When She’s Here…

When she’s here, I see new colors. A few mystical beings I’ve glimpsed, as well. Or maybe I just believed I could see them, for a time.

I never knew there were so many shades of blue. I didn’t believe her at first. But then I saw them. The light and dark blues of different skies, the teal of her skirt, the peacock blue eyeliner that brought out flecks of copper in her eyes. I never wanted to smell any god damned roses before and yet she was the only person that could make me stop for a moment and look around.

I never knew life could be so funny.

She makes me laugh and it’s a form of sweet torture. Things I’ll never think to say, so brilliant, so cutting, so wrong, pop out of her mouth. I don’t think she even knows what’s coming. She can be a stone-cold bitch.

And yet, when she finds the mirth, all I can do is clench my sides and try to breathe as unbidden laughter paralyzes me and causes me to shake and roll to the floor as if I’m struck by a seizure. Tears roll down my face from laughter. At least, I think it is from the laughter.

She appeared in my life, smirking. Flitting around the edges of lens like a hyperactive, beautiful butterfly. Mischief powers her eyes. Hope and excitement bubble out of her lips and shine from her gaze.

I’d climb a mountain if she told me to…cross Niagara on a wire. I’d really do it, too. I’d never look down as long as she is there, her eyes boring into mine and commanding me to take my next step.

When I’m with her, I fly higher than I ever thought I could. I believe in myself. In her. In us. And we fly. We fly.

But there comes a time when you have to realize that rainbows can’t be chased. That life isn’t always happy, and one can’t be a child forever. “We aren’t really birds and we can’t pretend to be.” Her face freezes.

“No…I’m sorry,” I say, “I didn’t really mean that. It’s just that there is a time to be a grown up.” That comes out wrong, too.

“You have to decide what you want,” I finally say. “Making the life you have into the best one possible or risking everything you have to find something that is probably a ridiculous fantasy.”

She nods slowly, purposefully, and the sides of her mouth curve up in a smile and her eyes crinkle. But it isn’t a real smile. And she’s not wearing her bohemian clothes and dramatic makeup that she did before. No more multi-colored blues. I don’t even know what the hell color her pewter-looking shirt is supposed to be.

And every day, she’s there a bit less. Her eyes become more and more focused on the horizon although she tries to hide it. I bring her flowers, resplendent with color and so aromatic that my eyes itch and my food tastes funny. She thanks me, with sweet politeness but her eyes smile with patience and tolerance, not joy. And nothing I do can earn me back the looks she used to give me when she was happy. I don’t even think it has anything to do with me anymore. If it ever did.

I don’t know what she’s looking for. I don’t think it exists. Whatever the hell she is looking for doesn’t exist for me and I want to save her from the mistakes she’ll make. From the pain that awaits her. From the pain that awaits me on that day she doesn’t make it home again. She flies too close to the sun, drives too damn fast with no fucking gas money and won’t turn the car around for Jesus himself when she gets lost.

I’ve seen her balancing atop the bridge rail, which keeps the rest of us safe from the river below, as if she’s a girl practicing gymnastics. “My weight is mostly on the bridge side,” she giggles. Fucking hilarious, she is. I think she’d drive her car until it ran out of gas and just keep walking. Singing all the way.

Freedom Pixabay ph-niks-3340515

Maybe she’ll never fall. I hope to god she doesn’t. Life is not a cartoon or a comedy and I don’t think she knows that. Or she chooses not to see it. She doesn’t consider what will happen when she falls and I’m not there to catch her. I’ve seen it before. And she didn’t fall far that time. I lay awake wondering when she’s going to cliff dive on a dare and find she can’t make it to the surface. I bet she thinks the dolphins will save her.

I watch her and know that in her mind she is the star of some overrated Broadway musical. The chorus is booming and the set and dancers sway and urge her toward the life she thinks she is “supposed to have” after settling in a village where she forgot how to sing. I can see it in her face as she bobs her head to a soundtrack I can’t hear. I stare at her in disbelief. She pretends not to notice my incredulous stare, or she doesn’t give a shit.

