Secondary Education

Secondary Education Tyla Flowers TylaFlowers@gmail.com

Chapter 9, Seeing No Evol

Matt Frawley's arms are glistening in the slanting rays of August sunshine. He dribbles behind his back, wrong footing his defender. Matt deftly crosses the ball over, changing direction and bounce passes it to Antoine, who is streaking down the court on the fast break and scores an easy lay up. Matt whoops a victorious hurrah, and his blue eyes for a moment meet mine until he is distracted by Antoine. They bang their chests and hand slap, grunting a comradely cheer.

As they wait on defense for the inbound whistle, Antoine nudges Matt and whispers something, and Matt looks at me with a curious look. I feel as though his eyes are peering deep within me. What did Antoine tell him about me? Now probably knows what I let Antoine do with me. His face is bland and inscrutable. I wish I could read his mind, or even control it, to make him want me. I blush and avert my eyes.

I clasp the chain link fence and watch as Matt falls back, harrying the opposing player, then steals the ball, breaks away, and shoots a running jump shot, which clanks off the back of the rim into Antoine's outstretched arms, who slams it through the hoop. This time, Matt smiles in my direction, sharing his triumph and joy with me. I jump up and down and clap.

I wish that I were dressed like a cheerleader, and could pirouette and high kick in response. But I am clad in my Fairfax High Sweats and baseball cap. Suddenly, being in his gaze in boy's clothes makes me remember what I am and why I will always be unworthy.

I hate Coach and Fairfax for making me masquerade in my sweats. I hate Antoine for what I imagine he told Matt. I hate myself for being born a boy, and for becoming a whore and a slut, someone whom Matt will always disdain. I wish I could just disappear, or just die and be reborn as I should be, a beautiful girl. But Buddhist reincarnation is just as much a fairy tale as the omnipotent Christian God, or the Easter Bunny. I am what I am. If I am to become what I want to be, I must remake myself, with hormones, silicone, and surgery.

Suddenly I am hot, burning with angry self awareness and hatred. The basketball court wavers and blurs. I grip the chain link fence as the world cascades into a hallucination. I grope in my pocket for another Diane, to subdue this hot flash in a bath of soothing chemicals. When I look up, Matt is staring at me again, and the hot flash resumes. I cannot remain in Matt's sight, in my present incarnation. I make a show of checking the time, feign surprise, and hurry back across the schoolyard to Coach's office.

In Coach's student files the papers are neatly aligned and chronological, and the files are alphabetized by last name. Today's mail is arranged by subject in neat piles with squared corners. His desk drawers now easily open and close without the necessity of tamping down the overflowing contents. His pencils are sharpened, and all of his pens work and are arranged by color in separate cups. I have extracted the crumbs and dust from the spaces of his computer keyboard and polished the monitor.

I have done my servitude to the Coach and I am getting my Incomplete changed to a pass. As soon as I finish organizing Coach's lower left hand drawer, an archeological dig of half eaten power bars and empty yoghurt cups, I will be free to leave Fairfax behind forever. I should be glad to leave behind the years of persecution and rejection that I endured here, but instead I am on the verge of tears, filled with regret, and desperate longing to be wrapped in Matt Frawley's glistening, powerful arms. I know that after I leave this place, I will never get my chance with him.

My cell rings. I'm not supposed to have it on while I work, but no one is near, so I answer it. It's Hector. He thinks he's the most wanted gangsta in LA, so every time he calls, he uses a different phone.

"Hey, T Chica, why you didn't call me?"

"I'm busy. I have to work or they kick me out of here."

"Too busy for the Mara's business? I don't care about your other fucking business. You work for me. And I want the mayate tonight."

"I can give him to you. I have it all set up. He's here, playing basketball, and when they are done, I am going with him. He thinks I'm going to let him fuck me after school today, but instead, he gets fucked up. I'll text you when it's time."

"He's there? We'll kill him right now."

"Here at school?" I panic, not about my own safety, but for Matt's. "Not now. Too many people, too many cops, and too many cameras. Get him alone, make him beg for his life, and then kill him in his bedroom, with his pants down."

"You sure you don't just want that black dick up your tail pipe?"

I have come to love being rammed by Antoine until my toes curl and my ear drums pop, as much as I hate being the Mara's sex toy, but I remain in character, the loyal Mara spy. "I hate it. After you kill him, I want to take on the whole hit squad, starting with you, just to get his taste out of me."

