This Week's Picks: Sugasm.

This Week’s Picks
Confessional: Breaking the Girl
“And that’s why I’ll love it, that’s what will fuel me to dig deeper.”

Does Art imitate Life or Life Art?
“We were experimental and conventional and some times both in the same round of sex. ”

It burns…
“And this is no sweet kissing”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
A Porn Customer Protests

Sugasm Editor
Fetish Fridays: Teabagging

Editor’s Choice
Light Me Up Right

More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

A Woman called Dangerous

What more should be said of Dangerous?

Women equally love Dangerous, and fear her. Women long to be Dangerous, and judge her simultaneously.
The same could be said of men.
And is certainly true of the author of this hymn. This adulation of Dangerous.

Dangerous has red hair, the kind of red hair that called to the stake in centuries past. Her hair is noticeable in the shade of forest and clouds and trees, but it is in the sun that her hair ignites. Her hair burning down her back reaching to her knees, so that the fool may mistake it for real fire and run for water in order to save her. To save Dangerous from her flaming red hair.

She does not walk so much as slither, does not slither so much as smolder. While angelic women sparkle and playful women dance, Dangerous oozes, radiating her sex like heat from pavement in early March, unexpected and oh so very dangerous.

Her body is full and ripe and inviting. Her glance strong, confident and mischievous. Her smile claims secrets she will never reveal.

All her lovers have hidden photographs of Dangerous’ breasts. The drunken fools who have known her for a long time have yellowed snapshots, from real film, the edges frayed from too much handling.

Her nipples swollen from the kisses of her other lovers, and your bite marks decorate her body like wanton jewelry. Her surrender in each moment is complete, and she wears the whiplash marks from your single-tail with pride.

Her ass is round and inviting as she lowers it over your face. You may smell, she whispers, but you may not eat. She drips into your mouth, and she dances her ass her cunt over your face.

She is as tasty as she is beautiful. She pisses on you, gifts you the bitterness the sweetness the longing of her. This is your reward. Longing and a sniff; if she favors you, you may lick. Her flavor the sweet honey of pleasures past.

Her pussy resembles a lioness in full heat. She will open to you, each petal with its own life and fragrance. Damp, moist, dripping wet, she invites you to fill her. Her desire is powerful, intense, compelling. Deny her or come to her. It makes no difference. Whatever you decide will be your peril.

Dangerous teases boy into man late at night, while you sleep in sweet unknowing. He will seek Dangerous for the rest of his life, and if fate toys with him, he will meet her. It will be his last rational moment.

Madmen have their own tales of the search for Dangerous.

She will give you anything. But be careful, she will give you exactly what you ask. You may not get it in the way or in the time that you hoped for. You may not want it once you get it. But you will be changed forever by the encounter.

She will leave before you are ready. Guaranteed. The lucky ones she has loved will guard their memories like stolen diamonds.

There is a reason she is called Dangerous.
Beware.
Beware.
And Beware.

A Three Way with Adonis

We met at Summer Camp. No, not the YMCA day camp you attended when you were 8. Not the sleepover camp of your early adolescence, where you and your new best friend snuck out at night to paddle silently to the Boys Camp across the lake. And it’s not the camp where you were a counselor when you were 18 -- that year you were sent home for being a bad influence on the kiddies.

No this Summer Camp was one of wanton disregard for such small things as curfew, and street-ready clothing, and prohibitions against pissing outside. On your friends.

This Summer Camp was peopled by leather wearing sadists, and bois who will shine your shoes, if you ask their Daddy. And men who line up for the gang-bang, fluffed by a famous pornstar, and gorgeous women suspended in trees. The sex lounges are full of sweaty bodies, and you can watch or play. And trannys dressed so fine they outshine the sun goddess, and it is Summer Camp.

Summer Camp where most of the sports involve blood, or whips, or ropes made of hemp, or flame or floggers. Where the zoo contains very pettable ponies, and Power is met with Surrender. Where sissy bois serve coffee and bourbon, and your cabinmate may wake up in your bed. Where the dungeon is a 24 hour affair, and the blinding rhythms spun by the best dressed DJ on earth rock your world.

I was fucking Rascal outside by the pool, wearing my gorgeous strap on (Leather By Danny) and my double header. We were on the Liberator Pad, and had brought the usual supplies…butt lube, Magnum XLs for Rascal and a bottle of wine, some chocolate and strawberries for later. We also had random blankets and pillows, which gradually began to fill up with spectators.

A couple of friends stopped by to compare technique, and to fondle Rascal. I got a lovely kiss from The Beautiful Grrl With The Innocent Smile, and we made a date for later that afternoon.

Adonis strolled by and sat down on a blanket next to us. Adonis is exactly the type of Boi-o Dangerous enjoys. He is tall and slender and blond, and sweet and painfully shy. I longed to touch him, and invited him to play with us. Rascal and me. Adonis was willing, and the juicy wet kisses began.

