“I want to be naked and hang around horny people!” That was the answer I gave to my wife Lauren as she reacted to me curled up in fetal position, fighting back tears of frustration after another failed and most likely humiliating audition for some horrific television show that would be the ‘next big thing.’ The creators would hail it as a cross between Breaking Bad and The Big Bang Theory.
“I don’t want to be here anymore,” I said. “I don’t want to do this. This sucks.”
“What do you want to do? What will make you happy? Because we can’t do this any longer,” Lauren asked. She stared at me with her beautiful, blue, caring eyes waiting for me to answer. It was those gorgeous eyes that I couldn’t stay locked onto out of intimidation when I first met her in 2003.
After moving to Los Angeles in 1996, I got my real acting start starring as ‘not Ryan Reynolds’ in the show Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place, which would soon be called Two Guys and a Girl, now seeming like poetic fate. Following shortly thereafter, Lauren was busy being a model in Texas until deciding to move west to do more things with her career. We finally crossed paths at a dog park in 2003. It was in that dog park where I was stung with those eyes. She was so stunning to me that my entire body and mind froze (my mind’s still frozen, by the way).
We entered into the lifestyle — or our version of it — almost immediately. We got married in 2008 and started going to Desire in 2012. Both of us were on TV in some way. And it’s not that we didn’t want to go to Desire before that — we loved being naked everywhere. We just always did it in private. It was the fact of being in TV and movies, on the fringes of being in the public eye, that made us apprehensive to even go to lifestyle parties, let alone a resort like Desire. It was a frustrating thing to deal with until we got to the point in our lives where we started to take a more ‘screw it’ approach.
8:07 AM Today
Lauren and I peel ourselves out of bed, stumble to the coffee machine, not bothering one another until we’ve swallowed at least a few gulps of caffeine. We throw one another a respectful nod before retreating to our designated work areas. Mine is down at the kitchen table, and Lauren’s is in the office/recording room/extra bedroom area. We start with answering emails, texts, and other messages from social media. This is when I sneak in reading the news, mostly, so I have something to talk about with my dad when we speak on the phone every Sunday.
“Let’s move to Mexico,” Lauren said. I responded, “Are you sure? This is not going to be easy. And it’s going to be scary as hell!” I immediately called Enrique, the entertainment manager of Desire Pearl at that time. He always had great instincts to try new things to keep the lifestyle world at Desire happy. Including June of 2016, he invited Lauren and myself to live at the hotel while teaching the Art of Touch workshops. We lasted two out of three months and had to stop because our bodies were giving out. Lesson learned. Sort of.
Before returning to LA after those 49 amazing days, Enrique said, “The door is always open for you two to come back.” We joked about moving down here and doing it full-time, and he said without hesitation, “You should. You guys are really good at this.” At the time, we barely heard him say it. However, once I got him on the phone and explained we might take him up on his offer of moving down to Mexico and ‘working’ at the hotel full-time, he was ecstatic. He was so positive and into the idea that we didn’t know if we believed it. You see, from working in Hollywood in the entertainment industry, we were both used to people just talking shit. They do. They just say shit to make themselves feel better. Or to come off ‘powerful’ for their own ego with a disregard to the effects it has on the other person’s life. Imagine while scraping together enough cash to survive, a billionaire is telling you, “I’m going to give you a million dollars sometime in the near future.” You don’t believe them… But a tiny piece of you kinda does. That positive part. That optimistic part. And then the next time you see that billionaire on the street, instead of giving you the money, he kicks your dog. That’s sorta the emotional roller coaster you go through among others. We were super apprehensive when we heard his response. “Is he screwing with us?” For whatever reason, we decided to move forward. “Screw it!”
I remember looking at Lauren smiling from the excitement of changing our lives and getting out of the soul-crushing Hollywood hamster wheel.
After hanging up the phone, I sat Lauren down and said with a very serious tone, “Listen, if we’re going to do this, we have to start right now. We have a shit-ton of anchors holding us down here in Los Angeles, and we need to lift every single one before we leave. It’s not going to be easy, but this window of opportunity will close. So this is now or never!” She looked at me once again with those amazing eyes and smiled like she always does. And her response, “We start tomorrow.”
