November 21, 2015


Once it was

sky crashed
on its

The sun

your absence

the vines.

Akrika Lloyd

(Arika Lloyd is a poet and classical pianist living in Vancouver, Canada. Her work has been influenced by her travels and studies in Paris and the south of France.)


November 21, 2015


we had only a few days, but they were very long,

the light changed constantly.
a few days, spread out over several years,
over the course of a decade.

and each meeting charged with a sense of exactness,
as though we had traveled, separately,
some great distance; as though there had been,
through all the years of wandering,
a destination, after all.
not a place, but a body, a voice.

a few days. intensity
that was never permitted to develop
into tolerance or sluggish affection.

and i believed for many years this was a great marvel;
in my mind, i returned to those days repeatedly,
convinced they were the center of my amorous life.

the days were very long, like the days now.
and the intervals, the separations, exalted,
suffused with a kind of passionate joy that seemed, somehow,
to extend those days, to be inseparable from them.
so that a few hours could take up a lifetime.

a few hours, a world that neither unfolded nor diminished,
that could, at any point, be entered again –

so that long after the end i could return to it without difficulty,
i could live almost completely in imagination

Louise Glück

Knot Magic

November 21, 2015


Different kinds of knot/cord magic:

Braiding: Used for long term, braid three or more colored cords while focusing on your intention and use when necessary.

Knot 1: Tie 9 knots on a colored cord while focusing on your intention and place some place where it will not be disturbed (by storing it, burning it or burying it- so the knots will never be undone).

Knot 2: Tie 9 knots on a colored cord while focusing on your intention to store energy. Release knots one by one in the order they were tied to release the energy when needed, once a day consecutively.

Crochet/Knitting: Use to imbue intention into the item so that the wearer benefits (e.g. warmth, self confidence, protection, etc).
Cross Stitch/Embroidery: Used to imbue intention into the item. Especially useful with sigils.

How to do it:

There are a few methods known when working with knot & cord magic.
Braided cords typically do not get undone, and are stored for long term use. While braiding the cord (typically in 9’ or 9″ measurements but if you don’t follow the threefold law this is irrelevant– unless your deity is a triplicate that you plan to invoke).

To Do: Concentrate on your intent while braiding the cord, visualizing/thinking about it coming to fruition. Once you’re finished braiding consecrate the cord and put it away until you need it. This isn’t meant for an every day thing, just an as needed cord.

Knots can be harnessed in a few ways but the gist is that you’re using the knots to store power related to the intention of your spell. 1) Where you don’t ever untie them, 2) When you untie them as power is needed, or 3) when you untie one knot each day for consecutive days.

Typically you would tie a bead onto one end of the cord so that you know what your starting end is. You can also melt the ends with fire to prevent fraying. To Do: Pass the cord through a candle flame or incense to cleanse it while saying the words of your spell (i.e. the REASON you’re doing this) then you begin tying the knots in the cord you want to say the following while focusing on the intention/the type of power you are storing:

By knot of ONE, the spell’s begun
By knot of TWO, it cometh true
By knot of THREE, so mote it be
By knot of FOUR, this power I store
By knot of FIVE, the spell’s alive
By knot of SIX, this spell I fix
By knot of SEVEN, events I’ll leaven
By knot of EIGHT, it will be Fate
By knot of NINE, what’s done is mine

Generally knots are tied in this order:


But I have seen other variations, I just find this one easier to follow because it doesn’t start in the middle so you have a reference point for which end contains the 1st knot (the bead). You can also tie things INTO the knot to strengthen the magic even further (hair, wood, stones/gems, etc) just make sure to destroy or bury those items if you choose to untie the knots. Some people use knotted cords as a powerful talisman and don’t untie the knots, if this is the case you want to store it where it won’t be disturbed, burn it so it will never physically be untied or bury it where it will disintegrate in the earth and also never physically be untied. I have done all three methods of handling and I can’t say I prefer one over the other. The really great thing about storing energy is that it’s raised when it will be the most powerful (increases, like success or protection, would be sometime from the new moon to full and decreases, like a binding, would be sometime from the full moon to new) but the power is now stored for use whenever you need it.

Crocheting/Knitting is something I consider part of knot and cord magic because you can purposefully stitch your intention into the item you’re making. A lot of time, if for friends/family, I weave warmth and protection into things I make for them. So I might say something like:

With every stitch that I make,
the wearer of this item will be protected
and warm, but as the need arises
they will be alert until they get to safety.
Never too hot, but not cold either,
This item will keep them comfortable.
By earth, air, flame and sea,
as I say, so shall it be.

