Painting with Body Parts #47: Cherry-Stained Fantasia

Art & Erotic Art, painting with body parts

Daydream with me

Across the cherry-stained fantasia

Of my pink-painted heliophilic hideaway

Where primordial trees of gilded splendor

Stand silent

Against vast upward dripping mountains

And the passion-marbled skies

Of a never-setting sun.

This piece is called “Cherry-stained Fantasia”.


Painting with Body Parts #45: The Land of the Dripping Moons Edition

erotic poetry, painting with body parts

Last week, I had a vision

Of dripping moons

Pouring painted viscous light onto the surface

Of a strange planet…

A planet where up is down

And down is up,

Where mountains are reversed caverns,

And dormant caves are soaring volcanoes teetering on total obliteration,

A planet that breathes

And bleeds

And crashes into itself

When all of the liquid moons are full.

Three moons dripping

Enigmatic utterings and illusions

Which burn up the moment they touch the skin of this living yearning planet.

Nothing stays hidden

Or forgotten

In the Land of the Dripping Moons

Where my skin is the surface

And my heart its burning spinning core.

“The Land of Dripping Moons”


Painting with Body Parts #43: In Your Embrace Edition

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*** I have been experimenting even more with art these days. Mixing media is fun! I even picked up sketching again, and hope to start incorporating drawing into the mix for future projects. Hope you like it. ***

You bleed sap all over my heaving breasts,

Over my arms

Which entwine you in my slumbering embrace.

On the other side of sleep,

I am awake in your branches.


Painting with Body Parts #40: Festival of Lights

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It is getting darker earlier now.

We are swiftly approaching the shortest day of the year.

Sometimes we feel uncertain whether or not the light will return to us,

And restore our hope that the darkness is temporary,

And that the balance will be restored.

That uncertainty can be crippling;

It makes you want to sleep and sleep and sleep,

And cry and cry and cry,

And blame the world,

The universe,

Everyone but ourselves,

For our deepest wounds and miseries.

That’s why when it is the darkest it has ever been,

Inside and outside of ourselves,

We must create our own light,

And lightness.

And stop being such little cry-baby bitches.

Weave, splash, write, paint your own light…

Or die trying.

This one’s called “Festival of Light”… because that is just what we need to light up our darknesses.


Erotic Tale #7: The Giant Canvas

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*** Not your typical piece of erotica. This is more of a sensual piece than a carnal one. But who says erotica has to include sex or masturbation?***


She knew the moment she clamped eyes on that giant canvas at the art store that it would bring her to her knees at some point.

She could not fight it any longer.

She already felt herself surrendering to it, to this scintillating painting project she had been dreaming about for the last year. With that great mystery in mind — of how she would make this wet dream a very wet and messy reality, of how she would unfurl the limitless artistic, sensual and erotic possibilities — she decided to finally buy it, the largest canvas she had ever purchased thus far in her short tenure as a budding artist.

It was so big, she needed help lugging it to the cash, and then to her car. And then she needed more help to secure it to the roof of her car. It was that huge. On her drive home, she wondered how she would get it into her backyard without toppling over and getting crushed. But she was too excited to be overly worried. The canvas was lightish… but was rather unwieldy. She would figure it out. Or get her hot neighbor to help her; she was usually in her garage at this time… working on her car… in that tank top… that showed off her arms and their deliciously protruding veins….

But enough about her. She had to think about how she was going to go about her painting. Maybe she should just let go and see what happens instead of planning it – which usually takes a lot of the excitement out of it anyway.

She always preferred the impromptu when it came to creating. She likened it to spontaneous sex – just so much hotter than when you are expecting it.

When she arrived home, she was disappointed to see her neighbor’s garage door closed. No car outside. She must have had other plans that day. No biggie. She jumped out of the car with a stupid ear-to-ear grin plastered across her face as she untethered the bungee cords, releasing her invitingly blank canvas… and a single stream of ambrosia from between her legs.

