Social Sway by Anita Hotty - WordPress.com

SocialSwayBy Anita HottyPublished by Hotty Power Inc.[ed]on her blouse {giggles}1

Thank you to our precious earth,Friends, Lovers, FamilyPassing acquaintancesThank you Cybernetic Realities.Let us journey into ownershipof ACTION.CUNTYRIGHT © 2008 by AnitaHottyAll rights reserved. No part of this book maybe reproduced without permission. For furtherinformation address HOTTY PRINTING PRESS, 2837Fifteenth Avenue, Prince George, British Columbia.This is an authorized first print edition publishedby Hotty printing press.FIRST PRINTINGTrademarkRegistered Trademark – O’Nita RegistrataO’Nita Books are published byHotty Power, Inc.[ed] on her blouse {giggles},Address undisclosed.PRINTED IN CANADAWorld Wide Request: Those wishing to transcribebook in languages of multiples. No transoffenderhere. I faith my appeal: culturize the written worderotic. Please.2

ISBN 0-9780853-1-03

ArtmuffstickCumtributors:The Photographic Cumtributors:ricardoalbertoleiva.comwendydphotography.comsmutbunnyunlimited, Finnegan Sproulespaceshipstudio.comImagebox, Bernie Leemasede.netThe Striker:www.sexyanastasia.comThe Stimulator:Hsing Lee ~ www.focced.comGraciousGratitudesTo my Cuntabeautiful Cockliscious Hotties:THE CUMTRIBUTORSThey’re grrrrrrrrrreeeeeaaaaaaaatttt ! Ya think? I know it!4

CockTense ~ Sequencing SwayCumIntro * Pretaste: Isolation Rigged Me Erotic ping 10Curvature 1 Atticisms purr 15CoxSway 2 Whores & Contradictions pimp 29CurvySex 3 Rated Adult PG play 47ClassSoI 4 Dotations pang 67CuntSeek 5 ϑυστ ωηατ αµ Ι τρψινγ το σαψ? 91Cummer 6 Isms’ d’autre espèce peck 107Coldcox 7 Torturings piss 129CoySway 8 Motherly Wisdoms, Subliminally Sublime peep 151CoxSwing 9 Model Mania pose 161CumSweet 10 Play4Boy kisses psht 177Cumquad 11 Kicks, Fixes & Desperate Measures poop 183Cumwad 12 Motherly Wisdoms, Blatantly Loving poof 199Cunt-on 13 Lipstick lips seal our fate part 213COCK 5

CockTense ~ Cocking it Down! ~ Cummer CuntyRight cool 2Artmuffstick Cumtribuors cums 4CockTense cock 5CockTense Breakdown,this page you foo’cunt 6* ~ CumIntro Pretaste: Isolation Rigged Me Erotic ping 101 ~ Atticisms Shaven legs 16At the Café look 17Victorian Blowjob lips 23Hush lock 24Treasure Rare love 25Kaleiding Eve love 25Pedro lick 26Winded, my ailed Egrets lust 282 ~ Whores &ContradictionsRationalize. Fractionalize. BedsideLady Love Computationsslut 29Lady Love Capone sexy 33Tortured by submission, as long asit makes you happy to love me...Wereunite. We ignite. sins 35Bastard Man soul 39The Fine Arts of Nasty Suck Theatre suck 413 ~ Rated Adult PG Bureau Open Lover: Highway 10 toHeavenboys 48Pocket full of Condoms bust 57Nudecaster Application: QuestionNumber One bush 58AnitaPuss bone 59Nusery Divorcée bone 59CUNT 6

Peeping Paul bong 60Is there a doctor in the house? bang 61Ichi Bum best 62Ichi Bum II Ichy butt 64Peace BumbuzzleRise! boob 654 ~ Dotations Ode to my Ex Lover – Do you missme now? o’no 68Ebony oded 69Fat Bastard open 73Tiffany ogle 74Toiletries o’my 80Personable Joe over 81Strippin’ Columbo ohoh 82Mexico olay 83Dotation omen 85Lovin’ Honkey oman 905 ~ ϑυστ ωηατ αµ Ιτρψινγ το σαψ?E-mail real 92Mary Had a Little Daughter rape 93SlipKnot roar 94Merry Kissmas rest 95Stepping Stone and Food Chain rump 96Hair Crazed! rise 97Prophesies roam 100NudistFriends rock 101To all the bastards I’ve loved before… rant 102Freudian…Confession risk 105Parameters unknown, rate 1066 ~ ‘Isms’ d’autreespèceAlcoholic more 108Nostic IV x 2 mess 109CUNT 7

Entried: Three Days in Vancouver mack 110A Lonely Man mime 116Left. Swept. Depth. muff 117The Complex moan 1267 ~ Torturings Morally Sleeps me Lonely flee 130Begging for his rtn fail 131Derivatives fool 135My first Contempt fist 137All the Breakdowns Billy Gave Me flip 140Leeching Lover Let Go fuss 142Contempt the First Time foof 143Rosebud fump 145Grey-haired Grizzle fame 147Sway you into the social fame 147Green River fite 148Ain't Nothin' But a Porn Dog foes 1508 ~ Motherly Define [Sublime] hugs 152Wisdoms, SubliminallySublimeAll in a Pushman's Pay hung 153Rosepeddle Charm hiss 155Wrong Number hoar 1569 ~ Model Mania 'Nypping Away at my Insecurities,Capitalizedtits 162Addressed: 'Jandro tail 163Substance Hugh toot 164Tan Tips Kly tips 166Takin' My Obsessive Pole to Niven tips 166Orlando Talents? tugs 167Treetop Lovers? tool 168Consciousness International tame 169Heartbracking Recovery toil 173Titatanium Trap toil 173CUNT 8

Dearest Modeling Agency tear 174Minxing Reason tear 174Modeling my Caviar Dreams tite 175Nue-ance trance tite 175After Six ting 17610 ~ Play4BoykissesBusiness Hugh wise 178Women wild 18011 ~ Kicks, Fixes &DesperateMeasuresCocaine Therapy assy 184Alternate Me[s] yesy 187W.A.S.P. Sung About it Once issy 191Thanato ashy 19712 ~ MotherlyWisdoms, BlatantlyLovingMy Dearest Oprah joys 200Eulogized, My Beloved Friend join 204PG Made History jest 20913 ~ Lipstick lipsseal our fateLipstick lips fuck 214Everything free 215Hotty Goals [and she scores] dick 216Cuntaliscious Profile dink 217Ass End dpe 218CUNT 9

PRETASTE: Isolation Rigged Me EroticcumintroThe name’s AnitaHotty and I have a flare for the literate erotic. I’d saymy story dates back to my time on the rigs when I was surroundedby ‘redneck’ judgments espoused on doghouse walls and powerdynamics which outcasted me from mainstream ‘riggers.’ I was notlike the other medics. No. I brought with me Christmas lights, myPussy/Posse panthered money loving Montana, a peach floweredtablecloth, vintage clothes and black stiletto boots. The boysloved to insecure me and resist my insistence for safety. Sometreated me equal. Most treated me subordinate. One consultantwatched porn andrespected me for doing his laundry.Most Push[ed] at me with decorated walls of pretty pornographicdelights.Well, this thirty-one yearold lady cockied herselfstatus while she was out onthose rigs. I held my own.With every ridiculeattempt I lashed back withproud philosophies: “do unto others…,” the attitude of nonjudgmentand self-assertion to treat all with respect and dignity, even in the faceof cruelty. One time I braved myself with a bold, “I’ve got more ballsthan all of you as far as I am concerned!” My consequence? Gags oftoilet paper in my shoes, a ransomed coffee mug, bound tape duckingand a mock lopped off wienered finger. I fired back classy: presentsand decorations for the [un]Well-service[d], verbal protection over‘fat’ people, original gifts for Fracs populated as giant as twenty-fiveand a first ever rebellious PlayGirl purchase.Rumors of prostituting independents and medic companies were thegossip (and wish) of many. I heard the stories and even created a fewof my own... One geologist fantasized a motor transported emergencyresponse which I feared yet dared. We arranged a devilish escapefrom my trailered on-call duties, pre-arranged a ‘safety’ plan, pulledover along a not-so-secluded mudded road and cured each other ofour frustrated ills. My unsuspecting Medic Company funded anotherrendevous where we played dirty in hotel sheets. That was the night Ipulled out those heels of black and Dusted my fallen Star in a birthdaycelebration at the Level ‘berta High club for whoop it up dalliance. Idressed up my fraccer boy in the shine of the shirt left behind by afleeing ex husband.I admit my time out in seclusion was hard. What is a sexually peakedwoman to do surrounded by masses of lonely drooling men? How is awoman to react to the degrading reminders of calendar girls and decorof Hustlers, Swanks, Playboys and Penthouses? Who are these MaximPING 10

Pretastetutors educating men on the How-to-Guide for pleasing a lady? I waspent up for sure; I needed an outlet other than the repeated uptightnatures of horny men. I was bothered by the expected submissivenature unwritten in the Code for Medics. That’s when I started towrite the literate erotic.Although I have a history for open love, promiscuity and sexualfreedom I found myself unexpectedly bothered by the whorish andobjectified representations of women. I thought to myself, “Oh ya.I’ll show you!” as I reacted to egotized power-control dynamics. Ibought a Playgirl with the reactive intent to discomfort those boysmy retaliation and display posed open pages on the dashboardof my company-loaned vehicle. How does it make you feel to seevarious penises, bared chests and sexy manly expressions plasteredanywhere I damn well want them to? You boys like knowing that theobjectification of men turns me on? Don’t want to get to know ya. Juststroke off to you, fuck you crazy in my mind, blow my load and fuckoff when I’m done. Maybe I’ll call you. Maybe I won’t. Meanwhileshut up and bear it or get turned on like the rest of us otherwise I haveno use for you. Don’t you boys like visual stimulations of the maleform arousing you while you are at work?My Playgirl purchase was one of disappointment-transformedinspiration that urged me to release pent up sexual frustrations inthe written word. My first reaction to Playgirl was dissatisfying as Icritiqued the men as unstimulating and assumed the sexual expert asseriously inexperienced due to the nature of his question and answerresponse. I proclaimed confidently to myself, “I can do better!” andso I began to write with the intent of creating my own pornographicmagazine. I wrote with the fantasy to create a magazine for womenthat men would also feel comfortable reading without feeling thestigmatic embarrassment of being caught reading a female porn mag.I wanted to educate men as Maxim does but with an added socialconscience: to teach men not only how turn women on and teach themabout female bodies and their psyche but to engage them into thoseissues that women find important and meaningful. I wanted to teachmen how women think while at the same time easing the pressureto get to know a woman by stimulating them sexually. So I began towrite with man as my motivating inspiration.As I wrote my stories I could not resist reciting them eagerly toanyone who would listen. The occasional rig boy who strolled overfor casual conversation would get a paid time-out to arouse himselfin the fantasies of my vivid imagination {I love to read out my workfor after I create I eagerly wish to share}. The boys enjoyed the allurePING 11

PretasteGojiBerry and lastly my true thrusting thirst for Worldwide BodyAcceptance. Shaven came to me one independent walk down a citysidewalk. As most often I do I thought of my body and its relationshipwith the world. Deep provocations entrenched by the passion I havefor a Bush or Bare it philosophy brought me to a hippied bend. I bledimages of my own haired comfort in my giggle-girl shine hardcover.Shaven came to tickle deeply into my spirit. More poetry freeassociatedas I continued to write, antagonized by social realities.The majority of my book centers on the literate erotic. Each chapterfits the nature of prose. Atticisms draws the reader in with the class ofeloquence. Slowly I lure the female with soft eroticism for I fear shewill flee if I begin with the hardness of horn. Winded, my ailed Egretsis an especially beautiful later addition to my book. The conditionsof relationships are perceptual. They may evoke feelings of betrayedbeauty. For those who are unaware the Snowy Egret nearly becameextinct during the 19 th century. Feathered plumes were once popularon hats.Two my second chapter: Whores & Contradictions; here I reflect onthe contradictory nature of sexuality in modern society. Bastard Manexplores the stigmatic cruelty of judgment for those living with adisability. Rape, murder, sex, power and control are other Bastardthemes written to reality our collective world. Three, as I count downmy Highway to Ten {giggles}, I laugh the reader into embracing his andher inner child: Rated Adult PG. Sex too often has lost the innocenceof play. How often have we been pressured to accept that No meansYes? I ease the pressure by encouraging others to lose themselves inchild-like frolic. Peace Bumbuzzle Rise giggles a number of referencesto ‘insectual’ causes and concludes with an invite for the reader toinform his or her own conclusions. Nursery Divorce is a short giggledsadness inspired by my life.Dotations are my dedications. Sex and love can – and do belong. Thefetish of Toiletries twirls a subliminal admiration for the ways we love.Love, whatever its form, lingers. On the contradictory hand, myDotation devoted to Dotations twists sickly in the mind of a delusionalother - - or does it?ϑυστ ωηατ αµ Ι τρψινγ το σαψ? ranges from the bold to mild. Opendialogue is my devious intent. For those who are admired cultfollowers I invite you to find me at NudistFriends. And I ask thatprovoked retaliators recognize that Mary Had a Little Daughter is anexpression, not my belief that victims are to blame for enmeshedabusive family dynamics. ‘Isms’ d’autre espèce insights the readerPING 13

cumintrointo a little bundle of judmentalisms perpetuated by the media, theunnecessary necessity for labels and the consequence of internalizedabsorption.I continue my journey of eroticism through Torturings and sway itinto literate realities that passion my virtue. Torturings is a chapterof deviation. I express the pain of life in purposeful ways. The heartof an abused woman cries outward her pain, her perversion and herhate. Grey-haired Grizzle is a simple story of humored betrayal. Myvoice introduces the reader to academic consciousness as I go fromswaying you into the social and into my disheartened and shamefulreaction to the Green River murders. What horrific realities evokereaction – and will we cherish the disheartening memories as a meansto humble our person in our day-to-day lives?Chapters eight and twelve are interconnected: Motherly Wisdoms,Subliminally Sublime & Blatantly Loving. The content of their virtuecautions the reader blatantly or with concealed wisdoms both from thenurturing heart of the mother in me. Please ask yourself the question,“Just what am I trying to say?” Model Mania is ideal for the intelligentreader who has a thirst for uncovering hidden secrets. Each poemreferences real-life attempts to attract the photog into my desperationfor empowered pose. My yearnings are motivated by escapist desiresand caviar dreams. I devilishly interweave a trivial pursuit writtenspecifically for investigative characters while at the same time Iseparate each contribution into its own individual expression. memberMusci dies rebirthed predictions is a metaphorical relationship betweenman, woman and nature. I also educate the reader with a scenicbiology lesson. Do you know what it is?Play4Boy kisses is loaded meaninglessness. This chapter is a piece ofa special gift. The gift is limited in its edition and only those whoown it will have the complete incompleteness of my personal reality.The bloodied handprint remains on my wall. Cumquad’s Kicks, Fixes& Desperate Measures is self-explanatory. The chapter kicks the fixfor desperate measures. Finally I conclude with superstition andtransform the emotively fluctuating condition of human-naturedresponse into bold optimism. There is a lot of Power in One. Thisbook and my home have taught me that I am just another nobodywho’s a somebody. I wrote Social Sway for the world and I am proudof myself. I ask everyone to faith their own abilities and to maintainbalance with truth and reality although they are forever perceptuallycontradictory.PING 14

Ι - Аττιζιςмς

Curvature oneShavenHere bushy bushy bushy!Here bushy bushy bush!Have you seen my razor sleekwho glidesupon the surfaceof these roundedmounds and dippedcrevices?My bushy is a ticklerRazor cuts deep iceThe two are the oppositesof each other, but fitreal niceOne Comforts hidden passionsOne cuts them – Scorns them deepOne is unlike the otherbut perfectwhen theymeet ..LEGS 16

At the CaféatticimsSitting. Sipping. I look around at the people - their busy and importantlives. Chatter chatter chit chit chatter boxes. Do they ever stop tonotice those in the dark alleys behind garbage bags (a gigantic orgy ofmultiplying maggots happily living in the darkened filth that humansthrow away – a fuck fest you might say. Well, how else might youexplain it? You know > > > what goes on in a garbage bag…)?People are more blessed than they realize. It’s so easy to take forgranted the simple pleasures, the infinite luxuries. Observations ofmy eager capitalist friends. I feel whimsical and jiggle inwardly. Herethey are: dIAMOnds. My head jolts sloppily backward almost rollingoff my neck. Haa Haa HhaHaaa. (if I could recite this to you therewould be a spark in my voice and a glimmer in my eyes – wide-eyedin fact). So I pause momentarily and soak up their DiamONds. Andthen I note an actual dIAMoND. Yes! One big rock of a diamond onprecious little lefty……She turns and looks right at me – perhaps even right through me.I am awestruck. Her lips shimmer in the sunlight. I am instantlydrawn to her. This youthful mature spirit burns into my loins. Andher eyes!? They literally singe my retina. But in a good way. Nocomplaints. She has a power that is bold and solid. Like a Queenrightfully crowned.The past few weeks I have started looking at women, noting howquick and sharp their personalities are. They frighten me often. Iwish (almost desperately perhaps) to play with them…but I am afraidto offend. And then – Here is this woman. This SHARP woman! Sheis looking at me in a way that – I feel so intimidated yet emotionallyintrigued. A fearful hunger shoots at me as cupid’s arrow pierces itsterritory.Then I notice the man across from her. He is looking at me too. Andhe shocks me to the bone. What is this? What is this I see? MorediaMonds! A tight band around his finger. His digits wiggle as if totell me he knows. I feel a hot ache center its way to concentrate itselfupon my pink surface. Are these two - ?He waves his hand up in the air and sways me over. Instantly I amdrawn to them. I want them in some strange way I can’t understand.I am nervous. This feeling is new. And I just don’t understand it.Somehow my mind disconnects itself from my body as I feel myselfLOOK 17

Curvature onecaféd’aristocrateLOOK 18

atticimsrising to my feet. My breasts pull an animal weight heavy towardsthe auburn brick below me. Clip. Clip. Clop. Clip. I notice that myknees feel week.Then out of nowhere – Abruptly. My heel thrusts me at my knees andI fall forward. Down on all fours. I look up at them with vulnerableanticipation. I bite my lower lip. The taste of cheap lipstick tracesover my tongue when I smuttily slide my fleshy muscle across theback of my two front teeth. The jingle plays. “All I want for Christmasis my two front teeth. My two front teeth. My two front teeth. All I wantfor-” Perhaps this is one of my many coping mechanisms?I come back to…“May I help you to your feet my lady?” He laughs at me. I’m okaywith this.I look over at her for permission. She nods her head. I accept his hand.He guides me up and straight. I decide not to mention my blunder.Husband? walks me over to their table and slides out a chair. Its legsdrag against the concrete. My mind wanders into a flash image: awoman’s heels dragging along ice drenched blades of grass. Her headis lopped clumsily off to the side. Blood weakly trickles down thecorner of her lip. The woman’s eyes bob out of her head.The image jabs me with a bolt of fear. Will this happen to me? I shakeit away and bend my knees to sit.For a while nothing is spoken. I find it strange but exhilarating. Irepeatedly catch myself eyeing the woman’s breasts. They are sobeautiful pressed up against each other. She pushes her arms closerto her sides causing these generous suds to squeeze intimately local.I feel telepathic jolts consume my attention as I find myself exposedfor yet a second time. I respond with a great warmth of humiliation.It flushes over my cheeks. I bow my head even lower. I am afraid tolook her in the eyes but I do. And then back down to her breasts. Bynow I’m not even sure if I care. The unspoken silence has becomecontractual.I feel pressure slide from up my thigh to the middle of my legs. Oh. Iam so hot. I yearn to touch my own dimples.I raise my eyes sinfully again. I want to feel her petals blossom hardupon my chops. I want to moisten them so they shine like her brightpink lips do. I want her. I spread my legs. I want him too.LOOK 19

Curvature oneSlowly I realize how close I am to him. The sinking awareness markedby Husband’s? energy overwhelms me. I ache to open my shirt tothem both. In fact, to them all! All the DiaMonds. All my preciousDiamonDs!! I invite you to join me – touch me too. I blink my eyeswelcomingly. But instead they stay transfixed in their worlds, sippingtheir lattes, picking away at their plates. The trio to the left of me clink!their glasses and join in a gay and merry chorus of laughter.I spread my legs even wider.Then to my surprise Wife? disappears under me. I wonder if anyonenoticed the flapping motion as she performed her magical illusion?Oh my!! Oh my!! She crawls under my long wide skirt and I shimmyfor her. The next thing I know I can feel her freshly manicured nailstrail down the sides of my thighs, down my calves and to my ankles.This moment heats me deep and I lift my heel so she can slip mypanties out and under. Then I spread again, inch forward into anopen slouch.I love this! My tits are busting out of my “Spoil Me” tank top. I am happythat today I chose this tight top. It gives the illusion of force pressingagainst my tiny triple A’s.I love how the surprises don’t ever seem to end with the duo. Shelicks my labia first. My clit responds with a jealous fit of rage. Suckme!! Suck me!! it pleads with a demanding sense of spite!! The lippylabia lashes back, Fuck off!! It’s about time we’re noticed down here!! Hertongue moistens me closer to my cheeky clit. Bitch! I’m the leader of thepack! A golden oldie melody dances in my spirit for a brief moment. Iam acutely aware of how actions time themselves eloquently as I meltinto the chapped texture of a strong hand sneaking its way under myshirt, over my belly and up to one of my braless child-like bubbles.His palm scratches slightly against my skin.I spread my legs as wide as I can now, pressing my left leg againstHusband? My labia biologically spread a little farther away from myslit and expose my bulb to the subtle coolness of a drifting breeze.The whisper brushes over my clit and inner side crevices thus urgingme to believe in the hypnotic ways of fate. I don’t normally. At thismoment I do. O-ho. I do.She began to gobble me now. Gobble Gobble. Gobble away at mysticky oozing goo. Husband? delicately pinches away at my chesterection. It’s neighbor becomes the jealous “Jones” as the aroused oneLOOK 20

atticimsverbally attacks: C’mon. Keep up. Keep up. My yacht is bigger thanyours. My automobile races .25 seconds faster. I have more servants, a largermansion. You’ll never keep up. Then my nibblet finishes with a smirk, Itaunt you because I can.A moan escapes me. I respond with a quick scan. I search the crowdfor their glittery reactions.None. Safe.I rotate my hips and push one hump into her face. He pulls out hishand. Her face impels deeper into my folds and she rocks her lipshard from side to side. I can feel her head angled sideways assistingher to address me vertically. I think his hand is pushing, maybe evendirecting her movements?I want so bad to moan again. Loudly! Into this crowded arena ofselfish gossipers sipping – sipping and tipping their cups, poking attheir food with mini-spears. An image of “The Simple” Hilton andRitchie salute me. Wife? gobbles me faster. I want to fondle my ownbreasts, feel into my hole. I decide to obligate myself to only one ofmy hungry desires.My fingers delve into Wife’s? long blonde locks. Silky. Then sheepishlywork their way into her mouth, on my bulb and into my opening.Wife? pops out my two Virginia Slims and hungrily sucks away atthem like the grease of buffalo wings on a consumer’s fingers. I wantthem back in my hole but am instead delighted by two foreignerson tour. Slowly in and out I can feel the friction against my tightwalls. I squeeze them as if to entice his cock into me. Wife? pulls theseones out too. I can faintly hear her sucklings while at the same timeI become surprisingly delighted. I feel Wife’s? claws scraping againstmy insides. She enters me, slowly exits, then quickly thrusts at me –in and out of me. in and out. in and out into me.My body responds in little pools. I feel my clitty aching to push outa sensuous and powerful yelp! I am acutely aware now of how intune the duo entice me into this moment. Wife? wickedly alters themotion up a notch by wiggling her two fingers against one anotherwhile continuing to poke hyperactively in and out. I left the Ritalin athome, thank God!But I am alarmed suddenly from my unbelievable pleasures. A tallstick figure hovers over the table politely asking us to leave. Heinforms us that we are a distraction. Some people are complaining.LOOK 21

Curvature oneThe two of us catch each other almost instinctively glancing about thecut throat DiaMonDs before us. Wife? stops lapping at her water dish.Indeed. There are a few of them scowling in our direction. I pull upmy panties. Wife? comes out from under the table. I walk back to mycold coffee with my head trailing ashamedly below me. I am nowafraid again. I grab my jacket. Pause. I am afraid to look back. If I dowill I turn into salt?I drop a twenty on the table after shuffling into my purse for whatfeels like a good long drawn out hour – or even more! Wife? andHusband? quickly scurry past me. I wonder if they left a tip too?When I look up at them their heads are surprisingly pointed confidentlyahead of them. I feel a flash of pride whisk by me. Do they have noshame?I choose to linger for an invite as I stand there waiting for them to lookover at me as they cross my path along the sidewalk. I don’t even seethem. Sadly I realize that they have no intention of acknowledgingthe intensity of our moment. Their poise asserts the brutal truth oftheir DIAmonD nature.Snots! I distastefully hiss under my breath. I defiantly imitate theirconfidence and leave the café vowing never to return again.I am one of them now. A diAMond. One shiny d…I?amond in a garbagebag. I’m not sure? Can you tell?**I predict that only the educated commoners will find the hiddenmeaning in my sweet last liners…One last time: A diAMond. Oneshiny d…I?amond in a garbage bag…LOOK 22

atticimsVictorian BlowjobPlace thine instrument of beautyUpon my quivering lipsClose thoust eyesAs it lay to restAllow thine instrumentTo protrude into my hollowanxious mouthAnd enclose around it,To moistenBut more to arouse it.To taste thine tenderexposed fleshThrobbing upon my frantic tongue,So sinful and yet sacredTo explore every measurementEvery even, every crookedsurfaceTo tease, tickling thoustpulsing veinSo you moan, you groanIn an absorbed toneAnd to teaseNibbling,caressing with red lips,my tipped tongue,My nails wouldstgather flesh under them,Digging deepagainst thoust quaking thighs.Whispers and sighsinto my filthy earsAnd finally,thoust beating vein,rapid as a haunting tune,drumming against my urgenttongueAs you’d gather silky lockswhich tangle in quivering palms,pulling my head abackThe climax too powerful,too sinful to bear.Rapid breathsto become faint whisperswhich echo my nameto assure that thou art minethrough aging timeLIPS 23

Curvature oneHushHush: Silence smoothCreamy Delight.Enter. My door is openLOCK 24

atticimsTreasure RareMy lady fair, Golden hairDesigner wareHidden in the closetover thereDon’t lookwhere you havemistaken me forKaleiding EveMy hands glided kaleidoscope last Eve.I am tempted to touch around again.The colors rest upon my mantle.LOVE 25

