Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
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.
Beautiful angels on a staircase to the heavens. Models: Rachel, Lareina, and Jenn.
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.
Crouching Lion, Hidden Wolf. Models: Violet and Ava May
Olinka Lickova nude on boulder. From our first of many photoshoots.