No woman was allowed on the firemen’s seat unless she was either having her cunt eaten or being fucked. When she came she had to proclaim her orgasm...by wildly ringing the bell. If she failed to ring the bell the opposite of whatever she wanted would occur, if she wanted to become pregnant it wouldn’t happen and if she didn’t want a baby she would have one in nine months. Those were the simple days of the late 1960’s. Twenty years later my younger s****r and I would return and remember the good. In Chapter Two I had a vague idea of what was going to happen in Chapter Three, and in Chapter Three I had an idea for Chapter Four. By the time I had Chapter Four done, I had no clue what was going to happen next.This lack-of-planning tormented me. I didn't know where it was going, and didn't want the story to crash and burn under self-contradictions or repetition. So that's why I thought of it as not a story, but a sketchbook. I'm just trying out ideas here folks, and trying halfheartedly to. More

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