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memories of my ghost sista

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memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: erotica

Quote

erotic narrative in the form of comments left on a myspace blog

26 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, quote unquote, story

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2010, erotic narrative in the form of comments left on a myspace blog, erotica, sexetry

August
7, 2010 1:39 PM

Hmmm
this picture is truly amazing.

I
love the way the only thing covering you is your instrument.

I
love the creepy way you approach the camera.

I
love the way you move your hands which should be covering my body
with such incredible force that it leaves bruises all over my fragile
body =]

I
want you. I mean if you could tell.

*
*  *

Aug
5, 2010 4:11 AM

Hmmmm.

Yeah
that’s sound absolutely blissful.

I
think…well i mean…Hmmm.

YOU
should be here right now going balls deep insida me because im crazy
bored and you are crazy fucking delicious!

Sooooo
get here fast loll.

And
we don’t have to go to the zoo unless you have this crazy fantasy to
super bang at a zoo.

Lol
just saying =]

Oh
yeah and uhm some of those pics aren’t that exciting lol. trust me

*
*  *

Aug
5, 2010 2:22 AM

Oh
my you really are orgasmic in every fucking way.

I
live in Montana. =]

And
i would bring my body so inhumanly close to yours if you were here
right now because im so beyond greedy about you right now that i
would tie you up and keep you all for myself

*
*  *

Aug
4, 2010 5:01 PM

Well
that just sent the little voice in my head screaming “Lock that
shit down!”

Hmmm
i think we should get married and have babies!

Hahaa
syke!

Naw
for real though you are amazing and i super wish i WAS blinfolded on
my hands and knees waiting for you.

Because
that sounds super fun. =P

*
*  *

August
3, 2010 6:49 PM

I
like this pic you should default….

And
by this pic i mean your body. which is bangin.

And
by default i mean shove me agaisnt the wall and nibble on my lips =]

*
*  *

Aug
3, 2010 2:13 PM

Mmmmmkay.

Lol
and i like the way you say divine it’s fucking delicious!

*
*  *

Aug
2, 2010 6:16 AM

MMmm
no it would be more like i shove you down on the bed.

And
rub on you till your hard.

Then
get up and slowly strip off my clothes till your body aches for mine.

Then
ill crawl into your lap and start bouncing up and down on your dick.

Then
when you’re too tired to move i kiss lower to your neck…then your
chest…

Down
to your tummy…lower and lower till i get to your penis then i wrap
my lips around you and suck you dry.

*
*  *

Aug
1, 2010 8:39 AM

Hmmmmm
that pic comment was perfection.

Im
totally horny and i want your nuts super bad.=]

*
*  *

Aug
1, 2010 4:21 PM

You’re
really hott we should bang ;]

Quote

quote unquote

14 Tuesday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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erotica, quote unquote

lapping up pleasure like the cat who’s got the cream …

chastity haiku #47

21 Friday Feb 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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chastity haiku #47, clit ring poem, erotica, haiku, poem, Poetry

tease me; sleeping clit
between your lily-lush lips
with that hot, wet stud

queen mab fairy tales

06 Monday Jan 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art

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Tags

art, erotica, fairy tales, Mercutio, Romeo and Juliet, this is she, Victorian smut

Jan 06, 2014 (1)

Jan 05, 2014 (3)

Jan 05, 2014 (2)

ROMEO AND JULIET

MERCUTIO:

O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Over men’s noses as they lie asleep;
Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs,
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces, of the smallest spider web;
Her collars, of the moonshine’s wat’ry beams;
Her whip, of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film;
Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazelnut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight;
O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometimes she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
Tickling a parson’s nose as ‘a lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice.
Sometimes she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she!

the goat dreams of puella aeterna

30 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet

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Tags

age difference, art, erotica, poem, poetrys, puella aeterna, sonnet

Dec 30, 2913 (1)

She passed you on the down stair. Erection.
Each time bullies made you cry she consoled

you, brought you close, held your boyish bottom
closer. The one adult who would not scold

you, loved you in gym shorts cut high, showing
thigh and the hint of cock and balls. Widows

hungry for flesh are either a blessing
or a curse. The way she stripped off your clothes

and took you to the bath. The way she gave
herself to you; you who were far too young

to know why, just how. You must have pleased her,
until you grew up and started to shave.

Even now you recall her hips, her tongue,
her voice crying, “like that! harder! harder!”

