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Always read the fine print

So as I embark on a futile search for a nice hotel room right in South Beach for Saturday night for a blogger meet-up, I’m reminded of my one-year wedding anniversary.

We were living in Los Angeles and had been there for about 18 months. We decided that rather than go out of town – something that our schedule didn’t really allow for – we would find somewhere fun around LA to go for the weekend.

But where? Should we stay in a classic Hollywood hotel, run-down but still filled with the past? A cabin in the mountains where the smog was just a smudge on the horizon? A chic beachside resort where everything is modern and chrome and the bathrooms are unisex?

After much consideration and careful Internet searching, we settled on a bed & breakfast in the hills of Malibu, overlooking the ocean to the north of Los Angeles. The website was awesome, the pictures beautiful, the scenery breathtaking. We got a pet-sitter to watch over our ferrets, packed up the car (including my own toilet paper, which I always bring with me), and drove the hour up to the hills of Malibu.

After some consternation with the directions, which meant going up some twisty, windy roads down turns that were barely marked, we pulled into the driveway. It looked nice from the outside, and with very little trepidation we stepped in the front door.

Our first warning should have been the Mapplethorpe-esque paintings on the wall. Our second warning should have been the owner of the B&B wearing an outfit that had more leather and zippers than a cow with pockets. And our third warning should have been the large photo book sitting on the coffee table with the photo of the handcuffs on the cover and the word “Fetish” stamped clearly on it.

However, we persevered and allowed Gothy McChainhead (as I mentally dubbed her) to give us a tour of her beautiful home. We were shown the lovely kitchen where they have wine and cheese every evening. We got to see the dining area where breakfast was served every morning. And finally we were brought up to our room, which was gorgeous. No black, no leather, no hooks from the ceilings – just a nice bed with a traditional comforter, a huge bathroom with a big garden tub and shower, and sliding glass doors exiting on a private balcony, which overlooked the ocean.

“And here is the balcony,” Gothy said as we walked out onto it. “To the left,” she gestured with a blackly clad, darkly polished hand, “is the pool. Now, during the day, we require bathing suits, but at night, it is clothing optional, just like the hot tub.”

“Clothing optional?” I mouthed to my wife. She stared at me incredulously and shook her head.

“And directly below your balcony is the gym. The gym is clothing optional day and night, but please have the courtesy to bring your towel to sit on any of the equipment.” She pointed downwards as my wife and I looked at each other, quietly writhing, our faces red, trying not to burst out laughing.

“And finally, down here is the area we have set aside for nude sunbathing.” My wife and I lean over and look over the railing. Below us, one floor down, laying on a red and blue striped towel, with the largest penis I have ever seen, in porn or in real life, is a small, well-built man looking directly at us. He smiled and waved, and I was so overcome with hilarity that I almost flipped over the railing which would have caused me to land on this little horse-cocked man, crushing him instantly.

The weekend passed with a blur. I know that the breakfast was delicious. I recall that Senor Horsecock had a girlfriend with breasts the size of watermelons and pubic hair that was shaved to look like a smiley face. I definitely remember that we were too afraid to take off any of our clothing, even in the shower and bath, and I remember thinking about when the website said that it was a “great place for consenting adults to enjoy a casual, active night life with no strings attached”, I really should learn to read between the fucking lines.


I’ve been asked to provide a picture, and the best I can do is a sketch. So here you go. Also, the name of the place escaped me, but I found it online. It looks like they’ve closed down the Malibu part (and now are in Palm Desert) and really embraced the nudist aspect of their business. It was not nearly this obvious five years ago!

Avitable and Horse Cock

60 thoughts on “Always read the fine print”

  1. Hmmm.. all I got from that link is someone sounding like they’re going to close down their blog? Far too much of that going on, if you ask me. But if the South Beach you are talking about is the one down the coast from you on the right side of the map – hotcha! Nice place! Except I hear “clothing optional” is the law of that whole part of town, so…?

  2. Some things you can’t ever forget.

    A night at a B&B =$300
    Breakfast with the horse cocked man and his extra smilie girlfriend= Priceless.

    There is one to tell the kids!

  3. Usedtobeme, yeah, and as two lawyers, we should have known that, of all people!

    RW, well, she might be closing down her blog, but she’s making the trip to Florida, too.

    BPR, you should try an emoticon.

    Amy, I was too tired for art.

