Desire of Documentation, Documentation of Desire

#ForTheSakeOf #Erotika #Poem #LoveOfDocumentation #Erotica

How we fuck Needs to be documented.

For the sake of science, Needs to be documented.

For educational purposes, Needs to be documented.

As masturbation material, Needs to be documented.

As a chapter in The Bible of Desires, Needs to be documented.

As inspirational material for artists all around the world, Needs to be documented.

Just for the sake of documenting, Needs to be documented.

Just to boost our egos, Needs to be documented.

To be part of the historical archive of desires, Needs to be documented.

As a manifesto of political activism on desire, Needs to be documented.

For us, so we don't forget, or so we always remember, Needs to be documented.

(This part is more to make you smile than being part of the “poem”)

To uncover the implicit assumptions of different forms of desire, Needs to be documented.

For a case study on the epistemological presumptions of desire, Needs to be documented.

For us to watch, Needs to be documented.

And to perform our own pseudo-philosophical analysis.

#desire #primal #bodyautonomy #pleasure #consent

Reverse gangbang? First of all, why reverse? A gangbang where I am the center of attention — womxn make a queue in front of me to fuck me, to sit on my dick while my arms and legs are restrained. The next in line doesn't simply wait — she assists. An assistant means, in this context, the one who helps the one on top according to her wishes: kissing, grabbing tits and ass, licking, sucking, biting, pushing her up and down while fucking, slapping, dirty talking, spitting, holding the Doxy, the Womanizer, and fuck machines for those who wanted DP. After four minutes they need to leave (the only exception is if they have a strong orgasm — then they can stay on top of me while staying penetrated — because I need to feel them — until their quivering ends).

So I hear many overwhelmed womxn who are as horny as they are overwhelmed (for a second or two my mind thinks about whether there might be a correlation between these two in daily life — yes, I studied social sciences). And on top of these two, the primal frustration comes so strongly that they become more greedy, angry, needy, and fierce, wanting me, wanting my dick, wanting their orgasms. And I'm happy that I can stay erect for long periods, but still, there are quite a few womxn here — there is always a chance that I come while they are in the queue, which means that I need a bit of time to restart.

Some of them squirt on my dick or on my body and face right after they stand up from my dick, as their time with my dick (4 min) is about to end. They are doing this as their primal mind wants to say: it's all mine, it tastes like me, it's wet like me, it's warm like me — but the next ones never hesitate or feel intimidated by this gesture.

On the contrary, it makes them feel more entitled to me, to my dick, and to their orgasms, so they jump right on my dick. Some push their hands on the wet part of my body to transfer it to their hands and then lick the previous person's squirt.

You can tell that it's something magical, primal, self-confident — no doubts, no apologies. Everyone is showing, sharing, and discovering their animalistic side.

So all the womxn are hoping to have an orgasm before mine, or at least to be the one with whom I come, so they could feel my cum and my quivering body. But what they don't know yet is that all the people here are good, loving, caring, and passionate souls, and therefore even if I come and need to rest, they will take care of each other — making the other person feel cared for, safe, and secure — with one of the strongest orgasms of their lives.

No one will leave this party unsatisfied.

Without a long-lasting smile.

Everyone will learn something about themselves.

Everyone will remember this day until the end of their lives with a smile.

Many of them would like to do it again.

On Word Counts, or How Tigers Can't Count

It has been 11 years since I published my first short story. I remember clearly the euphoria I had while drafting, and even more so the sense of cringe I felt when I read it a couple days later to start editing. But that’s a story for another day.

It was a measly 900~ words, not so dissimilar to the first story I posted under this account (1.5k). Sure, I did have some experience in the sense that I had read tons of furry fics (and mainstream novels) beforehand, but oh boy, did I struggle when it came to word counts.

