gape her ass - Blonde teens asshole gaped so much there is an echo

gape her ass
Blonde teens asshole gaped so much there is an echo

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HOW DO GUYS THINK??????????????????????
IM A GIRL WRITING A BOOK FROM A GUY's PERSPECTIVE.
The guy is a violent fat horny perverted teenager, who in the end changes into the perfect boyfriend ahah :) How do guys like him think? Did i get it right? SOME BITS AND PIECES:

"The first thing I thought about was Madi. I tried to shuttup those thoughts, because I knew she would probably end up hating me anyways. Everybody does. She would think I’m ugly and fat; I’m not the best to look at. Or maybe she won't even recognize me. I smirk to myself at the thought of banging her against her will. I have done that to chicks a couple times. I grin with pleasure. Yes I think I would rape her, whatever you call it. I feel an invisible punch in my stomach, and rub my fat rolls trying to relieve the churning pain; this is one of the rare cases when I feel guilty. I hate that she makes me feel so weak."

"I stroke my truck. My reflection takes up the whole side. I don't know the last time I’ve seen my bellybutton. I can't even remember were it's supposed to be located."

"I glance in the side mirror of my truck after I find a parking spot at school. I don’t even try to look good, I don’t really want to. I can’t. I don't know why, but I think I deserve to live this way; I deserve to be like this."

"Trey and I head to McDonalds, then for fun we block the road with shopping carts we steel from a local grocery. I laugh at the honking cars. Idiots."

"I see a hot chick walk by. "I want to **** that c*nt so bad" I say to Trey."

"I get so angry I feel like flames are flickering around my body. What the **** *****? I glare at her while she glares at me. I feel an urge to attack her, to hit her. Suddenly her eyes bulge out and her mouth gapes. What is wrong with her? Maybe this slut is having a heart attack. I sneer with contempt in my head."
"She’s so pretty now, I think, as I look to the side for a breather while blowing smoke. I’m such an ugly fat bastard. I beat myself up in my head."

"She looks at me with such shock and disgust, like I knew she always would. I spit to the side. I want to spit at her."

"What happened to you?" she says. I became fat and ugly, so now she doesn't want me. If I were skinny she would probably jump me right now. I want to vomit; I stare down at the ground. "Suck his dick" mutters Trey. Maybe I could make her, I feel the pocket knife in my jeans.

In a flash, she throws a can of coke at me. Humiliated and wet, I storm off not knowing were I am headed. I have to get out of here.

I hate her, I hate him, I hate me, I hate everything. The whole world is such a ******* asshole. Ill show them. I take out my pocket knife and ruin an innocent looking white Toyota. I'll show them.

My eyes are glued to this bombshell’s swaying ***. She looks, ravishing. I am not a fat guy walking up the stairs anymore, I’m a man. I walk closer to her and dark desire tingles down my spine until it reaches it's destination. My palm grazes her ***. “Hey baby” I whisper.

This is all her fault. I don’t care what people think of me, I don’t care what I think of me. Why do I need to impress her? I never strive to impress anybody. I tense my fists and dig my nails into my palm. I am such an idiot. She’s so beautiful. Everything about her. How she brushes her hair back with her pinky, her fragile collerbone, her safe brown eyes. She looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, and I fall into a trance. My consciousness and the pounding in my chest calls me back to reality. My ears are burning with embarrassment, I’ve stared at her too long and she caught me. I pull my eyes away.

An odd fear grips me immobile as she hugs me. I need her to stop, it's not right. One of the unwritten rules in my life, one that I have permanently accepted, is that nobody should show me any kind of genuine affection. I don’t deserve it. I play dead, waiting for it to end. My heart is pounding a hole in my chest. She lets go and leaves, and instantly I want her back, fearing her absense like I feared her presence. Self control has never been important to me, now it is. I can't handle myself around her. I crave her. I am so angry. Why does she do this to me?

It's a very immature writing style. Most guys aren't like that. Maybe research a little more before you bash an entire gender.

HOW DO GUYS THINK? girl writing a book from guys point of view?
The guy is a violent fat horny perverted teenager, who in the end changes into the perfect boyfriend ahah :) How do guys like him think? Did i get it right? SOME BITS AND PIECES:

"The first thing I thought about was Madi. I tried to shuttup those thoughts, because I knew she would probably end up hating me anyways. Everybody does. She would think I’m ugly and fat; I’m not the best to look at. Or maybe she won't even recognize me. I smirk to myself at the thought of banging her against her will. I have done that to chicks a couple times. I grin with pleasure. Yes I think I would rape her, whatever you call it. I feel an invisible punch in my stomach, and rub my fat rolls trying to relieve the churning pain; this is one of the rare cases when I feel guilty. I hate that she makes me feel so weak."