Because more and more her eyes don’t look back at mine as she gazes long and hard at the horizon. In her coloring-book brain she is driving down a road made of marshmallows in a car fueled by dreams. There is no point in talking to her about the futility of her visions. I’m the evil voice of reality, hell-bent on holding her back. Unless I break out singing and tap dancing, backed by an orchestra, or leprechauns, my words are like some unwanted chatter in the audience. Unconcerned, she continues tapping her feet, hums a peppy tune and stares, concealing a tiny smile, at something fascinating and make-believe on the horizon.

 

Katya Evangeline (c) 2017

Photo Credit via Pixabay

Sexual Healing

You recline upon my bed, 
the velvet headboard rests your head.

I've waited my whole life for you
and I know you've ached for me.
I was far and you were near
boats wrecked in different seas.

Life lines penned in parallels, I never thought they'd cross.
Perhaps one night can fill the void for all the time we've lost?

Naked, in your lap, 
I gaze into your face.
Long-sought exultation lights your countenance.

I was free, then you were free,
But the stars did not align.
So now we take what's ours 
Regardless of the time.

You gently ease me down 
upon your glistening cock.
Hypnotized I drink you in
Your eyes upon me locked. 

I draw you in so far it hurts
but still I coax you deep.
Give me all your grief and shame
it's no longer yours to keep.

Your knuckles grasp and bruise me, 
grind me down into your hips
You've locked me where you want me, fastened in your grip.

My bronzed arms adorn your neck, 
strong legs enwrap your sides,
let gods and men condem me
my love I will not hide.

Greedily I pummel myself 
upon your chiseled stone.
We consummate, our spirits quake
You impale my flesh with bone.

Regret and anger tinge my joy
but before a tear can fall,
You push me down, 
your thrust so strong 
that falling are my walls.

Your strong hands hold fast my face, 
I cannot look away.
Your cock pounds me mercilessly
my demons being slayed.

Your commanding gaze 
and striking rhythm 
permit me not to wallow.
My mind is blank but my body sings 
as you fill what was once hollow.

You own me now, I'll give you all,
I'll crown you as my Master.
Just please don't stop- Don't ever stop!
my body implores, "Faster!"

You don't stop, you read me well, 
My pleasure mounts and swells…
My stomach, my thighs, 
my shuddering cunt, 
are now devouring fires.

Over and over 
your cock decimates
that sweet spot in my core.
In return I fuck back hard
my being craving, "More!"

You bring me almost to my peak
Mile-high Coaster at its crest,
Time stops then, agonized I wait 
for the Kiss of Little Death.

Over the edge 
You bring that Death,
my world now implodes.
I'm reduced to screams, moans, wails,
as ecstasy explodes.

Orgasm after orgasm consumes me
I'm completely broken down
All that matters is you in me 
Salvation now is found.

You don't pull out but abuse me deeper
until you've had your fill
My cunt becomes your Goddess now
She'll bend you to Her will.

As I take you higher, I'll salve your wounds and hurts.
The road's been long, you've stayed so strong
It's time for your dessert.

You pant and moan 
and yearn and groan
at the height of abject need
My pussy has her way with you 
until enraptured you're set free.

From the Sex-Obsessed Mind of Katya Evangeline

Katya Evangeline © 2017.

“Hot Anal Sex!” VenusAndEros’ Response to “Stay With Me” 

A favorite fellow blogger of mine, erotica writer VenusAndEros wrote a fantastic response to my earlier post Stay With Me.*** I was thrilled to read it, in more ways than one! 😜

I thought it was super hot. Let me know what you think and be sure to check out and follow VenusAndEros’s blog. From what I know about him as a writer, he has been studying women and how to please them for quite some time now…and it shows!

As always, I can’t generalize as to what all women find sexy but I always find VenusAndEros ‘s stories passionate and arousing!

***As an aside, VenusAndEros is part of my network of fellow bloggers and online friends. I’ve interacted with him publicly on other blogs and forums, along with some other bloggers and writers that I know. In other words, I know him. 

