¬†After twenty-five years, she still aches, remembering graduation eve.¬† Wind ruffling the reservoir and his raven curls.¬† Kisses and hands.¬† What if they had been braver, sooner?
“I’m glad we could meet.” His silver-laced hair is wild as ever.
Her blush speaks clearly.¬† His eyes question.¬† She surrenders.
She opens to him, letting him drive her into fever.¬† In flames, she dreams of ravishment.
He impales her.¬† She savors his roughness.¬† Then their connection fades.¬† She lies beneath a stranger.
Tears of regret gather.¬† He jerks his hips. She strokes his hair sadly as her dream evaporates.
Most people don’t think twice about marking a sheet asking for their sex; male or female. But what would you think if the third option was “other”?
How do you think middle sex people feel when there is no “other” to mark? Not all people define their gender as male or female.
As muse for this site I think it would be interesting to put yourself in the shoes of the Middle Sex. Watch this HBO series of videos and you will most certainly have interesting information for your next erotic story.
Several years ago I heard David Steinberg give a lecture on his unusual photos. I purchased several of his books, they are intriguing in terms of subject matter, plus he is a fine photographer. He makes no claims concerning erotica or pornography, they are labeled fine art sex. He’s also a journalist and writes an interesting blog.
In today’s blog he offers a sacred sex poem from an poetess who recently died.
San Francisco poet Lenore Kandel, perhaps the most lucid voice ever when it comes to sacred sexuality, puts it like this:
“I am naked against you and I put my mouth on you slowly… I have longing to kiss you and my tongue makes worship on you you are beautiful… your face above me is the face of all the gods and beautiful demons your eyes… love touches love the temple and the god are one”