Hank Willis Thomas

Yesterday I went to the High Musuem in Atlanta and saw Hank Willis Thomas' 'Unbranded' series. You can take a look at it on his website.

It was a rather strange experience. I just walked through an expedition of civil rights protest photographs and reconnected with the hatred and fear of the time. You can't watch a picture of a vile looking older white woman spewing hate at a 15 year old black girl who wants to go to school and not feel a sense of revulsion, grief and sadness. It was a race war and the only thing that made it bearable was knowing the good guys won in the end.

But then I walk into a huge gallery and see Thomas' work. For this series, he took advertising images from the 60's, 70's and 80's and took away any of the brand names or text. We're just left with these odd images of what corporate America thinks of black people, and what black people themselves were bombarded with. It's a strange feedback cycle of uninformed expectations doubling back around to becoming an ideal. It made me laugh, and it made me think about how we perceive people. I look at a beautiful image of a black woman and I ask myself if the image is my culture projecting my values onto someone else's values, or if is just a really beautiful woman. Then I realize that through the power of advertising, it becomes our values whether we like it or not.

I have to say there was a personally jarring moment when I saw Lil Kim with long blonde hair. I semi-recognized it from an album cover, but I couldn't shake the impression that it was a black sex symbol taking an attribute from a classic white sex symbol. Considering that it was placed right next to a topless woman who could have been Grace Jones in full 80's tribal glory, there was a contrast between what people think a true black beauty would look like, and what a black beauty should look like.

That is what I really enjoyed about these images. Stripped of context they just become pure emotional triggers. You're supposed to feel something with the subtlety of a brick. You're supposed to short circuit your logic and go straight to your fears and hopes. I wish I could do stories this blatant.

If this exhibiton comes to your neck of the woods go see it. If not, at least you can see some of the images on the artist's website.

Throat Stab

I sat down to do some writing this morning when my e-mail let me know that AT&T had finally sent me my first bill since I moved into the new place. When I saw the exorbitant dollar amount they were charging me for moving to a new location, I felt like I had been stabbed in the throat by Titus Pullo. What the fuck? They double charged me all sorts of fees because I happen to enjoy the same services in two locations, though never at the same time. Mother fuckers.

It's funny. When unfair things like this happens in BDSM fiction, it's kind of hot. I wish I was a submissive so maybe I would get a thrill out of the phone company raping my ass while my head is in a public toilet. (Which was another great moment from the tv series, 'Rome'.)

This kind of billing savagery is not the thing to get me in the mood for the threesome I needed to write this morning. Sigh. I am taking the day off, which in a three times a week blog is the height of laziness but fuck it. I feel like that poor gladiator who got fucked up by Lucious Vorenus when Lucious saved his best friend, Titus, who had been sentenced to death for his sloppy assassination of some nobleman.

You know, maybe I'll just watch Rome.

Collection: Breasts of Mars

Item- Four black and white photographs dated 1976. The photographs are aerial pictures of a gray landscape devoid of features except for two enormous mesas that resemble human breasts. Especially noticeable are the mounds near the center of each mesa that could be construed as nipples.

Jeremy Iksom worked as a technician at NASA during the Viking One mission to Mars. Mr. Iksom’s job was to process the large volumes of data that was being sent back by the orbiting Viking One and create a current map of the planet’s landscape. By all accounts, Mr. Iksom was a dull, rather mundane individual suited for the hard math and data manipulation required by his job. It came as a complete surprise to his superiors at NASA when he presented photographs of what he considered to be large human like breasts on Mars.

NASA was already dealing with the discovery of the so called Face of Mars by Mr. Iksom’s coworkers, Vincent Dipietro and Gregory Molenar. These two had discovered what appeared to be a face that was constructed by some unknown intelligence. Although NASA had ruled that the face was most likely a trick of light, they encouraged the media to speculate on possible Martians. The more public attention NASA received, the greater the possibility for increased government funding.

The work Mr. Iksom spent on eliminating shadows and clarifying the image worked against him in the end. By the time he was done, there was no denying the mammary perfection he had discovered. Unfortunately for Jeremy Iksom, images of giant breasts were not considered by NASA to be beneficial for public relations. It was one thing to speculate on a face, it was another thing to ask the American public of 1976 to consider that breast building Martians had created nearly perfect D-cups the size of Texas.

Mr. Iksom was let go from NASA under accusations of drinking and sexual harassment. He managed to smuggle these four photographs out and in 1985, the photographs were published in ‘Raw Sin’ magazine. Most of the scientific community thought it was a low brow hoax.

