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| Welcome Perverts of the Intellectual Persuasion
The key to wooing Mariana Trench? Any man who would write me love letters and take his time in learning about me, by reading between the lines here - this clever man can seduce my mind and can therefore have my body. Now, if he also seeks and finds my soul, I'll be his forever.
Please check out my Directory of Erotic Poetry and Prose - Yummy
 
Kama is the enjoyment of appropriate objects by the five senses of the soul. The ingredient in this is a peculiar contact between the organ of sense and its object, and the consciousness of pleasure which arises from that contact is called Kama. - The Kamasutra
This blog will predominately consist of my erotic poetry and prose, combined with art from around the world. It features discourse on culture, philisophy, humor, quotes etc. and some of my favorite things to stimulate all your senses:
"Kitsune" is Japanese for fox. Foxes are a common subject of Japanese folklore. Many stories depict them as intelligent and sexual spirits that take the form of human females. In Japanese, "kitsu-ne" means come and sleep, and "ki-tsune" means always comes.
ARTWORK TOP LEFT "Red Head" BY: Jacob Collins
I, Mariana_Trench_ allow any Hookup.Date Naughty Affair Dating blogger to mention me and/or use a link to my blog, a blog post, my profile photo/s and/or a link to my profile with my name in it for the purpose of networking, communication, and creating fun and games on the website....or just plain perving! To be used in blogs, email and groups. I realize that getting my name out there is a way to increase my odds of finding like minded people with whom I wish to communicate.  |
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Open Your Eyes
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Posted:Nov 28, 2010 9:31 pm
Last Updated:Mar 24, 2011 5:36 pm
34535 Views
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I feel your eyes on me, watching, and am roused from my book. Looking up at you leaning against the door, I smile in welcome. I’ve no idea how long you’ve been standing there but there’s an intensity about you that I’ve become familiar with and my body automatically quickens in response. My smile slowly fades and my own eyes become equally intense.
“Come here,” you say softly, seriously, intensely…
Unfolding my legs, I stand and walk over to you. Gently, you tug on the band holding my ponytail and my hair falls past my shoulders. Burying your hands in my hair you tilt my face up for your kiss. I open my mouth to receive you, our breath blending, melding together and tongues meeting. A slow liquid fire begins in my center and melts through my body. I relax and lean into you… letting you take the weight of me. I wrap my arms around your neck and standing on my tiptoes, press closer to you for support and a more intimate contact. Sliding your hands down my back, you press me tightly to you, meshing my body with yours. When your hands come to my ass, you cup my softly rounded cheeks and lift me into you, grinding slightly, rolling your hips into me. I pull my head away and moan softly, fingers clutching your shoulders. It’s so instant now, the way I immediately reach arousal at a mere look or touch from you. I wrap one leg around your hip; your hand slides down to cradle my thigh around your waist.
Tangling your hand in my hair, you tug and my eyes meet yours. The arousal I see on your face sets me aflame and I rock into you, pressing myself against the physical evidence of your desire.
“Do you trust me?” you ask.
Looking into your eyes, searching and wondering at the question, I finally respond with a soft but absolute, “Yes.”
You stand straight and my thigh slides down yours. Then, taking my hand, you lead me into the bedroom and to the full-length mirror. You tip it so that it has a better angle for your purposes. With questions in my eyes, I watch you pull pillows off the bed and arrange them for comfort then reach into the nightstand and take out my vibrator. Finally, you sit with your back supported against the bed, pillows adding cushion.
“Take off your clothes,” you demand, watching me.
Walking over to stand in front of you, my back to the mirror, a soft blush highlighting my cheeks, I lift my t-shirt over my head. This is a strange mood that you’re in but I like it. I like the control and possessive quality that you’re exhibiting.
Dropping my shirt to the floor, I slide my boxers over my hips and step out of them, pushing them with my foot to blend into the pile of my shirt. Reaching behind me, I unfasten my bra and allow the straps to slip down my arms. I toss it, also, onto the pile. Standing naked before you I feel a bit vulnerable and excited. I kneel and begin to move towards you but stop when you softly murmur, “no.”
Your eyes slide over my body and I fight my natural urge to cover myself. You reach your hand out and I take it. Then you pull me into you so that I’m sitting between your thighs, my back against your chest. You run your hands along my smooth inner thighs and then drape them over your bent legs. Spreading your legs wider, 1’m opened to your gaze in the mirror. My eyes meet yours in the glass and I can barely catch my breath. Slow, shallow intakes and exhales of air raise and lower my breasts. I watch in the mirror as your right hand travels up my thigh, lightly over my pubic hair and up to clasp my left breast. One nipple disappearing under your grasp and the other pressed against your forearm. The hair on your arm is in direct contrast to the smooth rose and cream that is me. You flex your hand and I moan softly, my eyes close and I rest my head back against your shoulder.
“Open your eyes,” you whisper intensely. “I want you to watch.”
With heavy lids, my eyes open revealing dilated pupils. I lick my suddenly dry lips and bite my lower lip. My eyes don’t leave yours as you knead and caress my nipples to attention, forming hard little nubs that press against your hand and forearm. Taking a breast in each hand, you kneed deeply and then softly caress my sensitive flesh, causing goose bumps to rise along my arms. My areola puckers tightly, causing my nipples to rise further. I can feel the hardness of your arousal pressing against my lower back and I rock my hips back into you. I have the pleasure of watching your eyes close and then too, with heavy lids, they open to reveal black, versus the blue they normally are. Spreading your legs still further, my thighs follow yours and at last you can see the little nub hidden inside me along with the moisture that is beginning to seep out. I watch your hand as it slides down my body, as your fingers part me further and you slip into me, one finger and then two, testing my wetness and stroking me. I moan and my eyes close, again.
“Open your eyes…”
I obey and watch with erotic fascination as your finger disappears inside me and then withdraws glistening with my moisture. My fingers dig into your thighs and I reach back to pull your head to mine, mouths meeting and tongues entwining. You lift your head up to watch in the mirror as you press deeply into me, making me suck in my breath and bite my lip.
“Show me how you touch yourself,” you command.
My flush rises higher but I reach between my legs and slowly begin to stroke myself, middle finger slipping between my lips and beginning the small circular motions that begin my play, that initiates my body to touch. You watch, your eyes intense… and I watch you until my eyes travel down my body and stop where I’m touching myself. I’m watching my own two fingers nestled inside and the third softly stroking. It’s sexy - like perhaps how it might look if I were watching you slide in and out of me. You slide your finger out of me and slip your hand under mine, letting me guide your finger over me, feeling how slick and hot I’ve become. You murmur sexy, erotic words meant to arouse… and they work. I lean my head to the side, but don’t close my eyes.
It’s so damn hot watching us in the mirror, my breasts pale, the nipples reddish-pink and hard, your hand cupping me, stroking me, my hand over yours, guiding and teaching. The contrast between my nakedness and you fully clothed creates a feeling of vulnerability in me and at the same time intense longing.
You pull your hand away and reach over for my vibrator. Moving a hand behind my lower back, you tilt my pelvis up and placing the tip of the plastic against me, slowly begin to push into me, white plastic and rubber disappearing by degrees into my hot flushed flesh. My body stretches to accommodate the intrusion and then melts around it, accepting. I stop you with a hand on your wrist when you’re deep enough. You pull out gently, slowly and then with equal slowness, slide it back in. I watch as my body stretches to take it in and then the slight resistance and release on the way out, as though I’m loath to give back the fullness.
“This is what I see when I’m inside you,” you whisper and I’m flooded with desire. I imagine that it’s you that I’m able to see, sliding into me and then pulling out, glistening wet, sliding in and out with measured strokes.
“Please...” I murmur.
“What?” you ask. “Tell me what you want.”
Shaking my head restlessly back and forth, I try to find the words to describe my need, to form a coherent sentence.
Turning on the switch of the vibrator, a low buzz fills the room and you slip the plastic back into me so that the vibrating butterfly meets my clit. My body jerks and my fingers dig into your thighs with the sudden intensity of sensation and you lower the speed of vibration.
“This?” you ask, as my body relaxes back into yours.