"I stroke my truck. My reflection takes up the whole side. I don't know the last time I’ve seen my bellybutton. I can't even remember were it's supposed to be located."

"I glance in the side mirror of my truck after I find a parking spot at school. I don’t even try to look good, I don’t really want to. I can’t. I don't know why, but I think I deserve to live this way; I deserve to be like this."

"Trey and I head to McDonalds, then for fun we block the road with shopping carts we steel from a local grocery. I laugh at the honking cars. Idiots."

"I see a hot chick walk by. "I want to **** that c*nt so bad" I say to Trey."

"I get so angry I feel like flames are flickering around my body. What the **** *****? I glare at her while she glares at me. I feel an urge to attack her, to hit her. Suddenly her eyes bulge out and her mouth gapes. What is wrong with her? Maybe this slut is having a heart attack. I sneer with contempt in my head."
"She’s so pretty now, I think, as I look to the side for a breather while blowing smoke. I’m such an ugly fat bastard. I beat myself up in my head."

"She looks at me with such shock and disgust, like I knew she always would. I spit to the side. I want to spit at her."

"What happened to you?" she says. I became fat and ugly, so now she doesn't want me. If I were skinny she would probably jump me right now. I want to vomit; I stare down at the ground. "Suck his dick" mutters Trey. Maybe I could make her, I feel the pocket knife in my jeans.

In a flash, she throws a can of coke at me. Humiliated and wet, I storm off not knowing were I am headed. I have to get out of here.

I hate her, I hate him, I hate me, I hate everything. The whole world is such a ******* asshole. Ill show them. I take out my pocket knife and ruin an innocent looking white Toyota. I'll show them.

My eyes are glued to this bombshell’s swaying ***. She looks, ravishing. I am not a fat guy walking up the stairs anymore, I’m a man. I walk closer to her and dark desire tingles down my spine until it reaches it's destination. My palm grazes her ***. “Hey baby” I whisper.

This is all her fault. I don’t care what people think of me, I don’t care what I think of me. Why do I need to impress her? I never strive to impress anybody. I tense my fists and dig my nails into my palm. I am such an idiot. She’s so beautiful. Everything about her. How she brushes her hair back with her pinky, her fragile collerbone, her safe brown eyes. She looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes, and I fall into a trance. My consciousness and the pounding in my chest calls me back to reality. My ears are burning with embarrassment, I’ve stared at her too long and she caught me. I pull my eyes away.

An odd fear grips me immobile as she hugs me. I need her to stop, it's not right. One of the unwritten rules in my life, one that I have permanently accepted, is that nobody should show me any kind of genuine affection. I don’t deserve it. I play dead, waiting for it to end. My heart is pounding a hole in my chest. She lets go and leaves, and instantly I want her back, fearing her absense like I feared her presence. Self control has never been important to me, now it is. I can't handle myself around her. I crave her. I am so angry. Why does she do this to me?

tl;dr... btw, you're doing it all wrong. A guy doesn't just magically change, and they sure as hell don't change for girls. Real change comes from true, believable experiences (this being your character's development), and it is gradual and slow, not from some instantaneous attraction to the opposite sex.

What do you think of my first chapter?
Title: Sirenele
About: Mermaids.

How can I improve it?
Any spelling mistakes?
Would you read it if I completed it?

(Right now I'm up to chapter seven on text novel and this is only some of the chapter)

Chapter 1: Freedom

(Alex's Point of View)

The Ocean. How do I describe it? Blue, peaceful, soothing. Well in my words at least. Ever since I was a little girl I always dreamt about the ocean, about swimming through it and playing in it. It was always my last thought before I went to sleep.

All these thoughts raced through my head as I pushed deeper into the ocean. The deeper I got, the lower my body temperature dropped. My instincts told me to swim back, but I didn't want to. I wanted to swim away from high school. No one knew I was a mermaid so I had to carry the burden of a secret on my shoulders alone for the last year but I had to do it, if I wanted to stay alive. I stopped in the middle of the ocean.

