Friday, 25 January 2013


The Tango -- alluring, sexy, provocative. A dance of exotic erotica.  It’s a piece of performance art telling an ancient tale. A tale that began with Lilith, Adam’s first wife and her refusal to accept Adam’s dominance over her. Lilith just would not tolerate Adam laying on top of her when they had sex. It is a narrative that has been re -told, re-invented hundreds of times over the millennia. Through the medium of dance and spectacle the Tango tells the enduring tale of the dominant persistence of the male, and the equally powerful resistance of the female.

The Tango is a sensual dance which involves a negotiation of power. The male controls the female; she responds to his demand. Sometimes she responds with resistance and rebellion; she seizes the power for herself for a few brief seconds. It is a slow seduction. He caresses her gently, seductively; sometimes not so gently. His caresses can border on erotic violence.

It is not like the waltz, where the male gently manipulates his partner, telling her with his body where he wants her to go. The female in the Tango has a mind of her own. If he lowers his guard for a second she will devour him, annihilate  him with her energy. The observer becomes aware of an energetic field created by the dancers’ inner selves and emotional expression.

In the tango there are smooth horizontal movements that are strong and determined. It is danced in close full, upper body contact. The dancers are very low with long steps and no up and down movements. Forward steps land on the heel; in backward steps the dancer pushes forward from the heel.

There is room for improvisation; sometimes he may accentuate the long line of her body with a caress of his hand. Her fingers may glide over the breadth of his shoulder; they are intensely erotic moments. Their audience draw a hiss of a breath. How do they dare behave so flagrantly with the party looking on? And the Tango, of course can be danced, for brief moments alone; the two dancing for their own seductive pleasure. The dancers respond to Terpsichore the Muse of Dance and Music. Their response is physical, emotional and intellectual.

Tango is a fluid dialogue where the bodies talk and surprise each other step after step. He bends her body into impossible positions, shaping her, forming her, teaching her. She retaliates and swirls furiously away from him.

“Historically, the Tango is a dance that has influences from European and African culture. Dances from the candombe ceremonies of former slave peoples helped shape the modern day Tango. The dance originated in lower-class districts of Buenos Aires and Montevideo. The music derived from the fusion of various forms of music from Europe. The word "tango" seems to have first been used in connection with the dance in the 1890s. Initially it was just one of the many dances, but it soon became popular throughout society, as theatres and street barrel organs spread it from the suburbs to the working-class slums, which were packed with hundreds of thousands of European immigrants, primarily Italians, Spanish and French.

“In the early years of the 20th century, dancers and orchestras from Buenos Aires travelled to Europe, and the first European tango craze took place in Paris, soon followed by London, Berlin, and other capitals. Towards the end of 1913 it hit New York in the USA, and Finland. In the USA around 1911 the word "tango" was often applied to dances in a 2/4 or 4/4 rhythm such as the one-step. The term was fashionable and did not indicate that tango steps would be used in the dance, although they might be. Tango music was sometimes played, but at a rather fast tempo. Instructors of the period would sometimes refer to this as a "North American tango", versus the so-called "Argentine Tango". By 1914 more authentic tango stylings were soon developed, along with some variations like Albert Newman's "Minuet" tango.

“The Tango consists of a variety of styles that developed in different regions and areas of Argentina as well as in other locations around the world. The dance developed in response to many cultural elements, such as the crowding of the venue and even the fashions in clothing. The styles are mostly danced in either open embrace, where lead and follow have space between their bodies, or close embrace, where the lead and follow connect either chest-to-chest (Argentine tango) or in the upper thigh, hip area (American and International tango.)
Paragraphs in quotes from WIKI.

For more on “The Embrace in Tango” click here

“Bora Toska, a Tango dancer, interviewed Javier Rodriguez Javier Rodriguez an important figure in today’s tango world. Ever since his glorious partnership with Geraldine, he’s captured the minds and hearts of tango aficionados around the world, even achieving cult-like status in some places.”

