Nov 302009


Photographer unknown

I had decided to start adding to my erotic art photography portfolio. Since my end results were primarily high contrast black and white, I wanted to delve into a more licentious subject matter. Porn can easily become art with just a small change in lighting and removing the color from the prints.

I wanted to photograph the contrast between the flesh of a hard-bodied male and a soft, curvy female. The two posing for me did not know each other. I knew each of them in my own weird social circles, though, so their comfort level with me translated well into a pseudo-comfort with each other. And their bodies looked exquisite together.

I made them hold poses for 5-10 minutes, sometimes difficult poses, until I got the angle of light and the angle of the shot “just so”. The proximity of their nakedness and my scrutiny resulted in this beautiful agony of arousal for them both. I asked if they would feel comfortable doing some poses of vaginal penetration for me, and they readily agreed. His thick cock and her diminutive outer labia really lent a “skewered and spread wide” filthy quality to the joining of the contrast in flesh. Her cunt was a glistening, split peach just swallowing his marble hard cock.

Each penetrative pose that I had them hold for such agonizingly long minutes added to their subtle desperate arousal. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what I was doing, what I was creating. She was laid back on a table, while he was standing. Her ass raised up off the table a few inches, and her legs wrapped around his hips for added support, left her body in this downward slant away from him. I had them hold a position of his cock halfway inside of her. As I stood next to her head I bent forward to get a different close-up angle and my long hair trailed over her breasts. I could see the controlled, but rapid, rising and falling of her chest as she did her best to remain stoic. Almost imperceptibly she started pumping her hips to get the friction her cunt was craving. I laid a cool hand on her mound, looked back at her, and sternly told her to be still – she was blurring the shot. Privately though I was grinning; I was pulling their strings so well.

I asked them to adjust slightly so that the current position was more exaggerated – I wanted to get a different angle and needed more space but the same depth of penetration. When I noticed how very wet she was, I used one finger to redistribute it from her cunt opening up to her clit and labia. A firm, slow, touch that teased his cock and her clit. As I did it I locked eyes with him; we smiled at each other when we heard her whispered moan as my finger grazed her swollen clit. It was his turn to groan when I sucked her juices off my finger before continuing. When I looked at her I could see the pink flush creeping across her breasts and face, I knew her breathing was more labored. She looked so beautiful, so overcome with lust, so tortured. I moved the accent light, I slowly walked around them to snap a few more shots. I instructed him to slowly penetrate her almost to the hilt and then lean his body backward. When he did this, I watched her face. Her eyes closed and her lips parted to a slight “o”; the furrowed brow came next and I snapped a few photos of her face for my own use. Then I spread her labia around his cock, a pair of lips in a kiss. Another quick graze over her clit just to be sadistic. A few more shots and I noticed his breathing was getting more shallow and rapid, his eyes closing, his face the same portrait of pleasure as hers.

“What is she doing?” I asked him.

“She’s…..I don’t know….she’s milking my cock….it’s like sex but its…not…” He could barely speak around the controlled effort not to fuck the shit out of her, I presume.

“Carrrrieeee” I taunted. “You just can’t help yourself, can you. You’re trying to come.”

She didn’t answer me. She was lost. I moved and stood right next to him, facing her. I whispered to him to not dare come. She had listened to me; she wasn’t moving her body but I could just make out the movements of her cunt. With my camera held precariously in one hand, aimed at their sexes, I used my other hand to briefly tease and kick her over the edge. With a finger on either side I lightly stroked his cock and let my fingers trail down to do the same to her clit. Back up, back down. My eyes on her face, my camera much lower. Another few strokes and I stopped so that I could concentrate on taking photos of her coming while stretched out around his cock. She whined her apology and her body began these subtle convulsions as she began to come.

“John, you are still not to come, do you hear me?” To his credit he did not…..until she finished contracting around his cock and I told them we were finished. The outward stroke of his cock exiting her body was the last straw, or perhaps the dam just being released. As he climaxed, he sunk to his knees, cock in hand with this full-body look of sheer relief, frustration and bliss all rolled together. I caught that on camera too, clicking away. More for my personal collection.

I kissed her goodbye, deeply, to let her go shower and get dressed.

