Southern Kisses, Northern Practicalities

The red of her lips matched the burning tip of my lullaby cigarette glowing hot in the encroaching twilight of our day.   The smell of her sweaty sex, so recently defiled and satisfied, married itself to a cool evening breeze tickling the mountaintop.  The caress of a strong hand, so deceptively delicate in appearance, shared more than just the last of the day’s cigarettes with me.  And it sparked the insatiably of my passions all over again.  Her words tempted the appetite of my critical intellect.  The beautiful disaster of her catastrophically tousled hair tickled my fancy.  The shadowy outline of her compact form, casually leaning against the front porch rail, tempted the fire of my seductive demons so ravenously hungry to relish in the warmth …

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80s Hair Band(ing)

Early last week I had a bit of rare free  time before having to make a school pickup, so I stopped into one of the local thrift shops that tends to be on the upper end of the scale for the resale places around town.  Over these past couple of years it has proven mildly positive as for typers.  I think I got a really nice Remington Travel-Riter there and also a tailed Adler (that has since been re-homed to another writer, I am very happy to say), so I figured maybe I would get lucky. Tucked inside and made my way to the back of the store where bigger items, such as typers, are kept.  And I saw a black, ballistic plastic case up on …

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