eye spy

Observant observers can observe such observances:

They lie in the grass, spooned together. They are younger than I am, in their late teens, and a study in contrasts. Of the two, he is the slim and willowy one, a body constructed with a dancer’s build. His hair is ribboned in dreadlocks. He wears a colorful chapeau, an oversized t-shirt, and denim shorts. Her hair is straight, a long and Nordic blonde. She wears a bit of flesh on top of muscle, but it suits her constitution amiably. Her skirt extends to the calves, but it is split and not fully buttoned on the side. The size of her breasts makes her top swell.

I’ve been witness to moments like these. It fills me with a sense of regret, sadness, hope, and happiness all at the same time. It’s a strange mixture.

When my look returns to them, her skirt is bunched up. His hand has shifted to the outside of her thigh, where the contact is less blatant than before. The fingers tickle up and down between the line of the muscles. She covers his dusky palm with hers and scratches. His grasp on the smooth, pale skin is passive instead of possessive, though sexual all the same. She curls her bare foot against his and stretches her arm behind her to clasp the back of his head.

I imagine moments like these to be sun-drenched and over-exposed, like any bright Spring day should be, with colors too-vibrant and blown out. And I ache, a little.

Lovers observed @ Leah Lays London

no rush

Haven’t we all felt the desire to manipulate the fast currents of time as we drift towards the inevitability of the universe?

Tonight, I want to linger, I want to stop time. I want to seize it, bend it, break it wide open, charging each endless moment with you, losing myself in fulfilling every one of your deepest, darkest desires.

And these deep, dark desires are very much worth reading.

Linger @ Love Hate Sex Cake

well, I suppose that removes this movie from the pile of things I would have considered but no longer am considering

To be honest, no, I probably wasn’t ever going to watch Sucker Punch. But, I suppose there was a chance I could have seen it, or could have wanted to see it, or could have been suckered into seeing it based on the over-stylized commercials and cheap appeal to my repressed and hormonal inner-teen.

But this about seals the deal:

Sucker Punch is an awful movie. You probably have heard that by now. What is really amazing is that it is so bad that I keep thinking about it. I dissect it as I try to identify every little thing wrong with it. My core problem is that the story is shit and I have literally seen better character development from stories told by children on the playground. It is stunningly awful.

I trust Shon Richards. With erotica, and porn, and nerdery, and shit to geek out over, and well, a lot. He’s a guy I can hang with.

So why do I bring up this awful movie at all? I have been in a creative personal slump. Work stress and health stress has eaten away at my creativity and like all insecure artists, I started doubting my ability to tell a story.

Then I see a trashy abortion like Sucker Punch and realize, “Fuck, even a Internet porn writer like myself could do better shit than this.”

Shon: you do way better shit, all the time.

Dirty Movies: Sucker Punch @ The Erotiterrorist

portraits of kink

I adore Remittance Girl for her dedication to the craft:

A while back, I proposed a project and asked people who saw themselves as non-vanilla if they’d be willing to answer some questions about themselves in the interest of providing greater insight and some reality-based templates for erotica authors to work from.

Her questionnaire was thorough, thought-provoking, and self-reflective. I am ashamed to say that I don’t fit far enough down the spectrum— that is, I’m actually a little too vanilla, I think.

(Others may disagree?)

Ultimately I decided that there really was no like-with-like or opposites. These people all represent points on a very complex continuum. They all deserved to stand on the page individually. So I’ve decided to post one profile a day to avoid the propensity we all have for making comparisons or for perceiving of something as having less value because it comes in an abundance. All of these people are unique. And all have been gracious participants.

Her portraits are a delightful read.

(Update: These portraits are now available at their own site: Portraits of Kink and Remittance Girl continues to serve as curator.)

Portraits of Kink @ Remittance Girl

a happy birthday

Time does fly. It’s been quite a few years that I’ve known and corresponded with Camille, and I’m very happy for her and that it was just her birthday:

Well, it’s my birthday today. I’m 36 years old. It’s amazing how time flies, but I feel like things just get better and better! I’m like a fine wine… Speaking of fine wine, I’ll be having some of that tonight! Going out for a nice meal, indulging in a tasty dessert and spending the day with some people I love… I’m very lucky!

Things get better with time like experience, satisfaction, and intimacy.

Happy Birthday to Me! @ Camille Crimson

on the other side of the fence

I’ve had very frank conversations with gay men that sound very much like this:

But here’s some real talk for you. Anal sex is kind of the biggest deal ever. When my friends tell me stories about doing it with some random they met at a bar, I’m completely stunned. The act is so intense and delicate that I could never give my asshole to just anybody. Entrance is only granted to V.I.P.‘s—Very Important Penises. But this is something the gay community doesn’t always see ass-to-ass on. Some only have anal sex in monogamous relationships and consider oral sex to be intercourse. With others, however, it’s like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. Anal is like the oxygen they need to breathe.

And I’ve heard the “hot dog down a hallway” bit too, but I still laugh every time I see or hear it.

It’s impossible for me not to feel close to someone when all of this happening. There’s a bond that develops that makes it impossible for it to happen with men who don’t mean a thing to me. Anal sex is a special thing. I’m unwilling to perceive it as casual. I feel like putting someone’s P in a V is more manageable and impersonal, but what do I know? I just know that it feels crazy to get fucked in the ass. It hurts, it feels good, it feels wrong, it feels right. It’s a dick going deep into your ass. It’s a connection. I recommend it to all.

I don’t ever take putting a “P” in someone’s “V” lightly— but I can see where he’s going with this. I don’t have to agree with it entirely.

What It Feels Like to Get F*cked in the Ass @ Thought Catalog