Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
Goddess in her Enchanted Garden. Model: Stevie Raquel
Jenn Michelle, Olinka Lickova, and Lareina Tay hanging out at the Squid Lounge.
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Stills from a video shoot in a public park one lovely summer morning. There was only one person hanging out by the falls when we started but we asked him if he minded the girls getting naked and of course he didn’t. We invited him to watch as long as he stayed out of the shot, for which he was happy to oblige. A few more people passed by during the course of the shoot but they all respectfully kept their distance so as not to interrupt the shooting. A wonderful time was had by all! Models: Astrid, Jane, Starla
Violet and Ava enjoying some naked time together on a beautiful in a magical garden. Models: Violet, Ava May
In the Clock Tower – Models: Sophia Jade and Crystal A
Adlee Ray as a Forest Goddess at Muses in Wonderland. Model: Adlee Ray
Sophia Jade and Crystal A in Shadows. Models: Sophia Jade and Crystal A
The first time I heard the word “Id” was in one of my all-time favorite movies, “Forbidden Planet,” where the ancient, long-extinct, inhabitants of the faraway planet (the “Krell”), had developed a massive machine that could physically manifest one’s psychic energy into all kinds of wonderful things. But, when it tapped into that dark, subconscious part of our mind called the Id, the Krell machine manifested super-powerful, uncontrollable, scary monsters. Quite a cool and intriguing concept for my 13-year-old mind!
In addition to introducing me to the concept of the “Id” (and inspiring a lifelong love of science fiction), the movie also fired up another part of my brain–the libido (though I did not learn the word until much later). The barefoot, half-naked, Anne Francis, skinny-dipping in her idyllic garden, sent my young hormones raging. I thought I would have a little fun here and give a one-frame cameo to the lovely Lareina Tay. After all, if Dr. Morbius, alone on the planet for all those years with just his daughter, could manifest a living, breathing, pet tiger for her, is there any doubt that he would manifest some pets of his own?
Gestation. Model: Lethe
In the secret realm where life begins
A dance of cells, a symphony within.
Embryo, a whisper in the cosmic tide
A metamorphosis, where mysteries abide.
In the womb’s embrace, a canvas bare
The alchemy of existence, beyond compare.
A journey unfolds in the silent night
From the spark of creation to the dawn of light.
Tiny tendrils weave tales untold
A waltz of genes in a mystical fold.
In the sacred cocoon of maternal grace
Life emerges, a delicate embrace.
A pulse of potential, a heartbeat’s start
An ode to life, a masterpiece of art.
The embryo’s ballet, a cosmic rhyme
A miracle unfolding, transcending time.
Cells divide, a cosmic ballet
A choreography of life in a graceful array.
Limbs form, a sculptor’s sweet refrain
A transformation, a celestial gain.
Oh, embryonic symphony, celestial ball
In the cradle of creation, where wonders enthrall.
A dance of life, a poetic grace
In the earliest stages, a sublime embrace.
As the embryo awakens, a star is born
A testament to the cosmic morn.
In the tapestry of being, a story takes flight
A metamorphosis, a journey to the light.
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.
