they did I would see their lights come around the bend. The perfect spot, nobody would think of, fookin in da zoo. I could hear the seals barking and the lions roar. At night, there was nobody there. I called it, Larry’s Lane. I used it in the winter when it was cold, or when it was raining in the summer. After I would get off, I would let out a Tarzan yodel, just to fook with the Lions, I wanted them to know, who was king of the beasts.

There were a lot of ho’s that you did not take out in public to nice places where all your pals hung out because everyone knew they put out to anyone. Bad girls with bad reputations. Those, I took directly to Larry’s Lane, popped open a pint of cheap booze, got them drunk fast and porked them good. then you took them straight back home. You put a helmet on your Willie because you did not want to pick up anything nasty or let them pull some I am knocked up she-yit you have to marry me crap. Most of them just wanted a hubbie so they could sit on their asses, pop out a couple of brats, get fat and have you feed and support them. My attitude was if I am getting the milk for free, why buy the cow?

Then I discovered the best way to screw in the summer time. #4 green at Swope Park number one golf course. I took the little red head up there the most. You parked your car, got a big thick blanket out of the trunk, a 6 pack of Coors, pack of lsmft’s and walked down and laid out the blanket right in the middle of the green. It was a party under the stars. You were not cramped up in the back seat. You could now move around like a couple of Roo’s in heat mate. Drink a little suds, pound away, fall back and smoke that Lucky. Life was so simple back then.

Nobody ever came up there at night and if they did you could hear and see them coming up the hill a mile away. Even if they got out of their car, they could not see you out on the golf course. I was totally safe, totally happy screwing on the golf green which was soft and like a bed.
I played the course the next day and when we went off of #4, I said this is twice in one day; I have put it in the hole on this green and got off both times. They would just look at me funny?

http://www.youtube.c...h?v=9wFpvRMIIEM

If you are a real parrot head, which I am, this is our national anthem.

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[FASTLARRY]

The witch from Satan’s in Topeka on the way to Prairie Dunes.

I am on my monthly trip out to Hutchinson, Kansas to play golf. A sea side links course, In Kansas. There used to be a sea there. One of the top 10 best courses in the world, in the middle of Kansas, and nobody knows about it. They would never consider having a US Open there, because they could not deal with the people. No place to put them up. The course was not even long, but it always ate my lunch. Finally I asked Jug how to play it. He said, I set the course record there, by leaving my driver in the trunk. He said if you don’t hit those fairways, you are in rough and weeds up to your waist.

The only sales were in Eastern Kansas and I was based in KCMO at the time. I would go to Topeka, where my main office was, I worked out of my home, but in Topeka all my sales backup and order processing took place there. The warehouse was huge, over 1 million square feet, where they made the product and stocked it. From there I hit Wichita and came home. Once a month I would divert out of my way and hit Hutchinson.

To play, Prairie dunes CC. The best kept golf secret in the world. I compared it to Cypress Point.

http://www.golflink....x?course=416845

I always stopped first in Topeka, and stayed at the Holiday Inn in Topeka because it had the lounge with the band and all the action. Their two main songs were Geramira was a bull frog and Proud Mary. The music may have sucked, but the local chicks did as well. Every night there would be 10 to 15 in there looking to pick up some out of town salesman who would show them a good time. I was in that lounge once a month for 4 years, and got laid every time in it. It was amazing, just like the Holiday inn lounge in Wichita.

So I could walk in knowing I am getting laid, it’s like walking down the candy isle of the 7-11, slowly taking your time, to pick off the shelf what candy you want. That was the way it was there. Right off, I see this broad who had a body beyond belief. Way out of place in this joint, definitely not one of the locals. I have seen all the locals naked. So I ignore her. I walk right up to her table, she thinks I am going to ask her to dance, and I ask the dog sitting next to her. I do that about 4 or 5 times, all around her.

Finally after with messing with her, teasing her, I ask her to dance, and when I get her in my arms I know I have dynamite on my hands. After the 3rd dance, she asks me if I have a room there, I said yes, she said, show me, and I did.

The face was a 7.0 in the morning light, but with her make up on, a 9 at night.
I have taken a few stippers to bed that looked like movie stars and you wake up the next morning and look at them in the daylight and go, yo.
She knew how to put on the makeup and put on a real show. She had the greatest body I ever saw. It was stunning. No fake tits, she put Jane Russell to shame. I did that chick 6 times that night. She drank up all my scotch and I had a lot with me.

