why is he attractive?
he was proud,
a full century before the rest of us
because he does not promis security
only trash, filth, heaven
. . . . .

and then:
something for
not sure e-mail adres
is still valid though
hot ass, unknownn author

colourfuck ;
I'm a lightdesigner, as you may know,
this is how I coloured the vagevuur scatmovie,
with lots of reds and blues, green even
(as brown is not a useful gelcolor),
is was to be released in '03
but then in 2004,
the Dutch perv-sex place-of-pilgrimage for 3 decades
decided to side with the prudes
and close down.

for more on that legendary video and scat-art
look here.
not very active in this field though
since soulmate Martin of Holland died june 2011
but every now and then I still play and film some more

Once more:
Sonnet: To the Asshole

Dark, puckered hole: a purple carnation
That trembles, nestled among the moss
the wet of love still covering the gentle curvation
Of the white ass, just to the royal eyelet.

Threads resembling milky tears there are spun;
Spray forced back by the south wind's cruel threat
Across the small balls of brown shit has run,
To drip from the crack, which craves for it yet.

Not wishing the prick to have its bent,
My mouth too has often mated with that vent,
My sobbing tongue tried to devour the rose

Flowering in brown moisture. The chute unmanned,
It's a heavenly jam-pot, the Promised Land
Which with other milk and honey overflows!

Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine, ca. 1871
(Trans. J. Murat and W. Gunn)

 Frank Stausberg
Mount me like a female,
I need to fuck in its behind.
Yeah, just right! as I drill
my thickness gently into your shute.

Sliding through butter I can simultaneously
grab your lips above
and let my tongue play
its wild, sweet, horny game. Sink deep in your eyes,
that focus mine onto your chest.
a Sultry dreamy jumble sucks
me into a resurging bout of lust.

I caress your back's nerves
the armpit's soft fur,
the hair, neck, moist enamel
the flanks, trembling of expectation.

Your hole, riding my thighs,
weighing its sweetest burden
in which my paunch rises and sinks
serving you equal delight.

And you, my little one, really soar!
as I see your cock shaking upward
and curv towards the heavens
keenly inflates and grows persistently.

Good god, yet a drop pops up
from your rosy chalice, a lucky star!
I swallow it swiftly,
licking and drooling even more myself.

Sure don't want to swindle you from your gust
sprouting from the sweetest glans
that your fever lets you
flood royally

you sweet, bight heavenly source
your noble milk, from your flood
rises this scent, in its glow
the tree of life flowers swell

and to you comes the vulture, the austere
who beggingly claims relief
the bitterness that hurts
the desire for you, that kills me

yet blissfully and exquisite flows
the gift of your youth
and baptises with its rich fluid
all of my luck intoxicated being.

this was the first time that just words, I even read in German, had my dripping below my desk (no hands).
more amazing Rex inkdots at the db/queerart masterclass and at his own site
Need more Verlaine in English ?