“Yes…” My eyes drift closed as a new more focused tension moves through my body.
“Open your eyes… I want you to watch as you cum…”
I just want to be lost in sensation and escape into that. The desire to deny you is there but I open my eyes. You surround me, with my back pressed to you and your arms around me, one hand caressing my breast and the other between my legs. I rest one hand lightly on your wrist and the other hand comes up to follow the path of your first hand, stroking the hair along your arms. I can feel your arousal straining against me and with each moan and cry I make, I can feel you twitch. I feel so decadent and selfish but am beyond doing anything about it. I can feel my climax coming on and I strain to meet it, my thighs and buttocks tightening, clenching with need.
“That’s it, babe. Let it come. Don’t close your eyes, watch…”
I reach down and press the vibrator closer to my clit and instead of the slamming of sensation that I’m expecting, a liquid fire races through my body and seems to melt my bones, turning me to jelly. I sag back against you, legs, spine and neck going limp as the fire burns its way through me.
“God, that feels so good,” I say and can’t stop the whimper that leaves my lips.
You shut off the vibrator and gently slide it out me. After leaning me back onto the floor you quickly strip out of your clothes. Gloriously naked, I watch as you kneel between my thighs, and then taking my buttocks in your hands, you pull me close as you slide into my hot wetness: my sensitive flesh clasping you to me, tugging and milking you.
You moan low in your throat and begin moving with deep, long strokes, giving me all of you and taking all of me in turn.
I cry out with each penetration and sink my teeth into you, my arms wrapping around you to pull you closer. I allow my legs to relax into my hip girdle in order to open myself more fully to you, allowing greater access. I can feel your pubic hair rub against my sensitive clit with each thrust that you make and I thrust back, sliding my hands down your back and gripping your ass, feeling you clench and unclench with each thrust.
“Oh, God, you feel so good… Don’t stop.”
You lean over and kiss the damp hair on my forehead and then take my mouth with yours… hot and urgent. I can feel the muscles of your arms straining and I turn my head to lick you. You bend over so that each forearm is resting along side my head and push hard and deep into me. I cry out and you do it again. My mouth is moist from yours and you watch as my lower lip disappears between my teeth. Leaning in, you inhale my scent and bite my neck.
“Yes,” I say and expose my neck for better access.
“Do you like it when I fuck you?” you ask and punctuate your question with a hard thrust.
“Yes… please…” I moan.
You claim possession with words and thrusts, forcing me to meet you, to take all of you and I’m on fire, frantic with wanting.
I can feel your body tense and know that you’re nearing your own climax.
“Now…” I whisper in your ear. “Cum for me now… I want you… need to feel you as you cum inside me… feel you cum with me.”
With a low moan and a hard thrust, you fall over the precipice and with each eruption of cum, you push into me, meeting the second climax that’s come over me, allowing my body to milk every drop from you. Each clutch of my body caresses you and draws you deeper.
Collapsing on top of me you groan and I laugh with the physical release. My legs, sore from being spread so wide for so long, relax along yours. Your heavy weight presses into me, making it hard to draw a full breath, but I don’t mind. You kiss my shoulder and I wipe the sweat off of your face.
“You’re fucking amazing. You know that?” I ask, sigh and then drift to sleep, still surrounded by you.
Image: "Woman Standing in Front of a Mirror" by Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg- 1841
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Musings
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Posted:Nov 1, 2010 4:29 am
Last Updated:Dec 23, 2010 10:36 pm
19350 Views
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Like Pandora's box, antimatter, sea shanties,
and some broken shards of ivory milkiness
My drum was made with skin of an ocelot,
And my lyre has sixteen strings, plucking
thin as the threads of Ariadne - dissolve
Some laid bare dormant cat's whisker escapades
Clematis smelling like the cousin of a tree
Throaty laughs the iris, dancing over there
Image: "Odalisque" by Howard Chandler Christy
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Authors and Literary Works For You to Consider
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Posted:Oct 8, 2010 6:00 pm
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2011 5:43 pm
26327 Views
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 1. Peter Høeg - "Smilla's Sense of Snow"
The novel is ostensibly a work of detection and a thriller, although beneath the surface of the novel, Høeg is concerned with rather deeper cultural issues, particularly Denmark's curious post-colonial history, and also the nature of relationships that exist between individuals and the societies in which they are obliged to operate. The protagonist Smilla Qaaviqaaq Jaspersen is a sympathetic and useful vehicle in this respect, her deceased mother being Greenlandic Inuit and her father a rich Danish doctor. Smilla's relationship with Denmark and Danish society, having been brought in childhood from the poverty and freedom of Greenland to the affluent and highly ordered society of Denmark, is strained and ambivalent.
2. Joyce Carol Oates - "The Gravedigger's "
Rebecca is the of Jacob and Anna Schwart, German-Jewish refugees from Hitler. In 1936, they flee to America with their two young sons, Herschel and August; Rebecca is born in New York Harbor while the family is still on the boat that brought them over. A former mathematics teacher, soccer coach and printer’s assistant, Jacob can find work only as a gravedigger and cemetery caretaker in the small town in upstate New York where the Schwarts have settled. Haunted by Nazi demons, his ego battered by prejudice and humiliation in his new life, Jacob torments his terrified wife and . Finally he erupts and commits an incredible act of violence, traumatizing Rebecca yet at the same time releasing her into the world and a new beginning.
3. Michael Chabon - "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay"
This is the 2000 novel by American author Michael Chabon that won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2001. The novel follows the lives of the title characters, a Czech artist named Joe Kavalier and a Brooklyn-born writer named Sam Clay—both Jewish—before, during, and after World War II. Kavalier and Clay become major figures in the nascent comics industry during its "Golden Age." Kavalier & Clay was published to "nearly unanimous praise" and became a New York Times Best Seller. In 2007, The New York Review of Books called the novel Chabon's magnum opus.
4. Ann-Marie MacDonald - "Fall on Your Knees" & "The Way the Crow Flies"
Fall On Your Knees practically throbs on every page with its author's obvious love of language and sheer joy in the storytelling process itself. The story shifts continually back and forth in time and place as it relates the sprawling, multi-generational saga of the Piper and (to a much lesser extent) Mahmoud families of Cape Breton. Ms. MacDonald demonstrates an exceptional ability to sketch vivid, complex, and ultimately heartbreaking female characters, and her ear for the speech patterns of is positively uncanny.
The Way the Crow Flies opens in 1962 when the McCarthy family moves from Germany to their new home on a Canadian air force base near London, Ontario. Madeleine, eight and already a blossoming comic, is particularly close with her father, Jack, an air force officer. Her loving Acadian mother, Mimi, and older brother Mike round out this family, whose simple goodness reflects the glow of an era that seemed like paradise. But all that is about to change. The Cuban Missile Crisis is looming, and Jack, loyal and gullible, suddenly has an important task to carry out that involves a scientist--a former Nazi--in Canada. While Jack scrambles to keep his activities hidden from his wife, Madeleine too is learning to keep secrets (about a teacher at school). This novel is all about the fertility of lies, how one breeds another and another.
5. Tom Wolfe - "The Electric Koolaid Acid Test"
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test is a work of literary journalism published in 1968. Using techniques from the genre of hysterical realism and pioneering new journalism, the "nonfiction novel" tells the story of Ken Kesey and his band of Merry Pranksters. The book follows the Pranksters across the country driving in a psychedelic painted school bus dubbed "Furthur," reaching what they considered to be personal and collective revelations through the use of LSD and other psychedelic drugs. The novel also describes the Acid Tests, early performances by The Grateful Dead, and Kesey's exile to Mexico. In 1968, Eliot Fremont-Smith of The New York Times called The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test "not simply the best book on hippies...(but also) the essential book."
6. Tom Robbins - "Jitterbug Perfume"
The major themes of the book include the striving for immortality, the meaning behind the sense of smell, individual expression, self-reliance, sex, love, and religion. Beets and the god Pan figure prominently. The novel is a self-described epic, with four distinct storylines, one set in 8th century Bohemia and three others in modern day New Orleans, Seattle, and Paris. The story begins as a powerful and righteous 8th century king named Alobar narrowly escapes regicide at the hands of his own subjects, as it is their custom to kill the king at the first sign of aging. After fleeing, no longer a king but a simple peasant, he travels through Eurasia, and eventually meets the goat-god Pan, who is slowly losing his powers as the world turns toward Christianity. In India, he meets a girl Kudra, who goes on to become his wife.