It’s finally 8am, I am worn out, I have nothing left, and she wants a drink and we are out of ice. She goes out the door, stark naked, walks down the aisle with my ice bucket, I look out the door and there are a couple of salesmen coming out their doors with their suitcases and this naked chick comes walking by with an ice bucket. They just froze in place to stare. In Topeka, this is a bit unusual to say the least.

She returns with the ice and kills off the last of my scotch. Once we began to talk, it turns out she was a stripper for some bar called Satan’s in Tulsa. That was why she was not shy about walking the aisle naked. The power that woman had over me sexually, what she drove me to do, convinced me she had to be a witch, no normal woman could do what she did to me. I made sure she did not get ahold of any thing of mine, like clothing.

Tulsa at that time was out of my territory, but not far enough away, I could not have slid down there and not been missed. The broad scared the hell out of me, I never saw her again. I checked out, went out to play golf at Prairie dunes, shot my usual 79, and did not have a clue why? I always blamed it on the friggen wind, and the 3’ tall weeds, the narrow fookin fairways. The bitch wore me out. I left my driver in the trunk and only used my 3 wood. Fook you Jug and only using a 1 iron, that’s BS. I’ll think about that, next time in. My God Damn Holiday Inn room has more square feet than those fookin fairways. This place belongs in Scotland, so it can’t punish me anymore laddie.

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[FASTLARRY]

I can’t break 100 at golf. A trip to the Doctor at Auburn.

I can’t break 100. The highest score I ever shot in a tournament was 125, when at the time I was a scratch player. It was a two day tourney and I only played one day, and after the 125, I dqed. I played the course 2 weeks before our event and shot 74.

I had just sold a company record order, $40,000,000, enough material to keep the Bay Minette, Alabama plant busy making it for months. I had been selling 12 million a year, so this was a huge order.

http://en.wikipedia....inette,_Alabama

We mined the ore in Jamaica, our plant was shown in one of the James Bond movies. There it shipped to New Orleans, where we converted the ore into metals. The plant was so large, and so hot, we took customers through it in greyhound buses. We used more electricity in a day than the entire city of New Orleans did, so this was a very big, billion dollar operation.

The order was a train, 185 boxcars of 80,000 lbs each, I sold to TVA. I used to call myself, carload Larry, because I never like to write an order, less than a truck load, but this was my first, and only train load order I sold. This was the reason was I got sick of making big sales for other people, getting patted on the back and tossed some little bone of a bonus. I went into business for myself, started my own company, so when I sold the next million dollar order, it all went to me.

The company was due to have a national sales meeting and since I was the hero of the moment, they gave me the chance to do the research on where to have it and to submit the location for review by HQ in San Francisco.

I wanted to have it in my territory and I found out the readers convention was coming to New Orleans and when I explained it, approval was given.

There are a lot of readers meetings and conventions. Some are mostly librarians, some are romance novel readers. All are women, all come together for a few days every year to get out of town, share their interests in reading, and then get dead drunk and get laid. Librarians have this straight life where they have to be so prim, proper and perfect. Get them in New Orleans, or Vegas for a weekend, and they become sexual animals. They go wild. They put spring break and the college video girls gone wild to shame.

So I book the guys into the Royal Sonesta and we have most of the hotel occupied.

http://www.sonesta.c...OYALNEWORLEANS/

They decided to reward me and I had this very large room, on the 2nd floor they set up to entertain in. It was filled full of booze, food, the works, and next to it was my room. So I had this giant room with a balcony to stand out on and view Bourbon street, open a door, a 2nd room full of booze and food, and if the noise got too much, I had this spiral staircase where I could walk up to the 3rd floor to another bedroom and have quiet, or open the doors, walk right out into a pool. It was a room set up, fit for a king. It cost a small fortune also. But this was part of my reward for landing that giant order. 2 private rooms for me, plus the entertainment room which was only used at night. 3 rooms in the top hotel in the Vieux Carrie. Any one who walked into this, was very big time impressed.

Our convention was pretty simple, that morning they fly in; tour the plant that thousands worked at, that evening, reception, food and drinks in the party room.

The next day a late breakfast meeting where the brass gave a few BS speeches, then it was off to the golf course for the two day tourney. Next day, breakfast meet, golf, reception in the party room. I of course picked the course the pro tour played on.

When all the guys got in the reception room the first night they saw my genius at work. We had open balconies over looking Bourbon Street and at best during the week there might have been a couple hundred guys out there. There were thousands of females walking the street looking for entertainment who were in town for the reader’s convention.

