Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Mariko

   Yeah, I'm Japanese.  So, I'll get that out of the way, I don't like
Japanese cartoons, they're pretty stupid, and everyone just looks silly. 
Nobody talks like that, nobody ever talked like that, and I grew up in
America, so I don't have a schoolgirl uniform.  I'm 14, but because of how
I look, the only guys that seem to like me are creepy old child molestors.

   So, I guess that's how my sexuality got so fucked up.  Okay, not the
only guys, but a lot of them.  Strangers out in public, they just stare,
and follow me, say stupid racist stuff, or talk to me in pidgeon.  It's an
R, not a D.  Stop it.

   "Who did you vote for, in the erection?" Haha, I heard that one before,
too..

   But the first time, I kind of, liked it?  Well, we're on the bus, but
like the city bus, so this guy starts staring, and I can just imagine what
he's thinking about.  Doing, to me, but my whole family was there, so he
just stared at me, and thought about it.  Thing is, I don't know him, he's
just some guy, but.  I guess I thought if I didn't fight him.  He wouldn't
hurt me, I have rape fantasies, because I always get creepy old men,
following me, and staring at me, and thinking god knows what, but he
manspread.

   You know what that is, when a guy takes up 2 seats, and spreads out as
much as he can, so nobody wants to sit with him?  Yeah, well I was shoved
up against the window, and my brothers were fighting, so I kept getting
bumped up against it, but I saw it.

   His boner, he had one, and grinned.  Raised his eyebrows, just staring,
and grinning when he saw me see it.  Through his pants, but I could tell it
was hard, because you don't see it when it's squished, and I know what a
boner is.

   I have 2 brothers, and they have friends.  I even watched one jack off
once, but not my brother, one of his friends.  He was hanging out, and he
had to go to the bathroom, but not to pee.  So, I saw it, I know what
happens.

   "Hh," and I thought about him, wetting his pants, when he stopped the
bus, and got off.

   "Hihihn!" I moved over, to where he was sitting, and it was still warm
from his butt.  And his back, and arms I guess, because he had them up on
the wall, but the boys could keep fighting, and I sat between the seats
like he did.  Looking at me, and getting a stiffy.

   I guess he couldn't get me, cause my family was there, but I thought
about if he got me, and between the seats is these hard plastic.  Edges? 
There not sharp, you don't want passengers cutting our butts, but if you
skootch around, you can get your butt around it, it just sticks in my back,
and that hurts, so I have to sit forward.

   No, the real good part is those edges squeezing me together.  My labia,
I took Health, and passed it.  I remember what all the words are, but then
we took off, and that was my first vibrator.  The 20 ton bus, with the big
diesel motor underneath the seats.  It wasn't even my first orgasm, but it
was the best.  Just thinking about him, looking at me, and thinking about,
I don't know, touching me?  Yeah, probably, but getting hard, and wetting
his tight pants.

   "Uh!"

   Yeah, okay.  Right out in public, right in front of my family, but they
weren't paying attention to me, and looking around.  Nobody was even
looking at me.  Since he got off.

   "Hihihihn!" Yeah, I bet he jerked right off, and I can imagine we got
off the same time, or he did remembering me like I did, thinking about him
ejaculating in his tight pants.  So, I fantasized, before I did it.  For
real, but I was too shy, and scared, because I knew they wouldn't want just
that.

   Then we got home, and I got the bathroom.  The mirror, I was satisfied,
but that's when I started to think about my looks, and why that's a
problem. I don't have much in my bra, not even a full A, so call it an a,
or 2, so I practically have to pull my shirt tight to show them.

   High school boys just want to look at tits.  I mean, for them to come up
and talk to you, but then it doesn't even start.  I sure can't go up any
talk to them, not that I really want to, but I'm a teenage girl, I have
needs, and everyone still sees me as a child.  Some of the teachers even
babytalk me, which is as bad as pigeon, or laughing when I suck at math.

   Seriously, WTF, Mrs.  Sutton?  #NotAllAsians, that's like half the
people on Earth is Asia, but we can't all be math wizzes.

   "Huh!" I can feel them, but you can't see them, through my clothes.  So,
I just take off my bra, put on my nighty, and go to bed.  But I dream, I'm
on the bus, all alone, and naked.  So there's all these guys around,
looking at me.  They can see my breasts, and body hair, so I don't look
like a little girl.  Only this time, they don't do anything, they just look
at me, and they all have boners in their tight pants, but they don't do
anything.  I keep waiting for them to do something, but they're afraid of
showing their dicks, or the other guys looking at their dicks, so they just
sit there, and stare at me, naked until I wake up.

   Hot as fuck.  I kick my covers off, but those aren't the problem, and
the boys are both snoring to loud.  So, rub one off to go back to sleep. 
"Huh!" Just like the magic fingers on the bus, only of course I can't
vibrate and shake them like the motor, but it feels good.  If I can't sleep
anyway, because I'm to hot, at least I can feel good, but my dad's a
masseur.  Shiatzu, he's really good at it, and he's got one.

   It's like a vibrator, but for your finger.  For massage, but if you go
to Walmart, and buy a Magic Wand, that's what it's called.  "Back
massager," says it right on the card in the plastic, package thing.

   Yeah, that's what it's for, why it's shaped like that, when something
flat you can hold in your hand would work better, because you can push it
down with your hand, like a Masseur would do.  You would think.  Unless you
need that big long handle to hold it between your legs, but I guess you
don't want us to know what it's really for.  My mom doesn't have one, she's
married to a massuer, so.  Yeah, but I talked to my friends about it, and
giggled with them, because their moms have them, and they have to wait
until they leave to "Borrow" them.

   Right, like it's a "Back Massager." I bet.

   But this one shakes my finger in between just fine, especially when I
get the tip in, and straighten it out so my nail pushes hard in the bottom,
and I can feel the back of my bone, with the hard plastic ring right over
my clitoris.

   "Hh, hah!"

   Yeah.  He doesn't even use it, doesn't believe in mechanical massagers,
or those weird ones that look like Jacks, because he's skilled, and spent a
lot of money to go to school for it.  No, not in Tokyo, in Nevada.  He grew
up in America too.

   "Hhh, h h.  H!"

   So that works pretty good, so I keep it, and go back to bed.  I like the
massage table too, but I'd like it a lot better if I got my own room,
instead of him having an office, so he can work at home.  I know, "Money's
tight," but I'm 14, and it's a pain in the ass to change in the bathroom,
or have to go there to get off.  So I can sleep.  The boys have to do it
too, but.

   "Huh!" That's better.  There's that.  Now, where was I?

   Oh yeah, on the bus with all those men, staring at me.

   Only this time, I've got clothes on, so I have to take them off.

   "Yeah!"

   The other nice thing about it being tiny is I can take it with me.  Most
girls that see it don't even know what it is, it just looks like a big
ring, until I show them the bezel?  I don't know, like a wristwatch, only
you turn it on like any other vibrator, and adjust the speed, or you can
screw it off to adjust the little button battery.