10:23 AM Today
It’s getting late, and Lauren has moved onto the website crap that I don’t understand. Or home stuff like banking and budgets, which I also don’t understand. I love her for doing those things. I’ve now started editing parts of the podcast. Cutting and trimming. Replacing pieces chronologically. Comedian Jim Jefferies once said to me, “Richard, as a good storyteller, you should never have to say, ‘you had to be there.’” It’s how I approach the editing of our podcast.
We noticed a lot of podcasts tend to teach things. We don’t want to teach people stuff. Even in our workshops, we tell people we don’t want to teach them. We just want you to have a good time. Teachers aren’t who we are, and we also don’t believe in lifestyle coaching or memberships in hopes of becoming ‘swinger of the year.’ After being in the lifestyle for over sixteen years, from our perspective, you can’t instruct a person into the lifestyle in the same way you wouldn’t hire a ‘friend coach’ to help your child make friends in school. Or counsel or coach them on how to be more likable so that other kids will approach them at recess. That stuff is snake oil. Don’t buy it! Get out there. Get involved. Allow yourself to be in uncomfortable situations. And you will do it over and over until it’s no longer uncomfortable. That’s how you learn. Sometimes, yes, it’s scary; but we promise you — it’s never as bad as you imagined it. Keep your morals and belief systems in place and be yourself. Don’t compromise the self-worth or dignity of you or your partner to make other people happy or for others to ‘like you.’ Have fun. And at the end of the day (or night), know that you go home to unconditional love and support. These aren’t secrets! These are things you already know. Things that you did growing up. And things you would say to a nervous child before he or she ventures into the social world.
Moving to Mexico
We set a date to arrive in Mexico. June 1st. We had already begun the fight to rid ourselves of possessions, lifting those anchors one by one. We had already sold our house two years prior and were renting and living off of the money we made off of the sale. The biggest thing to rid ourselves of was our RV, which was difficult because we were super upside-down, and selling meant tens of thousands lost. In the end, we did lose a ton of money, but we believe buying that motorhome was well worth the many trips we had across the US and the local nude beaches around San Diego and Freedom Acres in San Bernardino. If those wheels could talk!
Lauren and I were still auditioning for anything we could. We didn’t inform our agents we were planning on leaving the country just yet. As performers, one job could financially change our lives, or at least our plan, so we planned on trying up until the day we left. Auditions had a different feel to them now. There was light at the end of the tunnel. Soon, we’d be far away from all of this emotionally-taxing stuff and living with only the basic things a human really needs: shelter, food, and a bunch of horny naked swingers on a tropical beach.
11:11 AM Today
We should be out the door at this point, but we never are. Eventually, we drive to work in our sweet 2016 Kia Forte. Lauren does her makeup as I drive, swerving around the many potholes here in Mexico. I’m waiting for the day she pokes her eye out because I swerve too fast to avoid a mini sinkhole.
We talk and laugh on the way to work about what we need to accomplish today. Sometimes, we argue when we are just having a really shitty day. But we have a rule: We leave all of our bullshit outside the gates of Desire. The guests are here on vacation, and we are here to heighten their experience. We never want anyone to have to deal with or even sense that we’re having a bad day.
We make our way through the lobby of the hotel, saying our “hellos” and catching up with some of the staff, and then move directly to the spa where we keep our stuff. Most days, there’s someone in there either checking in or out of the hotel and using the spa as their storage locker while they wait for their room or in an attempt to milk every last minute by the pool or jacuzzi before they leave. “Where are you from?” “When did you get in?” We’ll chat a bit with them before heading to the gym for a quick workout.
Making Ends Meet
Lauren and I are still auditioning. Lauren went in for a Ford commercial and a McDonald’s almost the same week. I, in particular, had perhaps two life-changing opportunities. One was working with Marc Cherry again, the Desperate Housewives creator that I had known and worked with a few time since 2001. I also had been waiting on a very good friend’s promise. He had just had a show greenlit for Amazon and was getting his cast together. For months and months, he was promising me one of the supporting roles. “You’re in the show. No doubt,” he would say. “You’re the guy!” We continued to slowly pull those anchors up because this is the same song and dance you hear. (I’m giving you a million dollars soon.) Even from friends. That whole Amazon show thing slowly turned from, “You would screen test,” to, “You would have to audition.” Then, “Can you put yourself on tape?” And finally, “They won’t consider you.” And when I expressed my disappointment to my friend, he yelled at me because I was ruining his moment. (Dog kicked). The show sucked and failed with only one episode. The Marc Cherry thing didn’t even come close. Lauren, however, booked both Ford and McDonald’s. That money saved us.