And I’ll focus on that while I continue to make the item. Off topic, but notice how I put a clause in there that they will be alert if the need arises until they reach safety. I don’t want them to be so warm and comfortable that they neglect their own safety.

Cross-stitch/embroidery: You can embroider sigils using color appropriate cloth and thread! You can cross stitch spells into your work (like cross stitching an acorn and imbuing it with luck and protection, which actual acorns can represent). There are so many different things you could do, let your imagination do the work!

Color in knot & cord magic:

White: purity, truth, sincerity, spirituality, the goddess, peace, higher self, virginity(as in the woman’s mind is owned by no man), a substitute for any other color.

Red: strength, health, vigor, sexual love, energy, passion, courage, element of fire, career goals, fast action, lust, blood of the moon, vibrancy, driving force, survival

Light Blue: tranquility, understanding, patience, calm, gently moving, wisdom, good fortune, opening blocked communication

Dark Blue: impulsiveness, depression, changeability, protection, spiritual inspiration, reassurance, creativity

Green: finance, fertility, luck, Earth Mother, physical healing, monetary success, abundance, tree and plant magick, growth, Element of Earth, personal goals

Gold: wealth, The God, promote winning, safety and power of the male, happiness, playful humor

Yellow: The Sun, intelligence, accelerated learning, memory, logical imagination, breaking mental blocks, selling yourself

Gold/Yellow: attraction, persuasion, charm, confidence

Brown: hesitation, uncertainty, neutrality, influence friendships, special favors

Pink: honor, romantic love, morality, Planetary Good Will, healing of emotions, peace, affection,romance, partnerships of emotional maturity, caring, nurturing

Black: loss, discord, confusion, protection, repelling negativity, binding, shapeshifting

Purple: tension, ambition, business progress, power, influencing people in high places, third eye, psychic ability, spiritual power, self assurance, hidden knowledge

Silver/Grey: cancellation, neutrality, stalemate, telepathy, clairvoyance, intuition, clairaudience, psychometry, dreams, astral energies, Female Power, communication, The Goddess, moon magic

Orange: encouragement, adaptability, stimulation, attraction, business goals, property deals, ambition, career goals, general success, justice, legal matters, selling, action

Copper: passion, money goals, professional growth, fertility in business, career maneuvers

Source HERE

Oh, dear me –

November 21, 2015



Emily: did I tell you about my favorite…well, actually, one of my favorite stories from that night?

Ana: No…

Emily: well this woman comes on stage, right? Now, remember, she cannot read anything, the whole story has to be told by memory

Ana: Okay…

Emily: she is a lesbian. She says she is a lesbian but that she married this wonderful man whom she knew was very special because she was a lesbian, she had been dating women all her life, but this guy was just one-of-a-kind sort of thing, you know?

Ana: a-ha

Emily: anyway, so for two years he is dying of cancer and she is taking care of him and after he dies, she says, she puts up an ad on the Internet and gets a response from someone and gives this woman her address. Now you know how you are not supposed to give anyone your address on the Internet, right?

Ana: yeah

Emily: well she says she knew this but gave her address just the same. When this woman arrives at her door she is this big dominatrix all dressed in black leather wanting to fuck her

Ana: damn –

Emily: I know…it’s so good. Anyway, so the dominatrix is fucking her and this woman tries to touch her but the dominatrix doesn’t let her, she is a stone butch, she pushes her back when she tries to touch her and so, she says, she’s laying in bed receiving all the time…then the dominatrix begins to fist fuck her and right towards the end the woman starts to cry, like sobbing, and after taking care of my husband and seeing him die I was finally able to let go…she says this crying on stage, can you believe that?

Ana: holy fuck

Emily: yeah…and I am crying also because it is so moving. They never spoke again, she said. She knocked on her door. She fist fucked her. She cried and then they never spoke again…fist fucking can be quite cathartic and spiritual

Ana: I know


Bella’s Secret Garden

November 21, 2015


One of my favorite things about staying in a hotel is the maid service. I can’t tell you how luxurious it is to know that I won’t have to pick up after myself, won’t be required to fold the towels and place them on the rack when I’m through. My girlfriend, however, cannot get the hang of hotel life. She actually cleans our room before the maid arrives.

“I don’t want her to think we’re slobs,” she says.

“That’s her job,” I tell her.

“To think we’re slobs?” (An intentional misread. I want to smack her for it.)

“To clean up,” I say through clenched teeth.

Amber shrugs, then makes the bed. When she’s finished, she writes a note to the maid, places it with a five dollar bill on the dresser, and gets ready to go. I watch her but don’t say anything. There’s no point.

