Maggie consumed Duncan’s face with voracious hands — the fleshy cheeks, the bold nose, the mouth and eyes lined by a robust maturity. Her hands devoured every feature, as if she could draw meaning from mere form, ecstasy from mere touch. His masculine terrain provoked her with its potent solitude, as if a secret were stirring.
Charlotte’s gaze was pale and volatile, like tinder awaiting a spark. Though her perceptive eyes hid nothing, they used a vocabulary I would never know. They spoke a language of the soul. By nature and training, she was a spiritual director, but she lacked the centuries that might have allowed her to embrace my paradox. She didn’t see the tightrope I walked. She didn’t believe in vampires.
Preparing to feed, I realized I could simply walk away, or disentangle her will from mine and allow her to fight. I found I had options, but no choice. After all, I was one of those visceral, sensual killers, addicted to the taste of pulsing flesh, and the only I way I knew to overcome temptation was to give into it.
In time, she returned her attention to me, taking my face as if she could draw her whole life from my mouth, and I welcomed her as if I had it to give. She pressed kisses to my forehead, eyes, and cheeks, and then her lips explored my mouth, penetrating and devouring. Her hands raked over my skin as her kisses grew passionate. We spent hours kissing this way beside the sea, and the fire-rush of the waves cascaded into my awareness only after we finally lay apart, staring into each other’s face.
I was going to post some pencil layouts from a work in progress, but decided to move ahead and ink what I post first. This is page 10 of Darklaw: Hold Fast the String, a graphic novel I’m currently illustrating. The final project will be in color, but I hope you enjoy the inks, too.
Darklaw is [...]
“What intrigues me is the use of children as a standard to censor ideas and images. We drug them with sugared sodas and candies. But when it comes to sex we somehow muster all our parental muscle to make sure they are protected, to make sure they don’t see how people may celebrate and lovingly [...]
This happened a few years ago, but I just read about it and am wondering — in light of my last post — how well it would go over in a US public library.
Vienna’s City Hall launched a “sex hotline” to raise money for the capital’s main public library. Callers paid 53 cents a minute to listen [...]
From locking books away in a special request cage to limiting circulation to certain ages, it seems the libraries of the US are dealing with things like racism and graphic sexuality in diverse ways.
Filament, a magazine for women featuring semi-naked men, launched earlier this year, and it flew off the shelves, even though the women complained that the men kept their pants on. “A limp response to women’s erotica” (The Guardian, Kristina Lloyd and Mathilde Madden).
When Filament tried to run an issue with fully-aroused and naked men, its [...]
Benjamin Franklin said, “read much but not many books.” That advice has some meaning for me as a picky reader, but as a writer, I need to keep current with the state of my genre. That means I have to read a variety of erotica, sometimes whether I want to or not.
What I wanted was to unravel the moments weaving this pleasure into history. Losing myself in lust would leave the blaze of touches and smells and sounds little more than embers in my memory. The paradox of losing control in order to find it left me wanting every moment to remain a flame, even when the heat was gone. There are those who say love doesn’t fail through denial but through excess. Still, there was no stopping a waterfall.