7. Orhan Pamuk - "Snow"
Though most of the early part of the story is told in the third person from Ka's point of view, an omniscient narrator sometimes makes his presence known, posing as a friend of Ka's who is telling the story based on Ka's journals and correspondence. This narrator sometimes provides the reader with information before Ka knows it or foreshadows later events in the story. Ka is a poet, who returns to Turkey after 12 years of political exile in Germany. A friend on a newspaper in Istanbul suggests that he go to the town of Kars to investigate the recent suicides of a number of young women in the area. As a result, Kars, near Turkey's eastern border of Armenia and Georgia, is a hotbed of controversy among local Muslims as suicide is forbidden in Islam.
8. Mary Roach - "Stiff"
For 2,000 years, cadavers -- some willingly, some unwittingly -- have been involved in science's boldest strides and weirdest undertakings. Stiff is an oddly compelling, often hilarious exploration of the strange lives of our bodies postmortem.
9. E.L. Doctorow - "Homer & Langley"
Homer and Langley Collyer are brothers – the one blind and deeply intuitive, the other damaged into madness, or perhaps greatness, by mustard gas in the Great War. They live as recluses in their once grand Fifth Avenue mansion, scavenging the city streets for things they think they can use, hoarding the daily newspapers as research for Langley’s proposed dateless newspaper whose reportage will be as prophecy. Yet the epic events of the century play out in the lives of the two brothers – wars, political movements, technological advances – and even though they want nothing more than to shut out the world, history seems to pass through their cluttered house in the persons of immigrants, prostitutes, society women, government agents, gangsters, jazz musicians... and their housebound lives are fraught with odyssean peril as they struggle to survive and create meaning for themselves.
10. Kent Haruf - "Plainsong" & "Eventide"
''Here was this man Tom Guthrie. . . .'' That's how Kent Haruf begins the first sentence of Plainsong, and not until the last sentence, roughly 300 pages later, does he allow himself a rhetorical flourish so pronounced. Yet from simple strands of language and cuttings of talk, from the look of the high Colorado plains east of Denver almost to the place where Nebraska and Kansas meet, Haruf has made a novel so foursquare, so delicate and lovely, that it has the power to exalt the reader. This man Guthrie; his two , Ike and Bobby; a pregnant named Victoria Roubideaux, shut out of her home by her mother; the old unmarried McPheron brothers, Harold and Raymond, who take her in -- these and a woman named Maggie Jones and the small town of Holt are the world of ''Plainsong.'' Eventide, Plainsong, and all of Mr. Haruf's novels are all set in this same fictional town.
11. Jeffrey Eugenides - "Middlesex"
Eugenides decided to write Middlesex after he read the memoir Herculine Barbin and was unsatisfied with its discussion of a hermaphrodite's anatomy and emotions. The narrator and protagonist, Cal Stephanides (initially called "Callie"), is an intersexed man of Greek descent with a condition known as 5-alpha-reductase deficiency, which causes him to have certain feminine traits. The first half of the novel is about Cal's Greek family, and depicts Cal's grandparents migrating from a small village in Asia Minor to the United States in 1922—followed by their assimilation into the American society. The latter half of the novel, which is set in the late 20th century, focuses on Cal's experiences while living in Detroit, Michigan.
12. Dennis Lehane - "The Given Day"
In “The Given Day” Dennis Lehane links the term to comically quaint Irish brogues but also demonstrates, through the gut-wrenching force of this stunning historical novel, exactly what it means. In 1919, as Mr. Lehane illustrates with such sweep and agility, World War I was ending, sending home soldiers who would reshape the labor market; the Spanish Influenza plague still raged; Bolsheviks and anarchists were branded the terrorists of their time; the Volstead Act was about to inaugurate Prohibition, creating whole new dimensions of caste and crime; and baseball players talking to game-fixers were laying the groundwork for the Black Sox scandal at the World Series. As for Boston, it was beset by an apocalyptic, groundbreaking police strike.
13. Gabriel Garcia Marquez - "Love in the Time of Cholera" & "One Hundred Years of Solitude"
The main female character "Love in the Time of Cholera," Fermina Daza, is the strong axis around which the story revolves. Fermina easily rejects Florentino Ariza in their youth when she realizes the naïveté of their first romance, and she weds Juvenal Urbino at the age of 21, the "deadline" she had set for herself, ultimately because he seemed to be able to offer security and love to her. By the end the love between Fermina and Florentino is allowed to blossom in their old age.
One Hundred Years of Solitude is the story of six generations of the Buendia family and the changes that occur over more than 100 years in the town the family helped found. Our wants and needs are laid bare by Marquez's prose and the reader feels uncomforably naked in his presence. The epic nature of the story encompasses all of what it means to be human, yet scales it down to the context of one family. The concentration of such scope packs the novel with an incredible intensity that finally explodes at the ending of the novel.
14. Paul Harding - "Tinkers"
Harding's outstanding debut unfurls the history and final thoughts of a dying grandfather surrounded by his family in his New England home. George Washington Crosby repairs clocks for a living and on his deathbed revisits his turbulent childhood as the oldest of an epileptic smalltime traveling salesman. The descriptions of the father's epilepsy and the cold halo of chemical electricity that encircled him immediately before he was struck by a full seizure are stunning, and the household's sadness permeates the narrative as George returns to more melancholy scenes. The real star is Harding's language, which dazzles whether he's describing the workings of clocks, sensory images of nature, the many engaging side characters who populate the book, or even a short passage on how to build a bird nest. This is an especially gorgeous example of novelistic craftsmanship.
15. Rick Moody - "The Ice Storm"
The novel is set before, during and after Thanksgiving, leading up to a threatening ice storm and centers on two neighboring families, the Hoods and the Williamses, and the difficulties they have dealing with the tumultuous political and social climate of the day, in affluent suburban Connecticut, in 1973 during the height of the sexual revolution. The novel is narrated from four different perspectives, each of them a member of the two families, who are promoting their own opinion and views of the several complications that arise throughout the novel, including their encounters and daily life. The Hood family is overridden with lies: Ben is currently in an affair with his married neighbor Janey, his wife Elena shoplifts, her ventures on her own sexual liaisons with both females and males of her age, including her neighbors Mikey and Sandy.
16. Ken Follett "The Pillars of the Earth" & "World Without End"
The Pillars of the Earth is a historical novel published in 1989 about the building of a cathedral in the fictional town of Kingsbridge, England. It is set in the middle of the 12th century, primarily during the time sometimes called the Anarchy, between the time of the sinking of the White Ship and the murder of Thomas Becket. The book traces the development of Gothic architecture out of the preceding Romanesque architecture and the fortunes of the Kingsbridge priory against the backdrop of actual historical events of the time.
World Without End takes place in the same fictional town as Pillars of the Earth — Kingsbridge — and features the descendants of some Pillars characters two centuries later. The plot incorporates two major historical events, the start of the Hundred Years' War and the Black Death.
17. Jonathan Franzen "The Corrections"
If family is a machine for making you crazy, has there ever been a machine better oiled than the Lamberts? The elderly father, Alfred, is a retired railway engineer sliding into the mental and physical chaos of Parkinson's disease. Wife Enid fashions ever more ingenious varieties of denial. Chip is helping con men in Lithuania. His brother Gary is consoling himself with booze for the miseries of his own disintegrating home life. Their sister Denise, in the time she can spare from her career as a celebrity chef, makes reckless thrusts into other people's marriages. Their miseries are an opening onto the larger discontents of the society that they—we—live in, but Franzen keeps his terrible focus on the family. This can be a very funny book in places, but the laughs come hard, very hard.