I say this because my blog is not an open forum of any sort so if you write a response to any of my posts, please tell me about it in the comment section of my post and/or link back to my post in yours. That way, I and all of my readers can enjoy it and be introduced to your blog! I am not necessarily able to respond to or repost unsolicited submissions or emails.

SORRY FOR MY PERSONAL BLOGGING INTERRUPTION….

>>>>>>>>>>>>

AND NOWWWW….

BACK TO YOUR PREVIOUSLY SCHEDULED HOTNESS…..

FROM my fellow sex freak, VenusAndEros….

ENJOY!

*Woman, Crushed and Owned

I minimized myself, my words, my presence.

Because they told me I was just *too much.*
Too much person for a small girl’s body,
for a decent woman,
for respectability,
inclusion,
love.
Small
I made myself.
Crushed and
Deformed.
With violence
I folded my limbs
into preassigned boxes.
I surgically removed
parts of me
deemed unacceptable.
With one arm I slowly sawed off
my other gesticulating limb
before consciousness
fled from me.
Through tears and nightmares
I aborted my ebullience
and dreams.
When I was young
I laughed too much,
sang too loud
and said wrong things
stridently.
I fixed that first.
In trauma and fear
I sanded my throat to shreds
to learn the right whisper.
In blood and terror
I clipped my vocal chords.
I severed them with home-made cleavers
passed down through generations.
With one hand
I clumsily
sutured my lips shut
to cover smiling teeth.
This has been done for ages.
When the head of new life
poked forth from the first womb
they no longer let her hunt.
“Stay at camp, Woman!”
“We own you!” They said.
“We will protect you and your babes
because this is a man’s world.”
“This is for your own good
though you know it not.”
“One day we will let you roam
however you cannot creep far.”
They marked me.
Covered my head.
Made me grow my hair long.
“It is your glory,” They said.
“Your hair is your glory,
as you are the glory
and helper of man.”
They bundled my breasts
hid my legs and
locked up my cunt
until They deemed it worthy of use.
I learned to modify my body,
Strangle myself in corsets.
I unlearned how to walk
after binding my own two feet.
When my uniform
was loosened
my subservience remained.
They reminded me,
“You are Woman.”
“Wear what you like.”
“But if you cannot control the new life that pokes through your womb,
Nor control the days you bleed
Nor learn
That your body
Is yours alone…,
Then
Forever and
Always
We will
Own you.”
Katya Evangeline (c) 2017
Photo Credits:
Heart Photo via FreeImages.com/Marcel Michelini
Blood in Bathroom via FreeImages.com/Carrie White
Bleeding Angel via FreeImages.com/Michelle Kwajafa

 *For the life I me I cannot get WordPress to format this post correctly. It is not supposed to be one large block of text. 

Fantasy Fulfillment

One of the best parts of starting my sex/erotica blog on WordPress is that I have the opportunity to connect with other amazing bloggers and writers.

I have an EXTENSIVE collection of erotic anthologies. So I have a good idea about the types and quality of stories that get published.

I ran across this gem and it was so well-written, well-plotted, interesting, unique and sexy that I have to share it with you!

This story features a younger adult male who adores the body type of a mature, curvy, married woman.

I have the author’s permission to reblog this but I need to follow up with him as to the setting and cultural backgrounds of the characters since I am not familiar with the local dialect.

This is creative, sexy and paints such an interesting slice of life setting.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! 😏

And I *really* *really* did enjoy it. 😉😉😉

That Mind Juice

DAVID, 20s, gets off the rickety danfo bus. He’s a lean young man with a cute, handsome face.

A boy hawking soft drinks attempts to draw his attention.

David ignores him, ambling on, craning his neck in search of something. Or someone.

He arrives at the junction where he spots his quarry.

There she is – MRS CHIKA, late 40s – standing by a stool under a massive umbrella, selling roasted plantain and ground-nuts.

David inspects some Nollywood home video CDs for sale, laid out on a mat, though in truth he’s spying on Mrs Chika.

