There is something about the touch of my own hand against my body. It is like anesthesia. Numbing a trail as I graze along my inner thigh. I do not quiver, I do not squirm. It is a stillness that no one but myself can give to me. The feeling of my fingers caressing the lips between my legs is familiar, predictable, loyal. The rhythm I read like brail against my wet vulva. Desires I cannot verbalize. Somehow, my touch knows what I need. Somehow without being able to decipher the messages, I know exactly what shall be done, at exactly the time I need it. It is a recurring ritual in an attempt to understand the complexities my body speaks of and the sensations I cannot quite describe. It is an affair only I will ever know of, only I can ever reach.
A Question Half Answered.
What does it mean to be alive? It’s more than one’s beating heart and able body. It’s more than stability and routine. It’s a question half answered. A thought that dissipates. I can feel what it is, I know what it’s not, yet I cannot quite define it. Its elusiveness escapes us. Never able to catch up. However, in the margins of experience, it envelopes. In the moments of stillness, or wild ecstasy. In the consistency of being, present, I lay the foundation for this to arise. To inquire once more. Am I truly living?
The Evolution of a Seed.
Sometimes I wonder, what comes of my desires? What are their origins and what are they here to accomplish? We are a product of our circumstances, yet we have the power to overcome them. My practice with each budding fantasy is questioning what part of me this serves. When I am dancing at the club, who am I becoming? What part of me am I feeding? When I find a person that intrigues me, what place do they have in my life, where do I belong in theirs? These questions bring me deeper into this relationship with myself. It brings every little circumstance and mundane detail to life. It illustrates an infinite, malleable, eroticism. I am never the same and always enough. My sensualities are my roots. My fantasies, the fruits I bare. Seasonal, fresh, decaying. The evolution of a seed
Image of our arousal.
New York is the mistress I’ll always return to. Being back after weeks of exploring islands and erotic interludes, I am ignited. It feels as though I am in the right place at the right time. This city reflects my desires, my worthiness, my potential. She never gives up, always strong, and beautiful even in her imperfections. This city fills me up, it influences my path, it's inextricably connected to my truth. Our environment colors the image of our arousal. Mine is vibrant, deep, and chaotic. It is wild and unfinished. It is a question and a secret. I wonder, am I good at keeping secrets?
There's no place like...the club.
There’s no place like the club, there’s no place like the club, there’s no place like the club. I click my 6-inch heels and hope for my client to come and shower me with much-needed affection and money. It has been weeks since I have been back to the club. Returning is always bittersweet. There is excitement for the dark atmosphere, the loud music, the low lights, the beautiful models, and the rich men. Then there is another side. A part of me that wants to flee to someplace where no one knows me, where my responsibilities begin and end with me, and where I can spend my days doing only what makes me happy and turns me on. Not that this place doesn’t turn me on, but it’s not quite the paradise I always dream of.
Discovery Part II.
We spent over an hour discussing the dynamics of our relationships, what our interests were, and where we liked to travel. It seemed that we had more in common with this couple than just our affinity for overt public affection. I could tell they had been alone in their world for quite some time, as have we on our travels. I could sense their lust and growing desire to reach out and to touch. So, I took my hand and placed it on her leg as I laughed at one of her clever quips. I saw the look of surprise and curiosity that overcame her. As if she had been waiting for this the entire time. It was a subtle and fleeting glance, but it struck me with great force. She was communicating something to me in that brief moment.
Time had passed and the sun had set. They invited us to their apartment for dinner and dessert. We bought the wine and walked up a steep hill to their apartment overlooking the small northern beach of Paros. We sat on their balcony admiring the colors the ocean reflected back to us. On our second bottle of wine and our third hour together, silent stares and sweet smiles began to escalate. We all knew why we were here. We knew what we had been starved of: the touch of a stranger and the conversation of a new friend.
