Recycle {FM/F Tech Noma Solo}

   {This one's not about teh sex, but a different kinda meat-piston action.
Hopefully there'll be enough to maintain your arousal.  Again, it's mostly
for characterization.}

Prologue {f NS}

   "Joannah!" I jump, and run out.  Mom's home, and my legos are all over
the floor again.

   "What?" I run and pick them up.  Just getting home, she just sighs, and
climbs up the stairs.  Breaking down the starfighter I built to beat Jake's
Cobra Rattler, the wings don't fold up enough, so I take them off to ReForm
them later.

   By the time she changed out of her uniform, I got them cleaned up, and
back in our room.  "Where's junior?" she climbs down in sweatpants, and a
tee shirt.

   I shrug, he went swimming with some friends.  "Outside," I didn't wanta
cause my bathing suit is too tight.

   "Jake!?" she yells out the back door.  "Put your dress on," she pushes
me back to our room, "Before he gets back."

   "But mOoM!" I hate that thing!

   "We're going out." Makes me feel naked.  I mean, nobody can see, but it
don't feel right.

   I take off my jeans, hand me downs even though we're the same age.  He's
always bigger, so when he grows out of them, they fit me.  I pull it over,
and run out before Jake comes in.  He's wet, and there's mud on his legs
over where he took his shoes off.

   "Fix your hair," mom changed again, and was twisting her's back up
behind her head.  I run in the bathroom, but mine's not long enough, and I
want to hack it off again.  I'll take the spanking, they can't make me grow
it back, and it's too hot!

   Just the Village Inn, I don't know why we had to get all dressed up.  I
kept my jacket on, even though it was hot, and the guy went to get our
drinks.  Then another guy came to ask what we wanted.  "A hamburger," I
guess he thought I was making fun of his deep voice, cause he looked at me
funny.  "Fries, and, you got coke, or pepsi?"

   "Coke," mom looks at me.

   "Caffeine," it's already dark, but not cooled off yet.

   "Huh!" I sigh, "Sprite."

   Jake got the same thing, mom, and dad got platters.  Dad ate, like half
of his, but me, and Jake raced through ours.  I won, "Gut!" mom slapped my
arm.  "Scuse me."

   "So," the food man came back, "Would your boys like a slice of pie?" He
gets to cut, I get to pick.

   "Just the check," dad,

   and, "Thank you," mom.  He looked at it like he didn't believe it, but
didn't argue.  Mom snuck back to leave the tip.

   That guy, with the food, looked at me funny when I got up, watched me
the whole way out.  He thought I was a boy, before he saw I was wearing a
dress, and I covered my mouth to giggle.

   I finally got to go swimming with Jake, and his friends.  Across the
alley, they got a pool, but it's all plastic, and sitting on the dirt yard.
It gets real muddy from the splashing, and there's already a bunch of kids
in it.

   KSH!  some boy jumps in, tucked up like a catapult stone.

   I drop my pants, and take off my shirt to tye the drawstrings tight. 
"JoeeeY!" I look up, "Put a shirt on, didn't you bring your suit?"

   "Why?" all the boys had there shirts off.

   "Cause your a girl!" he made the Duh!  face.

   "So?" I looked down, "I don't got boobs, or nothing, I look just like
you!" Sure enough, lotsa people said we looked like identical twins.

   "Just go back, and get it," he splashed me, "Or you don't get to swim!"
He looked over at his friend, with the pool, but he was just grinning at
me.

   "All Right!" I stomped back across the alley.

   "Sorry, son," some guy nearly bumped into me, and I hurried back to our
house.

   "Man!" I threw myself on my bed, I didn't want to swim no more.  No, I
wasn't crying, my face was still wet.

   I got a barbie again for our birthday, and I finally got it out of the
box.  I stomped it all over GI Joe, cause he was smaller.  Even with his
guns, and tanks, and airplanes, she was like, 15 feet tall.

   "Raaagh!" oops!  I broke the wing off the Cobra Rattler.  It just swung
up, and down on the roots, so I just stuck it back on the axle, and threw
the piece that broke off back in.

   "Whatcha doin?" Later, he came back with a towel.  WhHt!  the 8x3 block
flew across the room.  Klikt!  right on his pile of GI Joes, and more lego
blocks.

   "Nothin!" I pulled back the arm, and held up the counterweight.  The
kind with a hole through it, they came with my Technics.  WhHt!  Rattle,
flap.

   "You broke my plane!"

   "NuUh!" I got up, "None of those blocks is heavy enough to break the
wing off.  Lemmesee!"

   "No!" he jerked it back.

   "You probly just dropped it," I went back to pack up my new catapult. 
It worked better with the + shaped sticks, and blocks with holes through
them.

Jake {bbb NS}

   She fixed my plane.  All my friends got the G.I.  jet, but I wanted the
Cobra one.  Like the A-10, from the airshow.  Up from Davis Monthan, it's
like half gun, autocannon, it can shoot through tanks, and stuff.

   Dad says we can go down, and see them fly practice runs, down in Tucson.
He's got this friend who even works on them down there.  Now, I'm smart,
like my sister Joey, but she can always make stuff work.

   Like the wings on her Lego starfighter, they swing in, and out like a
Panavia Tornado.  I got this poster, with planes of the world on it, and
that's another one.  No axles, or nothing, though, just long blocks stuck
corner to corner, and a triangle one on the ends.

   She got the modeler's cement out of the garage, and glued the peice of
plastic back on.  "Careful with it," she screwed the wing back together,
"Don't drop it, or bang it around no more!"

   "KHTHTHTHTHT!" I shot at her with it, "Shoom!" and flew back out the
garage.  Anyway, we played for a while, and I shot at her Barbie doll. 
Like 50 feet tall, she was almost as big as the plane.

   Joey went, and got the GI Joes from the case.  "You can't play with
those," mommy's collection, "Mom says!"

   "I won't," she took off his clothes, "I'll put em back," and put them on
Barby.  Her hair was real short, hacked off like Joey's.  "See?" she held
the gun up to her plastic hand, but she don't got no Kung Fu Grip.  {(Tm)
Mattel}

   "KkKkKkKT!" we ran out back, where we could run around.

   I got hot, so I went over to Tommy's to swim.

   "Hey, Jake!" he popped up, "Where's your sister?" grinning.

   I shrugged, "Playing with her dolls?"

   "Hot day," he put his arms up on the deck all the way around, "She don't
wanna come swimming?" I don't like the way he's smiling, like when he
looked at her, with her shirt off.

   "No?"

Joey {bg NS}

   "Hey," Jake ran back across the alley, "You still got that catapult you
made?" Dry.

   I put down my Ken doll, and his GI Joe rifle.  "It's called a
Trebuchet," like the lego one I made last summer.

   "Yeah," he ran back inside, so I went with him.  "Where's those
balloons, from the party?"

   "Junk drawer," in the kitchen, right next to the sink.

   "You think it can throw over the alley?" I looked at the balloon.

   "That big?" most of a gallon, maybe 7 lbs?  "Sure." I took it out, and
set up.  Taking a couple bricks out of the countermass basket, I adjusted
the sling, and dropped in the balloon.  Still standing straight up, I
pulled it back by the sling, stepped back, and reached up for the arm.

   Eying it level, I let go.  "WhhHHwhit!" the sling whipped off the
release nail, and slung the big yellow balloon up, and over, a little low,
and overshot.  "Splat!" I guessed front roof.  Nothing, more splashes, and
laughs, but no reaction.

   "Did it work?" Jake whispered, and tippytoed up from the porch, like a
cartoon villain.

   "Sure," I dropped out another brick, pulled down the arm, and slung the
sling back on it's nail.  "Got more?"

   His shirt was bulging, and he got down to roll them out.  Picking the
pliers up from the tool bag hanging from the side A frame, I bent the nail
up a little.  "That red one, no, the other one."

   It jiggled in the onion bag.  "WhHHit!", . .  "Ploonk!" like a marble
dropped into a toilet, nothing but net.

   "Wh?", "Huh?", and even "Fuck!" Jake hurried me to reset.

   "WhHt!", .  "WhHt!  splash!" pulling way down to roll the balloon in,
Jake ran to latch the back gate, and roll the trashcan in front of it.

   "WhHT!" Splash!  right over the gate.  I took out a brick, and swapped
it for a brickbat.  Launching almost straight up, the bulging bubbles spun,
and flipped right over the fence, slow enough to load another before it
hit.

   "K'kunk!" the can spilled, and they ran in.

   "AhHhHhH!" I jumped behind the siege engine.  "WhtT!" it dropped, empty,
and the tapered mesh sling "SNAP!"ed, like a whip.

   "AhHgGH!" I punched this boy right between his legs, and he fell on me.
"Little Bitch!" he slapped me, and I tried to beat on him with my fists. 
"Uhn!" he hunched.

   "GetOffmeE!" I kicked his shoulder, and pushed him back.

   "MsH!" my other foot got him in the face.

   "Khn!  Khn!" two boys was kicking Jakey.

   We didn't get to go swimming over there no more, and they chased us,
every time we saw them.

Joey {fm+ Solo Nude}

   We moved in to Tempe, and turned 10.  Jake failed a year, so for the
first time, I was in the grade ahead of him.  I was taller too, and I got a
bike for my birthday.  Well, I got it from Jake, cause he had a new 10
speed, but whatever.

   I could go out more too, so I used to just ride, home from school, or
around in the afternoon.  I stopped making catapults, after a working
trebuchet, skein, then leafspring onager, and ballista.  Not real usefull,
but lots of fun with water balloons.

   I already knew how to fix this bike, when it was Jake's.  Mom, and dad
started calling us, "Our boy, and our tomboy," but let me get whatever I
haircut I want.  I picked it out of the book, on my birthday.  The girl's
book, cause mom set the boy one on the other side of her, on the bench.

   Rubbing the back of my neck, it's short, and bristly, but hangs around
on the sides, like wings.  No bangs, I tuck them behind my ears, and slip
on the helmet.  It's cooler on the back of my neck, red, I guess.  It'll
tan, and it's not like I'm from Apatche Junction.

   I rode out that way, towards Mesa.  I didn't have friends there, even
when I lived there, but it was familiar.  I rode right down main street,
past the Mormons' Temple, and the Village Inn, where we used to get dressed
up to go eat.

   I stop by the store, and fill up my sports bottle.  "Hey!" the cashier
stops me, "15 cents."

   "It's just water," I jerk my arm away.

   "Yeah," he points, "Fifteen Cents."

   "I don't got it," I head back, "But if I pour it out, it's still gone."

   "Go ahead," he shrugs, "But I'm not gonna tell you again!"

   I giggled, he didn't recognize me, and took a sip of fountain dew.  Make
that opaque green sports bottle, it comes out cold enough.  "Smuit!" I have
to make room cause it's still carbonated, but I'll drink it hot, and flat.
Packed full of energy, it burns off quick.

   "Hey," I bump into some kid on the way back around to my bike.  "Joey?"

   What's his nuts, used to have a pool.  "Yeah."

   He steps in front of my bike, "This your's, now?"

   "Yeah," he sidesteps, keepaway.

   "Hey," he grins down at me, "Growing up, huh?"

   "Just move it!" he jumps back from my push but I can't reach to punch
his nuts again.

   "Got boobs yet?" He grabs my handlebars.

   "No?" I try to grab them, but he pushes off, and jumps on, just like I
been practicing.

   "Come on, Joey," he pedals around, "Betcha do!"

   "Givit!" I almost caught the seat.

   "Show me," he steps down, and stops, "And I'll give it back." Almost
behind the A&PM, there wasn't nobody could see.

   "Okay," I flipped up my shirt, and back down.

   "See!" he jumped, and dropped the bike, "Joey's got boobies!" he grabbed
my shirt.

   "Let GO!" I jerked it back, and grabbed a handlebar.  I mean, the
kickstand was down, he could've used it!

   "See ya later!" he waved, that stupid grin, and I looked back to pedal
off.  I need to get some gears, if I'm gonna do this all the time.  My but
hurt, and the bone between it, and my legs.

   "Huh, huh, huh!" it was almost dark by the time I got back to Tempe.  I
was out of dew, no money, and I'd have to drink coffee in the morning.  I
couldn't sleep, and my legs ached too, and I couldn't stop thinking about
that.

   I mean, he saw me before, when I was gonna go swim in his pool, but that
was Before.  Mom got me training bras, but I didn't wear them.  They don't
hang, or get in the way, and it's just so uncomfortable.  Just when we
dress up, I put on the obligatory dress, and now they drag us off to
church.

   "Fuck!" I cover my mouth, but tomorrow's Sunday!  Hard to keep track
without school, no way I'm going to sleep any time soon.  At least we got
our own rooms.  I don't have to wait for him to start snoring so I can
sleep over him slapping himself first.

   I know what he's doing, I never saw it, but somebody shook his hand in
front of him enough times for me to get it.  No talk from mom they said we
should be getting in Health class, like years ago, I figured out the
occasional bloody flecks my self.

   They left dinner, but so did I.  Don't feel like getting up, going to
bed with that full feeling, so heavy with these cramps.  Damn it, I rolled
over, and tried sleeping on my back.  I was sorest between my legs, didn't
notice it happening, but I felt bruised.

   How did he do it, I mean, I seen him pee, standing up even, on our way
somewhere.  I didn't touch where it was sore, but felt around front.  Even
that was puffy, and warm, but didn't hurt.  I pushed it, but it didn't feel
like nothing.  A few finger taps, and that felt good.

   Like Jake's slapping, under the covers, his sighs, moans, he really
liked it.  I tried slapping with my hand, Pp!  "Hnh!" gently.  A little
buzz, like when I pulled up that flap to pee, standing up.  Only this time
it didn't hurt, and it felt good instead.

   PpPp P p PP!  "Hhnhnhnhn."

Joey {G Solo Bike Gm Drug Fond}

   KDNT, "Hnt!" my favorite trail, KDNT!  something rattling, behind me,
can't be tightened often enough the way I ride.  "Kdntle!  "Hah!," I get
off before I hurt myself.

   Pulling out my shorts, I slip my hand in, over the spandex.  "Pp!" hnh,
"PpPpPpPpP!" my finger drags back, hits my sensitive spot, and "HNH!" I
hunch, jerk forward like I got kicked in the nuts.  "Nhn," I suck in a
breath through my teeth, "Pp PpP, PpPPP!"

   "Nyah!" my sweat breaks, and I fall back, sit down.  hold myself up on
the dirt turn.  PpPpPpP!  So good, I can almost feel it, thick, slipping in
my fingers.  "NhnHNH!" I try not to squeel, voice cracking, "Nhuhuhuh!" I
breathe, let the oxygen pump in, fan the fire, flashing hot over me.

   Sliding down the dirt, I curl up, fall over on my side, gasp, and sigh.
Getting up, I pull my wet shirt out.  Sticking to me, it just flattens over
my anthills again.  No bra, you can even see the pink of my nipples,
pinching them to points at the tips.

   I can feel my pulse against the fabric, warm trickle down my back, and
shiver.  Still hot, the white cotton reflects it better, but turns to glass
when it's wet.  Have to get a job, start buying my own clothes.  Maybe get
around to figuring out how to get the gears from Jake's 10 speed on the BMX
frame without bending it.

   Maybe not all of them, my shirt dried enough on my way out of the dirt
course.  No way the 10 speed frame could handle that, even with the BMX
tires wedged into the bent out forks.  Hopping back on, I pedal the rest of
the way out to the bike shop.

   "Hey, Joey!" they let me look around, even though I never got money to
spend, and scrounge their spares.

   "What's this?" a thrashed rim, missing some spokes, the rest broken,
bent, or both.

   "Cruiser wheel," he laughed, "Somebody thought it ment cruiser BMX, and
K'danked a jump." I check the clock, quarter after.  "Hey, you smoke?"

   "I like my lungs healthy," I shook my head.

   "No, Ganj!" he pulled out a rolled up cellophane bag, and looked around
at the windows.

   "That's better for you?" I shrugged.

   "Yah," he headed for the back door, "I ain't never heard of a stoner
with cancer, man!"

   It smelled really herby, and I watched how he rolled it up in paper.  I
don't know why, I sat through the D.A.R.E speeches, and I guess I got to
say peer pressure.  Only I considered Dave more than a peer, in high
school, job, skilz with a bike.  CLICK!

   "Hold it in," I tried.

   "Whook, chough!" it didn't hurt, but at some point, my lungs realised
they were full of smoke, and rejected it, explosively.  He held it out
agin, "Nah," my head felt funny, "I'm good."

   Like that warm tickle, around my hair, but none of that explosive rush
of pleasure I kept expecting.  "Come on," I followed Dave back in, "You
want it?" He held up the twisted alloy.

   "What's this?" the axel looked salvageable, but thick, like a can with
the spokes on rings around the lids.

   "Three speed hub," he shrugged.

   "Really!" like I was just thinking, "You think it'll go on my frame?!"

   "With some spacers, maybe." I imagined stars, on vast emptiness, "Oh,
yeah." A little thicker, but narrower then my hub's axle, and freewheel, "I
think I got some washers at home," in the laundry room, "Ihint!" I choked
off a giggle, and covered it like a sneeze.

   "Ntchew!" I did it for real.  "Thinks!" I went back out for my bike, and
took the tools out.  With the spoke wrench, and a small pair of forceps for
pliars, I got them all off, and took them back in.  "Ding!"

   "Hey, Joey." Dave came up behind the counter.  "Nhuh!" he quick let go,
and shut the handle on the bike stand.  "How'd you likeat grass?" Still a
little stupid, I shook my head.

   "Idaknow," I don't like feeling dumb.  I packed up my tools, and carried
the hub like a football.  One handed, I rode around, on the street, and
hoped it would be the last time with one gear.

Joey {mf teen Drug}

   "Eeer," He held it out to me, "Hold it in." I lit the pipe, took as much
as I could hold, and passed it back.  Still what he called a "One Hitter
Quitter," but it made me creative, feel like an artist.

   No, that's not it, I can see beauty, appreciate it.  Before, somebody'd
tell me that's pretty, or a good song, and I didn't get it.  Now, when I
was high, the world was beautiful, and everthing looked better, but the
real beauty just kinda stood out.

   "Huh!" oxygen activated the smoke in my system, and my mind just
unwrapped around the gears, and numbers that made it tight.  I loosened up,
looked around, and sighed.  "I feel better!"

   "Yeh," he chuckled, "Did anybody ever tell you how pretty you look?"

   No, not that I could remember, "huh?" My arms, and legs tensed, flexed
without me thinking them to.

   "I mean," he looked away, "Strong, too.  You're as pretty as any of the
other girls, but you're strong, and fast, too."

   "Yeah," I jumped up, and struck a pose.  The DRI running man, best I
could do, and balance.  "Whoah," I caught myself, instead of splitting
though the door, leaving a roostertail of dust, and a Joey cutout in the
glass.

   Dave laughed, and I couldn't stop, and he caught me, across his lap.  He
got me this job, and stoned as soon as we were closed.  It aired out by
morning.  "Hah, ha heh." he controlled himself, and let his arm down. 
"Whohoo!" he coughed, and I felt his forearm, diagonal across my belly. 
"Yeah, fuck gas," he changed the subject, but I picked up the pipe, and dug
for the lighter.  "I kin get all over Phoenix, free on a bike, and it keeps
me in pretty good shape!"

   Cough, "Yeah," cough.  I put them down, Forget where.

   "It wouldn't be so damn hot in here if we didn't have the exhaust of
thousands of cars, and trucks all over the road."

   "Uh huh," I got comfortable, rested my arm on the box of tires, and my
head on that.

   "Flick," Whoooos!  I just felt my heart beat, in my big toe.  "Nkt!" the
bone in his thighs, rolling under my side.

   "But you sure are light." I felt light, floating out of his lap, in
front of him, to feel down my side, and leg.  The strength there, even at
rest, my boob in his palm, pulling it back, pressing it round on my ribs.

   "Hnh," he shifts, lifts his leg, and I feel It.  Bigger than I imagined,
but soft, padded on top.  Through his pantleg, and my shirt, I knew they
could get hard, be bigger, but I couldn't believe it.

   "HhHuHK!" I sucked in the breath I was holding.