Every day in between, we were selling tools or electronics and furniture. Our selling negotiations went a bit like this: “We want a hundred for it.” “I’ll give you twenty bucks.” “Sold!” We weren’t great at business then. We’re still finding our way.
12 Noon Today
We’re at the gym. Even though there isn’t every piece of equipment we need at the resort, we prefer there over what we have to use here in town in Puerto Morelos. The one here, Alligator Gym, feels like a place Rocky would have worked out in while training for his fight against Ivan Drago. I’m usually humming, “Getting Strong Now” while negotiating with the equipment that dates back to the ’80s, sometimes improvising. “How can I sit on this bench with no seat?” or “Can I use this cable and have it not paralyze me from the neck down?”
Lauren is usually in her own world, running around the gym like she just smoked meth. I’m usually on my phone responding to a tweet that we just put out. Needless to say, we don’t love that part of our day, but we’re essentially selling sex. And people tend to enjoy sexy bodies while being sexually assaulted with consent. So, we make it a part of every day.
30 Days Stay for Residence Visas
Our LA home is slowly becoming decluttered. We’re gearing up to go to Mexico in April for thirty days to apply for our resident visas. We had started the visa process in the US months before, but then you have to travel to Mexico to finish it. In the paperwork, it is stated that it takes about twenty days for the Mexico part of the process to be fully finished, and if you leave the country during that process, the entire thing is void. So, we found an Airbnb and started preparing for our trip. Documents? Check. Sunscreen? Check. Fluent Spanish to be able to communicate to the Mexican immigration office? Oh damn.
1:01 PM Today
We change out of our workout stuff and head to the pool. Lauren is looking sexy in one of her Malibu Strings bikinis. They barely cover anything and only stay on her body for the trip down to the pool. Before we move into the water to wade around with the crowd — who’s a few drinks in at this point — we grab the microphone after being introduced by the entertainment staff. We try to get the crowd excited about our workshop experience, which will take place later on that day in the disco. And then the work begins. We lose our clothing and wade into the pool to bathe with the people.
We arrive at our Airbnb and head to immigration the very next day to ensure the process was finished in time for our departure back to LA in thirty days. We knew we’d have to make five or six visits to complete the process. No calling or going online — you just show up. People told us that there will be mistakes. That it will take a long time. And that absolutely nothing will go right. Holy shit, were they right. The first day we arrived, we waited for almost two hours outside of the building. I imagine a dozen people jumped in front of us that day. It was more of a mob than a line. Finally, we were able to enter. It was as if air conditioning was just invented, we were so excited! Now, we would make a line while sitting in chairs. This meant that every time a person was called to be helped. “Siguiente,” they would say, and that person would walk to the desk, and the people behind them would move one chair over. It looked like a strange dance troop of about 25 people choreographed a mash-up between ‘musical chairs’ and “To Tell The Truth” told with interpretive dance. “Will the real immigrant please stand up?” That first day, sadly, ended with an immigration officer looking at us, saying we did not have the right documents, and sending us away to start all over again the next day.
During that week, we told Enrique that we were going to stop by Desire to say hi. We wanted to get things settled with him for our permanent move on June 1st. We were still so scared that he could, at any moment, look at us and say, “This whole idea is just not going to work out.” We really had no idea. He shook our hands and said, “Guys, I have to go tell the GM Alessio the plan. Can you wait one second? I’ll be right back.” At that moment, we shat ourselves. Like… wait, this hasn’t been approved yet? He walked back and asked, “Can you guys start this week?” “Ummm, we didn’t plan on it, but… yeah. Let’s do it,” we responded. So, we started the workshop in April — two months earlier than we thought. We would have to leave back to the states in May to pack everything and return in June to live here forever. After five trips to immigration and a lot of crying, we made it. We received our appointment to get fingerprints for our visas. Small problem: we were leaving May 1st, and the appointment was set for the 10th. Dammit!!
2:37 PM Today
We just spent time mingling in the pool with most of the people at the hotel, just having a good time, talking, laughing and, if the workshop experience comes up, we talk about it. We don’t do hard sells (given that the workshop is free) and don’t want anyone to feel pressured. This is one of the best parts of our days. Truly, we enjoy getting to know everyone and what brought them to the resort, or hearing what has happened since they were there last. If they’ve never been here before, we find out what brought them to the resort, hopefully making them feel more comfortable and enhancing their stay.
