31-YEAR-OLD LOVER by Kim Addonizio Note: The poet was 49 years old beginning menopause when she wrote this poem. 31-YEAR-OLD LOVER When he takes off his clothes I think of a stick of butter being unwrapped, the milky, fattish smoothness of it when it’s taken from the fridge still hard the way his body is hard, the high tight pectorals, the new dimes of the nipples pressed into his chest, the fan shape of the muscles underneath. I look at his arms, shaped as though a knife has slid along the curves to carve them out, deltoids, biceps, triceps, I almost can’t believe that he… További tudnivalók

By Kim Addonizio (American poet) THE MATTER Some men break your heart in two… —Dorothy Parker, "Experience" Some men carry you to bed with your boots on. Some men say your name like a verbal tic. Some men slap on an emotional surcharge for every erotic encounter. Some men are slightly mentally ill, and thinking of joining a gym. Some men have moved on and can’t be seduced, even in the dream bars you meet them in. Some men who were younger are now the age you were then. Some men aren’t content with mere breakage, they’ve got to burn you to the ground. Some men you… További tudnivalók

Learning to Float by April Lindner Relax. It's like love. Keep your lips moist and parted, let your upturned hands unfold like water lilies, palms exposed. Breathe deeply, slowly. Forget chlorine and how the cement bottom was stained blue so the water looks clear and Caribbean. Ignore the drowned mosquitoes, the twigs that gather in the net of your hair. The sun is your ticket, your narcotic, blessing your chin, the floating islands of your knees. Shut your eyes and give yourself to the pulsating starfish, purple and red, that flicker on your inner lids. Hallucination is p… További tudnivalók

My Life as a Can-Can Dancer by Anna M. Evans There's nothing like it! When we form the line most men lean forward slightly in their seat and while we dance, forget to drink their wine hoping for a glimpse of something sweet. I flaunt my petticoats and flash my thighs— high kicks, jump splits—it's meant to be erotic. They all want us—I see it in their eyes. The choreography is so hypnotic they can't do anything but sit and stare and at the end our skirts fly overhead so they can see our frilly underwear. I have my pick of whom I take to bed letting them know that if they're ha… További tudnivalók

What Do Women Want? By Kim Addonizio (b 1954 USA ) I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I’m the… További tudnivalók

Beauty is not an ornament to the good life, it is at its heart by Nick Riggleis Nick Riggleis a philosopher and writer. He is associate professor in the Department of Philosophy at the University of San Diego. His third book is This Beauty: A Philosophy of Being Alive (2022). It is a remarkable and mysterious fact that a life devoted to beauty can be a good life. Leonard Cohen spent his life writing beautiful songs and literature: ‘A lot of those songs are just a response to what struck me as beauty, whatever that curious emanation from a being or an object or a si… További tudnivalók

Can't Get Out of this Mood Frank Loesser All day long before my eyes come little visions of you, They shouldn't, they mustn't, but they do. Can't get out of this mood, Can't get over this feeling, Can't get out of this mood, Last night your lips were appealing, The thrill should have been all gone by today, in the usual way, But it's only your arms that I'm out of. Can't get out of this dream What a fool to dream of you, Twasn't part of my scheme to sigh and tell you that I love you, But now I'm saying it, I'm playing it dumb, Can't get out of this mood, Heartbreak here I com… További tudnivalók

But Beautiful Who can say what love is Does it start in the mind or the heart? When I hear discussions on what love is Everybody speaks a different part, Love is funny, or it's sad Or it's quiet, or it's mad It's a good thing or it's bad But beautiful Beautiful to take a chance and if you fall you fall And I'm thinking I wouldn't mind at all Love is tearful, or it's gay It's a problem or it's play It's a heartache either way But beautiful And I'm thinking if you were mine I'd never let you go And that would be but beautiful I know And I'm thinking if you were mine I'd never let yo… További tudnivalók

There is something to be said for the specific elixir of escapism and engagement that a great steamy movie scene can inspire in us, whether we’re watching alone or with a partner, in bed or cozied up on the couch with candles lit. We get on a roller coaster of tension and release, up and down, without ever having to leave home. When we enter the onscreen erotic landscape, the fantasy enters us, too. And when we do this with a partner, we can explore the same erotic universe together, fully fleshed out with characters, plot, and setting. When we watch an erotic scene, our syste… További tudnivalók

Eros and Thanatos: the two impulses that dominate us Life drive and death drive The archetype of Eros and Thanatos has now entered by right into the analytical concepts of the sciences that study human psychology. The figures of Eros and Thanatos date back to Greek mythology and indicate two profoundly opposed elements: the first represents love, understood as that force capable of creating life; the second, however, depicts death and the destruction it generates. Everything that exists, including man, can be analyzed and explained through these two contradictory concepts. In… További tudnivalók

Tantalus Across the Airshaft : Night Windows by Edward Hopper https://i.pinimg.com/736x/75/60/0e/75600ec63095e4941cea2f444bfd7497--american-artists-american-realism.jpg 1. Hopper: Eros is a Lonely Hunter “Eroticism is a solitary activity…defined by secrecy,” according to Georges Bataille. Hopper’s Night Windows is a doubly erotic painting because it delineates two solitudes—of painter and subject. The subject alone—a solitary woman in her apartment—is not erotic, per se. As with Susanna, the beautiful bather in the Apocrypha, the eye of the enraptured beholder sexualizes h… További tudnivalók