   "It's okay," he petted my hair.  He didn't even kiss me, but felt down,
between my legs.  "Hh," he caught his breath, "how old are you?"

   "Fourteen," but everone says I look younger.

   He didn't even kiss me, just let me get up, go home, and probably beat
off as soon as I was gone.  I don't blame him, I went right out to the
woods to slap off.  Still light, I picked the closest copse of shrubs, and
scrub bush I could find, and layed out under it.

   Clouds, virga, but no rain, I was so hot inside I couldn't feel it from
the air.  I touched myself the way he did, curled over, and cupping my
breast through the shirt.  Holding the crotch of my shorts over my spandex
underwear.  With the tight extra layer, it flattened me out.

   "Hun!" the seam slipped down the pressed down crack between my lips. 
"UhH!" my sensitive spot, striking sparks from the closest graze.  "Pp!"

   "Ink!" a choked off squeek, "Ghn!" Pb.  Grinding it in, the hard heel of
my hand, "Grnt!" Flattening the ridge between my legs, crushing my chest
with my hand, "Kh!" gasping, hooking my fingers in.  "Huh?" a bead of
sweat, rolling down my nose, "Kh'ah!" the stab of pain, burst of pleasure,
twitches kissing the spandex, stretching it over the corner of the seam,
pressed against my finger.

   "Whuha," my lips curled back, open, wrinkling my chin , eyes clenched,
squeezing out tears.  Another sob, and I try to catch my breath, reconcile
the contractions of pleasure with the shredded spikes of pain.

Joey {mG Cons}

   HuhhHh!, I felt better, set down the bong, and watched the smoke hang.
Dave's room, he was like, seventeen, but emancipated, and had his own in a
boarding house by ASU.  Off Mill Ave, it's just three years, but I guess
he's my first boyfriend.

   "Klglglglglglgl," he palmed the lighter, and pulled back his thumb.  I
can't make, or write that sound, but it's like the gurgle at the end of a
toilet flush.  I giggled, and he set it down.

   "Hey Joey," he turned back on his bed, "Come here."

   "Okay?" I was nervous, but I had to do it some time, and I thought about
it so much, and

   "Hey," He took my hand, "It's okay."

   He pulled me down, gently, to his face.  He kissed me, and I closed my
eyes.  He moved my arm out, over, to the front of his pants.  I think I was
getting used to it, not so scared, but still a little nervous.

   "HnhHh," I sighed through my nose on his cheek, and closed my eyes
again. Pulling back, I felt the skin roll over it like it does, through the
fabric.  Biker shorts, like me, and ripstop camo hacked off at the knees.
Desert, from desert storm, they was dusty, from riding, like I do.

   I ran my hand up to his hip, over, and down his thigh.  Meaty, but hard,
and striped.  Strong, with little curls rolling under the reinforcing
stitch.

   "Hmhn," he sighed, rubbed my chest through the lycra sports bra. 
Already pulled back, round, but low profile so they didn't print on my
shirt.  His other hand felt up the back of my neck, over the stubble, and
to the hairs, drying, cooling the sweat from my helmet.

   "Huh, huh," he pulled back, panting.  "You sure you're not gay?" he
grinned.  A running gag, he knew when to break up the tension.  He doesn't
want to rush me, make me do anything I don't want to, too soon.

   "I da," maybe, "No, probly not." I kissed him again, and felt back up to
it.  He slipped his hand down, between my legs.  "No," he pressed in, "Like
this." I moved his fingers, and tapped with mine.  Right in front, the soft
spongey ridge at the bottom of my tummy.

   "Okay?" tap.  I closed my eyes, and gripped him again.  He already
unbuttoned his fly, so all I had to do was slip my fingers up, grip the
lycra, and.

   I opened my eyes, wide at the sight.  Half as thick as my wrist, from
what I could judge pressing against it.  He reached down, tucked back the
stretched material, and the skin rolled back.  Like a hood rolling back
around the head, it bulged out in a thick fold around it.

   "Ohh!" Even high, it was beautiful.  Jake's didn't have one of those, or
maybe it was like a dogs, and the head popped out before he got his pants
open to pee.  He was my age, but grew up so much quicker once he got
started.

   Dave was, like, a man.  Done growing, I guess, hairy, and he even
smelled manly.  Like fresh sweat, but another thing I couldn't smell, but
felt.  "Klunk!" my shorts hit the floor.  Dad's jeans, I snagged them when
the knees blew out, and loaded them with whatever they'd carry.

   "Why don't you shave your legs?" he wondered, and slipped his hand down
the spandex to where it ended.  Tiny curls, too far apart to hunt down
every one.

   "I like to be natural," I lied, "This is the way I am, and shaving's a
pain."

   "What about your hair?" he nodded up to the slanted forward brush
cascading over as bangs.

   "To hot," I reached up, and pulled over my tops.  No resistance, they
just dropped out, and he shut up.  I glanced self consciously over my
shoulder at the mirror on the nightstand.

   Mostly back, I dropped my shirts behind me, over the diamond of my
shoulders.  Longer, and steeper on the bottom, I let my arm drop, in front
of the side of my chest, and flexed my bicep.

   "Damn," he sat up, hands on my hips.  Looking up, he smiled, and ran his
hands up the front of me.  I pushed him back, helped him turn around, and
threw my leg over, like a bike seat.  "You're so stroong!" he grinned out
one side, winked on the other.

   "Yeah," I held him down, let my knees down, and rolled the skin up with
my crotch.  Still clinging to the lycra, it was sweaty, and damp.  I guess
I banged that sensitivity out on the bike seat, cause now, as I rolled my
pelvis up him, the rough hard underflesh rubbed me so the right way.

   "HhuhH!" my breath caught it'self, and my nipples hardened in his
fingers.

Dave {MG Pain}

   "Uhn!" I came in her hands, making them slippery, she was so happy to
keep pumping away, making me hunch with pleasure, until it went soft. 
"Huh, huh!" I caught my breath, tried to let my heart slow down.

   "Uhhh!" I rolled over, and got up.

   Not even wanting to look at her any more, I went in, flushed the rubber,
and got in the shower.  "Kshk!" my pores slammed shut, and I wrinsed the
sweat away before it got hot.

   "Hey," she slid back the door, and got in with me, KhhhkT!  "That was
okay, right?"

   "Yeah," for a handjob.  She sure got off on riding me, but every time we
tried to fuck, she screamed until I couldn't stay hard.  "HhH!" I sighed,
"Why can't we just fuck?" I wondered, not for the first time.

   "Because it hurts," she crossed her arms, over her chest.  Glaring up at
me, it doesn't help to make her mad.

   "I know, but maybe if I fin," I started.

   "No," she shook her head away, "I tried that.  More than an inch in me,
and I get these spasms.  It's like," she sighed, "The opposite of an
orgasm, waves of painful contractions, I never wanna know what birth feels
like."

   "Yeah, well," I turned away.

   "No," she put her hand up on my shoulder, "You hurt me too much."

   So small, and light, for all her dykey posturing, even she doesn't want
to admit how fragile she is.  "I'm sorry," but I don't know how much longer
I can stand this.  She better do some growing, and soon.  Sure, it kept her
cute, and pretty, but she needs to eat, and grow as tough as she thinks she
is.

   Joey {Gf NS Muse}

   I stopped by the 7-11 for a refill.  Forgot my bottle, so I got a fresh
liter from the cooler.  "Thenks," I peeled off the label, and dropped it in
the trash on the way out.  No way I could peel it in there, and pass it off
as a refill, the way the door slapped shut.

   "Huh!," Khzhzhzh, Jng!  Gzhzhzhzh "Hey!" Heavy stompy beat.

   "What isat?"

   "Uh," she looked down at the tape case, flipped it over, "Ministry."

   "Sound's like the noise in my head," pink mohawk, patchwork skirt, most
of them band logos.

   "Yeah?" she looked me up, and down, "It's a compilation." I glanced up
in the shop window, right next to the No Loitering sign.

   "Yeah?" think, she's cool!  "Got another cigarette?" what the hell,
she's cute too.

   She shook out a Marlboro light, "You gay?"

   "Idaknow," one way to find out, "You?"

   "Nah," she chuckled, "But I got gay friends."

   "Jacky," I shook her hand.

   "Edge."

"Edge" {FG NS}

   Okay, she weirded me out, and for me, that's a good thing.  I'm used to
being the weirder outer.

   Anyways, she's like this uberbutch little pixie.  Right down to the
haircut, she looked like Aeon Flux, as a kid.  Rightous, epic, Grrrl power,
as in Tank.

   Or Bike Grrl, that's what I called her, cause she rode around on this
franken cycle.  Part stump thumping BMX, part motorcross, for Halloween,
she stenciled [Cycle] on the frame, and [Motor] on her tee shirt.  See what
I mean?  she's like this badass artist, with no art, real abstract, like. I
mean, she's gonna be an artist, next semester, when she can take shop as an
elective.

   She just needed a soundtrack, already had DRI, the running man doodled
on her sawed off shorts.  Calves like wood hanging out, on the long heavy 3
piece crank in Chuck Taylors.  Probably red once, they faded pink, with
black, blue, and red ballpoint, white out, and artfull tears in them.

   I skitched behind her, hanging on the seat while she stood on the crank.
Yeah, I scate, but it's like, a-to-b, and she takes walls, and shit. 
"TsntsntSN!" I hang onto the surges of power, and switch hands, swinging
behind to catch a turn.

   I look up, and she's grinning, street reflected on her salvaged ski
goggles.  "Knk, Ksnt!" she shifts, and cranks harder up the street.

   "Kslslslslslslsl!" I drop to gutter level, veer in, and pull the board
forward, under me.

   The sun goes behind her hair, spreading like hawk wings, over the
undershave, and visor strap.  "Pswo!" she sucks dew through a gatorade cap,
screws it shut with her teeth, and drops it back in the holder, mounted to
the handlebars.

   "Ksntsntsnt!"

Jackie {FGf Drug Lesb}

   "Hey," she let us in, "Who's your freind?"

   "Uh," Jackie, "Joey."

   Rosie the riveter bounced her fist on her bicep.  "Jules," she had a
good grip, too.

   "Yeah," Edge sighed, "This is the girl I was telling you about."

   "Oh," Jules turned back, dropped heavy in her seat.  Black, and blue
bandana, striped white collar shirt wripped off at the sleeves over a
wifebeater stained with engine fluids.  She told me about her, too, the
'Deisel Dagger.' "Can you sell me a quarter?"

   "Sure," I reached in my cargo pocket, and felt for a nice fluffy one. 
"Herey'ar."

   "How old are you?" she crooked an eyebrow at me, and pulled a long
wallet out by the chain.

   "Seventene," she could card me if she wanted.  I giggled, to sell her
illegal dope.

   "Yer right," she winked at Edge, "She does look younger."

   "Yeah?" I posed, twisted to pump my fist, flex my bicep, and winked.

   "Yeah, she told me how fast, and strong you were too," she laughed. 
Pulling the lampshade off a bong, her's tightened, and pulled her
cantilevered forearm.

   "Seea guys," Edge is straight, doesn't even drink coffee.

   "Khludhldhldh!" she slipped the stem back in, and held it out to me.

   A much better design, I got my lighter out, and.  "Prdldldldldldld."

   "Whoooo," Jules blew out a ginormus rip, like Bogart not even inhaling
his cigarette, and I cleared it.

   "Whugough!" smoke still rolled out of the broad tube, and I tried to
clear the rest of it.

   "Nrgh," she purred like the catapillar, "good stuff." Holding it in, I
nodded.

   "Whoo!" barely a puff, "It's from Cali."

   "Smoke this stuff all the time?" she set it down.

   I nodded, "That's why it's sixty an eighth." Okay, I don't get it, 'all
the time', but as often as it's in town, and she was a potential customer.

   "Oh, yeah," I don't get that stoned, "Snap!" it said [Badass Mother
Fucker] on it, "I got fifty," five, six, "Seven, and some change."

   "I kin come back for the rest," with an army, "That's $120.00 a
quarter." People I know, she better pay me back, cause I doubt I could take
her.

   "How old are You?" I took the bong back, and waited while I took a hit.

   "Thirtyseven," she blew out the rest, and I calculated how full to fill
the chamber.  Lessee, about 14 inches long, and 2" diameter.  "PshlwWwW!" I
cleared all of it, and managed to hold on for a while.

   Much better'n mex, I could get way high before I got all stoned. 
"Ahhhh!" I felt better, "Hwew!" then blew in the center to make the cloud
turn inside out right before it hit the ceiling.

   "Nice Mushroom cloud," she grinned, and set the lampshade back on the
bong, back on the table.  Almost exactly twice my age, I'm not sure whether
it was that, or her rockabilly style, or it all being so gay that kept me
turned off.  "Sooo," she looked me up, and down, "You're family?"

   "Huh?" I shook my head.

   "You know, the whole LBGT family," I looked up.

   "Lesbigay?" I blinked.

   "Lesbian, Bi, Gay," she waved her hands in circles, "Trans."

   "Oh yeah," I nodded.

   "Well, don't worry, hunny," she winked, "Your secret's safe with me."

   "Thanks," sarcasm noted, "You understand, if,"

   "Oh, sweety, you're way too young fer me!" I lost track of the time, but
hey, I was stoned.  I can't tell you what day, date, or even month it was,
sides summer.

   Anyways, she had a popular pad, and more people stopped by.  They heard
she had good weed, and I had plenty left.  I didn't know this neighborhood,
and it was kinda far, but I was living in motel rooms, and could pack
everything in a duffel on my back.

   Then She walked in.  I think it was that first night, but she was so
cute.  Jules spent a lot of time pointing out the signs, keys, and hankies,
and rainbow flags, like Her belt.

   "Hey," I got up, and shook Her hand, "Jackie."

   "Gilly," sounded like, and she giggled.  Little pink triangle hanging by
the center of the side, matching her lipstick.  Nineteen, she brought beer,
and whiskey.

   "Klank!" she dropped them in the fridge.

   "What subculture is that?" I whispered to Jules.

   "Emo," she straightened up, and the denem skirt hung from her hips once
more.  Above it, a tattoo of that battleaxe thing, with sticks wrapped
around the handle.

   "Hhn!" I sighed, "What am I?"

   She pursed her lips, looked me up to the visor on my forehead, and down
to my jungle boots, "Rivethead." I liked the sound of that.

   Ksh!  "Who wants wone?"

   "I do, I do!" Jules piped up as girly as I ever heard her.

   "Jackie?" High life.

   "Nah," feel dehydrated enough already, "I'm good." I reach over for
another sip off the "Lamp," though.

   "SooooohH!" I drop my head back down under the mushroom cloud, "You
guys?" I pointed with two fingers, and crossed them.

   "Roomates," Jules chuckled, "She's way too young for me, but she crashes
here, and I help her out."

   "Must be nice," I looked back to Her.  I heard Jules say "Lipstic
lesbian" before, and now, I guess I was looking at one.  So pretty, I was
stoned enough to think what it would be like to look likeat.

   "Ehh," she switched over, and hugged Jules' shoulder, "She's a bitch,
butcha gotta lover!" My ears burned.

   "So, you guys got girlfriends?" I made conversation.

   "Nah," Jules chucked her thumb over the shoulder, "But if one of us
needs the bed, she can have it," she winked.

   "That right?" I looked over to Her, innocently.

   Maybe AJ aint so bad?

Gillie {FfG Lesb NS}

   "What's that short for?" that Jackie chick sure was aggressive.

   "Gillian," I said, "It's from a Science Fiction book."

   "Which one?" she wondered.

   "Stranger in a Strange Land?" I never liked that book.

   "Heinlein?" I think, or maybe Azimov.  "I don't remember you in there."

   "One of that lawyer guy's 'Assistants'," that's what I hated about it, a
fucking Harem.

   "Oh," not a big part, "Yeah." anyway.

   "My folks are the scifi geeks," and she looked right out of one of them.
Like that Jane girl in Johnny Mnemonic, or the soldier chick from Starship
Troopers, oh yeah, Dina Meyer, but younger.

   "How old are you?" she looked like a kid, playing Mad Max.

   "Seventeen," she smiled, and Jewels wandered back to 'the can.' It's
just a bathroom, for fuck's sake.  The bong was cashed, so she crossed her
hairy legs, and started rolling up a doob.  She did it weird, from one
side, twisting it in her thumb, and finger, and all most spiral winding it.
This pushed the weed out the end, but the corner was folded up.  "Just a
couple years differn't." She muttered shrugged, and poked more in with her
pinky nail.  "What about you?" I reached out, and took it.  Fatter than a
joint on one end, it was a cone, with a heavily reinforced tip.  "Flick,
Puff."

   "I'm nineteen," she took it back, pinched it in her lips.

   "You got a girlfriend?" Kghghghghg!  Jewels left the fan running.

   "Knt!" Jackie held the joint up to her, "Huh?  no."

   "Hey," Jewels passed to me, "You know what a lesbian takes on a seccond
date?" She hadn't heard this one.  "A U-haul."

   "I don't," Jewels winked at me, "Oh!" She giggled.

   "Yeah," she chuckled, "We tend to move right in."

Jacky {fG Saph}

   "Huhn!" I wasn't turned on, or scared, but real nervous.  I never been
with a girl before, and she could tell.

   "You ever done this before?" like a mind reader, she plopped down on the
bed.

   "Uh uh," I looked away from her legs, the way the skirt bunched up them.

   "It's okay," she smiled, and pulled out her shirt.  I never seen a girl
naked before, neither.  I mean, I went to gym class, and they put me in the
girl's locker room, but I didn't look.  "Come on," she layed back, and
smiled up to me.

   I never kissed a girl before, neither, but I couldn't even close my
eyes, and pretend she was a boy.  I licked my lips, still tasting the
creamy bland lipstick, and put my knee on the bed.  "We can go slow." So
pretty, looking up under her bangs, she reached up to sweep the hair away
from one of my eyes.

   I wondered if I was stoned enough, but sat down, on the corner.  She sat
up, but I felt her leg.  So smooth, and skinny as my arm.  "Hnh!" she
closed her eyes, and waited for me to kiss her again.  "Smuit," just a
peck, then a smack, then I got past her lipstick.

   Here's something I never got, why do they always coat themselves in
plastic likeat?  I mean, it aint natural, not a hair on them below the
lashes, maybe a pornstar patch in front, then a trowel, and mortarboard for
the face.

   Course she's pretty, not a pore to be seen, just the overcoat of
spackle, with a dusting of 'Blush.' "SnhH!" I take the breath I was holding
back, and she smells like a flower, over all the chemicals in her hair.  An
eighties do, all teased out to curls, and.

   "What's wrong" she blinked.

   "You got a shower?" We snuck through the living room, and Jules rolled
over on the couch.  Turned away, to the back, she shifted, broad hip
rolling under the blanket like a squad of marines raising the stars, and
stripes.

   Kshshshshsh!., "Here," she turned back from the tub, and reached for my
belt buckle.  I just stood there, stoned out a moment, then snapped out of
it when my shorts hit the floor.

   "Kthhunk!" my hands didn't shake much, and steadied on her hips. 
"Snap!" she reached out for my shirt, and I slid the denem down over her
lace trimmed panties.  Like, pastel pink, faded like a chalk stick, my
thumbs brushed the rough edge.

   I lifted my arms, looked back down to her.  "Good idea," her nose
wrincled, but she smiled.  A little taller, her smudged lips were right in
front of me.  Steam started poring out over the shower curtain, so she
reached back, unhooked her bra, and pulled it over her head.

   "Uhh," tits.  I mean real round heavy bresseses, with flat pink nipples.
"Huh!" she sighs like a horse when you unbuckle the saddle.  Maybe I'd fit
right in Apache Junction.  "Come on," she takes my hand, and we get in. 
KSHSHSHS!., it's so hot, and steamy, she picks up the handle, and adjusts
it.

   She splashes me playfully, so I grab the soap.  In a garlic bag, the
mesh lathers it real good.  She stops giggling.  I hand her the soap, and
reach for her face.  "Wh," she closes her eyes, lips as my soapy palms
whipe back on her cheeks.  Smooth, poreless, and white from never seeing
the light of day.  "B!"