When we return from sightseeing, our maid has left us a note of her own. It says, “Thank you very much for the tip. You don’t need to make the bed since I change the sheets every day.” She’s signed it Bella. I show the note to Amber who announces in her haughtiest tone that she doesn’t care. She’ll make the bed anyway.

The next day, it’s raining and we stay in. Part of our vacation is just relaxing, which means we don’t have to sightsee each and every day. Part of my vacation, that is. Amber takes her camera, in the rain, and leaves. I snooze until the maid knocks on the door, then I stumble to the latch and open it. In the hallway, stands Bella. She’s a pert and perfectly adorable blonde with short curly hair and clear, blue eyes. She takes one look at me and says, “You’re not the one making the bed each day, are you?”

I shake my head and invite her in. Something in my look must let her know what I want, and she obliges. She’s easy in my arms, a sweet 115 pounder with lithe, athletic body. I kiss her mouth, then her freckled cheeks, then nibble on her earlobes. I move her with me into the bathroom and we take a shower together, getting warm and wet and soapy. Laughing as we dry each other off.

We leave the towels in a soggy heap on the floor and make it halfway to the bed before I grab her and throw her down on the plush, crimson carpeting that Amber has picked lint off on her hands and knees. I climb on top of Bella in a still-damp sixty-nine. She knows how to use her tongue, probes me expertly with it while stroking my ass and lower back, rubbing in small circles, dragging her nails against my skin.

I follow her lead, running my short nails the length of her inner thighs while keeping my mouth busy on her cunt. I like the way she tastes, clean from the shower, of course, but musky beneath it. Earthy and real and delicious to my taste buds. Her fragrance is rich and heady and entirely unlike the antiseptic flavor of Amber’s well-douched vagina. Amber doesn’t really like it when we 69. She can eat me for hours, but she doesn’t like me to go down on her.

I lap now at Bella with no thought of what she’s doing to my own cunt. I am lost within the walls of her pussy, drinking each drop of her nectar. Finally, I pull away from her, lying flat on the floor between her legs. and concentrate totally on giving her pleasure. She wraps her thighs around me and lets me work, whispering what she wants, how she likes it.

“Harder,” when she needs that, “faster, ohhh, please, faster,” and I make those spiraling little circles as quickly as I can until she presses her hips forward and drenches my lips with the juices of her climax. The taste is pure sweetness.

By the time Amber arrives, Bella and I are on our third beer. Amber doesn’t know what to make of the scene, so I tell her. “You’re doing Bella’s job. Cleaning. Folding. Running around. I invited her to do yours… kick back, relax, make love.”

Amber leaves with her very neatly folded suitcase. Bella and I have another beer, then climb beneath the tightly, tucked sheets.

Antonia Paris

Source HERE


November 21, 2015


He looks up from the bar; her green eyes are on him again.

The bourbon emboldens him. “Like a drink?”

“No,” she says. “Take me home instead.”

She drives. Her house is dark, remote.

“I like solitude,” she explains.

She lights incense and candles, hands him wine, kisses him with searing passion.


He obeys. Slowly, she unbuttons her black dress. She’s nude beneath; the pentacle tattooed upon her bare mound mesmerises.

“What do you want?” he whispers.

“Willing sacrifice.” She eyes the hardness at his loins. “And you’re mine”

He nods, craving her touch. He is hers. Forever.

Source HERE

Spread my legs and stare

November 21, 2015


I like my pussy. Sometimes i stare at it in the mirror when I’m undressing and wonder what it would look like without any hair, like when i was a baby. Sometimes I sit at the edge of the bed and spread my legs and stare into the mirror and wonder what others see. Sometimes I stick my finger in my pussy and wiggle it around the dark wetness and feel what a cock or a tongue must feel when I’m sitting on it. I pull my finger out and I always taste it and smell it. It’s hard to describe, it smells like a baby to me fresh and full of life. I love my pussy, it is the complete summation of my life. It’s the place where all the most painful things have happened. But it has given me indescribable pleasure. My pussy is the temple of learning.



As far back as I can remember my interest was in girls not boys. I use to imagine kissing them, caressing them, that sort of thing. Even undressing another girl on occasion, you know? I must have been five or six when that first happened. My friend Christine and I’d play “doctors & nurses” in my bedroom. She had a little plastic doctor’s bag containing a stethoscope which we used to press against each other’s bits.

That continued to be one of my biggest fantasies, undressing other girls. At age eleven or twelve, it was undressing Liz Michelle, my bestest ever friend…But I never did do that, of course. Not in reality. Too frightened of consequences. You could do things at age six which were totally taboo come puberty.

