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| Welcome Perverts of the Intellectual Persuasion
The key to wooing Mariana Trench? Any man who would write me love letters and take his time in learning about me, by reading between the lines here - this clever man can seduce my mind and can therefore have my body. Now, if he also seeks and finds my soul, I'll be his forever.
Please check out my Directory of Erotic Poetry and Prose - Yummy
 
Kama is the enjoyment of appropriate objects by the five senses of the soul. The ingredient in this is a peculiar contact between the organ of sense and its object, and the consciousness of pleasure which arises from that contact is called Kama. - The Kamasutra
This blog will predominately consist of my erotic poetry and prose, combined with art from around the world. It features discourse on culture, philisophy, humor, quotes etc. and some of my favorite things to stimulate all your senses:
"Kitsune" is Japanese for fox. Foxes are a common subject of Japanese folklore. Many stories depict them as intelligent and sexual spirits that take the form of human females. In Japanese, "kitsu-ne" means come and sleep, and "ki-tsune" means always comes.
ARTWORK TOP LEFT "Red Head" BY: Jacob Collins
I, Mariana_Trench_ allow any Local Sexy Swingers blogger to mention me and/or use a link to my blog, a blog post, my profile photo/s and/or a link to my profile with my name in it for the purpose of networking, communication, and creating fun and games on the website....or just plain perving! To be used in blogs, email and groups. I realize that getting my name out there is a way to increase my odds of finding like minded people with whom I wish to communicate.  |
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Lemon Ice Box Pie
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Posted:Feb 11, 2011 6:17 pm
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:45 pm
14365 Views
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Ingredients:
14 whole graham crackers, broken
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
Two 14-ounce cans sweetened condensed milk
1 1/4 cups fresh lemon juice, plus 2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest
8 large egg yolks
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 325°.
In a food processor, pulse the graham crackers with the sugar and salt until finely ground but not powdery. Add the butter and pulse until the crumbs are evenly moistened; transfer to a 9-inch springform pan and press into the bottom and two-thirds up the side. Set the pan on a rimmed baking sheet.
In a medium bowl, whisk the condensed milk with the lemon juice. In another bowl, using a handheld mixer, beat the lemon zest with the egg yolks until pale. Beat in the condensed milk mixture until smooth. Pour the filling into the crust.
Bake the pie for 25 minutes, until the center jiggles slightly and the edges are set.
Transfer the pan to a rack; let cool for 1 hour. Loosely cover the pan with plastic wrap and freeze the pie for at least 6 hours.
Wrap a warm, damp kitchen towel around the side of the springform pan to release the pie; remove the ring. Using a hot knife, slice the pie, transfer to plates and serve.
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Tree of Anise
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Posted:Feb 5, 2011 7:54 am
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:45 pm
17439 Views
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You make me feel as
I imagine the moist taste
How a Tree of Anise smells
droplets decorating green glossy limbs
soil drunk deep your mouth and
I’m saturated and root- swollen
and the way the petals tremble
Together we’re riding your voice
against my earlobe,
Calling...
the sound of a waterfall silently
Creeping warmth, your cock like
a brush, mink tipped and luxurious,
I'm the stretched canvas -
Heavy my legs clasp... sinews taunt,
Two suns spinning at different speeds
catching the water with the licks of fire
Either one of us can read the same language
twice- till we're ignited, till we're
her magnolia-like blossoms, singing to the bees...
First, the claiming flares red-orange-white to ebony
Later, a moment’s heat dissolving
a little blood.
Someday a hand might dig that up and declare-
"Here was a sacred burial ground,
This is evidence of sacrifice."
but we’ll know it to be
...a used up dead thing...that skeleton of a match,
all the little purple bruises, my
Scent of the dawn of salt and
The clay at the delta,
Crawling across the twisted
plains of a darkened chamber,
The gliding of a ceiling fan
Flying like a bat overhead.
Your eyes grip my throat,
And
Beneath the equator,
Below yet another sun,
gelatin sheen like a tiny porcelain dish
of avocado-edged silk,
Petals upon my lips,
The creosote taste
Upon my tongue of your body
into the caldron
We’ll pour my ashes,
Drawing a circle
Beneath her verdancy,
Our one body, upon wet pavement
Touring the branches of
The Tree of Anise,
We’ll travel with our past fevers and
Our solitary kindling,
as I desire
how does your finger feel in my mouth?
Image: "Annie Miller" a sketch by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A response to: [post 2545834]
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15 Romantic & Fun Boston-Area Restaurants
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Posted:Jan 29, 2011 5:27 pm
Last Updated:Feb 12, 2011 1:00 pm
20632 Views
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Valetine's Day is fast approaching...
Now is the time to make your plans for a night with that special someone. To assist you, I offer 15 places I personally love - presented in no particular order. Call or e-mail now for reservations! I'm sure prime dining times are already booked in some of these places. Bon appetit!
 
Local Sexy Swingers please note: I am not a paid endorser for the any of these establishments, nor affiliated with them in any way. I am merely passing along suggestions to friends in the Greater Boston area seeking a romantic dining experience.
 
1. Sushi/Japanese
Osushi is the area’s hippest sushi bar, flooded by scenesters. The sleek décor of rouge walls, lusty candle lighting, and a second story view of a busy part of the city, set the mood for fine chopstick dining. Miso soup and a sesame dressed salad come with each combination meal.
