Jenn and Crystal hanging out on the doc. Crystal dives into the pond while Jenn captures it on her phone. Models: Jenn Michelle, Crystal Nicole
Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
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.
Sophia Jade and Crystal A in Shadows. Models: Sophia Jade and Crystal A
Olinka – Ice Queen. Model: Olinka Lickova @na5tyninja
Olinka,
naked beneath the bear skin’s coarse embrace,
a whisper of life on the frozen lake’s glass,
her form etched against the tundra’s pale breath.
The wind howls,
but it cannot reach her;
the ice cracks,
but it does not break.
She stands, a beacon of warmth
in a world that swallows light.
Her gaze, ancient and knowing,
meets the cold with quiet defiance.
It speaks of fires unseen,
embers nestled deep in the heart.
In her eyes,
a promise:
even here,
life endures.
Olinka,
the solace in the struggle,
the warmth within the frozen waste.