“Well, John, if you’ll excuse me I need to go pretend to upload these shots to my computer while I actually go jerk off real quick. You two finished, now I need to.” I said. But he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down to him for a kiss. As my clothes were shoved aside I soon found out that he wasn’t quite satisfied and wouldn’t dare leave me to tend to my needs by myself.

Nov 302009

Well, I made it through the holiday and weekend without killing somebody or getting disowned. Barely. Dinner with the in-laws actually wasn’t *quite* as bad as I expected, perhaps because this time they were forced to talk to us without my mother there. I nearly said a few inappropriate things but managed to catch it in time. The food was better than previous years thanks to my subtle and sometimes-secret intervention. You see, his dad doesn’t use salt, butter, etc on most standard things…no seasonings. It is my firm opinion that mashed potatoes need salt, butter, milk. I think he just mashed them up with the starchy potato water. But I covertly threw in about 1/4 cup of kosher salt into the boiling water, so they weren’t completely awful. I also snuck salt & pepper into the gravy while I helped stir. Due to me buying him one of those digital probe thermometers that are endorsed by Alton Brown, the turkey turned out beautifully – shockingly, he listened to me about time and temp. Of course, he still kept obsessively wondering if the goddamn “button” had popped yet despite me telling him it wouldn’t pop, it didn’t pop last year, its meant to pop up at higher temps than we want.

Dinner with my family on Saturday ended up being a nightmare. My mom was in a shit ton of back pain and sick from it. No matter what I did or said it was nearly impossible to get her to just let me handle it so she could lay down. When the extended family showed up to help, it became this chaotic nightmare. Between having 7 adult women and 2 teenage girls in the kitchen and having 3 younger kids literally running and screaming through the house, my nerves were fried before we sat down to eat. In fact, I couldn’t even sit at the table at first, I wanted to just run away. I felt claustrophobic, and just wanted to be alone. Had to take a valium to get through it. Saturday cemented the fact that I’m not ready for kids, and when I am, I am adopting a girl. The boys…..I don’t know why I’m surprised, they’ve been hell-spawn since the age of 3 but holy mother of pearl I told them to stop running, stop jumping, stop the pillow fight, 45 times if I said it once and it all made me want to stab my cousins for not discplining their kids better (or at all).

Apparently being off of most of my psychiatric drugs is really messing with me in bizarre ways. I was on one ADD stimulant and 2 antidepressants (which are a stimulant in their own way) (wellbutrin and a new one for fibromyalgia pain). They took me off the Wellbutrin because the one day I was in to see the psych my blood pressure was elevated. He then said that I didn’t NEED to be on two anti-depressants and so he took me off the Wellbutrin….forgetting that the other one is slightly different and given to me for my fibromyalgia, forgetting that the Wellbutrin affects dopamine whereas the other one does not. I’m always too overwhelmed when I’m at the doc and so I didn’t think of my comeback till later: “The reason I came to see YOU was to work out if it was alright for me to be adding that fibro med onto my current psych meds and you said it was fine. Now it’s not??”.  And then my pill-taking schedule got all out of whack (breaks in routine do that – the NY trip was a big break in routine and then I was out of the ADD med for a week and then the med change) and I have consistently forgotten the ADD med now for 2 weeks. The other one I mostly remember at night, mostly forget during the day. But somehow being off the stimulants has made me manic.

When I was first put on all three at the same time, I now realise, was when the writer’s block first kicked in. I’m able to do a little bit more now, but I’m still having problems. However I’m not in the fog that I was in back then. I’m such a puzzle, and I need a better doctor to figure me out. I’ve been on so many meds, so many diagnosis and nothing yet appeases Psychiatric Goldilocks….nothing is just right. It seems that the more stimulants I am on, the more asleep I am. Which can make some sense….its why they give ADHD patients (some of whom are already notoriously hyper) a stimulant to calm them and their brain down. In some ways I kinda like this manic phase. Sure, my ability to focus and shit is way off kilter but I’m liking the nervous energy. Of course not when it results in the “Lilly wants to cower in the corner and cry” just from being in a loud chaotic mass of family members.

WOW. That was a fucking rambling scrambled mess, wasn’t it…..

This is why I haven’t yet written much these last two weeks since the manic has kicked in….sure the beginnings of ideas and ability are there but I can’t make it proper and pretty and…..readable lol. Um so yeah….sorry….but Rage asked for it!

