Category Archives: Erotic – Sexotic – Graphic

State Regulated Weed = follow the money

kathleen k, regular marijuana, states rights,

Regulating marijuana is a question of political priorities and for me gaining state revenue on marijuana outweighs losing money on law enforcement because at risk is the profiteering of criminals who do not necessarily limit their nefarious activities to the friendly herb.  Prohibition funds mob-gang behavior.

Besides, predictable-dose edibles are a boon to the consumer!!!

Special thanks to the Internet:
http://www.vandergreg.com/search?q=marijuana

Look at Washington State’s pot revenue here.  It’s a bit of cash, not a flood; it goes to social programs related to health and welfare; it’s coming from taxable businesses who employ people at their stores, and growers, and delivery folk, even accountants, etc.  It is a BUSINESS of and for the people.  Let it be; hell, let it spread.

This Colorado county did something smart with a weed tax.

The bureaucratic hell-hole complicating things is the Federal Schedule I drug designation of marijuana, placing it in a more dangerous category than cocaine or methamphetamine! (Please search Faces of Meth to refute this.)  This is a cultural error reeking of bone-headed politicians; it ignores (and limits) the research and applied science of medical pot plus anecdotal evidence of uncountable hours of crime-free recreational use.  This Schedule I designation is also the entry point for Federal intrusion when pot should be a States’ Rights issue akin to other sin-tax initiatives like liquor, tobacco and gambling that rely on local nuance.  We need to keep the pressure on to correctly categorize this herb as the natural substance it is so that communities may judge it fairly, and use the revenue to enrich their citizenry.

COMMENTARY:  I am all for keeping synthetic pot on the Do Not Fly list since it seems to qualify as “engineered” like coca leaves vs. extracted cocaine thus changing its cultural and actual impact:

“The prophetic “Legend of the Coca Leaf” presages us of the difference between the way the leaf is used traditionally in the Andes, and the corrupted form used by Western conquerors. As the Sun God said to the Andean wise man Kjana Chuyma: “[coca] for you shall be strength and life, for your masters it shall be a loathsome and degenerating vice; while for you, natives, it will be an almost spiritual food, for them it shall cause idiocy and madness.”

These facts and others like them can be found on the new Coca Leaf subchapter of Drug War Facts at http://www.drugwarfacts.org.


For an interesting social history on marijuana, clickety-tap here.


PLEASE ENJOY THESE FREE WRITING SAMPLES FOR MATURE READERS from my pot-centric sexotic book Stoner’s Bone of Contention which is second in the Stoner series mixing artful rhetoric with heady philosophy and sensual escapades:

kathleenk_erotica_sexoticaotcentric_Stoner_with_a_boner

I haven’t stopped getting high. I mean, I still get high when I smoke, the effect hasn’t worn off. It’s a long story but, believe you me, I’ve been banging the bong for decades and each time I respond to the Pavlovian chime in my head that says, You’ve Arrived on High Street. It’s a place in my thoughts providing a different vantage point, my redoubt. Stoner Town is peaceful and self-sustaining, to be there is to have arrived at launch. Once you are high, and know you are high, then what comes next is what you do while you’re high. I walk, I watch movies, I make beautiful love with ordinary women. I drift far from my work-a-day world. I’m not running away, I’m stepping aside. I’m experiencing a moment through the softening gauze of ganja. I’m well-read enough to know the word ganja is not Jamaican, mon. I consider toking to be my private bridge to serenity.


The bustier. I love a long-line bra that circles the torso and provides shelving for the breasts. To see beautiful mounding tops shoved up from a controlled midriff emphasizes them, yes, but not beyond what they are… there is no padding, no filler, it’s the glory of engineering. Although it is a furtive pleasure, it is not a secret.

All kinds of bras catch my eye but this particular garment skips far past the purported medical/cosmetic reasons to cradle the boobs and serves them up as tidbits, choice and tasty.


Cold out tonight, my fingers stiffen but I’ve never found gloves suitable for toking in the snow. Fingerless gloves leave the gap between fingertips distorted, thickened. In fact, the gloves are not fingerless, they’re tipless, so the fabric extends up the finger quite a way. It’s aggravating but not enough to dissuade me from hitting a doobie in the hush. If it’s really cold I will alternate a glove from smoking hand to lighting hand. I used to balance the joint between my lips but I gave that up when an ember stung my chin and I heard the sizzle of the joint in the snow at my feet. Only half-way high, lucky to have been in the thick of a gentle storm, bummed by the mechanical failure. This white night I had a spare on hand, determined to experience my solitude as the flakes drifted over everything, with sheltered negative spaces that escaped the fall but would be filled in with drifting later. It’s the pregnant part of a snowfall when you can’t know how long it will last, how wet-dry it was, so much depended on the air through which it floated, that little bit heavier than air yet subject to the wind’s whim. Snow fall, mood rise.


JoEllen, JoE (long E), JoE, agreed to eat a pot brownie with me, chased with ice cold milk, then we played a game of Scrabble. It takes a while for the pot to hit, and it starts with silliness about words: herd hard heard hoard. We’re in tune, the stone intensifies and hits our bodies, we’re on a rug in front of the fireplace, it isn’t like getting the spins when you’re drunk, you aren’t out of control, but neither are you in control, you are acceptant not resistant, perhaps that is the difference, you are unconcerned about control. JoE is staring into the flames, her image flickering for me, and I disengage my own sensors, giving her more time to BE over-stimulated. I am in a protective hover around her, knowing this kind of body high is surprising at first. She’s got to make the first move, that’s just how it is between us, so I factor in the delay as she acclimates to being high as a star in an extra-dense body. When she finally does lean toward me (topple into me), I got a strong sense of her intoxication. High-yaiyai. She started showing me her stuff, her shirt came off, her pants were undone, and I knew she was close to making her choice. If she retreated, it wouldn’t have been a tease. If she continued it was a one-time that-time  only thing. I understood she ran the gate.

Her hand slipped over mine and lifted it to her lips for a soft kiss, then pressed it to her cleavage, spanning the swell of her sleek tits, they didn’t wobble or bounce, they were firm and full with magenta-crowns and a stiff thick nub; once she put my hands on her we were open.

