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))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) CLOCKWORKS by Laika Pupkino ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) PART ONE: HOME OF THE HOMO WAITERS )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Finally, after a long wait, a waiter wiggled up to the middle-aged couple that was seated at table #7. He studied them a while, issued a faint snort of disbelief at their touristy clothing, and with an amused little grin asked, "May I have your order?" The husband tapped his menu, "Yeah. I'll have this Beef Byzantine with the dandilion cole slaw, a coffee, and uh.... What're you havin' Lois?" As the wife started to speak their waiter---whose name tag read TIMMY--- spotted another waiter clear across the room and hollared to him, Could you meet me after work, Douglas? I have to talk to you." His tone was hopeful, edged in pleading. The other slender young man, who was wheeling a silver cart shaped like a swan up to a table, called back in a singsong voice, "I can't Sugar. I'm going some place with Sandy." The waiter swivelled his face back to the couple, quick as a slap. His smile was bright and substanceless. He held the little pencil and order pad way up in front of his face. The wife gazed up and down the colorful laminated menu. "I'll try this 'Zesty Chicken Ole', with a chef salad, and a Pepsi Minus..." She was about to ask the boy about her choices of dressing when he called back over his shoulder to his co-worker, "You're ALWAYS doing something with Sandy! I just want to talk." "I think I know what you want to talk about. Didn't we already have this talk?" asked Douglas icily, "Desperation doesn't suit you, my dear." The restaurant was packed. Patrons began looking around at each other. Holy Smokes! These waiters were Homos! Homo waiters, having a lover's quarrel right in the middle of the dinner rush. A lady at a back booth tittered nervously... Timmy abandoned all pretense of taking their order and strode across the room with his hands on his hips, elbows cocked backward, toward the other waiter, who was removing the ornate winged dome from the cart and setting it gingerly aside. "Just tell me what he has that I don't!" cried Timmy. "Well-l-l..." Douglas smiled, smug and catlike and fully aware that they'd aquired an audience, and indicated a space of about a foot and a half between the palms of his hands. The room exploded into laughter! He lit a long butane fireplace starter and after waving it around like a magic wand set fire to the contents of the pan in the gleaming cart, ignoring Timmy as he did. Timmy wailed, "Do you really think he's going to stand by you, like I stood by you... FOR ALL THESE WEEKS?!" A clean-cut young man in a tall chef's hat clumped into the dining area with a plate of food in each hand and a third balanced in the crook of his left arm. His harried frown had made him seem less effeminate than the waiters, but when he opened his mouth it was to cry shrilly, "What in hell's all the commotion out here?" "As if you didn't know, Sandy!" crowed Timmy miserably. He threw his arms around the other waiter's ribs and rubbed his cheek on his shoulder. "I'm begging ya, Douggie!" "Let go of him!" snapped Sandy, "And get back to work!" "HE'S MINE, YOU HUSSY!" roared Timmy, and launched himself at Sandy, smacking his arms up from beneath so that the three gooey dinners splatted against his face and his clean white shirt. "Eeeee!! Eeeeeeeee!!!" screamed Douglas and did an inane mincing dance as the cook chased Timmy around and around the tables and back into the kitchen. There was a horrible cacophony of smashing plates and clanging cookware! The room full of patrons stood up and began to applaud. Tim and Sandy returned from the kitchen as totally different people, having shed their epicine mannerisms. The three employee/actors bowed to the applause and made their exit, behaving in a way that left no doubt that the whole "gay" scenario had been a performance. The tourist couple at table seven were glad that they had chose to eat at BISTRO! BISTRO! Everything about the place seemed authentic. The staff, the ostentatious cuisine, right down to the overly precious "interior decorating", a crazed mish-mash of styles that had the effect of some weird joke that people were not supposed to get. The big placard in a frame on the wall by the front register proclaimed: HOME OF THE HOMO WAITERS. .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) The cook was mopping fake food off his face with a towel as Tim Roberts ran his I.D. tag over the time clock's scanner, glancing with satisfaction at the readout of his wages, tips and taxes to date. Sandy grinned at him, "You were inspired out there, as usual..." Doug loped past them and was almost to the door when he remembered to punch out. As he did he clapped Tim on the shoulder, leering, "I can tell you really love me, Timmy! I swear, I have half a mind to marry this man." Tim laughed, "I don't think Charlene would go for that!" "Sure she would. What did they call those things..... you know, where they had three people? A merengue aw twah?" "Something like that," grinned Tim as they headed out the back door into a tiny parking lot that was penned in by the plain brick backsides of restaurants and gift shops. "Well anyway, she's been asking about you. If you want to come over tonight and watch the area projector with us we'd be glad-" "You got an AP? Boy, you're really burning through that inheritance. No not tonight, I have a ton of little things I need to catch up on." "Well soon then, you need to see it," smiled Doug. "These new Samsungs are incredible. Everything looks so crisp and solid!" Doug's Porsche roared to life as he trotted toward it. In a trick that had caused him a few bruises and a bit of embarrassment until he perfected it, he lept at the bulbous roadster. Its smart metal side opened organically for him and then sucked itself shut as he landed in the driver's seat. The car shot out the narrow mouth of the parking lot, slipping into the computerized traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Tim headed home on foot. He had a little solar car but usually left it at the house he'd purchased cheap during a particularly smelly black tide, down on the bluffs at the south end of Bonita Bay California. This small coastal town had started out in the 1890's as a fishing village, became a film star's colony in the 1930's, and in the late sixties turned into a mecca for homosexuals. As the gay population grew it became known to less accepting citizens up and down the coast as Boner Eater Bay. At the sidewalk Tim hesistated, and for no particular reason turned left... .