trixclibrarian

seductive paradox

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 22:10:14 -0400

It was her strength, ultimately, that led to her vulnerability. That made her vulnerable to me and me, in turn, to her. Had she been even just a tiny bit more delicate or aspired even slightly to any kind of purity, I might have felt compelled to take more care, to show deference, to keep my distance. To be wary of her relative lack of experience, if nothing else.

But she displayed so little vulnerability. She revealed no apparent need of protecting whatsoever. Even after we were intimate friends, she cried rarely and then quietly, effectively it seemed, and into a pillow. Her tears were hot and left her sexy. Meanwhile I stood there, palms sweating to the point of might-as-well-be-dripping, since she always noticed and laughed, gorgeously. So gorgeously. Even if it was at my expense, I still got paid for it. Her eyes were dark and twinkled constantly. Visible in the shortest flashes of an instant as she walked past and death-breathtaking when she was laughing at me.

She had very definite ideas about what her body wanted, needed, demanded and she was less soft-spoken in that regard than any other. She admitted keeping some things from me, but she was pleasing and she was bold in everything she chose to share. In command of her own pleasure, she was utterly, matter-of-factly confident in her erotic omniscience and power.

She was also nonchalantly shameless about wielding the persuasive strength inherent in her sexuality. She was testing, experimenting, swinging it round and round, me. It made a distinct, thrilling, whooshing sound. It scared and delighted me. I was intoxicated, debilitated, hypnotized instantly.

A few weeks before she first unleashed it on me, I had a dream. I didn’t know, or think? or believe? it was about her specifically, at the time. Not until she pulled the sword of desire out and left me, gutted, on the floor. Then it seemed obvious.

The dream-woman was dark shiny wild-haired, pale-skinned smooth and completely firm and round and swaggering. She was on her knees in the dream, on a dream-bed bent over ass up body facing away but looking back eyes brightly over her shoulder. And in that position she wagged her ass and swaggered. Biting her bottom lip with a smirk that said, most distinctly, I dare you not to. She wore a purple camisole, a slip that might have hung to her knees had she been standing. She was obvious in her coy and in it utterly, unquestionably, commanding.

Striking that single pose, she offered herself up with more strength and insistence than could be denied. She erased any chance I might feel guilty about what I wanted to do with her — with her eyes. With intelligent eyes she made me useless when it came to resisting.

here you have it...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 21:16:00 -0400

seanfulkerson replied to your post: today at skating - i had the …

My 11 year old daughter is a skating freak — she’s training to compete — and when she gets the floor to herself it’s just as you described… rock star on wheels. :)

eleven has been my long-standing favorite age of human people for a seriously long time. fifth grade. they have great inferential skills but low hormones and high motivation, eleven year olds can think and talk some really good shit.

i am proud to have anything in common with an eleven year old. plus, bonus glad your girl-kid skates! it is, after all, all about the impact!

seriously. big awkward<3 jillc

today at skating - i had the floor all to myself for 29 minutesand pitbull feat. christina with a-ha...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 17:49:00 -0400

today at skating - i had the floor all to myself for 29 minutes
and pitbull feat. christina with a-ha happened
{{see below}}
i am such a sucker for the 80’s sample
but i felt like a rock star on wheels ;p

Feel This Moment (The Global Warming Listening Party) (by...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 17:46:53 -0400

Feel This Moment (The Global Warming Listening Party) (by PitbullVEVO)

it is all in how you are put together

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 15:40:13 -0400

wait to die
on your own time
don’t assume
anything belongs
peaced
out together
like jigs
saws are dangerous
they cut
pieces
off

Photo

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 15:33:28 -0400

Photo

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 15:27:10 -0400

squeezed out an ending

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:36:01 -0400

A glint of sil-
ver fish
shining off
the transparent walls
of my fishbowl stomach,
I hurled involuntarily,
gagged,
coughed and spurted out
my last urge and tolerance
for death in a sentence that
ended with coming
on the poster
hung
on the wall
just that morning.

most predicaments begin with a wish

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:28:51 -0400

readers sat
fat at a definite
advantage
my silhouette
casts far more light
revealing
me in a state
of vulnerability
with strict indecency
laws prevailing
too genuine always
for my own good
my imagination
can be
my worst and best
enemy
and yours too
you see

red ink {dog pens}

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:17:57 -0400

if i knew
which direction
to point it in
i would trace
a pattern
consider it
wonder if
connecting
dots
were prudent
points
or merely dappled
distractions

finishing {on my own time}

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:05:03 -0400

a dark tease
dipped in a teasing finger
to swirl
leave a cryptic
message floating
on a foamy surface
impossible to read
or to leave alone

wait until i sleep
then breathe three
magical times in my direction
i can sense the smell of your throat
its exhalings, a twinkly seizure
inducing vibration in my periphery
tied struggling against silk
i strain to see
you in vain

i can be good
i can be patient
i can wait still
quiet
even
for a harsh touch
if i want to

don’t go daft
tell me one
simple
concrete
thing

it will be our charm
our amulet
our wicked talisman

a gravity
light-hearted
to move through

creatures journey
some return
transformed

surely the cheshire cat burned in hell

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 02:58:00 -0400

She stretched, long and flat out on the bed. First thing when she woke up she scooched down. Using the flat of her feet against the mattress, digging in her heels just slightly and bending her knees up, she scooched. Fairly smooth in a motion that also involved bringing her hands up over her head, long. She stretched her arms. She kept stretching them into a moment of intensity, extending energy out through the tension of pulling her own muscles into the direct range of her attention. Before the stretch was complete she arched the small of her back and poked her round ass cheeks into the bed and imagined her crotch as a cup or a net for catching bait fish.