   We all got a good giggle out of that, but no you can't borrow it.  Like
I want it after they had it between their legs, and I don't know if I can
wash it, or if you could wear a glove over it, but I sure don't want them
running the battery down, because then I'd have to go to Batteries Plus.

   But then we get to school, and none of them told on me.  Or at least
nobody came to ask me if I brought a vibrator to school, but I didn't show
it off like a ring.  I just left it in my purse, and thought about it. 
Maybe getting it out to buzz off on lunch, but the only real place to do
that would be the bathroom, and I hate doing it in the bathroom, because I
have to at home, so I'll just kick the boys out, and do it in bed like a
normal person.

   Then I remember dad had an old one.  Big old thing with a metal motor
you're supposed to put on the back of your hand, and plug it in.  Because
it's got a cord to plug it in, like an electric razor, really, but I bet
it's powerful, with that big motor, and it's got a big knob on the side to
turn it up, and down.

   I wonder where he keeps it?  Haven't seen it in years, and that was
before I started getting so sexual, but make a note to dig that out when I
get the chance.  I looked for a Sybian, that looks fun in the videos, but
they're like a thousand bucks, and where would I put it, or use it?

   "Huh!" I wish I could just kick dad out, to get a real office and I can
have my own room.  And a sybian, while I'm wishing.  He can't afford that,
I get it, but it still sucks.

   Then the bell rings, and "Uh!" That means Math.  Not just math,
"Algebra." and now I have to pass it this time, but with common core, and
it being math.  Changing it to variables doesn't help, then I can get the b
and the 6 messed up, if there's a 6b, and do you think I'm dyslexic?  So I
better think about that.

   It'll be there when I get out for lunch.  "Huh!" I don't have to go to
the bathroom, where the buzz echoes, so that anyone that comes in can hear
it, and I can get busted for bringing a vibrator to school.

   No, math.  Algebra, Mariko.  Put that on pause until after math.

   .

   "Uh!" x numbers, and b minutes later.  Yeah, I really need to get, all
that out of my head.

   So, not, not the girl's room, but "Mhihihm!" It's a good thing I have
lunch right after math, because.

   X4-2b...

   "Uh!"

   I really need to just get that out of my head.  Bad enough I'm supposed
to be good at it, but being bad enough it breaks my brain?  Just switch
off, a minute, will you?

   So, off campus, but just off campus.  I don't really want all those kids
that saw me to follow me, and catch me.  "Sm!" Turn it on, and get it in my
pants, though.  Outside my panties, just.  "Huh!" Warm them up, and imagine
them all stopping, staring, then sticking around to watch.  Push down my
pubes, so it rolls down, and bulges in the seat lining.  "Huh!"

   Then I can get my shirt off, my bra out to see.  I'm not a little girl.
I got some, yeah not a lot, they don't bounce around, and hit you in the
face.

   "Nhihihn!"

   Why am I thinking about tits?  Boys, not nasty old men with their looks,
and dirty thoughts.

   "Hemh!"

   Okay, maybe a fat old bald guy, with a beard, and.  Nerd glasses.

   "Meah!"

   And a boner in some nice tight jeans to split my butt.  Sitting in his
lap, his hands all over me, and feeling my chest.  Pushing up my bra, and
the low droning humm of the bus, taking off, carrying us away.

   "Smh!" Get my finger wet again, and slip my hand around.  My hip, to the
front.  My pubes.

   "Yeah!"

   What if someone sees us?

   "Oh yeah!"

   Fuck that dick in your pants.  Right up my ass crack, and feel my tits.
"Huh!" I can kind of cup one inside my elbow, but it's not the same.  I can
grab the other one, though, and imagine him feeling down, over my pubes, in
my hot pants.  "Huh!"

   I don't know, how long it took to walk around the school, to the trees,
and found a spot, private enough.  Much less how many minutes I had till
the first bell.  "Huh!" Enough time to fix my pants, and run through the
building for class.  Forgot my book, so I had to lean over, and read
someone else's, but she slid it over between us.

   Got it out of my head, though.

   Biker (Displacement.  She's imagining this from his POV, to get aroused
by it.)

   Good workout, but there's a little oriental girl, looking at me.  At the
bustop, specifically the front of my shorts.  Bicycle shorts, just did a
few cardio laps around the reservoir, and "Ahem."

   Biting her lip.

   "Do you mind?"

   I turned around, but.  Spandex.  And little pouch in the back of my
excercise shirt for my wallet.

   "How old are you, anyway."

   "18?  How old are you, man?"

   "Well, it's not polite to stare."

   "So?  It doesn't stop men staring at me."

   "Look, it's not like every man is a." Perv?  Child molestor?  "You're
really 18?"

   "Yeah, it'll be great when I'm 29, and all the white guys think I'm 20."
She rolled her eyes.  "If I have to dress like this, and it still doesn't
keep their eyes off of me, then I can look too." She shrugged.  "Free
country." She grinned, "And besides, why'd you dress like that?"

   "To ride?" I pointed out my bike.

   "Yeah, so they're like yoga pants."

   I looked up.

   "Yeah, you like yoga pants?"

   "No," not really, but she saw the lie.

   "Yeah right.  Well, I like biker shorts.  And creepy old men."

   "Huh!" I grabbed my water bottle, drank it, and put it back in the cage.
Then, I got on my bike, and rode it to the next stop.

   Mariko (fM NS)

   I sat in the back, corner behind the seats.  Not one of the good busses,
with the good seats.  They're not close enough together, but the ones right
in front of me aren't turned sideways over the wheel wells, so I can get a
battery from Batteries + out, and my little purse vibe out.

   I guess I got lucky, he's right, they're not all creepy peepers, but if
he was, then maybe I'd do something stupid with him.  I can think about it
though, until I get home.  Dig out the big one, and figure out what I can
do with it.  It's got a strap instead of a ring, so it doesn't flop down
loose on my biggest finger.  Doesn't even fit my thumb that tight, but with
my whole hand buzzing, or throbbing.  Turned all the way down, so it's a
low deep note, see what that feels like.

   This one's tiny, so all it's speeds are fast, or too fast, so I don't
even feel the vibes, just like a long note.  ___ Instead of ...

   Then a Sybian, but they only had these in a pack, so 16 should last me a
year, right?  Yeah, right.  Well, at least they're cheap?  It was kind of
nice, when it started running low, on lunch.  Before it dies, but how long
do they last, anyway?  Doesn't matter, I can get more.

   Clunk!  Some homeless guy came on, and the wheels on his bag kept
hitting the seats.  Sideways to swing it through the seats, but he stuck it
on the middle one, sat in the corner, and popped them off.

   "Why didn't you do that before?" He tucked them behind it against the
seat back.

   "Because I just rolled it up to the bus." He sat back, "And then I'd
have to carry the wheels, too."

   "I never have seen that bag before."

   "Came with the trailer."

   "What trailer."

   "It's a bike trailer, see." He held it up, "The frame folds up, and it
hitches to my seat post here." On the end, where the bars came together
like a Y He folded it back, behind one bag, then folded that under a bigger
bag, and set it back down.

