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Read to Me, My Darling. Handmade collage. Torn magazine and catalog illustrations (NY Times T Magazine 3/5/2017 and Anthropologie lookbook 4/2017), tissue paper, acrylic paint, and gold paint pen on a white sketchbook page, with artist and studio seals. ~7.5x10 inches (~19x25 cm), 4/16/2017.

Reading was decent

CATERPILLAR EXCERPT FROM “Alice’s Salacious Adventures in Wonderland”

EXCERPT FROM “Alice’s Salacious Adventures in Wonderland”

She bit her lip. If she couldn’t go back to the village, perhaps this… creature could help her. He wore nothing but jeans, and one of his arms had a tattoo. As she neared him, she saw the ink on his bicep was a picture of an orange and black butterfly.

“Who are you?” the creature asked in the most rumbling sexy voice.

His words startled her. She had focused so much on his tattoo that she didn’t realize he had noticed her. And he had asked her a question. Who was she?

“I…” Could she answer the simple question? “I’ve grown so big and so small that I don’t know anymore.”

“That isn’t the only thing troubling you, is it?”

Lord, how his words reverberated inside her chest! Did he know about her inability to climax?

“There is something else.” She toed the grass.

“Tell me.” His deep voice thundered at her breast. The vibrations felt incredible.

“Um … My book doesn’t read what it should. The words are different.”

“What if you recite something from memory?” He raised his eyebrows, hiding them behind a hanging lock of his golden hair. “Recite a popular nursery rhyme.”

She thought about her rope-skipping days. She remembered the one about the dish and the spoon and said, “Hey diddle diddle with my pussy and fiddle ‘til I jump right over the moon. You dog you, laughing as you see me come. How my breath runs away as I swoon.” Her face burned a blush at what came out instead of the right words.

The man chuckled. Each low laugh echoed into a caress of her breasts. A jolt of electricity shot to her pussy.

“Yes. Well—” One of his hands reached out to her and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “That’s not quite how I remember it.” Another hand rested on her shoulder, and still another stroked her arm. Her heart quickened.

“Who are you?” She was breathless.

“I’m the caterpillar of these parts. At least”—he looked down at his body—“that’s the only creature I relate to.” His words shook even more at the places he touched.

She stepped closer to allow his full hands to rest on her, to feel more of those dreamy vibrations.

Another hand of his stroked the underside of her breast over her dress.

She pretended to ignore his touches. “Tell me about the butterfly tattoo on your arm.”

“Ah! Well,” He snuck another hand down the front of her dress and cupped her breast in his warm palm. She trembled. “I’ve never told anyone this but I feel close to you so I’m comfortable telling you. The truth is… that is… what I mean to say…” He looked off to a distant memory, but his hands stayed on task—if their task was to set her on fire. “I hope to someday be a better creature. One that people can like and respect, and not this ugly thing that I am.”

She tried to say, “Go on,” but his touches expelled the strength out of her voice. Her knees weakened. She could smell her tart scent rise from beneath her legs. Could he smell it, too?

“One day I will become a butterfly. A being that everyone will adore. It’s just a matter of when.”

“And…” Her nipple jutted out against the delicious heat of his palm and nimble fingers. She forced the words out, “why would a caterpillar wear pants?”

“To keep the smoke out of my eyes,” he said. Before she could ask what he meant, he spoke, “Now, what’s your name?”

He had a hand at the back of her neck, another on her shoulder, others stroking her arm and breast, and another hand planted flat against her other breast. He squeezed her gently there, playing with her nipple. Her pussy wanted attention. Demanded it.

“Duh... Alisshh… ice,” she managed to say.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Delicious. Now I must see for myself.”

He hoisted her in the air, high over his head. A long tongue emerged from his lips and disappeared under her dress. Soon she felt it stroke her panties. It pressed at her, intent on getting inside her. Its hot wetness slipped past the side of her panties and stroked directly along her pussy. She shivered and moaned when he found her clit. He flicked light licks that opened her. And in he went, straight inside of her.