Curvature onePedroPedro. PedroPedro will you come to my feetLove me to my kneeO’ my servant PedroWill you lick at my bendsSoften me at my curvesAnd swirls me in curls?Pedro, my dear peasant boyClimb to my thighLove me thereFor a whileDrift into myBundle o’ bushAnd mount me thereMy Pedro, dance about my hairPedro, my dear PedroAll in gigglesAre you lostSomewhere down there?I summon my boy toyTo brush the brow from his faceUrge up fartherAlong your lady graceUp to my navel nowInto my wrinkled poolTaste oceans upon your tipOceans upon oceans … Sip Sip SipPedro, my silly slaveCome away from my naveAnd up up up toLady CupShine her subdued templeRaise her prick’d friendsLovers. We are loversNear’d thee bitter endSlide your fleshy monsterAlong up to my neckGive me lady kissesAnd pucker’d up tendered pecksMy Pedro, child of graceFollow my eyes to lipsWet me moist and hollowSlide your tongue right into therePoke and prod and skin me deepInto my nosePlay. Stay.And leave me laughing therePedro, my silly little PedroBring me to my kneesLeave me kiss over templeAs a last token to pleaseMe. O’ I am lost in PedroAs I bid him firm! goodbyePedro, my only PedroI leave with saddened dismal sighYou are my dear PedroI bid you last, goodbye.LICK 26

atticimsLICK 27

Curvature oneWinded, my ailed EgretsAn angel tended to mycrispen breeze, spread wide o’er rivers andmountains free. Her coursecontoured company, heavenly shapedcompanion vee. She swayed subduedsuredly swift. I blessed her feathersas loving gift, bent my coolnessbellied so hump, lacedsoar plume everly done. Shemolded my shape, entranced hertrace, chilled my heartwith a lover’s faith. Her whisper‘swoosh’ beautiful bye; tho holdher fall or tumble sky. Said heronwhite impure, as ‘swish’ deceit endured,“Bear for a lover’s need. Sails they wail for a lover’sbreed.” Eses I frowned, arched my sorrow.What I thought she borrowed,Egrets! what horror!LUST 28

2 - Whores & Contradictions

coxsway twoRationalize. Fractionalize. Bedside Lady LoveComputationsRationalize.Fractionalize.Three to the umpteenth power.Divide that computes my appointed accountant.How many multiplesCan you add into one equation?CalculateThe money when they leave secrets on the bedside table.One hour at three hundredTimes the infinite business menCalling for appointments.The wife sits at her kitchen tablePressing numbers into the gobbling machineCompletely unaware that one plus one equals three.Tonight I am calculating all the integers in my headOf all the men who sleep in my bed.Orgies divided by the singular powersOf units – all those families.Determine the root of the squareBoxes we are living inI look beside me at the lamp-shaded paper bills:If you have one lady times twoAnd she is racing at a speed of sixty-twoWill the cocaine that numbs herNight after night three sixty fiveHelp keep her spirit alive?How many wives press ‘clear’To convince themselves that this sign – that sign.No. None of it measures up.My husband would never – never –No. Never. This would never add up.I gaze over at the QueenFractionalize.Rationalize.Only to conclude one value …SLUT 30

whores & contradictionsUnaffected by decimals or positives and negatives. Only onemultiplicationCould have everEquated to hopeless romances of my own.When men would come to my door with chocolates and candy canesInstead of whorish bed stains.Perfumes, pretty dresses. I would powder my faceAnd giggle with my girlfriends about the waysCircle arrows would romance me in and out of broken hearts.What percentage might I have gainedMinus the miseries I have caused?Pocket books and pocket pussies.My head lays stiff facing the pigment that seduces meTo compartmentalize my world in a series of bracketedFormulas telling me what mathematicsLed me to this neatly packaged computationOf white powdered three sixty five lovemakingsPlus or minus a few days depending on my moodAnd the greedy realities of supply and demand.Times zero.Times zero.I feel a kink in my neck and cannot look awayFrom those dollars greening so sensuously cruelTo the right of me.My tears they fall into musky hotel pillowsAnd I breathe in the smoky odors of satisfied menAs axioms hit against the walls of my now throbbing head.My self-reflections continue to haunt meWhen I recite these equations repetitiouslyIn hopeless efforts to discipline appropriate lifestylesIn a world of inappropriate actions.How many women innocently unawareOf men with their double, triple, quadruple livesGamble dice games, roulette wheels, hearts and clubs?Two minus one?One plus minus the one?Children divided byAll the divorces that followWhen intuitions behind peering steering wheelsPatiently confirm themselves as their husbandsSLUT 31

coxsway twoDrive into transient parking lots.Maybe three hotel roomsIn my thirty-three devoted years of mathematical subservience?Angered rage suppressed until they return homeFor their midnight slip under King sizedDowny fresh flannel sheets.I imagine the multiple powers of married devoteesWho balance the scales of family justiceIn an effort to keep the sanctity of religious loveAnd Victorian romanticisms aliveIn their man-made textbook driven ideologies.Another tear or two.Those plaited crossers continue their infinite rendezvous;Many of them do.Arithmetic.Chemistry and even a little biology?Times zero. Times zero.The only memories I set asideAnd program into my surreal existence,If not empty existence altogether.What do you get when youSpeed along highway sixty-twoThree sixty five days of the year?Wives: I feel only pity for you.Mr. Redden, my dearYou inspire me.SLUT 32

Lady Love Caponewhores & contradictionsPlease don’t mind me for professionLady Love me trained a whoreGirls with lace frilled stocking hoesWe welcome them at doorLost some come no homeBroken, starved, aloneUnder wing protect them inNurtures Love CaponeKnives & Guns & RamblersWearied from man-hard daysNeeding comforts to holdIn positioned ‘quested waysOutlaws, bandits, men of lawNo role of judgment herePretty ‘settes gentle corseMount them sly untearOwn laughing rowdy flauntsTrain them to my bidingGallop, Whollop – all they askReign them, pull men ridingLady Love them, ‘tice all homeLonely unforgottenMold all fragile, fuss them strongWise them hypno oftenTell my children under wingKeep secrets to their selvesWhen men doth open shame they cryHearts do overswellKiss their temples, Fuck like whoresBother them unwiseNod your head as though you careDeceit Believe their livesOur role as ladies of the houseTo fake them dirty wifeLove them ‘ppease them as their motherNemese them for lifeBread they bring us for food upon our tableMoney what we want from themFor our working home enableSEXY 33

Bond we girls Feed them BeerCheers unmuttered sorrowsThis our home love them homeBless them lost tomorrowsCock hammer gone,Spring Fox upon our TurkeyCrass with class & smack our AssBide by all so dirtySisters Close, We are oneI tell them when I want themCome to me Bring to meMore ladies lost unwontonPlease pay no mindFor this pimping of my natureFor I am lady come to loveMended lives unsutured‘Slingers West they pull drawEastern Double GunMissionary, North they MountSouth cruel cock n’goneThese boys claim men our escort’s tasteI teach my ladies have themTake from them stole from usAll men who’ve caused us brokenI tell my ladies, warn them wellHow men brought us to our placeAnd only have we this our homeFor us to save our faceNever mind what others sayWhen forbidden tears some cryIndependence force their fateEmploy my plan abideMy name o’ lady love, Mother Bordell’ CaponeI have taught them: frequent hereSpend time. Stay. Bring More.coxsway twoSEXY 34

whores & contradictionsTortured by submission, as long as it makes you happy tolove me…We reunite. We ignite.I don’t want you to come up from behind. Not into the ways you suckenergy from my mind. If only things can forever be right, no fight.But instead my hands twist and flail into the air, begging you to holdon and let go all at once – and in opposition of one another.My dear, please whisper to me clear. I wanted you not back then…butnow. (Or at least I force myself into believing). Into a hollow openingI offer you my best hiding place. I crawl into it myself whenever Icontort.Truth be told is that I do…I just present to you fake face. But it is true –I do. I do want you to come from behind…The ways you used to buckit in and out. Gallop hard against my backside. So forceful that myscreams would be antagonized by pain and sick delight. Hmmm…With all of your might I would bleed for more.I know. I know I should be advised not to fuck so strict. But baby’sbeen a bad bad girl. Pull. Pull on piglet’s little pony. Bobbles slidedown against the tease of baby girl tails.I dress like this for you night after night. Games. We play…But you evoke such anger and fury from me!! At the same time youlove me you love others…Maids of sexual slavery. You insist to methat I am the queen of my man as you bear me the throne of yourrepeated entries. Ooommmph! Ooomph! Ooaoof! Fuck again andagain so as to bludgeon my insides, rips and tears of flesh if not tohear them but yes to feel them!!I wonder if I am but another bitch maid - - en…d?I wine inside sickly as I feel you leave me and plunge into this blondebosomed buxom. Her moans I despise for they call out more sweet tothe slide of your tower. I ask to myself why you save all manpowerfor me? She purrs like a kitten, stretches her claws in a playful yawnawkwardly against your sides and your back.I hate her. I want to fuck her. I want to feel what you feel.I hold myself wider spread imagining my following opening wideSINS 35

coxsway twoand alive, enticing you to come back into me – away from her andinto me.But instead I watch as you reach for her bursts of mammaries as theyexplode into your cupped hands. Tweaking and pinching. I am sureI can feel her erections forming on my own. I feel yearning dribblefrom between me, wishing you were there to lick my wounds…Push. Gentle fast pushes you offer her. She holds her hands againstthe wall now. Steady. Steady. She rolls her head in the air, flowingstreams snottily towards me so that I am denied her open expressions.I do so hate her! I hate her so much that I want to touch her butterflyagainst my cheek, close by the bridge of my nose - feeling her wetness,smelling her sour odor and reaching my tongue desperately upwardto catch an animal-like flavor upon my tip.Her areoles the size of creature monsters! Big and round!! Perked toperfection. Your hands kneading – kneading – kneading the dough ofher giant sacks. Sudden jolts stab at me as I beg to tell lies!! I plead formine to be as large as hers. Gepetto create me for my sins. I want somuch to be engulfed by my disciplinary whale.But it’s as if he knows my inadequacies. He fucks her hard now. Shescreams satisfied into the echoed corridor. Satisfy!! Satisfy? Satisfythis maid-in bitch!!? No!! No!! He pulls out all the way now!! A globof brown I watch as he injects it back into her!!She loves it!! The bitch loves it … while I still stand perpendicular -angled, cheeks pulled wider so I can feel the painful stretch and coolair. Why must I be so pathetic this way?And still I wait. I watch.Again. All the way out and in. Again. Again. She moans and I feelher pleasure. My little mutated cock throbs its own ache; slow oozingsecretions react to my filthy desires. So desperate now. I want to feeltexture – any type of texture against my buds – perhaps especially myown texture (since I know you adore it when I touch myself). But Iam hypnotic to your command. So I just watch. Watch her breastsswing massive pendulums and occasionally hit into your reachingsand gropings…I open my mouth and lick my tongue into the air. Ever so desperate.Could I be ever so more desperate than this? …By now I am almostrelieved that you cannot see my tastings and lapping at imaginarySINS 36

whores & contradictionsbutterflies. Or catch me sneak my middle to tap against the rounds ofmy open hole.As much as I hate your maidens I wish there was another now.Another to lip and lap and slurp my drain-o.But I am more than angry now!! She and you. Turned against me. Ican make only the side of your face with eye closed. Your mouths areopen to each other. I just know it. Tongues lashing and frolicking inmore than friendly play. I am sure.Here I stand bent with ass awkwardly open while you love her intothe one agreed forbidden hollow. What shall I do? What am I to do?My mind is lost in buzzy whirs of thought. I feel the emotions of aromance novel – love, hate, betrayal – they surge into me. Jealousy,venom and loathing – they slap against my naiveties. Rage, bull-furyand red fire eyes – I am broken to tears.And you see none – none of this. Lost into her I can feel. You haveforgotten me as even here. My silence is deep trapped into me. Youonly respond with a quick switch from her butterfly to tight cocoon. Inotice her knuckles a mixed blend of marbled whites and reds. Steady.Steady. Hold myself steady…Furies. Mind furies so ferocious that tidal waves almost drown me.Steady. Steady. You fuck her steady and cool. My finger now tapsimpatiently against myself and I feel my pool dry in the heat of mypassion. She moans her bitch moan! I don’t notice her – her intensions.I just simply hate her for no reason but to be lost in my own envy andbroken pieced esteem.I wonder if I quietly exit stage left you would even notice the centralcharacter has left the main plot?But no. I stand there waiting. Still open-holed. Dry but still willing.Wondering if I will ever get to play or be forever benched?And then finally, I know your bloodshot face! Your reddened pulsebursting from the side of your neck. You blast a torpedoed thrust giantand massive! Roars of now fossilized meat eaters growl from yourlarynx! You belt out loud and proud! Ram! Ram! Only to confirmyou have conquered your maiden bitch!!She is breathing hard and heavy. You both are. Sweat sticky. I knowyou don’t care for the feel of it. But I wonder if you are oblivious toSINS 37

coxsway twohow much these ladies are simply your slaves? Your expression istired and weary yet full and accomplished. I wonder again – I wonderif she has taken my place? For I am the one still angled with frump inair, tapping deviously at my unsatisfied openness. Have you loved hermore than just a maiden? Does she please you more? For goodness,you have not even looked at me the way I am so accustomed! Thatlonging look for me after you have loved another.But like the knowingness of the future fortune, the teller answers myburdened perplexities. I watch as you push your hand against herback, pull away from your whore maiden. I voyeuristically transfix tothe slow-motion moment as I carefully guard my eyes on every inchof time. She stands. Chunks of cubicles burp out of her. Your facepierces from the darkened odor of her. You take two steps back andturn your head not to look.Not me > > I watch. I see her face frown into her own disgust, shylysmiling in hopes for you to love her – up at you looking for your eyesto lock with her own.But you are not his queen. No, you are not forever to be loved by hisstatus. My King turns his face away from you and comes to love mylips! He walks to me, stained brown, all beaten and butchered. Hewalks to me and as he walks, I open – I open myself to all of him. Heoffers and I hungrily lick him clean, sliding my lips lovingly, rolling mytongue affectionately. He enters his fingers into my patient backside,fucking me digitly smooth. I feel his other hand probe and reactivatemy dessert into a flourishing brook.I am reassured. Loved. He coordinates himself until I cum ferociously,flailing my arms to and fro, while I suck, taste and fuck his love intome…SINS 38

Bastard Manwhores & contradictionsShe was blind, couldn’t see –Only feel the man of me.One drunken night. One bar fight.And I woke up blind to the sick bastard man in me.Sure.I was offended. Might say I was stunned, askin’ myself what I haddone?With rancid on breath, snore at my besideI wished I could crawl in to hide …my shame.But again in morning sun -I fucked her again as the morning begun.I fucked her and fucked her until I was doneWhile rotten and rolling at meGlossy eyes aimless beyond transparency.With tipsy on breath, she I woke upOpened her legs and opened her bucks.Hated her. Loved. Pushed hands against face.I fucked her. I did her. In all my Disgrace.CertainlyI was offended. Conflicted and satisfied.Setting the rolling rolling of those blinded eyes.She muffled. She fought. Took all and the lot.My Disgust. Her’s Disabled. Tactile vision in airScreaming screaming under my palm with great dareProtected. And pushed. I fucked her blind and I laughAll mighty do shield me … when enough is enoughGod ugly blind eyes - knowing and seeing -To resist them looking ever so seeming.I fucked my response.I angered it inSin her and in her superficialities chagrin.Hairy brail of bushBetween wanton legs I did go.I threw her around to and fro.Pushing and poundingAt my prejudiceSOUL 39

I fucked her in stigmatic complete darkness.Forcefully. Forcefully.I fucked those eyes closed.Intentionally or not, with judgment unknown.coxsway twoHow could any sober appetite feast?These words I communicate to my ignorant beastWhen those eyes keep on rolling and rolling. RollingBlind bitch under me?Rolling they go.Rolling them closed.Rolling them cold.Mourning lightMourning brightOh how I fucked you darkIn this light.You – the lady I’d driven one drunken fight night.She was blind, could not foresee.The bastard man resonate in me.One drunken night. One bar fight.And she woke peaceful to the bastard man of me.SOUL 40

whores & contradictionsThe Fine Arts of Nasty Suck TheatreYou ever notice how guys seem to get studlier and studlier with eachnotch on the bedpost? And ladies are referenced as the wicked witchesof the west or the evil Eve handing Adam the apple? Well, I’m hereto say I’ve embraced my dark side over and over again. I’m an openlover. If I could be officially certified as a whore I would kneel beforethe court registrar and swear my fate on the dotted line.My adventures are forever infinite. I’ve got so many stories that Ihave a hard time picking favorites. I love the power that comeswith gritty raw sex. I encourage other whores like me to embracethe naughtiest filthiest sluttiest parts of themselves. Get ready ladies.Prepare for your juices to explode as I tell all about an Italian hunknamed Louigi...One February 10, 1990 I was visiting a museum. My friend, Sheena,had an exhibit going. Quite a few artists were displaying their works.I wasn’t much for the arts but I loved my best friend and her dedicationto her craft.So, there I was checking some probably wannabe Picasso. I’m notsure. All I know was it had a bunch of squiggled lines, splashed paintcolors and a misplaced rectangle in the corner. What the fuck did Iknow about art? Now…the art of fucking? That’s another story…I was looking at the portrait when I noticed a presence to the left ofme. Peering out of the corner of my peripheral, I glanced at a sweetpair of tanned Guccis poking out from black slick straight slacks.A man dressed upper class is what I call “Elite Temptation.” I’m notmuch for politics or fancy shmancy stick up your nose snooty banter.So when I see one of these classy gents I cave slightly inwards withintimidation. But that only lasts for a few short moments when Iremind myself that behind every intellect is one dumb sounding beefjerky treat.I know. I know. I talk about sex like Courtney Love lives life. Raunchy,filthy, unashamed and crisis-ridden but loads of fuck me slutty fun!!So, slowly I inched my eyes up along his straight leg to the succulenthealthy treat of his raw zucchini. I have this secret recipe of cockflavoring: if his bundle bulges I sate in the skillet of his choice and lapup the flavor of the week. Yes, I am master chef. I pound the meatwith hard thrust, broil and purposely overheat. I love it when theSUCK 41

cock exits dark and charcoaled!!coxsway twoSure enough. My eyes danced with approving delight when I reachedhis teasingly covered mound. Slacks often hang too far away to evershow any package justice. Yet this man was bulging so big I thoughthe was wearing spandex!!I continued my filthy gaze along the flat hang of his stiff tailored blazerup to the chiseled features of his naturally browned modeled boyishface. He was hot! Hot, young and ripe for the taking.He made an uncomfortable sound in an attempt to clear his throatand then shifted the weight of his right leg to his left. He wiggled hisshoulders and raised his hand to his chin. Classic black and white[The] Thinking Man pose. This man was hypnotic.I watched as he turned his head with smooth cat-like coyness tosmile at a passing young woman dressed in a sexy red velvet gown.I melted into his charms when the lady in red returned his affectionwith a flirtatious grin. The three of us poking and humping in someback alley chilled shivers up my extremities.I wanted him to notice me but not catch me noticing him so I walkedover to the painting to his left. As I passed from behind, I longed toreach my hand out and grip his derrière. I love grabbing at a man’s assas I thrust him hard and deep into me. A firm ass generally equatesto a firm fuck.Yes, ladies. I know it might be hard to believe. But I know a goodfuck when I see it. I’m rarely ever disappointed. I have a sixth sensefor this kind of thing. I was quick to observe his fuckable love bunnypacked in a furry browned coating of man flesh!!As I walked past, I hoped that my usual perfume odor would lingerover him. “Estée Lauder?” soothingly drew me into an engaging playof words.“Ralph Lauren,” I corrected.He reached out his hand to introduce himself, “Louigi.”“Lisa.” I flushed. His eyes were deep hazelnut. His lips werethinly paired, masterly timed against one another as he spoke. Thecheekbones of Cher. Golden brown curly locks neatly styled over hishead and around his delicious earlobes. His accent was heavilySUCK 42

whores & contradictionsSUCK 43

Italian. I wanted to lick his spaghetti balls.coxsway two“I see scorching sin. What do you see?” he asked as he ponderedover the portrait in front of me. I contemplated as though I needed tounderstand the awkward shapes and colors before me. All I really sawwas what looked like a breast, a cock and a slashed face of a man torninto the canvass of what someone might call art. I thought it lookedstupid but found myself looking deeper into the images. The colorswere dark and lush. Visions of fucking Louigi coupled with flashingimpressions of the portrait hit hard in my mind. “Sinful smut.” Myanswer had nothing to do with the painting in front of me.Louigi raised his hand to his chin, caressed his sweet flesh with histhumb and index. Then he turned to look at me with those nutty eyes.“Lisa? I want to paint you. Will you accompany me to my loft?” Hepaused a moment and added, “I will keep you safe.”I’m not one to hold back for the sake of safety although Lougi’sreassurance was inviting. I’m a spontaneous lover who succumbsto sexual opportunity. I playfully agreed, “How do you stroke yourbrush?” He smiled knowingly, took me by the hand and led me outthe door to his loft of sensual delights.I was instantly classed-up as my heels echoed into his residence. Theyclicked like hooker boots. My breasts perked with lady love maturity.Louigi guided me to his plush bloody velvet colored couch and walkedto his kitchen. He returned with two crystal twinkling semi-filledshimmering wine glasses. I took a sip, darting my eyes from painting,to sculpture, to hard wood floor and dusty shelved literature fillingspaces in a chestnut colored bookshelf. I also happened to notice aninviting bed at the end of his open home.Louigi placed his goblet on the glass end table to the left of me. Hestrode seductively over to a blank canvass. “You were meant for metonight,” he said as he took a paintbrush in his hand, dipped it inblack and smeared a streak against the once naked canvass. I lookedup with innocent anticipation and slowly undid the buttons of myblouse.Lougi smiled approvingly and dipped his paintbrush in the black oilonce again. I opened my blouse for him, revealing budded excitednipples peering out from lace-covered breasts. He walked up to me,crouched before my feet and began to create his masterpiece. Thedevilish visionary slowly tickled the bristles from the side of my neckdown to curve of my rounded breast. My pussy burst into a hardSUCK 44

heartbeat of rhythmic pulsating.whores & contradictionsThen he placed the paintbrush down beside his crystal glass. He tookhis hand and pushed his palm against my hungry skin, smearingblack paint over my chest and up to the corner of my lip. He pushedhis middle finger into my eager mouth. I greedily sucked away whilehe literally finger fucked my hole.His other hand ravenously grabbed at my breast as if it were butcheredmeat. I arched my back, winced with pain and reached for his bloodblown rod. My hand clasped around one motherfucking thick beast.I estimated a more than satisfying two inches of intense friction.With the class of a seasoned professional, I started stroking, jerking,yanking and petting. Louigi moaned with an ever so inviting wildlikeanimal nature. Oh, those common dumb sounding grunts thrillme every time!He pushed my legs apart, spreading me like a dancer on stage. Hebegan rubbing his hand against the thick seam of my jeans as I gushedmultiples of pleasure. I’m easily stimulated and highly orgasmic.As if time was momentarily lost, I went from tight jeansclaustrophobically constricting my throbbing clit to Louigi’s facenuzzled close and deep into my honey-drenched hive. He lapped,sucked, spat, rubbed, gurgled and breathed in my sweet nectar to thegreatest heightened sensitivity of my life. The build up of vaginallonging urged frantic yelps into the echoing space as my legs tensedand I shot out orgasmic spits from my squirting cunt. I gushed heavytears of joy until merciless sensitivity forced me to push Lougi’s faceaway from my vertical slit.Lougi panted heavily, stood up and lowered his slacks to the floor,exposing the juiciest chunk of salami I ever did see. I estimated wrong.See the evil. Feel the evil. Look at the evil. He was enormous!!I surged my mouth at his thick meat, longing for the foul odor of salamibreath. Deep into the back of my throat plunged his hulking rod asI coughed up a taste of vomit and bile, quickly gulping it back downto receive another hard thrust into the hollows of my throat. Tearsstreamed from my eyes as he stabbed his knife; he sliced, diced andbutchered my gullet. I dug my nails deep into his flesh as I slammedhis body into my face until finally he rewarded me with shots of saltytidal waves of jizz. His cum bolted into my mouth, down my throatand over spilled out the sides of my lips. It was the heaviest loadthat ever blasted my taste buds. In a desperate way, I wiped the overSUCK 45

coxsway twospilled cum back into my mouth, ensuring not a drop was wasted.Filling to the very last drop.Our breaths were heavy and uncoordinated. I sat back, admiringhis enormous cock while he stood there staring down at me wideeyed.“Picture perfect?” I giggled up at him. Louigi flashed a crookedsmile.We finished our wine, occasionally stroking each other’s hair andbody parts for another half hour before I decided it was time to call ita night. You see, that’s part of the way I love a man. The time spent isshort but forever long lasting.After a few long passionate kisses goodbye I secluded to my ownprivate quarters. I slipped comfortably into deep slumber, relivingthe events of my own arts exhibition knowing that tomorrow I wouldshare the graphic details with Sheena and then millions of strangerssuch as yourselves.SUCK 46