It turns out that it wasn’t heavy at all. Just a little awkward to carry. But she did it. On her own. Had her neighbor been there, she would not have even bothered to try carrying it. She would have taken the opportunity to enlist the enthusiastic aid of her butch babe next door, and she would have paid her back in sexually-charged flirtation over beers on her balcony. Maybe she would have given her an “accidental” flash of her freshly shaved cunt, which was juicing and jolting beneath her curve-hugging sundress. She conveniently forgot to wear panties… again. She somehow always found herself commando on her art-making days; it just felt right.

She partially dragged the canvas to the little private space in her backyard where she made her art. It was mostly guarded from the prying eyes of lusty neighbors, but barely. She liked it like that. If someone wanted to see what she was up to, they need only lean over to get a better look. She positioned her space like that on purpose as she thoroughly enjoyed the possibility of being spied on when in the “zone” – as she so delicately referred to that highly masturbatory quality of her art-making frenzies.

She lay the canvas on the ground, and vanished into the adjoining shed to start pulling bottles of paint off of the shelves; after this, she would need to re-stock. She knew she wanted tonnes of colours with no rhyme or reason, no patterns or colour pairings. Just as many colours as possible, to reflect how fired up she becomes in the presence of paint, of art, of beauty and possibility. She, a kiln of hot desire in that very moment, was feeling the heat the closer she got to finally realizing her vision. And she was moments away.

When she had collected all of the paint she could stuff into her bucket, she returned to the patient canvas. She unloaded the bucket, then began emptying the contents of each bottle right back into it, careful not to mix the colours, creating layer upon layer of viscous light. She had a lot of gold, so she put a generous squirt in between each other random colour which would hopefully infuse her painting with luminescence.

She left a little paint in each bottle for the penultimate step in the process.

When the bucket was almost overflowing, she knew it was time. With a sense of great care and ceremony, she removed each article of clothing until she stood before her canvas, completely nude, terrifyingly vulnerable and ready to become a conduit for the spirit of abundant creation trembling beneath her glowing skin.

She wondered if she should upend the bucket over her head. Or pour it over the front of her body. She was undecided. And she wasn’t sure what she was going to do once she was covered in paint. But the unknown was part of the fun.

At last, after putting down a plastic sheet in front of the canvas, she opted for full-on paint immersion. Her loins dampened and jerked to wakefulness in response to her final choice. Yes. A big fucking mess was what was needed. Go all in or fuck off, right?

She decided to wear panties and goggles and earplugs. Really sexy. But safety first!

The moment had finally arrived. She took a deep cleansing breath, and stood before her canvas. She hefted the bucket full of carefully layered paint above her head, and poured it over her crown.

The paint was cool and silky as it crawled like a snail over the top of her head, her face, her neck, her breasts. It slid in one complete mass composed of irridescent rings down the rest of her body, each one stretching to reveal hidden layers of gold between every fathomable colour and shade.

She was in a trance. Words and thoughts were foreign, and she no longer had room for them. In that moment, the sensation of the paint was louder than any thought that had ever existed for her.

She let herself become lost in the colours which were now mixing and uniting and melding upon her skin, creating new hues, creating something unseen and unheard of with every passing second, the colours changing, just like something inside of her was. She felt her loins dampen beneath her paint-and-pussy-soaked panties, and her nipples harden with arousal. Not the kind she experienced when with another person, but a different kind, a much deeper and more profound version of arousal that was completely derived from within herself, her art, and her fetish.

When she was fully immersed in her medium, she walked out into the middle of her canvas and fell to her knees. She lowered onto all fours and watched the paint drip from her body onto the wide open space beneath her which was filling with swirls and drops of shimmering colour. She stayed like that and breathed right into her core. Her eyes remained transfixed on the paint and on her hands which appeared so dextrous and strong in that moment.

She carefully crawled to another space on her canvas, and flipped over so that she was lying on her back. She closed her eyes and felt the paint slide off her body and puddle around her silhouette. Her cunt was drenched in her own juices and she was blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes watching her as she appeared to somehow depart from this plane and ascend to another state of consciousness. She was unaware of how stunning she appeared to her neighbor who couldn’t help but unbuckle her pants as she watched and marvelled at the art work coming into being. The neighbor did not even notice the canvas; all she saw was an artist, a muse and masterpiece all rolled (and rolling) into One.

