Leah Sublime
This is a love poem by Aleister Crowley. It's, uhm, rather dirty, even for people with dirty minds.
Leah Sublime,
Goddess above me!
Snake of the slime
Alostrael, love me!
Our master, the devil
Prospers the revel.
Tread with your foot
My heart til it hurt!
Tread on it, put
The smear of your dirt
On my love, on my shame
Scribble your name!
Straddle your Beast
My Masterful Bitch
With the thighs of you greased
With the Sweat of your Itch!
Spit on me, scarlet
Mouth of my harlot!
Now from your wide
Raw cunt, the abyss,
Spend spouting the tide
Of your sizzling piss
In my mouth; oh my Whore
Let it pour, let it pour!...

[ | 28 Aug 2012 @ 11:35 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]  More >

Easily Aroused:
It’s the first time she’s been inside this particular room. They’ve been to this building before, and to half a dozen just like it nearby. It’s the sort of establishment that rents rooms by the half-day, sometimes by the hour, and there are almost always vacancies to be had, no matter how late the day gets. It’s not an establishment that features tourists or business executives amongst its clientele. That’s part of the attraction: the decadent allure of sleaze. Over the months, their meetings – their “assignations”, as he sometimes calls them – have taken on an increasingly noir aesthetic. Sometimes, while they lie nude together amongst the damp, crumpled sheets, the breath still rasping in their throats, she’ll look up at the stained ceiling through a thin plume of cigarette smoke and imagine them as the stars of their own hard-boiled drama: him as the jaded, cynical professional, she in the role of femme fatale – turning her back on the saccharine staidness of love to embrace naked passion and sweat-slicked lust...

[ | 29 May 2011 @ 00:56 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 Moonlight Dances
picture From Songs of Bilitis
Upon the soft grass, in the night, young girls with violet hair have danced together, and one of each pair gave the lover's answer.

The virgins said: "We are not for you." And, as though they were ashamed, they shielded their virginity. An aegipan played a flute beneath the trees.

The others said: "But you will come to seek us." They fashioned their dresses after the manly garb, and languidly struggled and twined their dancing limbs.

Then, each declaring herself to be subdued, she took her comrade by the ears, cup-fashion, and, tilting her head, she drank a lengthy kiss...

[ | 16 May 2011 @ 23:12 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 Ideal Sex
The Frenemy:
Like me. I mean, we don’t have to be married but you should probably think my incessant desire to overaccessorize is cute. I am not just a foxhole to stick your soldiers in, so enjoy all of my glorious and horrifying attributes. Don’t have a soul patch. Also, wash your crotch. It’s just polite! Don’t be too drunk. That being said, you should have at least two drinks under your belt. Not tequila, because I’m not going to have sex under the influence of tequila. We’re not in Cabo, I don’t want to VISIT Cabo, and sometimes I drink tequila and I vomit all of my stomach contents out. Which would probably be sexy if I were Penelope Cruz but I’m not. Don’t stare at my underwear, take it off!...

[ | 12 Apr 2011 @ 00:02 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 I like big butts and I cannot lie, but is there some evolutionary reason?
A Comment Thread on Reddit:
When a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get vital evolutionary information that acts as a fairly accurate indicator of overall health. And sprung. You also get sprung.,,

My anaconda don't want none unless you have a high likelihood of producing healthy offspring with a minimal chance of genetic disabilities, hun...

My homeboys tried to warn me, but that butt you got makes me so confident of your current well-being and future child-rearing potential...

So ladies (yeah!) ladies (yeah!) You wanna advertise fertility? (hell yeah!)...

Then turn around, stick it out, even other women have to admit that you appear to have the necessary physical attributes to produce many healthy offspring...

Baby got child rearing hips and a healthy store of body fat that can be used to nourish the developing offspring if food is scarce!...

[ | 9 Apr 2011 @ 22:44 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 The Goblet
picture From Songs of Bilitis
Lykas saw me coming, clad only in a short and filmy shift, so torrid was the day; he wished to mould my breast, which was uncovered.

He took a handful of the finest clay, kneaded it in water, fresh and light. When he spread it gently on my skin, it was so cold I thought that I should faint.

Modeled from my breast he made a cup, rounded gently and umbilicate. He placed it in the burning sun to bake, and painted it with gold and purple paints, impressing flowers all about the rim.

Then we visited the spring which is sacred to the nymphs, and threw the goblet in the stream and strewed upon it gilly-flower stems...

[ | 6 Apr 2011 @ 22:08 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

picture From The Songs of Bilitis
Stranger, go no further in the town. You'll not find younger or more expert girls at any other place besides my own. I am Sostrata, known beyond the sea.

See this one whose eyes are green as water on the grass. You do not wish her? Here are other eyes, black as the violet and hair three cubits long.

I have some better still. Xantho, open your cyclas. Stranger, her breasts are firm as quinces, touch them. And her lovely belly, you can see, bears the three Kyprian folds.

I bought her with her sister, who is not yet quite old enough for love, but who is her useful helper. By the two goddesses! you are of noble blood. Phyllis and Xantho, follow the gentleman!

[ | 19 Mar 2011 @ 03:12 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 Evening by the fire
picture From The Songs of Bilitis
The winter is severe, Mnasidika. Everything is cold outside our bed. Arise, however; come with me, for I have built a great fire of dead logs and split kindling wood.