][][

notes:

The Peter Pan Syndrome refers to a man’s unwillingness to grow up and take on adult responsibilities. There is an entire trope of man-boy characters in literature and popular culture; in Psychology Jung called it, Puer aeternus, Latin for the eternal boy. I’m curious what the female version of the Peter Pan Syndrome might be. Not Wendy, since she spent her whole time acting as a surrogate mother, but a female archetype that optimizes Pan’s cockiness and corresponding immature behavior. The nearest that I can find is from Jung as well, puella aeterna, the eternal girl, but there aren’t any corresponding female characters that I can find in literature as example. There is such a trope in Japanese popular culture that I thought, at first, might work: the alcoholic, single, lustful office lady who is shown living in a filthy apartment, drinking herself blind every night. However, it is a poor comparison since, unlike Pan who has agency not to take on adult responsibilities if he wants, the Office Lady is the way she is due to the misogynistic atmosphere of the Japanese business industry; regardless of education or background her role in most manga and anime is to fetch coffee, fend off sexual harassment and forever cling to the bottom rung of the office ladder. Perhaps one day I’ll find who I am looking for; until then I will keep on reading.

nerdy and curvy

23 Monday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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curvy, erotica, nearly blind, nerdy, other people's Velmas, pervy, Scooby-Doo, Velma Dinkley

Was it the “jinkies”? Maybe the glasses?
The knee-high socks? The skirt that never once

flipped up despite all the haunted houses
that she explored? There was an innocence

each time she ended up on hands and knees,
searching for her glasses and the campy,

rubber monster would appear. She would squeeze
its hand: “Shaggy! you’re so cold and clammy!”

Velma Dinkley, out of all the sublime
cartoon girls, was the one I could relate

to. Short, plump, maybe bi with dreadful eyes,
she was nerdy and curvy at a time

when no one was; with her orange jailbait
turtleneck, Mary Janes and chubby thighs.

yuugure and the mountain demoness

17 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Prose

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age difference, cunnilingus, erotica, female Japanese mountain demon, onibaba, prose, Yuugure

 

Yuugure stared at the hulking she-demon chained to the stonewall. It still resembled, a bit, his darling Sayomi. It had her arms, her purple eyes, her mother-birthing tummy, but they were larger now, bestial in ways the human form was never intended to be. Her whole body was covered in soft fur, like that of a mountain boar, but impossibly red. The thing — she — was deformed, with the legs of a woman mixed up with those of some fiendish shadow, a spark of mist and hatred, muscled, hungering as she strained against the thick iron that held her.

Was it really still a “she”? Undoubtedly. Sayomi’s small breasts had transformed, her cunt grown obscene. What had once been legs were now curved like that of a goat. It was those legs that she had used to carry off a ten year-old village boy, only a year younger than Yuugure himself, like a lamb to the slaughter. Yuugure couldn’t bear to think about what the villagers had discovered when they finally tracked the beast to her lair. He had to get his Sayomi back.

The mountain demon glowered at him, her teeth bared as if she would consume him at the first opportunity. Yuugure found himself staring at its eyes — her eyes — glowing in the candlelight. They seemed so much like Sayomi’s at first glance, but were now twisted, transformed. They were eyes that wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn.

Sayomi had spent the holy night of Shimekazari, when each household would invite the kami in as sacred guests, far away from everyone else in the village. She almost never participated in Shinto festivities, spending her time alone in meditation, deep in the mountains. When she would return, as she always did, she would never talk about what had happened to her, preferring instead to hold Yuugure.s tiny body tight against her, telling him that she would never do anything to harm him. Her wolfish scent would intoxicate the boy, the warmth of her body lull him to sleep. At first all her talk was baffling. Now it was routine. This time, though, everything was different. When Yuugure had gone to the well to fetch water he found his lover, old enough to be his own mother, naked, crawling upon hands and knees from out of the dark forest, bloody and insane.

Insane? Of course; no human being who talked as she did could still be considered connected to the physical world.

“I did it,” she gasped. “I drank from an onibaba’s footprint.”

A what? An onibaba? The female ogre of fairy tales? What did that even mean? Instead of answering any of his questions Sayomi went into the house and fell into a magical sleep. The message had seemed cryptic at first but now he understood. Even an eleven year-old orphan could see that there had been a change in the older woman that day.

Sayomi was a Kokumajutsu-shi, a dark witch. A few neighbors knew of her ties to the spirit world and would come, from time to time, to beg her for favors, the sort that the local Shinto priests would always refuse to grant.