18. A. S. Byatt - "Possession"
Part historical as well as contemporary fiction, the title Possession refers to issues of ownership and independence between lovers, the practice of collecting historically significant cultural artifacts, and to the possession that a biographer feels for their subject. The novel incorporates many different styles and devices: diaries, letters and poetry, in addition to third-person narration. Possession is as concerned with the present day as it is with the Victorian era, pointing out the differences between the two time periods satirizing such things as modern academia and mating rituals.
19. E. Annie Proulx - "The Shipping News"
The story centers on Quoyle, a third-rate newspaper reporter from upstate New York whose father emigrated from Newfoundland. Shortly after his parents' suicide, Quoyle's unfaithful and abusive wife Petal, and her lover, leave town. Days later, Petal sells their two daughters to a 'black market adoption agency' for $6,000. Soon thereafter, Petal and her lover are killed in a car accident; the are located by police and returned to Quoyle. Despite his daughters' safe return, Quoyle's life is collapsing, and his paternal aunt, Agnis Hamm, convinces him to return to Newfoundland for a new beginning. Quoyle's growth in confidence and emotional strength, as well as his ability to be comfortable in a loving relationship, become the book's main focus. Quoyle learns deep and disturbing secrets about his ancestors that emerge in strange ways.
20. Annie Dillard - "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a 1974 nonfiction narrative. It won the Pulitzer Prize in 1975. The book is about Dillard's experiences at Tinker Creek in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains. In the book, Dillard records observations and thoughts on solitude, writing, religion, and the flora and fauna. Dillard has described it as a "book of theology". It is analogous in design and genre to Henry David Thoreau's Walden, based on his observations in a Massachusetts forest. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is often described as a series of essays; however, Dillard has insisted that it is a continuous work, as evidenced by her references to events from previous chapters as the narrative progresses.
21. Barbara Tuckman - "A Distant Mirror"
In this sweeping historical narrative, Barbara Tuchman writes of the cataclysmic 14th century, when the energies of medieval Europe were devoted to fighting internecine wars and warding off the plague. Some medieval thinkers viewed these disasters as divine punishment for mortal wrongs; others, more practically, viewed them as opportunities to accumulate wealth and power. Tuchman looks into such events as the Hundred Years War, the collapse of the medieval church, and the rise of various heresies, pogroms, and other events that caused medieval Europeans to wonder what they had done to deserve such horrors.
22. Nicolson Baker - "Vox"
As a novelist, Baker often focuses on minute inspection of his characters' and narrators' stream of consciousness, and has written about such provocative topics as voyeurism and planned assassination. His fiction generally de-emphasizes narrative in favor of careful description and characterization. Baker's enthusiasts appreciate his ability to candidly explore the human psyche. Vox dissects the nature of a phone sex relationship, expanding upon the theme and presenting a realistic fictional account. For some readers, Baker's obsession with detail detracted from a hoped-for pornographic effect. Others, in reading the imaginative sex stories the two protagonists produce for one another, have perceived a budding romantic affection.
23. Salman Rushdie - "Midnight's "
Midnight's is a loose allegory for events in India both before and, primarily, after the independence and partition of India, which took place at midnight on 15 August 1947. The protagonist and narrator of the story is Saleem Sinai, born at the exact moment when India becomes an independent country and has telepathic powers. He later discovers that all born in India between 12 AM and 1 AM on 15 August 1947, are imbued with special powers. Saleem thus attempts to use these powers to convene the eponymous . The convention, or Midnight 's Conference, is in many ways reflective of the issues India faced in its early statehood concerning the cultural, linguistic, religious, and political differences faced by such a vastly diverse nation.
24. Theodore Dreiser - "Sister Carrie"
Sister Carrie shocked the public when it was first published, in 1900. In fact, it was so controversial, it almost missed being printed at all. In addition to the book’s theme of sexual impropriety, the public disliked the fact that Theodore Dreiser presented a side of life that proper Americans did not care to acknowledge. Even worse, Dreiser made no moral judgements on his characters’ actions. He wrote about infidelity and as natural occurrences in the course of human relationships. Dreiser wrote about his characters with pity, compassion, and a sense of awe.
25. Booth Tarkington - "The Magnificent Ambersons"
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize when it was first published in 1918, The Magnificent Ambersons chronicles the changing fortunes of three generations of an American dynasty. The protagonist of Booth Tarkington's great historical drama is George Amberson Minafer, the spoiled and arrogant grandson of the founder of the family's magnificence. Eclipsed by a new breed of developers, financiers, and manufacturers, this pampered scion begins his gradual descent from the midwestern aristocracy to the working class.
26. Ian McEwan - "Atonement"
An upper-middle-class girl in interwar England -- who aspires to be a writer -- makes a serious mistake that has life-changing effects for many. Consequently, through the remaining years of the century, she seeks atonement for her transgression - which leads to an exploration on the nature of writing itself. Time named it the best fiction novel of the year and included it in its All-TIME 100 Greatest Novels.
27. Chinua Achebe - "Things Fall Apart: A Novel"
First published in 1958, just two years before Nigeria declared independence from Great Britain, the book eschews the obvious temptation of depicting pre-colonial life as a kind of Eden. Instead, Achebe sketches a world in which violence, war, and suffering exist, but are balanced by a strong sense of tradition, ritual, and social coherence. His Ibo protagonist, Okonkwo, is a self-made man. The of a charming ne'er-do-well, he has worked all his life to overcome his father's weakness and has arrived, finally, at great prosperity and even greater reputation among his fellows in the village of Umuofia. Okonkwo is a champion wrestler, a prosperous farmer, husband to three wives and father to several . He is also a man who exhibits flaws well-known in Greek tragedy.
28. Su Tong - "Raise the Red Lantern"
This is the story of a rich man's fourth concubine and her relationship with the first three. Lotus is from a fairly wealthy and educated family that unfortunately suffers after the death of her father. She therefore agrees to become the concubine of Chen Zuoqian and at first enjoys her new life, being the apple of her husband's eye. Then the true nature of her life becomes evident when his interest begins to wane.
29. John McPhee - "Oranges"
You might think that a whole book on oranges was just too much, but I read this book as eagerly as if it was a mystery and I couldn't wait to see what was on the next page. It is worth reading for the writing alone, as McPhee's style brings the groves to life and makes you laugh aloud at times with subtle humor. In addition to a providing a detailed history of oranges--customs surrounding, growing, marketing, geography-- if you apply your close reading skills and critical thinking you may find that this work has deeper meaning. Could it also be taking on social issues such as poverty, ignorance, miscenegation, reproductive rights, and just plain old politics?
30. Stieg Larsson -
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"
"The Girl Who Played with Fire," and
"The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest"
The original title of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" in Swedish is: Män som hatar kvinnor – "Men Who Hate Women." This award-winning crime novel is the first in his Millennium Trilogy. At his death in November 2004, Larsson left three unpublished novels that made up the trilogy. An epic tale of serial murder and corporate trickery spanning several continents, the novel takes place in complicated international financial fraud and the buried evil past of a wealthy Swedish industrial family. The second and third installments of this compelling story delve more deeply into the character, history, and present circumstances of our heroine, while relaying additional, equally addicting mysteries.
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32
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(Page:)
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Autumn Rain
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Posted:Oct 6, 2010 4:20 pm
Last Updated:Oct 17, 2010 8:47 am
19792 Views
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It rained, that certain kind of autumn storm...
A dismal day - drenched - our third day of this rain, on it fell, past dusk. Falling still,
I thought of you, dancing your hours, in far off Babylon.
The moon was full, the cypress tall, our world enclosed.
Like the shadows made by spiraling droplets, splattering
down into yellow grass...
A random blanket of maple leaves, elegant
In the background, I hear Morphine saxophone orgasms...
We share space and breath for each other -
Four pebbled nipples, your swollen cock rigorous and profound...
My teeth briefly resisting, until they sunk down.
The city glides past, mechanical toxins and damp metal -
We've got all night your tongue echoes, the scent of autumn leaves burning portal escapades and promising winter's frost.
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8
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The Weight of My Heart
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Posted:Sep 23, 2010 8:44 pm
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2011 5:47 pm
23338 Views
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The ancient Egyptians believed that, when they died, they would be judged on their behaviour during their lifetime before they could be granted a place in the Afterlife. This judgement ceremony was called "Weighing of the Heart" and was recorded in Chapter 125 of the funerar text known as the "Book of the Dead".