I’d been with JoE stoned and straight, she idled high if you know what I mean, she was tuned up and ready to go, even after a few beers when she was languid in general, she was sexually intense. This night the pot brownie seemed to have hit the root of her restlessness, she was still and quiet and sexy in a significant reinterpretation of her body language. She was so high that only the most compelling motivations survived and those were to be held and stoked from ember to flame. I fed her and oiled her long before I dared to connect. It was going to be a long night.

Tiny tea-cup titties. JoE believed she had the same number of nerve endings as found in those gargantuan tits that seemed so popular, she handled her little beauties roughly to show me what she liked: she liked to show me what she liked. One hand fondled her top half while the other toured the bottom, drawing my attention to the flat planes and pronounced curves of her personal circus (her term), her need to show and tell – even when wrecked by the brownies – was her signature, I realized, the thing she did to prepare herself for giving over to a man. If he couldn’t wait for her to explain things, well… maybe he wasn’t her kind of guy after all. I knew enough to enjoy her ritual; I understood not to panic if it seemed we weren’t making any “progress” toward “sex” when in fact it was all about making peace to proceed to passion.

She was a pretty girl with a kind heart and a wicked sense of humor; I had no problem lounging around with her, stoned beyond speech, enjoying my view of her, filling up with anticipation. Part of the challenge was to keep myself contained, not lunge for what I wanted. I felt an intense desire to pull her up against me and shove myself inside but that’s just my little head talking, he’s extremely short sighted (one-eyed).

I had rescinded my dick’s decision-making role. It could scream and twist and dribble down my leg but it did not select my partners nor pace my activities. Taming it took years, I didn’t break its spirit, I did not crumble its hopes: I gave it structure and dignity and let it off leash only when I’m ready to respond to its choices. I let it romp when the time is right; I surrender to its dick-ness because in fact it is very purposeful with full support from all the rest of me, delivering the essential connector, not my kissy lips, not my probing fingers. No, those were mere servants to the Ultimate Goal of Intromission, the taking of a woman’s space, her secret world. No doubt, my dick does the fucking. I am careful to set the stage and interpret the indicators because once the fucking starts good sense fades, responsibility is pounded away, we are doing what we are built for, coupling. I’m a beast when I know that she wants that part of me, that she’s called out audible signals, made all the right gestures, has teased us forward, and she’s ready to say yes when I ask if she is sure. She can still wave me off, so far we’re just playing; she has to be SURE because, for all my good manners and rational thought, once authorized then I’m a full-blooded rip-roaring dick on the loose.

I like fucking the naughty ones, the ones who dare you to show yourself. JoE was one of those girls for me, she was firm in her demands and specific in her examples, I rode her hard yet she matched me back, every time I went in deeper she rippled around me, bucking her hips to double the impact when we collided. I could put all of myself inside her, slip it back out, possess and surrender, because that is what she wanted. I couldn’t believe how much she wanted it, not at first, not until she showed me.


#Readmore

 

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This mother says if you want a good love life, masturbate better [and together]

kathleen_k_books_erotica_masturbationWhether or not there are mothers in your vicinity, their influence permeates the world.  I honor all the forms of nurturing that make a mother vital, forging a primary bond not defined by gender alone but by action over time, reinforced through generations. In that spirit, anybody who has ever been a child in a loving-functioning home should honor those who shield(ed) and raise(d) them for the effort itself.


This is a rework of last year’s column plus the PSA presented here as a public service.  Take care of yourself.


Along the lines that practice makes perfect, it is important for a person to learn to operate themselves properly, in all ways, including their sensuous sexual expression.  The idea of exploring this strength within yourself is the cornerstone of your sex with others.  You can learn to accelerate, drop back, stutter forward, and hold-hold-hold & hold-release.  For men, perhaps they must resist firing up the cum-dumping routine, and shift their goal from completion to completeness.  For women, the same challenge to expand the definition of ‘enough’, enough of what, enough for whom?  Anything you do that slows down the viral merry-go-round of bang-bang hookups is a contribution to the gene pool.

Best wishes to all you mothers out there.    – – May 8, 2016


kathleen_k_sexotic_honey_b_sexual_consultant_eroticaMasturbation serves the body-soul balance, we gain mastery and strengthen our control, learning to merge the sensations of the body with the tumbling thoughts of desire and demand, sass and shame.  Then, narrator Honey would tell you, take a side trip from the direction of your typical physical relationships and work up to masturbating with a potential lover before EVER mingling further.  If you do not, between you, have the grace to figure out how this could be done and find a way to communicate between you, then having traditional sex would be more of the same old thing.  Change it up, toss away the familiar moves and take a chance on provoking a more sophisticated response.

Offering to share tandem pleasure while deferring the more usual approaches to partner-sex shows a glimpse of your character, establishing that you can and do like sex but you reserve the right to proceed at your own pace (a strategy that works equally well with all genders).  Slow fucking down!  Stop fucking so soon, so fast, and actually cultivate a new form of relationship.  If you find yourself thinking you’d be to shy to do that with somebody then you better go back to bed alone and gain a bit more confidence.  Establishing your own solitary threshold sets the bar, asserting what you’ve learned to appreciate, what you discovered you do.

Frankly, the value of sexual self-knowledge makes a great discussion topic for budding lovers, it breaks a long taboo.  If it doesn’t excite you to talk about sexual matters with this person even in theory, this is probably not your person.  If you intend to develop a passionate relationship with an individual, then you must forge that bond carefully.  If you are just fucking around, you may as well fuck off because, truly, you will expand your future if you take that energy home and figure out what makes you feel, what makes you hungry, what causes the commotion required for you to crest and peak?  If you’re at the vertex, what’s in the vortex?

If you can’t achieve orgasm on your own, how ever will you do so with somebody else?  If you ingest online porn without the balance of films, books, forums, discussions, reflection, projection, and actual experience, it is like eating hot sauce for dinner:  not really a food group, and it dulls the palate over time.  If you never bliss-out alone then you might want to tap that well of feelings.  It isn’t only the physical release, it is the heat of memories and fantasies bouncing between the head and the heart and the hole-pole on hand.

