Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Photo by George Anastasakos

Debbie Thinks She Needs A Bra


You hear me unbuckle my belt
Do I need it?
You certainly do
But maybe first, I'll use you like a little boy
and make you cry like a little girl
"Wasn't it Shakespeare who said? How can I hurt you, let me count the ways"
"No answer, oh silly me, you are gagged, just nod your head"
I'll remove that bit of cloth ,maybe later try something different to make you gag and nod your head
"my you are wet, you have been letting your mind wander, I distinctly remember telling you to think about what you've done"
"I said nothing about entertaining yourself with little girl fantasies of what I'll do to you"
well that settles it, it is to be the belt, but not just a few quick love taps on that firm ass, that will just encourage you, you need to learn to obey
" Fun and games isn't all fun and games"
no, I have lots of time and thighs and cunt are much more tender
"Count the strokes, backward from one hundred, if you get to one, I'll untie you, fuck you, come in you, then let you cry yourself to sleep in my arms"
"If you lose count, you can rest awhile and we'll start over, I'm a very patient man"
Text by yours truly Snidely Whiplash

Lovely Panties

Well, at least there's room to breathe...

via Film Noir

Play Time

via Double-DDelightful

Now For Some Advice

Found this advice to ladies:

Any girls out there ever been able to lick their own pussy? When I do this position, and keep going, my knees can squeeze the side of my head and I get SO CLOSE. If I had a dick, I would totally be able to suck myself off.

Must be a lot of bending over

via Ms. Savannah Sly


Erections, erections, erections, one day you're up...one day you're down. What can you do? Keep jerking, that's the answer ;)

via Danish Principal

Monday, January 30, 2012


Kisser, A Masculine Femininity

Just received my new cover for Kisser, A Masculine Femininity, soon to be released novella from JMS Books, about a young man learning what love can really be, affection, caring, sincerity, well...plain and simple Love. We seek it every single day, but if we find it do we recognize it for what it is?


Andrés Serrano - The Kiss. 1996

Sagging but still after the good stuff ;)

via And Who By Fire?

Pay Attention!

A course in Vladimir Nabokov. Well, it’s educational, I suppose…

via Eroticism & Literature

Floating Tits

Lovely botanical garden

via The Storeroom

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Dalí ... Showing Off

Dalí in France. 1967. by Robert Whitaker

Call For Submissions: Coming Together - Arm in Arm in Arm...

Coming Together: Arm in Arm in Arm... is a collection of erotic fiction with a tentacle sex theme edited by Nobilis Reed. All proceeds benefit Oceana, the largest international organization working solely to protect the world’s oceans.


Tentacle sex celebrates helplessness in the face of ravenous, remorseless, undeniable lust. I want to see stories with characters, settings, and plots. People change. The world is revealed. Things happen. They don't have to be deep, but they have to be there.

I want to see stories that stretch the boundaries of what defines tentacle porn. "Demon appears out of nowhere and rapes unsuspecting victim" is boring. Even hentai anime isn't doing that anymore. Give me more than that.

Stories set in any time period, setting, or sub-genre are fine. Any flavor of speculative fiction is fair game, and if you can figure out a way to do it with a contemporary setting, I'm good with that too!

I like funny stories, sad stories, angry stories, and thoughtful stories.  You can read some of my stories to get an idea of what I like; "In Her Arms" is free on DeviantArt plus there is the "Tentacle Dreams" anthology and "Incursion at Gene Bunker Four." I don't want to see a lack of exploration. I don't want vignettes that have no context or emotional foundation. I also don't want to see stories that don't deliver on their promises.

Stories should be between 2,500 and 7,500 words.  Exceptions will be made for outstanding stories. Previously published work is acceptable, but make sure that your right to submit the story for publication is clear.

Please submit .RTF or .ODT (open office) documents to authornobilis@gmail.com (cc: tentacle@eroticanthology.com) with "Submission for Coming Together: Arm in Arm in Arm" in the subject line. Questions can be sent to the same address.