Mrs Chika is wearing a loose-fitting red dress that reaches her knees. The dress – despite how roomy it is – fails to hide her amazingly curvaceous figure – a set of large, firm breasts, and buttocks that shake so vigorously it’s almost as if she’s dancing every time she walks.

Mrs Chika packs…

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Feminists who Love Porn, Rough Sex, BDSM and Other Maligned Evils

“My sexuality is not a brochure for my political views: it’s how I fuck. It doesn’t model my values; it just gets me off, and it gets me off no where other than the bedroom. -Samara, Samara Speaks.

Samara’s post below, paints in beautiful, broad brush strokes how she, as a female feminist, can LOVE LOVE LOVE SEX, ROUGH SEX, KINK, PORN, BDSM and other often maligned practices and she’ll tell you all about it.

And its fucking lovely.

Samara really puts it all out there, even sharing that she was once a victim of sexual assault but yet finds freedom and pleasure in things that folks often intrinsically link to promoting victimhood and rape culture.

If you want to read Samara’s smart Rant, please scroll to the the bottom of the post click (it *should* be there…but it isn’t so I will need to fix that!) so just follow the link below!

Porn, Power, Pain and Feminism

*********************
Samara’s post dovetails nicely with some SEXY, EROTIC and sometimes CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS I believe in STRONGLY.

I’ll come back to these issues but here they are!

1). Traditional stereotypes about who wants or doesn’t want sex are wrong, outdated and harmful. The idea that Men have rapacious sex drives and Women don’t is just garbage.

2). Porn can be awesome for men and women and isn’t quite the bogeyman that it is presented to be… 

The porn industry has some horrible aspects within it but there are also exciting pornographers, producers, sex workers, artists and others who are transforming the industry. I’ll try to point you to ethical, feminist and more progressive types of porn. 

I’ll even review some select adult films for all of you because I’m just a helpful person! 😉 You’re welcome!

3). A lot of stereotypes and traditional beliefs regarding male and female desire, needs and roles are absolute shit and people need to stop waving their shit in every one else’s faces.

OH WAIT…It sounds similar to No. 1… 

I guess I’m thinking about some of the specific attitudes people have promoted: men are visual and need respect; women need love/home/husband, and are slow to become aroused…

Still sounds like No. 1? Fine. 

Maybe I’m just fucking pissed about it and if I want to list No. 1 ten
times, then dammit, that’s what I’m gonna do… 😼😼😼

4). People do and don’t do sex in soooo many different ways and if it is among consenting adults then the world of sexual freedom and practices can be and should be so
much bigger than it is now….

5). The way we as people/groups/corporations/government bodies approach sex, sexual freedom and human rights is ABSOLUTELY tied part and parcel to racism, sexism, privilege, inequality, abuse, poverty, power and a fuckton of evil. 

I try to be intersectional, non-heteronormative, non-ableist, anti-racist, feminist, egalitarian, humanist and ethical. We can and should try to promote sexual health and freedom for everyone. For those of us who dream of a better world, or just want to be responsible humans, we need to acknowledge and address these issues of harm and inequality as we are able.

For a quick and dirty post on these issues, make sure to read Samara’s post, Link should show up here later but for now please find the link to her blog at the top of this post!

Enjoy! 😍😍😍

Smutathon 2017

SMUT. SMUT. SMUT.

I love how erotica writers, adult performers and lovers of sex and pleasure have turned the word SMUT into something positive…something, sexy, racy, titillating, pervy, kinky…. the list of smutty goodness goes on!

So for all my sexy, pervy friends here (and I KNOW you are here…yup. I see you!) head over to Smutathon 2017 where a whole group of erotica writers and bloggers have pledged to bang out loads of sexy smut for 12 hours to raise money for 2 great causes. It is going on as we speak. Follow the post below which links to the other fabulously smutty and charity minded bloggers. I understand Smutathon 2017 is also being live tweeted! Check out the post for the appropriate hashtags!

So please check out the 2 charities and consider donating. A few bloggers, like TheOtherLivvy have promised to post sexy pictures for each $100 (British $) donated. It sounds like great fun for 2 great causes!

