Erotophoria

I’m talking about fetishes of human desire. Feet and ankles, hips and waist… and everything in between. I’m talking ropes and swings and shiny bits of black leather. I’m talking hirsute bodies and flowing water.

I want pics, descriptions, links…. whatever works for you, please. Keep it soft and sexy and I’ll even let you post images on my blog, if you like.

What spurned this little quest of mine? A friend illustrated a secret desire: a hand drawn image of “Out of Worldly Beauty.”

As much as I enjoy looking at erotic nudes all day I do like a bit more inspiration.

She bit me, that bitch!

She snuck up on me like a hunting tigress while I laid across my bed to light a candle and she sunk her teeth into my bare flesh.

I squirmed. I couldn’t help it. The piercing pain felt too good, I could only surrender.

“Oh, don’t stop,” I cried out.

Not right away, of course. The first one took me completely by surprise. By the second my body had decided that it liked the sensation so much it refused to respond in any other way then complete, unconscious arousal.

So I gave in.

I became the sensation of pleasure itself, jagged pulses of passion overwhelmed my thinking until I became nothing more then a reacting beast. At that moment, my every thought, my every mental whim was focused on her, on the tiny bit of flesh of me trapped in her merciless grip. I was vulnerable to the scheming machinations she had for me. This creature, this hunting animal thought of one thing: sex.

I loved every moment of it.

Honestly, how would any of you react to a viscous biter tearing into your flesh?

I teased her mercilessly. I played the perfect little victim to her skillful onslaught of pain. I squirmed involuntarily, but refused to give her the pleasure of hearing me beg her to stop.

Within a few quick pierces I collapsed into a gasping puddle of fluttering sensation, commanded by the power of her will. I refused to move until after she pulled out her penetrating weapons from my muscle hardened flesh. Instead, I pretended to roll over in a desperate attempt to escape. I wanted her to work from behind, to my chest.

“Bite me everywhere,” I pleaded once, and only once.

My stomach, she could not bite. By the time her gleeful smile full of teeth and carnage had traversed down my hard masculine breast I gave her my lips.

Her teeth did not disappoint.

But I wasn’t permitted the pleasure of indulging in an oral ravishing for longer then a one long, grinding moment of surrender.

It wasn’t my choice to enter her, she made that decision for me. And once I was inside her I hadn’t the will to do much of anything but orgasm in screaming pulses. I was so torn apart by the echoing haunt of a stinging pain I erupted the moment I passed her gentle barriers. I continued to be electrified by slow thundering jolts long after.

She had bitten me just hard enough to feel tender for the remainder of the night. And while I basked in the epiphany that she was good while I tenderly filled and emptied her over and again.

Her reward for skillful, piercing pain was an equally potent and powerful tenderness.

Honey, I’ve learned quite a bit from my first sex with you.

I suppose now that I’ve finished this little bit of “Dear Diary.”

Btw, I am a naughty little fetish monkey. Just thought I’d make that clear.

Pleasant erotic dreamings,

~Virgohippy

Ladies, I have something to confess: when you roll in the sheets with me for the first time I am not the ultra-confident, sexually enlightened being I like to present to most people. I rarely orgasm with other people.

I shake and quiver with nervous excitement, and my hands frequently change their mind. I can become so completely absorbed in feeling every inch of you from the inside I might forget to orgasm… and I won’t be free enough to help give you one either. And worst of all, once inside, I’m prone to forget my length and breadth. To be completely honest, I might cause you lingering pain by knocking on your back wall more then a few times.

I’m shy and akward, but not every time. I’m a virgo. I need to be a virgin lover with you at least once. It’s my way. Some of you have told me I’m pathetic. Others, a very few others, have been around long enough to say it’s sweet.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, it’s misleading.

I’m still like a boy now with a new lover. But unlike the boy I used to be, with a woman I know, a woman with whom I am confident, I am a man.

Sweet dreams,

~Virgohippy

It’s official, now is the first time a family member has found the often personal and erotic blog of Virgohippy. I’m sure it was quite a shock to find out that the increadably flirtatious Virgohippy has a published space where he talks just as dirty in writing as he does in person. No, it’s true, I’m every bit as depraved and perverted as you suspected.

But fear not my lovelies! There was no shunning ritual for this “Naughty Little Fetish Monkey.”

Her words, not mine.

Instead, my enlightened family member suggested a movie to me. So, after I have now watched it at least a good half-dozen times with people I deemed worhty I’m now ready to share it with THE WORLD. (I think I’m cool, don’t ruin it for me.)

Are you ready for this? Little tip: it’ll give you extra points in the “how the hell do you find these kinds of awesome independent films” departement of ultra-super-coolness. Seriously, trust me on this one. Just dont watch it with any “innocent” ones around, you get me?

Go take a ride on Shortbus.

If you don’t have a Netflix subscription but you knowingly pay for rentals then get the fuck off my blog. You don’t deserve to be here. And don’t you dare fucking come back until you get a Netflix subscription.

