If I had to choose a woman's name what would it be?

Well, that is a question! Given I wouldn’t have to depart from my very own best friend ‘John’ (down there) I could actually settle with many beautiful names of the female queendom - and enjoy life as a woman with an amazing name... and with hot boys of course, lolz :D

ELIZABETH - When I was young I always loved children stories. Those amazing princes and princesses. Elizabeth would be my first choice. I’d be that petit Lillibeth prancing around the stalls looking for a stallion - Lizzie of the horsemen. This little Liz would be on it 24/7. No stone would be left unturned when I’d hop on the saddle of My Little Pony galloping away to the far-away kingdoms to meet my perfect (kinky) prince charming.

JESSICA – I do like the sound of that name. Dripping with lust, full with south-American passion, horny after hot day at beach and yarning for men. Yes, why not. Jessica sounds like fun too. With the name Jessica I could also make puma-hunters tick. I mean who doesn't just adore Jessica Lang.

ISADORA - There is something that really make me tick with the name Isadora. Isadora – like Isildur from the Lord of the Rings. Formidable and still light footed. Dancing away on a podium making gongs dong – stepping on that galvanized steel edge, twisting backwards, letting my hair curl down to hot guys laps and pressing my boobs together whilst they'd press their noses into my bust. Gosh, why not their cock actually. Yeah, Isadora sounds royal and lustful, formidable but not too heavy and stuffy to be accidentally taken as Isolda – a fat cock-hungry fart from the mid-west nearing her 60’s.

VICTORIA - What’s the way home Victoria? “That would be first via mine – a short but slow detour (just saying) – and then, well fuck, you could just buzz-off when you’ve done, okay”. Victoria sounds so snobbish and at the same time so prone to make it in the men’s world. Victoria, she’s making it. She is doing it. She doesn’t care and she loves it. Victoria jumps out of the wedding cake and wishes bride and groom happy hell as she just did both thirty minutes ago. Victoria doesn’t give a fuck – well she does give and fuck but that’s beside the point. Victoria does it – and the rest – they’ll be the audience.

CLEMENTINE - When the sun rises Clementine hops on her bicycle and starts her tour around Nice. Five star hotels first. Breakfast rooms are full with men who didn’t get it last night. Eager to accompany a lustful but serene Clementine with her Parisian accent and sharp, thin and upward pointing nose. “She has nose for business” they lament. But she knows best. Her nose in man’s crotch really is the business – for her. She, after all eats men for breakfast and chuckles – before throwing them back to the empty tables. For lunches Clementine doesn’t shy away. She dresses up, applies carmine red lipstick and prepares her nude eyes for the light touch of mascara. Her hair waving down her neck and lower back – locks of

brunette hair gently brushed behind her left ear. She is hungry for lunch. She wants meat. And she has never had a day without one. Clementine – yes, she eats. Breakfast, second breakfast, brunch, lunch, luncheon, midday, snack, supper, dinner … she does it whole day until the evening and doesn’t stop before the last order – and then she retires on it. Yes, Clementine does it whilst others are thinking about it.

AMANDA - yeah! Now we are talking. Name Amanda brings to my mind the one and only Heather Locklear in her Beverly Hills 90210 debute. She is blond, feisty, cold-as-ice and hot-as-hell, all at the same time. If Amanda doesn’t give you a hard-on then no-one does. Men of all ages. They’d be so in for a treat was my name Amanda. I could wear a bloody burkha and still get men. Heaving up my skirt, blinking my eyes, and whispering slowly and with serious contemplation; “I … want …. you … now”. Yes, I think I would work well as an Amanda 

Lastly… I really didn’t have to think too hard to be honest. The name is of course Alexandra.

ALEXANDRA - Alexandra has always been one of my favorites. My daughter will one day be called Alexandra – unless I remain Alexandra myself which would make it a bit awkward… Alexandra - It sounds quarter-Russian, quarter-Preussian, quarter-Swedish and quarter-Dutch. Alexandra could also be Alex on vacays, when I wanted to let my cock hang out a bit and I’d still wouldn’t be too far from the real deal. Alexandra would bring a tad of fluxury to any crowd – and in particular in the to the middle. She’d be the one to master it all. She could easily take one or twenty. All up there or just treat them with her trained and eager mouth. She’d finish when they’d all had their heart attacks and wills signed. She’d be the Queen. Ah, I do like to sound of Alexandra on my lips: “My name is Alexandra, Alexandra Jones – And, I bloody hell want it shaken

Gym etiquette for the gays

We all go to gym for the looks – not for the health benefits, right? I mean come on just admit it. We all want the perfect body, no ounces of fat, ripped and looking like Men’s Health cover boys. We all want to look good because the market is tough. That's of course unless you have a big fat wallet and willingness to spend. Your chances are slim if you think your fat low hanging belly is going to land you on a hot dude.