Nov 272009

She always was able to lose herself in a good book. Her vivid imagination painted the scene, conjured up the voices, simulated the emotions. It was a blessing and yet sometimes a curse. As was usual when reading an erotica book, she was able to imagine herself in the scenarios being described. Her most recent acquisition of erotica was no different and she couldn’t deny the throbbing in her cunt. That night, her mind instinctively included Him in these thoughts; but the moment she consciously realized what her mind was doing, she shook it off and kept on reading.

“Must not do that anymore”, she said to herself.

But oh, the pull of her mind, it was too much to deny. She surrendered and let her imagination run free. Just one more time.

As her orgasm built she could practically feel His hand on her throat, his lips at her temple, could almost hear the filthy words he would have uttered at one point. It had been a long, slow climb with an expected grand finish.

The orgasm, however, surprised her.

It was not her cunt releasing fluids and climaxing with pleasure. No, there was wetness but it was not in the right place. As her weak and confusing clitoral orgasm diffused, the tears pouring from her eyes suddenly came into focus.

Instead of the built up sexual pleasure releasing, the blocked heartache released. She let the tears do their thing, she let herself be lost in the emotions and the purging. The  painful, heavy lump in her throat had to be dissolved. She silently wept in the darkened bedroom; tears for the lies she had told herself, tears for the fantasies that would never see the light of reality, tears for the loss of him, tears for what she wasn’t able to give him. Bitter anger for never managing to be “more” than the ghosts of his past; self-defeat for not managing to be enough of……anything, really. So much wrong, not enough right.

When the tears stopped of their own accord, she acknowledged to herself: “That was the last time”.

The last time her fantasies would include him.

The last time she would long for him.

The last time she would cry over him.

She put his shoes away; in a box, in the closet, underneath a stack of junk. Chin up, deep breath…..walk away.

Pleasurists #55

 Pleasurists  Comments Off on Pleasurists #55
Nov 272009

Pleasurists is a round-up of the adult product and sex toy reviews that came out in the last seven days. For updates and information follow our RSS Feed and Twitter.

Did you miss Pleasurists #54? Read it all here. Do you have a review for Pleasurists #56? Use our submission form and submit it before Sunday November 29th at 11:59pm PST. Be sure to read our submission guidelines.

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Looking for something other than reviews?
The latest (and first) edition! e[lust] #1

Editor’s Pick

  • LELO Elise by Scintillectual
  • Remember when I said I was on hiatus from relationships? Well, I lied. I know, I know! I can hear my friends railing now about the fact that I jump into things too quickly and yes, she has already moved in with me. But, really, I do think she’s THE ONE. Before you get all hot and bothered, let me introduce you. Dear reader, this is LELO Elise.

    Note: Apparently I’m loving LELO reviews again this month (last week’s EP was LELO Ella)! I’ve read many many Elise reviews so they have to be special in order for them to catch my eye or make me want to finish them, and this one is written in an extremely entertaining manner so even if you’re burned out on LELO reviews like I thought I was it’s definitely worth the read.

Scarlet Lotus St. Syr

On to the reviews… Continue reading »

Nov 252009

*Disclaimer: I’m kinda off my meds right now. Well, some of them. Somehow going OFF the stimulants has me more awake to the point of being jittery, has dissolved the “inappropriate filter” a good deal, while at the same time completely killing what little ability I had remaining for focusing on the tasks at hand. You’ve been warned.

Actually, the only people I’ll likely end up offending are the ones who are too uptight and take themselves too seriously.

As I sit here hoarding the pumpkin roll and orgasming over the cream cheese frosting, let me take this time to say that if there was a product that made male ejaculate taste like sweetened cream cheese (but ew no NOT the consistency thankyouverymuch) then I just might become a cocksucking whore. Seriously it’s shameful how much I’ve eaten today and the absolute lack of self-control when I’m in the room with an item frosted with cream cheese. I daresay I’d even eat banana bread if it had creamcheese frosting on it. (holymotherfuck I bet people click on the link to this page from google searches for ‘cream cheese frosting recipe’ and hoooboy are they in for a shocker and no I don’t mean the hand gesture)



Oh, clarification: Twitter is not  cyber-sex chat room. I know of two couples right off the bat who are going to heartily disagree with me on this (and they know who they are) but I also know of many others who will agree with me on this (and if you don’t cop to it in comments, then you’re a Douchetard). Before they get pissy, let me say that my opinion on this doesn’t mean I have anything against them personally. Not at all. But since I have to see the cybersex tweets in my stream because I follow you, I feel I am allowed this opinion. Captain Awkward (pronounced CAPTAIN AWWWWWKWARRRDDD a la Captain Caveman) is here to tell you kiddies that it’s usually not hot, it’s uncomfortable. It’s private and we feel like we’re intruding but yet we’re not. If you find your cybersex to be so hot that it would be a shame to hide it from the world, then turn the transcript into a blog post.