   "Oh, are you homeless?"

   "I prefer rentless," he patted it, "But this is all I own."

   "And your bike."

   "Yeah, but they have a rack for that."

   Up front, I saw them.  Sometimes with bikes on it.

   "Must be nice."

   "Yeah it is.  Hard life, but I like the freedom."

   "So, you don't have to be homeless."

   "Well, you don't have to be anything.  Huh!  It actually takes a lot, to
get off the streets.  To get money, you need a job, which requires an
address to apply for.  But you need the money to pay rent, so Instead I
focus more on making it comfortable and convenient, then trying to get a
house."

   "How long have you lived like this?'

   "Off and on, my whole adult life?  I never really could pull off the
work for rent thing.  So, I improvised."

   "That's really cool, you know."

   "Yeah," he grinned, "I know."

   "So, where you going?"

   "Oh, actually I left my bike at camp.  Finally wore out my freewheel, so
I decided to leave it, and come get another."

   "So, Walmart?"

   "What brings you out to the Reservoir?"

   "Well, I just took the wrong bus.  I was supposed to take the 25."

   "So you took the 52?  Because the signs are digital."

   "Yeah, so it's like being color blind, only."

   "Dismetria." I nodded.  "So back to the downtown hub?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well, there's bike shops all over town.  So, I can go anywhere.  The
ones downtown are expensive, but I'm not in a hurry."

   "Hihihn!  You talk to yourself."

   "Yeah, nobody else understands me."

   "So, you don't wear biker pants."

   "Excuse me?"

   "You know, spandex?"

   "Yes, I know, but." He shook his head, "You usually talk to complete
strangers about their underwear?"

   "Hhihn!  Well, they do it to me, so."

   "Yeah, sometimes.  Huh!  It helps to have everything tucked away, in
case I hit the seat, in a bump or something.  I don't usually use the seat
much, I use my legs for suspension.

   He had his foot up, and bounced it, when he's talking.  On his knee,
sideways so he can put his arm up.  on the back of the seat.  It looks like
a drumstick, and I can see the muscle beating like a heart when he shakes
his foot like that.

   "Sorry." He stopped.

   But then the bus pulled up, so we got out, and I watched him pop a wheel
back on the side.  "Here," I handed him the other, but it's not late.  "You
want to hang out?"

   "With me?" KhKhK!  It kind of bent, straight, then straight, but over,
so he can hold it up by the Y end.  Or one of those box carts, they use for
moving, or something big from the UPS truck.

   "Burley Travoy." He turned it, turned it back, then leaned it down, to
roll behind him.

   "Yeah, it's not safe downtown.  Just walking around, alone?"

   "You know better than me, but yeah.  Nice afternoon."

   "So what brings you out to the Reservoir?"

   "Washington Park.  We're not supposed to camp there, but." He winked,
"They haven't caught me yet.  If you don't mind me saying, you've got very
good French pronunciation?"

   "I'm taking French."

   "Oh," not going to ask what grade?

   "I'm 15."

   "Okay?"

   "Most people think I look younger." Because.

   "Didn't really think about it."

   "Huh." He's cool.  Doesn't look at me like that, and I guess it gets it
out of my head.

   He just walked...

   "I should probably get a bike too."

   "Yeah, if you're going to get around on the bus, and trolley system."

   "You said, dis."

   "Metria?" He nodded, "That's like Dislexia, with numbers.  I do it too,
one of the handicaps that kept me from holding down a job, and making
rent."

   "Oh," makes sense.

   "How do you spell it," so I can look it up later.

   "Oh, there's no official spelling, I use an I instead of y, but that's
just what I call it.  Forget what the real word is.  Numer, something, or
something numerate, I think."

   "You can look it up at the library." The big one's a few blocks over. 
It's not like they're going to jump out of an alley, and snatch me, or they
haven't done it yet, but they look at him.

   Okay, he's got long hair, and a beard, but not like a lumberjack
hipster. Shaved on the sides, and a mustache like Arrow but brown, and grey
instead of blond, but pointed.  When he pulls it out, and plays with it,
like he did a few times while we're talking, but now we're walking, and not
saying anything, and "Huh!"

   "What?"

   "It's just nice just hanging out, with someone who doesn't have to say
something, just cause it got quiet."

   "Yeah, I'm an introvert, too." Makes sense, living alone, and that must
be nice.  Even better then having your own room, and not having to worry
about rent, like he says.  I don't, but I live with my family, and that
means staying in the boy's room, so dad can have an office."

   "Yeah?" He pointed up, "There's the bike-shop." The ramp, but it's like
a hill, so they need one, because if the door was on the ground it'd be
sideways, anyway.

   I held the door.

   "Can I help you?"

   "Yeah, I need to get a freewheel." He pulled one out of a cargo pocket.

   So, I just looked at bikes.  I don't know what kind I want, but they got
folding ones.  It's kind of a bike town, there's lanes everywhere, and you
see people riding them all the time.

   "For fuck's sake," he threw out the gear.  "It'd be cheaper just to get
a used bike!"

   He stomped back over here.

   "Uhm, there all like a hundred bucks." Or that was the cheapest one I
saw.

   "Yeah, but they tried to charge me $250 for the part.  Huh!  It's an old
bike anyway."

   He pulled something out of his other cargo pocket.  Then he held it up
to the seat-post, so I saw it was like the same Titanium green as his
trailer.  I looked back.  "Well, this one's got pegs, so you want a ride
back down to the bus station?"

   "Yeah."

   "Let me go borrow some tools."

   He bought it, just like that.  Put the seat down, and turned the screws
in the U bolts to tighten them down.  "Where'd you get all that money?"

   "Tax returns.  My last job, I was a prep cook for a year in Taos."

   "New Mexico?"

   "In case you mistook it for Taos Ohio."

   "Bing?" He looked back.

   "Cinemasins?" Some youtube channel.

   "Yeah, on the internet?" He's got a tablet-phone, too.

   "I'm a technomad.  Why I came up to Portland, for the bike culture, and
maritime climate."

   "Ok," he stood up, and held the black flap, thing, away from the tiny
little post.  The trailer just clipped right on that.

   "How much do you weigh?"

   "I don't know, about a buck 20?"

   He stood up, straight, and twisted his head to pop, and crack his neck.
"Huh!  Well, downhill you can stand on the pedals, and just hang onto the
bar.  I'll ride back on the pegs, but you better get on first."

   "Okay."

   "Here," he pushed my hands in, "Hold inside the brakes, so I can work
the controls."

   "Okay."

   There was plenty of room, if I bent my elbows in, and leaned over, he
had plenty long arms, and it's not even the first time I rode a bike like
this.  Usually, I stood on the pegs in back, because I'm shorter, but this
way, I could push up, and hold my back up, against his body.

   He's not fat, for a homeless guy.  At all, and he's got his arms around
my head, but I sit down.  He kind of holds my hips, with his knees,
especially in the turns, but yeah.

