Sick.

My apologies for the lack of updates, dear readers, but I fear that my body has finally fallen victim to the crud. After what feels like months of running on overdrive, my immune system can no longer ward off the invading illness. Now I’d much rather tell you stories about degrading a pretty girl in a cheap motel room or spending an amazing day with Dancer doing something “Top Secret” together, but rather all I can think about right now is the constriction in my throat and the overwhelming desire to just lay in bed in a stupor.

I must, however, say a few thank you to some folks,

Milan: I never thought that cheap hotel walls were so thin and that NASCAR racing on TV would be so effective at masking the sounds of someone getting caned?

Silk: Bless you for taking yet another weekend off and waving the flag at Pacific Friction. In my book you are THE “kung-fu fighting, race car driving, super model”

Galahad: Nobody can dance the dance of steel like you and I. Thanks for pushing this “old man” so hard.

Dancer: Yes, and I you. A thousand times over, so do I.

Tambo: I am so proud of you. Hearing the thrill in your voice as you told me about your weekend with the crush… what joy that brought me. Yes it can be a bit scary, but you are far too brave and beautiful to let that stop you.

And with that I must now dose up on Nyquil and try to mount a counter offence. Far too many kinky people are waiting for rope for me to take time off for this thing.