The Other Livvy

‘Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.’
Helen Keller, The Open Door

You know how I like a challenge? This may be the greatest challenge yet…

Sex-blogger Coffee and Kinkhas come up with a brilliant writing challenge that is also an opportunity to raise money for charity!

I am so excited about this event, and also a little terrified at the prospect of the frenzied, pressured writing that will be necessary on the day. My blog posts usually take several days each – planning, writing, hesitating, and editing before finally publishing, but this challenge needs me to write and publish many, many posts in the 12 hour challenge window. Oh my!

Here is C+K’s description, taken from her blogwith permission, of what the Smutathon will involve…

What: A group of intrepid sex writers – bloggers, erotica authors, sex educators and more – get…

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The love of a dignified woman

I found this erotic post by SamanthaAlexia and I thought it was sooooo very hot.

I think that sometimes Sex should be an act of worship….That is what I see here. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did… ; )

samanthaalexia

I am drowning in the pool of want
My love, should you pull me out and coax me in your arms

Let me satiate your arousal,

Let me be on my knees and worship you, my king

I am a woman with dignity and hence untethered love for you

Should I feel weak for wanting you to glaze me with your essence and let me shine your grace and glory on my skin

Many would think I am a freak but the truth to that is knowns by you my love, I am an untamed rider, I will ride you dry until the hinges of my hips feel like they will disjoint from each other.

Sometimes I wonder if I was made of rubber, how could you possibly fill yourself into my mouth and let me drink up your essence while deep in my throat.

I am a woman well…

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Writhing (NSFW)

Writhing
Is my body.
Overtaken
Is my core.
Radiating 
are waves 
of decadent desire.

Flexed
are my hips 
Positioned 
to take you in.
Arched 
is my back,
Consumed 
is my being
to feel 
your flesh upon mine. 

Lifted
are my breasts 
seeking 
strong fingers for kneading.
Pointed
are my nipples 
drawing close 
your warm mouth.

Open
is my cunt, 
anticipating 
your seeping hardness. 
Blossoming
is the bud of my garden 
to receive your flood.

Naked
and trembling 
before you
is the whole of me.

Exposed
and vulnerable 
are the secrets 
of my lonely, broken soul.
Katya Evangeline ©2017

Stay with me

If you would let me

I would be yours.

I can hear your answer already. “But you already are MINE.”

No. I want to give you all of me. The ravenous primal animal that hides inside me. The stalking lone she-wolf that seeks a mate who is as wild and physical as she is…

*****

“Take the day off of work. Stay here with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” you exclaim, as you loop your tie through the collar of your pressed shirt.

“Meet me at the nearest hotel, the fancy one by your office!” I quip, my eyes excited and hopeful.

“You know I would if I could, dear,” you concede, slipping on your wing-tipped oiled leather shoes.

“I’ll come to your office,” I offer coyly, twirling your tie, rubbing my hand over your crotch, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You are very cute” you answer glibly with a half- smile.

“Let’s have sex in your office, just this once,” I suggest shyly. My voice feels hoarse, as if I have been begging. I feel like I am running out of offers, running out of hope.

You gently loosen my grasp on your tie and your pants. You kiss my fingers, then my forehead as you disengage.

“I mean it, you know.” 

“I know you do,” you reply.

 “I will bring you a picnic lunch. We’ll close your office door. . . You can sit at your impressive office desk and send emails.”  I hear you chuckle at my idea.

“Meanwhile, I’ll do this…” 

Not one to give up easily, I again run my hands down the front of your fine italian wool pants and slide to my knees. 

“You can even have a conference call while I do this….” I bury my face in your groin and aggressively mouth your hardening cock through your pants. My lips caress and taunt your cock and I purposely breathe wet, hot moisture over your lengthening shaft. 

You lovingly lift my chin up and away from your rising length where moments ago my lips clung to you. Tenderly, you guide me to my feet and lead me downstairs. 

I plop like a discarded ragdoll into the chair you’ve pulled out for me. A hot mug of fresh coffee appears before me, the rich brown liquid swirled with cream just the way you know I like it. You take my fingers and wrap them around my steamy cup and I do my best to flash a dazzling smile. “Thank you, love.” 

