A note about writing and a welcome to #30days2019 #30days

Couldn’t decide whether to land on love, lust, magic, or on Saturn for that first story.

Results?

I did a hybrid with a healthy dose of THC. Won’t blow your back out, but it will make you wonder if this is part of a longer tale. Could be.  Go read it and tell me if it turned you on or if it turned you off.

Or if it turned you out.

Meanwhile, we will return to the Girlfriend Experience AI, vampires, werewolves, and witches. We might even see a few aliens show up in a sex dungeon looking for love. I really do want to write about a woman who sees everyone on the planet completely nude.

If you stay still long enough, you can see everything.

 

Look for new stories and poetry to show up tomorrow.  Meanwhile, go support my brand here –> $drcat

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There are no spells for love or evolution

Does not feel right in this moment to go back to the routine.

…not quite Phorzhicoan anymore, am I?  Something else… 

Just feeling a bit faint, a bit warm in a hot flash sense.  So different in my youth when it really was more of a singularity in my approach, feed, and departure. I like drifting among groups of happy people and casually drawing out the essence of human fun–dancing, laughing, chatting, sweetness of joyful living.  Phorzhicoa feeding need not be in dark, lonely spaces, but can be in the midst of the action, as long as some semblance of an exchange is met to dampen suspicions of most, save for those few humans gifted with discernment.

As I slowly matured the hunt ceased to be a hunt for many and emerged as a search for one.

Doesn’t seem to feel right tonight to just jump in and feast. Phorzhicoan spells work like anesthesia on the conscious mind, and from what I can see through my Phorzhicoan eyes, our spells tend to bend towards imposing a coma-like state on the targeted object of focus.  Communion remains elusive and distant, and upon awakening, the object departs.  The feeding process itself ends and we move on.  My search for one turned me from this path.

There are no spells or works for this feeling here, and as such, this must be a true exchange that begins with the meeting of eyes.

Given what I’ve sensed, it seems more satisfying to engage in an exchange.  In other words, connect.  Something that could feel mutually consensual and aware as the energy and fluids pass back and forth in those moments before the room melts in hallucinogenic glory of all the Gods passing through you like a flock of birds.  At the departure of the initial wave of pleasure comes the recognition and welcoming of two spirits in communion.  Humans who have not crossed into Phorzhicoan space call this love.  Phorzhicoans like me who progress beyond the feeding dance call this evolution.

There are no spells for love or evolution.

For my listeners looking for old podcast favs!

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I do read my stats, and it is amazing what folk will do to find that hidden shortcut to older episodes.  I’m posting them here for your convenience, plus I’m sharing my fav guest call-in spots with my spiritual sister Afroerotik chatting about similar themes you all enjoyed in my own podcasts with Afroerotik calling in as my guest.  Enjoy!

My first episode with Afroerotik:  “At the Edge: Talking Erotics & Afrofuturism with AfroerotiK”

Talking Erotics & Afrofuturism with AfroerotiK: Part Two at http://tobtr.com/s/3941025.

My guest call in spots:

Race and Sexuality w/Tristan Taormino & Cherie Ann Turpin 07/26 by AfroerotiK | Blog Talk Radio.

Sex and Sensuality w/ “The Honey Diva” Tracey Bryant 09/13 by AfroerotiK | Blog Talk Radio.

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beneath our clothes

we are all skyclad
we are all naked
we are all nude

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A Winter Welcome For My Readers

Cherie Ann Turpin, UDC Winter Reception 2019

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Not bad for 52 years old.

Poetry is coming.  I’ll have some guests from my classes come and share as well this spring!

Tomorrow never arrives

Tomorrow never arrives in the place we call the here and now. Today is all you’ve got right here, right now. Live and act accordingly.

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fertile rite

moon
drawn down
you squeeze
you pull
you draw
thick blood running
rivers between my thighs
you rub my uterus raw

red moon during night time