The last few weeks

Phone rings baby cries TV diet guru lies
Good morning honey
Go to work make up try to keep the balance up
Between love and money
She used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows
Sign her letters with X's and O's
Got a picture of her mama in heels and pearls
She's tryin' to make it in her daddy's world
She's an American girl
An American girl

Slow dance second chance mama needs romance
And an live-in maid
Fix the sink mow the yard really isn't all that hard
If you get paid
he used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows
Sign her letters with X's and O's
Got a picture of her mama in heels and pearls
She's tryin' to make it in her daddy's world
She's an American girl
An American girl

Well she's got her God and she's got good wine
Aretha Franklin and Patsy Cline

She used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows
Sign her letters with X's and O's
Got a picture of her mama in heels and pearls
She's tryin' to make it in her daddy's world
She's an American girl
An American girl
She's an American girl

Gay Bar

It's dark here, hot and smoky like an old-school description of Hell- but if so, then it's a Hell where I am one of the demons. I can feel the smoke getting into my sinuses, irritating the contacts I've taken to wearing again, but it only adds to my mood.

Over my shoulder as I walked in hung the Moon, her sharp-edged smile the inspiration for my own. I'm androgynous tonight, the boy and girl in my head sharing equal space, but even as a boi I'm a child of that bright orb.

It's loud here tonight, the bass is pumping through the walls, up through the floors and buzzing into my feet and every throb is like a violent heartbeat.

Violence. It's what I want tonight, what I crave, and it's why I've come here tonight, flagging heavy top with my leather pants and blood-red tank top. Androgynous as I am feeling, I still savor the curve of my breasts beneath the shirt because they are bait even for gay boys, drawing them into me so that the violence that I want can be possible.

I want more tonight than can be found in the straight clubs, with their careful lighting and watchful dungeon monitors. I want the gay bars, where force and cruelty are wielded like loving weapons, side by side with kisses.

I want force, violence, the red-eyed streaking of tears down some hapless boy's eyes while I'm hurting him. I want my hands tonight, want to press him into the wall while he smirks, confident of his ability to take anything a 5"3 woman can dish out. I want to press my knuckles into his sternum, watch the first bloom of pain in his eyes like nightshade and see him sag into the knowledge of his mistake, of his realization that I will hurt him tonight as deeply as any of the muscle-bound men around me.

I was born in a woman's body, into the world of men. I know pain, and humiliation, and I will give it tonight with the skill born of intimate knowledge. My hand on his throat, my knuckles in his breastbone, my thumb in his wrist. My fist in his stomach, doubling him over while he looks at me with wide eyes, this unknowing boy who offered himself up for my pleasure.

Empathy

Aching inside, struggling with the need to run to one I’ve loved deeply, fighting the urge to hold them even knowing that it isn’t what he needs.

Angry for their pain and sympathetic to the cause of it, a whirlwind of emotions, own fears mixing with his pain and the mixture caustic in my throat, in my chest. I want to make it better!

….and I can’t.

No one can. Time, they say, heals all wounds, but Time is a harsh Master who forces suffering until he dispenses healing at his whim... and even then the scar remains.

It’s cold and dark outside and I don’t care, I want to walk through it to hold him but I know that in his own pain he would turn away because pain so enveloping can’t be shared, can’t be halved.

...it doesn’t make the desire any less strong.

Quote

Most delicious thing I've heard yet today: "I like to keep the assertion of power rooted in flesh as much as possible." -PlanetEm

Movie Night

A warm tangle of bodies, heat and scent and skin stroking skin until I am drowning in this heavy pool of pleasure which is centered on my guest bed. Her soft breasts against my cheek, teeth in my lip, his warm hands kneading my skin until I am moaning, whimpering, my body arching into theirs.

Her strong hands kneading knots from my shoulders, my neck, slowly encircling my throat and this is not her intention but I am slipping down the rabbit hole into the warm center of my own desire and submission. I already wanted to please her, but now the last button to my willingness has been pressed by her thumb against my larynx.

When her teeth find my lip again, it is enough to send me writhing and whimpering against her, his teeth on my breast clenching my hands helplessly against his back.

I know on some vague level I should be reciprocating more, know that she loves to receive the same small bites which I do, but every movement feels like swimming through warm, sticky arousal-honey and I can barely move except to press closer into his hands, harder into her teeth and I am drowning pleasantly in the love and affection of these two people whom I have come to love intensely.

I do not know if either realizes how deeply down the rabbit hole I have slipped, how warm and hazy my mind feels until I am nothing but a body of sensations and desires and willingness. I do not know if either realizes how much I crave now the sensation of teeth sinking into my skin, of hands tightening painfully on my body, of fingers wrapping around my throat and squeezing, but this is not what they give tonight and the same corner of my mind which craves more also accepts that.

When his mouth finds my breast again, his teeth against my nipple, I can only arch harder into her mouth and moan in pleasure and desire and an inarticulate need to please. I want to slide to my knees from the bed, my mouth running slowly down her body, his hands anchoring me and holding me in place, and slowly find the soft center of her with questing lips and tongue until she screams and arches into me....

Shaved Head HNT

Loving violence

I am somewhere between loving and violent tonight.

I want to stroke your skin lovingly, caress it while you sigh and relax into me, and then I want to draw back my fist and punch you- hard- in the chest.

I want to see your face go flat with surprise- despite how well you know me, how long you've known me, the thought still runs through your mind, "Girls don't hit like that!" but you always forget that I am not a girl and not a boy, not bound by the rules of either.

