Archive for the Biggest Sex Organ Category

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Biggest Sex Organ, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, His Penis Her Vagina, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, Suki, The Id, the willing suspension of disbelief, This Thing we do with Words, Vagina with tags , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

My Muses

One of the things we do with words is to inspire. Writers do not live in a vacuum, but no matter what we do within our own lives, nothing beats a different perspective from outside of ourselves to introduce new ideas, questions and influences.

Those people are my muses, my wells of inspiration from which I drink, be it the refreshingly cold, clear water of underground springs fed by mountain streams from far away or warm, mysterious draughts from jungle pools or even hot, flavored waters, exuding enticing perfumes of unknown origins.

Some provide an occasional cautious sip, while others compel me to slake my thirst until it is sated. Some help me clear my mind while others intoxicate me in inexplicable ways like a vampire on a blood-feast, but I have been blessed to be influenced by several for whom I am most grateful.

This post was initially inspired by a discussion of pet words for the genitalia of either sex as well as the associated body parts or functions one might be inclined to use in erotic writings, to which we would aspire to attain the level of Literotica.

Jayne of DiaryIncarnate at WordPress prompted a renewal of the discussion when she recently made reference to what she referred to as a “Dickipedia”. I am a regular visitor to her website and I am quite fond of her poetry, but both her prose and verse frequently give me “paws” to think and reflect upon her eternally questioning mind.

Although we have never met in person, she has a real talent for bringing out both the rogue and the gentleman in me, and I sense that I am not alone in that assessment of her effect on men.

About a year ago, Anastasia, the charming and provocative astraltravler of WordPress and I collaborated on a piece called His Penis, Her Vagina, to address the plethora of synonyms for the two major taxons regarding the plumbing of the sexes, but we quickly realized that many terms, like Meat-Whistle, One-eyed Trouser Snake, Cooter, or Poontang (sometimes hyphenated), are at best considerably more hilarious than erotic, and at worst just plain disgusting. Some were both.

Later collaborations between Anastasia, with my wife (Yen4)Suki and myself have proven much more worthwhile and productive, although we have been a bit pensive about writing about the results…and I don’t know why, because none of us are what one would call shy.

Suki and I had collaborated on a piece that was essentially her story over six months ago, that to date remains unpublished. All I did was help her organize and word the story, as she related her experiences to me, but it is a great piece in more ways than one, especially because it needed so little embellishment or enhancement.

As erotic adventures go, I would wish that all women could experience such a milestone adventure on a milestone birthday.

Her thirtieth was almost as good, but I was there to witness, encourage and participate with her on that occasion.

That’s just the way we roll. I hope she shares it soon.

I must be the luckiest man in the world to be so inspired by these three muses.

One is mine, but she is too precious and free-spirited to hoard or keep to myself. Another is shared and comes and goes like a tropical breeze, the muse of my muse. Only the third is a woman of mystery whom I cannot distinguish from Oasis or Mirage; who comes to me on tiptoes as silent as an assassin to whisper enticing provocations into my ear like a long-lost lover from another lifetime.

Although the initial impetus of this post centered around erotica, it quickly developed a life of its own and ran off the rails onto the much larger tracks leading to the subject of creative expression and inspiration in general.

For that reason, I have decided to publish it in installments.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/20/2014

 

THFWS: They Became What They Beheld… (More strong sexual themes and images)…Hey Kids: This is not for you…get the fuck out…

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Biggest Sex Organ, Celebration, Conjured Up Next, Cumming Back, Drug Experience, Goddess, Interspecies Erotica, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, 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, The Wisdom, Vagina, What You Have Conjured Up with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

The Home for Wayward Souls and the Talking Monkeys

They Became What They Beheld… (More strong sexual themes and images…Hey Kids: This is not for you…get the fuck out…next time I will have to remember to put Vaseline on the doorknob)

“When they returned to the paneled living room, they noticed the eyes and the vaginas were already winking at them. One of the things they found most interesting was the congruency of their images and visions. They were all having the same simultaneous experience. This is an extremely rare occurrence in occult drug experimentation. Although I have witnessed some of the phenomena occurring here tonight, most of it seems to be a ‘group experience’ for Kali, Ash, and Merle…for a while, I thought it was just ‘mass hysteria’, but there is an intangible quality to all of this that intrigues my imagination and prompts me to continue my observations…oh what the fuck…who am I kidding?…as a journalist and reporter my objectivity flew out the window hours ago. I could (and have, in the past) watched them fuck for hours on end…my wife says it’s a sickness, and calls me a ‘peeping frog’…voyeurism is a relatively mild kink, all things considered, especially compared to these three acrobats…is there such a thing as a ‘sexual athlete’? If so, they belong in the Olympics…I mean….”

