Stories tagged sex

Their Nipples

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The soft twin winds of peace and harmony flow through your nipples It is not milk that gives such flow but the whiff of life’s spirit, the wind of poetry the renewal and the silence of the love you give me I suck like a new

Cleavage Cont.

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"My tits, " she instructed "aren't for public consumption".Everything was actually muffled and my ears began to bleed because of how progressively louder the thumping was in the center of my chest. Stacy decided to emphasize her point of disliking the objectification…

Spring

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I had my first orgasm dry-fucking you on the couch of your parents’ living room. The couch was a sectional, plush beige; the coming like biting into a Chewel’s. After all, we were still dressed and I was the class prude.

Martyr

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The waitress says, “That’s a memory,” as the smoke dances around her head.

Security

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Her preferred post-coital activity is to pant, to suck in air with urgent greed.

The Score

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His wallet came out with a little tug. Like his thingy, Cindy thought. His wallet, too, was a fact.

Rice

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In her dreams she lived in a rice grain. A virus was her lover.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 11

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When we were on the road coming back out to California, along the Lewis and Clark trail somewhere near Cardwell, Montana, I remember thinking life was like leaping through flames while reading poetry and drinking rotgut red wine. This was what life was, a

The Disappearances

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When a hole opened in the courtyard, the kids threw pennies down and called it the wishing well. We said, "Someone must have dug it." When the hole opened wider, we said, "Someone must still be digging."

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 11

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Sunday afternoon on Telegraph Avenue. Pretty much like any Sunday afternoon at the O.K. Corral. Von Rotten had set up a podium at the side of the street. One of his minions was reading from an essay by some French philosopher on the corner in front of Cod

Cheat Sheets

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I decided to cheat on my husband the day the washing machine broke. It was Darrell's fault, anyway. If he hadn't tried to wash the dog in the Maytag, none of this would've happened. It just goes to show that a man who forsakes the normal use of a househol

Beached

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Ah the isolation! The affordability of such loneliness! It was glorious for a moment—those gelatinous creatures swarming around me, stinging every surface of my skinny frame but that's another story.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 12

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There was a whole group of us Young Turk poets who hung out at the Savoy Tivoli in North Beach. Most of them drove cabs, (whereas I was now working in a damned gas station for Angel, my publisher’s man, who got me a job there.) They would double-park th

T & A

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From time to time the teacher would sit alone in his office & look out the window & pine for the fjords. How shy and awkward she had been the first time....

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 13

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That night we went out to shoot some pool at the pool hall over on Durant Avenue, which was above a bar called Kip’s. Rotten Bobby walked in with his own damn pool cue, which came broken down in two pieces. He carried it in a narrow felt-lined carrying