Hector laughs. "You got a great attitude, T Chica."

"It's my love of the Mara."

I have become a great liar. Being a whore is good practice for a life of constant lying. I lie to live, and live to lie.

In the background, I hear Hector bragging about me to his companions. But I hear approaching foot steps and hang up without saying goodbye. I busy myself shuffling papers for the next few seconds. When I look up, Coach is glaring at me.

"Look Coach, doesn't this place look great?" I pat a stack of alphabetized student evaluation forms.

"Flowers, I don't want you mooning over my ballplayers any more. I don't want any homos on my team and you're a bad influence."

"I was only watching them play."

"I am not making this as a suggestion. You stay away from those men or I'll march you off campus and back onto the street."

I can't risk expulsion now. I need this credit, but even more so, I need to leave school with Antoine if we are going to spring the Mara trap. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

He hands me my hours credit slip. He's shorted me again, and probably believes the understated records of my hours that I have left for him. But Rojas's records, I have enough hours to satisfy my PE requirements.

"You can leave now."

"Isn't it perfect here?"

"It's fine. You don't need to come back until next week."

"OK. Thanks for letting me make up my missed classes here."

"It wasn't my choice. Rojas forced you on me to make a reasonable accommodation of your unfortunate life style choices. I'd rather have flunked you. So get lost now, OK?"

I pick up my back pack and leave. My face is burning, and I know I can't argue with him without screwing myself. So I say "Sorry, Coach," and leave him in his immaculate office.

Antoine catches up to me on the way to Rojas office and waits for me as I turn in my paperwork. We walk to his Escalade, not too close, but like we were just friends.

"This is it. The Mara's coming tonight."

"Let me call my niggas. We be ready for them."

Inside the Escalade I slip off my chinos to reveal tight, ripped cut-offs. Under my sweatshirt I am wearing a baby blue lace camisole, and beneath my sweatpants I have a short cotton skirt. I put my Keds in my backpack and replace them with silver wedge sandals. I fold down the mirror put on make up. Antoine is talking animated Ebonics to his crew.

Between calls he smiles and grabs my boob and says "Ladyboy, I got a little surprise for you this afternoon."

"I don't like surprises."

"Your gonna like this one."

"Where are we going?"

"Used clothing store on Jefferson. There's a garage in the back. You wait there till the Mara come. Then you do what you gotta do to get them in the back parking lot. My crew will block the exit with a truck, and then boom boom, they're toast. What's your plan to hook up with these Mara?"

"I text the leader, Hector the address. Then I flag them down on the street and take them to where you are supposed to be, in bed sleeping off a hard fuck."

"You're coming in with them?"

"Hector wants me to see you die. I think he's planning to torture you first. He hears about what the insurgents do in Iraq, and then he copies them."

"I thought I was bad, but I'm practically a saint next to this motherfucker."

We pull in down a bumpy, narrow drive way. The parking lot is boxed in front and back by the abandoned in front, and six bay garage in the back, and on either side by its neighbors, two towering abandoned warehouses. It's a perfect killing field. As we enter the Freeze flashes a sign with his stubby fingers. He flashes a golden smile at me.

"Little boy grows up into a little girl. Aren't you cute?"

I smile demurely to Antoine and beckon him. He bends toward me and I whisper "I hope that's not my surprise."

"Nope. I got someone who wants to meet you, and who you might just want to meet."

He opens the door. The middle bay of the garage has been converted to an apartment. Propped on the auto lift there's a king size box spring and mattress. There's an ancient refrigerator next to the tool bench, and on it there's a hot plate, a few dented old pots and a stained coffee maker. The sink is cast concrete and has only cold water, and it's equipped with a flexible shower hose which is hung over an open drain in the floor. The only furniture that's not filthy and decrepit is a brand new plasma TV, which is blaring Sports Center to an enraptured audience of one sitting on the bed. It's Matt Frawley.

Antoine claps Matt on the back. "Lookee here, bro. I told you she cleans up good."

Matt pivots and looks at me nonchalantly. "Don't even recognize the Flowers I used to know. What happened to that poor little guy I used to tease?"

"He's become a she. Turn around, baby, and show my man Matt all the goodies."

I do a stripper style turn and touch my toes, hiking up my skirt to show off my thong-clad butt. Then back around, and lean forward so my camisole droops, and gives a peek at my titties.