(Raul, our reporter for Galactic Geographic has really begun to babble…but interestingly enough, Sharma and Sobe the ushers, find themselves quite busy once again. Apparently new guests are starting to arrive en masse.)

Kali had once remarked that “Even if I could unhinge my jaw like a snake, I’d have to stop waxing my mustache just to hide the stretch marks…just to get it in my mouth.”…and don’t even fantasize about ‘deepthroat’” because sex with Merle necessitated extraordinary adaptive skills due to his sheer largesse. Fortunately, Merle had also developed preternatural intuition and empathic skills, which meant he was patient and gentle to a fault; in fact, he often had to be encouraged to become more vigorous before he would even approach giving it his all (which never happened). (Btw: Kali’s parents  were Greek and Turkish, although collectively, most of the races got some representation in her gene pool, so Kali waxed “everything but my eyebrows and head.”

Her skin was exquisitely smooth and fine-pored and a caramel-mocha color that resembled porcelain, or a properly smoked meerschaum pipe that lightened and darkened with the high and low surfaces of her voluptuously oversculptured body.

Her flexibility and athleticism were well balanced by the fact that she also played several instruments, painted, sang beautifully and spoke more languages than she was inclined to admit. Ash and Merle both adored her and sometimes jokingly referred to her as their “home entertainment center”. Somewhere between a classical geisha and a “Renaissance Woman”; (if such a thing were actually recognized, she would be the archetype).

Kali’s favorite “cumpulsion” was DP. She got a great deal of practice at it, and because Ash and Merle were equally inventive, athletic and broad-minded, they became very good at it. Because of the height disparities, this usually necessitated Merle having to lie on his back. Kali would then straddle him, with her feet flat on the floor so as to squat onto Merle, since the distance from her knees to her hips was not sufficient to allow her to kneel, at least initially.

Ash and Kali especially enjoyed anal when Merle was home, because they had more conventional congress when he was away. Ash was quite amply endowed, but anal with Merle was “almost” out of the question (a discussion for another time and place), so their simultaneous coital congress usually followed the above paradigm more often than not. Even reverse cowgirl DP involved placing Ash’s buttocks in Merle’s face, which did little to enhance the experience for either of the men. (It’s not like they got much chance to get bored, all things considered.)

Depending on how long it had been since Kali and Merle had been intimate with each other, it would take an accordingly sufficient time for Kali to be able to accommodate Merle’s prodigious size, which eventually would result in Kali’s inner labia becoming enormously swollen and distended. Despite what many men may proclaim in public however, it was Kali’s experience that almost all the men with whom she kept company or entertained were most appreciative of her condition and it was an extreme turn-on (fortunately) for both Ash and Merle.

And so it was that by approximately three AM after Friday the Thirteenth of Eternity, they were once again conjoined, reveling, nay wallowing in rut when the Ancient Ones began to make their presence known again.

The wooden paneling now produced tongues and phalluses (how often do you see that word written in the plural?) in addition to the eyes and vaginas. The tongues and phalluses writhed as the ocular and vulvar manifestations continued to bat and flutter approvingly. So intense was their desire that although they noticed the occurrences, they were not especially distracted by them in the heat of the moment.

This time, when the trumpeting began, they did not stop, but rather redoubled the intensity of their ferocious conjugation. They became more vocal themselves as the shuddering, groaning, shrieking earthquake around them erupted…into stone cold silence. Talk about being conspicuous in its absence, the deathly quiet of the room actually gave them momentary pause in time to witness a neon blue-violet conquistador step out from the walls in absolute silence.

He and the horse were in full vestments and armor as they both surveyed the room. After a moment, he waved the go-ahead signal used since earliest military times to signal an advance. With that, as they proceeded through the room, they were followed by a multitude of figures of every description as the walls morphed into what resembled a Mayan Amphitheater where Sharma and Sobe were escorting these paranormal dignitaries to their seats.

Vendors appeared, dispensing all manner of exotic delicacies (most of which looked bizarre to the trio) as if they were Red Hots.”