   I swipe my thumb over her lips, "ShH," over the warm rain, "You don't
need makeup." Taking the hose, I gently wrinse off the mask, or part of it.
I kiss her, close my eyes, I'd get those next.

   "Hnh!" her round nostrils sigh on the bone of my cheek.

Gillian {fG Saph Frip}

   She scrubbed me down with Ivory, but I felt Her.  Racing frame, small,
light, covered in bungees of muscle.  Boobs flat pancakes on her ribs,
under the Spandex.  Eyes closed, her thumbs where rough, gently rubbing
circles on my lids.

   I'd haveta soak in lotion tomorrow, but it felt so nice.  I like
butches, I don't need a man, but anything you can do, we can do better,
right?  "Nhnhnhn," so strong, holding me, flattening my chest to her's.  I
could feel her heart beat against mine.

   "Hnh!" she kissed me some more, then let me scrub her down.  Under her
arms, she didn't shave, but it was thin, girly hair.  Brown, like the rest
of it, she even had lines, dotted down her arms, soaked to the skin by the
water.

   Pretty, though, like model pretty.  Strong cheekbones, I swept her hair
away, again, and tucked it behind her ears.  She just looked at me, naked
except the panties, light brown eyes.  "See," she winked, "You're still
lovely."

   I got real mean, scrubbed her down with my Dove.  Pink, it smells like
baby powder.  Now thet I kin stand her to lift her arms, I help her out of
the spandex bra.  They don't hang down, but out, in cones.  Hard even with
the warm water, she touches me, cups my chest in both hands, and kisses me
again.

   Her hands slip down, my panties, and I slip out of them.  I grin, and
slip my bath bar down the front of her shorts.  "UH!" pap, she slapped my
pussy, or right in front of it, and I hunshed.  Her fingers brushed my
lips, and I sighed.  "Pap!" her palm patted the smooth shaved bulge in
front, and I gasped again.

   "Nhn!" she rubbed her crotch through the spandex, popping the bar out to
rattle around the tub.  Stained from Jewel's baths, I'd have to wash it off
real good.  "Hnh!" another slap, I touched her, and she put her hand on my
hip.

   I slipped the shorts down, and scrubbed up some suds on her fur.  She's
so young looking, and it was, like, when I was maybe 13.  Just a few curls,
too many to count, but still not a thick bush.  I ran my fingers through
it, felt her bare lips.

   "HhHhh," she kissed me some more, mouth open, tongue slipping in, but
goosebumps popped out on my back.

   "We better get out," crappy water heater.  I dried her off, but she kept
drying my chest.  Just 28Bs, but she seemed to like them.  Not even a
wrinkle under them, yet.

   "Kmon," Jewel was sleeping.  I know, she says "Jules," but I knew her
forever, through the cowgirl phase, oi oi years, and now, as the Deisle
Dagger.  Always so much oldern me, but she was the only one in town, sides
me.

   Anyway, I hoped She brought a Uhaul next time, or maybe I could move in
with her.  I felt Love before, never so quick, but whatever she's hiding
better be something big, to scare me away.  Giggling, we sneak back in the
bedroom, and shut the door.

   She drops the towel, and strikes this pose.  So sexy, like a fitness
model, or Autumn Raby, but cute!  Not like boy muscle, but long, and curvy
with those cute little teeny bopper boobies.  "Cmere," she takes my towel
off, but I put it on the pillow, for my hair.

   I giggle, twist in her fingers, on my ribs, "That tickles!"

   She chuckles, and her face gets real serious, but she smiles.  "You
really are prettier without the makeup," her eyes search all over my face,
"You know?" and I just melt inside.

   "Hnh!" I lay back, her mouth in mine, and sigh.

"Jacky" {Gf Saph Trib Cunn Frip}

   I wasn't nervous no more.  Layed out naked in front of me, I knew she
didn't have nothing hard to stick where it won't go.  So soft, smooth, a
nice fat pubis mons, shaved clean, or waxed, or some fucked up shit like
that.

   Clean, except for the nail polish, that was the one girly thing she
didn't do.  She had no nails, to scratch with, or pick her nose when
nobody's looking.  I mean, on the backs of the tips, there's some, painted
glossy pink, but nothing past the quick.

   "Hnhn!" she sighs, feels up my ribs, and sides.  Around my back, but
under my arms, it's like she's massaging my shoulder blades, through the
tense muscle.  Holding myself up, I can't relax without falling on her, or
off the bed.

   Maybe I am getting nervous again, I feel her legs, between them,
spreading for my fingers.  Only two years older, but she feels more
developed than me.  I'm careful touching the fold at the top, but she
sighs again, and rolls her hips, pressing her clit into my finger.

   Her hands run down my back, over my bottom, and pull me closer.  Pap! 
she has no hair to muffle it, and gasps, eyes flying open.  "NhT!" she
reaches down, pushes my fingers with her's.  "Hhn!" down, between her lips.
I get a chance to think, 'hmm, she's not a virgin,' before my middle finger
slips in.

   "Ahh," it's moist, and I just hold it in there.  I can feel her sigh,
inside, and blink in amazement.  "Pp!" I can still lift my palm, pat her
little bulge, which jerks my fingertip in her.  "UhH!" she grunts, "Ohn!"
and her head rolls over.  Not a natural blonde, either, her hair darkened,
brown when it got wet.

   PpPpP!  "Nuh!" I stopped, and she blinked.  "No," she grabbed my wrist,
"Please don't stop!" PaP!  "Nhn!" she closed her eyes again, and slipped
her hands up to her chest.  I figured it out right then, people touch
themselves the way they want to be touched.  "Pep," but something new is
always nice.

   With my other hand, I moved one away from her boob.  Flattened, on her
back, I wrapped my fingers around it, like her's, and rubbed the flat tip
with my thumb.  Not all flat, the pebble rolled on the prints "HhuhH!" she
just let out a breath, and I could feel it, inside, and out.  "Int!" her
breath caught, and I felt a twitch inside her.

   "hHhHhH!" she shuddered, and kissed at my fingers, like the one time,
when I broke my cherry.  "Nrh!" she was almost sobbing, but had the
prettiest smile on her face.  Red, now, it spread over her chest like a
heart, right over her boobs.  I kissed her, and she tried to breathe in my
mouth.

   Now I could smell her, and not all that fragrance.  "SNIIIIF!"
beautiful, like a drug, I pulled out my fingers.  Wet, I could smell it
even stronger.  Indescribable, nothing like me, or any smell I ever make,
but it made my head swim with rolling flesh toned beachballs.

   "Hh, Hh, Hh," she panted, "NnhH!"

Gillie {Gf Frip Cunn Trib}

   "No," I just slipped my pinky tip in, "AhH!" she jumped, pulling off of
me, and hunched.  Her face screwed up in pain, her hair fell over it,
closing like curtins.

   "OhH!" I held her shoulders, "I'm sorry!" I never touched her inside
before.

   "I," she winced, "Get these spasms, can't even use tampons." She was
tembling, and I just did what I could.  Like when he hit an ovary, I
thought I broke something, felt like I'd die.  "uh huh huUHh." she
controlled her breath.  I don't know how she just does it likeat.

   "Are you okay?" write off half the toy collection.

   "Yeah," she kissed me again.  Strong, and forcefull, but not hard enough
to hurt, I sighed.  Still in the mood, I hoped that wasn't just it.  She
scooted back on the bed, and her legs spread again.  "Just touch on the
outside."

   "It's okay," I scooted down on the bed, off the foot, and slid my hands
up to her knees.  Her calfs are like milk crates, hanging off the side of
her bone, and my hair slips along the insides of her thighs.

   "hH!' her breath catches, and I Go Down between them.

   "Mmnnh!" I run the tip of my nose up her lips, and inhail.  Not, quite
like manly sweat, but warm, and muggy.  Still strong, stronger than any
girl I smellt.

   "Hhuh!" her head was up, tightening her midriff like a crunch, but her
eyes were closed.

   "NnmMH!" I rolled my elbow up on the covers, felt up her crotch with my
fingertips barely brushing them.

   "Hhn!" she almost squeeked expectantly.

   "ohH!" I couldn't help a little moan as I leaned in to taste her.  Tiny
little clit, I pushed her thin fur back with my fingertips.  Still
completely hooded, I pointed my tongue, and slipped it in the crease around
her pisshole.

   "Nhnt!" there, like a tiny pea, with an egg point on it, "Nyh," she let
the breath out.  So small, but so sensitive, I barely brushed it with my
taste buds.  I massaged her soft hairy spot.  Softer than her chest, or
even lips, it rolled spungy under my finger tips.  "OhHhH!"

Jackie {Gf Frip Trib Fist}

   Those first few months were like a whirlwind of sex, and not much else.
I never had so much, over half my life sexual experience, at the time, and
that was the first night!  I learned so much.

   "Grh," I sank into her to the nuckles.

   "Hn!" she squeeked, and I twisted my wrist.

   "Uhn!" Pap, the back of my hand, pressing the heel into her pubis mons.

   "Ohn," she moans, and I pull back for another thrust.  Pointer, and
pinky slipping on the crease between her thigh, and butt,

   "Pp," her tits shook.

   "hnh," she sighed, and turned her face the other way.  Surrounded by her
literally fucked up hair, not a speck of artificial enamel, she sighed
again.  Pulling back, my fingers curled in, up, and back.  Beveled back
from the quick, they didn't even scratch on the latex gloves.  "nhH!" my
thumb slipped down from her ridge, squeeking on the apex of her lips.

   "AHNT!" her eyes rolled open, but my fingers rolled back.  Into the
spongey mass on the back of her pubic bone, my fingertips rippled through
it, like a wave.  "Hhnt!" she blinked, and caught her breath.  She twitched
again, against my fingertips, and I felt it.  She blinked again, like she
sneezed.

   A thick wet blop down the crotch of my thumb, I pulled out.  Off white,
yellower than semen, didn't smell like anything but latex.  "What's that?"
I showed it to her.  She blinked, "I cummed?"

   She caught her breath, and I went out for a smoke.  Jewels was on the
bed with, what's her nuts.  That biker chick, Hunny.  {No, not the same
one, there's hundreds} Two thigh harnesses, she calls it the "V twin." I
don't like smoking where I sleep, the nicotine smell wakes me up. 
Otherwise, I sleep like the dead.

   About burned out on sex, over the past couple-three days we run through
just about everything that worked.  She still couldn't fuck me, with more
than her tongue, but bless her heart for trying.

   I also coudn't help noticing I never got off with her.  Or anyone else,
only just me, alone.  "Hnnnnt," I blew out my nose, brought up a finger,
and leaned out for a snot rocket.  "HnNTw!" Scratch the front of my shorts,
line the hairs up right in the lycra.

   Nice here, the city almost looks pretty, glowing, and winking like
stars. No real ones, I had to get out of here.  Over the ridge, surrounding
the valley, a bowl full of smog, and heat.  Reflecting above, Sodium Vapor,
almost sulforus, brimstone yellow.

   "Yeah," no way she could come along, but I'd have to travel light,
anyway.  Sell the bike for a decent tent, bedroll, and all weather gear.

   KHCNnN!  thunder rolling in.  Overcast, probably just heat lightning,
but it was actually starting to rain, sometimes.

Gillian {fG NS}

   We took the bus all the way around, to the base of the mountains.  She
just stood her "Dolly" up in the back door, sat next to it, and hung on to
the handle.  She'd grown her hair out, it still had that back scoop, and
foreward sweeps on the sides, but now she could tye it back on top, over
the short bristles.

   She put on some weight, too.  Not fat fat, but enough she had cheeks,
and a thin layer over her muscle, even her chest filled out to almost an A
cup.  "ZzZzZ!" Her pantlegs came off, you could still see the muscle in her
calf, up on her knee, blocking the frankendew bottle set on the grey
plastic bus seat.

   I never been camping before, but she was doing it more, and more, since
she sold her bike, and stopped selling weed.  She was starting to get in
trouble with the cops, and the banditos, though.

   They got wise to her bike corior routine, and the way she tells it, she
was comming out of the Sonic parking lot, after making a sale, and saw a
police car pull in right behind her.  A ways down, it pulled back out, and
started comming her way, but she was already off the main road.

   She cut the corner of the mile/block, through the arroyo, and took a
back trail to stash her bike, and backpack.  On foot, she waited for the
heat to die down, and watched her stuff where she could book it.  Right
over 8' walls, if she has too, she could run up them, three, or four steps,
and go right over without barely slowing down.

   I even saw her take a turn once, in an alley, kicking the wall, then
stepping over to stomp the next.  Like Trinity, in the matrix, she was hard
to keep up with.  Around Mill Ave, she called it "Urban Aggressive." If
somebody asked what?  she said "Whatever." Mostly bike, and shoes, you kin
do it on a skateboard, or roller blades too.

   Small, but fast, Jewel said she had "The power to weight ratio of a
crotch rocket." Motorcycle, she means, small, but powerfull, and light =
fast.

   And proud of it, we got off, she stuffed the bottom legs of her pants in
the cargo pockets, and pulled the dolly ahead of me.  I never went camping,
wasn't even in Brownies, but she lit a cigarette, and pumped her way up the
hill.  I was gasping for air, but she did this all the time, at least once
a week, for a day, or two.

   Also giving Plasma, I don't know how she did it.  She drank more than
soda now, and lots of rice, and cream of mushroom sauce, peanutbutter, and
Fritos but not much else.  Not nearly enough, she just doesn't stop, or
even slow down much to get a few hours sleep.

   Not that far, it was getting close when she said, "Here." Taking a swig
of water, not soda, she gasped, and sucked drops from her lips.  Still in
that franken bottle, only now it had duck, and electricle tape wrapped
around it.  Staring back, I looked, and caught my breath.

   "See?" the haze, stung my eyes just looking at it.

   I coughed, "Yeah," and looked back.

   "You can kind of make out the other side of the mountains," she pointed
around.  Like a crater, there were a few breaks in the ridge, but not
enough to let out all the pollution without the wind blowing just right.

   August, now she was 18, but I was still 19.  "It's actually pretty
pretty when the sun sets," she turned, and set down the dolly.  All the
gear, for both of us, except what all she carried in that vest of her's. 
For photographers, it was full of pockets, which were full of tools, and
shit that probably weighed as much as her, but no backpack.

   "Flic!" she pulled a nice ash out on the end of her cigarette, kicked
some rocks, and sticks out of a sandy patch, and started staking out the
tent.  8'x8', it had two poles, which she bent up, criss/crossed at the top
of the dome.  "Adobe," I was there when she picked it out, and saw her set
it up in the back yard.

   She was right, it was kind of pretty, when the sun went down, and the
lights came out.  "Bic, bic," behind me, she got the fire lit before it was
dark.  I watched the shadow, creeping up the valley, until, way out west,
it turned blood red, and touched the ragged ridge.  "Hnh!" she put her arm
around me.

   She tasted like cigarette smoke, but held out a joint.  The sun dipped
down, behind it, making the paper triangle glow.  "Ready to blaze this
trail?"

   Jackie {Gf NS}

   "Uhuh!" she nodded, and I reached back for a stick.  It crackled like
fireworks, but a jet puffed out the back, and I turned it.  "Puff!" I
inhailed through it, and passed it before it ran.  She licked her pinkie,
and dabbed at it with the tip.

   KXS!  it sizzled, and I saw how beautifull she was in the sunset. 
"Hnnnnn," two downward jets of smoke, "What?" she snickered.

   "Nothing," I turned away to the fading sliver of direct light, "It's
just," gorgeous, "Perfect." And that's how I remember her, arm over my
shoulder, watching the sun dissapear, kissing her in the twilight.

Jacky {F Solo NS}

   "KCHCHCHCH!!." it came down in buckets, and I backed sideways, thumb
out. Reconcidering again how much gear to drag down the hill, my pancho
snaps with drops the size of beads.  I can't listen for even the highway
speed rush of "traffic", and know when to drop my arm.

   Pulling with both hands, I'm almost down to the overpass.  "KCHshSH!" no
lights, but the corner flashes yellow.  A "pickup," it pulls under the
overpass, and some guy gets out to walk back, and drop the tailgate.

   "NHN!" I struggle the last few yards, "Fucking lasy ass redn," I look
up, the sheets of water falling back behind me.

   "Here," he chuckles, and helps me throw the cart up in the bed.  "Khnk!"
He steps around traffic side, "Where you headed?"

   "North," I shrug, and reach for the door.  "Knhk!" he jumps in, and
"Kht!" punches the door locks.  "Nice truck," I shake out my pancho, and
reach over the side to tuck it in.

   He reaches back to slide the window open.  "Thanks," Ranger, it's
better'n walking in this.

   "Soo," I shut the door, "Where you headed?"

   "Prescott," He drops it in first, and pulls back out.  We get passed
before he gets it up to full speed.

   "V6?" I guessed from the firing rythm.

   He nodds, "You homeless?" he guessed.

   I shrug, "Moving," home is a state of mind, "From Phoenix."

   "Oh," he adjusted the rearview.  I shut the back window cause water was
starting to blow in.  "Where'bouts" he grinned.

   "East Valley," last, "AJ."

   "I'm going to ASU," Sun Devils, "But heading home for Spring Break."
Explains the luggage behind the seat, if a lawn&leaf bag full of laundry
counts.

   "I think I saw you on Mill Ave." I lied.  Pretty cleaned up, or like an
overgrown Mormon.  I could've seen him, "At the drum-circle," and not
noticed.

   "Oh, yeah!" he remembered, "You were dancing." Yeah, right.  Doesn't
sound like something I'd do.

   "I don't have much money," from Plasma, "But I got gas-grass."

   "What?" I stopped digging around in my hip bag.

   "Nevr mind," we drove out of the rain before Flagstaff, and I got out
there.  Boring, I couldn't even smoke a cigarette in his car.  Sighing, I
rolled up to the gas-station, and stood it by the door.

   The cashier looked over the window sill, "No loitering."

   "I can buy a drink," I looked up at the fountain, "Right?"

   "Sure," he sighs, and I pull out my bottle.  Fountain Dew, cheap, and
full of energy.

   "That's not sanitary," I pull it out before the foam slops over.

   "Watever," I hold up the sippy cap, "My lips never touch the bottle."
Orange, and green, it came off a Gatorade sports bottle, but necks up to
the MD liter.  I top it off, and screw it shut.

   "Smwuit!" I wash my mouth out, and pull my changepurse.

   "It's just a liter," he wrong up the 44 0z price.  I gave him quarters,
and copper, to get rid of lightweight volume, and slipped it back in my
pocket.  Hanging the bottle from it's strap, I ignored, "Fucking hippy" on
the way out.

   Fuck the thumb, I need some time to myself.  Global warming, undeniable
from the true Monsoons.  When I grew up, "monsoon" ment the virga hit the
ground before it evaporated.  There was enough humidity to make clouds, but
water actually falling from the sky was something you heard about, from the
ancestors, or something that happened elsewhere.

   On TV, movies, there were places it never stopped.  I had a church
freind who went on a summer mission to Patagonia, where he said you could
see the moisture stored from winter on the Himalayas come down, condense as
it warmed to rain for months at a time.

   Looking back, the rain seemed to be passing east, south of here, but I
better find a camp for the night today.  Hot up here, and almost sauna
muggy, we could get thunderstorms later.  I sighed, and kept towing.  Not
too steep, the pancho tucked away, and down to my sleeveless hoody.  A
little sweat, I got a "shower" this morning.

   "KhkhkhkhKh!" gravel skipped around my feet from the skid.

   "Sorry," I moved out of the way.

   "Sat a box dolly?" he had a mountain bike with saddlebags.

   "Yeah," he dropped his other foot, and stood around his bike.  Short,
but lean, "There a bike shop in town?"

   "Yah!" he reached up to undo his chin strap.  Short handrolled dreads,
bleached blonde at the ends.  Pastafarian, he glanced back, and forth at my
tails.  All natural, they mostly rolled up on the sides from sleeping, and
work with a hood better.

   Hanging out at my chest, they aren't decorated, or nothing.  The most
grooming I do is pick the burs, and trash out of them.  "Straight up here
about a mile, and seven sixteenths." or 'about' a mile, and a half, "I work
there, so come-on in later."

