Identity

I’m not just a warm hole.
I want to feel, know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you wanted to fuck me, not the idea of me.
That you jacked off thinking about doing things to me, and having me do things to you before you found the courage to tell me so.
Me, not just a woman, a body, a cunt.
Me.
Taken, not used.
Fucked, yes, not fucked over.

 

◊     ◊     ◊

 

“Heya.” A wave of soap and mouthwash made her feel suddenly tender. She must’ve made a face, because he started to speak. “I know you don’t like the smell of cigarettes, so I…”

“I don’t care.” She pressed against him. His body tensed as she traced the line of his throat.

She kissed him. Her hands were claws on his shirt, and something tore. He stuck a finger through the hole in the cotton and smiled. His lips were pink from her lovebites. “This is my favorite shirt. Was, anyways.”

She looked suddenly cold, even though she was flushed. “Fuck…” Her pretty face grew even more crimson, and she started to walk away. He took her in his arms and hugged her tight enough that her breasts ached against his chest, but her grip loosened, and then dropped away.

“Wait, what’s the matter?” He brushed his scruff against her temple, but she pushed him away. He didn’t understand until she gathered up her purse and started to put on her coat. He blocked the door. She stared at the ring he still wore on his finger, even though his wife had left him for another over a four months ago.

“This was a mistake.” Her hand trembled as she tried to pull him out of the way. She gave off a heat that hardened him. He’d watched her, wanted her for months (God forgive him, longer than he’d been single, much longer) and he refused to give up his chance.

He stuck his finger in the hole and pulled until the shirt tore in two. “See? It’s no big deal. I have other shirts in my bag.” The door behind him locked with a portentous click.

She dropped to her knees, and her purse’s contents spilled all over the floor. He felt her overheated mouth on the belly exposed by his ripped shirt, fingers pulling at his fly. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so her mouth was sucking on the tip of his cock before he could instinctively help her with her bag. She wet him with saliva and her lips slid hotly on him. He looked at the papers tacked to the wall, the dusty light fixture over his head as she squeezed his ass and pulled him rhythmically into her mouth. If he looked down and saw her beautiful face, her eyes glassy with desire he would explode then and there and possibly embarrass himself. She sucked him deep and flexed her throat muscles on his cock. His knees shook, and her hands moved down and held them still as she licked and sucked slowly.

He tried to be the macho man and pull her up, but she remained on her knees. She shook her head slowly, stroking and never taking her eyes off his dick.

“I’m not done yet.”

“But I will be if  you keep going like that,” he said. He leaned on the door and caressed her. Her chin was wet with saliva.

“Fuck my mouth.” She licked up the underside of his cock. He’d been married (and divorced) twice and fancied himself as being a worldly man, but no woman had said those words to him outside of his kinkier fantasies. It was almost daunting.

“Uh..” He jutted his hips out and held her face in his hands. He could feel her high cheekbones, the smoothness of her skin. He really liked her, and he didn’t think it was right to treat her like a…she tugged gently on his balls to get his attention.

“Fuck your cock into my throat. I want to feel you come in there.” She looked in pain as she stroked, but the memory of her breathy laughter at his jokes threw him. Had it been that long since he’d seen that look on a woman’s face when she was with him? Maybe.

Context of Chaos

I can reach that stage of blissful annihilation
any time I want, and it feels good
Who are we kidding? It feels fucking great
That peak of pleasure, that oblivion of sense
The descent into chaos

At that moment, it makes no difference
that I’m by myself or that I’m with you or another
or everyone in the world
Chaos doesn’t care
but chaos doesn’t last

The context of the maelstrom matters
not when I’m in it, when the moment is all there is
but to either side
Before, right to the very edge
After, down from the peak or up from the abyss

Surrounding the borders of self absorption
of being lost in the now
That’s where the furtive or bold solo or coupling
shows me presence of another as much as presence of myself
Context framed by your proximity

Then ecstasy becomes not just a goal, but an escape
however temporary, from absence.
or from presence of the right, and the wrong
Solving the problem of want and need by having all and nothing
for a few heartbeats

Until obliteration ends
order is restored
I come to my senses
reach for you
whether or not you were there all along

flames

川柳
an erotic senryu by Redbud

·

denying
she’s kissed a boy — her marshmallow
··········in flames

·

·

川柳 · nightfall

川柳
an erotic senryu by Redbud

·

·

nightfall —
slipping from her belly button down and
·····················between

·

·

Erotic Editors: Two Calls for Submission from Burning Book Press

I’m pleased to be Co-editor on two upcoming anthologies from Burning Book Press.

First, edited by Remittance Girl, Aisling Weaver, and Raziel Moore, is Written On Skin: An Anthology of Etched Desire. From the call, we’re looking for:

Stories that contain body modification as a central element in the story (tattoos, branding, scarification, piercing, etc. but not plastic surgery or body-building). We’ll consider incidental scars only if they attain specific erotic meaning as part of the story.

This is primarily an erotic fiction anthology, so we do want a large helping of sexual desire in the mix, but explicit sex is not absolutely necessary if the eroticism is successfully conveyed through the process or the contemplation of some type of body modification. That being said, the aim of the anthology is to invite the reader to contemplate the eroticism of the subject. Stories of extreme body modification that fail to offer the non-fetishist some insight into the allure of it are less likely to be considered.

Deadline for Written On Skin is June 21, 2013

Second, edited by Will Crimson and Razeil Moore, is Best Men’s Erotica 2014.

This collection will be selected and edited by Raziel Moore and William Crimson (@_Monocle, eroticwriter.wordpress.com). We’re looking for fictional stories that realistically address male sexuality. The concept of the Male Gaze has dealt extensively with the sexualization and objectification of women. It has also buttonholed, objectified, and ‘predatorized’ male sexuality. BME hopes to demonstrate a broader, more realistic, and human spectrum.

Character, story, and situation are open. Be literate and erotic. Our common orientation is heterosexual, but bi/pan/tran/homosexual stories are welcome and encouraged. If it can turn on or erotically resonate with someone who’s not a dyed in the wool homophobe, we’re interested. The primary focus of the sexual action is the male experience, male sexuality including but not limited to pleasure, is the main element. Style, humor, and intensity are all open; and happy endings are not required.

Deadline for Best Men’s Erotica 2014 is August 1st, 2013

川柳 · May

川柳
an erotic Haiku by Redbud

·

·

her
dandelion-colored knees — my orgasm unexpectedly
········inside her

·

·

NaPoWriMo Ends (Raz)

Last pair. The vry last isn’t very erotic, but is included for completeness. -M

(29) Text of Contact

So many textures
I could list them
tell you each place
I want to touch

Read you with
nerve endings
of fingertips
tongue, cock

Contact
is its own text
worth more
than words

(30) Flashback

I used to walk
down the middle
of quiet city streets
at 2am.

Not because
I was looking
for something

But because I was tired
from my fruitless search
of that day

Sitting in the park
on a sculpture
moon blurred
by overcast

I remember wondering
how I would look
back on myself

Whether I’d laugh
or shake my head
at callow youth

Or whether
I’d miss this solitude
and silence
and search

Turns out
I was right
on all counts