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ))) PART TWO: DISMAL RUMINATIONS of the LAST QUEER ON EARTH )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ))) There really had been gays and lesbians here once- the LGBT community had made up maybe a quarter of the town's population, and had formed a real cultural presence and a substantial voting block. But their influence had never been quite as pervasive as was being portrayed these days by all the gift shops, historic markers and theme restaurants like BISTRO! BISTRO! He walked, circling the quaint narrow streets of the twenty acre Downtown area rapidly and without plan. Three male tourists walked past him with slick plastic purses slung over their shoulders, each in a different loud day-glow color and each stamped with the town's ubiquitous winking eye logo and the words: BONITA BAY CALIFORNIA. Tim knew there had been a time when the average American male would have been far less casual about carrying a purse. But today people could relax and even joke about things like sexual perversion, thanks to pinpoint genetic engineering, in vitro hormonal monitoring and regulation.... and as if these measures weren't enough there was the ever expanding array of neurobehavioral restraint implants, which had become something of a social necessity among the children of the developed nations; who would part their hair to show each other the rows of tiny color-coded steel tabs protruding from their scalps, as a verification that if they weren't absolutely statistically normal they soon would be. Where the youth of previous generations had a passionate desire to be unique, the kids of today had a dread of standing out, with "What are you, some kind of 'individual'?" being the dirtiest taunt a lot of them knew. Today people liked being told what to like, a service that the global Information/Entertainment/Merchandising Complex was happy to provide for them. Even kids who were well within established parameters, who had no real need for the implants were managing to cajole their parents and counsellors into finding some nominal deviation in their test results that might conceivably stand correction. You might think that some kids would resort to the deception of wearing fake tabs planted in their scalps, but nobody was that neurotically desperate for acceptance anymore. And so... There were no longer any queers. There were no cross dressers, no shoe or hair fetishists, no rapists or zoophiliacs, no bums or drug addicts, and no true sociopaths. Murder was all but unheard of, and the only thieving that was done was motivated by blind desperation, a hungry person's survival instinct (which had wisely been left intact) coming to the fore. Such transgressors were shown where they had erred in their reasoning, that there were other means of getting out of a jam, and they were genuinedly embarrassed and contrite.... What had been Bonita Bay's police station was now The Olde Police Station Mall, the police force having long ago been moved into an office not much larger than a curry pocket stand. Society had changed so radically that there was a whimsical sense of nostalgia afoot (not unlike the previous century's distortions of the toil, the privation, the lawlessness and often arbitrary justice that characterized life in the "Old West" into a standardized fantasy...), which had led to the development of themed attractions featuring evolution's discards; not just former gay enclaves but places like GANGSTAHOOD and THE SKID ROW EXPERIENCE. .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Tourism had produced a lot of jobs here, and the young men and women who acted the part of hard-ass dykes and screaming pansies experienced neither the disapproval of their families nor the slightest sense of discomfort. For they could look down into themselves, into the deepest recesses of their nature without sensing any vague lumbering shadows of things they would like to pretend weren't down there. Or at least all of them but Tim could. When he sounded his own emotions and sexual desires it was an occasion for panic. He didn't have to look very deep to know that he really was gay. Somehow, despite the best genes his parents could afford, and in spite of his brain having been wired up like a Christmas tree all through childhood, Tim had grown up into the real thing- a dysnormal freak! Since the emergence of these proclivities in his adolescence his life had become an endless paranoid tightrope walk, of feigned interests and bogus reactions, treading the crest of the crumbling wave of deception that was his life... Like how he hadn't allowed himself to show even a hint of the alarm that had coursed through him when his co-worker had announced: "I can tell you really love me, Timmy!", but modulated his response within a fraction of a second and chuckled good naturedly. He wound up and down and around the constricted streets and the shop- lined alleys in a self absorbed haze. Turning at random, slicing through the teeming throngs of tourists, dodging around the ornamental antique parking meters and the projector kiosks. Hurrying along like the desperate hero of an old Hitchcock film as he flees from the silent assassin through some boisterous carnival crowd (camera angles all paranoiacally skewed and tipsy), none of these revelers aware of the grim drama he is trapped in. Tim was taking these agitated walks with greater and greater frequency, wandering these same sidewalks until late at night; waking the next morning with his legs all cramped and sore before going back to another eight hours of bussing and waiting on tables, playing a "gay" character that was a minstrel show travesty of his secret self... He passed the old pornobilia shop, but didn't want to go in today. He had cut way back on the frequency of his purchases when the owner---an immense bearded intellectual comedian of a man---had taken to hailing him with: "Hey, it's my best customer!" While lots of people were collectors of obsolete sex toys and antique pornography that were far more morbid and perverted than the titles he bought, those other, more detached collectors didn't have to worry about breathing funny when they bought theirs... .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Tim's best friend on Earth had been Gidget Espinoza, a girl he'd met in junior high school. Everyone had assumed that she was his steady girl, a belief that Tim would seldom say anything to correct, and oddly enough neither had Gidget. Had she secretly guessed everything and been covering for him? It was an appealing notion of loyalty, but probably not. Gidget wasn't one to make wild intuitive leaps. She seemed to believe his basic problem was shyness, and had spoken to him about attending hypno-groups. "You know, normification doesn't end with the tabs. Some of us need extra help. I know I did for my nail biting..." But she hadn't really pushed it. Gidget had been a great believer in destiny when it came to relationships, and that someday the right person would come along for everyone. But then for Gidget he did. Almost a year ago now she had married and moved to Utah, leaving Tim with a gigantic gap in his life and the realization of just how few friends he had actually had. True, he could have gone to watch tri-D's at Doug and Charlene's place tonight, they both really enjoyed his company. But the sight of them piled contentedly against each other on the smartsofa would have been too depressing. Until recently he had enjoyed going to the courts at Main Beach Park after work to play some half-court jungle ball and knock back a few beers, but he had stopped going out of the fear that his excitement in the presence of all those lithe young guys would somehow be recognized for what it was. He was finding it more and more comfortable to just shun everyone, spending his time alone at home; or else going out for these agitated, ritually masochistic walks, in which he would never venture up into the jasmine scented canyons above town---those gorgeous white cottages set among rainbow gardens, the arbors shrouded in luminous bougainvillea--- but kept circling the ugly heart of the city's