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Stills from The Gift of Eros. Models: Sondra, Mandii Monarch, Jemstarlight Moon
Jessa did a spontaneous demonstration of her amazing hooping skills using two hula hoops. Model: Jessa Ray Muse
Crappy yet haunting still frame from a video to (hopefully) be completed soon.” Models: Kay Ace and Olinka Lickova
Jessa Ray Muse – Rapture
Ah, Jessa Ray, a name that dances on the tongue like a melody, echoing through the chambers of the heart. In the canvas of existence, she emerges as a vibrant stroke, a symphony of beauty interwoven with the hues of sensuality. Picture her in a rapturous pool of light and color, an ethereal scene where every shade and beam conspires to accentuate her allure.
The light, a gentle caress, unveils the contours of her being, casting a luminous glow that highlights the grace in every movement. It’s as if the very photons are captivated by her presence, choosing to linger and play upon her skin, creating a dance of warmth and radiance.
And oh, the colors! They swirl around her like a palette in motion, each shade competing to embrace the essence of Jessa Ray. There’s a harmony in the convergence of hues — passionate reds, tranquil blues, and the gentle gradient of purples that mirror the complexity of her spirit. The colors seem to blend and meld, mirroring the depth of her character and the spectrum of emotions she evokes.
In this symphony of light and color, Jessa Ray becomes the focal point, a masterpiece painted by the cosmos. Her eyes, perhaps the most enchanting stars in this celestial canvas, hold galaxies of mystery and reflection. They reflect the pool of light, mirroring the universe within her, inviting those fortunate enough to gaze into them to lose themselves in the vastness of her soul.
The water, an element both serene and tempestuous, cradles her form, mirroring the duality of her existence. It ripples with the energy she exudes, capturing the essence of her presence in liquid poetry. The interplay of water and light creates a sensual ballet, a choreography of reflections and refractions that elevate the scene into a realm where reality and dreams converge.
Jessa Ray, in this enchanting pool of light and color, becomes a living, breathing work of art. A muse for the senses, an embodiment of beauty that transcends the confines of the visual, seeping into the very soul of those who have the privilege of witnessing such a captivating spectacle. In this moment, time seems to stand still, and the world becomes a gallery where Jessa Ray is the masterpiece, bathed in the tender embrace of light and color.
Olinka Lickova at a nearby waterfall in a public park. Model: Olinka Lickova
Sensualogy. Just a word that popped in my head while staring at this picture. Model: Olinka Lickova
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.