Max Thrust, Self-Righteously Indignant

Max Thrust, Self-Righteously Indignant

Anyway, another day, another $15,000, as we say in the biz. The weather was nice yesterday, but I’m really looking forward to the warmer weather, when the clothes come off and you can tell the hotties from the fatties. I can tell you from personal experience that there is nothing worse than picking up a college co-ed down at Tom Tom, getting her in the bathroom, and finding out she’s more than what you bargained for. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but at my salary, I can afford better. I’ve also got standards. I’m not going to swirl my penis around in just anyone’s vagina. But I won’t stop you from going down on me.

I rolled into the office at about 11 AM for a conference call strategy session with the majors of the adult film industry in order to discuss our reaction to S. 49, the Barely Legal Protection Act. Like this for example:

REGULATIONS—Not later than 180 days after the date of enactment of the Barely Legal Protection Act, the Commission shall promulgate regulations to require a video service to prevent the offering of dirty pictures where the model or actress appears to be younger than she's supposed to be and thus making men's blood boil in extreme dirtiness, as such terms are defined in section 254 yada yada.

What gives? The consensus is that Congress is looking to ban barely legal porn. The industry keeps up-to-date information on the models and actresses, including all the stuff on their fake ids. Fresh, young woman takes the bus to Hollywood, looking to break into acting, and they want to take the food out of her mouth. Disgusting.

This makes me so mad, the only way I can relax is if I can swirl my penis around in somebody’s vagina. My blackberry is on. Any takers?

Max Thrust. Irritated.

Max Thrust, lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition, had an excellent chapter in his story to tell today. Unfortunately, craigslist wouldn't let him post it. It had something to do with barely legal porn, taking the food out of the mouths of unsuspecting starlets that rolled into Hollywood, looking for fame, having fake IDs, and my righteous indignation. It wasn't pretty.

Anyway, to calm my restiveness, I had called upon those who might be willing to let me swirl my penis inside of your vagina and that my blackberry was on...anyway, that didn't happen.

So now I am trying this grassroots approach to getting supporters out to condemn craigslist and their nefarious tactics of getting posters, like me, who want young women to have much needed jobs in the porn industry. And again, my blackberry is on...

10 Inches of Max Thrust

I’m Max Thrust. Lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition. My suit? Corneliani Couture ($8750). Shirt? Tino Cosma ($365). Tie and pocket square? Zanella ($320 and $85 respectively). My belt? Salvatore Ferragamo ($130). I slip on my $16,000 Alviero Martini 1 Classe watch.

As you may have noticed, I’m in all Italian couture today. I feel self-assured, cultivated, refined, discreet, but equally recognizable: free enough to be able to reject clichés and sure enough to embody a personal style that is never predictable. The classic elegance I am projecting goes beyond the definitions of formal wear or sportswear, because it reflects a single taste and sensitivity that I put into the various activities that are part of my life.

Today’s activity was a briefing with the staff of the House Judiciary Committee, something about the Committee wanting to introduce legislation banning barely legal porn. What gives? They may look younger than 18, but that is the point. And anyway, “barely legal” IS legal. Just barely.

After this event I was scheduled to attend a fundraiser/lunch with the Chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, Don Chalmers, who represents my home state. Anyway, I’m imagining a gossip-fueled meal of steak and martinis at Charlie Palmer, so I tuck a couple of $500 10” Ramon Allones Tubos into my pants pocket. Anybody in this industry will tell you that size does indeed matter. And what’s a steak without a good cigar, anyway?

Anyway, I was up at Rayburn waiting in the security line, and I’m detained by security for carrying a “suspicious item,” whatever that means. I’m then taken aside and frisked by a female police officer. I tell her, “finding anything you like?” and “Yes it’s real...can you handle 10 inches...I’d love to see you wrap your lips around it...would you like to take a puff.” Stuff like that. The security guard, playing hard to go get, hauls me away for questioning.

What gives? I understand that even though the morality policy in DC no longer allow smoking, the ritual of the sucking on a good cigar is key to the whole lobbyist/congressperson bonding experience.

He gets letters:

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

Max Thrust. Casual Tuesday.

Max Thrust. Lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition. It’s casual Tuesday for me. I’m wearing my Jasper Conrad pants, jacket, and tie ($855, $332, and $138 respectively); my shirt is Lorenzini ($275), and my shoes and pocket square are by Salvatore Ferragamo ($725 and $70).

I decide to take my XKR convertible Jag down to my K Street office. The top is down because the weather is nice. I get to the office and riding the elevator I notice a new intern with the Coalition. No more than 22, young, brunette. Firm buttocks and perky boobies. She’s from California Staring at her chest, I ask her how she likes working in DC. She tells me it has been the best experience of her life, but she’s looking for something permanent. I tell her she should come up to my office and perhaps we can work something out.