I knew from experience, and my interest in getting published one day, that I should be aiming for 2-2.5k at the least. While for most writers that should be easy (or rather, the difficult part came on what to trim down), for me it was such an uphill battle trying to reach those word counts as an underwriter. Everything I drafted was around 500-800 words, and turning something like that into 2k+ is no easy feat, let me tell you. Sure, part of the reason for that was my inexperience in story crafting, regular struggles as an ESL person, and some preconceived notions that I had back in the day (e.g., if you change location/day, it has to be a new chapter.) However, against all odds, I eventually managed to do it and reached the 2k range. A range that I don’t believe I ever left under that account…

For quite a while, pretty much every story I made was about 2k words. Sometimes less but never crossing the 3k limit. And that was not by choice, it’s just something that happened. Now, I could technically write more if I did chapters or the like, but at the end of the day, I basically became the 2k word boy and I remember vividly how shocked I was when I went to a writing group, and someone complained about a max 5k word limit, saying they could not write something smaller.

As someone that not even in his dreams would ever dare to write a 5k word story, and could not even fathom what such a story would be like, it turns out I have that issue myself nowadays…

Now that I’m more experienced, I’m no longer stuck in the 2k range. Still, I’m now in a 4-6k rut. Which is not bad (in fact, it might even be too short for how stories are like nowadays), but my issue lies in that, just like when it came to the 2k before, I’m not choosing to write stories these long.

Sure, every writer that knows his salt will be able to tell you: number of characters/scenes/details/beats is what determines the word count in the end, the calculation itself is not that simple. For example, my latest story, Intel Gathering, which is basically 2 characters (3 if you’re being generous), is one of my longest so far at 5.9k words. It’s also basically also only 3 places, and not much happens in it, so it has no right being this big. Yet it does. Sure, if I wanted to trim it down, there are some scenes that comes to mind. I could remove the scene with the bouncer (it’s just a not-so-subtle foreshadowing), the background of the Lylat Wars (there for context for those who haven’t played the games), and that scene at the end with Pigma (original ending was set before that), and even if I removed all those parts, the story would still not be under 5k. Now, Intel Gathering might be an outlier (only story so far where I changed a single paragraph into 600 words while editing), but that does not change the reason why I mentioned it.

Intel Gathering was not meant to be 5k words long. I was aiming for 2.5k. In fact, I’ve been aiming at 2.5k for every single story I’ve made as Pawggers, yet barely any of them had been around that range. And that is an issue.

Everything is longer than I intend (hell, the latest outline I did was over 500 words, and again it’s just the outline, and let’s not talk about this post). In fact, one of the reasons I hesitated about opening commissions was exactly that, the word count, since I knew I would not be able to properly tell how long a given story would be, and even if they tend to be over 2k now, a part of me still doubts that I would be able to reach what was agreed.

Of course, part of the problem stems from me being an underwriter. About 50% or more of the word count of a finished story comes from the editing itself (even when I remove things during the editing), but coupled that with me being a discovery writer, it means that I have no right basis on which to calculate something and aim as needed for either shorter or longer works.

And I know the solution to this, write more. Though not just write in general, I need to start writing shorter stuff again, intentionally, just so I can get an overall idea of what a character—a scene—means to me.

But up until then, guess you guys will be stuck dealing with a tiger, engineering graduate, who can’t count…

#PlayingWithCouples #SharingIsCaring #PolyamorousJuice #QueerErotica #BisexualMen #ForcedToWatch

This time, we put you on a Sybian and fix you there with the Sybian accessories of your choice. Your partner and I are wearing our kinky clothes; I am in a black fishnet onesie on top of a red G-string with dark makeup. You sit while we stand in front of you, staring down at you. You can tell we enjoy what we see. Meanwhile, I pull my erect dick out of the G-string.

Your partner grabs it immediately in front of you and starts playing slowly with it while our eyes remain locked on yours. I pull out their dick and begin to stroke it as well. ​ You see our dicks right at eye level. Your submissive, slutty side is growing more intense by the second; you want to have them. You know that at some point you will, and you already feel incredibly lucky. Two dicks that you like, adore, and have used for your own pleasure are right here together—two hands pleasuring them right in front of you.

​I kneel down in front of your partner, dropping directly into your line of sight. Up until this moment, because we were standing so close, you could only see our lower bodies. Now, I am right at eye level with you.

