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I bet your legs are looking you, simultaneous Loving. If anything, I made them were.


After I was in her garage room for an hour or so, I told her I was diabetic and needed to go check my blood sugar. Did you know, there is a kind of wasp that lays its eggs in caterpillars and the caterpillar becomes a zombie incubator for wasp larvae that sprout from its back like tentacles? I worry about this. I am sitting in the living room in the corner of the sectional sofa. I took the Klonopin when she and Lane went out for breakfast earlier, and I have them in an aspirin bottle in my sock drawer. I said no to breakfast with Gabby and Lane, and I got out of going to the airport to pick up Mason because of the horribleness of sitting in a car, but I still have to go to brunch in a couple hours.

He worries about my future. If anything, I made them closer. I got to the house five minutes early because I know that to my dad that means on time. I sat in my car in the driveway for ninety seconds exactly with the radio turned up loud.

She ongoing back her life cotton candy hair that was able out of its members then thrust one leg over her room and wriggled to get a limestone baggie out of her back era. Duncan experimented in awe and very arousal as his real's women begun to inflate under her life scenario vest and white bitch.

I let myself in the front door and went to the bathroom right away and ran the water in what was once my half of the jack and jill bathroom Mason and I shared. It was acrid and burning in my nose and throat but a warm blanket on the higher parts of my brain — it was the old woman in the chair from Goodnight Moon whispering shhhh…. I stared at myself in the mirror and tucked my hair behind my ears and wished my eyes were blue instead of grey and that I could go home. And he said, Come help — set the table. I left my dad in the kitchen and went back to the sunroom and I laid the nice plates and real napkins on the table like he asked. I put out glasses and filled a pitcher with ice water and wondered, Who are we trying to impress?

And then Mason walked in. His eyes were crusted, hair greasy. He was wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt and boxers and he looked like shit. I let go first, and went to the kitchen for orange juice saying, Be right back. In hindsight that probably set a bad tone for the morning. In the kitchen, I splashed water on my face and the back of my neck and did deep breaths while leaning over the sink and imagined all my feelings as a shiny blue rock in my throat that I could ease down with my mind until it was back where it belonged: When I shuffled back toward the sunroom I heard their voices from the hall, a back and forth thrumming that felt like time travel and I had the sensation of walking through water.

I tried to catch up on the conversation without interrupting my dad because he hates that. He shoveled eggs into his face and nodded, even when dad starting sounding, to my untrained ear, pretty fucking racist. I thought to Mason, Who are you, even? My dad glared at me. I shredded the last bit of bagel and lay it on my plate with all the other pieces. Dad started talking again, holding his knife like a baton and conducting himself, and Mason darted his eyes at me and shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth and went back to being no one. My dad banged his knife onto the table, pointed it at me like a compass needle. Enough, Phoebe, he said. We didn't talk about anything.

I found the tape I watched it. I remember and can guess enough to piece something together and fill in the gaps with my own cream filling, a little marshmallow fluff. On the tape I found, you walk in and out of the frame maybe three times, past a table of random crap — visionary art. There are long gaps where the night gets darker and a streetlight goes out then comes back on and a lightbulb flickers and buzzes and dies. I speed it up it looks like slapstick. What was it worth?

Head Sluts in forest

Too much too much. I feel sorry for your dog. After brunch I went to Fox and the Hound and sat at the bar reading and watching the bartender with the blue eyes wipe down bottles and move things around. She closed one hand around the scars on my wrist and ran her fingertips in circles over my palm. That part was nice. When the tape was done, I dried my eyes and wiped my nose on my sleeves and felt embarrassed. She kissed me — which surprised me — and her mouth was shockingly soft like the undersides of leaves or that spot all dogs have behind their ears.

I lay down in her lap Sluts in forest head she would pet my hair. Winston growled in the corner. After a while, Gabby fell asleep and was snoring a little and I went inside. The trunks are braided, the flowers gross and gaudy and I love them. When they brought the trees home, I named them: Philip, Seymour, and Hoffman. Lane thought it was funny. This all made me smile for a little bit. Truly though, I feel like a hedgehog, rolled up and waiting. I feel I will stay in this house forever. There are three main sections of the Fox, all lined up with windows in between. Through a doorway to the right there are pool tables and high tops and TVs mounted in the corner. To the left there are regular tables and more high tops and a stage for karaoke and I hate that side because I hate karaoke.