For those already intimate, you might review your own self-pleasuring habits.  It is not necessary you surrender your masturbation to your partner, sometimes it is just enough if you acknowledge their right to having a secret schedule.  For others, it is an invitation to vicarious pleasure, gathering up images of a most moving demonstration of trust and vulnerability and daring.  It’s a Show and Tell moment, unclouded by reciprocal incursions.

It’s a kind of courting behavior, this agreeing to come, alone, together, unorthodox as it may seem, but it’s all about the percolating.  You can agree to do it in the dark, through your clothes, or side by side, sharing at first only the sounds and the pace of your control of excitement.  You are elusive yet giving, self-protective not because you are weak but because you are precious.  Your partner confers a similar privilege upon you, the allure of them starting to share their secrets.  Then later, you can masturbate about that!


For rowdier readers — Adapted from Honey B., The Suite Life

He said that in his teens he’d gotten a hold of a men’s bondage magazine, it was his uncle’s, and the feature model looked much like me, especially in the body.  It ricocheted deep in his mind, he’d hallucinated my presence during countless masturbation frenzies, he’d thought of capturing me and making me his prisoner, not to hurt me, oh, no, he wanted to excite me, to please me, to be my abject slave, to sacrifice his very manhood to me if I wanted it.

I was on the sofa, I lifted one leg up over the arm of it, exposing myself to him, coral pink panties stretched tight to cover me but they glistened and seemed to cling. He watched very closely as I opened to him.

The form of masturbating I share this time is a fingers only orgasm, without penetration, a simple clitoral bang that results from indirect intense manipulation of the lips over the slippery button.  I tense my entire body so that I am almost rigid, my ass cheeks are clenched, my legs are stretched out straight, my back arches slightly so I can bear down against my hand, my tits jiggle with the force of my heaving heart.

I never look this tall standing up.

#readmore

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What Nature Intends – What Nature Allows

kathleen_k_commentary_erotica-sexotica

We’re all born to our bodies, tethered to brains and souls that overtake us as we build our lives.  Lovers and offspring are pivot points, geography counts but only so much.  In the way that Nature does, we need to accept the idea of tolerance. There’s what most of us are and what some of us are; there are prototypes and archetypes.

Our bodies are built with skeletons and stretchy flesh within a well-known range between 4′-6′ tall, not all of us but most of us.  We have established patterns of fat deposits and muscle development and accept wide ranges.  Intellectually we pegged 100 IQ but don’t agree on how to measure it.  Tolerance from the ideal to the real.  Love the one you are, love the one you’re with.

Nature intended sexual function but accepts our deviant ways within tolerable limits for viability.  Nasal intromission is just not going to work.  We learn to see the sexual beauty in others and eventually even ourselves.  This acceptance is key to high quality sensuality in life because the first person you seduce is yourself — you must believe you have a chance.  It is not survival of the fittest but of the fit (close enough).  If you are worried about this lump and that deficiency then you will not understand that those are nothing compared to the heat you are built to make, the caresses unique to your arm length and wrist structure.  The beauty of sharing what is yours, peculiarly yours as it is, tempers the mechanical fact of fornication that it is the same among the species: donkey to pig, rat to human… cheetah to gazelle.

Full tilt boogie on the lovemaking.  Forgive yourself and each other for the imperfections and instead notice what does work, what purrs, what gurgles, and thank Nature for the opportunity.  The most basic working version of parts mesh, the plainest of faces imprint, do not withhold all that you are because of stuff that you aren’t.

As a sexotic writer, I work in a vivid vernacular and seek rowdier readers who may self-identify as loners but travel intellectual circles packing big vocabularies and large spirits.  It is our brain’s intention to read and it is my eccentricity to focus on the carnal and the comical.  I hear back that most people’s advances in sexual self-confidence come from relaxing their standards, from understanding what is mutable and what is not about a lover, a friend, body type, and family.  This is not to say “lower” standards as much as adapt them to prevailing conditions, and recognize there’s more going on than your side of the equation so that you might yourself be judged more kindly.  My erotic-graphic language is a good reminder to think about your sex∞life, to plan to enjoy yourself, and to be glad for any chance you get to BE turned on.

From a technique and physique perspective, Kathleen K. Books are thought-provoking and carved carefully because we’ve drawn a veil across our passion and desire, even as we pulsate with porn-adgraphy in our media.  No wonder our receptors are worn out waggling in response to false stimuli.  Better lovemaking takes time, and consideration for other rewards the self as is shown again and again in our fables and fantasies.  Reading about sex at bedtime is a natural way to pepper your dreams with wayward images; perusing a naughty book on the train takes you away from the mundane.  Nature intends us to adapt to our decisions but allows us to live through our choices.  Finitude (Bingle it, web-wise).


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Picture of cuddly dog

NSFW

– but work is only 1/3 of 5/7 of the week

He had a long plump penis and very powerful hands so I kept seeing him long after we had much to say.  There was so much to do that we didn’t rub each other the wrong way.  He had the same appreciation for my ass, it just drove him wild, he told me, to see it sweep down and around from my waist to tuck tightly to my muscular thighs.  It made the big boy jump, I can attest to that.  We fit all over but it was my special pleasure to ease that significant snake up deep inside myself, knowing a fullness that is indescribable by analogy.  To have a functional place on the body function to full flower is in and of itself a definition of fulfillment.

His ‘thing’ was spanning my lush ripe can with his talented hands and pulling the ass-halves back (apart but inward?) so that everything shifted tighter where we connected.  It was exquisite.  We were generous with each other. He mounded my titties together with all four of our hands to insure maximum “envelopment” of his prick between my tits, and I could lip the tip/top like he liked.  He ate me out with care, understanding it was a language rather than an activity.

The social contract of relationships has little to do with the way I felt when he rummaged in my dress, hissing his whispers in my ear: I was his dirty princess, his red-hot witch.  He smudged me when he touched me but that would wash off later when I didn’t need it anymore.  Even now I feel him notching in, having taken his time and coaxed me to accept the girth of dick, that phallus so much more than the ordinary, gorgeously and proportionally bigger than average when average is already great.

