Karen turned around to face us. She had a wet spot on her blouse by one of her hanging nipples. Mitch was wiping his lips dry.She then raised her apro... over her breast, There was a sign in German on the backside of the apron.Bekam Milch? Was written on the sign.All three of grabbed our smart phones to translate the German words.Grady hollered out I think I got it! Got Milk? All three of us looked at each other Got Milk?Huh?Mitch was behind Karen. Karen dropped down the apron. Karen’s fat. . well that didn’t seem so far out.“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” she asked, once they were in the house. “I never thought about that before, but my bed is big enough.”He had a different look on his face when he lifted his head. There was something in his eyes that looked almost dangerous, somehow, as if he were angry.“I’ve dreamed of sleeping with you almost since I can remember,” he said softly.It may be understood, with a little reflection, that because Erica had pushed sexual. The porn I write is Dee-Eye-Are-Tee-Why DIRTY, not to be shown to children or parents. It belongs hidden under the mattress, behind the pipes beneath the bathroom sink, or in the locked drawer of the nightstand. If it isn’t Dirty, I haven’t done it right. On the other hand, if it isn’t interesting, it’s not any damn good and I wouldn’t post it. I can’t spit out those cookie-cutter tales of horny teenagers getting busy in the backs of their mommies’ cars, or bisexual nymphomaniacs who want to. You see, I live here in Hollywood, the land of dashed dreams and five-dollar hookers. The only place on Earth where other worlds are made on screen for our enjoyment and lovers torn apart for our bereavement. I came here looking for that place, hoping to strike it as rich as the thousands of gold miners had done before me not even 150 years hence, by selling my script to a studio. That's the old joke out here, everyone has a script. But like most jokes, there is always truth behind the punch.