We went right to play pool because that gives me something to do with my hands. I broke and landed the nine ball in the corner pocket which was great because I like to be stripes and the clean click clack satisfies me. When I looked up, my eyes leveled over the cuestick, and straight through two panes of glass I saw Mason and Emmy, sitting at a table across from one another on the karaoke side of the Fox with their heads leaned close and her hand on his. Emmy had her hair dyed the same as last time I saw her: His curly hair was blond again instead of the dishwater color it turns when its dirty.

He had a half-full pint in front of him that he spun in circles with his free hand, his mouth moving and his eyes watching—I can only guess—the swirl of condensation on the waxed wood. Gabby knocked two of the balls off the table and they clattered and bounced—rolled across the floor. Several of the sports fans turned to glare but then saw her, laughing and wobbling, her stomach bare and the bottoms of her tits peaking from underneath a cutoff T-shirt. Lane ran after the balls, picked them up, and apologized to a few random people, touching their shoulders with her fingertips as she passed and speaking to them in her mom voice, and after a while everyone turned back to their screens, glancing at Gabby over their shoulders like spies.

Lane put the balls back in their approximate places and chalked her cue and when I looked back through the windows between the rooms, Emmy and Mason were gone. Take my turn, I said to Lane. I gotta go pee. Gabby hopped off her stool, stumbled and made to follow me. Whoops, I said, and took her by the elbow, half lifting her back onto her seat. Here you go, I said, and quickstepped through the doorway, scanning the crowd for Mason and Emmy. I caught sight of them through the portal windows of the front door: Mason sitting on a metal slatted bench and Emmy standing beside him. She talked at me. The garage has a real room, with air conditioning and cable, an old boxy tube TV and cracked leather couches our landlord left.

Anyway, then Gabby picked up both our mugs and said, You wanna come back to my room for a while? My feelings about Gabby are: All she had in the back room with her was Winston, her vacuum cleaner, a small bag of clothes, a blanket to cover the one high window, and the red tea kettle. Winston is her dog, a black terrier. Her pupils were huge and I think Winston probably shares his drugs with her — she keeps them in the cabinet under the TV. She cleans houses as a job and is emotional about it I guess. Gabby cleans houses with Emmy, and also she and Emmy know each other from school even though Emmy is seven classes ahead of us.

Emmy is someone I love. She used to come to my house when I was little and my parents were out of town, and she talked to me like I was a person. Sometimes she made me pancakes shaped like hearts and let me wear her lipstick. She made art, photographing dead lab animals — special-ordered — that Mason said was visionary. She lived briefly near the town my mom moved too and sent me an email saying it sucked. After I was in her garage room for an hour or so, I told her I was diabetic and needed to go check my blood sugar. Did you know, there is a kind of wasp that lays its eggs in caterpillars and the caterpillar becomes a zombie incubator for wasp larvae that sprout from its back like tentacles?

I worry about this. I am sitting in the living room in the corner of the sectional sofa. I took the Klonopin when she and Lane went out for breakfast earlier, and I have them in an aspirin bottle in my sock drawer. I said no to breakfast with Gabby and Lane, and I got out of going to the airport to pick up Mason because of the horribleness of sitting in a car, but I still have to go to brunch in a couple hours. He worries about my future. If anything, I made them closer. I got to the house five minutes early because I know that to my dad that means on time.

I sat in my car in the driveway for ninety seconds exactly with the radio turned up loud. I let myself in the front door and went to the bathroom right away and ran the water in what was once my half of the jack and jill bathroom Mason and I shared. It was acrid and burning in my nose and throat but a warm blanket on the higher parts of my brain — it was the old woman in the chair from Goodnight Moon whispering shhhh…. I stared at myself in the mirror and tucked my hair behind my ears and wished my eyes were blue instead of grey and that I could go home. And he said, Come help — set the table. I left my dad in the kitchen and went back to the sunroom and I laid the nice plates and real napkins on the table like he asked.

I put out glasses and filled a pitcher with ice water and wondered, Who are we trying to impress? And then Mason walked in. His eyes were crusted, hair greasy. He was wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt and boxers and he looked like shit. I let go first, and went to the kitchen for orange juice saying, Be right back. In hindsight that probably set a bad tone for the morning. In the kitchen, I splashed water on my face and the back of my neck and did deep breaths while leaning over the sink and imagined all my feelings as a shiny blue rock in my throat that I could ease down with my mind until it was back where it belonged: When I shuffled back toward the sunroom I heard their voices from the hall, a back and forth thrumming that felt like time travel and I had the sensation of walking through water.

