Contributor: Paul Tristram - - The Lusters, they have their fingers Upon the pulse of what is going on. They are always scanning the horizon For the next playmate to come along. They lick their lips at the shadows Preen the mind with erotic thought. There’s a burning desire within them To go seek out but also to be sought. The itch cannot be really scratched No, it can only be temporarily calmed. By some sticky, gargling of the senses That would make most people alarmed. They are farmers of the opposite sex They are gatherers of a human fruit. Wanton hunters and hustlers of flesh They dig and claw to reach the root. Disease is just an occupation hazard Rejection is a striking hammer blow. Look in the nymphomaniac dictionary You will not find a word meaning ‘No.’ For another climax of their senses They’ll head off back down into town. Hoping...

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Author: Paul Tristram

Contributor: Joshua Dobson - - If, like myself, you happen to be a conno-sewer of freaky-lookin' perverts, then free STD testing day at the Department of Pub ic Health is not to be missed. Marvel at the popper burns pinkening the nostrils of a raincoat pervert with a wet tubercular cough. Gaze in lust at all the whore-flesh on display. Recoil in horror from the needle tracks, coat-hanger scars, and property of ______ tattoos. See the largest herpes sore in the state and watch it suppurate before your very eyes. Although the gawking to be found in the lobby is worth the price of admission alone, that's not the only reason I come here every other Wednesday. I come to get tested. I don't give a fuck whether I have a venereal disease or not, I just like getting jabbed with needles by moderately attractive nurses. My favorite part is when...

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Author: Joshua Dobson

Contributor: Laidyrusty - - He embraced her. Licking her. Tasting her. Tearing her. Spreading her. Open. Wet. Wanton. Her screams echoed. Useless. Empty school. Janitors' closet. He nuzzled. He fondled. He agonized. He lengthened. He sucked. Her breasts hardened. Involuntarily. She gasped. Then back. Forth. Back. He pounded. Fast. He beat her. Raw. He exploded. Releasing seeds. Too bad. A waste. Reaching. Throat clenched. She stared. Hollow. He ogled her. Legs kicked. Fingers lost. Fingers trying. Fingers digging. Useless. Linoleum. Lemon scented wax. Convulsions. Unseen tears. Last breaths released. Her soul saved? He rose. Zip. Click. Trousers damp. Belt clamped. Tight. Click. Flash. His keepsake. She lay. Perfect. Picture perfect. He left. Briskly. Keys jingling. "Lock it!" Poor janitor. He ran. He drove. Home. Safety. His dark...

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Author: Laidyrusty

Contributor: Paul Tristram - - There was a man up a tree; he was laying down upon a branch, about twenty foot up, with his arms and legs wrapped around the branch and his left cheek was pressed against the rough tree bark. “I’m never going down there again!” he whispered to himself as he turned his head around so that his right cheek was now pressed against the branch. He opened his eyes and cringed, for he could see the lights of the town which was situated a mile or two off to the left hand side. “You Bastards!” he half shouted at the lights. “You’re all a bunch of fucking wankers, walking around bumping into each other, sleeping with each other’s partners, beating each other’s children, eating each other’s food, prying loose each other’s secrets. I hate you all, you’re all as strange as aliens to me, even my own fucking family...

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Author: Paul Tristram