I suddenly realised how far I had swam, I better swim back, otherwise I'll be late for school. I swam up to the surface and my body got warmer. I could feel the sun on my red, curly hair. Surfacing I gasped for air. I can't breathe under water but I can hold my breath longer than your average human. Looking around for any warnings, I spotted a few fishing boats off to the east but nothing too dangerous. I've had a few brushes with exposure before, but nothing too serious. I looked down at my pale blue tail; it was glistening in the sun. Mermaids have different coloured tails. I knew some Mermaids with green, gold and one even had a purple tail. Diving back under water I started heading back for Paradise beach where my purple mountain bike and school bag lay, hidden behind some boulders.

"Damnit," I muttered under my breath. It took all of my upper strength to drag my scaly, pale blue tail behind some rocks which hid me from people on the beach. I really do love being a mermaid but drying myself off was a pain in the ***.

I reached for my school bag and poured its contents over a flat rock, it was only then I realised how much junk was in it. Shells, leftover food, scrunched up paper. I made a mental note to clean my bag out when I got home. I finally spotted my towel and battery operated hairdryer. It’s funny to think that this was my favourite spot when I was little; I camped here with my younger sister a few summers ago, before I became a mermaid. As soon as my legs appeared, I quickly stepped into my underwear and stepped into my skirt, while latching my bra up and pulling my white school top over my head and combed through my hair with my fingers. Shoving my stuff back into my bag, I jumped onto my mountain bike and pedalled off to school.

* * *

"Alex! Hey Alex," I spun around to see one of my best friends dodging through crowds of students to get to me. Her long, brown hair flowed out behind her and her soft brown eyes were wide open. A few of the year eight boys turned to gape at her in amazement. Yeah, she did that with a lot of the boys we knew.

"Where were you this morning?" Bree demanded. Wait; was there something I was missing out on? Surely I couldn't have forgotten.
"Um...." I stammered. "What?" Bree rolled her eyes in impatience. She wasn't someone who was impatient. I racked my brains for what I had forgotten but came up with blank again. I must have really ticked her off this time.

"You were supposed to walk with me to school" she whined.
"Oh, sorry, must've slipped my mind," I mumbled. I swiftly walked to my locker to get away from Bree's glare. I couldn't believe she was upset over that. If it was a sleepover or a concert I had of missed then I would have understood clearly.

"Okay, I know what you’re thinking..." Bree started. I turned around so quickly my hair slapped me in the face. From what I could tell by her face expression mine probably looked like my eyeballs were going to jump out of my sockets.

"Well I don't really know," She continued. Phew, close one. From internet research I've heard that some mermaids could read minds.
"But I'll take a guess and say that you think I am overreacting."
"Wow," I responded. "You're pretty good at this."
Bree rolled her eyes again. I wonder if she likes doing that.
"But it's not the first time you've stood me up." she said.
I gave her a puzzled expression.

"Is too," I retorted.

"Is not," she spat back.

"Fine. But only twice!" I whined.

"Five times actually," Bree corrected me.

"Really?"

Bree nodded.

Wow I didn't know how much I missed out on.

"Look, I'm really sorry," I started. "I've just been distracted, that’s all."

"Yeah I know you are," Bree mumbled with a small smile.

That’s what I loved most about Bree; she was always forgiving along with caring and shy. Sarah, on the other hand was confident, outgoing and responsible. Sarah had blonde hai

I'm going to focus on the first part of your chapter, because it needs the most work.

Firstly, things are happening too fast: You go from getting into the water, to being in the middle of the ocean, to being a mermaid. Describe more what is going on as it happens. Show the reader how she walks into the water, how it feels when her legs turn into a tail, how she feels while swimming, what she sees when she dives underwater.

Give sensory details. I said this above as well, but go into what she sees, feels, smells, tastes, and hears. This will make it more real.

You need to give more motives as to why she was swimming. Why did she want to swim away from high school?

Also, you shouldn't try to give too much background in the very beginning. The part about the different colored tails should be changed or removed.

The second part was better. A lot of it could be worded better, but I'd work on the first part before that. The first paragraph is very important, because it is what brings your reader in.

Good luck.

Now do you guys think I'm gay?
I'm pretty sure now that I'm not gay but rather than I just hate everyone, causing a disconnect with women in the traditional sense, in turn causing the possibility of homosexuality to turn up.

Here's a questionnaire I filled out this morning from an e-mail I got from another user:

Have you ever had sex with a woman ?
Yes, multiple times with 13 different women.

When was the last time?
about 3 years ago

Does the sight of a woman's genitals do anything for you?
Yes, but not as much as her face and breasts.

