Joule’s Anomaly
Juliana hurried. What had been a beautiful summer day hiking the Appalachian Trail was quickly turning into a weather event. She had been completing portions of the trail as her schedule allowed, but lately her progress had been hit and miss. The approaching thunder had an ominous, low rumble that seemed to resonate within her. Her hike was about to be scrapped. Again.
Juliana finally located a trail shelter and quickly entered. A strong gust ripped the door from her grasp and flung it all the way open. She swore and pushed it shut behind her, relieved to have reached some semblance of safety from the coming storm.
“Looks like you made it just in time,” a deep male voice spoke.
Juliana turned around and squinted as her vision adjusted to the dim interior of the shelter. A man sat on the floor with his back propped against his pack. He was writing in a small leather journal. As she shrugged off her own pack, the stranger put his journal aside and rose to his feet. He approached her and offered an outstretched hand, “Arlo.” The timbre of his voice had the same effect on her as the approaching thunder: it somehow was felt more than heard.
She ignored that odd feeling and accepted his hand, “Juliana.”
Zings of electricity instantly flowed between them as they touched. It felt like a strong static shock, but instead of hurting, it felt… good? Juliana quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back.
“Whoa! That was weird, right?” She laughed nervously and rubbed one hand against the other.
Small branches were thrown onto the shelter's metal roof with a noisy clatter. Arlo glanced upward and shook his head, “Not weird at all. These conditions are ideal for energy exchange. Energy stored must be energy released at some point,” he looked at her and continued, “within the atmosphere and perhaps between humans, too...” he trailed off thoughtfully, slowly rubbing his hands together as well. Breaking eye contact, he ran a hand through his hair and gave a self-conscious laugh as he blushed.
He has great hair…I wish I could run my hands through it. Juliana mused.
It was now her turn to blush. The uncharacteristic, intrusive thought caught Juliana off guard.
Really? You've known him, what? A full two minutes? She admonished herself until she felt appropriately guilty.
“Juliana,” Arlo began to ask her something when another thought suddenly occurred to him, “your name…”
“Yeah, but no one calls me that. Everyone has always called me—”
“Jules,” Arlo interjected.
“Yeah! How- How did you know that it would be ‘Jules’ and not ‘Julie’?” She could not hide her surprise.
“Huh… I don't know. Just a guess. It really does suit you, though.” Arlo rubbed his chin with an amused and oddly pleased look on his face. Jules was confused by his reaction, but didn't ask.
Wanting to change the subject, yet hopeful to continue their conversation, Jules queried, “So… what do you do for a living?” She immediately cursed herself inwardly for going with such a generic question.
Arlo watched her kaleidoscope of facial expressions and laughed good-naturedly, “It's okay. I study atmospheric thermodynamics.”
“Okay. I can't even pretend I know what that is,” Jules laughed, “but can I guess what it has to do with?”
“Of course,” Arlo nodded, adjusting his glasses.
“Hmm… Meteorology? As in… weather prediction type stuff?” Jules playfully ventured.
“Not exactly. It's a branch of physics that studies the relationship between heat and energy— other things too, but I'm most fascinated in the transfer of energy that occurs in nature. So, today happens to be my favorite kind of day.” Almost on cue, thunder crackled and boomed, rattling the windows. Arlo grinned and continued, “You see, I track energy anomalies and there have been several strong, but sporadic readings in this area. I feel like I may have isolated a pattern, but it is too early to tell. I am here on vacation to hike, but also do research if the opportunity presents itself.”
They sat on the floor, facing one another. Arlo again leaned against his pack and Jules against hers. Despite their awkward start, they both now felt at ease. Without further prompting, Arlo began to explain thermodynamic theory to Jules. He was quite animated while describing his life's work.
Despite the fact Jules found Arlo to be highly intelligent and incredibly articulate, she understood very little of what he was telling her. However, what caught and held her attention was the manner in which Arlo spoke. Jules had never heard anything technical be expressed so eloquently and passionately. To her ear, his words sounded like scientific poetry— if such a thing existed. She felt like she could listen to him speak for hours.
She felt a hum growing between them as he spoke. It felt like a warm magnet, sensuously fluctuating and pulling at her center. Pulling her toward him in a most intimate manner.
Am I losing my mind, or is he feeling this too?
It was at this point that Jules became mesmerized by Arlo’s mouth. She became entranced by the way his lips moved; she couldn't help but stare. She eventually felt strangely jealous of each spoken word, each uttered syllable— if only she could be caressed by his tongue and lips like that…
Vivid images of his handsome face buried in her lap while both her hands grasped his hair came to her mind like a lightning strike. She blushed and looked away, but the image remained.
