Hankie’s house was full of magazines with shaved pussies.
There were big flat nipples, bee sting tits, thong tan lines in ass cracks, no tan lines, fingernails on asses, nicely done nails near pussies, hands in pussies, champagne bottles and fingers near pussies, pussy spread apart with nice fingernails in frame, pink small pussies, some pussies with darker skin near the outer pussy but then pink inside and two fingers with red nails up in the pussy, men with their cocks wrapped in hair. There were photos of anuses. It was dark and stuffy in Hankie’s house. We spent a summer inside.
My parents liked the only black family in the neighborhood because my dad was a minister but Hankie had an older sister. She broke the bed. Her mom was never home but when the bed broke it was always a big deal. Hankie and I would get the hell out.
One day, Hankie moved his sister’s sheets and mattress into the garage. He covered the heap in lighter fluid and threw a match on it. Hankie’s face was wet from dragging the stuff but he was peaceful.
The flames made a quick and neat little noise and then a lower, fuller sound. They spread in two directions when they hit the ceiling, but didn’t catch anything. The room got pretty bright and cheerful, and the house looked nice. The fire reached again for the ceiling and spread out, withdrew. It cast light into the oily corners and danced around; it scrubbed them out and cleaned them up. Then it got very tall and wide and some cans of spray paint behind it started to pop off and made a mess of everything.
Hankie went to a special school after that.