   He hops back on the crank, and pedals off.  Good idea, though.  I saw
lots of room there, and I can hack bikes.  Lots more room than those little
saddle bags, bottle holder, and pump bracket on that 26".  Some milk
crates, and a sawzall, can of tye wraps, and an old wrecker frame with new
parts, and I could get evrything on that.

   Just got to make some money, maybe help out in the shop, and see what
drops in.  Pay me for parts, I can live like that.  There's a plasma place,
right?  Stop by the phone booth, and check the book.

Tino {M Solo NS}

   "What the fuck?" I wasn't that fucking late, but that chick turned out
to be a mechanic, and good at sales.  I was learning, if they gave me a
chance, but the owner pointed out I don't really need the money, called me
"Trustafarian." {Reggae, and a Trust fund, slumming richie.}

   "Whatever," he also went on to add asshole, picked up the phone, dialed
9, 1, and waited.  Cranking through town, Jackie that was her name, and I
really couldn't take it out on her.  One of those traveling kids, tiny, but
fast, she demonstraited a street bike for a customer one day, and just,
took off, man.  I mean PHEW!  gone.

   And smart, and creative, especially with a Y wrench in her hand. 
Bodging together parts in combinations the manufacturers never intended,
and in some cases expressly forbid, like a 7 speed cruiser hub in a single
speed mtn frame.

   Or, one of those Kid's "Mountain" bikes, good way to getcher kids
killed, but not like a toy no more.  24" BMX tires, 3 peice crank, heavy
studded pedals, like a Frankencycle, but she calls it "ReCycle", cause it's
all used parts, right down to the spokes, cut down, and retapped from Free
Trials spokes.

   And aggro, I mean "Urban Agressive," put those guys to shame with their
full suspension frames, and forks, 21 speed cassettets, and 26" wheels. 
Then she got out the sawzall, a milk crate, and cut it across, almost
corner to corner.  Under that triangle yoke handlebar, we got a new
trashcan, and the old one got cut off, stapled to plywood from a job site
dumpster.

   I sigh, yeah, she deserved it more than me.

Recycle {F NS List Solo}

   So, it took me about 2 months, and the best frame I got was a wrecked
26".  I have a spare freewheel, chain, bottom bracket, tubes, liners,
tires, and a bottle of Slime.  Packed to ballance in the rear compartments,
I headed east, out of the "desert", now with afternoon summer showers
toward the 4 corners.

   Staying out of Utah, I had enough of Mormons growing up in Mesa.  I can
cross the Grande Gorge Bridge, and winter in Taos, or Santa Fe before
deciding which way to turn at Alberquerque.  Climbing out on (road), it's
two lane, with a decent dirt shoulder, sloping up through National Forest.

   Almost lush, pine sapplings Sprung up, and unmowed grasses around the
roots.  Taking advantage of the novel moisture, the landscape was changing,
turning green, and anchoring the slopes long since shaped by erosion.  The
real world, I was glad to be out of that anti/social hell.

   The valley of the spun, you can hike up to the ridge surrounding it,
walk 15 minutes, and feel the difference in temperature.  A microcell of
pollution, the CO2 builds up enough to create it's own greenhouse bubble.
Soaking up heat dissipated from the millions of achres of pavement, the
metroplex is almost perfectly designed as a solar trap.

   And people die, every year from Air Conditioner failure, or air
'quality'.  Sometimes a little of both, the green fresh thin rich air
around me was heaven.  I breathed in through my nose to smell it with every
breath.  Pantlegs zipped off, and tucked in the cargo pockets, it turned
out I was a better bike mechanic than what's his name.

   "DhrnNNN!" I glanced up to the circular mirror on the corner of my
helmet.  Pickup, dually , and gooseneck, I pulled off the pavement, and
downshifted.  "NNHrnnn," it doppeled past, and I caught my breath.  An
endorphen rush, like an orgasm, I unclipped my helmet, and grabbed a sip of
flat Dew.

   [4:13], can't argue with that.  Pedaling to the end of the guardrail, I
lean it up behind it, and climb down to crouch on the bank.  My peice, and
tank already out of the vest pockets, I couldn't pack it going, but can
smoke back on the road.
Just a wood dugout, hand drilled, and whittled, I could crank one out in
like, 20 minutes, and sell them for 5-15 bucks.  If for some reason, it got
back to me, I could pitch it meters in any way, into the fucking Woods, you

know?  Long's they don't search me, too good.

   I could've waited around for ski season, but Flaggstaff's pretty small
for a State Capital.  Lots of tourists, and hippy kids, they helped a lot
with the bike.  In that kind of community, it's almost socialist, but
somebody like me can exell because of tallent.

   Trading mechanic skills on the streets of a bike town, I could get
anything.  Also a designer, my original designs fetch a premium.  Payable
in food, a place to crash, drugs, and even parts, barter favors the tinker.
And it's bettern sex, as a bargaining chip.

   I feel better, "No, I won't fuck you, but I can fix that sink!" I
chuckle, and stand up, a little light headed from the crouch.  Stretching
my legs, traffics died down a bit, don't forget everbody else just got off
work.  Get back on the crank, grrl, and get on over that next ridge.

   Fucking altitude, I broke a sweat, but got to the downhill, and just
kicked back.  Crossing my ancles at the apex of the yoke, I steered with my
heel, and put my hands up.  Cooling off, I had to jump, grab my handlebars
at near traffic speads.  "Ghrnnnt!" the shoulder strips floated under me.

   "KhKHkh!" I sided in, and almost flipped over.  "Blink, blink!" hazard
lights, hood up, propyline glycol volatilising.  "Car trouble?" I walked
around the fork, and kicked down the stands.

   "Huh?" he looks around the hood.  "Yeah."

   Comming around upwind, I unknot my bandana, and retye it around my nose,
bandito style.  "You overheated," obviously from the steam comming out the
vent-cap.

   "I wasn't goin that fast," he rubbed the back of his head, "Got any
antifreeze?"

   "I got water," I shrugged, and walked around back.  Better yet, I had a
5 gallon water jug folded up over everthing in the street side saddle. 
Flipping the lid back, I headed for the creak I heard still rushing down
there.  Okay, rushing might be overstating, but there was a little drop I
could hang the open lid under.

   "Uhh," he stood helplessly up on the bank.

   "Here," I screwed the lid back on the still half empty jug, and held it
squishily up to him.

   "Ugh," he struggled, "HhHOw much does this weigh?" It sloshed to the
ground, but he hung on so it didn't roll off into the ditch.

   "Bout," I bent my knee down, "25 Lbs," stood up with it one handed.  I
could lift, and carry two, but it better be close, and level, cause that's,
like, 80 lbs, just the water.

   "Gotta funnel?" Of course, not, I propped the cube bag between my leg,
and the grill, on the bumper.  "Hold this," I went around the creek side,
and grabbed mine.  I guess the triangle on the back was enough of a caution
sign, even around the inside of the corner, where people wore a shoulder
cutting it.

   "Huhn," he set it down on the dirt again, wasting the work of getting it
most of the way there.  I showed him how to prop it up, on his knee,
standing on the bumper to pour it mostly in the funnel.  "No," I pulled it
up, "It'll," rising crackle, "Boil out if you fill it to fast."

   Stepping back, I lit a cigarette, and watched him.  Homo "Sapien",
driving something he don't know how to maintain, "Where you from?"

   "San Diego," figures, California, where they got more money then sence.
"Uhn," maybe 10 #s left, and he still struggled with it.

   The stink of coolant was gagging, so I went back to roll my bike around.
I even held my breath, gasping as soon as I was out of the cloud.

   "Hey!" slosh.

   "What?" I caught my breath.

   "Here," he reached for his wallet.  20 bucks, what the fuck?  I just
rode off before I got pissed off, channeled the anger into the crank. 
Stopping, and backpedaling a click, I shifted up into seccond, and caught
up to the chain.

   I made pretty good time, other'n that.  Outta Dew, I topped off my
bottle from the Igloo, took a drink, and looked over the campsite.  Some
roadside thing, it went farther back on the right, so I screwed the cap
shut with my lips, and dropped it in the basket.

   Mostly downhill, I mostly just handled the dirt ruts, and found the
trail.  They all got one, this one with a cute little bridge to roll over,
and make it farther back from the traffic.  Pushing up a hill that looked
pretty flat on top, I kicked out the stands, when the back lids were level.

   First, I was starving, so I unloaded the #10 can stove, found a flat
rock, leveled it in the dirt, and bent down three of the flanges in the
bottom.  Not a used camp site, there was plenty of flamable stuff just
lying around, mostly needles with some dried aspen leaves.  I scraped up
around the rock, and rolled it into a ball.

   "Bic, bic, bic!" it caught, and I set the can over it.  Snapping up
twigs, I dropped them on, then poked 3 sticks down to block the triangular
vents between the legs.  The pan/plate came off the pot, and I pulled the
ziplock of rice out.  Brown, it takes longer to cook, especially up here,
but it's got a lot more than carbs in it.

   I squeesed in some water to boil, and set it on top.  Little flames
licked out of the triangles punched into the sides, but most of the heat
came up the can, absorbed by the pan's blackened bottom.  Dome lid back on,
I didn't lock it down, but waited for it to boil, and listend while I got
out the $20.

   I could burn it, or wipe my ass later, but first I'd get some use out of
it that wouldn't ruin it.  Sprinkling in some yerba mota, I rolled it
between my fingers, and thumb, then slipped a paper in.  Rolling that on, I
carefully picked it out, and let the crumbs fall down the fold into the
joint.  Licking, and sticking it, I set it aside for after dinner, folded
the bill, and tucked it in my shorts.

Later {F Solo}

   "HhuUhH!" I shivered, and gave up going back to sleep.  Too cold, I
survived worse, but I had to warm up to get my sleep.  Tucking my hands
under my arms, they were like ice, but slowly thawed enough to feel the
warmth.

   My pulse pumped along my fingernails, against the bone, and I could feel
my ribs.  Sighing, there wasn't enough light to see my breath.  High
desert, damned near summer, and still nipple snapping cold out.  I hunched
to put my palms under them.

   Already hard, they softened, seemed to melt in my hands.  "HhH," one
sure fire way to warm up, enough to go out there, and get the fire up
again. I remembered the sunset, still hot, sweat drying on my face, and a
few stray hairs, clinging when I took off my helmet.

   A great thing about this site is it was high enough to see over the
trees, west to the valley behind me, and how far I'd come.  I mean, an
accountant has a pile of numbers to point at when somebody asks him what he
did that day.  The same guy goes to a gym after work, to "Work out." Sounds
to me like a bad case of not working hard enough.

   Or that guy, couldn't even hold a few gallons on a bumper.  Not thet
he's not strong enough, he just gives up, and forces hiself to lift it
again, do actual Work, because he's lasy.  Probably why he's so tired all
the time, he makes more work for hiself because he got no idea of
efficiency.

   And that's why She's dying.  The big pregnant Earth, our mother world
with no other to turn to when this one's burned out.  Why?  Because
efficiency isn't cost effective, or good for the economy.  Good, and awake
now, I was almost burning mad, and I could feel it in the air.  Trapped by
the pancho, and bivy sack, I zipped out, and gasped for air.

   "Ahh!" there was still little pebbles of coal under the ashes, so I
grabbed some branches I didn't break up before, and snapped them.  Not too
cold, really, I checked my watch, wound it, and dropped it back down my
shirt.  Stale sweaty, it'd be a cold morning wrinse before I cranked back
up.  3:57, why wait 22 minutes?  I clipped in the roach, and boiled some
water for tea.

   Almost nine hours of sleep, I rolled up my sleeping bag in the bivy, and
shook out the pancho.  Dewed inside, and out, there had to be a store
eventually.  It started getting light before there was sun, but by then, I
was packed, and working my way up the stream.  The trail went with it,
mostly, but veered off, and up when the notch got too steep.

   Mountain water in spring.  Fresh, clean, and inconceivably not frosen
solid.  It dropped a couple feet, dug out a decent tub, then stopped
running.  Scrubbing out my pits, and crotch, I wrinsed, and pulled my
shorts back up on my way out the water.  I warmed up carrying the 2 gallons
back to camp.

   "HUVuvuvuvuv," the fleece blanket dried before I even made it back down
the trail.  I rolled it up, and climbed over to my bike.  Stuffing it away,
I pulled the bungees around the lids, and snapped them into the loops.

   I got the water boiling, took it off the fire, and dropped in some tea
bags.  Blood flowing again, I packed everything away, and poured the rest
of the tea into my bottle.  Then, I checked the message, Nature Called, and
I almost felt like bursting.  Rippling down to coals, I grabbed a stick,
stirred them down to ashes, and pulled my pants down.

   Plschs!  "HahH!" it steamed in front of me, and I let go as soon as the
stream stopped.  Pb!  I snapped my shorts back up, and dropped the stick.
Kk kK!  I held the handlebars, and threw my leg over the tubs.  RdH!  I
bounced over, down, and back up, kicking the crank, stomping over the next
hill with authority.  Like a BMX race, with a big fat chick riding on the
back of my bike, I skidded on the bridge, and some chick jumped back.

   "Ooh!" her hands went up next to her face, delicate wrists pointing in,
fists curled up helplessly, so I kicked the pedal, bounded off the bridge,
and built up as much speed as I could before the climb back to the road. 
Bouncing over the ruts the same way, only backwards, I had to drop it back
down a few gears to make it up the dirt ramp.

   7:26, I snapped it back shut, dropped it in my vest, and grabbed the
bars.  Cute "boots," little tan shorts, puffy down vest, pink shirt, and
short braid.  A little biggern me, but so much weaker.  I snorted, and
stood up on the front pedal.

Jason {mG NS Bart}

   WHACK WHACK WHACK!  I followed the knocking sound up the little trail.
WHACK WHACK!  KLONK!  Definitely wood, sounded like a job site.  Up the
hill, I circled around in case anything came down.

   Krack!  I stopped, looked down at the branch broken under my foot.  I
picked it up, thin, and dry, but long.  Looking up, I saw someone, and
started back at the axe, hanging from her hand.  Okay, it was a hatchet,
but steel all the way back to the handle, and it looked big enough for
bolth her hands.

   I held up the stick, and she took it, "Thenks." I stepped up the rest of
the way.  Tiny, but all muscle, in boots, a skirt, and a wife beater.  I
saw breasts, not much, but they were there, and not much more in the way of
bodyfat.

   CHOP CHOP!  Make that three sticks, she kicked the other two on the
pile. "You camping around here?"

   "Yeah," she pointed to a bush, with a tarp hanging under it.  Camoflage
in dots, I didn't notice it before.  "You?"

   "Uh," she already had a rock set up, and was rolling needles together
between her palms.  "Yeah," sort of.  I mean, camper, the folks, not a tuck
in on the side of a mountain over a highway.

   DHRNRNRNRNH!  a truck braked downhill.

   "Can you burn here?" I got bored, and read the signs.

   "Never stopped me before," she turned, and winked.  A dreadlock, as
thick as her wrist fell over her shoulder.  Kind of dirty, and wrincly on
the sides of her head, it was kind of criss cross parted down the middle,
like what dad calls Herringbone.  "Got any?"

   "Yeah!" I got it, "Looking for a place, actually."

   "Wherever's clever," she turned.  Crouched on her toes, she swiveled,
barefoot in the dirt, and sat down, cross leged.  Her skirt covered the
rest.  I shook my head, and got it out.

   "Joint?" she grinned, and chucked her head, "Nice," nodded, grinning.

   All right, as far as I'm concerned, she was half naked, but if she had
more on, I would've thought she was a little guy, or a boy, like 12, or 13.
Not really a turn on, I just sat down, and handed it to her.

   She pulled a lighter out, lit it, and sucked a puff back in.  I took it,
and tried not to laugh.  She grinned, and one of her eyes crossed, and I
blew it.  "Thanks," she blew out the rest, "Got any more?"

   "Almost a quarter," I shrugged, "But it's got to last me this whole
trip,"

   "Yeah," she did something with her face, "But you'll be in Farmington,
like tomorrow, score some then, I got $20!" Puff.

   "I don't know anybody in Farmington," I argued, and it's only like, 15
worth of Mex.

   "Me neither, but I could score it in, like five minutes, just ask that
stoner you see." She grins, "You know, that guy, with the hair, always
wearin a shirt?"

   "All right," I guessed, "I'll go get it, after this joint."

   "That's my boy!" she chuckled, and kind of pushed my shoulder.  She
don't have man muscle, but tight ropes of it, like bungee cords, and it
made her unbeleivably fast.  I took my time on the next puff, tried to let
my heart slow down, not beat so hard, let my face cool off.

Jackie {Fm Drug}

   I had a fire going in the can by the time it burned down, and he went
back to his family.  Kind of cute, real young, but pretty.  Long pointed
chin, small mouth, high round cheekbones, and small light brown eyes.  I
don't know, I've got needs, and he was the cutest guy around.

   And I could smell him.  No human smell but my own so long I can't smell
me no more, then he shows up practicly sweating testosterone.  Maybe even
had another growth spurt left in him before he was the man he'd be, whoever
that is.

   I sighed, and checked my bike.  Yup, still there, but out of site.  Not
hungry, it'd kill the buzz, and it'd be better to take off with the last of
my food in my stomach then sleep on it, and waste energy converting it to
fat first.

   I miscalculated, underestimated my consumption carrying me, and over
100lbs over the rockies.  I wouldn't starve to death, but I better come up
with something now, before I get myself stranded.  Should've asked that
boy, what's his nuts, Jason if he could snag me any.  I'm usually picky,
when I can afford that lugsury.

   I sighed, and tried to conserve energy.  Kinda stoned out, looking at
the fire, licking, and twisting it's dance out of the wood.  I could almost
see the heat, vaporising the exposed hydrogen, freeing the carbon to
ignite, carry off the trace nitrogen, and sulfer.

   Expanding, rising lighter, sucking in cool oxygenated air from around
it, whipping it up to the rising column, dissipating to the atmosphere. 
Carbon dioxyde, among other things.  Thing is, She didn't have a problem
with us picking up the garbage, and burning it for heat.  200,000 years of
cooking, heating, and lighting with fire, no problem.

   You see, firewood is farely carbon-neutral, because when you pick up
deadwood, you're taking fuel come fire season, and burning it up here,
where it's thin, and the trees need it to make oxygen, water vapor, and
sugar.  It only became a problem when we started burning to move around. 
Fossil fuels are bad enough, but that's not what really did it."

   "Uh huh?" when did he get back?

   "I mean," I blinked, and shook my head, "It doesn't matter how many
miles to the gallon you get with a car.  We pull petroleum out of the
ground, and ship it to a refinery.  Then we distill it into all these
wonderfull materials, and ship them in all directions.

   The gasoline gets shipped to the nearest coast, then loaded onto a
tanker, which literally ships it overseas, to US.  Here, it's offloaded,
and shipped to a customs office, before it's shipped again to a central
distributer, then local distributer to finally put it in a tanker to your
closest gas station.

   Now," I lean in, "Each of those steps, we burn fossil fuels, ultimately
crude oil to get the gas to your tank.  Barrels per gallon, that's what's
killing us."

   "But," he thought to catch up, "Doesn't using less mean less of all
that?"

   "Honey," I snorted, "I don't use any, not a drop, and they haven't even
noticed." Yet.

   I packed a couple bowls in the dugout, and he went back to his family,
in their "camper." A deisel pusher, it's more like a bus sized house on
wheels, and spewed toxic polution wherever it went.  No weed, but a good
stone on, and something to think about, maybe ask his dad, who owns a
deizel pusher.  "Whatever," I decide not to kill my buzz, and turn in
early.

   Jacky {F Solo Frip}

   "HhH," loud under my stretched out pancho.  That dick dream again, huge,
in my hands, mouth, stretching into me, pulling me closer till I dissapear.
"Oroborus," I zip out, pull up the flap, and crawl out.  Still warm, the
fire is dead, but I don't need it.

   "Kthump," I crouch, and look along the false horison.  A rabbit, alpine,
sniffing around.  Below my hanging food line, there's bear here too, so I
gently touch the ground, shift foreward, and reach for the wood pile.  Just
on top, lift it, and pull back.