He brought her closer to his lips, allowing her legs to sit on his shoulders. She inched down onto his shoulders with his head disappearing under her dress, and his tongue went in further, deeper, and found more to discover. He reached places her fingers never found. Whimpers escaped her lips. The sensation was mind-blowing.

Just when she thought his tongue brought her as high as she could go with a good tasting, he planted his lips at her center and hummed: “Mmmm!”

She had no idea a voice could feel so amazing!

She moaned her delight. His vibrating voice buzzed her from the inside out. The wetness of his tongue mingled with her juices and dripped down her legs.

His lips kissed her folds, his tongue wiggled all over inside, his deep voice growled into her.

Come on, Alice! she told herself. Reach an orgasm! You can do it! Focus, focus, focus!

She squeezed her pussy walls and worked at finding a rhythm that matched his tongue. His rhythm was slurp and lick, slurp and lick. So she squeezed and gripped, squeezed and gripped.

But it wasn’t happening. No orgasm.

She relaxed. There was no point in trying to climax. His fine tongue withdrew from inside her, slipped past her pussy, and stroked against her clit.

He set her down on the ground. She wobbled on shaky knees. She leaned on the mushroom for support.

“Indeed, you are.” He looked her up and down with appreciation.

She caught her breath. “I’m what?”

“Delicious.”

She laughed between her panting breaths. She still held on to the mushroom.

“You okay?” he asked kindly.

“Yes. I think so.” She put her free hand between her legs and rubbed her clit through her dress. She looked up at him. So many arms. And in his pants? What hid in there? And how many? “So what did you mean by keeping the smoke out of your eyes.”

“The queen was upset with me, so she said my cock was forever like a pipe. It’s been smoking ever since. So I wear pants to keep the smoke out of my eyes.”

“That makes no sense,” she said.

“See for yourself.” He unzipped his pants and stuffed his hand inside. He snaked it out in the open air. It looked like any other as far as she could tell. But then a puff of smoke drifted up out of the eye.

Astonishing! She stood up straight.

“It really is like a pipe!”

“Like I said. You can even smoke it.”

She laughed. “I can?”

She wouldn’t do that! She couldn’t! She didn’t even know the guy. He wasn’t even human! At least, not entirely. With all those hands…

and arms…

and biceps…

and buff chest...

and golden blond hair…

She surveyed the limp phallus hanging out of his jeans. What was it like to make a man hard? She watched puffs of smoke drift from his tip.

The hell with it! How many times will I get the chance to smoke a cock like a pipe?

She returned his smile and then rubbed her hands along his thighs. The jeans were rough against her palms. She wrapped a fist around his length and squeezed. It felt like putty. She pumped it hard.

“Gentle!” he said. “Gentle, gentle!”

“Oh!” She let go. “I’m sorry.” She felt like such a dunce. “I thought it feels good like that.”

He guided her hand back around his length. “It does. Later. Start gentle and when it’s hard, you can squeeze harder.”

She held him in her hand not sure exactly how to start. Perhaps the way to go was to stroke it like she would her cat’s tail.

Caterpiller watched without appearing to enjoy it.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“You can keep it in your hand and squeeze it gently.”

She pulsed her clenching fingers around his cock. He closed his eyes. He grew in her hands. That seemed to do the trick. What if she rolled her fingers in a squeeze like playing piano?

She tried clenching each finger one at a time, rolling them along his member. He moaned.

“Is this okay?”

“Yessss.”

How big that thing was getting! So hot and hard!

His jaw dropped open and he tilted back his head, his long, golden hair resting on his shoulders. His lean abdomen glistened in the sun, his sculpted chest rising and dropping with each of his shuddering breaths.

Maybe it was time to start stroking it.

She eased her hand up and down his shaft that stood proud from its nest of amber hair. The skin seemed to stick to her hand. Surely, that didn’t feel good. She let go, licked her hand wet, and returned to sliding up and down. He watched her work.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” he said. “You can even go faster and harder, now.”