This is a charity anthology, there will be no payment to the author or editor.  Instead, all proceeds will benefit Oceana, the largest international organization working solely to protect the world’s oceans.  

Learn about them at http://oceana.org

Excerpt From Power Play By Chellesie B Dancer

Here's a wonderful treat: an excerpt from the wonderful (and very sexy) Chellesie B. Dancer's new novel Power Play.  Enjoy!

Sergio Davis needs to make partner in the ad firm before he turns thirty, and his last chance is getting a huge new account with an underwear magnate. He's focused all his time and energy on this presentation, until he meets a beautiful woman in the parking garage. 
Liz is an heiress, hugely successful in business, but not so successful in her relationships. She wants a man who finds her attractive for herself, not her money. She encounters an artistic and sexy man who takes control and that triggers a submissive reaction in her. Realizing he’s enamored of her without knowing who she is, she sets up a seduction in the conference room where he’s scheduled to make his presentation to her. 
The attraction heightens, and Liz teases Sergio until he turns dominant. Once he discovers who she is, he plots his payback, controlling her body, her emotions, and her sexual pleasure. After a glorious night of sensational sex, the real control battle begins. Who will end up on top during the day, and during the night? 
Reader Alert! : As payback for seducing him at work, this hot young man takes control of this sexy CEO’s body, her emotions, and her sexual pleasure. He ties her up and seduces her through every room in her house and outdoors too. She’s bound to enjoy it, wouldn’t you? 
To My Readers: I wondered what kind of woman could seduce a man to risk his hard-won career to be with her. What if there was the danger of them being discovered any minute? I thought it would be fun to see how he’d plan his payback. What would he do if he had complete control over her for a night? 
About the Author: Chellesie B. Dancer enjoys writing contemporary, historical, and erotic love stories with a sprinkling of comedy. The women in her books dare to ask for their desires, so they truly will be satisfied ever after. Be careful what you wish for...
Chellesie lives on top of a hill overlooking the smog of sunny Southern California. Other than writing, she entertains at parties as an M.C., a clown, and occasionally a dancing gorilla. She’s the mother of three beautiful boys and an assortment of other critters. Luckily her husband cooks!