You can't touch us because you are restricted, but you can see every detail and smell everything. ​ I begin to lick your partner’s dick while maintaining intense eye contact with you. You look surprised by how comfortable I am with it. As I start to suck, your partner lets out a low moan. The needy slut in you grows more desperate. You can hear the thoughts racing in your head: ​”Fuck! It's so hot! I want to fuck them both right now, right here.”

​At this moment, you don't even know if you are referring to our dicks or to us, and it doesn't even matter. Meanwhile, your body is vibrating against the Sybian, overwhelmed by a warm, wet feeling. I stand up slowly to kiss your partner while the precum dripping from my dick catches your attention. It makes you even hornier, sparking an desperate urge to lick it immediately, but the restraints hold you back.

But there is no need to worry; your partner takes it in his hand, bringing it close to your face. When you happily open your mouth and show your tongue, he immediately pulls his hand back to create frustration, teasing you by rubbing it right across your face.

My partner's cousin lives at the summer house of my partner. I have visited the place three times over the past three years for vacation.

She is 49, petite, with a pretty face, beautiful feet, and delicate hands. Until this year, she was always nice and friendly, though I would say somewhat shy. I found her very attractive and hoped that I was not staring too much at her or at her body.

As my partner and I are quite kinky and sex-positive, I asked her last year if she and her cousin would like to have a threesome. Unfortunately, she rejected the idea immediately. When I asked why, she said it was because she is her cousin. I reminded her, “But you had sex with one of your cousins at a wedding.” She explained that it's different because she is much closer to this cousin. I acknowledged that this was a fair reason, so I dropped the subject.

However, this year, something felt different with the cousin:

• She was more social with me and spent more time with us. (My mind wants to interpret this as meaning she might be attracted to both me and my partner, but another part of me knows that I tend to over-interpret such things. The reality could simply be that she is unemployed and has more free time, or that over the years she has built trust with us—a strong pattern from my teenage years. I have mostly overcome this tendency by asking direct questions instead of interpreting, and I am curious whether other heterosexual men experience similar doubts.)

• She began accepting my offers of help. Until this year, she would decline when I offered to help, but now she asks me to pour wine or water for her.

• Yesterday, I was at the window nearly naked (wearing only a G-string, though they couldn't see it from where they were—they could only see my naked torso) looking into the garden to ask my partner something. The cousin glanced at me and said, “Oh, a naked man. I'm coming upstairs.” My partner replied, “Go ahead, he's waiting for you.” They laughed, but no one actually came upstairs.

• Yesterday was also her birthday. While we were eating cake, they were discussing how you say “blowing” the candles in English. My partner translated it as “blowing,” and then the cousin said, “Oh, blowing—I would like that, but not the candles.” They laughed, and she checked my reaction.

Normally, I wouldn't take this kind of thing seriously. I know that many women know how to flirt and attract men's attention without necessarily meaning anything by it (which I don't judge, especially in our still-patriarchal world). I also recognize that many heterosexual men invent these signs because of entitlement or unhealthy narcissism. But this felt different because I don't think she is naturally a flirty woman. I found myself interpreting it as: she is attracted to both of us, finds us very attractive, and may have already fantasized about us. Since she knows we are quite kinky, she has become more open about it—still implicit, expressed through jokes, but more open nonetheless.

---

Later That Day

Later, I was lying in the garden while the cousin and my partner sat on lounge chairs. I asked if it was okay to take off my t-shirt because of the strong sun. They said of course. I then asked if the neighbors would mind. The cousin replied that it doesn't matter because what she wanted to see was more important than what the neighbors might think.

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The Evening

We were having drinks in the garden in the evening. The cousin and my partner were talking about menopause and perimenopause when the conversation suddenly shifted to sexuality. The cousin said that despite her shyness, she really appreciated our kinky lifestyle and was finally ready to explore that side of herself. My partner said that we could help with that. She offered that if she wanted, we would be honored to be her first threesome experience, and we could bring some toys with us (a Womanizer and Doxy).

The cousin didn't look surprised, but rather aroused and pleased by the offer. She said, “Mmm, that's definitely something I would really like to do.” We looked at each other and smiled. At that moment, we all took a drink from our glasses simultaneously—we were all excited.

First, I moved to hold and massage her feet while my partner took the other. (We had done this before during one of our foursomes.) We continued talking while she moaned in pleasure and complimented our massage skills.

