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Quim Magazine, 1994

"I love it when you get that look. Big, beautiful butch that you are. The girl comes out all over your face. In your skin, in your smile and oh, baby when it gets to your eyes. That's when it gets to me. You fucking flirt, giving me all that girlie come-on. You even wiggle your hips at me. Do you know what that does to me? Knowing what's underneath the boys t-shirt and Levi's. Smooth skin, soft tits, beautiful lovely waist so perfectly indented for me to wrap my hands around, to begin that slide into the full curve of your hips. And so I sink. Into the lushness of your body, hands full of flesh, where do I begin? I want to run my hands lightly over all that lushness. Big thighs, meaty arse, I turn into a carnivore.

Grabbing handfuls of you, feeling that I could tear you apart just to get a taste of you. Knowing that I would kill you just for the satisfaction of getting inside of you. But all that is unnecessary, isn't it? Cuz, baby when that looks gets to your eyes, you've already given it up, I'll just sit here and watch you as you give it to me.

Step out of your clothes, stand naked for me, woman. Show me who you are. Yes, that's it, down on your back where all good little girls belong. Don't bother looking at me, you are going to do this anyway. So, fuck you. You selfish cunt, you dirty bitch. Squirming around on the bed like that, touching your tits. Yes, I see you. You don't care do you? As long as you can feel like this, wet, nasty, oh God, you are just depraved, aren't you?

So you push your cunt up against your hand. I land and hips moving at a frantic pace. Your head tosses from side to side, mouth working, neck straining. I have this urge, to walk over to you, grab you by that bit of hair on top of your head. To still the motion of you. Pin your arms under the weight of me on my knees, straddling your chest. My cunt over you, clothed so you can't see me but yes, you smell me.

Angry now aren't you? Just about to come, you were. So now you hate me. You could just heave your hips and throw me right off of you, you know you can. But will you let me stay? Will you lay there, watch me as I slide my hand down the front of my pants. Will you let me tease you with the closeness of my heat, the shrouded motion of my hand. Can you hate me as I gaze down on you, your resigned frustration filling my heart, my soul, my every nerve with love for you?

You give me this and I promise, I swear, I will fill you up. I will fuck you like no other. I will crawl inside of you, carefully still, tucked into a tiny ball. Awaiting your want, your need for me. Then I will explode, filling you again and again until you beg me to stop. Come to me, my baby."

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“Dykes and Their Cars” by Chloe Sherman

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‘wear what you paint’ thank you for profiling me and my new collection @metal_magazine 🖌✨ (at New York, New York)

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Paris lesbian club, 1934

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Lavender & Lace (1964) Selbee Associates

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Feminine Inspiration

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Erotica “2019”

Photographed by Marc Vincent (me)

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pictures titled “just a girl and her dogs” but they’re all pictures of men in a submissive stance to the woman

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Rosa von Praunheim - A Virus Knows No Morals (1986)

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Helene Appel, Spilled Water, 2017, watercolour and acrylic on linen, 46 x 34 cm www.theapproach.co.uk www.p420.it www.jamescohan.com www.galerie-ruediger-schoettle.de

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