Lauren and I spend our lunch eating quickly with our heads buried in our phones. People must think our relationship is in shambles and we’re miserable being around one another. We basically ignore one another, using the time to respond to the emails, texts, or anything else that’s impossible to multitask while flirting naked in a pool. You need at least one free hand to flirt. Everyone knows that.
Moving Out of LA
“How much is it? If you can get it out of my damn house, it’s free.” Fire sale!!! Everything must go! Those last thirty days were crazy, choosing what we were taking and getting rid of everything else. When the couple who was moving into our rental found out we were moving and getting rid of everything in the house she said, “I need a lot of the stuff you’re selling.” I asked, “How much would you pay for everything you see?” She looked around and kind of whispered, “Fifteen hundred.” SOLD! To us, she just paid us $1,500 to not make an extra five trips to the Salvation Army.
Eighteen boxes weighing less than fifty pounds would travel with us. Clothes, kitchen stuff, and a ton of power tools. Oh… and a bike. All of which we were taking as checked luggage. Sit with the image of that shitshow in your head for just a second. We had no way of getting all this stuff to LAX because we sold our car. So, we rented a U-Haul van and asked my best friend to get up at the crack of dawn, drop us off at the airport, and send us on our way. LAX, eighteen boxes on dollies, and our carry-ons. Do you know who wanted to stand behind us in line? NO ONE.
We landed and went to baggage claim. Sweating not unlike farm animals, we collected everything and left. I know what you’re thinking: Did we have to hit that red/green button on the way out where they inspect your bags? Yes, we did. And, of course, it glowed red! The customs people seemed as saddened about it as we were.
3:02 PM Today
We leave the pool area to get ready for the workshop. We try to make one more announcement on the mic. We make our way back to the spa to wash our junk, get smooth, smell nice, and all things expected from a professional sorta sex worker. We grab our stuff and head to the discoteca.
I set up the lights and air conditioner while Lauren fixes beds and gets her amazing playlist dialed into the sound system until she makes her way outside to chat with the guests as they arrive. I fill oil bottles and play with the DJ’s light board. Because… I’m a child.
The First Summer
We had been working at the resort for a month now, and Enrique was super happy it was all working out. We wound up renting a place right next to the resort for six months — a two-story house one block from the beach — and I think we paid about 500 bucks a month. That didn’t include electricity. We always heard how expensive electricity was in Mexico, so we kind of literally sweated it out. Turns out, it’s not that expensive, so we lost a lot of water weight for nothing.
We rode bikes to and from work. The difference going home was that, most of the time, we were drunk. And Lauren sucks on a bike. It’s just fact. Balance isn’t really her jam. Add sounds of her screaming from the jungle bats diving in front of her, if you want a clearer picture of that mess. She’s adorable, but that was never my favorite part of the day. So, the next month we purchased a 2005 Volvo for almost $3000. Every Mexican we asked said it would be the worst decision I would make in Mexico. And, aside from those fish tacos we gambled on cooked fresh off a milk crate, it was. Week after week, it broke. And week after week, our Mexican amigos laughed and asked, “How’s your Volvo?” “Fuck you,” we’d say.
At night, we would go to sleep listening to the sounds of the band playing in the Desire lobby of the hotel. The whole thing was surreal. We were having fun for sure. But we had no idea what the hell we were doing or where it was going.
4:20 PM Today
The music in the disco is pumping, and the lights are glowing down a sexy blue haze onto half-naked bodies. We hand out oil and blindfolds and tell everyone what to expect in the next hour. “Let your fears go. Release any anxiety. Lose inhibitions and boundaries and just be worshipped.” We are about to intertwine a good vibe, our bodies with theirs, relax, and worship. And if you want to know more, you can come to Desire and check it out!
