25 February 2010


He's moving under me, shifting, moaning, whimpering softly. I slow the galloping of my heart and the whimpers form words, moaned and indistinct pleadings, "Please, please don't stop." His small voice hitches. "Please don't stop fucking me. ...please, I need your cock in me." there's real fear in his voice, real need, and my every instinct screams to stroke him, gentle his racing fears, but that's not how to break him.

Instead I growl in his ear, letting months of frustration harshen my already cold voice. "Beg for it, whore. I don't think you're worth any more of my fucking time, but I like to hear you beg."
His response is immediate and gratifying, writhing deliberately now against me, his muscular back against my breasts, his tiny ass cupped in the curve of my hips, the movement not only moving him along my cock but the base of my cock against my clitoris. It feels amazing, but it isn't what I told him so I wrap my hand around his throat and use my weight to press him into the bed.

"I said beg, whore, not try to fuck yourself on my cock."
He whimpers, tries to raise his hips one last time before going limp, defeated. "Please..." he whimpers. "Please..."
It's not enough, not nearly enough, but with my hand wrapped around his throat and cutting off the blood to his brain it's all he can manage and I mock him mercilessly for it.

"More, bitch. Fucking beg me for it," I tell him, slowly arching my hips to pull out.
Desperate gurgles are my only answer, and I open my hand very briefly to allow him a teasing glimpse of air- air he uses to gasp desperately, "Please fuck me!"

They're the last words he'll manage for a while.

In Bed HNT

24 February 2010

Gang rape

Standing, leaning against the wall with the others, watching her writhe, moan. Lewd comments spill from my lips in response to theirs, a growing, building web around her of ideas, expectations, fears, dreams…and soon, of actions.

My strap harness is tight around my hips, lacking only the weight of my cock but I can feel it in the back of my head and resting between my hips, guiding my more masculine stance against the wall, the objectification in my eyes, mocking arousal in my voice.

She is dragged to the room which we have prepared, whimpering, moaning, but not protesting once.

I am thankful for this, not sure that the cautious girl in my head could handle a true rape-scene just yet, and the boy in me is pressing the front of my face, shifting my expressions, ready to come out and to fuck this beautiful woman spread out before us like a banquet.

Only flashes now: pale skin kneeling before me, eager lips wrapped around my cock, soft baby-fine hair tangled in my fingers as I drag her along the length of me.

Dark skin against pale as she is slammed into, moved, a muffled scream of pleasure or pain but I don’t care right now and I doubt any of the others do, either.

My body angled against hers, and suddenly the boy is draining away and I am a woman about to fuck a woman and there is this moment of awkwardness, covered with dirty jokes as I learn the different angle necessary to fuck a woman rather than a man. A fumbling moment of strangeness, and then I am inside her. It doesn’t feel as natural as with a boy, and I am thrown off, missing my rhythm but struggling to find it for her. The angle is strange, the shape of her beneath me different- beautiful, warm-smelling and soft but strange and new.

Later, later, after the kissing, the cuddling, and the low-level flow of love, the strongest thing that I remember is the sense of camaraderie in the room with this helpless girl stretched beneath us. We were there, together, toward a goal and the sense of mutuality and camaraderie is tangible… and, yes, it included even she, our willingly unwilling victim, and the bounty of riches which she offered to us.

23 February 2010

Bad Poetry

Climbing desperately, trying to find a higher ground
but drowning
Pulled endlessly into the mire
Help me, voices call

And I can't!
But my heart is breaking for them
But my legs trudge back to them

Even as the path takes me under water
and drowning

18 February 2010


You are not near me, and I miss you.
I miss the warmth of your body pressed against mine, the heat of you against me when it's cold. The heat transference moving from your heated body into my always-cold one, the twining of your legs around mine, your big feet against my little cold ones.
I miss the strength of your hands on my skin, and the way you laugh when I am finally warm and drowsily aroused beside you.
I miss the way you taste on my lips.

15 February 2010

From postsecret

You know who you are- I love you.

A bit of Shiny

Yes, I know I haven't written anything recently. My creative energy has been going entirely to school recently, and planning my trip to Europe. Promise I will soon.... meanwhile, here is a lovely, lovely bit written by Shiny.

You want to know what ran through my mind while I played with myself Tuesday night for the first time in three days?
The short answer is, quite simply, you.

All the delightful little things you did to my body that Friday evening played out in my head as I played with my cock. I rubbed my hard little nipples as I recalled the wonderful way you ran your tongue across them and sucked at them. Even now, recalling that night as I write this makes me hard.

My hands were bound with chain; its weight constantly reminded me of its presence as you worked your magic upon my body. I came closer to orgasm as I replayed how it felt as your fingers gently pressed into my ass. Did you know you were the first person to do that to me?

My mind turned to thinking of how your "cock" would feel as you use me as your fucktoy. Would you avoid my prostate and just use me for your amusement? Would you press against it, making me beg to come? Thoughts of how it might feel rushed by faster and faster until, seemingly out of nowhere, I came.