   "WhWhWhWhPbt!" like a flying trebauchet on full auto, it bounces all
deflicted, but so does the rabbit, downhill.  I kick off like a sprinter,
dive over the side, and get my feet under me.  There it goes, below a
tumble of loose dirt, and sand.  "Stomp," I plant, and it tumbles, little
furball.

   "Hruh!" I jump, almost land on it, and kick it real hard before it
struggles past.  "Thump," It curls up, and kicks me in the ribs, with both
feet.  I squeese it, under my arm, and it squeels, like a scream.  "UhnNH!"
I bare down, squeeze the air out of it like a wet nerfball.  "Huh, huh,
huh," I catch my breath, and it stops struggling, trying to kick with it's
feet pinned.  Hand around it's neck, I can feel it's heart, on my palm,
dying.

   "HhHhHhHh," I take a deep breath, "Huh."

   Climbing back up, I dig out my knife.  {CRKT Ringer II guthook skinner
(Bm) A.  G.  Russel} Afraid to sleep with it, I decided to start.  "Kxht!"
I punched through the hide, slashed down, and hooked back.  Nasty wet
slopping sound of me pulling out the guts, and pitching them downhill.

   Now, how do you do this?  Wanna save as much hide's I can, so cut
circles around the legs, and peel it back from the muscle.  Not even as
much fat as a chicken, I peel the sleeves, seperate the feet at the wrist,
and ankles.

   I blow, hard enough to strip the ash away from the coals.  Some leftover
leaves, twigs, sticks, and broken down branches.  I throw some rocks on, to
roast the legs, and wrap up the rest in the skin.  Boil it, some nice
broth, with meat to pick off the bone with my teeth.  Wish I had some rice
left, at least.

   All a sudden, I felt so tired, and set the fire to lay down.  Couldn't
sleep, though, so I got out my dugout, and packed it by feel.  Ran out of
food before weed, should've saved some money to eat, but not a good sign.
Feeling all full, I girgled, and it made me feel pregnant.

   Oh, yeah.  The Dick Dream.  That's how I knew I wasn't a lesbian.  But
now, it was all I could think about.  "Hnh," I rolled over on my side,
slipped my fingers into the spandex, and rubbed my hairy patch.  As strong
as I ever smelled, it filled the tiny shelter, but just turned me on more.
Even the stale sweat, I hadn't seen enough water to bathe in in days.

   "Huh," big, and thick, with the skin curling around the tip, "HnH!" The
skin rolling back, the smell of it, taste of it.  "NhH!" But they always
want to stick it where it won't go.  "Huh, huh, huh," overheated again, I
stripped naked, and stood out under the stars.  I never saw them, growing
up, except on TV, movies.

   Out of cigarettes, and even buts to reroll, I smoked some more weed,
maybe that'd get me back to sleep.  To dream, of dicks.  I used to like
camping, but now, I think I got my fill for a while.

   Farmington {MG NS}

   "Kching!" a bell on the door, and everybody looked up.  Some bar, or
"Saloon," grill, and so forth.  "Yeah?" no wait to be seated sign.

   "Uh, yeah," I looked over to the far corner, "Kini use your restroom?"

   She sighs, looks me up, and down.  If I had a beard, it would've been
tucked in my belt.  "Sure." I slip between tables, looking like I'm in a
hurry, but honestly, I didn't have enough moisture in my body to think
about peeing.

   All that food smell, I gulped down water.  Washing my face, I rolled my
hair straighter, and looked me in the eyes.  Tired, my eyes traced the bone
around them.  I grinned, like a skull, with hair, and eyes.

   "Hh," I turned away, and went back out.

   "Hey," some guy stopped me, "Can I buy you a drink?"

   "There food here?" I lazily turned my head to him.

   "Sure," he skooted back the stool, "Whatever you like."

   Lesse, Salads, lots of trace nutrients that're probably down to
homeopathic concentrations in my system.  "Chef's Salad," he waved a
waitress over, "Ana," coke, "Dr.  Pepper, no ice."

   "And a chef's salad," he offered.

   "She has to be twenty one," the tender came over, "To sit at the bar."

   Barely, "Hhhhhh," I pulled out my wallet, AZ Id card, expired.

   "Okay," He blinked, checked the back, "Joanna."

   It's Joey, "I don't need alcahol," I looked up, hair twisted clear of my
eyes, and put it back away, empty.

   "So," he took a sip of his beer, "Where you from?"

   "Mesa," he nodded, "Phoenix, but I just rode in from Flagstaff."

   "Rode?"

   "Yeah," I nodded, "my bike." I pointed over my shoulder to the pipe
steel hitching post/guards, and my bike locked to it.

   "How long'd that take you?" he turned around, genuinely interested.

   "What's today?" August 3rd, 2009.  "Two, and a half weeks."

   Thank god my salad came, I was tired of talking, and everthing else. 
Turns out he wasn't hitting on me, but just wanted to help out.  I talked
between mouthfulls of greens, with bits of bacon, ham, eggs, chicken,
shredded cheese, and blue crumbles.

   Good thing too, cause testosterone was floating around the room, and I
could smell it.  Would've eaten any man alive till my blood pumped to my
stomach, and I had to go out for some fresh air.

   "Bic!" I puffed, "Bic, bic!" It'd been dying on me for days, but I just
had to use it once, a night to get it going.

   "Here," he held out a soft pack of Marlboros, an unburnt one sticking
up. "Thanks," he handed me a book of matches.

   "Keep em," they went in my hoody pocket with the afterburner.  I
couldn't tell if he was hispanic, tribal, or white with a good tan, but he
had the whole cowboy thing going on.

   "Thanks again," I tucked the book into my shorts.

   "Got a place to stay tonight?" he leaned up on the peeled stick of a
rail, and chewed the filter, like the toothpick, back in the bar.

   "Wherever's clever," I don't want to sound ungratefull, but I don't want
to repay it in the sack.

   "Look," he turned like a cigarette ad, peeked out from under his stetson
like Brad Pitt, in Legends of the Fall.  "I got a couch, private bedroom,
bathtub,"

   "Hhn," that sounded good.

   "No sexual favors implied, nor expected." Yeah, right.  He knew a bitch
in heat when he saw one.

   "Aright," I straigtened out my arm, and grinned, "What about my bike?"

   "That's my truck," 3500, flatbed, alluminum fencepost sides, but it
looked like the brushguard could hold it.

   I climbed up, Caffine!  and grabbed the handlebars when he picked it up
like it weighed less than 100 lbs, and didn't grunt.  "Sat rabbit fur?" on
my seat.

   "UhHuhn!" I dragged it back till the back tire was on.

   Swayed a little on his bootheels, but otherwise just picked it up, not
even showing off.  "That a 1 speed?" I secured it with the braided steel
cable, and U-lock, like a guy that grew up in Phoenix.

   Back to reerve drive, "3," without a derailer.  I jumped down, grabbed
the to-go box from the edge of the platform.  12 gauge in the back window,
locked, though the door wasn't.

   "I'm outta town, if you wanna keep going tomorrow." I checked, red as
hell, but slick as city.

   "You mind if I smoke?" I pulled out the snipe, even the burnt end
covered the testosterone smell.

   "Nah," he pulled out his pack, and had two lit before I got out my
matches.  "KING!" he, "Snap!"ed back the brass zippo.

   "Thanks," I could taste it on the filter, and I think I wet myself a
little.  The day's sweat long dried, my undershorts felt damp.  "HhHhH!"

   "Huh?" he grinned.  I coughed, and waved my hands at the cloud to cover
it.

   "Got any grass?" he looked me over, expecting a no.

   "Mex," I shrugged.

   He laughed, "I got bettern that."

Joey {GM Oral}

   Sooo, yeah.  We got right in the door for I jumped his bones.  Drooling
at both ends, I had ta get it outta my system so I ken think agin. 
"HnhNH!" he leans back, and I run my hand up his shirt.  How'd that get
der? Snaps, nice!

   "Nhnmh!" it poured out like a bouquet, and I wanted to bury my face in
the pedals.  White cotton A shirt, but not ribbed, thick black curls
bursting around it.  "Snhrk," my nose smashed against it, and they brushed
my cheekbone.

   "Comeon," he picked me up, carried me up the stairs, and dropped me on
the bed.  I worked my way out my boots, but he just shrugged out of the
shirt, and jeans jacket after unsnapping his sleeves, kicked off his boots,
and dropped his pants with a familiar thunk.

   Bad girl, didn't even think to ask yourself if he was drunk.  Shrugging
out of my vest, the weight of my pistol dragged it off to thud to the
floor. He raised his eyebrow, Stetson, neat mustache, and wedge goatee,
tank top, tented boxers, and tube top.

   Now, I hate rednecks, cowboys, goodole boys, and hillbillies, but 1, he
pulled it off, and B, he looked about as good as any man ever did to me,
and I could remember.  "Kmere," I grabbed his hips, and kicked my boots off
the bed.  Burrito dick, so I'm guessing hispanic, nice thick roll of skin
wrinkled around the end.

   "Hhwlln!" it rolled back on my tongue to the most human taste
imaginable. Not some clean freak sterilised plastic wrapped and floral
scented dildo, but a dick, like the cavemen useta have.  "Mnh!"

   "hHNT!" he grunted, and gripped my hair.

   "GWHL!" I sucked in through my nose, deep manscent pouring in through
the open fly of the boxers.  "NHhah!" I lay back, burning up, zipping out
of my sweatshirt, gasping for a fresh breath.

   He chuckles, and strips off his shirt, bounces it as the shorts come
down, one knee already up on the bed.  Panic attack, as I see how big it
is. He's a man, and I know what he wants.  "Hey," I put my hand on his
chest, and between my legs.  Over both pairs of shorts, better not to wait.
"You mind if we don't,"

   "It's okay," he pants, "I got protection."

   "It's not that," I swallowed hopefully, "I just don't," take a breath,
"Like fucking.  It hurts, it always hurts, and if we do that, then it's
basicly Rape." Look down, still hard, but it noticably drops.  I sigh with
releif, and reach out, pull it back, him to me.

   "Fine," he looks up, but knows he won't rape me, and so do I.

   "Hnhhh," he slips his hands up, my shirt with them, and finds out I
didn't wear the bra today.  "NhH!" I felt, so, Idaknow, female?  They never
gave me pleasure before, no matter who tried, and just his rough strong
hands felt so good.  "HnhH!"

   "NH." His Dick squirted in my hands, and I twisted around.

   "Nhsnh!" it smelt so good, and I knew it would be normally nasty, but I
don't know.  Hormones, phermones, biochemistry.  Anyway, it even tasted
good.  Salty, sweaty, and like, sauteed onions, or something.

   "Huhuhuh!" he panted like a dog, and fumbled with my shorts.  Twisting
next to me, on one arm, I spat him out, and moved back to give him room. 
"Ahlg!" I lay my cheek on his hairy thigh, brush my nose on his scrotum,
take a deep breath.  I wanted to swallow him, whole, not scootch my hips
for him to slip off the last, tightest layer.

   I was kinda embarrassed.  I mean, I could even smell me, from over here,
and let me tell you, I wasn't exactly an olfactory delight.  I probably had
dried blood from my last spotty discharge, almost a week ago.  It was
comming every month now, ever since I synced up with Gillien.

   "Snhnhnhnh!" he took a deep sniff, and grinned.  No toothpick, butt, or
anything in his mouth the first time since I saw him, he leaned in, teeth
comming open, and his tongue came out.  I can't magine what I tasted like,
but then, I couldn't keep my eyes open, neither.

   He might look like a yokel, but that man knew his way around bettern a
teenage lesbian.  "NnH!" Like the dick dream, I stopped thinking.  Deep in
my mouth, throat, mouth, the pleasure from my other end, like it stretched
all the way back.  "UHN!" his mustche, brushing down my lips, labrette,
brushin

   "UhH," no, "HUHhH!" his tongue, stabbing into me, spasms of pleasure, no
hollow ache, like something shattered in me.  "OhHhH!"

   "Hnh!" he grunted into my butt.  Taking his slippery dick, he pumped it,
head poking out, then back in, puckering in his nuckles like lips.  I
kissed it, deep, lips around the edge of his tip, knuckle bumping my nose,
lapping at it as it rolled back.  "KHNT!" he let go, pushed It in,
twitching, splashing wetly, and I gulped, hungrily.

   All too short, and to little, maybe 7 spurts, I let the last few stay in
my mouth, on my tongue.  "GlcH!" I licked my lips, whiped my mouth, and
caught my breath.  Still twitching inside, but like a pulse, another
heartbeat, dying down, drifting away.

Joey {F Solo}

   "Thenks!" for everything, really.  Just what I needed, I did some stuff
around his place, kept him warm last night, and got kicked down, sick. 
10lbs of rice, 5 of beans, a chicken, and eggs from his yard, posole, like
dried hominy, and as much water as I had containers for.

   And a half eith oz of dankedy dank dank.  Bettern that california shit,
I mean nyerr.  He smoked me down, too, and lemme just say, I don't know
what God did to his grower's thumb, but it hadta glow green in the dark. 
Take a look at the budporn you seen in High Times, take away the bleach
blonde, fake titties, and facelift, and it looks likeat.

   First, a green like Ireland, with blonde, and red hairs, and greenish
white crystals of kheef, like frosted flakes.  Daaamn!  Nice buzz, kinda
creeps onja, try not to smoke too much, and get all stoned before you're
even high one hitter quitter.  And the Mex, to help me pass out at night.

   And the sex, my first three orgasms with another person in one night,
between nap breaks.  He tapped out, but was always iron hard whenever I
woke up.  Yeaya!  I guess there's more than one way to starve yourself.  I
didn't get much sleep, but I felt more rested than I can remember.

   Nice place too.  A trailer once, set down off the trucks as the porch
for the house he built on his land.  Wood harvester, and minirancher, he's
got a few animals, garden, hunts to supliment, and a adirondac framed
wooden shelter for the wood, seasoning in the dry summer.  Sold only in the
winter, he can harvast, and dry it all year, for his only legal income.

   He doen't grow it there, but he knows a guy, and sells it all over.  He
also works hard, is in terrific shape, and has a healthy sex drive for his
middle age.  Not much hair under that hat of his, partially compensated for
in his mustache.  One thing lesbians are missing out on is facial hair.

   So, "Hnh!" I rode out, still mostly downhill, but angling more east by
southeast.  Camping, and going through the food, I didn't interact with
people for a while, and that gave me time to think.  Beyond the occasional
"BwOongG!" doppeling by, and a finger in reply, we stayed away from each
other.

   It stopped bothering me so much, the hot blast of civilisation by my
left calf, tailpipe level, with a breath of carbon oxydes, and scortched
hydrocarbons, over the pitchy fragrance of the high desert in a summer so
moist, it still thinks it's spring.

   "Huh," I sighed, and stepped back down on the crank.  No way I could
convince those dumb bastiches to pedal around, but I know the problem, so I
can work out the solution.  I mean, it's energy, and efficiency, that's
pretty much it.

   The system depends on fossil fuels, a filthy mix of naturally processed
carbohydrates from plants that died, and rotted back when the dinosaurs
were lumbering about.  Then, they have to be processed, and shipped all
over the place, hense the inefficiency.

   "I say," let the Muslims have it, local resources, good for them.  Can't
fix China, they still think Socialism works on the continental scale, but I
don't know Mandarin, or any of the other tens of languages, so let's get
back to America.  Not a lot of oil left, but enough to process what's left
while we move to a different distribution system.

   Or many different systems, we have the resources displaced regionaly. 
So, the SW.  Land of Sunshine, and Blowing sand, so Solar, Wind, maybe
Geothermal.  Let them run hydroelectric where they have multiple digits of
rainfall each year, can't depend on Global Warming continuing this trend.
It's THE ATMOSPHERE, chaotic system, so you can't even count all the
variables.  In the mountains, which means more.

   "Huh!" all right, that's the problem with climate engineering, we don't
know how.  We been doing it ever since we started burning wood on purpose,
but we still don't understand it.  We're not "playing God," we're an Idiot
God, changing the planet without a clue, and still thinking it's a game.

   That's the variable, the important one.  "Humanity," I sighed, "Make
anything foolproof, and they just come out with a better fool."

   So, dumb it down to something digestible for the masses, which means
bikes ain't gonna do it.  If bumperstickers can't stop the war machine, I
sure as hell can't get America off their fat asses and work to get around.
They just can't go back, once they've got Heated Seats, Power Windows, AND
Multizone Climate Control, so you can your have your window open, she can
have her seat heated, and compensate with the Artificial Climate while the
dead of ages does all the work.

   Now how does this fit with Ecology?  Short answer, it doesn't, long
answer: They need a car, as easy to use as their old ones, or easier, but
safe to use on mass in the open atmosphere.  Electric, because that's
energy, in it's purest form.  As light as possible, so it takes less Energy
to move the Mass, and as efficient as possible.
Might work, lots of people all ready on it, but there's going to be at
least a generation of Hybrids to make the transition.  So, the electric
designs will pay off after that, and I'd have to learn Electrics.  Still,
cars run on DC, occasionally switched to AC when they have to, right?  So,

it's not that hard, learn automotive electronics when I got to.

   Now, what I need is something for me.  He said there were "Lots of girls
like me," and I didn't take it the wrong way.  So, something for me has a
niche market of people with very little money, and no geographic stability.
I knew them on the streets, like Mill Ave.  Travelers, and Homeless, most
are hippies.

   Whatever, I blend in with them about as well as anybody else cause
nobody knows what a rIvethead is.  Niether do I, really, but I guess it
involves some futuristic cyberpunk thing, even though I don't have a
computer.  So, I need tools, and a workshop, and skills, or people with the
skills to build stuff.

   "Build what?" they're going to ask.  So far, I got some kind of hybrid
electric bike thing going on.  Yeah, that sounds right.  Get rid of all
that heavy unreliable mechanical linkage, and put in a generator, and
motor. The motor can also regenerate, take energy for braking, and more
efficiency.

   Plug in charge, but if you run out of gas, you can crank.  And if, say
me, I take it out here, I can park it, and keep cranking to charge a phone,
computer, whatever.  Yeah, that could work, and sell.  Make it big enough
to carry my camping equipment, and supplies.

Joey {GM NS TV}

   "Huh huh huh!" I ran out of tea, and stopped at the top of the ridge. 
Looking out over the next one, I squeezed my eyes, didn't shake my head. 
"Hh," THUMPTHUMPTHUMP, the blood loud in my head, making it worse.

   "KHCHRrhr!" thunder, looks like it's gomming this way by how the Front
Line Assembles, rolling back at the top.

   "Hhn!" I reach for my pancho.

   "rdrdRDRDH!" thump thump, I squint over at the dirt road next to me,
roll up out of the pickup's way.

   "RDhKlp!" it knocks, and the guy gets out.  Nerdy, bowl cut, glasses
selected for functionality, not looks, but no tape repair, or pocket
protector.  Pushing them up with two fingers, he pulls out the mail from
the doorless box.

   "Uh," I blink, "I think it's gonna rain." He jumps, notices I'm still
there, and shakes his head.

   "Yeah," he looks SE, "I guess you're right." Then he looks down at my
bike.  "I guess you better come up to my place." Real weak, he doesn't give
me much help getting it in back.

   "Blaire," he shook my hand.

   "Joey," I picked one.

   KNK!  "Where you headded" Smart, if socially retarded.

   "Wherever," knk!  "East/down." Around the top of these mountains, I felt
so tired now that my heart idled down.  "Got any asprin?" or opium.

   "Yeah," Khnhnhnhnh!  "At the house," KTHRUHM!

   Or dome, the rustbucket didn't match him, though it was almost the same
brown as his sweater with canvas patches on the elbows.  Made up of
triangular facets, "This an observatory?"

   "Around back," he pointed at a low shed with rails for the roof to roll
off.  A frame, they slanded down to the ground.

   "Nice place?" I looked around, open, like a 6' wall of alternating
panels, up, and down like jackolantern teeth.

   "Geodesic," {(Tm) R.  B.  Fuller} he nodded, walked around the wood
stove in the center.  "Here," the Ibuprophin rattled loudly in the bottle.
Not natural, like Asprin, but my head hurt to much to care.