She let out a tiny groan of completion and pushed off, again with the flat of her feet propelling her. Her arms lifted straight up above her and swung down to her sides in a gliding motion as, this time her legs did the stretching and extending. She arched her smallest back again along with the nape of her neck and rubbed the almost top, but still back of her head against the bedsheets. While she did so she clenched and unclenched her butt cheeks, hard, seven times each in unison. When she was done her back went slack and her neck flat and her soft groan escaped this time with a sigh on its piggyback.

Throughout she was taking an inventory. Her glutes were sore, and her wrists and shoulders, along with her quads and groin muscles. But it was the soft tissue between her legs that was most tender. It was sure to register her every move, every press against the seam of her pant-tees, every brush against every little thing she encountered all day. She smiled. She didn’t have to look or lay her hands on it, she knew the skin there was flush red, swelled up and hot to the touch. She imagined heat rising from it in little wavy lines, a cartoon pussy sunning itself in july, she thought. This time, her smile was too wide, a grin, a sin for its very thoughtfulness.

powered by hormones

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 02:00:00 -0400

It was the kind of sex that left you tasting of endorphins. Your skin, your mouth, lips and tongue swollen with the chemicals of exercise, physical taxation and survival. It was the kind of sex that required stamina. The kind of sex you cleaned up well for — immediately before and again not long after. The smell in the air lasted several hours. It was the kind of sex that lingered in the nostrils overnight. The kind of sex that smelled different depending on the exact specific partners. It was the sort of encounter you tasted coming before, during and after, with certainty and without hesitation. You sank your whole slurp all in. It was the kind of sex where tasting it seemed, at least partially, the point of it.

It was an intensity in interaction that could easily lead to drooling and ecstatic whimpers. It was a dance that left you both at a loss for explaining any coherent sequence of events. It was the kind of sex that left unfathomable, if temporary, marks. It was harsh whispered encouragement and flourishes of praise mixed with admonitions. It was tempting threats and the stress of complicated instructions which most importantly demanded attention and deep breathing and relaxed inhibitions. More than anything genuine feeling was the prime requirement.

It was the kind of sex that tasted like souls and vitamins grown in. It was sex that knew absolutely nothing about anything sprayed on or artificially flavored. It was organic and naturally badass and nutrient from the core to the deliciousness of it. It was the kind of sex that tasted like the endorphins responsible for the romantic notion also known as love.

Photo

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 21:38:41 -0400

soy wax flakes - idk - unscented no dye

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 21:31:34 -0400

soy wax flakes - idk - unscented no dye

thinking about this... back to the lawn, now

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 17:54:04 -0400

outslate answered your post: getting ready to ride the mow…

hello, would you accept my prompt? “all over the building / closed shutters”

thanks, you* - awkward<3 jc

storms kill lesbians, heteros, gays & other queers

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 17:53:15 -0400

the gold star
the seedling
the germination
the sprouting
out of the ball of dirt
like a tree
ripped from the earth
some are born that way
and some adapt
it is all interesting
and a strong enough wind
will blow them all over
horizontal tornadoes
do not care who
you have or have not
fucked

responsive

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 17:30:28 -0400

it is not clever, not intellectual
not an idea nor a thought
instead sensual mentality
a mind hijacked
perpetually conceptualizing a sensation
fingers eyes nose energy attention
drawn tight on a line
strung tugging pulling
from every direction
yearning pooled over draining
probing
an opening
the whole hole
the edging the rim
the just in
sides unseen presence
gripping slickness
depth
unknown endings
space close safe
hollow moan
the sighed echo
returning
compellingest mystery
perhaps a trap so
attractive that notion
infinitely repeating the motion
withdrawal and penetration
all of every life
constant tension
opposing urges
going out and coming in again
spinning constant circles
shapes hung
woozy high and disoriented
dervishes
of enlightenment
in pure form
a feeling
i am lost
in seeking

getting ready to ride the mower... wanna?

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 15:58:00 -0400

give me assignments
or prompts or whatever
or something focused
{besides my usual self}
to pay attention to
and think about?

going to go grab a vegemite samwitch
then check back
the grass is doomed

hit me?

cave in

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 12:06:00 -0400

it is that sensitive
all the way back in
even more the deeper you go
mouth ears throat
ass vagina nose
take your pick
we just only ever know
about the sensation
right inside the entrance

because it is only the openings
we are obsessed with
no matter how much time
or focus we put into
running our hands along the surface
we are only searching
seeking holes
the way in
the avenues through which
we struggle to fill ourselves up
and pour ourselves out
gurgling pain and seething love
tunnels into the guts

where lives the heart of the matter
and the soul
stories then
most certainly come from
within darkness
where all living things
must begin

collect like blood
under the skin
a bruise
of self swollen
pool algae thriving
on pin prick cracks
of light
soft green wet
slimy
ready to be delivered
pulled and slipped
trickery labored

coaxing
through tender holes
out of hiding
into life

safe at the center
making the most
to share it
drawn out

let the internal tumblers fall
clicking loud percussion
echoing over and over
hollow primal drums

i am unlocked wide
exposure lens reality
washing tides
earth and water
hybrid
alive
dangerous

step back or
step in