Okay, this is crazy. Stop, you perv.
But Jules did not stop. This time she welcomed the intrusive thoughts and embraced the resultant heat that flooded her body. Her mouth watered, her heart raced, and her breath rate increased. Her nipples hardened and eventually, the throbbing slickness between her thighs became impossible to ignore. She adjusted how she was sitting, but the unavoidable rubbing only made the ache worse.
The last few synapses in her brain that were not lust-infused attempted to reason with her:
Perhaps there is a scientific explanation. Is it somehow related to this storm? Would Arlo know? I mean, he is a scientist after all. But… what if this can't be explained?
And then suddenly, Jules didn't care anymore what the reason might be. She leaned toward him, the pull now too strong to resist. Outside, the storm intensified. Its insistence to be known was now in tandem with her need.
Arlo had stopped talking and looked deeply into her eyes. What she saw mirrored her own desire and fascination. It was obvious to Jules that he was indeed feeling the powerful attraction, too. He was as smitten as she and his arousal was as achingly present as hers. He could not hide it if he tried and he had no intention of doing such a thing. Heavy sheets of rain lashed at the window as they slowly leaned toward each other.
As lips parted and tongues met, the most spectacular sensation surged through them both. It was stronger and much more sensual than the zing from their earlier handshake. Whatever few reservations they were still holding to were now completely abandoned. They impatiently fumbled with and tore at one another's clothes with desperate hunger. They broke from kissing only when absolutely required.
Everywhere their bare skin touched, erotic electricity snapped and sizzled. Tendrils of supernatural longing raced and spiraled between and within them like currents. Their senses moved together as if they were celestial dance partners following ancient choreography only the two of them were ever destined to know.
Arlo's eager hands cradled Jules' bare cheeks and lifted her onto the countertop in one fluid movement. Her arms and legs reached to greedily encircle him as he moved toward her with animal intensity. The storm that ensued between the two rivaled the raw beauty of the summer storm raging around them.
The power that had been unleashed that day changed the landscape of all they thought they knew. As they continued to explore the principles of thermodynamics together, Arlo was confident he had at last located the source of the anomaly.
They learned everything that energy release between two humans was meant to be.
In theory, and in practice.
Shape Shifter
She's as feline as they come...
A lithe leg dangles from the covers
Unmasking as it hovers
Her flush of amorous erotical ascents...
The bushmen drew her neck upon their walls
After they had spent themselves, and dried out
Their reserve...
She funneled breath into their hands,
And made them understand
That there was more to foraging then simple
Stomachs could receive...
They would try to conjure her by evenings...
She's a monolith...
A crest...
Her essence resuscitates the ranks!...
Watch her as she moves with little strain...
A bird like no other,
Opening her wingspan on
The highest perch...
O, now she's burning...
She's a fire on the hill!...
...Take me lover, and I'll lay
My heart down at your feet...
You send me screeching to a halt
Each time
Our eyes by chance do meet...
Want to bury my head into your heat,
And open you to air...
Hear your singing voice ring out
While we ignite over the waves
That foam and crest
Just like your shuddering flesh
When I am kneeling
On your stage...
7/12/24
Bunny Villaire
For Mavia
Art by Tatsiana Yelistratava
Fuck Me Like a Porn Star
Kiss me, suck me,
deep throat and wet lips
passion, fire,
tongue and dripping spit.
Twist and turn,
thrash and scream,
tits and ass,
a fever dream.
Doggie style, missionary,
cowgirl front and back,
slapping skin, lube and handjobs,
let me fuck you in the ass.
Creak and moan and hammer,
pull your legs up past your head,
split and show that pussy,
let me pump you hard and shake the bed.
And when we’re done,
cream and quake and sweat,
and I’ll roll over and whisper
you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Fuck me like a porn star,
we can go all night and morning too,
I want someone to show me heaven and hell,
that someone could be you.
Midnight Owls
The horror in being alive has diminished for the time being...
Tonight I step into the cool lagoon of nighttime and shadow
With a heart that shares my home...
Her eyes are veiled so I cannot see the underside,
And how they slip around beneath the lids
Like the webbed back feet of frogs
Draped upon slippery stones
Partially submerged in water...
We feel each other though, through the many
Closed doors,
Living as one heart
That glows like the lightning bugs
That bounce around our
Huddled bodies
As we sit here in a neat spot underneath a tree
Somewhere in the park at night...
The grass is glistening with dew...
The darkness makes it shimmer, and stick out
Like precious diamonds...