Chellesie B Dancer

    No way he’d fail this time, Sergio thought as he pulled into the parking garage an hour early. After years of honing his competitive edge, he wouldn’t go soft again. He locked his burgundy Civic, flipped the keys into his pocket and slung his suit coat over a shoulder. With his other accounts sacrificed to his coworkers, nothing could distract him from nailing this presentation and finally making partner, just in time.
    Heading to the elevator, he saw a profile in the dim light–the silhouette of her flirty dress, her Grecian nose, and her high cheek bones set against the harsh light behind her. Poetic.
    She turned and caught him staring. “Did I forget to put on clothes?”
  The amusement in her voice stirred him back into motion. As he neared, he saw long strawberry-blond hair and caught his breath. A gorgeous figure and a red-head too? Damn! “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. I was just captivated by the classic lines of your face… and, uh, dress. It’s just–your silhouette was so lovely against the glare of that bulb.”
    She smiled. “You’re an artist.”
    He shrugged. “Well, a graphic artist.”
    “An artist nonetheless.” Her tone suggested she was accustomed to being correct. “Art is art.”
    “I’d like to make art with you.” Damn, he didn’t mean that. Well he meant it, just didn’t mean to say it. Something about her made him to want to strip her nude and pose her in a hundred classic poses. And take her in every one of them.
    “Really?” She couldn’t contain her wickedly sexy smile. “Let me guess, you paint nudes?”
    Damn, was he that obvious? She watched him in anticipation. Was she flirting with him?
    “No, I don’t paint nudes.” A flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “But now that you’ve suggested it, I think it’s a great idea. When are you available?”
    An eyebrow raised, then her mouth tightened. “I’m a very busy woman. I’ll have to check my schedule.”
    Busy how? A gorgeous woman like that, how many men did she have in her life? Brushing aside that unsettling thought, he forged ahead. He’d never met a woman who intrigued him like this, and he wasn’t gonna let her run away. “We’re all busy. Let me know when you have an opening and I’ll clear my schedule to fit you in.” After he’d said it he noticed the double entendre.
    She must have gotten it, because she looked away. “It might be a while till I can find the time.”
    So she wanted to play coy. That’s all right, he was determined, he’d persist till she gave in. He approached her, instinctively summoning his most authoritative voice.
    “Make the time.”
    Her eyes widened for a split second before hardening into slits. “Oh, do you think I do anything that a man tells me to do?”
    Her scathing tone was meant to put him in his place. Instead it made him bolder. He stepped closer–too close–and that felt good. “No, of course not.” He moved again. An inch from her breasts. The electrical charge from invading her space zinged through his body. “Just anything I tell you to do.”
    Her mouth fell open and her eyes got steamy. It felt as though that electrical charge from his body had surrounded her and drawn her in. She was his.
    The elevator doors rumbled open behind her. As she stumbled back, he stepped forward and held them for her. She nodded her thanks, and turned. The soft turquoise fabric draped like silk over her curvy hips as she passed him, and he wanted to slide his hand along those curves. As she tapped the button, he darted a quick glance at her fingers–no ring. This was his lucky day.
    She fled to the far corner, almost against the wall. He envisioned himself pressing her against that wall, lifting her skirt and taking her right here in the elevator. His cock was flooded and hard, ready to take control. He shook his head slightly, trying to get blood flow back to his brain. Think. Gotta do something. Appropriate.


Size Queens



I've never read it but I've seen the book around. I'd love to get my hands on it...

via Mary Dear

Glug, Glug, Glug

Have a drink, have a bottle, have a cock

via The Unit


Size 0 or size 30, it’s in your attitude and your confidence!

I very much would like to paw that ;)

via Sex Is Liberating


Merriam-Webster Definition of TITFISH

Origin of TITFISH

1tit + fish; fr. the shape of its tentacles

Amazing what you find out here...like a handful

via You Can Fap To This

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Ah, Better...

In France they're known as Pissoir's

Urinal, A pissoir is also a French invention common in Europe that allows men to urinate in public street without the need for a bathroom while also avoiding the possibility of public urination onto buildings, sidewalks, or streets. They have become more common and some communities such as the patrons of San Francisco's Dolores Park have vocally demanded their installation. They are said to have the added benefit of freeing up regular single occupancy public bathroom toilets for women.[1]

via Perverts of Color
via Wiki

What To Read?

Great title, "The Man Who Loved Dirty Books." That would certainly keep me up late at night...and what's he doing with his other hand? Dirty, dirty....

The Man Who Loved Dirty Books is a crime novel by the American writer David Guy set in 1970s Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.[1]

It tells the story of Matt Gregg, an ex-cop transitioning to a new career as a private detective, who is pulled down into the world of underground porn and murder.[2]

via Leer Es Sexy
via Wiki

Biker Bra Wearer

Must be the late 1960's, poster of Peter Fonda in the window and she's definitely wearing a stiff bra, an item from the late 60's, plus her boobs are sticking out too much

via Bikes, Brews, and Babes

Friday, January 27, 2012

Unexpectantly touching

Sometimes, seeing what is different reminds me that we are all the same
I'm "different" too, in my way,

I long for the moment when I'm holding you down, overpowered and helpless
I'm pressing the head of my cock into your asshole and you freeze in pain and fear
Isn't it wrong to hurt a woman?
Your whimpers and tears, make me rock hard
(I hold back for a few seconds, heart pounding)
... hurt a woman I love?
Isn't it wrong that your crying makes me shake with excitement?
You don't need to say a word, I'll know, but I need your permission to go on
a tiny "please, fuck me" or " I love you" or just feeling you melt, welcoming me, not trying to escape
I'm afraid of this dark side of me
but it makes me feel so alive
and I can make you feel it too
Text by yours truly, Snidely Whiplash
Pic from swisssublover