“Welcome my friends, to the show that never ends;

we’re so glad you could attend.

Step inside, step inside.”

When Kali shrieked in ecstasy, a maelstrom of voices emerged. As Merle groaned and bellowed it was as if an elephant was trumpeting while Ash growled like a grizzly bear in rut.

The audience began to clap and chant in tongues unknown to them, which they seemed to understand intuitively.

The drumming became louder as more and more percussion instruments were added to the mix. An orchestra of aliens played a symphony of obscure instruments that appeared to be conducted by Lord Krishna himself. Los Guerreros and all the Orichás were in attendance. Rati was costumed as a cheerleader performing on the floor of the amphitheater, doing handstands and backflips with no panties. Familiar, recognizable figures of historical religious note came and went. Lost Souls of every type and description flew, zapped and zigzagged hither and yon, sometimes zooming in close and personal, even fondling, stroking, sniffing and licking the trio. The amphitheater shook until it seemed it would  crumble and collapse upon them all, but they did not stop. They seemed to possess superhuman strength and stamina as the frenzy reached its crescendo to the cheering of the assembled multitude.

They awoke at dawn to the sound of a rooster crowing to announce the arrival of the sun.

Charles, Suki, Darcy and Mark were also knocking on their door.

 

The Home for WaywardSouls: Illumination…warning Adult content. Strong Sexual themes and images…much too good for children.

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Biggest Sex Organ, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Conjured Up Next, Dirty, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Goddess, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Lewis Carroll, Liason Between Parties, Long Form, Love, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, 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 Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, Vagina, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 21, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

Illumination

Ash, Kali and Merle enjoyed the meal like bees going from flower to flower, stopping here and there to sip, to sample, to taste, to empower themselves, define and refine their vibrations, and prepare for tonight’s venture. They were careful not to turn their backs to the Orichás and Los Guerreros especially, but although they walked around most of the table, they did not walk behind the alter set at the head of the table nor in front of the mirror.

They enjoyed feeding each other little bits and bites of this and that in various combinations, sharing the tastes, textures and aromas, sometimes by fork, by spoon, by chopstick, by hand…or by mouth. They touched each other provocatively as they ate, and even licked each other’s fingers, faces, and necks as any of them found themselves inclined to do.

As they finished their sake, Merle produced what he had previously called The Knowledge of Good and Evil, which he had put into three black capsules of five hundred micrograms each, plus a buffer that helped facilitate safe transport via non-isotonic concentration gradients across the cell membrane.

Merle had the most amazing insights into visualizing molecules that induced particular changes as well as steady states in the bio-molecular substrates of the neurochemistry of the brain. Even he did not claim to know the sources of his inspiration. He said he would close his eyes, and eventually he would feel an awareness of how each portion of the molecule would function. (He did not discuss this gift with his employers, of course.)

First Kali, then Ash, and finally he opened their mouths like supplicants taking the Sacrament for Communion as he popped a cap into each of their mouths, raising his sake as if toasting everyone, he said “The Knowledge of Good and Evil is too pretentious and long a name to call this. From now on, we shall call it ‘Kali’….”

Ash and Kali stood there with the black caps on their tongues in their open mouths for a second, smiled at Merle and drank the sake to wash down the drug in unison with Merle.

“…Merle…”

“Not now my friends…see what I have seen, and you will understand…trust me, I’m not likely to change my mind about it…at least just for now.”

“Ok.”

Kali was the first to disrobe, pulling just two strings that allowed her garment to fall to the floor, as she stepped out of her sandals. Ash released the tucked ends of the beach towel.

Only Merle remained clothed. He stood there, motionless save for the expressions that passed over his face like local weather cells in Florida. As the expressions changed from neutral, to nearly pensive, to shy, to mischievous, to provocative there was a visible change in demeanor as well as he went from androgynously male to androgynously female to amorphously ambiguous, a curious sort of glow emanated from within Merle’s aura that gave him the appearance of translucence.

“Now keep in mind, that they just dropped the drug, and I haven’t had any of it at all myself…hey, it’s me, Raul,” he whispered.

