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“Petey’s tough. He plays football.”

“You’ve got a cute giggle,” Donna whispered in my ear as we got disentangled after the tickle fight.

Petey's real first name is...

“She demanded that I, you know, describe you there—uh—like how big you were and, and, like that!”

“Eep!” I eeped, grabbing at the hand brace, and feeling my curvy parts jiggle and sway, straining against the glue.

Just a little poll to help me focus on providing people what they want to see on the BC Patreon. Open to evryone to take part.

https://www.patreon.com/posts/content-or-just-71265203

Hugs,
Erin

I managed to escape without going back through the boys’ locker room; the coaches’ corridor has its own entrance and exit. Megan was waiting for me looking crisp and cute in her denim capris and a tied top, Elly May Clampett-style.

I had to grin at her, and when I held my arm up, she snuggled under it. We kissed, just a peck because we were still on school grounds, but it felt nice. It was as it had been for a moment, but then she asked, “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Huh?” My stomach dropped.

Why should a smelly room full of half-naked boys be a problem to me?

I have more than 200 unfinished stories clustering around me like tiny, empty, liquor bottles around the corpse of a destitute alcoholic.

Besides the stories I have started and not finished on this site and others, like The Pregnant Boy and 30 Million Reasons, and ones that I am still working on like Pete's Vagina and Special FX, I have scores hidden away on hard drives, many of them tantalizing, fragmentary visions of longer works.

Pete needs to get into the boys' locker room to put on his football uniform. Yikes!

“What am I, a refrigerator?”

“I could kiss you,” I told him.

I'm taking a few days off to go see some of the desert museums and chill before it gets too hot to make such a trip.

I'll be gone Thu and Fri, probably recuperating Sat and Sun but I will have my phone and laptop with me.

Try not to set the place on fire. :)

Hugs,
Erin