As I’m easing back into the real world in my rent- & temperature controlled downtown Vienna apartment, detoxing and feeding my juicy booty probiotics after a long week of enemas & enemies, I keep wondering: The guy who said “the best things in life are free”, has he ever been to Mykonos?
I guess he hasn’t, ’cause honey – this island is a (w)hole new chapter in the gay book of life about the rich, the famous, the instafamous and the infamous. A chapter teaching you that even water, men and beaching can be massively pricey. But honestly, also massively spicy & worth every penny, henny. It felt like a bottomless mimosa all-you-can-heat sunday brunch (ok, this island was definitely not bottomless), only with men.
Anywhere you looked you wanted to take a bite out of… a few delicious breakfast sausages here, some fruity peaches there, exquisite raw eggplants everywhere. And of course creampies with coq-au-leche for dessert. When in fact, I was surviving on dicks, sweat, cum and rum that week.
The amount of testosterone-infused muscle marys, shredded crossfitters, delicious daddies and foreskinned fathers that ravaged my sorry ass was outrageous. I think I’ve lost count after the first couple of dozen dick-donors that deeply dedicated their dong to me.
Picture this: yours truly, Bitchy Basti, motorized with a cute little ATV, cruising from predrinks at Jackie O’s to one of the flabbergaysting XLSIOR main events, only to end up in various hoe-tel rooms all over the highland. Serving piss-treaties and just like Nokia back then – cumnecting people from all parts of Mykonos by being the cocktailshaker to their juices. The cuties that escaped my tight grip during the night, I milked during the day, while their boyfriend was asleep or they finally were in heat. When I was done with my charity (providing refuge to all the lost seamen within a radius of 10 kilometers), I recharged and started anew the next whorening.
What most gays won’t talk about is the crazy amounts of pussy and plastic that’s roaming the streets of Greece! Seriously, you clit-erally can’t take 5 steps without petting a purring kitten or seeing another twink filled with silicone from top to bottom (no pun intended). Furthermore, there’s a few things that were included freely in the Mischievous Mykonos Madness package:
Chlamydia, Syphilis and a one-way ticket to the monastery!
Yes, my dear followers, after my 3-day-antibiotic-treatment at the free clinic (this must be the 100th shot that goes into my ass this month), I need some time to collect my thoughts. Ask our dear Goddess Rupaul for forgiveness, repent my sins, pray the hoesary and descreetly suck off a few hung monks. You know, there’s a time and place for everything, but trust and believe: when your prolapse is almost hitting the floor, it’s time for a break!
So long, suckers! And don’t forget:
Always go for the gossip!