In that place of ignited sexy energy, it didn’t really matter whose lips were on my lips, whose nipple I was biting or whose dick in my hand, in my mouth. Juicy wet and hot, the consciousness shift, altered as though drugged. My dick in my cunt. My dick in Rascal’s ass. Adonis sucking Rascal’s cock, Rascal sucking Adonis’ cock. His cock in my mouth. My teeth in his chest. Him finally fucking my ass, while I fucked Rascal’s.

Sounds swirling around us all—Adonis murmering, Rascal vibrating, and me “oh!” and “oh!” again.

Dissolving into whose parts were whose. Teeth and lips and sighs and cocks and assholes, and all melting into Pleasure.

Pleasure.

And then a nap in the sun. And the admiration of the spectators and the passers-by.

Later we feed each other strawberries and chocolate, and passed wine between our mouths and someone brought us ice cream and we shared that as well.

Then, I gathered my belongings and threw them all on The Liberator and wandered away for my date with The Beautiful Grrl With The Innocent Smile.

My smile was dangerous.

Loving Seelie

A brunette, her eyes are Brown and Green and Gold…definitely not hazel, she looks at her lover through seelie eyes, The Seelie Eyed Grrl.

Her armpits are furry, her legs as well. Her pussy warm and wet and mysterious. She smells of lotus flower petals dropping one by one. She smells of the forest floor near the stream. She smells of May grass freshly mown and of the cool earth in July. She smells of snow, and rain, and violets. She smells of glittering days before. She smells dirty and sweaty and full and ripe. She smells of longing and desire and the semen of her lovers.

She leaves bite marks on my body with her perfect teeth. These marks never fade, and years later will thrill me in the sight of them, each sight of them bringing alive the exquisite agony of her teeth burrowing into my chest, my nipples my armpits my thigh my cunt.

Her breasts are firm and full and hang tantalizingly close to my mouth, always just out of reach. Her nipples puffy, swollen. Her ass is compact and smooth and soft with a dimple on one side. Her ass is often photographed, and it is especially pretty with bright pink handprints of a sound spanking across her cheeks.

She licks my juices from the fingers of our shared lover with a greediness that causes me, Dangerous, to become shy and blush.

Sometimes we play with our lover together, his cock passed between us in an utterly abandoned frenzy of tongues, fingers and occasionally, teeth. When he moans, we smile like conspirators, like children eating stolen peaches. When he cums, we kiss, sharing that amazing gift of our lover. His semen entering us, in that kiss, that kiss that we share.

The Seelie Eyed Grrl and Dangerous.

Licking Ass in Sordid Hotel Rooms

Every once in a while I meet an asshole. In a world where a cock ring constitutes "dressed for dinner," it would be difficult to miss them.

When I am wildly outta control aroused, that is to say, when I am Dangerous, I like to eat ass. I'm ambivalent really about having my ass eaten. I love a nice rimming and really adore a good ass fuck, but the tongue thrusting in and out doesn't really do it for me. Frankly it is too small for that. But if you like my tongue in and outta your ass, well, we should talk.


The ass I most like to eat belongs to my boifriend, Rascal. Actually I like doing lots of things to Rascal's ass. I will penetrate his asshole with anything I have....my tongue, fingers, vibrators, dildos in strap-ons. Especially, dildos in strap-ons.

Once in a three way with Seelie Eyes, I fucked Rascal's ass with my finger while he fucked her with his bio-dick. I could feel and caress the root of his gorgeous cock as he was pushing in and out of her beautiful and wide open pussy. I was closer than a porn shot. I could smell the smells of their sex, and see her labia contract and relax as she rose to meet him and when she came, I got her juices all over my face.

Wow that was hot.


Oh even better, once when he was fucking DC Dakini, I licked both of their asses like a giant ice cream cone. Up over her rosebud, around her taint, gliding over his balls, his taint, then circling his asshole and back down. Over and over, that same slow languid way, licking and sucking gently, and perhaps not so gently, on his balls, then finally greedily down to her ass again. Then I fucked them both in the ass. Right hand for him, left hand for her (I am careful about things like that). I could feel his dick pounding in her cunt through her ass, and the root of his cock as he moved inside of her. She's the quiet type, and when she came it was sweet really, a big sigh, a spasm. He came with a bit more force, and with my fingers in his ass, I felt the entire thing. It sent me over the edge, and I came, too.

I am not especially the quiet type.


Later DC Dakini and Rascal and I played in the shower. Then we dressed for dinner, me in my leathers, DC Dakini in her girly stuff. What did Rascal wear?

Well, Rascal wore his cock ring, of course.



Aside: Thank you, kinky reader, for your patience when I was ill. Feeling much better now, and planning more tales of Once Upon Dangerous....your feedback welcome!