Shh, Librarian on the Job

I love this picture with her beautiful legs draped in nylon hose, I could stare at those for a long time and stare some more. Very, very nice ;)

via Librarian in Stockings

Oh Canada...

via Hot Cute Sexy

Marcel Proust

I read Remembrance of Things Past while in college but hardly ever did any of my assigned reading for other classes. Weird, but in that year I seemed to attract many guys and professors, too. Must of been my reading glasses.

via LeRoy's Pink Fist

All We Needed

via The Naturist Rocker

Watch Out For Thorns

Oh baby, a big one

via Hoolawhoop

A Pickup

Those strange pickup places were divine...even if the other guy comes out the loser. Hell, there were loads of other places that hadn't been tried yet ;)

via Zenfancy

Thursday, January 26, 2012

A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou

Given the literary bent of Frequently Felt, probably a thick cigar and a thicker tome might feed our souls better,
The "thou" is a little thin, she needs that belly filled some of my home cooking.
( or something else filled with...that would also thicken her middle )
Personal aside, I still miss cigars after twenty five years
 I was a terrible slave to nicotine (tops always make terrible slaves)
Ten cigars or fifty unfiltered cigarettes a day
Smoking women look so damn hot, too
I have to disapprove for health reasons and I need to be puritanical about some things (it's a very short list)
but it gives me a wicked thrill like a priest given a glimpse of adolescent (or younger) thigh in the front pew
The pic is from longingtobeowned , a heartbreaking tragic blog of a very kinky and very lonely girl, I wish I could help but I can't flog the whole world.

Joanna Lumley

Black Tie

Popclub de José Arthur cover art by Roland Topor, 1983

a little game

I've told you before, he likes me on my knees.
So there I am again, happily, kneeling naked at his feet.

I stand to undress him as I've done a thousand times.
First the belt. The leather is worn and looks deceivingly soft.
We both know it's not. I place it on the bed near me, his two
favorite toys side by side and within his reach.

Shoes, socks, trousers...I pause when I start to unbutton his shirt.
It's been a good day. There is lightness in the room with us tonight.
I look him in the eyes. A smirk curls his lips. He knows this look
in my eyes. It's not the usual look of love, adoration or even fear.
My eyes are bright and playful. I can't suppress the wicked imp.
She is there in full force wanting to play. And he indulges her.
I love that about him. How he can humor me and let me have
what I want without ever letting me forget who's really in control.
I know what my role is. I'm his toy. His eager, willing, trusting fucktoy.

But now it's me who wants to play, who orders him not to move.
I slip off his shirt and slip my arms into it. It still hangs open for
him to see but I'm not as exposed as he likes to keep me.
I take my time, smelling him, touching him, moving my lips over anywhere
that I like. Teasing him with my tongue, I linger until I get a response and
stop abruptly moving on to other delicious parts. Tasting whatever pleases me,
he instinctively grabs my head and I pinch him hard. I order him again not to move.
Reprimanding him excites me. I stifle a giggle because it also scares me.
I know there will be payback but I can't help myself. I reprimand him again while
I move on to the bed in front of him. Sitting up, legs wide open for him to see
and I can feel I'm already wet. Spreading myself open more, I taunt him
with my words, asking him if he likes what he sees, asking him if he wants
to touch and more, always denying him. Taking a slick finger, I brush it over his lips, just a taste, just a tease for him and I lick it off myself. I'm happy with his response and lean in to lick that, too. Greedy. Greedy, Greedy. Sucking him while I play.