The ceremony was believed to have taken place before Osiris, the chief god of the dead and Afterlife, and a tribunal of 43 dieties. Standing before the tribunal the deceased was asked to name each of the divine judges and swear that he or she had not committed any offences, ranging from raising the voice to stealing. This was the "negative confession". If found innocent, the deceased was declared "true of voice" and allowed to proceed into the Afterlife.
The proceedings were recorded by Thoth, the scribe of the gods, and the deity of wisdom. Thoth was often dipicted as a human with an ibis head, writing on a scroll of papyrus. His other animal form, the baboon, was often depicted sitting on the pivot of the scales of justice.
The symbolic ritual that accompanied this ritual was the weighing of the heart of the deceased on a pair of enormous scales. It was weighed against the principle of truth and justice ( known as maat ) represented by a feather, the symbol of the goddess of truth, order and justice, Maat. If the heart balanced against the feather then the deceased would be granted a place in the Fields of Hetep and Iaru. If it was heavy with the weight of wrongdoings, the balance would sink and the heart would be grabbed and devoured by a terrifying beast that sat ready and waiting by the scales. This beast was Ammit, "the gobbler", a composite animal with the head of a crocodile, the front legs and body of lion or leopard, and the back legs of a hippopotamus.
The ancient Egyptians considered the heart to be the centre of thought, memory and emotion. It was thus associated with interlect and personality and was considered the most important organ in the body. It was deemed to be essential for rebirth into the Afterlife. Unlike the other internal organs, it was never removed and embalmed separately, because its presence in the body was crucial.
If the deceased was found to have done wrong and the heart weighed down the scales, he or she was not though to enter a place of tourment like hell, but to cease to exist at all. This idea would have terrified the ancient Egyptians. However, for those who could afford to include Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead in their tombs, it was almost guaranteed that they would pass successfully into the Afterlife. This is because the Egyptians believed in the magical qualities of the actual writings and illustrations in funerary texts. By depicting the heart balancing in the scales against the feather of Maat they ensured that would be the favorable outcome. The entire ceremony was, after all, symbolic.
Following the Weighing of the Heart, the organ was returned to its owner.
Here a translation of the spell found in Chapter 125:
O my heart which I had from my mother!
O my heart which I had from my mother!
O my heart of my different ages!
Do not stand up as a witness against me,
Do not be opposed to me in the tribunal,
Do not be hostile to me in the presence of the Keeper of the Balance,
For you are my Ka which was in my body, the protector who made my members hale.
Go forth to the happy place whereto we speed;
Do not make my name stink to the Entourage who make men.
Do not tell lies about me in the presence of the god;
It is indeed well that you should hear!
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16
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Ferocious
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Posted:Sep 4, 2010 11:06 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2011 4:27 pm
24443 Views
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In my dream I am a fox
there in a generous field.
You step forward, past
a procession of women,
seeing through snout and claws
To my essence - my marrow.
At dawn we would, each of us,
rise from our haunches,
Look through the wall of glass
That breaks apart
Our two worlds
then loupe away
Unencumbered
but together across
the great Earth's body
Silently, imagining
my skin bleeding
long bright flags upon russet fur,
That's how I long to
cross through this partition
My bitter song - a prayer
To the bare-faced moon
I sing as I sit,
Fingering stones,
begging them to heal,
not me
But - the dry mornings and the yellow nights you serve
penitence
I am a fox, and I tell myself
Any time now
we will rise and
walk away
from somebody else's life -
any time.
I tell you now
it is not
the ferocious
animal blood I pump
You're hiding from
It is the poet in me,
The poet and the stories
I could tell you about yourself.
----------------------
Image: "Kitsune: The Japanese Fox-Woman" By Kimberly Crick. Please check her website out. 'Enchanted Gal' is her domain name. She does really interesting and intense images that are half-way between being erotica and fantasy portraiture. Her "Eve and the Serpent," is also lovely.
Poem inspired (in part) by aura_of_sex and his lovely post: [post 2407724].
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18
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The Iceberg
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Posted:Aug 26, 2010 11:37 am
Last Updated:Sep 26, 2010 2:41 pm
25253 Views
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As if the dark salty sea controls
As his fluid skin push movement
As we bend unravel enveloping
As magnificence star-breath sings
As melting leads to drip evaporate
As mortal nothingness absolute
As like give me whispers against
As silken frostbitten fingers grab
As calling and response lapses
As under pulse depth of this one
As hard waves prevent drowning
As sure as spirit ripening collusion
As a damp dry passage navigation
As inevitable we do steer to some
As yet undetermined collide grind
As pressure churning milk does it
As slide destination calls wordless
As fatal frigid burning will rip coil
As destructive capable fire burns
Image: photograph by Ukrainian Konstantin Chernichkin depicting a couple kissing on Kiev's Bridge of Lovers on Valentine's Day.
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15
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Bling Gallery
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Posted:Aug 24, 2010 5:35 am
Last Updated:Apr 9, 2011 7:55 am
27125 Views
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Dear Perverts,
I did not make the below bling. I have been adding them from kind bling makers from all over Hookup.Date Naughty Affair Dating. Here I am merely organizing them because I find it easier for me to utilize them myself, including seeing their sizes when utilized, and secondly, because I have been asked a few times where I got such and such bling on my blog. So now, if you click on the bling you see below, I believe it will take you to the point of origin. Most but not all of these were free or one or two points.
- Enjoy!
Abstract or Geometric:
       
Emphasizing Specific Women's Physical Features- Eyes, Hair, etc.:
                                             
Flowers and Plants:
                                               
Sentiments, Symbols, and Holidays:
                              
The Moon & Other Places:
                            
Birds and Insects:
                 
Mammals:
             
Fire, Water, and Dragons:
                 
The Ocean and Mermaids:
                          
Masks, Blindfolds, Lingerie and Bondage:
                                   
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Calypso (The Story of Mariana and LipsSayAll
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Posted:Aug 10, 2010 7:02 pm
Last Updated:Oct 20, 2010 7:22 pm
23759 Views
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Music pounded around her. She moved forward in a sway, her warm, sensual curves inviting stares from the many in the crowd who were open to a sexual conquest � men and women. The club was an exclusive one, and had only the best DJ's turning on any given night. The floor literally vibrated under her feet. She looked at the bouncer that let her in without issue, then at the writhing mass of bodies visible beyond the door. Swathed in light that shifted like water, the strobes gave an interesting effect to the already interesting d�cor of the club.
Despite the pristine white columns, giving a very Romanesque feeling to the building, it was more the type of place one would expect to see a vampire, were they to really exist. Dark, shadowed, and very much gothic, as the light shifted, one could see the blood-red marbling on those otherwise perfect pillars.
She turned a full circle, amazed with the dark, gothic beauty of the place.
Soon, she was pulled into the mass of dancing bodies in the center.
It was an exclusive club, most of the members were of the upper echelons of Greek and Turkish society, and of very high socioeconomic background. The rich, and sometimes famous, came here to be unknown and with others like themselves. She was here by exclusive invitation - a friend of a friend had given her a pass. Life these days had become taxing, and the friend had provided this special pass as a way of helping her unwind and escape these challenges. Tonight she meant to take full advantage. Whatever path that led her down. She was open to it. The very thought of such an escape from the everyday got her heart beating a little faster, and the adventures had not even begun. Whatever they were to be.
She was the very picture of gothic sophistication, her un-dyed, naturally lovely, chestnut colored hair the only challenge to the burgundy silk and velvet ensemble that sheathed her curvy frame. Fishnet stockings circled her shapely thighs, meeting with the sensuous garter belt that peeked through the slit in her gown as she walked. Her breasts climbed to impossible heights over her waist cinching bustier. They positively glowed in the light of the room, her warm olive skin light from both within and from the flame that was this burgundy rose velvet bustier.
She found the bar, and found something to her liking.
She had never been a part of the "closed-door" scene here. Those people went into the opulent, beautiful rooms around the outer walls of the building for wild sexual escapades involving nearly any fantasy.
