Tales of the city... a thousand stars  

yogagrrl 48
193 posts
2/27/2006 9:38 pm

Last Read:
4/11/2006 8:48 pm

Tales of the city... a thousand stars

I love my clitoris. I cannot fathom the removal of it and I never really thought about it when I traveled through Africa and how the majority of women do not have one.

The clitoris with it's thousand nerve endings looks like a small penise when erect. I happen to have a large one - so I've been told and it responds nicely.

The penis is beautiful, I really don't like the way the vaginia looks no offense ladies. I worship the penis, I'm a subbmissive female. It's not that I fear women, I just don't like pussy much. I like male energy. I think the penise is a work of art, and I enjoy how a man responds when the head of his cock is worked nicely, it's like a clitoris.

Around 2:15am, I find myself in a taxi heading towards north beach on Columbus Ave. I'm the company of a young man who is amazing and even has a flask of grey goose to share with me. We are highly amussed by everything and everybody, we are similar in our thought process and we seem to read each other very well. I'm in good hands, a kind loving spirit who just needs a little company of a like minded soul. We talked about the playa and are looking forward to the burn this year.

I am relaxed, I do not feel threated if I did, I would've never jumped in the cab with a total stranger. SF is my home town and I could bail at any time but I don't. I know these streets like the back of my hand, I have lots of friends in this town.

We light up and par take in the cab, the cabbie is really cool and puffs a little with us. He is playing John Coltrain and finds us to be great fun.

My new friend, tells the cabbie to stop at Green and Grant. We stroll to a narrow street and head up stairs to an apartment. Inside, the music was playing and there was about 12 people getting really stoned and just chillin'out to the sounds around them.

I am offered a drink, I ask for water instead and we find a space on the floor with a ton of pillows all around. It's very chill and very nice, this is really a cool north beach flat.

I think of Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassidy - late night North beach and Jazz music. Perhaps nearly sixty years ago they were sitting in a flat just like this one and listening to Coletrain, smoking pot and reading poetry. Jack actually lived not too far from here just off Hyde street in Russian Hill.

I look out the window to the night sky which is lit up by a thousand stars.

To be conitued....

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