Her lips part slowly, and her eyes gaze into mine...
A sloping hill to the left can be seen in the distance;
Above the hill are the passing cars
Occasionally pouring their gigantic pools of
Luminous headlights over our heads
As we embrace, and kiss,
Sharing the living heartbeat of the eternal night...
Passing it around from body to body
As our tongues lock and unlock,
And our hands brush against our softly stirring flesh...
We are making love, though both of us are dressed
In the marina of the night...
The safe harbor of a touch
Done with spontaneity and risk...
In the middle of our bliss
While the midnight owls
Study us with interest...
7/1/24
Bunny Villaire
The U Turn 02:30
That was a rough detour.
...thanks for helping me with the flat...
Sure.
i was starting to feel two dimensional
Ha! one dimensional...
it's too easy to get deflated.
Yes, I suppose so.
i was a little upset with U...
No! —I was feeling that— For what?!?
...we're good now.
—You sure?
Mhm. i don't do emotionally dishonest well.
Good. Neither do I.
What happened to my sex drive?
(sung – in a round pussy willow warble - to the tune of --
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone).
Once pronounced libido of mine
took kamikaze nose dive,
whereby about two thirds of mein kampf ago,
I yearned to be sought after beaux
yet as severely socially
anxious and withdrawn lad
present day off time repeated laments
find me to crow
slamming self NOT losing
my virginity at a precocious ago,
cursing lack of tangible results courtesy
feeble attempts delivered deathblow
to a fragile ego,
and now only
as a married celibate sexagenarian
dearth of rutting thoughts
along the unforgettable lines sketched out
by storied author Eugene O'Neill
includes lustful and romantic desire,
largely illustrated by the relationship
between Eben and Abbie
hashtagged within tragedy
Desire Under the Elms
ricochets with salient significance
an attempt by O'Neill
to adapt plot elements
and themes of Greek tragedy
to a rural New England setting
inspired by the myth of Phaedra,
Hippolytus, and Theseus,
which story of five characters
on a rural farm
in 1850s' New England,
how their lives
both pushed together
and pulled apart
by their conflicting desires
such aboriginal, primal,
optimal, animal, et cetera characteristics
once figuratively bounces
hither and yon, to and fro
within testosterone
powered windmills in my mind.
With a flame boy hunt
deft jais nais sais quois
firm lickey split tongue
and two bell yule yar pissant
little nippy nappy noopy ruck berry
filled up paul ling sacks
viz peppy la pew doth not peter out,
and weathers clawed rained swipes
from hello kitty when faux pas gets swung
assisting climbing Jacob's ladder
(without pussy footing,
orb bing a putz like the president)
advancing quick to attain orgasmic rung
while heading into a slippery sloping sluice
(with prickly endeavor emitting cleat trill
smooth sailing along a cunt
re coarse upon phallic shaped pung
crossing la brea tar pits (peppered
with lai bee ha tricky
bridge over the River Kwai)
comprising ideal place de la resistance
to woo tang clan foreign nee Kate,
where two puckered
rill lee fleshy ruffling rills
tinged pinkish lips overhung
a challenging escarpment,
where many a brave
Tom, Harry or Dick get hung
up, particularly while searching
for fabled “G” spot,
Fear of Flying (a bildungsroman
whose central theme couched
in the search
for self-discovery)by Erica Jung
cuz portcullis hamstrung
even the most fiercely determined
Engleburt Hump per dink
necessitating the moist risky ski maneuver
as most studs know tubby gelandesprung
though booby prize
wool worth any slimy setbacks,
where sticky gook gets flung
from angry cat,
who does not in the least find amusing,
and if further pricked with rage
not averse to hurl dung
gar (with) ease at snaky,
retractable hardened foo fighting
beastie boy twill clung
for dear life and limb
(er, or twig and berries),
while applying crampons (bivouaced
within his maxipad), viz bung
gull low, essentially a ball peen size cove
screwed and shammered out
by Dashiell Hammitt, where coiled,
kinked follicles strewn tightly inlet among
pheromone laced verboten fruit.
A job well done
I have a thought that you might be at this restaurant tonight. I walk in and have a look around. Sure enough, I spy you across the room. I shuck my coat and instantly blend in with the rest of the wait staff in my white button down and black trousers. I make a bee-line for the servers area and grab a pitcher of water. I walk across the floor as if I belong there. I approach your table. ‘May I top up your waters for you?’ I don’t wait for an answer and start refilling them. I smile and walk away. You’re none the wiser.
