Dreams

The pandemic has infiltrated our dreams as well as our daily waking lives. When u r under an umbrella, all encompassing stressor, that may even destroy u, whether by death or permanent disability, i.e. “long COVID,” which has a constellation of symptoms…well, u can’t escape the fact that this existential threat has to be put into perspective, in some way, or else it’ll harm u in ways u can’t imagine. No one can be in a constant state of “fight or flight,” as in adrenal gland pumping out stress hormones like cortisol. U will go into massive inflammatory response internally, and that isn’t any good 4 u. U have to reach some internal accommodation w your stressors, also known as homeostasis. I do have a scientific background, as u can see, w this vocabulary and explanation. And that makes me proud of who I am, that my background is rich in language and culture, science, tech, volunteerism, skills like photography, writing, arts like cooking, so many things! But enough now about me. I am saying so just so u don’t look at me as a life failure, because the culture that I am part of ascribes enormous significance to your physical appearance. I AM SO MUCH MORE THAN MY BODY APPEARANCE!! And so r u, as well. And conversely, my profession is not the totality of who I am either. My tendrils of a beautiful tapestry weave into many lives, over the decades I am alive, and will even do so possibly post my live existence, because of this blog and other writings I have made. I reach into the future even. I hope my story will be helpful to others, via the eternal internet.

But back to dreams. Your subconscious mind tries to make sense of this change in life circumstances, in order to deal better w it. People have found escape in dreams, whether they be sexual, as in discharging anxiety thru physical orgasm, a preferred method of dealing w a lack of a real partner, or even in place of someone u r with in life, who isn’t cutting it 4 u exclusively, or the ordinary symbolic dreams w need for interpretation of how it all fits together. Many people have also suffered nightmares that intensify their anxiety even, re the pandemic, or other stressors. We r tired by now, well, good and tired, as we have entered the 2nd year of the Pandemic Blues. This means some r just flouting the CDC public guidelines, by burning masks, avoidance of usage, not socially distancing, screaming out on social media how it is all bunk…and no more compliance! And also r delaying and obfuscating the need to get the vaccine, w excuses, concerns, anecdotal reports of bad bad side effects post vaccine, worries of the long term safety of same….any excuse will do. Stay in, day in, day out, go out only for necessities, do not see anyone anymore, either as friends, or for business reasons, even maintenance deferred. No one is safe! I know of shut ins like this, here in NYC. They break my heart.

Will u be able to resume normal life even eventually when significant numbers of people refuse to get the available vaccines?? Will we ever achieve herd immunity when so many millions just REFUSE?? IT IS TRULY A DYSTOPIAN NIGHTMARE. Can u live in a society where the disease continues at a broad clip to consume lives, w many millions more who have brain fog, tiredness, nausea and vomiting, joint aches, movement troubles, a constellation of mental illness, dementia, stroke, heart disease, it goes on and on…blood clots. Pick your poison. Some proportion of those afflicted w long COVID will be unable to work again, ever, permanently disabled. And your insomnia will also ramp up, as u cannot relax anymore in your isolation, your veritable oblivion. How long can u sustain that?? Well, as 4 me, I urge literally EVERYONE to get their vaccine(s), when that is possible 4 them. Not only 4 u, but 4 your broader community. Your dreams and sleep depend on it too, to reduce your inner stress.

I urge sexual dreams to everyone, to release your pent up miseries. There’s really nothing so good as an orgasm, to make u want 2 live! And use your chocolate sparingly, w it, or in waking time. Get pleasure, while u can. Your very life may depend on it, especially now. When your husband dreams of sex, it isn’t his fault, even if he dreams of another person. We r complex beings w strong appetites after all, and u can’t hold him responsible 4 his subconscious desires. I personally do not believe that any man can be exclusively solo w his partner 4ever in this way; it’s contrary to nature. He will see others and want them; it’s just a fact. Be glad that he inhibits his desire, in deference 2 u, and your marriage. That has to be enough, ladies. They aren’t wired as we r, after all. The mere thought of sexuality w another person is just something u have 2 tolerate. Enjoy, my friends! And pleasant dreams.

I will close w another form of media mention, even tho I lack the copyright to said song: “Dreams” is a magnificent song by the group Fleetwood Mac, w Stevie Nicks singing lead on that one. Love it! And it went platinum again not long ago, because a guy on a skateboard was drinking Ocean Spray cranberry juice straight from a 2 quart container, singing happily w this song in the background! And he made a fortune from that video too! Booya! That was also pleasurable to this hedonistic woman, who dreams lustily often. Such a waste to lose such a resource to the world, guys. Some folks can never get enough. Even in an arid desert of desire.

