When the blindfold comes on, I can’t believe my luck. How have I been picked? From all these other options? Well, to be fair, the odds were not that unfavorable. Still... how absurd it felt when you urged me to type my secret desire into the Christmas wish box... On that Sunday three weeks ago, when I thought you were napping while I spent the afternoon cooking dinner, you were actually browsing that swinger event site I...

Ben and Chris were sitting on their makeshift balcony couch, improvised from the spare bedframe they had for long-forgotten reasons, cuddled up under the blanket—strictly to preserve heat, naturally. The winters hit hard in this secluded part of the valley but living in such a remote location came with the advantage that this goddess-forsaken place’s only two cops were also Chris’ best customers. Where else would they get...

Lurday, Octember 32, Fifth Revolution of the Lindwyrm It is only with the greatest sacrifice that I escaped certain doom in the shipwreck of the mighty Intrepid. The weremaids—aesthetically pleasing creatures though ferocious they are—defended their territory with fiery ardor and without fear of our guards’ brutanium blades. Why they spared me, a simple scholar with little value on the slave market, eludes me. That may be...

"I love you." You said those words in disregard Of what they'd evoke in me Casually dropped them Seemingly. And yet... I felt it Your hesitation Your backpedaling Your insecurity The way they were meant The honesty in your voice It left no doubt. And yet... I hated hearing it That's what I thought I denied it Automatically I rejected it Like a reflex ...wanted to, anyway. And yet... The tears come from alone, Silencing me...

When Nathan flung open the door to his girlfriend’s bedroom and confidently paced toward her bed, his senses were too numbed by his unshakable Friday routine to notice anything. To him, things were plain as day and laid out pretty clearly: In the late afternoon, he would down the last remains of his morning coffee that already came out of the cheap machine stale and watery like what’s dubbed Americano in proper Italian sh...

I can’t tell for how long my vision has been veiled or yet where I am nor which orientation my body has in space. Restraining my every movement, the ropes dull my proprioception. As the blindfold comes off, I am thankful for the dim light in the room; and for the first image hitting my retina being you. Naked. Almost. Your leather boots and gloves contrast with your body you flaunt so sensually when your pricked lips conn...

The knock on the door sounded like more than just a polite request to be invited under the tenant’s roof. Darius stood up from his kneeling cushion and laggardly schlepped himself to the door. In his half-hypnotized state, he moved as if he didn’t have enough muscles to stabilize his spine—or, rather, had more joints between hips and ankles than his mind was able to coordinate simultaneously. This was mostly due to the wo...

Lost in the atmospheric boom of my morning playlist, I climb the stairs to the second floor. Shamelessly, I hum along with the long melody arcs that ease me out of sleep into the Monday morning; who would be listening at this hour anyway? I find the heart-jumpingly embarrassing reply when I try the key to unlock my office door and it won’t turn. Instead, the handle snaps and the door creaks open like a new chalk stick on...

“Huh,” Laura dryly stated with more of a chuckle than a syllable, browsing through the newspaper, her scanning eyes stalling on a distinct headline. “What is it?” her roommate, and lover, asked between two generous gulps of overconcentrated cheap instant coffee, while lazily reading Sartre’s Les Jeux Sont Faits, pupils still almost hidden behind eyelids. Laura looked up from the semi-crumpled paper in her hand and threw J...

I tousle my hair in my mild insomnia-infused hangover. Eyes reduced to narrow slits, I adjust to the stingingly bright All Saints' Day noon sun hitting my porch where I was sleeping. Vague memories of seductive buttocks juicy as an overripe peach and wide enough to spill over both sides of a chair seep through the misty haze that once was my brain—the reminiscence of a wild tryst. A content smile—until I see the orange ca...

The feel of your soft lips on mine lingers, leaving me longing for more. All those years, and still you manage to kiss me in ways that leave me wondering how far you’re about to take the fuckery. In the dim light of the unknown room, I can barely make out the shapes. Seemingly, the only source of illumination appears to be your mysterious smile that tells volumes about what this promised ‘surprise’ might entail. As you ho...

Silently, she was sitting on her shower chair, eyes closed, leaning against his upper body as his soapy hands spread the slippery film on her skin. Attentively, he lathered every inch of her, yet kept his professional distance when his fingers ran over her more intimate places. He hummed a soothing tune to appease her spirits. She found this procedure still somewhat upsetting, albeit a lot less than she had used to. He wa...

“You want pain in the butt?” in her cute French accent. Her go-to phrase as a reply to my not-so-subtle advances. They are a bit hit-and-miss, strongly leaning on the miss. Well, one out of ten is rewarding enough. She must mean that I am a pain in the butt. Minx. Then again, I’ve never been averse to spanking—or yet pegging. Given we share our flat, get along well and are open, advances come often. From both sides. It’s...

I was still trying to shrug my conscience away when her surprisingly talented lips sucked my oversized pacifier. No need to lecture me on the disgusting analogy. It was how it felt. My own birth was closer to Malcolm McLaren’s promo stunt with his very much intendedly scandalous casting band featuring the underwhelmingly incapable bass player than to her parents’ tryst that lead to her existence after all. A lot closer. B...

CLICK! the shutter goes, eternalizing a brief glimpse of time burnt into the photodetector of my Nikon. Any other day, I’d be afraid that the prominent clattering of the mirror making way for the light and homing in on its idle position would spoil the moment. In this case, though, I as well am too absorbed by the action I am capturing—by the buzzing of your Hitachi, driving you to blissful heights voiced in a wailing ari...