    NYCWD, maybe I will draw him for a later post.

    Fogspinner, yup, that’s how I figured it.

    Franky, maybe a bit of both.

    Mr. Fabulous, the only naked person in the room should be me.

    Heather, oh, you know – Nautilus equipment with vinyl seats that sweaty asses would just stick to. :puke:

  4. I think you’re slowly winning out on the more interesting life category. Damn. :assshake: Although, if I had found out I was at a clothing optional resort I would have totally taken off all my clothes and enjoyed that “casual, active night life with no strings attached.” :3some:

  5. I hope that the only reason you failed to include a link to this little Malibu oasis is that it is no longer in operation.

    And as hilarious as your posts generally are, this may well be the funniest thing you’ve ever written:

    “Our second warning should have been the owner of the B&B wearing an outfit that had more leather and zippers than a cow with pockets.”

    Well done, sir.


  6. Seriously Adam, you say weird shit happens to me… The stupid situations I get myself into are nothing compared to ANY of yours. I’m vanilla you’re rainbow sherbet covered in chocolate and sardines.

    Poppy- Sometimes I think that somebody here should be swatting you in the nose with a rolled up newspaper shouting “Down Girl!”. The only thing is I’m not entirely sure it’s something you would not enjoy.

  7. Mistress Yoda, that poor man!

    Tracy, I know!

    Poppy, I was afraid that Horsecock was going to accidentally eat me.

    Miss Britt, I’m very giving.

    Mist1, excellent point! That reminds me, you should come visit sometime.

    Erratic, I have added a link to their site, even though the Malibu location is no longer open. Thanks!

    TMP, or just read! Either way.

    Dawn, yeah, it was horrifying thinking of hairy sweaty ass cracks on the vinyl of the workout equipment.

    Clown, you’re like a magnet for it! This just happens to me occasionally.

    Heather, why is he your ex if that’s his picture?

    Britt, you whore. A man like that would rend a cute little thing like you in twain.

  8. Oh MUCH more effective with the artwork. Poor Amy, she must have looked back over her first year of marriage and just KNEW what she had been missing.


    I mean weekends at a nudist B&B – what did you think I meant?

  9. Avi – Accidentally is subjective.

    Clown – I don’t like being swatted on the nose. I’ll gladly take that swatting elsewhere. :sex014: And telling me “down girl” just further instigates things with me. If that’s what you’re going for then you have succeeded.

  10. I’m not even concerned about the vinyl…I’m concerned about the jiggling! remember that nudist trying to open that jar of pickles on Seinfeld? BLECH!

    i have a feeling if you had used the exercise equipment in the nude, they might have had to adjust their ‘rules’. 😉

  11. Amy, midget sex?

    Poppy, isn’t there an S&M forum around here somewhere? :tongue1:

    Dragon, we weren’t courageous enough to take off our clothes in the shower!

    TMP, at times, it eclipsed the sun itself.

    Heather, well what happened to that guy? :lmao:

    Mike, thanks! Now you can see that it’s not quite as obvious.

    Franky, yeah, apparently they have the cheapest server in the world.

    Dawn, nah. They were gorilla friendly.

  12. TMP, any experience that would make you unable to sit on a barstool without falling down to the floor over the stool is not worthwhile.

    Poppy, I think the Tug & Poppy and the S&M forums are one and the same. I don’t have one, though.

    Tug, most people I talked to in LA had never heard of the place after we got back from our visit.

  13. Poppy, we ARE our own forum. :sex023:

    Yeah Avi, but I’ve got to ask – he ran a golf course, too, & it says golfing is close. Ya’ just nevah know…… :jerkoff2:


    I said:

    Tug – Wheeeeeeeeeee! :sex023:

    Britt – A fantastic idea! Tug? You wanna be the boy or the girl? Or should we switch off? (I still think we need a boy to at least sit in the corner and watch until we need him.) :heartbeat:

  15. Heather, a gorilla’s balls would make you blush!

    Miss Misery, amusing? That’s all you can come up with as far as accolades go?

    Cat, you didn’t read closely enough.

    I definitely remember that we were too afraid to take off any of our clothing, even in the shower and bath

    Poppy, I think you and Tug seem to have it figured out all on your own. No penises needed!

    Tug, you’re the dirtiest grandma I know.

    Britt, I know you’ve got balls – don’t you have a penis, too?

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