There is someone out there, throwing up his stories onto his blog all for free, writing my sexuality, my approach to things, all exactly how I want them to be.
I wish someone with a camera and a couple of nice models would take the time to recreate half the scenes he delivers up. I wish more porn had that loving eye for detail, that level of talent and the right sort of connection. It’s not the usual lump of over ripe male flesh served up on a platter of snarling ineffectual pro-tops, selling the fantasy of them and their corsets and untouchability, while daintily trying to tread around the unfortunate presence of their victim. It’s female doms who fuck, but not out of contractual obligation, it’s pain, but pain expressed so good I get the same sadist empathy shivers just from reading.
I wish I could pick out my favourites, but there’s so many I’d have to list half his catalogue. He just throws them up without a second thought, as if it were nothing special to be tossing off weekly little projects, no cross referencing or tagging either. But just for an example, try this one, Eye Candy. Note the way he makes the act of dressing up seem very real and human, and manages to build up the eroticism from the imperfections and lapses inherent in real life. Or this inventive creation that manages to make filling your bathtub with dirt seem like a good idea. Or this one, still something I think about, which matches scene realism and romanticism with rather a lot of pain, Every Square Inch.