I want to draw back my fist and punch you, to swing my upper body with the throw and punch through you, into the wall behind you, and watch your face and your body as it impacts, as you hiss in your breath in pain.

I want to lean into your surprised face and kiss you, gently, stroking your face with my fingertips and nibbling your lips gently until you make soft moaning sounds and your body releases the tension of expecting me to hurt you once more.

And then I want to hit you again.

Sex and violence

I am thinking about sex and violence.

I am thinking about pressing you down, holding you down, forcing you open to me, to my tongue and teeth and questing lips.

I am thinking about pressing my fingers into your body, pressing into the tender places in you while you squirm and whimper beneath me.

I want you spread open, the crop to your thighs and the cane to your tender ass while you groan with every blow and bite the gag in your mouth.

I want you writhing beneath me and crying, tears streaking your beautiful face.

Fantasy

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

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.

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

Missing

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.

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.

Blurry Shower HNT

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.

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

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.

Culmination

Curled, pressed against you... this has been building slowly for three years now, fizzing in our bloodstreams since the day we met.

This.

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.

My Favorite Mistake

I saw you today, saw you for the first time in months.

You called me, hurting, and even curled in someone else's arms I don't know how not to answer you, how not to soothe you. I know my voice is sharp sometimes when you are hurting but it is fear for you that sharpens it, and not anger.

And today, today I saw you again, your shortened hair making your face seem masculine but your smile a thing of beauty. We danced around it for over an hour, you made me food and we sat around on the couch chatting until you finally created the excuse to go upstairs and asked directly, "Do you want to cuddle?"

I was going to say, "No." I knew I should say no.

I knew I shouldn't wrap my arms around you and fill my lungs with your spicy-sweet scent, shouldn't tempt both of us, shouldn't risk hurting either of us.

I opened my mouth to say, "No."

"Yes," I said, instead.

Yes.

ShitfuckGoddesshelpmeIstillwantyoufuckfuckfuckyou'renotmineanymorepleasegivemestrength.

Yes.

My body wrapped around yours, your warm breath against my skin, the bittersweet familiarity of your body pressed against mine, the soft needing kisses to my chest and shoulders, fuck it's hard.

No one else balances me so well, complements me so well, knows my masculinity and expresses their own feminity so perfectly.

No one else offers the same perfect acceptance of my own gender and dynamic fluidity as yours.

I love the boys in my life. All of them, more than they will ever know.

But this, this thing with you, it's different and it clicks into place in my heart and it fits so perfectly that it hurts and my eyes are filling with tears even as I'm kissing you back, my hands moving to you wrists, your too-short hair, your throat, curving around your waist until only the stinging of the tears in my eyes brings me back to myself.

It was a mistake to come see you, but one I couldn't have not made.

But when you go all I know is you're my favorite mistake...

-Sheryl Crow

Shiny

You are so new, so eager, bright-shiny-kitten face and wide wide eyes, and your every touch, your every look, your every request is for more, more and yet more.

Delightfully wanting little slut.

We've chatted this afternoon, through text message, and your wanting is shouted in every message, "hurt me! use me! please...." and oh yes I want to, oh yes I want to hurt you, to take and break you and leave you curled up and bleeding while you look up at me with big scared eyes and soft, soft lips and those lovely little tears leaking down your cheeks.

Weekend Highlights

This weekend, I was privileged to have 3 scenes with 3 absolutely gorgeous boys and 1 demo topping experience with the SouthEast Bootblack 2009. One at the play party for the local FemDom group, and the rest at the TNG play party, Whippersnappers.

I am not sure that I'm up for writing all four scenes, so I will give you a few highlights until (unless?) I write each scene properly.

Friday night, Omega:

Stretched in the tower, I explained to him that, "Everything has a price," and extracted mine for turning the space heater on his deliciously vulnerable body before introducing him to each implement in my toybag. His groans, moans, and whimpers were delicious, particularly the huskiness of his voice as we cuddled together afterwards with his large body wrapped around my small (and much warmer!) one.

Saturday night, Demo:

I knew only that our demo bootblack for the weekend was staying with me, and that we had met briefly at a few conventions. Shortly, however, we'd become fast friends, and she chose my (leather) outfit for the evening: stilettos, leather pants, and a leather overbust corset. I could barely stand in the heels, but it was worthwhile as our lovely demonsstrator's small hands ran slowly (and quite thoroughly) over every inch of my leather clothing, oiling them for me before an audience... after deep-throating my stilettos.

Saturday night, Diablo:

I've rediscovered my fondness for spreader bars, spreading lovely Diablo wide and vulnerable. A simple scarf wrapped around his eyes as I take one of my favorite canes to his pretty little ass and thighs, over and over. His little sounds, the whimpering tone to his voice, are beautiful as I steadily work him up, then bring him down before repeating the process over and over again. His lovely, lithe body wrapped around me afterwards as he asks with nervous features if I'm pleased.

Oh yes, darling. Very.

Saturday night, Shiny

We met at the munch, a week before, and I received an extremely sweet email from him via Fetlife. I hadn't expected to have the time or energy to play again, but I did and was privileged with his first scene at our local club. His frantic blushes as he undressed were a delicious appetizer to adorable little whimpering sounds with every blow of hand or toy and beautiful shivers at every touch of nails or teeth until finally I had to wind down due to both time and a concern for his level of bruising the next day. Hopefully, however, there will be more opportunities...

Domme Chronicles

This. Yes. Ex-fucking-actly.