There was a lot that Yuugure did not know about his Sayomi except that she loved him and he loved her so he ignored her often dark mood swings and tendency to seek out the most taboo realms of the spiritual world, or so she would claim. That was the problem with using the dark arts to solve problems that her neighbors and fellow villagers should have been able to handle all by themselves. Often they would return, the sorry bastards, begging for her to lift whatever spell or blessing that they themselves had requested. Yet, despite all the damage mere mortals seemed to bring down upon their own heads, Sayomi had healed without pay or complaint everyone who wandered through her door, granting absolute discretion to all the village girls when they came to her in tears over pregnancies they did not want.

“Of course I believe in evil,” Sayomi once said. “Anyone who brings an unloved soul into this world of sin is committing evil. To give birth to something unwanted but forced to live? unloved? uncared for? Even the oni are not so cruel. Better to skip a reincarnation, come back in a new body that will be loved than to be born an orphan whose only fate is to starve to death or be sold into slavery. Any parent who would do less is not fit to be called human.”

Now, though, Yuugure’s lover was gone and the female oni was all that remained. When the boy walked too close she shot out a powerful arm that caused the thick cold iron chains, set into stone with huge bolts, to groan and complain. Each time that Yuugure stepped too close the demoness began to rage. The heat of her breath assaulted his face. Her red arms and legs had muscles her had never seen before, like twisted oak roots. Her fat lips and kissable mouth were now the jaws of a deathtrap.

This all had started months before. Sayomi had begun to run away at night. Yuugure had never really understood, assuming it had something to do with being an adult and her dark witchiers. At first her odd behavior was even a little exciting. She would go during the night and return at daybreak. When she did, she would take the boy to their bed. She was rough and wild, unlike anything she had shown him before, biting and holding him down as she forced his cock deep inside her body. She tore at his skin and licked wherever she could find exposed flesh. Her nipples would grow hard then, each time she mauled him. It was as if the night in the woods had left her ravenous and she would literally howl each time he orgasmed inside her.

Then there was the blood. Sayomi had gone out one night and like before she came home in a daze, unkempt and dirty. She had crawled into bed where he was waiting, already excited and hard, awaiting the moment that she would ravage him. There was something safe each time she did it, except that night when he looked at her bared teeth and saw that they were stained with blood. Yuugure screamed for his love to stop, that something dreadful was wrong, but she heedlessly mounted him. The head of his cock touched her inner lips and he could feel her immediately become even wetter. There was something wrong, this time, though. She crouched over him like a nightmare, eyes gleaming as she rammed her hips down, impaling herself on him. He was afraid this time, terribly afraid. His cock started to hurt as if her cunt were made up of nothing but thousands of tiny barbs and he cried out in pain but she still wouldn’t stop.

Afterward he cried as she slept next to him.

The next morning she had no memory of what had happened. She became quiet when he told her, his dark boy eyes running with tears, about the blood in her mouth and what she had done. Sayomi was never one to exaggerate, but her eyes showed deep fear as she held him and whispered over and over that she was sorry.

It was on that same day that Hidou, a neighbor and Sayomi’s good friend, knocked on their door. She had come wanting a protective charm for her eight year-old son. Sayomi had laughed and told Hidou that boys weren’t the ones who needed protection. Hidou shook her head and told them that there was a rumor that an oibaba were stealing away their village boys.

First it had just been farm animals that had been disappearing of late. A few people had blamed a wolf that had been seen in the mountains, but that all had changed when something that clearly walked on two feet had dragged away a screaming village child. The town was in an uproar and everyone was afraid. On the very hour of her visit Sayomi made Hidou a special talisman blessed by their Shinto priest and told her friend to make sure that her son should never take it off.

That was the day everything in Yuugure’s life changed. He was shocked when Sayomi secreted herself to the outer barn where the ancient chains were. She stood in a corner on that cold day, naked, shackles hanging loosely on her arms and legs and then sent Yuugure away, ordering the boy not to come into the barn for any reason.

That evening everything was quiet. Even the birds seemed to be holding their breath. The sun began to set and Yuugure became afraid. The barn echoed with choked and muffled screams and the sick sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone. When Sayomi’s screams became a hideous roar, the boy crept into the barn to find — not Sayomi — but the onibaba, a real flesh and blood mountain demon, leering at him, steaming billowing out of her wicked mouth. Yuugure opened his mouth to scream in turn but no noise came forth. Sayomi’s breasts and cunt were still mostly human, made of the same powerful muscles as her legs and arms. Her face however was indeed the stuff of nightmare. Wide eyes and pointed horns poked out from the red fur that covered the rest of her body.