I drop the water pitcher back in the servers’ area and grab a bus tub. I couldn’t have been luckier. The table next to yours is in need of clearing. I make my way to the table and put the bus tub on the seat and start putting the dirty dishes into the tub. Oh! Wouldn’t you know it? I dropped a fork. It must have fallen under the table. I get down on my knees, ready to climb under the table to retrieve the fork. Instead of climbing under the table I’m bussing, I climb under yours. I am hidden from view from the tablecloth and I smile to myself.
I crawl over to you. I feel you jump slightly as you first feel my touch against your leg. However, as I slide my hands up both legs, I feel the tension of the surprise leave your body. I move my hands up higher and unfasten your trousers. I reach inside and take your cock from out of its constraints. I lick my lips. Now I really am hungry. Good thing I’m in a restaurant. I smile to myself. How cheesy can I get? I rise up a little more and I take you into my mouth. I hear your voice go up by just a little bit as I do so. I slide all the way down, taking you all in. As I get to the base, I slide my tongue all the way around your cock. Tasting every bit of you. I pull my mouth up slowly increasing the suction as I go up. I suck the tip for a few moments and I can feel the vibration next to me as your foot starts tapping up and down. I release the suction, but this time as I slide my mouth down, I scrape the back with my teeth, gently, carefully, but knowing you can feel that.
I start my movement, slowly at first, taking you all the way into my mouth, touching the back of my throat and then back up again. As I do so, my tongue lashes round and round your cock, wanting to taste every bit of you. I pick up the speed. I can hear the sound of my mouth spreading its moisture all over you. A hand reaches under the table, trying to find me, but I dodge away and continue my focus on the task at hand. I speed up more, loving the feel of your cock in my mouth. Enjoy the sensation of it moving within my mouth, it just gets more tense and jerks about inside me. I smile around my mouthful. I notice absently that you’ve stopped talking, your legs open wider.
I suck in harder. Slamming you all the way down, wrapping my tongue all around you as I go. I see both of your hands slam down on the booth seat. I can feel your legs start to strain. I laugh again, but the vibrations of my laugh around your cock, clearly causes your legs to clench in toward my head. It only make me laugh the harder, my mouth muscles contracting around you as I do. I can tell it’s not long now. Will you be able to come silently? Not let anyone else at the table know? The challenge arouses me all the more. I slide down and then up again, faster with each stroke. Run my tongue around the tip as I rise up and then releasing as I slide all the way back down. I continue to increase the pace and that’s when I can feel it. Your cock starts to strain and bounce around my mouth I know what’s coming. I loosen my throat muscles just in time for you to shoot your come down my throat. I swallow it down and suck out every last drop I can get. When I feel you have finished, I lick you clean, put your cock back into your trousers and do up the zipper and then the button. I wipe my mouth clean and turn around.
I crawl out from your table, rise up with a fork in my hand and drop it into the tub at the table next to yours. I finish clearing and cleaning the table, take the tub back to the bussing station and grab my coat. I wrap it around me and spare just a single look in your direction. I make eye contact, smile, and walk out of the door.
Simplicity
A simple text, ‘Find time to come for me today.’
I lean back in my chair and I close my eyes. I hear the birds in the trees and the rustle of the wind.
I raise my hand and gently run the back of my fingertips down the side of my face. I can’t help but smile. Then, I trace over my lips with my finger, a sweet, lingering brush. I slide my hand down between my breasts, I pause and think of your eyes on me. The world starts to fade away.
So slowly, I let my hand glide over my stomach, down my thighs, lingering at the bottom of my shorts. With the lightest of strokes, I let my fingers graze the flesh there. Each moment, each touch, I drop away and you enter in.
I lift up my knees and let them fall to the side. I let my fingers continue their trek. Up my inner thigh, under the leg of my shorts. My hand pauses but only for a moment. I trace the outline of my mound, teasing, enticing. My head rolls back. My mouth becomes dry.
I let my fingers continue tantalising as my arousal grows. Each pass brings me a little nearer to entering my lips, to feel the heat rising from my core.
I feel my body slide down further, tilting my hips, preparing the way for deeper access. I like my lips, as I let my finger delve in to locate that treasure inside that warmth. I barely touch my clit as my fingers hover over, nearly not touching. So brief. So potent. My ass muscles clench as my hips rise up, trying to reach for more. Wanting more, needing more. I let my fingers split from one another, one finger on each side of my opening. Languidly, stroking the sensitive area they have found.
My fingers increase their speed as my wetness begins to grow, my hips press upward, wanting to capture something to put between my legs. Anything. I feel that hunger start to grow.
