Im thankful for the ride. Youve saved me a three-mile walk. Its a sweltering August and you said wed beat the oppressive heat and humidity by switching color guard practice to early morning. Im wearing yellow jogging shorts with no underwear and a muscle shirt. The thought that I might sprout a boner in the shorts never crossed my mind. I feel privileged to hop a ride with the assistant band director -- and in a sports convertible no less.

Nearly every swinging dick within miles was there. At least one hundred fifty clapping, singing, sweating members of the Piney Woods Holiness Church of the Seven Gifts were jammed into splintery home-made pews as the Smith Boys Gospel Quartet led a rousing, high With the temperature hovering in the s well after sundown, every window was raised and black clouds of bugs darted around lights and thunked against ceiling tiles as if dancing to the music. Backing up the quartet was The Piney Woods Gospel Band, consisting of four profoundly untalented home boys: Matthew Mark-Luke Johns on trumpet, Pete Moss on harmonica, "June Bug" Jones on sax, and "Pecker" Badcock on

I spent a day shooting pictures for a hospitals advertising campaign and annual report. I arrived early that morning carrying an aluminum Haliburton camera case which held my RB- and accessories. The administrator and I were going over the shooting schedule when Tony, the chief maintenance man, joined us. Tony would be my escort for the day; he had master keys and could provide access to anyplace I needed to go. Tony looked like Mr. Clean, the tall muscular character gracing the bottles of cleaning solution. He was at least six feet of pure muscle and had a nice basket. I forced my eyes away, hoping he hadnt caught me looking.

I got dicked all the time when I was a kid. Gay action got slower when I turned and slower still when I turned . By age , spontaneous encounters slowed to a trickle. Pickup offers were a thing of the past. I had to work a lot harder to get cock. I found myself shamelessly working gay bars, practically begging for young dick. Getting rejected time after time can send you reeling into despair. Its not that Im ugly or out of shape -- its simply a matter of age.

Herbie and Dennis were my best pals in junior high school. We lived in the same apartment complex near a nature trail on the edge of the national forest. We spent hours in the woods playing cops and robbers and, later, playing with our dicks in jerk circles that eventually evolved into more satisfying encounters. We experienced our sexual awakening during junior high after building a clubhouse in the woods. There we had a fairly dry place to hide our porno magazines. We all contributed to the stash; mostly Playboys.

The mans unsteady gait caught the priests eye. Father Kevin was concluding the daily noon Eucharist, draining the last drops of wine from the chalice, when the -something man in dirty jeans and sweat shirt silently came in from the street entrance and wobbled to a confessional. After the service, Kevin entered the priests side of the booth and slid back the screen. He sat quietly and waited for the man to begin. The heavy scent of alcohol wafted through the dark opening. Perhaps the man had not made confession in a very long time. Which would account for his silence as he mentally toted up his sins.

I practice cello at least two hours a day during the week and five to ten hours during a typical weekend. Despite my full load of high school subjects, I exert myself tremendously toward this discipline in order to win a music scholarship. Otherwise, it may be impossible to attend a really good school after graduating next year. Unfortunately, Ive reached a plateau -- a long, stale stretch of no-growth.

I was driving home from Birmingham after the first phase of a root canal and was feeling sleepy from the Tylox Id taken an hour earlier. I found myself veering too close to the side of the road and knew I was fighting a losing battle to stay awake. As I passed through a small city, I noticed a sign indicating "City Park Nature Trail." I turned in and found a beautiful little wooded area with gorgeous hardwoods bathed in a medley of reds, yellows and browns of fall.

Greetings, sweeties. Im Aleena, and, man!, do I have a strange tail, I mean tale for you! I am thirty years old, -ft. -inches without stilettos, lanky at lbs., dark hair, pouty lips, and have a really-really nice ass, which I know how to use and, dear lord, does it ever get used! My circumcised clit is a proud six inches. My cross dressing goes way back -- so far back that I cant even

My antique desk chair developed a squeak. Its past quitting time but I waste a few minutes searching drawers and file cabinets before finding a can of machine oil. I turn the ancient swivel chair upside down and coat the rusty brown mechanism until it glistens. Still it squeaks. I add more oil. Again, more squeaks. Smith enters.