A Guilty Pleasure, for brightly_lit
Title: A Guilty Pleasure
Recipient: brightly_lit
Rating: T+/Mature
Word Count: 2445
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Set straight after Season 4’s ‘Metamorphosis’ episode. I’d like to give a big thanks to my awesome beta, you know who you are.
Summary: based on this excellent prompt - ‘Dean goes for a massage and is relaxing into it ... when he feels another hand! He makes Sam go back with him to check it out, convinced it's something supernatural. And maybe it is. Or maybe not.’
It’s a guilty pleasure, so sue me. Yes, I like Asian girls - I mean women of course, no disrespect intended. I’ll admit that I collect Busty Asian Beauties magazines and occasionally use Sam’s laptop to access the site. But - and this may surprise you - I’ve never slept with an Asian lady, I’ve only ever had a couple of massages; and they were legit massages, no ‘extras’.
So, after almost being a friggin’ Rugaru’s supper, I decided to reward my battered hunter’s body with a massage and I didn’t expect…certain things to happen. Freaky things.
There I was lying on my front, my face in one of those padded head-holder things, while Jasmine worked on my shoulders. She was kneeling on the bed next to me, both her hands were busy, gliding over muscles so tight they were practically stone; when I felt a hand move from my mid-thigh towards my butt, I jerked in surprise.
“Sorry, sir, did I hurt you?” Jasmine asked, her soft voice all concern.
“No, you’re fine, I just didn’t expect another masseur to join in,” I reassured her as I settled back down.
“Well, there isn’t anyone else,” Jasmine sounded confused, “Just me, but if you want a second, it will cost…”
“No, it’s fine,” I muttered, resisting the urge to look around to check.
Jasmine resumed her work, moving her skillful hands down my arms, up to my shoulders, down my upper back, then repeating the cycle until I was almost purring - and definitely drooling.
Then it happened again. Another hand ran up my inner left thigh towards my junk. I shot up this time, almost knocking Jasmine off the
bed.
“Fuck!” Jasmine exclaimed as she righted herself, adding; “sorry, sir, are you alright?”
“Cramp, leg,” I blurted out as I scanned the room. There was no one in the room apart from Jasmine. Trust me to get felt up by friggin’ Casper.
Jasmine decided to work on my legs, but I couldn’t relax. By the time both her hands were kneading my calves and I felt a third hand on the nape of my neck, I’d had enough.
“Holy shit!” I said as I pushed myself upright. Luckily Jasmine was standing this time and looked at me in bewilderment as I made my excuses and fled the room. I swear she thought I’d escaped from the cuckoo’s nest or was high on drugs.
Of course, Sam was amused at my story of woe, although I bitched at him that it wasn’t funny. My perfectly good massage had been ruined. He stopped laughing long enough to agree to go back with me and check it out.
Sam had a massage the very next day - same room, same time, same masseur. Nothing - just one very happy, very relaxed Sam. It was pretty hard not to punch the smug look off of his face.
We were due to move on from Missouri, as we’d wrapped up the case in Cartharge, but I had to try one more time. This time I booked a different room and a masseur called Lily. I asked Lily to start with my arms while I was sitting facing her; she looked bemused but agreed. I kept watch and sure enough, as Lily worked on my triceps, an invisible hand stroked my thigh. I kept my cool this time, but couldn’t work out why the ghostly hand hadn’t triggered the EMF meter.
“Dean, we need to move on. There’s a vamp case in Pennsylvania if you wanna check it out,” Sam informed me as we ate takeout Chinese on our motel beds later that night.
“Oh yeah, we’ll make tracks in the morning,” I grinned, happy to be getting back to hunting monsters and not dealing with frigging angels. And Jack the Rugaru guy, well, he hadn’t really been a monster and he didn’t deserve what happened to him. It had all been too much of a reminder of the evil that could be lurking inside Sam. I already knew the evil that lurked inside me.
“Okay,” Sam nodded, looking at me like I was nuts for being so happy about it.
“A vamp hunt is just what we need; get in, kill the monster, save the girl,” I explained; “and no freaky ghost hands,”
“Well, whatever touched you, it’s not a ghost,” Sam sighed, “and as it doesn’t seem to have affected anyone else, we’ll have to chalk it up as a mystery.”