Realizing Our Value
Sexy, Young and Wild is the theme for the month of August. But this SYW would change our course a bit. We met a couple in the Jacuzzi who just participated in the Art of Touch workshop that heard we weren’t being paid by the resort. We explained that we also do the workshops in a private setting for $300 and get to keep half of the money. “How many of those do you get a month?” she asked. “Like, one. Maybe two.” I’ll never forget this. She tilted her head sideways like a confused puppy. If I had a shirt collar — or was wearing any clothing, for that matter — she would have grabbed it. Either way, she dragged me across the hot tub like she was about to kick my ass. “Listen to me!” She seemed angry. “You provide a good service in that disco! That was an amazing experience. If you choose not to be paid by the resort, that’s fine, but you have got to let these people know. I would have tipped you guys. I had no idea.” She scolded us more about what we’re doing wrong. After that day, we started informing people that we, in fact, DO NOT get paid by the resort. We work off of tips. We don’t trade anything or get free vacations. We just want to provide a great service to the clients. People handed us tips for the first time.
They really liked it. They would run back to their room after the workshop or find us and hand us some cash. We literally had never thought to ask. The truth, to this day, is that the most uncomfortable part of our day is not rubbing up against strangers of all shapes sizes, backgrounds, money classes, and personalities; it’s telling people that we only make tips. That woman changed our lives. Week after week, people’s generosity would continue to overwhelm us. Finally, we were able to take a breath.
5:38 PM Today
Everyone is leaving the disco oiled up and in a fog. Lauren calls them her “walking sex zombies.” Most of them just had an orgasm or two… or more. Some throw money at us as they rush back to their rooms. We chat and laugh and hang out for a while before we return back into the disco, clean up the mess everyone just made, and breakdown the room so it once again can morph back into a disco for the night.
It was high season, and that would mean our rent would triple, which meant we had to move out of our place next to Desire. So, we moved to a beautiful, newly-built place a bit further out. We lived below the owner of the restaurant La Sirena, where we would eventually become regulars. We soon discovered that there was no hot water working at the kitchen sink. Not something you usually check before moving in. When we called the landlord to see if it could be fixed, they stated “No. Because in Mexico, people don’t use hot water in the kitchen sink.” Huh? I looked under the sink, and there was no pipe for hot water. Just a sad little cold water pipe. The landlord (who was an American, by the way) told us to go buy an immersion element. Now, if you don’t know what this is, it’s a 220-volt rod of metal that plugs into a wall, and then you stick it into a sink full of water to heat it up. That was the option. Paper dishes and sporks sounded like a better plan.
Death by dishwashing should have tipped us off that this place may not work out for us. A few weeks later, the landlord would contact us and ask us to lie about who we were while living there. We were to tell anyone who asked that we were relatives of theirs and we were just visiting. We were unable to get a security card to enter or exit the neighborhood. Sometimes, it would take ten minutes to leave because we were pretending to be guests. Not tenants. Turns out, the landlord lied, built apartments in a residential area, and was attempting to Airbnb. Now, the HOA was threatening to tear the place down.
After living there for a month, one day, we started to get dressed to go out, and Lauren noticed that almost every article of clothing was covered in thick mold. Lauren had been sick since we moved there. We thought we had caught some nasty virus. Lauren is allergic to mold. This gross green-and-black living carpet was growing on anything we touched. Needless to say, we said screw this place. To hell with no hot water kitchen sink. Screw our landlord cousins or whatever the hell they were.
6:00 PM Today
We’ve finished cleaning out the disco. We clean ourselves up and go to the Jacuzzi, looking for sexy trouble.
Making Desire Resorts Our Home
It’s now 2018, and we can’t believe what’s happening. Not so much that the workshop is making leaps and bounds, but that the Philadelphia Eagles are heading to the Superbowl for the first time ever!! We would go up to La Sirena every week to watch the playoff games and side-eye the tourists who were rooting for the opposing teams. Don’t mess with Lauren — she bleeds green.
Meanwhile, at Desire, we were adding lights, tapping into their sound system (rather than a tiny Bluetooth speaker we used when we first started.) Lauren created an amazing playlist that people could download and get busy to when they arrived back home and revisit the experience. We were getting a lot of support, and many people were now showing up looking forward to the experience.
January was also the month that we expanded to Desire RM (Riviera Maya). Now doing four workshops a week, we had found our stride. And, like the Eagles, nothing was going to stop us.
7:04 PM Today
We’re eating dinner at home. We are definitely ignoring one another again, trying to play catch up with emails, texts, and social media crap.
