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The store (part one)

The store (part one)

Stepping out of the car, the cold evening air hits my face like a bucket full of freezing water. Unusually cold evening for this time of year. Positioned under one of the still functioning lights, I overlook the street. Two people at the far left corner, discussing something, very aware of their surroundings, dealing drugs? A man, wobbling, probably drunk, walking away from a bar, passes by. I instinctly keep my arms up, ready to form a barrier. He doesn’t notice us. Another man, quickened pace, enters a door at the opposite end of the street. Casting my eyes upon the two-storey building, I know instantly that this is definitely the place.

Standing right behind me, at 5’2″ over one feet shorter than I, my sub is getting a bit restless. She is scanning her surroundings, aware of the fact that we are parked right in front of a sex shop, and a very dingy one at that. The door looks like a ten-year-old could break it down, the windows haven’t been washed in years and the neon name sign, shining a bright red light on the shop every few seconds, makes it looks even more sleezy. Peeking inside is made totally impossible by ugly curtains, that block any attempts to have a quick look to determine whether someone would even want to enter. Overall, this establishment seemed about as inviting as a bible belt bar to a black gay couple.
. I pinch her elbow and cup her chin, tilting her head upwards so that she has no choice but to look at me.

“You don’t feel like backing out, do you?”, I ask her.

She contemplates this question. I can see right through her, reading every tiny change in her stance, facial expression, the way her eyes move. It’s like reading a book for the tenth time. I know her answer long before she finally opens her mouth.

“I do, sir, I want to please you. It’s just…”

‘You’re ashamed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is that?”

Another question that bears some consideration. As the cold is starting to get to my bones and I’m eager to get started, I answer for her.

“You are ashamed because you are gonna let her out again.”

She nods ever so slightly.

I roll my eyes as I move my hand from her chin to her hair and pull her head back. Gently I slide my fingers under her skirt, which barely reaches half way to her knees. Her legs feel frozen, but the closer I get to her pussy, the more heated I find her skin. I slide into her panties and she moans as my finger finds her clit. Making sure not to overdo it, I rub my finger against it. Then I bend forward, going even further down her panties, to find out what I was actually looking for. I push deeper and deeper inside of her.

“You are soaking wet. Don’t tell me you don’t want this.”

A deep, raspy growl escapes from her mouth, as if a primal urge is awoken somewhere inside of her. She does want it, badly. The mere thought is making her horny beyond comprehension. When I feel she starts shuddering, near to her orgasm, I suddenly stop fingering her. Laconically I smell my fingers, dripping with her juices. I’m sure that my smirk must be a great sight.

“Lets go inside”. It’s not a question, but she knows that she can still backout. She just smiles and clings to me as we start moving. As I grab her hand, squeezing it to assure her I’ll be there every step of the way, we cross the street and enter the store.

April 21, 2014Read More


I’m pushed down on the rugged chair, towel draped over the cushion. He’s gotten cautious since the last time.
The minute I crouch, his hands are on my shoulders. The edge catches my back with a snap of bone on wood, too impatient for my indicate behavior.
He holds a firm grip on my neck, icepick locks of flesh, so forceful they may as well be metal straps.

I suck air in an attempt for mercy.
The collar rattles.
March 18, 2014Read More


This morning, she waves as I turn the corner and start the long silent walk home. My phone is dead. The sun should be out, but all that lays over the canal is a blanket of darkening grey storm. It’ll drizzle soon.

Reverse, motion in displacement, emotions muted out in comical displacement. Mouths gasping, the occasional dancing white shaking line of snow, up, ripped, scroll.

Press play.

February 25, 2014Read More
All Love is equal – fotoreeks van Braden Summers

All Love is equal – fotoreeks van Braden Summers

Liefde kent geen grenzen. Geen leeftijd, geen ras, religie noch geslacht. Alles is liefde en net dat wilde de New-Yorkse fotograaf Braden Summers vastleggen op de gevoelige plaat.

Met wat hulp van Kickstarter, hij haalde er 23 000 dollar op, trok Summers de wereld rond. De zelfverklaarde homo maakte prachtige beelden van gay en lesbische koppels uit Frankrijk, India, Libanon, Brazilië, Zuid-Afrika, de VS en de UK.

February 19, 2014Read More
Rest in peace, flutista

Rest in peace, flutista

For Alex, whose laugh will always stay with me.

I remember that day well, back in june 2012. You came over, all the way from Maastricht, taking a bus to some town in Belgium, not knowing a single word of Dutch. You made that trip just because I asked if you wanted to have a casual date together. Later you told me I hadn’t made that much of an impression on you in my message. You wouldn’t have come over if you weren’t extremely bored. That was so typical of you, always looking for potential adventure and thrills. We had a thrilling day alright. If our eyes had shot actual sparks, we’d have set that library ablaze. That time in the bathroom was the first of many.

February 11, 2014Read More
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I sped to a run, jumped and smacked the mailbox with a whooping moan, feet 10 inches of the sidewalk. I’d already seen the snap once, I should have known the overload of perfectly tanned models, flashes of outraged parties and overloads of testosterone would get the better of my sleep deprived, sex crazed mind.

February 5, 2014Read More
Moan at the moon: een week in Parijs

Moan at the moon: een week in Parijs

We hadden twee maanden met elkaar gechat, en wisten nauwelijks iets van de ander. En toch hadden we onze zinnen op deze ontmoeting gezet. Ze kwam helemaal uit de VS, haar eerste reis naar Europa, en we zouden een weekje samen spenderen. Nieuwsgierigheid en zin in avontuur hadden de overhand gehad in onze beslissing. Het was in ieder geval geen love at first sight. De vlucht was haar humeur en natuurlijke charme niet ten goede gekomen. Terwij we samen met de Thalys naar Parijs reden, voor een verblijf van vijf dagen, lag ze met open mond en gesloten ogen van de jetlag te bekomen. Horrorscenario’s begonnen zich af te spelen in mijn hoofd. Wat als we elkaar offline maar niets vonden? Ik zag mezelf al een zaag bovenhalen, om ons tweepersoonsbed à la Looney Tunes doormidden te zagen. Deze angst bleek totaal onnodig, aangezien een kort dutje wonderen deed voor onze chemie. De vonk sloeg snel over en die avond was zeer memorabel en met bijzonder veel passie, het eerste van veel sexy momenten die week.

January 27, 2014Read More
Beauty is an attitude

Beauty is an attitude

No matter who you are, there are parts of you that are beautiful and parts that aren’t beautiful. It’s hard to accept those parts that aren’t beautiful for a lot of people, but they aren’t the whole package. It’s hard for people to accept that they are beautiful.

January 23, 2014Read More