“Above all,’ he said ‘ you have to have the embrace. And the embrace is one only. It can be more open or more closed, very tight or at one meter distance and you can still be embracing another person in the perfect connection. If you know how to embrace and take into you another person’s body, everything else can be fixed.”

Here are Patricio Toucuda and Carla Chimento dancing their version of the Argentine Tango.

Friday, 18 January 2013


 The writer  Italo Calvino  says;

“In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost precision.”

When the innovative M.Christian and Alyn Rosselini suggested food and erotica as a theme for Sizzler’s latest anthology, “A Lover’s Feast, I was reminded of Italo Calvino’s words.

Sex and food. Food and sex. The two are inextricably linked. The stories here celebrate their unique relationship. Whether it’s teen lovers slurping down hot dogs, washed down with Pepsi, or a dinner of the finest cuisine, eaten lovingly by a sophisticated gourmet, we watch each other as we eat.

We bite, we swallow, we lick our fingers, we kiss and taste each other.

Here is what Sizzler have to say about their great new anthology.

"Food and sex – sex and food: two great things that can be even better together! From soothing chocolate to spicy meatballs the stories in this brand new erotic anthology edited by two masters of the genre - M.CHRISTIAN and ALYN ROSSELINI - feature stories by the crème-de-la-crème of sexual and literary cooking and will tickle your sensual taste buds and stir your pot of erotic thrills.

"Basting lovers, cooking orgies, steaming hot encounters, straight as well as queer taste treats ... the stories in HUNGER: A FEAST OF SENSUAL TALES OF SEX AND GASTRONOMY will push boundaries everyone's pleasurable buttons – both erotic and gastronomic: these are stories that will arouse, amuse, amaze, and whet your appetite for more!


And Sizzler’s writers have delivered in quality and abundance. As I read the stories, I think of taste, aroma, texture, moist inside my mouth, crumbling in my fingers; like these stories in “A Lover’s Feast”, playing havoc with my senses. I am gluttonous, as I gorge on these sexy tales.

In “A Meal”, Susan St.Aubin, has Evelyn preparing a meal for the man in her life, her lover Hal and the woman in her life, her lover, Rebecca. The point of view moves between the characters, telling of desire, lust, jealousy. Two girls and a guy, it should have all gone so smoothly, but lust for the flavour of food, overtakes the lust for sex. The salmon mornay, scooped and slurped from scallop shells is too delicious. Susan St.Aubin is talking about the dark side of desire. Evelyn has tried to control desire and it has turned around and bitten her.

But what surprises her most of all, is that Hal is repelled by what Rebecca has in her mouth.

In “Jeb’s Wife”, Dominic Santi gives us three guys and a girl. Kaylee loves to cook. The guys love to eat; they all love to do other things. Through the delectable style of Kaylee’s homemaking skills, the four ravenous friends bring a whole new aspect to the notion of coming together. Whenever I  have read Dominic Santi’s stories, I have always been drawn to, and impressed with the way he conjures up visual images. In “Jeb’s Wife”, he excels at writing spectacle. The orgy in the final paragraph, is loaded, saturated with excess. And it works.

Kirsten Imani Kasai’s contribution to the anthology is “Best Served Cold.” It is a skilful dish of betrayal, love; a haunting mix of recipes turned into a powerful lament. It is a story that stays with you, long after you have read the final paragraph.

In “Une Apetito Rubusto”, Renatto Garcia, has Gwen on holiday in Italy, with her girl friends. It is supposed to be a male free holiday. Gwen has taken a vow of abstinence, more than that; she has sworn off men for life. Then she meets Cristoforo, “with eyes the shape of ripe olives”. They drink wine in a bar; Blanc de Morgex, Petite Arvine, Picotendro. The exotic names are a slow tango of seduction. Cristoforo educates Gwen in the subtle arts of taste, aroma, texture. In a scene of pure, undiluted erotica, Gwen swoons into a bathtub of Italian marble; she is  saturated with wonderful, luscious grapes and red, red wine.

