Mikey, of Captain Caveman fame, told me to try this.

Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 123.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions

The narrator’s warning signaled no final rejection, however. His message was
definitely mixed. If the pursuer persisted and insisted, Whitmans’ seductive
alter-ego was willing to cooperate: “just possibly with you on a high hill-first
watching lest any person, for miles around, approach unawares…/Here to put
your lips on mine I permit you,/With the comrade’s long dwelling kiss, or the
new husband’s kiss,/ for I am the new husband, and I am the comrade.”

This passage is about a copy of some proofs he had promised to a persistent young admirer named Fred Vaughn who had been sending Walt Whitman numerous love lorn letters. It’s taken from Love Stories, written by Jonathan Ned.
Walt Whitman, Poet and Lover

Be loved,


P.S. I issue a friendly challenge to Tornwordo, Kalvin, and Nathan.



  1. Nathan Says:

    Awww yours is so romantic 🙂

    Mine is just filthy:

    I shoved Jimmy’s T-shirt up to his shoulders, exposing the graceful curve of his spine. I slide a hand beneath him and located an engorged nipple. I twisted the large nub between thumb and forefinger.

    The story is “Hunger Takes Over” by Thom Wolf, part of the book Friction 3.

  2. Mikey Says:

    I wanna read more…I wanna read more

  3. Ur-spo Says:

    oh, Mr. Whitman, one of the original ‘bears’.

  4. Jon Cox Says:

    Awwww!!! Lucky You!!!! ;o) I just read your comment on It’s Raining Men & I really appreciate it A LOT! Thank you so much! :o)

  5. Kalvin Says:

    Aw, that’s such a sweet post. If only I were as clever…

  6. GayProf Says:

    I used this book in my History of Sex and Sexuality class last fall, fyi.

  7. Derreck Says:

    Fun way to make a post, though a bit weird 😉

  8. savante Says:

    How did you pick the perfect book!

  9. Alexander Says:

    From my German book: Aber er kannte sie nicht. Sie mußte ihm erzählen, daß tie Tochter seiner einstigen Hauswirte sei und daß sie einst, in jener Morgenfrühe vor seiner Abreise, ihm in der Küche eine Milch gekocht habe. Sie wurde rot, als sie es erzählte. Ja, es war Marie, es war das dürftige Kind mit dem kranken Hüftgelenk, das damals so lieb und schüchtern für ihn gesorgt hatte.

    (This obviously explains my penchant for run-on sentences in English!)

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