3 - RATED Adult PG47

curvysex threeBureau Open Lover: Highway 10 to HeavenThe open lover. That I am. O’ how I love a man. Ladies, ladies theseare my gents: Howard, Frederick, and fetish sucking Spence. Manymore have I had. Some I remember. Some not warms me glad orleaves me in trembles. I am sage in all I say, all I do. One fuck andanother should I bother. Names? Sure. Nameless even better.Open lover. Secrets untold. Open lover my battle is what I unfold. Iconcern for myself. I cause confliction. I want them all mine yet I sharemy wisdom. Ladies, ladies know what I offer? The dirtiest of truthfeared to crucify me. Besetting unsettling insecure will appeased?Ladies, ladies I know I am torn. Yet impelled I pest Social Candidsof Scorn.I am the open lover. Hot whispers they knock on my door; asking,wishing or pleading for more. I am the lover – the open lover whore.This is why, lesson one, they come to my door. Daddy voices andreligious convictions are plenty reasons barefoot in the kitchen. Surelove will be there when they feel so sad. But will you be there whenthey yearn to fuck bad?!Lessons of many this eases me simple. Nothing to fear, media pimpsout the piddle. You’ll find it in porn. When you turn your sets on.You’ll find it in ‘zines. In whore fantasies. The newest of age: theenter we net. Social rebellion waters so wet. Audio. Radio. All thatwe hear. Pay what we buy. Do listen my dears.Ladies, ladies – this you must know. Eradicate shame. Embrace yourwhore. If not yet you have come to fruition? Stop - fuckliscious, notsmitten. My boys I all know, though timid some be, all dream wetfor nasty dirty. The pleasure from women wild and carefree satisfiessocial sexual needs. Open the twat of a lady’s sweet hole. Dear ladies,slut out. Give it a whirl!But no! porks out a roasted scream. Therefore denying what’s lovelyand free. You close with the apple, legs locked in. “I couldn’t! Iwouldn’t. How dare you!” you cringe. The shock is a block. Theposition is shrewd. To fuck like a whore is unclean and it’s crude! Sexsells you to buy so buy that you do. A whore is quite fun but don’tyou dare do it?!Cuntfused by messages closes you up from feeling the joy of a nastygood fuck? Repent in voices that tell you so wrong that a lover’sBOYS 48

ated adult pgdesire shuns fucking so long! You must know, my ladies, your whoreis quite safe to fuck away societal sexual chaste. De-uptight. Fight!Resist conventions. Chastity casts only savior’s religion. I preachyou not as evangelists do. But warn I caution for the fuck of a screw!Note: Creed’s attrition aids political missions passing partial mentionfor oppressive intentions? Kindly, dear ladies, do learn what I know.The whore is Picasso’s saintly Rousseau. Faith the tramp for id’s finepleasing. Frigidity = neurotic = illogical - reasoning?An open love mentor is Wisdom’s Grand Hand. My secrets I givein love I do stand. Sure, respect is in-love ever true. The caution Isend is a lover’s fool moon. I tell you my ladies love is quite nice.And yes it’s divine for romantic delights. Yet actions in sex is what Iproclaim is the right of a lady to make herself sane. The sex is the truelover’s entice that keeps him coming for sex that feels right. For man’ssurrender open your fuck; this is what gets two lover’s off.On to number two, these lessons I dare. My reasons are simple. Ioffer your share. You must know to keep them. Ladies, my ladies, Idevotingly care. Men without fuck stray and this I can’t bare. Maybethere is truth that you’ll take them from me? Yet I venture on livelong,headstrong, Ding Dong! for fuck-it humanity! (Sanctity? Christian?Insanity? Woe is me … ?!~)Frustrations pent up in serpent, he needs his release. Testicular rollingsdone lovingly sleaze. Fear not to touch forbidden fruits. Open yourmouth and nectar in juice. Round rump in air and bend it on over. Letbad girls get spankings or spits in the face. Shun yourself not with alady’s disgrace. Whatever together, make those decisions. Envisionprotection. Communicate real. Crazy, unclean or slyly gentile.My lover tastes may be unlike yours. But guarantee this: men lovetheir whores.Did you know in good health a man’s release of testicular fluids iscancer’s great ease? Soften your mind. Science the facts. Open upand jump in the sack! Counteract suppressive conditions. The worldis sick. You feel contradicted? Be soft. Go hard. Dom a fine whip.Wigs and cameras. Try the taboos. All that matters: Agreed upontruths.Ladies, my ladies, open your twat ~ accept your legs spread wildlyapart! A mighty fine sleazing is a natural reason! Do care. Do care.Add sexual flare. Pussy is well for reciprocal tastes – sexual healthbrightens the face! Energize sweat. Scream out Glory! Funk up n’BOYS 49

curvysex threedorey! Wild out maniacal. Groove Olivia. Shake the shock of let’s getphysical! Gung ho ho ho. Santa the cause. The whore is the best forone and for all!But no? Inhibitions ransom your back? How might you balanceneeds in tact? This I have answers for roles I have played. Fears Ihave conquered without our delay. Ladies, dear ladies, faster we go.Lesson with huff my piglets of three. Onward our Vixen with Dasher’sgreat prance, fighting the words of etiquette’s dance.A secret I learned one trailer bush night. I reference his Push in mylover’s delight. Fight! You must fight! Quiet inside. Trust. Pay heedto shaming pride. Dwell not for what is unknown. Just Nike anddo it > he’ll play unharmed. Man likes any which way. When thelady is naked, Dick Dong: He stays! So wack an ass’s sweet jiggle.Humping is soul for a pounding fuck wiggle. Jelly the bubble bumrolls > in+bedded, you wet it, cum read the scrolls:Embrace thy whore.Care for sex.Give silence uninhibited virtue for self. Hunh?Call out, scream out your cunt. Moan, groan, blurt out your grunt.True. Beware of neighbors so quiet. Perhaps there are times you hushslut’s riot? But even in these times embrace your rebellion. Fuck withdesire for the golden medallion!!Scales they are tippy when you balance your needs. One fills caution.Best take heed. Boundary limits set the speed. The other releasesembarrassing creed. Tip Tip Tippy, steady the steed. Talk it and lockit or free it and fuck it?Don’t know the groove for sex on top? How do you rhythm slut’strollop? Do it. Just do it. Don’t tell him your fears. Keep it inside andfight it my dears! Silence the sighs for pleasure’s good will. Over youcum faining your thrills? Mental your pleasure wild and free. Trust:explore, you will achieve! He’ll think you the expert forever believingnothing could be so ever deceiving. As long as you move and do ityour way. Go go my sweets, roll in the hay!I tell you my ladies, quiet in voice. Do it. Push on. Venture the choice!Chat acknowledges fear but silence creates accomplishment gears!BOYS 50

ated adult pgThe shift is your secret to act – To play out the scene; who cares whatyou “lack.” Just do it. Just try it! Have a good time! Do it to feel it.Give it a try! For what is unknown I wager the bets. The better it getswhen you skip up the steps!So now that you’ve learned lessons of three: whore, care and secretscaries. Four my next guidance I’m on my roll. Can’t stop it now. I’llgive you some more…Imagine your body with disgust o’ lament? Negative messages I insistyou forget. Not true. So false. The assumption is clean. If the man isnaked, you are circe. The power is yours. Your Queen owns control.Onward! He touched you. You’re it!Greatest of curse a woman’s great shame when she feels ‘less than’ insexual games. Honey you’re beautiful in mind you will say. Believeit or not these words must remain. Lights ignite while you joinhis pluck. Vision’s great stimulant betters the fuck. Up` over staredirectly in his. Look `accept loads of sweet jizz. Watch how it entersmost decadent. Frustrations release them. Defy your repent! Ladiesso skank. Accept my advice as socially swank. Enter your mind asthough it were blank!Hate is my word for lies unbeautied. Never believe media’s conceit.Your ass lacks class? Massive in size? Not true. Shit bull. “Butt Big:”the guaranteed prize! Over years I have learned asses with mass risea man special. Shake it. Just make it. Flaunt it a bushel! Or maybeit’s small as though it were gone? That makes you feel like nothingbelongs? Decorate pretty. Shove it with thong! Abolish anxieties.Demand they be gone!Adults forget to be kids. Stuck so uptight lost in their wits. Five hereI am. Drrrrrive you alive. Ladies embrace your inner child. Sex is nota derangement arrangement. He came. You didn’t. He’s done nowyou’re spent? Is this the sex that lacks freedom so suave? Continuethis he’ll bid you “Au revoir.” Play! You must play! For sex is quitefun. Never a chore, just something that’s done. Try out a wig. CameoSlut. Boink out in nature. Nurture your smut.Ladies I ask you are you following? These learned so wise in myoffering? Don’t be the fool and put this book down. Don’t be the fooland react with a frown. Trust me, my ladies, do clown around! Laugh.Giggle. Be merry and gay! Get mean. Pout your lip. Whatever justplay. For sex is the drug that adults can take. Endorphin more oftenkeeps the doctor away!BOYS 51

curvysex threeSix is the sex slippery and wet. Sex is not pretty when on dick is shat.Noises are sloppy. Smelly foul odors. Farts from pussies our littleTwat Horrors. Wrappers that crinkle your wait. Dinkles that pushair’s penetrate. All are reasons we hesitate. No worry. Don’t worry.Understand this: animals. We’re animals. Fuck like the song. Theact is barbarous and nothing that’s wrong. Our nature is human toprocreate. Animal’s survival continues the race. Let’s fuck like dogs!Hare for the chase. We need it. We want it. We’re hungry like hogs!But all sounds so unnatural? You bow your head? A guilty hellion?A truth to tread? Only bologna. Wet to the meat. Horny the tramp.Nasty fuck treats. Nothing is fishy about your smell. Normal is poopywhen you fuck anal [unless carnal better prepares: diet and clyster tolighten the air]. Slops n’ sucks n’ pussy sweet farts. These are acts ofnature’s art.A condom’s cover clunks your poise? Golly the wrapper makes all thatnoise! Don’t be silly! Cover the willie for the girlies and boys! Listen,my darlings, I assure you this: Sex is one messy wet kiss. Hushes boredanger in choice! Will you? Won't you? work yourself moist?My ladies, dear ladies, don’t shrivel so prude. Seize what’s dirtyas part of the mood. Sounds are aural, wild, relaxed and good, notmisconstrued: righteously lewd. Resist the cringe of discomfort’swaste. Face constricting shy efface. Patience, acceptance in oddmoments calms condition's higher cognicance. You need not bother tobe embarrassed. Nothing to gain but sexual morass. So free yourselfuppity tight! Accept the noise as normal, alright?Seven is heaven. Open the gates. Do it because it simply feels great!Focus the mind on bodily parts. Bring him deep upon body’s arc.kNo~ah* the feel for all sensation. Alert your cunt to the rubbingfriction. Every entrance full on in. Every exit for giddy a grin. Freethe mind for all that you can. To feel it. To own it. Enjoy full on!mmm oy ~Impress the mood. Hump to please. Feel the fuck as though it’s beenyears. Poke’r hands that penetrate. Straight, flush or horny in state.Scratches on back. Heighten. Elate. Police a frisk: skin against skin.Bang! Bang! Insertion is great! Alert the wince of a nipple’s quickpinch. Baby’s got back? Whack a sting up n' smack. Juice the oozefrom your lady’s crack!Add additions to wild sex some more. Dildo your fun so it’s never aBOYS 52

ated adult pgbore. Try on a wig. Put on some lace. Giggle your child so fucking’sno waste. I’ve mentioned before canned advice. Sex on camera isalways quite nice. Maybe an orgy? Or cover your eyes? Try a fetish.A few more guys? Shackles and chains to feel the pain? Satin, cotton,the scratch of metal. Boil the pot stirring the kettle. Waters, ‘cycles,burning of wax. Honey so sticky? A couple knick-knacks? Cock ring.Vibrate. Explore. Play! All for your leisure! A welcome buffet!My ladies, O’ ladies. Faking joy in the grind? Are you finding you’rewasting your time? Defy no more! Sex-on = a beautiful score! Carpeyour diam. Ladies deplore!~ Succumb to your whims. Expel ‘til yourspent. Make sex-on (and on …) heavenly sent!~But what about those other side thoughts? Maybe you think he’s gotnothing you want? My advice I’m on eight. Ingratiate. Ladies, myladies, kindly relate. Come to your Lover. My open is true. Discoverthe secrets bravely construed. Hear a lesson in wisdom’s grand truth.Take a moment and gather the groove: Chatter for nonsense fussesthe head which messes your bed which feeds dread, disorder andspreads sex-on tension. A simple translation? Excess thinking iswasted reasoning. O what a snore! Overthinking is useless galore!Ladies, my ladies, close off distractions. Are you paying mindfulattention? Wisdom in lessons. [Wo]manu[‘re]mission? Stay bull’s eye.Live in the moment with time on your side. Cancel out that grocerylist. Forget the time last you were pissed. Erase whatever the childrenare doing. Keep the focus while you are screwing. Throw your minddeep into seven. Let desire wild you to heaven. Focus! Feel it! Focus!Feel it! Did I mention Focus! Feel it?My ladies, dear ladies, I add you some more guiding you into glory’sgrand whore. In order for Seven to bring you to heaven, be in themoment forever fit. There is no need for anywhere else. Pleasure iswhat I reccomend best. My ladies, o’ ladies. Listen up now. Quit yourbitching so scowl. Stay for the fuck. No other reason. Sex is meantfor only mood pleasing. Stop complaining with sorrows of pain. I tellyou this: wining is lame! Go for a spin but not in your mind, unlesswind whirls lost in his grind. Stay where you are. Plump Pollock.Fishy your dishy and swim under covers. Always fuck for lusting aslovers!Charge the pump with dirty sweet lines. Number nine burns fuel inthe rhyme. The words we say can be so divine. They boost the mooddelisciously fine. Twinkle. Twinkle. Sexual chime! Commentaryprimes the sugar divine! Declare. Prepare. Add temptation. NowBOYS 53

curvysex threelisten to my salutation~(: Filthy talk cocks harder. Filthy words risevisual. Understand: men are dirty. Expletives make him horny.Picture cocks in, out. Speak thoughts right out! What you sprout inthe head excites time in bed. Imagination. Vividly. Randies ‘tang +Willie. Hot talk hardens cock. Speak nasty. Get feisty. “Cock. Cunt.”“Pussy. Fuck.” Moan. Groan. “Ass.” Grunt. “Wet twat. Hardnipples. Penis.” Grind. “mmm supple.” “Lick. Nibble. Tongue soquick. Lapping. Flapping. Clitty clit.” “Meaty cunt. Thick wad. I’mcumming. I’m cumming. O God! I’m cumming! {heavy grunting}Fuck God! I’m cumming!Fuck God!” Cumming is stunning!For lesson nine add one caution: Careful of the verbal potion. Thefilthy words that you say might cause prejaculate. Nasty chat getsthem horny. Spits too soon? Could be sorry! So, yes, talk a filthytime. Do beshine your golden high. Just be careful foxy trotsy! Oversexycould be risky. Might lead to eager spits. Heavens no! That's thepits!Now, my ladies, embrace your thoughts. Dirty talk hits the spot!What I told up above was only made in mindful love. Up up so high:a warning that I simply sigh. Chary wisdom is not the excuse to actprudish crude. Timely essence is your lesson. Talk it hot to rock thecock long before the load will blow if you want to fuck some more!.Speaking filth into the ear is a joy to revere. Yip! Yip! Pussy cheer! Sokeep in mind what I say. Speak it hot in crareful ways!Now, my ladies, time to talk: action. I take you in my last direction.Our while has been quite nice. I admit the term has been a splice. Butnow it’s time for conclusion. Along the Highway we are cruisin'. Alittle more pussy oozing. You’ve cum this far. Keep perusing. Areyou ready? No refuting …Do you yearn for this and that but the cat flops his hat? Columbohere; roam there; you want it harder; now lick your ear? Ticklesnatch? Scratch your back? A little slower in the sack? You want thebuck from the dirty back hole but bash bow shy reject control? Hedon't wiggle duty's share? Screaming inside for hands elsewhere?You know what’s right, but he’s failing you so? You want it faster. Hemoves too slow? You’re shit outta luck and not a ‘good fuck? What awaste. What a muck?!Not true. So false. I tell you this: there are ways to get you off! Makethe effort. Assert control! Teach the stroke to poke your hole. Self-BOYS 54

ated adult pgdirection is the lesson. The greatest lesson to transcend. Number ten.A lovely trend. State where you’re feeling good. Maybe on your clittyhood? You want the hand to cup your breast? Tell him – drop theguess! If you like what he did voice it out. Be candid. Recite directionson the box. Tell him what gets you off! “Bite my neck. Lick me dry.Kiss my feet. Ride me high.” “Fuck my ass. Ride me deep, hard andfast. On my knees. Won't you please?” “Put that cock against mybone. That's the spot that makes me moan.” Use commands whileloving. Heavens! Acclimatize. Say something!Matters in your hands asserts control taking you back to numberone: Whore. Runner on shoe. Drive your screw. I tell you dears, dopursue! Spread your legs to feel him deep. Sixty nine a numberedtreat. Hold the head to the split of your twat. Urge your finger in theback of your butt. Over years my learnings have taught to speak slutsass or just do it yourself!Are my ladies doing okay? I’ve driven a course with words to say.Flustered, flattered or plane out ‘gasted? Tight tighty tighties, howI wish to train – to tame seductions senile insane. I am the lover ofheart, and so wish for apples to drop. I satisfy man’s sexual needsfighting oppressive sexual creed. A lover’s amorist, rejoice what Iknow. Obey my wisdom. Tend to your whore. Ladies, dear ladies Iconclude this to you. An open love fancy, I captivate truth. A whoreis healthy. Oppression is crude.So now we’ve reached the end of the road. I hope you embrace all thatI’ve wrote. Ten from one, count them backwards. Twist them ‘round,just as long as you’ve heard. My drawer I have given with love forman’s race. Always my ladies with uptmost grace; tied shoe bow loven’ lace. Hold these lessons forever in heart. Cruise the highway forslut’s sake … I impart!-------------------------------I add one final Post Scriptum for considerate mention:No matter what, everything blows? No matter what, fluids fail flow?Numbers to nine you have tried, but jagged you Jagger ain’t satisfied?Nothing rises the pussy shrine? You nurtured the whore, axed inner‘bitions, fucked fears cleverly muted? Lessons first three are failingyou dears? You tended four for the love of the body and still you'renot fucking so jolly? fondles@genuinefive ever so naughty failed toBOYS 55

curvysex threefrolic your child’s play party? Sex is stale to no avail? All attemptswere simply frail? Six did not help your dirty sex fix? Tried others fora blending of mix? Seven you fucked with all your delight, yet nothingjuiced you up just right? You cleared your mind, erased thoughts buthe’s still not giving it all that he’s got? Or nine you spoke out the skankbut still your fuck totally wanks? Maybe he spurt much to fast failingto make it memorably last? Ten you asserted Pussy’s Tweet song? Yeteverything keeps wasting so wrong? Maybe he resisted your needs?As a result you were not pleased? Perhaps you were crazy in bed butfucking your lover was like fucking the dead?Ladies, my hunnies, I bleed for you. No resurrection? The fuck isscrewed? I tell you, my ladies, I understand. Don’t continue with alousy fuck man! You may believe my words are cruel. But really thereis only one last to do...Assert yourself void of guilt. Throw in the towel. It’s time to quit!Kick him the fuck out. Off to his home. Don’t call again and hang upthe phone. Never again. Never. No more. Accept he’s bad and bootout the door. Let him lick salt. You eat the cake. Don’t look back.Burn the stake! Never again. Out with the cock! My ladies, dearladies. You’re shit out of luck! Looks like the highway and anotherto fuck!BOYS 56

ated adult pgPocket full of CondomsPocket full of CondomsFuck Ya Fuck YaAin’t got S.T.D.BUST 57

curvysex threeNudecaster Application: Question Number OneHow do you feel about being nude in front of cameras for periodsof time?May I have the honor? O Please.To be naked for millions to see?At the vibrant age of thirty one,My life is far from doneI have walked naked in streets,Casually strolling with my feetsPosed natural at a flashTastefully exposed my gashI am comfortable as isPriding my hairy fizzI’ve danced and pranced for videoWould simply thrill for cameoPainters have stroked their brushAs I sat naked buffSculptors have loved me museNatural my response to cuesHow might I possibly feel?The more appropriate question revealHoney, what’s the big deal?BUSH 58

ated adult pgAnitaPussI want just one little pussyOne little pussyOne little one for meJust one little pussyPlay with meOne little pussyClaim her mineJust one little pussyOn meNursery DivorcéeCan I have anotherLove me notLove me?Ring around my fingerHusha HushaThe marrige broke downBONE 59

curvysex threePeeping PaulPeeping PaulIs so tallHe can look overThe shower stallAre you looking at me?How could this be?Is that Peeping PaulPeeping over at me?O Peeping PaulWho is up so tallAre you peeping overThe shower stall?No, says Peeping PaulI don’t have the gallTo be seen peeping overThe shower stallWell, says IIf I were a guyI’d be peeping overIf I was up so highPeeping Paul exclaimed with delightWhy I do believe you are rightSeeing a naked lady showerIs quite a wonderful sight!Now Peeping PaulCan admit to allHe likes peeping overThe shower stallBONG 60

ated adult pgIs there a doctor in the house?Oh, is the doctor home?And shall the nurse accompany her?Two nursing ladiesSpitting at meHusha HushaAnd we all fall down.But then came little black horn dogRockin’ and a rollin’All Day LongTwo o’clock - Three o’clockGoddam any day for me!!Jingle Balls Jingle BallsDingle them teacup ladycupfor us whores o’ four...Quick, Put this on Betty!Before ladybird, ladybird - -You’re it!!....Adults are allowed to play too, you know{giggles~BANG 61

curvysex threeIchi BumWanna SmellMy Ichi Bum?BEST 62

ated adult pgBEST 63

curvysex threeIchi Bum II IchyWanna SmellIchi Bum?Scratch my BumIchi BumSmell my bum?Hard in Bum?Ichi BumRub my BumIchi GashBum my RashIchi GashLots of funIchi BumRash in BumIchi BumPinch my Bum?Ichi BumWant some fun?Ichi BumSmell my bum?Ichi BumLots of funIn my BumPlay my BumIchi BumIchyIchyIchyBumBUTT 64

ated adult pgPeace BumbuzzleRise!Peace Race Me Hummmmble ~!Bummmblesfrom behindAnd stings me prickGrumbled Bumblebeewith W.A.S.P.ing _crusher’sSwarmingRocky MountingBaby Circada WillingYet replies she‘Squitto sweetTampon treatme blood appétitTuggers Tigger TigerAt Buttershit LiesButterflied WildDutch claimedBy his Buttered resemblanceNun mothever memorializedtugging on herLepidopteraHatching her Lemme Lutzsome Hannes my wayinvasively beebezzlingpeacing Association tocollectively Insect Rights youwww dot Bloomington?BOOB 65

curvysex threeBOOB 66

4 – DOTATIONS67

class so i fourOde to my Ex Lover – Do you miss me now?Respectful Omission or Heartbreak Attack?- Story PulledO’NO 68

EbonydotationsEbony tie your hairGrease monkey your spatula shineAnd pour me another coffeeServe my grits with baconAnd toast me yourself goldenThe Diner runs finer…Baby back groinAnd clunk table #4Smokin’ refillSmiles that trucker serviceSure’s a hard worker…Black bone skins the meatFrom the home style cookin’That regulars keep comin’ forAnd I love her with five in my pocket…“Northern drawl me number seven”“Two’s up”“Anything else for you boys?”Harry Walker nudges me his wifeSo I steam my hand roundThe box just that much more clenchedFryin’ the rings down basketAt the same timeEbony…Groans Neigborhood MarybellThat her legs ache her somethin’ fierceAnd ‘my ol’s lady’ I says in my headGrants me promise when demands die downOff to refill # too many yearsRound go these nervous hands…‘Ginia shoos her supportAnd I breathe myself bold,“Ebony,” I says“No time,” browns her expression“Ebony,” and I take her handWith her strange question markWalk myself to her feet,Proposin’ my Ebony futureHarry calls loud like only he wouldAnd my face flushes fiercer fear favorFor my tanned convictionMarybell, truck stop central,Even retard WarnerODED 69

Turn their look my wayA good ten years of table wiping,Clipped menu receipts circled for my order,Even stall room cleanings beyond waitress dutyAnd Ebony on my knees,I offer business fixingsTo support her our lives throughIn the box I open to confuse tears streamingFirst quizzical,Pressured? MaybeRelieved…“Will you…?”“Yes~”And spoons clink their neighborhood joySomehow as if they all knew history soft coalAnd long time friends satisfy their prideWith ‘Ginia’s tears andHarry’s pat on the backThe whole town church rice at the aisleAnd sing mercy-cultured praiseWhen our two mixed bloodPlay with side street cousinsAnd don’t mark us for our bloodEbony…My dreams darken in the realityOf sweat drippings on the griddleAnd local Marybell grumbling body painsThat my dear Ebony rubs awayNow that truck rush slows its pace‘You’d think times would change?’I hope inside, grip the rounded cube‘Ginia shoos againHarry grins his head side to side“Ebony? Will you marry me?”I ask againShe cries herself, “No”And I platter my heart broken,Slide the ‘cumulation of fat off to the sideWith battered messI watch my Ebony…Pull the pad from her apron,Stained mustard brownAnd pop her gumLike attitude caresMy fingers open the karatclass so i fourODED 70

dotationsODED 71

Side order ‘n peasAnd I gulp the Harry clapAnd Ebony pourSo I come from behind metal kitchenAnd enter aisle unfamiliarities“Will you…?” I ask again,Spreading her fingers to accept ourDrungy picket fence homeBein’ somewhat thankfulShe never beautied herself mainstream cityFor a small town boy to haveAn Ebony like thatShe ducts her replySo Harry pats my backAn’ his wife joys her kissShe says…“Yes”So I’m her Ebony’s depositionclass so i fourODED 72

dotationsFat BastardFat Bastard’s humorous inviteWined me into sipping elitismsWith French kissing tonguesAnd Some Aged GuySagging his oak barreled faceShiraz! Shiraz! Their answer wasthis:French anticipation uttered British,“now that is a Fat Bastard”OPEN 73

Tiffanyclass so i fourTiffany at fifteen. I was crazy for that girl. She was the first girl toblossom into a young lady. Although innocent, she managed to carryherself as a tart little thing. She had it even back then. That smile.That fresh crisp burst of youthful elegance. Her wide sexy devilishgrin could devour any young horny teen. I was awkwardly bittenand twice shy.Young voluptuous Tiffany had well-defined hips. An hourglass thatlet seconds slip right through her. Oh, how I adored those sensuouscurves and the slight jiggle of her firm frump with every naughtygiggle. I ached to be the crease that separated her leg from theround hump of her ass. Occasionally I would cuss under my breathconvincing myself that I would never have a chance to kiss her sweetlips.I hated puberty. Pimple-faced geek. Every morning Brad wouldlook back at me with a nasty cringe. Splat!! I would squeeze oneonly to watch it become a gutted glob of insect against the reflectivewindshield in my bathroom. Yes, I hated puberty with a passion. Iknew with every facial puss mass, my chances would double fivesteps back. I never thought I would have a chance with that luscioustasty Tiffany.Some nights I would lay in bed with little boy blue in hand, eyes tightlyclosed remembering the sweet heave of Tiffany’s chest. I doubted thatmost thirteen-year-old boys would ever have such a knockout girlgoing to their school. I respected her daring nature. Never had Iseen such a little cutie wear an unbuttoned top so teasingly low. Afterrigorous jerks, my tummy would be covered in little pools of whitesticky goo.But as most geeky young boy realities would go, Tiffany would bepainfully untouchable. I would watch from the sidelines while shelaughed with all the popular boys. Only once do I remember her evernoticing me. I have hung onto that moment for 21 years.Tiffany was hunched slightly forward, poised ready at bat. Her ballcap tilted wickedly to the side. The pitcher was winding up. Shelicked her lips. Held the bat hard. Her knuckles turned red, thenwhite. The pitcher jerked his hand forward and let go of the ball.Then her eyes – I don’t know how she commanded time to kneel at hermercy but she did. Those dirty hypnotic little green girl eyes dartedmy way with a flash of pearly whites. Magically, with precision speed,OGLE 74

dotationsher eyes wickedly darted back to the pitch in front of her. And sheswung with mighty power - popped that one clear over the fence intothe tennis court.From base to base her hair graced the wind. I gazed in awe. Thosemature jugs bubbled up with every pounce in her determined race.I remember the energy resonating from those focused no nonsenselagoon greens.Yes, that was sweet Tiffany at fifteen.And that was the hottest moment I ever shared withfifteen-year-old Tiffany.So, you’re probably wondering why I’d bother mentioning some youngchildhood crush. I’m a thirty seven year old university graduate now,working in an accounting firm. And I’m not one of those guys whoget off on little girls. It’s not like that – not like that at all.In fact, I very much prefer the lady over the little girl. Ya. So I wantto tell you about this high heeled, long-legged beauty that strutted herway to my desk one late afternoon. She looked somewhat familiar.Long wavy deep auburn hair. Such a playful bounce. I wanted to takemy hand up the back of her head and pull her face into my bulgingmonster. It’s crazy how instant I could feel my cock blood rush intomy soldier. Oh, I salute you my taunt vixen!!She seemed to swoosh and sashay her way over to me. Her strideswere remarkably quick, rigid and long. This woman had strut –attitude – and an obvious destination.“What’s up with this?” she vocally pounced at me, throwing papersat my desk. “I’m getting my lawyer. These numbers are so far outthere!”Mrs. Swanson. Divorcee. I was warned about this demandingwoman. She was used to nothing but the best. Mistakes were beyondintolerant.I looked at her a little longer with curious fascination. She looked sofamiliar. I stood up, offering her a seat much the way Vanna Whiteoffers luxury jewelry. Her eyes sparked a quick fearless shot at me.Into my soul and down the tip of my shaft. The blood rushed again.She crossed her arms at me and stationed herself with a firm stance.OGLE 75