How about her ***?
***? Yes, but not as much as her face and breasts.

Would you like to have sex with a woman with no breasts, or very flat-chested ?
I wouldn't prefer it but I suppose so - it would depend on how pretty she is.

How would you feel about her if she said she liked anal sex?
No differently than I would if she said she didn't.

Have you ever had a sexual experience, of any kind with another male ?
( Please be as specific as possible. ANY DETAILS will be helpful including your feelings & responses. )
I was imagining a girl the whole time - it wasn't ever sex sex but I have received a handjob and a ******* from a guy. Afterwards I was like, "What the hell am I doing?" It bothered me for a long time.

Did you say that you think a penis is attractive ?
I think the only thing that I find "attractive" about it is that it reminds me of when I have a hard-on, and I like that feeling of having an erection, so when I see another guy that has one, I "like" it. But again I like kissing girls and I don't think I could ever even kiss a guy so that right there is quite a bit of evidence in my mind that I'm not gay.

Do you like it soft or erect, most ?
Neither really. I don't think I could have sex with a guy in real life, only from time to time in the pornos when I'm feeling depressed and desperate about my life.

Have you had any fantasies about being with another man ?
Tell me about them
A penis gaping my butt would feel good physically but I could never like kissing a guy, let alone be able to kiss him for more than a couple seconds, so that's another big reason I don't think I'm gay, because I could make out with a woman for hours. With a guy I think I would be thinking "What the hell am I doing?" whereas I've never had that thought with girls - I just feel disconnected with girls, but I think that's due to hating everyone in general like I mentioned above.

I`m not an expert-I do have a gay twin brother,but I`d have to say that you seem to be bi.Nothing wrong w/it,just be open and honest w/your partners.

Does this description of this Guy make you want to jump his bones?
And then walked in exhibit A. He walked in like an angel, I swear. He probably was an angel, or at least when I pictured one, he was the image that popped in my head.

So much for life guarding at a pool that only comprised twelve and unders. Kim and I would have to swallow Morgan’s accuracy with dignity. Ugh.

But for this face? I wasn’t sure I cared.

And then, I wasn’t sure I could even breathe, the wind knocked from me at the sight of the boy standing a few feet away from my stand…or I should probably say man. Seems this mouth-watering, definitely-not-too-young-for-me man wanted to come take a dip in the pool. You know, with his shirt off.

And at that moment, I knew I was forfeiting any chance of keeping my thoughts from straying to one’s similar to someone like Kim’s. But I couldn’t help it; I was afraid just the sight of him would make me forfeit much more than that.

He was a hefty six-foot-two over me, his height not the only shock. The muscles underneath his cream-colored skin slightly protruded, like an angel who worked out. His body was beautiful…to an ungodly degree. (You know, to an angel’s.)

I tried to force my eyes from his torso, attempting to burn his shorts off with my eyes. But when I finally snagged them away from his below area and up to his face, I found myself even shorter of breath than before.

His eyes. And…lips. The shape of his face, carved so perfectly to his strong jaw. His features were so absurdly sharp, so symmetrical…so extreme. His bright, sky blue eyes were overwhelmingly extensive, reminding me very much of the ocean - they were big enough, at least - and contrasted significantly with the rest of his attributes. His lips were similar, pouted and considerably larger than I thought possible.

I tried to concentrate elsewhere as my thoughts got carried away, but it didn’t help that he was staring up at me with a smile on his face. Beaming from ear to ear, his mouth was even wider when he showed his teeth - very straight and shining white with what I thought would probably have the best chances at winning an Orbit competition.

I tried to force myself to make meaning of his gesture, my mouth gaping as the wind blew through his dark chocolate-colored hair, barely making a dent in it. The locks of hair sat perfectly on the top of his head, unable to disarray, the strands coming to a swirled point at exactly the right spot at the center of his forehead.

He looked away, but his smile remained. I frowned, though, searching for his motives.

Morgan was smiling widely at him from the deck, and her black hair looked even darker to me at that moment. My best friend was trying to talk to my potential, though-he-had-no-idea, boyfriend. What a witch.

If there was anything I wanted most at that moment, it was to go back in time and tell that no good of a best friend to climb her *** up the lifeguard stand and take the first shift. I wanted to scream, “Me, me! Look at me!”

But he wasn’t really looking at anyone anymore, and I felt a little relieved, though barely. He was in the water, swimming gracefully through gleaming blue like he owned the pool, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I couldn’t look away. Just at first sight, I couldn’t make meaning of the feelings rushing through my body - a feeling so strong, so intense.