The Cartographer of Pussy

Once in Europe, a friend asked me to look at her pussy. She thought it was deformed. In fact, she had an appointment with a 'beauty surgeon" to have her inner labia removed, to make her pussy look more like she thought everyone else's Pussy looked.

Clearly she has not looked at as many Pussies as I have.

After a show and tell involving 12 ladies with wildly unique and mesmerizingly beautiful Pussys, my friend canceled her appointment for a clitorectomy and vulvoplasty. A small victory for Pussy worldwide, perhaps, but a major victory for my friend. She discovered her Pussy was beautiful.

Betty Dodson ( see her webpage ) taught me alot about Pussy, although at the time I was mostly interested in the Pussy of the grrl I was interested in.

Her name really was Lola, although she preferred to be call Truth. She was living in a communal house with her Squeeze and her two kids, and THIS GUY that I liked. I had hitchhiked across the county to give him a blow job, but he was freaked by my commitment to his semen, so I bunked in with Squeeze and Truth. Slept with Truth in the middle to keep it respectable.

Slept with Squeeze and Truth, innocently, like cousins sharing a bed. Like cousins sharing a bed, we carefully avoided touching, just an accidental butt to thigh as we turned over. And turned over, restless in our sleep, turned over again. And turned over again, then my hand brushed her side close to her breast, ripe, and ripely forbidden. Squeeze was snoringly oblivious to us, when I tentatively reached to cup her breast in my hand. The breast of Truth nestled in my hand. I was deeply thrilled, like a 10 year old discovering Pleasure.

Me on my left side, my right arm flung over her waist and my right hand caressing her breast. Her breast heavy and sullen with the milk for her youngest, and I toying with it, found my fingers swimming in a deluge of her.

I nuzzled her, her nipples moist, my lips moist, licking, and biting, and then I was sucking. Sucking and swallowing and being fed by this mother-womb'un. Fed in a ritualistic holy and purely sexual (what else could one call it but it's own name?) encounter, breath to breast, milk on tongue, nipple deep in my mouth. Her milk pouring down my throat and I fell in love. In love with this womb'un named Lola, but called Truth.

Truth stroked my hair and made little whimpering noises. Her sounds woke up Squeeze, and when he began to stroke her Pussy, i became very shy, serious. After all Squeeze was her man. He had a dick. He would be able to finish what i had started.

I was 19. It was a long time ago. I think I got up to make pancakes or something equally ridiculous. When I wandered back to the bedroom to serve them coffee, Squeeze was on top of Truth in a sort of missionary position and they were both whimpering. Neither noticed the coffee or me.

After I left that house in Americus, Kansas, I was determined to learn everything I could about Pussy. I wanted to be able to give Pleasure to Pussy, to 'finish what i started.' I dedicated myself to the exploration of Pussy. I aspired to become The Cartographer of Pussy.

Not such an easy task, I soon discovered. When I finally found myself eye-to-eye with Pussy, I became energetically tongue-tied. Unable to remember what to do, I hummed. And hummed, and hummed, etc. A human vibrator. The womb'un attached to Pussy thanked me later, "It was so beautiful."

Damnation. I really wanted to rock her world.
Beautiful, I reasoned, was for pussies.



aside: THIS GUY never overcame his reluctance to cum in my mouth and that was the last time I saw him. He now wears khakis to work every day and sells sofas to up and coming faculty at KU. Many years later, I named my first dog after him. The story entertained guests for 14 years.

The Poet and The Princess

The Poet has a delicious ass. I like to spank The Poet until his bottom is red and warm.
Then we fuck, locking eyes; his crazy with wildness of desire and mine lost in pleasure. Remembering that makes me wet.

The Poet writes me poetry (who would have guessed?) and it is tender and holy and romantic. I respond with sexy thoughts and he literally blushes.

I once bit him so hard that he asked me to stop. I guess blood streaming down over his nipples and chest was his boundary.


Aside: People I know talk a lot about boundaries. I’ve attended entire workshops on boundaries. (Negotiating Boundaries with Your Lover, BDSM and Boundaries, etc) To me it is really simple-if you do something that you later regret, you’ve probably crossed your boundaries. It would be really cool to know your boundaries before you let your boyfriend take photographs of you licking your boyfriend’s dog’s balls, but hey nobody’s perfect.


The Princess is very flirty but she doesn't play very often. That is her boundary. She once danced over me stark nakkid as I lay on the floor with The Poet. I could see her pussy as she moved to the music. Remembering that makes me wet, too.

The Poet and The Princess live together. (Tres romantic, n'est-ce pas?) They like to throw outrageous parties, and I like to go and be outraged.

Once at a party at The Poet and The Princess's house a guy I don't know very well (aka, He Who Needs) wanted to have a serious navel-examining conversation with me in the Temple Space, amidst sweaty, writhing bodies. That did not make me wet and I said no thank you.

That was me exercising my boundaries.