Later that night, as I lay trying to go to sleep, I felt a hand on my thigh.
“Quit it, Sammy, that’s not funny,” I snarled, hoping it was just Sam
“Wha’?” Sam’s sleepy voice muttered from his bed. His bed was four feet away from mine; even Sam’s arms weren’t long enough to reach me from there.
“What the fuck?” I sat up, turning on the light with one hand and reaching for my knife with the other; “Okay, Casper the pervy fucking ghost, enough!”
“Dean, quit yellin’,” Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s here, Sammy, it fucking touched me!” I was already up on my feet, prowling the room for some sign of something, anything.
“Okay, calm down, I’ll help you look for it,” Sam yawned. I felt like a heel for waking him up.
“Nah, you get some rest,” I headed for the door; “I’m gonna hit the bar,” I hoped drinking copious amounts of alcohol would mean that even if Casper laid his freaky hands on me again, I’d be too inebriated to notice or care.
My plan worked and as we headed out the next day, I felt sure I was leaving Casper behind. I was humming along to Metallica, the side window was down, the breeze was making me feel relaxed and cool, despite the heat of the day. Sam was reading some research book and we were gonna ice a vamp. Life was pretty good right now. Then I felt it - the hand on my thigh. I swerved the Impala, almost into the path of an oncoming truck, before righting her and pulling over.
I jumped out and patted down my thighs attempting to dislodge the invisible hands. It seemed to work and thankfully I couldn’t feel them anywhere else.
“Holy crap, Dean, it’s not happening again is it?” Sam was out of the car and frowning at me in concern.
“Nah, I just decided to drive into a truck for no god-damned reason!” I grouched.
Sam gave me an eye-roll. “I don’t get it; what on earth could be touching you if it’s not a ghost? The only other thing could be…” Sam hesitated, so I knew it was bad news.
“Go on,” I leaned against Baby’s side, grateful to have her comforting form behind me.
“It could be psycho…” Sam started to say.
“I’m not fucking crazy!” I yelled, leaving the warmth of Baby’s frame to confront Sam.
“I’m not saying you are,” Sam replied calmly, just like he would if he thought I was crazy; “just let me finish,”
“No, nope, no way.” I climbed back into the car, turning the volume up as high as possible.
“Don’t be such a child!” Sam shouted, trying to compete with James Hetfield’s voice as he climbed into the passenger seat. He reached to turn the volume down and I slapped his hand away. I couldn’t help it - I knew I was acting like a big kid, but I’m more fucking afraid of losing my mind than anything supernatural I’ve ever faced. I took off down the road like hellhounds were on my tail.
Sam sat seething and throwing dirty looks at me; I tried to get my breathing to even out as I gripped Baby’s wheel tightly. When I had regained some control, I turned the volume down, knowing I couldn’t put off dealing with a seething Sammy for much longer.
“So, I’m not crazy but I’m a psycho,” I muttered bitterly.
“You’re neither of those things,” Sam countered, “but you are a fucking jerk.”
“Thanks for the analysis, Dr Freud,” I griped.
“Freud, eh? I thought the only doctor you admired was Seuss,” Sam retorted; he’s always been such a clever asshole.
“He was one smart cookie,” I grinned, deciding to stop being such a pain in the backside to Sam.
“I actually agree with you there,” Sam returned my smile.
“Okay then, Sammy, spill,” I sighed, my eyes fixed on the road.
“I think what you’re feeling could be psychosomatic, perhaps after what happened to you in hell,” Sam uttered the last word - that four-letter-word forbidden from any conversation - hesitantly, as he expected me to over-react. Huh, as if I would. Well, of course I would, but right then I wanted to prove him wrong. A rational, sane person would listen to what he had to say, not jump to conclusions or change the subject.
“Dean? Hey, Dean?” Sam repeated, turning towards me. I’d been concentrating so hard on being sane and rational that I hadn’t heard him.
“Yeah, sorry, go on,”
“I said being touched intimately for the first time since hell may have triggered some memories,”
“No one touched me intimately there, Sammy,” I growled, covering up the lie. I could never admit to Sam that sometimes when Alastair took on Cassie’s form, I enjoyed his touch. How he liked to see me in the throes of passion and watch me come, just to bring me back down to earth - or hell- with a nasty bump once the fun was over. He delighted in putting me straight back on the rack, so he could crush my bones and slice my skin away, all over again, now wearing Sam’s form.
