Wednesday, February 29, 2012

That Familiar Maddening Thrill

       I sat across from you with my drink cradled gently in my hands.  Your favorite song played softly in the other room.  I told you that you looked wonderful, but you smiled in a way that told me you though I was wrong.  It used to only take words...

       I told you about my day, my trials, and triumphs.  I glanced out the window as a young couple passed and I took a sip of my martini.  The ice brushed my lips gently.  When I looked back at you, your head was tilted back and your hands gently caressed the front of your breasts.  Suddenly I couldn't remember what I was talking about and my throat felt dry.  It's been years, but still you turn my head in circles.  You fuse my heart and lust until I can't tell where one starts and the other ends.

       But I also knew how to tease you, too.  I smiled in a way I hoped was more devilish than dimpled and told you how much you were distracting me.  You just smiled and sighed.  I took another sip and then whispered your secret name.  You closed your eyes and turned lazy circles over your nipples with your fingertips.  I asked if you remembered my birthday, when you pretended to be my private escort.  Your smile told me all I needed to know.  That and your nipples: I could easily see how hard they were.  But I wasn't even near finished with you, no, not by a long shot.  I asked if you remembered the way I took control of us, the way I made you slowly strip for me in the dim light?

       I still have the ropes I used to tie you down to the coffee table.  The blindfold I used was just the scarf you leave hanging on the back of our bedroom door, but it worked well enough.  My god you were so fucking hot, spread open, tied down, blindfolded, waiting for me to touch you, and to slap your waiting ass.  And I did.  Several times.

       I teased you while you were trapped before me, bent over and vulnerable.  I dripped my ice-cold martini down the crack of your ass and after each shudder you gave against the cold, I licked you from your clit to the small of your back.  I watched you for several minutes at a time between caresses, too.  My god you were beautiful.

       That was the reason I dusted off the camera.  I needed to keep that moment with me forever.  Not because I was dominating you but because at the same time you were dominating me.  Topping me from below.  You were my slave, but subtly working her master to satisfy your own needs as easily as a mantis.  And I did satisfy them.  The orgasms you had rocked you to the core and made you moan long and loud more often than you had in months, maybe ever.

       When I finally released you, you were spent but wild.  That look in your eyes was bliss and wickedness.   Just like the one you shot me now, sitting across from me with my drink cradled gently in my hands.  Your favorite song fading from the other room only to be replaced by mine.  Yes, My Love, it still only takes words.

Friday, February 24, 2012


       Role play has always fascinated me.  I love stories from couples who have lost themselves to their fantasy worlds, time and time again changing their roles to suit a new idea, fetish or theme.  I also love the idea of participating in a myriad collection of my own fantasies.  I want to lose myself the same way and experiment with every deviant little flutter of my lustful heart: but damn if it's not the hardest thing for me to do.

       I write fiction, I love to take erotic photographs, I craft worlds and I fantasize constantly about things both real and imagined.  I explore erotica and study the art of seduction and I share my obsession with the world.   But I cant seem to pretend for an hour I'm a school teacher or a businessman attending an out of town conference looking to hook up with a married woman in a bar.   I've tried planning out a scenario, I've tried spontaneity, I've tried the silent approach where all I had to do was pretend I was a Dom who expected only eager submission from my 'call girl'.  Really, it doesn't get any easier than to pretend than that!  Yet each time I stare down the lion in my mind I get the same knots in my stomach and the inescapable feeling that I'm acting like a complete idiot.

       That being said, I won't give up.  Call me stubborn, stupid, or determined: it doesn't matter.   I will continue to try Roleplay.  Eventually I think I'll be able to crack my iron walls and set my fantasies free.  I'll be the fireman, the construction worker on a service call, the businessman, or the rockstar backstage with a groupie.  The fool inside me is defiant and armored against rolling eyes and gentle shakes of the head.  Get ready ladies; it's time to save the horse and ride a cowboy!

Saturday, February 18, 2012

The Razor-Thin Line

Adjetive.  1.  Of Sexual Love.
                2.  Arousing Sexual Desire.

Noun.  1.  Literature or Art dealing with sexual love.

Noun.  1.  Writings, photographs. etc., intended to cause sexual excitement.

       There's a fine line between Eroticism and Pornography.  I have seen evidence of erotic imagery that was created before the sexual revolution of the 1960's, before two World Wars, before the western world was conceived, and even before Rome fell.  I've seen the Frescoes adorning the walls of Italian homes in Pompeii and the breadth of their erotica obsession.

"The history of erotic depictions includes paintings, sculptures, photographs, dramatic arts, music, and writings that show scenes of a sexual nature throughout time.  They have been created by nearly every civilization, ancient and modern."-Wikipedia.

       So what separates Erotica and Pornography?  There are dozens of images in my personal galleries that cross the line by leaps and bounds, and the extremes on both sides are easy to spot at a glance.  But often lately I'm finding myself questioning what makes one image Erotic and another Pornographic.  The images I have are separated into three sections.  The ones I have labeled as 'Erotic' all have subtle edges, soft light and a tendency to be less graphic, although not exclusively chaste.  I love these images because as I discussed in an earlier blog they capture my imagination and inspire me to create more.
       The second group is more graphic indeed.  The light is more glaring, and the pictures more visceral.  I love these images too because they capture the raw sexuality of that moment when the images were captured.  They're easily more primal and forceful upon the senses, but at the same time, speaking strictly by definition, they're still erotic
       The last group is somewhere in-between the first two.  The edges are soft, the lighting subdued.  They're erotic, yet pornographic.  They capture my imagination and yet they arouse as well.  I love the dance they create in my mind: swaying back and forth upon the tide of my mood, shifting between art and fantasy and back whenever I happen to revisit them.
 "In early times, erotic depictions were often a subset of the indigenous or religious art of cultures and as such were not set aside or treated differently than any other type.  The modern concept of pornography did not exist until the Victorian era...By 1864, the first version of the modern definition had appeared in Webster's dictionary: "licintious painting employed to decorate the walls of rooms sacred to Bacchanalian orgies, examples of which exist in Pompeii."  That was the beginning of what today refers to explicit images in general."-Wikipedia.

       With that said, I guess the question isn't what separates 'Erotica and Pornography'.  Instead the question should be what is the difference between the 'Arousal of Sexual Desire' and the 'Intent to Cause Sexual Excitement'.  For me, they're one in the same.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Black And White

       Black and white imagery is a favorite of mine.  It hides so many imperfections in light, color, contrast, and hue.  I've resisted the idea of hi-def television and billion-pixel image-capturing cameras because I don't always want to see every pore of a performer on my screen.  I want to imagine.
       For me, Erotic Photography follows a similar train of thought.  My images aren't about super-fine detail or beautifully sharp edges defined under perfect conditions; it's about capturing an idea.  Sometimes, for no discernible reason, an image just works.  Of the millions of erotic images I've found on the web through search engine image galleries, only a select few can truly be called beautiful and worth my attention.  They are photographers who possess a level of talent I can only aspire to meet.  I study the work of those artisans not because they're famous or even the most talented of people; but because they stirred an idea in me.  There was a vision brought to my mind and I want to know how they managed to trigger it.
       I long for the kind of world where you can't see the wires.  Where looking for the man behind the curtain isn't only forbidden, it's unquestionable.