The Problem with Yoga

Crissy has a new post today up at Toy With Me. I love this lady, but I have to learn not to read her posts while at work. I had to suck in my cheeks like fishyface and bite them so as to not bust out laughing and then be quesioned “Whatcha laughin at??” by the first nosy co-worker who walked by. I also must say that Crissy is one fucked up lady for thinking up these sex positions in the first place, these positions that require the safety harnesses that the Cirque du Soleil. Or.


[……..] OOOOO or in a zero gravity room!!! CRISSY!!!! THATS IT!!! These are sex positions to try when you have a zero gravity experience and if you started a pay-by-the-hour zero-gravity hotel with these illustrations hung up like art, for inspiration, you’d make a fortune. In Japan.

I know, right?!?! (call me, I know a guy, he’ll back it if we install spycams)



I’m a people-pleaser. Yes I know that sounds like a bad line from an interview or cover letter for any given retail job or a euphemism for big ole slut but I really am. Some tell me I’m too nice, and I’m finally realizing that I think I am. I’ve seen recently that a few friends are taking advantage of me, taking me for granted. Let me tell you something. I do not have the ego enough to state that the grass isn’t greener on the other side of me. It very well could be, because people I am FAR from perfect. But let me just say that when you slight me in favor of that greenie-green grass? You’d better learn to love it because the gate will be closed, you can’t come back and get the same quality of grass that you got from me before. I will not be the temporary placard while you wait for the better thing to come along.

Also let me just say that if anybody reads that and feels the need to ask me if I’m referring to them, then they should take a minute and think about why their guilty conscience assumed it so. And when you’re done thinking, just keep it to yourself.



I’m really dreading the holiday this week. Why? Did you read the disclaimer up there??? The in-laws are a little….proper. I can’t swear in front of them. I feel the need to sit ramrod straight and make sure I use the proper fork. I’m so afraid that I’ll make last years slip-up look like child’s play. All I did was spill something on the pretty clothe tablecloth and out of my mouth flew “SHIT!” and the table went silent as my hub and mom tried to stiffle giggles and the in-laws tried to not let their abject horror show. In conversation this week with one of the two girlfriends I have with whom I can let the snark fly, she’s telling me about a family Christmas tradition that they’re practically being held at gunpoint to play along with. I can’t tell you all the details and really it’s a “you have to have been there” but I said “Christ what is this, a Merry 3rd Reich Christmas?!?”. *sigh* Or how about I’m in Target the other day, and I pick up a container with no barcode on it OF COURSE and I’m in a hurry OF COURSE but thankfully instead of the guy making someone go check, he asked if I recalled the price. Jesus man, no, I barely remember what row I parked my car in. The price was fuzzy in my head but I knew it started with 6 and ended with 9. I said this. I SAID THAT! I said “I think it’s like $6.29 or $6.49….I’m not sure. I know there’s a 6 and a 9 in there but I forget that middle number” and then he asked his manager for the ok to just use that price and SHE asked me and I SAID IT AGAIN and I didn’t REALIZE what I was saying until I walked away from the register and then I was overcome by embarassment and the giggles like a goddamn 12 year old.

Holy Fuck.

I’ll just have to tell Hub to do most of the talking tomorrow, and then for the dinner with my (considerably less uptight) family on the weekend, I’ll be sure to avoid alcohol and make sure the adults know that Aunt Lilly might not be “under 18 approved” this weekend and to hide away their children.

Nov 222009

It started simply. It started quickly. We transitioned from the occasional flirty glance to daily teasing and talking all because of one moment of my carelessness, one moment of his prying eyes. I was standing in the elevator lobby tapping away on my cellphone, adding the photo I had taken in my car moments before to a text message to someone, and I didn’t know that D was behind me. We rode the elevator up to the top floor together and about halfway up all other occupants got out.

