Toodle-loo to all! I am Manuelle and welcome back to my column, which you left last week with me having both man problems and mantasies at one and the same time. But I am going to leave that where it was and move on to brighter things and places, ok?

This last weekend I was having a sad time by myself in my apartment (notice the word ‘men’ is in the word ‘apartment,’ and I wonder why I never have any men in mine!), but I was told by my good friend Frederick that there was to be a social party at someone’s house and I was to be stupid if I was not to go.

So all the hours of finding what to dress myself in flew by and then I found myself in the middle of a boring party with many fancy people drinking and talking around me.

Perhaps it was the bottle of ’92 Chablis Bousia that I had been steadily sipping from all night, or maybe it was the stunning moonlight on the waves of the above-ground pool in the backyard, or maybe it was my feelings of loneliness, but within a few minutes of beginning the party, I was indulging myself in yet another one of my famous mantasies!

This mantasy started off like no other had before, with me in a room that had nothing in it but me, a chair for me to sit in, and twelve beautiful shirtless men who really seemed to be liking me quite more than they should be. I say this because they were all telling me the nicest things like what kind of favors they would do for me or what kinds of fun activities we could take part in if we wanted to.

For instance, one of the gorgeous boys who happened to be wearing tight blue jean pants that had only a front and no back side to them, suggested that we could go riding together. I had to tell him that Manuelle is no good up on a horse, much less any other farm animals. My Uncle Gerardo in Puerto Rico took me out on his cock farm once and needful to say, I got a face full of angry cock when I began petting a particular hen that I suppose belonged to a particular cock who had negative feelings for me.

But I will get away from the tangent I just was just getting into and get back to the story of my wonderful dream of sweating men who were in love with me. So the men were tickling me here and there and brushing my hair with their fingers (and by the way, in this mantasy, my hair was long and flowing like the great actor Fabio!).

At this point, the men arrayed themselves in a straight line and began to dance like the cowboy people who I once witnessed dancing at a bar in Alabama, which I think is somewhere in Texas.

I must admit to you that I am not fond of that kind of dancing and I admitted this to them, which may have been a foolish thing for me to do in my mantasy.

Immediately, all of the yummy men turned their backs to me (not such a bad thing, in a way) and they walked out of the door and out of my boyish dream-like thing.

I cried at the men leaving me and when I awoke from my mantasy, I was crying in front of a few party-going peoples.

So I made a fast effort to remove myself from that party and now I am here, alone again. If you could only feel the hurt that is in these words, you might read the feelings of my heart. I am sadly now and would like to stop writing so much.

Boo-bye, my nice readers.