Dead Ends

It may be selfish of me to admit it, but I hope he puts off that decision forever. I don't want to lose Rod to anyone, even to the black woman with whom he might want to have children someday. I'm quite happy as his "bitch," believe me!

* * *

Planned Trajectory: I write a lot of my stories without plotting them in advance, usually on the basis of an idea or, perhaps, some particular type of character, and trust to my own interests and peculiarities of thought to inspire a definite direction, purpose, and theme. Sometimes, an image or a video clip gets my motor humming, suggesting the idea for a story. Watching some black hunks slam it to some white punks suggested "Dark Meat," but there was little else, once I began the story, which I'd envisioned as a BDSM piece in which a black hunk slams it--both literally, or sexually, and figuratively, or emotionally--to a white punk, the excitement sort of vanished, the way orgasm gives way to ejaculation. In this case, the inspiration simply wasn't forthcoming.

Reason for the Boot: See above; also, like the protagonist of this would-be story, I've never cared all that much for dark meat, although I'm sure that it's perfectly good to eat.

* * *

Note: See my "Openers" for other ideas that could become stories, just as Pinocchio became a real boy.