Then there is Giselle Renarde’s tale, “The Sweetest Burn”. A woman becomes a vessel on which to serve Chef’s latest concoction. She is a platter; she also holds the secret ingredient within her skin and Chef’s expert tongue wants to taste and test the balance of flavours. Her sweat and bodily fluids enhance the recipe. The writer draws on the sensation of touch, as Chef laps, sucks and slurps his way over her flesh. “Her flesh was a regular bouquet garni of human aromas.”

And another Chef, in Gregory L. Norris’ “Foodie”. Marcel wakes up in the middle of a crazed fantasy. At least, as far as looming into consciousness and realising that you’re bound and helpless is a fantasy. Marcel is the current “it” man of the TV celebrity chef world. While in bondage, Marcus is feasted upon; his bodily secretions are pronounced as delicious by the “foodie”. Whether it’s a marinade or a glaze; a garnish to a delectable salad or an icy swirling decoration in a frosted glass, Marcus is there to be consumed.

The stories in this fabulous anthology have resonance. Perhaps it’s a moment in a restaurant, a bar, or a café  or sharing coffee and croissants in bed with your first lover. A secluded picnic beneath an oak tree or catching and cooking a plump fish on a barbeque. The smoky aroma drifts and lingers.

Watching your lover cook with his fingers, eat with his fingers and getting turned on. Both of you.

Deep, dark green extra virgin olive oils and fragrant raspberry vinegars, gooey, slippery egg yolks separated from their whites. Oysters swallowed whole, slipping slowly down your throat. Peppery, yellow and orange nasturtium flowers scattered into a salad of green rocket with tiny, ripe, sweet vine tomatoes. Flavour and sensation, bursting on your tongue. Lapiz blue borage flowers crushed into chilled Pimms with chinking chunks of ice. Fragrant, golden honeysuckle flowers decorate an airy lemon soufflé. Pink damask rose petals scattered over a white, linen table cloth. Pomegranate  seeds, staining mouths scarlet, little rubies hinting at the forbidden, bitter and sweet. Runny golden honey, crunchy, dripping, sticky eaten straight from the comb. White of egg, slimy, then whipped into a white, fluffy, crisp Pavlova. And smooth, dark chocolate, silky on the tongue, slowly melting.

And while writing this review, I am reminded of a scene from Tony Richardson’s great 1963 film, “Tom Jones.”

The famous, sex-drenched eating scene between Tom (Albert Finney) and, (all unknowingly) possibly his mother Mrs. Waters (Joyce Redman) begins naturally enough with big steaming pewter bowls of soup. Mrs. Waters leans over the table and lustily slurps big round spoonfuls, her breasts tumbling out of her bodice, with a more-than-come-hither look. Tom, nearly overcome, involuntarily rips a claw off the langouste he has in his hand and sucks happily on it. Drafts of ale, turkey, oysters, pears, and wine are then dispatched with loving attention.

M.Christian and Alyn Rosselini’s  “Hunger!” anthology, has its roots in the spirit of Henry Fielding’s novel, published in 1749 and Tony Richardson’s 1963 film; both entitled “Tom Jones”.

And “Hunger is out now! Shortly to be available at Amazon, you can buy it here at Sizzler!

Friday, 11 January 2013


Paul Thomas is a fellow tweeter. That is all I know about him. I don’t know where to find him on the planet other than in the Twitter archives.

 Like a lot of artists, Paul is elusive; an enigma. He is also a great photographer and I am delighted to share with you Paul’s wildly erotic pictures.

So it is from Twitter that I have got to know Paul’s work. Weeks will go by and nothing. Then he will post a couple of pictures; he teases and titillates!  Then again, for a while, there will be nothing at all.