We will crouch down and warm ourselves, quite nude, our hair hung down our backs, and drink milk out of the self-same cup and munch on honeyed cakes.

How sonorous and gay the fire is! Are you not too near? Your skin is getting red. Let me kiss it wherever the fire has made it hot.

I'll warm the iron amidst the burning brands and dress your hair right here. And with a burnt-out coal I'll write your name upon the wall...

[ | 3 Mar 2011 @ 18:09 | 1 comment | PermaLink ]  More >

 Bare Feet
picture From Songs of Bilitis
I have long black hair down my back, and a little round cap. My frock is of white wool. My sturdy legs are browning in the sun.

If I lived in town I should have golden trinkets and gold-embroidered frocks and silver slippers. . . I look at my naked feet in their slippers of dust.

Psophis! come here, little creature! carry me to the brook, bathe my feet in your hands, and press some olives with some violets, to scent them among the flowers.

Today you shall be my slave; you shall follow me and serve me, and at the end of the day I will give you some lentils from my own garden . . .

[ | 12 Feb 2011 @ 23:42 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 Beth's Party
I made sympathetic noises as he continued to tell me how horny he was all the time; how he'd drive to work almost everyday with a hard-on; and how he'd eye the women at work and fantasize about having sex with them.

Then he cleared his throat and said he'd even fantasized about me.

Well, I'd been doing the same about him for the past several hours! I was sporting a pretty good buzz from all the alcohol I'd had, and I guess I wasn't thinking much about consequences when I reached out under the water and squeezed Rob's nuts through the material of his trunks.

I could see his body tense as I touched him. Our faces were just a foot apart and we looked into each other's eyes as I continued to massage his crotch. His eyes finally closed and he was obviously enjoying my handiwork.

Suddenly he came alive and looked around guiltily. To my surprise, after reassuring himself that we were still alone, he pulled me to him and kissed me deeply...

[ | 13 May 2010 @ 17:21 | 1 comment | PermaLink ]  More >

 Topless girls and tacos
What's not to love about that. Tony Stamolis has a new book called T & T & A. I assume one of the Ts is for Tacos. Cookbook author Matt Lee said:
Tony's ladies are kittens, good girls underneath the tattoos; his food images, on the other hand are some of the raunchiest you'll ever have the pleasure to behold, and these hot tamales may arouse you more viscerally than you ever expected.

[ | 8 Mar 2010 @ 00:38 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 Porn stars and their partners
picture picture
New book. As Fleshbot says:
We're all intimately familiar with the sex lives of our favorite pornstars—the ones that happen in front of the camera, at least. But what happens when pornstars go home to the people who love them?...

[ | 22 Jan 2010 @ 01:48 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 How not to write a sex scene
James Buchan
She stood in the afternoon light, as if the light was coming from her own body, from her breast and eyes and where her dress had been [...] Jim ached with her nakedness. His arms and legs were as lifeless as fallen branches. He understood that love was a power and force of a different order from anything else beneath the sky, and could demolish not merely family relations or notions of right and wrong but also what was real and what was not. Jim's world had been knocked a little out of its axis, and would not be restored.

She turned to him. Her face had taken on her nudity or rather had shed a veil it wore for the world. She said:

'Perhaps you'd like to take off your shorts.'...

[ | 12 Oct 2009 @ 00:43 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

 S.C.U.M. Manifesto
picture Don't take it at face value, but it has some historical interest. This manifesto is by Valerie Solanas, most known for her attempt to murder Andy Warhol.
Life in this society being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of society being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and destroy the male sex.

It is now technically feasible to reproduce without the aid of males (or, for that matter, females) and to produce only females. We must begin immediately to do so. Retaining the mail has not even the dubious purpose of reproduction. The male is a biological accident: the Y (male) gene is an incomplete X (female) gene, that is, it has an incomplete set of chromosomes. In other words, the male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.

The male is completely egocentric, trapped inside himself, incapable of empathizing or identifying with others, or love, friendship, affection of tenderness. He is a completely isolated unit, incapable of rapport with anyone. His responses are entirely visceral, not cerebral; his intelligence is a mere tool in the services of his drives and needs; he is incapable of mental passion, mental interaction; he can't relate to anything other than his own physical sensations. He is a half-dead, unresponsive lump, incapable of giving or receiving pleasure or happiness; consequently, he is at best an utter bore, an inoffensive blob, since only those capable of absorption in others can be charming. He is trapped in a twilight zone halfway between humans and apes, and is far worse off than the apes because, unlike the apes, he is capable of a large array of negative feelings -- hate, jealousy, contempt, disgust, guilt, shame, doubt -- and moreover, he is aware of what he is and what he isn't...

[ | 15 Aug 2009 @ 01:56 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

..I want (no, need) a woman with absolute confidence. I spend my life reassuring and cossetting and saying “yes I love you” and “yes I think you’re attractive”, but it’s just wasted breath. The irony is that the only thing that’s really unattractive about people is their continuing obsession with whether they’re attractive or not. I want somebody who knows, implicitly, that they are comfortable with themselves, and exudes that confidence in their clothes, their mannerisms, the way they carry themselves and with their sexual confidence. Somebody who takes instead of waiting for it to be offered. Somebody who doesn’t care if the destination is wrong, because the journey is the bit that matters...
(Via Having my Cake)
[ | 6 Jul 2009 @ 15:46 | 0 comments | PermaLink ]

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