So then I’m sitting at my expansive mahogany desk and I’m letting her know how connected I am to folks on the Hill and she, kneeling under my desk, is making a connection of her own. As she’s finishing I’m catching up on my email on my blackberry. Yes, Senator Restons, I can meet you for lunch at the Old Ebbitt Grill. The intern and I continue our discussion. This time she’s bent over my mahogany desk. She starts talking about how she’s good friends with the Schwarzeneggers and that she’s been skiing with Billy Baldwin, and I tell her that people find name-dropping obnoxious, or at least that is what my good friend the Dalai Lama once told me.

Anyway, a bit later I’m having lunch at the Old Ebbitt Grill with Senator Bill Restons of Alabama. I ordered the Grilled New York Strip Steak and a glass of 2001 Opus One. I started with a dozen raw Wellfleets on ice. I’m trying to get him to moderate his stance on the temporary worker program. The Free Speech Coalition has been wanting to bring in more temporary workers for the industry because they command much less in wages than does home grown talent. Additionally, we cannot get them H2-B visas because, let’s face it, they are highly skilled at what they do. If you watch enough of those films, you know what I am talking about. He says he’ll have his staff look into the issue.

The check arrives. I pick it up, ‘natch. The waitress tenses a little when I grab her buttocks. Playing hard to get. I like that.

Me? Max Thrust . Lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition.

More Mad Max...this one is a collaboration...

Some say DC is Hollywood for the ugly. I say that DC is Chatsworth for the dumpy. Excluding, of course, yours truly. Chatsworth is indistinguishable from the other middle-class communities that sprawl across the San Fernando Valley, except for one thing. It's where the people who I work for do their business.

I do my business in DC. Me? Max Thrust. Lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition. My suit? Canali Coture ($3750). Shirt? Isaia ($365). Tie and pocket square? Robert Talbot ($320 and $85 respectively). My belt? Salvatore Ferragamo ($130). I slip on my $13,000 Carl F. Bucherer watch. In the cab I check out my reflection in the rearview mirror. Despite the day's exertions, not a hair is out of place. I look good. Those bi-weekly $100 haircuts at The Grooming Lounge certainly do pay off. I'll have to tip Antoine a little extra at the next visit.

I'm on my way to a reception on the Hill. In other words, a fundraiser. The reception is for Senator McMurrough, the senior Senator from Massachusetts. He's a lawyer and a champion of First Amendment issues so he’s a guy I want to get in bed with, so to speak, though he's often so far in his cups at these events that it can difficult to get his ear. I wanted to arrive right at the start, before he had one too many Bushmills, but upon arriving I found out he’d be arriving a bit later. However, his Chief of Staff is there and I want to have a word with her.

So I arrived at Sonoma at 6:00 sharp and as expected I'm one of the first people there. I pick up my name tag and momentarily worry that it may leave a mark on my Canali Coture ($3750) but then I spot his Chief of Staff, Meghan Brophy at the bar. I walk up behind her and run my hand down her back while murmuring her first name into her ear. She is delighted to see me and flashes a big smile. Meghan is attractive but not my type. She's black Irish, medium height, small but perky boobies, standard issue black pant suit and low-heeled pumps. Smart and energetic, she's way too uptight, but nothing a good lay wouldn't fix.

I'm hoping to get the head of Vivid Adult Entertainment in as a witness in a hearing on intellectual property issues, with my hand resting lightly on Meghan's high firm ass it seems like the politic thing would be to offer her that much need roll in the sack. I fix her with my sexiest smoky gaze and make my pitch. She straightens her shoulders, thrusting out her boobies in the process, signaling her interest, and tells me that she will talk to the committee staff director about our testimony but that she has a few more details to take care of before the Senator arrives and won't have time to talk with me further. I let her know that I'd be happy to discuss this with her in greater detail after the reception, but she begs off citing the need for beauty sleep. Too bad, I had a nice little fantasy running in my head about overcoming that uptight attitude with a good spanking before swirling my penis inside her vagina…from behind. Twice.

Just then a couple lobbyists from the music industry show up and we swap war stories over $40 glasses of 1970 Chateau Ducru Beaucaillou. The whole time sending smoldering looks to the bartender, who told me that she is working there until she lands a job on the Hill. I'm trying to decide if her boobies are real or enhanced. Not that I care either way, but I do consider myself a connoisseur of boobies and am sure she's had some work. I ask her when she gets off and she tells me that she is working late tonight. I tell her she shouldn't have to wait until then and offer to give her a special tip, swirling my penis inside of her vagina, on her next break. She says, “I love it for you to swirl your penis inside of my vagina” and we head for the employee bathroom. She gets off well before closing time. Oh and yes, they are enhanced.