She tightened her fist, shuttling it along his tall length. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back with pleasure in his eyes.

She said, “I’ve never smoked a real pipe before.”

“You’ll like it,” he said. “Tastes like peppermint.”

She laughed. Putting her lips around his huge length, she inhaled. A cool, icy sensation filled her lungs. She pulled him out of her mouth and exhaled the smoke.

“It really does taste like peppermint!”

“Of course.” He sighed happily. “I said it would, so it does.”

She sucked on him again, pushing him deeper down her throat. His hands were on her head, shoulders, and breasts as she inhaled and exhaled the smoke.

She peered up at his face. He was lost in pleasure. She found it difficult not to be lost in her own. Those gentle, groping hands of his knew how to touch her. But this was about him. His pleasure. She also wanted to see what a climaxing pipe looked like and tasted like.

Her breasts swelled at his squeezing fingertips and she groaned. Her mouth probably wasn’t doing a good job on him considering how distracting his amazing hands were. Every time she groaned, her lips stopped working on his cock. And unless she brought him to climax quickly, her mouth might become too weak to finish at all. Best be quick about it!

She wrapped her hands around his length and rapidly rubbed up and down to make him come. When he moaned in pleasure, her whole body felt it. The vibrations of his groans and sighs shuddered within her. He was close. She could feel him throb and twitch. Clamping her lips down, she looked up at him. His face contorted and he exploded in her mouth.

His cum tasted cool and fresh. Like peppermint. What if it had tasted like chocolate? The world would be a much happier place if all men’s cum tasted like chocolate.

She drank down the sweet, invigorating liquid until he stopped spurting. She pulled his limp member out and stood on tiptoe with pursed lips. He bent over and she kissed his cheek.

“You’re a beautiful being,” she said.

He didn’t respond. Seemed too exhausted to say anything.

She sat on the ground and waited for him to compose himself. His phallus still puffed occasional wafts of smoke. After several minutes, he put his pipe back in his pants and zipped up.

She stood. Were those strands of gray hair on his head there before?

“Now, Delicious one. How can I help you?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know a way that I can be bigger?”

“I do indeed,” Caterpillar replied. The gray hairs were getting longer.

“Really?” Excitement fluttered in her chest.

“Break off a piece of mushroom from each side.”

She did as instructed. “What are these pieces of mushroom for?”

Gray hairs also grew on his arms.

“One makes you tall, and one makes you small." EXCERPT FROM “Alice’s Salacious Adventures in Wonderland”

Chilly film noir, a monologue written by Eric Boyd that was published in issue nine of The Fourth River.  It's called Anything For Johnny. Performed by Russil Tamsen. 10 minutes. Original text here.

Today we have a serious drama, just in case you were thinking I could only do goofy! We follow an inmate through the last bitter moments of his incarceration, his release from jail, and his first disappointing moments of freedom. It's rough for a guy having to start over with empty pockets in the middle of winter, but he's got one thing going for him: at least one Jamaican thinks he looks like Johnny Depp. 

[Funny thing: my gf thinks I look like Depp also, but it 's probably her rose-colored classes talking.]  All rights reserved. Russil Tamsen: narrator, comic improv actor, book editor, and author of 21 ebooks. Please visit my ebookstore at QuirkEbooks.com and follow audiobooknarrator. Know a piece of Tumblr fiction that deserves a great reader? Run it by me!

Quand ses mots éveillent mes sens.

Quand ses phrases me transporte dans une danse

Quand je tourne les pages c'est une évidence

Quand je lis c'est à elle que je pense

❤️‍🔥🪄

T'es le plus beau d'tous mes livres

Quand tes p'tites mains me délivrent

De ce mal qui m'habite

C'est dans ton p'tit cœur que j'm'abrite

❤️‍🔥🪄

Reading is sexy