The Road Not Taken

A close friend tonight suggested by text that I should write a novel of my own life story. I was surprised that she would think my story was worth writing, and I pointed out that no one wants to read a story that has a sad ending, even tho historically that is an untruth. In fact, many love stories that end badly, where u do not get your heart’s desire, r often the most compelling tales. It is all in the craft of the telling, and the journey the story takes u on, that people begin to root for a certain outcome, because feelings become engaged, so tautly, like a rope that is holding u as u scale a mountain cliff, and all that holds u from oblivion is that rope and pulleys, that obviously can support your weight.

So it has been 4 me, as I have actually led a quite unique life. I dismiss it as trite tho, because literally every person’s life is unique, w facets that shape us as diamonds might in the crust of the Earth, carbon millions of years in the making. And every single diamond pulled from the Earth has its own unique journey, just as we do. Not all people know that graphite is an isomer of carbon too, yet distinct from diamond, another isomer. I know this because I went to a celebrated high school in New York City, which changed the trajectory of my life 4 the better. But I digress.

I have to date 7 scrapbooks running all thru my life, since age 11 that I began writing them, of significant events and shows, and concerts, w ticket stubs, and details of who I went with. To this date, I have also written very personal things in my scrapbooks, of not only me, but also others who have touched my life, including a list of Boyfriends and/or Sexual relationships, which currently number 25 on said list. No one has access to my scrapbooks but one day they too shall be laid bare, w their secrets. Now, don’t get me wrong, not all the men and boys on such list r actual conquests. I say boys because the first name on the list is the boy that I first kissed, and nothing more than that. But it was significant to me, to be included, as I looked at it. So in fact there r “boys” when I too was a “girl,” meaning a teenager, who was precocious in that arena. There were no sexual assaults per se, but one boyfriend of the list came back to visit me in graduate school, and thought that he had carte blanche w me, on a date, and no, he did not! We had long since broken up, and just because I agreed to a date did not mean he was entitled to sex. But I was foolish that night, and allowed him to come back w me to the Columbia University dorm room, which was a single room, and he almost forced me to do what I clearly did not want! But I was persistent in my refusal, and fighting back, so he got the message. He did stop, and left. I was lucky frankly, that he did, as he was too much 4 me, being much bigger than I was at the time. Hence my entry into the many years later #MeToo movement. It stays w you, these sorts of memories.

On the list there r asterisks, for the ones who had intercourse, which r not most of the names. Also 3 male virgins who were deflowered by me. These things r clearly naughty, but they r by no means unusual 4 a girl who never married, who has dated over these long 56 years of life, both in person and via the internet later, one in a phishing scam even, before I became wise to such tomfoolery. Who would guess that Bill Clinton would famously say “I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.” And later, it was revealed that “sex” was not to be the word used for oral activities only, and not having intercourse. Even to this day, some hold to that definition, even tho yours truly does not subscribe to it. To me, if u r having oral sex, U R HAVING SEX, DAMN IT! Or petting even, or such activities designed to elicit arousal and physical responses to stimuli. All of this is sex. But I even put up the boy who first kissed me, so my threshold is rather low, admittedly. Said kiss was just a lip kiss, a peck, quite innocent. But we both thought it was an important event. And that was key.

And my list contains names of men who turned out to be gay, unbeknownst to me at the time of dating. It was revealed later, when said men felt it was safe to come out. In therapy years later, it was understood that my repeated attraction to gay guys was part of a pattern of dysfunction w my own dad, a life long closeted gay man. Subconsciously, I wanted to get that sense of love and belonging that my father withheld from me, so I sought out guys who could patch that wound. Every single time, these men did not give me what I sought, ultimately. Perhaps it was unreasonable, as I can perfectly understand, that a man who is almost a 10 on the homosexuality scale, meaning purely gay, how can he find solace and romance w a woman then? Yet my father was not even given that choice. It was not unlike putting a square peg in a round hole. In his time of life, he was forced into that only sanctioned sexual relationship, the heterosexual marriage, and poor mama was none the wiser 4 it either. It was hidden from her, for years and years.

