Quietly and still I stood, listening to the jeers that had now become distant whispers. The windows were shut, curtains drawn tight, door closed securely with all of my might. Still, like hunting hounds in the back woods of Tennessee, I hear them call my name: "Carol Lee, oooh, chile blacker than me!"
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The GB's are a totally different breed. They kiss and kick ass with the same voracity as though love and hate are synonymous. The sounds they make are a disturbing medley, one can never tell if they are fucking or fighting.
read more of: homoSEXual

The woman had an apple pie cooling in the sun. He never understood why women let things cool in the sun, in the summer. But it must have had something to do with the heat, something about the summer heat made the juices all the more sweet. He had followed the aroma. Crossing the tracks. They lived so close. Too close. Always smelled like pennies, his father claimed. Worthless change.
read more of: William Putnam is . . .

In my next life, if there should be one, I'm coming back as a man. Eight inches of "lawd have mercy" in between my thighs. Enough girth to be pleased and pleasing. Pleasure or torture, depending on what is deemed pleasurable by the one I'm pleasing.
read more of: Coming Back as a Man

It was my desire to be like everyone else that forced me into tears. I wanted the hair style that made women stars and set the standard. I wanted something that belonged to someone else. Yes, I wanted Farrah Fawcett Major`s curls. Yeah, you know, the chick from the original Charile`s Angels. I wanted to be like everyone else - normal?!?! to blend, fit in.
read more of: The Beautiful People?

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