By 8:00 I'm in a cab on my way to Georgetown trying to decide if I can find a young firm co-ed to nail or if I should just get dinner and call it a night. Are you up for having a Washington DC power-broker swirl his penis inside your vagina? Or would you just prefer me to fondle your boobies? My Blackberry is on...

Meet Max Thrust

I'm working on a new character. Meet Max. Max Thrust...

My suit? Luigi Borrelli Napoli ($3800). My Shirt? Lorenzini ($295). Tie? Massimo Bizzochi ($195). Pocket square? Ermenegildo Zegna ($70). I'm sitting in front of a half consumed Bombay Saffire and tonic and a Colossal Lump Crabmeat Cocktail. It's 1:30 and I just had lunch at the Palm. I'm Max. Max Thrust. I'm a lobbyist for the Free Speech Coalition.

My lunch companion was a mellow opponent known affectionatetly among his intimates and colleagues on the hill as "The Saint." I know I didn't win him over with any of my slick repartee, but perhaps just maybe I pushed him onto the fence with regard to changing the 2257 Regulations. How were we supposed to know that his sixteen year-old daughter wasn't legal? She sure looked legal to me in that wet t-shirt contest in Cabo that was filmed by "Wild Girls of Spring Break." Let me put it this way, she sure looked like she knew wat she was doing. Especially later at the hotel room. Shit. And the Saint thinks she was in Alabama doing a stint for Habitat for Humanity. This could get ugly fast.

Not wanting to go back to work right away, I head up to the bar and sit next to an attractive blonde. I size her up. Shes wearing a $600 Jovovich-Hawk and a pair of $500 Barbara Bui sandals.

I know women. Women like honesty. Especially in DC. I introduce myself. Max meet Regina. Regina St. Germaine. I offer to buy her a drink. A cosmopolitan. She accepts. I offer my services. "Regina, I want to put my penis in your vagina. I want to put it in your vagina and swirl it around," I say. She accepts. She says, "ok lets go back to your place so you can swirl your penis around in my vagina."

"There's no time. I have to get back to work. How about I swirl my penis around in your vagina in the bathroom?"

She says, "Sure." Enthusiastically.

As I limp back to the office, I'm sucking on a mint and picking pubic hair and crabmeat from between my teeth and thinking about my next conquest. Could it be you?


He gets letters:

"Gimmie a break!!!"

"Are you back? Max Thrust is a little more (ahem) forward than Mr. Banana."

SWM wants two women

My two woman fantasy!

I've had lots of great fun through the years with one woman, but have never been with two women at the same time. I don't consider myself kinky or anything. I just have been thinking about this more and more, and would LOVE to finally experience this. Call it a fantasy or something. It starts like this: One woman is cleaning my apartment, because it is very dirty. Another woman is cooking me dinner. Neither of these women are nagging me to get off the couch and stop watching TV, go to the gym and get in shape, wishing that I made more money, had a better job, better apartment, nicer car, bigger penis, liked musicals, chick flicks, and all the other things women want from their men. Also, there is no drama between the two of them. They actually like one another and aren’t competitive the normal way women can be.

So...if you are a great looking single woman with a girlfriend (or you and your great looking twin sister!!!) who is as hot as you are, this educated fella wants to get together with you soon. My apartment is really dirty and I am very hungry! Please send a photo with your response.

When's the last time you wanted to kiss this man?

Cheaters (permalink)...

First he holds the door for you, then your chair, then he offers to hold your breasts saying stuff like "I'll be your bra for you" then he makes you laugh...and think...and laugh some more...and think even more...then laugh again...You realize this guy really makes you laugh...and think...and some more...and think some more...maybe even you're thinking about laughing? You want to kiss him.

Single guy here who seeks just that sort of attraction. Looking for just one or more women who miss laughing and thinking...and may need a "hand-bra" sort of arrangement. Please be swf and email me. I'm tall, nice looking, well read and traveled and don't take myself too seriously. Turn-0ns? Lauging and thinking. Turn-offs? Scowling and not thinking. Thanks.

He gets letters:

"nice add (mt.pleasant)

who knows, if you send a picture or two, and some "stats" we may even get a couple of drinks tonight. it is only 6:46 pm and i live around the corner. smiles,"

Erotic Ouija

Weirdo (permalink).

There's just something so erotic about Ouija isn't there? Your fingers are placed on a planchette which then moves about a board covered with numbers, letters and symbols so as to spell out messages. So what if Ouija is a trademark for a talking board currently sold by Parker Brothers? All I can remember is that Tawny Kitaen was hot in "Witchboard."