11 February 2010

10 February 2010

Shower sex fantasy

You masturbated today, thinking about me.
The knowledge warmed my groin, tingled in my fingertips, and set my mind to racing.

You were in the shower, you said, letting the hot water soak into your sore muscles and thinking about me.
Thinking about, you said, your hand on my throat, my body pressed between yours and the slick shower tiles.

I can see it, feel it- my breasts smashed into the tile, my cheek tight to the cool plaster, your hands on my hips, my waist, cupping my buttocks, wrapped around my throat and tight in my hair.
There are very few people I trust with their hands on my throat, their fingers in my hair, but in 3 years you have more than earned this and at the brush of even phantom fingers against my vulnerable throat I can feel the almost subliminal shiver running down my spine.

I can feel your hands moving along my body, the steam of the shower opening my skin until I could almost sink into you. I can feel the heat of you, hotter than water pounding into my
skin, against my back, your legs molding to mine and opening them with that casually
assuming insistence which should infuriate me but with your hand on my throat seems only
natural. I can feel the weight of you pressing me forward, my breasts painfully tight
against the wall, my pelvis following yours without conscious thought tilting and opening to
you and to the length of your cock pressed against my ass.

Gods I want this! In even the writing I can feel my body shifting, opening, dampening in preparation for you inside me, and inside my head I can feel the head of you nudging me
open, the slow stretch of my body opening to you, opening for you, feeling you fill me with
that damned patience that I both love and hate about you.
More, more, I want to scream at you- Now! But with your hand on my throat all I can do is whimper and rock my hips back into you, begging wordlessly for you to fuck me.

04 February 2010

CinErotic Film Fest in Atlanta!


CinErotic Film Fest brings a kinky, poly Valentines to Atlanta!

Erotic filmmakers from as far away as Singapore, Barcelona and Brazil entered films for the brand new CinErotic Film Fest, alongside homegrown filmmakers from Atlanta and Athens. All will be represented in CinErotic's three nights of screenings at Eyedrum Gallery next weekend, February 12-14.

Kink-O-Matic - Sunday, Feb 14, 6pm - $8

On Valentines' Day, the Fest will screen "sexy, smart, artful erotic short films with a twist — or a kink, if you will," says founder Kiki Carr. "These are films about sexuality that colors outside the lines, and celebrates all that is kinky, bdsm, leather or otherwise polymorphously perverse!"

Among the films featured are director Julie Simmon's "Dolls Fit," the refrain of the odd abusive mother in the film, as well as acclaimed Barcelona director Erika Lusts' view into the suave S&M that keeps sex fresh in "Married with Children." From San Francisco, director Anthony Viti's gives us the raunchy "Asspig" and his Gus Van Sant-esque motion pictures from behind-the-scenes at web pornhouse Kink.com in "Mission & 14th." Narcissister gets a spanky workout in "Self-Gratifier," and "Strap-on Owl Beak" chronicles an actor's descent into an underground of perversity. Select videos by virtuoso filmmaker Tom Chomont artfully depict the world of leather, BDSM, and erotic shaving with an intensity akin to spirituality.

Then there's no other film quite like Curt McDowell's "Pornografollies." This rare 16mm film from 1970 San Francisco features a succession of performers doing sexual/genital vaudeville acts. Described by the New York Times as "slapdash surrealism...a musical of sorts, a bisexual scatological revue full of bad jokes, good humor, and and a general content that I could not begin to describe here," Pornografollies transmutes sexual variety into celebratory comedy.

Valentines' Play Party hosted by WhipperSnappers at Spring4th Center

After the films, kinksters are invited to a special Valentine's Day play party at the Spring4th Center. The party starts at 8:30pm, and entry is only $5 -- and FREE! for CEFF ticket holders (from any screening). The play party is hosted by festival sponsor WhipperSnappers, an under-40 bdsm group, but isopen to anyone over 18. Spring4th Center is located at 728 Spring St. NW

Queer as F*ck - Friday, Feb 12, 8:30pm - $8

The "Queer" show Friday night treats viewers to erotic short films that appeal to boys, girls, transfolk and gender queers. The main attraction is "Tour de Pants," a new film by Luke Woodward of San Francisco featuring hot fags, transfolk and lesbian gangsters — in bicycle-related erotic scenes all over the sexual map.

Other shorts include "The Ginger," in which a sexy redhead seductively eats a turkey drumstick; "The Erotic Couch" by Athens artist Andrew Shearer shows what happens when a reluctant lesbian gets a magical velvet couch-cover; things aren't what they seem for a gay male couple in "Hitchcocked;" "Want" proves that differently abled queers can get what they desire; a handsome butch ranchhand takes home the cute femme lamb, in "The Sheep and The Ranchhand," and Narcissister dares you to put him/her in a gender box in "Man/Woman."
If (when) the films leave you hot, bothered, and panting for more, head over to Mary's in East Atlanta for a free CEFF-sponsored make-out party for everyone.

