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  • All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. Tracey stopped just in front of the entrance to the bar. His hand was almost touching the door. His mouth was dry. His legs were trembling slightly. This was the closest he had ever come to actually entering The Beachfront Bar. A few months ago he first drove through the parking lot. That time he hadn’t even slowed down. It was only on his sixth time that he had actually stopped– just for a moment. Desi It was a long, slow path from the parking lot to the door of The Beachfront. Shutting off the engine.... getting out of the car.... walking up the walk toward the bar.... each new step had taken weeks, but tonight he finally stood at the entrance. The Beachfront Bar was an openly gay bar. A large billboard across the front of the bar advertized a “Drag Queen Review” in huge letters. In Indian smaller letters it announced that Thursday night was “Amateur Drag Queen Singer Night,” Friday night was “Amateur Drag Queen Imposter Night,” And Saturday was “Amateur Drag Queen Stripper Night.” Tracey knew that if he ever got up the nerve to enter any of those contests he could easily win. He had won many times before in the safety of his bedroom, singing into a pretend microphone while strutting across the floor in his high heels and garter belt. His voice was excellent, but very high pitched for a man. His body was trim, almost petite. And his ability to mimic the voice and actions of Marilyn Monroe or Lily Saint Cere were astounding. Just sit and shut up, I will deal with you noon. My eyes widened. “I think you both have great tits,” said a freshman named Samantha. The exhausted male exited the pedestal with a flick of the crop on his ass, back towards the door through which he had entered. “So, did you enjoy the show last night?” Sam looked up at Mary as she was shoveling another fork full of eggs into her mouth and chewed quickly. The tenacious female competitor got up on shaky legs and approached the penultimate challenge. My cock needed no guidance to find its goal. He looked as she handled herself perfectly in the kitchen. “Thank you, Sonja!” They need your body to reach The Divine and in return, they lift you to the euphoric heights needed for you to do the same. I looked at the clock and told my mom that I had to clean up because Kat would be here soon. Indian After every slap, Disha was smiling. Desi Especially when she glanced down and saw the size of the cock that was visible inside his shorts. "Right now I don't care.