tourist pit; the glass fronts of the shops showing his haggard reflection, their garish signs taunting him: /// HI SAILOR! //// BIG DICK'S FOOT LONG HOTDOGS /// LEZ BE FRIENDS! //// Once, during a long personal talk with Gidget, when she was confiding to him about some personal problem or other, she had exclaimed that there was nothing he could possibly tell her that would make her like him any less, and he had yearned to tell her all of this. But Gidget's idea of a deep dark secret was like most people's anymore, confessing that you enjoyed a certain combination of foods that was somewhat unconventional; nothing that would really put a friend's claims of unwavering acceptance to the test. Actual sexual deviance would have seemed like something out of some murky primevil phase of our evolution to her. Like having gills and a tail. Tim was pretty sure that he would eventually tell someone, involuntarily blurting it out to the wrong person. Then a phone call would be made, to some covert government department, and he would disappear into the white- tiled innards of that evil research center, where the generally catastrophic results of using behavioral restraint implants on full grown adults were secretly being studied. No. This sense of danger he lived with hour by hour was just a childish self-indulgence. Something to give his life drama, a sick sort of importance. Something out of those corny old paperbacks he used to read... For a while he had been on this spree of devouring every old dystopian science fiction novel he could get his hands on. You know the story: The idealistic misfit/hero and his dedicated band, fighting for freedom and justice against monstrous odds, sweating through the streetcorner checkpoints with their forged ID's; setting about like tiny mice in the machinery to bring down the cumbersome, inhumanly repressive SYSTEM... And finally blowing up the great COMPUTER THAT RAN EVERYTHING by asking it some trick philosopical question that its rigid fascistic programming could not tolerate. He had glutted himself on these stories, identifying with the righteousness of the oppressed, until it dawned on him that---here in the real "future"---the same techniques that had done away with homosexuals, congenital diabetics, the ranting streetcorner lunatics and those pesky left handed people had also eliminated the sort of sadists and vicious humorless fanatics who invariably held power in those old novels, as well as in the many real life dictatorships of that awful century. For all those who had the good fortune to be born, the machinery of civil liberties was purring along better than ever these days. Wars were small scale things, flaring up for a few months in some subglobalized state before the Peace Gas could be deployed. Who but an unbalanced weirdo could be against a medical science that had eliminated so much conflict, so much fear and suffering and grief? That had enabled such strides toward a truly equal and harmonious society? Eventually Tim had been forced to conclude that he wasn't likely to be nabbed off the sidewalk by the Normalcy Police. There weren't any laws or even any current crusades against what he was, any more than there were rules against turning into a horse. It simply didn't happen. The hell he faced would be far less dramatic: To live out his life as a singular anomoly, alone and unloved and without a match anywhere... .., ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) PART THREE: YOUR CHOICE OF ENDINGS )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) When he glanced up and saw the granite rectangle looming two blocks away, he realized where he had been heading all along: The clock tower of what had once been the Methodist Church but was now the township's local historical museum. It jutted out into the assymetrical Y-intersection, a mass of grey blocks that appeared to fill the gap ahead where the shingled storefronts ended... Tim had been ending up here more and more often, strolling down this way for his 3 p.m. lunch break, at 6 or 9:00 after work, and---on sleepless nights---even at midnight, when the gothic bell tower stood ghostly and mist-shrouded in the upturned floodlights. The clock's hands, squiggly black iron shapes like chinese dragons tied into knots, said four minutes til six. He told himself that he should turn left, and head out toward Canyon Blvd., forget the damned robots, but once again he was held fast by the masochistic compulsion. He found a spot within the church's triangular front courtyard, on a long concrete bench that formed a V around the feet of some big dusty eucalyptus trees. Now clusters of tourists were flocking this way, crunching across the gravel while admiring the ornate wooden fa?ade of the clock, which started just above the tall pointed arch of the doorway and extended up the stone front of the tower like something that had been hung on there. And it had been. The enamelled steel disk of the clock face---up toward the top of this giant oak cabinet---had a square set in it which would rotate to show the phases of the moon, and another that bore eerie characters that might have been alchemical symbols. Weird... Beating out bids by CASTRO STREET and SIX FAGS FIRE ISLAND, Bonita Bay had acquired the clock at the auction known as the Great Vatican Garage Sale. The device's origins were shrouded in mystery. Some say it had been commissioned by a depraved Belgian duke in 1640. Side by side below the bulging dial were a pair of doors that opened out onto a roomy wooden platform like an old-time theater marquee, which Tim knew to be crisscrossed by iron tracks. He sighed defeatedly. Why did he torture himself by coming here, waiting for the two mechanical faggots to come wheeling out of their doors to do a goofy dance around each other before engaging in a spastic pantomime of anal sex while tourists laughed and took pictures? He sat watching as the big clock ticked off another minute, despairing of his life. It was all getting steadily worse, he was having a harder and harder time pretending he wasn't miserable.... and here he was only twenty-two years old. What would it be like at 30? At 45?!?? It was then that Tim had a forbidden though... .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) CONCLUSION A: Artsy Ambiguous "Hanging" Ending ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) And here we leave him, with the clock hands pointing to two minutes before six, while the bullshit in his brain whirls ever onward, screeching into the night like a mammoth flywheel of loathing and self pity....... THE END. I know this isn't much of a conclusion. It might even seem suspiciously like the author didn't know how to end her story, and so opted for one of those pseudo-profound non-endings that leave you asking "HUH?!" But neither is the day to day life of the typical slob known for its poetics or its tidy finales. You get through the day somehow and then there's another to be dealt with. At any given moment your story is as complete as it can be; the rest of your tale remains a faceless cipher, until the Big Clock Beyond Space meters out a bit more of it. And if things are bad now you might assume they will always be bad, or that they will only get worse. And you might even commit suicide, which in nearly all cases results from a grave deficiency in objectivity. Because life can change. Fulfilment and meaning can take the form of something that you