"Whoa, Flowers, so you turned into one of those shemales?"

"Some people call us that, but I prefer T Girl or Ladyboy"

"So my man Antoine says you can suck and fuck better than any girl in the world. Are you going to show me?"

I scowl at Antoine, who grins and leaves, saying "My job's done here."

I slip out of my camisole and slip down my skirt. My cock is pressed flat by the tight satin front of my thong. I peek down, and make sure it's invisible and cuddle up to Matt on the lumpy mattress.

I whisper in his ear. "Why don't you be the judge of that? I wouldn't know, since I have never been with another girl."

He backs away, and looks at me with puzzled eyes. "That's so crazy. You really think you're a girl, don't you?"

I nod, and look earnestly into his eyes. "I've always been a girl, even in my dreams, and especially in the dreams I have about you."

"You dream about me?"

"Almost every night, almost all of the time. I have been waiting for you forever."

I let out a great sigh and relax my head into his lap to breathe in the aromas of his groin. He smells of saddle leather and fresh cut wood. I am overwhelmed with hunger for him. My body sizzles with sexual electricity. I lick from his belly to his neck and back, and nuzzle him through the front of his sweat pants.

"I need to suck this right now." I pull at the drawstring of his sweats.

He puts a protective hand over his cock, and then relaxes it and pats my head. "Oh well, what the hell." Matt helps me slide off his Fairfax high sweatpants and pulls his tee shirt over his head. When the sleeve tangles on his broad shoulders, I loosen it.

He peeks shyly from beneath the fabric. "Thanks."

I study him, trying to memorize the sight of his nude body. His hair is a streaky blond and spiky with sweat. His face is grizzled with a two day growth of beard. From the triangular thicket of his dusty blond pubes a limp, uncut penis hangs lazily along the bulging muscles of his inner thigh. His stomach is girded with overlapping, rippling muscles. His chest is forms another triangle, almost twice as wide at his shoulders as at his abdomen. His skin is golden from hours at play in the sun, except at the groin, where it is milky white.

I pull off my camisole and lean over him, dragging my little titties along his chest, across his stomach, and down his thighs and legs. My lips find his cock and I inhale again, and sigh out his aroma.

"I forgot to shower, so I'm a little rank."

In response, I slip my lips over his salty cock and rim the cockhead with my tongue. "Then I'll just lick you clean."

"Yeah, lick me clean, like a little pussy cat."

I inhale his leathery aromas, take one last look at the corona of golden hair framing his penis, and then gobble and slurp hungrily at his cock, and lick his balls. I visualize myself as a queen cat, licking at the furry penis of a tomcat. I wriggle my butt, imagining it to be my tail, flicking provocatively. I stop, look up at him, and meow, as though in heat.

"That's a good little pussy." He strokes my hair over my ears.

His flaccid cock springs to attention and I pump on it. I gather my hair into a top not and guide his hands to grip it. I want him to control and possess me. He begins forcing my lips up and down his rod. I breathe through my nose, and crane my head back, and find that his cock slips easily past my epiglottis and down my esophagus.

"Yeah, suck it good, baby. Take it in all the way." I accelerate my head bobs, bracing my hands under his thighs and yanking to force my head down hard, so he can feel the parting of my throat when his dickhead slides through my tonsils and into my esophagus.

"Yeah, baby, deep throat me. Oh, yeah, that's good."

I gaze up at Matt, hoping to exchange a glance, an acknowledgment of my performance, but his eyes are fixed into the distance.

I squeeze my tongue, and pout my lips over the up-thrusting cock. My entire body is at work. My back arches like the spine of an aroused feline. My lips are still hungry, but my ass is starving for him, vibrating with anticipation of the rush of exquisite pain that will come when his cock invades me. My I rustle in my purse and find my tube of lubricant and spread it over my ass. I dig further and find a condom. I pause sucking and tear it open with my teeth.

Matt pulls it from my lips and flips it over his shoulder.

"You're clean, right?"

"I'm always safe, yes."

"Good, because I only ride bareback."

"I don't do that."

"Everyone does for me. And I heard you make exceptions."

My face burns with embarrassment and anger toward Antoine.

"I made a few mistakes, but I've learned my lesson."

"Well, I'm going to teach you one now. You do it my way, and I don't wear raincoats inside."

I know I shouldn't, but I want him too much to say no.