“…Well…Somebody has to provide unbiased witness to this event…it’s my journalistic duty…and besides, curiosity is not the exclusive domain of Felines you know, and as for mortality, well the reason humans think cats have nine lives is because the Satisfaction of Curiosity gives them a buoyant sort of protection that exists so strongly for them that it becomes real. Apache warriors undergo a ritual that imparts a metaphysical armor that becomes real…I’ve seen Merle administer it to several people before here…and it ends with them walking across a bed of fire…but not me…‘Froglegs’ is not how I wish to be remembered…but I have to know, and I have also to bear witness to such events, after all…inquiring minds want to know, and as a Doctor of Journalism, I am compelled…but watch this:…”

Merle stood facing Ash and Kali in what is often called anatomical position as he slowly raised his hands, palms up, thumbs out as he drew the tips of his thumbs to their respective index fingertips as he first inhaled through his nose, then slowly exhaled through slightly pursed lips. He sighed deeply, and proceeded to loosen his long black flowing hair, shaking his head as a horse shaking its mane. His hands now resembled the beatific, imploring or welcoming hands of several statues of Christ around the world. He then pulled the robe over his head to reveal the chemise and panties. He went from coy to unabashed in less time than it takes to tell.

First he looked them both deeply in the eyes, then lowered his gaze, adding “This is the only place I feel comfortable doing this, and I thank you so much for not only understanding this, but also for appreciating it on a level that enhances the experience…just for a little smile…But tonight is not a fashion show…goodbye drag…for now.

Merle then launches into an English accent he uses whenever he quotes Lewis Carroll or Monty Python:

“Tis Time, my friends,

He said at last,

to speak of many things.

Of ships and shoes and sealing wax,

of cabbages and Kings.

And why the sea is boiling hot

or whether Pigs have wings…”.

With that, the lingerie was gone, and Merle stood before them naked. Six feet, seven inches of red-bronzed Apache flesh sculpture. The word statuesque would never seem the same to Ash and Kali without thinking first of Merle.

(“Just exquisitely a little past too much” thought Kali knowingly.)

Kali approached him first, and Ash followed, as the two men sandwiched her as Kali envisioned being Shish Kabobed; skewered between the two great loves of her life, slowly roasting over the flames of the fires of Passion and Lust, the hot coals sizzled scintillatingly as her juices drip onto the fire.

Kali’s face only comes up to Merle’s heart chakra, which she kisses as she slowly rubs Merle’s nipples, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. She then begins to bend over as she drags her tongue downward over his skin until she is nuzzling the peninsular magnificence of Merle’s thick, growing, rising cock. As it swells, the tip of the head begins to peek out past the foreskin, as if trying to look around the corner before venturing out.

Ash kneels behind her as he slathers her puanani with his tongue, spreading the wetness everywhere as Kali moans with a kind of resonance that is felt by both men.

All three of them are now just starting to feel the effects of the drug as their passions and metabolisms begin to skyrocket.

Kali abruptly spins around, bent completely over as she lifts herself at the hips by doing calf-raises in short, staccato beats. As she does so, she faces Ash, her face lightly perfumed by Merle’s pheromones as she deeply kisses Ash, savoring the aromas and flavors she has imparted to his face.

As she does so, she grasps first his shoulders, then his waist as she encourages Ash to stand up. As he does she impales first her mouth, then her throat upon Ashe’s spear. Merle is already standing and fully erect in more ways than one as he first slaps his viande against her buttocks before beginning to slowly rub, spread, and prod her labia gently, yet insistently as she mentally prepares to be stretched beyond her normal limits to accommodate pleasure.

Ash and Merle now find themselves staring into each other’s faces. It has never been uncomfortable for them in this circumstance, and although neither homophobic nor bisexual per se, they were quite at ease with their circumstance. (They rarely ever discussed “…that one night, when they were in college together….”)

Merle then pulled Kali down with him onto a thick rug that covered the wooden floor in front of the unlit flagstone fireplace, laid down upon his back with Kali spread-eagled over his face while Ash penetrated her from behind while she slathered Merle’s sex with her tongue.

They then turned around so Kali could ride Merle, cowgirl-style which took some considerable finesse despite the fact that they had been intimate with each other for years now. But once pinioned on his member, she began to move up and down until almost three-quarters of his length was inside her. Now it was his turn to move his hips as Ash slowly began to press his rigid prick against her anus, then slowly remove it and start again, gently dilating her sphincter as she began to moan wickedly as she gyrated her hips on Merle’s phallus.