NASA has denied any comments on the photographs. When the Mars Global Surveyor sent back data from it’s mapping of the Mars surface, the portion where the Breasts would be located was missing. NASA says the information was lost due to data corruption. It is interesting to note that such corruption didn’t affect the rest of the global survey.

Mr. Iksom passed away in 1998 but he gave the photographs to the Collection in 1991. When asked about what he thought the Breasts meant, he offered this statement.

“I see those tits in my dreams. I think about them all the time. I’ve done measurements, calculations and simulations. I've talked to geologists, architects and science fiction writers. I've tried looking for geological or astronomical reasons on how these breasts could be formed, but it’s just not plausible. It had to be made by artificial means. It just had to be. At some time in the past, some great civilization decided they wanted a set of beautiful tits on their world. Do they really need a reason?”

Astronomical

Twin suns rise and fall
Heavenly bodies of lust
Always warms my soul

Random Geek Porn Thoughts

I can see the end of my long summer story. What I mean by that is that I am so close to the last chapter that I am constantly thinking about how the plot ties up at the end even when writing a scene about a footjob. Oh shit, sorry about the lack of spoiler warning. Anyhoo, I am pretty excited about this as it would be nice to finish this thing before summer itself actually ends.

Dungeon Runners is a free online dungeon crawling game that spends a lot of time making fun of other games that send you on an endless series of quests. It has me seriously considering writing some fantasy porn parodies myself but so far I am restraining. Well to be honest, I'm sketching ideas now but I am resisting the urge to follow through. I have my character's name though: Nighthammer. Doesn't that just sound like the name of a porn character in a fantasy world?

I read an interview somewhere about a woman who ran a porn site for geeks. The few preview pictures I saw were pretty laughable. There were naked chicks holding a game controller, naked chicks holding a game rulebook, naked chicks looking at a boardgame, etc. I was curious if they split their girls up by interest.

Meet Sheila, she's our resident role-playing geek girl who only plays 'Dungeons and Dragons'. She likes D20's, guys who map and she will never sleep with a guy who plays 'Vampire' because she had a bad experience with a Toreador once. Her stats are 36-34-36 Level 18 Ranger.



This past weekend, my girlfriend and I played 'Arkham Horror.' She played the lovely Jenny Barnes who as you can tell from the picture above, weilds four 38's. This board game took us five and a half hours to play which is why we only play it on Saturdays. What is great about this game is that it is cooperative among the players. Everyone works together against the Great Old One. The down side is that the rules are slightly more complicated than Chinese Algebra. Back in my youth, I used to play games like this all the time with my sweaty male friends. Now I am wondering how the fuck I ever played a game for that long without my girlfriend's cleavage to look at. I have to say, screw romantic getaways. Nothing bonds a couple faster than the elation of defeating a Great Old One when the Doom Track came withing 2 more tokens of umm, doom.

Lastly, I bought a Pam Grier box set which was lovingly titled, 'Fox in a Box'. What really saddens me about Pam Grier is that we have these kick ass movies about a smart, strong female who gets naked, cracks jokes, kills mother fuckers and somehow stays classy during the whole movie; yet they were made in the 70's and we have been shit out of luck for anything else like it ever since. Some female stars capture the kick ass part, and some female stars capture the classy, but how many of those women will get naked so we can have a chase scene that starts in the shower? I feel sometimes that Pam Grier opened a door that no one else followed.

Pinner's Choice

I had her by the wrists. The giant landmasses I call hands were wrapped around her delicate wrists. She was upside down on the bed with her plentiful breasts spilling out of the inadequate tank top she was wearing. I bent down and opened my mouth. I wasn't sure if I was going to bite her tit or maybe find a nipple to suck on. I would decide when I get there.

She shrieked. She laughed. She was conflicted between the state of arousal and fear. No matter how much she struggled, my hands had her pinned.

I did what I wanted.

Von Madd Datalink Network, June 18th

Good morning, you're listing to the Von Madd Datalink Network, the number one source of information for all Von Madd Laboratories employees. I'm Ed Jackson and here is your morning briefing.

The Sex Robot Division is reporting that one of their creations is loose. If you are approached for sex by a beautiful six foot tall woman with sky blue hair, the Sex Robot Division would like for you to agree to sexual relations before reporting her location. Your input on her oral skills will be much appreciated.

There is a flood on Level Six closing off the entire floor. A vat of self-replicating lubricant has malfunctioned resulting in a complete submersion of the level. No casualties have been reported.