Be sure to try:
The pear-infused sake martini, a very sexy way to accent your meal at this ultra trendy restaurant.
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2. Indian
Masala Art claims to have the nation’s only spice bar, where customers get an interactive Indian meal. The chef explains the art of blending spices over a multi-course feast. It’s all cooked right before your eyes on an authentic Indian pan that looks like a flattened wok. The dining room is trendy and stylish. If you can’t get a stool at the spice bar, the blue-lit cocktail bar is a fun place to spend the night, too.
Be sure to try:
Their spice bar experience, and also their Saturday and Sunday lunch buffet, which features South Indian vegetarian crepes and live Chana Bhathura – classical Indian music.
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3. Ethiopian
Addis Red Sea is a transporting Ethiopian experience. Adventurous customers eat with their hands on squat stools around a tiny woven basket table. Entrees are served on, and then are scooped up with thin, spongy, slightly sour flatbread called injera.
Be sure to try:
A grand finale of Harrar coffee is the way to go, since Ethiopia is the motherland of the original bean yielding plant. The dark, smooth brew is deliciously aggressive, infused with cardamom.
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4. Peruvian
Machu Picchu’s menu is made up of several traditional recipes that have been preserved from generation to generation, using authentic ingredients. This tiny but charming restaurant offers great ambiance for a date, lots of traditional art on the walls, and a friendly but polite staff.
Be sure to try:
Yuquitas a la Huancina, fried yucca with a creamy sauce made with chili peppers and garlic, as well as Chicharrones, crispy fried pork served with marinated yam and sarsa criolla (onion relish).
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5. Cabo Verde (Cape Verdean) / Portuguese
Restaurante Cesaria is named for arguably the most famous artist from the islands – the lovely and soulful Cesaria Evora. (As an aside, please check out her music, it’s intoxicating). Cape Verdean cuisine is a hybrid of Portuguese and West African cookery. Take your lover to this yellow-walled, island-paced eatery, and imagine you’re on the far off Cabo Verde Islands. And, if this is a concern of yours, please know that Cabo Verde cuisine is not spicy in the slightest. Another bonus is that this particular listing on my directory is incredibly reasonably priced.
Be sure to try:
The garlicky grilled octopus, the deep-fried sherry-infused quail, the egg-topped katchupada refugada, crammed with pork and linguiça, beans and kale, or the goat and potato stew known as cabritada.
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6. Russian
St. Petersburg Café serves Russian cuisine in an intimate dining room lit by chandeliers. The servers are always formally dressed in tuxedos, and the atmosphere is rather turn-of-the-century. Caviar and ice cold shots of vodka are available.
Be sure to try:
The Buckwheat Blini with smoked salmon and sour cream, and the Boneless Duck Breast, prepared with barberries and black current sauce.
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7. International Fusion Cuisine “New American”
Bond, in the luxury Langham Hotel in the former Federal Reserve Bank of Boston, is housed in an exquisite space with gold leaf ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and live piano music. Marble structures and magnificent floral arrangements frame the romantic room like a Roman palace.
Be sure to try:
Exotic Mushroom and Parmesan Arancini Fontina Fonduta or the slow cooked beef short ribs, prepared with a blue cheese and chive polenta. Also don't miss the very interesting as well as sensual Vietnamese Chocolate and Coffee Tart with Condensed Milk Chantilly Van Gogh Double Espresso Vodka.
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8. Italian
Fiore Ristorante is located in the heart of Boston’s famous North End Italian neighborhood, boasts two exceptional dining areas for warm nights: a roof-top terrace and a patio in the rear with potted plants and a peaceful atmosphere. This puts them immediately a step ahead of most of their nearby competition. They offer an outstanding and diverse wine list.
Be sure to try:
Insalata Mista a blend of Boston lettuce, radicchio, endive, sweet onions, tomatoes, oranges and fresh strawberries, tossed with white balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil and house-made Tagliatelle pasta tossed with sautéed house-cured bacon, onions, white wine and fresh tomato sauce.
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9. Mexican/Cajun
Border Café is a noisy, fun-filled, party atmosphere joint with a full bar. They offer a menu of both Tex-Mex and Cajun cuisine, and a free starter of fresh salsa and house-made fresh chips. The vibe is South-of-the-Border retro chic, and they play music by artists such as Hank Williams Sr. and Patsy Cline. The décor is a mixture of murals, aluminum punched and painted signs advertising tequila, piñatas, and similar kitsch.
Be sure to try:
The crayfish etouffee, served with fresh cornbread, and the Catfish Creole, both prepared with a bit of a spicy kick.
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10. French/Cambodian
The Elephant Walk offers an adventurous cuisine prepared with love in a family-owned establishment. The South Pacific surroundings add to the funky atmosphere, while the moderately spiced French-Cambodian menu offers diners a choice between solid traditional offers from either cuisine, as well as some fusion dishes. Even more special, are a wide array of gluten-free items, not to mention choices that are both vegan and vegetarian. They also have an outstanding wine list.
The Elephant Walk offers a unique date idea – why not try one of their cooking classes? As well, The Elephant Walk hosts and sponsors a number of local charities, and even donates a percentage of their earnings from their Waltham restaurant each month to a different organization.
Be sure to try:
Amok Royale, a spicy custard-like seafood mix prepared and served in a banana leaf cup.
