Angela Sherice

EROTIC~INTROSPECTIVE~REFLECTIVE~                                                                          SELF-EFFICACIOUS~METAPHYSICAL LITERATURE.                                                                                                  Ingest.  Feel Empowered.   Be Enlightened.    Get Inspired.


ffffffffffffffff                          Ingest.            Feel Empowedddddred.          Be Enlightened.            Get Inspired.



*THIS BOOK IS STRICTLY FOR THE SEASONED, MATURE, ADULT READER-contains language, sexual situations & subject matter absolutely not appropriate for underage readers or conservative tastes*

"Angie Situation" (INNOCENCE)  excerpt 2

-Graphic Novels
-Fiction Biographical 

"Well, when nightfall came and my TGGF and I were still sitting out on the vacant apartment porch small-talking, he just so happened to have been making his run down to Leroy’s and then on his way back up the hill-he decided to stop jogging and make some conversation with me and my TGGF. 
The night was perfect because no one was hardly outside. 
There were small groups of people scattered about on the street but few and far between porches. 

About 3 minutes into allowing him into our small talk; like the grim reaper, up from the basement steps stomped my TGGF’s little brother yelling: 
“Daddy said it’s time for you to come in the house-Stupid!”
Right about that moment, those were near fighting words to my TGGF. 
We had already been uneasy with one another, but the porch visitors we had off and on throughout the evening eased the tension in the air. 
The fact that Male Model was there-joining us, and now she had to leave him outside with only me, pissed her off 5x over (she liked Male Model too). 
Dumb, damp, dyke, deaf, disabled, definite hetero male or delusional; you couldn’t help but stare at him. 
I mean, he looked as if someone drew him on a piece of paper, thumped it and said: “bring him to life!” and he came crawling off the paper and turned from a mere sketch to a man. 
TGGF ignored Baby Bro and continued to sit there as if he was not calling out to anyone sitting on that porch. 
“Daddy SAID get-your-butt-in-the-house, right NOW! You heard me! Don’t make me go get him!”
he repeated; yelling loud enough-trying to be heard by their dad. He then placed the back of his hand to the side of his mouth and whispered loud enough so that TGGF, Male Model and I could hear, but this time, not so loud so that Dad could hear: (as if he was re-enacting “Amityville Horror’s” notorious “Get-Out!”line, he imitated): “Get-your-asssssss in-side!” then laughed like a demon-doll. 
She wanted to kill him dead. I glanced over at my TGGF, she looked at me-giving me the evil eye while Male Model stood at the front of the porch drinking his soda and looking around so as to not embarrass her by looking at me, Baby Bro or her. She went for it anyway: 
“SO WHAT TIME ARE YOU GOING HOME ANGIE?!” she demanded to know, not caring how she or it looked in front of Male Model. 
She was pissed. 
“Uh, shortly,” I replied-simply, with my eyes stretched wide-feeling put on the spot and caught by surprise. 
“Iiiiiiiiiiii hahahahaha, time to tuck ‘ya in lit-tle girl, let’s make it in the house baby girl,” laughed Baby Bro-feeling like a Big Bro in charge-sent to break up her fun. TGGF ran up on him and punched him in his back so hard that he arched it from the pain, but he kept on teasing her all the way down the steps until the door slammed. 

Show’s over. 

This fine specimen had no idea how many times in my mind I fantasized about sliding my mouth and tongue any where on his body I knew that he himself loved-as a token of my appreciation for loving to look at him. 

Show time:

I continued to sit there-still observing (and happy) that no one was near Male Model and me to the left or to the right of us on any porch, all the way up to quite a few porches away. Pretty much after Leroy would close his store, the lower half of the street and the tether ball corner where a lot of people would congregate, would clear out-no matter the season or the weather. 

Male Model turned to me and sipped on his soda again: “So how old are you?”
“A woman is not supposed to tell her age!” I responded. 

He laughed and rolled his eyes in his head and replied:
“Precisely! Women usually don’t tell their age but you are just a girl! So tell me!”

I ignored him by turning my head, just like the way he was all to used to me doing to him. 

I always ignored and abhorred what I could not have all to my self and my way.
He stopped asking. 

He then began making small-talk and flicking his Bic cigarette lighter off and on while 

I stared at him through the blue, yellow and red flame. 

Before too long, we were into a full-on conversation about everything from school, to people, to where he lived before moving on our street-anything that came to his and my mind. 

While in the middle of the conversation, he got bored with flicking the lighter into the air in between us and began to pretend to burn the strands of jean strings on my cutoff jean shorts. He looked so luscious standing right there in front of me. His
conversation got slower. 

His voice got lower: “Bring him to life!”
…he slowly began to appear right from the pages of my red diary. I sat back on my hands and opened my legs some-swinging them just enough that it wasn’t too obvious, but in a way to confuse him and make him wonder if I did that to make him stop burning my jean shorts strands or if I did it to try and seduce him. 

He was all too confused. 
All I know is that my heart fell down to my pussy. 
If he could see me through my jean shorts he would have seen my heart all in the wrong place. 
“You can finish burning them,” I said. 
I wanted him to fuck me so bad-he had no idea. 

He looked down between my legs. 
I pushed myself forward while sitting at the edge of the steps-feeling so
aroused by him. 
Throbbing so hard-I did not want to help myself and I did not ask God to stop me this time. 

I wanted Male Model to grab my crotch with his hands-I couldn’t help myself. 

He slowly brought the lighter down to the strands on my shorts-on the inside of my thighs rather than the ones on the top and outer thigh. 

I sighed out impatiently-my heart pumping Kool-Aid behind my pussy. 

He flicked the lighter and slowly burned the strands with his left hand-then extinguished the mini-fire with his right fingers-then next strand, the next strand-
the next strand-the next strand (repeatedly). 

I thrust forward-slowly-while still leaning back on my hands. 

“This is it. This is the night I’m going to finally lose my virginity,” I sighed and said in my head. 
The more he stared into my crotch with the fire in his hands, the more aroused I became. 
The tough inseam of my jeans shorts was all I had for any crotch-grabbing. 
I grinded slowly and forward as if I was moving closer to him. 
He continued. 
I looked up and down the street-still no one around. 
He never turned away or looked around, up or down the street. I went for it: "


Angela Sherice on the "Angie Situation" 3-book saga/series

excerpt 1

excerpt 2

excerpt 3

excerpt 4

excerpt 5

Other books by Angela Sherice