I remember being in the back garden one afternoon with Linda, my friend from next-door-but-two. I don’t know how it came about but I kissed her on the mouth. A long sloppy kiss with my tongue darting. Then my Aunt came out and clapped her hands together. ‘Come on girls,’ she called. ‘That’s no way to behave.’

At school on Friday afternoon’s we had swimming out at Watford Swimming Baths. I used to love going – not because of the swimming, though. No, never that, it was because of the big communal changing room they had there; seeing the other girls, class mates and what have you, strip down to the buff.

God, that made me so swimmy-headed…Sometimes, I felt I’d faint away, swoon from the sight of all those bud-like breasts and the pubic hair on the fourth and fifth formers. Even now, thinking about it, I get breathless. Surrounded by twenty-or-so naked, nubile girls. What’s not to like?

Okay, at the time I felt like a pervert, but that didn’t stop me going swimming. Not ever.

One of the girl’s from the upper fifth, Caroline Rawson, I remember, had this strawberry birthmark on her left hip and I used to dream about stroking that patch of pinky-smooth skin. I used to lay in bed nights and think about touching her there, and on her breasts and between her legs. I used to touch myself while I fantasized about her. I used to image that what I was touching really belonged to Caroline. It was her sex not mine. That’s how I had my first orgasm.

My lack of connection to boys was called normal then. A phase I was going through. Bit of a tom girl, so what? On one occasion I tried talking about “girls liking girls” romantically to a friend, but she just went, ‘Yuk, that’s disgusting’. So I never mentioned my true feelings to anyone else after that. Not until I was eighteen.

I remember the odd few nights when Liz Michelle stayed round my home at the weekend. We’d share the same bed. She’d always lay behind me and would wrap her arm round my waist and hold me close. It was pure agony. I wanted to turn round and kiss her, feel her up. But I never did. Liz, unlike me, was definitely, heavily into boys. She would have been horrified by my desires.

I went to a friend’s birthday party. I let this boy dance with me and later feel me up in one of the bedrooms where the coats were stacked. Eventually, I touched his cock, my first, and got it out of his pants. He wanted to do more than that. I let him tug down my underwear and press his thing into me reclining across a heap of overcoats. He wasn’t very well-endowed and it was all over before I realised he’d begun. I was just turned sixteen.

We’d used no contraception and for a long time afterwards I was scared I’d fall pregnant. But I didn’t, luckily. I never went near the boy again. His name was Richard, I recall, and when Liz Michelle asked me about him, I told her his penise was only about four inches long once it was stiff. She thought that hilarious.

I was working at a printer’s in Uxbridge. It was a pretty shitty job to be honest, but the money was good for what I had to do. I was eighteen and going nowhere. There was another girl at the printer’s, Annabelle, she was slightly older, and we started hanging together, you know? Spending crazy amounts of time together, really. And yeah, I fancied her like mad, but as usually never let on. Then one evening, breakthrough. We’d spent maybe two hours in the Three Tuns pub after work. Belle suddenly turns to me and says, ‘Why don’t you stay over mine tonight?’

It was Friday night. We had no work in the morning. So I agreed and we went back to her flat with a bottle of white wine and some fish and chips.

‘We’ll have to share a bed,’ she said. ‘Unless you want the couch? I could make that up for you?’

‘Bed sounds fine to me,’ I said, thinking another night without sleep because I had this terrible itch I’d never have the courage to scratch.

Later, in the bedroom, she said, ‘I’ve a confession to make Tracy. I’m gay. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it…?’

I said, ‘I’m gay too. But I’ve never tried it…’

Next thing I’m pinned against the wall and she’s kissing me, her tongue in my mouth. It was AWSOME. Honest to God, it was. Her hand went inside my knickers fingering me. Christ I was wet as hell, soaking. Finger fucking me that way I realised: This is who I am. This wild thing. This lover of women. Of pussy…Because on the bed I spread her wide and eat her pussy out like it was second nature to me!

We must have cum a dozen times that night. In the small hours of morning, near exhaustion, both a little sore between the legs, we held each other, whispered sweet, sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Promised undying love, as you do…

And since that night I’ve never looked back. I am who I am. And I’m fine with that. Often on rainy evenings I do think of my Annabelle, my liberator, see her tiny face above me again. Smell once more the musky perfume of our pussies in her bed. Clinging in those final moments of passion to the duvet – as if it were a life raft. Yes, we drew love maps across her crisp white sheets in salt, sweat and flowing honey.

Here we go again…

November 21, 2015

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