class so i fourThen a strange coyness cocked her head to the side. “Brad?” she askedme. “Brad Wrightcroft is that you?”Sure it was. And just who might you -? I noted five unlatched buttonson the left of her blouse. There was a great heave accompanied witha breathless sigh. Then I knew. Oh God. It was sweet little fifteenyear-oldTiffany. Her breasts heaved exactly the same as they did overtwenty years ago. I wanted to fuck her right then. A flash of her splitsecond smile blinded me in the moment. My heart burst hard intomy chest.This time I was not puss faced pubescent never going to be noticedlittle nobody. No zits. Lots of muscle. I was a regular at the gym. Myarms packed tight mass. Women noticed me for my biceps. I can’t tellyou how many times the ladies would ask for a flex and permission tosqueeze. I love how the ladies would inflate my blow-up ego.We exchanged some elementary memories and then arranged dinnerand a movie for later that evening.When she approached the car I knew she was a fox ready to trot. Shehad the maturity and tomboy nature of that summer sunshine on theDukes of Hazard. I was lost in a haze of lust and love. Again, bloodrush. I opened the door and her shiny legs eased their way in andunder the glove box.When I got into the driver’s side sweet Tiffany stumbled over herwords. “I’d – I had – I’m – I’m obviously a bit nervous.” Tiffany shylybowed her head and bit her bottom brim. “Can we go up to the hill?At the old playground?”The hill. That was the place all the boys and girls would go play lovedoctor. I wondered if I might be able to kiss her sweet lips after allthese years. Never. Never would I have ever thought.So I agreed without question and time warped to 1984. I parked behindthe big oak tree then coolly looked over in her direction. I opened mymouth to tell her how hot she looked but she clasped her palm againstmy face. “Don’t ask any questions,” she hissed, lowering her handfrom my mouth, pulling her body close and then grabbing my crotch.“Sweet Tiffany,” I moaned in my mind, “Oh, how I love you.”The engine of my motor hummed. Tiffany licked her lips, gazed downat my middle. The clink of my belt buckle let me know what wasabout to happen next. Hand down my pants. Out pops my rod. AOGLE 76

dotationsyearning groan and instant wet warmth. She had my solid wildebeestbeating ruthlessly against her tonsils. I could feel the thick bile on thetip of my knob each time she pulled away and let out great gasps forair.How lucky was I?Gurggle gurrrgle. Tiffany’s vocals were hot and filthy. I felt her teethslide quick, fast, painfully and painlessly down my shaft. A quicknibble and then her tongue poked into my penile slit. She tongued mytip with firm jabs and then speedily gobbled my cock a doodle doo.Her left hand instructed my shaft to slap against her cheek. Tiffanygrowled, then devoured again.Man, can that Tiffany suck cock!!Then she looked up at me with pouted bottom lip. “Swing batterbatter,’ she cooed. She made a hand gesture as if to cock an imaginarybaseball cap to her right.I melted, “Tiffany,” I breathed against her temple. Had she meantthat tomboy home slam for me dated years before? I was silly putty.I felt my legs spasm and my cock burn with horny ache. I opened mypalm and slipped my hand between her cleavage. I cupped her tendersmooth oval. She hunched herself over and let it hang like a dew dripover the edge of a water-speckled leaf.Hot breath against my ear. She shifted her legs behind her, unzippedher pants and wiggled her way free. I worked my hand up the back ofher thigh and felt the crease I had once adolescently imagined myselfto be. I took both my hands and massaged her firm baby back humps,occasionally spreading them away from one another. Tiffany. Oh,that sweet Tiffany moaned every time I pulled at her smooth cheeks.She was a mature woman, allright. Her aged status was confirmed asI pushed my index up her anus. “Mmmmhmmm,” was the welcometo the motherland moan she offered me.Tiffany was a playful little bunny. Soon I felt her fingers slide againstmine. She had slid her hand down the front of her pink splendor andmade companions with my index. Three fingers slid in and out of hertight sphinxster. I love ass. I’m an ass lover. An ass fucker.Her rectal juice smoothed the gracefully raunchy entries and exits.“Ymmmmm. Ah uhmmm. Ooooo. Mmmmmm.” Tiffany meowedand purred. Then clawed at me. She cupped my chin in a forcefulOGLE 77

demand. “Outside.”class so i fourWe quickly jumped out into the warm midnight air. She spread herlegs and frumped her body over my hood. “Fuck my ass.”I did. Deep. Hard. Quick. Slow. I felt myself lost in somemesmerizing fantasy. Each thrust felt like nothing I had ever known.Each penetration was met with a tightness – a looseness or a gush ofwetness that was unlike the ones before it. I had never fucked such abeautiful ass in my life.And not just any ass. This was Tiffany’s ass. Sweet. Sweet. BreastheavingTiffany.I pushed into new unexplored territory as I poked at her shinygoldmine. I fucked her cunt. Oh, I fucked Tiffany’s cunt. Poked intoher ass. Grabbed at her hair. Moaned clumsily into the hollow night.She squealed, giggled, grunted, growled. A lively little jumping beanthat pushed against my push and rotated her rump in circulars againstmy hard lower abs.I begged in my mind to bear her children. I know it sounds crazy. ButI was living a fantasy that haunted me for most of my life. I was intoher more than I had ever known. I had a burning hunger – a cravingto fuck her over and over again.Tiffany jiggled her ass compact then warned me she was on her way tocoming hard. “Will you join me?” she asked. Could I ask for anythingmore lovely than that? Yes, I could activate a blast of jizz uponinvite. She stiffened her legs, screamed, “Oh fuck son of a bitch!! I’mcumming. I’m coming hard. Brad! You fuck me so good!” she beltedfuriously into the slow moving traffic of the night. Soon her screamswere followed by molten lava shooting and oozing deep into hercrevices and folds. Her vagina tightened hard against my explodingcock. I grabbed at her breasts, arched my back. I plummeted into herand grunted like a caveman spearing his family meal. My knees wentweak as the last of my load dribbled into her clenched suction cup.“I love you Tiffany,” I whispered into her hair as I carefully droppedmy chest against her back. Two last loving thrusts and we justcollapsed there. Two bodies exposed by surrounding blackness. Twobodies hot with sweat. Just the two of us naked over the hood of my’67 Mustang.That was my encounter with 36-year-old Tiffany. The years had beenOGLE 78

good to my chickadee crush.dotationsSo, do you want to know what happened after the egg hatched? Well,I guess Tiffany became my reality. We’ve got two little birdies of ourown. Swing batter batter. After two months of dating we talked aboutthat one home run. Tiffany confessed her carefully guarded secret.Those ageless years ago she made a promise - a promise to land all thebases for me. Go figure!! Teenage love lingers into mature play.Tiffany. My sweet wife, Tiffany. I love you yesterday, today and everyday.Swing batter batter.OGLE 79

class so i fourToiletriesThe black flap of your gurglesKeep gulping your drownAs the chain chokes you from behindYou would stay that wayHad I not pulled myself drawnBy your beckoning annoyanceQuack your flapToilet DuckO’MY 80

dotationsPersonable JoeJoe was a strangerSplit into twoSenior and JuniorTwo polesSpellbound in deathAnd bittered rivalriesSo the date of his birthNever came to be knownGannon, Star & GilleyMay have frequentedMay have dancedMay have trancedHerself into believingShe was one when sheBecame three,Forever bold in identityDallas FeathersShe earned her trayNight after nightWhile Joe paid her billsA Hazard wind,Her smile patienceBalanced her as just oneThree personalitiesCould have MassacredThemselves years agoPerhaps they would haveStaggered over the lightsDarkened in the nightTo earn their reputationVarnished foreverUntil Joe fell apartAlizé and ChardonnayCould have takenTo Storm MalibouIf Fox and Christian CoignyHad not blessed their decorationsThe unwritten rulesEarn every respect,unrespectfullySo many fish, So little timeThese are just a few personnasOf our Personable JoeOVER 81

class so i fourStrippin’ ColumboOpen my legs did goApril Foolin’Legs unrulyHairs of flirtyTwat of curlyPits un ‘girly’Tits so perkyLegs did spreadBut came unfedWater I saidCame waitress friendThank you I saysAnother kindsStood my mindGranted timeOn stage o’ mineFor consciousness rhymePartake my grindBeers or WineWhatever DevineMy legs came openCummin’ Jokin’Balls I’m hopin’Concedes a ropin’Rompin’ Pokin’Consciousness Gropin’My open pranceJived legs of danceTo my open beatRocked Columbus Stance!I am AnitaHotty,Open Lover,Nonjudgment StyleOHOH 82

MexicodotationsI am into the plans. You know I really dig chicks. I will only feel safeenough doing it when no one knows me there. We’ll shop around.Check out the corners – or however it works. And take one.I’ve imagined it, you know? What it might be like…Saturday. Slopping drunk. Drinks at the “El Amigos.” Usually youcarry me out when I can’t walk. Tonight you can’t walk too.Franco and Albert, they are with us. When aren’t they with us? (HaHa)Well, so we stumble on out of the open doors. Fresh air. Laughing.Dangling foolishly off one another. Franco. Franco he says, “Jumpin.”Next thing we know we jump into the vehicle parked beside us. Neverknew it. But Franco, hey – He knows how to kick it. Jumps starts theold Vollkswagen Bug. And we drive off.Who knows what he saw when he drove? Streaked lights, probably.So, back seat, you and me. Got your hands groping my tits. Do thatwet finger tap a few times. Clitty’s all hard. Want it. Want you.Screeeeeee – eeech!! All of a sudden we take this sideways grip againstthe seat, backs sucked in tight against the upholstery.Franco. He pulls over to the side of the road. Calls out the windowand says, “Baby!!”I look. You’ve got your hand down my pants, kneading my dough. Ican feel you getting the money handy.I look. She’s wearing ripped fishnets. Black. Miniskirt. Black. Dripsof pussy spit moist between her legs? I imagine as I feel my own.Drunk and slobbery. I step out of the car and reach for her tits.Confession: I have wondered how a breast would feel cupped in myhand?Well, in Mexico I liked it.OLAY 83

class so i fourShe spreads her legs. I slobber over her like a drunken sailor. White.Blue stripes. I am drunk for a dunk underwater. I let go. Dive in.On the street corner. Drunk in Mexico. Rubbing $50 an hour. Hookerfor our night.I say drunk cus I can’t imagine feeling so free to touch her withoutbooze?Honey, I really do want to see you climax with another woman. I wantto suck cock together. I want you to touch her breasts, to watch theboth of us admire your delicious cock!!Will I be strong enough to make it happen in Mexico?I can’t wait until you get me drunk. Drunk in Mexico. I want to do it.I’m excited about our plans.OLAY 84

Dotationdotations“I like w a l k i n gand l oo king at the snow”PATT E NRSof moldingh u mpsand crystal clust e rscompressa ~ m is tof greyGrindedUpon ourPleasureWith herp ig t ai lnatureshe adds+ little more“I want to my ballerina ”d c e d c ea na nOMEN 85

class so i fourand o - - > ff > > she dherswayac enson her browned cltuserm*e!s-s ,my gazefar aheadof hers,b-e-d-d-e-ndownfor her EY ESsoft-s poke nThat was her.My whisp..ereddream…OMEN 86

dotationsJill dOWN thehiSickened on repeat visionwhen HATE failedmy Protectionso downshe wentin tpp so l ell “Ayaeeeeeeek!” even cute as CRASH she came…Her snow now appeals mealonelyAbandonedOMEN 87

Because today lot white looks to me –a dessert –white oasis –block rocked structurein thelandI am here,class so i four“O Lady Lights,”I sayas others watchstill judgedtwo-bit townPersecute me to her deathDamned as Satan’s pleasureWicca, SLAP my facemespoo lfooLishpass er bysBut I continue my write anyway“ Freud, he loved us together,”w a l k i n gto my freezer dεmon coldu n“Call her voice back…”and she responds,willing her sexualo cub e the ways we b nn ybum mbledOMEN 88

dotations“Fuck me! You fuck me so good!” diaphragm driventhe best fucks I ever hada w-a-f-t of cool air flushes at my skinas I release the suction tight.The condition is bruised yellow beatenfor my love of her baby nature.Our playNever would I push her to fallintolove sway natural, surrealunbelieved to be dreamed“O God!”the \jolt\ surge that pierced her eyes solid passedSo I carried her homeI pull out b – u – t – c – h – e – r – e – d partsOf ever true devotionFor my dailyInspectionLet the ice melt mySkin and hold herLabia to my chestAnother day where my love has notfreezer burnOMEN 89

class so i fourLovin’ HonkeyLog millin’Ball grabbin’Honkey tonkRedneck youPicked me upBar nightOnly banding throughBut beautiful badboy youLeather wildin’Your chapsSticking atMy moistened lipsBelchin’ theAlphabetlike only trucker youAt the diner:Grillin’ bythe waitress,me.OMAN 90

• 5 − ϑΥΣΤ ΩΗΑΤ ΑΜ Ι τρψινγ ΤΟ ΣΑΨ?91

Cuntseek five?From: KateTo: ~ AnitaHottySubject: Re: You are a writer ~ surrender to the passionwithinDate: Wed, 11 Jan 2006 12:29:21 -0700Dear Anita,I believe that your poetry springs from a genuine andheartfelt center - the expressions are extremely powerful.While believing that, they are disturbing to me becauseit makes me wonder if you have experienced the kind ofabuse you are writing about. The pain and anger that reeksfrom your words is perhaps too strong for me because Iknow you and hate to think of someone as dear and sweetas you suffering as your narrator describes. It would be triteand thoughtless of me to discuss structure and mechanicsbecause of what I feel. You are definitely communicatingwith me, but just what you are trying to say, I’m not sure.Love,KateREAL 92

Mary Had a Little DaughterMary Had a Little DaughterWhose piece was as pure as snowBut wherever her daughter wentHer father was sure to goTo Parties he’d take her escortTo school and then back to homeEverywhere Marry went alwaysNever was she left aloneHe would follow in vehiclesChauffer friends in parkwood mallsWherever his Marry would beEven personal bath stallsSome neighbors worried their gossips“Her daddy sure is obsessed,”But Mother Mary would reply,“Daddies always know best.”Little Marry’s Mother knew wellFrom a sad past of her ownThat wherever daddies belongDaughters must hide and followShe was told to dress up daintyHow to comb and wash her hair“You are little daddy’s daughter”Oppressed secrets theirs to shareTheir Christian neighbors prayed from booksSpoke only amongst themselvesNo one called Shepards’ protectionsOr the safety’s servicesMother Mary’s Little ChildGrew up in religious waysShe was taught sex as forbiddenThat Little Daughters obeyjust what am i trying to sayAnd never did Virgin MarryDeflower her fleece so pureFor Mother let Marry’s DaddyChastise Marry as she grewRAPE 93

Cuntseek fiveSlipKnotThe Rumors are flying. They say we and me and miney moe. I caught that tigger by thetoe –Last night…Last night I was in my bed. You hovered, swiveled and vined yourway into my devil nectar.Taunt. Taunt. Taunt me.Nasty Queen.You are mine to be seenIn silken sheetsDawn over you with the grace of dovesVixen? Vixen? Can you hear me calling for you my dear vixen?Please, I beckon you to teach me the ways of oral pleasure…The Rumors are flying. They say we are one of each other. I lashout with the vengeance of a mighty whore!! Disciplined, but worn.Staggered but brace.Declaration:Scorn me notFor revolution of mindCock in my handYou will findScorn me notFor hunger and lornJoin in lustAll adornRumors?Embrace me.ROAR 94

just what am i trying to sayMerry KissmasTonght I wish I wish world cause, I wonder peace will so far?Up up passion so high, Like a human vulnerable, why?Think a little. Think a little.How these, my wonders, ~ oh thineREST 95

Ste pp ing Stone and Food C – h –a- i- nCuntseek fiveRats in a maze. You know me? Ya. You think you know me.Insist that you do.Your ignorance amuses me.Blunt and stated. Point blank with shotgun in face. My blackpowder puff intimidates you.No. No. You won’t admit the responsibility of self.I can make a difference. I do everyday. Some shy away. Easier tocomplain. Harder to do.Will you admit your avoidance ? – Your self gratitude? Has the IDtaken control?Your white flag waving amidst the hurriedness of traffic.I am one person fearful of my own reflection.Whispers and hushes…Are you laughing at me? Are you smirkingwith curled lip behind my back? Who? Who? I ask with a ghosthauntedsigh. My eyes close inside.Just a rat in a maze? you say. How dare you minimize!! The gall!The audacity!! I command the chain to abide by my selfish nature.No. No. I won’t admit this to myself. I know me better thananyone.RUMP 96

just what am i trying to sayH a I r C raze d !Always my delightYour invites my mindFuture rendezvouszane me buffoonMy caresses wildtumbleweed hairWalking up flightsFor lick at my chopsYou like me? I’m hairyMasculine my disguiseShivers slut RightI’m fucking MillerClop at my echoup ‘rotic flightDeodorant tonguePushes my upsentMiller fillersOpens air juiced holeI’m upping paceHoles my assing behindPuff out tits sproutingtheir curlsPluck them notAnd faster I go!Darken shadow humpsbuttocks togetherYet lick anal ‘roidJuices my paceLevel at threeTwo steps a trallopSlashes lust‘Tween eyes of my brow‘Stach at gashWetness circles entwineIf hairs from my earsRISE 97

Never would mindCuntseek fiveI love him?Don’t askBut hairied I runApples - sins leave, yes!Inhales at breathcecilia my flareBut enter to tongue meshakens long stridesSpin at headlike fabricDogging my lap½ more approofFetish me feetFor almost I’m therePiano clink shoeshineStand. I’m at door.Bang, almost poundBash barrierBut dingles I ringRight bracer tenses:DingDingDingHe told heart over...DingDing“Lost love you”Curses his judgeRejectedTold “asshole” no return.ZombieDing DingStand but I do.RISE 98

Like rain at headTear pubil fantasyBut I need him ‘gainjust what am i trying to sayNo cell, without contactFuck tumors at head!Stand. Sit. Crouch. Sleep.I wait.Hours so passTick tockTippety tockDing DingDingle DingsApartment DoorDoesn’t answer meNo more“Love is dead”Speaks Apartment Number fourwith her two black childrentugging “mommy? she’s back”And she polites me awayRISE 99

ProphesiesCuntseek fiveIhavesecretlyprided myself inmysubtle class– thecUnlikelassthose motivated by selfless helpfulness, although minelingers apparent to myself as greedy selfishinternal praise.¿classThese things begin to drain out* ~§theWhonh. Whonh.Whonh. Whonh.¤I did not get it.HisWhonh. Whonh.metamorphasis justwas not making sense.Of teacher Charlie Brown.ROAM 100

just what am i trying to sayNudistFriendsAdorable how from hardeningswhimper limperings?E’s of letters plastered upon her faceWho is your lady portrait?Do you love her, always? Yes? “I trust you well to ‘stablishourselves”She strikes meBreasts of rockHands hippening her curvature dipsWith stretched thinned bottomto smile meYour naturalist couplingMelt selves sexually?Boundaries firm?Peace words if lust pushes itself?conversed certifying seals vowed ever true?Before this rendezvous:View my profileAnd you contact meROCK 101

To all the bastards I’ve loved before…Cuntseek fiveI am inspired by past lovers to tell you a bit about myself.I don’t think I’m much of a smart girl. I know I am. I’ve worked hardto get to this place - to the place where I can actually tolerate a man.I mean, don’t you ever find that they just aren’t classy enough? Theyjust aren’t doing much for you? One dinner. Perhaps?! And somehowhe believes that will be enough. Doubtful, don’t you think?So just how is someone as active as myself, trapped in a city I can’tstand – how can I tolerate such imbeciles, if only to satisfy my sexualcravings?Let’s just say these are my secrets…My secrets about myself…Thesetight-lipped confessions I give - - to love all those who have onceloved a bastard, if not to at least protect yourself from any potentialpredators…Question & Answer:Quest Some:I do have quite the fancy for juicy cock. Perhaps it’s that rock solid feelthat drives me the most. I did that!! I commanded that motherfuck! Ipull the trigger; bulldoze the earth; torpedo the missile. Just us. Andwe fuck. That simple.But then they want to talk. Maybe even snuggle. How do you getthat monkey off your back? Shake your shoulders wildly? Or not sosubtly push him off the bed, demanding him to leave now that youare done with him?And Swear:Look. I’ll tell you right now the latter ain’t the way to go. And if youshake any more it’ll make your titties jiggle, only encouraging him tostay!!No. You need to love him in ways that fool his superiority. This wayyou get the best from him. You care not for him – but for his fuck. So,ya, if you want the best fuck, stroke the ego and let’er buck!!: Or How About I Buddha Your Big Bad Buddha Behind?Wise the wisdom of the wistful Wiseacre, wishBoning what heRANT 102

Will not Withhold.just what am i trying to sayYou want the Wiseacre? Can’t help yourself to the ‘bad boy’ draw?His leather jacket or his Harley hop hard in the sack? Buys youdrinks. Tells you look pretty for pink in a round of that stink eau d’uhmink? Fuck, just can’t help to expend asshole shopping in the localmeat market, shaking your behind so fine to get him to fucking loveyou? Where are you, girlfriend? -in this man-fucked world? To thecapital! my letters I’ll Buddha: The Blunt’s Bad. Figure it this, play thecon. You know, fuck the fucker fine.Con the love in, but cunt it cool.…Or did I fuck Buddha and spell it too clear?Wise Wiseacre, Boning Will WitholdDear Doctor O’I have an itchy rash. It rubs me wrong, irritates night and day,infects others, but wets me right when scratched inside. The thingchanges color based on stimulation to my infected areas. I find theexperience revolting when the ooze secrets itself but relieves me whenthoroughly cleansed with warm saturation. I am sure the cause rootsto a bacterial infection. I have tried a number of remedies. Cold CoughFluid. Warm compress. Headache Relivers. TrYthemAll Pills. ElectraImpulses. Phallic Supplements. UrethraMyScene MenForOccasions.Pick-a-million MenInAddictions. Cream Rubs. Liquid Drops.Counseling Cummunications [in case it was a masturbatory thing].Butt it seems no matter what I try, I cunt get that itchy rash to goaway!~O’ Doctor O’tell me how I can rid myself of this nasty itch?Signed,Itching to rid the Itch--------------------------Dearest Itchy,I hear you Bitching about your itchy itch. You tell me you ColdCoughed some Fluid. Compressed yourself warm. Relived a fewHeadaches. And tried lust of pills. You had a few Electra Idpulses.Some Dildo Supplements. MenInNeed that did not relieve yourbacterial infections. Maybe some ‘Self Applicated’ Rubs ‘with’ liquiddrops? Then finally, mental cummings?RANT 103

Cuntseek fiveHoney, look. I’m here to relieve the itch. It’s your Ginch! Give himthe pinch! Fuck him! Be gone! And don’t ever look back unless youcan fuck him out love. Don’t fool your infection, ‘cuz you’re sick ifyou don’t!Always,When you ‘Nita Doctor O’So are you starting to get what I’m all about? You getting to know mequite yet? I really do want to protect all my fellow cunts. Can’t standthe skank in a man! I’m a strong broad! I know I am! And I’m tellingyou straight how to fuck each one great! Sign that one on their rottedfate!I’ll entertain you with one last Breakdown:Yo Yo Yo Baby PopI’m here to give BlissBetter fuck LotsI recommend do thisFuck that humpAnd love will be a bitch!Yes Yes Yes Cream It LoudFuck him with Kisses!Wetter fuck getsWhen fucking, then dissHump off, Fuck right backIf he’s just a dick!No No No So Caught UpTake for what it isFuck each time BetterWhen lovers are ditchedHump with protectionsAnd fuck when Love’s rich!Try that melody for size, sing it up and TempoWhore the Pace. Singyour Voice Loud & Proud!Now,I’m fuckin’ outta here!~RANT 104

just what am i trying to sayFreudian…ConfessionI love you. I mock you. I spit in your face.Freud is guiding me now in my dribble drabble –ruthlessly savage I obey him … Yes, it is true.I wanted to fuck my father → Tuesday.RISK 105

Cuntseek fiveParameters unknown,Sex requested conquestcoalescedin a kendall equationCorrelatated a test:If you Wolfowitz 1942 behaviorsUnderlying my variable meaningsWill your assumptions standardizeThe computation of your assumptions?RATE 106

6 – ‘isms’ d’autre espce107

cummer sixA lcoholicCock back guzzlesBreast push commercialTo arouse my ‘ismAnd turn me anonymousMORE 108

Nostic IV x 2‘isms’ d’autre espÈcePolar BiPolarYou waver me downSometimes I’m happySometimes I frownUnaware so uncertainPod open splitsSometimes I’m classSometimes I’m ditzAlzheimer Remind meMy past o’ dementSometimes I canSometimes I can’tSubstance induce meWhile I maladaptSometimes escapeSometimes I’m trappedM-m-motor my st – stutterC – c – com – mun – i – i - cation’s orderFluency disturbanceSometimes disordersDepression ConfessionCan’t up from my bedSometimes forget meI wish I were deadManic when Panic sweatsSometimes my fearsChest choking distressCrowding me herePersonally, my personPersonalities my functionYou tell me it’s my faultBut I deviate your symptomMESS 109

cummer sixEntried: Three Days in VancouverWhat if we belonged to faces void of projections? The ‘snap snap’ Iwould bleed for, but nothing to match what I feel. I engage myselfwatching these people in their foreign conversations. I look to seeif it’s true. And – sure enough – there appears to be nothing direct,no meeting of the eyes, yet still lively in smiles. I am uncertain. Am Ireading this right? Fine lines of tiny building blocks chatter as tonguespronounce vocals. I continue thoughts for myself…So I wonder. Can I faithfully hold to what I now define my vanity? That Iam such a predictor of energy all I need do is look into the eyes and understandtheir worlds? I pride these – my self-reflections, my desire to fight thevanities I seem to be running toward.‘Snap Snap.’ Let my hungry eyes devour the ‘snap snap lens.’ How?I’ve asked myself this many a time. Just how could it be? I’ve gainedquite the esteem. And I wonder just what kind of ‘click clicky’ life isthis?My imagination wanders and once again I arrive forthe ‘snap snap’ shots – Fired? Ooo[ps. That was a newone……………………………………………………….. » ‘snap snap’shots firing away at my rusty old vintage. But I feel myself feelingbeautiful, stubborn against mainstream despise for the ‘less than’ oftheir worlds, unless – of course – they are the truly weak → povertystricken,slave of muscle degenerating disease, corn pickers (you idiot– they don’t pick corn).I do feel beautiful exposing myself as I am, imperfectly myself ~pastoral style. Planter style ~ when I eat countertop droppings. Noshame ‘til I hit it main.’ 1 I feel beautiful ~ strong and beautiful evenwith my frightful legs in butterfly shivers. I walked in a ‘clog.’ I feltworlds invade me – eyes on my furried walkers. I feel the shame,embarrassings of ‘snap snap’ paparazzi’s ‘Snap Snap’Ka-pow!Blazen rushes thrusting confusions, ecstatic honor, my surging senseof pride at odds with my own internal catching twenty-twos!I’ve imagined the scene so many times. I’ve felt my heart passionatefor world cause achieved in my never-ending battle of ‘posh posh’against home humbling roots. I work hard to keep this all in check,disciplining myself even in my own make-believe truths.My defiance kicks in and I blurt out now: “I’m going to do it!! Sure IMACK 110