Starting the Room 77 Podcast
The Philadelphia Eagles won the Superbowl, and only one police horse was harmed. It was a glorious miracle. It was this month that we decided that we would start a podcast. We had no idea what to do, so we just bought some equipment and started to record. Record. Listen back. Loathe ourselves. Repeat. We had a secret weapon, though. A couple that we had met back in April 2017 was cheering us on. They were and are the most loyal friends we have ever had inside of this lifestyle. They knew about podcasts. They knew about business and had such a passion for investing their time and faith into us. We never stopped talking. And when we finish writing this, they will be the first people to read it. Thank you to the original Jeff and Karen.
8:17 PM Today
We want to watch Netflix, but can’t. I sneak in reading a bit more news while Lauren punches away on her computer. We’re tired, greasy, and in a food coma — a perfect time to record a segment for the podcast. We talk about our day or any thoughts we had about something outrageous that happened. We quickly discuss ‘what’s the story we’re trying to tell,’ hit record, miss the point, and drone on about something else. After that, I go into my Dr. Dre mode and start editing. I’m so sick of my own voice, I want to rip my ears off and learn sign language.
How Everyone Became Jeff and Karen
It’s my birthday month, coincidentally, exactly one year ago as we write this. Lauren arranged with the chef to make me a cake. She had it brought through the back door of the disco from the Pearl kitchen, while I was outside talking to our “victims.” When we opened the door to let everyone in the disco, her face lit up. I’m not easy to surprise. That was the first and only time I can say I’ve had a room full of naked strangers sing “Happy Birthday.” Hopefully, it will also be the last. We continued celebrating my birthday by drinking way too much in the Desire Pearl hot tub. We arrived home that night and recorded what would become our first successful podcast segment. We called it ‘slurcast’ and used it for one of the segments in our first episode. We both have the attention spans of golden retrievers in a squirrel sanctuary, so we decided to do the podcast in smaller sections to help people like us who can’t focus. We ran around the resort getting interviews to add to the short segments. At first, people were super reluctant to record their voices for two idiots roaming around a place that takes privacy and anonymity very seriously. Coming up with fake names became way too complicated. They didn’t remember their fake names. We couldn’t remember their fake names. Eventually, everyone became Jeff and Karen.
11:31 PM Today
We head to bed. Brush stuff. Wash stuff. You know the drill. During these mundane hygiene rituals, I’m usually making a to-do list or complaining about something in the house that’s not working. We used to do remodels together. Lauren even had a little pink tool belt. We love tearing things down and building them back up from scratch. We don’t own a home so we can’t do that any longer, and we miss it. So, now we’re doing it with our lives.
One Year In
A year ago, we were panicking in an immigration office and drunkenly riding bikes to and from the resort.
Now those days seemed ancient, as we try to build a website, figure out what to record, and how to edit a podcast. Hey, Google? How the hell do you edit and launch a podcast?
12 AM Today
Lauren is lying in bed with those sexy electrode things that gently electrocute you. Her hair all over the place, she’s wrapped herself in the sheets like a mummy, headphones in, with one eye open to focus on Candy Crush (it helps her relax). I make a motion for her to take her headphones out. She looks at me as I mutter, “Wanna have sex?” She laughs in a ‘go screw yourself’ kind of way and goes back to Candy Crush.
Room 77 Podcast Launch
We launch the Room 77 Podcast. Most of the bigger podcasters were super supportive and helped our launch immensely. Now, sixteen episodes later, we’ve recounted stories of our lives inside and outside of Desire. And if you want to hear the rest of our lives, you can start at Episode One.
To date in 2019, we are now official ambassadors of Desire Resorts. We have an affiliate deal with the hotel that allows people to support us by booking their trip through our Room 77 Podcast website where we make ten percent commission. We love being a part of couples’ sexy vacations/escapes. We really enjoy making people feel good.
Los Angeles feels like it was another life. But it should, right? I mean, that’s what we asked for. We have no reason or desire to go back to LA, and we don’t really miss anything, except maybe In-N-Out Burger.
Watching TV and movies is way more fun than making them. Old friends are still back there hustling away. We root for their happiness. We root for them and anyone else to keep moving toward that thing that makes them happy. No matter what that thing is. Even if that thing is as ludicrous as, “I want to make a living while being naked around horny people every day.”
Come visit us at one of the Desire Resorts. Let’s hang out, have fun, and forget about the things you should forget about. C’mon, Jeff. C’mon, Karen. What are you waiting for?
I jerk off and go to bed.
Written by Richard and Lauren
This article originally appeared in the April 2019 issue of ASN Lifestyle Magazine.