Sunning Nude on a Big Boulder. Model: Jemstarlight Moon
Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
A group of goddesses in a heavenly garden. Models: Stevie Raquel, Jemstarlight Moon, Mira
Road Wraiths
On a moonless night, beneath a canopy of twisted branches, we found ourselves on a desolate road that snaked through the heart of an ancient forest. The air grew heavy with an eerie silence as our car’s headlights cut through the oppressive darkness.
As we ventured further into the lonely abyss, shadows danced on the periphery of our vision. Pale, ethereal figures emerged from the trees, their ghostly forms bathed in an otherworldly glow. Their beauty was haunting, a spectral allure that seemed to transcend the boundaries between the living and the dead.
The women, with flowing hair and eyes that glowed like forgotten stars, lined the sides of the road. Their spectral hands reached out, fingers beckoning with an irresistible pull. Mesmerized, we couldn’t resist the allure, as if the very essence of the night compelled us to follow.
The engine hummed, and the tires whispered against the asphalt as we succumbed to the enchantment. The forest enveloped us in an inky blackness, the trees closing in like sinister sentinels. A haunting melody echoed through the air, a mournful symphony that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the woods.
As we delved deeper, the apparitions’ once-beautiful faces contorted into twisted masks of malevolence. The air turned frigid, and the seductive whispers became chilling warnings. Panic set in as we realized we had been ensnared by a spectral trap, lured into the heart of a forbidding realm.
With each passing moment, the road seemed to stretch infinitely into the inky unknown, and the apparitions’ taunting laughter echoed through the desolation. It became clear that our journey had taken an ominous turn, and escape from the grasp of these ghostly sirens would not be easily granted.
In the heart of that haunted night, our car hurtled forward, surrounded by the haunting beauty of the specters, as we faced the unsettling truth that we had become unwitting travelers on a road that led not to salvation, but to a realm where the boundary between the living and the dead blurred into a nightmarish tapestry of the unknown.
Crystal A on the rim of a volcano dancing with Skeletons. Model: Crystal A
Honestly, I cannot say what the inspiration for this was, or what it is, or what it’s supposed to mean, or even why it should exist. Almost none of my work starts out as a concept, an idea taking form in the realm of words or intended meaning or purpose. This, like so much of my work, just springs forth my subconscious, much like a dream. One of my goals with Mother Id is to practice tapping into the wellspring of creative energy that lies beneath our conscious rational mind. Art does not have to make sense. It just is–like the universe. The only meanings are those we create. When I create some art, it’s usually only after its creation that I contemplate it and find meaning–meaning for myself that is; it might have different meaning for someone else, or no meaning at all. Maybe it serves as a visual metaphor for something and illuminates that something for us in a way that we did not otherwise see. Or maybe it evokes a feeling that we might not otherwise feel. To me, encountering art like this is like getting plopped down in some alien world. And though we may have questions and seek explanations, there are no manuals or teachers to provide answers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this freaky, what-the-fuck-is-it, image, and I am sorry I cannot provide more insight about what it is and what it means. If I think of something I will let you know.
Jungle Beauty. Model: Mira
Mira of the Jungle
In the heart of emerald canopies, Where sunlight filters through verdant tapestries, There emerges Mira, a jungle nymph, Grace adorned in the rhythm of leaves.
Her silhouette, a dance of shadows, Amongst ancient trees, where secrets linger, A symphony of nature, she orchestrates, In the wild, Mira is the untamed singer.
Tresses entwined with vines, Her eyes, reflections of the moonlit night, A river’s whisper echoes in her laughter, Mira, the enchantress, bathed in twilight.
Skin kissed by the sun’s golden ardor, Her footsteps, a delicate rustle in the undergrowth, A panther’s gaze mirrors in her stare, Mira, the epitome of untamed growth.
She breathes the fragrance of blossoms, Wears the hues of butterflies in flight, Mira, a canvas painted by the wilderness, A masterpiece framed by the fading light.
In the heart of the jungle’s embrace, Mira, the beautiful, weaves her own grace, A symphony of life, a testament to nature’s art, In her presence, the jungle whispers its heart.
A nightmarish experience of being trapped in a dark empty void based on an actual nightmare. Featuring Jemstarlight Moon.