   "GLK!  thanks," I took the glass of water, "GlkGlkGlk," minerally!

   "Uh," he looked around nervous, "You're on a trip, or something?"

   "I guess," shrug, "Just moving around."

   "For the summer?" he guessed.

   "Oh," I look young, "I'm not in school."

   "Dropped out." he nodded, and turned away.

   "I graduated," had my diploma in the bike, somewhere.  "Just taking a
couple years off before college."

   "Huh," he shook his head, but back to me, looking me up, and down. 
"Sorry, but HOW old are you?"

   I checked his calender, "twenty?" still June.

   "Huh," he looked back up at my face.  I didn't need the pancho, so I
threw it on a chair, still in it's hood.

   "How bout you?" looked about graduate, if I'm any judge.

   "Twenty six," he smiled, "Working on my Doctorate in Astropysics!" I
also noticed the sattelite dish, pointed the wrong way, and on an
Equatorial mount.

   "Explains the radio telescope," I guessed.

   "What do you do?" he set down his book, by Richard Feynman, I think.

   "Idaknow," I shrugged, "Jack of all trades," get it?

   "Master of none." he finished for me, and got up, "Hungry?"

   "I still got food," coffee maker, "But yeah, I guess."

   He "cooked," microwave, frosen, no TV, though.

   "Uhh," I picked one out of the freeser, "You an ecologist too?" Right
next to Monosodium Glutamate {(C) Monty Python ("Crunchy Frog")}.

   "I guess," BEEP BEEP BEEP!  he pulled out his "food."

   "Well," I dropped it back in, and closed the chest.  "The packaging on
these alone is an atrocity in a landfill.  Paper, and alluminised plastic,
it can't be recycled, and breaks down into toxins which leach into the
ground water."

   "Hmh," he chewed, weighed it on his fork.

   "Besides," I snagged his lid out of the trash, "There's like, about 17
ingredients in here, most with other ingredients, each shipped to Swanson
by multiple manufacturers." Multitasking, my headache long gone, "I see
approximately 53 trips here, shipping by truck between, maybe seven
factories all over the country."

   "Huh," he set it down, unfinished.  Swallowed.

   "Then you drive it up here, with your V8," sounded like a 292, "Cargo
truck, then carry the trash back down, ultimately to the landfill."

   "Yeah," he looks down at it, no longer hungry.

   "You'll have less of an impact when you drop it into your septic tank in
a couple hours." He glances up at my hands.  "Mind if I smoke?" On a roll,
I guess they packed a bowl on automatic.

   "Sure," he shook his head.

Blair {M"m" NS}

   Okay, I was still a bit stunned by this hippy guy comming out so
technical, and lecturing on being an "Ecologist." He wasn't only
intelligent, but right.  Here I was, hauling back what he calls
"Convenience food," out of lasiness.

   "That's what's killing her," he looked pissed, "Not malice, nor
nihilism, but lasiness, and ignorance."

   Then I put it together, bike, dreadlocks, vegitrian, "so you're an
Environmental Activist?"

   "I'm a Nomad, Tech." {CP2020} "I'm living the way we should have been
all along, but people can't go back," I don't smoke, in here, or anywhere,
and I live alone, "Whoh!  From their Labor Saving, convenience food,
disposable ketchup packets, drive to the mailbox lifestyle.  I gave up on
that, so I just don't contribute to it."

   Hippy, "In protest?"

   "Huh!" he rolls his eyes, "NoO, out of Morals.  You see, I know too
much, and actually give a flying fuck.  They, you can halfass the Earth to
death, probably not in my lifetime, and I ain't having no kids, so I say
let it self correct, after I'm gone."

   "Self correct how?" I didn't like the way he said it.

   "People are the problem!" he spread his hands, "It's arrogance to think
they're powerfull enough to take out Nature.  She's a tough old broad,
she's survived worse than us, but we can kill us all.  She will heal."

   "Sounds like a religion," or a Cult.

   "It's a lifestyle," the rain let up, so he led me out to the truck, and
his bike.  "UHNH!" he efficiently levered it down from the tailgate. 
Small, but strong, I guessed it made him look younger.  A good design,
plywood rear rack, polyethylene trashcan cut in half around the rear wheel,
looked fairly water resistant.  Ziplocks full of dry goods, corn, rice, and
so forth.

   He fired up the stove, got the water boiling.  "A good example are these
Ketchup packets." He squeezed them out into the water, eyeball measured the
[posole] from ziplocks marked in Sharpie.  "Individually wrapped to
maximise the amount of plastic, with fourteen ingredients, all shipped from
a different manufacturer." Starting to boil, he stirred in the rice with a
pair of chopsticks, whittled into tool tips on the ends.  "SMUIP!  Then
they're shipped to a distributer, then SYSCO, then McDogfood," he held one
up to show the gold W on the back.  "Finally, they're given out through the
drivethrough in a 3 pack, to be thrown away, and hopefully picked up by
some hippy to save the from going to the landfill whole, and unused."

   KNK!  the door swung open, and he pitched the trash in.

   "So," those came out of a trashcan?  "You burn them?"

   "Huh!" he sure sighed a lot, "evrything burns, except the alluminum,
which goes back in the ground with the ashes.  It's like littering, it
looks bad, so we Adopt a Highway to pick it all back up in plastic bags,
and ship it back to the landfill.  Nature can handle it broken up, in
scattered fires, or little cigarette butts all over the place.  We pick it
up, we burn more gas, up there, following the collection crews, wrap it all
in more plastic, and concentrate it in humungous deposits, like pustules,
lesions, chlorachne.  Our populations are distributed the same way, city
scabs with corridors of blacktop/co2 between them, and sodium vapor lamps
to light them at night powered by fossil fuels shipped 5-7 times to the
"plants"."

   He took a breath, "This needs to boil a while," headed for the door, "I
need a cigarette."

Joey {G Solo NS}

   "Huh, Hh," Click!  "HuhHhHh."

   Poor guy.  Maybe I could help him.  Smart enough to listen, collate the
advice, and stop ranting long enough to give it to him.  Solar, already
installed on the observatory roof.  "Nice!" old, probably built before him,
got to remember to ask him about that.  And a bath in some of that cistern
water.  Pretty good setup, if he can learn how to use it.

   Seccond hand me downs, seccond generation, what will he understand. 
Astrophysics, but a willing conversion, and am I even qualified?

   "So," I can feel the heat behind me, "What's the solution?"

   Pop quiz, I take another drag.  "Get out of the cities," I check my
fingers, "Local personal energy supply, preferrably pooled on the existing
grid as a communal supply." I held up my hand, "Not socialist, it could be
capitalist with an energy economy.  The ultimate solution, saving money is
saving energy if they're equivalent."

   "I already did that," he nods down at me.  Kind of cute in his childlike
curiosity, and potentil to learn.

   "Right, but it's got ta be a full paradigm shift," cliche', but used
correctly, "Local resources shipped once, the shortest distance possible,
maybe even flown in terraign likeis." Nice view, by the way.  Not many
trees, all cleared for maximum horison.

   "I'd abolish the automotive corperations, and start over with companies
willing to produce efficient transport rather than retool the old
concervative industry." I took a good drag, "For commuters, and grocieries,
I'd go with something likeat," point the cherry at the bike, "or a
recumbent, trike maybe, fared like a velocycle for lower drag.  Tops out at
about 35, maybe with one pushing, but don't burn no gas.

   Micro fuel production, local resources like grain, wood for M/ethanol,
or blended, coal, and even petroleum, where they got it.  The point is
small points of pollution spread out, and efficient transport between. 
Pipelines, and Wiring for energy, and the rails/roads for solid goods, and
people."

   "What people?" he joked, and I flipped off my but.  "These don't sound
like the humanity I know, everyone pedaling bikes?"

   "Like I said," I went back in the hot house, "Full paradigm shift,
probaly with a collapse of the system, and a short period of anarchy.  I
guess I'm a Progressive Anarchist, it's like the Death Tarot card, it
symbolises change."

   He'd give me a ride in the morning.  I took the couch, he had a loft
under the south facing windows arching up to the apex.  Not a drop of
testosterone in his body, he wasn't going to make a move, so I didn't. 
Probably gay, anyway, kind of femmy, "Pp," taking it up the ass, "PpPp,"
hold your breath, try to keep it down.

Jacky {G+ NS}

   Antonito, "CO?" Post Office.  "How the fuck did I get to Colorado?"
811{something something.} Traincars backed up behind the PO, and Food
Market, two restraunts braketing the "Palace restraunt" (Est 1890), and a
"Nite Club," the Golden Nugget.

   "Huhn!" Pedal back to the Shamrock, with built in diner, classy!  "Uhh,"

   "Yes?"

   "Yeah, you gottan Area Map?" Behind the automotive supplies, backed up
to the diner.  Not on the map, but there's a suspicious smudge missing from
it, about the size of a (YOU ARE HERE) sticker.

   I got off 64, shouldn't have made that left at Chama, but I was feeling
Anti Social.  Oh, and I had to pitch the bunny skin seat cover cause it
started stinkin.  Right, triad of ASPD, I wasn't wetting the bed, not that
I have one, does licking the bivy sack dry count?

   Shake it out, civilisation, Grrl.  64's south, right out that window,
nothing but prairy out to those mountains on the horison.  White up from
there, blending into bluish grey, then dead screen blue.  {Gibson.} Maybe
it's just the rIvIts in my head, the cogs Turing on them, grinding up the
stimulus into the characteristic dystopic tint.

   Dropping the goggles around my neck, I walked out.  "Hey," some kid,
"Got any cigarettes?"

   "I quit."

   "Kenya buy me some?"

   "Huhn," I reach up, jerk away the thong, and pitch it at his feet. 
"Good luck, kid." I jumped back on the crank.  I couldn't even hear the
KDNK!  of the 4" curb over his scream, they'd started stinking too.

Blaire {M Solo Tech Noma}

   "DRHRHRHRHRHRN,.." She made so much sense, I shook my head.  Caught her
pissing in the morning.  Not used to people, and privacy there, it's not
really set up for that.  Standing up, I didn't see how he did it, then she
turned around, in a lycra sports bra, and snapped her biker shorts back up.
Almost straddling the toilet, leaning over, hand up on the wall.

   I went out, let her use the bathtub, watched the sun rise, jerked off,
and went in for breakfast.  I thought I heard him fapping last night? 
Dressed, two towels around her hair, pushing eggs around in a pan.  "I
didn't know we had bacon?"

   "Got this off a farmer on the roadside," she scrambled, flipping them
around with neat flips of her wrists.  I thought, that's not Kosher, while
she crumled on cheese.

   "Thought you were vegitarian?" it smelled so good.

   "I don't eat Industrial meat," now that didn't sound good, "Kent carry
chickens, but local farmer sometimes do Work Trade." Only twenty, if she
would be believed.  I guessed that made "him" look younger too.

   I shook my head, thought back to the conversation on the way up from
Chama, shopping, all the stuff in back.  Maybe the last load, I could drive
down, sell the truck, buy that bike when it came in.  By then, I'd have the
solar water heater set up, piping up the dome to a PVC coupling at the top,
around the stovepipe.

   Alluminum tubing for that, clean, efficient, thermorecycling, convection
in the hot air, and water systems, suplimented by solar.  The black dome,
water supply, and heat exchanger we worked out.  "Yeah!"

Jack {GMFmf NS} 
{Soundtrack: Nin - Starfuckers Incorperated (Fragile; Right), Nitzer Ebb - Getting Closer/Kickit (Big Hit), Bloodhound Gang - Uhntisuntisuhntis (Album).  Allusions to: The Origin of Love (Hewig, and the Angy Inch), Toucha touch me (RHPS)}

   "The?" I was trying to sleep, and somebody was playing music.  "Fuck?" I
crawled out.  Loud, but distant, "Techno." Insistant beat, not just catchy,
but pounced, and had it's way with you when it caught you.

   UntsUNtsUNTS!  I climbed higher, cleared the ridge.  UNT'SUNT'UNTSUNT!,.
"Progressive!"

   It looked like a ring of fairies dancing around a fire.  I reached for
my vest, went down, and got it.  "unts,.."

   "Wheres?" I dug it out, "that," slung it on to climb back up.  The
little monocular, in a 2 film canister pocket, "UHNTIS!" focus, on,
"Hippies," drum circle, sound system on, and around a couple pickups,
looked like.  Sighing, I wasn't going to get any sleep anyway.  Almost out
of tea, I wasn't passing out right, anyway.

   Kdnt!  I rolled out, to the road cause it's lit.  No lights, but plenty
of reflectors, and retrotape.  Downshifting, I climbed, but kept my eyes
out for the turnoff.  Lots of dirt, but "there!" Lots of ruts, cars,
trucks, motorcycles, what had to be a beetle.  "Huhn!" Kdntl.

   "Nt!" "Knt!" "Kntl." "Kntlks!" "KNTLKSTLKNTLKNS KswowzhwididdDD!" I
stood up my bike.  Okay, make that Hippies, Ravers, Crusties, PLURries
{Hippie/Ravers, (c) Psiberzerker}, a couple Goths, and one rIvethead. 
"KNZHWEHEWHR, KNZHWEHEWHR!"

   I rock out with my cock out, "This a rave?" next to a fire barrel.

   "Apocalypse party!" candykid dropped her pacey.  "It's on all weekend!"

   "Allright!" I guessed, not her, picking it up by the lace around her
neck, and popping it back in.  Now I can't dance, but I sure don't jerk
around arythmicly likeat.  "What day is it?" I check my watch.

   Zombie rockabilly, {Deathrock} like young Elvis, buried alive, in a
Crusty Misfits Teeshirt.  "Friday," single digits, "Who're you?" still
dark.

   "Jack!" I said, "JoaTMoN!"

   "Whu?" he hoisted his can of PBR.

   "Jack of all Trades!" I yelled, "Master of None!"

   "Jack," he held up the can, "Little Jack.  Where's your brew, bra?"

   "I left it in my other pants!" he broke me one off.

   "You're weird!" he grinned, and patted me on the back.

   "Thanks, broh!" you have no idea.  I kept walking, "Wanna beer?"

   "Sure!" she smiled, "KSHT!" UHNTISUHNTISUHNTIS {(c) Bloodhound Gang.}

   "Star Child," she smiled.

   "Children of the Moon," {(C) John Cameron Mitchell}

   "That's your name?" she cocked her head.

   I shook mine, "Race."

   Soooo, later!

   "So, like every time they ship it, they burn Fossil Fuels, just to get
it to your tank!  It's like, Barrels per gallon!"

   NTNTNT,

   Duhhh, maybe when they've got more blood in their drugstreams.

   NTNTNT {Yeah, that's so I don't have to spell out "Uhntis".}

   Kick, Stomp, "Hey!" some guy bounces up, "You're like that rivethead
biker chic, right"

   "Uhhh," I pull a Janet, look left, right, smile self conciously.  {(C)
Richard O'brien} "Are there two of us here?" I look around.

   "Yeah," not the brightest glostik in the pack, "Uhh, my car won't
start."

   "Huh," I rub my chin, "Lemme take a look." I mean, I hung out with
Jewels long enough, watched her crawl around in that vette of her's, and
had a basic understanding of how internal combustion works.

   "Kmon," he led me back, through cars, trees, and ruts.  "What day's it,"
again?  Did I sleep?

   "Saturday," he checked his watch, "For a couple more hours."

   "Oh," looked in a hurry to get back.

   "Here we are," great, Hyundai, doesn't look carbourated, and the intake
manifold looks like a Giger design.

   "Uhh," I mean, "Hmm." Rub my chin, "What does it do when you try to
start it?"

   He got in, "Click!" Nothing, I mean, not a damn.  "Kenya turn the lights
on?"

   "They are on," he checked.

   "No," brilliant, "They aren't." dipstic, I pointed.  But you left them
on, which kinda narrows down the problem.  While I was there, I checked the
cute little alternator.

   "You got Jumper Cables?" yup, still hooked up, operator error.

   "No," I pointed, "I got a bike." Should probably carry them for just
such a situation.

   "Well thanks," he went to shake my hand, and slipped me something.

   "What's this?" 1.5" square ziplock baggy with a couple peices of
confetti in it.  He bumped my fingers with the back of his fist.

   "Acid, man!" well, all right.  Now, I'm not straight edged, but
intelligent enough to know when it isn't a good time to experiment with my
first hallucinogen.  Hiking back, I sniffed.

   "Sn," turning upwind, "SnNnNnN!"

   "Who're you?" a hippy, and a Crust/Raver.  {Craver, (c) Psiberserker.}

   "Who cares?" I crossed one eye, both, then the other, "I got acid!"

   And they had some halfway decent dro.  "Nah, man, this is the good
shit!" I shook the baggy just out of reach, "Pink elephant, {Disney
(Dumbo)} man, I'm still not comming down!"

   About an eith of halfway decent dro, and a smoke down later, I decided
to start trying to make it back towards my bike.  nt'NtsNTS!

   ",..  So, it's like Zen," I gestured at him, "YOUR path to enightenment.
There's no way you, me, and a Japanes Schoolgirl are all gonna get there
the same way."

   "Huhn?" Sorry, I got up, and wandered off.

   TITTYCOCKTITTYCOCKTITTYCOCK!  She moved with it, briskly, and I caught
up.

   "Hey!  Great," accessing, ".  .  Kogal outfit."

   "Thanks," I never noticed how good it looks when you can rock it.  And
she had pink hair, great big cartoon eyes, and a body that said something,
but it wasn't 'Little girl.' "What?"

   "The Japanese Schoolgirls'," uniform you stole, "They're called
'Kogals'."

   "Oh," she looked down, "yeah." She looked back up at me, just a little
taller.

   "You into that kinda thing?" like the Hello Kitty lunchbox purse.

   "I guess," she shrugged, "My boyfreind."

   Wrong answer, "He dressed you like this?" I looked around for him.

   "Well," she messed with the skirt, "Yeah, but," Rapebait for an
Apocalypse Party, then abandoned her.

   "But nothing," I took her hand, "What do YOU like to wear?"

   "Idaknow," she followed.

   "Nonsence," where's the fashion cops when, "You need a makeover," or a
lobotomy.  Turned out to be the latter, she was, like born submissive, or
something.  Not a thought of her own in that pretty little head of her's,
"Useless!" I stomped out of the Gazebo tent, where the cybergoths were
making her at least look cool.  "Can't savem all."

   I learned a lot, and it was getting light, again, so I found my bike,
pedaled back to the campsite, found what was left of my food scattered, and
packed it in.  "Huh!" get going Grrl, maybe you can trade some of this nice
weed for some calories on down the road.  Too many drugs, and not enough
food, I shook my head, "and hanging out with that crowd sure won't help."

Jack {G Solo MF NS}

   "Huh," [Rio Grande Gorge Bridge] "Huhn!" sweet jesus!  "Hhnh!" Okay, I
seen pictures, movies, but damn.  I mean, well, I mean damn!  Looked like a
great place to plummet to your death, built by the guys who brought you oh
so many comfortable Holding cells.

   It stretched over roadrunner, and coyote land, probably also a good spot
to drop an Acme anvil.  Aannd, plummettoyourdeath.  {(c)/(Tm) Warner
Brothers.} "Fuck it," I got off, and walked my bike.  Even on the other
side of it, on my feet, the edge felt so terrifyingly close.  I slipped the
back of my hand down my forehead, and pulled up my visor.

   "Wow!" there, I said it.  And Andsel fucking Adams before me, some
things are just like that.  I controlled my breath, but the throttle was
stuck on my heart.  Oh look, a convenient platform to climb out, and
plummet to my death!  "Uhnh!" I got the forks up on the sidewalk, and
"UhnNH!" rolled up the tail.

   "Hh huhh huhnh!" I swallowed, pulled out the 2 liter, and washed down
the last of my Dew.  "Bic," damn it, "Bic," nhrRH!  I had to stick my head
in my vest likea sleeping chicken to light up the butt.  That nice kid at
the store Conveniently in the middle of nowhere gave me $20 for that dro,
and I raided it.  Cigarettes fuck up my lungs, but I was starting to stone
out on dope.