That one’s free, but I’m working right now, so, while you’re at it, here’s a shameless plug: for all you nasty perverts out there who like to pretend to be some fancy voyeur, Get Internet DVD Rentals of Porn Movies Here.

In case you’re wondering…………………

Pleasant erotic dreamings,

~Virgohippy

Mmm… passion - the most beautiful excuse ever. It’s interesting the way a woman’s sex can turn me into a fool.

Here’s a little something I wrote for myself:

Women,

You tell me you love me at night. You fight me in the morning. You hide when I cry. You dare accuse me of resist?

When stabbed the broken tip of a dagger gnaws on my softest parts. Alone, my blood turns new woven tapestries into poison laced canvase. You say you want a sensitive lover?

Fuck you. This is a sensitive man. Fuck me and I’ll worship you. Fight me and I’ll cry.

You make a play on emotion with me? I am not a beast who charges when whipped. I proudly wear my most tender parts in front. I am a man. I fight with heart exposed.

Make love to me then stab me. Don’t pity me because I bleed.

~Sensitive Man

See what I mean? I must be crazy to think pussy is worth getting stabbed over.

On a more serious note I guess the the jist of it is this: Make love to me, fuck me, blow my fucking brains out while you ride me like a beast, but if you hurt me then please let me express myself. Men have feelings, and some of you women are worth more then just sex.

I dunno… for me fighting is sexy as long as both sides fight fair. Next to sex a good, emotionally expressive fight is probably the most intimate thing two people can do.

~Virgohippy

I’m all for applying a bit of the artistic brush to an otherwise pornographic piece in an attempt to make works with a deeply human interest more beautiful, but when does an artistic strip tease become so artsy it’s no longer sexy?

Walrus made a few interesting points in his blog as he showcased a video which turned the art of striptease into a mockery. Throw in a mess of visual devices which served no purpose other then to massage the camera wielders’ own ego while some hot piece of ass tries to get sexy and we have brilliance, right!?

I completely agree with Walrus on this issue. A striptease, like all forms of erotic art should be about one person interacting with another - a performer giving to a recieving viewer. When business or technology or even artistic values becomes paramount to that deep, human communication art suffers.

Check out Walrus’ video then take a look at this bit of erotic self expression:

Seems to me the point of this message comes across all too clear - Canadian Girls are Hot! Or am I wrong on this?

~Virgohippy

If the desire for sex is a side effect of viewing ancient Roman art, even when sex has been removed from the collection, should we still fear the artwork?

I visited a museum a short while back with a friend. While there the two of us noticed quite a few randy couples kissing and groping in public in a fashion we don’t see too often here in the States. My friend and I must have been equally influenced by some invisible force because we were hard pressed not to use a few quiet corners ourselves.

The ancient Romans viewed their erotic art as humorous and funny and commonly displayed it in public like the more contemporary collection of Korean statues having sex in a park Simon mentioned in his blog. Yet the museum curators sterilized an ancient culture and eliminated all pieces of erotic art from display.

Their motivation seems foolish to me. If I were to walk down a park path and see a depiction of a couple struggle to have sex while upside down yet still upright I would laugh. I wouldn’t tear off all my clothes and rape my companion. For that I’d wait until we got home. I need no inspiration.

Where is the harm in a good laugh at no one’s expense? Or were those aroused and stimulated couples milling about in a museum on some bright and sunny spring day somehow magically influenced by the perversions of artists dead for hundreds if not thousands of years, even though those artists’ works were hidden from display?

~Virgohippy

Sex is sweetest when someone else does to your most pleasurable parts what you would love to do yourself, if only you could.

Just thought I might share a little something.

~Virgohippy

P.S. if anybody asks tell them I was sleeping all night.

Dear Dean of Student Affairs,

I’d like to apologize for any actions on my part which might have contributed to the explosion of sex and sin in the men’s locker room yesterday. I didn’t mean to assist in inciting an orgy on a college campus.

When I was taking a shower, after a long, sweaty session of training, and rubbed a sweet smelling lather all over my soapy wet body in front of all those completely smooth swimmers I didn’t mean to become aroused. It wasn’t my intention to accidentally be overwhelmed by the memory of an experienced and married woman who’d forced her way into in my bed a few days before.

I certainly didn’t intend to walk over to my locker, dripping wet, without a towel. It was poor judgment on my part to decide that I didn’t need to cover my body with a soft cotton cloth until I’d made it to my locker.

Looking back now I can see how a slender young man with long dripping wet hair walking completely naked all the way from the showers to a locker with an erect penis might cause an undesirable reaction from other men. When I say this I hope you can understand how I felt when I rubbed my hard, thin body with a baby-blue hand-towel. It just didn’t occur to me that that moment wasn’t the opportune time to fondly recollect a dirty, cheating wife who meant to turn me into her boy toy.