As I got older, and became sexually sophisticated in my own right, I started to piece together the strings of the puzzle, and the little lapses w witnesses who saw my father parked in a  car, kissing another man on the lips. And the types of sex he wanted w my mother, which were outside of the norm. We figured it out. He even died without telling either of us the truth. I felt like he owed us that, at least. It had repercussions life long, 4 both of us. My parents were terrible together overall, even tho both loved me very much, a saving grace. They stayed married a long 16 years even before the divorce became final. In many ways, it marked my life, the dissension and misery, and also the financial ramifications of deprivation and even poverty, while the males all did well, in contrast to me and mom. But this essay is just another chapter of my life thus far.

A man who is gay may be on a continuum of sexuality actually, where 1 is purely heterosexual and 10 is purely homosexual, and in between these poles lies bisexuality, transgender identity, non-binary, questioning, or LGBTQ. A person could be almost completely purely gay, but find that a special person moves them so much, that it becomes love, of an intimate variety, which would be atypical 4 them, but not w that person. I have heard many such tales over the years. Some lesbians have come after me in this life also, but as I do not see myself as a lesbian, and am a pure heterosexual, so no purchase is given such impulses that have been offered to me. I feel 4 them, as it is lousy to be attracted to someone who is not in the least capable of being attracted to u. But I am honest and do not ever lead them on. I am a man’s woman, pure.

I have however liked the song by Shania Twain: “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” and also by Katy Perry: “I Kissed a Girl.” Even tho I never did, not like that anyway. Just friendship kisses on the cheek. One such gay guy kissed me in my teenager hood, before he came out, and man! He knocked my socks off. To date, it may have been the kiss that broke all records. Such passion in the moonlight, a full moon it was, in the Bronx. Both of us wanted each other then, quite badly, but my code was that it was important to not cross such barrier of sex while in that age bracket, and in my high school, it would certainly have gotten out…so I held back, tho it was a decision that may have altered my life path, eventually. I often fantasize in a time machine kind of way, what if we could go back to that night, and take the course not taken…what would have the result been? I wanted to. His name is on that list of course, but no asterisk, and also no deflower notation either. Ahhh, to be that blushing 16 year old girl again, in the moonlight, in a night of someone else’s Sweet 16 party. That girl and I were born on the same day too, in the same hospital even, and both of our mothers became friends years later at the Senior Center! And we both became nurses in 2nd careers we undertook, how abt them apples?!

But while I still have breath in my body, the story is not over, and this is but a chapter recollection tonight, at the behest of my dear friend Maria, also from that same high school class. So here’s a little piece of my life story, most names not given, but the readers will know who they r, by the descriptions of events. I hope it has held u in good stead as a short reading exercise from the annals of Marsha’s life. All of this is true. I can still see that night in my mind’s eye, in all its majesty and beauty, and passion, even tho it is tucked away deeply in the recesses of memory, albeit cherished ones.

And finally, if u could go back to a path of sexual proclivity w someone u wished 4, would u do the same thing again? Or is it better to have a life long deep friendship w its own beauty, of a different sort? Perhaps the key to this question would have been easier to answer if I had but found someone else who stirred me as that man did so long ago. No man was on my same page w me at the same time of life, hence no marriage, no children. And that is the pity. Even the would be rapist, years later, on a phone call, was shocked that no one had scooped me up. I was such a tasty pastry.

Even as a voluptuously proportioned woman, years later…my kiss still dazzles. And sizzles too. Man! I Feel Like a Woman!

Sexual Goddess Unchained

Real life or a tale, changing themes now? Yes, complete 180 degrees, like prochoice vs pro-life. What do u want, boys? Just a French kiss, or whet your appetite 4 more? Today vs yesteryear? I will whip u a tale…u will need a key for your handcuffs, socks to keep from chafing your skin, a 4 poster bed, spread wide, w a pillow to prop your midsection up, 4 easy access. When Doves Cry, Urgent, You’re the One That I Want, Pour Some Sugar on Me, Hot Stuff, Ven Devórame Otra Vez (Come Devour Me Again), a montage play tape of seduction, on continuous play, but background, because I want to hear your moans and screams, as it progresses….I have a list to increase pleasure, which is a passion 4 me, and by extension, u too, as my lover.