HOTEL ROOM CUCKOLD CONVERSATION WHILE WIFE IS FUCKING ANOTHER GUY Script is from the clip below, with thanks to @Brazilonfire A hotel corridor on a wekday afternoon. Husband (H) uses his keycard to get in his hotel room, only to find his pretty brunette wide (W) naked on the bed with another man, whose cock she is fondling. She is not at all perturbed by her husband's arrival. 0:15 H:: "What the hell are you doing?" 0:20 W: "Just that since you went out, I needed some more cock, so I went and got some myself. So sit down." 0:30 H: " I don't know about this!" 0:37 W: "Y… További tudnivalók

Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695) was born in Chateau-Thierry, Champagne, in central France, the son of a government official. He went to Paris to study medicine and theology, but was drawn to the whirls of social life. After a failed manage to a wealthy noble woman, La Fontaine decided to become a famous writer. In 1658 he left his family and moved to Paris, where he lived his most productive years, devoting himself to writing. He found many patrons. One of his patrons Nicolas Fouquet, was arrested for embezzlement and treason and sentenced to death. La Fontaine wrote one of his most beautiful… További tudnivalók

The Book The Almond was first published in 2006. It is an autobiographical erotic novel written by an observant Muslim woman in contemporary North Africa, The Almond is a journey into the sexual undercurrents of a world that is, outwardly and to Western eyes, puritanical. Nedjma is a pseudonym. The author of The Almond is in her forties and lives in the Maghreb region. The Moroccan feminist writer Laila Lalani said " When she appeared on Thierry Ardisson’s television show “Tout Le Monde En Parle” in France, Nedjma hid behind a hat and glasses, and her voice was altered. The c… További tudnivalók

“Ode to Black Skin.” by Ashanti Anderson:(2019) You are dark as religion. Remember God could not have named a modicum of light without you. You are plum, black currant, passion fruit in another woman’s garden. You are Black as and as if by magic. Black not as sin, but a cave’s jaw clamped shut by forgiveness. Color of closed wombs and bellies of ships, you, dark as not the tree trunk but its every cleft. I chart each crescent moon rising above fingernail and rub together my thighs for want of you. I try to find you where the pages of books meet. You hang where men or… További tudnivalók

TO GYRINNO Do not think that I have loved you. I have eaten you like a ripe fig, and drunk you like a draught of burning water, and worn you about me like a girdle of flesh. I have amused myself with you, because you have short hair and pointed breasts upon your slender body, and nipples black as little dates. As one must have fruits and water, a woman also sates a living thirst; but already I no longer know your name, you who have lain within my arms like the shade of another loved one. Between your flesh and mine a burning dream has claimed me for its own. I pressed y… További tudnivalók

COMPARISONS Sparrow, bird of Kypris, accompany our first desires with your notes. The new body of young girls blooms with flowers, just as blooms the earth. The night of all our dreams arrives and we whisper it together. At times we match our different beauties, our long hair, our budding breasts, our quail-plump deltas, couched beneath the springing down. But yesterday I strove this way against Melantho, my elder. She was proud of her bosom, which sprouted within the month, and, mocking at my flattened tunic, called me Little c***d. No man could possibly have seen us, we sh… További tudnivalók

In the Romanian "La Fileu" podcast, WTA world number 39 Sorana Cirstea confessed that her former sponsor Adidas used to tell her. "I remember when I had a contract with Adidas. They always told me, considering that I look good for a sportswoman, that «It's better to look good and be in the top 20, than not look good and be number 1». When you're in the top 20, however you're seen, you're high and there's a crowd at every tournament. So they told me: "It's better to be beautiful and in the top 20, than... less beautiful and number 1" You realize, they also have their quotas, it's a market", s… További tudnivalók

Anticipation by Juana Salsa Heat crawling over flushed skin Goose bumps tingling flesh Blood pulsing through tightening loins Need pressed against burning flesh Gasping indrawn breath sparked by desire Throat tight with unspoken longing Lungs crushed by unfulfilled promises Muted hush of sound from far away Coiling ropes of arousal pulse closer Rosy puckering nipples protrude painfully Trembling breasts that heave with passion Groans rumbling deep from aching chest Saliva dries, moisture wicked away for pleasure Tears squeezed from pleading eyes Rasp of unfettered craving fr… További tudnivalók

NOTES on prononciation: Sidhe is a Gaelic word pronounced "she" , The sidhe are fairies in Irish mythology. The English word banshee somes from the Gaelic "Bean sidhe" a female fairy wiho is malevolent. "Caoillte" is a Gaelic man's first name, meaning "Woods" and pronounced "kweelta" "Niamh" is a Gaelic woman's first name pronounced "Neeve" The Hosting Of The Sidhe by William Butler Yeats The host is riding from Knocknarea And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare; Caoilte tossing his burning hair, And Niamh calling Away, come away: Empty your heart of its mortal dr… További tudnivalók