clinging umbilical
& needy I lay

in a puddle dim
& shallow inside

my mother
a different cold

choking on her
body my noose

she pushed &
strangled me

further into
herself

until doctors
incised through

layers of her
womanhood

gloved hands
pulled me

bruise-coloured
out of the womb
alive & furious

Eloise Amezcua

Get some today

May 20, 2018

cum here

Orgasm Escapade

I read somewhere recently that at the moment of orgasm, certain areas of your brain, primarily the ones that control emotion, shut down; the area processing fear is deactivated and your ’vigilance for danger’ switch ceases to exist for the duration of said climax. I had this in mind yesterday afternoon, with 9 inches of a very expensive latex cock between my legs, when I took it upon myself to test this theory. It only occurred to me in the last five minutes that I had experienced any rational cerebration at all; my inhibitions had been incinerated; my ability to register dignity as a crucial emotion worth moral preservation, when taking into consideration the window cleaner who had adjudicated that particular moment in time a good one to absterge mine of sin, lay in small fragments of shame upon my bedroom floor, discarded and beaten to within an inch of their poor, metaphoric lives. I, of course, had been on the cusp of carnal bliss, writhing shamelessly about the bed in a state of which any woman can empathize, and quite aware of the intrusion but absolutely unable to do anything about it. I came to the oblique vision of a mortified young man in sodden overalls, and I can safely say that I didn’t give two fucks and a communist bohemian about it.

Libby
Velvet and Vulvas

feel in new ways

May 20, 2018

You must learn to feel in new ways… Learn to walk with closed eyes, in the conviction and assurance that the guiding hand will not let you go, and will lead you along a path that is the correct one for you.

GRAY WOOLF

Esao Andrews - mortem et necromantia

Rider crouched by the fire. An ancient man, sunken-faced with feathery white hair, nodded and smiled at him beyond the flames. Rider’s questions about his car and need for help made no impression. He could hear them talking, but apart from the girl in red, struggled to make out what they said. The conversations were opaque. Were they speaking another language?

The old man nodded again. They’d given him a bowl of oily rabbit stew and a slab of black bread. Something in the stew, herbs perhaps, left an acrid taste in his mouth. Red (the girl wouldn’t tell him her name) had unstrung one of her many necklaces as they left the trundle church and slipped it over his head. The pendant, a carved, painted effigy of the Lady of Ruins, dangled from his chest as he hunched over his bowl.

“We make them for pilgrims,” she said.

“I’m not a pilgrim,” Rider answered.

Sarah Singleton
Our Lady of Ruins

teasing tongues

May 20, 2018

good friends playing nicely

The first time I had sex with a woman, just her and I, I marvelled at the pace. Sex with men always felt pressing, driven by an intensity that climbed quickly. Sometimes I liked that energy, it made me feel wanted, desired. The rush was fun, like tearing open a present. Other times I felt like we skipped over the good parts, like I could have pressed against him while he kissed my neck for hours. Sometimes I felt like I was trying to catch up, I was too young and inexperienced to say “Slow down.”

The first time I had sex with a woman, and it was just her and I, we kissed for hours. Literally hours. Slow, tender, swollen-lips, hands in our hair, teasing tongues, moans and soft sounds, our hips pressing together, in no hurry but never staying still. By the time I pressed my hand between her legs her panties were soaked right through. That little wet spot made fireworks in my head, my clit throbbed. This was divine. I didn’t pull her cotton underwear aside until she was already close to orgasm, just from my fingertips tracing over the fabric, and her eager grinding against my palm.

After she came we slowed down but never stopped touching each other until she’d had her second, third and fourth. There’s a difference between “I came” and “I’m satiated”. Fucking someone who understood that made sex an entirely new thing. We fucked until we were finished, exhausted and spent. I finally felt satisfied.

The next time a man touched me all I could feel was the energy propelled by his hard-on. The rush that rush-of-blood to his cock put him in. I felt like I wasn’t there.

Heart
Reflections
Queer Enough, 2018

living thread

May 20, 2018

I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.

Isaac Marion
Warm Bodies