   "D'huh!" I guffawed.

   "Hey!" fap faP!  of feet running over the surface, "Got a lite?" Hippy
kids, am I noticing a pattern here?

   "Yeah," I held out the windproof, and she munkeyfucked it.  "That a
joint?" Way out here, we'd see the cops coming, and it'd be halfway down
the gorge before they hit the bridge.

   "NahhH!" she giggled, "Spirits!" Blue pouch, oh yeah, I seen the machine
rolls.  "Rollies!"

   "HhH!" I closed my eyes for a moment.  "You got any?"

   "Yeah!" she squeeled, and dug around in something that might once have
been something resembling a purse.  "Save it," I unleaned my bike, "It'll
all just blow away out here."

   "You camping out?" she finally noticed my 1/10th ton bike.

   "YahH!" it's good to know another language.

   "Us too!" what a coincidence, way out here in the middle of a thin span
over a mile deep crack through the middle of a prairie.  Kismet, or, like,
whatever!

   "Whereat?" I continued walking it.

   "Down there!" she pointed gleefully, and I wondered if her boyfreind was
breathing.  "There a trail, seE?"

   "Uh," noo, "YahH!"

   "There's hot springs, and everything!" Now that sounded good.  Hadn't
had a Hot bath since the tub in the dome.

   "Cool," I sighed, and rolled out to the parking lot.  Let's see, just
one vehicle, so it's either the 1 ton Dodge van with tyedied curtains, or
they were walking.  Dingdingdingding!

   "Hey," he does talk!  "I'm Chaz, this is Dezey." the way he said it.

   "Jack," I could even feel a pulse in his thumb, gripped to the web of
mine.  "Butchewkin call me JoaTMoN."

   "That Rastafarian?" he glanced down my hair.

   "Nah," me neither, we just share opinions about haircare, "It's short
for 'Jack of all Trades, Master of None'."

   "Ahh," he chucks his head, "Riight.  I'm kinda one of those."

   He climbed in the driver's side, and got it running with some skill.

   "Uhh," Dezie was in back, trying to fire up the old grey matter, so I
got in the other seat.  "Kin we load up my bike?"

   "OhH!" she piped helpfully, "Just throw it on the rack!"

   "It's like," with food, water, and another liter of dew, "a hundred,
fifty pounds!"

   "Oh," Chas got back out, "Lemme help you with that." He Lurched out {(c)
Charles Addams, et al.} Deep voice, and a personality that could get Droopy
down, he was a poster child for ludes under that Beetles mop.

   "Curiouser, and Curiouser," he folded down the rack, long enough for
two, hopefully strong enough for mine.

   "Hmm," he set down the heavy end.

   "What?" I didn't know whether to care for the way he looked at my
saddlebuckets.

   "Nice design," he patted it, and pulled out bungies.  Nice, and strapped
down.

   "Jack, huh!" Dezi piped up.

   "Yeah?" I had to slam the door, it's old.

   "Umh," she looked up, "Please don't get offended, but you're a guy,
right?"

   I shrugged, "I guess?"

   "Sorry, it's just, I mean, you're real pretty, and all, and I wanted to
make sure before I got it wrong, and hurt your feelings."

   Right, "Sokay," I sighed, and pulled over the belt, "Happens all the
time."

   "KRHNK!" and we were off!  Well, Dezi's always a little off, but what
the hell, right?  No matter how hard you plan, there's just not a
contigency in the book for [Giraffe on Runway:], and besides, I was
starting to like surprises.

   Chas looked back up at me, winked, and looked back at the road.  Damn
it, the belt went right down the middle of my chest, and flattened my
shirt. Or would have, if my chest was really all that, you know, flat.

   It was right up the road, or the turn-off, then quite a ways of dirt
before a sort of parking lot with a cattle stile, and a trail going down.
"My bike cool here?" I wondered, getting out.

   "Probly not," Chas shrugged, helped me get it off, folded down the rack,
and helped me get it on the bed inside.  Sideways, stuff didn't spill out,
but I knew I'd have to repack it.  It sounded like shaking a box of random
auto parts, and Legos.

   "We coming back tonight?" I could survive on what's in my vest
overnight, but not in comfort.

   "YeahH!" Chas stretched, "Just a nice dip first." So we followed Dezi,
already skipping down in the dark.  One cool thing about hippy kids is no
weird taboos about nudity, or nothing.  Already busted, I stripped down to
lycra, and slipped in with them.

   Dezi giggled, "Thought you said you were a guy," she splashed playfully.

   "Yeah," I sighed, "Well it's more complicated than that." She waited,
Quietly.  "HhH, I'm female, physicly, but inside I feel like a pretty
little guy, all right." HhH, I never actually said it, out loud, to
somebody else.  Yeah, I talk to myself, nobody else understands me.

   "So," she thought, "You're like one of those shemale guys, but a girl"

   "Yeah," I guessed, "I'm transexual." And just like that, I finally got
what they mean by 'Get it off your chest.' "HnhH!" I relaxed, or maybe it
was just the water.  Not exactly a hot spring, but a hell of a lot warmer
then a dip in a spring creek, or afternoon thunder shower.

   "What's it like?" she listened, so I told her.

   "uhH," I thought, "Well, it's like, idaknow, how does it feel to be a
normal girl?" I wondered, "There's no frame of referrance, and English is
ill equipped to describe it with all the gender specific pronouns." He,
she, I'm not an 'It.'

   "So," Chas spoke, "Do you like guys, or girls?"

   "Yes?" I spread my hands uselessly under water, "It doesn't matter,
cause either way, it's not gay!" The realisations just kept comming.

   "So you're bi!" guess who, "Like me!"

   Yyeeaah.  "Not like you, different." But good to know!

   "I'm not," Chas, "Gay, or anything."

   "Right," got it, "But what's 'gay', anyway?  I mean, I could have sex
with her," for instance, "And it would feel gayer to have sex with you, but
not for you to have sex with me."

   "Uhhh?" in unison.

   "Y'see, it's kinda like Zen." not that again, "You see a girl, and I
feel like a guy, so it would be gay from her point of view, straight from
your point of view, but backwards from mine.  None of us is any more right,
or wrong than the other."

   "Right," warm wet rush, "So you can have sex with both of us!" Dezi,
moving in, and oh yeah, the spring's about the size of a hotub.

   "Uh," that was for instance.

   "And it might, or might not be some quantum transposition of not/gay."
Wait, what?  I shook my head, but she was touching me, her hands on my legs
under the water.

   I looked over at Chas, who shewed no intention of stopping her.  And I
looked back.  Now, it was dark, and I couldn't see her face, but I felt her
breath on mine.  Human smell, female, "Quantum transposition?" used
correctly, on purpose.

   So, it was a long walk to the van.  Now, I don't want to dissapoint you
all, but the Hippy Dipper isn't set up all that well for something I wasn't
sure I was ready for, so I offered, "How 'bout wWwe continue this
conversation on the way back?!'

   "Cay!" she sprang from the spring, and Chas Lurched out.  Still stark
naked, in the little starlight from the half of the sky exposed, I at least
got a look at what I might be getting into.

   "Now," I took off, and wrung out my underlayer, "I got some more issues
I should probably get out there, just so you all know." Uhuh?  she jiggled
into her skirt, and shirt, no sign of underwear.  "You see, I, uh, get
these vaginal spasms, they uh hurt, a lot, so I basicly can't be fucked."

   "Weird," Chas.

   "And," I ran out, "I guess that's it." Oh, yeah, "No diseases, I know
about," uhh, "and I guess That's it."

Desire' {FTM Tran Troi Bi Saph Impo.}

   OK, OMFG!  I mean, Jack.  I love Chas, but if anybody can drag me
kicking, and screaming away, there you go.  He'd never catch us, or even
see her comming, she'd scoop me up like a Cheetah, and leave a sonic boom
behind her.

   Even before all that, I saw him on the bridge, and my head locked, like
an Owl.  The wind caught his clothes, and hair, and brought her scent to
me. I swear, that's when I first suspected.  I mean, she was pretty strong,
but I grew up with dogs, and lived in a gutted van with a guy, and any
hippie we picked up, their dogs, and so on.

   After a while, you get used to it, but I've lived like this since I ran
away, 8 years ago.  I like it, and concider myself a connisour.  Then the
nuance destroying lick of nicotine, and it was gone.

   Soo, yeah!  Skip, shake every thought out of my pretty little head, and
end every sentance like a question, just the quickest way to pump someone
for information.  It's not a trick for Chas, he had it rough, and couldn't
run away, so he has issues.  Go ahead, ask him about them, I won't stop
you, I'll just step back over here...

   Anyway, she didn't kick, or scream, and I kinda picked up on how she
avoids gender.  I mean, as soon as we were in, windows rolled up, and all,
I knew.  Rough teenage boy voice, trying to sound "older", please.  I know
that smell, Au de naturale, it comes in men's, women's, and every mammal
specie, times two.

   Anyway, Chas picked up on it too, but she wanted to play "Boys Don't
Cry," so we sang along.  {(c) the Cure} It got to me, though, the
androgyny. A little smaller than me, but way stronger, dressed like Victor
Frankenstein, and Nicola Tesla got ahold of a poor unsuspecting egg, and
built like a, "Fremen!"

   "Huh?" she bounced ahead, up the trail arrythmicly, like gravity was
something other people worried about.  Jacky Chan, in dreadtails.

   "Remember Dune?" she stopped, so we started climbing up, when the
settling rocks came to rest.

   "Vaguely," he looked it up, "Desert people."

   "Yeah, whipcord strong, desicated, called offworlders 'Water Fat'."

   "Huh," he gasped, "Yeah?"

Chas {FT Saph EtC.  M NS Impo}

   Wow, I mean, weird, man.  First off, she acted all butch, but come on.
No way nobody would think she was a man.  Smaller than Desere', and she's
petite, with the most childish girly face I ever seen.  Not even a boy, and
no man rides through the desert likeat cleanshaven.

   So, you're probably thinking about a girly girl with a chip on her
shoulder, but even just in zipoff shorts, and a teeshirt, you can see her
arms, legs, neck, and face.  These are all muscle, with a little bone under
there, and skin shrink wrapped on like Rollins.

   That, and the hair, and you got a pretty little girl gone Super Sayan.
She could pop out helicopter kicks like Jun Li, or Kameameha, and I
wouldn't be a bit surprised.  Down at the spring, I didn't get a good look
at her in the dark.  I mean, she was wearing black underwear, which doesn't
exactly contrast.

   And the closet door swung wide open.  Sounded like she was telling
herself as much as me, or Deze'.  Trans, never met one before, or heard of
a female-to-male, but it just fit so well, it completely failed to surprise
me.  Like a little girl living dressup, in her dad's boots, fascinating.

   Now, we're both nerds, Deze' hides it with the dits act till she gets ta
know ya!  Yaknow?  She slipped up with the Quantum Transposition, but it
was Freudian.  "Jack" was so open, she just dropped the act, and let a
little of the woman I love out, 'sall.  Anyway, we chatted best we could on
the way up, but it's pretty steep, and remarcably high altitude.

   Jack seemed to bounce up like a billygoat, light, but with those legs
that'd turn over a V8 if she stood on the crank.  She didn't seem to get
tired, either, ever while I saw her.  Truly different, we'd been halfway
across the country, hung out with the "misfits," all in there subcultural
uniforms, but she was the first to really stand out.

   That, and the near lesbo scene down in the spring.  I don't know what it
is about two girls getting it on, but I'm sad to say I find myself not
entirely immune.  I mean, I couldn't even see anything, and it still turned
me on.

   "Yeah." I guess if you slapped her on a sandworm, and gave her one of
those Weirding Modules {(Tm) All right, I'm goina have to give this one to
Kit West.} that would just about do it, oh, and like $15 contacts.

   "Huh huh huH!" Damn it, Jack was smoking a cigarette, and not even
breathing hard.  I'm in pretty good shape, but she's not human, I tells ya!

   "hHUHh!" I stopped at the top, leaned on the fencepost, and just
breathed a minute.  "Hhuk, KhuhkhUH!" Dez just caught her breath, and I
glared at her.  Must be something about weighing less, square/cube law,
yeah that's it.  "Wtphew!"

   "Cum," oh, "OohhnN!" yeah.

   "Huh, heh," I helped haul that heavy ass bike out, but she could do it,
and I wasn't ready to admit she was a bigger man than me.  "Hh Hh Hh,"
Kthnk, KHNK!

   "So," Dezi looked over at her.

   "Oh," she grabbed her head, "Just shut Up!" and kissed her.

   "Mnh!" her eyes went wide, and "Hnh," closed.

   "Hsnh!" long sharp nose in the dome light, I sat back, watched, felt the
hardness growing.

   "Mnnnh," I know that sigh, "Hmmh," deeper moan, almost masculine. 
Pulling open Dezi's shirt, spreading over her chest, lifting them together.

   "Come on," I blinked, down at Her hand, "It's okay," more than a girl.

   "Uhh," I never did anything like this, not even close, but nothing to
it, but to do it, I guess.  Bettern wondering for the rest of my life, like
this'll Ever happen again.  I'm still not sure, what all happened that
night.  I mean, what belonged to who, doing which, and werefore.  It all
runs together in a blur of skin, sweat, hair, muscle, and sex.

   KHNK!  "Huh, huh, huh!" the van rocked, and I heard a giggle.  Shaking
my head, I lit the cigarette I snagged, and looked up.  "Hnhnhnh!" at the
stars.  "pap!" was that a slap?

   "NhH!" I'd be right back in, "AhH!" soon's I catch my breath.  A
thousand stories floated through my head, from bathrooms, locker rooms,
jobsites, and bars.  I thought I'd learn something tonite, didn't figure
it'd be this.

   So let me tell you, any Guy says he completely pleased two or more girls
at the same time, all by hiself is full of shit.  I don't care how many
movies they make, or times I hear it.  I just, don't, beleive, it.

   "Huhn!" windows are too steamed to see anything, but I better turn that
lite off, or crank up the engine.  PT!  I thump my cigarette off,
"Whowhowho!" and grab the door handle again.

Jack {FTM Troi EtC.}

   "Whew!" the door opening was a breath of fresh air.  The van reeked of
estrogen, it condensed on the windows, and dripped down the mirrors.  I
mean, sweet jesus in the morning, it was bettern mountain dew, ambrosia,
narcotic.  I swallowed, and reached down to take her head in my hands.

   "KNKh!" I ignored the whiff of tobacco, and breathed deep, kissing her,
tasting my lips, licking her face.  "UhHhN!" God, Goddess, non gender
specific deity figure, HermAphrodite, "OsIsis!"

   "Hnh?" Pp, "hnN!" AmeNut, Friggaodin, "Morganuada!" Bolting up, her hair
swinging with all it's bells, and tassles.  "Ahn!" a bark of laughter, then
moans.  The heat of her chest on my face, heart pulsing on my lips, salty
tang so strong I can smell it, under the testostrogen, estrone, "Orgone."

   "Hymn," crystals of it, her essence, clinging to the hairs curling out
of her navel.  "Hahn!" divng face first into the most natural smell I know.


   "Sniih'MmhH!" her lips brushing my nose, hairs tickling my cheeks,
"Hhwooh!"

   "HihHhH!"

   "HlaH!" hold back the teeth, don't bite her, tear at it, and gulp down
bloody chunks, dripping from my beard.  "LmklH!"

   "Hhi!"

   Fuck her, with my tongue, I mean.  Literally dripping, I was surprised a
girl could actually do that.  That unforgettable taste, it's been stuck in
my nose for days, memory forever, and no real need to lube further, I
slipped up, flattened my hand, gave it a nice firm swat, and slipped my
fingers down.

   "Yh," my pinky, and pointer, indexing down the corners of her thighs,
"hs, yes," curling in, slipping down my wrist, "Ppl," pP!  "AHUN!" The
chill rippling up my back, P!  with athourity.

   "KLNK!" reach up from her chest to her shoulder, lips curling back,
teeth clenched, P!  "HhrhnH!

   "AhHnNH!" HhH, "AGH!" rippling in my hand, "nNHIEEE!"

   "Jesus," the light went out, darkening my lids.

   Steve {MG Tech NS}

   "Hey," I looked up from the screen, "You get Wifi here?"

   "Yeah," I look down, "Where's your computer?"

   "Left it on my other bike," she pointed to the welded pipe at the end of
the lot, "Neit deck."

   "Huh?" I was still shaking my head at the way she looked.  Like an
anime, goggles, dreadlocked pigtails, undershave, neck knife, black wife
beater, pleated wool skirt to match, big stompy boots, "You a goth, or
something?"

   "Rivethead," she frowned, brown brows brunching together between her
large tan eye, under the goggles.  "Keen gear!" like that girl on Darkwing
Duck {WB}, the sidekick.

   "Oh!" my netbook, "Gbook, crappy reception."

   "Lemme see," she turned it around, "Linux?  Nice." Tappitta tappitta.

   Jack {G Solo NS}

   Lesse, no numberpad, number lock, [Alt]+[KKK], nope, no Notepad, [(G)]
down the menue, Places>Appications.Gedit<-Enter].  Tiny touchpad, so mostly
keystroke.

   [Alt+666] Fuck!  [Google,] Umlaut, Wikipedia, shift/back, [Ctrl+x]
[Alt+<Tab>] [Ctrl+v] [ber] [Enter] Password accepted.  "Huh," almost too
clever for myself, nobodys going to put the [ij] in their compiler ROWM to
decode my email password, but it involves a non {QWERTYUIOP} character, the
"ber" just completes the pun for the meta password.

   "Hnh!" just spam, admail for Propecia!  Cialis!  Viagra!  "HhH!" if that
were only the problem.  "Thenks," I saved the speach, walked back to unlock
my bike, and pedaled off out of El Prado.  A one coffee shop town,
Elevation didn't look that high, right past a balloon shop, aannd, into
Daos.  Lots of hippies, Tauists, I guess, textiles, pottery, CD exchange.

   "Hello," Kck, Ding!  "Got any industrial?" set up my goggles.

   "You?" he sighs behind the counter.  Bald, no ponytail, but otherwise
'Worst episode ever!' {Sam Simon?}

   "Yeah," I go back out to the bike.  "Lesse," pull out the case, and
ziplock full of album art.  "Hmm," Ding!  "Got some Nitzer ebb,
/Promotional/ ("Big Hit"(, and the inset, you got crystal cases?"

   He sighs, "Of corse," of corse, I slip it off the burn backup, but noone
can talk to a corpse, of corse, "Flip," unless, of corse, the talking
horse, is the famous mister dead!  "Project pitchfork, Alpha Omega, no
liner."

   "Twofer one," he shrugged, looked at the optical surfaces.

   "OMG," HijG, "ijber Alles?" Not Ausgeflippt, but who cares?  "Where'd
you get this?"

   "Hh," he rolls his eyes, "The only," glances up at the gogs, "Other
rivethead in town?"

   "There's two of us?" I look around.

   He chuckles, "Now, how long you staying?"

   "Idaknow," better keep my eyes peeled, "A while," I guessed.

Ruby {T/t NS.}

   "Relax," I rubbed his shoulder, "Try not to even think about it, but
breathe the way I showed you."

   "HhH," his knees gave, but he held them with his quads, and slowly went
down.  "Hhphw."

   "Deep breath," HhUhHhH!  "Now lift," the bar just pressing my palms,
raising to follow it.

   "NnNH!"

   "Breathe," I pulled it back to the rest for him, "Good."

   "Hh Hh Hh!" he panted.

   "Now," I moved around the aparatus, "Let's stretch them out so we don't
get a cramp, Hn?" I slip down, and stick a leg out in the figure 4.  "Don't
bounce," reach across to grip the side of my foot, and strecth it straight
out, resting on the heel.  "HhHhH," ckCKT!  my ribs loosen with a delicious
set of pops.  "Now, the other leg." chKCT the other side.  "HhHn!"

   "You all right?  he can't even touch his toes, straight up, but it
stretches his calf, hamstring, and facia tendon.

   "Yeah," I sit up, stretch my arms straight over me, and slip my feet
into the tops of my knees.

