I was trying to come with an appropriate description. It wasn't baseball bat size, but felt thicker and maybe a little shorter. Maybe a full-sized loa... of Italian bread, but much firmer than any bread. In any event, it felt oh-so fucking good. I think you should understand I was in a long dry-spell which, to paraphrase a TV show I still loved, 'twas nothing twixt my nethers that ain't had batteries' in way too long. Besides, I owned him. Yes, whatever you might call him, he was certainly a him,. She was ugly in the same way as a baby bluebird–all plain colors and odd bones, but with the potential for reaching the same cast as the sky on a summer day. We were about the same age. I was taller. Barely. Eyes as wide as freshwater mussels opened up behind her waterfall of curls when she spotted me and Daddy. A basket, half-full of coneflowers, was held in front of her by arms that were red and crisscrossed with the remembered caress of dogwood trees. It occurred to us both that I was. More

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