I want him as close as possible to me while I tease so I order him to his knees knowing the only time he goes to his knees is to hold me down or use me, never for servitude. I can hardly hold his stare, my stomach is in knots knowing he can end my game at any time, but I can't ignore how wet I get when he appeases me.
I order him to lick me, just a lick but he doesn't stop. It doesn't take me long to lose myself in a wave of orgasms. The moans he is forcing out of me are so loud, I never hear him pick up the belt until it hits down on my chest. He flips me over and pushes my head into the bed so fast I can barely catch my breath.
Game over. Payback will be a bitch.


Well, yes it does make me want to scream! Loudly! You see, it’s the third time this has happened to me -- males -- straight males, confusing me with the characters in my tales.

Have any other women writers come across this?

I write erotica. Sometimes what I write is downright, absolutely pornographic. I write to entertain, sometimes I write quite deliberately to arouse -- I write to explore what a fun thing sex can be. The games that we play; the games that we want to play, but dare not.

I hope that sometimes people laugh! Laughter is sexy!

If consolation is needed, then I hope that I console -- it’s a sad mind that thinks that you are the only person in the world, who has had strange fantasies -- sometimes what the world would see as perverted fantasies. I write for the guy who wants to be a mommy’s boy -- for the male or female who wants to be Dominated, humiliated, who suffers for the sake of the one that he or she idolises. Those who give up their right to orgasm, because their Master, or Mistress forbids it. They eat, sleep, wear clothes, defecate, urinate when they are permitted. I want to tell them that they are not weird. They don’t have to act on their dark fantasies, but they are entitled to have them.

Sometimes I write heavy stuff.

And I hope that women read my tales too. I write for them; to empower -- sexually.

One guy who wrote to me, declared himself a submissive. He wanted to be tied up, be beaten until he was “bruised and bloody”. He couldn’t possibly tell his wife, she would think he was a pervert.

So how can he tell me, a stranger, things that he would never divulge to the person he is closest to in all the world?

Sad, bad.

Do male writer’s of erotica get this? I wonder what their response would be? A gay friend, who writes gay male erotica, tells me that he’s had mails where his readers confess that they have masturbated after reading his stories. My friend’s response is: “well well”.

One New Year’s Eve, I had a cold so I decided not to join in the celebrations. I stayed in, warm and cosy. I was watching the new year arrive on television. Big Ben struck on the hour of midnight. The phone rang. A guy telling me to open my mouth, he was waiting to shove his penis in. It’s hardly poetry, is it? I was shocked and hung up. I was nervous and felt upset. Then I got to thinking, how would a man react to a dirty phone call? So I asked them -- gay and straight. Both said that they would laugh and probably be excited. So I wrote my story, “Retribution”. It’s about just that. A straight man receiving a dirty phone call from a woman. It’s in M.Christian’s anthology, “Best S&M Erotica vol.3" available at Sizzler and Amazon.



I mentioned all of this to an acquaintance; his response was -- “Well, given the genre you write in, don’t you think that this sort of thing is bound to happen?”

Maybe I’m naïve, but I didn’t. The males who have contacted me come over as intelligent guys; men with refined, intellectually developed, sophisticated minds. So why, after a few emails, do they ask me ask me inappropriate questions? Very personal questions. Have I ever…? Very creepy questions.

These questions take me by surprise rather than shock me. A bit like the dirty phone call on New Year’s Eve. Questions that unsettle me rather than distress me. I feel a little bit insulted too -- but most of all, I feel very irritated.

I could name names -- I could, perhaps I should. But I’m not going to -- that would make me spiteful, and I’m not spiteful.

But I am not Ulena, or Jasmine, or Sally, or whoever the hell the FEM/dom is in my tales. They are figments of my imagination; they are not me. I create these characters, just to see if I can do it. I put them and their submissive partners in depraved situations, just to see if I can do it. Human beings have always whispered tales of the forbidden; the taboo. Those tales are a part of every culture in the world, expressing stuff we dare not speak of.