She herself had been in a committed relationship for many years, and only came here to dance.
But she had not be physically present with her lover for many weeks, and she needed this. Tonight.
Life these days had become an endless cycle of trips to the doctors, discussions about medications, worries about finance, and disagreements with siblings as to the proper care for her aging and sick mother. Not to mention her , her home, the constant heat wave this summer, and stresses upon stresses from work.
She only wanted a couple drinks and a chance to forget, even if for a while, but she still had no desire to go back into those rooms. A few drinks it was, and with so little food on her stomach from the stress, she was feeling the welcome fuzziness starting to creep around her.
The Grecian beauty who is our heroine stepped out onto the marble floor, feeling the pulse of bodies and the intoxicating smell of human musk and sexual energy around her. It made her heady, and light-headed.
Mariana saw the mahogany-haired beauty from across the room, from where she was perched in one of the tables. She quirked an eyebrow, her head cocking slightly as she watched the buxom woman make her way into the crowd and past numerous men as well as women who were clearly stuck by instant lust. From her elevated seat, Mariana watched the woman's every motion.
Mariana closed her blue-green eyes, and instantly, the room started to spin. She had the sense that the woman was hurting, tired, stressed out, and anxious about loved ones. The taste of her emotional state hung thick around her. Mariana felt a pang of sympathy and pursed her lips, watching the way the other woman moved, the sinuous contour of perfect legs, and the glimpse of a delicious garter belt underneath. Mariana could not help but smile. It was a favorite for her, the garter belt and stocking look. There was nothing as sexy and feminine as a beautiful woman in thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. A pair of heels and the right panties, a corset or bustier � these all compelled Mariana to feel lustful, without effort.
Mariana had an amazing sense for that which one felt but would not say. Some called it "a sixth sense" or "Clairvoyance". It didn't really matter what it was. It worked. That is what mattered.
Mariana stood, pushing a lock of silken shocking red hair back from her face and stepped down from her pedestal to mingle into the crowd. She licked her ruby red lips, full and pulped in both lust and through the good graces of Mother Nature.
Of course, such dancing would have people in close contact, and most accidental touching was ignored. In her current state, the Stunning Greek Woman didn't care. She just wanted to forget her worries and relax. And, in her state, it was easy for her not to notice the woman slipping her way through the crowd towards her.
The Greek Woman moved and writhed to the beat of the music, until she felt cool hands slip around her waist from behind, and the feeling of a soft body press against her.
It felt so good...
The Greek Woman squirmed a bit, and tried to turn, but the gentle grasp held her firm.
"You need an escape, I can tell. Let me show you a night that will help you forget," a simmering voice whispered in her ear. Husky, throaty, low but confident, it held her � enchanted her � made her legs feel as if they were made of liquid molten metal.
The Greek Woman blinked, not quite sure she heard what she thought she had heard. Mariana smiled and stepped back only so the Greek Woman could turn but remain in her arms. The Greek Woman, meanwhile - turned, and stared at the redhead.
"You must have me mistaken," she replied quietly, barely audible over the pounding music. "I just came to get a few drinks and dance."
"You came to forget."
The Greek Woman sighed. "How can you tell?"
The flame-haired-haired Mariana gave an expression of concern. "It's in those eyes of yours. Never a color of mossy brown-green have I seen before, but it's the pain and anguish I see more glaringly. You have seen a terrible time of it, lately."
The Greek Woman�s eyes � which really resembled more than anything a towering oak tree with a bit of moss on her bark � slide her body to the floor. She wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow, amidst the alcohol and her distraction n, she found herself on the edge of the dance floor, closer to the wall. "Yes."
Mariana stepped forward, her lips hovering inches away from The Greek Woman.
"Let me help you."
The Greek Woman sighed, and looked down... and then, everything went black.
She woke in darkness. She was warm, but disoriented. It took her several moments to realize that she was nude, and laying in a tub of something that was so heavenly soft it felt like she had returned to the womb. She was covered, but only barely � in something squishy that smelled of fruit. For the warmth of the day, this substance was surprisingly, pleasantly cool. Not unlike lying in a somewhat solid swimming pool. She moved a bit, and finally realized � she was in a Jacuzzi full of jello! She blinked a few more times, and still couldn't see. With that, came the realization that she was blindfolded.
She squirmed, reaching to try to remove it, only to find her hands and wrists bound. She could move only a small amount.
She started to panic, and yank against the thick, soft bindings. That is, until, she heard a familiar voice.
"Shhhh.... You are safe," the voice told her.
The Greek Woman froze. It was the same voice she had heard earlier in the club, from the mesmerizing, pomegranate-haired woman. With those impossibly pale white skin and the striking blue-green eyes. The woman with the voice that sounded like a lick of warm honey tasted.
The Greek Woman felt soft lips trail across her cheek, and press to her lips in an intense kiss. As the kiss ended, she could feel the jello covering her shift, and the warmth of another form next to her. A hand slid over her curvy, sensual form, a gentle, feminine touch. Hands started to roam over her body, touching and caressing every inch of her skin.
She was confused, and wasn't sure what to do. But when she felt those hands cup her full breasts, gently rolling her nipples between soft fingers, the only noise she could muster was a groan of pleasure.
Fingers trailed lower, and trailed over her thighs, moving inward.
"You know," the voice told her, "those fishnets and that garter belt were absolutely delicious on such beautiful and supple thighs as these." The hand moved inward, and gently urged her soft, smooth golden-hued legs to part.
The Greek Woman gasped as she did, and the hand came up between her legs, soft fingers playing over the velvety, womanly lips.
"How wet you are already. Here you are, helpless, bound by your wrists and ankles, blindfolded, and at my mercy. You like it, don't you, my sweet little pet?"
The Greek Woman whimpered, and nodded. A purring groan of pleasure met her ears.
Lips kissed gently down her cheek, over her chin, and to her throat. The nibbling and sensation of the other woman's tongue was amazing.
"Tell me your name, my pet."
The Greek Woman struggled to bring herself together enough to even muster speech.
She muttered something in her native tongue. A soft name, hard to decipher.
The redhead said �no matter, tonight I shall call you Calypso. Do you like that?"
The hand between her legs never relented, soft fingers probing into warm, wet depths. The other hand came up to cup Calypso's breast. Then, she felt lips, and tongue working over her nipple.
Calypso gasped, and squirmed, her senses on fire.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Calypso, you will call me Mistress Mariana. Am I clear?"
Calypso nodded, and bucked her hips slightly, feeling the fingers surge into her deeper.
Calypso gasped as the kisses trailed lower, and she could feel Mistress Mariana's tongue working over her soft skin. The other woman pressed her body tightly against Calypo's and slowly squirmed lower, positioning herself between Calypso's legs, now spread and held in place by the bindings. The jello gave off a delicious scent of mango, pineapple, and raspberry. Calypso imagined that in heaven the angels were giving each other orgasms surrounded by clouds that smelled and tasted of fruit � just like this.
Mariana's eyes were filled with lust, and the heady feeling of power, as she looked up at the beautiful woman held captive and in her thrall. The heavenly scent of Calypo's arousal filled her nose, and Mariana's mouth started to water. Her fingers were still inside her slave, and Mariana could feel how tight and aroused Calypso was.
"You are mine to do with as I please, Calypso. Do you understand me?"
Calypso groaned softly, and nodded. "Yes."
"Yes?" Mariana asked in an emphatic tone.
"Yes, Mistress Mariana."
Mariana smiled, and rewarded her slave with a slow, trailing kiss over the inside of her thighs that caused the bound woman to squirm deeper into the jello, still cool but beginning to melt and slide delightfully over each crevice, as it warmed against the two women�s bodies. Then, she reached around behind her, and found an item she had hidden there earlier. Long, silvery-purple and bearing a slight curve, the phallus was large enough that Mariana was concerned she might hurt Calypso if she wasn't careful. She slowly removed her fingers, leaving Calypso squirming and whimpering.
"What, my darling Sea Goddess? Do you want something?"
"Please, Mistress...."
"Please what?"
