That silent, grotesque lump of God-given clay yet to be molded, for all hope, to die in the dust with the humming of the cortex, those strange fibers ...f consciousness wrestling angsty teenage love, my sweet Kimberly… she’d dated someone I’d thought my friend. Society’s law kept me from killing him. I would wake up in the night and punch the floor in anguish, homoerotic fear and shame… I killed him a thousand times over in my mind…. His form extinguished by the hood of my car raging into him. Also, the collapsed cross was much higher - relative to the movable false floor - when she was bent over. She seemed confused by what I was doing.“Gracie, you are beautiful, irresistible even. You know this. I cannot help myself and what I desire. For this exercise I intended to explore your magnificent bottom, and that works better if you face the cross. It can embrace you either way.” Once the cross is raised I will have access to her bottom and, by going around, to her wonderful tits. I set. More

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