sunday arousal

like a startled fairy
up and blinking at
sudden appearance of light
in the shade
one of those Sundays
seems though the silence
still of the air hovering
like clouds
I await the storm

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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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Magic Man

How you bespell me
Glamour me
Roll me
To give
To share
To not disappoint
To love and be loved
I am me
aqui
seeing you like a
glob of light

 

crazy cock

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Meaning of phallic outside of theoretical jargon

phallic phallix phallus cock dick penis

our culture centers on cock

slow dance to entice and bring cock to a rising of sound

tell young women to dress and undress according to phallic moods

never actually see the dick beneath proper pants but

assume it to rule over us

never see the dick or cock or penis erect or soft on screen

unless Googled or Tweeted with a fur coat and gold chains

assume that black dicks are dangerous and

assume that white dicks are safe and

assume man means dick and

assume dick means man and

assume masculine means man and

assume man means dick and

assume all men to be masculine and

assume all men to have dicks and

assume dicks to be alive and pulsing and the veins to be filled with blood and

therefore

assume dicks to be attached to the living and

not the living dead or vampires or zombies because

dead dicks don’t pulsate or shoot sperm, right?

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Kiss #30days #30days2018 by Cherie Ann Turpin

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run tongue over

your salted hairy lips

mixed with wine

give me my saliva

inside your tongue

 

I could burst

into a sticky hot stream

while

you linger

hum

then erupt

shaking

a wet moan

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Starve (Phorzhicoa Story) #30days #30days2018 by Cherie Ann Turpin

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Last time I saw him he stared at me without blinking for 20 minutes straight.  I sat in a low leather chair sipping on an extra dirty martini pretending to not notice him as I read my phone messages.

Starved.

I’ve seen that before.  The last stage before converting to us, the Phorzhicoa.  He’s so far gone he wouldn’t have known the difference between the food and the feeders.  To most humans he is, in urban vernacular terms, “thirsty,” in need of something other than the usual attention given to men and women who are moderately attractive.

You’ve encountered the type before, the kind who were surrounded by sycophants and fans in their younger days, the popular set of folk who were sharply dressed, well-spoken, and of course never missing out on receiving some really delicious sexual heat from lovers and bedwarmers.  But eventually that sort of heat gets cold, and the thirst grows sharper with age.  The young, nubile, strong bodies of hopeful fans are replaced by earnest, desperate, and somewhat shrill voices of men and women who hope to taste a bit of an aging star who begins to realize with more than a bit of panic that she or he is no longer being fed and maintained but in fact is being sucked dry.

Starved.

The makeup is flawless, the haircut is perfect, but the soul is in great need.  The hollowed out eyes of one who is ravenous enough to not know that he is staring at a version of himself is unmistakable and indeed, quite irresistible.  Truth is I’ve kept myself off the radar of the Queen by refusing to feed for some years now, and it has kept me safe from some of the more aggressive types who look to compel us solitaries into joining families to hunt. And yes, he is desirable, but I do not give chase.  I prefer to be chased because the taste of his astonishment is so much more satisfying.  It’s a moment of mutual recognition, that we are more alike than different, that I am not prey but a sister hunter like him.  But he is still in pre-conversion, not quite Phorzhicoa yet.  He may give chase, but I saw him long before he even realized he saw me as a meal to consume.

This fledgling sitting across from me has been semi-stalking me for some months without speaking or even admitting to himself that he hungers, that his body and soul feels the crush and call of the Phorzhicoan way.  The sex itself is beyond words, but the energy that floods you is like a tidal wave of ecstasy that floods every cell of your body for what seems to be an eternity.  Time ceases as you are filled once again.  To be mutually fed by your own is to die and live again in a state of utter joy and relief.

But I don’t chase fledglings, especially not in my own starved state. I feel no motivation to move, much less speak.

Instead, I watch and wait for him to turn.

redeyes

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May 2018 #30days #30Days2018 Flash Fiction 30 Day Marathon Begins Today #CherieAnnTurpin

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Expect me today.  Rules? Look for the hashtag #30days #30Days2018, and help support me in my push to write 30 stories (200 words or more) in the month of May. I will make the entire month this year!  Look for recurring themes and returning/continuing fictional universes, look for sex in lit, lit that shocks, lit from tweets, lit from odd places like messages, hashtags, dreams, fantasies, masturbatory fixations, and yes, lit from headlines.  I promise to not censor and at some point have you fixated on who or what is making a guest appearance.  Please comment, and if you really like what you are reading, please leave a tip in my PayPal Donate link on the left sideline.