Archive for December, 2013

To All My Friends At WordPress

Posted in Bereavement with tags on December 31, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

   To All My Friends At WordPress

I would like to wish all of my Friends at WordPress a Joyous and Prosperous New Year.

Yesterday I was informed of the death of my Mother, so I apologize for not personally replying to each of you.

As I am anticipating a long trip, many details, and arrangements to be made, I will announce my return.


Chazz Vincent

This Theater of the Mind

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Dancing in Dreamland, Dirty, Dominance and Submission, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Fun, Humor, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much To Good For Children, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Random Observations, Sacrilege, Satire, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Id, The Talking Monkeys, Theater of the Mind, Vagina, What You Have Conjured Up, Witchcraft, Zen with tags , , , , , , on December 30, 2013 by dreamlanddancing


This Theater of the Mind

All the world’s is a stage…(that we’re going through)…and we are all players in this Theater of the Mind….

I was wondering the other day if people ever choose their religions by what sins they would be committing when they do commit them?

I suppose that if a man (or woman) can choose their own poison, they should also be allowed to choose their own punishment….

(Imagine, in my perfect world, a guy goes to confession… he says to the priest “Father, forgive me…I masturbated five times a day last week.”, What should I do as an act of contrition? whereupon the priest says…”Look…here’s One Hundred Dollars…go downtown and pick up a Catholic hooker named Rose Flannigan…you’ll recognize her right away…she’s a ginger with freckles and carrot-top red hair…and take her to dinner, and treat her really nicely before you fuck her…it will do you both a world of good…she needs the money and the validation, and you need to get out more.”)

I mean, virtually any life any of us chooses to live is essentially an acceptance of certain codified rules and laws that determine what a priori assumptions and conditions must be present to support one view of reality, and almost all of it seems to be someone else’s invention…like gown-ups playing children in adult clothes, only with less imagination.

Whether you are a Hell’s Angel or an investment banker, your mode of dress and behaviors are rather rigidly pre-determined if you desire safe passage through the realms of either.

This is what separates cannibal headhunters from family court attorneys, even though on the surface, many of their behaviors are remarkably similar, but ah! I digress….

What concerns me the most is why most Western religions hate sex so much, worship virginity, preach abstinence, and generally eschew Fun? Why are we so quick to condemn behaviors that naturally satisfy our most basic needs and desires?

What would our world be like if there was such a thing as an Episcopal temple prostitute? Why not “Whores of Mensa”?

Who says? Under what authority? Your God, or mine?

Similarly, Kink/Fet, LGBTG, and Polyamorous “Communities” all seem to need rules, guidelines, bi-laws, charters, sanctions, and their own newspapers and magazines, issuing statements, pronouncements and whitepapers to tell people the difference between right and wrong, or appropriate vs. inappropriate for that particular group’s members so that they know how to behave.

I italicized “Communities” because it is odd that although we do so much to separate “Us” from those “Not like Us” economically, racially, and culturally, there is not generally a “Gay Town” or “Swingers Corners”, or even concepts like “The Understated Elegance of Bondage Manors…(a very well-disciplined community)”.

Nudist colonies are the notable exception. It might be nice to live in a gated community that was inhabited only by fellow perverts of a similar stripe, for instance, but then again….

There is a decided lack of diversity in each of the “Alternative Lifestyles” to the point that there is a great deal of bashing of transgender and bisexual individuals within the Gay/Lesbian communities, for instance.

Why learn to think outside one box only to crawl back into another one?

I enjoy the company of just about every type of pervert that exists, but it seems like I end up moving from one circle to another with very little overlap or congruency. Most people seem to need concentricity just to feel validated.

After a few years pursuing any style of living, you start to resemble others of a similar persuasion, whether it be hairstyles, humor, tattoos, scars, or attitude and demeanor, and after a while you can tell who is who even when we’re naked.

I prefer the adventure of experimentation. Why do I have to join your union or wear your flag just to get naked with you? Sometimes I like the top, other times, perhaps the bottom…I love the smell of leather in the evening…whether it’s in my hand, or against my skin…and although I prefer the feather to the actual live chicken, I try to keep my mind, and my options open….

I figure you ought to try anything at least three times, just to make sure you got it right before you make a judgment about it.

Are there any other Eclectic Omnivores out there? What about Sexually Deviant Scientists? Pervert Philosophers? Free-lance reporters for International Pornographic? Or even Dr. Satan’s All-Volunteer Human Meat-Puppet Show? (It’s hilarious!)

How about an Actor’s Guild for the Theater of the Mind? There’s one union to whom I might consider paying dues….

Feel free to ring me up.

THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki V: The Uroboros

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Fun, Imp Of The Perverse, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much To Good For Children, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, Uroboros with tags , , , , , , , on December 29, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

THFWS: Charles and Suki V: The Uroboros

A few minutes after five AM Suki awoke with a start to the sound of the alarm on her phone. She had lost all track of time sometime before she lost consciousness, but it felt like five minutes sleep at best.

The next thing she noticed was that Gerard was already up, and was sitting beside her with a cup of fresh coffee and a croissant (courtesy of Seven-Eleven), smiling broadly like the cat that just ate the canary.

It was starting to come back to her now….

The sheets felt like moist Velcro as she tried to separate herself from them in order to attempt to sit up. She knew she only had about ten minutes before she had to be out the door to get back to her father’s house before he awoke. She also knew she was definitely not a morning person, but apparently Gerard was.

She knew what was making her feel so uneasy…she hadn’t experienced puppy love in a long time, and she was suddenly aware of just how long.

She thought about Charles, and then tried to not think about him…nothing was working…and Gerard was still sitting there looking starstruck and drunk with infatuation…and she also decided she was going to let herself feel good about this.