You grab your briefcase and keys. My face is tired from posing and my eyes drop to stare tiredly into my cup. Only solitude will see my tears.

I feel your lips brush the crown of my damp curly hair. “You know I would love to stay here with you all day if I could. Real life doesn’t work like that, darling.” 

No, of course not. Silly, needy me.

I smell your citrusy aftershave, mixed with your clean scent, a manly smell with a whiff of sweetness. I don’t remember the last time we kissed like lovers. 

Again your lips alight upon my skin. A hint of spearmint and warmth remains where you stood, and I hear the door click closed. Your brisk steps descend down our front steps and the house falls silent.

Some days I think I would give all this up, our beautiful life, our comfortable home, the respect of our friends… All of it to have a lover who would stay the day with me, our bodies entangled together, his hot skin layered inch by inch upon mine, yearning and lonely skin feasting on the touch and feel of another.

I would revel under the weight of your body crushing me, the feel of your taut muscles as you grasp me roughly and devour me. Even if I wanted, I can’t squirm away because I am pinned beneath you and you envelope me with your strong arms. Feeling your flesh mashed together with mine is heavenly and yet it isn’t enough. I need you to fill me and make me forget the world as you ruthlessly satisfy yourself in me, and I in you.

I am not a princess but a needy, base animal that wants to lick and taste every inch of your body. I want to drag my teeth across your shoulders, nibble your ear lobes and suck angry love marks across your neck and scrumptious body. I long to bite your nipples, your back, scratch your thighs, leave my nail imprints in your juicy ass and tease your balls with my tongue and my teeth. 

My tongue will trace down your torso and your back as my mouth explores you. It makes me crazy with hunger as I massage and knead your muscles from your shoulders and work my way down your chiseled and expectant body.

I trail my tongue down the middle of your abs and wet the trail down to your turgid and dripping cock. Your cock is thick and pulses with energy and excitement. That is one strong and beautiful cock. I grasp you in my hands and enfold you in my warm mouth and your whole frame shudders with desire and pleasure. 

I worship your cock and balls with my lips and tongue. My mouth massages, kisses you hard and licks and swallows until the sinews of your thighs tremble involuntarily, your body quakes and your seed explodes past my thirsty, greedy lips. 

I feel you convulse beneath me and gasp for air as I continue to gently suck you and drain you in sweet release. I don’t normally like the taste of cum but I feel an unquenchable thirst to let you fill every part of me and consume me, so that all that is left is you in me. 

Seeing, feeling and tasting your release makes my body quiver with excitement and need. My body thrills as I feel your physical response to my touch and artistry. My cunt is overwrought, past the point of excitement. She seeps with desire as one weeps for her lover. I have never felt so empty and desperate to be filled. If I could make the ache go away I would fill myself with anything that could ease the pain of emptiness but the only thing my body craves is you.  

My body molds to yours and my legs wrap around your torso. My cunt is wet and hot against your waist, and I open myself to you, dying for you to pierce me and fill me to bursting.

I want you to ravage me as fiercely as I ravage you. I want you to pursue me and catch me and make me feel alive. I need you to mark my body with your love or your lust or your brutality. I need to feel the force of your passion for me. I hear your words and reap your care but my body….she is wanton and insatiable. 

My body doesn’t use words. My body speaks and understands touch, sensation, vibration. My body only understands the feel of your body against mine, skin against skin, tongues dancing together, lips and mouths fastened to throbbing clits, swollen cocks and dripping, ready cunts. My body knows the feel of being deliciously smothered in touch and the pain and loneliness of physical denial.

I can’t get enough of you and can’t get close enough to you. No matter how fiercely you grasp me it is never enough. I could lay with you and feast upon your flesh day and night. And yet, you rarely grasp me or pull me to you. So often, I am alone in our silent house.

Food, sleep and other comforts could forsake me. All I want is for you to stay with me, my lover, our bodies pressed skin to skin, with you filling me and satisfying me, over and over again.