I then began to kiss and lick her feet while maintaining eye contact with her. At the same time, my partner slowly began to caress and touch her legs. I was becoming increasingly aroused. I started to touch myself through my shorts while licking her toes and maintaining eye contact with her. We exchanged naughty smiles and bit our lips to signal our mutual appreciation for what we were doing and seeing.

My partner wanted to remove the cousin's shorts and underwear to go down on her. I knelt down to help my partner, so we had two heads between her legs, two different hands holding her legs open, and two tongues teasing her pussy.

#WatchingUs #SexParty #TheInvitation #PermissionGranted #EyesOnUs

Me, my partner, and our lover. We are at a kinky/BDSM sex party—the kind that few cities in the world have. It's a club with a huge open-air area. Our whipping session becomes sexual quite fast.

My presence in the room gets your attention first, curiosity second, and then you watch me, my partner, and our lover playing and fucking like animals. You see how good we are as a team. You see my partner and lover squirting, moaning, and cumming intensely with trembling bodies. You'll be envious and want to jump in, but you won't. I'll catch your eyes while I fuck and lick them. A small, sneaky smile from me; biting lips from you with an even bigger smile. You find the bravery to come closer and ask if it's okay for us that you masturbate while watching us. We stop for a moment and look each other in the eyes. “Yes, absolutely,” my partner says with a smile. “We'd love that, dear.”

You see that I keep looking at you while receiving deep throats from my lover, while I suck my partner's nipples passionately. You also realize that the others have their eyes on you. Once we all have our strongest orgasm, we lay on the couch, relaxed and happy. We start to chat with you—nice, warm conversation with lots of compliments—and ask for your number, whether you'd be up to meeting us.

When you go back home, you'll still feel horny. You'll use your toy while remembering what we did, you'll come one last time intensely, and fall asleep a few minutes after.

fewer people than most months. sixty miles there and back, and i probably should have stayed home to do homework, but it's a brief half an afternoon and evening of taking a break.

not going tomorrow, or i'd never get everything done.

i got to get home to the house smelling of recently burned sage; i'd let myself sit and appreciate it, but that doesn't clear windows or my to-do list.

i have so many things to get done.

if you see the theme here of searching for gxd, congratulations you're not blind and you can see the obvious. if you notice that i am cynical, jaded, and sarcastic, congratulations you can read my tone of voice and i did something correctly when i am writing this. if you notice my criticism of certain methods, note that it is not a personal attack on the people who follow those, but a search that for myself has lead to a different way.

have a relationship with a gxd of your own understanding, they say. then they dictate that this gxd of your own understanding must be caring and kind and have the best of intentions for you, and thus must be all-powerful.

get closer to this gxd through meditation and prayer and call it a spiritual awakening and join in the violence that proselytising beliefs to others has been since time immemorial; claim to them that if only they do what they do, then they will get what you have.

how am i supposed to have a relationship with something that i by definition cannot understand? how am i supposed to believe that what they believe is remotely possible, when i look out at the world and all i see is death and war and woe. if anything, these are the things that make me certain that there is no caring and compassionate, all-knowing, all-powerful gxd. if there were then we would not have genocide, baseless hatreds, murder, self-harm, sexual assault, and war; the list of crimes and sins goes on, but if there were a gxd that they claim then none of those need ever happen to people.

and then they answer with some sort of mock-profound bullshit that their higher power only gives people those sort of challenges to make them stronger; i cannot believe that something which does that cares about the hundreds of thousands who are then not strong enough, and if it does not care about them, then it probably doesn't care about me either. any gxd that gives people those sorts of harms and hurts is not some-thing that i want to believe in in the first place; if i believe that they believe it is only that i believe they are delusional and incapable of admitting that in reality there are horrible people in the world who use that same gxd to justify awful acts on both the micro and the macro scales.

the closer i look the less that i want any-thing to do with it.

the new year, just another day, enthralls the masses with its promise of being special. with its promise of rebirth and renewal.

but what people don't understand is that no promise comes unless you work for it, and all magic comes with a price.

if only they would be willing to pay.