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Sexotic – Erotic Kathleen K. Books – The First Five Years

I set out in 2011 to make print-digital masters of ten of my “previously private publications” within five years; as an experienced book builder I knew exactly what I wanted to have produced for me.  I learned that CreateSpace.com gave me the control I required plus creative insight I had not expected.

kathleenk erotica gender dynamics family life indieThe first book was a trial run, and the book-team assigned to my project popped this image onto it with that choppety font: they caught the mood and carved it on the cover.  Talk about a strong entrance to print-on-demand since that image draws then holds the eye, plus it thumbnails well.  Deciding which book to put into production next is part art and part strategy, author meet publisher (“Enjoy sharing that skull.”).  Joody grabs you long enough to notice there now are other characters-covers around her:  a dozen Kathleen K. Books examine the commotion of emotion around sex∞love and the infinity between.

Bedside readers for the adult mind… erotic & sexotic

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Examine what it means to hide your primary sexual relationship from the people you love but flaunt it in front of strangers. 

Enjoy this flip and witty take on gender dynamics, deliciously explicit, as it probes themes of submission, permission, and admission.

Just Released!

 

hires_frontcover    frontcover HoneyB I 7174296_cover     PP Native Cover.4539172.indd

Stoner-cover copy image   Stoners_bone_of_contention_cover ARCHING Cover Memorial+3 pre-FINAL cover_rough0003a

___________________________________

Vivid family fiction for those who read
between, around and beyond the lines. 

frontcover   Stainless Mary BookCoverImage LentHand frontcover-medium  FAMILY cover front harvest from PDF


I set three goals for the first five years:  make books, establish online catalog-outreach, and sustain a social media presence.

Twelve books.  100+ posts here.  450+ Tweets.

Done, done and done.

This is the foundation for the next five years.  The turning point may be when I am accepted as a content-provider to an alternative-indie periodical of some sort for print and digital access: a home base from which to syndicate-replicate someday.  I represent a distaff voice, in the tradition of lady wits and witches… sassy, sexy, smart, scorching, and self-contained.  Right now I’m angling to luck across a keen scout who pulls my work forward and sees the business I am building… it’s all about the books.

Another bet that paid off was selecting Kirkus Reviews professional service as a trial-by-fire for the books themselves.  Consistent positive reviews from Kirkus bolster my literary cred, which is especially valuable for the Indie publisher.  “We see you.”

A witty and wise read, especially for fans of tough-minded heroines.

Stainless Mary  Kirkus Reviews Aug. 2012

A beautifully woven novel about an unusual boy… and how he learns to be a father, without having really been a son.

The Lent Hand   Kirkus Reviews  Jan 2013

Quotable tags like these shorthand the type of book it is, indicating the style and tone rather than touting a thriller-killer plot or genre-buzz.  Consider this discussion on how readers might pick their books.

I leverage the GoodReads.com Give Away program to garner hundreds of “looks” from specifically-interested purposeful readers seeking books and willing to invest an actual click.  I can “look back” at the entrants via online profile image and presence: I skim past fast, going for the overall energy.  I’ve worked on the down-low so long, it’s exciting to start the next five years with a more public stance on my planning.  So many people imagine the things they would create if they had an audience but I took the opposite approach, I created what I wanted to create for the challenge-fun of fabricating bedside readers for the adult mind.  Groundwork laid, now I seek the rowdier readers who will at least pull my words to their screen.

Whether it turns out to be squibs of romantic-graphic poetry scattered around a gritty weekly, providing a quick jolt of thinking for the wandering mind, or excerpts serialized from my vignette-rich and scenario-driven books themselves between art-concept glossy covers, I can only imagine.  This sought-after periodical presence would be in the long tradition of actual literature in counter-culture small presses and little magazines.  With Playboy dropping nudes, they are conceding the porn-pic war as rendered irrelevant to their mission, we only hope they stay alive in the literary and arts communities which was the other revolution Hugh Hefner took on.  Remember those glorious interviews and break-out stories between the impossible beauties and those crazy-cool parties “in the Grotto”?  There is more to “getting it” than sex.  What they called a club we now call a community.  Like-minded.

kathleenk_erotica_fiction_books_indieI’m walking fertile ground since Fifty Shades of Grey helped weaken the grip of male-modality in adult entertainment:  those books weren’t about content-quality but about the surge of consumer fever whether or not the literary community approved.  Traditional publishers were aghast at the volume of mommy porn.  Really?  (Really.)  I’m not banking on a book or three, I’m presenting a 12-book collection available online today.

My investment in the actual book masters establishes my freedom, each title is available on demand with no further cost or effort on my part.  It’s a leap of faith to call a book finished, ending that interlude when a character’s bailiwick first exists without public criticism or praise, product of paper-pen-pixels grappling with the ineffable.  And then at one moment in time the writer declares the book to be complete as it will be, the people and places forever captured there.  Now, offered here.

Kathleen K Books — Next Five Year Plan

Produce five book print-digital masters.

Maintain online catalog-blog.

Sustain delivery of reTweetable @KathleenKxxx Tweets or similar evolving “pithy” webiverse.  Reactivate @Potcentric

Continue branding efforts as both a book collection, and as a dozen discrete titles.  To that end, I leave a steady set of markers: I was here, and here… and over here too.  Just linkin’ along.

Thankful.  Hopeful.

November 30, 2015

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Interview with the Voice of Sexotica for the Rowdier Reader

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Reader of Novels – Art in the Public Domain

It was my great fortune to be noticed by a lively blog for authors and people who work with them, orchestrated by a bona fide “resource” in the book business.  This compendium voices book-community interests.  I recommend it for indie author-publishers, and book consumers no matter age or station.

Interview with the Voice of Sexotica for the Rowdier

BookMarketingBuzzBlog

I’ve included a bit of sexotic text below, just by way of example.  This is an excerpt from Stoner’s Bone of Contention (The Weightless Joint) intended for mature audiences with open minds.  Potcentric, sexotic fictional memoir.


The double-tub with jets and shower hoses was a statement piece, hidden elements like thick insulation and sound baffling were part of the simple luxury of the bedroom suite, the one-armed long couch had crisp fitted slipcovers of washable fabric, there were area rugs (suited to bare bottoms) sitting on top of room rugs (suitable for bare feet) offsetting easy-mop hardwoods and tile pavilions. There were two double bedrooms, four guest beds, because even with one guest there can be the sex bed(s) and the sleep bed(s), there is the option to stop one phase and begin another without the mundane chore of immediate cleanup.