Gerard was too good to be true, so she figured as long as it was temporary, it was meant to be enjoyed. She wondered if he was really necessary for her to allow herself to feel so good about herself.

She was also aware of just how crusty and sticky she felt…It was time to go. Gerard kissed her for what seemed like half past forever until she finally had to pull herself away.

When Suki got into the car, she realized that due to the pounding and soaking her pussy and ass had received last night she was disinclined to put any panties on, and would be well advised to sit on a towel if she didn’t want to leave a slime trail on her dad’s new leather seats, but the towel was too rough, so she figured that she would just have to buy him a new chamois before he started driving again.

In the meantime, it felt strangely pleasurable to feel herself squirm and tingle every time she moved. She shivered, and laughed as she sang “That fresh-fucked feeling” to no one in particular. It also gave her time to reflect.

She suddenly realized that she enjoyed how conflicted she felt…it was all just a part of the dance. You have to go outside your comfort zone to experience something new and fresh.

As she contemplated what had been happening, it occurred to her that she didn’t have to either complicate this, or analyze it. What made perfect sense was to let everything happen the way it was meant.

She began to re-evaluate her reactions to Jennifer’s crush on Charles, and the effect it had on him…as well as how she felt about it, In retrospect, she had envied how Charles must have felt, and was sorry she had spoiled it for him on a certain level by not being more supportive and understanding, as he had always been with her.

She did not like complications or loose ends, yet somehow she realized that this thing with Gerard would resolve itself naturally, and die the kind of natural death to which long-distance relationships are subject.

She also realized that her love for Charles was not diminished by her surrender to Gerard’s charms or his extraordinary talents as a lover. She thought to herself that she had been afraid to acknowledge that on a moment-by-moment basis it was not necessary to place Charles on some kind of pedestal that required that he be the best or only experience she was allowed to enjoy.

There is a great deal to be said about the “home field advantage” both pro and con…familiarity is more likely to breed complacency long before it gives birth to contempt, or resentments. Given her choice, she was more likely to re-animate her marriage by surrender to passion than to boredom.

In truth, last night was the most amazing sex she had ever had with anyone, and she had enjoyed it with the full knowledge that Charles would always approve and encourage her to experience life to its fullest.

Nothing says that you have to be in love with whoever fucks you the best…if that didn’t bother Charles, why did she have so much trouble accepting it? As important as sex was in their lives, it was far from the most important element that they shared.

Charles was an amazing lover, and even now, she wished she could be with him…to know for certain that it had not spoiled their relationship. Although she already felt she knew Charles’ perspective and she mused that perhaps she needed to let him know that she finally understood.

Charles used to tell her that each of us deserves to experience life in a way that is unique to only us…something that is ours alone, that makes us feel special in a way that inspires us to share that essence, that sweetness if you will, with the rest of the universe.

The fact that we cannot describe the transcendent does not prevent us from expressing it by our actions. It means we have to believe in the power of everything that exists outside of words…the understanding…the common knowledge that passes between us…the fact that it is impossible to describe it just pushes and provokes us that much more to become a testament to our enlightenment as we receive it.

It felt wonderful to be adored and idolized by this stranger and to tap into the enthusiasm that he generated in her. It was impossible not to feel intoxicated by the lavishly heady indulgence of this crush that was empowering and flattering her. As independent as it made her feel, it nonetheless reinforced her love for Charles as well.

It was as if she suddenly realized that if her marriage could actually be enhanced by such an experience, that nothing could ever stop them.

It would be nine AM in Florida by the time she got to her father’s house, and she couldn’t wait to share last night’s adventures with her husband, and the fact that she could share them with him made her love him even more.

She also decided that she believed in Charles enough not to spare the details, or the truth of how delicious the whole crazy night had been. She also knew that words were not her strongest suit, but believed in the understanding that existed between them to communicate everything that ever mattered to her “…in the world before words”.

In her heart, she already knew….

He Said, She Said: Round Two

Posted in Collaboration, Dirty, Explicit Sexual Language, Fun, Humor, Mature Theme, Much To Good For Children, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone with tags , , , , , , , , on December 29, 2013 by dreamlanddancing


He Said, She Said: Round Two

 Although long distance collaborations can be difficult,

Anastasia of Astraltravler and I have kicked this concept back and forth between us more than once.

We decided that we only had scratched the surface and decided to push the envelope and this was the result.

It was Fun.