   I definitely need to get a bike.

   "Hey." He jumped off first, so I held it up.  The trailer doesn't, like
you'd think it would with 2 wheels like a tricycle.

   "What?"

   "You got a cigarette?"

   "No," he pulled out a chunk of bamboo, "I have a pipe." Showed them,
like a cigar, cut out of bamboo.  Well, one of them came over and talked to
me.  Or stood there, and tried to think of something to say.

   "Hey, what are you hanging around with this bum, for?"

   "Hehaha!  If you bum from a bum, what's that make you?"

   "I'm Carl."

   "I'm happy for you, why don't you guys go find an ashtray to raid? 
There's one right there, it's not a free country you know."

   "Yeah, it is."

   "No, it's America, nothing's free here."

   I laughed with him, "You are."

   "Yeah, but those privileged entitled rich kids, you smoke?" He pulled
out a ziplock full of cigarette butts.  I wrinkled my nose, but he twisted
one out, flicked it in the street, and sat down.  To unhook the trailer,
but he just stood it up by the side of the bus box.  The main station, so
there's a lot of stops for different busses.  He looked up at the schedule,
pulled out a pocket-watch.  "You said the 25, right?"

   "Yeah." I think.  Checked the names of the stops first to make sure. 
"This is the right one.  I was just in a hurry, cause I almost missed it."

   "Well, no reason to head back to that camp now, except an old bike
nobody's going to ride off with.

   "Oh, there's lots of parks down there."

   "Course there is, it's Portland.  I bet there's hipsters over there,
too."

   "You're cool!"

   "Thanks."

   "Well, thanks for running off those boys."

   "I can't imagine, what it's like for you.  I mean, women and girls, in
general, but I hate to see that.  Now, I don't mean to white knight, and
save teh wimmins." That's how he said it.

   LOL, "It's all right." Sometimes I can use the help, when there's like 4
of them.  That's another thing, "Boys my age are cowards, they never come
talk to me, unless they have friends to back them up."

   "More selection, that way."

   "Yeah, but then they fight over me, and get stupid showing off."

   "So, you're not dating?" I made a face.  "You don't like boys?"

   "I don't like dating.  Yeah, I had a boyfriend, well he said I was his
girlfriend, we weren't doing it."

   "Well, you're 15, so there wouldn't be anything wrong if you did."

   "So, I decided I don't want to have sex, and date.  It's all just a
waste of time."

   "Haha, yeah.  Introvert?" I nodded, "I'm pretty celibate myself.  Not
like asexual, but I don't really go looking for it."

   "So, it's been a while?" I smiled.

   "Well, I don't know about a while," he looked up, "Let me think.  No,
actually, there was that guy at the Joyce hotel, and that couldn't've been
but a couple weeks."

   "You are gay." Thought so.

   "Not especially.  Huh!  I just don't care.  About sex, I can handle
myself, but it's nice to have someone else to do it for me.  Every once in
a while."

   "Yeah, like that.  Only without the someone else thing."

   "You're auto-erotic, at all?  Sorry if any of this is to personal, just
smack me, and tell me it's none of your damned business."

   "No, it's okay." Finally someone to talk about it with, my friends don't
understand, and just laughed at me, but he's cool.  Especially because he
doesn't really care.  I mean, he didn't just say it, he doesn't check me
out, or even look in my eyes much, he just keeps his head down.  And hides
behind the front of his ballcap.  Or bill, that's what it is, but it's more
like a army cap, at least it's Army green, and there's nothing on it, but
it looks like an army cap.

   "Huh!  I like to do things.  Instead of people, is there a word for
that?" I figured out he knows the word for pretty much everything.  You
know, for a homeless guy.  Correction: Rentless.

   "Do it how?"

   "Well, just rubbing on it, mostly.  Like your bike seat."

   "And your back, on the way down."

   So, "Sorry," he did notice that.

   "Sall right.  Yes, Frottage.  Or frotteurism, if you.  Well, I guess
it's not strangers if you use a sex-object."

   "Oh no, strangers too." I nodded.

   "You do it with strangers?"

   "No, I mean.  I think about it."

   "Frotting strangers?"

   "Yeah, frottage." I like the sound of it.  "What's the difference?"

   "Well, Frottage is like frotting.  The act of sexual rubbing. 
Frotteruism is a paraphilia."

   "Like pedophilia?"

   "Right, except instead of molesting kids, you like frotting strangers.
In public?"

   "Yeah," that's the fantasy.  "Sorry." He scooted.

   "No, that's okay." He got up, "I think that's our bus."

   Our bus.  Like him and me, but it's pretty crowded.  I found a seat, but
not like, 2 seats.  For both of us.

   "Here you go, milady." He even bowed, and waved.

   "Uh!" Neckbeard, kind of not cute, but at least he has a full head of
hair, instead of a fedora.

   "So, you speake English?"

   "Yes, it's pronouced Speak, not Speake'." I shooke my head, but here
comes.  What his name?  That guy.

   "I'm Kyle."

   "And I'm tired." he waved him back.  "Can I have the seat so I can make
a lap?"

   "Yeah."

   He set down the fodled up frame, with the wheels clamped between the
bags.  So, it was like a tent, or one of those sign boards.  Out front of a
coffee shop, or brewpub.  Todays special.  So, I had a seat.  In his lap.

   Everyone looked at me, but then they looked away.

   "What is your name?"

   "I usually consider it a judge of character how well I can get to know
someone without exchanging names."

   "Ooh, it's secret?"

   "Not really, I just don't have a good head for names, either.  Never
forget a face, but I forget names."

   "Oh," makes sense, and we made it hours, before I even thought about it.
Like, just hanging out, without talking.  Because we're intoverts, so
somebody doesn't have to be talking the whole time.  Or, sitting in his lap
without worring about what pops up.  Because nothing did, the whole time.

   And as much as I thought about, riding some guy's dick on the bus.  You
know what's even better?  Not doing it, and everyone looking away, because
there's really nothing to look at.  There was a stop, and people got off,
because it's the first one leaving the central station.  "Get up," he
grabbed his bag.  "Come on." Some seats emptied out up on the deck.  In
back, over the engine, and wheels, it's one of those busses.  They have all
kinds, hundreds around here, because there's so many streets.

   He sat by the window.  'I want to try it.' Over his shoulder.

   'Frottage?' I nodded.  Or no, frotteurism, I think that's how you spell
it.  "It that French?" Like Masseur.

   'Yeah, from Frotteur, one who frots.' He nodded, 'It's actually a crime,
like vitriolage, because most frotteurs sexually assault women.'

   "In public?" He nodded.  "Strangers."

   "Yeah."

   But the bus stopped, so he reached over, to pick up his bag.  So people
don't step over it, or on it, or kick it.  Between the seats like that.  I
looked back, "There's seats in the back."