‘isms’ d’autre espÈceam!!” Faces upon faces I make contact with. One freckled lady looksperturbed from my distraction. Two chattering-eyed avoidancesconnect this time. Another most striking – the woman with simpleglasses who looks my way, then absent as if to protect me from my ownself. A few more quick reactions nip me; none worth mentioning.My companion tells me the time is present. I package up my belongingsin one gulp whisk and gladly escape into new faces, busy in theirhustling and bustlings. A sharp blast of cold snaps my vulnerableneck and blows wind at my brave face. I enter into another cluster ofprojections, following behind in my friend’s comfort.“You hungry?” he asks as we are passing ‘CoINs For food.’ “Righthere.” I turn my head to the left and make my entrance into the sheikware of a once established scene. Desolation wonders me into myjournalist curiosities: How’s business going Max? Max? Well, maybe hisname is Max. I go where my mate goes. He’s been paying my way alltrip so I feel obligated to waggle my way behind him as a good littleman’s o’ faithful.I feel a wash of dismay to only brush it away into new play. Iremember unworn draperies. So move we go to our new booth home- - Vagabond with excess luggage. O’ how I could use a caddy aboutnow. Caddy me escort. My companion is irritated I am sure, perhapsmore so with complexities overted? He does nothing to ease me withhis reassurances that all is fine.I open my bags and grab the one outfit never yet wore on this thatthree-day venture. Shall I arrive soon to my trapped home with aclass of upper sophistication? With keys in hand, I undress in a lockedroom of stalls. My preference would have been to dress out frontthis private place but my go-with-the-flow disciplines a whipping ofgood girl from the Bad Girl Bronx. Ya, right! smirks I. I step out withbra, pick my spot. Excited and quick is my padded makeover. Theman tabled at me notices nothing, not a thrilled voyeurism for a fittinghiked dress. Too bad for him.Clip clop. Clip clop. Quick ‘click’ clip clop flashes at me. Tongueshanging twisted are these reactions that admire externally. I holdmyself tall down the runway hall. Eyes ‘snap’ at me. All at me now;not for legs, but for sleek seventies in category blue.I own this Lady of Defiance. Hold my own. Hard. Fought dignitygulps back dirty boy swimmers 2 , all for the sake of whispers – mysignature so sweetly whispered. Too bad for him. So, too bad for him. HeMACK 111

eturns to his crepe meal.cummer sixI’m still odd-whimmed her words that day? Awkward and ‘clog.’My visions of spontaneous fun aid me toward my next-step-way to‘Famous La La Land’ ambitions. People projectorates and mockersbehind back I am sure – I believe though…Even when weak and timidI consume ravenous faith. I will and I can! I’ll fight ‘til dying day!Ye Rage!!Cigars and slurs picture it now: Lap-topped her business when I walkin. Model eyes scrutinize me. I respond to her Unwanted Wantedsigns posted for petite, young and only the serious. Gawd! Pretty inpink stilettos. This heavy head rolls back and forth at my ridicule. Igawk a laugh of good ol’ days reunion. Like a clog, I shake. Just like aclog.“Let’s go,” and our meals are done. Off now to airport we fly – we fly.Taxi cab. Taxi man. In and out crawls and crawls passing by. Onequick in out to the café before fly zoom here I am. From airport to planefaces, no names. And once again, wayward projections consigned.‘Click click’ flash flash I enter with excess and the occasional, “Ohhoney, I’m sorry…” for bashing you with my red carpet baggage. Doyou know who I am? vanities not yet mastered. [Not yet. But gettingthere - visions of conquered purpose dancing in my head]. Scufflescuffle. I put my bags away, tame my vanities with present projectionsof periods passed.I close my eyes back in time, eased by airline seating. Back into vividdreams where dances of freedom were spirited to blood thirsty hoursI could take no longer; To the black and mysterious ‘snap snap click’flashes of a romanticized Quinto. I escape into the men who capturedmy cravings; To the high-healed pleasures experienced submissivewith chair; To the maze of white crinklings wrapped around my bodyforever embraced by three men and a photo lens; To the Rebar streetboy who engaged me into his gossiping confession of loving a womanprimed in her thirties…I reflect on these memories three dayed anadventure. How my vanities pursed my lips. How I rose my nosesnot nose snoot at the sound of my own heels clopping against painfulsurfaces of elite hotels, airports and city streets. My diva’d 3 plan o’pink black.Yes. Vanities. The vanities that brought me here in the first place. Iam reminded → What if we were void through our projections? Thenperhaps invisible released cuffs caught in my act? → Flash Flash!MACK 112

‘isms’ d’autre espÈceCan’t see me. Can they? Can they see? Do they know how prepared Idiscovered myself not to be – but still was? Did I find at least linkagesvital for fame?----O’ here they return my vanities. Pause and hold. Strike a poise → NO!I insist I drown them out! Away and into stares at lives absorbed bynovels and magazines, a baby’s sprouting mind perked over picketfenced seating and other such grassroot happenings.Or…back into my naked sauna sexcapade with an adoring host?Back into my mind snap snap naked midnight on heels. I posed forhim. Could have been for another? May have or not have beenmuch the same? Does a lady’s back instinctively arch when posedhigh-heeled? I become wet alone along the aisle. Quinto? I call outand reply grounded to extinguish vanities: NO! … But yes, maybe?Maybe when we may have met four o’ at the café across town. O,’how I should have better managed my time…I desperately redneck for more…Would he have photographed me?Been an attractive man? One who explored unclean at me unlike theboy before my photographer friend? Or the boy after him? The one Irolled next to and asked, “Would you have been dirtier?” O. I sigh atmy vanity for variety.Open. Open my recollections. Open. He wanted me wide and theyopened. O’ how he liked the little cock of my clit, opened by myparting. A sudden SLAP! I clasp over my delighted ‘hotty’ smile. Yes.That’s right. I started it all. He scratched my back. I asked him to. Soarousing, he tapped and tweaked and rubbed me – banana slide oozescaution: Slickery when wet. Men love me.Vanities exist in these private faces? Hmmmmm…I am still playingwith mine – fighting in a ring full of mud bikini bouncing pretties.Slickery dickery cock. His fingers slid ‘hind my dock. Perhaps if I hadbothered myself with brainstormed ‘flash Flash’ Take it now and Wheredo you want me? Maybe we would have done more pictures? The onetime I allow submissiveness…Could have been Quinto? Why must I dream of Quinto? NO! Vanities.He’s a busy man. Could have met him four o’clock. Why not? No.Type him in: Possible Linkage. I ramble on to bedtime with Sashah.Twenty seven variety Sashah. Lips so sweet, his kisses. I kicked himout of bed muses myself. After his teasing beside our peek-a-booMACK 113

companion I felt it best the boy be gone.cummer sixHe was a loving boy.Not a good boy.Not a bad boy.A loving boy.Not whore boy.But a loving boy.We exchanged numbers.Plane so fast I return to my PG Cage, greet my happy friend. Howcome he is so happy to see me? annoys myself. I want to escape back.Back to dreams, my goals. To those people I thought as vampires, forthey danced and danced so openly barred none for inhibitions. I wantto return to them and love variety. My informant lover complimentsme with their comments: “Who was she, pretty in pink? Who did Ibundle so revealing in white?”I enjoyed that November five, when unravels revealed my nakedskin, my silk panties. Circles round and round ravels me back up intoa pretty white bow. Those boys. Did they want me? The women?Would they have had me?Or…to the day of arrival? My patient friend guiding me throughdowntown streets, humored by my pink mismatched fluff withharried legs and brown bog boots, yawned by yet another changeoverto cover-girl Pretty Woman zip-ups over bended knee. I returned thenext day thinking she had purposely avoided me. Canada stickersand apologies for ‘clog’ I slipped under her door.Or…to my final eve where I longed and whored myself into photofriendzied ‘snap snap’ flash flash ‘click click clickies’? Hot fromscratchings to heated fuckflings. I enjoyed my companion’s openrequests, sure to spread myself wide upon return to welcomingensnares of familiar faces and obligations; but of course, alone in myQueen Bed.I could have extended my trip for a twenty more, but return I came –here. My trap: my vanitied dwelling full of fancied adornments withno place to go.Vain. I am so vain to believe in myself, don’t you think? O’ these bemy projections. I am glad my happy friend walks ahead of me. I wishnot for him to see my void face, although I still believe. I disagreeMACK 114

‘isms’ d’autre espÈcewith agency number one, insecuring me that ‘snap snap’ is no placefor self-esteem.Clip clop ‘snap!’ asserts my poise. I look to my business card linkagesand vow a less spontaneous adventure. Three days in Vancouver didnot seem quite enough time to explore myself.MACK 115

cummer sixA Lonely ManWhat are you wearing?What texture is it?soft, silky. Is it smooth?Mind? May I touch?to feel you – ah (fumbles)You – Hints of you under thefabric that lacesyour skin?May this poorblind maninch closer tosmell your breath?Your odor?* (sniffs) *Even from this distance,you linger.May I? Could Ipossibly touchyour fabric?Or – (stumbles)taste the dripsof sweat as you moveover me?Tonight.May I? (anxious)touch toyour undergarmentand feel it slidealong you?Would you mind? (hesitation)Would it be okay?Just to touch youwithout you being afraid?(shame)MIME 116

Left. Swept. Depth.‘isms’ d’autre espÈceThe domesticated icon created in God’s image… offered a drink ashe sat next to me. I had no time to escape or perhaps even the desire.Regardless, the bar stool warned me with an offensive squishingnoise. The cultivated construct looked at me with only a quick flashof embarrassment and recovered with a forced brainwashed spreadpair of lips. He was Saved - Saved by his crowd jeering score or so hecocked his head at me.A drink? Sure. Why not? I was feeling rather desperate. Bored.With a concealed yawn, I nodded my head. He smiled salesmansuccess, directing the bartender to command to his insecure power.The muscled heave, being it his job, obliged with sloppy pours,rehearsed agreement and ended with clunked glass upon uselesscoaster. “Thanks for the drink,” I dryly accommodated. The religioussymbol extended a ten, cockily adding, “Keep the change.”“You come around here often?” Another night at the Roxberry.Sometimes I wonder why I even bother?“All the time.” My honesty sickened a heaviness within my chest.We spoke about nothing for hours upon hours. His voice suckedenergy from me. I swore I could feel the wrinkles of my face impeldeeper into my skin. Yes, another night at the Roxberry .Whatever happened to the short miniskirts and my long legs glisteningin the sunlight? Whatever happened to the angry parents frustratedby the incessant pesterings of my lovesick fools? They would call myname, “Jeannine…Phone,” with a certain level of jealous annoyance.Then before handing the receiver they would warn me, “Not toolong!” and smile, roughing my hair as I would bark back with love,“Ya. Ya. Ya.” Oh, my – whatever happened to those days? Yesterday’smirror image of my wrinkled sacks haunt me.“Let’s go to my place,” was the unoriginality of my life. Inside I wasmet with irked relief. I prepared myself for another repeat evening.God, I hope he fucks better than he talks.Strangely, he offered me his hand down from the stool. Air erased theindent of my saddened ass. Dismal, I thought. My life is so patheticallydismal. But sex was like a curse that guided my every move. And Ineeded it tonight, perhaps even worse than any other night…MUFF 117

cummer sixMy daughter died. She was only thirty-one. And my only true love…The rest were just ways to pass the time…So his monotonous tone droned out the crowd as they queerly partedseas to lead us to the safety of the revolving exit/entrance of my life.For the past sixteen years…I was an even uglier version of Norm. Ithought to be wise and ask him for my favorite white aphrodisiac. Buthe did not hear me and the door opened wildly into a great breeze. Mygrey-blonde hair reacted violently in the cold scolding slap of wind.Godzilla wrapped his arms alarmingly fervent and quick aroundmy upper body. His strength contradicted his endless ramblings ofcomputer programming…mega bites of dust mights and megahertzof droned falsified adoration. I megabit and megahurt all evening.But this? Suddenly my flower burst as my tulips blossomed a sweetspit of nectar - this being the only youthful spot about me; I felt theneed to repeatedly exercise these two lips on nights of heavy whiskeyreminders of the evening before.He carried my stagger while my awkward feet attempted to click myheals on the pavement each at the right time and in the right way. Butmy walk was drunk. And I had come to the point that even I couldnot deny my addictions.“A cigarette,” I murmured as I pushed him to the side to foul throughmy leopard skin, shaking my tassels left and right, up and down,round and round. My head spinned. I took the dirty habit fromthe pouch and lit it at my lip. The forceful turbulence still bouncedferociously at my locks causing me to nearly light my hair. I laughedmockingly at my own patheticness.“Where’s your car? You have a car, don’t you?” Spit slopped outcarelessly.He fumbled silver into the tight hole of a slick black corvette. Ooooo.Fancy, I jealously mocked in my own mind, but caught myself lookingup at the side of the dull face in new light – a flashing Motel lightblinking to be exact. New faces shocked me with every brief blaze.Boring to rich. Boring to rich. Asshole to rich. Asshole to rich.Perhaps computer programming is fucking hotter than I ever gave it creditfor? I smoothed my way into cool leather and allowed him to close thedoor. His vanity returned in flourishes as he bragged about his failedmarriage and missing children.MUFF 118

‘isms’ d’autre espÈceMUFF 119

cummer sixOh, my sweet Christina. Muddied pigtails at age seven; batteredPollyanna in hand (my mischievous monster – her favorite companion,Pollyanna). I remembered her giggles, telling me how she pushedJohnny in a mud puddle. Then to the struggling actress, waitress,two-time divorcée (in my mind, they were always his fault for mybaby could do no wrong). O, My sweet Christina just yesterday. Mydead Christina today.He drove. I listened. I slurred internally, Ask questions and show interestin answers: reminder to self – Check. Check.Oh, Christina. Save me Christina, begged my plea as I turned to thereflection of my darkened droops. I wanted to let them all out, butchose to light another cigarette. “Mind?” I asked as though I cared.He buzzed the car faster with a rev of immaturity. I have had my shareof children bad asses but they never cease to amaze me. I robbed mypurse and pulled out Mickey Jack, turning my head for a little tip ofcock back. His rev was an elderly wisdom long rehearsed. I dronedaway an empty gulp. My cheeks aged gravitational force. I hated thetense of my throat and the gut of my pain.Sex would be good for me, I wilted as the whiz of city life throbbed itspound at my sculled hollow. Sex ‘n’ brains were a secret of minealthough my finger gems wheeled them in every time. Inheritancehad its privileges. Charge card my Norm call redial, buzzed static onendless end.My darling Christina traited assertion. I grew to respect but nevermeasured up to my adoration for her.The drunken slosh secretly sipping choked aged lungs and horkedinto my own beverage. Don’t ask me how.The Computer God flexed his muscle and flashed me his RoxberryBillion brights. He was a non-smoker. My miserable mind zoned itsreaction as I secretly longed to blow my foul odor in his face. But mybitter age still controlled my envy. I hated my eyes on his genitalia.But I placed my wrinkled frailty there.His castle was opened with gates as he silently sneaked his boastfulengine onto the grounds. “Where are we?” I was thankful for thereminder of wealth to appease my patience. His habitat was a mansionof arousal pulsating a flashing red; Caution: Dirty Crossing.MUFF 120

‘isms’ d’autre espÈceSpot lights trainbuzzed their slow motion. My hand long removedwiped the silent tear from my eye. Let it be my only one this night.I tasted my salt block flavor as a rotten way to thrill myself. I wassickened by my ragged wag for fuck-my-tail, but I coaxed myselfanyway. My resources had been depleting over the years, feedingmy lonely existence. His rippling mounded grizzle was suddenly reacknowledged.Shit? I thought. Fumbles tumbled letters in my head: I twink dis one’sreally a petty pwitty pussytwat?“Slosh slosh,” wheezed my rounded rippled bloat. I tweaked a fartold lady out-clenched from my ass. I giggled my embarrassmentwhile I exited to his scurried open door escort. My slop slosh becamethe perfect excuse for no explanations. Rags are dirty.To my surprise, he skirted me boldly to the side and against the sleekof his metallic shine. My balance wobbled itself: Frailty on Heels. IElvis-weighted my crumpled lip and dollar-signed the spread of mylegs as I creaked my neck back and awed the cream-colored pillarsentranced by the lead of lady-draped spread. So much wiser, I dronedinside.Christina was an architect by profession. She could have been his lover.I felt a sharp shame of being caught in the act, apologizing for whatyesterdays have monotonized everyday. A sick pathetic Norm felt thepinch of a fingernail scratch into my decayed integrity. My vaginadisgorged its wallow. I saw my traveling reflection, dark and gloomy.I circled my own flattened mats and felt the upside down heavy rollinto the back of my skeletal sockets. I was glad to fuck him.His computed muscles hoistered an unexpected youth into steadyarms. “What the fuh-?” I caught myself in a convulsed husky swampof a laugh. My leopard tassels whipped a sloppy drunken romancethat made no sense for the moment of my life. I guilted my Christinaback because it was too soon not to miss her. I aged a rotten relief andreminded myself of my bag lady curse. My game was to widow myexistence with a closet of old lady 80’s style to Wicked Witch the ragsthat rob the riches. I floppily feared savior, “Will he reveal my game?”as I blurred my vision into two blue computer chips.Christina was corporate class. I reared her a grave distance that shenever once complained about. She was an icon heart in the elitistcommunity, raised around caddies and caviar. “A doctor in a waykeeps the money worries away,” miseried a heavied smile as expectedMUFF 121

cummer sixhauntings despaired the reality of no more Christine. Now I wonderedif she took to her mother’s advice?Marriage number two granted me three grandchildren. But myhaggard heave hidden inside-out sourced my addictions. “I wantsome coke,” I mumbled into his sleeve.He sat me on cream leather and clicked a smooth television from outhis modern wall. My nose snotted a cocaine thirst as though the biancalighted me a better time. I crotched my legs and lapped at my pursefor a mirage of white. Desperation promised me a better tomorrowthat my own immediacy accepted as fatefully (and repetitiously)broken. God, I am too old for this. The decay of my rancid existencereminded me that I was an ugly fifty-something…And Christina wasdead. Just fucking dead.“I want cocaine,” I said again as I heard the knock of my hand smashbeside me. I did not care what I destroyed, but hiccupped and apologyanyway.Head lopping moments later, God’s arrogance re-entered the room ashe compared me to his issues. She was twenty-eight. He was thirtyeight.She was an accountant. He was a computer programmer. Amatch made in heaven. I hiccupped my frumped snort and admired thepleasures money did buy as I fingered my shiny spread. Then I itchedmy delirium at the cluster of make-up, cologned business cards lacedwith late night memories, condoms for the fuck-in-case and othervarious knick-knacks. This was my deception meant to fool myselfinto remembering as many as I could, although the passing of daysfaded my receptive triggers. The keepsakes turned me on when noone was looking and I wish they would.His nose whistles as he breathes and his teacher Whonh. Whonh. Whonh.Whonh. Whonh. Whonh. is making my crust itch. I was an eNormousrepulsion.This time I did not care what he saw and I took my drink. All thistime realized my own thoughts; Why the fuck is he so nice anyway?Computer drone swept the last of his line to imagine a clean slicksnort like cock hitting the spot.But he sidetracked my thoughts and rubbed the handle so my grannyginch pushed over to the side. How does he know this prune shrivelsfor any love of affection? The holy man crucified me to only half thecross, torturistically thrusting into my blazing vagina. Screaming.MUFF 122

‘isms’ d’autre espÈceScreaming. Screaming for less. Screaming for more. He rammeddeath into my depth.I hated Christina as I blamed her for my sex and I let him fuck mewith his household maintenance. I moaned my worn willingness andfucked at Hallowe’en experience as though I fucked brooms all thetime. Why does none of this surprise me? I sloshed an accepted shameinto my sorry state. He was fucking my pains away and this mademy temporary fix.I fucked his stick as though he was not even there and grunged intothe motion of whatever the fuck it was that came at my ass at the sametime. I hated being alive and fucked with the image of the heroinerush blasting into my envy for a Christina life.She was my daughter yesterday. Tonight she is my dead existence.I started to make out his words; “Your bitched body disgusts me.” Hishand choked my throat and I felt the muscle power rip at my outdatedblouse. But I did not care or even notice. The slow motion lightsreminded me of my drive into plushed reasons lying to myself that Ichose to be here for the money. The rape of my soul was effortless, asI have raped myself years and years of many reasons to drink another.Somehow in the heat of the moment my arm stretched and I grabbedat the reasons my laugh is husky. I twisted off the cap, laughing outloud as I felt the rip of the cleaning supply that does nothing to cleansethe skeletons in my closet.He did not stop my drink, but he crucified at my hollowness and toldme I was old. I was ugly. I was an alcoholic. He had no drugs fora rancid cougar like me, but he was the best fix to torment my sorryexistence. God was guiding me into the bright light and somehowthis man became my genius. I fucked harder at the vertical ribs andlooped plastic.Christina’s Pollyanna doll danced a lined pattern of Christmasdecoration as a drunken high pretended to acid my imagination inthe heat of sickened friction void of acknowledged inappropriateness.I could smell the alcohol on my own breath. I fucked away his insultsas though I understood none of it meant anything anyway.I pictured a love where submission bade no arguments and the whineof his Godly arrogance would comfort my emotions away. Off intothe radiated sunset. I blinked away my blur and fucked the slut stickjust that much harder.MUFF 123

cummer sixLike hating God, I begged for rips because I could feel his scratch atthe age of my rot. “Old and ugly!” he yelled as he rammed. I felt apunch into something rounded inside. I could never figure out whatthat internal ball was ever supposed to be? My ovary? If sex classdidn’t force my eyes to the middle of my crotch, my shyness at thetime might have been listening to the teacher.I wanted him to stone me. But because I knew he was too Godly formy sin, I decided to spread my cellulite and let him figure the rest; Iwinded my clock leg window wiped and groaned my Jell-O rolls andbowling ball strings into the hardened texture of his cold floor.I saw Christina walking into her corporate office wearing hermonopolized smile. I never cared to believe the occasional stories Iheard. Then I felt the painful pinch inject itself into my imaginationfor a veined syringe. I took to the stick to shake away my hate forwhatever I became over all these years. How come everything feels betterwhen my head aches a frozen heaviness?I let my hands release themselves because I decided that my MickeyJack needed to pay me another visit. “Where’s my purse?” I gropedforward. God passed me the bottle as though he were my own Son?But I never had boys. Just Christina and dreams that faded when abusiness suit lessened the pennies that once earned me fake smiles andempty lies. Riches to Rags. So I unscrewed only the bottle, gurgleda coughed up-slurp and screwed myself back on. Another air ripplewould have been perfect ceremony, but the stick fucked my plugalthough I felt my tummy grumble.We congressed like this for a few more sips until my cum creamed itsslop. I screamed my usual. He understood my completion. Of coursehis turn was next.His kinky instructed his cock down my throated croak. I took it likethe stick. But this time I let them all come out. Christina blubberedsalivated froth and salted trails down my cheeks. I hated everyevening I became. I hated the computerized Gods that calculatedmy diamond gems for my fucked satisfaction. I hated the age thatwithered my complexion and pulled the plug on my fountain. God’scock deepened my bile and vomit flavor. But nothing mattered.Nothing ever mattered.I knew my night was done when glob coated my insides. I swishedthe sweet rot of his prediction into myself and stopped my pity. HeMUFF 124

‘isms’ d’autre espÈcereminded me that I stunk of addiction and my years were rotten. Iwanted to ask for another shame of cleanliness, but decided to leavethe broom alone.Why? Why? when my time was unNormally pathetic? The scytheshould have heaved the last sickled breath for me.The regular phone call was made. I had my impaled time on the stake.My crucifixion was sex-cesspool. I took the last of Jack with a creakbackedneck. The God handed me my tasseled baggage and sent meoff in a whited cab that only reminded me of my next visit. “Did youjust fuck me with a broom?” I asked after the programmer closed thedoor. He kissed me and took my number.Strangely, that made my evening. I reminded myself he was rich – thathe left me one clean sweep. The funeral was tomorrow. I wonderedif the Roxberry God might even be there again? My life was toopredictable.MUFF 125

The Complexcummer sixNot a confused computerNot a difficult questionThe ComplexIs not as perplexingAs she first appearsHer stereo has been typed into twoBut she is not a secretaryNor a singerAlthough she is a PromoterAnd a ProducerShe is contagious porousContracting sensuousInvisible to the Naked EyeBut is neither male nor femaleSometimes she sheds(Like the Invisible Man)Or breaks out in fits of evulsions(Visible for all to see)She likes to shareWhen you wipe her bareShe is the hostessOf her guestsFriends & strangers BewareThe Buyer if the towel is wetOr you heavy her petStigmas silence her spreadShames, Embarrassments,A sickness of dreadLike an impasse without a cureShe will never leave you,Just hang aroundAnd expose herself at her willYou will never knowHer time or how long she will stayStress could outbreak her cryShe is sensory and virionMOAN 126

A simplex siren‘isms’ d’autre espÈceShe gets on the defenseWhen she is infereron or antigenI’d say she’s a bit of a bitchShe is pathologicalBut not a liarUnless the ownerDoners her secrets sequentiallyShe wears her genesA hundred plus too tightBut not becauseShe’s a slut of the night(although she just might be)She is popular with the boysAlthough women are more susceptibleAnd boys often culprit the crime,Yet this crime is not criminalEven though she outbreaksQuite often within her first incarcerationHer suppression can be quite severeFor those who are not immune(But really > no one is)She is a sore loserFor anyone who plays her gameTo condemn the protectionAnd risk inflaming her reaction:Her blistering fever,Her pissing burn,Her swollen threats,Or even that mild infectious bite.The stats are highAlthough she is not an addictBut could be a druggie,A drinker, A manic nymphoShe is judgedAlthough she is nonjudgmentalThat makes her a business suit,MOAN 127

A construction worker,A Finnished French loverA coward without faceThe gender has no racecummer sixYou can whisper, “Sweet Baby”In her earAlthough this might rock the cradleAnd her baby will bear the seedThe solution is abstinenceFrom many people’s realityAlthough this is unrealisticShe offers no aidAlthough she AIDS the blameAnd aids very littleIn a pill or twoHer name S.T.anD.s as an abbreviationShe is as complex as they getAlthough she riddles quite simple.I would not recommend fucking herFull Blown, kissing her lips,Devouring sips,Sucking the Bone,Or lesioning her alone.The Complex is SimplexThe cure is unknown.If you have herIf you’ve been with herYou have a duty to inform.MOAN 128

7 - Torturings129

coldcox sevenMorally Sleeps me LonelyI bedden my sighDreaming of what might have beenHad I beenComplacent to your requestsOf bend overBackwards, forwardsSpread my upside veeAnd push into your rockBut your persistenceFor my voicelessnessLeft me feeling inadequatelyUnprepared to accept youSaline streamsSnot snifflesSubstancing my pillowAnother lonely eveAbandonedMe in response toMy virtuous valuesI lay my regret to restWith an upsetting sleepPerhaps my voiceIs better silenced?FLEE 130