Dancing in lingerie, striptease, when the body was compliant, wet, hot and ready, 4 u….and to top it off, nymph like as well. Never enough. Satiation, then rest, eat, go again, that’s how it was back then….every day. Such was love unquenched, everlasting, long term relationships where the man was surprised, because he figured short term, maybe once even, then move on, but he didn’t anticipate this vixen, this bitch who rolled his cigarettes w hunger, not satisfied, not enough…he was wrapped in a snake’s lair, happily at first….She was a Scorpion, a demon, w those lips, wrapping sinuously against his bound body, and he writhed, wanting control, but he ceded it first, as a condition of the coupling. She knew what power she had, his desire was raking, and he was breathing hard, and the look was in his eyes, that tremulous desire, and it was growing over the course of the flirtation.

He will do anything to slake his thirst, calm his libido, have her! Will it only be kisses, on the lips, the ears, the throat, his chest, his nipples, cool air, blowing on his naked body, stripped for easy access, feathers, peacocks, a back scratch massage, advancing to well muscled buttocks, light touch, avoiding the coup de grace, to build tension, but ever nearer, slowly, and the legs, and the feet, thighs, massaging, watching his member rise to full tumescence, and she dances, because she knows he’s a visual creature, and wants to see her, very badly, also naked, but she takes her time…

And she will acquiesce, because she knows he’s been a good boy, obeying his Mistress so well, so she takes it off 4 him, revealing those lovely award winning breasts, wet T shirt contest winner, UB, 1982…acting on stage show for the Rocky Horror Picture Show, Buffalo NY, playing Janet the lead heroine, an object of desire 4 three creatures in that show…but I digress. Back to 4 poster bed, bound man w an erection like the Leaning Tower of Pisa…and she has an oral fixation, so she wants her control over him thus, up and down, tight wet mouth, speeding up, slowing down, but he’s so over the top by now, it doesn’t take long…

And then we have to decide after eating in more ways than one, will he get his life wish, to be ensconced in her, a little south of the mouth?? He will be in this position for way longer than he figured, because she is an addiction, and she didn’t give him what he wanted till way longer than he thought was fair. What, 3 dates? Hahahaah….laughing over my cauldron right abt now.

OK, I am no longer 15, as in picture above, but way way more than anyone imagines. It’s the motion in the ocean, they say…and voluptuousness does not get in the way of lovemaking. U only need ask if u r man enough to jump in, and stay longer than intended. I have ruined men 4 less. And they confess it to me even, this bitch that I am, one who will invade your dreams….

Group Sex!

OK, that got your attention, all right….I can tell tales of wonder to make your eyebrows rise, and your eyelashes curl! Note to readers: inappropriate 4 children to read. U have been warned.

It was 1981, May, in Haines Falls, NY, on a dude ranch, that our alumni had chosen for the annual Senior Trip, and we were the graduating high school seniors then, aged 17 and 18 yrs, which is the legal age for consensual sexuality in NY State then. I went solo, but had many friends at school who were also going on said trip, so not exactly alone, but my boyfriend of the time deigned not to go, a fateful life decision. (Found out years later he was very assiduously hiding his gayness, as it was verboten to be out at the time, for fear of ridicule of schoolmates). Easier to hide behind yeah, I have a girlfriend…even tho it was clear to me that something wasn’t quite right. But he was quite clever in his act, and no one really knew for sure…but had he come to the dude ranch, his life trajectory might have altered…alas.

So I was shocked on the night before departure back to the city, that I stood agog, w my mouth quite opened up, and amazed at the scene at my opening a door to a large room at the ranch hotel…IT WAS AN ORGY OF TEENS, ALL OVER THE ROOM, ON PILLOWS, MATTRESSES, THE CARPETED FLOOR…u name it. All over each other. Even tho the trip was chaperoned, the teens must have concocted some way to get the minders away. And then the alcohol was flowing, condoms strewn, oral and straight sex, all over the room, with so many of them, celebrating being of age! I was shocked, frankly. I dared not enter, because of my own sense of faithfulness to the boyfriend who was not there. It wasn’t one on one sex either, there were combinations of body parts all over various orifices, like a Twister game it was…a game that doesn’t exist anymore, but my cohorts will remember that we spun a color board and had to put extremities and other body parts on the corresponding color on a big board mat. We were contortionists once in those days, thus! The envy of all boys who wondered how can I twist that girl upside down, and fill up the empty places…Wow! I have never forgotten that scene. Maybe it was etched in my life’s consciousness, that people could do such things, at such tender ages even, unaccompanied, screaming joy, an orgy, reminiscent of Plato’s Retreat, in Manhattan, during that very era, as it operated from 1977 to 1985, a swingers’ paradise.