“It was just a suggestion,” Sam shrugged, “but think about it Dean, since you got back, you’ve not even had a one-night stand,”
“I’m just savin’ myself for the right girl, Sammy,” I grinned, hiding the truth that I didn’t know if I could ever trust another person, or myself, enough to ever have sex again.
“You’re not telling me you’re really born again?” Sam chuckled; “now, that would be a miracle.”
“Yep, clean slate and all that,” I smiled at him. It always made me feel good to hear Sam laugh.
“Well, I was reading that PTSD can have various effects on survivors, and although a phantom hand giving massages is never mentioned, neither is going to hell.”
“Nah, I don’t buy it, Sammy,” I shrugged; “if I was gonna have flashbacks to…to being downstairs, I think they’d be more graphic,”
“Okay, it’s just a theory,” Sam scratched his forehead, “but if it keeps happening…”
“Shit!” I managed to grip the wheel hard enough not to swerve this time, as the hand caressed the back of my neck. “Not again, fuck!”
“Dean, pull over,” Sam urged, “I’m going have to drive until we work this out.”
I was about to argue but the thought of either totaling my Baby or injuring Sam stopped me. I pulled up and stumbled over to the roadside, heaving up my breakfast.
Sam knelt beside me, rubbing my back and telling me it was gonna be okay as I emptied the contents of my stomach. I was exhausted when I finally finished, and dropped off to sleep almost as soon as Sam started driving.
I dreamt of Jasmine and Lily, dancing on a podium while I watched, then Jasmine was sitting astride me as Lily ran her hands over my shoulders and neck. It was wonderful, everything I’d ever wanted from my Busty Asian Beauties. They soon had me on the floor, their hands running all over my naked body, teasing me, until I could hardly stand it anymore. Be careful what you wish for, Jasmine whispered.
I woke up with a start and a painful erection. I could still feel their hands all over me and I knew what - or rather who - was doing this to me now.
“Dude, you were making very happy noises,” Sam grumbled.
“Sammy, stop, I gotta get out,” I gasped.
“You okay?” Sam asked, worried now; “you need to hurl again?”
I was sweating and shaking; I knew if I didn’t come soon, I was gonna fucking explode. “Nah,” I managed to say as he swung Baby into a side road; luckily it was empty and tree-lined. “Don’t follow me,” I begged Sam and he seemed to understand - perhaps he’d seen the bulge in my jeans.
I ran into the trees and threw myself on my knees, hastily freeing my rock-hard dick from the confines of my jeans. It only took a few strokes before I was coming, all over the tree roots and fallen leaves. I collapsed onto my back and once again felt the invisible hands, running down my thighs, then up under my shirt over my stomach.
“You’re a fucking pervert,” I grumbled as I stared up into the smug, smiling face of The Trickster.
“Takes one to know one,” he smirked.
“Call it off now, please, you bastard,” I pleaded as the hands started stroking my too-sensitive cock.
“I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson,” The Trickster peered at me as I moaned in pain.
“Please, stop. I have, I promise,” I hated begging but couldn’t take anymore. The hands stopped and Jasmine materialized in front of me. She peered at me too, just as The Trickster was, before nodding once to him. He snapped his fingers and she disappeared.
The Trickster unwrapped a lollipop, laughing at me wincing as I tucked my poor cock back inside my jeans. “Oh Dean, teasing you has been such fun. I knew you had a taste for the Busty Asian Beauties and just wanted to make you suffer, a little. But I guess you’ve suffered more than enough.” He popped the lollipop in his mouth and held out a hand to me. I accepted it and he hauled me up.
“You’re a fucking sadistic bastard,” I growled at him.
“C’mon, no hard feelings, you and Sam did try to kill me, remember?” He grinned.
“Yeah, me and Sammy,” I grumbled, “so why wasn’t he getting the Casper the pervy ghost treatment?”
“Oh don’t worry, I have something special planned for Sammy,” he winked; “Ciao, Dean, see you around.”
I told Sam the whole sorry story when I got back to the Impala, except for the part about The Trickster having something planned for him.
And I guess the lesson he wanted to teach me was to stop objectifying women, but I have to admit I’m still buying my Busty Asian Beauties. What can I say? A man needs a guilty pleasure.