“So did he like it?”

I just stared at him, heart racing, hoping he didn’t mean what I thought he meant. The grin on his cute, boyish face confirmed against my hopes.


I knew I was blushing and all I could say was “He hasn’t replied yet”. The teasing, kinda-cocky glint in his eye brought my own smile out. We said no more, just proceeded to our respective sections to find our cubicles.

In the days that followed a tentative email and a knowing grin while passing by multiplied into more. We found brief moments throughout the workday to surreptitiously tease and flirt via email. Coded words, double entendres,  secret communications. A heavily-veiled but obvious-to-us message coupled by an innocent-to-others meeting at the printer 5 seconds after for a few words to be quietly uttered that were most definitely not safe for work.It took a lot of self control for us both to keep straight faces and limit the number of “coincidental” encounters and keep our fun under the radar of nosy nearby co-workers.

Soon we were augmenting our coded emails with raunchy text messages. It didn’t take him long to ask to see that same photo that started it all, the one he only caught a glance of, a flash of naked skin. I pondered that, I weighed the risk. I decided to ask for an insurance policy. I told him I wouldn’t send it to his phone unless he sent me a naughty pic first. For once I managed to silence the boy with all the snappy comebacks. I texted him again and proceeded to describe the photo he was asking for in explicit, sultry words. Then I described another one that was also in my phone. When I told him to meet me at the copier in 1 minute, his response made it hard for me not to outwardly gloat.

“I can’t get up from my desk right now without being obvious that uh….something came up…”

“Show me. Now. Turn away from T and let me see what is so obvious.”

The photo he complied with showed a bulge that seemed out of place in his work pants. Ha! Subtle, but I knew what I was looking at. And thus, the teasing and risque photo dares started (there is something so deliciously naughty about a hard cock surrounded by office clothes). It was hot and arousing and distracting and such a delicious surprise, this turn of events. But yet still…..this did not go beyond work. This did not go beyond glances, words, text and photos despite how close by our cubicles really were. Until…..

Until the day I was wearing this ever-so-slightly sheer top at work. I went into the bathroom to take a photo for him, my bra cups shoved down and tits exposed. The text along with the photo told him that I was leaving my bra like that for awhile and that he should take notice the next time he walked by me. Oh, he noticed. A little while later as we stood by the printer pretending to sort through papers he stood close to me for a moment and accidentally-on-purpose brushed the back over his hand over my breast. The touch caused my nipple to harden instantly. Oh, he noticed. For what felt like minutes but was more like 3 seconds, his fingers lightly caressed my rock hard nipple through my thin shirt. I didn’t breath until he stopped and once he did stop it took me a minute to regain my composure and know that I could walk the 8 feet to my desk. Aided by our clutches of printed papers, me hiding my nipples that could cut glass and him hiding the hard bulge in his dress pants, we scurried back to our cubes where the messages flew back and forth. He knew about my bullet vibrator; he knew I carried it with me but I had told him that I never used it at work before or at least not at my desk. He thought he was being so daring. He asked questions about it and I knew what was coming.

“You should go put the bullet in and turn it on while you’re at your desk…..I dare you, Lilly.”

Oh gee, why gosh no, I couldn’t possibly do that……

Oh, a dare, you say? Well how can I refuse then?

And so it went. He asked, I told, about how good it felt and how naughty I was. I told him how my chest was flushed red and I was so close to coming. It was nearing 4pm. He waited a bit longer, for half of our co-workers to head out for the day, before he came to my desk under the guise of showing me how to look something up in our system. And he saw for himself my beautiful agony, how badly I needed it. While I followed his work-related instruction he whispered “I dare you to come right here at your desk as I watch”.

I should win an Emmy for that performance. Pretending to be taught, pretending to ask real questions, all while letting only barely audible moans escape as he spoke and I ground the bullet into my clit. As I felt that moment of imminent orgasm I couldn’t speak, I could only subtly tap his hand to let him know. He stared and watched the show as I tried to feign normalcy while my body betrayed me. My eyelids fluttered, I jerked three tiny body spasms that slipped from my control, and I felt the heat spread across my face and my chest. When I met his eyes again I saw awestruck lust.

“Thanks for showing me, D, I’ll let you know if I have any other problems.” I smiled serenely and stared at him until he walked away, with a tiny restrained smile on his lips.