Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
Dancer In Red On Rocky Alien Landscape. Model: Jemstarlight Moon
So I thought I would use my Photoshop skills and have a little fun channeling my inner 13-year-old’s sexual fantasies. I was quite an avid reader and collector of Archie comics as a kid. I would not have admitted it back then but I loved them just as much as my Marvel comics–maybe even more once I started adolescence. So here are the results of my fantasizing. There’s something uniquely erotic for me about these re-imaginings. Maybe because it takes me back to a hornier, more hormonally-charged period of my life, or maybe it’s the playful and innocent sexiness of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. If so, let me know, and I will do more of them–maybe even try corrupting the Marvel universe. Topless Gwen Stacy? Naked Sue Storm? Hmmmm…
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Indomitable Spirit – Models: Olinka Lickova and Rachel Lilly
Sins of the flesh. Nymphomania. Hysteria. Insane love. The demonization and pathologization of female sexuality. Models: Crystal Nicole, Olinka Lickova, Rachel Lilly
Midnight romp of the fairies at Moon Monkey Pond. Model: Lethe
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French Parlor Noir. Model: Kay Ace
In a French parlor boudoir, where whispers waltz, Kay reclines on a chaise lounge, a dreamer’s vault. Silken shadows play on walls adorned with tales, As her mind pirouettes through ephemeral trails.
Lace curtains breathe in the evening’s mystique, Softly rustling secrets, the room’s mystique. Candles flicker, casting a warm amber glow, Igniting fantasies that only she can know.
A vintage mirror reflects her wistful gaze, Eyes painted with the hues of twilight’s haze. In the tapestry of time, she weaves her desire, A silent symphony, stoked by passion’s fire.
The scent of lavender lingers in the air, A fragrant sonnet, a romantic affair. Kay’s thoughts drift like petals on a breeze, Dancing with whimsy, lost in reverie.
Her fingers trace patterns on the plush fabric, A tactile sonnet, a touch of the graphic. In this sanctuary of longing and grace, She paints her dreams in an intimate space.
French whispers caress her wandering mind, Verses of love in a language refined. The chaise cradles her in an embrace so tender, As she surrenders to fantasies, wild and slender.
Oh, the tales she conjures in this private cocoon, In the parlor boudoir, where dreams softly swoon. Kay, the poet of her own clandestine lore, In the symphony of silence, she yearns for more.