   All the way in the back, so I scooted out, and went to get them first.
"Um, excuse me." The guy in the middle turned his legs, so I could get
through, then he got there, and put his bag up.  On the seat, so I had to
back up.  Against the window, so my skirt pushed flat on the glass, and
even my butt.  So, anyone walking by, behind me, could see my butt, though
the window, but he sat down.

   So, I sat down too.  With the bag set up like that, the guy next to us
couldn't really see, except I was sitting in his lap.

   "Got a prolbem?"

   "No'oh," He shook his head.

   "Well, look away, before you do."

   "Hihihn!" I felt it, but kind of leaned over.  In his lap, but just
curved over, the side, and against his flat tight feeling abs.  I didn't
feel any definition, like a 6 pack, but I definitely felt that, and rubbed
it in with my butt.  'hih!'

   He just rubbed my legs, through my skirt.

   'hhh,' I nodded.  But ti started getting swell, and sticking up, so I
could wiggle, and work it over the middle.  Against my butt crack, and my
panties pushed in between.  I just leaned over, as far as I could, but with
it sticking straight up like that, I couldn't get it even close to the
front.  At all, but that's fine.  This is fine, I didn't even have to look
out the window.  This one had the electric voice, to call out the stops, so
I know when to get off.

   The bus, I can't get off like this, but I don't care.  It feels good,
and hopefully I can make him wet his pants.  I don't guess it's like a
date, just some bum I met on the streets, and went to the bike shop with,
but I like this.  I knew I would.  It's not even like, a whole lot of
pleasure, but it feels nice.  I don't have to close my eyes, I just did, to
feel it better.

   Clackmass, so a few more stops.  Plenty of time I'm sure, to get him
off. I hope I can feel it.  I doubt the.  Mess, will soak through.  The
semen, I mean he's got pretty thick shorts on, and whatever he wears under
it, but it's not bike shorts.  I don't think, because it all doesn't hang
down, like a codpeice, in one of those old paintings.  With the poofy
sleeves with straps like rings, and the vest.  He wears a vest, but not
like, a dress vest.  More like a cargo vest, with pockets like his cargo
shorts, only more then four.  A lot of them, I didn't count, but he
unzipped it, when he sat down.  And held it open, so I could get in his
lap, and.

   'chhhhh!'

   He just relaxed.  I couldn't feel it, but the way he breathed.  I knew
he was getting close, but then he just let it out his nose, and relaxed. 
Then it went soft.  So, I turned sideways.

   "Get a nice show?" I grinned at that asshole, next to us.  Or the next
seat over from the bag, but he got up, and hit the button on the box, on
the bar.  And got off, so I could move the bags over, and have my own seat.
"Huh!" I just put my head back, and closed my eyes.

   He didn't ask, but that was great.  I wasn't even sleepy, I was excited,
but I sure didn't want to talk about it, or see anyone, looking at me.  I
bet I'll really get off when I get home, just thinking about it.

   "Huh!"

   Psiberzerker {Mf Walk, Talk...}

   "So yeah, frotteurist."

   "Frotteusse."

   "Fair enough."

   "I figured, since a female masseur is a masseusse, that makes me a
frotteusse."

   "Yeah, I got it but how'd that feel?"

   "All right?"

   "I mean after."

   "You got off."

   "Then you got off, and you felt it.  In the seat."

   "Yeah!" Her eyes floated up.  Not her eyelids, they didn't roll, she
just looked up, and smiled.  Dreamily.

   "Emotional release." I nodded.  What finally nailed it for me.  I
enjoyed it too, but strangers [x] in public [x] emotional release. 
Frotteurism.  "More like piquerism," or picarism, "really.  It's
dangerous."

   "Right?" She snapped out of it, "Um.  Well, yeah, but.  u It's dangerous
walking alone at night."

   "Touche'." I looked around, "You just going to hang out for a while?"
Girls, they don't just bang, and blow like the typical teenage boys do.

   "Yeah, if you don't mind."

   "Nope," pulled out my pipe, "Want to take the cart a second while I load
up?"

   "Not at all." She nodded, so I fished out one of the longer shorts, and
split it with my thumbnails, packed it with the filter.

   "Is that bamboo?"

   "Yeah, it's free, and renewable." Grows inches per week in this climate,
why they're called shoots.

   "What's with all the spots?"

   "I don't know." I held it up.  Between us for both of us to look at it.
"I only seen one, nor." or Or, dipshit.  "A few in a planter, up by the
Polytechnic."

   "Huh, it's pretty."

   "Yeah," the green faded a nice grassy tan, "I call it cheetah bamboo."

   "Hah, yeah.  Good name for it."

   "This looks like a pretty good spot, for the night." I pulled up, set it
back.

   "You have a tent in there?"

   "Yeah, if you want to stay the night." Saturday, I think.  "Weekends
don't mean so much when you're unemployed.  'cept you get to hang out with
your workin' friends."

   "That's."

   "~Primus.  Spagetti Western." I think, or maybe Pork Soda.  No, now I
got that horrendous bass riff stuck in my head.  Definitely Spaghetti
Western.  Pull the pud?  We need new pornos!

   "Huh!  This is nice." She just sat back, "I could get used to this."

   Dondy nody do deno.  "Mhm?" She wasn't impressed at all!  "Well, don't
drop out of school just yet, kid."

   "Uh!"

   "But I guess I could show you a few tricks." I got up, "Uh!  This
lifestyle's hard on the back." unbuckled the fanny pack strapped to the
triangle.  Layed flat, for access to all the bags, and I can unstrap them
with a nice table, as long as there's enough of a level on the hitch, and
the wheels.  Because no brakes.  Clipped it to a treetrunk (I can adapt it
to the new handlebars tomorrow) and pulled one end of the coiled 1"
climbing strap out.

   "What kind of tent is that?"

   "It's a hammock." and my poncho.  "The tent's in the bag, on the bottom
there." I tied it off, and pulled it flat so it didn't twist on the way
back to the other trunk.  "I sleep up here, mostly.  The tent's more of a
backup, but this keeps me off the ground, and I can shelter my gear under
it." I turned back, and pulled the drawstring off the hammoc bag.  So, the
mesh doesn't catch on the zipper as it slips out, but turn back around to
bend to the end of the hitch, tying it to the tree.

   She just watches, I can get out her room after this.  "You got a tent?"
She shook her head.  "Well, if you want that one, you can have it." Why
it's on the bottom, haven't even aired it out in months.  Might even be
mildewed by now.

   "Thanks!"

   "It was a donation anyway." Really no reason to carry it around, other
than it might come in handy, other than when I find a site that doesn't
have 2 trees, or other anchor points to hang from.  "I can get another."
R2DToo gets lots of donations, I just can't stand being downtown.  Too many
people, and that's not even counting everyone else at the camp.

   "You want to start a fire?"

   "Can't," I pointed at the rose-bushes, "It's illegal, camping anywhere
in Portland, and most other cities.  So, you have to stealth camp." I shook
out my camoflage poncho, "But if it's out of sight, they usually aren't in
a hurry to run you off." Don't have to worry as much about being a cute
little.  "You Japanese?" I pointed back and forth, "Cheekbones."