He Said, She Said

 He Chortled

She Babbled

He Interrogated

She Elocuted

He Insisted

She Enunciated

He Pleaded

She Articulated

He Snapped

She Whined


He Denounced

She Pontificated

He Dogmatized

She Alluded

He Insinuated

She Whispered

He Interposed

She Intoned

He Narrated

She Interpolated


He Sighed

She Moaned

He Exclaimed

She Shrieked

He Threatened

She Cajoled

He Dictated

She Whimpered

He Shouted

She Commanded


His Penis, Her Pussy

 His Meat Whistle

Her Cum Dumpster

His Slide Trombone

Her Meat Curtains

His Wang

Her Man In The Boat

His Pride & Joy

Her Vajayjay

His Lower Unit

Her Under Carriage


His Joy Stick

Her Taco

His Pecker

Her Nunni

His Schwantz

Her Poontang

His Viande

Her Diddle Hole

His Joy Stick

Her Bearded Clam


His One Eye Trouser Snake

Her Cooter

His Lingham

Her Love Canal

His Dipstick

Her Vertical Smile

His Kick Stand

Her Piss Flaps


 He Screwed

She Humped

He Drilled

She Jagged

He Violated

She Shagged

He Rutted

She Hunched

He Augured

She Mounted


He Snaked

She Made The Beast With Two Backs

He Burrowed

She Impaled

He Skewered

She Boffed

He Buggered

She Sexed Up

He Rimmed

She Fornicated


He Stabbed

She Debauched

He Deflowered

She Ravished

He Split

She Cuckholded

He Splayed

She Intermeshed

He Jizzed

She Jazzed


Fallatio and Cunniligus

 He Licked

She Sucked

He Slathered

She Bobbed

He Dined At The Sea Food Buffet

She Ate At The Y

He Yodeled In the Valley

She Snarfled The Garthok

He Lapped

She Dork’ Snorkled


He Munched

She Smoked

He Fressed

She Flecked

He Ate Out

She Blew

He Spit Shinned

She Polished The Knob

He Schlurped

She Quaffed


He Tongue Fucked 

She Gobbled

He White Washed

She Deep Throated

He Noshed

She Devoured

He Muff Dived

She Tongue Bathed

He Checked Under The Hood

She Put Lipstick On His Dipstick


He Said, She Said

Posted in Catalog Juxtaposition, Collaboration, Fornicated, He Said She Said, His Penis Her Vagina, Just For Fun with tags , , , , , on December 26, 2013 by dreamlanddancing


He Said, She Said

Writers face an interesting dilemma in trying to describe

or label commonly repeated actions especially where dialog is concerned.

How many different ways can you say: He Said….She Said.

How many different ways can you say: His Penis…Her Vagina.

How many different ways can you say: Fucked?

This was a collaboration by Anastasia of Astraltravler and I to catalog juxtapositions of various word combinations just for Fun.

He Said, She Said

He Replied

She Retorted

He Countered

She Indicated

He Snorted


She Answered

He Guffawed

She Rejoinder

He Interjected

She Snickered


His Penis, Her Vagina

His Dick

Her Pussy

His Cock

Her Snatch

His Prick


Her Twat

His Member 

Her Cunt

His Schlong

Her Yoni

His Sausage

Her Poonanie



He Fucked

She Boinked

He Stuffed

She Banged

He Thrusted


She Rode

He Boned

She Pooned

He Schtupped

She Seduced


THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki IV…Indeterminacy

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Dirty, Dominance and Submission, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Imp Of The Perverse, Long Form, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls on December 26, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

THFWS: Charles and Suki IV Indeterminacy

…and now we begin again….

Christy and Keith had a house guest named Gerard Chineaux who had been away on business when Suki had arrived, so she had taken the guest bed, at least in theory, although she had usually only passed out for a few hours in their bed before returning back to her father’s house before six AM.

Gerard was in especially good spirits upon his return to southern California, and suggested he take them all out to dinner to celebrate. He was French, and his work visa had finally been approved. It had taken four days up in Sacramento and he was glad to be back.

Keith and Gerard had attended college together, several years ago, and although there was about fifteen years difference in age, they had become good friends, and had kept in touch over the years, even after he had returned to his homeland. Gerard had always been very good with money, and now he was preparing to set himself up in the United States.

Gerard was about five-nine or so, not especially tall or short, and wore his clothes very well. He had classic  chiseled Gallic features, dark, thick straight hair and an engaging sense of humor. He was prone to flashes of mischief in his eyes, and although he spoke impeccably good English, he frequently used to “French it up” exaggerating all the stereotypical linguistics of his countrymen and even playing the part of the naïve tourist just to see how well he could pull some unsuspecting American’s legs…especially if they were pretty. The more helpless or guile-less he appeared, the more that women wanted to help him.

He was in excellent physical condition, and worked out several times a week, and was not muscle-bound, but lean and flexible with the moves of a feral cat.

It was good to be a Frenchman in L.A., especially if you had money, but then again, it’s always good to be a handsome Frenchman just about anywhere in the United States.

When this didn’t seem to captivate Suki’s attentions, he dropped the pretense and turned the charm up…way up…and this was rare for him, because he never really had to try at all to get what he wanted, and this was presenting itself as an intriguing challenge.

What he didn’t realize was that Suki was pulling his leg just to see how far he would go just to get into her pants. She was amused, and highly flattered because he was at least ten years her junior, although he was clear to casually mention more than once how much more European men appreciated mature women.

She was intrigued by his persistence and continued to play the seemingly oblivious Eastern-European/Asian dilettante…Mata Hari meets Tokyo Rose….

They were both playing with each other; he like she was a fine cello and she like he was a saxophone.

When they all got back to the apartment, Keith and Christy went into their bedroom to get a mirror and a blade long enough for Suki to suddenly turn to Gerard and suddenly say “OK monkey-boy…you want we make some crazy sex-fuck, yes?” With that, she slowly unzipped his fly and reached her hand into his silk boxers, never taking her eyes off his as she did.

It certainly appeared that he did want to…very much.

By the time she had produced his long, generous viande from his trousers, he was so erect that the head of his cock was shiny and had already extended itself from out of hiding beneath his foreskin, and every vein stood out as his prick twitched with each heartbeat. She kneeled before him and took him deep into her wet mouth and full, greedy lips.

She had almost all of him down her throat about the time that their hosts returned to the living room, prompting them to shed their clothes on the spot before even starting to chop the shale-like crystals and lay them out into long white rails on the mirror.

So they sat there in the living room, naked snorting coke and generally playing with each other, although the girls pretended to be more interested in each other, just because they knew it would provoke Keith and Gerard even more.

First, Christy and Suki started double-teaming one or the other of the two men orally, suddenly changing to the other without warning. They kissed each other deeply as they sucked and licked both the men.

Charles had always told Suki that whatever she did, he would always be standing there on her shoulder, encouraging her to embrace whatever adventure came her way. She thought about that right before Gerard entered her for the first time, and decided she ought to give him a good show….