Begging for his rturntorturingsI raise my smell to my lips and inhale. Never have I known my stenchto be so heavenly. My unlicensed husband used to wear my odorupon his face. I loved that. But he left me. I gave him my wornunderwear as a token of my affection. He left me his full of holes. Iscent myself to feel emotions so sad. I yearn for his return ~but notall the time...My secret ploy is one so unordinary that most could not understand.I long for the ways he would devour my sexuality, and with timepassed have come to appreciate the ways he would say anything toconvince my legs to spread. So I have invited him to my home withthe offer of videoed play. “We can make money,” I say, “doing thething we most love.”No words can I justifiably express as I repeat the gesture. Smells likefish. Tastes like chicken. Mine mesmerizes more alluring. Perhapsa lingering metallic taste converted olfactory, blended tuna, gluedsubtly hide eu LePage? The scent of a woman. How I wish myselfdeep against his face as we used to love one another those memoriesago.Before I came to my lonely keys, for they are all I have now, I wasvivid in my bed. My eyes closed and heart calling. My funk came tobe as I remembered our nightstand one wife and how she juiced herlips along the slide of his raw erection. Visions so free, my tonguerapidly tapped side to side as luscious bulbs pricked my lips. I sawmyself watching – telling him what I wanted him to do, as I lopsidedlyrubbed against the bone of my clit.I have had many a man call him a fool. But they are all fools themselves.For so very few take the effort to lavish a lady. Do they open doorsanymore? Date us romantically in our living rooms? “Where have allthe gentlemen gone?” I chime them melodied.I came from a moment alone, rubbing at my lady, calling out for himto devour her vagina and love her ass realistically – from the floodingslide that horned my fingers forth and back diagonal. I am dreamedinto the ways he once loved my continuous waterfall supply. Now Iinhale myself skinned animal.“Not only did he leave me once. He left me twice,” and “He defineshimself: asshole.” These are the lines I say. These are the lines I use inmy agony to escape his hold over me. Our pattern is one hardFAIL 131

coldcox sevenFAIL 132

torturingsto break, although I have strengthened myself to block e-mails andtomorrow phone calls. The purr of my furry kitten meows quietlyyoung. I do not wish to let go. But his denied determined refusalrejects me into myself.I formally invite him so desperately convinced that if only he stayedfor my presence, he would fall victim to my trance once again. “Thistime won’t be like the last,” I plea and add my bargain, “You don’thave to love me, quit needles or tobacco addictions. My home ismessy now. I smoke pot.” But none of my new life matters. Hisdelusion has satisfied him well, I am sure he is convinced. He cursesme for our past, as though the fault was all my own. Just as his failedfaith refused me board games with owned boy mates, he continuesto disbelieve my changing power of person - this renewed person Ioffer unworthy of his service or service in return. I would never againcrown my merit – never again be idolized behind darkened shades.He vows there will be another greater than I could ever dream to be.And yet I cry out for him everyday within the walls of my head.If only I say this or do that, perhaps again our love would flourish asthe brook of my vagina? My pornograph encounter is but a lonelyone. And my fingers scent me dismal empty.He speaks to me as though my life photographs still. He wishes meto move forward in the arms of “nice guys” as though my encountershave been empty. But my life goes on…in fragrances that have lingeredwith other men...in the moments I reflect efforting to understand…insaled away garaged belongings and those stored for future “stilled”summers…in talents unknown previous to put downs insisting thatI get a life…or the uptightedness of my nature tamed by a demeanormore chilled than I already was when we first met…in my literateerotic plans for publication…in adventures stilling me into capturedposes resuméd for world peace….vocals of training to perform for liveaudiences…endless potential careers…Two years have gone by, mydear. Life does move on.A young character sidetracks me positive. I wonder might he trainwell as a wild animal in my imbued forest? My offense gusheswafting strong from the seam of my jeans. I title him: photographer.Illuminations glowing aura around his presence lock into my mind.When divorce verbalized me abolished and condemned, I imaginedmyself idolized by an adoring photog. He would love me as his careerand fame me as his most divine. I would be the center of his work asI was once the center of my ex husband’s world. He would keep meas his working aide, his partner and once again I could love in theFAIL 133

coldcox sevencontinuous union of business, friend and lover partnership. I dreamof him to love me doting the ways I am ‘customed.We met Sunshine along the Coast when I Entried: Three Days inVancouver. Although his identity I do not remember, he has drawn meover prettied mailed screens. I am enticed by glorious photographsof earth enriched accomplishments posed hotly bare-chested. Hehas welcomed me to him, judging me not for my openness to loveplentitudes of others. I have confessed my pained torture for the manwho once loved the perfume of my flower, yet my photog keeps contactwith romantic desires. My royal personage met him free-spirited,naked my soul to share with his community companions, and yet heoffers me no jealousies like the insecurities I have grown accustomedto. He entices me with limited judgments that were once customaryand guilted to satisfy justified pleasures. He is my temporary “niceguy.”Young at twenty-four concerns me that his passion lacks wisdom.I have sent to him the few photographs I have, hoping they enticehim into masturbatory manipulations. I admit my desire for endlessdoting. In fact, I yearn for him to. Perhaps a new devotee will breakme of my shackles?Peek-a-boo: I miss you, my little rock ‘n roller.Good luck and be on your merry way.Call again some day. Lift away the impasse.And look up the word: imbue, referenced Bogus and Landau, page 354, headline “illustrative.”FAIL 134

DerivativestorturingsMy tears dry their way,Creaking hinges against my back,Bleaching dull the love shineThat once drove the lineOn the wrong side of the road.Thelma and LouiseHad nothing on Hillbilly Flee.And I keyware my lock,Now in lithium weak,Silvered white gone my hair,And worn trail carpeted woven pain.I have placed you in my closet shoeboxWhere treasure chest monies drownAnd black powder revolvers loosen their grip.Pulp papers, browning the sepia fadeAnd my face ages insideSo the coil ceased its springAnd in waits lost freedom.Film fades still shots and moving slide sex[with a little on the side for his]Inlet souls mortalize bottom-booted,Scuff marked, and unsturdied my luscious frame.the new work of my creationare the drops that release lubricant derivativesSo onward comes to pass,Bleaching the love shineThat once rainbowed golden wildAnd unlocked the aura, grey-pure,Rather steady suffering,Weaved in boxed despair,Held under water for his faded devotion,Worn elder age, and eased depressions unending.My projector masturbates apertureAnd the soul triesI mean, really triesTo wipe the friction and reframe the picket fenceOf our derivative nature when you phone,Cycling us nevermore revolving.FOOL 135

coldcox sevenTearsBedden secret streamsHillbillied special for me,Fastening the fateWeakening of unstable excusesTo pay my silver white,Worn boxed,In debt,While shots blast[faint for only me]aging cautioned limitson roaming handsfreedom passed unsafe.I know we fade,For lost love mortalizes youBottom-booted,Beaten, manipulatedIn movie scene romancesLubricating them allEverytime…Weeping meRecycled reasonsWritten in derivatives,By me.FOOL 136

My first ContempttorturingsHe tail jolted when my spitjuiced the floorand cried me,misunderstanding my urinationBehind backs and into earsLovers became slutsAnd contempt caved resentfulHis coward crinkled my skinAnd hate crucified itselfCallings challengedTo defeat the infamous cuntAnd home I became unworthy forJealousies manifestedKilled him stabbings a numberFor the Bitch! I becameAnd the money worn prostituteHe fulfilled conning predictionsThat cried screams and silenced attemptsFor forgiven reconciliationWomanized defensesUrged disclosures meant to hurtBut rock him bottomCaldron realities temper flaredAnd open affections manipulated overSuperiorities confirmed themselvesCorrupt by money schemed addictionsAccredited to my cuntAnger festered for fair reasonWhen hate imposed its griefAnd vowed resentful justiceSecret stirrings mixed themselves messages:Sex and money suckingsLies. Cheatings. What he takes.FIST 137

Vagabond pawnshopsFake licensed for his lack of responsibilitycoldcox sevenImages of notch post fuckingsMade furious for kinkied arousalCock sucked SickFirst esposa spread aproned upBallerinaed love long fuckvotionBehind a wife’s backNagged accusations misconstruedTo culprit the victimIn her own homeThe cock dreamed messagesFelt scribedAnd returned to his holy unfaithfulnessThe butter lips he took kitchen kiss & fondledDrunken when not lookingAnd naked in my face inflicted tortureThe reasons forDriving him center streamBetween the eyes to knock him coldCould cum me over and overButter lipsBrook betrayedAIDS Ass outcriedRomanticized credit crimeAnd those picket walls unknownCream the lather loathingOf Winter warningsBecause she has a good man nowCalm the corrected predictionsThat forewarned the fuck-infested futureEmbarrassed by parental guidanceDream the inject flopped helplessFor slutted drugFIST 138

Mercy to his satantorturingsTear the birthday balloonsForever cunt upon himQueen cups blackened FidoOr the videoed webbingsFear not to rock the boatThat may tip back port in tenUnless first he is deadLove to hate the loveTo love himUnlovedThoughts to the first time …So Shock subsidedAnd BerlinCame to ban himBut bound him to fameAnitaHotty was the givenAnd King crowned her first.Forever sealed upon forgiveness,Fuck fame you!FIST 139

All the Breakdowns Billy Gave Mecoldcox sevenLet me start you with the lyrics, “You’re so vain. Youprobably think this song is about you.”Had a guy come to my place. Peakedout the window before I opened thedoor in reds. “Oh. It’s him,” and I opensthe door.Tape measure, all neon to fool me. When I checked itout later, was only a 26er and didn’t even have thefractions. Shit measure.What about theno!!” Let that oneworld. Need toyour ass!! Fuckin’slut-produced mushroom boys!!Crying on my floor like asniveling baby. Your needyzapping life from our genuinesurprise to me come theseroids, pills, poppers andProjecting your insecuritiesdutied to pass on yourFrightened in return by ourtears. Supposed friendsthe guy along, “She’s fuckingyour friend says. Just cuzlonely for love.The barbaric animal gruntsgirls into giggles amongstHard to imagine some of‘da bums, like we havecycles we went through.come from our sperm bellies?Or the vagueness ofonly the subtleties ofYour worst one the fartsqueals from his ass?“No meansget to theBritishignorantbrokenenergiessouls. Noyears: therockers.as thoughlegacies.ownshooingcrazy,”you feltdo scare littleschool chums.‘ems getting it upforgotten theAll ‘cause theymemory to recalldrunken nights.at his face, or theFLIP 140

torturingsI’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow thishouse down! Stranded with left bills,thrown to the redneck slaughter – thatwas my man, we hold our dreams.“When will the new lover comehome?” knowing he will never be theone before.FLIP 141

Contempt the First TimetorturingsPictured, my pain out eye pouringsNow his previous content photographs cruelAlmostMy contact was madeTo send warning …But Class dissuaded meAnd my Anger subsided …Fluctuated …We partied afterAlthough I did not want toWe loved afterAnd I enjoyed themWe held onBecause I fooled myselfWe married angerAlthough I begged divorce …Assholes, Sluts and JunkiesCunted my rejectionWhen contact made itselfIn endless apologiesWe maddened our feverAnd jealousied our enviesThat were never thereHappy face watchesAnd lies of coolBrainwashed my moneyAnd left me for deadMunchkinsAnd Stars for together dreamsWere never enoughSo Videoed affairsFOOF 143

Granted ass fucking’s greatest statusAnd locked lines better Brookcoldcox sevenPlay wore sensualitiesRedeemed belt notch trophiesHe could always brag the boysFor forever feedingThe used linesCreative time charmed over more womenThe craft perfects himselfMonumental Formaldehyde StatusBecause he will fuck himself to deathIf no one saves him.FOOF 144

torturingsRosebudA rosebudDeadI hateIt bledA babyIt criesI hateIt diesThe birdSoars highI hateI lieNo truthI speakI hateYou’re weakYou leftI’m goneI hateThe dawnI lovedYou thenI hateAgainFUMP 145

coldcox sevenFUMP 146

torturingsGrey-haired GrizzleI was attacked by a grizzly bare.She tore at my limbs to satisfy her hunger,rubbed her ass on the tree stunk and made way with all my honey.Sway you into the socialFrom erotic, your masturbations jerkrigorous(only if I have my way)For I am Hotty O’NitaAuthor divine, Social SwayOpen your mind with erotic illusionsAs you follow my life since passedFall victim to romantic delusionsInto greater social ghastWhere shall my introductions lureTo prepare you on your wayI offer you food for thoughtIn my journey Social SwayNow I take from youMy Torturings of AllureAnd shock you unsuspectinglyThis torturing so Demure…FAME 147

Green Rivercoldcox sevenI look at the faces of pre-corpsed women. If you did not know thestory, you’d think they were just a bunch of pretty faces. My heartgulps back a misunderstood pain. Not gut wrenching, just a lightsense of sadness flooding a warmth with thoughts shocking anddisbelieving.I too was once a victim to another click of a channel. A meal with myfamily while we ate and listened to habituations drowning the wayswe felt passion for the world. Floods, 911, burning buildings – thecorporate wars. Grease drippings from my father’s lips as he spatparticles of chicken, complaining about how expensive taxes are thesedays. I grew up a casualty of ignorance hypnotized by the gentle fuzzof pictures and sounds vibrating their ways into my subconscious.But it’s so bred into me. Neigh shakes of my head work to own myfore, yet still I – with my strong social convictions – catch myselfsuperficial to the ways these women look.I sit now, absorbing countenance ~ disgusted at my actions: Beauteous,angry, young, posed, what brought them there? I know none of itmatters. My essence drains me warm again, picturing the rock lodgedin Marcia’s vagina. She would have been a young twenty-three thisAugust passed.I think about it for a while. How that must be? Those last moments ofbedazzled hysteria? The helplessness and mettle? The core-curdlingdread of remorseless, sadistic confrontation? The last face you seedelighted by the act of killing. Oh no. Am I wrong for imagining thisbrutality? Internalized shame as if a sin in itself?But I think we need to. We need to care when we hear stories of peoplewho ran stop signs and killed our neighbor’s children. To take thosesilent moments of respected memorial. Reserve stages to rememberand wonder. We need to re-sensitize ourselves in ways that guide usto daily wisdoms. Appreciations. For what we have. Not what wedon’t.Children go without food in their bellies. They work in fields of garbagenine to five. Their money earns them rice, barley – whatever they canafford for their family: mother, father, siblings. These children. Justchildren. The ones we protect from the persecutions of bullies whomock them for stains on their shirts. These are all our children. OurVision for the World.FITE 148

torturingsSo here I sit alone in my home with a ripped-out Maxim article to myleft. Blonde-dyed Nelson. Glared-out choler ~ What if she was myfriend? What if she was the enemy I told to fuck off? I shake shiveredemotions inside. Could I be the mother who wakes up every morningwith that familiar hollow ache? Would I have been able to functionin such pain? Would we ask ourselves the same question: Why her?Not me?A phone message waits on my answering machine. Some girl I don’tknow that well, telling me I am retarded, convinced that there issomething wrong with me. And rather than anger, I react with therealities of pretty faces beside me.“Debbie Abernathy. Amina Agisheff. Yvonne Antosh. MartinaAuthorlee. Mary Bello. Debra Bonner. Colleen Brockmann. Justseven of forty-nine women murdered by Gary Ridgeway. Anothersuspected forty-five or more. Leave a message after the beep.”Credit: Mr. Wise, writer. Unknown to you the inspirations you haveon others. I admire your talent.FITE 149

coldcox sevenAin’t Nothin’ But a Porn DogCunt lips lap herBow WowOn all foursAs slam ramBuddies High FivesBecause she fucksHarder than dry humpAnd semen spitsGlobbing her black furDog fuckingHer careerShe’s a Star!… Elvis hounds herWhile McSweeney’s Moe reallyhowls Volumes bestFOES 150

8 – Motherly Wisdoms,Subliminally Sublime151

coysway eightDefineMother’s voiceSubliminally SublimeIs a qualityMoralSpiritualIntellectual… SubsurfaceHUGS 152

motherly wisdoms, subliminallyAll in a Pushman’s PayMan down in rigsAin’t a pretty thingBlood limbedBoned out‘Testines twistedDressings cover to soaksplattered massWhile machinery projectshim missionary standing awkwardly shapedI am crying whileI know the heartpump of my handswill do nothingas the thick juice of his spillbubbles slick glob out in cough spits“Rigs ‘s like war,”I think in delusional despairnervous for my lack of experienceI medic this manNever really knowinghis little pumplings’ names1 - & - 2 - &RTC?Damn fuck RTC!Response for the Stars!My rather is to package backGut mass neatly insideInstead of watch them hang likeovercooked giant spaghettisThe boys macho as all’s been done beforeAll in another work dayBut I’m on the service of well menwho’ve mastered years of blowoutsYears of egg-odored warningsBroken protrusions lost impactIn stories that never prepared me for thisHUNG 153

I want to cryRun like little girl responseBoy stories laugh and anger themselvesBoth at the same timecoysway eightBut I know my title,I comfort inwardsas the safety of pre-planrelieves me in ‘copter ‘peller whirlsspinning Tasmanian pirouettesWeakened cough‘Companied by his confusedilating his brain deteriorationI tell them his story:Tubing jolts his positionHead turnedBeats of six faint unpromisingMechanism just thatThe paraschooled alphabetizewhile I watch corner-eyedguilty for my intrusionI ‘tempt to rush others awayFrom the chaos of lost brother loveDetermined to work the dayFor camaraderie’s sakeSick sake, for my thoughtsBut i cannot protect them soon enoughand all I want is to wipethe up-spill from off his chinAs they close his lids downMy piggy brothers will drink tonightto rememberThen work tomorrow as though just another dayWhere limping legsfrozen fingersblistered feetinfected chinsmetallic sliversNothing – Nothing will deny the extra safety pointsthat add to the Push man’s payHUNG 154

Rosepeddle CharmWith a rosepeddle on topI ask you for anothercup of teaGranny CaneInvite me into service your broken sewerand bank your booksfor my charitiesYour aged sinceritiesaid you my tendered handwidowed openly unprotectedAnd I ask you for a biscuitButter baked by your beldam handsSeniled kindTo show me your treasured loomsSeeming to love me your sonmotherly wisdoms, subliminallyCookies sweetenThe web night hoursSpent lady lovingGigolo styleWrinkled in retirementAnd life insurancesCaning their way to boil the waterAnd bake the apple pieCharmed for fluted movementVersed Luke twelve: thirty-fiveWith humbled honesAnd quilted questionsCrannied trust estatesBedspread between layersOf undivided attentionSolemn solicitations of solicitousintentWhistles the kettle pourWith a heartstring harpGranny opens her pocketAnd signs forMy smile and her only company“You look nice today”in flowered vintage not my styleand musty grandma smellsI can’t wait wills myPrerogative petals charmed.HISS 155

Wrong Numbercoysway eightA slight pounding throbbed against my right upper temporal. I hadbeen pacing back and forth throughout the living room for the pasthour. I ached to do something entertaining but could think of noone available to play with. The sun beckoned me to put on a bikiniand take a walk down the beach, but my headache kept me locked inbehind closed doors.Oh, I am so bored, I sighed inwardly, casually glancing down to observea trickle of sweat slowly traveling its way between my breasts. Forwhatever reason, that slow trail of sweat had a magnified sensation ofsensual erotica. I raised my hand to the side of my head and rubbed,wishing it would alleviate the pounding pain. Sexual frustrationcoupled with the irritating effect of an unwanted pulsating remindedme of my past lover. I loved having sex with him, but he gave me aheadache.Another bead of sweat slyly found its way down to my bosom. I achedfor a gentle caress, then a ruthless clawing of nails into my flesh. HowI love it soft and sensual, and then rough and hard. Tell me you loveme and then call me your bitch.Just then the phone began to ring. “Hmmm…” I hummed internally.On the one hand I could be entertained by a little chitchat. On theother hand, tolerating conversation might intensify my angry head.Who’s this? I wondered as I looked at the call display. I did notrecognize the number.“Hello?” I questioned after putting the receiver to my ear.“Hi. Is Mark there?” asked a deep, haunting, mysterious voice. I hadnever heard such a hot and sexy voice before. Warm tingles instantlyshot out from my lonely vagina.“No. I think you got the wrong number.”The anonymous caller recited a phone number. His voice was raspy,yet clear and solid. I had a quick flash of a man with thick, darkeyebrows, brown, curly, shoulder-length hair, and five o’clock shadowstanding shirtless before me, wearing tight jeans that teased me with awell-defined bulge.“No. Mine’s 3534,” I explained disappointedly. The folds of my labiaHOAR 156

squeezed together as I tensed my legs.motherly wisdoms, subliminally“Oh,” Mr. Wrong Number replied in a strangely sad voice. Then headded, “Um—I apologize, but you have the softest, sexiest voice Ihave ever heard.”I stumbled a bit. “Really?” I asked rather desperately.Silence transcended the airways for a few long seconds. I wonderedif I sounded too desperate. “What are you wearing?” a softened voiceasked. The question was bold.I was intrigued. I had not been laid for three weeks and I wanted toplay. I looked down at my cleavage once again picturing Mr. WrongNumber’s big man hands grabbing my right breast and rapidlytongue flicking my left budded nipple. “A tight white shirt. Short jeancutoffs.” I grabbed at my crotch and raunchily tugged them downto separate my wetting panties from the snug hold of the materialagainst my parted lips.“I want you to stroke your muff,” he instructed.Who is this guy? I wondered. The sweet deep tone was now demanding.Muff? Muff sounds so barbaric. But that solid, husky voice had mehook, line and sinker. I gushed.I took my hand to my nipple and flicked it with my finger until I feltit getting hard. Then I quickly lowered my hand to my cunt, rubbingmy four flattened fingers against the thick material of my jeans. Iwanted to take them off, rub my meat and feel the creamy liquid ofmy vagina between my fingers. I could feel a yearning from my ass asI imagined a thick juicy cock sliding in and out.“Are you doing it?” he asked in a naughty whisper.“Yes,” I breathed. I looked around for the nearest chair and sat myselfdown, sliding slightly so I could comfortably spread my legs andstroke myself. I secretly wondered what his name was but insteadasked, “How does your cock feel?”“Hard.” At this point I imagined blonde hair and blue eyes. Chiseledbody. Tanned flesh. Construction yard. Hammer in his hand. Sweatglistening off his skin. His tone was abrupt and firmly deep.I wanted more play, more involvement, more voice. “How do you likeHOAR 157

your cock sucked?” I asked with a whorish grin.coysway eightThere was no answer for a moment, followed by a hypnotic groan.“I’m stroking my cock,” he stated bluntly. “I can feel your hot, wetlips engulfing my shaft. You can take it deep, right?”I lied. “Yes. Down to the back of my tonsils.” I unbuttoned andunzipped my jeans, fighting to slide my hand in.“Want your ass smacked?”Dirty. Oh, God he likes it dirty.“Yes,” I said. By now my silk thong was drenched. I quickly squeezedout of my shorts so I could freely frolic in my juicy playground. Mycum felt smooth against my clit as I indexed my bulb. I moved slightlyup and down against my chair, eyes closed, imagining a thick juicycock rubbing against the fleshy innards of my asshole.“Smack your ass for me,” he demanded. “Put the phone by your assso I can hear it.”So very dirty.I wanted to be his whore. I had never heard of such an original request.No other lover I had talked filthy to had asked this of me before. Hewent back to the dark haired, thick eyebrowed man I had envisionedearlier. This time I could see the details of his face. He had a scarstarting from the bottom of his chin, crossing diagonally down to themiddle of his neck. I imagined it was from a bar fight as I pictured myhunk in a black tasseled leather jacket.I giggled to myself, as I foolishly stood motionless to convince my newWrong Number lover that I was taking off my shorts. Then I loweredthe phone to my ass and clumsily smacked my left hand against mybuttock. The sound was too quite. I switched the phone into my left.Then I hit it again. A loud sharp smack stung my ass. I brought thephone up to my ear.“Hot,” he groaned. “Again.” I could hear him breathing slow andheavy. My mind raced with visions of my Wrong Number man ona black leather chair sitting vulnerably in the buff, stroking that rockof a nine inch beast, elbow manly pointed outward, shoulders poisedwith a slightly forward hunch.HOAR 158

motherly wisdoms, subliminallyI took the phone in my hand, lowering it to the left of me. This timeI bent over and placed my knee up on the armrest. I could feel myass cheeks wantonly spreading apart. Smack! The sting was hot andpainful. I did it again. Piercing. Again. Sharp wicked tingles. Again.Oh God. Again. Again. Again.“I’m a nasty cunt!” I screamed. Oh my, my mind responded. I bowedmy head in shock and embarrassment, and then raised the phone tomy ear.I listened, waiting for Mr. Wrong Number to speak. All I heard wasquiet rapid breaths and the occasional moan. I felt a sudden flourish ofrejection and jealousy. Then I rectified that immediately by assuminga doggy style position against my tan brown lounge chair, positioningthe phone against the seat with the receiver facing up, sticking twofingers as deep up my ass as they could go with one hand and usingthe index and middle fingers of my other to plug into my vagina. Iawkwardly leaned my ear against the receiver and listened to Mr.Wrong Number’s quick breaths and occasional grunts while I fumbledto coordinate my movements; fingers moving slightly in and out ofmy ass as my cunt playmates took turns tag teaming my hole andexcited clit. I breathed along with my lover, occasionally exaggeratingmy moans so that he could feel assured that I was fucking myself rightalong next to him.After what seemed like only a few short minutes, Mr. Wrong Numberlet out a powerful dumb sounding groan. I was startled. “Are youdone?” he asked.“No,” I pleaded as I started rubbing my clit faster and harder, pushingmy never-quite-long-enough fingers in and out of my clenched hole.“I’ve gotta go,” he said.“What?” I asked in amazement. All activity jolted to an abrupt halt.“Can I call you again?” my mystery man inquired. Call again? For abrief moment a picture of my ex lover flashed before my eyes. I wasstunned.“No,” I stated firmly. “No you can’t,” I repeated.“I’m sorry.” Mr. Wrong Number’s voice sunk into a tone of regret.Maybe we could still salvage this, I desperately hoped. I ached to reachthe intense burst of climaxed release.HOAR 159

coysway eightThe phone clicked.“Hello?” I begged. “Hello?” No answer. I was dumbfounded. Iclumsily dropped the phone to the floor.Once again, my ex lover singed my mind. I was stunned. Stunnedand painfully horny. So I did what any reasonable woman would do.I rammed my fingers back up into my clenched ass and rubbed at myclit vigourously. It took me half an hour to rework the momentum.I know. I kept glancing up at the clock on my wall. I gushed a poolof delight onto the floor and felt the wetness ease its way down alongthe upper part of my inner thighs. I collapsed there doggy style for anadditional few minutes with my fingers sadly lodged up my ass andmy other fingers spreading and closing against one another so I couldfeel the stickiness of my vaginal juices.I experienced a disappointing satisfaction, numbed by the reality ofmy Mr. Wrong Number. What was he thinking? I craved answers andexplanations.A few more minutes of pathetic reflection. Then sheepishly a slowthrobbing began to hit against my skull. I groaned miserably. Beadsof sweat traced crooked lines down my back. I wondered if somehowmy ex lover disguised his voice.Beep. Beep. Beep. The phone sirened my reality. Beep. Beep. Beep.I picked up the phone and silenced it against its other half. To eraseor not to erase? I asked myself with a pouted grin as I stared at the lastnumber on my call display. The answer was simple. I went and gotthe phone book and started dialing. Ms. Wrong Number looking forMr. Right.The moral of the story? Two wrong numbers don’t make it right.HOAR 160

