Archive for the ‘Fictionalized’ Category

The Wanderer

Aug
2014
09

posted by on Fictionalized, Library, Music

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bar n

What was there to do, she pondered. Seven hours until I’m outta here. Not much to do, okay, not really anything to do, except sustenance. She did need to eat. Dying phone (plus no physical map either, fucking present), what’s a girl to do? Remember a previous time in this city, but of course.

It’d been a year, yeah, things change. She found it though, she fucking found it! Her yummy Mexican eatery. Overwhelming arrival? YES! Last year they had mentioned switching to a sports bar theme, but she didn’t know if that’d really go over. It totally did, like gangbusters, in fact.

She asked the hostess if she could get grub at the bar. After a yes, she made her way there. Fuck waiting on a table for one. Fuck that for sure.

What awaited her? A super “IMPORTANT” national sports event. Yeah, not her style. Looking back, it’d seem more calculated than it really was, but she scoped out the bar. She spotted “kindred” souls but it was a flock, a flock of dudes, not her style. She was more like a guy, go for the unencumbered one. Plus, he was hot.

A bit of chattering (not quite flirting, though), but it seemed there was a viable specimen. Cute and willing to chat. Don’t be too eager with food, her inner monologue instructed, that comes off poorly for women, stupid double standards.

Eventually, she got her grub on. More importantly, she was able to chat up the hot, single dude at the bar, conveniently seated directly to her right.

After a few brewskis, hours of a sport she just could not get into and some light flirting, she made a move and it fucking worked. SCORE!!!

They “hung” for a few hours. It was nice, it was sweet, it was sexy. She had no regrets. It was a nice time. That can be an anomaly in times like that.

“Pack my bags and mount my horse
I’m gonna ride on into the next town
Spend all my money on absolutely nothing
Need no man to pay for anything”-Imani Coppola-Legend Of A Cowgirl

“I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care”-Dion

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That Weekend

May
2014
30

posted by on Fictionalized

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photo is by Kevin B 3

photo is by Kevin B 3

It didn’t seem right but what was right? They say life is what happens when you are making other plans. That seemed about right. All of her major life plans were made on a whim. Vacations, parties? planned to a tee. Jobs, housing? flying by the seat of her pants.

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Haze

Apr
2014
04

posted by on Fictionalized, Library

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“You know what’s really good? Ritalin”

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Not Quite Nancy

Sep
2013
11

posted by on Fictionalized

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iced coffee by missemmamm

“I feel like Nancy”, she stated gleefully, sipping an iced coffee in booty shorts. He just smiled, saying nothing. Having watched the premium cable show about a coffee sipping, scantily clad, dope dealing mom together he knew to what she was referring. There were speeding down a highway in the summer sun. She wasn’t worried about a destination. She assumed there wasn’t one. He just liked to drive sometimes.

She felt sexy, content and loved. Maybe he was driving out to another town or going to turn abruptly and take in some nature. Either way they were together.

To soon he turned into a rough looking housing development. She hadn’t been there since childhood but the sign stating their location made her uneasy. “I’ll just run over there and talk to those guys, stay here”, he instructed her, gesturing to his van.

Nervousness creeped up on her as he crossed over to a group of men in his incredibly unfortunate ensemble. His preppy, high end mall wear clashed with their baggy casualness. She cringed as they made him produce his driver’s license.

Eventually he returned, trying not to look flustered, “I don’t have a connection here”. A few minutes later one of the men came over, “It looks bad with you sitting here, drive around the corner”. “You’re not gonna beat me man are you?”, he inquired, now obviously worried. “No, just go around there”.

“Maybe we should just leave, I think they’re gonna beat me”, he repeated his phrase for someone just keeping his dough. They didn’t leave though. A different man walked over a few minutes later, asking for more money for his wife, who was standing around with their kids, offering him something better. He agreed, though he once again asked, “are you gonna beat me?”.

Not long after she turned her head slowly to try to avoid the scene. Three men, features partially obscured by bandannas were thrusting guns into his face as he handed over the remainder of his money.

As they sped away he repeatedly apologized, “I never should have put you in that situation, I never will again”. She was in shock. She couldn’t speak on the way home.

Upon entering the kitchen she immediately poured them tall drinks, lots of whiskey. “I’m so sorry”. She thrust him his drink, “let’s never talk about it”.

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posted by on Fictionalized, Sexuality

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also a part of the “Boys” series

She showed up barely buzzed, with a bag of fun. Barely buzzed suited neither of them so she helped herself to his tequila. He drank tequila instead of rum, to differentiate himself from Hunter S. Thompson. She could neither imagine him reading nor writing.

Idle chit chat and flirtation ensued until they were plastered. They fooled around, eager hands and mouths slipping this way and that.

Knowing much about one another was unnecessary. Both were into BDSM. He even owned a spreader bar for Christ sake. Booze and BDSM, that was all they needed to know.

They staggered to the bedroom, bag in hand. She whipped out her newly purchased black, nylon ropes and handed them over, only slightly fearful, mostly excited.

He pushed her to the floor. Her wrists were subserviently bound behind her. The remainder of the rope was wound repeatedly up and down her body, mostly interestingly between her legs, over her pussy.

What was he doing? She hoped he’d slam himself roughly into her. Instead his lanky body loomed over her and he mouthfucked her.

At first she was disappointed that the trussing up was culminating in a bj. Though she didn’t blame him, they were sparse in their arrangement. As she squirmed this way and that, her clit was pleasantly abrased by the rope.

After a while he freed her and dragged her to the bed. They fucked under a red bulb, The Doors blaring, until they came.

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How You Remind Me or You Will Always Be Doing It Wrong
Turn the Page or the Bacchanal

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