The Callipygian Sublimation

A friend recently reminded me of one of the first things I ever read in public. It was at the Bowery Poetry Club, though it certainly wasn’t poetry. There were a few readings and some burlesque that night.

Little did I know that while waiting backstage to go on, all of the burlesque performers would get completely nude and casually chat with me, which was very distracting for novice Jack!

My reading went somewhat horribly, though I’m amused at the fabulously bombastic title of what I read. It’s also interesting how different my style was four years ago. I was more lyrical, but far more clumsy, which can have a charm of its own. Also, I am pretty sure I didn’t pronounce callipygian correctly.

The Callipygian Sublimation

She is a candy stranger. Perfect in the way someone you don’t know at all can be perfect. Her small breasts and her large hips and soft swell of an ass that seems nearly impossible on her tiny frame. Her thin waist and her wild hair. That exoticness that is so difficult for people to get right.

She is new to this, but she’ll do just fine. In fact, it’s hard to find regulars with an attitude so perfect for these games. Right for me, that is. Everyone wants something different from places like this. The Venn Diagrams of our emotional, physical and sexual wants. Cross-indexed by our needs.

She is smart, very smart, enthusiastic, very aware of her own desires. She isn’t in this to see, she is in this to get what she has needed for a while but didn’t have a name for. She wants to play, but not for keeps. Those words would be what a doctor would write on my prescription, if there were doctors for such things.

Read the rest on writingdirty.com

That Sort of Thing - Published

I’m excited to announce my new novella That Sort of Thing, the story of a woman named Valentine who meets a charming writer of risqué stories. As she is seduced by his words she is also confronted by the guilt of playing his taboo games. Will reality live up to the dirty fantasies?

This novella can be purchased as an ebook or an audiobook (recorded by me!) exclusively at writingdirty.com, though it will eventually be up on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Photo by Jack Stratton - blog.writingdirty.com

Thus this photo shoot comes to an end. I’m looking for new models in the NYC area. It has been an interesting journey both learning and remembering the technical side of photography, as well as finding my eye again. I enjoy it and it certainly informs and inspires my writing.

If you are interested in sitting for me, email or ask.

Photo by Jack Stratton - blog.writingdirty.com

Thus this photo shoot comes to an end. I’m looking for new models in the NYC area. It has been an interesting journey both learning and remembering the technical side of photography, as well as finding my eye again. I enjoy it and it certainly informs and inspires my writing.

If you are interested in sitting for me, email or ask.

Photo by Jack Stratton - blog.writingdirty.com

We agreed that there was a difference between me hitting her on the ass and a real spanking.

"What does it mean? I can’t fight back if it’s a real spanking?"

I laughed.

"You can fight back, certainly, I guess it is more about intention. When I just hit you my intent is to hurt you, control you, to wake up your body, maybe to push you to action."

She considered that.

"Well what is a spanking then?"

I stood up and walked over to her, eying her carefully.

"Spanking can be a lot of things, but the intent is more than just physical or sadistic. Spanking is a symbol of emotional closeness tied to power distance. I am spanking you because I know better than you or at least we are pretending that is true. You may be being punished or taught a lesson or cared for or just played with, but I have been given the power to do all of those things."

She turned and leaned against the closet door, arching her back and sticking her ass out.

"Right, so when you spank me you have the power. I’m not a little girl who can make you do anything I want, including spank me."

Damn.

Photo by Jack Stratton - blog.writingdirty.com

We agreed that there was a difference between me hitting her on the ass and a real spanking.

"What does it mean? I can’t fight back if it’s a real spanking?"

I laughed.

"You can fight back, certainly, I guess it is more about intention. When I just hit you my intent is to hurt you, control you, to wake up your body, maybe to push you to action."

She considered that.

"Well what is a spanking then?"

I stood up and walked over to her, eying her carefully.

"Spanking can be a lot of things, but the intent is more than just physical or sadistic. Spanking is a symbol of emotional closeness tied to power distance. I am spanking you because I know better than you or at least we are pretending that is true. You may be being punished or taught a lesson or cared for or just played with, but I have been given the power to do all of those things."

She turned and leaned against the closet door, arching her back and sticking her ass out.

"Right, so when you spank me you have the power. I’m not a little girl who can make you do anything I want, including spank me."

Damn.