   He looks at me, and smiles a seccond, then shakes his head.  He pays me,
tips 20%, and I accept it.  "Thanks," I make sure to step in front of my
feet, slip my hip into each step, and roll foreward.  Good butt excercise,
rounds, and tones, but that's not why.

   Yeah, he's curious, and thinking about it.  Probably conflicted by
subconcious homophobia, but he's not a hater.  Just never seen one he
liked. Comming around the corner, I switched to Marathon gait, a steady 12
minute mile I can keep up all day.

   Hh Hh Hh Hh Hh, my diaphragm, and abdominals do most of the breathing so
I can pull in my ribs, and shoulders, swing my arms counterpoint for
optimal ballance, and momentum.  "Hh Hhh HHhT!" I take a sip from my
bottle, swirl it back, and forth, catch my breath, and fix my hair.

   Readying my ponytail at the crown, instead of the nape, I pull my scalp
back, brows up, smile, and knock.  "Hey, Ruby." she opens the door, and
holds the dogs, "Come on in."

   "How do we feel today?" I pet the puppies, and she likes to talk a
little before we get started.  Just girl stuff, before we get out her mat,
and drop into the Cobra together.  "Hnhnh," I don't have to remind her to
breathe, talk, but keep an eye on her form as we straighten to Plank, roll
back into the Cat, then she tucks her legs, and settles into lotus.

   Lifting her feet with her hands, I WHOM!  up to a handstand, cross my
legs, and let my hips roll back as they drop, and knot.  "NhHN!" I drop to
sit, lift my hands to my knees, and cup them with my palms.

   "hhhhhhh," I press, roll my scapulae down, together to touch, but my
back has already cracked.

   cpppd!  "Huh!" her's loosens, cycles out the fatigue, stress, and waste
toxins.  We twist, point our elbows at each other, the opposite pointing
out, then the other way.  KMP, kmp KMP, kmp our lumbars loosening.

   "Hynh!" I unlock my legs, and stand up, twisting in place.

   "Hey," gently, I stop, look back, twisting at the hips, lumbar,
shoulders, and neck.  "Come here." She blushes, but smiles up at me.  No
tip from her today, it helps to see the results.  Her tighter midriff,
smoother leg tone, and pectoral breast support.  Yes, she's doing much
better.

   Psiberzerker {MG NS}

   "Huh!" pip pip pip, "KSZ!  KZZ!  KZT!  Ppp." Tear off another hours
receipt to help get the fire goin tonight.  Check my phone, Nature called,
left a message:
Big_Ma:/ WTF?
"Hnh!" Bic, "HhnhN!" Cut around through the courtyard, Renatos' closed,

"Puff," chika "Puff," I think I can.

   "Ho Lee Shit!" about halfway up the fountain, I stopped on the lip, and
the back, and turn to look, "A Rivethead?"

   "Where?" my headphone chords flap to, fro, and vice versa, "There's
another one!" I think, like one of those books, where you can swap cards,
or playing with paper dolls, and dice.

   Ski Visor, road pitted.  Dreddtails, not handrolled.  Goblin face,
pretty.  Tactical vest, camo stained.  Leather wrapped braided steel cable
arms, Sawedov shorts, canned ham cavles: hairy, and sandals that might have
once been boots.

   Tap, tap, she stood closer to the corner.  Okay, s/he didn't know the
secret handshake.  I don't know how many F-Ms you have personally Grokked
{Heinlein}, or Sassed {Douglas Adams} but here's the trick.  Napoleon on
Menopause, not that I have much room to talk.

   Now, I've got standards.  Like Space Mountain, you got to be so tall to
ride, No tolerance Age restrictions, and if you don't mind, try not to peg
the cute gauge.  [FAIL] [FAIL] [FAIL!]

   Now, weigh that with a F-M transexual still not crossed off my list, And
an other rivethead.  Now, I been around the block more times than the
mailman, but I've known single digits in other Transexuals, and Rivetheads
I didn't Corrupt myself, put together.  Both in the same person, even
online?  Just hir.

   "Hmm," I rubbed my beard, conflicted.  Why if I didn't know any better,
I'd think s/he was written for me.  I might be bad, real bad with this one,
but I'm so good at it!

   "{Hello.}"

   Quiet, you.

JoaTMon {Tt, NS}

   "Psi," he shook my hand, "like the letter." He pulled away his OD
wifebeater, pointed to his chest.  It looked like a patch of curls missing,
like he shaved over the u with a spike through it, a circle interlaced
under that, and an upside down T handle for the spike.

   "Psi/Phi {(C) Psiberserker}, That a fraternity?"

   "Not yet," he grinned, and waggled his goggles with his eyebrows, "I
usually concider it a judge of character how long I can talk to somebody
before exchanging names, (but I got it out of the way this time.)" he
muttered to himself.

   "JoaTMoN," he didn't test my grip, but I showed him anyway.

   "Mindif I call you 'Jack', for short?" he grinned.

   Me too, "Sure."

   "Knk," he stepped over the rail to the quarter spiral ramp, and kept
going.  "Khl" on the gravel.

   "Knknk," I had to jump for the border stone.

   Khl, "PUFF," Khl.  I caught up, "Sho," puff, "Whereya from?" His voice
didn't change pitch, but for some reason, it sounded like a girl I used to
know, or type.  Like you know, whatever!

   "Phoenix," I matched his speed, 2-5 pace ratio.

   "I been there," he shrugged, threw himself over the fence to the park. I
ducked under it like a boxing rope, and caught up.  "Where 'bouts?"

   "Mesa," I controlled my breath, got out a snipe.  "Here," he handed me a
Newport 100, from the box, and got out his own.

   "Flavor country?" he pulled out the brown turd, dropped it in front of
his boot.  "Cool shoes!n" Like converse allstars, but black leather.

   "America's only premium cigarette," He grinned (c) did this little twirl
with his hand.  A circle, and most of a smaller one inside.  In his other
hand, he popped open a little cone tin.  Black plastic, about the size of a
film canister, but tapered, and truncated to only about an "depth.  {(Tm)
Kryptoking.com}

   "I jus smoke these {Hav a Tampa "Jewels"} for the tip." He packed it in
the tin, tamped it down with the menthol filter, and flipped it over to
ligh it with the cherry.

   "I usedta know a broad," In AJ, "smoked those." Never thought to empty
out, and pack the tip!

   "Newn town?" he took a pull, blew it out his nose while he chased it
with the nigarette.

   "Just rolled in," and boy are my wings tired.

   "KNT!" he passed it, and I tried it.  "Carefull you don't get the wood
too hot." He took it back, peeled off the ring of brown paper to show me
the scortched spot.  "Feel better?"

   I blinked, nodded.

   "Know what's dumbern a box a rocks?" he tucked it in his vest.

   "Uh uh," I let the smoke go, took a pull off the square, good stuff!

   "A hippy," he pointed, "With a box a rocks." {(Tm) Kaspar}

   "Where you from?" I wondered.  The weistefarian was sitting around the
circle, like a shamen teaching his tribe.

   "Lotsa diffrent places," sounded almost Scottish, "North Kerrlina,
mostly." {^Highlander^} "Hey Kaspar," he slipped, and bumped hands, "This's
the guy I get the Cali Stuff from."

   "JoaTMoN," I tested his hand, but he didn't grip back.

   "Gonnabe at the open mike tonight?" Psi asked him.

   "Yeah," he sat back down, with a notebook, "Working on a new peice."

   "He does spoken word," Psi explained, "Tight prose, activistic."

   We sat down, smoked, and Kaspar told me what's even dummer than a hippy
with a box of rocks, "The tourists, who come buy the rocks from me." Nice
minerals, actually, and glass, "Borosilicate," Tingdingk!  he bounced one
down the concrete stage.

   "Nice sales pitch," I picked it up, not even chipped, and handed it
back. And, we smoked, till Psi interrupted again.

   "GtG," got up smoothly on one leg.  Had to be 200#s, with all his keen
gear, "The battleaxe is getting off." Tucked his phone away.  I followed
him back to the Inn, under the Neon Sign, across the crowded patio, and
into the [Adobe Bar].

   "Hey sweety," she kicked up her leg, and kissed him.  Tall, and wirey,
like a model, narrow shoulders, and hips, but a kind of gawky face.

   "Hun," he turned her, "This's JoaTMoN."

   "Joe," she rested her hand in mine, like she expected me to kiss it,
"Fer short."

   "Now where did you find another Rivethead?" she rolled her eyes, like
Uh!

   "Carson park," she unstrapped the [Doc Martin's] apron around her waist.
I looked down to her matching boots.  {(Tm) Doc Martens} "How's bisness out
dere?"

   "You know," she sighed, and twirled her hair out to the side, "You were
on the line in there." SNAP!  a hairtye from her thumb, and pointer,
sticking out like an L {ASL}.  Twirl, "Uh!  Couldn't tell from the tips."
Twirling the other side, visciously, like Loco!

   SNAP!  "Hey Rose," he turned to the bartendress, "Can we get a Negra,
anan Ouzo?"

   "Sure thing," kinda heavy, but pretty, and she wore it well, like the
complimentary bright pink shirt on her complection.

   "Comfy here," I looked around, leather sofas across the coffee table.

   "The livingroom of Taos," {(c) Taos Inn ARR.} He spread his hands, and I
gawked up at the ceiling, valted to a stained glass coppula around four 25'
trunks, bracketing a nice fountain in the center.  All four fans were
turning up there.

   "I like it here," I decided.

   We didn't stay for the open mike, or all of it.  The sound guy was
Weistefarian too, but it looked, idaknow, right, like that caspar kat
scatting to the Beat only he could hear.  Natural, not hand rolled, but
blonde, or almost white for the tech, who's naps fell behind him almost to
the floor.

   He got up, and played some good old folk.  What used to be called
Country, before it turned into pop, with a twang, then some crusties got up
for their unplugged rendition of "When I Come Around." {(C) Greenday}

   "HhHh," Psi shuddered, and took us out to the patio.  Set up his laptop,
like ginormus, but, "Amiga?" I didn't know they made laptops, or anything
since Commidore folded shortly after I was born.

   "Kinda," he shrugged, "I run Unix, but my dad built it with 4 parallel
processors." He held it up, a squared diamond of fans spinning like a
hovercraft.

   I come around, "Sykospark".net, "No new posts."

   "Yeah, they died from banning thread necromancy, but check out the
site." [A Spark of Sykosis]

   "Instakits?" Goth, Punk, Emo, "Rivethead?" Kinda lotech, but finally a
place to find out what the hell it is, besides you know, me.  There's a
picture of him, Psiberserker, under Poster Rivet.  Like a mugshot in a Grey
{Austrian Military} chef's coat, with a caption.  "Indecipherable
Capitalisation scheme standard." I giggled.  {Link}

   And others, some in "Poseur teeshirt?  Where do I get one?"

   He shrugged, "Somebody else would have to makem," he tapped on the
[Store] link.

   LOL, "Vampire Rats!" out of stock, like everthing else.

   He took the trackball back, switched to another site.  {ASSTR.org} Naked
chick on the front page.  "You got email?" reached around me likeat, he
smelled like testosterone, and wood smoke.

   "Yeah," [Ctrl+T] his homepage was Google.com, so I just had to tap on
the Gmail link.  "Touchscreen, nice!" Looked like LCD.

   "Lemme send you some links," he brought up {psiberzerker@Gmail.com} in
another window.

   "How d'you do that?" we timeshared on the keyboard while he had the
trackball, and I touched the screen.

   "Four parallel processors," he reminded me, so he could, conceivably
connect to Google under two, or more names simultaniously.

   "Keen Gear!" I grinned.

   "Did anybody ever tell you," he looked over at me, "You look like a
fremen?"

   "Yeah!" like, "Just the other day!"

Ruby {TMt NS fant}

   "Uh?" I went back in, "Guh!" Smells like Nirvana, their 15 minutes
should be almost up.  I got another, slipped it down, crunched the cherry,
and tied the stem in a knot before I let it roll back into the cordial
glass.  Starting to warm up, I crossed my legs, shifted subtly, and that
Andean chick got on with her husband.  He played guitar, and my spanglish
is not the best, but I didn't care.  I just closed my eyes, sighed, and let
her lovely voice carry me away.

   Kinda cute, that one.  F-M, my opposite sex, haven't seen one since that
Wade guy down in Santa Fe.  Alright, s-he stuck out like a cock in a
cocktail dress, when he doesn't know how to hide it like me.  I licked my
lips, bit one, wondered what s/he looked like under those bagy clothes, and
underlayer of lycra.  Or maybe just the spandex, tight, smooth, flattening
hir chest, nice and tight.

   "Hh," I got out my purse, dropped it on my lap, and got out the mirrors.
Not bad for pushing 30, passable, immaculat makeup, but I have to do
something with my hair.  Flipping them over, I slip the strap on my head,
and get out the neon falls to clip them on.  There, the swelling's gone
down, I can stand up, go back out to the nerds on the computer.

   "I'm bored," and horny, "Kinwego?"

   "Sure," he snaps it shut.

   Finally, out to the van.  "Transit van?" s/he looked around, just a box,
two seat, guess who gets shotgun.  "Nice!" she backs the bike in, with
Psi's help, straps it in to the cargo hooks, and turns to sit down on the
floor.

   "H!" I roll my eyes where she can't see, and pull the belt.

   "So, what I was thinking was some sort of hybrid-electric bike, or
trike, crank generator, battery, and rear axel motor, but also outlets for
electronics, and lights, and stuff."

   "All right," Psi rubs the point of his labrette with his thumb, and
fingers.  "Should be light enough to prototype with a deep cycle, then step
up to a frame battery."

   "What?" she piped behind me, then coughed to cover it.

   "I been working on a parallel project, with a frame in power supply. 
Solid state, but tubular, to work into the frame of an electric
utlralight."

   "Ultralight what?" not much of a tech.

   "Aircraft," he shrugged, "Rogallo A frame kite canopy, two electric
ducted fans, triangle yoke, like a hang-glider." His eyes switched back to
the road from the mirror.  "Then all I need is the flexible photovoltaics
to make it solar."

   I looked back, watched her blink, the cogs winding up to process that.
"A solar hang glider?"

   "Yeah," he nodded, finally nerding out, "I already got it converting
into a tent." They were like that the whole way home, so I got out the
phones, and put on some My Dying Bride.  "Hh!" |>.

Joatmon {tMT Troi EtC.}

   "This is us," way out, across the bridge, and between the dirt, and
stars in 4X.

   "It's," I started picking up on the minimalist philosophy about then, "A
cube?" Just slightly wider at the bottom, she got out, went in, and rolled
up the garage door.

   "Closest I could get to a sphere with Adobes." He pulled in, showed me
around.  "30x30 footprint," door in the corner, between the front doors. 
"3 stories, not counting the cellar we got the bricks outa."

   Klnkunkunk...  "strawbale seccond story," with kitchen, and bathroom
facilities, wood stove, "sleeping loft," up on some treetrunk rafters, "all
wood upere." South facing patio doors, and loft windows.  Back deck, Weber,
2x stairs down to the yard.

   And, "Nice view," the city, off to the east, like a constellation of
lights, but no light dome, and the real stars out.  "Wow!" I slid open the
door, and spun out on the deck.  Tucking down, I brought my leg around, set
it on my bent knee, and cocked my arms to Jump.

   "Leaving so soon?" he looked back from the stove, goggles down over his
eyes.

   "Nah," I straightened up, turned, and walked back in.

   "Leave it open."

   Bookshelves, "No TV," but a computer.

   "You like to read?" he stood up, and which lense was darker switched as
he put up the goggs.

   I blinked, "Polarised?"

   "Yeah," he looked at them, and wet a corner of his shirt with his
tongue. "Here."

   "GEB," I read from the cover, "Goedel, Escher, Bach: an eternal golden
braid.] what's this, the rivethead bible?"

   "One ovem," he shrugged, and Ruby turned around with a pot full of
water.

   "Or," she carried it over to the stove, "We can sit around, and talk."
Okay, Psi set down his goggles, so I took mine off, and got comfortable. 
[Fuller,] I red the spine next to me, skipped over, and up, [Heinlein,
Herbert,] textbooks, and manuals above that, [Chemistry, Biochemistry]
"Soo," I let my head fall back, "Jack of all trades, huh?"

   Pack, "I'm a generalist," thoughtfully, "Not all trades, but physics,
technology, science fiction author..." Flick!

   "How bout you?" Ruby turned from the stove, "Jack?"

   "That's a joke," I chuckle, "I also answer to Joey."

   "What's that short for?" innocently.

   "Joatmon," I shrug, "Just like 'Jack'."

   "Oh," she smiled, still twisted around to show her ass, tits, and face,
like a Rockwell portrait of Betty Crocker redone by Warhol, "Like Ruby's
short for my last name, my first's really Dan." aand, Mapplethorpe.  "Her"
voice dropped too, with a twitch at his throat, long, smoothe, with only
one lump in the front.

   "You're trans too?!" Why does this keep happening, now, and why didn't I
even guess?  I looked over at psi, his eyes flashing from her to me.

   "I'm just bi," he shrugged, "Or tri, now, (may work my way up to
tetrasexual,)" he looked away, but didn't go on, out loud.

   "Uh," ...  "Uhahaha!"

Psi

   So, anyway, we had a dinner that couldn't be beat, went to bed, and
didn't get up till the next morning.  {When there was a call from officer
Obie.  (c) A.  Guthrie} We talked, all night, seems like, and she told us
her whole story.  Young, but mature, experienced for hir tender fifth of a
century.  Not a lesbian, but there wasn't a seccond date, and a U-haul
would've been moot.

   I'm not sexist, much less ageist, especially when it comes to something
as honestly unimportant as sex.  While everbody else might make a big deal
about it, I don't planning on breeding, so it's basicly just pleasure. 
Like a drug, it's nice, but nothing to make a lifestyle, carreer, or even
hobby out of.

   For those interested in the blow-by-blow of the meat piston action, it
went like this.  We climbed up in the night, got our skins out, and got
comfortable, naked together.  I'm nigh on to a nudist, but it's like
meeting someone all over again.  You got to shake hands, get to know each
other.

   Now, I happen to like strenth, why I keep myself in good shape, but s-he
seemed to be more interested in Ruby.  I don't blame hir, s/he's got
novelty, and I'm pretty much the same-old stick, and a couple balls. 
Proportionate, circumcised, Byegones.

   Now Ruby, there's a horse of a diffrent color.  There's just two kinds
of normal, but all different kinds of different.  S/he's got implants, to
start.  Not usually my cup of silicone, but it helps that s/he pulls it
off. Their hardness better matches hes long lean firm body, like calfskin
stretched over wood, and the hardness below.  The Question Gender tattoo
between them.

   Also on hormones, can't really implant hips without getting out the
powertools, and massive scars.  This enevitably leads to phallic atrophy,
Cialis handles the flacidity, but hir heart shaped head shrank, pinching it
to a taper, even inside the hood.  Peirced, the dumbell stud rolls with the
foreskin, helping with sensitivity.

   "Oh!" s-he likes it!  "Hwlgh!" Not content to play wallflower, I got on
with them, kissed Ruby, but felt around with Joey.  Nothing invasive, she
made her Vaginismus explicit, before it became a problem, and delighted in
hearing the word for it, when Ruby said it.  S/He's multitalented too,
supplemental income from massage therapy, personal training, and hes hobby
with transgender body sculpting.

   Not really going for full reversal, but a healthy mix of both.  A
"Guyl," that's what made hir stay.  The way I understand it, S-he was
congenitally exposed to testosterone from hir twin brother, through the
shared placenta.  Not enough to physicly change hir, but virilised hir
mind. Of course, having just him, Jake, standing there like a mirror,
growing up as a real boy can't have helped.

   And the rape, that Tommy boy with the pool, she couldn't even really
talk about it, but right before s-he thought she was a lesbian.  Bulemia,
using exercise to purge, supressed hir growth, and development.  What Ruby
calls "Gymnast syndrome", sHe thinks they can time it with hir cycle,
progesterone for some androgenic growth without suplimenting steroids.  I
don't really understand it like sHe does.

   I don't have to, to write it, get hir story out there, you know, with
the fiction?