At this point, the artist was rolling about the canvas, slowly, purposefully, leaving impressions of body parts and her energy. It looked like the chaos of the cosmos filtered through a golden mist. She was caressing her body as she made her mark, allowing herself to be reborn into the work of art she had always envisioned.

After a short while, she was sated… and messier than she had ever been in her life. She wasn’t anxious about it. She felt turned on but not horny. She was deliriously satisfied without needing a climax. This project offered a different kind of satisfaction that sex and masturbation could never create.

She stood up and looked at her work: it looked like shit. She covered it in gobs and gashes of hand-ejaculated paint that she had saved in the bottles after initially filling her bucket. The end result was never the point. If it was any good, it was a bonus. If it was bad, it was a lesson. But it was always about the process, the unfurling of the great work.

Now that it was complete, she was ready for the final step. She beheld her painting one last time, and started to set up a little fire in the nearby pit. She then proceeded to hack the canvas off of the wooden frame with an exacto knife. Once this was complete, she rolled it up and shoved it into the ravenous flames and watched as tongues of fire devoured her work… and the person she used to be.

She was reborn, and ready for the next vision.

***If you desire to replicate this experience, use non-toxic paint only, and test on your skin first before engaging in paint play. Don’t get any in your eyes or inside your punani… if you have one of those. Maybe wear underwear. Ok, have fun now!***


Painting with Body Parts #37: 80s Child Edition

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The colour combo makes me think of the 80s.

I was an 80s child.

I remember…

Saturday morning cartoons.

PeeWee Herman and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.

Beetlejuice and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

She-Ra and Hulk Hogan.

David Bowie… in spandex (mmm).

High-top turquoise chucks and Doc Martens.

Having crushes on so many boys,

But fooling around with girls.

Marrying a boy named John in his basement, surrounded by our friends from the block.

Feeling like a loser and a reject a lot of the time, but still having enough good memories to not be too fucked up as an adult.

Yeah. All that came up in my moment of 80s nostalgia.

More will inevitably come up, and it will leave me feeling a delightfully confusing mess of joy and sadness…

Just like every other time a wave of nostalgia knocks me off my feet.

I miss childhood. Adulting is boring.

I think my inner child has been trying to make a come-back… and I don’t pay enough attention.

Now! This is one way that I reconnect with the lost, lonely little child within. Getting messy. Giggling. And delighting in my senses, in novelty, in imagination, in all of the things adults take for granted… which is just about everything. Find your inner child, and have some fun. Again… or… maybe for the first time.

“Neon Nostalgia”.


Mess (contains a BOSS gif)

erotic poetry

I want to spray the walls

The floors

All surfaces

Within an 11 kilometre radius

With paint

And cum

And moon blood

Get the fuck outta the way

If you don’t want to get soaked

*This gif is from a solo acrylic paint-pouring mess I enjoyed last night in my serene little outdoor art space. A mini mess… A very controlled messbut still a satisfying mess. Sadly I couldn’t take too much time… the sun is setting earlier every day now….


Painting with Body Parts #32: Splendour in the Sunset Edition

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The waning sunlight dapples through the tree wall

Transforming undulating hills of skin into luminous landscapes

Ripe for a harvest of colours never before imagined by my human-alien eyes

I see through to the feelings embedded in the colours

And for one moment

I catch fire


Painting with Body Parts #31: En Plein Air Edition

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I did an acrylic paint pour over my breasts last week, and it was tremendously satisfying and healing.

You can see my gif here if you haven’t already.

The painting turned out well enough, but it totally looks like twig and berries when you flip it upside down; this effect was unintentional, but nevertheless amusing and delightfully synchronistic. I guess it’s appropriate: right side up for the feminine, and upside down for the masculine. Spirit works in weird ways.

The background is not very complex because I actually repurposed an older painting from the Spring that I never really liked, and painted over it in black. This new painting is way better than the one it is covering.

I am very happy that I stripped down to do this. It was a loving and beautiful experience I may never forget. I must do it again before Summer ends.