I'm a very attractive, very fit, intelligent, educated guy in my mid-30s who'd love to make contact with attractive Tawny Kitaen-type girls whose interest may be peaked by this post and are willing talk about Ouija or similar fantasies. Come on . . . I know you're intrigued. Ouiga. Yes. No. y-o-u w-e-a-r s-e-x-y u-n-d-e-r-p-a-n-t-s. U-n-c-l-e R-o-n l-i-k-e-s s-o-u-p. M-y p-e-n-i-s i-s s-m-a-l-l. Pics available to trade.

Seeking QUALITY relationship with QUALITY girl who shares VALUES

email me if interested.


He gets letters:

"Hi my name is Helen and I am 22 years old. I am originially from New Orleans, I just graduated in December. I love to read, explore, go out to eat, try new things. I am new to the area so I am trying to meet new people. I hope to hear from soon

"Hi! Interesting picture. What kind of values do you want to share? What are your likes and dislikes? What do you like to do? E-mail me back at XXX if you like. I would be glad to send you a picture of me if you are interested."

Mr. BananaHammock’s smoky glare can rejuvenate your vagina

Normal posters on craiglist are getting so dull. No material. Drat. Never fear. A friend called attention to a recent article in the Washington Post on vaginal rejuvenation coming to the DC area. Vaginal rejuvenation a la Dr. 90210! I had to write an ad...

Waking up around seven AM this morning in my Adams Morgan compound, I glance up to the mirrors over my bed and take it all in -- muscle mass, density, ripped definition, intensity, stamina, endurance, mental focus, dignity, flair, and humility. I shower. While I am air drying I read the Washington Post and treat myself to a breakfast of Sea Turtle Eggs Benedict with Emperor Penguin bacon. I was it down with a glass of breakfast wine. I put on my Carla Behrle leather pants. No shirt. I head out for the Orange Line for my morning commute.

When I hit the platform at Farragut West I notice that I am not alone. Tons of lovelies on the platform. I give them a few poses before the train arrives: Front Double Biceps, Front Lat Spread, Side Chest, Back Double Biceps, and signature Back Lat Spread. You can tell they are getting hot. A brown haired woman nearly faints before she can grab for the ceiling of the train. I suspect my pheromones are overpowering her ability to balance. Others react differently. A green-eyed blond starts grinding her ass into my banana hammock and doesn’t stop until she gets off at Foggy Bottom. I give her my smoky glare. No doubt her vagina feels rejuvenated.

After work, I stop in at Tryst, flex for the ladies and grab an iced-double-half-calf-mocha-latte-something-or-another with a shot of baby fur seal Somatotrophin and settle into a big overstuffed couch with this week’s New Yorker Magazine. A woman stops by to talk. She wants to talk about my man on woman sensuality. She’s all, “as being fully functioning and very alive female I have burning sensuality. You might be coming on too strong.” I’m all, “Too strong? I’m toning it down babe.” She doesn’t fully understand. I know that women have their own burning sensualities. I’m not trying to sell a product like my image and style. I’m just trying to let the people know that there is me and there are the New Age milquetoast metrosexual denizens of craigslist. I give her my smoky glare. She says her vagina feels rejuvenated.

Eating exotic and endangered animals. Riding Metro. Vaginal Rejuvenation. That is what I am about. Forget the E! Network’s “Dr. 90210” and his expensive Laser Vaginal Rejuvenation procedure. Mr. BananaHammock’s smoky glare can rejuvenate your vagina for free.

He gets letters:

"Dude....You're a fucking riot. I'm sure your posting will bring you a gazillion responses. I just wanted to take the time to personally thank you for brightening an impossibly dreary day. You should seriously consider writing a Mr. BananaHammock screenplay and trying to sell it. You're hilarious."

"that was funny. it just was ..I know you can't be serious, but you made me smile. good job."

Looking for girl who lives closer to my job so I can sleep in longer

The title says it all....

The reverse commute is better than the commute, but it is still a commute. Mr. BananaHammock would never ever consider actually living anywhere but his Adams Morgan compound, unless of course there were little BananaHammock’s running around. The DC public schools suck after all.

What Mr. BananaHammock is looking for, however, is a nice girl who lives in the Falls Church/Dunn Loring area so that he can stay over at her place during the week and sleep in longer than he is able to currently given his reverse commute.

You can stay in his Adams Morgan compound on weekends and take advantage of his apartment’s location being stumbling distance from various bars and clubs on 18th Street. He can also provide you with lots of quality man on woman sensuality at either location.


He gets letters:

"Hrmm...you're an odd little man aren't you?"