Recipient: brightly_lit
Rating: T+/Mature
Word Count: 2445
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: Set straight after Season 4’s ‘Metamorphosis’ episode. I’d like to give a big thanks to my awesome beta, you know who you are.
Summary: based on this excellent prompt - ‘Dean goes for a massage and is relaxing into it ... when he feels another hand! He makes Sam go back with him to check it out, convinced it's something supernatural. And maybe it is. Or maybe not.’
It’s a guilty pleasure, so sue me. Yes, I like Asian girls - I mean women of course, no disrespect intended. I’ll admit that I collect Busty Asian Beauties magazines and occasionally use Sam’s laptop to access the site. But - and this may surprise you - I’ve never slept with an Asian lady, I’ve only ever had a couple of massages; and they were legit massages, no ‘extras’.
So, after almost being a friggin’ Rugaru’s supper, I decided to reward my battered hunter’s body with a massage and I didn’t expect…certain things to happen. Freaky things.
There I was lying on my front, my face in one of those padded head-holder things, while Jasmine worked on my shoulders. She was kneeling on the bed next to me, both her hands were busy, gliding over muscles so tight they were practically stone; when I felt a hand move from my mid-thigh towards my butt, I jerked in surprise.
“Sorry, sir, did I hurt you?” Jasmine asked, her soft voice all concern.
“No, you’re fine, I just didn’t expect another masseur to join in,” I reassured her as I settled back down.
“Well, there isn’t anyone else,” Jasmine sounded confused, “Just me, but if you want a second, it will cost…”
“No, it’s fine,” I muttered, resisting the urge to look around to check.
Jasmine resumed her work, moving her skillful hands down my arms, up to my shoulders, down my upper back, then repeating the cycle until I was almost purring - and definitely drooling.
Then it happened again. Another hand ran up my inner left thigh towards my junk. I shot up this time, almost knocking Jasmine off the
bed.
“Fuck!” Jasmine exclaimed as she righted herself, adding; “sorry, sir, are you alright?”
“Cramp, leg,” I blurted out as I scanned the room. There was no one in the room apart from Jasmine. Trust me to get felt up by friggin’ Casper.
Jasmine decided to work on my legs, but I couldn’t relax. By the time both her hands were kneading my calves and I felt a third hand on the nape of my neck, I’d had enough.
“Holy shit!” I said as I pushed myself upright. Luckily Jasmine was standing this time and looked at me in bewilderment as I made my excuses and fled the room. I swear she thought I’d escaped from the cuckoo’s nest or was high on drugs.
Of course, Sam was amused at my story of woe, although I bitched at him that it wasn’t funny. My perfectly good massage had been ruined. He stopped laughing long enough to agree to go back with me and check it out.
Sam had a massage the very next day - same room, same time, same masseur. Nothing - just one very happy, very relaxed Sam. It was pretty hard not to punch the smug look off of his face.
We were due to move on from Missouri, as we’d wrapped up the case in Cartharge, but I had to try one more time. This time I booked a different room and a masseur called Lily. I asked Lily to start with my arms while I was sitting facing her; she looked bemused but agreed. I kept watch and sure enough, as Lily worked on my triceps, an invisible hand stroked my thigh. I kept my cool this time, but couldn’t work out why the ghostly hand hadn’t triggered the EMF meter.
“Dean, we need to move on. There’s a vamp case in Pennsylvania if you wanna check it out,” Sam informed me as we ate takeout Chinese on our motel beds later that night.
“Oh yeah, we’ll make tracks in the morning,” I grinned, happy to be getting back to hunting monsters and not dealing with frigging angels. And Jack the Rugaru guy, well, he hadn’t really been a monster and he didn’t deserve what happened to him. It had all been too much of a reminder of the evil that could be lurking inside Sam. I already knew the evil that lurked inside me.
“Okay,” Sam nodded, looking at me like I was nuts for being so happy about it.
“A vamp hunt is just what we need; get in, kill the monster, save the girl,” I explained; “and no freaky ghost hands,”
“Well, whatever touched you, it’s not a ghost,” Sam sighed, “and as it doesn’t seem to have affected anyone else, we’ll have to chalk it up as a mystery.”
Later that night, as I lay trying to go to sleep, I felt a hand on my thigh.
