Okay, enough of the hetero, scatological Vices, time for some good ol’-fashioned homo rump-rangin’ activities for an (old) change! After all, when we got that smelly heap o’ emails from folks complaining about the last few stinky-poo Vices—who knew straight people could have such daring fun with excrement?—did you all think we’d actually not return to our well-stacked library of running scared, extremely horny, closeted Hollywood actors? Please.
So, here we are with Seymour Plow-Me-More, multitalented star and performer, both in and out of the bedroom, where he assumes an amazing array of positions, possibilities and partners. But to be fair, when Sey-babe cheats on his hardly naive honey (whose quasi-attractive face seems to harden with each new trick SPMM picks up), it’s usually with good-lookin’ dudes. In fact, it always is.
Take this last time, for ince. Academy Award-nominated Seymour was visiting one of Hell-Ay’s myriad spas, which are to Los Angeles what Greek coffee shops are to Manhattan. This time, for Plow-Me-More’s man-hunting mission, he’d chosen one of Hell-Ay’s more outta the way steam-room joints, toward downtown, thinking nobody would recognize him. Are these celebs on crack? Do they really think incognito only kicks in south of Wilshire?
Seymour cornered his latest beefy selection, took off his own towel (still impressive equipment, must say, even though what’s holding it all together hardly is), and asked for what Seymour usually requests his partners to do to him—i.e., get his oversize bum diddled. The boy—he was almost a boy—declined Mr. Plow-Me-More’s gracious offer and suggested to fellate the movie star instead, a lovely idea that was accepted and received, by the by.
You see, said nooky provider tells us he thought it would be “a bit much” to be corn-holed by Seymour Plow-Me-More in a public steam room. As if a blow job is nothing more than a simple shaking of hands.
Well, in sex-for-everything Hell-Ay, s'pose it is.
It Ain't: The Rock, Chris Rock, or David Spade