9 – Model MANIA161

coxswing nine‘Nypping Away at my Insecurities, Capitalizedwhy start correspondence with me?HornilisticReasons: to pull portrait free into my life. Esteem all cameras forglobal heart.Body Acceptance. World Peace. Fame. Escape from the deadneckredneck.To be loved. Recapture my identity. Cry. Emote click style.Anger. Bobble cute. I want to play again. To smile.Extrovert my person without shame, fear.Surround myself with others like me.To rescue myself from sadnesswith the support of thosewho genuinely loveme and want toprotect meever trueTo get over past tortures, close life chapters, move forward, progress,resist my self-imposing digress that locks me under coversI don’t want to die alone. Trapped for self-pity, moaned depressReasons?My dear Mr. ‘nyp,I have many reasons.Perhaps too many to mention...TITS 162

model maniaAddressed: ‘JandroI suppose I awe myselfas gallivant men flounce their decorative attireOr Queens flaunt their oversized crownsYour beaten skeletonreminded me of the drunk bumcaught sleeping in daddy’s old ToyotaLittle girl freckles stare me intomyselfWishing I was preciously sheYour show timeblasts me shock redless than EnversAlthough Pow runwaysmy oddball stylePerhaps you will box me a memory momentAs I dream ways to apply my new found woman?I am 31.Peace out.TAIL 163

coxswing nineSubstance HughUnturned hair calms stone candied schemes.Diamonds shine me hardened in dreamsMen all do love, some pan petrifiedThey jewel me close-eyed as though it a crimeMy lip’s pocket anger I mail to your pewterBurnish pump laser, smite alloys in sulfurSecond: sluice box on raw barren floorCradle the ruby of “Consciousness whore”Flumes these I gold, confute crystallineObsess ore beaten unjaded cavingControl your tactics, pressure’s no needFor open explosions come naturallyDo call your Hefner, tell him from HottyI’m spading to coyote gem’s controversyMother our load, extend metallurgistBow to me now: venture courtshipBody bore all, no sorry’s contriteMolten hornblende for plan’s rhyoliteRock you mass me, rate BeautifulPeace slut’s love~ unaltered, bestowedTOOT 164

model maniaTOOT 165

coxswing nineTan Tips KlyTip your balance scalesAs I trade ying for yangCrossing my arrow mindedness,I darted dark,unnecessarily hesitated,wonton hopeful,concluded void of finalityJust supposing,would you accept my own -darkside express?Takin’ My Obsessive Pole to NivenI found this note in a dresser drawerwhile I was sniffing at her panties:I started working out with my dance poleAs soon as my friend and I invented her golden sleekShe sure erects pretty in my living roomWe are planning for design #2So that I can take eroticism with me to the PeabodyNotes like these tell me to keep sniffing.TIPS 166

model maniaOrlando Talents?Orlando, OrlandoMy darling OrlandoEntice me with KissimmeeAsk two hundred from meHunger fantasiesOils that moisten our glistenDefiance that holdsNo researchFloridaCame down at meAs upward my climbSuccess … fameRock Talent be mine ~,TUGS 167

coxswing nineTreetop Lovers?The fig leaves of Eve innocently sin herself appleWhile the slut of Bikini Rod curves her back tootsie cutsieFamily gallop continues assemblancefirin’ siren last lineAs Rooftop “Marry me?”Barber styles her nationality”Perhaps these are the ones that move me most,”Grants Eve as she deflowers Lee[ves] from the stem of her appleShe sure is a deviant sexy.The children come running in from outsideLaughing and pushing at one anotherAnd he gropes his wife behind him.He bumps herAnd she snips off his hair!TOOL 168

model maniaConsciousness Internationalme you want me {as most of them do}wanting me heavy controlling your fearBeautiful Models press me my dearHefner is heavy with ladies and wineBold peace spiritoffers sum$ signBusiness = my venturewill capitalize sinall accept body bless withinNatural, so classed with fame by my sideI smell his Hughwhen fingers ‘spell grind...of money’s sweet powerto tell you this:Body Accept me, racial next.TAME 169

coxswing ninemember Musci dies rebirthed predictionsMoistness glistens my blanket body, alongearth rounds primitively damp,flourishing our collective bush.The morning dew yawnsmy every morning stretch worldwideI was born a simpleton,sprouted out mother Mossesthrough a process of separation.Today my day is cool,although somewhat agitated...quite sad actuallyMy protonema beginningssplit me in two too many directions,expecting me to slide one generationinto the ‘appropriate’ oneAs I yawn my stretchI also think ...appreciatemy immediate collectivePerhaps our culturebonds us without necessity for speech?Should I be one to ponderwhile shrubberiesconfuse me with theiruniqueness?I cross rhizoid,a little angrier than lastMy heart is differentiated,sometimes dissappointedand feels failureAlert I am to soundsdripping thier condensed echosI know there are no more separationsfor the process has been doneTRAP 170

My predictions have forever failed memodel maniaMy dampness mists heavily inside... festeringI do believe in power’s collectivealthough pessismismsdissassociate myself aloneWoodies rule tallBush tangles the messStocks cock their enabling trapand my wet fury growsWithin my own mindI torment the twosplits for love of nature kindand the evils of selfishnessBut since my lonelinesshas no true rootsand I rely on the interconnectedto breathe my nutrientsI can’t help myself but toshade my debrisI know my optimisms are forever fading meI am blown awaySwept clearI take my singular vascular breath,exaggerate my yawn just a littleconspicuousto lay into a new firm bedof lesser qualityyet adequately devotedMy imperatives are forever manipulationsalthough I still believein the power collectiveI am fortunate my fellow Muscigrow with meTRAP 171

I am rebornwith morning stretcha comfortable bedand my better world collective,tolerating partial dappled sunlightbecause my predictions forever fail me.coxswing nineTRAP 172

model maniaHeartbracking RecoveryHull became my hellAfter franςais loveFell for meAnd abused me behindModeling selfre-identifiesmy strengths internalTitanium TrapMetaphorical consciousnessGrinds my eroticismsobjectivelytastefulwrought with the wantyou capturein manipulativeclick-Snap!Have I lost my mind? ~... or have you found my soul?Requisition R.S.V.P ~unlock me trapped,PG girlTOIL 173

coxswing nineDearest Modeling Agency,Hair holds me heavyTo my female animalAndrogynouscat-likeFelineYour industry superficialCalls me bare-skinned rawHarbingerYe!Herald!Master fortune futureI hope to entice ~ Please do come my wayWorld Peace I beckon shall stayIn my natural formHairy.UnalteredMinxing reasonDama ices her open mouthand the cool ‘mometer degreesenters his full-lipped flavorShe cautions freeze,couturing a sailor capthen returns his Bazaar BeautyBusiness greyedto their climax,tearsheets cascading the blueof belle du jourTEAR 174

model maniaModeling my Caviar DreamsI must admit: I am a dreamer. I fantasize an agency whisking meaway in leer jets and luxury vehicles. Money hinders me. Here Iremain a local Prince George girl, only beginning to discover hertalents at age 31.I am still 31.I hope to captivate with mystery and passion. Please do respond.Nue-ance tranceNue-ance dine me dancedBreastess quiverswhere sinterpretationspinken naturally wrinkled wisdomand thirty-one becomes the race present runfor less one a decade primeNue one manymy lost in love oasislagooned blue transparentAnd I fell trueBut he left mewhile talent fools meHis return home will be wellTITE 175

coxswing nineAfter SixI visit youWhat for meThe teeth I seeBrand Name:Victorian Hush!Bubble Bumlove LushWith ContrastPassion BlueTo the vulva fluffOnward shadow allureUndercrotchingthe separationRip round 8Stand her self,dignifiedto lickLollypop Metallicwhile Old WomanDarknessWises the corner chair ...then beige tips her greetingold fashion wayat Yellow, pink and blue’sbaby {so young, mature}and white stripeCapone’s niceTele Flappingher 1920’s FlapperTING 176

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cumsweet tenBusiness HughAdore my persistence. Believe in my schemes.Fear not my character hardened in dreamsMen all do love, even first some deniedThey love me close-eyed as though it a crimeMy lip’s hot anger I mail to your ‘puterSinning your peter ‘cunting’ smite dutySecond: graced on raw barren floorTrancing faith of “Consciousness whore”Words these I say, seduce you to sinBelieve in my power’s feline sensingControl your tactics resists no needFor open expressions come naturallyDo call your Hefner, tell him from HottyLady sluts right for love’s controversyMoney my maker, extend him my worshipBow to me now: enterprise courtshipBody accept all, no sorry’s contriteJoining hypno for plan’s rhyoliteFall you love me, enter BeautifulPeace slut’s love~ unaltered, bestowedWISE 178

play4boy kissesWISE 179

WOMENcumsweet tenBy AnitaHottyI am a woman fascinated by the captivations of my species. Thecurvatures of allure; how pretty faces command mystic curiosities;the rounds of breasts that perk, hang like awkward cylinders,varying sizes and shapes … The appeal drawn by the emotion ofposed facial expressions? Her neck, waste, lust of slim long buttresslegs, wave of her hair …For what reason are we as a collective socaptivated by female sexuality?I cannot say that men move me the way women do. As much as Iembrace my rebellion against superficialities, I am most undoubtedlymore swayed by the shape of a woman than I am by the stalk of aman. What is it about the hourglass figure that molds both man andwoman into an open-jawed awe? What rationalities lure consumersinto societal perpetuations that propagate fantastic delusions of the“ideal?” Where do generational media sensationalisms stem from?Are we really living in a man’s world?I am fazed by questions that often miss their mark. Sometimes I amnot even sure what I am asking myself. All I know is that I am awoman who fears the feline female while at the same time I protectthe pride of my ancestry. And I cannot seem to shake the probingrepetition, “Why? What is it?”My counter fascination for the male species is more one centered ona different power dynamic. How do men so carelessly blow freelyfrom the nurturing natures of women? For what power are they ableto disregard our kindred kind compassion (or am I speaking purelyon my own bias?)?Am I making myself word my person as though she has a history ofbumps and bruises?Perhaps.Or more correctly: Yes.There are moments when I envy what other women have. CertainMarilyns command class beyond what so few have bothered to fancymy way. I yearn for yachts and caviar but where all the gentlemen areis not here. Not now.WILD 180

play4boy kissesCurrently I have begun a relationship of open origin. His ruin, I feel,will be a fluff wipe off his shoulder (although passion inside assuresme I am a fantastic lover). I frustrate over how blind a man can beto the tender truth of a woman’s heart (or, once again, am I speakingfrom myself?). He will circus his travel from one woman to the nextas a commodity lap along the fun romp circuit without even calling tosay why he is late.Do I want to be a man? Is that the foolish desire I am asking myself?Lord knows I have ached to feel the sensation of a cock that only a sexchange could cure me. But rather, No. I wish to continue my claimas mature status. My womanhood for simply my sex grants me thisassertion.Still. I wonder into myself what is it about my gender that commandsproduction of the centerfold flesh exposures society so speedily gobblesto satisfy its appetite for visual stimulation? My compulsions driveme into the classic liberation of October 1989 (all this time I mistookMs. Anderson as another well-known icon). I gaze my curious aweand view this woman’s representation as the blanket appeal mediawide. What special zing wangs Playboy readers to love you althoughthey never really know who you are? How come your hatted vagina isthe shadow of millions of multitudes that decorate their imaginationswith the symbol of your stand? What hypnoticisms linger your poutinto the beds of hungry horny admiring appetites, or especially thosefirm in their denial (although they cannot help themselves but to beattracted to your outer self)?I am a woman who is absolutely swept into an unknown inquisition,for I cannot direct you to what I am pointing at. This lack for clarityis a strange new phenomenon that has been milking its way into apatient boiling fester. My wonder sits itself comfortably and comesout to visit on only unplanned occasions. Tonight is apparently one ofthese eventfully empty, yet thought-provoking moments.Perhaps my unnecessary dilemma tips gender scales beyondcomprehension? I amuse myself that you might be as flustered by myuseless ramblings just as much as I, yet you still feel that I am sayingsomething truly remarkable at the same time (or am I sourced by myown internal hypnoticisms?).A man has his way. A woman is a way – an unexplainable phenomenonthat we can all nod our heads in unspoken agreement. We all knowwomen will forever appeal to whatever our eyes are drawn into; thisunmistakable meditation pull that beckons us to look even when weWILD 181

cumsweet tentell ourselves not to; both man and woman. We feel it both.Tonight I am waiting for my lover. We had beautiful sex last night.My bloodied handprint has been purposely uncleansed from my wall.I wish to treat him with my perversion. But he disappoints me withanother stand up invite… so I plan on ending it tonight.Hilton is another mystery capitalized by our repetitious consumeristhistories. A face that smiles her coy in ways to remain virtuallyundisciplined in her play. The murderous mischievous mannerismscaptured in one image are what impel society to gravitate overidolized depictions? What words can claim to answer what I am notreally asking?I am fascinated by women (or more myself?). There are times theirpresence commands me to shy my head and cower. Yet I am one ofthese bold creatures, so deviously sexual in my play.I ramble my realities and virtues as though I really know what is ailingme so. My earlier lonely masturbation is most likely projecting itselfinto an oddball mess of my female psyche. Yet still I am twisted in myFreudian associations and I amaze myself to attempt to understandjust what is it? Why?The minutes become longer and my lids grow heavy. I don’t knowhis last name, nor have I bothered to ask for a phone number. Yet forfinancial burden I invited him to live with me and love unconditioned…Now I question my offer, because his tardiness is inappropriate formy sexual appetite.Why does the portrait of a woman captivate us? Has the mediaconsumed my lover’s understanding of how to treat his mistress? Whycan we not stop ourselves to resist female beauty while at the sametime dishonor it? My ramblings are meaningless, yet I am certain I amcommunicating something wrought with importance.But why? And exactly what is it?WILD 182

11 – Kicks, Fixes & Desperate Measures183

Cocaine Therapycumquad eleventherapist dogged me to lie on his couch:down a straight survival lineI increased attention as the snot slid sexual slideOver the aggressive hump of his oral fixationI contented latent for myselfTo wipe under my own noseFor reasons same as hisThursdays. Ten o’clockHer glasses tip ‘tangular on nose endat meAs she rationalizes her identified personaEverytimeEvery ThursdayI compensate my therapy transferenceWhile he sublimatesAnd introjects that snot unconsciousHe displaces his hand overMy reacted formationThen regresses his countering antagonistInto the retentiveness of my button-zippedErogenous zoneRepresses with pinches,Forming my pube’a twirlsHis objectivity transfers (for he knows me)“And your father never gave a shitNot for how good you feel”(he knows my denial.Every ThursdayMaclean’s on glassMy repressed reflection glimmers besidegloss threeASSY 184

An impasse superverted ditch of aBeautiful white lineIs dim shadowed, butSparkles his thick sleek globOnce again even more inviting.kicks, fixes & desperate measures“Knock Knock!” She skirted her envious red. Today.Mrs. Rectangles,He called her.(Funny I associate the same thing).She carried my favorite fixation.(the one I was reflecting for)His index projects me deeper“…Or when your dad came in your room that nightwith your teddy bear - - ..rubbed it real soft against you…”“Doctor’s orders,” her pleasure lips principleas she satisfies free her immoral varchedrumpedsuited flesh genitals so firmly bubbledThe cure is this:Libidoed greed gratifies linear nile whitenurturing so therapeutically for me“Bon appetite,” they mask me outstretchedsupportedby - -I lick his vile shinecleanConcave myselfUnbuttonUnzip myselfSide roll myselfKiss my mouth to the fuzz of my psychotherapeutic sofaHe rogues his fingerASSY 185

Down into places thatTherapy taught meAre no longer wrong.cumquad elevenStraight lineSnortTherapyEach one of us Gestalt.And out I goTo open her rectangle drawerPull out her hairHer lipstickHer polished shoes(smell them)I hear malpractice scuffle their empty-chairsI put on her pantyhose(no underwear)and pull her factory sewtight between labiaand Electraroyal road centers cool-handed contactto penetrate the air holed fabricand wet the masturbation of my sex playHer heelsHairBusiness attireAnd rectangular glasses …my lieben und arbeiten idvited me:so I come every thursdayI get partiesUp my noseHe helps me understand my father.And his secretary is prettyASSY 186

kicks, fixes & desperate measuresAlternate Me[es]I just need it. I disgust myself. Gotta have it. I’m sorry, but I got…I can’t explain my nasty desire to seek out this kind of torture – butit’s a sickness that comforts me. Even now, I feel this rabid, slurpsuckingbare-to-the-bones desire. Pervert pants. I am the guy youcringe at with sheer disgust; you know he’s staring you up and downlike a lonely pervert butcher – the one who sneaks a private momentbetween the fleshy feel of the meat he just packed.O! I live like that most everyday.Again. Hell. Another visitor. Mini ‘me.’ Again and I breathe. Myeyes closed. Down Down. Sliding slow over and gliding into roughedgedmaterial. My wrist wriggling and just inches … just inches …– my fingers crawling up all sneaky to their prey.Funny. I imagine the game of peek-a-boo when my fingers danceunder the coarsities of pretty pink lace.O.O. Mmmmmmmmy.It’s like a melting sensation as I feel the first jigger of coldness invademy purposely pursed lips.I’m so into it now that I have learned how to play games with myself.My next step – desire if you will – to play my game with another > > Ifnot others (ooo. And I grab my tits now at the thought).Which me?O Fuck. I don’t care!Wet my fingers. Slide open slow in and out of my oval entry. A quickflash of ‘fleshy innards’ (another fantasy written. Have you heard itbefore? Put it in one night of dining your impressive bests for the longsleek legs, red-specked heels. Upright. Proper. But slut-satisfying inthe bedroom. The fantasy written).Another me.Another me enter fantasy world.Wiggle. Wiggle.ASSY 187

cumquad elevenMy eyes closed now. Lost in the feeling of cock rubbing against myinner cheeks for hours upon hours. Once shot into me, slyly coatingmy esophagus with flavored creams … O, the flavored creams of allthose men. The pleasing numb-rubbing effect.Can you believe images so vivid?Gracefully now. Ever so graceful. My knuckles bend slightly and Ipress a little harder. Side to side now. “My titties. My titties.” I talkin my head. “Lick my titties,” as I imagine my freshest lover hoveringover me while I look up to him from behind. A mutual subservienceback goes my head and an evil tramp appetite for cock calls out oofme. Hhhhhhhaaaaa. Fire shot eyes at him demanding to love me withhis cock dirty –I want him to spit at me. But I keep it inside. Sometimes. This me –the one that I hide. A voice void of inhibitions that could scream liesor half truths. I love you! I love you!Then a switch.Back to graceful. Sweeps over my bulb and I giggle like a schoolgirl.Innocent little schoolgirl prancing around in her school uniform, hairup in blonde bouncy pigtails.I’m a brunette naturally.Slash and tumble my finger from flap to flap – the bashing andbumbling of my clit wad. I pick up my head from the pillow and lookdown. I need to see it now. Damn. I know I hate to stop because Idon’t want the dirty feeling to stop.Then I’m reminded of my first thought. The moment pauses.I have the drip, or feel the shame of others judging me as a disease.Actually. I judge myself. My cravings for it. The ways I breathe itthrough my nose – that loud annoying whistle humming through mynose.When I was little I trained myself to stop that noise. It kept me upat night. Just like the sound of the condom wrapper, or the limpeddisappointment of a rejected flesh to flesh contact that I beg to imaginethe actual hot sensation engulfing the rod that pounds it.Me. Me.ASSY 188

kicks, fixes & desperate measuresBack to bend ass in air, open spread – to never get that sucking feelingas my legs raised in air – Highschool? Yes. It was highschool with mygirlfriend. I taught it to her. Taught prank phone calls, bicycle position,spread “v” in air and in sluuuurrp sucks in that air. I didn’t know whatit was, thought it was funny. “I just called to say -” and then down wewould go and push out flapping childhood lips. Laughing andLondon Bridges Falling DownFalling DownFalling Down…London Bridges Falling DownI just have to take off my pants now. I can’t stand it anymore! Needto look at it. See it. My own erection. Pushed out so big that I canimagine its initial blossoming parting the nurturing sides of my folds.Graceful. Graceful.But then bucked on my knee. Looking back, seeing my own ovaledpolitely as I imagine the rounding hips of a heart slowly and purposelytraced against crinkled washi.Another hello.I know this one as elegant. The one where I am greeted with flowersand chocolates…I walk away – My escort pays the bill, waves his handin a shooing motion.Fantasies. My fantasy world now. It’s the one I seek. Upper class.Alerted eyes, hushed voices, silenced by the gasps of overwhelmedopen-jawed, giddy some, heart fluttered, amazed responses gawkingat me. The ways I dream of entering British accents and chandelierballs.Lying down and I raise my head against knees bent. Wide for me.Stretching my shaking neck – slutting to watch my two fingers promptclear muggy oozes out into the world.I play for me. Push indexes at me. Roll over awkwardly like a lopsidedbowling ball falling into the gutter. Into myself I push my short plugand fuck it while Fonzie slicks his hair back cool and knowing. ‘Eh.His reflection smiles to me. ‘Eh as he loves his Potsy, Ansy and theRitchie family.I know I’m sick. Some twisted addiction and faster, faster I rub atmyself. Plug it into myself. Flap my tongue out into the air as I feelthe wetness of pussies rest and push them against my face, up myASSY 189

nose.cumquad elevenI wiggle up to the wall, lapping up the soap taste. I feel the demandingfried-egg sizzle collect into the throb of my thrilled knob. Quick juttedand awkward coordination. Licking my bitch tongue against the wall.I love you Fonzie! My titties! Pinch, pull at my fucking tits you asshole! Theripping pull at my skin as my lady apple pushes out. Cock rubbing.Cock-numbing. That rancid morbid breathing. Little girls laughing.Old foul-thinking men vigorously jerking their aged-pervert cocks.The lighted torch of coordinated lovers lighting my fires one offthe other. Back and forth. Teeter-totter. Weeeeeeeeeeee. My hair isblowing freely – children running through the fields of a laundry soapcommercial. My mind opens a heaven light. Press a little harder.Lick a little meaner. Fell the cramp of the muscle. Bursting. Bursting.I feel me begging. Pushing out my clit. Pushing it out. I’m ready now.I’m ready. Pushing. Hand grabbing at my ‘pretty little titties.’ Thumbramming inside and I feel the scratch of…No! No! Don’t lose it! Push. Pushing out at my bulb. Yes. Ex loverfucking the porn star wearing glasses. I’m going to burst! Push itout. Wet juice sliding into the cup of my palm. Awkward. Stupid.Tonguing my wall.Fuck! I see walls upon walls of dildos and sex toys now. Yes! Yes! Iwant you to watch me while other men fuck me! Yes! Climax I haveyou! Push! You are cumming to me. Thick jizz shitting at my face. Ilove you! I love you! Centered nerves rush into my center and pushout push out they speed out – heightened blast shoots out one hardtingle and Bang!It’s all done.Throb. Throb. Satisfied throbs. I lie there now. Satisfied. Awkward.But satisfied. A satisfied me, kicking back to a last unsatisfiedthought?I pick up the card on the nightstand to my left…(Drift) He seemed likea nice man. Gentle voice. Cute little bundle under those gray slacks.I read the number as I dial.“Hi. My name is Cindy. I’d like to make an appointment.”ASSY 190

kicks, fixes & desperate measuresW.A.S.P. Sung About it OnceI am seeking the bow down nurture for my nature, gold dollar dared forthe flare of gems gleaming into mine. Wisdom will be for my question.Digestion will be your submission. Green you will open me into the richesof your mansion. Will you require an expansion for an explanation? Youlittle ones do muse me ... The cruelty for the green is my control.Nothing more, or be outcast! ~A squeeze of angered sex maddened my testicular squish, sweetbursting red bulge. Her whip and inched-up specks stilettoed mynew crush. I fell for a soft blackened heart. I ached to show mercy.My abuse for desire clenched a brilliant pinch that only violenced memore. I pictured the elastic burst of buggered balls as though eyes hadcoughed from their sockets. My left hand stroke was a disappointingnew fixation – a fangled goal to conquer. My awkward apoplexyheightened the breathless choke. For a moment I had my speed. Butthe muscle tense slowed my rhythm.Could I possibly let go - to loosen my hatred and risk losing it all fora solid cocking?The left squealed its torture, “I think I can. I think I can.” My facesmiled back at me in silvered frame shine. If I had called my regularsooner, a strap would young lad the whipping I knew I deserved forbeing such a bloody-kneed beggar. But I dropped to the shockingsurge of bone smashing tile and hollered my scream. The fix for hername: “O’Nita!” The sore vow would Bare Bush her claim.“Lefty Lefty. Loosey Loosey,” Satanized my circadian delirium in aporn-murdered garbage commercial. What if my privilege was to beat the blade of her surgical incision? Would she hammer my willingtorment? Or grind a slow foreplay with an edged pellet?My right held tight. The left trucker tugged on. Hypersonic blursdisfigured my determined convulsion and bent me a fumbledmoment. O’Nita would have umbraged her pitiless discipline for myoverestimation. As though she were in my presence, I lowered myshame and begged her forgiveness with accelerated attack. I took myeyes up into the bottom-arialed view of her elliptical orbs. Her callousappetence dared my continuance. I defied her, but never would havehad she really been there.ISSY 191

cumquad elevenBack down to the rotten bulge that thrilled me was where I devoured myself-affliction. I tinker-wanked my monkey with exhausted pleasure.I crushed my self-inflicted restraint. I humped my pushed-out analpucker. I opened my mouth to the heel of my punishment. I wincedat the whipping of leather slaves that appeased their obligation toO’Nita crooked pleasures. I blunted all sensations in my final climax.My eyes headached aggravated revelry. My cock spitballed a forcefulbarf at the highboy altar before me. I released my choking hold andfelt the tingles rush to fill bloodied hollows.Bondage dot com had came me. But my satisfaction was unsatisfied.My heavy heaves of explosive release did very little to engulf my crazefor slavery. I felt the need to find her like a long abandoned brother. Ityped my response with corrected care:I sign entreaty. Submission’s plea.“Something to impress her,” warned myself.Flog my debris.Defect your stiletto heel.Cock crush banshee if you do not come for me.I felt like my shot was long. For days and days I agonized for herresponse. My e-mailed tribulation to check my inbox devotionallymonths on end granted me not even an acknowledgment. She lived inmy heart as an obsession that thrilled me no matter what came to be ofmy dominatrix mirage. I spoke to her. She silenced me. I fucked her.She butchered my esteem. I offered her my balls. She balled themblue. I cased her only more.My dreams would devour my hunger as she slept into my pillowbaby-dolled next to me. In the morning I would wake to her twistedlady hands and cut face that illuminated my lap top screen. My workslaved me empty because I felt the reality of my hollowed horror. Myinfatuations surged a crisis rampage. Her name repeated itself inevery secondary moment. And when I could not hear myself callingfor her, my discipline returned its savage so that internally her nomenscreamed echoes louder.I would walk the streets expecting to see her > Into book stores;department bays; the bus rides I took every Sunday. I anticipated herstare – those controlled devilish powers in the coy of her glare. Downhallways and alleyways I begged for her to appear. But all that cameof my desperation was the gut crawl of wormed pain eating into myISSY 192

organs.kicks, fixes & desperate measuresEven my regular thrill became an empty void. Last month was mythrust to push him far from me. He was my own submissive. But Ihad developed a neoteric fixation, or at least I drained into my mind.I had to have myself for her. What was I missing? What had I donewrong?I repeatedly returned to read her words - Absorbed her rivetedpersecution. She had my gonads ball locked. I could not escape her ifI wanted to. I went so far as to add a chrome attachment.What was I missing?I am seeking the bow down nurture for my nature, gold dollar dared forthe flare of gems gleaming into mine. Wisdom will be for my question.Digestion will be your submission. Green you will open me into the richesof your mansion. Will you require an expansion for an explanation? Youlittle ones do muse me ... The cruelty for the green is my control.Nothing more, or be outcast! ~Her devious cat pussied me hard.I crawled my eyes into my head – Pictured her talking to me~Unlocking her riddle. I hated how she did not care to demandmy own explanations. She just stared at me in striped zebra blue. Itwisted the cold steel torturistically to speed up the pace of my heart.I gripped my vice in a hardened gulp and felt it flame my headtormentedacclaimed fame:O’Nita Hotty name your nomen.I know more than you knew.AnitaHotty I am your crushForever call my OmenAmenI kill for youThis time she would have me. This time she would acquisition meunmistakenly.But again the days passed. The months were monsters blasting myhead. Tears even fell to my testicles.I was madly in love with my Mastress Hotty. All I had to comfortISSY 193