   "Yeah, you can see it?" She grinned.

   "Sometimes, usually in the cheekbones." Fucking Japanese schoolgirl. 
Great.  Probably has to fight them off with a stick.  Frotteuse, though, so
maybe I can try to understand it.  Why, how, that's really my sexuality. 
Understanding all their weird fascinating fantasies, never met a Japanese
frotteusse before.  So, guess I haven't seen it all, huh?  "Huhuh?"

   "Nice sunset."

   "Yeah."

   I sat down, and packed another bowl.  "Gonna have to go scrounge up some
more butts soon.  If you don't mind keeping an eye on the camp."

   "No, not at all."

   "Inaminit." Puph puph.  "Sbeena long day.  Look over, you gotta knife?
Well, get one, you're gonna need it." Think, "Actually, can you hand me the
middle one?  It just unclips on the bottom.  Yeah.  I think." Unzip, and
rifle through my tool pouch, in front.  Backpack, but the chest strap locks
it around that section just like a torso, so I just have to let the straps
out.

   "Yeah," cheap pocket-clip flick knife.  "I'll show you how to use it
later.  Just clip it on something."

   "What's this?" Feeling with her fingers.

   "Those are thumb studs, to get it started opening, here." She handed it
back.  "If you flick your wrist, like this, then it flips out, and locks.
Then you have to push this." I showed her the liner lock, "To fold it back
with your thumb, try it."

   "Where are you going?"

   "To check the trashcans, and ashtrays, see what I can scrape up."

   "For dinner?"

   "Probably not," In this neighborhood, "Yeah, I'm a freegan, but it's an
advanced class.  Bottles, and cans, mostly.  Each one's a nickle." And if I
can get that bike on the trailer, maybe I can part it out, or somebody will
at the bike exchange.  It'll probably still be there in the morning, yeah
it's an abandoned bike, in Portland, but you'd have to carry it up the
bank, and start to put the wheel back on to see it doesn't have a
freewheel. If not, I don't know how long I can use that spot, but I spotted
2 more potentially better ones, anyway, and a nice trashcan.

   With a handle bag, good.  Don't have to stink up my pockets, but load up
the thigh pouches with 5 packs of the longnecks until I can get back to
camp.

   She's fine.  Imagine the surprise of say just some guy ducking behind
that overgrown bush to take a leak.

   And seeing her there.  Sitting up inverted lotus, playing with a
flick-knife.  Snapping out the blade, and grinning so her eyes pinch in the
corners.

   "Ooh!" A Mtn Dew!  Or a good sized swig in the bottom, and "Snh?" It
smells fresh.  Today, plenty of other stuff under it, that should be
rotted. Semi-urban park, or rural space for yuppie couples, I guess. 
Looked like mostly 3 bedroom units on the way in, might be bigger custom
houses further back, but you could play flashlight tag in that park.

   When's recycling here?  She might know, tend to hit the same area the
same day, but nice spot.  Or spots, so they don't see me coming and going
too much, to the same spots.  A few days, maybe.  After that I'm getting
lucky, but the worst risk is a boot toe alarm clock, and move along.  I
don't mind, it's what I do.  I move on...

   No problem, but she's got a lot to learn.  If she doesn't make it,
encourage her to try, but it's a fallback.  It's always a fallback, but not
really a safe option without at least minimal gear, and oh look somebody
threw out a perfectly good bag of burittos.  Or 3, breakfast ones by the
size of them, but pass the squeeze test.  I can give them a sniff back at
camp, but the tortillas still bend.  Not even all that stiff yet, so "All
right!"

   Um, sub-urban survival 101.  Covered get a knife, and a tent.  That
one's not to heavy, but I have no concept of the shear mass of her clothes.
Relatively, or her strength:weight ratio.  What'd she say about a buck 20?

   Shake my head, we can figure out the math, but girl clothes, I imagine.
So, sort out what's got at least some utility, see how high the ones with
real pockets pile up, and work for there.

   "Uh," what's next?  Is that a dumpster?

   Mariko (f Solo...)

   "Hhuh!" So, he left me alone, and he really was gone a while, but I
figured out if you put the Y up, and hook it on a broke off branch, it's
kind of like a seat, because it looked like a seat laying down.  Think I
got the hang of flicking the knife, and shutting it without cutting myself.
You want to go slow so it doesn't swing into your thumb, and I have to push
the back with my finger to get it started, but with my thumb out of the
way, after I nicked the nail, I swung it shut, and put it down.

   Then I figured out how the bag was hooked onto keyhole studs, and pulled
it off, but then it was just like a handle tote, only made out of nylon, or
polyester, I guess.  I didn't look for a tag, just set it down, and put it
up.  So the broke-off branch was under one of the Y arms, and tried it. 
Maybe I could even climb up in his hammock, it looks more like a playground
slide, but I tried it.  The net in the end, like a L was kind of like a
seat, but there's a bar, and it's like rubbery material.  But it doesn't
stretch, and it's comfortable enough.  There's a handle in my back he
twisted to unlock it, and fold it down, but it's neat.

   Cool, like him, and all his stuff, I bet he's got cool knives too.  The
boys would love to show him there's but maybe one of the swords.  The short
one, they never play with, just fight over the Katana because, well. 
Because Katana.

   No idea what to do with it, but it's pretty, and greater than a knife,
right?  I don't really want the katana, it's heavy, and long, but the short
one's really more my size.  And I bet he'd show me what to do with it.

   But, "Hm!" What did he call it?  Emotional Release, yeah.  That was
about as good as getting off on it, but I don't know which one I like
better.  I haven't even tried the big motor, but I just got fresh
batteries, and "AHEGHM!" I can cough some lube up.  I tried real lube, and
I like it, but I just didn't bring any.  But just get my panties down, and
"SpB" Let it roll down my fingers to the bottom, and wipe it around real
good.  Then slip the motor on.

   The tape around the sides is working, but it's sticky, and it got down
around the ring too.  So, just flip it around, and dig it in my pubes right
over it, and turn it down as low as it'll go.  With frech batteries.  mMm
MmM mMm!

   "Huh!"

   He's gonna come back soon, I just know it.  And see me like this.

   "MH!" Yeah, I'll just get started without him, but I can work my
fingertip in.  Eventually.  'hihihih!' If I vibrate my tip on it long
enough, with enough pressure until, "INH!" Nodding.  "NGH!" Good.  Wiggle
it around in circles, then straighten it out to feel my bone with my nail,
and the ring pressing deep into.

  
bdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdbdb
dbdbdbd

   "Nhah!"

   His back, I bet he'll need a back rub, and while I'm not a masseusse, I
must say I do give a pretty damned good backrub.  I can't rub off on him,
on his back, but I can sit on his ass.  Yeah, I bet he's got a nice hard
tight biker's butt.  From riding all day, but he gave me a tent, and a
knife.  He's homeless, and if "If you bum off a bum, what's that make you?"

   "Metabum." He nodded.  Grinned, "You all right yourself, or you want a
hand with that?"

