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Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Jimmy, Tony, and the Twins

Excerpt from page 1.

     But there was another before them.  Before Hillsboro and the twins.  Before Jimmy and the streets and jail.  And years before Tony.
     He was a one-off kind of thing.  She had only seen him the one time, and that, from across a wide busy street.  They had never exchanged words and she had no clue what his name might be.  But there was one thing she felt sure of, however, and that was that he, after all these years, would have no recollection whatsoever of her.  ‘Why would he?’  She always thought, rather sadly, on those ever increasingly less rare occasions when she thought of him.  Yet he was the first.  He was the first actual man; or actual male rather because neither he nor she was of legal age, to utterly capture her imagination.
     She was close to being fourteen because it happened in summer and her birthday was in June.  ‘I could not have been older than that.’  She thought.  ‘For the entire episode with Jimmy including running away from home, and meeting up with him, and the crimes we committed together, and the moving around, and the drugs, and finally being arrested, and the months long adjudication process all happened before my sixteenth birthday.’  And how old was he?  She could only guess at that.  ‘Somewhere between thirteen and sixteen.’  She thought.  She wanted to believe he was thirteen, maybe fourteen, for reasons she never gave much consideration to. ‘Intuition perhaps.’  But much like the first Man to have utterly captured her imagination; a man with a huge penis that she had seen portrayed in the pages of a Hustler Magazine which so fascinated her that she traced the outline of the mans penis on a blank sheet of paper before returning the pilfered magazine to her older brothers room, she had routinely thought of him over the years, especially when looking at her own nude body in the mirror and most especially of late given her sudden preoccupation with origins.

Much more to follow......

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Hello.  There’s more to the story;  Tucson Fun Day.  If you want more, let me know.  Thank you.

Tucson Fun Day

As she pulled to the side of the road he sent her another text.  ‘Damn.’  She said.  ‘He Really wants it.’  She texted back; ‘I’m just down the road, will be there soon.’  And as she had done, so many times in the past, she quickly stripped off the boy-drag and donned her short-short cutoff jeans (sans panties) and a cold-shoulder blouse.  While waiting for a stream of traffic to pass by she ran the brush over her wig a few times. ‘This Thing is getting ratty.  I must get a new one soon.’ She thought, as she carefully and methodically donned her wig.  Soon she was on the road again, feeling that same heady excitement she always felt before meeting a strange man.
After parking a short ways away from her destination; as she had been instructed to do, she made sure she had the condom and lube and keys, and nothing else.  Her wallet and phone would remain behind in the car, carefully hidden; ‘Just in case.’  As she walked towards the pool-house gate she thought; ‘Just as he said; no one around.’  Her heart was racing as she pushed the steel gate open and nudged the rock that had been holding the gate ajar off to the side.  And so as to make as little sound as possible she held the handle all the way until the gate closed.  She then checked to make sure the gate was locked. ‘Such A small pool.’ She thought, distractedly, as she approached the bathhouse.  She also noticed that the wall around the pool and bathhouse was only 6’ High.  ‘If Anybody sees us it’s on him.  I’ll just get the hell out of here.’  And then, there he was, standing just inside the door of what was labeled the; ‘Community Room.’
With a frantic wave he motioned for her to enter the small room and then shushed her when she said hello.  She obeyed and squeezed past him into the room.  As she quickly surveyed the small kitchen/storage room he leaned out of the open door and looked around and listened for a moment.  Soon he turned and faced her and said; ‘we have to keep it down.  Ok?’
‘Of Course.’  She replied.  And then, as was her wont, to avoid any awkwardness she immediately dropped to her knees in front of him and began rubbing his crotch.  Soon his penis was in her mouth.
He was a white male.  Mid to late forties.  5’10” or so and 200 pounds.  Average sized penis she surmised with some disappointment when it became fully erect.  She was happy though, that it was fully erect.  One of the two guys last evening could not get an erection but now both guys today had.  She only hoped this guy would perform as well as the guy earlier in the morning.
After some mild throat fucking he made to pull out and she let him.  She immediately stood up and slipped off her sandals to better facilitate doffing her shorts.  With her sandals still in hand however, and before she even undid the button on her shorts, the guy stuffed his penis back in shorts and strode out of the room and across the patio and entered the men’s room across the way.  After a few seconds the guy peeked around the open bathroom door and motioned her over.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