Maybe if he’d been my long term boyfriend, it’d make more sense. Maybe if I’d known him all my life, and I cared him like my own guy, it’d make more sense. Well, maybe not, considering the thoughts running through my head weren’t exactly parent worthy. That would actually make me want to gag.

But nonetheless, it was a strange mix of emotions. I felt like at any second, I would run over to him screaming like a celebrity’s biggest fan. It took everything in me to keep from running over there and jumping in his arms or at least rubbing up against him a little. And you know, I could really go without that four letter word to pop out of me like silly string. Not when I hadn’t even learned his name, yet.

I had to save myself the embarrassment. I had to stay away from him. Guys didn’t like it when girls came onto them, at least not in an I’m-already-obsessed-with-you-just-at-fi… sort of way.

But he stayed. He stayed at the pool the rest of my shift. And I struggled against what I thought were my hormones. It was completely ridiculous, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. His perfect body was basically drawing me in, teasing me and playing with my emotions. I tried to keep myself from thinking about what our guys would look like, how their hair would most definitely be a muddy brown, considering we had matching do’s. But I knew I had to control myself; I hadn’t even met him!

This was where I should have stopped and realized exhibit B when it was sitting right before me. Exhibit B to my now-completely-out-of-the-ordinary kind of day. But I had no idea.

You stress some words a bit too much, which takes away from the entire description. I think its a bit long to hold the attention of some readers, making them break off to skip a few paragraphs because they're had enough. You have to find a stopping point. Once you've painted a vivid image, stop stressing. You can do that later in the story, adding little tidbits of info, like the eyes, to refresh the reader's memory of the entire picture.

Why did this cat attack?
My sisters cat hates people for some reason. Every time someone new comes in the house and gets within 2 feet of her she hisses at them. She has been fixed. The main reason I am asking is because I think there is no hope for her and she needs to be put down. She usually only hisses and swipes at me when I get near her which pisses me off because she is a dam cat and I cant even walk around in my parents house without this cat constantly trying to attack me. Today was an exception to the usual her running away after she hissed. She hissed and swiped at me and I threw my hat at her and she chased my *** out the house. The only person this cat never hisses at or attacks is my sister. On this day however it was different. After I ran out the house from this insane thing she jumps on my sisters back and scratches the mess out of her. She left huge gaping scratches in her back and arms. I literally had to stop myself from strangling this cat to death and I am getting mad even as I type this. What can be done about this cat?

I love all animals, but I think that if a domesticated animal acts this way it has violated its right to exist in the human environment. An animal that is a danger or a general nuisance has not learned the basic lessons of co-existing with people, and needs to be dealt with immediately and severely, if indeed it is incorrigible. Harming people who have not tried to mess with it first is crossing the line. Sometimes a cat just wants to be left alone, sometimes it lets you know that it's had enough by warning you with a warning swipe or a hiss, but your cat seems to think it is the boss and can wreak havoc as it pleases; it has developed a sense of being dominant over you, and this must be dealt with severely. Four choices: 1) Put it in a cage, take it 100 miles away, and drop it off in the woods, 2) Find a cat person somewhere who'll take it in, despite your warnings, 3) Put it down, or,
4) Consult with a vet who specializes in cats, and ask his/her opinion, then do what the good doctor says.

First 2 paragraphs of story, is this interesting?
“Guyren are just so marvelously adaptable,” she drawled, her tongue lolling around her big red Ohioan mouth like a lazy slug. “In fact, I heard just the other day this story about a little baby boy, well Cherisse told me this story, and you know she never tells a story ‘nless she’s read it for herself, so you can bet it’s true. Anyway, she was tellin’ me about a little baby boy bein’ brought up by nothin’ but a jungle ape!” She stood there with her mouth gaping and her eyes bulging, trying to show just how amazing this story was.
“mmm” said my mother. And then, distractedly realizing this wouldn’t settle it added “that is quite incredible” that did it. The mouth contracted shut, the red slug caged.
Not for long.
“Well now, just goes to show you how people can adapt when they really need to. I gotta go huney, but you’ll be alright in the end. You’ll see”

My big aunt Eloise lumbered off, confident she had given my mother all the consolation she needed after losing her husband of 18 years. Five years later my mother was still waiting to “see”. Six years later she was in a home for people twice her age, because her mind could no longer cope. Seven years later she was finally content, wrapped up like an old present, resting beside my father under the green lawn of Maybury’s cemetery.
Adaptable my ***, people are whatever they want to be.

