SG

SASHA GREY from V Magazine on Vimeo.

"Tell him...and tell him, we'll be back."

"The Gorgons came by carrying weapons again...said you were a dead man."

The Moon Is Dying

"It was a full moon."

I thought about that for a half second, decided it was bullshit. I quickly dismissed that rationale... the same way I quickly extinguish most things that come out of peoples mouths. It was a great default thing I learned from my pops. He showed me how to really do that one. Foolproof really. Except you never really get to experience anything....nothing affects you cause of that wall. It's a handy filter that slowly keeps every single piece of the universe coming at you from...well, coming at you.
It really blots out your soul.

But...

Did he know that for sure? About the moon?

He passed off his moon comment with nonchalance, as if to explain, yeah...that's what the black kids do in the new year. That's a... California Full Moon thing...

"What else is goin on?" And he was pulling out another Winston.

***** *****

The black youth held his shorts up, his Nike Hi Tops were unlaced, he was tall, wearing a t-shirt, in a hurry, not wasting time, picking his moments, challenging the cars to hit him, but maybe not...he was in the groove...he was doing it.

All of it was happening fast. I was driving north on the 405, 8:13pm, just around Inglewood, maybe south of there, somewhere just north of Long Beach. It was crowded and moving, I was going 72mph. Break lights up ahead and then no break lights. Then I see the kid. He's facing traffic and skipping between the other 70mph autos.
Does he want to get hit?
Maybe.
There's no car stopped anywhere.

It must be an initiation...touch the cement divider and then get back to the neighborhood.

"Must be a full moon," someone says when I tell them.

"Yeah."

der privé eigendom naar stichtingseigendom de persoon

She had fat ankles.


Her legs...perfect, but her ankles were fat. There, said it twice. Fat. Not enlarged. And certainly not malformed. "Tensile strength," as Mac might say.

The calves had perfect shape, the thighs were powerful; intelligent, outgoing, fun at parties, forgiving as they would shred sand at the lake. Her ass was nearly proportional. With no clothes on, everything was perfect...the whole structure...the tibia, well... every piece of bone and flesh and contour seating was in the right place, but as the leg descended into the ankle, there was no definitive break, it was calf straight into ankle.
Not a deformity but a hereditary indicator.

How old could she be?



Let us speak of spoked things; pinwheels and Patricks, cholera and cupcakes, rents to pay and Jakes to slap, kings to crown and Jacks to prick.

Frozen ice on antennae receives signal from dead bear............................nothing.

"For some, it's a second chance, but for others it's a first step."
New, this fall on KBC!

Do your contact lenses feel as comfortable at the beginning of the day as they do at the beginning of the day?

The problem with contact lenses....well, there are many...De enige beperking is dat het de Stichting niet toegestaan is een bedrijf uit te oefenen. Het optreden als beheer-, holding-, investering-, of beleggingmaatschappij wordt niet beschouwd als het uitoefenen van een bedrijf. Er bestaat geen minimum kapitaalstorting en het beginkapitaal van de Stichting behoeft niet in de akte van oprichting te worden opgenomen. De Stichting mag haar kapitaal zonder beperkingen laten “werken” en alle soorten investeringen zijn mogelijk. Zo kan ze als commanditaire vennote deelnemen aan een bedrijf. Deze kenmerken maken de Stichting Particulier Fonds tot een ideaal instrument voor het beheer van vermogen in de meest brede zin des woords. Het is een bijzonder goed alternatief voor de Angelsaksische Trust die geen rechtspersoonlijkheid heeft. Wel moet men er rekening mee houden dat de schenker in een aantal gevallen schenkingsrecht verschuldigd zou kunnen zijn in zijn/haar land van inwoning.

Liquidate Your Savings Today!

"Nancy is babysitting tonight."

Thirteen bounding gazelles headed west for more food and cover, it was that sun from her childhood, it was late in the day, mid-November.

They had been called together by the one with poor vision and a funny way of speaking, what the tall one called, "an accent."

Where the wolf actually was now, was anyone's guess. Terry knew it couldn't be in zone 20 because the mountain lions hunted there, he had noticed tracks a few days earlier around the banks of the reservoir. Terry had his weapons, he had met the animal before and he, unlike Ben or his father's best friend, Mr. DeWeese, was no longer afraid.

Pamela parked the car and Dee Dee got out, walked into the florist and asked to see her wrist corsage. She could hardly wait for the dance. She had hoped that the rocket launch might be postponed. She was nervous as the boy behind the counter asked for her name again.
"Buehman." She replied.
Dee Dee Buehman."
The boy disappeared into a room and then returned.
"No, sorry." He said blankly.
"But..." said Dee Dee.
"Maybe Mrs. Erickson didn't do it yet....Kenny is still in the hospital." The boy picked at the scab on his elbow. It began to bleed.
"The dance is tomorrow.... though." said Dee Dee as she fought back tears.
"I know. I ain't goin neither." said the boy.
Dee Dee was stuck. She turned and looked out the window of the small shop. She began to cry. Across the street, a boy with a skateboard rode off the sidewalk, jumping the cement curb, into the street and into an oncoming Dodge Stratus.

She was all ass...