I call it the junkshop.I'm in love with the junkshop girl. She's not the owner, so strictly speakingshe's not the junkshop girl, either. Sometimes I'l... go by and I'll see theowner there, a squat older woman from some Southeast Asian country, and I'llpass by, avoiding her forbidding scowl.But other times I'll be about to pass by the window of the junkshop and I'lljust know my girl is there. Maybe I've subconsciously glimpsed her in one ofthe tarnished tablespoons in the window, or maybe her. "Hey are you alone?" I asked."Yeah, Tanya (of whatever her name was) just left. Dumb bitch couldn't even close the door right." The two of you kept me up all night you know." Yeah I bet you were probably getting off on it," he said, looking at me slyly. "I tore up her pussy good last night, but then she wanted me to fuck her up her ass too but then when I stuck it up her hole she kept saying it was too big." So did you ever actually screw her ass?" I asked. "Nah, she kept screaming that it hurt. More

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