Janna drank sips of bourbon all night long, while I sucked up little hits of pot. It was not our intention to get wasted because the sex was too good to blur. We took breaks, replenished ourselves, we readjusted our framework. Janna gave as good as she got, we overheated from time to time, so ardent that we added too much fuel to the fire. I’d see her eyes glaze and realize I’d been pounding into her with my own eyes closed for a long long time before I looked down and saw her stunned and finished. I eased up, backed off, made the sad decision to disengage and shoot it like a firework.

That private retreat was the only single family dwelling I owned in the city, it was maintained by a different contractor and not part of my property management business. Part of my decision about Janna took this into consideration because I had not allowed these two elements to cross. My party life was my own, I withdrew from the work-a-day world reassured my real stuff had been insured, monitored, was waiting for me. Lead me to the luxurious linen and sturdy furniture. Layers of window coverings from sheer to blackout: I had designed window shades that snapped to the sill. Each bedroom and the smoking den were ventilated by silent fans, with slim radiators featuring artsy dials setting low to high, and dimmers on the light switches; this was a polypurpose place.

The availability of four double beds led to many combinations of guests so the rooms were filled with sensual memories. Someone like Janna meant so much more because she shared it with me and turned it to her advantage. She understood how cute she looked tummy-down on the ottoman so I could stare, stupefied, at her flaring ass then track the crack to her darkness. Eventually she’d lean on her forearms, straightening her legs to rise then bending her knees to settle in for round two of teasing. More of her hints were exposed but nothing… tangible. I felt her promise.

She put this show on in the smoking den, so I could toke along, phases settling one atop another until she grabbed her own ass cheeks and pried them open, pulled them up-out-back to show me my ultimate target, commanding me to take aim.

She wanted what I wanted, good hot balling, letting the carnal rule, laughing when I growled up into her pussy as I twisted her tits, feeling her buck and knowing I’d be mounting her soon, not yet, but soon, so I was all the more serious about heating her up. Nothing gleams like a wet cunny, weeping with the desire to be filled, crying for cock. Not all women ever get to feel that reckless joy but Janna had no qualms about sharing this most extreme hunger for sensation. She didn’t care if it wasn’t pretty, because it was so fucking real. We got off on each other, on our slamming tight and rocking back, we had matching parts and similar intent. She meant to control me through my cock and I intended to let her.

She did me, she let me and made me and prevented me, forestalled and goosed me, those were just her ways of communicating to my preverbal brain to stay on task, this was not about me coming but about me fucking her and riding her and turning her over to re-enter from some other angle. I knew I would come, later, I would spill into her waiting void, but not yet, and not just once.

 

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The Hunt Continues for Rowdier Readers: Sexotica!

The dividing line between porn and erotica is straddled by sexotica (sidestepped by “romance”).  Combining physique and technique with motivation may not always be a “turn on” but it is provocative, it inspires thoughts both propitious and adverse with the intent of illuminating a subject vital to our personalities.  Understanding sex is not always done on the physical plane, to grasp the intricacies of desire and denial you must first set the stage.

As an indie author-publisher, I have set my sights on rowdier readers because it takes a special blend of curiosity, tolerance and experience to appreciate the language and themes in these first dozen books, and blog.  I brewed a blend of options because that was my first lesson in writing about sex:  so many feelings surge at the words sex, love & mating that you need a full menu.  Appetizers, first course, second course, palette cleansers, apéritifs and digestifs.  There are regional flavors and tribal spices.  Within this analogy lies the idea of appetite diverging at the palette by nature and experience, we learn to distinguish between a lingering tang and an effervescent foam.

The twist comes in the language.  Very rarely do sex writers command nuance and that is what it takes to sneak in around the gates and over the fences people set up around their intimate ideas.  It takes humor and empathy and shading to slip past presumption.

I decided a few years ago to employ a Twitter account @KathleenKxxx primarily for the purpose of encapsulating ideas into niblets.  It’s all about getting pithy with it.  I blended in the blog for the fun of sharing the post titles.

He swore he’d kill a tiger for me but he wouldn’t even mop the john. I’d been distracted by a thick dick; sadly he didn’t measure up.

She eats me like she likes it; I don’t feel as if I’m racing a timer set for how long she can endure the horror of fellatio. #mOuths

I was enthralled by her long, long ago and was cursed to enjoy her body but never touch her heart. Honey B., The Buzz – Summer 2015

you’re poised over me. you descend. your shaft in my shaft. i am centuries deep and measure your cock in light-years. #nerdlove #sex

Most likely the average penis will fit the ordinary vagina

Human Penis Info: Putting it in… perspective

Rising Above Porn Scum: Lôôk at “The Lunarium”

kathleenkbook, kathleen k, erotica, sexotica, fiction, curiosa, LibertineI lucked upon the Erotic Authors ReTweet Group #EARTG and through its thousands of members have associated my logo with my language.  I was sorry to see this post from the creatively cheeky communicator Anthony Quill who set up this group:  The difference between authentic sharing by artists and pig-brained selfishness (my words for his words)

We indie erotic authors are hard to herd, no surprise.  It’s just too bad that the mutants who think it is about money↔ego taint the talent pool.  Of course many of us want to distribute our work, but the core value is capturing the spirit and embodying human sexual energy with our own unique flavor.

Coming full circle, I know that there are rowdier readers who can grasp the value of counterculture thoughts expressed by gifted word-artists and that these books aren’t nullified by trolls who refuse to LOOK beyond the usual genres dictated by corporate publishers who profit from pablum.  Whether he knows it or not, Anthony Quill IS reaching people like me, and now you… he might think his target is indie authors but like all good opinionators you can fit his words to a garden club, an outreach service or any other gathering of those who “get it” and those who want to “get something out of it”.

I like making books, it seems he does too, and that is not measured by readership alone.  By using “social media”, we layer our writing about writing to deepen the impact of shared experience.  Write on!

#readmore #getit?

