There’s fun to be had at the Ranch as we read and write our way through quarantine. Come and join us (Hyperlink below)!
Sunlight flashed a line ‘cross the floor
Rusty squeak of batwing doors
A buckaroo walks into a bar… Continue reading
There’s fun to be had at the Ranch as we read and write our way through quarantine. Come and join us (Hyperlink below)!
Sunlight flashed a line ‘cross the floor
Rusty squeak of batwing doors
A buckaroo walks into a bar… Continue reading
Lula’s Full Moons 40 Saloon, nestled into the western-most corner Zeta-5’s Rest and Rehab Station, was half full of the usual hands, lounging in leathers and 10-gallon hats, or tipping back shots in titillating bustiers and full ruffled skirts. Or jeans and flip flops. Lula didn’t care, just so long as folks were respectful and they paid their bar bill.
Lotta Du Charms relished the feel of canvas around her legs, leather and horseflesh between her thighs. Continue reading
Lula, at forty, was too old to be a whore, and too smart to be a madam. Scratching a living from the arid Oklahoma soil did not appeal to her.
She never did cotton to book learning. At least, not the kind of learning offered at the town’s one-room school house. It squatted at the edge of town like a carbuncle, Continue reading
poetry, fiction, art, books, retro
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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Fiction Writing
Lance Greenfield - Night Writer
“Beauty was not simply something to behold; it was something one could do.” – Toni Morrison
Walk On The Wild Side