Wordsmoker

Sometimes you fall in love and sometimes you just fall in lust. If you’re really lucky you get to do both at the same time, with the same person, at least once or twice in your life. I was not lucky. I always fell hard for the sweet girl in my building, but still wanted to fuck the ones that passed me on the street. But lately I had been meeting too much of the wrong kind of woman and I didn’t see any way of turning that around.

She was different. Quieter. More elegant. I’m a little embarrassed to say that my tastes run to the extremes. Substantially larger than average breasts forming at least a forty-five degree downward slope from the neck before stampeding back to the ribcage. A waist that cuts deep into the body and then explodes out to round, luscious hips. Symmetrical legs that cut through the nothing like a long pair of surgical scissors. I know it’s not healthy—for her or for me—and, until she walked into the little jazz club where I play the bassoon in my cousin Paco’s band, I didn’t think it really existed. Read the rest of this entry →