"OK, but don't tell Antoine. This is only for you, Matt." I slather him with lube. His cock, which had softened during our condom negotiations, immediately hardens.

"And leave those panties on. I don't want to see that thing of yours on the loose. Now get on your knees and let's see that third eye I've heard so much about."

I kneel on the bed and point my butt up, pull the back string of my thong to the side reveal my bootie.

"Oh, yeah, now do that winky thing."

I bite my lips to concentrate my energy on making concentric rings around my rectum. I draw the flesh inward, and then open it from within.

"Oh, yeah, I can see half way to China. It's like a whole new world in there."

"I wouldn't know. Does it look inviting?"

"Like the planet Mars through a telescope, all swirly and red. I got an idea. I'll take a picture." I hear him rustle in his jeans, and then click of a camera phone. I know he'll probably post these pictures to a porno web site but I don't care, I just want to please him.

"Open wider." He clicks again. I feel his fingers slide into me. I flinch as the rough skin of his fingers intrudes, and my ass reflexively clamps around them. I stifle a cry.

"I'm stuck. Your butt snapped closed as hard as a clam shell." The camera snicks a few more time, and then he thrusts the Razr in front of me and scrolls through a quick slide show of my gaping butt, at first open an inch, and then two, all glistening with lube and shimmery red mucosa, followed by a shot of three of his fingers buried to the second knuckle, and finally a shot of my grimacing face in profile. I squeeze my well trained glutes around his fingers.

"You could at least have taken a prettier picture of me."

He raises the camera high above his head. I crane my neck toward him and smile as the camera snicks again. He looks and says "Awesome" and shares it with me. It's Tyla, bum up and finger fucked, smiling like a girl in love.

"That's a keeper, huh?" I nod, but I wonder where he will post it, and how many perverts will jerk-off to that shot. I clamp my ass around his fingers and squeeze.

"I'm never letting go." I giggle.

"OK, let me out now, or I'll slide my whole fist in you." I open my ass and release his fingers, and gape as wide as I can. The camera snicks again.

"Wow, that's some amazing muscle control. Let's see what you can do with my cock up your hole."

I hold myself open for him. "Sprinkle some more of that lube inside me." I feel a spattering of Astroglide against the walls of my rectum.

"How do you want me?"

He is stroking more lube on his bare dick. The cock head pokes through the foreskin like the head of a lurking moray.

"Just like this." He slips his big hand under my pelvis hoists my ass high. "Do I fuck this the same way as a pussy?"

"Just like a burger, In and Out."

"Boop, that's my favorite burger, and you're my favorite sexburger with sesame seed buns." He laughs and slaps my buns, and kneels behind me. I suck my thumb to calm and stifle myself, arch my back to expose my hole, open it as wide as I am able, and gird my frail muscles for the imminent lunge. He presses my face into the mattress, which is pungent with the residues of countless past trysts and rapes by its Crip owners.

His thighs press mine apart, and he rears back and then thrusts forward like a blitzing linebacker. His cock slithers through my gaping, well-lubed sphincters and tunnels deep inside my colon. His thighs bang against me, and I collapse to the mattress. He is deep in my belly before his first lunge finishes.

Pain obliterates all my other senses. His cock pierces me like a thrusting saber slashing from my belly to my heart. My breath explodes from my lungs in a cry of anguish. He pulls back, and I inhale with a shriek, and then he spears me again. I am blinded by tears and the rush of blood to my head. I hear him grunting as he pulls back and stabs still deeper in me. I feel his balls slap against my buttocks.

I open my eyes and through bleary eyes look at my thumb. It is indented with my tooth marks. I peer up at him kneeling astride me. He glistens with sweat, his muscles are bulging, and his face is chiseled with fierce determination. Looming above me, he looks like a mounted Greek god, and I am his chariot.

He rocks in and out as though in a trance. The pain has dissipated into a warm glow of pressure and pleasure. My ass muscles now respond to each thrust by opening my rectum wide, and suction back to restrain each withdrawal. He notices my technique, opens his eyes and meets my gaze. He fucks me slowly, regaining his breath.

"Ah, that's a tight ass. I like it."

"I'm sorry if I screamed to loud at first."

"I liked that too, and the look on your face."

"So I look pretty in pain?"

"Yeah, and even prettier now. You're a good little fuck, Flowers."

"You can call me Tyla."