“Quit it, Sammy, that’s not funny,” I snarled, hoping it was just Sam
“Wha’?” Sam’s sleepy voice muttered from his bed. His bed was four feet away from mine; even Sam’s arms weren’t long enough to reach me from there.
“What the fuck?” I sat up, turning on the light with one hand and reaching for my knife with the other; “Okay, Casper the pervy fucking ghost, enough!”
“Dean, quit yellin’,” Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s here, Sammy, it fucking touched me!” I was already up on my feet, prowling the room for some sign of something, anything.
“Okay, calm down, I’ll help you look for it,” Sam yawned. I felt like a heel for waking him up.
“Nah, you get some rest,” I headed for the door; “I’m gonna hit the bar,” I hoped drinking copious amounts of alcohol would mean that even if Casper laid his freaky hands on me again, I’d be too inebriated to notice or care.
My plan worked and as we headed out the next day, I felt sure I was leaving Casper behind. I was humming along to Metallica, the side window was down, the breeze was making me feel relaxed and cool, despite the heat of the day. Sam was reading some research book and we were gonna ice a vamp. Life was pretty good right now. Then I felt it - the hand on my thigh. I swerved the Impala, almost into the path of an oncoming truck, before righting her and pulling over.
I jumped out and patted down my thighs attempting to dislodge the invisible hands. It seemed to work and thankfully I couldn’t feel them anywhere else.
“Holy crap, Dean, it’s not happening again is it?” Sam was out of the car and frowning at me in concern.
“Nah, I just decided to drive into a truck for no god-damned reason!” I grouched.
Sam gave me an eye-roll. “I don’t get it; what on earth could be touching you if it’s not a ghost? The only other thing could be…” Sam hesitated, so I knew it was bad news.
“Go on,” I leaned against Baby’s side, grateful to have her comforting form behind me.
“It could be psycho…” Sam started to say.
“I’m not fucking crazy!” I yelled, leaving the warmth of Baby’s frame to confront Sam.
“I’m not saying you are,” Sam replied calmly, just like he would if he thought I was crazy; “just let me finish,”
“No, nope, no way.” I climbed back into the car, turning the volume up as high as possible.
“Don’t be such a child!” Sam shouted, trying to compete with James Hetfield’s voice as he climbed into the passenger seat. He reached to turn the volume down and I slapped his hand away. I couldn’t help it - I knew I was acting like a big kid, but I’m more fucking afraid of losing my mind than anything supernatural I’ve ever faced. I took off down the road like hellhounds were on my tail.
Sam sat seething and throwing dirty looks at me; I tried to get my breathing to even out as I gripped Baby’s wheel tightly. When I had regained some control, I turned the volume down, knowing I couldn’t put off dealing with a seething Sammy for much longer.
“So, I’m not crazy but I’m a psycho,” I muttered bitterly.
“You’re neither of those things,” Sam countered, “but you are a fucking jerk.”
“Thanks for the analysis, Dr Freud,” I griped.
“Freud, eh? I thought the only doctor you admired was Seuss,” Sam retorted; he’s always been such a clever asshole.
“He was one smart cookie,” I grinned, deciding to stop being such a pain in the backside to Sam.
“I actually agree with you there,” Sam returned my smile.
“Okay then, Sammy, spill,” I sighed, my eyes fixed on the road.
“I think what you’re feeling could be psychosomatic, perhaps after what happened to you in hell,” Sam uttered the last word - that four-letter-word forbidden from any conversation - hesitantly, as he expected me to over-react. Huh, as if I would. Well, of course I would, but right then I wanted to prove him wrong. A rational, sane person would listen to what he had to say, not jump to conclusions or change the subject.
“Dean? Hey, Dean?” Sam repeated, turning towards me. I’d been concentrating so hard on being sane and rational that I hadn’t heard him.
“Yeah, sorry, go on,”
“I said being touched intimately for the first time since hell may have triggered some memories,”
“No one touched me intimately there, Sammy,” I growled, covering up the lie. I could never admit to Sam that sometimes when Alastair took on Cassie’s form, I enjoyed his touch. How he liked to see me in the throes of passion and watch me come, just to bring me back down to earth - or hell- with a nasty bump once the fun was over. He delighted in putting me straight back on the rack, so he could crush my bones and slice my skin away, all over again, now wearing Sam’s form.