With wine-stained lips, she approached me softly, she placed her hand over mine, leaned in, and kissed me. The warm air blew against my lips, wet with her tongue, as my man grabbed me from behind, biting my neck and caressing her face. Never before have I had so many hands grasping at my curves, never so many mouths exploring my skin. I was lost in sensation. Encapsulated within these embraces, it seemed as if they had no other interest outside of drowning me in their desire. I was fucked, kissed, spanked. My face sat upon and my throat filled. I couldn’t decipher where my body began and from whom I was receiving. I was found, in the pleasure of strangers, in the presence of my love, and in the satisfaction of my own deviant desires. I had brought this erotically charged couple to my man as an offering of love, and they gave themselves to me, as a fulfillment of my fantasies.
Discovery Part I.
We discovered a couple on the beach during our last days on the Island. They enchanted us, even from afar, and we were feeling carnivorous. We were methodical in our approach. We sat nearby with a bottle of wine and some olives from the market. We observed their mannerisms, this air of completely relaxed arousal that was created between the two pulled us in deeper. It only turned us on more, made our curiosity grow, and our fantasies run. Indulged in their love, I began to stroke my lovers thigh. Squeezing my way up to find his beautiful cock strong and pulsing with desire. We wanted more than just quiet admiration. So I prepared an offering. I rolled up a spliff as my man kissed my neck, gently turning me on to send me off. I licked the paper, then his lips, and made my way toward the two. He gave my ass a soft pat, in a gesture that said, ‘good luck.’ I walked over to them, with my smile, and my big eyes, as though perhaps I could hypnotize them into falling for us. I asked if they had a lighter (despite having matches in my bag). Being this close to them I felt alive with excitement, yet timid in their presence. I wondered if they would know why I've come. I light the spliff and asked if they would like to join us for a smoke. I must have been quite ardent in my inquiry because they giggled before accepting the offer. I returned to my lover with two very attractive people and a devious smile.
Video Diary: Fun with Friends
A sound in the night.
One of my guilty pleasures is listening to others have sex. The sounds of movement, the panting breathe, and the stifled or projected moans of satisfaction and overwhelm. Everything about it I adore. Hearing a couple at the peak of orgasm or catching a glimpse of an exhibitionistic couple from the window across my balcony. It is a special fantasy that rarely comes to reality. Especially amongst the noise of the city. So when I was walking along the quiet beach in the small fishermen's town of Milo, late at night, I couldn't help but caress myself a little when I heard a vocal and ecstatic couple from their seaside farmhouse. A brief and delicious little Grecian treat.
too much and even more.
I am a dark and stormy kind of girl. I am passionate, wild, tender, honest, vulnerable, and unapologetic. My intensity attracts most, yet few withstand. It can burn, but it is not bad. My emotions and my intensity are nothing I will disguise. They are nothing I can tame. My intensity is the essence of who I am. My love is big, my desires are magnificent. I cannot deny nor diminish them. I must admit, I am not the girl for everyone, I am not the love that placates. My love evolves and shifts, painfully at times, but necessary always. My emotions are invaluable, my passion is my power. I am too much for many, despite my innocence and seduction. I need a man that has the capacity to not only withstand my intensity, but to love it. I need a love that can hold and let be, all of my “too muchness” and encourages me to be even more. I need a man like him. I found him on a swim in the sea, naked in my bed, laying on my lap, flying me to Greece. Found him here.
Northern Aegean winds.
The white rocks of Sarakiniko have an elegance and seduction I've never known. Cerulean thrusts into it’s beautiful smooth curves. Nature is sex. I stand above this wonder in a black dress that contrasts this stark environment. My naked body beneath buzzes with the sheer power of this energy. The existence of places like this is why I breathe. On top of these rocks, the strong northern Aegean winds are merciless. Braced against the etesian, it blows between my legs and up my body. As I play with the gusts, the light cotton fabric of my long black dress floats up and over my face, so I let the wind have it’s fun. With a few behind me having the pleasure of witnessing this landscape. The blue waves, the white curves, the black dress...and my beautiful ass.