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11. French - Provencal
Mistral, located in Boston's stylish South End, showcases uncomplicated French Provencal cuisine, highlighted with the season's finest ingredients. Every bite goes down in a soaring space that’s reminiscent of a farmhouse, but made over with city style. Terra cotta floors and mini cypress trees add a dramatic edge.
Be sure to try:
Their thin crust pizza appetizer served with smoky chili oil is grilled-to-order. Another great appetizer are their classic escargot served Burgundy style with a red wine and garlic butter on grilled semolina toast. For dessert, their profiteroles are out of this world, stuffed full of vanilla ice cream and served with a dark chocolate sauce and a pistachio croquant.
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12. Persian (Iranian)
The romantic Lala Rokh ,in Beacon Hill, seduces its diners with cozy rooms and exotic Persian cuisine. Dishes are woven together with seasonings like fenugreek, rose petals, and pomegranate, plus other exotic herbs, spices, fruits, and nuts. The walls are decorated with 16th and 17th century original works of art, photos, sketches, and antique maps.
Be sure to try:
Morgh Pollo, saffron-seared chicken in a light tomato broth with basmati rice, perfumed with cumin, cinnamon, and rose petals, topped with barberries, and their roasted eggplant appetizer layered with earthy lentils, intensely sweet caramelized onions, goat’s milk yogurt, and a touch of mint oil.
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13. Moroccan
Tangierino is a lavish date place with exotic North African flavor. They consistently are awarded “Best Date Restaurant/Most Romantic/Best Place to Get Engaged” by local reviewers. The Moroccan menu favors olive oil, grains, and fruit, which result in sweet-savory dishes. The entire menu is amazingly sensual, especially when you pair this with the experience of beautiful belly dancers, who make their way around the velvet seats and their adjoining hookah lounge.
Be sure to try:
The chicken b’stila - flaky, phyllo pies stuffed with almonds and cinnamon spiced meat, served with mint yogurt or the Tagine of Lemony Chicken – a crispy half chicken, prepared with preserved lemon and olives cooked in a traditional clay tagine. Traditional Moroccan mint tea is a perfectly sweet way to finish the meal.
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14. Tapas/Spanish
The menu at Taberna de Haro is an ample collection (over 50 dishes) of favorites from all over Spain. A taberna is the Spanish equivalent of a French bistro, and this intimate spot always has a group waiting to get in for the tapas. Yellow walls, traditional brick oven, and Spanish art add to the inviting atmosphere.
Be sure to try:
Their collection of intense dishes includes the out-of-this-world cod and garlic puree with roasted red peppers over slices of fresh baked bread, the dessert Trufas Porreras (Homemade dark chocolate truffles garnished with EVOO, cocoa and Spanish sea salt), and Conejo guisado (rabbit braised with marcona almonds & manzanilla olives)
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15. Classy Comfort Foods
Union Bar and Grille turns out urban comfort food for the stylish soul. The menu is refreshingly non-ethnic, yet on the forefront of creativity. The gothic-meets-urban scene combines massive wrought iron chandeliers and black leather banquettes, and the dark lounge is framed in floor-to-ceiling glass and slanted mirrors.
Be sure to try:
The 10k Tuna is prepared with a coriander crust and candied red peppers. Almost every one of their obscenely delicious desserts are capped with house-made ice cream in flavors like marcona almond, ginger, or blood orange.
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Shown: Interior of "Tangierino" Restaurant
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Please vote for me...
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Posted:Jan 26, 2011 7:29 pm
Last Updated:Feb 12, 2011 5:54 pm
23853 Views
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The annual Blog Contest hosted by BustyBettyBoop is happening as we speak. Please take a moment to visit: best female poetry, and vote for me. I'd really appreciate your support.
 
I'd also like to take this moment to thank BUSTY! and YOU! and YOU! and YOU! for supporting me and
my blog this past year or so. Hard to believe I just started this blog last November.
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14
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The Moving Train
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Posted:Jan 23, 2011 1:57 pm
Last Updated:Jun 6, 2011 8:21 pm
27803 Views
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With certain men all it takes is a look
for the ache to start
They can make a woman wet
instantly
instantly
You just can't help it –
Vibrations hum along your spine like the coils of copper
the electricity of chemistry,
these new ideas and the rhythm of a Hansom cab
steam from his eyes burnt my tongue, settling in like coal smoke
thick as Dover chalk
and right away I know
I'll soon be
tearing down the buttons of my boots,
getting the important in
aspects of anatomy
exposed
immediately
without delay or concern
for inconsequential
niceties
like who
or why
or when, Madam?
I was on the train
Speeding past Surrey
bound for London
and the moment he slid the door open
to share my compartment
both of us understood
Our eyes met
only briefly
but it was long enough to
acknowledge
the mutual hunger that blazed
“First class?” He inquired of me, in a proper accent,
with a clear-eyed glance that melted my legs
they yielded to uncross
and obey him, to straddle him and wrap his lean bones
I was already feeling his tongue and the meat of haunches
running its way slowly upwards
along the curve of my thick stockings, the catch of my stays
my quivering thigh
inching towards my
Irish linen
bloomers with their
lace edges, their satin bows ...creamy white
The hand embroidery
delicately protecting
the careful artwork
around my quim,
these
had cost my husband a fortune
But as he leaned closer towards me
I would have given
everything
everything I owned
for his strong hard fingers
to yank them down around my ankles
shred them
and fling them
from the window of the moving train
A whipping trail of domestic transgressions
far far
from my husband's scratchy eyed-glare
the bell-jars and the robin's eggs
marbles from Italy and a
custard Cook has cooling on the window ledge
the crocheted and fringed world of
everything
and then his companion arriving,
jovially stating
“Holmes, our compartment is next door.”