in 2020 i said the most meaningful two words i will ever say in my life to the most amazing person on the planet.

we went up Highway 1 and parked in the shade of a boulder sheltering the dirt cut-out, back seats folded down and the tailgate up, and then back into the front seats because it turns out those are much more comfortable, and fed each other sushi that we had picked up along the way, just being in the moment.

despite the rest of the world already being on fire, despite the hardship it took us to get to that point in time or any of what was to follow.

that moment was perfect.

and the moment in the morning when i first wake up, whether it is them waking me or me waking them or our cat waking both of us by walking on or biting at faces impatiently, whenever in the day that morning ends up happening and the first thing i remember before i even say a prayer is saying those two words, and i repeat them in my head, sometimes aloud buried into their back, their neck right where it meets their shoulders, their cheek, their ear, the top of their head.

that if i were given a chance i would do it all over again, because i love them and i love my life, our life, with them.

and that first moment of the day is still perfect.

testing, testing, test one two.

at one-fifteen in the morning, after the cat has played at getting up on the desk all night, after i have spent a day working on the wrong assignment, the one which i had the inclination to do rather than the one with the impending doom—i mean deadline.

i wonder what it is that i'm doing that's actually working, even though the numbers haven't lied, not yet.

we'll see if that holds true, with the brief break in the running up to thursday, and continuation the day or two after. if i'm right, the numbers go back down in the break, and it really is something i'm doing that's working even if finding out involves temporary misery.

but what it is, or in what combination, i don't think i'll ever know.

#nsfw #furry #erotic #gay #fox

A fox and his boyfriend demonstrate how being “furry” is more fun than you'd think.

(18+ only!)

---

Everyone calls me and Daniel “furries.”

That's not the insult they think it is. Furries aren't lonely nerds sitting on their computers all day. We're artists, event organizers, musicians, doctors, electricians, students, sex workers...and lovers.

Second, and this is the important part: it's true. We are furries. And I'll tell you why (just don't tell Danny I told you).

When I see my Danny, I don't see a plain, ordinary human, but a powerful hunter. I see smooth, sleek fur blanketing a lithe figure, curling around his muscles and rolling down his shoulders. When I press my hand to his belly, I feel his abs beneath a soft, warm bed of cream-colored fur. I can run my fingers through it, feeling each individual strand and taking in its texture, firm enough to rest my head on yet soft enough to fall asleep.

Someone asked me “well, how can you kiss with two muzzles?” As much as I'd prefer to demonstrate visually, an explanation will have to do. When your boyfriend has a sleek muzzle like Danny, that just means there's more mouth to enjoy. I like to start by nuzzling my lips against his, feeling his soft, warm lips brush against mine. I like to press the side of my muzzle against his to hear and feel the warmth of his gasping breath in my ears. Each breath tingles the fur lining my ears, tickling me and making them flutter reflexively. I blush a little, realizing I can't control them, but it's okay: after all, I'm a furry, and this is just one of the many unique ways furries convey emotion.

When it's time for the main event, we both open our maws and tilt our heads slightly to the side. We bring our maws together, and like keys in a lock, they fit together perfectly. You can lose yourself in a kiss without having to worry about accidental bites. And remember, foxes have an average body temperature of 38 degrees Celsius (100.4 Fahrenheit for you New Worlders), which is slightly warmer than humans. This might not sound like much, but you absolutely feel it in the moment. It absorbs into your body and radiates down your spine into your limbs. Speaking of which, you probably both have your arms around each other now, and if he's really into it (which he always is), you'll feel 10 sharp points pressing into your fur. These are—you guessed it—his claws: tools built for hunting and shredding, now used to grip and pull you into his embrace. The hunter drawing in his prey.

We both draw away from each other to catch our breath. Foxes don't sweat the same way humans do: our ears radiate heat, and we pant. The beautiful thing about this is that when Danny and I are together, our tongues are always out and ready to explore. I love to pull back from a long kiss, watch our shared saliva droop and drip onto our bellies, then lean in and press my tongue to his nipples. He gives off the cutest little yip, and we haven't gotten to the fun part yet.