"It's too much like Tyler. I'll call you Boop, like your tatt." He slaps my butt. I am a little offended by his choice, but I am happy that he gave me a pet name. I imagine him as a real boyfriend.

"Do you like it, my tatt?"

"So cute I don't want to forget it." He snaps another picture with his Razr. He displays a picture of an anonymous cock poking into my butt. My face is visible, the tatt is not. My face burns with embarrassment. I imagine that picture proliferating over the internet.

"I can't see the tatt. Just me getting fucked. What are you going to do with those pix?"

He takes another pic. "I'll just add them to my collection of fuck pix. I love butt tattoos. Gives me something to look at while I'm doing doggy. What's with those letters, M and S?"

He's way too far removed from the street life to know anything about the Mara, but I don't want to scare him off. "Oh, nothing really. It's just some initials."

"Like some boyfriend?"

"Something like that. Something I'd like to forget."

"Here's something to help you forget old MS." He spanks my butt and jams himself deep.

I gasp and moan a little, and then wriggle my ass against him. "I like that. I'm really ready now. You can ride me hard."

He pulls me up to my hands and knees scoops my boobs in his big hands and holds them like handles. He rattles me with a series of swift, powerful thrusts. I gape and contract, pulling him deep inside and prolonging each release. He releases one breast from his crushing grip and entwines it in my hair, which he grasps into a crude top knot. Using my head and boob as handles, he levers my body against his thrusts, hammering deep into my colon. His body seems to get more powerful with every stroke. Thousands of hours in the weight room, on the track, and on the playing fields have made him mighty and relentless. The dozens of cheerleaders, soces and skanks he has bedded have emboldened and hardened his sexual athleticism. He is a monster in bed. His strength, endurance and energy overwhelm me. After a hundred cycles of contraction and gaping, I'm exhausted. I surrender, and become a limp, lifeless object in his encircling arms, my anus a receptacle for his battering penis. Gradually, his frenetic assault on me attenuates. He twists my limp head to face him.

"Oh, Boop, it's better your ass grabs back at me. Now your just lying there like a rag doll."

"You're too much. I'm tired. Maybe I could fuck back better if I got on top."

"I'm not a fag. Being on bottom is not for me."

"I mean I'd like to ride cowgirl."

He slides out. My ass contracts with a pop.

"Ouch. That stings. Can you hand me some of that paper towel?"

He wafts a piece and I take a careful exploratory swipe. There's no blood or stray poop, just a pale mustard, translucent film of lube and colon mucous.

Matt looks at it disdainfully. "Don't you clean up inside before you get fucked?"

"I did. I'm sorry. There's always a little color. That's why I want a new pussy."

"Fuggit about it, I'm not waiting around for that. Besides, this dick's been in dirtier holes than yours."

I've had bigger cocks than his, and been fucked harder, but I decide not to brag. He's already deflating, and I don't want him to lose interest in me.

"Let me clean you up." I rise to my knees and lick his cock and balls. My ass juice is sweet and salty. I take his cock deep in my throat and inhale his pubes, which are scented with my inner essence. I grapple for my lube, and smear more of it on my rectum.

He gives my cheek a playful slap. "OK, that's clean enough for now. Show me how you ride." He flops face up on the mattress. His cock rises like the mast of a great ship. I scramble atop him. His chest is so broad my little legs can barely straddle him. I aim his cock at my anus and settle down upon it. I can't open my ass in this position so his cock pops through my constricted sphincters. I squeeze my eyes and bite my lip in pain.

"You're gorgeous when you do that." He's drawing little circles around my areole. A tiny drop of milk has formed on the left nipple. He dabs at it and offers it to me. I lick it from his outstretched finger.

"Mmm, that's something new for me."

He tugs at my right breast, and another pearly droplet forms there. This one he licks himself.

"I was bottle fed, so that's my first taste of tit milk."

"Do you like my milk?"

"Not bad, but I'd rather have a Bud."

"Aren't you enjoying my bud right now?"

He laughs, and grabs my ass. "Yeah, this bud's for me. But this bud's too light. I need the full body." He scoops his hands under my buttocks and takes control, lifting me up and pulling me down by my ass cheeks. The grip of his strong hands on my ass sends shivers of pleasure through me, and I feel my cock hardening in satin front of my thong. My hair is flying, my breasts are jiggling, and body is shuddering with his mighty up-thrusts and the powerful pistoning of my butt against his heaving body. I start to feel faint, I want to surrender, to close my and just let him fuck me.