An orgy has broken out in the Vibrator Division. Technicians estimate that it will last another hour before the batteries wear out. If you want to participate please make sure you submit an Orgy-Participation Form to your supervisor before attending.

That's the news for this morning. We're going to stop for our mandatory hourly Sophie B. Hawkins music break. Join us after the break for an interview with Dr. Xavier Nin, who will be reporting on his progress on creating the first orbital Von Madd Laboratory.

I'm Ed Jackson and you''re listening to the Von Madd Datalink Network.

Buy This: Teeny Bikini

Robert Ullman is source of constant inspiration. He really is a modern pinup artist with the ability to create really sexy girls while maintaining a wonderful fun vibe. I visit his blog every day and Robert is one of the few artist who actually updates on a regular basis.

Teeny Bikini is out now for sale on his blog. I love his small book formats. For just a few dollars you get these beautiful little books crammed with art.

Do yourself a favor and buy your copy of Teeny Bikini today. Then make sure you browse through the rest of his store for other treats.

Fiction: Catch and Release

She emerges from the ocean. Water cascades over long red hair that cascades over her bare breasts. She opens her mouth and my cock slides between her lips. She seals her lips around me and I can feel her moan. I have hooked her again.

Webbed hands plant themselves on the dock. The human half stays above the water, exposing her pale breasts to rare sunlight. Her tongue moves under my cock in time with her tail swishing under the water. I look into her eyes and wonder what secrets and treasures she has seen. They look back at me as if I was a treasure myself.

I climax. She swallows it all. She sucks away at me till my cock shrinks in her mouth. Once my hook is gone, she descends back into the water. The breasts vanish, followed by sucking lips, followed by exotic eyes and finally her long red hair.

A flip of her tail and she is gone.

Mountains of Erotica

The Mountains of Erotica is an immense mountain range consisting mostly of Gallery Girl Books, Fastener and Larson, some Casotto and other treasured pieces.

Click on picture for Atlas size version.

My Muse

My Muse is a greedy bitch that doesn't take no for an anwser. She rides me for her pleasure. She mounts my cock, my thoughts and my waking moments. She hates being ignored so she doesn't give me a chance to ignore her. She pins me down and rapes me till I spill my story between her thighs.

My Muse is a slut who performs on my command. She waits under my desk until I summon her. She bends over for me, she offers herself for my libido to assault. Her mouth is always open, her thighs never shut and her tits are always available. I use her until my story splatters all over her willing body.

My Muse is my lover who holds onto me at every moment. She makes me smile when I don't want to. She comforts me till I feel like the greatest writer in the world. Hand in hand, we write the story that is born from our lust.

Lazy Summer Fucking

Slow strokes. It's too hot to do anything else. I take my time with everything. I entered slowly. I grabbed a thigh and propped it around my hip for that extra penetration. My hips shift in, my hips shift out. We get to fuck without hardly any effort.

But the best laid plans of sweaty lovers get tossed aside. Trying to conserve motion goes out the window when you slide into a tight pussy. No amount of heat can stop two bodies who need to fuck. The room is hot but my cock and her pussy are hotter.

I grab the bedpost and my gentle rocking motion turns into a violent slamming. I watch those heavy brown breasts quake from my thrusts. Sweat covers us both and we don't care.

Lazy Summer Spanking

Summer was made for spanking. The skin is already warm and each blow on naked ass sticks from the humidity. Heat layers on top of heat until the ass is a crimson furnace.

I rolled my girlfriend on her side towards me. My lips were still moist from eating her pussy. She resisted out of sheer laziness as the hot summer day has already sapped her strength. Once I grip her bare ass in my hand though, she stops fighting.

SLAP! It's awkward as hell spanking some like this. We're facing each other on our sides so the angle is awful but luckily I'm a tall man with long arms. The trick is to swing upward, striking the ass from the bottom up. The other trick is on a humid summer day, the slightest spank feels a lot worse than it actually is.

I spank her and she melts into me. Each slap of her ass makes her clutch to me that much more. Every time I hit that round bottom, the sound would drown out the weak buzz of our fan. With every slap, spank and groan, my need to fuck grew more insistent.

Lazy Summer Eating

On a Georgia summer day, heat and humidity is everywhere. Pants stick to legs, panties stick to asses and mouths stick to cunts. The heat sears body parts together and the humidity and sweat seals everything in. Days like these were made for pussy eating.