   "Oh!" I didn't hear him.

   Just standing there, with glass bottles sticking out the tops of his
cargo pockets.  He didn't make a sound.

   "HhihH!" I shivered, and pulled the ring off.  Looked down, and turned
it off.

   "Nice vibe."

   "Finger massager."

   "I know, I've played with them." Klink!  Set down a 10 pack of bottles,
and sank down to cross his legs.

   "My hands are filthy, but I got a waterbottle.  You hungry?" He pulled a
paper bag out of a plastic one.  "I got some burrittos, but they're cold,
and old."

   "Yeah, I'll take one."

   "Still wrapped, but the foil had another bag over them, since it came
out of a trashcan."

   "Mhm?" I just chewed.  "Mmh!" Sausage, egg, and cheese.  Pretty good,
even cold.  I swallowed.  "I eat off the ground, all the time, too."

   "Well, it's weighing risks.  Nobody goes hungry in Portland, and you can
fly a sign.  Out in public, so that's probably safer."

   "I can get a sword."

   "Oh yeah?"

   "Probably." I took another bite.  He kept eating too.  Finished his.

   "What kind?"

   "Ngh!  Like a Katana, only shorter?"

   "Wakisashi." He unwrapped another.  "You want some handisan?" He tossed
me a bottle of generic purell.

   "Yeah, thanks.  You think you could show me how to use it?" I waved them
until they dried, like nail polish.

   "A real one, or a wall peice of shit beater?"

   "A beater," I nodded.  "It's not even sharp."

   "Well, it doesn't have to be.  It won't cut, but it focuses the force on
a line.  Which really hurts, and can give them a nasty bone-bruise if you
know where to hit them.  If you know how to slash with it, maybe a friction
cut, but that's not much more effective, for pain compliance."

   "Like S&M?"

   "Well, without the masochitc part, but nothing punctuates a 'Get off
me!' like an effective strike."

   "What about with a knife?"

   "You have brothers?  With knives?"

   "Yeah, I think the've got the same flick knife, only flat on the end,
instead of curved.  And," draw a little wave in the air.

   "Serrated?" Yeah.  "Tanto tip.  Figures, uh.  Yeah, depending on the
wakisashi it might be a good fit, but you ever play ninjas and samurai with
them?"

   "Ninja, it's their favorite game."

   "Well, it's like the knife, usually best to start with battojustu."

   "You know martial arts?"

   "A little, but mostly shuffled a deck together from sparring with people
who do, and been in a lot of fights."

   "It's rough on the streets."

   "Tell me about it, but I want you to know, this isn't a lifestyle
choice. It's nice to have some skills and gear if you need them, but you
have to stick with your primary plan, then failing that."

   "Well, I don't have a primary plan."

   "Save the foil." I handed it over.  "It's useful.  So anyway, you
probably already thought that the typical find a man, get married, and have
kids plan isn't right for you?"

   "Well, if I get to know him, it's not fun."

   "Okay, backburner sexuality a minute, but that means finding a job."

   "Or running away with you." I nodded, already imagining hitching up the
seat, and putting my legs up.  I can't right now, with my underwear down to
my ancles, but indian style.

   "Yeah, well that's not an option, so go ahead, and mark that off the
list."

   "Why not?"

   "Because I'm cool to hang out with, but nobody wants to live with me. 
Apup!" He held up a hand, "Take my word for it, and it's awkward for me
too."

   "But I don't know if I can go it alone." And I know it'll take forever
to find someone else as cool as him.  "Here," I got up, but the seat fell
off, so I picked it back up.  "You want your seat?"

   "Huhuh!  I think it's time to lay down, actually, but you can stick that
in the fence," he pointed, "If you want." He pulled back the pancho,
half-way to the hood, where he tied it on.  Camoflage, "Thanks for stowing
my gear, but I usually leave them on the cart, to keep them off the ground.
OhhhHH!" He stretched, and popped his neck again.

   "You want a back-rub?" Before he got in.

   "Yeah, I'd love one." So, he pulled the tote off the branch, and layed
it down to sit on.

   So, I knelt in the grass behind him.  "Mmh!" He nodded, then just let
his head down.  "You're pretty dang good at that."

   "I could be a massage therapist, like my dad."

   "Oh yeah?" he muttered to him self, 'i could use a massage therapist.'

   "He showed me a lot of Shiatzu."

   "Get some ashiatzu while you're at it.  That's fantastic."

   "With the feet?"

   "Mhm?"

   "Want me to walk on your back?"

   "Yeah," He just stuck his feet under the halftent, kicked the bag out of
the way, and rolled over.  I worked the spine first, with one foot, then
stepped down to the side, and went back up with the other.

   POP!

   'ngI can never get that one."

   ;

   Ruby

   'mh!' Not a voluntary sound.  She sat on my head, knees hooked under my
armpits, and pushed on my buttocks.

   K

   k

   k

   k

   k

   k

   k

   k

   k

   k

   !

   "Guh!" Pulled me straight, like a rack, but she can torture me like this
any time.  Her calves pulled out, under my shoulders, and she sat down,
forcing my face in the ring pillow to roll my skull, and frott my neck.  No
pops, but soft tissue, and a lycra layer stretching as she ran her split
down my spine.

   I nodded.  "Huh!"

   All right, I'm not going to stop her.  Working out this strange
technique of sexual massage, positional asphyxia, manual restraint, and
frottage.

   At least she's not a piquerist.

   Tried accupuncture, didn't work, not really my thing.

   She got up.  "Turn over." Turned on her knee, and I settled down on the
ring pillow.  She felt me up first, just to get it lined up, and took her
seat to get me hard.  Lycra on lycra,as long as she keeps the wet end away
from the wet spot, we'll be all right.  She got her own room?  Camped out,
in protest until he came around.  Closest park to her school, with a run to
Andy and Bax to gear her up.

   Not strangers, but she closes her eyes, and I don't try too hard to
imagine what must be going through her head, just feel up her thighs, and
the muscles working in there while she goes to work.

   Frotteuse.

   "Hh!" The novelty wore off, but she needs the practice, and I'm down. 
Pretty much a pathological bottom anyway, but the swim trunks.  I can't
really afford to cross-dress, and it's more about weight/volume than cost
limiting my ability to own more than one wardrobe.  But these have a
built-in.  Well, briefs, not quite a speedo, but the next best thing to a
pair of spandex panties.

   "I got a gun."

   "How?"

   "Some guy pulled it on me, so I took it away from him." Her hands,
fingertips too, but the hard ridges of the heals with most of her weight to
push into my breasts, and rub over my ribcage.

   "Guh!"

   "If you want it."

   "Yeah, I'll take a look." Handy to have, if you need one.  I try to
avoid such situations, but you don't have to look for trouble, it can
always find you.

   She took my hand, but instead of moving it up to her chest, she pushed
it back on mine.  The center, just held it down, but forcing the tendons
back with the web of her thumb, like I showed her.

   "He pulled it cross-draw?" She nodded.  "Hm!" Licked her lip, and let it
pop out.