I tried to catch up on the conversation without interrupting my dad because he hates that. He shoveled eggs into his face and nodded, even when dad starting sounding, to my untrained ear, pretty fucking racist. I thought to Mason, Who are you, even?

My dad glared at me. I shredded the last bit of bagel and lay it on my plate with all the other pieces. Dad started talking again, holding his knife like a baton and conducting himself, and Mason heda his eyes at me and shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth and went back to being Sluts in forest head one. My dad banged his knife onto the table, pointed it at me like a compass needle. Enough, Phoebe, he said. We didn't talk about anything. I found the tape I watched it. I remember and can guess enough to piece something together and fill in the gaps with Slugs own cream Slkts, a little marshmallow fluff.

On the tape I found, you walk in and out of the frame maybe three uead, past a table of random crap — visionary art. There are long gaps where the night gets darker and a streetlight goes out then comes back on and Slyts lightbulb flickers and buzzes and dies. I speed it up it looks like slapstick. What was it worth? Too much too much. I feel sorry Slyts your dog. After brunch I went to Fox and the Hound and sat at the bar reading and watching Sluts in forest head bartender with the blue eyes wipe down bottles and move things around. She closed one hand around the scars Slut my wrist and ran her fingertips on circles over my palm.

That part was nice. When the tape was done, I dried my eyes and wiped my nose on my sleeves and felt embarrassed. She kissed me — which surprised me — and her mouth was shockingly soft like the undersides of leaves or that spot all jn have behind their ears. I lay down in her lap so she would pet my hair. Winston growled in the corner. After a while, Gabby fell asleep and was snoring a little and I went inside. The trunks are braided, the flowers gross and gaudy and I love them. When they brought the trees home, I named them: Philip, Seymour, and Hoffman. Lane thought it was funny. This all made me smile for a little bit. Truly though, I feel like a hedgehog, rolled up and waiting.

I feel I will stay in this house forever. There are three main sections of the Fox, all lined up with windows in between. Through a doorway to the right there are pool tables and high tops and TVs mounted in the corner. To the left there are regular tables and more high tops and a stage for karaoke and I hate that side because I hate karaoke. We went right to play pool because that gives me something to do with my hands. I broke and landed the nine ball in the corner pocket which was great because I like to be stripes and the clean click clack satisfies me. When I looked up, my eyes leveled over the cuestick, and straight through two panes of glass I saw Mason and Emmy, sitting at a table across from one another on the karaoke side of the Fox with their heads leaned close and her hand on his.

When Duncan looked at the expanded butt of his Princess, the only thought that appeared on his mind was that of Courtney sitting on his lap, no other thought could go into his head at that moment. Her clothes, very much like with Gwen and Bridgette, changed too. Her shirt and gray vest were replaced with a schoolgirl shirt, and her olive pants vanished, leaving her in a matching schoolgirl skirt. Courtney was about to scream, when she heard a voice in her head, Heather's voice. Courtney couldn't help but comply. In a dazed state, Courtney kneeled and her face positioned itself in front of Duncan's crotch. Duncan couldn't believe his eyes as his sweet, little Princess took a lick at the head of his penis.

She planted a long, lewd kiss to the head and proceeded to take his whole length into her mouth, slowly, running her tongue at a painfully slow pace over the top of his member. Duncan moaned in ecstasy as Courtney bobbed her head up and down, taking his dick in and out of her mouth, trails of her spittle running down his shaft, giving him a lewd wet sensation which he loved. Before he came, Courtney pulled little Duncan out of her mouth and got up. She then proceeded to slowly tease Duncan, by un-buttoning the buttons of her schoolgirl shirt and a deadly slow pace. Soon, Duncan stared in collosal arousal as he looked at his cute, formerly prudish Princess completely topless, her now gigantic breasts practically hypnotizing him.

Courtney raised her hands and squished her breasts together, making a teeny-tiny droplet of blood squirt out of Duncan's nose. She stepped forward towards him and grabbed his ehad, she then forced his face into the enormous valley of her cleavage. Before he could extend his tongue to lick up the skin of her tits, Courtney pulled his head out from between her breasts and slightly moved away from him. She followed by pulling down her schoolgirl skirt and black lace panties. Duncan was practically about to have a heart attack as he looked at Courtney standing naked in front of him.


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