can't currently even imagine... Might this not be the best possible end for our story? To leave him sitting safely on that bench in the ticking present, however miserable he presumes himself to be? He has a job. A place to live. Food. Freedom from illness or physical pain. The Earth's ecosystem has yet to really give way under the strains placed on it by humankind's follies, and the latest Geo Report---the first somewhat optimistic one in decades---sounded like things MIGHT just be starting to turn around... And yet here he sits, with a heart full of loathing, thinking something very, very dumb. Stop, Tim! Refrain from such morbidity... Stop, reader. Leave him sitting on his bench under the shady trees, in the breeze of a warm summer twilight... Okay so don't stop. .., ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) CONCLUSION B: The Old Pornography Shop ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Tim was shocked to realize that he was actually considering suicide. That he had been weighing the different methods he had seen in old cartoons and such for their likelihood of success. He jumped up at 5:58 and rushed off- leaving the mechanized sex display to the gawking tourists. Tim had been tabbed against suicidal depression at the age of six and again at ten. Moods good and bad were normal, but these sorts of polar extremes were unheard of! So even worse than the fear that he might kill himself was the shock of finding that he could actually think such things; of discovering yet another "impossible" deviation within his mind. The enormity of it. What might he think next, as every last civilized restraint was blasted from his psyche by the force of his inner depravity---like the heat resistant tiles on those old fashioned steam- iron space shuttles peeling away---until he found himself irresistably compelled toward every form of violence and villany! He HAD to act, to save himself- his fears about telling somebody be damned! .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) The museum's bells were striking six when he bounded up the steps of LAVENDER MEMORIES, the bevelled stained-glass shutter of a door spinning open for him as he stepped through. Morty, the owner, boomed, "Hey, it's my best customer!" "How you doing Morty?" grinned Tim. "Cool as a fool in a swimming pool," joshed Morty, "Hey, I got a great new batch of these TV BODY BUILDER magazines today. Check 'em out..." Tim didn't really want them, he was here for information, but he made a show of selecting two of them, said something in admiration of the condition the old color mags were in, and bought them with his U.S. Treasury Card. The fact that he didn't find these pictorals of sweaty weightlifters with gigantic bulbous muscles done up in full drag even remotely erotic helped him to draw one out of its plastic sleeve, to flip it open and hoot, "My God, this is luuuuuudicrous! Just look at this genderstupid yo yo!" Morty tapped the page, a pictoral entitled BENCH PRESS PRINCESS. "Well I'm not sure exactly what audience these were appealing to. Gay males might have liked the guy here and that big cock of his, but probably not the outfits or the makeup. And I don't think either transvestites or the men they used to call 'tranny chasers' would've cared for all those unfeminine muscles. Although there were some highly specialized niches, especially with the birth of the internet. The nineties and double-O's are a goldmine for fetish historians. And as far as the young gentleman there goes, the people who posed porn weren't necessarily into whatever they were photographed doing. He might've just needed the money. That's a pretty pattern on that mini-dress by the way. My wife would never wear that in a million years... When did clothing get so boring?" They talked for a while, about the magazines, about soundtracks from classic porn films, about an old book of Aubrey Beardsley's illustrations for Petronius's SATYRICON which was about to be reissued..... until Tim felt it was safe to ask Morty, in the wry tone of someone venturing off into wild, off-the-wall speculations, "Do you ever wonder whether there might be any gay people left? Did you ever get someone in here who you thought might really be buying some of this stuff to like.... 'Get their rocks off'?" "Oh sure. Thirty years ago when I first opened this place I had some in here who were born before the Genetic Standards Act. They didn't bother anyone, acted polite enough, didn't try to bugger me, or whatever; And you probably won't believe this but you'd be surprised at how normal they acted. And I'm sure at least some of them are still alive. But at a hundred plus years old I don't think they'd have much interest left in porno, or in sex..." Tim slid the magazine back into its cover and started for the door. "But nobody born since then, huh? You don't think that out of twelve billion people there might be a few who get past the screening?" "Well if you're talking worldwide, of course there are. Some of the subglobalized societies don't believe in messing with Mother Nature's DNA, and others are just too poor to. I know an anthropologist out of UC who's in Turkey right now. He said when he got out of the airport it was like he had stepped back into 1980. They've got.... well you name it! As he deplaned the PA was telling people to keep an eye on their bags, like someone might steal them. And there were cops everywhere." "Hard to believe..." "Hard for us, yeah..... Could you imagine clobbering someone over the head just to get their stuff? Or because they were a different race or something?" "No. It just sounds like a really stupid thing to do." "Well they do that there. And they also have their three or eight percent who grow up attracted to their own sex. It just happens. Nature throws all kinds of weird regressive stuff into the mix if you don't screen it. It's the difference between a rose garden and a field of weeds. Like they say: Nature Is Bunk!" "Fascinating.... Well thanks a lot Morty," said Tim and left the converted cottage, just as a pair of elderly women in SNATCH MY SCARF t- shirts were entering. He waved the magazines as the door spiralled shut. He walked up the sidewalk feeling strangely light, as if gravity had been turned down a notch. Suddenly he was not so devastatingly alone anymore. Somewhere out there were people like him... He went back to college. Got a degree. Joined the Universal Helper League and moved to the drought-ravaged plains of Brazil. Did some good for the world and had three discreet and fairly long term gay relationships over the course of his life. And died, swiftly if not painlessly in a gravicar pile-up outside of Sao Paulo at the age of ninety-one. Okay there, a happy ending. So now stop... .., )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) CONCLUSION C: A Proper Dystopian Ending )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) As his floatercar and the five others went tumbling over the rocky cliffside to explode in flames Tim was roused by the jagged clanging of church bells overhead. The tourists all stood up. Six O'clock... The doors below the clockface opened and the two leering mannequins with small wheels for feet came shuffling out, squee-squee-squeeking, their shoulders see-sawing and their jointed arms flipping and flopping in a grotesque puppet dance. But Tim wasn't watching them. He studied the crowd itself, wondering briefly whether there