Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
Tesla’s young protege Violet experimenting with high voltage electrostatic washes. Model: Violet
Cheek to Cheek. Models: Jenn Michelle @jenn__michellle , Crystal Nichole @taurusbbbyy
In the Clock Tower – Models: Sophia Jade and Crystal A
Crappy yet haunting still frame from a video to (hopefully) be completed soon.” Models: Kay Ace and Olinka Lickova
Magic afoot in the Forest at Moon Monkey Pond. Model: Starla @modeladventurer
Dancing in the Attic of Subconscious Mind where little makes sense and access to the conscious is denied. Model: Starla
Crystal in Congregation of Potato People. Model: Crystal A
Church of the Potato People
In the Church of the Tuber, where spuds convene,
A congregation of potato people, a sight unseen.
Their eyes, like russet orbs, fixed on the sacred ground,
As they gather in reverence, in silence profound.
Starch-filled hearts beat in unison, a tater’s devotion,
In pews of mashed delight, a tuberous emotion.
The pulpit adorned with skins, a priestly spud ascends,
Preaching the gospel of the harvest, where the potato life transcends.
But amid the devout, a stranger unknown,
A beauty in disguise, a presence all her own.
She, an outsider, a radiant yam,
In the sea of potatoes, a singular glam.
Her skin, a golden hue, not of earthly soil,
A sweet fragrance of difference, a celestial foil.
Yet, she hides among them, a secret delight,
In the congregation’s eyes, a clandestine light.
The potato people, unaware of her grace,
Continue their worship in the starchy space.
But the outsider listens, absorbing their prayer,
In the silence of tubers, a connection rare.
As the sermon concludes, and the congregation disbands,
The outsider reveals herself, a rose in the lands.
The potatoes, astonished, yet welcoming still,
In this diverse church, love trumps the thrill.
For in the Church of the Tuber, diversity blooms,
In the richness of differences, unity looms.
Potato people and yams, together they stand,
In the spud-filled sanctuary, hand in hand.
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