The effects of the drug were fully upon them, although Merle said they were nowhere near the peak. Amber, gold, and neon-green seemed to envelop everything they saw, which seemed to glow from within. The music that was playing seemed unrecognizable except when a particular phrase or lyric seemed to jump out of the cacophony of the Gestalt of all the sounds that they found themselves suddenly noticing…

A symphony of airplane noise, fluorescent light transformers, refrigeration and air conditioning compressors, faraway dogs serenading unknown listeners, their own stomachs, several mosquitoes trying to hide in the kitchen under the table, every bird, every lizard, every cat, every frog, the expressway several miles away in the distance, every fly, moth, or caterpillar, a dripping faucet somewhere in the distance, the rustling of the leaves outside, each other’s breathing, as well as their own, in addition to a sound none of them could identify…a soft chorus of voices that seemed to lead the harmonization of all of the combined sounds into an orchestration of noise that suddenly sounded harmonious, as if it all was directed by some divine conductor.

They heard it, they sensed it, they knew it even before any of them acknowledged it. It also sounded like there was a drumbeat somewhere off in the distance… “Dirty Business” from a Jerry Garcia solo album suddenly came to the forefront.

Kali also seemed to be going into a trance of some kind. She spoke in a deeper, more summonsing voice that suddenly cried out the names of heretofore unmentioned deities from the earliest beginnings of Man. When she opened her mouth to speak, the sounds of other voices, as if trapped inside her were also trying to be heard, to get out. One of the voices was definitely speaking backwards. Although an absolutely alarming occurrence, the three of them remained intently enraptured, curious to find out what was next.

Kali’s body was repeatedly wracked by orgasm, again, and again, causing her to cry out wickedly as she began to laugh uncontrollably in short fits before lapsing into momentary silence.

Next, the room seemed to shake as if an earthquake was occurring, as if the house would split, the beams and rafters began to moan in an orgasmic chorus of impending chaos…except that Ash noticed that none of the glasses of sake were shaking, and that the chandelier was not moving or swaying. A clarion call of giant horns sounding like the cries of whales underwater (or perhaps Gabriel’s Trumpet) seemed to drown out everything until one of them spoke softly, in a whisper that they all heard equally clearly.

As frenzied as their sex had been only moments before, they now began to notice figures that stepped out from the wooden paneling of the living room, only to retreat back moments later. A flash of light here, a darkening of the atmosphere that seemed to stream from one point to another, gather strength, and stream off again to another point. Knotholes that became eyes, or vaginas that winked back.

Kali seemed to be possessed of some spirit or spirits that spoke through her.

It was time to discover the source of the Majic that surrounded them everywhere.

Kali went to get a cauldron that she often used for scrying. She was still naked, flushed, and dripping when she returned with the vessel. She kept rainwater that she gathered from a hollow stump during the new moon at midnight. She used a hibachi grill to heat the contents to boiling as they gathered on the porch, naked and huddled in the near darkness. Ash produced three boat seat cushions to use to kneel around the boiling pot of water first to read the vapors, then the reflections as Kali began to question their visitors.

Ash found it difficult to concentrate at first because he kept staring at Kali’s swollen, distended vulva. Kali was distracted by the fact that it wouldn’t stop throbbing, and Merle couldn’t take his mind off the smell of Kali’s snatch, that still lingered on his face. A Wiccan sorceress, a brujo, and a shaman are still human. Time to cowboy up.

They had already decided earlier as to what they considered the primary purposes of this evening were to be. As much as they cherished the sex between them, tonight it was to be the vehicle they used to attempt to expand their consciousness sufficiently to make contact with the ancient ones to learn what they had to offer. Now it appeared that they had enticed the spirits that surrounded them. They still wanted to make meaningful useful contact to gain wisdom.

This “Knowledge…” that they had taken was more powerful than any drug they had ever tried before…and they had done just about all of them, between Merle’s pharmacological and botanical experiences, as well as his status as a shaman, which helped provide access to many things. “Kali” (the drug) was like psilocybin, peyote, LSD, and MDMA combined. It had physical body effects, including powerful stimulatory properties, it produced visions and interestingly enough, an extraordinary euphoria that gave the impression of insight, although they already knew better than to trust their current impressions completely until the next day, and they used the digital voice recorders on their phones for almost everything that transpired that evening. There was also a security camera that covered the entire back porch, just in case something visible appeared.

What no camera or recorder could document was the anticipated God Phenomenon that has previously only been experienced on a temporary basis by direct electrical stimulation of certain parts of the left parietal region of the brain. The unanticipated effects were proving to be far beyond their wildest anticipations.