cumquad elevenme was the blistering pink of my welled eggs. I felt loathing intomyself. I was a revulsion unworthy of her physical torture. She couldhave driven a rusted nail into my rocks because my internalizedcompliance had mind-warped itself into incomprehensible depths. Iwas changing. I was shedding myself.The slither of my snake bent to tickle my rascals. I numbed my skinin the stroke of my ache. I wished for her rake; her froth to cake asI blasted her my icing; for her degradation; any form of humiliation.But something she could see. Not this lonely flame. A hard acheinflamed.If only she knew my faithful unworthiness for her? If only she knewmy obedient devotion?I was shedding into something beyond myself. My balls pulsated anantagonistic attack of swears. My sworn oath to her was the joy thatthrilled me never enough. I took a needle to myself and acupuncturedmy voodoo healing. Black magic queen. She was a liar. A bitch. Mywicked vicious woman. Eyes of DeSade.“Fuuuuuuuuuu – uuuuuuuck!” I miseried her swing. Hammer harddown to hatch my sperm.“You fuck my mercy! You torment me! Satan fuck this ass-fuckedbitch I bow at! What could she bow-wow command me for? Green isonly my envy to bark loud – bark in silence – Anything! Cunt sucking!Bitch fucking! Spread my ass!”I dropped my gasconade so it slapped back at me. I took my handsto my cheeks and spread them for the pained rip. I pushed myselfagainst the suction on my wall. I felt it stuck in its pinch. My assholeclench only needed its coaxing. My thighs bared the weight as I cockedmyself in little nips, luring my plastic $149 into my awakening vortex.The ooze of cock penetrated the squish of my flesh-warmed corridor.I closed my eyes and pictured her there. She stood in her peek-a-booblue. I could see the blare of her hair as I yearned for my face to buryinto her wetness. My released hands swung to the front of myself. Isqueezed for the rush. I shook electrified. I scratched my functionallyunclipped nails at the prickles of my five o’clock shadows. My ownfears that only O’Nita could have instructed barren prevented a deepercut, but the blood lined itself into the dermis of my skin anyhow.I stroked my cock. I slapped it against my wall. I cried my torture.ISSY 194

kicks, fixes & desperate measuresI afflicted my torment. I hollered debasement. I choked my sack. Ipulled my pouch. I bit into my hand. Terror for my infatuation tookme to my climax. I tugged for my moaning stretch. I hit my head intothe wall. I jiggled my jokers. I jerked until I choked out – a chokedout thick hork of a glorified glob. I blew a heavy blow out my wolfwidenedmouth.This-repeat-shedding-of-my-weakness-only-strengthened-resolve-tothepoint-of-shameful-convulsions-as-though-my-Mastress-wouldevil-her-wisdoms-eternally struck~my ignorance.And my ignobleness reigned inferior.Over months into years, I harbored an internalized antagonism fora Protagonist Mastress. Her message never changed. Her colorsaddened my shame. Her chains shackled my balls. The blue crushwas forever my misfortune. I could never determine what I missed?I sent her additional messages met with only her silenced command:You crush me blue.Your stiletto spike pierces me daggered.Forever viced,the grip of your hold.Your only green is the blue of my lagoon.I am edible for your submission.Teach your wisdom.Your Muse is my domination.I bow to nurture your nature.Why outcast my physical pleasure?Roses are deadWhips are blackThe rose reddensThe lash at my backYou can violet my ballsScrape your nailsTulip your spreadVow Obey ‘til our deathISSY 195

cumquad elevenThe subordinate shedding raw slaved my submissions. They were theclimactic illusions of my reality. The dungeon drama that swallowedthe bird whole was the snake that coiled strangulation the tighter andtighter my “I think I can. I think I can” could go. Could any fixationconstrict my explosion any wilder? If younger days compared me tothe sloughing of my Mastress maturity, I would never have known theultimate submission.I wrote her one last time. I wrote her this:Two dull bluish-whitesBulge my never-ending maturityThe past turns me back on myselfNew layers render me soft and vulnerableAs I shed from my old skinI tame my unpredictable aggressivenessAnd renew my transparencyThe rough objects and surfaces helped shed meI dislodge and glide myself freeNo one has shedded my balls so blueI defecate and drink my l’eauYour are my Mastress, Ball CrusherISSY 196

kicks, fixes & desperate measuresThanatoA piece of nostalgiaI entered into herBroke necrolagniaHer flesh icicled the brakeBut inside was the jelly I appliedSo I continued my slideGave her one Dalmer of a timeUntil my philia was satisfiedAnd I covered her with morturary secretsStiffed her back in the frosted fileTo paint her face tomorrowI whispered my appreciationsThanatoThanatoThanatoDearest,Thanato for allowing us our momentASHY 197

cumquad elevenASHY 198

12 – Motherly Wisdoms,BLATANTLY Loving199

cumwad twelveMy Dearest Oprah, Sept 30, 2005I was at a live function this evening. I had the opportunity to recitesome erotic prose that I had written, as well as focus my attention onother people’s open expressions. Earlier, I viewed your program.The two events combined through a conversation I had with a couple.We spoke of art, the expression of self as well as body image. I wastaken by a comment a ‘fat’ person said to me as we entered a truck.She explained that I should sit in the back because she was larger thanmyself. I have passionate views about body image. I have exploredthe concept of outer appearance and continue to do so daily. Withsincere caution, I asked this beautiful woman a personal question; Iasked her how cum she made the comment about the difference in ourbody types. Admirable confidence exuded her as she unapologeticallyidentified herself as “sexy.” I loved that about her. Not simply becauseI agreed, but because I understood that true beauty lies in the person– their values. I was attracted to her confidence more than her outerappearance.As a group of like-minded and strong-willed women, we bondedthrough dialogue. We spoke about you and your beliefs. We sharedour concerns about the concept of body image. The ‘fat’ woman,who sung and recited poetry earlier that evening, educated me withknowledge she attained through reading literature. Heather (let merefer to her by her given name) graced me with a perspective that Ihad in common with her. She spoke of an author who embraced theword ‘fat’ and investigated through personal experience the impactthat one word had on the way she lived and how others treated her.‘Fat’ in itself is a beautiful thing. Unlike the woman you mentioned onyour program one afternoon – the entrepreneur of Vogue magazinewho has a distaste for ‘fat’ people … I do not agree that ‘fat’ peopleare unattractive.You interviewed a black fashion guru on the same program. He wasthe man who guided those into his vision of true style. He was theman who knew what looked good, to put it simply. Now, from myunderstanding this Vogue lady had great admiration and respect forher employee. He was called to her office one day to talk. As heexpressed so vulnerably on your program, he brought great insecurityto that office visit. He was concerned that he would be fired becausehe was ‘overweight.’Now, I understand you know how this story plays out – that itseems to have worked itself into a happy ‘ending,’ if you will; heJOYS 200

motherly wisdoms, blatantlylost a tremendous ninety pounds if my memory serves me correctly.Granted, his accomplishment was great. For it is true that excessweight carries with it the baggage of possible health complications.For that reason – and that reason alone, I believe that his choice – hiswillpower and commitment to lose weight was a wise decision. Onthe other hand, a sadness continues to linger … And I am not sure if itis within me or this man?The sadness and concern I feel is that your viewers may assume thatsomehow being large is not a good thing. I am a slim, attractivewoman. I have lived with judgments based on my outer appearancethroughout my life. Thank the heavenly lord above that my personalityshines larger than my ‘pretty face.’ Even though people assume that Iam beautiful, others in my life realize my ‘person’ is what truly makesme beautiful. Regardless, I reflect on my values daily and guide myactions accordingly. People carry with them certain assumptions thatbecause I am physically ‘attractive,’ this means I am also healthy. Butthis simply is not the case.I am not as healthy as others might assume. I don’t drink nearlyenough water. Did you know that dehydration leads to heart attacksin later age? I continue to struggle with the discipline of nourishingmy body with healthy substances. I am not the most active cook, toput it politely. I live alone and do not spend the time to make healthymeals regularly. So, there are days I eat little. Other times I neglect themost important meal of the day. This meal, of course, is breakfast.Oprah, my dear. I have the utmost confidence that you are a sweetand compassionate woman through and through. Your viewershave watched you mature over the years. You went from a place ofgreat insecurity into this vibrant financially exuberant woman. Youencourage people to change their lives. You – one woman – influencesmasses upon masses of thinking, evolving beings. And that can beboth a rewarding and overwhelming responsibility.Oprah, honey. I speak to you with genuine respect and sincerity.I am concerned. I remember your beginnings as a tender soulthat was moved to the point of tears when people expressed theirpersonal stories. Today you present yourself with great confidenceand security. However, your transformation into a stronger personhas left me feeling conflicted. I miss your honest tears. I miss theways you were taken by people’s struggles. Yet, I admire the poweryou replaced that emotion with. I defend you when people criticizeyour supposed ‘vanity.’ Some are not pleased that each issue of yourmagazine features you on the face of the covers. For me, I am proud ofJOYS 201

cumwad twelveyou. I faith, “Good for Oprah! She has her own beauty that is uniqueto the mainstream concept of what quantifies a ‘model.’” Oprah, youare truly a beautiful woman!! I believe you have earned the glory tobe featured on the cover of every issue. Although it may steer you tothe dangers of vanity, I trust that you exercise your conscience. I feelpassionately that you are an individual who lives in accordance to herbeliefs.There is a definite risk of losing the honest and precious parts ofourselves when fame grants us certain powers. I admit I do haveaspirations to become famous myself. Before even setting this goal,I knew I faced great challenges. In fact, I purposely avoided thepossibility of great fame initially because I worried that such statusmight overwhelm me – that I could lose my person – that money andstatus could have the potential to override my personal convictions.That I would value money and material possessions more than Iwould value my relationships with people. That I would becomemore selfish than I already was. At that point in my life, I understoodthat I needed to relinquish the selfishness of my personality, yet stillkeep certain selfish traits – to accept and appreciate them as a meansto keep me humble – to establish safe and appropriate boundaries.Yes, Oprah. I admire you. At the same time I encourage you toexplore yourself – to reflect on where you began, where you are todayand what direction you see yourself moving towards. I only ask thatyou embrace ‘weaknesses’ and ‘vulnerabilities’ that serve their placein your life, as well as the lives of those you influence. Your power isso great that it has the potential to not only influence positive change,but to also lead you into dangers that you may be innocently unawareof.Self-reflection can be difficult when it requires us to admit our deficits.I know from personal experience that people generally do not want tohurt others or be a ‘bad’ person. We often identify ourselves by ourcore traits. This ‘core’ is precious and lets us know that we are truly‘good’ inside (as a humanist might theorize). We have a responsibilityto protect this ‘core’ for this ‘core’ makes us who we are. Yet at thesame time I know that a tremendous wholeness can be achieved bychallenging our inner cores. We can challenge ourselves withoutlosing who we are. The challenge requires us to be honest moredeeply than we may have ever fathomed.Oprah. I believe that ‘fat’ is not a deficit. I believe that should I mistakesomeone for being pregnant that I am not insulting her. Fatnessdoes not need to be how we measure a person’s self worth. ValuesJOYS 202

motherly wisdoms, blatantlysupercede outer appearance. I encourage people to delve into ourcores and honestly strive to see others from eyes that are not our own,but from the eyes of the ‘fat’ person. I agree that ‘obesity’ is a concernonly to the point that our health is jeopardized. Active living, notbody image is what we need to promote. People can be ‘fat’ and stillhealthy. When weakness is associated with generalized stigmas, whatwe end up promoting or teaching others is how to feel insecure. Andwhen we feel insecure, we lose personal power. Consequently, thestruggle to attain health and acceptance in society becomes that muchharder. Cycles breed and prevent us from believing in ourselves. Iam fat. Therefore I am ugly. Because I am ugly, I escape into thatugliness. Unhealthy coping mechanisms become the crutch. And oursuperficial judgments of others do little to inspire unconditional loveand acceptance.I believe we need to challenge ourselves daily – to accept that thereis always something we can ‘better’ in our lives. You inspire peopleto change and embrace their strongest virtues. At the same time,I caution you to reflect. Please remember where you came fromand resist your own power. Continue along your appreciated andnurturing willingness to share yourself with others. Re-examine yourvalues and how the media and the fame associated with that changeyou (I know you do). I am not accusing you of any ‘deficits’ but I amencouraging you to recognize what influences you and to honestlyreflect. Are your actions still in line with your core beliefs? Or haveyou established new beliefs that may require further reflection? I trustthat your journey into self-discovery never ends.Venture forth my fellow woman. Let us grow closer through honestdialogue.Peacefully,AnitaHottyJOYS 203

cumwad twelveJamie Douglas BellevanceSeptember 14, 1970 ~ May 30, 2005 35 years old, my friendJamie prided himself on his memory…Mathematical equations, phonenumbers. We used to play Rummicube. Sometimes he would cheatand I would catch him in the act, threaten to quit the game if he did itagain – and there were a couple of times I did quit the game!! A fewtimes we played Scrabble. We rode bikes together. He would tell mejokes. He knew which joke was my favorite. I’d tell it to you, but itwould mean that I’d have to say a swearword.We would visit each other. We went to movies. He signed me in as aworker so I could get a discount (I can finally confess, what a relief!).He would feed me and even help me with my laundry and dishes.Jamie always wanted to help – and not just any help, but the kind ofselfless, unconditional help where he expected nothing in return, justthe privilege of doing something for someone else. He was the onewho seemed to always be smiling, never angry, at least around me.He would offer a “Hello” to strangers and friends as he passed themby. I would say these are the simplest ways to describe Jamie.But to me, Jamie was so much more than this. He was my bestfriend. And he taught me a lot about myself by just being the loving,considerate man that he was. We met many years ago. I could not tellyou how long back because I was never much with numbers. Thatwas more Jamie’s bag. What I can say is that we knew each otherfor many years. At first it started with some massages. And mebeing the glutton I am for massages, I loved it!! Somehow he got mynumber, started calling and we effortlessly blossomed into a beautifulfriendship.But it took me a long time before I really understood Jamie as a friend,and how much he really has to offer. I did a paper on him a longtime ago and learned about his disability, that he fell from a tree fortwhen he was ten, was in a coma for a long three to four months. Itwas then that I started to look at myself and my own biases. I wouldoften refer to Jamie as the guy who can’t swallow, as if to warn otherpeople about his handicap. And I started to ask myself why I did this?Because he was my friend first, not a disability. So I stopped for themost part because I realized that by introducing him this way, I wasnot being a good friend.I was not his worker. Not even close, although people often assumedI was. Sometimes it would bother me because it shows how quickpeople are to stereotype. But at the same time, people also knew IJOIN 204

motherly wisdoms, blatantlyJOIN 205

was in the field of social work at that period in my life.cumwad twelveI remember one time Jamie had come up to tell a joke when it was nothis turn. Sometimes he would just get so wound up that he wouldnot think things through. He was escorted back to his seat and talkedto as if he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ButJamie was not a child. He was a grown man. Older than me, in fact.I remember the look on his face. He looked embarrassed so I talkedto him about it. I think people have the best intentions, but I wondersometimes just how much we try to change people who are differentin order to feel better about ourselves. Perhaps we need to look atourselves and ask, is it us who need the changing? Society could reallyuse some educational upgrading. Jamie was a person way before anydisability.At the same time, I want to say thank you for all those who haveworked with Jamie. I know that each and every one of you helpedJamie grow into the man he was. You helped him filter out the goodjokes from the dirty ones. You kept him busy doing the thing Jamieloves best – helping others. And I am certain that each and every oneof you has fallen in love with just a little part about Jamie. LovingJamie comes naturally, with great ease. And in some way, I am surehe was a delight to work with.I knew Jamie in ways that perhaps most of you don’t. When I say hewas my best friend, I mean it. Jamie was there for me when I criedover loves gone sour. He was there not just in good times, but in bad.Even just before he died, he came over to the house. I was sad overmy ex husband and Jamie put his arm around me and consoled me.He never failed to help me through the hard times. If I needed him, hewas there. He would constantly let me know that I am a good personand a good friend, although I have never really quite felt that I waseven close to being as good of a friend to Jamie as he was to me.He loved to help and sometimes he would get in the way or hurthimself simply because he was too excited about the actual act ofhelping. If you saw us together, you would see just how much wewere friends. I would tell Jamie, “No. No. Don’t do that,” becauseI was worried that he might get hurt or cus I thought that he couldnot do the task. But then Jamie would do it anyway and I would justwatch him and let him take over. Sure enough, he knew what he wasdoing. Other times he would kinda mess up, but never big enoughfor it to really be a big deal. More and more I would see myself andrealize that I was just being too uptight. There were times maybe hewould get in the way, but then there were times that I would also getJOIN 206

motherly wisdoms, blatantlyin the way. You know what I mean? Jamie was capable of so manythings – and even more things than I had a chance to discover.I guess if there was one thing I wish that I could do before Jamie diedwas to encourage more of my friends to go visit him. That was thenext plan on my list. He did get lonely from time to time, just like anynormal person would. I learned that about myself. I learned that youneed friends so that you don’t feel lonely. And you need friends morethan you need a lover. Lovers come and go. But true friends stay.I had a chance to see Jamie before he died. He looked peaceful. Hishand was warm. I kissed his forehead goodbye. And in all honesty, Idon’t feel too sad because I know that death is a natural part of life. Ifhe were to have died in pain, I think it may have ripped me apart. Wehad a beautiful friendship, no arguments, no fights. We were able totalk openly and honestly together about our feelings. We shared someprivate confessions that will stay with us and only us. Heavens, therewere even a couple wild times we shared. We went to the Generatoronce, danced, but the music was a bit too loud for him. And did youknow we went to the stripper’s once? He smacked her butt and it washilarious!! But really, strippers are not Jamie’s cup of tea. He had agood time, but was not interested in going again. I suppose I sharethese stories because I so very much want Jamie to be remembered asa grown man. Because that was who he was.I wish that he could have had a girlfriend. He so would have made awonderful father and husband.Because our friendship was healthy and full of love there is nothingleft behind to haunt me – no lose ends. Therefore, there is no needfor me to grieve over his death because in life I know we treated eachother with sincere respect and love. We need to cherish and lovepeople when they are alive, so when we die we can move on withoutany guilt, pain or sadness. I had that with Jamie. So, I ask that – yes,remember Jamie, but don’t take this time to feel sad.Take this time to love all those around you, because you never knowwhen they will die. And I ask that you live with Jamie in your heartsby loving those around you unconditionally, offering help not tojust those who ask, but especially those who do not. And I ask thateveryone see a person first, before their career, the way they dress,their disability…Cuz in the end, are we not all unique and different?I love you Jamie. And I am still learning to be a better me everyday.Thank you for everything you have ever taught me about love, honesty,JOIN 207

cumwad twelverespect, how to treat others and how to better myself. Thank you foryour trust and your selfless friendship.And thank you to his parents, Corrine and Jim for bringing my bestfriend Jamie into this world and into my life. Thank you to his family,sister Paulette, nieces Aria and Taryn, and his best buddy Kit Kat.JOIN 208

motherly wisdoms, blatantlyPG MADE HISTORY!AnitaHotty Reporting…A group of six brave individuals toughed out a chilly rainy day andtook to the streets to protest against the over consumption of oiland gas. They carried signs. Two rode bikes. The others walked.Two experienced virtual complete nakedness (minus the shoes andsocks [giggles]) while another two chose to bear half their bodies.The remaining duo stayed smartly semi-toasty in their clothes. Thetheme was Bare As You Dare! Our route went from Johnson, along15 th , 3 rd Avenue, Patricia to the corner of 17 th and Queensway. Someparticipants made time out of their schedules to participate beforehaving to go their merry ways.The experience was interesting and the support was rewarding!!The gathering started at 1662 Johnson Street, next to the Fort GeorgeBaptist church. News media were present. Several onlookers gatheredaround. Some were in their vehicles. Others stood outside or watchedfrom residential windows. The emotion was tremendous along 15 thAvenue, where the streets were decorated with balloons and two largesigns advertising the protest!! Honks of support urged us on. Therewere the occasional curious and fascinated looks. And some, but veryfew, reacted with upset.The spectrum of emotion was met with understanding and respect aswell as defiance and conviction. The local RCMP kept guard, makingsure to collect our names and protect everyone from potential harm.By the time we reached the coliseum, an officer requested us to put ourclothes on and we obliged. One rider was delivered a set of cuffs afterrefusing to disclose a name, or that was how I understood it. Anotherrider dared a couple protest-driven flashes with the intent to add lightto a serious issue. The event organizer, Goji Leakey, faithfully carrieda bag of newspapers along the route so that he could recycle them onhis way back home.On this June 11, 2005 day, Prince George was one of fifty other citiesthat joined for the World Naked Bike Ride cause. Of the other countriesthat were involved, Netherlands, Ireland, Belgium, Italy, Brazil, Israel,and the British Virgin Islands each had one city that participated.Three cities from France, Australia and England united. Six citiesfrom Spain. New Zealand had a total of four. Germany, two. In theUnited States, 16.Canada had a total of eight cities that protested for conservationand healthy body image. In Quebec, Montreal had a turn out ofJEST 209

cumwad twelveapproximately six to seven people. Much like Prince George, theirweather was on the dismal side. One female participated while therest were men. Both Ontario’s Ottawa and Toronto demonstrated.Nine people from Ottawa ventured into the hot 40˚ weather.Activities included media coverage, interviews, and body painting.The weather prompted a quick skinny dip (obviously!) in the OttawaRiver. Participants biked around Parliament Hill two times and agroup photo was taken on the steps of the Supreme Court. NovaScotia’s city of Wolfville also joined the cause. In the province of BCa confident three cities made their mark: Vancouver, Victoria, andconscious-driven Prince George!!One city in particular solidified their commitment to the message. InEngland’s London, 250 riders bared as they dared for a long one anda half hour ride. The participants brought petitions to sign. Theirpurpose was to prompt government to “ease up on its thirst for oil.”The Observer published a photo on the front cover of their Londonnewspaper. And the city set a new precedent when local police andcouncil granted approval for next year’s protest, included with abudget of 90 pounds (what’s that converted into Canadian dollars?>Hint! Hint!

motherly wisdoms, blatantlyexercising their bodies and voices along your city sidewalk? Our localmedia thought the cause newsworthy (Thank you for the tremendoussupport!).The devotion and involvement that went into the World Naked BikeRide was motivated by the desire to promote healthy life choicesand oil and gas conservation. Healthy lifestyle choices are meantto connect us closer with ourselves as well as others. Positive selfimage and exercise are therapeutic for the body and soul. Drinkingplenty of water flushes our systems. Eating most fruits and veggiesraw is a great way to maximize their health benefits. Enjoying naturalvitamin D helps combat depression. In fact, natural sunlight has beenreported as a nudist’s remedy for arthritis, asthma, heart trouble,nervous disorders and shingles.Oil and gas dependency does not have to be the fate of our nation.There are several things that both you and I can do to waste notwant not. Solar and wind-powered energy are great alternatives toelectricity and gas. Instead of leaving your outside electric light on,try a solar-powered light that saves you money on your hydro bill.Value relationships over material possessions. Invest your energyinto your friendships with others instead of buying fancy possessionsthat give the illusion of importance. Consume less and recycle whatyou have. Car pool, ride your bike, roller blade, or find alternatives togas-powered transportation.When we are faced with a tremendous problem, we often feel asthough our hands are tied behind our backs – that there is nothing wecan do to combat the powers that be. The truth of the matter is that wecan! There are so many ways to love and cherish our world and thelife it breathes. Try recycling as an alternative to over consumerism.Support local business as a means to fight against the multinationalmonopolies. Spread love and unconditional acceptance; resist themedia’s influence over the ways we compare ourselves to “perfect”body shapes, colors and sizes. Pick up at least one piece of garbageevery day and lovingly encourage others to do so. This way our cityhome can clean up fast – fast – fast! Use the bartering system as ameans to combat capitalism. Give back to the earth what we take awayby composting and using natural human waste instead of commercialfertilizers made from natural gas (does that mean taking a dump onthe neighbor’s lawn? > > Doubtful! And I ain’t your Mr. Rogers!).The Naked Bike Ride prompts us to examine the ways we live andhow we view the world. The Nakedness of the bike ride urges usto understand the difference between sex and nudity. The two areJEST 211

cumwad twelvenot necessarily one of the other. The intent behind our actions oftendefines what is acceptable and what is not. The nudity encouragesus to talk about abuse and gather together to support those whohave been abused. For concerned parents, nudity prompts them tospeak frankly and delicately – to assist our children to distinguishthe difference between good touching and bad touching throughrespectful dialogue. Keep in mind that the majority of sexual predatorsare clothed…The World Naked Bike Ride is an annual event that lives in my hearteveryday. I admit that when I first became involved I was enticedat the excuse to walk naked freely in my community, but the moreinvolved I became, the more I understood that this was just not a “oneday-hippie-protest.”No. But rather a lifestyle choice. I feel impelledto question my motives and take responsibility for my actions. Whatactions are you willing to take to stand up for? What do you believein?See www.worldnakedbikeride.org for more information. Be sure totake note of Prince George’s name on the site. To think, we madehistory, kid!!JEST 212

13 –Lipstick LipsSeal Our fate213

cunt-on thirteenI leave you with poetry of inspiration. My category at the time: grade10. I reflect as dreams fierce and great wilded me back then. Neverwould I have ever fathomed this would be my talent of fortune: authorof heart, Social Sway.One last postscript: I have come since to admire Playgirl. The more youflip and allow your eyes to feast, the more both the man and womancan fantasize themselves magical. Let your imagination flourish yourrealities, if only to believe in all that is good. And caution yourselfwith Cybernetic truths.Kiss. Kiss.Signature: AnitaHotty.FUCK 214

lipstick lips seal our fateEVERYTHINGClimb a mountainExplore the seaEverythingI’ve dreamed to beSoar the skyWalk the shoreEverythingAnd even moreSail the oceanBreathe the airEverythingBecause I dareLive the dangerI am freeEverythingI long to beClose to deathMakes me highEverythingI must tryNothing oldSomething newEverythingI will doJEST 215

cunt-on thirteenHotty Goals [and she Scores]:1. ~ World Peace2. Body Acceptance3. Establish new genre: Lyrilick Erotic Prose4. Create ProChoice Movement (Go Bush; Go Bare: Pro Choice)5. Eradicate Racisms6. Motivate Individual Responsibility on a Mass Scale7. Inspire Collective Dialogue8. Support Nudism; Expose Sexual Abuse {and all}9. Continue Considerate Environmental Awareness Coupledwith Action10. Virtue Non-Judgment as Radicalized Better Way Living11. Spread emotive & fiscal wealth, plentifully enriched coreheart12. Encourage others adaptation of My Value System, ethic wise13. And with last breath .. …Devil’s thirteen: Goodness, havesum fun!~DICK 216

lipstick lips seal our fateArtist’s Profile:I am a thirty-three-year-old woman who passions her life, herrelations, her actions and honored essence into social conscience.I pledge my existence to the time-honored “practice what youpreach,” and “do unto others…” I ethic my actions by the Code Iwas trained to abide: respect and dignity towards others (as well asself) and the unconditional nature of the nonjudgmental attitude. Iunderstand the evolution of my being and embrace my ignoranceas a part of myself that was but no longer is. My history dates backto the ‘redneck’ stereotypes, where I judged others based on fearsand misunderstandings locked deep within the psyche of my denial.I credit the awakening of local Prince George education to mycurrent being. Now I bring to the world a humbled desire to spreadunconditional acceptance through the words I express, my valuesand goals of success and fame.DINK 217

cunt-on thirteenThat’s the ass end of that!DPE 218

lipstick lips seal our fateDPE 219