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Painting: 'The Travelling Companions', Augustus Egg,
Birmingham Museums & Art Gallery circa 1950s
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15
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The Moor is A Sea
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Posted:Jan 22, 2011 10:40 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2011 4:20 pm
35640 Views
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Rasping, violent hands,
my God my God
Pulling apart my flesh, she’s there…
The scent of heather and her teeth
She’s a pale cool vessel, a peaty pit
Absorbing me, abhorring,
I surrender,
I'm on fire with cold heat
The outside wuthering and dark
Hungry and gasping, dissolving…
Are these my own claws? Fastening
“I cannot live without my soul,”
She said, reckless. Yes yes -
“I live with your soul in my grave,”
I replied, in a hoarse whisper.
“If all else perished, and he remained,
I should still continue to be.”
And so it was.
Remember – remember –
Boulders, purple grasses bowing
Dim the shadows, long grey walls
Climbing across the churchyard, spinal
Memories are lichens on rocks, climbing her
Little pink roses dancing, downy dawn clouds,
Her kissing mouth shocking, ghastly -biting
Softness click slippery dew,
So slick with Oxford clay
Clamoring over sticky charred
I throw myself into you, your chasms
Your complications of form and matter -
Sing for me, Cathy, yield
Bend your white flesh! Yield, I say
Limbs, cherished, ready in the winds,
Devious language, delirious tongue
- but ride! Ride me, hard
Shocking across a coldness, harder
The deathblow of stark haunting
Transcendental, filling my burled trunk
God-given voids, hard and taking,
Opening me, slicing lightening
Bent black gnarled – I am that tree,
Split down the center and vacant
One island in a sea of bogs and
Heath grown, little yellow buds.
Oh my own soul, open...open...
Let me hear your bilberry wit
Let me pluck your daffodil laugh
Taste the fog of a moor’s dawn
Glide above me like a sparrow hawk
Her perfume filled my senses,
The bluebells burned my tongue
The knot stayed tight, her hands,
She was no angel, this was no heaven
She was victorious – a phantasm is
It was I who yielded… yes
I relented “haunt me, then!”
"You said I killed you - haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"
–Heathcliff to Cathy, in "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Brontë
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Image: "Head of A Woman" by J. Engleman
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7
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The Dance of the Dove and the Wind
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Posted:Jan 22, 2011 6:17 am
Last Updated:Jun 22, 2011 8:00 pm
35727 Views
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Spread across the quilt
Fingers linger and she is
Cooing like a dove
Slowly wind's fingers
Stroking feathers, light and soft
Trembling - she wants
Her body hovers...
Flutters, flies up, and soars
The wind's currents touch
The dove spreads her wings
she glides through warm, pink-tinged clouds
Pushing and dancing
On and on they waltz
Across formerly smooth sheets
Now twisted and damp
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Inspired by [blog Chance2Play] and his post: [post 2530053]
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Mariana Undone - a collaboration with Charles Dikkens
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Posted:Jan 11, 2011 4:33 am
Last Updated:Mar 9, 2011 6:45 pm
44696 Views
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When I awoke you were gone, nothing left behind except a scent of jasmine in the air and the blindfold, placed on the pillow, the smell of your pussy still fresh on the fabric.
We swore this wouldn't happen again, that our last liaison was the last one. But when we bumped into each other on the busy Boston sidewalk and agree to have coffee, we weren't that different from a pair of alcoholics bellying up to the bar, assuring each other they'd have just one drink.
The erotic writing convention we had met at discouraged a dating environment, the sessions were strictly supposed to be educational. Writers read their works aloud in a constructive criticism session, after which an appreciation for each others prose led to a prolonged discussion.
I can still picture you speaking to the room, your carefully crafted, carnal words enraptured the audience. Your fiery hair was entrancing while your emerald eyes focused to enunciate your fiction. The tension in your story built organically and intensely, as if somehow mimicking the natural arousal process.
But the ending denied any release, and several other writers objected. The outcome felt real and raw to me, and ironically much like the way I would leave after that initial encounter.
Our attraction was intellectual at first, and ostensibly we had no plans to get to get together. You had sworn off relationships with married men, deeming the complications unworthy. Likewise I had no intentions of seeking out sex at the convention, I was only looking for discourse on erotic writing, a subject my wife in no way shared my passion for.
But as the afternoon grew long our common interests became increasingly apparent and it seemed neither of us wanted the conversation to end. As we left, the hotel across the street seemed to loom large, almost leering at us as we waited for traffic to pass.
When you paused at the entrance of the building and smiled,
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Charles" I felt like a character in your fiction, inconsolably frustrated by a deep, seemingly intangible desire...
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Mariana glanced over to the side foyer of the hotel lobby, and noticed a small alcove with three cozy velour over-stuffed chairs. She looked back towards Charles, and asked if he might want to sit and chat till it was time for her to walk to her bus stop. She knew her bus schedule, and realized there was no point in leaving now. The next bus would not be arriving for a good half-hour. It was a cold, snowy day and Mariana was wearing her typical 'uniform' of a skirt and heels. Not practical but flattering and sexy. Perfect for a seminar presentation on erotic literature, not so fabulous for a Boston blizzard.