Gerard’s cock was a little longer than Charles’, but not quite as thick, although it was definitely what she called “meaty” and though she most definitely preferred circumcised men, she had to admit that the sensation of his prodigious uncut member was extremely pleasurable, once she allowed herself to admit that she could feel the extra skin rolling and sliding back and forth inside her, most especially just as the corona passed her inner labia and the novelty of the feeling was rapidly bringing her to climax, which in itself was unusual, because she usually took a long time to cum with Charles.

The excitement she felt was exhilarating, and she was beginning to lose herself completely as she felt herself surrendering to the masterful fucking she was receiving. She usually took the lead, and loved to overwhelm a man even to the point of making him cum sooner than he intended, only to put his still throbbing dripping cock back into her mouth, just to prove she could get him hard again, but this time he was all over her and it was all she could do to keep up with his enthusiastic thrusting and stroking.

He had the roundest, hardest ass she had ever seen on a white man, and the way he worked his hips and pelvis was nothing short of obscenely sensuous as wave after wave of pleasure swept over her.

Then she opened her eyes, and realized how starstruck he looked as he gazed deeply into her soul. This was not something she had anticipated, or even wanted, but lost herself completely in as she felt both of them shuddering with wave after wave of orgasm while their bodies were simultaneously wracked with paroxysms of spasms, both of them crying out in ecstasy, sweating, grunting, and moaning as she felt his cock spewing a copious flood of semen deep into her hungry cunt, filling her until she would have sworn she could taste it, spilling out past his still-throbbing member and soaking her ass, the sheets and just about everything in sight.

She had intended to use a condom, and always did with strangers, but between the cocaine and the generally frenzied level of sexual excitement, she was secretly glad she had neglected to do so…she felt wickedly guilty as she wallowed in their flood of co-mingled fluids. Once she stopped hyperventilating, she went down on him again, savoring the taste of their human stew-broth and the taste they made together. They tasted like Sin, like Sex, like Seafood, and the steamy aroma was intoxicating.

She was in no hurry, and was thoroughly enjoying her repast when he turned his head down to her thoroughly violated and soaked pussy, as he began to lap at her like a dog. This seemed to excite both of them even more, and he was soon hard again. She could not remember the last time she and Charles had fucked like that.

She then rolled over slightly raising her wet, dripping ass as she gyrated provocatively for him. He immediately picked up on the cue, and straddled her as he prepared to try to gently dilate her anus with the head of his prick. She quickly began to thrust her buttocks into his gentle strokes as he began to thrust more forcefully.

“Fuck me hard…no hold back…make (it) hurt real good. I (am) dirty girl that needs punished badly…fuck and spank (my) ass ‘til I call you daddy and beg you (to) stop…but don’t…,I want you (to) make me scream like hostage. I am at (your) mercy. Make me pay for (my)sins, I am (your) whore.”

As it was happening, she could not believe the words that were coming from her mouth. It was as if she was possessed and it was Gerard that now possessed her completely. Somehow, the anonymity of the passions that overwhelmed her had taken her away to a place she was not going to be revisiting, and she felt safe in her surrender to this wicked, dirty fantasy.

She knew she couldn’t wait to tell Charles, but even if she left no detail unspoken, there was no way she could describe this escape, this surrender to which she was succumbing…at least not until she saw him face-to-face, and even then…could she? Would he understand the oblivion with which she had jumped into the volcano?

At least she did not have to worry about him witnessing her surrender. She was afraid he it might hurt him to see her so completely under the control of this handsome stranger whom she would undoubtedly not be seeing again, once she returned to south Florida.

Then again, it was Charles that had recommended that she experience the thrill of the infatuation of another person who made you feel worshipped, and wonderful. He had said that was his gift to her. How would he feel seeing his wife groveling before this Frenchman’s cock?

There is sanctuary in anonymity and it is much easier to lose yourself with someone who does not know you in the first place.

THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki III

Posted in Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Id, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 25, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

THFWS: The Ballad of Charles and Suki III

…Every dog has his day, and every Cat will play…

It might have all been different, but Fate is both a cruel Mistress and a benevolent lover, and Charles and Suki had unfinished business that might have gone unresolved, just to make peace, which would have been a tragedy of missed opportunities…however, some people are blessed by being given no quarter, and in the process Pain leads them to the highest pleasures much too good to be wasted on the weak of spirit, resolve, or courage.

Suki was the most leonine creature Charles had ever met. In fact, if she could have given herself a tongue bath, she would have been the most feline woman to ever live. She was regal, yet unpretentious. She took no amnesty from anyone, and was not inclined to give it. She was not cruel, but she was also not especially merciful…to her, everything had a consequence to it.

There was an unflinchingly sloe-eyed detachment in her demeanor that gave her a calculating, analytical appearance at first glance. She used it to cover her emotions, which boiled very near the surface at times…and she was ruled by her pride.

Of course, she was born in August, and the red highlights in her dark hair against her green eyes often disarmed less secure men and enchanted the boldest of them. She was a lioness at the very core of her nature, and fell in love with Charles because he was strong enough to stand up to her, smart enough not to try to tame her and wise enough to let her choose to be kept, as long as she believed the choice was hers.

She had lost that edge she had when they first met, and complacency, exhaustion and depression had taken over in its place. She resented the fact that Charles had found someone who worshipped his being and spirit long after Suki had become complacent and immune to Charles’ considerable charm and intellect…and this was part of the problem…Charles had not found her, she had found him….

Little did she know that everything that now consumed her every waking thought would merely be a warm-up, or preparation for the Main Event that would put everything back exactly where it was meant to be all along.

She had made desperate overtures to her husband that reeked of her insecurity and desperation, which sabotaged her every move. She hoped to capture his undivided attention even as he was being swept away by the infatuation of this new Crush that left her feeling vulnerable and threatened.