You began by writing something about: "Her big red Ohioan mouth!" And you refer to the tongue as a "lazy slug." Really, ewwwww!

By the way, all humans have light or dark pink mouths inside, not just Ohioans. Why do you feel it necessary to say such a thing? And stick to "She said, she told me, she replied, etc." She "drawled is too distracting.

I have to be honest, this needs so much work, I don't know if there is enough room here to correct everything. You wrote, "The mouth contracted shut, the red slug caged." Why on earth are you writing like this? It sounds terrible and just a little bit weird. "The red slug?!" You don't need to make reference to the character's tongue, especially by referring to it as a "red slug!" All you need to say is: "And then, realizing this would not settle it, she added, "That is quite incredible!" You don't need all the other superfluous mumbo-jumbo you seem to think adds to your work. It doesn't, believe me.

And here's a hint. Do not try to write regional dialogue (making someone sound "Southern" or uneducated unless you are a master at the dialogue of that - or another - particular region).

You really need to begin again, cut out the distracting regional dialogue that is anything but masterful, and cut out all the unnecessary verbiage like: "She stood there with her mouth gaping and her eyes bulging, trying to show just how amazing this story was." Why are you telling us that your character was trying to show other characters just how amazing the story was? If her mouth was gaping and her eyes bulging (come on, her eyes were bulging?) the reader already has the sense that the character was trying to convey amazement to the others. You don't need to tell them this.

You really need to polish your writing ten-fold. I would start over. Also, read this aloud into the mirror, then in front of two or three friends. Believe me, it won't sound nearly as good as you might think it is if you do this.

Help! Someone bummed me and now I have a gaping **** hole?
Hello everyone, my name is Steven and I would like to share this dilemma with you all. Oki I was sitting at home minding my own business while my sister was cleaning in the kitchen (where she should be to be honest, she knows her place in life). However, disaster struck... she ventured out of the kitchen. So I went to punish her. I pulled her pants down and tried to rape her. She screamed, but I managed to insert my penis anyway, it felt nice. Unfortunately, my Father came down the stairs and he saw me balls deep in my sister. So, taking advantage of my position, whipped the famous 10 incher out and penetrated me really hard. It stung a little but I thought nothing of it. This is where the problem is, whenever I fart it just seeps out silently and when I go for a **** it flings itself out of there. I think he may have caused some damage. I am too embarrassed to tell the doctor confidentially so I have come to Yahoo Answers to ask the question, What is everyone's favourite tv show?

dude, you are hilarious!!! : )

Anyway TV show.. why am I bothering? oh **** it alright, ehh.. Heroes

What do you think of the 2nd chapter of my story?
2.