Calypso only whimpered, and it made Mariana smile. The dominant woman pressed the tip of the phallus against Calypso's wet, swollen opening, and flipped a switch. The instant vibration made Calypso's womanly hips buck, and she cried out in pleasure.
Slowly, Mariana pushed the vibrating toy into the other woman, watching Calypso squirm and writhe.
Mariana leaned down and inhaled Calypso's scent again, mingled with the fruit and jello � the delightful scenario she had set-up. Amusing � Seductive - Arousing - it was too much to bear. She leaned forward, and kissed Calypso's exposed, glistening, fruit-flavored and yet also pussy-flavored sex.
The sensation of her Mistress's tongue and lips against her clitoris was ecstasy. Calypso couldn't stop the cries of bliss that escaped her lips.
Mariana dove into Calypso's swollen womanhood; the vibe pressed deeply inside her now, Mariana's lips and tongue working over the other woman's soft nether lips. Her hand pushing and caressing Calypso with the massive, churning, vibrating phallus � like Poseidon boiling the very seas, she thought. Let�s make a tidal wave.
The feeling of Calypso's thighs brushing against her face, convulsing around her head, her hips bucking against Mariana's licking, sucking, lapping, tasting face was so sensual, so sexy, it made her ravenous.
Mariana's tongue went again and again against Calypso's clit and to lap around her nether lips, trying to catch the delicious nectar of her pet's arousal. Again and again she lapped at the fruit flavored jello and the unique, musky, heady flavor of Calypso�s oyster. The brine of the sea contrasting with the sweet of mango and raspberry, like some kind of divine tropical sex explosion of the senses.
Calypso could feel her Mistress's tongue as it traced lovingly over her sex, never a single spot left unkissed.
Mariana could feel Calypso coming closer and closer to orgasm; the fine muscles clenching around the phallus told her of what was about to come.
"Not yet, my beautiful pet, not yet," she murmured, as she slowly pulled her tongue from Calypso's throbbing pussy. She smiled in pleasure as she heard the bound woman whimper and squirm as her Mistress removed the vibrator.
Calypso suddenly felt empty, almost painfully so as she hovered so close to orgasm.
Mariana stood fully, and Calypso could hear her rustling around. She started to speak, but then she felt fingers on her lips.
"You are not to speak, unless to express your pleasure. Silence."
Calypso became silent, but her body ached. She needed her Mistress... and badly.
The jello bath shifted slightly, and Calypso could feel the warmth of Mariana's body next to her, pressed against her side. Hands trailed across her tender skin, drawing gasps and groans of pleasure from Calypso's lips.
Mariana drew herself up, shifting in the tub, and pressed her lips against Calypso's fiercely, intensely. The kiss was returned, and Mariana knew she was completely in control.
The Domme broke the kiss and pulled back, leaving her bound, blindfolded slave to turn towards her, almost whimpering.
"I want you to feel something, my sweet little slave."
Calypso could barely stand it. Her curiosity was killing her. She could feel the jello sliding against her oh so sensitized skin, could feel her Mistress shift some in the jello bath, and finally, she felt her right hand being unbound. Mariana�s hands held hers, and guided her golden-tinted hand to the skin of her curving pale-skinned stomach. It was hard for Mariana to control herself not to groan in pleasure.
She guided the other woman's hand lower, past her naval.
Inside the darkness of the blindfold, Calypso blinked, and she audibly gasped when she felt what she did.
Mistress Mariana wore a strap-on phallus, but not just any strap-on. From what she felt, it seemed that it had two ends; one that was obviously used on the recipient, and a second part that was impaled deeply into her Mistress's dripping-wet pussy.
It was short-lived, as her wrist was re-bound to the Jacuzzi spout, taking with it the beautiful juices that coated her fingers.
Mariana shifted slightly, nudging Calypso's legs apart around the jello, which was rapidly becoming more of a fruit and sugar bath. She shifted between them, hovering over her captured slave. She leaned down at kissed the blindfolded woman, shifting her hips forward slightly. She knew she had to be careful, given the lack of sensation in the strap-on that a man would have, and how incredibly tight Calypso was.
A single motion with her fingers, and the phallus shuddered to life with an intense vibration that made them both gasp.
The vibration made entrance easier, and soon, Mariana's hips met Calypso's.
It was a slow, gentle motion, but finally, Mariana's strap-on was buried entirely inside of the gasping, writhing Greek woman under her.
The Greek Woman's head was spinning from the sensation. She felt her Mistress shift a bit, withdrawing her hips and the vibrating cock, and enter again.
It was pure heaven... a moment of sheer bliss and absolute heaven.
Mariana started a rhythm, slow and gentle, and Calypso could feel the intensity of the textured, vibrating strap-on as it entered her deeply and pulled out over and over.
She couldn't hold back anymore � Mariana groaned in pleasure, feeling the vibrations deep in her pussy where the other end of the sensual tool was. It was intense, and made more so with the picture in front of her.
The beautiful Chestnut Haired woman, bound to facet of a jello-filled jacuzzi, blindfolded, completely at her mercy... and her legs spread wide.
Mariana started to move a bit faster, feeling the thrust of the vibrator push up into her with each stroke, as intensely pleasurable for her as it was for Calypso.
The slave whimpered, the sensation of her orgasm building again. She shivered in Mariana's arms.
Mariana leaned down, and pressed her lips to Calypso's in a soft, sensual kiss, her lips parting slightly. Her tongue slid out, trailing along Calypso�s lips.
Calypso groaned, and her tongue met her Mistress's, dancing and caressing as Mariana picked up speed.
Mariana's orgasms started to come, one after the other, slamming into her body. The earlier stimulation of kissing, touching and licking Calypso's body, combined with the phallus that had been inside her since she started was now coming to the front as she stroked in and out of her beautiful slave.
Calypso started to shudder, and whimper. "Oh... oh, God... Mistress...."
"Yes?" Mariana asked with ragged breath. "What is it, my slave?"
"Oh God... I am coming�COMING!! Coming...uh...oh...ahh�....FUCK YES.... Mistress...FUCK ME MISTRESS!!!"
Mariana groaned and arched against the bound woman harder, her hips now pumping in and out faster.
"Yes.... Yes, my sweet little slave. Cum for me, cum for your Mistress," Mariana whispered, her breath irregular.
Mariana felt Calypso start to writhe more, and her soft, ragged whimpers now audible shouts and groans, turned to downright intense screams of ecstasy. At nearly the very same moment, all the sensations built up, and Mariana desperately needed a final, shuddering, throbbing release.
Her once smooth motions became ragged, and she jerked, feeling her own pussy spasm uncontrollably.
The orgasm that washed over her left her seeing stars. All she could see, feel, smell and touch was the sea- and fruit � and sweat- and the come of Calypso- and her mouth, her kisses, and her very skin.
Both women climaxed, reaching final orgasms simultaneously. Their hips rocked together as one, and as Calypso strained at her bindings, Mariana clutched at her.
It seemed to last forever. The intense tingling and fire spread through them both, and slowly... it subsided.
Mariana slumped forward, against Calypso�s heaving breasts. Both of them were immensely sticky, from come, from sweat, and from jello.
Several long, endless moments passed, and Mariana couldn't stand it any longer. She squirmed only enough to reach the bindings over Calypso's head, and finally released her arms.
Instantly, Calypso wrapped her arms around Mariana tightly, pulling her down, pressing her body against Mariana.
Both women's heartbeats started to slow finally, as did their breathing. Mariana reached down, and carefully withdrew the vibrating cock from Calypso, then untied the straps and slid it from herself as well. She groaned, and leaned back down to press her bare breasts against Calypso's, kissing her again.
Calypso could feel those lips brush against her ear, and then she heard a soft whisper.
"I told you I would take care of you tonight. Now we have one more surprise. Don�t be scared my pet, but someone is coming to give you even more pleasure. And it will give me pleasure to watch him do this for you." She felt her blindfold being removed. She blinked till her eyes adjusted to the soft light of the chamber.