Charles on the other hand would have been ecstatic over the recently renewed vitality in his marriage if he was not forced to feel the barb, the hook that was always there in the form of Suki’s resentments and envy. She could have let the whole thing run its course, whatever that was. As much as Charles would have liked it to be different, he sensed that Jenny was not likely to remain a permanent fixture in his life, and governed his actions accordingly.

Until Suki had come into his life, Charles’ marriages had been consistently impermanent due to a failure to be able to maintain the Romance that he required to give him inspiration and purpose, as well as the energy to balance his side of the equation for her.

In fact, Charles had fallen in Love with Suki on a double date that he and his fiancée went on with a business associate of his while Suki was in town for a family reunion. They had jokingly referred to each other as “Kissing Cousins”  over the years, and were like family to each other because f their parents’ friendship. She had seen many women come and go in Charles’ life and had a crush on him since she was about fourteen…and Charles was thirty…Suki knew all too well what it was like to be the other woman.

The truly great relationships in Charles’ life were with women he never married, and with whom neither he nor she took umbrage, but rather, leave…as in leave of absence…(in his heart, he left the light on, and the door unlocked).

And so it was that Charles never learned to despise those women the way his ex-wives had learned to despise him…and it was not in his nature to carry a grudge, even if he felt better when they were not around.

Suki could have been one of those women, and Charles had expected that there would come a time when she would need to leave him to learn those things he could not teach her, but as neither of them desired it to take place, so apathy and the commonplace displaced romance and adventure.

Little did she know that what would separate them temporarily would unite them in eternity.

Suki’s father had suffered a mild heart attack in Los Angeles, and she immediately flew out to her original home to care for him. It was just as well that she went when she did, because the tension between her and Charles seemed to hang in the very air they breathed, and this opportunity to take her leave would distract her from her desperation.

She had two very good friends who were married to each other, and several former casual lovers in the valley, and although the cocaine was not quite as good as what she and Charles had learned to avoid in Florida, it was as ubiquitous as Mickey Mouse, Coca-Cola, and Jesus Christ on the cross in L.A. and more or less free to a beautiful and exotic woman of mystery such as Suki.

The trick would be in being able to balance her responsibilities against her pleasures.

After about a week of tending to her dad almost night and day, she began to steal away once her father was asleep to spend her evenings with her friends, the Bickersons. They had been together longer than she and Charles had even known each other, although Suki and Christy had been best friends since childhood.

She was petite with a porcelain complexion and corn-silk hair. The had shared a few lovers over the years in a very safe plain-vanilla sort of way that earmarks many a ménage a trois, and there had been no direct sexual contact between Suki and Christy, although they both joked about the possibilities many times over the years.

Keith was tall, had shoulder-length curly brown hair and looked like a roadie for the Grateful Dead. He was the archetypical southern Californian, “ ‘fer sure”. He had a rich, deep broadcaster’s voice and a gentle, humorously infectious way about him, although he and Suki had never been even slightly attracted to each other, which was just as well.

They had picked her up at the airport when she flew into LAX and got her settled in before they took her to the hospital. There was something different about the way they acted this time however, but Suki couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was….

It certainly wasn’t how they acted toward each other, because they were always, first and foremost the Bickersons in that they lived up to the full irony of their name in a way that was tragically comical. They could argue about the color of the sky on a cloudless day, and it almost seemed to be the undercurrent that fueled their relationship despite the fact that they barely recognized the obvious, and did not seem to be as adversely affected by their ongoing adversarial discourse as was those around them.

Finally, late one night they told Suki of their intentions to pursue a threesome with her. Although it was fraught with a few accommodations that had to be made for their generally neurotic relationship, it started with Suki and Christy exploring each other while Keith watched for as long as he could stand it, which was to say, not for very long.

Keith was well endowed and Suki and Christy treated him like an animated sex toy until he was completely spent, only to return their attentions back to pleasuring each other. It had a galvanizing effect on the both of them.

Although Suki was as indifferent as she had always been toward Keith, he was suddenly mesmerized by her to the point that he actually called Charles late one night to apologize for having overlooked this incredibly captivating creature for so long, and that although she happened to be Charles’ wife, he felt compelled to remark to him what a lucky guy he was.

Later that night, he told Suki he thought he was falling in love with her.

Wham! Like a bullet through the brain, she recalled her feelings when she intercepted the e-mail in which Jenny had asked Charles if she had told him she loved him today…and she realized she had done nothing to provoke it any more than Charles had, and that it is never wrong for anyone to tell you that they love you.

It disquieted her enough to prompt her to call Charles at five AM to tell him about it. She was grateful that he understood, but uneasy that he was so supportive and encouraging about it. Did nothing effect jealousy in Charles? Why not? She knew he cared, even if he didn’t mind…but why not? Why would jealousy be the way you express to someone that you love them?

Little did she know that this was only the beginning of her enlightenment.

Charles and Suki Get it all Back

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Cumming Back, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Greatest Sorrow, Imp Of The Perverse, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , , , on December 22, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

THFWS: Charles and Suki get it All Back

And so it came to pass that a very young telemarketer also in the employ of PharmaCorp. was re-assigned to a seat facing Charles at a time when it would be difficult to imagine him being less susceptible to feminine guiles at all, and yet, there she was. She worked in the cubicle that faced Charles’, and might have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been so damn tall.

Even as Charles slouched into his office chair, he could still see her face peering around her monitor screen. He had never noticed her before, even though she had been with the company for over a year.

She was only about thirty-something, which those days seemed more like the new nineteen. She was very slender, petite and graceful in appearance, and much too pretty…it just hurt too much to even dream anymore…at least those days.

…But she wasn’t conceited, or full of herself, which still was not nearly as remarkable as was her sense of humor. She wasn’t just hilarious…she also found Charles to be the wittiest, and most clever rascal on the planet. Admittedly, Charles’ guard was down when humor, culture, intellect, or literature was involved. It never occurred to him initially, that there was any other kind of connection between them.

