You are trapped in my web, an unsuspecting victim. Doomed now, are you, to melancholic servitude for life: I will force you to lick my most secret places; you will exist on the borderless threnodies of my darkest desires, feeding on my intimate secretions, more juicier than any papaya – and you will be like an animal skinning itself in reverse: you will swallow my juices – all my juices – your sex throbbing with its own crazy pulse, never to be satisfied. Lost in the carnal and divine of my pale body – my fleshy witch body.

As to writing. What I have to say, I must say: simply to get it out. After 4 hours trying, whether it’s failed or not, one is physically and mentally exhausted. I mean it. All I want to do is creep into bed, notably after failure. Also one cannot think coherently of anything else. It eats away in the brain, a ceaseless conversation with oneself. The smallest chore is horrendous to get through. People do not stimulate; they exhaust.

Martha Gellhorn,
letter to Betsy Drake featured in Martha Gellhorn Selected Letters

be dominated

June 9, 2019

I’m an Indian girl who lusts after black women. I love light skin women to dark chocolate strong, independent black women. I think they’re beautiful, and sexy and so dominating. I want to serve one and be dominated by her, and to satisfy her womanhood.

SOURCE

Marlene’s freewheeling attitude to sex has been much analysed since her death, particularly by her daughter Maria, who wrote a tell-all book about Marlene in the grand tradition of Christina Crawford’s “Mommie Dearest” – only Maria’s effort was dubbed “Mommie Queerest”. Maria revealed that Marlene used sex as a kind of weapon in her affairs with men – she didn’t actually care much for “it”. It was a way of controlling and manipulating them. With women it was different. Marlene actually enjoyed the sex, and the relationships were much more satisfying for her. Edith Piaf, Mercedes de Acosta (who also wooed and won Greta Garbo), Rosemary Clooney, the German singer Hildegard Knef and many others shared nights of passion with Dietrich.

To call Marlene ‘lesbian’ would be to misrepresent her sexuality. To call her bisexual would also not be adequate. Perhaps ‘queer’ describes her best or simply, as one commentator said, ‘unstraight’. She made love to those she was attracted to at any particular time in her life, their gender was immaterial. This is extraordinary, given that most of her career was built on being the ultimate fetish object for straight men. The film critic Kenneth Tynan defined this bisexual appeal when he said, “she has sex without gender.”

Terry Sanderson
Marlene Dietrich: a woman out on he own

femme hunger

January 19, 2019

For me, and many other femmes, the core of femme sexuality lies in femme hunger, in a particularly femme strength of sexual openness, vulnerability, and need. For me it can be summed up by the image of:

‘her fist
slams into my cunt up through my cervix
and grabs my heart
I don’t mind.’

When I have sex…I need to feel the touching burn through the layers of numbness I have wrapped around myself. I need intensity; I need to get filled up and fed. To open up, give it all up and be loved, not hated, for my intensity, for how much pleasure I can feel and how vulnerable it makes me. It is a vulnerability that can be both incredibly powerful and incredibly terrifying.

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
On Being A Bisexual Femme

lips and tongue

You like her hands, don’t you darling? When her fingers are combing through your hair so soft and gentle, when you’re lying on her and she’s holding you close. Her hands are the only things moving then, her hands and you as you rise and fall with her even, slow breathing.

You like when she cups your cheek, palm soft and warm against your skin. You like when she cups your cheek and holds you still while she takes her time to lick into your mouth and kiss you so deep. Her hand is the only thing holding you in place while she bites your lips and licks every rasping moan off your tongue.

You love when she drags her nails down your chest, along your ribs and hooks around your hips. When she teases you with those slow little circles, smiling at you while she tells you every dirty thing she wants to do to you and won’t you let her puppy, please?

You love when those hands hold your legs open, push them just a little wider. When her nails dig into your skin and leave sweet little marks, when she makes it hurt so sugar sweet and you gasp as she bites and nips and sucks.

You love her hands when they’re touching you, there’s no doubt about that, but there’s one thing you love best, right darling? Mhmm, your favourite is when her fingers curl around your throat, palm warm where it holds warm and steady. Your favourite is when she squeezes, when she pins you down with a hand around your throat and the other between your thighs and whispers how pretty you are when your cheeks are flushed so red and you’re so wet it must hurt.

You love her best when her lips are at your ear, asking you what you want. Do you want to cum? Do you want her to squeeze tighter? You’ve been such a good little pet, you deserve a reward, so what would you like darling? Do speak up.

And when you can’t answer because she’s choking you so good and nice, the way you like, she rocks against you. When you can’t answer because it’s so much, too much and not enough. She tells you that if you can’t answer, then she’ll have to choose for you and she wants you to cum. She’d like you to cum for her right now darling, cum from just her hands, when you’re gasping for a breath and everything’s the sweetest kind of fuzzy.

You love that, don’t you?

Mommymaxie
So Sayeth, Your Lord

hearing your little moans

October 7, 2018

do you want to know what i’ve been thinking about, kitten?

i’ve been thinking about spreading you open on my fingers, petting your wet, swollen pussy and hearing your little moans.

you let me lean down to taste you, angel? do you want my tongue on your clit, just the way you like, licking you so sweetly?

you look so pretty on your back, legs spread wide like a good girl.

SOURCE

Femme Fatale

September 2, 2018


From The Femme Mystique, ed. Lesléa Newman.

converse for ever

September 1, 2018

We might go to moonlight ruins, cafés, dances, plays: converse for ever; sleep only while the moon covers herself for an instant with a thin veil.

Virginia Woolf
Letter to Vita Sackville-West, September 1928

When I Was Straight

June 16, 2018

I did not love women as I do now.
I loved them with my eyes closed, my back turned.
I loved them silent, & startled, & shy.

The world was a dreamless slumber party,
sleeping bags like straitjackets spread out on
the living room floor, my face pressed into a

slender pillow.

All night I woke to rain on the strangers’ windows.
No one remembered to leave a light on in the hall.
Someone’s father seemed always to be shaving.

When I stood up, I tried to tiptoe
around the sleeping bodies, their long hair
speckled with confetti, their faces blanched by the

porch-light moon.

I never knew exactly where the bathroom was.
I tried to wake the host girl to ask her, but she was
only one adrift in that sea of bodies. I was ashamed

to say they all looked the same to me, beautiful &
untouchable as stars. It would be years before
I learned to find anyone in the sumptuous,

terrifying dark.

Julie Marie Wade