Charles and Mariana settled into adjacent chairs, knees delicately but enticingly touching. Mariana felt herself grow flush, a pink tinge covering her fair skin. From a literary perspective, she knew Charles. Charles knew her. But - she longed to rip off his silk tie and feel it wrap around her wrists as it bound her to a headboard in that hotel. She longed to taste his skin, salty and wet and warm from fucking. She longed to feel his hand over her mouth gripping her face, covering her mouth as she orgasmed in a movie theatre. To feel his fingers between her thighs fingering her in that theatre. She...to put it simply, she simply longed.
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They only knew each other by their pseudonyms but through their writings they had insight into each others most intimate thoughts. Charles couldn't help but hope the bus was late or stop wondering what was under Mariana's buttoned up outfit. Sitting with Mariana made Charles realized the chemistry that they had on paper was nothing compared to intense reaction he was having to meeting with her in person.
As their knees bumped for far too long he bet she was the stockings and garters type. He could picture the tops of her her creamy white thighs above her black stockings, and wanted to part them on the spot and plunge his face between them. Her writings revealed a fondness for receiving cunnilingus and Charles caught himself checking to see if anyone could see them where they were sitting.
Clearing his throat and shifting to keep the growing bulge in his pants from becoming too obvious Charles made a suggestion hoping to prolong the afternoon. "Perhaps you have something else of yours I could read" he asked hopefully.
Mariana obliged him, reaching into her bag and removing something that looked like a journal. As she flipped through the pages looking for the prose she wanted Charles to read, she realized her knees had parted some, and his own knee had slipped between her legs.
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Whilst Mariana sat, seemingly utterly aware of the way that Charles' knee had found it's way between her own, she found herself formulating a plan. Inwardly, she smiled. If she were successful, it would be triumph of the female ability to seduce and beguile while appearing innocent and unaware. Charles would feel each step of the way that she was merely acting subconsciously - that her body language and her facial ticks were simply the natural course of things. In reality, Mariana could have been a world-class poker player. She could have been a celebrated fin de siecle . She could have been a Russian spy. Basically, Mariana was very, very good at reading people and, when desired, manipulating them. To be blunt, she was a natural seductress. Would Charles see through her? She was not sure. Certainly, Charles was far more insightful and considered than the average man.
To the casual observer on a day to day basis, Mariana was a somewhat heavy-set, middle-aged, fairly dowdy woman - a nine to five commuter with business casual attire. Mariana had learned that she preferred things this way, as a rule. However...when she wished, she could 'turn on,' and in these moments, she felt herself almost 'glow' with desire and a magnetism that could inspire a certain kind of discerning man to become very aroused. She could connect with this sort of man on a profound level. She knew how to move her neck, her fingers, her feet - how to swing her hair and deepen her voice just so. She now longed to do such a dance with Charles. But, she wanted him to think each step of the way that she was completely unaware and that he was the seducer.
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As Charles made his way through more of Mariana's works he began to realize the depth of his attraction to this eloquently written woman. He was fascinated with the way her mind worked, the way she was able to weave together her words to express herself so sensually. As his knee slipped further between her legs she somehow seemed unaware of the effect she was having on him.
Reading her prose had a provoked him even further and without realizing it Charles let out an appreciative sigh aloud. Her fantasy about sex with a stranger on the subway was incendiary to his senses, he could practically picture the big cum stain she wrote of spreading across her skirt as she sat across from him.
Mariana liked it her when work was appreciated and inched closer to see which piece had solicited Charles' instinctual response. Her thighs parted to accommodate their intimacy and she picked out another piece for him to read.
This one hit several of Charles' hot buttons, sexy patent leather shoes included, but it was the tension of the situation she created that caught his attention,. A voluptuous redhead, with nothing under her business attire, tantalizes a married man with her magnetism. He knew the ending of this piece too well, the ache of unfulfilled desires between people whose situations stifle the natural spark between them.
Mariana's eyes kept ensnaring him and the way that she pushed her hair back from her face somehow seemed to be saying things that couldn't be spoken aloud. He longed to have her behind closed doors and hear her vocalize those carnal requests when she looked at her watch and said, "It's about time for my bus".
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"Wait" Charles plead, trying to think of anything to prolong the moment.
"I was wondering if you'd consider being my editor" he blurted out, something he had thought of but hadn't planned to reveal so soon. His work was in progress but he had hopes of completing a contemporary, hopefully compelling adult novel. "Sort of an updated version of the Victorian stories that I grew grown up on", he explained as Marina gathered her things getting ready to go.
Today's adult writing was didn't seem to go past penthouse forum type material and Charles hoped to elevate the cause he told her in a hurry, hoping desperately she wouldn't actually go. "I realize my writing may be a bit juvenile in it's development, and I'd like someone of your talents to assist me in taking it to the next level".
Much to his surprise she seemed flattered by the request and unbeknown to him was happy to have a reason to stay. Charles had not overtly made an advance, but Mariana waited patiently certain it was only a matter of time and determined to let him think he was slowly seducing her..
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Mariana thoughtfully shifted in her chair, adjusting her cleavage and the tilt of her head. She coyly looked over at Charles while polishing her glasses, as she knew removing them and showing off her big green-blue eyes sans eyewear made the most of one of her best features. She considered how she had applied teal and deep blue eyeliner and mascara, purple-blue shadow and a bit of eyebrow pencil. Would Charles be conscious of her efforts? She felt he was. She watched his pupils dilate and saw his adam's apple as he swallowed. She noticed the grip he had on the notebook, and of course the pressure of his warm knee between her thighs. She shifted again so as to "innocently" reveal the strap of her garterbelt and the edge of her lace-topped thigh high.