He just felt better when she was around.

Charles had long since given up on the idea of even imagining having sex with anyone who would consider fucking him. As a vital, virile male, he was already dead, but in serious denial of the fact, despite disturbing suspicions.

Then, she dropped the hankie, just to see if Charles would pick it up. She hinted at how there was something missing in her life without coming out and saying so…she let Charles figure that out on his own. She loved his million-dollar words and his generally chivalrous, but licentious nature.

She was very clever, although quite accustomed to being pursued by “the dirty boys”, but wasn’t used to being seduced with words, or gestures.

That’s one thing upon which Southern women with a high degree of native intelligence who were not born of privilege could rely…that they will feel unappreciated, underestimated and indentured to a life that had not been of their own choosing from the beginning and was already winding down into wistful resignation without ever knowing the feeling of being swept away by a tide of passion and infatuation by a worldly man of letters, of experience, and danger, who will speak to them with deference and respect, who will ask them their opinions and make them feel important and worth paying attention to for something other than sex and other household labor.

To Jennifer, Charles was the most dangerously intelligent and sophisticated man she had ever met, and he didn’t seem preoccupied by her looks or her figure, but rather focused his attentions on her mind and her feelings.

Charles had been celibate for so long that the only time it hurt at all was when he was reminded of it.

Jennifer made him feel interesting and attractive, and somehow desirable, but what was really captivating was how badly they both needed validation from their spouse’s, and how provocative it was to experience it from someone else.

She was not very sophisticated, and would have made a lousy poker-player, because her emotions would have betrayed her every time. Where Charles was very deferential and showed her kindness and respect, she wore her heart on her sleeve from the moment she arrived at work until they left. They made a very peculiar looking couple. She was tall, pretty, young and physically fit, and he was short, a bit overweight, and although he looked about fifteen years younger than he actually was, it was definitely a May-December work-spouse romance.

And although Charles had some concerns for what might have been regarded as impropriety, he quickly noticed that although most everyone in the building was aware of their infatuation, the effect was that he was treated with more respect than ever before by not only his co-workers, but his supervisors as well…and for good reason…once again, his sales figures were skyrocketing.

Telemarketers are a very superstitious lot, and for relatively good reason, because just like fishing, some days you are lucky, and other days you suck. Also, because of a practice called skill setting that is used in all computer-controlled dialers, there are any number of ways to stack the deck in favor of some, to the detriment of others.

Many extol the power of positive thinking, which can yield significant results, as long as you are not on the rolls of the Doomed, which is where about eighty percent of the sales staff is stuck at any given moment, but there is another intrinsic factor that for lack of a better term could be called Mojo.

In the fifties, white people called it Moxy because well…they were white, and they couldn’t entertain the idea of anything “too ethnic”, but where luck leaves off, a charmed existence is just getting warmed up. When you are too cool to even need to swagger, because you have nothing to prove, and everyone wants to be your friend, nothing can stop you. You are Majik.

Nothing threatens you, and you possess a generosity of spirit that encircles you in its protection. When you possess it, you may not even think about it, and unselfconsciousness may well be one of its earmarks, but when it is gone, it will be conspicuous in its absence, and you will seriously consider selling your soul to get it back.

Most call centers are hotbeds of infidelity, and one more torrid affair could go unnoticed in a place like PharmaCorp, but there was something almost innocent and touching about Charles and Jenny that just seemed to make people smile when they were seen together.

Charles used to “dress for success” when he first came to work, and was often mistaken for upper management by people who did not know him, but over the last eight years, he became increasingly disinterested in appearances, and referred to himself as “a walking clothesline” and eschewed any pretense of any kind as regards his wardrobe, and dressed more like a “parrot-head”, an expression for residents of the Florida Keys (also called “Conchs” by the residents themselves).

He replaced his traditional suit and tie with his own version of the three-piece, meaning a floral print shirt open in front, worn like a jacket over a tee shirt, and jeans or shorts, sneakers and sunglasses.

He drove a Toyota four-wheel-drive pickup truck that was over twenty-five years old, and had been extensively modified and upgraded. It was tall and loud, and very aggressive looking. It was covered with every imaginable amateur radio antenna you could imagine… (and yes, he could, and had talked with the space station on more than one occasion).

As colorful a character as he presented, his boyish charm and his big beautiful Willy could have gotten him an audience with anybody but the Pope, despite his frequently impoverished state through most of his life. It clearly gave him pleasure and energized him just to see how far outside his class he could get in either direction.

He was an almost iconic manifestation of those of his generation who were raised and sent to colleges and universities by working-class middle-class parents who could barely afford to send them in the first place who truly believed that once you got a degree, every manner of success could be yours if you were only willing to work hard enough.

He was also one of many who proved the paradigm wrong, although he also frequently learned how to live outside all class structure by his wits and creativity at the most unpredictable moments.

As a result, when he felt mojo flowing toward and through him, he instinctively would go with the flow.

Suki, on the other hand, could and frequently did have any man she desired whenever she wanted, but had never been in love before, except with Charles.

She was uninitiated to the intoxication of The Crush of Infatuation, except with Charles. She was more uncomfortable than she would admit when Charles first told her about his attraction for Jenny, but once she intercepted a text message that asked “Have I told you that I love you today?” She went into a high-speed tailspin.

Sex is one thing, but Love…Polyamory? That was not only out of the question…it was not even a question in the first place. ”How the fuck did this word suddenly spring out of nowhere without any warning? I never even heard anybody use it in a sentence before….”

She crashed and burned. She wept for days on end. She was inconsolable, and unreasonable. She read omens and meditated.

