a desert

Nyx sold her womb somewhere between Punjai and Faleen, on the edge of the desert.

Drunk, but no longer bleeding, she pushed into a smoky cantina just after dark and ordered a pinch of morphine and a whiskey chaser. She bet all of her money on a boxer named Jaks, and lost it two rounds later when Jaks hit the floor like an antique harem girl.

Nyx lost every coin, a wad of opium, and the wine she’d gotten from the butchers as a bonus for her womb. But she did get Jaks into bed, and – loser or not – in the desert after dark that was something.

Kameron Hurley
God’s War

see in the mirror

June 10, 2018

Joan Semmel, “Erotic Yellow”

Then we fucked and I could see in the mirror when I looked up that blood was dripping down both my legs, bright red and almost beautiful and I thought it’d scare him or me but it didn’t. (I mean I wasn’t like that. I mean it wasn’t like me. I couldn’t wait more than two or three minutes after sex with men before dashing to the bathroom to scrub everything off me, to ‘detail’ my bellybutton ring like I could get pregnant or die that way. Then I scrub memories too but I didn’t scrub this one and so; bear with me. I feel like it matters or I wouldn’t be telling you, trust me.)

(But I gave that up, too: the idea of sex being clean, because I mean what makes you more vulnerable than being fucked and dirty too, and how can you have sex if you aren’t vulnerable? But also so much has changed since then, about sex.)

He kept fucking me because this could be the end of it, after all. Who’d ever said that we didn’t have to shed a little blood on our way out? Or leave some damages on the carpet or even stain my brain with the memory of my thighs in the mirror, shocked by myself and unsure, thinking to myself ‘we are animals who bleed’ and also how the Pill they’d switched me to was fucking me up, because you know, for so long, for a year or so I hadn’t bled at all except on purpose. So this was a new thing for me and Blake.

Riese
What did you do out there. What did you decide.

The awkward alterity,
animated in bloat
as a Russian woman turns heads
in the café. She is leaning
in and spraying
another woman.
She is
enthusiastic.

I wish I would have let myself lean and let go,
feel that same warm subtle foam,
when we were
caught in the
bathroom making out
confused, the visibly
distraught freshman
alarmed by two women
pressed against the full-length
mirrors, which were asking for
a body to
validate their form.

How your promise to fuck me
but refusing to fuck my life
was most endearing in its hope,
as if fucking me,
and the fuckedness of
my life are not
somehow intertwined
still,
I complied.

Cassandra Troyan

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

My Women Have Spoken

April 8, 2018

After Meena Kandasamy

My Radha is a slut
Who could care less
About people questioning her morality
In full control of her sexuality
She freely lusts over her men
Relentlessly lusts over
Krishna – The God of love

My Laxmi is not
Shy of asking
For her share
For her unpaid
Domestic and reproductive labour
From Vishnu – The accumulator of wealth

Laxmi regarded as the embodiment of beauty
Covered from head to toe
With ornaments
For Vishnu though
Is merely an object of adornment
A marker of his status
His wealth
A “trophy wife”
If you will
As I sit here reading
The Theory of the Leisure Class
By Thorstein Veblen

No more, says
My Laxmi
As she calls for seizure of his wealth
Stands for redistribution of the wealth
That Vishnu – the capitalist
Made by stealth

My Rati is a whore
She is all about
Sexual desire
Rati – The not-so-mentioned sex Goddess
The Goddess of carnal, sexual desire
Lust, passion and sexual pleasure
The Goddess who mastered
The art of sex techniques
The inventor of countless
Sex positions
The Goddess who could enchant, and
Bring any man
Any meditating sage
Any king
To their knees
To her cunt, and
Could ask them to
Suck on it…
Suck on it…
More…
My Rati taught men
About the intricacies of sex
Long before
Vatsyayana came along
Claiming authorship of Kama Sutra
Alleging he taught the world

As the legend goes,
Born of desire ridden sweat
Of king Daksha, Rati
Was apparently considered ‘impure’
For bodily fluids produced during
Sexual activity, ironically, regarded as
‘Impure’, in Hindu philosophy,
Were never foreign to Rati
For she symbolized
Arousal, personified those
Droplets of desire, sweat,
Cum, all bodily fluids
Labelled polluted
Rati embodied this very ‘pollution’
My Rati rejects ‘purity’
‘Purity’-The other continuum of the Indian
Caste hierarchy-legitimation scale
My Rati dismantles it

My Sita is a transgressor
Who takes risks
Who violates rules
Who breaks moral laws
Who crosses laxman-rekha
Boundaries of patriarchy
My Sita is a brave single mother
Who can brave any storm
Without the need of any Rama

My Draupadi is promiscuous
She seduces
She disrobes
She takes on the
Monogamous marriage institution
Turns it on its head
She questions the age old adage
“Love only happens once”
As she falls in love
Several times
With five different men
Whom she marries
And the one
She loved the most
Her sakha – Krishna
Her secret lover
Yet she refuses to be shamed for it
She refuses to be shamed for
Falling in love
Several times
With each of those men
She refuses to be shamed for
Falling out of it
As many times too