But I want to please him, so I reciprocate each of his thrusts and withdrawals by bouncing down and up against them. He is grunting and breathing hard, and filmed with sweat. I lick my upper lip, and taste the salt of my own perspiration. Our bodies slap together in drum roll percussion. I slip into a dream.

I am riding behind Matt on his motorcycle. I massage my breasts against his trapeziums, and he squeezes my thigh. We dismount and walk hand in and through the scrub to the trail head. The climb is steep and treacherous, so he hoists me on his back like a fireman. I kiss his sweaty neck, and he squeezes my hand. We hike to our favorite spot, a smooth flat rock sheltered beneath the oaks. I flutter a quilt to make a rustic bed. We undress, I lube my new pussy, and behold him looming over me, backlit in the leaf dappled rays of the setting sun. He kisses me and says "I love you," and I say "I love you too." He enters me slowly and carefully, a millimeter at a time, and with each stroke, he kisses my new C-cups and lips. I am a beautiful, complete woman, and he has become my perfect lover.

From afar, I hear the chirp of my cell phone. But I realize that it's ringing back in the real world. My dream dissipates, but I am still happy, for the real world has never been better for me. The mattress stinks, the air is hot and stale, but Matt is really on top of me, making love to me, and getting ready to finish. In a dirty, tawdry way, my dream has come true.

I feel his pace quicken, and hear his voice break into inanimate grunts. I am oozing inside, my inner flows have become a torrent that fuels him to new paroxysms of pleasure. Waves of anal orgasm gush through me, and my ass is sucking involuntarily at his cock, milking the sperm from it. He groans and smashes his thighs against me, shuddering violently. His cock bursts forth a hot spatter of semen into my quivering colon, and sparks another wave of orgasm from my depths. Two, three, four, five, six and seven, the pyroclastic eruptions of Matt's cock sluice a fiery path from my belly to my soul. He cum mixes with my orgasmic juices and the lubricity inside me is exquisite, warm and wonderful. I wail with pleasure and release. My body and soul are fused in ecstatic release, and the female soul has imprinted itself forever on my mortal being. My body is utterly fulfilled and pleasured, but it is in my soul that I experience the greatest pleasure of all. For the first time in my life, I feel I have been loved. I collapse onto Matt's chest. I bite my lips, to keep myself from telling him that I love him.

He whispers "That was incredible. It felt like you were sucking the cum out of me."

I am disappointed. I experienced nirvana, and he is talking about me like a really great sex toy. But he's a guy, and guys are all about the physical experience, and not the emotional aspect of sex. "You are incredible too. I had the biggest, longest orgasm ever."

"You came on me?" He looks a little disgusted.

"Not there. I can't do that anymore. I came inside, like a woman."

"Good. That's great."

I wonder whether he was glad that I had an orgasm, or whether he was relieved that my cock hadn't cum. He probably doesn't care at all, except as it enhanced his own experience.

"Get off of me now, OK? I want to nap." His softening cock is sliding out from its burrow, and so I rise and scamper to the shower. I turn away and slide off the thong. It's a bit damp inside the satin, I must have cum in there but not noticed during the frenzy inside me.

A slurry of Matt's semen, my ass cum and lube drizzles down my leg as I turn the tap. Rusty water spurts fitfully from the nozzle. It's freezing, and my cock shrivels to a nub. I soap and rinse my ass, and squirt a frigid spray into my crack. I finger it my anus. It's puffy and swollen. I put on my thong, rustle in my purse, spread some Neosporin on my rectum, and then return to bed. Matt's asleep. He is hogging the blanket, and turned away from me. I lie next to him, and stare up at the mottled beams of this dank garage. The threadbare mattress is sticking to my skin. The smell of sex is fading, and now the air is suffused with the rank petroleum stench of the oil stained floor. The refrigerator clanks noisily to life. A fly buzzes by and lights on Matt's shoulder. He stirs and snores, but does not awaken.

I cannot sleep. I try hard to recapture my motorcycle fantasy, but it keeps slipping away. I am still in the ghetto, and I am still a trannie whore, a sex toy to be played with and discarded. I will be made love to by many, but I will never be loved. On the table, my phone chirps a voice mail alert. But I am too lonely and tired to get it.

Whether you love it or hate it, please send me email or post reviews of my story. I will respond to all. xoxox, TF

TBC