Stories tagged sexuality

Heels.

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Why am I attracted to this girl? She’s beautiful. Only five foot four, but still looks skyscraper tall thanks to those skinny greyhound legs of hers. She told me she used to dance, then giggled and said she hadn’t since she was five years old.

The Summer She Turned 17

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The summer she turned 17, she had to hold all the pieces of herself together with a red ribbon she tore off an old dress. It wound its way around her neck, her heart and her throat. It snaked down to her hips, the curve of her thighs, and wrapped itself

White Summer Dress

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Light youth that barely touches the ground

i can't have

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Hey there little hippie girl, smilin’ to the ears and dripping with scarves, I cherish our friendship. However, every time you take off your shoes to dance at a rock show, hair swingin’ like silk vines in the paradise that is your shaking ass...

The Kisses of a Satyr

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“I better go. My mom needs me at home,” she says. Soft. Smooth. Firm. Sweet. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. I kiss her on the cheek and she stiffens in response. My heart bleats.

Body to go

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I’m squatting naked over the hand mirror, feet cold on the terrazzo floor, looking at my winking arsehole.

shades of a young miss zorita

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When you are in the grip of the snake it helps you are comfortable being sexual, so don't ever let someone talk you out of it.

shades of a young miss zorita

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So ride it out, dear sister, do not move. Ride it out and lengthen your sweet gorgeous lines.

Still Life, With Girl

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By this point she had seen enough to understand the pairings required in this life. She could see the line of demarcation drawn, that outer distance, the tree line half way up the mountain, an off-limits boundary where nothing could grow, where her mothe

Label Maker, Too

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Mall Flower

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I’ve blown out my shag haircut and it’s big. BIG-big.

Some Men Can't Handle The Shame

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reposted after I took it down

All Men With Well Trimmed Beards

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Or, do my own red flags counter balance his. My back and forth, my restlessness, my one foot out the door, my ‘once a leaver… always a leaver’, my pitter patter for a former flame... peppered with my transgressions, my mistakes. Or, worse, the way I have

Guns in the House

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Jack would have felt betrayed, and my parents alarmed, had they ever suspected me of playing with Jack's guns, but I found the temptation overwhelming.