My Draupadi fights against patriarchy
She mocks kings
She dethrones them
She agitates
Armored with sharp words
That cut deep
Like knives
She hones them

All my women misbehave
They break rules, cross lines, defy norms
They narrate their own stories, chart their own destinies, brave storms
Patriarchal myths can no longer define us and will be broken
For I have spoken
My women have spoken

Prerna Bakshi

I want to fuck
the way we did when we believed
we were invincible
when we thought ourselves unbreakable
when we knew nothing of hearts shattering
or bones fracturing under the weight of unrealized dreams

I want to promise the impossible/again

I want to unlearn this hesitation
that colours my steps/measured
slow/trudge that I am now
I want the urge
to move erratic/irrational
fall helplessly in lust with someone
who was promised to someone else

I want to know that we were meant for each other

without proof I want to know
we were divined
by God or fate or fortune
I want my actions
to belie the fact of these brutal years
that have shuttered me
passions held taut beneath this loose gut

I want my body back

the one that could wrap itself careless
round the idea of forever/without fear
I want to leap off some idiotic ledge/I want to
hedge less
I want to erase these lines drawn definitive
round the edges of what I can do
i want to ignore the blotted lines running decisive
through the list of things I decided not to do

I want to do everything
you ask
ask you anything/without knowing
how you will answer

I want to shake this inertia

move you to tears/with the things
I am too afraid to say to you
late at night/early morning sex
unexpected

I want to fuck like we did
when we were doing it/for love
foolhardy/with hardly any fear of the future

I want to believe in love/like I did
before I had a kid/before we knew how to stop
mid-orgasm
before these impermeable cracks
hammered steel beams through the fragile flesh of my heart

before my art started making money
before balancing my emotional budget became a thing
I needed to do
before our wings broke
before the yoke of collected experience
dragged us away from our best selves

I want to do more than just fuck

I want more days of feeling/foolish
and full/and flustered/and flushed

I want more
of myself/more of you
more of us
wanting more out of today
and tomorrow
and all the days
we aren’t even sure will ever come

Staceyann Chin

She handed me the hitachi

December 24, 2017

sunday lesbian

The last time we fucked I just wanted to please her. I was focused on her mouth and her moans, my hands between her legs pulling a string of sounds from her lips, a serenade. I was focused and determined. When she shook with orgasm I collapsed on the bed next to her, smiling and satisfied.

I should have known from that look on her face that she had other plans. Anyone who knows Ms. O has seen that wicked grin, persuasive and so sure she’s about to have exactly what she wants.

“I want to be your pillow,” she said, biting her lip a little and looking up at me. She was lying on her back, her curves calling me closer. I blushed as she handed me the hitachi.

I might have confessed to her that when I’m all by myself I sit on top of it and grind against it. I could feel myself complying before I’d even thought it through. She has that affect you know. I followed her gentle instructions and climbed on top of her.

As I straddled her hips, my cheeks pink and warm to the touch, she turned on the hitachi and encouraged me. Her voice was like honey, warm and sweet as she told me just what to do.

She looked up at me as I humped against her tummy, the vibrations making waves through me as I rocked my hips against her. “Such a good girl,” she cooed, her eyes all over my naked body as I squirmed, perched on top of her.

My wet little cunt dripped against her soft belly, my head was dizzy. I was close. “Show me just how you do it, pretty girl,” she said as I gasped and begged and bounced against her.

I did just as I was told.

Heart
My Dirty Little Heart

It took some time for me to realise that your mind was actually the scene of the crime…

All of us play with fire. But are we careful enough to keep warm, or simply careless enough to get burned…?

We fucked until she was just a breathless tremor in my arms…

“Now wait a second…” Kenneth butted in.

“Yeah, we haven’t asked you the questions yet,” Brandon finished for Kenneth.

“Yeah, like what are your intentions toward our little Ryan,” Patrick added, smirking.

“What do you do for a living?” Brandon added.

“Can you support Ryan’s shoe fetish?” Kenneth threw his question in too.

“Hmm, okay, here are my answers. I plan on feeding him, dancing with him and God willing fucking him until he can’t walk straight. I help infertile chickens have baby chickens, and I think so. I’m hoping his feet are about my size. We can share shoes and everything,” Phillip answered.

Crystal Rose
I’ll Be Your Drill, Soldier

when I say I wanna have sex I don’t mean I wanna get fucked and cum I mean I wanna makeout with someone for half an hour on my couch with grabby hands all over my body and our teeth clashing because we get so into it that we can’t stop kissing, I mean slow desperate, needy grinding on each other before we take it to the bed, bumping our heads, giggling as we take our clothes off, trying to adjust and get into the right position, I mean having someone on top of me and looking up at them to see that blissful little grin on their face before they scrunch it up a lil and moan because it feels sooooo good and I mean making each other cum so good we end up all out of breath, a sweaty, happy mess, fingers still intertwined, my legs still around their waist, making out again, that’s what I want and it would be kinda cool if I could have it now

Mia
Fawnbabe