Consenting Adults

I want to photograph you (naked, on my bed) in this diffuse, counterintuitively warm, fall light....

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 18:22:00 -0500

I want to photograph you (naked, on my bed) in this diffuse, counterintuitively warm, fall light. muted light shafts from windows, humid steam heat, sprawled stretching, comfortable grinning.

there is a way she offers herself which is more a challenge than mere passive proffering - hands...

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 14:29:00 -0500

there is a way she offers herself which is more a challenge than mere passive proffering - hands spreading her ass or pulling my hand to her breast - it is an invitation, but one made only once, and which is contingent on the method of acceptance, the zest with which it’s grasped.

i find myself shaking you violently to try and wake me from this lethargy

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 11:03:19 -0400

i find myself shaking you violently to try and wake me from this lethargy

I always think I am pushing until i see that smile of self satisfied encouragement, then I wonder if...

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 10:20:29 -0400

I always think I am pushing until i see that smile of self satisfied encouragement, then I wonder if I am, instead, being drawn along…

I remember thinking “we communicated through touch” implied some light as a feather...

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:09:47 -0400

I remember thinking “we communicated through touch” implied some light as a feather divining of her cogitations, as if through mere contact I would be able to read her thoughts, but now I realize that it’s far more human than that - I push, explore, sate and you express pleasure or displeasure, and we learn about each other…..

undress for me, slowly, feeling the revelation of each layer, each garment. I want to watch you...

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 11:56:55 -0400

undress for me, slowly, feeling the revelation of each layer, each garment. I want to watch you shimmy self-consciously. Stand before me and turn; bend, revealing yourself to me. I want to have your flesh at my fingertips

sex begets the desire for sex, and I’m there. It returns like an old friend, seemingly uneeded...

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 12:19:28 -0400

sex begets the desire for sex, and I’m there. It returns like an old friend, seemingly uneeded in its absence and then one of the exigencies of life in its re-acquaintance. I want to collect bodies whose minds I respect for their ability to become lost in the debased.

I love that moment when it changes. I’ll try to predict / precipitate the moment, and am...

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 17:17:40 -0400

I love that moment when it changes. I’ll try to predict / precipitate the moment, and am always wrong, for this moment is different to the last, different to the next. for some the moment is tender - nails softly down the back; for some the moment is torrid - held bent hair pulled skin slapped. This time the moment was as I touched her ass, prompted the descent to vulnerability.

I feel Fall like the apotheosis of sunday dusk, too heavy with introspection for the intimacy that...

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 11:20:03 -0400

I feel Fall like the apotheosis of sunday dusk, too heavy with introspection for the intimacy that this grey sky craves. The only comfort is in the cruel clinical affection of rope wrapped, methodical knots, touch removed by the length of a cane.

I thought I’d create a place to put the images I had posted to bend me over (the wonderful...

Wed, 26 Aug 2009 13:58:00 -0400

I thought I’d create a place to put the images I had posted to bend me over (the wonderful site created by Sarah Christine).

a friend (who’s in a New Relationship) last night: “we’re tender with each other...

Wed, 19 Aug 2009 09:30:28 -0400

a friend (who’s in a New Relationship) last night: “we’re tender with each other at all times except when in the bedroom”

there is a moment when the light touch of fingers and nails drawing figures of eight across her back...

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 23:56:41 -0400

there is a moment when the light touch of fingers and nails drawing figures of eight across her back loses the pent curious zeal of lust and starts to feel like a chore. I’m not sure if the the lacking is communicated through fingertips, I couldnt tell you how one touch differs from another. that moment, though, that id-like signifier that that the joy of the beginning has ended, always catches me by surprise.

this is how sunday afternoon should fade into night… the sweet tart taste of champagne and...