Going to the gym and following etiquette is not rocket science. Well at least so we are let to believe. I sometimes find it hard to cope with the intricacies of gym etiquette amongst other training gay guys. But most of it is just common sense.

Rule number one – even if you find someone hot act like you don’t see him. It’s the only way to get this morons attention. He is so full of himself he’d go nuts if someone doesn’t pay him attention.

Rule number two – When you see this super muscular guy training his chest for the 5^th time that week don’t mention he could spare some effort for the legs – which haven’t been trained for years. Kebab on a stick isn’t sexy but he doesn’t want to hear it.

Rule number three – You know when guys train in the gym and you are keeping your breath as any second they could break their back, neck or other body parts due to ridiculous ways of training – read; completely wrong and with too much weights. My God do not try to correct them and save them from injury. These prissy queens do everything perfectly and need no instructions or help. God forbid, you’ll get an enemy for life.

Rule number four – Cats have nine lives – you only have one. And if you love your gym don’t fuck around. You’ll still see that dumbass the next day whether you liked it or not. The worst is to make out with a super-hot guy and find he is a tinderella or a wankarella and when he opens his lustful mouth you hear Dorothy speaking: “this gold brick rd. only leads to my anus!”

Rule number five – If you really like someone – don’t bother to make out in the shower, steam, WC or sauna. It just means you are cheap and easy. And, most importantly the other guy has a bf, husband or worse – a gf! Then again if you are in for a quick wank all the before mentioned are pretty good bets. Just consider rule number four. Your are in for a treat.... lolz.

Rule number six - association. You do not want to be associated as a back-bencher. Back-benchers are those who you know have entered through the gym gates every day for the past few years and have gained no muscle mass to speak of but instead amassed themselves an ever growing belly. Back-benchers tend to enter the gym, spend way too much time dressing up in the changing rooms, wonder pointlessly in the gym floor fiddling with their phones, and after running out of batter gently flow down back down to changing rooms, shower and steam where they spend the next 1.5 hours hovering around and glancing guys with their hungry eyes. Basically – slimy, disgusting old faggots who’d be better at “Grannies’ leisure home”.

Rule number seven – Don’t think for a second that a ripped body equals healthy lifestyle. Many of the Muscle Mary’s in the gym take too much steroids or growth hormones and their muscle is just water. Also, good bunch of them dope during weekends and party 48hrs if not 72hours in row. To get a lean muscular body means rigid and diet and hard work. Most of the guys you adore have never done any and have taken the easy way. Sad part is, they don’t get it up, their body heat is fucked up and they sweat in bed like sweat sacks and in addition to muscle growth they grow bigger organs too which in the end leads to an early death. How’s that sounds for a future bf!

Rule number eight – You want your hard work to be visible. That’s fair enough. Adore yourself someplace else than gym. Nobody wants to see you training in strings or in a tank-top sized for a Chinese baby girl. It’s just gross.

Rule number nine – If you sweat like a pig use towel. No-one wants to land on your sweat pond. Firstly it's unhygienic, and secondly it stains clothes. Thirdly (and possibly) you stink,which makes you very undesirable. So yeah, use a sweat towel.

Rule number ten – your phone. Stop fiddling with it and get on with it. Wasting space by fiddling with your phone like a child is irritating and annoying. You could easily complete your gym session half the time without your phone. So do it. You are not that important you could not be un-reachable for an hour.

Rule number eleven – Take a God damn shower before using sanitary spaces. If you were raised by two pigs I’d understand but any human being knows to take a shower before steam, sauna, Jacuzzi or pool. Imagine how many others desire to sit on your germs, bacteria and sweat – or for that matter step on flooring your sweaty, dirty and bacteria-filled feet have been passing. Even children know how to behave. So should you :)