Then again, it was 1981, and an unnamed scourge was hitting the male gay world first, and it became known as HIV and AIDS. We watched as some succumbed, and then it became a flood, a war against time, to develop some kind of medicine to slow it, to give a fighting chance to those who fell prey. I do not know what became of my friends who were alumni, who were in that room, as none of the sex participants were close friends, at the time. (U know who u are, my friends, those of u who survived). I came to know many alumni over the years since graduation, as I am a reunion organizer, since 20 years now…and we can still giggle about it, even now.

What would u tell those teens now, if u r a parent, or even a grandparent? Don’t participate in orgies?! Because we still have AIDS out there, and other disastrous diseases? Because now u r conservative, and God forbid, maybe even a Republican?! R u ashamed of your youthful pranks? As 4 me, I only witnessed the orgy, and went away. I was good to my boyfriend of the time, a choice I made. But there r other tales not told here, in which I was not the only one w my lover in a room…including the first time ever, 4 sex. Or in Van Cortlandt Park golf course even, in the grass, in the snow of a Buffalo winter, atop a fur coat…yeah, I have tales. My girlfriends call me wild, and interesting. At least I didn’t miss the boat completely, in sexual hijinks.

I repented. I became a Roman Catholic. I didn’t unlearn my youth or the choices I made, but I did get more conservative, a person your mom would be proud of today. I can hold my head up, w the caveat of having been quite a colorful youthful woman, having seen and done much. I think that St. Augustine’s story is a bit like this, that he was wicked once upon a time, and repented.

But u cannot unsee what u have already seen, especially in this case. My memoir is also agog at this tale. I didn’t take any pictures of that room scene, but it’s locked in memory. I have lived my life, dear friends, and so here is my life’s memoir. I can tell more, if u r interested….lots of tales, some really outlandish even, both sexual and adventurous…over the years…a really full life it has been, with the book still open, to add to.

Shadow Lover in Garden

Zinnia, poinsettia, hibiscus, English breakfast tea and scones with jam, finger sandwiches on a silver platter, candelabra of sterling silver, long, tapered flames, and thou.

Succulent filet mignon, butterflied lobster tail, drawn butter, shrimp cocktail, Dom Perignon, Moët & Chandon, raspberry velvet, drizzling down, baked alaska, gingerbread latte, black and red lace teddy, fishnets, high heels with mirrors in the interior of the heel cut outs, red lush lips, tousled hair, gussied up, but easily taken down by his hands.

She sets a scene for him, of everything he wants, and has hungered for. Her mission is to fulfill his red room fantasy, in so many ways, and he likes to reveal things in pieces, not all at once. She is a student of his many desires. And she matches him in ardor, but also exquisite patience. She is studying him, to make herself irresistible to him, no matter her flaws. She lives and breathes for him, wishing to make this so.

She will have him. It is inevitable. Like a spider, she is crafting her lair for him, and when he sees what is coming, he will devour her. With abandon not seen on screen nor in cinemas. But in the flesh. And when he has this, he is hooked, because she is a master of her emotions and knows that they were meant to be, from yon far forest, known recently as Hyde Park.

The world is her playground, and the only thing is he has to say the word. She will spin her web and they will scream in ecstatic relief. G strings, stilettos, lace and tutus, cut out bras, edibles, syrup and whipped cream on body parts, name it. She is a voyeur and an exhibitionist, so the combinations are infinite. Shades up or down, dark or light, eyes open, and all other orifices as well, for him, her shadow lover, of which he is real, but who knows who he is?

One thing’s certain, her hairdresser probably knows. Because she’s the female bartender. Yay, to be single, free and in NYC! It is an interesting tale to tell, of which the book is threatened, but we aren’t free to disclose. The mouth is however open in other ways.