With my other hand, I reach out to the table beside me and wrap my fingers around the vibrator there. I slide it over my runner’s shorts and turn it on. The layer between me and it only making my need grow. I want to be filled. Mentally, I struggle with myself, forcing myself to pull my hand away, even though I very much wish it to stay. I argue in my mind, assuring myself that it will be worth that loss of contact if I can just pull away. I grimace as my arm moves painfully away. I feel the loss and my body arches up searching for that pleasure.
My hand knows where it needs to go. It slips under my shorts and lands momentarily on my clit as a harsh gasp issues from my mouth. Lower and lower the tip goes, seeking out that wetness, the hunger. It slides in easily, but only the tip at first. I want to savour the sensation of satisfaction and yet denial.
My hips slide down further, fully opening my cunt and I slide the vibrator in making each movement stretch the moment. Each depth getting to fully feel before going in deeper. I feel it hit the back wall of me and slip it into place and holding it there with the seam of my shorts. My body starts to jerk upwards and then back down. Trying so hard to get that pumping motion it longs for, but not yet. Not now.
As my body increases its rhythm, my other fingers search out my clit. I can no longer make this slow. I want. I use two fingers to capture the bead between my lips and a finger to hold them open. I start to flick my clit back and forth and then grab and pinch it. I moan and buck my hips. I can feel my wetness squeezing around the sides of the vibrator.
‘Oh fuck. Fuck me please.’ I call out to the empty room. I let the dance of my fingers continue, gathering momentum as my body responds. My hips thrust upwards. My thigh muscles clench and release. Each moment, my mind hazes and fogs. ‘Yes, please, Sir, please may I come?’ I know you. I can see you standing there, watching and shaking your head. I grit my teeth as I hold on and keep my orgasm at bay. It’s become a frenzied bucking up into the sky, swearing with each flick of my clit. I can feel the sweat starting to bead on my forehead as my hand continues to push my arousal further. I slam my head against the back of the chair in time to my thrusts. Every part of me is screaming, desperate, sitting on the brink, teetering there. My muttering increases. ‘Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, please, please, please, Sir, may I? Please?’ I hear it then in my mind, the permission granted. I scream into the room as my whole body spasms, tensing more and more as the orgasm is ripped from inside me and all the desire pouring out of me, drenching me and the chair. My scream turns into moans as I continue to thrust and suck from my body every sensation it is willing to give. my mind is silent, pure and empty. Just experiencing, feeling. In your hands, nothing more.
My movements start to subside, my breathing slows. I hesitantly pull my fingers away and bring them to my lips. I push them into my mouth and bathe them with my tongue until they are clean. With my other hand, I reach in and turn off the vibrator. As the hum ceases, so do my hips as even the smaller movements cease. Gingerly, i remove the shaft and pull it all the way out. I raise this, too, to my mouth and suck the sweetness of myself from all around it. I place it back on the table beside me. I leavr my legs splayed open, feeling the wetness running down my thighs. My mind buzzes with a white noise, as I drift off into sleep. As I go, I whisper, 'thank you, Sir,' and the world is gone.
For you, today
I kneel down. I breathe in. I breathe out. I feel my mind still. My heartbeat slows.
How can I serve him today? By being ready, by being open, by being patient.
Who is he? My Master
Who am I? His submissive
Why do you serve? Because I crave this. I need this, and because of the really powerful orgasms (I might as well be honest, I smile at that), for the pleasure of the pain, for the utter release, for the giving of myself which is a freedom like none I have ever known.
I imagine that freedom. The relinquishing of control. I feel the tension leave my shoulders, the shoulders that hold so much up on them. This is not my concern for the moment. For the moment, I give myself to him. I prepare my mind. I think of him there, standing before me. His hand on my head. That sweet anticipation. I don’t know what will come next. Will he grab a hand full of hair and be full of desire to use me? Will he stand there and just listen to me breathe? Or will he walk away and leave me to await his need of me? I push those thoughts to the side. How can I serve him? I need to be ready for him. I think of his hand on my bare ass and I can feel the wetness begin. I think of the ice and then the hot candle wax and my nipples pebble in desire. I think of the vibrator inserted and ready, knowing he could use the remote any time he willed. I feel my thigh muscles clench. I think of the butt plug going in so slowly, and I feel my legs spread further. I think of his cock filling my mouth and I start to salivate. My breathing is no longer calm and even, but ragged with want. Any of these holes, ready at any moment, at his whim. I think of the belt slapping against my open cunt. I feel it now, my wetness sliding down my leg. I am ready. Whatever I can give. Whatever he wishes to take. That is how I’ll serve.