On The Road Again (excerpt)

...... By dint of habit she had outfitted herself, and the car, pretty much as she had so many times in the past.  "How many times is it now?  Five?  Yes.  Five."  Indeed, this was the fifth time she had packed everything she owned into an automobile; and it was less and less each successive time, as part of a long-distance re-location scheme.  The first time was with her beloved 01 Dodge Dakota Sport, with its short bed filled with stuff and then more stuff packed into the smallest available pull-behind U-Haul trailer.  The second time was with her equal beloved 08 Subaru Forester; but only grudgingly thought of as so because of its designation as a "Station Wagon" ("Imagine.  After riding a beef-cake like the Dodge, puttering around in a "Station Wagon.") neatly packed half-way up the windows with an additional tightly packed 8' roof-top carrier.  The third time was with the Subaru again, sans roof-top carrier.  And the fourth time was in the Subaru yet again; thus the "grudging respect" for its endurance and longevity, with half again as much stuff as the last time.  And now the fifth and final; she hoped, road-trip was in the old and ugly, but reliable, 96 Saab with even less stuff. Regards her person, she wore her favourite extremely short cut-off denim shorts, a short-waisted cami, a ball-cap, and a wide assortment of cheap, found or improvised jewelry consisting of necklaces, bracelets, rings, ankle-bracelets and toe rings.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Spitballing: again.

In an organic attempt to distract or console myself the idea of a chemically infused nocturnal ramble suggested itself to me. Something I've been doing for years, as an outlet for my proclivities.  When I walk at night, in secluded mostly deserted places, I always wear something overtly feminine under some loose fitting lightweight boy-drag and when I feel safe I doff the outer layer and revel in my freedom.  It's exhilarating and liberating and immediately I began to imagine myself out somewhere free and fine.  "What should I wear this time?"  I thought.  Then the absurdity of the situation struck me.  Mere seconds after swearing off this behaviour I was plotting an outing.  I did not go out that night.  I told myself the idea was vestigial.  The last desperate gasp of a bankrupt lifestyle.  But I was wrong about that.  Dead wrong.

Spitballing: continued.

......and then someone suggested we go out for drinks.  "Absolutely not" I thought.  I wanted to go to continue the fellowship but the idea that with one look, one glance, any one and everyone whose gaze might fall upon me would instantly know what I am was to much to bear.  My friends tried to talk me into going and for a moment I wavered, but then the question of which bathroom I would use flashed into my mind and I shrank before its spectre.  There were hugs and sad smiles of understanding and a few tears on my part and then I was alone in the silent gloaming.  And that's when I decided it was over.  Failed again.  I would retreat into the shadows of my former life.  Myself only at home.  I had not the courage of my convictions.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Spitballing

I have nothing else ready to post.  I've been writing, but without focus.  Ive lost confidence in the Serial Trans idea.  I have four potential posts in various stages of completion but just no real confidence they're worth following through on.  A short while ago I had the idea to break from the norm and make posts as if this was a diary.  Well, here goes.

When I moved here in June my plan was to 'come out'.  I was going to present consistent with my internal conception of myself.  And I did.  Briefly.  Everywhere I went I presented as I wished.  However, there was always this nagging doubt.  Doubt that I could pass.  From the very first time I prepared to leave the house I was troubled by indecision.  What to wear?  On my way to Bart that first day I turned around and went home to change my footwear.  Soon, I was almost paralysed by indecision.  Once, I canceled an appointment at the LGBT Center because I could not bring myself to pass through the door.  And when I did go out 'presenting' I became more and more obsessed with the idea that I looked like a fool.  Then, one day about two months ago, I decided to guit.  It was a terrible day.  Friends of my landlady were over for some reason and I dressed to present.  There was five of us.  We talked for hours....

To be continued.  Later today hopefully.