might be anything worth pursuing from that conversation he'd had with Mort in his imagination just now. His daydream, extending decades into his future, had been so strangely vivid. Had seemed so real. As always, he was looking for someone who might be viewing the antics of the two clockwork perverts with ill-concealed discomfort. Someone who appeared to be as shamed and humiliated as Tim was at the crowd's raucous laughter. Another gay person. Then he spotted somebody who---while in no way ill at ease---was surveying the crowd as intently as he was. A kid of about nineteen, with whitish blonde hair, big framed and well-muscled, but not puffed up like the steroid monsters in the magazines he'd imagined purchasing. The young guy looked right at him, his bushy eyebrows rising in a recognition that Tim found both thrilling and terrifying. But now the young guy was looking all around again, smiling in boyish arrogance and contempt, plainly more amused by the crowd than by what the crowd was gawking at. He returned his gaze to Tim. Held his stare. Tilted his head and gave an exaggerated wink like a goddamn fairy! Tim had assumed that any homosexual who still walked the surface of the planet would be as hung up and miserable as he was. But here was this young gay who seemed totally comfortable, aloof and mocking toward a world that strove to deny him existance itself. Tim was beginning to wonder if he hadn't misread the meaning of that clownish wink. That it had been mere wishful thinking on his part---and that this stranger was merely parodying the two mannequins---when the guy licked his lips lasciviously, then held up a circle formed by the thumb and forefinger of one hand, and stuffed his other index finger through it several times, grinning wickedly. Holy sh*t! Somebody might have SEEN that! But the crowd's attention was still fixed on the two fornicating automatons, marvelling at the intricacy and the great age of the mechanism involved, while the bells up in the tower chimed out a churchy rendition of some hoochie-coochie 1950's striptease music. The youth stood up, hefting a gigantic rataan purse with a meandering network of vines and blue flowers embroidered on it, and slipped it over his shoulder. He swung his arm exuberantly, like some dinner theater Peter Pan---"Hey! Follow meeeeeee!!!"---then went around the far side of the old church. Tim hurried after, not wanting to lose sight of him, afraid that the boy would slip away like a phantom, a hallucination, never to be seen again. He followed him up the curving white cement walkway that led around back, rising in a series of elongated steps to a narrow passage between the rear of the building and the high, damp cinderblock wall that held back the adjoining hillside, which was thick with trees. Tim was horny, yes, a lifetime's worth of horniness.... but what he really wanted for now was just to talk to him. To find out what the life of a sexual anachronism had been like for someone else. He hoped the guy would be willing to go back to the house with him, and wouldn't (as he had so crudely signalled) want to do it right here, in the swift anonymous manner of certain gay men, like the statues of famous Republican congressmen having sex in the bushes by the bathroom in Palomita Park. The kid stood facing him, smiling in the cool greenish light filtering down through the treetops. With that huge bag dangling alongside his leg he reminded Tim of an old clouded photograp, of some brawny but sweet- souled young immigrant back around 1910, who had just stepped off the boat after making his way steerage-class from Europe, holding his tattered suitcase and smiling to beat the band over the promise of life in America, this "new world" with all its possibilities... "I've waited my whole life for this," said the young man in a voice choked with emotion. Tim walked toward him, a sickly hot feeling in the pit of his stomach, his sense of motion distorted and slowed- dreamlike, as if he were being bouyed along on these waves of yearning, right up to this embodiment of male beauty, that Michelangelo himself might have painted or sculpt- A fist exploded in his face! Tim flew back. The backs of his legs hit a trashcan and he flipped over it, his vision exploding with white sparks as his head hit the ground! He lay there, dazed his arm doing a feeble and incoherent backstroke against the paving stones in a vague attempt to get up. He was totally dumbfounded. "You hit me!" The guy's smile had transformed into a hideous sneer of disgust, his voice now quavering with rage, "Brilliant fucking observation! No fucking shit I hit you, you faggot queer!" Tim had never before heard anyone this angry---had not in fact even considered it possible for someone to become this enraged---and he was as confused as he was terrified! He managed to push himself up onto his elbows, "Why? Why did you-" "'Cause you're a FAGGOT, ya stupid FAGGOT!!" The teenager skipped forward and started kicking him in the ribs, punctuating his words with savage kicks- "Try and do some pervert shit with ME, will ya?! I been lookin' my whole life, but I finally got one of you! You homos think you're so clever, don't you?! YOU SICK FUCKIN' SHIT EATING FREEEEEEEAK!" "Stop it! I never did anything to you-" Searing blasts of pain. When Tim curled up to protect the crucial organs of his belly the guy started in on his head! Tim heard himself wailing: "Stop/ stop/ stop it you're killing/ killing-" This was insane! You didn't do this to someone, no matter how much you might dislike them! It was just unthinkable to ambush someone like this. To attack them- Oh God! As unthinkable as it was...... to want to have sex with..... with another male. The young man yanked a jack handle out of the rattan bag and fixed him with a terrifying smile. Completely Insane, overflowing with righteous zeal! "Goddamn fudge packing sons of bitches! FAGGOT TOWN?!? This whole city's been taken over by you sick animals, with your ass-fucker monuments and cocksucker candy shops-" "But all that's not real! It's.... it's history! For the tourists.... Please-" "Not real, huh? Then why the fuck were you coming on to me? HUH?! Just how stupid do you think I am? I know what you degenerates are up to here! You're not going to turn me into one of you- I swear! If I have to kill every last lousy one of you fuckhole freaks!" As the steel bar came down on him Tim understood. The last homosexual on Earth had fallen prey to the world's last gay basher. .., ))))))))))))))))))))))))) )))) THE END )))) ))))))))))))))))))))))))) .., I debated long and hard whether I should post this story at FICTIONMANIA. While non-transgender material is allowed here, this seems like an option that should be used sparingly, if at all. It?s a judgement call, up to the author, whether there?s something about a non-tg story that would justifiy its being here. And for most of my non-transgender works the answer is no. But this one..? even though the tg element is negligible it seems relevant enough to transgender people to post it here. The idea that being gay or transgender is something that needs to be cured is a pervasive one in today?s society. And if such cures ever become possible we could find ourselves at the mercy of those who would deny us our very existence. And I?d say that?s pretty fucking relevant. If you've read this far, please comment. I'd be delighted to know that someone actually read this one.