Happy birthday to me. Bitter sixteen finally accomplished!
I glanced at the bedside clock. It was eight forty five. I stretched and got off the bed. Did I feel any different? No, but I certainly looked different.
I walked to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth. I walked down to breakfast. Dad was reading the paper and mom was pouring milk into a mug. They sensed me enter the kitchen. Dad started to say, “Happy birth -” and then he looked up.
His lower jaw reached his chest. It was comical to watch, really.
“What is it, Roy?” my mother asked, hearing him cut off. She put down her spoon she was stirring her coffee with and turned to face him. Good thing my mother has such a strong hands, or else the pretty little mug would have smashed to the floor. She was a taek-won-do champion in her school and college days.
“What did you do your hair, Sharon?” she sounded hysterical. A piece of chewed cornflake fell out from dad’s mouth and fell into his bowl with a little plop.
“Dyed it,” I said in a small voice. ****, I knew I should have ear plugs with me. The next thing I knew was that dad was exiting the kitchen real fast, I had my hands over my ears, and my mother was screaming her lungs out.
“Dyed it! Goddamnit! Who said you could dye it? You look ugly – oh yes, missy UGLY – with that colour. Roy! Why don’t you say something to her?”
“What am I supposed to say, anyway?” dad asked with a puzzled expression.
“You are a useless object!” mom yelled. “Sharon. You are grounded.”
How I hate these three words.
“No, I am not,” I shot back. “Not for this weekend. I’ve got loads of work to do.”
Ma turned purple. “Answer me back again, and I will get you off that stupid job of waitress in that damned restaurant,” she snarled. Then she took a deep breath. Maybe that idea of dad’s of anger management classes was not a complete waste. “Okay, let’s do this coolly.”
Coolly?
“All right,” mom took another deep breath. “Give me one good reason why you dyed your hair. And I hope you did not use any cheap dye.”
“It’s Revlon,” I said, running a hand over my head. “All right. The reason is that I like wearing black clothes. Blonde hair does not go with black clothes. So I dyed my hair black. Simple.”
“Why is this sudden fad of wearing black clothes?” mom asked. “What has come over you? Until last week you used to wear normal, coloured clothes. Then suddenly your closets are bursting with black clothes. It’s like you are turning Goth or emo or whatever the **** your generation is inventing these days.”
Goth? Emo? Wherever did she get those words? Wow, mom was finally keeping up with the times. About the last week thing, I would be still wearing coloured clothes and would still have been a dumb blond if my boyfriend (ex) had not made a total *** out of me. Of course I could not say any of those things loud unless I wanted my teeth bashed in. Ma holds a black belt.
“Black clothes look better on me,” I said, shrugging. “Coloured clothes are boring. Black contrasts with my skin tone.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “Really?” she said sceptically. “Okay, whatever. If you want to ruin your hair, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”
It was my turn to gape now. Wow, this was news. “Are you serious?”
Mom shrugged. “It’s your hair.”
I turned to look at dad. He was looking as surprised as I was. Thankful to be let off, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and raced to the living room to eat it. Dad sat beside me. “Thanks,” he held out a hundred dollar bill.
What for? Hello, whatever happened to my parents? Did they have brain transplants overnight? I looked at him disbelievingly.
“What for?” I asked him.
“For distracting her,” he replied with a grin. “She was yelling at me for washing my hands at the kitchen sink after jogging until you came.”
“A hundred bucks? It’s too much,” I shook my head. Though I was really tempted to snatch it out of his hands, I had to clear it out. Maybe he wanted me to do something? “Do you – do you want me to do something for you or what?”
Dad shook his head. “I know how hard you are working for the Ducati. Here’s my donation,” he said, pressing the note in my hands. “Keep it. You deserve it, for the hard work and for distracting Jamie.”
I laughed, and pocketed the money. I just had saved four thousand dollars until now. There was another ten thousand to go. I bet I will get that Ducati once I get a job, because getting it during school years is impossible. Streetfighter S is really expensive.
I put the money back in my wallet, and then put the wallet in my dresser. No risk of losing it.
“Sharon! Phone for you!” dad screamed. Dad probably carried the cordless handset downstairs.
Most sixteen year olds have a cell phone. No, correction: all sixteen year olds have cell phones except me.
Not that my parents don’t want to give me one. It’s just that I don’t want one. As long as you don’t have a cell phone, you are free. No calls from the parents, yelling “Where the hell are you? Come home right now!” or “Hon

It's not bad at all. You've obviously spent time on it technically, and it's easy and fun to read.

One comment - I like that the mum has been on an anger management course and makes a deliberate effort to calm down. I'm not so sure about the whole family dynamic, though. It's almost presented as though this guy and her father are the parents, with the mother as the young teen who has no self-control and gets talked about behind her back. It just reminds me very much of all those questions by twelve year olds ("I'm only twelve, but I'm So Mature..."). I know your character may feel that at 16 she's fully adult and more mature than her mum, but her father wouldn't.

Mum's an adult. She could do with sounding like one - and Dad needs to treat her like the other parent rather than effectively conspiring with his guy to manage her behaviour. Unless you plan to write mum with some really, really serious mental issues, it doesn't work.