I licked my girlfriend for relief from the heat. With the sun light bathing us on the unmade bed, I took cover between her dark thighs. I found shade in the dark cleft below her clitoris. My mouth drank from the well of her desire. My tongue took slow lazy licks that subconsciously fell into sync with the slow lazy rotations of the fan.

There is no better summer day snack.

Lazy Summer Stretch

She was flat on her back and I was on all fours above her. I had her ankle on my shoulder. We looked into each other's eyes as I leaned forward. Her leg stretched and I saw her eyes roll.

She moaned. When we flirt, she giggles. When we fuck, she talks dirty. But when I stretch her leg, she moans like a woman in the throes of orgasm.

I shift my weight and we are a little bit closer. We are wearing clothes but I am hyper sensitive about how close my groin is to her open thigh. Her leg pushes back against me and I feel the power and tension.

She moans. She gasps when I inch a little closer. She starts to babble about how good it feels. I watch her cheeks flush. I feel my cock harden.

"Time for the other leg," I say.

She shudders with precognitive pleasure.

'Bomb Queen' by Jimmie Robinson

'Bomb Queen: Woman of Mass Destruction' by Jimmie Robinson is self contained comic book about a sexy evil supervillian dictator of a town that may be more evil than she is. She runs the town of Newport City; killing people who offended her, molesting those who arouse her and humiliating every one for the sheer joy of it. 'Bomb Queen' as a book is a power mad sexual fantasy gone horribly crazy but unlike 90% of Internet erotica that deals with these same themes, Jimmie Robinson brings some intelligence and insight to the project. This is less of a story about a sexy villianess who rules a city as it is about the kind of city that would have such a person as it's champion.

Newport City is a twisted place. Crime Zones exist in the city where anything is legal. The population revels in the decadence. Someone's death is entertainment. Instead of sympathy they have scorn for the weak. There is no innocence. The average citizen takes pride in their perversion. These people love Bomb Queen because she embraces their values and so they forgive her anything.



The first collection is about a race for mayor of Newport City. The incumbent is a lackey for Bomb Queen while the challenger is running on a platform to clean the city of crime. Ass, tits and bombs ensue.

The first time I read this book, I thought Robinson was making a statement about the kind of people who would re-elect a war criminal to a second term. Another time I thought he was making a statement about the youtube generation who will make the most depraved videos into instant hits. Now I realize that Bomb Queen is not a thinly veiled reference to something in the real world as much as it is making us think about ourselves, the audience.

I stopped reading Usenet erotica because so many stories there were about illegal acts that disturbed me. I would trudge through dozens of rape stories to find a BDSM story I liked. Even when a story was labeled as just BDSM, sometimes rape or even killing would makee a surprise appearance. After awhile you stop being disgusted with the stories and start speculating about the writers and their readers. How was this entertainment to them? Was it for the horror? Was it for the power trip? Was it pure sadism or a sort of thrill of darkness? It is easy to make judgments but sexuality is never simple. Jimmie Robinson understands that and I applaud how he doesn't voice judgments himself. He just tells a story about the strange connection between monstrous acts and the people who see it as entertainment.

And one thing 'Bomb Queen' is, is entertainment. Fights abound. Horrible deaths occur on every other page. The costume designs are works of art when it comes to crassness. Rape, pedophilia, and incest are background jokes which never let you forget how fucked up all of this is. I read each issue alternating between grimacing, laughing, thinking and being exhilarated.

So give 'Bomb Queen' a try. All four mini-series are in collections now. If you have to read a comic about superheroes, might as well read one that has a crazed half naked bomb throwing bad ass chick, right?

Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:

"Although the invention of a Universal Translator would help us talk to alien species in the future, the real scientific breakthrough will be the Universal Sex Aid, which will allow sex between alien species regardless of anatomy differences. Language is important, but you can never really communicate until you know what makes someone's eyes/eyestalks/sensory bud/antennae clench in pleasure."

Bending Over

Monday afternoon found me holding my girlfriend's ankles while she bent over the back of the dryer. Her round ass was on perfect display. Pink striped panties peeked out from gray shorts. She grunted as she reached for the dryer vent tube. I watched her buttocks clench from the exertion.

It was the most fun I had in days. I had made close to a hundred trips up stairs while carrying boxes. I had argued with a sleazy moving company. I had spent an entire day putting together a huge desk from Sweden. I deserved to watch her ass.

It was so tempting to play with her ankles. I wanted to spread them and open her golden thighs. I wanted to bend down and bite her tightly clenching ass. I wanted to take a picture and save it for a rainy day. I wanted to climb on top of that wonderful ass and fuck her. I couldn't stop staring at that perfect ass that was completely at my mercy.