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 16:33:54 -0400

this is how sunday afternoon should fade into night…
the sweet tart taste of champagne and orange, full bodied deep brown black coffee, molten chocolate cake too early in the afternoon, the lightheaded pleasure of 3 drinks in at 3.30, skin on skin, arms wrapped around, the soft caress of hands in hair. Warm air on bodies, blankets with the kiss of mohair tangled in limbs, the strewn trail of debauchery - clothes, a scarf still attached to headboard, a spluttering candle, garish discarded plastic wrappers, massage oil, massive attack. Cheese and carrs crackers, olives.

the ice coaxed her nipple high, and i kissed it, then bit it, and she gasped and later said - there...

Fri, 13 Mar 2009 02:12:40 -0400

the ice coaxed her nipple high, and i kissed it, then bit it, and she gasped and later said - there is a perfect moment when the heat of your lips and the pain overcomes the numbing cold and i am flooded with the warm blood rush of want….

in the name of novelty, we contort ourselves in excruciating poses, but there is some wonderful...

Wed, 11 Feb 2009 20:14:00 -0500

in the name of novelty, we contort ourselves in excruciating poses, but there is some wonderful moment when the pain of discomfort becomes the pleasure of a muscle straining to elicit greater contact.

i’m trying out words which imply monogomous commitment, to see how they feel in my mouth. I...

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 09:36:00 -0500

i’m trying out words which imply monogomous commitment, to see how they feel in my mouth. I still find that words which describe the joy of discovering what brings a smile to an unfamiliar set of lips roll more easily from my tongue.

internally contradictory: the greatest compliment should not be to enumerate all those little quirks...

Wed, 14 Jan 2009 12:46:00 -0500

internally contradictory:

the greatest compliment should not be to enumerate all those little quirks which i love, but to ask questions about all those things of which i am curious. dont let me spell out the things i know, let me marvel at your depth and hint at my attentive observation by asking about the things i dont - it’s finding out about the unknowns that turns me on, they are what keep me coming back.

There is a game i play. I am infinitely curious, and i see the exploration of that curiosity as a purely intellectual excercise. I want to know - everything - what i do which you find seductive, what i do which you don’t, what you would do for me, with me, with somebody else, what the things i could not, physically, experience feel like, what the things i could physically experience feel like for you. I maintain the veneer that this is a purely objective study.

she paused to relish her curiosity, i think, or form a thesis to test, before bending to run her...

Fri, 28 Nov 2008 12:57:00 -0500

she paused to relish her curiosity, i think, or form a thesis to test, before bending to run her tongue along the mix of menses and cum at the end of my cock, and, realizing there was nothing to fear, returned with wonderful and wanton ardor…

Tension is erotic. The G rating in so much of what I see is due to its lax, limpid passivity. From...

Wed, 26 Nov 2008 03:04:00 -0500

Tension is erotic. The G rating in so much of what I see is due to its lax, limpid passivity. From Playboy and Penthouse as well as the artful nudes of today, it is the lack of tension which diminishes the salacious. Give me Eros, that tense little fucker, with his fear that his aim may be poor, his step trepidatious in pursuit, muscles attached to wings stretched taut, the string of the bow a high pitched quiver, right arm straight, left hand close to the ear. There is a lack of certainty which is delicious, a want which is full of desire, a concentration on purpose which excludes mere comfort. Beware the fat hallmark cherub masquerading as a god - this louche, lethargic figure is a pale reflection of that which Eros symbolizes.

I want to feel want, lust, pain, joy, uncertainty, i want to see tendons stretched and muscles taut, arms extended to grasp desire, fervid mouths feeding hungrily on concupiscence.

mere acquiescence lacks the base humanity which makes this fun. Comfort, I fear, is for the frigid.

she lay with her legs akimbo. there was such femininity in the way that she was splayed… at...

Sat, 15 Nov 2008 17:49:00 -0500

she lay with her legs akimbo. there was such femininity in the way that she was splayed… at the same time nurturingly maternal and wantonly vulnerable. It asked for trust, it was an invitation to be depraved.