Thoughts From A Fetish Artist

I Dream Of You

2009-02-26T22:32:00.000-08:00

I have unruly dreams about you.

Your hands.

Your funny nature.

Last night you had me in your arms, you kissed me with focus and passion.

Then you pulled away.

"It's too bad I'm married and Catholic."

Yeah. Too bad.

My brain tells my mind things. Lately.. it's been conveying the message that the sanctity of marriage is dead.

Just Let The Rain Come Down

2008-07-15T21:50:00.000-07:00

I would like to say I was alright, all this time. I would like to say that I could cum while having sex with someone else without thinking of you. I would like to believe that there wasn't this unbelievable sexual tension between us. But there is. I feel it. I feel it everyday. I'm distracted at work until you come in, and when you do come in, I'm even more distracted.

You touched me today. I think you think your just fooling yourself, thinking that I would have you bend me over the back of my car, your desk, whatever happens to be around and the right height, but your not. I wouldn't tell a soul. I keep wanting to find a way, just to experience that moment. That moment of you pulling my hair and pushing into me.

I know you love my tits. I see it, I see the desire. I see the way you smile for me, and I know you don't give that to many people. I would love to accidentally 'slip' and show you more.

The thought of you controlling me and fucking me like I'm just a piece of meat excites me more than you ever could know.

I'm Not Your Girl

2008-06-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

I have this ideal. It says and perpetuates within me that every man wants stability. They want a good women to go home to. Well, every man except for gay men, that is. They want that sweet little girl at home, whom they care for and love.

But somewhere, deep inside that male brain, they want a girl they can bend over their desk and fuck. Just, fuck. And be done. Pull her by her hair, hold her arms down, and fuck her. They want that little slut that will sit on the trunk of their car while her foot plays with his cock. She would cross and uncross her legs in a mini skirt that would make a sailor blush. She owns no underwear. If she does, they're thongs.

They want her for the moment of excitement. They want her for the freedom of nutting inside her, and walking away. They want her because she is both disposable and in disposable. He will never fall in love with her, but he'll fall in love with the way it feels to crave her body, and then get it.

There is the occasional unmarried lonely man who wants to cuddle with his slut. I am not that girl. Bend me over, grind your cock into me, cum in my tight, wet, twat. Then I have to go. I have a list of things to do, always, and when your time is up, it's up. I'll pretend like it's my first time, if you like, but my cock sucking will give me away right off. I'll wear thigh highs and shoes strippers even dislike. I'll put my hair in pig tails and wear a pleated skirt. I'll rub your cock with the ball of my foot. I'll do just about anything. But I will not, I repeat, I will not stay and cuddle, sir.

I am not your girl. I belong to no man.

Drinking Apple Soda

2007-10-07T12:25:00.000-07:00

And thinking. I've been thinking a lot of what I want to do, but I'm not sure it has a name. It isn't to be an escort nor hobbying, nor prostitution, not sensual massage or just 'adult time.' No what's in my mind is perfectly legal. It's clean. It's fun. So I've started this blog to help me form my thoughts. To help me take this idea and create art.

My rising sign in in Sagittarius. It's no surprise to me that I enjoy teasing men, inciting sex, making them feel like the only man alive in this wonderful woman's eyes, but never actually putting out. It's not exactly a tease, genre, mind you. And if you must know, Sagittarians enjoy the thought of sex much more than doing it.

In my own personal study of women, I don't see that they know how to treat men. Hell, sometimes I don't. I'm so baffled at times. Especially when I have feelings for one, which is very very rare. Yes, you sir, you should feel special because I enjoy spending more than an hour with you and I'm not charging you fifty dollars to look at me in my underwear nor massage my feet. Back to my personal study of other women, they find the simplest fetishes weird or gross. While I believe in treating people in general with care and understanding, I have an even more intense for a man I might be dating or interested in.

I enjoy finding out what they like. What pleases them. What it is they think about in the dead of the night, by themselves. When the television is off and no one is home. What is it they would give anything to spend a single moment doing? That is my talent. My art is making that single moment happen. I'm not talking about water sports or scat, nothing that involves bodily fluids of any kind. Not even spanking. I'm more in the realm of the pure fetish. Pure, clean, and simple. Although I may put on my heels, my fishnets and my corset and spank you while calling you a dirty boy, I would much rather charm you and subtly play with your fantasies.

I believe it is within wanting that we find what it is we truly need, and through play we find what it is that makes the essence of our spirits.