Drape_prose ;) What do you think?.. especially beginning?
Chapter Six: A Meeting

As soon as Charlotte and Claire walked into the library Charlotte’s apprehension seemed to swell, then burst when Claire suddenly gasped, “Oh god!” and stared all around.
Heads!
Stuffed and mounted.
Deer. Antlers splayed. Eyes blank.
Wolves…grey…black…white…why just their heads?
And there! In the corner. A puma. Roar! Above it, a boar. Tusks…curly juts…and on the floor, a snake: A boa, constringed around a goat.
Trophies on display…their frozen expressions, their gaping toothy mouths caused Claire to stare at them with whizzing eyes…and created within her an overwhelming urge to flee. Instead she quit her stare and walked over to a large oblong table.
It was made of glass, and between the top two pieces a collection of butterflies had been pressed. After studying them she sat down in the nearest chair and looked everywhere but at the dead; at the crowded bookshelves…the healthy potted plants…
Charlotte sat down next to her and asked, “Are you all right?” but before Claire could answer Brett walked in.
Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, he beamed at them and said, “Good morning, ladies.” He was carrying three large envelopes, which he placed on the table before he walked over to the one thing Claire hadn’t noticed.
It was a liquor cabinet and on top of it a tray had been placed. A tray arrayed with coffee, juice, and muffins. “Ahh,” Brett exclaimed. “Tuulah is way ahead of me.” He turned to them and asked “Would either of you care for anything?”
“A muffin” Charlotte replied and left the table to join him.
Claire, though, had spotted a fly (A fly of all things!) crawling over one of the muffins so she declined, with a brief shake of her head and just a hint of a smile.
Brett and Charlotte returned to the table with their chosen fare but before Brett took a sip of his coffee he smiled at Claire and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Claire was wondering where the fly had gone. “In a well is more like it. I was cold.”
He lifted his cup, took a sip and smiled again. “Fortunately last night’s sleeping arrangements were only temporary. There are two other rooms on the first floor, which might be warmer, but they’re right next to Tuulah and Joseph’s quarters. There are also the cottages.”
“The cottages?” Charlotte exclaimed. “Oh, you mean the bungalows. But they’re such a mess.”
Brett and Claire spoke at the same time. Brett said, “Not anymore,” and Claire asked,” Are they warm?”
“Cozy-warm”, Brett assured, and then looked at Charlotte with an expression that matched his words. “I thought they might appeal so Tuulah cleaned them while Joseph and I installed a few things.”
‘Pompous ***…’ Claire thought and spotted the fly again, eating the butter on Charlotte’s knife. She shuddered and blurted, “Is there one on the east side of this dump?”
“One on the east and one on the west,” Brett affirmed, sounding almost proud. “And they’re both equipped with full baths and kitchenettes. They even have separate phone lines.”
“Sold!” Claire grinned and smacked the table hard enough to upset the fly.
“Sooo,” Brett mused, “your press is accurate. You are hermetic.”
Underneath the table Charlotte placed her foot on top of Claire’s just as she said, “She is but, actually, it’s the kitchenette.”
“Right,” Claire agreed, mimicking Charlotte’s deadpan expression.
“She loves to cook,” Charlotte gushed. “You’ll have to try one of her culinary treats. It’s an unforgettable experience.”
Brett sensed their bond…and something else . “An author and a chef. I’m impressed.”
“In truth,” Claire said modestly, “the results are very similar, although my books are much easier to digest.”
Brett realized then that he was being toyed with, but before he could react a well-endowed blonde burst into the room. “Mr. Sansone is…” the décor cut her off. Instantly appalled, her eyes bugged out of her head and in a weak voice she gasped, “Creepy.”
Brett laughed and said, “He certainly can be.”
Comprehending she gaped at the three of them and stammered, “Oh, oh-no, I meant that Mr. Sansone…”
“Bella”. The voice, soft and low, came from the doorway. “My name is Constantine Bella.”
He was wearing a white cashmere coat…and his pictures hadn’t quite done him justice. No, his true visage had been granted from a fantastical wish. He gave the room an agonized glance, stepped inside and walked over to the table. “Please” he beseeched. “Call me ‘Connie’.”
Charlotte immediately stood up and offered her hand. “Charlotte Hansen. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m honored,” he replied and clasped her hand.
With calm eyes she noted the sincerity on his face. “Likewise,” she said and they parted.
Claire also stood up. “‘Connie’” she acquiesced and held out her neat, tiny hand.
He took it but he didn’t speak and for a few seconds everything seemed to still: the air…the room’s occupants…even the fly…
“Claire Lynnfield”, he suddenly said. Then he raised her hand and kissed the

Splayed antlers seems that they were forced even further apart than when it was shot.

What are whizzing eyes? There is the vulgar, yet common, interpretation of whiz. The other definitions indicate that there is a buzzing or hissing sound when swiftly moving.

Names need to be changed: it was Charlotte who went to get a muffin.
‘Pompous ***…’ Claire thought and spotted the fly again, eating the butter on Charlotte’s knife. She shuddered and blurted, “Is there one on the east side of this dump?”
{{“A muffin” Charlotte replied and left the table to join him.
Claire, though, had spotted a fly (A fly of all things!) crawling over one of the muffins so she declined, with a brief shake of her head and just a hint of a smile.}}

The section where Mr. Sansone enters after Bella is confusing. Who wants to be called Connie? Bella or the man. t