Scandal

Aren’t there bigger things to talk about
Than a window in Greenwich Village
And hyacinths sprouting
Like little puce poems out of a sick soul?
Some cosmic hearsay —
As to whom — it can’t be Mars! put the moon — that way….
Or what winds do to canyons
Under the tall stars…
Or even
How that old roué, Neptune,
Cranes over his bald-head moons
At the twinkling heel of a sky-scraper.

Lola Ridge

A Simple Truth

Longings…

My library is an archive of longings.

Susan Sontag
As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980

the affair with Cleopatra

Caesar is one of the cult heroes of this country. He was a queer customer and ushered in a new order of sensibility. He was the complete bisexual without shame or false vainglory, “husband to all women and wife to all men”, as the chroniclers record it. Seen from our own vantage-point in time it would seem to us that he owned his magnificent control to an overwhelming psychic frigidity. This lent a strange peculiarity to the affair with Cleopatra. The fact that both parties were homosexual led to a strange inversion; he played with her the role of the woman who has intercourse with a man. This bound them together very closely. It was their secret.

Lawrence Durrell
Caesar’s Vast Ghost

I looked forward to our reunion

These meetings were always at an ungodly hour for anyone trying to carry on professional activities that were just a tad dependent on office hours: between eleven o’clock and midday, between half past three and four o’clock in the afternoon … the day before I could already feel the nervous tension in my snatch subjected to the vibrating of the seat on the Metro while I looked forward to our reunion. The feeling could be so maddening that I sometimes preferred to get off a few stops before my destination, to calm myself down by walking. That man could lick my snatch indefinitely.

Catherine Millet
The Sexual Life of Catherine M

We got naked, fast

Friday night, and I’m two hours, four cocktails and three intense kisses into my first-ever date with a woman. We stumble out of a tiny bar onto the street and look at each other. She puts her arm around my waist, pulls me into her, bites my bottom lip and whispers in my ear, “So, are you coming home with me?”

Ten seconds pass, then I kiss her in a way that says, “Hell, yes” – before hailing a cab and diving into the back seat. She gives the driver directions to her place, then pins me up against the window, smiles at me with her ridiculously beautiful face, and kisses me. Her hands are all over me and my breathing gets shallow – I’m half turned on, half terrified of meeting the driver’s eye in the rear-view mirror…by the time we stumbled through her front door, into her room and onto her bed, I surprised myself with how confident I felt with her.

We got naked, fast. She stopped to check I was OK, but I was more than OK – I was completely mesmerised. I couldn’t stop looking at her, touching her, kissing her everywhere. She pinned me down on her purple sheets and talked to me while she kissed her way down my chest, tummy and tops of my thighs. She went down on me and it felt amazing, like she really knew what she was doing. Then I flipped her over and did the same – being between her legs was fascinating and confusing.

Even though we had the same body parts, this was a totally different angle and I had no idea what to do. I tried to imitate what I knew felt good on me, and it was received pretty well. We played around with each other’s bodies for hours, then fell asleep tangled together.

Kate Leaver
I always wondered what it’d be like to sleep with a woman

deadly sins

Of all the deadly sins, the only truly respectable one seems to be gluttony.