50 Shades of Submission, Male

Ok, setting a scene here: I need a submissive man to come to me. Someone who likes to be dominated, a la studs and black leather, stilettos and fishnet stockings, with props. He should wear only a pair of Speedos, and be prepared to be bound and walked like the dog he is, to me. I will castigate him, pet him, let him lick me if he does well in his role, that he has requested that I fulfill, for him, because he is a very important businessman, who if the truth came out, would be thrown out of the corporate boardroom, and summarily dismissed with his Golden Parachute. He wants to be humiliated. This gets his rocks off. I like to accommodate men. Give them their most secret fantasies. Tell no one, because the silence is intoxicating, that only he and I know. He knows of what I speak, and in his mind’s eye, there is cashmere, silk sheets, pillows piled high, to get certain rewards, after the scene. My breasts are always a source of arousal for him, he loves them boundlessly…And even though I am plus size, that really doesn’t matter, because we are on the same wavelength, and I give him what he dares not voice to anyone else. I have him by the balls, you see, in a sex toy store, he likes to be bound, but then released, and when release comes, it is beyond sweet. We do a dance before meeting too, which is also calculated to increase susceptibility to orgasm. In fact, it’s all I can do to him to keep him in check, but I have my moves too, and am a grand master of this game.

 

Yes, we are well matched. Even if the outward lady here is sickly sweet, demure, proper, but in the arena of love, quite the Panther. He will become my slave, happily aroused, sated, in a lather of froth, going on and on, over the years…because no one who tastes this sundae ever forgets, or is able to put it in the past. I am addictive. You have been warned.

Oh, you thought this was real life scenario? Don’t you guys know that I am a writer, and my blog is my therapy? It works too, to drain the swamp of desire. But a few readers know of what I speak here, their names die on my lips. “Perchance to dream…”- W. Shakespeare, Hamlet. Have at it, boys and girls: dreams can come true, with the right person.

Cruising Lover

At 47th-50th St, up against a pillar on the platform, my lover presses me, obliviously

to the multitudes of commuters all round. He knows I like the pressure and the PDA,

though this goes further than that. His hands are in my long hair, luxurious blonde locks,

as he kisses me, yes, even tongue kissing, with his hips against mine, so we are shrouded in a raincoat, but I feel him, and it’s hot, really hot, because I know people are watching us, and thinking how disgusting, because we are in our 50’s now, not 20 somethings that people would just walk away, and think crazy horny kids…

Because I was that girl on the platform that you saw, aged 25, doing the same thing, but then it was almost acceptable, or even ignored, because people know 20 somethings are just very hot for sex, and that’s kind of universal, unless you have had a major trauma.

But it’s even better now, because mid 50’s, it’s definitely NOT acceptable. You should know better, that people can’t stand the concept of their parents doing the nasty. But we do, and we do it way better, because it’s a rarity, to find someone on your wavelength

And we have had lots of practice, and we know what we like, and we’re better listeners, and we aim to please our lover, because he’s liking the forbidden aspect too. You have to catch them in the availability window: between spouses, or else you are verboten, whorish, vixen, who dangles concert tickets between lusciously heavy breasts, upthrusted in half laced blue midnight bra, showing nipples proudly, for his hungry gaze and more….

And his wildest dreams are laid out, planned, plotted, both in secret and in public, because now unencumbered by marital ties, he is free, and so am I, happily free, and drinking wine or whisky, choose your poison, dancing, living, loving, endlessly, screaming when the time comes, both of us, YES!!!! For we were made to be one, and so we are, finally…

And he throws me in the suite in the bed, on the European cruise, and we are so well suited, so hungry, so endlessly creative, that there isn’t enough time left in this life to do all I want to do with him, there, in the bed, in the soaking tub, jacuzzi jets, naked, almond oil, bubbles, thick towels, not needed for long, continued in the king bed, kisses, oh thousands of kisses, on his lips, his mounds, his very body, hunting around the needle point, where his desire is concentrated, and I know more, of erogenous zones, than he even imagines, but he can lead me too, if he wants, if he likes what he sees and hears, my moans, involuntary…

Because my mouth is not the only thing that expresses love. You can hear it if you listen carefully, in the closed compartment aboard the cruise ship, at sea, just him and me, and ecstasy….never ending, but for breaks of food, because we know after orgasm, we are in fact hungry, like a wolf. And I will give him everything he has ever wanted, but no former lover would dare. for I am woman, and you can hear me ROAR! Yes, quite loudly.

He will die from me, but happily. There is no turning back, once we get on that ship, beginning at Rockefeller Center, NYC. And I won’t kill him with kindness, but instead lust, fulfilled a thousand ways to Sunday!

Red Hot Lava Desire

O Pleasure, where is thy sting? For thou art lovely and sought after, but cumbersome!

We crave it, incessantly; seek it in other forms easily purchased: tickets, chocolate, food, sex toys, hands, massage, beastly art, leather, catacombs filled with skeletons and dragons…writing phantasmagorical nightmares, a fiendish pleasure, whoops!