She felt defeated, despondent, and hopeless despite the fact that more than a year before, she had referred to her relationship with Charles as “Hopeless…it(’s just) gone, (and) that(’s) all there is (to it).”

Nothing is more seductive than forbidden or seemingly unattainable treasure. She became determined to discover how to regain Charles’ infatuation. She decided to learn how to get back something she thought she didn’t want until she realized how much somebody else wanted it.

She decided she wanted to learn to surf The Crush with Charles.

Sometimes, the ways of Majik and Power seem inscrutable, and the paths all obscured or blocked unless you learn to see what has previously been occult; before you learn to see with eyes that were as if they had been closed all your life before that moment.

Suki just needed a little outside intervention that happened to come when she least expected it, doing something she would have thought to be unrelated, that despite all her efforts to the contrary had paid her admission to yet another stage of enlightenment that she did not know she was seeking.

Which was a very good thing because none of us have all the time, monkeys and typewriters we would need without a little random, chaotic good luck and Majik Kharma.

This Thing We Do with Words

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Celebration, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Dirty, Erotic Poetry, Fun, Humor, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Love, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, The Id, The Talking Monkeys, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 21, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

…(This post was inspired by several of my favorite bloggers…I trust you to know whom you are…fellow bloggers who share this love affair with words, thoughts, meanings, and ideas. Chances are if you even think I am referring to you, I probably am, because you have inspired me in one way or another and I want to thank you all for it.)  😉

This thing we do with words.

We build bridges

from island to island

one word, one stone at a time.

We build monuments and temples

to Love and Lust,

Adventure and Power.

We can spin webs of intrigue

like giant subterranean spiders

with words artfully applied

 and patterns beautiful to see

as Love seduces Logic

and Romance beguiles all Reason.

And tell tall tales

of days of old

of arts arcane and esoteric,

from ransom notes to love letters

charters, pacts and treaties.

A poem, a love letter and a plea for rescue,

a note wrapped up in a bottle,

flung into a sea of humanity,

awaiting reply

from my private island of exile

to you.

We can wax eloquently and long,

or we can get write down

and dirty.

Isn’t it such a beautiful thing

that we can do?

…this thing we do with words?

…free to be whatever we wish to be,

or be whatever you wish we were.

(I can be very flexible that way, you know)

Anonymous sex with words

spewed from invisible mouths

by mysterious lips and tongues

in a bathhouse of like-minded


When you touch me

I create you

in the most flatteringly imaginative ways

in my own image

and never worry about overstepping either’s bounds

because honey,

If you only knew what things I do

To and With each other with words,

and in our minds,

in real life,

it might be hard

to ever stopping slapping my face.

But in This Life,

trusting in the fact that whatever it is

I will cheer you on,

and vise-versa

Mon Cheri.

You have Carte Blanche

Chez mois….

(And trust me, I doubt that it violates any rules I know…)

but then again,

that pretty much leaves you free

to be with me as you please,

Madame Weasel…

meet Mister Weasel.

In my mind, your bottom is perfect

in your mind, every part is just right.

And everything is exactly the

the way we like it,

In My Perfect World.

While we do this thing we do with each other

with words.

We can touch each other so intimately

in such private places

deep within our psyches

with visions of forbidden acts

too emotionally dangerous

to allow,

except within our deepest


kept locked away in a dirty basement

beneath a haunted house

inside (y)our soul(s).

It’s Better Than Sex

only because it really isn’t,

but imagining what it Is in each other’s minds

each according to our own inferences

means that at least fifty percent

of what we get

is what we bring to this picnic.

Because there’s always more

inside this thing we do with words.

Mass media meets social networking

begetting Art

in a mad orgy of

words and thoughts

both sacred and profane.

Noble and Lofty


Down and Dirty.

Spiritual and Ethereal

do a minuet


Finite and Practical,

making Voyeurs into Voyagers

and Fellow Travelers

of us all.

This thing we do with words,

My F(r))iend

allows us to span continents, universes

and alternate realities

in an instant that is less than an instant

that arrives before it leaves

and never stops coming

(or cumming).

This thing we do with words

spoken with love

will one day

teach us to love our enemies

once we realize

We all are one.

So even if you say


I can either take it as a compliment,

an enticement,

or just smile like I do when I watch a

monkey jacking off at the zoo.

We all are One.

So thanks for the handjob.

We can praise or we can criticize,

condone, condom or condemn.

We can teach, touch, (p)reach and multiply

and be bountiful

and all it costs

is the price of baring your soul

and opening your eyes and your mind

and inviting me in,

be I vampire

or Pilgrim

fallen angel,


grateful worshipper,

or referee

for that fight you’ve been having

with yourself in your mind.

I am here for you

my friend

my brother

my sister

my mother

my father

my mentor

my co-conspirator,

fellow prankster

and lover.

I love this thing we do with words…

If I had to do it all over again

I’d do it all over you.

English: Life, the Universe, and Everything Te...

English: Life, the Universe, and Everything Texture… or in other words, 42 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Ballad of Charles and Suki

Posted in Bardot Thordol, Conjured Up Next, The Liberation Through Hearing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 16, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

The Ballad of Charles and Suki

No more than a handful of people claimed to know much of anything about Charles and Suki. There were several good reasons for that. They tended to be the wildest, and most generally bizarre, as well as the most private couple associated with either the Sanctuary, or The Home for Wayward Souls. They came to South Florida about eight years ago, but other details were pretty sketchy. No one was especially sure of how old they were, or what they did before they came into the congregation.

Charles’ parents were from Bulgaria and Yugoslavia originally, but came to the United States in the Nineteen Sixties after defecting from the Soviet Union and Communism. In the USSR, Charles’ father was officially recognized as one of the top paranormal researchers in the employ of the KGB…officially…but Charles had also alluded to the fact that Vladimir Vliynczykovitch was also reputedly the most powerful warlock in all of Europe. Charles’ mother did cutting-edge research in the early development of lasers for the government.