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The moment before I open a professional review

I close my eyes and tell myself it is a single opinion, whatever I am about to read is just one view of my work, and in the long run will be dismissible.  In this moment it is the result of a big gamble.

As an indie author-publisher, allocating $500 for a Kirkus Review is a significant decision.  They’ve been opining about books for eighty years with a reputation for tough standards but some backlash for abject cruelty at times.

I pay $500 whether I publish their review or not.  They get paid for writing it.  You can decide to bury the review and that’s fine with them.  If you publish the review, you can use it in whole or part to advertise your book.  The weight of their name is significant in the publishing world precisely because they have assembled a rich reviewer pool delivering firmly structured 300-word judgments.  You throw your book in a proverbial pile and it is handed to you-have-no-idea-who and that’s your shot:  no re-do, no preferred reviewer, not even a pick of genre.  Take it or leave it.  More precisely, pay first and see what you bought later.

  • First stand-alone sentence is summary of book.
  • Paragraph is plot and content analysis.
  • Last stand-alone sentence is ‘tag’, the ‘boom’, the ‘bam’.

I bought the review in late February so it was due back in late April.  I didn’t haunt my account waiting for it only because I was busy elsewhere.  I finally checked in mid-May and here is what I found.


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Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen Kirkus Reviews May 2015

Prolific eroticist K (Honey B., Sexual Consultant, 2014, etc.) conjures a fictionalized wet dream starring a hyper sexualized woman and the domineering hoodlum who sexually enslaves her.

Though the mysterious, unnamed raconteur of this erotica describes herself as an ordinary woman, she’s really an experienced physician who exudes “a sensation of calm, a sense of security.” She’s swept away by a cocksure, bearded, “dense and dreamy” stranger named Nathan, whose livelihood includes larceny and money counterfeiting. K’s novella, easily read in one heated sitting, glosses over plot in favor of the sexual exploits between the narrator and Nathan as their relationship intensifies to incorporate kink and sadomasochism. Nathan is slowly revealed to be a crestfallen attorney and military serviceman–turned-criminal, but that hardly deters the narrator from pursuing him. Their respective appetites for carnal satisfaction seem infinite; any opportunity for role-playing and sexual adventure is met with agreement, including the addition of Jo, Nathan’s sexy “surrogate,” to their lovemaking. The book consists of short vignettes that ultimately blur into a carnal cacophony of three-ways, safe words, penis rings, and jail bailouts, as the narrator who “wanted a bad boy and got one” swiftly becomes rapt and ultimately enamored by Nathan’s sexual bravado. Readers of graphic erotic fiction will appreciate K’s smooth delivery of unbridled passion coupled with introspective ponderings in which the veil lifts to reveal her protagonist’s true nature. This aspect elevates the narrative from one-note fantasy to an explicitly personal chronicle complete with a surprise ending. Although the ever reliable narrator spends most of her time being bossed around and used like a Fifty Shades sex toy, the story is very much owned and operated by her. “I didn’t want somebody to love,” she unapologetically confesses. “It was more selfish than that, I wanted somebody to enjoy my body with me.”

Thin and unassuming, K’s latest is a titillating and highly provocative tinderbox, conflating taboo themes of hierarchal subservience, gender domination, and eroticized objectification.

#readmore

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This mother says if you want a good love life, masturbate better

Along the lines that practice makes perfect, it is important for a person to learn to operate themselves properly, in all ways, including their sensuous sexual expression.  The idea of exploring this strength within yourself is the cornerstone of your sex with others.  You can learn to accelerate, drop back, stutter forward, and hold-hold-hold & hold-release.  For men, perhaps they must resist firing up the cum-dumping routine, and shift their goal from completion to completeness.  For women, the same challenge to expand the definition of ‘enough’, enough of what, enough for whom?  Anything you do that slows down the viral merry-go-round of bang-bang hookups is a contribution to the gene pool.

Best wishes to all you mothers out there.    – – May 10, 2015


kathleen_k_sexotic_honey_b_sexual_consultant_eroticaHoney B., The Suite Life is my tenth Giveaway book on Goodreads.com, this is Book I of V sharing truer than true tales of commercial satisfaction.  The Suite Life explains the foundation of Honey’s career providing sexual strategies to her clients:  She gave Frank advice about Dick.  It’s a sexotic book series, full of technical details and anecdotal perspectives on the energy of the carnal markets.  She’s crisp and clear about sex, she’s not writing poetry or rambling Stoner style.

Masturbation serves the body-soul balance, we gain mastery and strengthen our control, learning to merge the sensations of the body with the tumbling thoughts of desire and demand, sass and shame.  Then, Honey would tell you, take a side trip from the direction of your typical physical relationships and work up to masturbating with a potential lover before EVER mingling further.  If you do not, between you, have the grace to figure out how this could be done and find a way to communicate between you, then having traditional sex would be more of the same old thing.  Change it up, toss away the familiar moves and take a chance on provoking a more sophisticated response.

Offering to share tandem pleasure while deferring the more usual approaches to partner-sex shows a glimpse of your character, establishing that you can and do like sex but you reserve the right to proceed at your own pace (a strategy that works equally well with all genders).  Slow fucking down!  Stop fucking so soon, so fast, and actually cultivate a new form of relationship.  If you find yourself thinking you’d be to shy to do that with somebody then you better go back to bed alone and gain a bit more confidence.  Establishing your own solitary threshold sets the bar, asserting what you’ve learned to appreciate, what you discovered you do.

Frankly, the value of sexual self-knowledge makes a great discussion topic for budding lovers, it breaks a long taboo.  If it doesn’t excite you to talk about sexual matters with this person even in theory, this is probably not your person.  If you intend to develop a passionate relationship with an individual, then you must forge that bond carefully.  If you are just fucking around, you may as well fuck off because, truly, you will expand your future if you take that energy home and figure out what makes you feel, what makes you hungry, what causes the commotion required for you to crest and peak?  If you’re at the vertex, what’s in the vortex?

If you can’t achieve orgasm on your own, how ever will you do so with somebody else?  If you ingest online porn without the balance of films, books, forums, discussions, reflection, projection, and actual experience, it is like eating hot sauce for dinner:  not really a food group, and it dulls the palate.  If you never bliss-out alone then you might want to tap that well of feelings.  It isn’t only the physical release, it is the heat of memories and fantasies bouncing between the head and the heart and the hole-pole on hand.