From behind a curtained off area, came a man wearing a mask and nothing else. He was also golden skinned, but because of his mask Calypso could not tell if he might be Greek or otherwise. But she could see that his cock was fully rigid and that he desired her. Perhaps her Mistress was also to be pleasured by this man? In spite of her rocking spasms of recent moments, she suddenly felt herself grow warm and eager.
He stepped forward, and with agility and grace rarely seen outside a dance studio or a martial artist�s dojo, he climbed into the tub and between the two women. Without saying a word beyond �I am Bacchus,� he proceeded to lap at first Mistress Mariana and then Calypso.
Eventually, all three were actually just as wet and sticky as when the man first appeared and only the two were were covered in moisture and jello, but not till hours had gone by and each of them had had several orgasms- the man included. Before Mistress Mariana and Bacchus departed, all three took time to step to the adjoining room where a hot shower and a fluffy robe was to be had, some ice water, and the necessary items for a cup of herbal tea. Calypso felt, after her shower, wearing her robe, sipping her peppermint tea OUTSTANDING. The other two showered, donned robes, and quietly but respectfully disappeared. Perhaps they left together, perhaps separately. She had no idea. But, hours had certainly passed, and a glance behind the heavy window drapes told her the sun had long ago risen.
She found after a quick search a cupboard with all her clothes from the night before, as well as her pocketbook, shoes, and a small bouquet of wildflowers tied with a red ribbon. As well, she found behind one door was a hall with a clearly labeled 'exit' sign. Upon exiting she realized the secret chamber she had been in was the upper level of the very same club from the night before. The exit took her to the back side of the building.
The following afternoon, as Calypso savored her body�s bruises and the lingering scent of papaya and mango in her hair while lying in her very own bed at home, she smiled and thought to herself "What an appropriate name for that mysterious stranger. For he was indeed a God of sex. And my God, Mistress Mariana...that was the best fuck of my life...I shall have to find some way to join that club."
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Nora to James
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Posted:Aug 10, 2010 11:55 am
Last Updated:Sep 5, 2010 12:09 pm
21766 Views
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there is a line of sweat running from my shoulders, down my spine, to my ass, and a little bit pooling between my cheeks, finally to settle in and collect in a tiny drop or two on my arse singing out take me it's for you to fuck fuck hard bring me down to the lowest level and build me up, a draw bridge a tower the walls of that bastard Hadrian yours yours and oh James, oh James...when you say these things how you say them I grip my pussy tight and imagine you there, tightening around your stiff prick, spurting thick cock juice for my greedy mouth to taste, dribbledribble and it's so hot and nice like your lips sucking my pussy are hot and nice thick pussy dripdrips into your eager face consuming me like those foamy pints on Friday at the place we first had our time as man and woman not the chambermaid and her master, but you know that you will always be the master deep down and I like it and it's fitting I have no quibbles....oh James you with your wit and your brilliance and the charm and the way you like your eggs is not the way my father did but I can see how you resemble him otherwise, in little ways after all a man is a man, is he not, Molly said so and she's me so I guess we do agree biting your thigh I feel your heartbeat down there in that thick vein that pumps and pumps like a second no a third cock, for the second cock is your thick fingers taking me and filling me and singing in me like those canaries of the walsh mines remember when you bought me that cornwall cornish jet pin in the shape of a dove wings spread and you said when I come I fly like that into your soul? oh James what I want you to know is that the dove is roosting she is going home she lives in you as surely as the branches of a sacred oak and give me your hard cock for dinner for dinner like a plate of some common food and I will gorge myself James
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May God save every dirty mind from the clean ones' blindness. - ANNON in response to James Joyce's Letters to Nora Barnacle (his lover then wife)
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Molly Bloom's Soliloquy- from "Ulysses" by James Joyce
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Posted:Aug 10, 2010 9:22 am
Last Updated:Sep 5, 2010 12:06 pm
21833 Views
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DEDICATED TO MOLLYBOSTON:
....I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas 2 glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and the pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
Image: "The Beautiful Irish Woman" - painted 1866, Gustave Courbet
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Visceral
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Posted:Aug 2, 2010 8:15 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:57 pm
21924 Views
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I want to gnaw on your fingers like a feral thing
I want to wrap you, entwine you - until sated
I want to consume your kidneys, your liver
I want to languidly ingest your smaller limbs
While moon beams burst upon blood vessels,
Hearing you cry out �my God, my God�� dazzled
Drawing out your tenderness, sucking, chewing
Until you whisper my name in sweet pleasure,
And the room smells of our spent satisfaction
I want you to love me until you consume me too,
I want you to tickle your tongue with my rich blood,
I want you to lap my pelt, to taste my salty sweat,
I want you to peel back the layers of pale skin that
Surround my fragile ribs as we lie upon your bed,
To pull out my heart and cradle it gently - so gentle
Beating in your cupped palm, praying the Salve Regina
Cautious, fragile mechanisms � tasting vicious kisses
Devouring... defiling, until there is no more to give
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Nearly 1,000 kinds of bats account for almost a quarter of all mammal species.
The world's smallest mammal is the bumblebee bat of Thailand which weighs less than a penny.
Giant flying foxes that live in Indonesia have wingspans of nearly six feet.
The 20 million Mexican free-tails from Bracken Cave, Texas, eat 250 tons of insects nightly.
(facts about bats from: 'bugspray' dut cun)
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Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae:
Vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Ad te clamamus, exsules, filii Hevae.
Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes
in hac lacrimarum valle.
Eia ergo, Advocata nostra,
illos tuos misericordes
oculos ad nos converte.
Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,
nobis, post hoc exsilium ostende.
O clemens: O pia: O dulcis Virgo Maria.
Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy!
Our life, our sweetness, and our hope!
To thee do we cry, poor banished of Eve,
to thee do we send up our sighs,
mourning and weeping in this valley, of tears.
Turn, then, most gracious advocate,
thine eyes of mercy toward us;
and after this our exile show unto us the
blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus;
O clement, O loving, O sweet virgin Mary.
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A light year is the distance light travels in one Earth year:
9.5 trillion km or about 6 trillion miles
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1 : felt in or as if in the viscera : deep -- a visceral conviction
2 : not intellectual : instinctive, unreasoning -- visceral drives
3 : dealing with crude or elemental emotions : earthy -- a visceral novel
Definition: Merriam-Webster online dictionary
-----------------------------------
Image: Harvard University - Museum of Natural History
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12
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I Am The Ghost of Water (A Collaboration with Wildnwanton)
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Posted:Aug 1, 2010 9:09 pm
Last Updated:Mar 13, 2011 4:49 pm
21307 Views
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Does it taste like solace?
Does it taste how diving to
Retrieve pluck pluck like a
small wet stone could be
Resting against your molars,
You sucking that wet hot
Penny-copper taste and
Feeling how smooth giving
Eons of rush pound push and
Dig dig the eddies pour and
Isn’t the moisture of her like
Standing in the damp shadows
Where earth sky meet touch?
And isn’t her flesh marvelous
Like every evaporation dive
Doesn’t the rolling riverbed of
My thighs meeting you that first
Night, now cast a soft like night
Shadows, clouds consume moons
Doesn’t it soft sound respite?
Doesn’t it echo like dive touch
Of a lonely ghost, crystalline
Remembering skin puckering two
Nipples, the cascade of wet silk
Like fall leaves rustle rustle
Dive devour me finally yes -
Release releasing giving like
The core part, engulf touch algae
That is intangible consuming
How you lust like succulent dive
Dance of a rainstorm- isn’t it?
Image: "The Ghost of Water" by Wildnwanton
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Dear Gentle Readers of the Pervert Persuasion,
This poem and it's partner are collaborations between fellow blogger wildnwanton and myself. Wildnwanton and I thought it might be a fun challenge to pair up some of her photography with my writings. She sent me a number of photos to review. When I saw this photo and it's partner, an idea began to form in my mind of ghosts and elements - and how fire and water are compliments as well as opposites. From there I feel as if the two poems, in a manner of speaking, just 'were.' I hope you enjoy. Please remark about the photos as well as my writing, because she works very hard and is very talented - and without these I would not have been inspired to write as I did.
MT
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7
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To link to this blog (Mariana_Trench_) use [blog Mariana_Trench_] in your messages.
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