“Shit, bitch, I understand your itch, but you got no cash for breakfast and hash.” Fucking Chaz, he poses and waves his hands as if he had gas. Hi... “old school” jive makes him look like a damn fool on stage, live. His rhymes are as madly predictable as arithmetic beating multiplication tables. “I’ll give you a blow job, if you give me a little grass and a lot of grub.” He opens his fly and out comes the beast with one eye. I stick out my tongue and circle the foreskin. The faker’s shaft is as. She would politely wave if she saw me and we would chit-chat at neighborhood functions but I never knew how to spark her. I was blessed to not feel shame about my bisexuality, partly because I was dad’s bitch, but also because I still acted like a normal kid. I just had little experience with women and by then I was in college and had the freedom to explore. I was playing with guys mainly at that time and since it was the 1970s I was having fun with sex like everyone else those days. As I. More

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