   "Why'd he pull it on you?"

   "My sword." Took to riding around with the Wakisashi, because she can.
It can also attract attention.  "He showed it to me, so I showed him why
you don't bring one to a knife-fight."

   The samurai had lots of reasons for wearing the dai-sho.  You heard a
lot about the Katana, but it's really most effecting with both hands for
leverage, and a good stance to cut with your whole body.  If you know how,
I don't, never actually had one.  They still carried a short sword mostly
for close quarters, because they're actually better within grappling reach.
Mostly to counter the parts of Juijitsu that became Judo, Brazilian
Juijitzu, Aikido, and so forth.  The parts that involve throwing around
another samurai in full armor, with a sword.  Bare handed, why they carried
another sword.  I'm a master of none, but I showed her what I thought she
could use.

   Then her dad came home, from the office he got a job at, and she leaned
back to hold onto my knees, and work her heels in.  Ashiatzu, she's been
taking classes, a couple years.

   I didn't even get hard, but I don't have to, for her to get off on it. I
just spread her legs, so she could plop down between them.  In yoga pants,
and a skirt over them.

   He's traditional, western Baptist?  Grandparents converted in the camps,
while we fought a war against the same Emperor they fled in the first
place.

   "Huh!" But, he's a massage-therapist.  Too good for me to afford,
specialist, but he's proud his daughter is going into the same business. 
She can get certified, with a GED, but she's waiting out the year to
drop-out, with credits.  In August, met her in August, some day or another.

   "Happy birthday," she turned, and he kissed her cheek.  She just
realized, that was today?  Didn't mention it, or coming up, just I'm 15. 
Still sitting between my legs, to work her heels into my chest.  Most
fathers wouldn't understand, but he's a therapist.  It's exactly what it
looks like, he just missed the sex-therapy for her he interrupted.  Went
back out, pulling his tie, just coming home from church.

   She's not very good at it, yet.  But when she says that, she means
compared to her father.  Who's a Master.  If it was juijitzu, he'd probably
be about 3rd dan, but they don't have competitive Shiatzu.  And Tungsudo, I
haven't sparred with him yet, but my money is on him, kicking my ass.

   So, she's high risk, with the caveats that she's armed, and getting
better with them every day.  And she has years to keep learning.  15, you
tend to start saying it early to get used to it, instead of continuing to
say 14, or whatever, months later.

   She got me a gun, turned out to a racey .45.  Not really my kind of gun,
but I'll think of something to give her for it.

   "Huh!" She helped me up, "Feel better?"

   "Yeah," I sat up, heels down on the floor from the side of her futon. 
"Thanks."

   But just for example, she disarmed a man, bare handed, armed with a
sword.  Instead of pulling the sword to kill, or permanently maim him.  She
could have cut those tendons instead, or the one inside the hand, with
either hand.  Like I showed her.  She didn't because she has enough control
not to.  Didn't have to, on a guy that pulled a gun on her.  Cross-draw,
not the best way to carry it.

   I don't teach martial arts.  The closest thing is in the spirit of
Jeet-kundo.  How to develop your own style, and I have my own.  Drawn from
multiple influences, but at least it's not cultural appropriation for her,
to draw from Americanized Ryu.  Ryukku, but not Kata, mostly sparring, and
practice like this.  Really more Kongfu, or Marikodo.  Her way.  That's
what we came up with.  TBHP, this is what I live for.

   It's better than sex.  Much better.  And I really like her ass-shiatzu,
too.  "Hihihn!" I giggle.

   As for the gun, it's legally stolen.  The way I see it (As a Progressive
Anarchist) if you lack the self control not to pull it on a girl that no
doubt threatened his masculinity, and the retention to keep her from taking
it away, you don't deserve to carry it.  Buy another one, I can get rid of
it, and probably something out of it.

   Piquerista (fF Saph Fant)

   "Huh!" The problem is not escalating physically ment escalating
fantasies.  Fortunately, I'm bisexual.  The bad news is I'm piqueristic
toward women.  It's kind of not unlike Frotterism, only instead of groping,
and humping girls, poking, and stabbing them.  Especially the most female
flesh, like the breasts, buttocks, face, thighs, and cunts.  Just fantasy
until some bitch pissed me off at school, we escalated eachother, and I
broke the tip off a pencil in her bra.  I felt it give, thought that was
her skin popping, I stabbed through, and that's.

   Not okay.

   I got suspended, they threatened to expel me, but I have a temper, and
no masochistic woman to work it off on.  Except Ruby, but unfortunately,
she doesn't have any female flesh for me to poke, and prod at.  I tried his
buttocks, it just wasn't the same, and I'm probably confusing you with the
pronouns now, so let me explain:

   Ruby's like a transexual, but non-op, because sex changes cost money,
and she doesn't identify as Trans, because that means change.  "So,
basically a big hairy girl with some male privilege." Or a Fempath,
physically male, emotionally female, and intellectually neuter.  So, it's
his body, and her heart.  Basically.

   White too, tried at length to describe what that's remotely like, but I
just don't have the frame of reference.  I wouldn't mind being that big,
and strong, but he's in really damned good shape, except structurally. 
Especially the spine, he's been bad to it, and I guess he's pushing 40, but
we don't care about age.  Yes, it's a significant factor, but we don't
really sweat the significant factors, when there's more significant ones.

   Like having 2 potentially abusive sexual pathologies, that tend to
target strangers in public.  And, I walk around with a cheap beater sword
tucked into my belt, so they challenge me.  The problem is, they don't see
me as a threat.  Not all of them, some see me as a challenge, and those
seem to be the overly masculinized assertive narcissist types.  The "Alpha
male." They're threatened by the existence of a strong independent female,
but the open carry keeps the ones that are looking for victims off.

   And vengance vision?  It's like gadar, I don't black out, I just get so
mad I can't control myself.  That disarm probably works better with a
sword, drawn back-grip, and bent backward between a pair of breasts.  Big
busty bouncy boobs in a bra, and a little alliteration.

   "Huh!" Or even, an ice pick.  I had one, but he took it away, because I
just really don't need to carry around an ice pick.  If I had, I'd have
disarmed her, then probably stabbed downward through her plunging neckline,
and the open top of her bra.

   "HhuhH!"

   But, that's a powerful enough fantasy.  So I can relax.  "Hhhhhhhh!" Pop
my nail out, and just turn off the palm massager by feel.

   "Whhhh!"

   After all that sexual tension.

   "Snhhhhh!"

   I needed that.

   "Whhhhh!"

   ;

   {Author's note: That's me, or it was a few years ago, when I lived in
Portland.  Whenever OPDX started, and we built the Right 2 Dream Too
homeless camp on the corner of Burnside, and 3rd.  Check it out, if you're
ever in the neighborhood.  If you need a place to stay, or you want to
help. They always need help.

   Mariko is a little piece of self indulgent erotic psychological fiction,
if you're wondering.  Culled together from several different people I've
met and talked to over the years.}