the smell of grease

i picked Benji up from the airport and took his battered car back with him. there was bugger-all damage, so he was happy. it's good to have Benji back in town but it seems like he's gonna have a boyfriend and i know that means i probably won't see him for a while. though i might be able to coax him out with episodes of RuPauls' Drag Race (go Raja! Go Yara!)

my motorbike had been recovered. found dumped in a creek and the tough little bugger only had a broken indicator light and smashed ignition switch. as classy as it looks starting your bike with a screwdriver, i fixed it myself. the repairs were minor so i spent a sunny afternoon in the car park of the brothel fixing him up. i love working on the bike. the smell of grease gives me a hard on. that shit sticks on your hands for hours. it's great! and the smell of my own sweat bones me up too. so now i was all greasy in the sun and i could see clients drive in and park beside me. i was a little stirred up. i was smiling yet seething with frustration as hot guy after hot would park beside me and go inside to hire a tranny to fuck them. i would fuck half of them for free right over my fucking bike. i don't understand how getting fucked in the ass by a dude in a dress, make-up and wig is easier to come to grips with than getting fucked in the ass by a dude not wearing dress or make-up or a wig

alright. i'm jealous. that's it. jealous as fuck. so fucking jealous i can't remember where this post was going. damn trannyfuckers!