"I almost got it!" she said. She wiggled. She grunted. She cursed. She got sexier by the second.

I held onto her ankles. Right now she needed me to hold her steady. Fuck, my dirty clothes needed me to hold her steady. No matter how tempting her ass was, no matter how much I wanted to bend over and bite right where I knew her sex was, I stayed good. I behaved.

"Alright, pull me up," she said.

"You got it?" I asked.

"Yep."

I held onto her ankles. "Good."

Moving Hell

The move was pretty successful except for any part dealing with the moving company we hired, "All My Sons". If you are moving in Atlanta, avoid them at all costs. They made promises and broke every single one of them. When we argued, fought and threatened, they would actually do what they said they would do, and act like they were doing us such a huge favor. They were quite easily the sleaziest people I have ever dealt with, and my ex-wife's mom was a heroin junkie.

Don't use "All My Sons" moving company in Atlanta. That's my public service announcement for the day.

I do however have an amusing story about my new neighborhood. I was throwing away boxes when an attractive woman came up to the dumpster to throw away her items. She asked me if I was moving on, or moving out. I said out, and she became very excited.

"You're going to love this place," she said. "We are having a lot of people moving out, people that need to be moving out."

Oh joy! That sounded nasty. Was she talking racial prejudice? Maybe criminal elements? I looked her over and tried to guess who she thought the undesirable types would be. Let's see, she was black so I ruled out other black people. She had two pieces of bling, one was a glittering cross and the other was an American flag pin. I guessed she didn't like Hispanics or maybe Indians.

"What kind of people?" I asked.

She looked me in the eye and said, "People who needed to mind their own business," she said. "People who care too much about what other people are doing."

Okay, I was not expecting that. That sounded like something a kinky or alternative person would say. I was a bit confused and she just added to it.

"The management figured out these people were bad, so they hiked up their rents and drive them out. Now it is going to be a paradise around here."

I changed my assessment of bigot to possible drug user. I know that is awfully judgmental of myself, but hey, I had just dealt with that moving company and was thinking about my ex-mother in law heroin user.

"I hear you," I say, which is my standard non-committal agreement for crazy people.

"I just got a call from husband," she said. I was still throwing away boxes because when you buy a desk from Ikea, Ikea thinks you need enough cardboard to build your own Ikea franchise. So I was trapped while she kept talking.

"My husband is in Beirut," she said.

"Oh wow," I said. "I didn't know we still had troops in Beirut."

"Beirut, New York," the woman said. "But he was in Iraq, and they dropped him off in Beirut. He called me and wanted me to come pick him up. They just left him there."

Keep in mind that I had been moving all weekend and was fucking exhausted. I smiled and nodded. I felt like there was a sales pitch coming.

"I'm taking that car," she said, pointing at a jeep. "How much money do you think it will take me to drive to New York?"

Notice how she did not ask how long will it take, or how many miles? She wanted to know how much money. After dealing with the sleazy moving company and now about to be hit up for money, I felt like I was back in North Carolina again. I was almost homesick. I was also really bad at math but being a writer I am genetically incapable of not giving an anwser no matter how bullshitty.

"Oh at least 200 dollars," I said. I still have no idea why I picked that number.

She looked me up and down and smiled. "Listen, how can a woman like me earn two hundred dollars right now?"

Did I just get propositioned? Sometimes I wonder if being a sex writer destroys my ability to have normal conversations. I think my porn brain thought it was ludicrous that a woman would try to scam me out of money, but propositioning me was less insulting.

I said, "I have no idea," which by the way is non-committal anwser number 2.

I turned around to throw some garbage out and when I turned around, the woman was already heading to her car. No good-bye or anything.

Damn, I was actually looking forward to the follow up pitch. For a brief moment I thought I might have totally misread the situation but then I realized the whole situation was pretty ridiculous no matter how you saw it.

Oh well. That's what writing is for, filling in the blank spaces that reality drops the ball on.

In Transit

Tomorrow I move to a new undisclosed location with two bedrooms. Woot! I get my own erotic office where I can create new exciting stories without sharing space with a television and a dining table.

I am of course both excited and terrified to move. I mean, what if my computer explodes along the way? What if the new place is infested with prudish Baptists? What if my new land lady is a sexy black woman with a British accent who's a big fan of sex bloggers? Mmmmm.

Anyhoo, I hope to be back up and posting on Tuesday. Wish me luck.