“It was just a suggestion,” Sam shrugged, “but think about it Dean, since you got back, you’ve not even had a one-night stand,”
“I’m just savin’ myself for the right girl, Sammy,” I grinned, hiding the truth that I didn’t know if I could ever trust another person, or myself, enough to ever have sex again.
“You’re not telling me you’re really born again?” Sam chuckled; “now, that would be a miracle.”
“Yep, clean slate and all that,” I smiled at him. It always made me feel good to hear Sam laugh.
“Well, I was reading that PTSD can have various effects on survivors, and although a phantom hand giving massages is never mentioned, neither is going to hell.”
“Nah, I don’t buy it, Sammy,” I shrugged; “if I was gonna have flashbacks to…to being downstairs, I think they’d be more graphic,”
“Okay, it’s just a theory,” Sam scratched his forehead, “but if it keeps happening…”
“Shit!” I managed to grip the wheel hard enough not to swerve this time, as the hand caressed the back of my neck. “Not again, fuck!”
“Dean, pull over,” Sam urged, “I’m going have to drive until we work this out.”
I was about to argue but the thought of either totaling my Baby or injuring Sam stopped me. I pulled up and stumbled over to the roadside, heaving up my breakfast.
Sam knelt beside me, rubbing my back and telling me it was gonna be okay as I emptied the contents of my stomach. I was exhausted when I finally finished, and dropped off to sleep almost as soon as Sam started driving.
I dreamt of Jasmine and Lily, dancing on a podium while I watched, then Jasmine was sitting astride me as Lily ran her hands over my shoulders and neck. It was wonderful, everything I’d ever wanted from my Busty Asian Beauties. They soon had me on the floor, their hands running all over my naked body, teasing me, until I could hardly stand it anymore. Be careful what you wish for, Jasmine whispered.
I woke up with a start and a painful erection. I could still feel their hands all over me and I knew what - or rather who - was doing this to me now.
“Dude, you were making very happy noises,” Sam grumbled.
“Sammy, stop, I gotta get out,” I gasped.
“You okay?” Sam asked, worried now; “you need to hurl again?”
I was sweating and shaking; I knew if I didn’t come soon, I was gonna fucking explode. “Nah,” I managed to say as he swung Baby into a side road; luckily it was empty and tree-lined. “Don’t follow me,” I begged Sam and he seemed to understand - perhaps he’d seen the bulge in my jeans.
I ran into the trees and threw myself on my knees, hastily freeing my rock-hard dick from the confines of my jeans. It only took a few strokes before I was coming, all over the tree roots and fallen leaves. I collapsed onto my back and once again felt the invisible hands, running down my thighs, then up under my shirt over my stomach.
“You’re a fucking pervert,” I grumbled as I stared up into the smug, smiling face of The Trickster.
“Takes one to know one,” he smirked.
“Call it off now, please, you bastard,” I pleaded as the hands started stroking my too-sensitive cock.
“I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson,” The Trickster peered at me as I moaned in pain.
“Please, stop. I have, I promise,” I hated begging but couldn’t take anymore. The hands stopped and Jasmine materialized in front of me. She peered at me too, just as The Trickster was, before nodding once to him. He snapped his fingers and she disappeared.
The Trickster unwrapped a lollipop, laughing at me wincing as I tucked my poor cock back inside my jeans. “Oh Dean, teasing you has been such fun. I knew you had a taste for the Busty Asian Beauties and just wanted to make you suffer, a little. But I guess you’ve suffered more than enough.” He popped the lollipop in his mouth and held out a hand to me. I accepted it and he hauled me up.
“You’re a fucking sadistic bastard,” I growled at him.
“C’mon, no hard feelings, you and Sam did try to kill me, remember?” He grinned.
“Yeah, me and Sammy,” I grumbled, “so why wasn’t he getting the Casper the pervy ghost treatment?”
“Oh don’t worry, I have something special planned for Sammy,” he winked; “Ciao, Dean, see you around.”
I told Sam the whole sorry story when I got back to the Impala, except for the part about The Trickster having something planned for him.
And I guess the lesson he wanted to teach me was to stop objectifying women, but I have to admit I’m still buying my Busty Asian Beauties. What can I say? A man needs a guilty pleasure.