They expected that the insights, revelations and self-awareness would probably occur during the later portions of their experiences this evening, much as it often does with psychedelic drugs in general.

As they stared at the boiling cauldron, Kali set a mixture of oil and alcohol that she poured onto the surface on fire, adding Dragon’s Blood and several other agents that produced various effects to aid in the process. They held hands in a circle around the fiery cauldron. They chanted, and nothing happened. They waited for a moment, and a very large Macaw (not a native to Florida, it should be noted) flew to the porch, landed on the deck about six feet away and waddled the remaining few feet to the middle of the circle. Just like that. It walked right up to the flames, turned around to Kali, and asked “What’cha doin’ Toots?”

They all laughed, including the bird, who repeated its question as it hopped onto Kali’s lap. “Boop-Oopa Doop…What’cha doin, Toots? As it cocked its head quizzically, shifting its weight from one foot to the other as it bobbed its head up and down.

Kali finally answered the rather persistent giant bird in an amused tone like she was talking to a small child, or like some pet owners do with their dogs and cats (or some spouse’s with their mates).

“We’re looking for a Spirit Guide, my friend.”

“Well why didn’t you say so in the first place?…Boop-Oopa Doop. What can I do for you?”

As stunned as they all were by the remark, they later noted to each other that at that moment they all experienced the so-called “God Effect” while talking with this avian anomaly…not because they believed the macaw to be God per se, but they somehow sensed that it might just be a messenger…and that they experienced a heretofore unknown feeling of the workings of the cosmos within themselves…it’s hard to explain. The Chinese say that to the man who has had the experience, no explanation is necessary, but to the man who has not had the experience, none will suffice. So it was for them that night.

“So you are our guide? Kali inquired as she stroked the feathers on the bird’s head, which it clearly enjoyed.

“No, but I have been sent as a sort of messenger/emissary to you three to give you some badly needed advice…Boop-Oppa-Doop.”

“What advice?” asked Merle.

The giant Amazon turned its head around like an owl (which is quite unusual for this breed) and looked Merle straight in the eye. “Listen carefully…you need more help…you need allies with whom you are quite literally willing to trust with your lives.” It then turned its attention to Ash: “You have a parish, and you have some valuable friends…it’s your decision as to whom you pick, but you and your most lovely wife must be at the center, like a nucleus, and Merle, your medicine man needs to be the North. He requires a female to be the South, and you need to choose a male and female East and West respectively. The four winds, the four seasons, the four elements, the four corners of the earth…it’s no coincident. You can figure it out…I hope you can figure it out, because you face real danger if you go much farther without their assistance…Boop-Oopa-Doop.”

“How do we find them? Kali inquired.

“Keep doing what you started…you’re on the right track, but you need one more ingredient…”

“Wait!” Kali blurted out. “What is your name?”

“Boop-Oopa-Doop…at your service… she did a very impressive full bow as she extended her right wing which she swept from left to right rather formally in front of her. “…but you can all call me Betty.”  She leaned close to Kali and winked as she sniffed lightly… “Baby, you smell gooood! See you in the funny papers, Toots…I gotta go, but I still gotta give you one more thing before I leave so you can see properly…I’ll be Bach”, she quipped in a very poor Austrian accent.

With that Betty (Boop-Oopa-Doop) jumped down off Kali’s lap and jumped into the flames, producing an intense pure white light, like phosphorus, that temporarily blinded them.

As they stared into the neon-purple after effects of their blindness, what they all saw was Darcy, doing her “Bandaloop” dance.

One down, two more to go.

 

The Talking Monkeys and The Home for WaywardSouls: Dress for Success

Posted in Biggest Sex Organ, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Long Form, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Talking Monkeys with tags , , , , , , on September 14, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys: Dress for Success

Merle paused for a moment to reflect as he sat on the edge of his bed. It was a California King, vast…immense…sprawling, and yet, if he were to lay back on a diagonal with his arms and legs spread, he would cover most of it.  He often told people he was the second-shortest member of his family, surpassing only his mother, a mere petite five feet, twenty-six inches.

The Apache possess a gene or two that often produce very tall offspring, but unlike the Watutsi, they tended to be bigger-boned and more broad-shouldered like the Mandé. Most of Merle’s relatives, however, would have been immensely offended by the comparison to African tribes. It would seem that those who suffer from racism frequently are just as prone to indulging in it as those who would pre-judge them, but to Merle (who was in fact named after Merle Haggard, not Merlin the Magician) it was all a tragically amusing illusion in which it seemed all peoples indulged.

