Eat me.

I woke with a poem settling on my lips, and the heaviness of arousal sitting on my hips like a tired but welcome old gargoyle.

The poem...

In a stillness she feels the feast begin,
a dark nothingness that envelops her feet.
She sees them in her mind's eye,
small squirming sharp-toothed wormy creatures,
nibbling away at her bone and flesh.
Squinting down she watches as,
bit by bit, she is gnawed away.
Disappointed by the lack of pain,
WHY DON'T I FEEL
she remains unmoved by the threat.
A vague beat of heat as they devour her sex.
A barely-there tug at her torso.
Gentle relief there, at her tongue
WHY CAN'T I SPEAK
And then her eyes know no more.
Now, at her last refuge, in that cold place in her mind, finally it is there, that icy pain that slices and removes...

Until all is black strangeness.

Santa Baby

Several years back, on a business trip, I picked up a book in the airport bookstore. The back cover said things like 'fantasy, Santa, fairy tale for adults' and I decided it was just my speed. Halfway through the flight, I was hooked. It was porn! Erotica of the most gruesomely erotic! I was amazed that it was being sold in an airport shop, and tittered at the joke being pulled on the normals.

The book was called Santa Steps Out. I imagine you can still pick it up on abebooks.

The gist was this...Santa, the horny old man, is really the pagan god Pan. His exploits with human females, Mrs. Claus, the Tooth Fairy, etc....are just, well, deliciously obscene.

Since then, I've written some very detailed letters to Santa about what I want under MY tree.