“I hereby give myself over to chronic masturba-
tion,” I announced to myself. My words were chopped
up in the ceiling fan and then fell dead in the silent
flat. Traveling alone to Cairns, Australia was excit-
ing in one way. I mean there is the barrier reef and
islands and topless beaches. But in other ways, such
as at nine at night and being in a place where there
were strict blue laws, well it was not so exciting.
But laying in bed and lubing my prick with baby oil
was giving me very little satisfaction. I felt rest-
less. I had to move.
That is why I ended up cruising the bars. One
was sort of fun. I danced with some women but nothing
seemed to spark and the music and noise became too
much to bear. Finally I stumbled on the sidewalk of a
storefront (oh yeah, I guess I drank a few blue tinnies
also) in which the window was blackened out.
It was about a block from the docks where the reef
boats departed and it looked deserted. There was an
“ADULTS ONLY” sign on the painted black glass. I
decided to give it a shot.
The inside was much cleaner and brighter than the
outside would have suggested. The walls were covered
with racks which contained soft porn magazines. Dir-
ectly in front of me was a glass case which contained
various dildos and fake vaginas (one that even
pulsated!). To the right was a curtained entrance way
which had a handwritten sign over top: FIVE DOLLARS –