Here I share my erotic fantasy art, photos, music, and video. Just scroll or search on keywords or postings.
Private Moment. Models: Jenn Michelle @jenn__michellle , Crystal Nichole @taurusbbbyy
Aurora Psilocybin. Model: Kay Ace. I once did Magic Truffles, and the view outside this window is more or less what I saw when I closed my eyes.
Sauna. Model: Eva
More from a photo shoot I did with this lovely Russian from St. Petersburg. Interesting story–a cautionary tale for you photographers. We had done about three hours of shooting, including some dance videos to some of my music, before going to the sauna. I checked what we had done up until then and everything looked great! I shot her while she was relaxing in the hot sauna and all was looking good. When we finished, however, all the photos and footage for the day was gone! Completely wiped out! I was devastated. I figured that maybe I had gotten too close to the heating element in the sauna and it gave off a powerful magnetic field that wiped out the memory card in my camera. But while I was face down on the ground, beating my fists against the floor in anguish, Eva was a real trooper and said, “There’s no use crying about it, we just have to shoot everything again.” So we did. And everything actually came out better the second time around! Model: Eva
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.
Jessa did a spontaneous demonstration of her amazing hooping skills. Model: Jessa Ray Muse
