What sort of fucker is Vanity Fair's George Washingtonesque editor Graydon Carter? An amazing one, according to a man who once stayed in a hotel room directly under his, listening:
Rupert Everett (who's on the masthead as a VF contributing editor, wonder how he got there, ha, rimshot) tells the honest truth to the Daily Beast:
This is the most amazing thing I found out about him. I was once staying at a hotel and I was in the room directly under his. He is an amazing fuck. And you can quote me on this. The screams coming from the woman were some of the purest sounds of pleasure I'd ever heard. And there I was sitting alone in my room unfucked. Suddenly it all made sense. That messy hair of his that I always thought was buffoon hair was buffoon hair hiding a monster cock. The next day I went down to breakfast and Graydon came in and I thought to myself, well, now I understand why you are always acting so entitled and walking on air even though you're rather fat. It's because grazing the grass between your legs is this appendage of yours. I did rather politely tell him that morning that I thought he was a very good fuck.