She leaned lower over the notebook so her breasts pushed outwards and up from her blouse. Charles could see the edge of her tattoo. She wondered how he kissed and if he would bite her nipples. She wondered if he fancied tattoos or found them garish and declasse. She watched his lips move and desired to feel his five o'clock shadow rasp across her thighs and soft, waxed smooth pubis.
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Charles convinced Mariana to catch a later bus and hear an idea for his latest chapter. But he could no longer deny to himself that his real intention had become to take her up to his room, tie her hands to the headboard and have his way with her. She had intoxicated him with want and he couldn't wait any longer.
A steely look filled Charles' blue eyes as he leaned in to kiss Mariana. When their tongues finally met, the kiss was impatient, hurried as if making up for lost time. His fingers slipped between the buttons on her blouse and took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped aloud as the suddenness of his touch was startling.
Instinctively her thighs parted for him and Charles ran a hand along the inside of her leg. Pushing past the tops of her garters he grazed her mound, already moist in anticipation of his touch. Insistent and in an instant his fingers entered her, fucking her in the foyer of the hotel.
With her skirt riding up and her head thrown back it seemed to Charles that he had successfully seduced her, but what he didn't realize was that Mariana had him right where she wanted....
----
Mariana felt her pussy drip and clasp against Charles' finger. She longed to spread her legs wide and feel his whole hand exploring and expanding her. She yearned for that stretched, full feeling when three fingers, perhaps all fingers and the thumb, slowly slide deep into her tight pussy. To intensely orgasm and spasm around Charles' hand. She wanted him to finger fuck her while he sucked her clit. She wanted him to spread her pussy open with his two middle fingers, and feel his whole face rub up and down her vulva and clit. The feeling of his five o'clock shadow on her smooth, soft pussy would make her shudder in waves of orgasms. This was all in her mind, a running list of demands. "Charles, fuck me with your face!" "Charles, shove another finger into me and fuck me with it!" However...
When Charles began to kiss and finger her, she became so overcome with sensations and overwhelmed with desire, this normally articulate woman lost her ability to speak. Focusing on her orgasms and becoming enveloped in lustful feelings, Mariana was unable to utter more than deep, gutteral moans.
--------
TO BE CONTINUED
Painting: "Redhead" by Jacob Collins
To view my colleague's version, please see: [post 2520049]
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Poem Four in A Series: "Adrienne"
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Posted:Dec 24, 2010 12:02 pm
Last Updated:Jun 22, 2011 7:41 pm
42007 Views
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Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials
You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin
How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind
"November 1968" by Adrienne Rich
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She tells us cotton-flannel whispers of
Thirsty thighs, sticky, with drowsy eyes
Thrusts a black-blue ball of pungency
Unraveled like some yarn, rolling out
I have no idea if the other was ever told –
Scent of shaved filings, rank motor oil
Bathed echoes the chamber ghosts of
Filaments and iron fishing lures, cascade
The scaling flash, that spawning wetness
Taking, taking, an exploration of pain -
An olfactory expansion calling, blossoming up
From the balled up-sheets and her fingers
Seeking…placement of her tongue exact
Amazing, how sudden the scent boiling came -
Her mouth hovered, wild and delicate – at last
Resting in the recesses, weaving words to
The glow of a barn owl’s ocular precision
The other ceased to be, and both collapsed
-Mariana Trench
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Poem Three in a Series: "Louise"
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Posted:Dec 24, 2010 12:37 am
Last Updated:Jun 22, 2011 7:51 pm
40362 Views
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At the end of my suffering
there was a door.
Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.
Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in low shrubs.
You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find a voice:
from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.
"The Wild Iris" by Louis Gluck
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Here will be the place, the earth scooped out
And aren’t all sarcophagus convex? A womb
That smells of decay and crawling worms bask
Lazy vines climb her brick façade – at night
Athena sprang forth – now she’s run a muck
Hurry, hurry, shift! How crumbling soil clamors
Push her in like a bleak rhizome, she’ll unfurl
That dead sister made her mother dry but -
Her skin shivering, her eyes dance smiling, you
Could try to hear her laughing, such chimes
Like a timpani but terrible in consciousness
Every verse like shadows; a sky-written elegy
A hymn to a ravine, the bridge quivering tensely,
how the mountain air enveloped her, and
Spoken with candor of death and disappointment,
The flaking fence door swung wide–
how every day, the misting valley birthed the
Breath of a mare, heaving flesh, gripping limbs
The fellowship of her blood and language
-Mariana Trench
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Poem Two in a Series: "Anne"
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Posted:Dec 23, 2010 11:35 pm
Last Updated:Jun 22, 2011 7:45 pm
33234 Views
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Anna who was mad,
I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I some sort of infection?
Did I make you go insane?
Did I make the sounds go sour?
Did I tell you to climb out the window?
Forgive. Forgive.
Say not I did.
Say not.
Say.
Speak Mary-words into our pillow.
into your sunken lap.
Whisper like a buttercup.
Eat me. Eat me up like cream pudding.
Take me in.
Take me.
Take.
Give me a report on the condition of my soul.
Give me a complete statement of my actions.