Same as Clockworks Videos

3 years ago
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Sounds from the attic The fifth chapter

Right in that moment, Erin was grinning over at her husband. I had no idea what was going on between them, but I imagined a lot more yelling. I looked down towards his pants, and he had a major hard on. He liked the idea of what he saw, but it was still his wife cheating on him. He came towards us, and we still heard his friends going nuts. ‘Just what the hell is going on here?’ Joe asked. ‘Well, I just found someone that can sexually satisfy me,’ Erin simply let him know. She got up, as she...

2 years ago
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Master Is Home

When her master arrived, she was lying on the floor playing with ink as if it was a watercolor. She was wearing black knee socks, white panties, and an oversized dark-brown sweater that has a bear roaring on it. She was so into her art that she didn't realized he was there until she heard his voice, which never fails to make her heart stop."I am home, little whore. Is this how you receive your master?""I’m sorry, sir, I was drawing...""Come here," he ordered with a stern voice as he pointed at...

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4 years ago
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A Dish Best Served Cold Ch 06

This chapter is light on erotica. It became necessary to set up the denouement, which involved some character building, some history, and some planning, but little in the way of sex. If you have been following the story, I hope you will still appreciate this and come back for the climax and planned surprises. Jb7 * Pete Adams and Rosa Montero were just about to turn into the parking lot at Carruthers Machine Tool when a cherry red Cadillac came tearing out of the drive, nearly sideswiping...

3 years ago
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Pierced

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4 years ago
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Inge The Girl From Denmark episode 5

She had two weeks off and was visiting her family, just a few hundred miles north of Wiesbaden, Germany. She spent the night with my husband and me the night before. She was a local employee, dental technician, at the US Air Base where my husband, Ted, was stationed. I was also employed there as a secretary at the base fire station. We knew the same people, on and off base.  When she said she needed a ride to Frankfurt I offered bed and breakfast for convenience and a ride early the next...

5 years ago
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California CrewChapter 11

The next day, I'm halfway through breakfast when I hear Charlotte outside honking her horn. I hug and kiss everyone, and then grab my bag and head outside. "Hey," I say, getting in on the passenger side. She has a Mercedes convertible, dark green. "Hey girl. Did you bring the outfit?" "Yeah, I have it right here," I gesture to the bag on the floor next to my backpack. "Good, we'll look at it later." "Okay. Where does Brittany live?" "Just on this block..." She turns a...

3 years ago
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Defending Saddlers GulchChapter 3

Mary's pregnancy had progressed far enough now that she had a noticeable bulge. Jed teased her by saying that she now had a bulge in front to match her cute ass's bulge in back; Mary didn't think that it was all that funny. Jed's routine stroll through town one morning was interrupted by a cowboy riding into town riddled with bullets. He was dead, and it was a miracle that he was still on his horse. The undertaker reported to Jed that at least 6 of the bullets in him would have been...

3 years ago
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The Sins of a Submissive BabysitterChapter 2

Six full months have passed since the new babysitter entered into the household of the most esteemed Reverend John Stiffworthy and his somewhat flirtatious and definitely disobedient wife Gloria. The Reverend’s move to the smaller and more isolated parish was at the request of the Bishop until the dreadful rumors about things of a sexual nature with the Boys’ Choir had died down sufficiently for him to return to the center of the church’s headquarters without controversy. It was actually...

2 years ago
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The Good YearsChapter 26

The relationship between Anne Coulter and Walt Connor blossomed pretty quickly. Too quickly for some of us to be prepared for the fall out that it would cause. Two weeks after they first began dating, Anne moved into Walt's apartment with him. Walt was fifty three years old, and Anne was thirty seven. The one thing they both had going for them was that they each accepted the other. Sometimes, when your life has been full of disappointments and hurts, being accepted becomes enough. Aunt...

3 years ago
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The Pact Episode 1 The Elegant Solution Chapter 46

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2 years ago
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Lady in Red Ch 21

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4 years ago
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Risky Business

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Straight Sex
4 years ago
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Suddenly Rich KidChapter 16 Old Rivals

Helen was enjoying the Saturday afternoon drifting through her favorite mall. She was not really out to buy anything specific, but she enjoyed the leisure. It was a rare treat for a single mother to have an afternoon for herself and she wanted to make the most of it. Irina had volunteered to have Larissa for the afternoon and Helen much appreciated the offer. Of course, Irina would spoil her granddaughter rotten, but to Helen’s mind that was far preferable to her own parents’s...

2 years ago
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Charles Helps His Mother Feel Pleasure Again Chapter 6

It was early morning and both were very tired from their ordeals, they got changed and headed to bed, it didn’t take long and Charles heard his door creek open, he looked to see his Mother standing in the open door way. “Is something wrong Mum?” He asked concerned. “Nothing’s wrong honey, I just didn’t want to be alone tonight that’s….. Oh I’m being silly.” She said her insecurity evident in her voice as she turned back to the hallway. “Mum.” He said calling to her, she turned to see him...