When they came to the US, they changed their family name to Vincent, and tried to assimilate into the culture and generally maintain a low profile. Of course, Vladimir was immediately debriefed and inducted into a laboratory facility that unofficially did research for the CIA. Charles’ mother, Svetlana retired from research to bring lasers and holography to the world of art, and became quite self-sufficient doing so.

Their home was filled with people from the world of the Paranormal, Espionage and Intelligence as well as every manner of Artist. The central theme of Eastern European Witchcraft was also always present, (if you knew what you were hearing and understood its true meaning) like an underground stream running through their home.

Suki’s father, Omar was a Yugoslav electronics engineer who worked as a graduate assistant and later as an intern responsible for technical support in Vladimir’s laboratory in the USSR. They became friends over the years, and although Vlad was older, they socialized a great deal outside work. They had defected together, escaping first to Japan during a scientific expedition, where Omar met Umai-ko-shi Shindo, the chief archeologist supervising the dig at a site that had interested Vlad because of spirits that were said to inhabit the area. Umai-ko-shi traveled to the United States with Omar and Vlad once they secured asylum.

Omar and Vlad had been practicing sorcery together for several years in the USSR. Omar became Vlad’s understudy, so the fact that Umai-ko-shi was a Tsukimono-suji, or White Witch brought together a series of forces and influences that culminated in the birth of her daughter Suki. Although Charles was sixteen years old when Suki was born, the four parents agreed that their children would wed one day. Arranged marriages were a throwback to their ancestors, and most of the children in the US rebelled against it, nevertheless….

They had grown up together in the USA, and the decidedly unorthodox lives of their parents had the effect of producing a bond between them, like cousins, and Charles was very protective of Suki as she grew up, although she was quite independent and very capable of defending herself. She nonetheless adored Charles as a hero of sorts, and although they went their own separate ways for a few years while attending college, they reunited at a family holiday and fell deeply and passionately in love with each other, and eventually married.

Suki, who had become a nurse-practitioner often called herself “Nāsu Witchi”, (“nurse-witch”) amongst her friends. She embodied the mystery and passions of both cultures freely. She was sometimes regarded as aggressive, or confrontational, which was partly due to her economy of words and sparse context and partly because she made absolutely no concessions to fear or guilt, and embodied a sort of Shamelessness in her pursuit of the “delicious delinquency of neoteny in (the) seduction of all things conventional, comfortable, or chaste”.

The fact that almost no one ever understood what she meant by that (partly owing to her rich arabesque of accents and nuances), also meant she tended to respond very strongly to anyone who did understand even a part of it, sufficient to provoke an intense tutorial of Tantric to those who deserved it.

She had about a half-dozen phrases she used as a litmus test for the uninitiated, but she had formulated that phrase shortly after she first became aware of her crush for Charles, who understood it so implicitly, that she affectionately called him her “(She-)Devil(’s) Advocate”.

It also meant that Charles understood that no matter how great her love for him, that she was her own woman, and no amount of devotion and dedication to her mate would prevent her from pursuing all of her interests.

Another favorite of hers was “(Perhaps, If) You(‘d) like, maybe we (can) make (some) crazy sex-fuck time together, OK?”

…And the door swung both ways. And it was good….

Because Charles always tried to encourage Suki to believe in her heart, that no matter what she did, he would always love and support her pursuit of any indulgence within their means unconditionally, and unequivocally and joyously.

For a very long while….

People usually say “…but over the years…things have a way of happening.” or words to that effect, but in truth, “things have a lot more ways of not happening…”

Years of childrearing, careers, and generalized ambition have a way of pushing Romance into the background. Unresolved resentments, bouts of poor health, surgeries, disappointments, fatigue and depression had produced the effect of alienation of affections.

If you spend years finding and receiving pleasure from one person, it is easy to understand why it is that when things go badly, that we also attach them to an unspoken resentment for the calamity of events that seem to well up around us, forever asking the question “What’s to keep them from doing it?”

They became isolated, and bitter like two old car batteries left unused on the floor of their garage, dissipated, no difference of potential left…no charge, no current flow…sulfurous, and caustic. Their comings and goings were of little consequence to each other, and they both generally despaired of life.

Charles had a nervous breakdown that lasted about four years. His work and his income suffered, but he kept his job and endured for no good reason in particular. He took high doses of four different anti-depressants that were having catastrophic effects on him physically and mentally. Suki rarely got out of bed, spent most of the night in a reclining chair watching TV, snoring and falling asleep while smoking, setting herself on fire, and stating that she was always tired and never got any rest. They both got fat. This is hell.

It is said that a true Buddhist would go straight into Hell to rescue a friend, but Charles and Suki were in two different versions of the same hell, unable to reach each other or rescue themselves…nonetheless…if you find yourself at the beach on the Lake of Fire…and say, several of you decide to go to a rave there…you might be amazed at the people you might meet.

There are, no doubt, any number of Buddhists who were meant to go to Hell for one reason or another, because of some Kharma that they couldn’t escape, because it was part of their program, a glitch, a flaw, a paradox…a ghost in the machine…a date to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight…a character flaw, perhaps, but if we are not so quick to judge others harshly for their faults, instead recognizing them and non-judgmentally encouraging them to face everything fearlessly and shamelessly, we can learn to recognize our own mistakes and errors of judgment or action which we can neither escape nor deny without grievous consequences.

And Charles was very lucky because despite it all, he had paid ahead a great deal of good and positive Kharma over the years, such that it just so happened that one of the other Lost Souls standing there at that rave on the Lake of Fire would help him lead himself out of the flames, and maybe even save herself in the process…at least eventually.

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