For whatever twisted reason, from time to time, something wells up inside her: a desire—no, a NEED!—to repeat or recreate 'the incident.''The inci...ent' was our first code phrase when referring to her need to be gang fucked by a horde of violent black men. Eventually that term morphed into 'road trip' because we never brought those kinds of individuals into our home.Before we met, when this 'need' came upon her, she would venture into the ghettos pretending to be lost. More often than not some. The horse clanked with every step, his metal barding rattling. I winced as branches scraped down the metal.“Can we take a break?” I asked. “I'm not used to walking.”Angela sighed. “Fine.”My emotions were so mixed. I was still angry with Angela, but she was right. We had to work together in the forest. We had to somehow find the Lesbius Oracle and not get killed by the elves. They were reputed to be a fierce race, protective of their forest. If we harmed their trees or the animals that dwelled. More

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