Video Diary: Jennifer
Beyond your comfort.
Never get in the way of yourself. The potential for greatness is within your control. Do not get stuck in monotony. Leave bad relationships, strive for connection, find a new job, travel to another country. Find the people and places that make you feel at home. Watch the stars from different mountains, push yourself beyond your comfort level. No worthwhile story has ever been told that does not involve a challenge and a triumph.
Paradise and a beautiful life.
What a beautiful life, to be naked by the water and alone in a paradise. I want to never give this up. I want to always watch the sunset behind an island I can only see at dusk. I want to never be far from these colors, colors that have their own language. I want to always have the sharp taste of olives and feta and the intoxication of wine grown not too far from I. I want to always swim in an air of syrup and fruit and I want to always have a beautiful man between my thighs.
Onto him and into the sea.
Have you ever had sex in the ocean? It’s like having a threesome with a stranger you feel you’ve known forever. The waves and the weightlessness...it's like you are being held and moved by another lover. We found an empty beach in the south of the island. Free from witnesses to our mischief, it is our own. Swimming through little tunnels the massive cliffs create, I turn to find this man in the midst of sun rays, between the drops of water falling upon us. I swim around his legs, caressing his cock as I pass. I hold his body from behind moving my hands down his stomach. I go back under and begin to lick his growing cock as long as I could hold my breath. I surface to find him ravenous, he picks me up and my legs wrap tightly around his waist, I need all of him now. We are surrounded by the turquoise of the sea and my body wants to make her our witness. Closer we become and I feel his growing desire against mine. Slowly moving with the ebb of the water I press myself onto him and into the Sea.
The sex, the flora, and my wishes.
Milos, here, it smells of sweet, like warm syrup poured over raspberries. Pastel, the air, it is soft over my cheeks and shoulders. The sun, has a different warmth. It’s a heat that stings my skin and radiates through my body. Everything is sensual. I am aroused by the sound of the waves crashing on rocks outside my window. Intoxicated by the smell of my sweetheart, asleep next to me. Naked as we are. In love with time, and it’s passing, through the haze of sex, the flora, and my wishes ever met. The Aegean sea has stories to tell, written upon every moment it has ever lived. And I help write this story, with my body, my senses, and my hunger.
A proper thank you.
My lover surprised me with a trip across the world. I woke up some mornings ago to a text. “Check your email” he said. My inbox contained one ticket to Greece and one dirty desire he wants of me. I immediately put on my sexiest lingerie, got out his favorite toy to use on me, and FaceTime'd this sexy man, to give him a proper thank you. Off to the islands my last weeks of summer.
Video Diary: Maureen
Loving wherever I can.
My lover has left. I am an independent woman, I have goals I am accomplishing one by one, so the distraction of a relationship at this time may just be too much for me. But how I love my many adonis'. How I long for those days that they come with their visits from homes from all over the world. How I live for the trips they bring me on, the food we eat. Oh, and all the sex we have. I need to be nourished. My heart, my body, my belly! Bring me to Sicily to eat and I am yours forever. Whisk me to Iceland for hot springs and sky watching, I’ll be your best friend. I have a treasure chest full of my little beauties. Each one special, loving, and sexy. It makes me sad to see my lover go, I’ll miss his laugh, our dinners together, his cock. But for now, I continue to create and thrive, and get my loving when and wherever (Greece next!) I can!
she is home.
I watched the sunset on the east side of Manhattan. Reflections bathing her in light, like it’s cleansing her, and us, of our day of debauchery. Seeing the beauty of this city in these evening colors, I feel as though I relate to the landscape. Strong, unwavering, busy, always giving, and going and providing. It’s a birth of life and funeral all at once. But in this glow, at this hour... Brooklyn is quiet. She is strong still, but she is vulnerable. She is beautiful. She needs some love, and she needs some rest. She is home.