I lay back on the edge of me bed, somewhat in a provocative pose, my flannel skirt mid thigh, but my legs crossed, squeezing my thighs as it felt good...and matched my feeling.How can a teenage girl have such feeling for her brother, you my ask, but you see, we dissect our brothers into two parts, the upper part, and the more desirable bottom part.By now he was hard and I was just staring at it. 'Have you seen one this big before', he asked me, I just shook my head to indicate I had not, not. I was amazed that she could manoeuvre her self in the outfit she was wearing. Like Mr. Newchild she cupped my chin in her gloved hands. She twisted it to the right, then to the left. Up and then down. She picked up and let strands of my hair fall back onto my head. She looked me in the eyes and I looked back into hers. They were cold, yet not vile like Mr. Newchild’s eyes. Then her eyes dipped to scan my mouth. I think the blood was beginning to dry on the corner of my mouth. “She’s been. E. aminor), too old to breathe (i.e. dead), a religiousfundamentalist (you know who you are), or just like suingpeople (I'm not being paid, and neither will you), holddown the "Alt" button ("Apple" for Mac users) and press theLeft arrow key now. Those of you who were not singled outare free to read on at your convenience. Freedom of Choice,ain't it grand.Right as RainBy The WatcherThe annual garage sale is a suburbanite tradition. As JeffFoxworthy once put it, "...people selling stuff out. Paint peeled around the window frames, creating jagged edges, cutting the dim light that shone hopefully from within.Occasionally, children waved, foraging in the muck, accompanied by thin dogs or huge mothers, barefoot, dirty. Ringing bells rose to a crescendo as they rattled over a crossing. Lauren watched the cars lined up waiting along the street, water flowing along the gutter as pedestrians stumbled around the potholes. The stench of the sewer greeted her head-on, making her shudder.She.