An internet search reveals that no one has ever used this name, despite its brevity. But I can't claim originality -- I saw it long ago as graffiti on a water tower. “Nooo!!” The naked teenager twisted wildly, but could not shake loose from the strong male hands pulling her to the railing. It had a low bar for kneeling and reminded Tami of in church where she used to go for communion during Mass. But what a sacrament she was about to receive! The row of ornamented tail

This is the ending of “The Adventures of a Naked Girl in Love”. An early effort, but of all my Tami stories I still like this one the best. Three hours later, Tami Smithers ran down onto the street and started her freezing run for Pilgrim Hall, clutching in her hand the photo of her and Rod taken at the dance. She figured it would take less than a minute to get to her dorm. With her first bounding jumps she laughed as she heard the loud vaginal farts as air escaped from h

Hyacinth carefully nibbled at the burnt marshmallow, then got her mouth around it and gulped it down, leaving just a gloopy white trace on the stick, and leaned against Wendy Mac for warmth and carefully put her dusty feet a little closer to the fire. She looked at the big tent appreciatively, looking forward to burrowing into one of those sleeping bags they’d brought. It was chilly already, even though sunset was still maybe an hour away. An occasional wind kicked up and

Hank smiled as his girlfriend approached, tan and lithe and tall and purposeful and serious as always, though with a smile and a nice little wet kiss on the lips for him. For the tall dark-haired girl with the neat short pony tail it was time for her afternoon sprint. Wendy Mac was now captain of the track team and had been put in charge of training others. Two companions in sweat clothes and sneakers clumped along behind her in the wet snow, Tommy Chen, who had just made

It was, as I say, an uncomfortable journey. Like everyone else I was glad to get back to the Palace and shower myself off. The rooms here, though small and not equipped with modern conveniences like electricity or telephones, are quaint and comfortable. Despite the culture’s general disapproval of alcohol there is a well-stocked bar in an alcove hidden next to the front hall, one assumes for the convenience of foreigners. I chatted with the bartender, who is originally fr

They were lucky. All the practice rooms were empty. He led her into the one in the back. Each room was tiny, with room for maybe three chairs and stands. They all had windows, but at least the one in back seemed more secluded. “Here,” he said, nervously placing a sheet of music on her stand as she assembled her clarinet. He had stayed up late writing it, in his overly neat music notation. It was a passage from “You Make Me Feel Brand New”, off one of his father’s CDs.