Hand me a jack-in-the-pulpit and let me listen in.
Put me in the stirrups and bring a tour group through.
Number my sins on the grocery list and let me buy.
Did I make you go insane?
Did I turn up your earphone and let a siren drive through?
Did I open the door for the mustached psychiatrist
who dragged you out like a gold cart?
Did I make you go insane?
From the grave write me, Anna!
You are nothing but ashes but nevertheless
pick up the Parker Pen I gave you.
Write me.
Write.
"Anna Who Was Mad" by Anne Sexton
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She climbed outcropped slime
Rocks, crush barnacle
Grind – the smell of saline
Bracken – twisting
Pods of green gently pop
Algeria slick, claw crab stank
Drained brine silently out
But sand dunes whisper
The blowing of some reeds
Roughly gripped shore
The song of her babies
Sucking rose hip nipple
Not far from where she was born
A cadence echo of Pilgrims, and
Girls who don’t – and girls who did
Clank rickety progression
Those who returned from The Great War
and made peace by digging holes in backyard soil
What might some say about the fields and the
Way she spoke of bleeding with frankness?
Comparisons and unspoken
Fierce boil broken
Crossing one’s legs
The ankles shows breeding
How to howl with a vial of ink,
How to spread
How to splice and dive, flocking
Plovers or sandpipers – widening
Her chest open like a surgeon –
Leveraging pain
What it felt like to be –
To be boiled alive, to be
Little necks, dripping oily scars
Sunset again and again vivid
Raw red red purple magenta flame
Battling her whole life,
Her whole self, she lost.
-Mariana Trench
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Poem One in A Series: "Emily"
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Posted:Dec 23, 2010 3:00 pm
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2011 5:25 pm
32418 Views
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Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!
"Wild Nights" by Emily Dickinson
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
"Compensation" by Emily Dickinson
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In the last moments, rustling downwards
The bump and lift, the creases and remains
Down swooshed the petticoat
She sat, glowing moistly red,
Precise - anticipatory
Panes of Amherst spun glass offering vistas
The duck pond, a frolicking glean –
hers was a pebble-strewn childhood,
There above the two candles,
Nice friendly circles flashing,
Her teeth glow prehistoric animations
of gloved hands and calf-skin pulsing veins,
Tasting of farm-fresh eggs, wholesome
Authentic but with undercurrents decadent
And cruel (was it not meant to be a bird?)
To capture so saliently, bodiless
The precise step, bend, step
Of a molded mouth encasing hardness,
Saliva trembling… pearls slide down their string
Being wore on the Sabbath,
A chorus of Hallelujahs across the commons
All the individual sensations,
In a transcendental harmony,
Her horsehair plastered walls,
Her plaited chestnut hair and
Alabaster bodice upon which marched
35 mother of pearl buttons- upon her flesh,
Also translucent and also an encasement
Soup spoons and whale bones,
A pewter ink well - these mortal coils
This loquacious mass; flesh surrendered -
Reassembled, her wanting lines of words,
paper rustles to fill the long Northern night
Inside, the faint scents of roses, of
Dust molts, of beeswax, and shoe polish.
-Mariana Trench
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Milk Me Mariana - a collaboration with Charles Dikkens
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Posted:Dec 13, 2010 7:31 pm
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2011 5:02 pm
25065 Views
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CharlesDikkens: Your emerald eyes are captivating and your lush red hair brushes against my legs as you approach. Desperately I want my member in your mouth, but with our eyes locked, agonizingly you prolong the moment.
Just inches away I can feel myself straining to meet your lips. My hips rise, hoping I can hurry up the inevitable. Turning your cheek to my advances our skin touches for an electrifying moment.
Your excruciating cock tease continues, seemingly for an eternity, until finally you fill your mouth with my flesh. Enveloped in oral ecstasy I am beside myself with pleasure. Talented, your tongue titillates my thickness and tickles my balls until I can barely take it.
Thrashing on the bed and about to burst I'm taken aback when you suddenly stop sucking. And the twinkle in your gorgeous green eyes tips me off that you intend for this to take awhile..
MT: ...You realize that you had become so enchanted and overwhelmed by the eye contact, the touches, and the warm wet embrace of my mouth that you had forgotten you were tied by each wrist as well as each ankle to the bed. The Japanese silk rope which binds you is both strong and soft, and least you forget, I now move my hand to reach over and tug gently on the rope that also resides between your legs, wrapped in a snug embrace around your balls. I pull downwards just slightly on this rope, which runs between your ass cheeks, and down to the foot of the bed. The rope stimulates your balls and ass in equal measure. You gasp as you feel me now pick up and drip downwards onto your balls and hard saliva-covered cock so warmed massage oil. The scent of this oil - a mixture of jasmine, vanilla, sandalwood, and red current - swirls into your brain and mixes with the rope sensations and the throbbing of your erect and eager member. You realize after a moment the moaning animalistic sound is yourself....
CD: Another guttural groan escapes my lips as you cinch the rope even tighter. Oil drips slowly down my constrained cock and balls increasingly swollen and purple with your every twist. Clinging to edge of climax, each drop of oil feels like it could be the final straw as it trickles across my taint and teases my asshole.
The slightest touch would push me over the cliff but you won't satiate my desperate need. Instead your hand tightens the silk strap another notch until I wonder how much tighter it can get. Leaving me in agony you rummage through a bedside drawer that I know contains a variety of different sex toys. I have no idea what you have in store as you slip a blindfold over my eyes leaving me in delicious darkness.