We seek mates, knowing at some point, the pleasure wears off in the mists of commonplace rituals…and then we go elsewhere in thought, in body, in bordellos, in any place that is unfamiliar, and therefore pleasurable again.

See a beautiful woman or a worked out 6 pack abs fireman, pose on the Las Vegas Strip,

take a pic, as if they are yours, but only for a price, a pic and a dream…but of course there are whorehouses for women’s desires too, though plainly fewer, due to social conditioning…lace, red roses, desire dripping, a cornucopia of flesh, everywhere, taking off clothes with our eyes, secretly…tutus with tulle, g strings, upthrusted breasts in beautiful lingerie, I can conjure up a thousand goodies for you with my words, but that’s not the object of our desire.

We WANT the real thing, and when we deliver, it will be like Mount Kilauea going wild, with the lava red hot, flowing, like vaginal juices, endlessly, with steam and beautiful red fire…flying over and in, sipping up and drowning in the saliva and juice that you know you want, in ever increasing quantity, with new bodies, new organs, new screams!

Be careful what you wish for. You may get burnt. Those of you with your legs tightened up by virtue of matrimony and social convention. You gave up your freedom for companionship. Hope it worked out to your liking. No goodies anymore for you.

The Bucket List Hero

Air as mellifluous flowing honey gliding between fingers

Sweetens the mood and the partners’ cartilaginous appendages.

Masseuse relaxes his muscles, lights the candle, applies cinnamon butter oil

on spa table for two. Couples massage suite with shower,

Jacuzzi and two and a half hours reserved time

Because it was on her bucket list: Couples massage (sex after?)

Ardently desired wishes take on a life of their own, he has found.

The Bucket List is Top Secret, known to few, but of supreme importance,

because the time is short. Murderous supremacists, Nazis, collaborators in government and NGO’s all conspire to annihilate us, one by one.

Platitudes in the media, an endless litany of funerals, of those taken too soon, of good people, innocent, biking, listening to a concert, going to school, church services, Walmart, movie theaters.

Literally everyplace is a soft target with the barrel of an AR 15 staring us down….

 

So this soul writes poetry as an act of rebellion against the inevitable.

I will not live, but my words will.

And in the meantime, hell yeah, there’s going to be some hollering going on, beneath the covers!

They will wonder what it feels like to be held by such a fragrant, long stemmed red rose blooming in the right conditions for him, who deserves to be The Bucket List Hero.

And the two shall never be the same, anon…

For the Woman is the Sphinx, with a riddle

And he is Oedipus, successful in his answer.

As such, he regains his life and lost love

Because to be without her was in fact death to him.

The two were one soul and united, they flew into the ethereal skies,

Entwined as lovers.

 

 

Forbidden Desire

Married he is, but his looks beckon me come hither. I can smell his desire

as he radiates pheromones and his eyes glint. Body language never lies; only lips do.

Awareness that the fruit is very sweet and dripping wet, ready to pounce.

 

The dance has begun and is eternal. He notes my choice of revealing swimwear.

Picture posing without bottoms, only a tankini. Penile tumescence involuntarily stirring…He pictures me naked in his mind’s eye, being pulled into the vortex

Of his powerful arms, running hands through my luxuriant hair,

Claiming me with a scintillating kiss and a caress of my ample buns.

 

But I desire him too. The flirtation has reached the fever pitch and I throw caution as if into hurricane force winds. I know it’s wrong, but the knowledge no longer stops me.

I SHALL HAVE HIM AND MARK HIS SOUL WITH MY MOUTH! For the oral fixation is dominant and he will not soon forget what I am about to do, as he has dreamt of this scene and woken up with wet sheets. Many times, or closed his eyes, imagining me there, hot and panting, nipples hard, poo poo soaked and all he has to do is insert a finger…as the involuntary writhing and screams mount loudly in intensity. 

Anything more and she is a feral cat possessed….

 

They have been circling each other a bit too long. Desire denied, suppressed for the sake of propriety, societal norms be damned! It has only built up a raging lava pit volcano.

Both he and she erupt gloriously!!!

 

And she knows it is wrong but is powerless to stop the flow of the river of magma that comes from both of them. This is going to be infinite intensity as you cannot stop a hurricane. Nor her perversity in putting this out there. She is flashing purple neon, guys…

 

But be advised she marks your soul with her mouth. It is very hard to deny the force of nature.