Let's see. How do the lyrics go? The bitch is hot, he's ready to thrill, So give him inches, and fuck him well. My version of the tune, of course. Don't tell the Scorpions. Time for a break from our cross-country rumble. For the guys, it's a piss break, or a fuck break, or just any fucking kind of break they want. We're off the interstate now, though not...
(sound of boots on gritty pavement) You look worried. Don't be. Yeah, I'm queer enough for ya. You look nice. How old are you? Really. You look younger. (laughter) Well, I still ain't breakin' the law. The temptation's there, know what I mean? How much? I can swing a hundred. Yep. My wedding ring. Nope, not divorced. Not divorced. Don't want to get divo...
Note: This story has been previously published on the Nifty Archives. * * * * * To bow. To worship. To breed. These are the notes of his symphony, his soul's hunger. His eyes dart from body to body, evaluating, finding nothing of either sustenance or substance. In his emptiness, I sense his desperation for my religion. He seeks a fane with an altar of...