3 years ago
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SleepwalkerChapter 46 Needles and Haystacks

Sending Rod along with Paul to interview the Pena girl's family had turned out to be a very good idea. The parents' English was sketchy and they dropped in and out of Spanish. They had decided ahead of time that Rod would play interpreter to Paul's agent. When he introduced Paul as being with the FBI they were openly nervous but when he said they were there about Maria the door opened wide and they were ushered inside. Apparently the locals had been less than enthusiastic in their pursuit...

2 years ago
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With a man

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MonstersOfCock Kali Roses Hottie Orders Monster Cock

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4 years ago
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Hillcrest Academy for Girls Part 3

The Head Mistress watched Mr. Williams leave her office and she smiled. This new teacher, Brad, had potential, she thought, as his cum leaked from her stretched cunt. It felt so good to have a real thick cock inside of her again. She loved how his animal instincts took over and forgot all about innocent Cassie. She got dressed, bid her still flustered secretary goodnight and drove home. Her pussy tingled as she remembered watching Brad get aroused watching and then spanking Ms. Yuko’s bare...

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2 years ago
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CAROL

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Kiss Me Bianca 1

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4 years ago
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Quarantine Struggles

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3 years ago
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Masturbation in the woods

There is a clearing in the woods a couple of miles from where I live and in the summer I cycle there to sunbathe in the nude. When there I usually masturbate. It is quite safe to be naked there because I've never seen anyone else come along the track. On this occasion, however, things went quite differently. I had undressed and put my clothes on a fallen log. When naked, I lay on the leafy ground to soak up the sun, intending to masturbate later. I was lying on my back with my eyes closed...

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2 years ago
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Shweta Ki Chudai

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An ISS Writer Fulfilled My Desire 8211 Part 1

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2 years ago
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The Great Day With My Cousin Sister

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KinkySpa Ember Snow Invites an old client to the Kinky Spa for a free 8220full service8221 massage

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3 years ago
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Stepsisters Conundrum

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3 years ago
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A Golfers Dream Book II Chilly Winter Hot SummerChapter 15 Aftershocks

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4 years ago
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Second ChanceChapter 27

Catherine and I were sitting on the floor, using the bed as protection, should gunfire come through the rear windows. I held her and said, "It's Ok. We're going to be fine, but, remember that you don't know for sure if everyone in here with us is strictly on our side, so don't let anyone get behind you, no matter what." She gave me the look. "I'm the pro here. You DON'T have to remind me about simple things." I said nothing and waited for what she said to hit her. "Oh ... I HAVE...

2 years ago
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asking my wife to have sex with another man

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2 years ago
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Hampsted Village Part 4

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2 years ago
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Love Is the Drug

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Bi curious while Swapping Wives

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3 years ago
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Fooling Around 101 Version BravoChapter 3

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3 years ago
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The telling of a voyeuristic weekend spent engaged in carnal lust with the mother inlaw and my wife

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2 years ago
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It Was My Choice

My boyfriend, Ben, had been out of town on a business trip for over two weeks and was still a week away from coming home. This was the longest time that the two of us had been away from each other since we started dating. We actually both agreed to not even to masturbate for the whole time he was away. Needless to say I was really second guessing my pledge. When he called the Sunday before he was to come back, I confessed I really needed a little physical relief. He suggested I get naked, get...

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The Swinger Confessions Angelas Hunger

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2 years ago
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4 years ago
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Country Boy City Girl Chapter 27

I woke up in the morning laying on my back as I felt Linda slip out of bed. I watched her tight bottom as she walked to the bathroom and close the door. I looked over at the clock, it was a little after 7. A few minutes later Linda came back and slipped in next to me and cuddled up against me and we shared a deep kiss.“So, how do you feel?” I asked her.Smiling, she looked into my eyes and said “Freshly fucked”, then giggled slightly.I laughed along with her and kissed her again. “Also, a little...

3 years ago
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Just Ask Nicely

Marnie didn’t get asked out. She was passed over for girls with more beauty or breasts. But she had the same needs for companionship and passion as they did, just few opportunities to get those needs satisfied. She was in her first year at the community college where she got more respect than high school. Her brain was sharp and had gotten her good grades and a small scholarship. A great enjoyment was the debate club where she had some interactions that made her feel better about...

3 years ago
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Ex Girlfriend new story

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3 years ago
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His special secretary Part 3

I went home like a ghost, my wife asked me what was wrong and I just told her that it's hard at work and that I'm stressed and we have a mostly silent dinner. I see that it does not seem much better for her and ask how she goes. It's also hard in her work and the restructuration is not going well, the employees are pressured like hell and she's afraid for her job too.I go to work the next morning and Sir Vatier is already there, he welcomes me and I sit at my desk to start my work when he calls...

2 years ago
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Turns In Life

Hello every one..I am savan of height 5.8″ and with good body , average color.i m in late 20’s when this happen..29 i guess.i was not married then actually i had a negative feeling towards marriages and all those stuff.that neg feeling came for my personnel life like from my parents and few cases which i had seen very closely. In dont know why people stay together even they hate each other like any thing the only reason i think is for the sake of damn society. From these worst conditions of my...

2 years ago
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Macis First Dungeon Experience

Sitting in the airport awaiting our flight home and my mind is constantly drawn back to last night. We took a further step into our kinky BDSM & spanking lifestyle. Having discovered this dungeon exists before we came away we knew we had to give it a go, and boy were we glad we did.They have several different rooms for hire all equipped with different variations of sexual apparatus and a massive array of whips, canes, floggers, paddles, crops, straps etc. There were chains and a multitude of...