Yuugure ran from the room and hid in their bed, weeping at what had become of his beloved Sayomi. In the morning, he awoke to find the older woman in bed with him, back in her human form, sleeping in the throws of a fever-dream. For the rest of the day she lay unconscious. As the evening approached, though, she finally rolled over on her side and spoke to the boy.

“I have unnatural appetites.” Sayomi spoke hoarsely. “I have tried again and again to curb my hunger but it doesn’t work. I suffer and soon I will not be able to stop control myself from breaking loose and killing the first person I see. It might be one of our neighbors. It might be you. I need you to help me.”

“Haii! Anything I can do, please,” Yuugure pulled her muscled body as close as his thin arms allowed. Despite his fear feeling her smooth skin and warmth again calmed his heart.

“Find a dog or goat. Kill it for me. Then feed it to me when I am chained. Once the demon is fed perhaps then we can figure out a way to stop it.”

“Can you stop it?” Yuugure asked, stroking her aching body. “I can go bring the priest.”

“No.” Sayomi shook her head. “I have to do this myself. I can’t kill another innocent soul.”

“But you are so strong,” Yuugure began to kiss her face. “I know you can do anything. I’ll help too. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“I don’t deserve a boy like you.” Sayomi smiled. It was the first smile he had seen in days. It was the same smile that had bewitched him a year before that let her drag him away from the fire at the midsummer’s festivities. He had followed the strange, older woman into the shadows and was shocked when she let him take her. He had been a virgin before that night. Every time she smiled like that he knew that he would do it all over. Yuugure reached over and ran his hand up Sayomi’s thigh, exploring between her legs, touching her clit with his soft hands. She moaned a little and licked her lips.

“Please, Yuugure-chan. I’m tired. Being a boy-flesh crazed monster takes a lot of energy,” Sayomi began to roll away but he held her back in his arms and began to caress her even more.

“Then be still, oneesan,” the little boy teased, dipping his fingers into her hot, buttery wetness. Her body began to tense and relax as little waves of pleasure sloshed within. “Let me help you get rid of that demon in you.”

Sayomi began to breathe harder. She touched Yuugure’s naked skin as the age-old pleasures began to overwhelm her senses. “Don’t’ stop,” she pleaded.

“Do you want me to use my mouth?” Yuugure licked his pretty lips.

“Hai!” Sayomi was in ecstasy.

He drew his body down so that she could feel his young, boyish breath against her sodden girl-lips, the hard T-bone of her clit. She thrust her hips up, involuntarily. Parting her lips he moved all over with his tongue. Yuugure loved the way Sayomi tasted inside his mouth. She made an excellent teacher, so he took it slow at first and then faster, seeing just how deep his tongue could go. He wanted her cum now, to her pleasure to fill his mouth, just so he could hear how she would moan as she flooded because she always flooded and this time …

… when her shaking subsided, when he had swallowed everything, he crawled up and rested his head on her breasts so that he could hear her heart pound crazy. It gave him a thrill to know he made her heart race like that.

[to be continued] …

the problem with the summer of love

21 Monday Oct 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Feminism, Poetry, sonnet

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dark side of 1960, erotica, feminism, honesty, poem, Poetry, porn, Pro-Choice, rape culture, sexual politics, sexually transmitted disease, slut shaming, smut, sonnet, Summer of Love

It’s not the cock rock, the hinted blow jobs,
the bell bottoms, it’s the dishonesty.

What gets left out: Pox, Crabs, Corn on the Cob,
Bugs in a Rug, Hippie Herpes, Jenny

Warts. What gets left in: the glorious fun
sex can be. I’m all for holy fucking;

but if you have no words for abortion
or rape or STDs, then you’re selling

something. All revolutions are just lies
told by the winning side, since we’re still slut

shaming, still denying women their rights
to their bodies. Somewhere between your thighs

lies the mystery. We need new words. Smut
can be sublime but honesty excites.

the music of vibrators

16 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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dreams of passion, erotica, Good Vibrations, poem, Poetry, sex music, sexual frustration, sonnet, vibrators

Listen. That’s the music of vibrators
at the end of the day. Not all of us
get to be filthy buggered mess makers.
Some of us are cleaners. Some are loveless.
Some sleep alone. That’s why other people’s
sex lives are a drag. If it’s not bragging
then it’s resentment. If it’s not facials
then it’s “Master, may I?” That’s hell, fucking
hell. Give me widows, the lonely, the shy.
Give me all who are neglected and numb,
blind, on fire. All who crave but have no one
to turn to. Every night some of us cry
in our sleep. Some lick sticky fingers. Some
fill the whole world with their dreams of passion.

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