this fleeting pleasure

January 23, 2020

In love play she clasped him to her with extreme fervour, fiercely and tearfully, as if she wanted once more to extract the last sweet drop from this fleeting pleasure. Never had it been so strangely clear to Siddhartha how closely related passion was to death.

Hermann Hesse

Siddhartha

My love for you is unconditional. Arse size has nothing to do with it – although that said, I take great pleasure in tugging down those short shorts, so tight they turn inside out as I do so. Bending you forward slightly, I’m able to practice my analingus technique, hoping one day I’ll finally achieve perfection. Your bum deserves that much at the very least…

It was at this point, she said:

“Don’t just kiss me, darling – suck the soul from my body!”

So I did…

The first time someone else touched me with the intent to pleasure, I fell in love. Not with that person, but with the act itself. Such intimacy and accord. Even with the awkwardness of first-time lovers there was a grace and purity, carnal and beautiful that I knew from that moment on I could never live without.

Fiona Zedde
Bliss

GOD, his tasks

December 15, 2019

Please, let’s reconsider
God’s expectations of pleasure.
How we are lepers
in our colony of want.
How we would murder
our child in exchange
for our own small death.
A drop of iodine in a bath
becomes a gauzed elegy
for how we can’t help but love
who we want to save.
In a train station I am wife
to hundreds of men
who have feelings
about their bodies.
God wanted pleasure
to be a dead clam
that doesn’t open
in boiling water.
A slick body that hides
itself between the hinges
of duty and need
until it wastes away as a wrinkle
on the stretched skin
of a life.
Once we were so wet
we glistened
whether there was light
or not.
When God called
our bodies territory
we became terror,
we became the story
that every child
in their monstered
sleeplessness never wants
to be real.

Meghan Privitello

Spread your legs wide –

December 14, 2019

Yes, wider.

I want you to wait for me sitting with spread legs. I want to imagine you that way on my journey home. It excites me; I like it. I want to inhale the musky scent of your sex immediately I enter the room.

I want to see you there spread wide for me.

I want your legs spread so wide because I want you to be completely open. I want you to obscenely expose your wonderful complexity to me.

I want those spread legs not just for my pleasure, on a whim. No, I want them to be a door to your world. A symbol of your submission. A surrender of all modesty and inhibition. An admission of your need for penetration.

And once inside, I’ll look for you, find you, discover you. Understand you.

Unravel that thread between your spread sex, your heart and your brain.

I want to feel that thread enclosing me, I want to wrap myself in your beauty, I want that thread to tighten on my flesh, my soul, my cock. I want to see it, feel it, swallow it. I want everything you are: good, evil, happiness, sadness, illusion, disappointment, love, hate, depth, saltwater, roughness, sweetness.

I want to unravel you. With patience, slowness and perseverance. I want to make it simple for both of us. I want to fuck you ‘till you scream for me.

mundane perception dissolved

December 5, 2019

Sexual gnosis is the ecstasy of dissolution, liquid pleasure in which the spirit rises above the physical body and is dissolved in the Void, transformed into a higher form through works of erotic alchemy. They absorb and consume the initiate in the rapture of cruelty and desire, on the borderline of pain and delight. Pleasure is detached from bodily zones and transformed into spiritual experience. Normal patterns of thinking are suspended and mundane perception is dissolved, left behind by the spirit ascending to divinity. The ego is crushed and the practitioner ceases to be a separate being when one’s consciousness merges with their immortal essence. They rise from within as the inner fire which consumes the flesh and awakens the spirit. This is a rewarding, but also an extremely demanding process.

Asenath Mason
Rituals of Pleasure: Sex, Astral Magic & Demonic Possession

the cruelty of her dreams

December 2, 2019

We find her in the heart of summer, in the shadow of a sturdy tree thronged with calmed birds unalarmed by her presence. Her schoolgirl demeanour would be excuse enough, and her modest dress, her neat hair… It is then that one notices the pallor of joy, the eyelids closed over the cruelty of her dreams, the teeth pressed to the blood-stained lips, the woman engrossed in her pleasure and savouring, through the caress of its plumage, a creature docile to the point of continuing to live. Since one has to hold one’s own, one invents, as an afterthought, the girl who ate birds.

Paul Nougé
The Girl Who Ate Birds

Books

November 19, 2019

Books don’t offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.

David Mitchell
Cloud Atlas

Witchcraft & cock torture

October 27, 2019

Sheeba, a 31-year-old energy healer from Portland, Oregon…recommends cinnamon oil, which creates a burning sensation and holds an association with the goddesses Venus and Aphrodite. In her own BDSM scenes, Sheeba often uses thieves oil, a blend of clove, lemon, rosemary, cinnamon, and eucalyptus, as part of CBT, a.k.a. cock and ball torture.

“We used thieves oil on the top of [one of my sex partners’] penis and around the head. I have this really mean clip that fits all the way around the tip of his penis,” Sheeba says. “Some of where his extreme pleasure comes from was from that extra sensitivity from the oils and that constriction.”

Sophie Saint Thomas
Kitchen Witches Are Brewing Lube for the Bedroom

a shout into the void

October 26, 2019

“I’m in love with you,” he said quietly.

“Augustus,” I said.

“I am,” he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labour has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

John Green
The Fault in Our Stars