For those already intimate, you might review your own self-pleasuring habits.  It is not necessary you surrender your masturbation to your partner, sometimes it is just enough if you acknowledge their right to having a secret schedule.  For others, it is an invitation to vicarious pleasure, gathering up images of a most moving demonstration of trust and vulnerability and daring.  It’s a Show and Tell moment, unclouded by reciprocal incursions.

It’s a kind of courting behavior, this agreeing to come alone together, unorthodox as it may seem, but it’s all about the percolating.  You can agree to do it in the dark, through your clothes, side by side, sharing at first only the sounds and the pace of your control of excitement.  You are elusive yet giving, self-protective not because you are weak but because you are precious.  Your partner confers a similar privilege upon you, the allure of them starting to share their secrets.  Then later, you can masturbate about that!


Excerpt adapted from Honey B., The Suite Life

He said in his teens he’d gotten a hold of a men’s bondage magazine, it was his uncle’s, and the feature model looked much like me, especially in the body.  It ricocheted deep in his mind, he’d hallucinated my presence during countless masturbation frenzies, he’d thought of capturing me and making me his prisoner, not to hurt me, oh, no, he wanted to excite me, to please me, to be my abject slave, to sacrifice his very manhood to me if I wanted it.

I was on the sofa, I lifted one leg up over the arm of it, exposing myself to him, coral pink panties stretched tight to cover me but they were moist and seemed to cling. He watched very closely as I opened to him.

The form of masturbating I share this time is a fingers only orgasm, without penetration, a simple clitoral bang that results from indirect intense manipulation of the lips over the slippery button.  I tense my entire body so that I am almost rigid, my ass cheeks are clenched, my legs are stretched out straight, my back arches slightly so I can bear down against my hand, my tits jiggle with the force of my heaving heart.

I never look this tall standing up.

#readmore

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Too much porn, not enough sex – Learn to ride the tide

kathleenk_erotica_sex_porn_saturationThe saturation level for porn is higher than I thought possible… the relentless ram-jam-a-lam-bam of it pollutes the part of your heart that gives over to desire.  This disconnect shows most in the young because they are awash in the repetitive climaxes of the selfish and are not treated to the meaningful advances it takes to reach an interpersonal pleasure-based orgasm.  Conversely, they are denied the hope of pair-bonding given the high divorce rates, the bickering over who may marry whom, and the dismal state of love as war.  Vows for now.

The anticipation of physical intimacy is frittered away; we’ve seen it all, stark and gasping, but then we fidget watching love scenes that capture the sweet probing and rapturous elevation of permission between people.  We are way too mechanical and task-oriented in sex.   We may be all modern about hooking up but in fact the percolating of desire and escalation of tension is rarely savored.  Nobody wants to wait for even a moment… brew my coffee in a minute, cook my burrito in two… look at my picture and swipe right or left.  Do it.  Do it.  Do it.

Take a vacation from whatever’s left you bored by sex and go in another direction… reading, writing, listening, thinking about the sweet tease of sex to come, what will happen when you reach out… break it down and look at the pieces.  Not just those pieces… all your parts.

kathleen_k_erotica_sexotica_booksSex is a tide of sensations and emotions, it has a push and a pull, it is powerful in its rhythm yet capricious with its swells and eddies; we ride the wave action on the surface of a surge only when we paddle out to meet it.  Some of us never dive below that churning to find the cool deep energy within.  It isn’t only about love, or what we think of as “love” when commingling emotion with sex.  It can be appreciation, it can be joy.  It can be supreme kindness.

Don’t think only about your sex, consider sex in general, consider it across time and distance, assess its impact on history and culture – our survival.  This isn’t just about a little rub-a-dub at the club, bub.


Here’s a low, slow roll on text from The Lunarium; he’s telling us about sex clubs. I am experimenting with adding audio segments for some of the stories.  I’m envisioning home-grown parts-of-books in online sound files:  quick and light and freewheeling, organically indie as the books themselves.  That’s the fun of collaborating with people.  I would have never heard, or at least had not yet heard, a dark rumble in the words of my favorite voyeur. That got me thinking.

SAMPLE – Not suitable for some, appreciated by others.  Vignette-Things of voyeurism.

The Lunarium

(One man’s memories of the watchers and the watched)

The Second Thing >< Voyeurs’ Cave

You say you didn’t know that places like the Lunarium really existed, well, obviously they do. They always have and, I hope, always will. The human being gathers information for survival. Some eye the moon, others hear the wind pick up… there are people watchers. Human social senses cycle through eons and aeons. Through it all we’ve needed air, water, food and sex. Shelter is nice but a luxury. (Love is a form of shelter.)

To learn the powers of sex, whether or not by observation, has driven many a human through life. We are not alone, here and now. Artists etched sex on cave walls as soon as they could put their minds and materials to it. People are generally secretive about sex, elusive. These are important feelings to be handled with care. Privacy is a state of mind in an igloo; a matter of custom with rice paper walls… we may know exactly when others are making love but rarely see them do so.

I want to watch.  Justify it? Let history do that. I accept this as a fact about myself. Being a ritualistic kind of guy, I arrange to view the embodiment of erotic contact in much the same way I get to church on time, and see my accountant quarterly. Sexual adventures seemed necessary to me. I allowed for them in my life. I cultivated a reputation of having a private existence, distinct from other duties, and was careful to remove myself from my “real” world for my voyeurism. It was as much a matter of discipline as caution, if I truly wanted to participate in such exotic behavior then a fifty-mile journey would be worth it — an odyssey. I didn’t walk the wild side in in my neighborhood, nor did I take the neighborhood with me: I dressed differently, modulated my regional pride, rented a car, carried cash… I became my essential self which contributes to the pleasure, I’m sure.