For humans, the word “boner” is a euphemism. But for us, it's real. I can feel him rising against me, his hot member nuzzling into my fur, pressing into my crotch, teasing me. It bounces a few times, begging me to play with it; I can feel a tiny bit of coolness at its tip as he leaks into my fur. I'll pretend to think about it—because that's what teasy, bratty foxes do—but I'm just as eager to take it as he is to give it. I love to wrap my hand around it and feel its girth, especially when I can feel it harden against my fingers. If I'm feeling playful, I'll stroke a finger up and down along its length and trace my finger along the tip, teasing out more of his nectar. If I hear a moan or feel a twitch, I'll know I hit a sweet spot. Oh, but I can't let him have all the fun. I have wants and needs, too.

First, I like to lay Danny onto his back so he's comfortable and his dick is standing straight up, like a rocket ready for liftoff. I'll trace my fingers up along it and feel it pulse and throb under my touch. I'll even give his frenulum a little tickle if I'm feeling silly (which I usually am). But enough teasing. I straddle him, my knees resting under his arms and squeezing his sides. He cups my ass with both hands and squeezes until my fur sticks out in between his fingers, then he slowly inches a finger towards my hole. I can't help myself and moan as I feel him press a finger against me. And then, when he slips it inside—ooohhhhh, I need him right now!

I give his finger a gentle squeeze, letting him know I'm ready. He moves his paw out of the way and grips his dick. It's rock solid and glistening, with a leaking drop of precum on the tip. Absolute perfection. He presses his head against my hole, nestles the very tip inside, then grabs onto my thighs and shoves his hips up with practiced precision.

Reader. You can't even begin to understand the sheer ecstasy. The heat of his member filling me from the inside out. His girth sliding and pushing against me with every tiny movement. His moans as he drives himself deeper and deeper, his claws digging into my thighs as he pulls me closer to him. The soft, smooth skin of his balls against my ass when he gets as deep as he can. He says he can feel my heartbeat when he's hilted, and I nod, even though it's really just me squeezing his pole involuntarily. It's the closest we can get to being a single being.

Danny tells me to relax, and I do. My primitive brain is in charge now and commanding me to do whatever this beast orders. He starts rolling his hips, driving in as deep as he can before pulling partly back out. Even before the second push, I'm rock hard and dripping onto his belly. His cock has a lovely hourglass shape: girthy at the base and just below the head. I can feel each thrust throughout my entire body, making my dick bounce and leak each time his thighs bump against me. His chest heaves and falls as he pants, his belly presses against my balls and my dick. I can see the pleasure in his face: his partially closed eyes, how he bites his lower lip when he thrusts into me, the moans he gives when I tug and squeeze at him. Beauty, love, and passion, all wrapped into one angelic being. He says the same of me, but obviously it's not true. I'm just a regular old fox who got really lucky.

Our breaths are getting faster, our bodies hotter, our thoughts more distant. He's whimpering and clawing at me now, leaving streaks in my thigh fur, begging me to get him there. I lean back a bit, getting myself at just the right angle, then start thrusting my hips up and down in tune with his. He throws his head back and growls, and I know I hit it just right. There's another kind of heat in me now, going even deeper than his dick, seeping into all the places his member can't reach. I feel him throbbing deep in me, but I also feel a sort of fullness. It's his knot, swelling just inside of me and pulling his hips snugly against my ass. This is just enough to push me over the edge, and I can't hold back. All of my love and passion rushes down to my crotch and spills out onto Danny's chest, seeping into his chest fur. He grins and grinds against me as he watches me climax, trying to tease out as much as he can. I watch him lovingly scoop up a bit of cum with a finger and lick at it. He puts his finger out towards me and I obediently wrap my tongue around it, savoring the taste of him and myself. We both stare deeply into each others' eyes as we slowly descend back to earth, knowing that no matter what the world throws at us, it can never take away this experience.

Everyone calls us furries like it's a bad thing. But if this is part of what being furry is, why the fuck wouldn't you want to be one?

Hey everyone!

This will mainly serve as a place for my fiction writing. Primarily I enjoy gothic, maritime, and science fiction, as well as some fantasy! Hopefully I can start populating this with some short stories <3