dream of vampires

February 9, 2019

The secret a close friend confided to me about her 59 year old grandmother:

“This is something gross for you to cherish. Me at age twelve staying at my gran’s in Portsmouth for the weekend. I’d gone to bed about eleven on Saturday night. Gran was downstairs with this neighbour, a guy from two doors down. He was younger than her. Maybe twenty years younger.

“Anyhow. I got up towards midnight and tiptoed downstairs for a glass of water. Through the partly open living room door I see gran and the neighbour on the sofa playing cards. All of a sudden, gran peels off her blouse exposing her breasts; she wasn’t wearing a bra. It happened so quickly too. It seemed surreal.

“He smiles at her and says, ‘Nice.’ Then he says, ‘Your pick-up.’ Gran takes a card; he takes a card. Gran stands and unzips her skirt.

“I realise they’re playing somekind of strip poker.

“I slip into the kitchen quiet as a mouse and get the water. Then it’s back to bed for me. But I can’t relax. I keep thinking about the game downstairs.

“Unable to overcome my curiosity, I go back downstairs. Gran and the neighbour were both nude. He sits on the sofa, she kneels between his spread legs. He has a hand resting on her bobbing head. And I can’t believe what she’s got in her mouth!

“He’s making these funny panting noises all the while. ‘Keep going,’ he says, ‘keep going.’ And then it’s like he’s having somekind of fit. His whole body shivering and shaking –

“I didn’t know what the hell was happening. It frightened me, I’ll tell you. I ran upstairs for the safety of my bed. Eventually I slept but I dreamt about vampires. Sucking blood from people. It was disgusting.

“Today I know the neighbour was cumming in gran’s mouth. But back then I thought he was dying, and that gran was sucking the life out of him. Gross, eh? Made me dream of vampires”


Sunday Morning Art class

August 26, 2018

The innocence of nudity has
been tainted by sheer
Such is society.
I’m a lover of sculpture, especially the Greek ones.
It annoys the hell outta me when people are being so damn IMMATURE about them.

Lyn Purcell

lay naked

August 18, 2018

But then she had always preferred the night to the day. Moonlight fell directly over her bed in the summer. She lay naked in it for hours before falling asleep, wondering what its rays would do to her skin, her hair, her eyes, and then deeper, to her feelings.

Anaïs Nin
A Spy In The House Of Love

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…
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

strip you stark naked

December 10, 2017

whip girl by hdy9108

Yasala made no reply. She crouched, watching her captor with eyes baleful as those of a basilisk. Stubborn silence always fans anger. Valeria turned and tore a handful of cords from a near-by hanging.

“You sulky slut!” she said between her teeth. “I’m going to strip you stark naked and tie you across that couch and whip you until you tell me what you were doing here, and who sent you!”

Yasala made no verbal protest, nor did she offer any resistance, as Valeria carried out the first part of her threat with a fury that her captive’s obstinacy only sharpened. Then for a space there was no sound in the chamber except the whistle and crackle of hard-woven silken cords on naked flesh. Yasala could not move her fast-bound hands or feet. Her body writhed and quivered under the chastisement, her head swayed from side to side in rhythm with the blows. Her teeth were sunk into her lower lip and a trickle of blood began as the punishment continued. But she did not cry out.

The pliant cords made no great sound as they encountered the quivering body of the captive; only a sharp crackling snap, but each cord left a red streak across Yasala’s dark flesh. Valeria inflicted the punishment with all the strength of her war-hardened arm, with all the mercilessness acquired during a life where pain and torment were daily happenings, and with all the cynical ingenuity which only a woman displays toward a woman. Yasala suffered more, physically and mentally, than she would have suffered under a lash wielded by a man, however strong.

It was the application of this feminine cynicism which at last tamed Yasala.

A low whimper escaped from her lips, and Valeria paused, arm lifted, and raked back a damp yellow lock. “Well, are you going to talk?” she demanded. “I can keep this up all night, if necessary.”

“Mercy!” whispered the woman. “I will tell.”

Robert E. Howard
Red Nails


June 24, 2017

Thank you for the selfie
I wish you’d move your hand
I want to see your lovely cock
I want to see it stand –

Encounter what…?

April 28, 2015



Women’s bodies…

May 25, 2014


Evening peels the clothes from women’s bodies
until at last their soul’s revealed
the smile locked up inside
Clothed a dream dangles from a hanger
Lips whisper in the shadows
Hands slide from walls
and entwine at the ankles of desire
while the evening uninvites
the thorns of the day