To preserve its impact, I don’t indulge myself in as much of this as I would like to do. Distancing it helps in that regard. Adventuring is a treat, a special event, not to be confused with my mundane life. I wasn’t “me” when I showed up at a party house: I attended as a single straight male. I didn’t usually go into the orgy rooms because there is a presumption of participation. I stay in the voyeurs’ cave – lots of graphic foreplay and a little actual balling – with no obligation to reciprocate. The watchers very much affect the do-ers. In the orgy rooms there are no barriers, you are available in all senses. You will not be hurt (there are rooms for that). You expect excess.

I have seen groups of people doing sex stuff but they knew they were being watched and acted accordingly. If it ever happened you were given the chance to see seven people join genitals would that be “worse” than watching a married couple in a spot-lit cocoon? Do people object that the sex is wrong, the watching is wrong, or is it the selection of personnel and props?

Ritual is big with Americans. Pledge allegiance, file your taxes, follow lines on the road, yield to the right, stop at red octagons. Two-by-two. Marriage is a legal/financial state, with various religious & social overtones. We’ve regulated vice and put sex central to that category. Vice = moral depravity: a judgment call. Regular crime isn’t considered depraved… robbery, burglary, murder, rape. Simple crimes. But vice, wicked vice, sex for hire – gambling – the naughty crimes ‑‑ we pay special attention to vice, it has its own department. (Mind crimes.)

You don’t find a voyeurs’ cave listed in the phone book; making contact is clandestine and often done with code numbers and false identities. It is easier to buy an illegal handgun than to find a swingers’ party. It isn’t even a sense of privacy that contains sexual adventures, it is a sense of peril that fences us in. You must not get caught doing this – group sex is depraved!

I am able to move freely through this society because I am not extremely anything. I’m not rich or poor, giant or dwarf. I’m at mid-life, averaged sized, typically Irish with my dark hair and green eyes, clear pale skin. I was spared the red hair and freckles that stereotype Gaelic, given a crooked nose by accident and a beard because I hate shaving.

The truth is, life has been good to me.

 kathleenk_erotica_voyeurism_lunarium erotica_kathleenk_sexotica_best_of_kirkus_reviews

Named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best of 2013

#readmore

Most likely the average penis will fit the ordinary vagina

kathleen_k_sexotic_penis_size_erotic A Study of Attractiveness, Penis Size and Body Shape

You’d think by now we’d have figured out most people are around average (thereby establishing the average).  The enduring question of penis size has been answered yet again: 5.16 inches in length when erect, and 4.59 around, according to an analysis of more than 15,000 appendages around the world.

Since the root cause of this question is the idea that the penis is intended to fill the vagina, where is the corresponding target dimensions for the phallic missile?  That begets the question:  how would you measure the vagina?  We know it can accommodate a baby’s head with proper preparation…  these statistics on penis length and girth don’t begin to address the convoluted nature of that vault and its keeper.

The underlying unease about the equipment pinpoints the lack of honesty in our literature and art when it comes to what makes sex good for people.  It isn’t merely beauty, it isn’t only power, and it sure is not dick-length.  Sexual viability is a pre-verbal accord in some ways, a subliminal click.  Long before a woman sees a man’s penis (in the usual order of social-sexual involvement), she’s assessed his suitability and only an extreme anomaly would reverse that.  On a bio-science level, we’ve got a nearly universal adapter going on the hole and pole business, it is rare that anyone strays too far from the Bell curve bulge.

This isn’t the first pitch I’ve made for men to use what they’ve been given and for women to do the same, the theme runs through my books:  Penis size is a fact, what matters is a judgment.

In my choice to write sexotic vignettes around the themes of voyeurism, reefer and romance, phone fantasy, and sex⇔love strategy; I am assigning a high value to potential.  These bedside readers are brimming with ideas to consider – be thoughtful about your sexual happiness, consider elements to seek within and beyond yourself, identify purpose to confer meaning.  And have some fuckin’ fun.


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SAMPLE – Not suitable for some, appreciated by others.

–from Honey B., Sexual Consultant (Book II of V)

Wendy gagged on Willie’s dick every time she ate it. Willie felt she was rejecting him not only physically but emotionally. He told me he understood she was new at it but, geez, in over a dozen attempts they’d always ended up with her spluttering and Whee Willie sputtering. Wendy didn’t say much but finally she turned to me and sighed. “He‘s the one. He thinks he has to hang his nuts on my chin or it doesn’t count.” Willie shrank back from this as if he’d been stung. He’d mistaken her virginity for innocence. He didn’t act happy about hearing this from her. Where was she getting her information?

She didn’t see what her having watched some sex movies had to do with her essential wife & partner wholesomeness. Wendy had known all along what was going wrong with their oral sex (she had a few ideas about intercourse, too) but try as she might she couldn’t dissuade him from thrusting his penis all the way into her mouth from the first to the too-soon last. He had no concept of laying back and letting her moisten his cock first. How could she tell him to let her take it in little nibbles, a bit at a time, saving the deep throat duty for the end when she was relaxed and open to him?

Our triangulated talk not only cured this one symptom but revealed a deeper presumption that he was to be the sexual leader on their team. He had no reason to doubt she was inexperienced when they wed but it was big news to him that she’d actually watched sex on a screen before she had any experience. She said it was a real eye-opener. I should think so, knowing the wide range of graphic film images available. They grabbed a couple of movies from my lending shelf and dashed home to discuss this hitherto unexpressed aspect of her nature and what it might mean for their future.

** 

Nolan wanted me to look at his dick when it was erect and tell him my professional opinion of it, was it thick enough, long enough, the right color, did it feel OK… Upon inspection it revealed itself as ordinary in all respects, exhibiting no untoward aspect. He packed it away and left a happy man. His few lovers never spoke of it to him, he didn’t know who else to ask, and it was useless to speak in theory. Someone had to look at it and then look him in the eye and tell him the interpersonal truth. I told him it was slightly thinner, somewhat longer and exactly the same shape as other pricks I’d seen, and like all the others it had the head on the top. If the thought of me looking at it is what gave him the hard-on so be it. It was not the first or last time I’d give a critique of the client but rarely was it as simple as this particular see-and-say report.

**

Lady readers, close your eyes and slowly squeeze the muscles of your pelvic floor, clench them tight then shift them forward. Imagine a man in the room, a finger in your hole, a prick pushing inward. Men, imagine that.

**

#readmore

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