It was 10 women, for every man, and don’t think the women did not know it. My guys would be standing on the balcony literally doing a slave auction, hey you 2 chicks, want to come up to our suite, all the food and booze you can drink, turn around, let’s see what you look like, show me a little tittie. The drunker they got, the bolder they got, and the drunker the chicks on the street got, the later it got, the more they could see they were not going to get laid, the more the slave auction worked. When they could find 2 they liked, they would toss down the key and up they would come.

Show me yo tits, bitch?

I was told it was the best convention of all time, because every guy got laid, even the old ugly ones and the nerds did. These chicks became desperate. 2 chicks come up, 2 guys hustle them and take off, and soon the room was getting thinned out.

In 1974 I was getting so much poo say, I could care less at that time. I had all ready assessed the situation and knew it was all going to just come to you. This was one that was known in the sales game, as a given, a lay down. A slam dunk. You did not chase. You there, were not the chase or, you were the chase E. I had decided to pace myself, but that plan did not work.

A key goes out the window and one of the guys says, wait till you see the chick coming up in the white dress, she is a movie star. She walks in with her bow wow dog librarian pal and the guy was right. She was drop dead gorgeous. Long black hair, a pair of hooters that should have been carved in marble in a statue to be seen for centuries and they were the real deal. Tight fit white dress, just the right amount of cleavage, hotter than a red chili pepper. A perfect 11.0 body, a 10.0 face, a movie star.

Naturally all the guys flocked to her, so I just laid back, did some eye contact stuff, then I made my move, I walk up, said do you like my place, she said, is this yours, I said sure, and these are my guys, let me show you the rest of it, I open the door, take her into my next door room, shut the door behind me, and those bozos out, then up the spiral stair case into my 2nd upstairs bedroom, open the doors into my pool, and I said, we could to a midnight swim, don’t worry about not having a bathing suit, I did not bring mine either, then I took her back to the party.

Ok, it was a lot of BS, but when you are trying to lay and pork some bitch, anything goes in love and war. They expect a certain amount of BS and know it goes with the program. My normal room out on the road was a double bed at the Holiday Inn. This room, was for a whale, it was a once in a lifetime deal, and I made the most of it. No way was I going to be sleeping alone in that palace.

I think what cinched it was all these other guys trying to hit on her were from all over the country. She was from Alabama, so was I. She lived in Auburn; I lived in Birmingham, 2 hours away. She was not looking for a one night stand; she was looking for a long term relationship. When I impressed that on her, she ignored the other guys, that were better looking than me, and I had taken out my superior competition by outsmarting them and using better salesmanship. Seducing females is nothing but salesmanship and knowing when and how to close.

An hour later, after a few drinks, we were swimming in the pool, and then we were in bed. I have had over 1,000 beautiful women, I stopped counting after 1,000, that I rated 9’s and above, no coyotes are counted, which deletes several hundred that never got on the list, and the movie stars are from all over the world, but this lady, had the most perfect and beautiful body of them all.

I did the wild thing all night long, lost count of how many times, but it had to be a world record as I was in nonstop action for 9 hours. The next thing I know, the damn alarm goes off at 9am, I hop up with zero sleep, get dressed, hit the breakfast meeting, then go out to play golf in the summer heat and humidity and its 95 by tee off. I am still drunk from the night before. I am invincible, bullet proff, a bad ass Mf, I can do this.
The summer heat and humidity in that region is brutal.

I go birdie, par, then all the booze begins to vent out of my pours, the heat begins to sober me up and I begin to get sick, and I go double, triple, quad, and downhill from there.
Try and remember the movie Cat Ballou when Kid Schillen has his 5 minute moment of brilliance and then the booze kicked in and he was done. That was a perfect repeat of what I did.
Once the heat got me, stick a fork in my ass. I would get up, hit it as far as I could, by then my driver was going about 180 yrds, jump back in the cart and slept until the next shot. The round took over 5 l/2 hours because most of those dickheads could not play worth a she-yit and they were as fooked up as I was.

Finally the torture ended and I begged them to take me to the hospital and put me in the intensive care ward and hook me up to some Iv’s and Oxygen and begin a blood transfusion or just shoot me. I said I preferred to be shot. The dickheads took me back to my room and gave me a double scotch instead. I could not convince them I was near fookin death. I think they wanted my ass to die, anyone who shot scratch and just closed a 40 million dollar order; you want to get rid of. I said, I am DQ, put me in as being sick, if you make me play tomorrow, I will shoot myself. You don’t want me to die on the course; it will be bad press in the newspapers. They let me off.

