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My own secret life 
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Only in the District was I given the service paramount: being rimmed.
Face down, after the massage-y, I feel her breath at my cheeks, then her tongue up my anus. Swelling, I get up on all fours to relieve the pressure and not waste a come. I put my head down and look back between my legs. Isn't kissing ass what politics is all about? {NA}
"Give away"
Isn't it true that what truly ultimately differentiates a product can't be bought or sold? Even in the marketplace for sex? What a whore gives away is what makes her flesh her flesh: Her touch, her smell, her secretions; her voice, her laugh; her stance; her conversation— Remembered somethings in the way she moves. For the regular. {NA}
The alphabet
A is for Annie, who sucked on my balls B is for Barbara, who did nothing at all. C-D {NA}
In the evening, as I walk past 2221, I spot a small, dark-crested figure pulling a trolley bag across the parking lot toward the green door, which opens to an oblong of yellow light.
She must have come to the house from the Greyhound nearby. Welcome. {NA}
Mei-ling first, as have, since, many others, reached up her right hand to fondle my balls while we fucked, doggy-style. Self-interested, of course, since she wanted my come in her own good time, but a lagniappe still. The act must be awkward for her: Supporting her own weight on her knees and one hand, she found me blindly, knowing only where I must be, without missing a beat in our mutual action.
It takes a sure touch: How gentle she is, though we are both busy: My balls brush brush brush against her arpeggios as I thwack thwack thwack. Someone peeping through my legs from behind would see her gesture as beckoning. Often, a lewd act excites not from sensation, but knowledge: Knowing that someone, once, imagined this—then did it, then did it again. And again and again and again. {280}
The first time holding hands. I remember Lan's tiny ribbed top, white with little blue cornflowers at the V of the neck:
And a pale yellow stain below the point of the V. I felt at the time it was a dribble of coffee; thought it strange such a well-bred girl would be so careless in her dress. Now I wonder if it was semen. {NA} All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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