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Upper Tier in lesbian erotica...
An Epic Tale: The Last Morgan Silver Dollar
mintage ride, the other
side, the eagle held arrows
and an olive branch, I acquainted
myself with many a frontier ranch,
looking for the last Morgan Dollar,
so important to me,
obverse, Lady Liberty,
saddled, striking out
across the Nevada prairies,
Comstock Lode, like whiskey
wildfire I rode,
wolves and buffalo,
my companions fed high
on silver bullion and
rye, the Carson City Mint
my destination, horehound
and licorice rationed,
all out, pussy, essence
of emporium, hemp rope,
hickory, cinnamon, clove,
saddle soap, the sense of
smell and taste is the
strongest linked to memory,
your wooden floors
treated with sawdust
and oil, I walked
across the creaking
floor boards, how I
love that sound,
my spurs jingled
my arrival, you were
so beautiful, Lady
Liberty behind the
counter, stocking
cans of Bag Balm to
soothe my udders,
how a woman loves
her breasts annointed
with sheep lanolin,
my nipples raw and
chafed from prairie wind
in search of you, the
last Morgan dollar,
undressing you, I see
your mintmark appear,
CC, Carson City Mint,
1878 I fucked you,
circulated you into
women's history, I
cried when you came,
Lady Liberty readily
obtainable, in mint
condition after all of
these years,
you came out, with
spoke stain to freshen
your wagon wheels,
ready to ride another
trail, I caressed you
with my fingers, put
Lady Liberty to my wetted
lips, kissed you with the
horehound in my mouth,
mintage ride, the other
side, the eagle held
arrows and an olive branch,
I acquainted myself with
only one frontier Mercantile
looking for the last Morgan
Dollar, I left it on your
counter, wasn't long before
they melted you for your silver
content, replaced you with the
Peace Dollar,
once again, we feel
the fire between our
thighs, native bluestem
and Indian grasses, sending
our womanly roots deep into
the sod, a ferruginous hawk
alerts of us a steel plow and a
hay rake, they go well with the
Peace Dollar, in the crested wheat
grass, horehound in my mouth, your
thighs on prairie fire, my tongue
inside you, a lozenge of inspiration...
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For Professional Consideration
Option/Purchase
Please Contact:
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44 Cook Street, Suite 100
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Phone: 303-780-7333
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Sage Sweetwater is the name of Colorado firebrand lesbian novelist, storyteller, poet, and songwriter. Sage Sweetwater is the lesbian equivalent to Louis L'Amour, master storyteller of the American frontier.
Sage Sweetwater has put Sage Sweetwater Creative Properties in marketing alignment with her Western trademark name Jett Durango. Sage Sweetwater has purchased the domain name Jett Durango.Biz
Jett Durango.Biz is the domain of Sage Sweetwater's sex toys and lesbian erotica. The focus is Aspen, Colorado, Rocky Mountain High!
Maroon Bells in Aspen, Colorado
Who I'd like to meet: Free-thinking, intellegentsia with unbridled passion and a wild spirit who will embrace Sage Sweetwater and become a fan!
Guild of Modern Wheelrights:
The Circle of Life
stopped my horse,
unlatched the shiny
5-pointed star concho
on my saddlebags, took
out my whiskey bottle and
Mason, spirit chasin' air,
earth, water, tossed back
the pussy fire, religion does
generally make a woman wiser,
looked down from
the rocky butte, what
was the oldest corral
in the West, there is
always another corral
to word paint, another
trail to ride, another
petroglyph to study, this
is where you came in, the
zodiac inlaid in my buffalo
nickel hatband circling the
pagan altar on my black cowgirl
hat, call it prairie tarot, that
one will make us famous, your head
buried in the lush alfalfa, ancient
seeds planted by the Egyptian pharaoh,
below, at the corral,
you wool washing and
wheelrighting, the
Circle of Life, you
in the Guild of modern
wheelrights, forging
wheels, making wheelstocks,
hand making spokes, tending
to my black sheep spoke
tonguing, truing and fitting
the box, felling the perfect
timber, selecting your own
trees, you have a feel and
an intimate understanding,
The Wheel turns in the path
of the sun, the wheel that has
turned full circle is one that
has been fired with spirit,
Iron Age settlement,
your forge fire blazes,
I feel your intense heat
fucking me, hot metal
hisses, it is emotional -
fire, water, and steam,
my horse's name is Rebel Dream,
taste your apple-cinnamon kisses,
the firebrand's Western poster of
lavender fame, your forge carries
my eternal flame,
unlatched the shiny
5-pointed star concho
on my saddlebags, took
out a dowel leftover from
the gate you made for the
churchyard - I am on fire,
spirit chasin' air, earth,
water, tossed back the pussy
fire, religion does generally
make a woman wiser, the wheel
has turned full circle...