Miami paradise


We escaped Gotham for a quick weekend in the southern tip. Quick indeed, using my man's (almost) free stand-bye air tickets we lurked in JFK until a vacant seat heading to the sunshine was located and hopped on. After a few relatively cheerful hours on a JetBlue plane, where lots of carb rich snacks were poured to our laps by a friendly M2F look alike attendant, we hit a dazzling Florida sunset, loose clothing and looser attitude. Our hotel, a party-central boutique on Collins Ave was composed of a bar and suspiciously looking rooms you might expect in a Dutch steam house. All the necessities were there: kinky bed with dark velvety covers, large flat TV, overflowing minibar and a shelf of the "essentials" for the busy traveler: condoms, lube and munchies.
The lobby bar features a host of VERY liberated Israeli staff, a pleasant surprise. They were well informed on all matters party-related: where are the hot boys, which beach is essential, when are the happy hours and the like. At 7 pm we hit the bar and continuously gulped for a while. Next I remember, it was morning.
The next night, after an exciting work out in a local Crunch branch boasting South Beach's best bronzed torsos, we headed to the main attraction which sparked this escape: The Offer Nissim et Peter Rauhafer gathering of the tribe. Under the roof of Mansion, a large and sexy dark heaven, we danced, touched, talked and rubbed noses with a happy sensual crowed, two sweaty bodies in a sea of gorgeous men. The life!

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