Passion & Pleasures - Saturday, Feb 13, 8pm - $10 General Admission / $20 VIP

Make it a passionate Valentines to remember on Saturday night with a luxurious date special: for $20/person (surely one of the most recession-friendly Valentines' events!), you and your sweetie(s) get reserved seating up front on romantic couches, with sweet treats, and complimentary champagne (21+). VIP tickets are sold "per-person," rather than "per couple," making this a great Valentines' date night for singles, polyamorous partners, or couples!

But even regular ticket holders will swoon to the romantic short films in the line-up. "Vocolotion" by Atlanta's beloved artist R. Land ("Loss Cat") is his unique take on sex ed videos from years past. Some of his more famous images make cameos in this film and wind up in, literally, sticky situations. "The Flesh is Willing" is pure noir-infused erotica. "The Good Girl," by award-winning filmmaker Erika Lust, revisits the classic "pizza guy" porn cliche from the female point of view. Her newest short, "Handcuffs" is a brief glimpse into a sleek nightclub where sideways glances reveal a sexy secret.

"Headshot" and "Cocksucker," by two separate female directors, show the same act from opposite sides, in a breathless yet politically challenging take on, yes, the blowjob. Meanwhile, "Allen Ginsberg Gives Great Head" dissects Singaporean identity through the vaselined lens of an Adonis-like, self-pleasuring young hipster, and the Narcissister engages a "Hot Dog" in unseemly acts.

The 1963 short film "Christmas on Earth" is directed by famed filmmaker Barbara Rubin (who introduced Andy Warhol to the Velvet Underground). Curated by Andy Ditzler (Film Love), the film is set in a New York apartment where a group of men and women engage in an orgy, and is one of the earliest sexually explicit works of the American avant-garde, or by a female director.

All-Fest Passes!

Film buffs can purchase passes good for all three shows for a mere $25 -- or $35 for a VIP Fest Pass, including the VIP luxury experience on Saturday night — and organizers expect sell outs. All films will be shown at Eyedrum Gallery, 290 MLK Jr. Dr. SE, 30312.

CEFF is produced in part by Andy Ditzler's award-winning Film Love series, and PinkEye indie queer film salon. The Fest is generously funded by the Lloyd E. Russell Foundation, and supported by sponsors Dr. Bombay's, Spring4th Center, WhipperSnappers, Frolicon, and SouthEast Leather Fest. SPARK Reproductive Justice Now is the designated community partner.

For more information and to purchase tickets, visit www.cineroticfest.com

Multitasking HNT

Dyeing hair, arguing with Microsoft, and studying.
Welcome to my life LOL

01 February 2010

Chance disaster

You weren't supposed to be there.
I went to get some paperwork, and I put it off for weeks to make sure that it was your day off.

I didn't want to see you, didn't want to feel the kick in the gut that was your presence.
I didn't want to look over, didn't want to see your profile- Gods it's as beautiful as ever, the line of your jaw which shouldn't be visible from half the bay away.
I didn't want to feel the vise grip of loss and pain and rage and fear that the mere sight of you engenders.

Why did you do it?
Why did you break the last thread which I could not justify retying?
Why did you threaten harm to someone I love?
Why did you do the one thing I can't forgive?

Why did you take the last, tiny, forlorn hope of an 'us,' away from me?

My heart is pounding, even in memory, and tears are pricking the backs of my eyes. It took every ounce of strength to keep my back straight and my head high as I walked out the door, every ounce of strength I have not to turn, wave, promise that I'll let you back in if only you'll promise never to do it again. Not to scream at you that you ruined everything, even our friendship.

I was in shock when I drove away: clammy skin, shallow breaths, lightheadedness, pounding heart, but I drove anyway because the only other choice that I had was to wrap myself in your arms.


Curled, pressed against you... this has been building slowly for three years now, fizzing in our bloodstreams since the day we met.
Your hands skimming my skin, drawing little gasps and whimpers as you slowly learn the sensitive places in my body.
My mouth on yours, warm muscled tongues learning one another, lips skimming sensitized skin and your heat pressed against me, warming me against the chill of your bedroom.
Straddling you, that little groan of need dragged from your throat and the palm of my hand pressed to your breastbone, just above your galloping heart.
Your lips against the hollow behind my ear, usually a ticklish and unpleasant place, but not tonight when it makes me squirm, whimper, writhe beneath you.
My tongue on your chest, running over your nipples as my body tightens with pleasure at your shocked moans.

We've waited three years for this, dancing on the edge of desire, flirting, implying, offering, wishing, but finally this night I can feel your body against mine, show you the strength with which I've wanted you.
Finally, this night, I can take what you've always offered, return it and take it into myself even if only figuratively.

Hours later, lying in your arms with the warmth and strength of your body around me, I am content.

About Me

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I am just your ordinary average every day sane psycho supergoddess