Source Unknown (There’s an awful bleached version floating around with more recent origin.)

I’d have posted this solely based upon how  pink her cheeks are, honestly. (I’m a sucker for actually physiological discernible cues of sexual arousal.)

But there’s also her mouth hanging slack, half-open–I can almost here her rapid, shallow, slightly raspy breathing.

And despite not really being a fan of close-ups or selfies, this somehow works as an image–if for no other reason than the boy on top seems to be the one taking snapping the picture (therefore justifying participant proximity to the action).

Also, the image implies the explicit without revealing much more than would a skimpy swimsuit. For me that serves to narrow the focus sharply to the passion and immediacy acting in the moment. To me, that’s always haute as fuck.

You know that saying about how a friend will bail you out of jail at 2am while a true friend will be sitting next to you in the cell saying: damn, that was fun.

I think it’s a wise aphorism but I guess I reckon friendship differently than most people.

To me a friend is someone who would ask to tie me up in this fashion and I would without a second thought consent

A true friend would just tie me up and proceed to push me outside my comfort zone and so thorough transgress the bullshit notion of boundaries that I would only be able to whisper Meister Eckhart’s prayer: thank you, thank you, thank you.

I love their closed eyes, the bright flush to their faces, the bodies tense with forestalled impatience— I want you to enjoy it, enjoy me enjoying you enjoying it—a full-blown sensory flashback: I remember my knees shaking and teeth transformed to mercury quivering in my gums and the weight of knowing— God himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay; knowing is not enough against wanting, wanting to see this through tired-tired eyes spread holy-holy awed and wide as the wet of lips meeting and our fumbling lead boned find those secret fleshy spaces with their tiny, tiny alters to bear and burn lonely so many offerings.

The pale one, her fingers slid up almost to the wrist into the others blue-grey briefs, deeper; while she is herself caressed through white knickers— I remember the slick groove of a dew pussy leeching through cotton and then glistening silken on gliding fingertips.

How much wonder do we miss?

As if wonder is snow & we are all kids staring up at a smoke grey sky, our mouths wide with waiting for that quick, crystalline tang to kiss our tongues.

For each kiss we catch, how many do we miss?

But, isn’t wonder everywhere— 

In the way shy surrender to the certainty of needing tinges the lids of eyes & cheeks with a pink pre-blush patina.

& afternoon light softens the bare, oft-hidden skin below the smooth up-tilt of a chin.  

Wonder: the finger slid slyly between lips & teeth—careful to touch nothing.


(via snusk)

Largely, pornography is produced as a single-serving ‘experience’. One watches it, masturbates to it, gets off and then shuts it off.

On occasion there’s an image or video returned to over and over—something about the chemistry between the performers, the scenario, etc.—because nothing else reaches the itch it scratches quite like it.

For me, this is such an image. Although it is not without problems—namely, the woman is displayed like a trophy while the men remain hidden. Still, it manages—probably accidentally—to upend these troubling facets in interesting ways.

This is ostensibly a group sex scene: a woman and three men—the woman holds the photographer’s member. (The head of which is just visible in the frame.) Another man covers the woman’s genitals with his left hand, fingers glistening with her wetness. You can see another male foot in the upper right corner of the frame. Splotches of semen appear on the the sheets.

The woman—face flushed, eyes closed, the edge of her lip pinched between her white teeth—is enjoying herself.

What makes this image stand out is its subversion—at least in my reading— of porn’s tendency to encourage voyeurs to imagine themselves as part of the scene. While seeing this makes me wish I had been a party to this event, I never for a second get the impression that I would be welcome were I suddenly to appear en media res.

That is not really a problem, though. It is enough to know there are really people out there having and further enjoying the type of sex I dream often of having.