The phone is ringing, it’s her, yes dinner, sounds great, come by and have a drink, where we are eating, is very close by. We go by Felix’s and have some raw oysters, I eat 3 dozen, said I needed them bad, lead in the pencil, then to moran's, just for the fettuccine only, then we do not stand in line like the tourists at the top restaurant I picked, I show her how to go in the side door unmarked, into the kitchen, snap your finger for the penguin, and get a table. If they know you, and they all knew me as a local, which was how you did it. We were seated immediately at a top table. We end up on the river eating cafe' au lait, beignets at Cafe Du Monde. Back to my place for some heated cognac.

When it came to showing a lady, the ultimate date, that I was good at, and with my room which was a whale’s palace, and unlimited expense account, she was treated like the queen she was.
One of the things that never added up was here is this movie star with these librarians who were mostly just average looking ladies. Many were below average. Most of them were nerds, she was not.

Two weeks later I make the call, and show up in Auburn. She is married, has 2 kids, great looking kids, she is mid 30’s, looks mid 20’s, and she is in Auburn to complete her doctorate, there was the readers connection. She was living in a University community with all these librarians she was hanging out with. I never ever saw a mid 30’s lady look that good. She worked out a lot in a gym.
Her main hobbies were the same as mine, she liked to fook like a bunny and drink. She was a Martini drinker, kept her gin in the freezer. I knew how to make them dry, take the vermouth bottle and breathe over the top into the glass, saying, I don’t wanna bruise da booze. She liked to get drunk, and to get laid.

She was basically lonely, her husband was an astronaut, had been on the moon a couple of years before I met her, and she had spent all those years at Edwards, the Cape and at other bases being isolated and left alone, she finally decided to establish her own independent life from the flyboy’s world. Since he was never around to keep her happy, I felt it was my patriotic duty, to help out. Kinda made up for me not going to Nam and having the first confirmed kill of a little brown slope in my hood or getting to napalm a village and wipe out all those dinks. Hoo Rah.

I never had so much fun and never knew a more complete, a more beautiful and a sexier woman. She was dead perfect in everything, but she had this one little hang-up which really bugged me. She dropped this one on me once we got out of New Orleans and she got back home. Once you got in, she wanted you to just lie there, and not move. I am going not move, hell I am usually stroking to the left, strokin to the right, stroking to da east, da west, no stroking, nada????????????

What dee she-yit is this? Missionary style and no movement. Damn son, this is fookin Mid evil. I am used to a bunch of funky she-yit being dropped on me but this one was unique. With most chicks the more strokin you do, he happier they are.

She was not shy, and did not want to do it in the dark like some up tight virgins I did, wanted. I would come over, and after a couple of drinks, she would go in and change into a bikini, and then come out to show me. She had this bear skin rug, and we would be on it. That bikini would come off faster than a speeding ticket. She did not want me to waste a lot of time I guess to unbutton and untie, fight trying to get a bra off. I loved that.

You would think you would lose it. Naw, all you had to do was raise up and view what you were on, there was no losing it. But that one drove me nuts. I learned to live with it. Image you just got lucky, Kim Bassinger has you in her bedroom, you are in, and she says, you can’t move, just lay there. Okie dokie. Anything you say Kim. Life is never perfect, you must learn to compromise and accept things that are not in your control.

This went on for 2 full years. I called her the Doctor. I would say, I have to go visit the doctor, and everyone including my boss, knew. When he saw my expense accounts in Auburn he knew, and passed them on. The dirty old man, made me give him a full report of what went on there.

She graduated, got her doctorate, and they went back out to Edwards. I moved to Atlanta, and got a much bigger job, working for a new company out of NYC. I never tried to see her again. It had gotten much too serious. It was at the point, she was ready to leave hers, if I would leave mine, and I was the one, who would not do it. Looking back, that was the biggest mistake of my life, because the bitch I was married to would betray me in a few years to come any way. But one cannot see into the future, and know where your life goes.

This I do know, never stay married, for the sake of the kids. Fook the kids, they will survive, find your own happiness. Always follow your gut, your base instinct, go with what you know, what you feel is right, and what you want to do. The rest will all sort out in time.

Here is a pic of the dickheads that would not take me to the emergency room.

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