He considered himself fortunate that he came from a family of Shamans, Brujos, Sorcerers, and Medicine Men and Women that raised him in an atmosphere of enlightenment and tolerance. That tolerance was especially important to Merle, given a few of his proclivities, as we shall see….

As he sat upon the edge of the bed he meditated, eventually allowing himself to visualize what should be his choice of wardrobe for this evening’s ceremonies.

A great number of his practices allowed him to wear long flowing robes, which he preferred whenever possible, and was generally his mode of dress within his home…what was not generally known, except to his very closest of acquaintances was what he often wore underneath.

Merle admitted that he liked leather and denim as much as he liked satin and lace. Although he was preternaturally handsome and well-muscled, he had little body or facial hair and his features were somewhat androgynous in the same way that certain Nordic or Arian female genotypes may be stunningly beautiful while nonetheless lacking certain typically feminine features per se.

The robe he visualized for the occasion was a light, very breathable unbleached linen, with a few essential talismans silkscreened onto it. Underneath that he would be wearing a pair of black silk panties that Kali had hand-sewn to his exact specifications, which included enormous provision for his massive cock, and a nude-colored chemise, also silk with a modest amount of black lace trim.

The contrast of his smooth high cheekbones and his smooth, supple almost wiry build, long straight shining black hair and his extremely well-endowed loins was usually jaw-dropping to most females who eventually joined the soft parade of admirers who became worshipers in more ways than one.

Although he was disinclined to permit measurement of his viande, it was clearly well over a foot in length, about the same circumference as his wrist and uncircumcised. Even in his workplace, he had become subject of whispered rumors, urbanlegendary tall-tales and great speculation even among the men with whom he worked…it was as if everywhere he went, there was someone who knew someone who knew him in the biblical sense….

When he was younger, he had struggled with developing the off-handed and simple acceptance of his biological inheritance that he now possessed. He exuded a humble self-confidence that is clearly lacking in most people that made him respectfully approachable. Almost everyone seemed to possess a desire to befriend him, although he admittedly stuck to a doctrine of Love Many and Trust Few…(and always paddle your own canoe).

“Goo Goo G’JoobI am the WalrusAND the Carpenter….” he mused as he stood before the mirror.

Among other coincidences of alignment of time and space, it was also the anniversary of the publishing of Finnegan’s Wake.

“The time has come…
to talk of many things:
of shoes…and ships…and sealing-wax…
of cabbages…and kings…
and why the sea is boiling hot…
and whether pigs have wings.”

“…and I have a powerful hunger for seafood.”

 

In Defense of “Dirty”

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, A Womens Flower, Biggest Sex Organ, Dirty, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Much Too Good For Children, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, The Id, Vagina with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2013 by dreamlanddancing

There was a time when I was quite reactionary about using the word “dirty” to describe Sex, Art, Music, Thoughts or Words. In My World, the Sacred and the Profane alike wallow in the same muck. There was a time when I thought that Sex, for instance was not “dirty”…and I would have argued with anyone who called me “promiscuous” because I felt defensive about what the word meant to them…I’ve had plenty of time to rethink all that several times over….

I suppose when the general consensus was that Sex is Dirty, then Sex without shame, or guilt, or association with Sin is liberating, even to the point of exhilaration. If you still think that Sex is dirty per se, you are probably a gynecologist, and single.

I am neither of those, although I must admit that the concept of being very well paid to look at vaginas all day long fills me with curiosity just long enough to make me want to badly hurt my high school guidance counselor. Then reality sets in…an endless queue of diseased and broken cunts…heartbreakingly curious, a mixture of revulsion and fascination. Janitor to The Temple of the Holy of Holies. Of course, many of them would just be average healthy women, in for their fifty-thousand mile maintenance check. I remember when I worked as a municipal paramedic that on the numerous times I was called upon to inspect one (like a labor and/or delivery call), that I called upon a considerable amount of reverence and decorum by remembering to NOT smile wistfully, as I am often want to do when I see a woman’s flower under non-clinical circumstances, but rather to inconspicuously touch my badge and simply think “God, I love this job.”

This post may be well on the way to running off the rails by way of digressions, but both topics, as well as most related subjects are so near to my heart that I can easily get lost like a child in a department store full of toys and candy.

