Bruce kept feeding quarter after quarter into the 8mm movie projector, and kept his eye on the glory hole to see if there was any blood sausage and chin nuts smothered in man mustard available for dinner. He hated the long waits, and the expense--these machines were damn hungry, but it was better than being thrown out for cruising...again. He sometimes wished that he wasn't such a
tube steak tarzan, but a queen's gotta do what a queen's gotta do. He sure hoped that the next sperm donor was a heavy
equipment operator with a copious load of choad, because Bruce was trying to slim down via the
liquid protein diet.