Others post their pictures, usually with a “that’s what I call sexy” tweet. I tweet sarcastically -- “not sexy! Where’s Paul Thomas when you need him?” Then Paul will surprise me, maybe posting 5 or 6 erotic photographs. Bliss!

Whenever Paul posts a picture, I re-tweet it. Then I began playing with the idea of running a blog post featuring his work. So I asked his permission: I posted a tweet into the void. “I’d love to run a blog post about your stuff!”

 Like any reclusive artist, he ignores me. I persist -- still nothing. “Are you listening Paul Thomas?” Then finally, “Yes pse run a blog post hugs!”

Paul’s erotica inspires my own erotic stories; the images ooze sensuality. There are any number of narratives to be discoved. Beautiful women in bondage; tied, gagged, blindfolded -- and acquiescing.

 Paul deconstructs the female image, sometimes just a slender ankle, the foot in impossibly high heeled shoes.

 At other times the woman confronts the viewer; she stares back at us, challenging us. Judge her if you dare. This is the position she has chosen, and her choice is a decision born of the intellect. And she gives pleasure; the pleasure is all for the viewer.

Through his pictures Paul celebrates the female form.

As I say, I don’t know which country, or continent to begin searching for Paul Thomas. I don’t even know if Paul Thomas is his real name.

 But I will say no more -- I offer no commentary. The viewer doesn’t need to be guided. I’ll let Paul’s erotica speak for itself.

To see more of Paul’s incredible body of work -- erotica and otherwise, click here.


Friday, 4 January 2013


A while back, I wrote a story; “Will you be my Mommy?” It’s in my Fetish Worship collection. The tale explores the fetish of Infantilism. I talked about the despair and isolation that I imagine having such a fetish can be -- the feeling of being the only person in the world who feels like that. Of having no-one to communicate with. The shame of being found out; of being laughed and sneered at. I think I struck the right tone -- going on the comments I’ve had on my story. So I followed it up with another story; “I’m sorry Mommy!” where I explore further the deepening sexual and the intensely emotional relationship between my two protagonists. I introduced lactation fetish -- a desire to suckle and drink milk from a woman’s breast. The two seemed to fit together. And there were more excited comments.

“Paraphilic Infantilism is also known as autoepiophilia , or adult baby syndrome and it involves role playing and regressing to an infant like state. Behaviours may include drinking from a bottle, or wearing diapers. Those involved in the role play can engage in gentle, nurturing experiences; an adult who only engages in an infantilistic play is known as an adult baby. Others may be attracted to wearing diapers; the Infantilist may urinate or defecate in them. Some may want to be punished and be attracted to masochistic, coercive, punishing or humiliating experiences. As with a lot of BDSM role play, it is the one receiving the punishment, or the humiliation -- it is he or she who actually controls the way the scenario is played.

“It seems that little research has been done on the subject of Infantilism. It has been linked to masochism and a variety of other paraphilia. It has been confused with paedophilia but the two conditions are distinct and infantalists  do not seek children as sexual partners.”

I talked with my friend, Fulani the writer, about Infantilism. Here is what Fulani suggests;

“From the brief chats I’ve had the motivation is usually around the need for a mother figure who will look after the adult baby’s life and make the world feel ‘safe’ -- though obviously since we’re talking about adults it’s sexualised as well though this is more often expressed through spanking/smacking. And some, though not all, adult babies go all the way back to the idea of being able to do absolutely anything in their playpen or cot including soil their nappies. One or two of the adult babies I’ve met talk about it as being a refuge from stressed business jobs, though one or two others don’t make that link, had normal upbringings as far as they know and just feel that need for continued babyhood for no reason that they can articulate. But then I don’t think I can articulate my fetishes either, so I’m in no position to look down my nose at them! In some ways the more interesting characters are the women who respond to that fetish and act as ‘mothers’ or ‘nurses’. Again, I personally can’t see why they’d want to engage with that fetish, but clearly some do -- and there are a few pro domes who specialise in it.”