I read a definition of the word Turpitude that stated that (by definition) “…if you are guilty of turpitude, you should be ashamed of yourself…”. I felt offended…I mean, here a person spends their entire life devoting themselves to depravity only to be so harshly judged. Fortunately, I have also learned to consider self-righteousness to be its own punishment.

By God, but I do digress…back to dirty as a state of mind…A Dirty Mind is a Terrible thing to waste. And Turpitude is its own Reward. The world writhes with Sex at the core of virtually every motivation, ambition, or interest since the beginning of time…Sex…self-replicating DNA…our biological imperative…good for more than a few nights worth of Adventure, but there IS Something Beyond even the most frenzied, sweaty physical couplings…The Zealot’s Chariot of Fanaticism…where the body drives itself to overthrow the tyranny of the rational mind, only to have The Id, the Imp of the Perverse to deliver the final coup and establish its own Junta overrunning all reason…frenzied Ecstasy storms the barricades…short circuits the brain and releases The Madman from the Prison of the Mind…and all in good fun, (tastefully set to whatever Music blows your skirt up). Dirty is a state of Mind…it can take you to the edge of the volcano…it can make you laugh until you cry…and its all inside your head, the biggest sex organ of all.

❣Emotional Queen👑

🎭दो चेहरें हैं,दो लहज़े हैं मेरे...और हर सवाल के दो जवाब "एक मैं जो लिखती हूँ दूजा तुम जो जानते हो"!! 👑Queen Of My Own Thought❣ #MyBlogMyFeeling

JackCollier7

Charming, cultured, generous, honest, sophisticated, understanding, and urbane.

Analbarbie. Gierig und unersättlich.

Meine Lust am Leben. / Ich will doch nur spielen !!!

Death, The Life Story

Tracing a life through stories of death. Sometimes funny, sometimes not.

Chaotic Shapes

Art and Lifestyle by Brandon Knoll

Masturbation Monday

Where getting off is half the fun...

Lyfes Poetry

BLog Hard Or Go Home

stormy musings

Whatever, whenever

simplisticInsights

Simple made easy! psychology love feeling emotion thought behaviour success strategy

Nature Art

Photography, Creative Writing & Art by SAJIA AFRIN

arwenaragornstar

A French girl's musings...

Broken roads of Destiny

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” — Maya Angelou

An Obvious Oblivion Blog

🍃 Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. 🍃

Living to help other disabled people, and people in need, Change the sign!! And Earth

I been online since 1994. I seen the internet at its finest. Then the World joined and fucked it up

Blog Femme & Infos

" La Mode Sans Vulgarité "

Rajiv Chopra

A Gypsy, Bismillah & Esmerelda The Spider Sit With Yama At The Vaitarna

latinagrrl177

daily life in a family of 8.....

Felicity Johns

This site is rated for MA audiences only.

Peri şair karanfilli

Nefesime,hayatıma,aklıma esen her şeye dair.

Too much Too soon

Live rat race

cakeordeathsite

What would you choose?

The Over The Line Show

with jack and joe

CinnamonAndSparkles

If I had a power color, it would be sparkle. Landon Brinkley

Diary of a Married Woman

Power Exchange and Letting Go........

A Boy and Her Dog

Traversing the Border between Butch and Transgender

freeing excalibur

He who holds the sword, owns my heart

Analbarbie.de - meine Blogfavoriten!

Analbarbie - Bei diesen Blogs lese ich gerne mit!

Meine Musik^^.

Ich liebe Musik ... kann ohne nicht sein! Hier gibts alles über meine Favoriten.

Ingwerlatte reloaded. Leben und leben lassen!

(Vive et vivere sine)² - Leben und leben lassen!

The Chrysanthemum and The Sword

“Each time we face our fear, we gain strength, courage, and confidence in the doing.” “Even a sheet of paper has two sides.”

Molly's Daily Kiss

A Kiss is Just a Kiss -

olivia submits

...the journey continues

toraprincess

a married woman's journey into D/s

Christina Strigas

You can't break up with a soul mate

georgeforfun

Welcome to George's world, no invitation needed, feel at home

The Art Of Fearless Living

Being afraid is human, but staying afraid is a choice.

Rivella49's Blog

DAL TICINO/SVIZZERA

Milenanik3's Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

vinnieh

Movie reviews and anything else that comes to mind

newvideos31

Happy birthday to you :)