Spanking
4 years ago
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eyes to a new worldrewrite

Day as long as I live, because that was the day my life got twisted up side down by one god damn women. Beep, beep as my alarm went off for work, and to no surprise I found my 17 year old daughter Sara laying next to me with her dirty blond hair in her pink pajamas she looked so much like her mother who I hate so much. That whore only left a letter saying she not meant to be a stay at home wife and she never got to live her life since she got pregnant at a young age of 15. If I look back at...

2 years ago
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You Want Me to WhatChapter 2

I waited two weeks before going to the restaurant again -- two weeks of utter silence. Two weeks of nothing on TV about the mad restaurant rapist -- nothing on radio, nothing in the newspapers. Nothing. I went to dinner on a Thursday night and waited for the cops to stand over my table. Nothing. All I could figure was that the woman had put her clothes back on and walked out of there without telling anyone -- which was insane, in my book! The next week, I went in on Tuesday afternoon; yeah,...

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An Encounter

Author’s Note: This is my first story, please offer any feedback so I know how/whether to continue. She stood nervously looking at the floor. A cool breeze past through the open window crossing the room and fluttered the edge of her tartan skirt. He noticed, from what he could see, that small goose bumps had raised on her legs and ran from her delicate ankles up over her soft, well toned calves continuing until they disappeared half way up her young thighs into the shadow of her skirt. From...

3 years ago
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Meeting MIke

The guy’s name was Mike, he asked me to suck his cock, by now the sight of his erect cock really attracted me, let’s go in ally way outside I said, he promptly agreed. Mike quickly undid his jeans and dropped them and his well wore underpants down I knelt down in front of Mike before I had time to position myself Mike literally rammed his cock in my mouth, ‘suck that you fucking faggot ‘Mike said. After 10 minutes of intense sucking I had to come up for air, I offered him my ass telling him...

2 years ago
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Drive For ExcellenceChapter 16

My alarm woke me at six am. It was too early to go to the hospital. I rolled over and wished that the last three weeks were a dream. Mom's knock at the door brought me back to reality. Doctor High was going to cut my knee open today. I limped to the bathroom and showered. I went back to my room and dressed. I checked my bag to make sure I had packed everything I wanted for my two day stay in the hospital. Mom yelled from downstairs, "Hurry up, Kyle. We need to be at the hospital by...

4 years ago
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Mausi Ki Zordaar Chudai

Main iss site pe bahut saalo se sex stories padh raha hoon. Meri height 5ft hain aur dikhne mein acha hoon, mera lund ka size 7inch lamba aur 2inch mota hai. Meri mausi dikhne me acchi hain, woh hamare ghar ke thodi hi dur mein rehte hain. Unke husband bahar job karte hai aur beti bhi bahar padhai karne ke liye gayi hai. Woh ghar mein akeli rehti thi, mausi ka figure bhi mast hai. Unki gaand ko dekh kar toh koi bhi use chodna chahega. Mai toh unki gaand ka deewana hoon, unki figure 36 30 aur 38...

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Ek Ghar Ke Nange Armaan Part 2

Please send your feedback at Thand ke dine shuru rahe the. Ab mai aur didi kaafi khul gaye the. Jo hamne ek ghante wali game se shuru kiya tha woh ab hamare baatchit ka tarika ban gaya tha. Mere liye didi sirf ek sharir thi jiske har ched me mera lund daalna tha. Waise se hum log itne karib aa gaye the ki mai kabhie bhi didi ko patak kar kutiya ke jaisa chod askta tha. But usme mazaa kahan tha. Jo mazaa tarasne aur khelne me hota hai woh khelne wale hi jaane. Aur mere mann me didi ke gaand...

Incest
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Chocolate and Gold Ch 04

I arrived on time at SFO to a bright, sunny afternoon. I headed for my elder sister’s home in nearby San Mateo. Mike was out in the front yard doing some hedge trimming on their lovely home. The children were nowhere to be seen, but Jeannie appeared at the front door when she heard Mike greet me. ‘Hey, Harry. Good to see you again. It’s been ages,’ he said. I liked Mike. He was upbeat and positive about life. He was also a great father, according to Jeannie. My sister jumped into my arms and...

4 years ago
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A Boy at a Strict Girls School

Choose a boy's name as first name Choose a girl's name as last name (Head Girl) ..................................................... It is the first day of term. Your name is John. You've just arrived at Skyviews school. It has been a girls boarding school up until now. This is the first year that they have decided to allow boys to attend the school. This will be your home for most of the next 2 years. You know that you will be one of only a few boys surrounded by about 300 girls. This will be...

BDSM
2 years ago
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US Army Battalion Officer Of The Day Perks

I had just settled into my room at the Bachelor Officer Quarters, when my room phone rang.“Sir,” said the female voice on the other end of the line. “I’ve been informed to let you know you’ve been assigned duties as 'Officer of the Day' by the Battalion Commander.”“OK,” I said, “What do I need to do?” I asked.I was a senior Second Lieutenant and had just gone on to Active Duty in the US Army after spending two years in the National Guard, finishing up my college degree. I was not expecting to...

Uniform
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Wanting to get caught

Our home office secretary of 12 years knows me well and has been very complimentary about my looks and body over the years. I guess those comments have led to what happened two days ago.But first, I must back up to late last summer. She was at our house and I came home from work early. My family would be gone for a few hours more and I was hoping to get naked for some sun soaking on our patio (and what usually followed that stimulation). With Jennifer at the house, I was bummed out...not...

Exhibitionism
3 years ago
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Mistaken Identity

Back in the day, the early 1980's to be precise, I was badly in need. In need of a job, to be more specific. These were times of prosperity for most. The Dow had recently hit 2000, which was a record. The economy was booming and would continue to do so throughout most of the decade. Everyone and everything seemed to be doing great, except for me. Being the remarkably perceptive dude he was, my friend Rich sensed my need for employment. He had recently started a small company installing and...

Interracial

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