MT: I whisper... "Charles," a throaty deep resonate feminine voice, a warm breath of decadence ticklingly close to your ear..."Charles..."
"Oh, my God...oh...my God...yes? Anything...what?"
"Charles, I want you to beg for my pussy. Beg me to fuck you. Beg to taste me. I want you to want me so desperately that any small painful pleasure you feel or will soon feel will be nothing compared to the deep ache in your loins and your soul when you consider how much you want to fuck me."
"Yes! Yes! I want you...I need you..."
"Say it, Charles," the warm breath expelled, releasing lustful chain reactions, your balls grew tighter still, "Tell me Charles. Beg to taste my soft, dripping, pussy. Tell me I am driving you crazy..."
CD: "Please" I cry out as I feel you straddle my chest.
"Please what, Charles?" you insist that I vocalize my desires.
Even though I'm blindfolded I can tell by the pressure on my body that you've positioned your pussy closely to my face.
"Please let me taste you" I ask, unable to make anything happen while I'm restrained by the silk ropes.
"Beg for it Charles" you taunt, so close to my face now that I smell the exquisite scent of your excitement.
"Ohhh god, I want your cunt" and before my desperate cries are barely off my lips you oblige my request and press the full weight of your mound against my mouth.
Pulling my hair and practically smothering me with your wetness you grind against me giving my tongue access to your inflamed clitoris. I can feel you excitement mount as you hump my head with your hips and I'm hoping your orgasm will ensue shortly if keep at it....
MT: As I ride your mouth, your face, push my clit up and down grazing your stubble - it occurs to me I also want to feel your cock deep in my mouth. I move off your face, and pivot my body so that I am now facing down towards your hard, aching dick. My thighs are on either side of your shoulders, and with some small adjustments (the only sort possible given your restraints) I am now able to 69 with you. As you realize what my repositioning means, you release a heaving moan.
"ahhhhhhhhhhh....oh God,yes..."
And then, once again my dripping hot open cunt is spread over your face, rubbing into your mouth, begging for your sucking licking and probing. I come in wave after wave of orgasms, my juices dripping down over the sides of your mouth, down your chin, even down your neck. The scent of my thick creamy pussy and the feel of my warm, sucking, lapping mouth and tongue are almost overwhelming.
You feel my lick and suck your balls now. Suddenly I come hard, flooding your mouth with a bath of wetness. I suck your cock back into my mouth and tease it with a sliding pull on your shaft...deeper and deeper down into my throat you feel me pull you....
Just as you are about to cum, I sense this and grab the sides of your cock with a fair degree of strength, exerting pressure to block the flow of your jizz. At this moment, I move my mouth fully off your cock and say "Charles, do you want to shoot your hot load of cum deep into my throat? Do you want to give me your whole load of delicious cum? Charles, beg me to suck your cock empty. Beg me to milk your cock!"
I then move my pussy off your mouth...
CD: Deprived of the ability to see, my senses are overpowered by the scent and taste of your tangy pussy juices. Even the blindfold is moist from the pleasure you received straddling my face.
Desperate to cum, I beg as you wish.."Please milk my cock" I plead, wanting nothing more at this moment than for you to bury your mouth on me. You've denied for me so long no I can feel drops of precum dripping down my tied-up dick.
Your breath is hot on my balls and I'm not sure how much more of this extending teasing I can endure.
"Milk me Mariana" I beg again, my hips moving about hopefully on the bed.
I feel a tug on the rope causing my erection to strain for the ceiling. Your tongue touches my tip, tickling the slit in my stiff shaft. When you wrap your lips around my swollen cock head I just can't take it anymore.
All pretenses at politeness are past me now and filthy requests spill forth from my mouth.. As I urge you to on "swallow my load, eat my cum, suck my cock" and so forth, finally you oblige me and deep throat my entire engorged organ.
My body bucks and my orgasmic explosion is almost instantaneous, release coming in thick streams in the back of your throat until I wonder how you can swallow so much cum. But it seems you can, and even squeeze my balls in encouragement. As the flood subsides you smile and tell me how much you like sucking my cock dry, and we take mutual pleasure as you make sure you milk me with your mouth of each and every drop.
Finally, finished, you collapse against me, your hair spilling across my chest. Relaxing in the afterglow your rhythmic breathing tells me you might be getting tired.
"Would you mind untying me before you fall asleep?" I ask gently, unsure if perhaps you have any further plans for me..
MT: "Of course," I reply, "allow me, darling."
When all the bonds are removed, and the blindfold, I think straddle your body, leaning down over you. Our eyes lock, and my crazily tangled and somewhat damp locks slide down my shoulders, tickling either side of my body and finally just whisping down against your chest. I push myself into a comfortable position where we can passionately but gently kiss. I lick your face, the stubble, your chin - lapping off the taste of myself on your body, and your sweat - our sweat.
You are so warm and wet, but I begin to feel a chill. I climb to your side, and rest myself, snuggling, against your body. Then I pull the blankets up over both of us. My hand moves over to your chest and my nails trance lazily over your skin. I see goosebumps rise up on your flesh.
I look inquisitively over to you...
-----
To be continued
Imagine: "The Dying Slave" by Michelangelo (detail)
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To link to this blog (Mariana_Trench_) use [blog Mariana_Trench_] in your messages.
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