My keeper (he’s been bankrolling my box) sent me alone on a weekend break from my paid vacation to LA. I spent it in San Diego because I like their beaches better than LA’s. Also, since I live in NY, I can’t afford to go to the Hamptons because sand and surf is for rich trust-fund fuckers and the cunts that spit them out, so San Diego was like a 48 hour beach-gasm.

I blacked out after getting drunk in the Gaslight District. I woke up in some blonde tattooed guy’s bed (not into blondes or tattoos). This happens alot. I patted myself on the back though because what i could see of his body was slender but toned and his face was cute. As I quietly gathered my clothes, I noticed a cape, helmet, and what can only be described as super-hero accessories in the corner.

Yeah… I fucked one of the virgin-basement dwellers in town for the Comic Convention. Good news for you: I might have fucked one of you readers. Bad news for you: by the time you get home, your mom will have turned your basement pad into a sewing room and moved your cum-stained mattress into the garage. You won’t care because you have a bunch of new shiny whatever-Man comics to read in between jacking off to these topless pictures of Amy Alexandra from UK Big Brother 8. Just don’t get your man-milk all over your new merchandise because it will decrease its value. No ebay buyer will want to pay $300 for your soiled comic book in 15 years.

Which ever one of you I fucked, kudos for breaking the mold: you were neither fat nor busted, rather svelt I might say. I don’t know how good you were, because I don’t remember.

Obediently yours,
Sugar Nell (ex-hooker, friend of Jesus)

EMAIL ME HERE

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