But I can’t claim responsibility for anything which took place that day beyond gently rubbing my hard cock with a feathery soft cloth. I was perfectly willing to keep my gentle pleasure to myself!

It was the sweaty, deep dark skinned young man who hummed a tune to himself while giving off an aroma of grass and musk not but a few lockers down who was fascinated by my throbbing appendage. Surely you can understand the necessity of using the moisture in my mouth as a lubricant after he decided to start touching me. I had no lotion, nor any personal lubricant with me at the time and I had to reciprocate. My mother raised me to be a polite and considerate man. There was nothing I could do but rip down his tights and clean off his salty, sweat covered, dark chocolate, thick curly pubic hair laced cock with my tongue. I couldn’t use my clean, though damp towel - he was covered in dirt and sweat!

And when those skinny swimmers with hairless bodies, shining and slippery like eels, came upon us, practically dancing with glee, they were responsible for their own actions as well. It was they who decided to fondle me and my little pink wonder while I was bowing down and worshiping the dark chocolate dong filling my mouth.

Please understand that by the time the tall, muscular women from the girl’s volleyball team had entranced upon our heated little exchanges of fluids and caresses I was already completely powerless. I had been walled in by a mass of heaving, heavy breathing, musky bodies. I couldn’t escape when so many hands and lips were holding me down, fondling me, and paying such dutiful attention to my red hot hard-on. I was pinned - one of them must have taken a wrestling class on your college campus!

That being said, I do have to admit the presence of pussy certainly did change the nature of my own arousal. When the raven haired woman with a deep commanding voice and a hooked nose incited a riot with the other girls as she tore off her mound hugging short-tights and bore down on me with her dripping wet, black hair covered vagina I became an animal. To be honest, I barely noticed the volleyball coach – that raging, angry bitch of a bull dyke lesbian (please don’t tell her I said that) – as she entered into me from behind with a strap-on.

The rest is all a blur to me, I barely remember it save to say that I am truly sorry that my pretty little pink penis attracted the amours of half the faculty and most of the student body present on campus that day.

I hope you can forgive me for having a hard-on in the men’s locker room. But please, when deciding my punishment, remember that I wouldn’t have received the ardor and adoration of so many people in one, large, male-musk filled room if my daily thoughts hadn’t been corrupted by a lovely, married lady with a voluptuous body and demanding hands.

If anyone needs to be punished it’s the women who’ve corrupted me! I was an innocent, naïve young man until they transformed me into the depraved, lust filled monster whose fate lies in your fair hands.

Please decide justly when you consider my punishment.

Thank you for hearing me,

~Virgohippy

I admit it, I’m a hopeless tease. I can’t help myself. You lovely ladies arouse my curiosity far too much for me to have any sense of rational thought. So much trouble I get into, just for a bit of fun with you. You should be ashamed of yourselves, taking advantage of an excitable young cock like me.

Anyway… it’s been a long while since my last post. Here’s a little sex story I scribbled down after a stimulating exchange. I don’t know when I’ll find time to give it some decent action but I can’t resist sharing this barely scrawled fantasy.

Maybe I’m asking the universe for inspiration. Should I keep an eye out for any perverted chicks who might take advantage of a defenseless young hippie?

Be warned, this one is all tease!

“You’ve got such a hard cock,” she whispered, proving her point as she tightened her grip on me through my jeans.

“You mean your husband doesn’t get hard?”

“Not like this, no. You’re young… you should appreciate it,” she said, as she continued to flood my body with waves of warmth with the gentle caress of her warm and confident hand over the entire length of my erection.

“Oh, well, you make it pretty easy,” I said while I throbbed in her hands.

She chuckled before she leaned in and further amazed me with the intoxicating sensation of a well experienced woman’s kiss.

“How does your hubby kiss you?” I asked, interrupting her interrogation of the metal barbell which had not too long ago pierced my tongue.

I was curious, I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know how to pleasure this impressive piece of temptation before me in a way that her chosen lover had been learning how to do for longer then I’d been kissing girls.

“Mmm… different. But you’re not like him.”

I paused a moment and wondered if she perceived me as inferior to the man she had been sleeping with for over a decade. But before I could explore my thoughts of insecurity she leaned in close, pressing her soft, slightly rounded belly against my still hard, throbbing cock and audibly breathed me in.

“You smell good,” she assured me, before making it plain how much my aroma aroused her by breathing in more of me, moaning and grinding gently on my ‘young hard cock’.

I was convinced that she was good. For a moment I wondered how she learned to read me so well, to pluck away my insecurity with such a simple gesture before I reminded myself that it would be fair to reciprocate.

“You’re softness feels good on me like this,” I said, grabbing her plump, round buttocks hard with clawed fingers as I pulled her loins onto me.

It didn’t take long for her lips to find my neck, trailing just beyond the edge of stubble along my neck.

“Wait…” I begged.

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Tags: experienced woman, married woman, sex story, tease