America's Playboy...What's His Secret? How does an old man get beautiful, buxom, big boob, blonde bombshells?
When Anthony flew out to LA, he told everyone that he was going there because he needed a vacation. Only, truth be told, he went to LA because he owed a bookie, Julio Russo, money, a lot of money and rather than have his legs broken or worse, he decided to go west. He had never been to California, specifically LA, but he begrudgingly went when Julio Russo made him an offer that he couldn't refuse.
It all started when Julio Russo saw yet another photo in the newspaper again. He threw the entertainment section of the newspaper down on the counter.
"Look at this fuckin' guy, America's fuckin' playboy. How does someone this fuckin' old get broads who look this fuckin' good? Look at these fuckin' broads. He's forty to sixty years older than them. He's old enough to be their father. He's old enough to be their grandfather. All of them are beautiful, buxom, big boob, blonde bombshells. And it's been like that with him for fifty fuckin' years. He's such a fuckin' pig. He's fucked everybody. He's probably had more pussy than Wilt Chamberlain. I don't get it. How does he do it? What's his secret?"
Mario scooped up the newspaper while Vito and Angelo looked over his shoulder.
"Holy shit, Boss, those are three good looking broads," said Angelo whistling his appreciation for the beauty of the women after studying the photo. "I'd love to get with any one of them, never mind having the three of them together."
"Wow, look at the tits on that one," said Vito. "Momma Mia! I'd love to rub my face in those big breasts."
"Look at her ass. I'd love to slide my dick into that," said Mario. "Can you imagine being naked and in bed with her? Oh, my God."
"Imagine the possibilities of having three women who look like that in bed with you," said Angelo giving Mario a nudge while looking at him. Mama Mia," he said waving his hand up and down and whistling. "That's the way that I want to die when I die. I want to die with three beautiful, buxom, big boob blonde bombshells in bed with me. Wow! I'd die happy and with a big smile on my face. What a way to go."
"You die like that and Saint Peter won't allow you in Heaven," said Vito shaking his head and making the sign of the cross.
"Won't allow me in Heaven? Are you kidding me? Saint Peter is a man or once was a man, that is, before he became an Angel. He'd understand when he asked me the question how I died. I'd tell him that I died happy. I'd tell him that I died with a big smile of my face. I'd tell Saint Peter that I died while doing something that I love to do," said Angelo moving his hand back and forth. "I'd tell him that I died sharing myself with others who were less fortunate and who didn't have me in their lives," he said with a laugh. "I'd tell him that I died giving pleasure to the masses of women kind, well, at least to three beautiful, buxom, big boob, blonde bombshells," said Angelo laughing.
"What you just said is sacrilegious," said Vito making the sign of the cross again. "You're going to Hell when you die. You're doomed. Even Saint Peter won't be able to save you from burning in Hell's fires."
"Well, I'm going to Hell already, Vito," said Angelo waving a hand of despair at him. "I've done much worse than being sacrilegious with Saint Peter's name. I think I've already broken all the Ten Commandments a few times over. The devil and I are pals." He nudged Mario with his elbow and said, "Hey Mario, the devil is a friend of mine."
"Read the article," said Julio pummeling the newspaper with his fat, stubby finger. "Read the fuckin' article. Look at that, they all fuckin' live with him. Do you believe that shit? He's got three broads who look like that living with him. Let me ask you guys a question. You tell me this, why would three beautiful broads who look as good as that and who can get any man they'd like want to live with someone this fuckin' old, unless he was their fuckin' grandfather or unless he was using some kind of mind control shit on them?"
"Mind control? Nah. Maybe, he is their grandfather, Boss," said Angelo winking at Mario.
"Grandfather my ass. He's their Sugar Daddy. Sugar Granddaddy is more like it." Julio started pacing the room while thinking. He always paced when he didn't understand something. "It's got to be something more there that what meets the eye here. Only, what the Hell could it be? I don't get it," he said walking while shaking his head from side to side. "How the fuck does he do it?"
"I don't know, Boss," said Angelo. "Maybe he's got a big cock. Maybe his cum taste like cotton candy and that's why they call him a Sugar Daddy or Sugar Granddaddy," he said laughing at his own old ill humor.
"Yeah, a big, old, soft cock that oozes sugar that tastes like cotton candy," laughed Mario. "Do you ever listen to some of the shit that comes out of your mouth? Don't you never think about what you're gonna say before you say it? Do you realize some of the stupid shit you say? You embarrass me all the fuckin' time. You should think about what you are going to say before you say it and then just don't fuckin' say it. Sometimes, it's better just to be fuckin' quiet. Sometimes, it's better just to listen."
"Hey, at least I finished high school," said Angelo. "At least I graduated."
"Yeah, well, just 'cause your educated doesn't mean that you're smart. You might have book smarts, but I have street smarts and commonsense, which you ain't got neither of those. Besides, I got my GED when I was in the Army serving my country," said Mario sitting up straight and puffing out his chest. I was staff sergeant of supply.