Perhaps, one day I’ll move away from erotica/pornography -- maybe I’ll write something “worthy”. Heavens, there are plenty of issues to be going along with. Racism, homophobia, xenophobia, how we treat the elderly, child abuse, animal cruelty -- the list goes on and on. Perhaps I’ll write about the cult of celebrity -- the desire that half the world has, it seems, to be famous.

Maybe I won’t -- there are more than enough writers churning out “worthy” books.

I’ve deleted my Facebook profile -- no great loss there. I was getting inappropriate comments on my “wall”.

It’s fiction for God’s sake; it’s a story.

It seems that if I want to write in the erotica genre, then I have to hide -- But I will continue to write my tales of sexual release, sensual release -- and yes, even spiritual release.

I think that my ultimate aim, as a writer of erotica, is to express erotica with words, as beautifully as Dita von Teese does in her burlesque dance. Dita dances to entertain -- She dances to arouse men -- and women too. She’s also empowering women -- to be beautiful, to take control of their sexuality. She’s telling a story, a fiction -- her dance is no more real than any of my, or any other writer’s erotic/pornographic tales.

In her dressing room, Dita von Teese takes of her wig and heavy makeup. She kicks off the killer heels -- she probably slips, very elegantly of course, into a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt. She exits through the stage door -- her adoring fans don’t even recognise her. She tip toes away gracefully into the night.


To get lost in a book. To leave your world and enter a completely different one. Where anything is possible as long as you keep flipping the pages. Reading - a lost art now. Let’s bring it back, one page at a time.

via Library Porn
via Library Porn

Ah, Poor Baby

Hmm, lipstick over night?

via Big Titty Treats

On The Phone

Ballerina Mary Ellen Terry talking with her legs in telephone booth. Photograph by Gordon Parks, 1952.

Phone booths were always places of sex. When I was younger had a girlfriend who was always on a phone call there. She'd go in and sit down, while I went in, folding the door shut after me. Oh boy, did she know how to use her mouth! Standing there, my shoulders covering the door, who could have seen what was going on? But I heard in New York City there are practically no more phone booths left. Damn, where do kids go now?

via Cuntbarf

A Whizz

When you gotta go you just gotta go... Ahhh, better, whew!

via The Whore

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Ashley Wood

Sexy Braille

Important reading. Hey, enjoy life.

via Eroticism & Literature

Leopard Dress

Had a woman one time wearing a dress like this, all I can say, "She sure was slippery..."

via Get In The Fucking Car

Ms. Awesome!

Athlete Aimee Mullins

“Born without fibulae in both legs, Aimee’s medical prognosis was discouraging; she was told she would never walk, and would likely spend the rest of her life using a wheelchair. In an attempt for an outside chance at independent mobility, doctors amputated both her legs below the knee on her first birthday. The decision paid off. By age two, she had learned to walk on prosthetic legs, and spent her childhood doing the usual athletic activities of her peers: swimming, biking, softball, soccer, and skiing, always alongside “able-bodies” kids.”

And I thought I had it bad with my wheelchair she certainly gives me some inspiration.

via iiionu

Tuesday, January 24, 2012



Tenacious D Fuck her gently vostfr by WariorLite


Four feminine people dressed as Playboy Bunnies walking down a public street, probably in the 1960s.

Man, I would have been jerking off if I saw this! And what if I saw them from the front? My erection would have destroyed me, what a sight to see, them or me haha!

via Ireensarrows

The Book

Closing the book on you...more like slamming it shut!

via Sloughfoot


I was just a kid in the early 60s when this film came out and already the poster gave me some hard desires. But when I did see the movie I was confused, didn't know what the sexual hysteria was all about, there wasn't much sex shown. A hint, a tease, maybe that's what they were trying to do. I don't know, as a kid I felt cheated. The adults understood and I didn't.

via The Storeroom