Painting with Body Parts #30: Poppies Edition

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As it is summer, I use my balcony a lot. It is pretty high up which provides a nice view of part of my city and also affords me a fair amount of privacy. Our balcony is angled in such a way that half is obscured from *(almost) anyone else’s view.

I started to do my art on my balcony because weather permits me to do so and I like seeing the sky, the moon and the four stars (Sirius is one of them, I believe) that manage to push through all of the light pollution. Also… I am getting messier… so it is better to keep the mess outside, I guess.

I don’t know why I choose certain colours, but I felt I had been neglecting red. It isn’t one of my favourite colours, which is why I avoid it. I do the same with yellow because something about that colour activates annoyance in me, but it has gotten better over years as I have managed to convince myself that not all shades of yellow need to be expunged. The hate was real… and completely inexplicable. Ever feel that way about a colour?

Gold, hot pink and black seemed like fitting companions for the red. The colours seem to complement one another. Sweet.

As for the one-boob thing, I am not trying to tease and be enticing, I just felt a tad too exposed being completely topless. This was my happy medium. But eventually, I won’t care. So if you are one of my neighbours (though I seriously hope that you are not, Dear Reader), you’re welcome, I suppose. 🤣

This is simply called, “Poppies” because that’s what it looks like.

*I actually almost got caught masturbating on my balcony because I didn’t notice two people chatting while leaning over their own balcony a couple floors above me. If people did that more… they would definitely find themselves privy to some rather naughty activities. Anyway, I think I scrambled out of the way fast enough… it was kind of a turn-on… not gonna lie.


Painting with Body Parts #29: Dream Lover Edition

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This is my best painting yet, I think. The acrylic pour I did as the base really turned out lovely with the colours I selected. It also dried relatively nicely… which is iffy with acrylic as I have been learning. It can shrink and crack. There is a bit of crackage on the paint but not too much that it ruins the painting.

I think I need more paint to keep the surface smooth and lacquer-like. I will keep this in mind for future projects.

I will need to buy more paint. Again…. Heck, maybe a paint company or an art store should give me free paint and pay me for using my boobies to sell their product. I am not ashamed to use sex to sell… it works, doesn’t it?

Anyhoo, I call this “Dream Lover” because that’s what it feels like, like two lovers making it in the clouds… or another dimension.

Ever want to jump into a painting? I experienced that feeling with Monet’s gigantic Water Lilies… I wanted to swim in it. It was so tempting to become a part of it and disappear from this realm. Feeling the same thing with this one… not that my paintings could ever compare to that of the great masters, but you know what I mean.

Aside: I finally bought a sealant and will finish every painting I have done since March, which is quite a few. Hope I don’t asphyxiate on the fumes… but if I do, I hope I at least hallucinate to make inhaling chemicals worth the brain damage.


What Painting Does For Me

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It turns me on.

It makes me want to make a bigger mess.

It allows me to transfer and clear stuck energy.

It focuses my attention.

It lets me BE in the moment.

It is a sensual, sexual, spiritual, emotional, creative and energetic outlet.

It is not about skill or talent or “being an artist”; I am not an artist, I am not anything, really. It is an outlet that connects me to my inner child and situates me in my skin, in a timeless moment, and just lets me be myself, even for a little bit, before I exit my self-made bubble and head back into the world where I have to put my various masks back on… for the time being at least.

It is escape and destination.

It is both alien soil…

And home.


Painting with Body Parts #27: Butterfly Bum Edition

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It has been a while since I used my behind as a paintbrush (or canvas… now that I think about it). The reason being that it is a challenge to paint my own ass. It requires a lot of overextended postures that are probably not in the best interests of my back, but it sure is a tonne of fun.

If you ever want to try it, the trick is… use your hands if you are alone. If you have a partner handy, ask them to paint you. That could be delightful because you won’t have to contort your body into an awkward position and it could lead to other pleasantries of a sensual or sexual nature… which may or may not include contorting your body into awkward positions… but I digress.

I had experimented with string-pulling through paint and it backfired, so I scraped all the paint off of the canvas. The result of which looked pretty cool so I used it as a background for an imprint of my golden behind.

Then I ejaculated neon paint all over it. This is how I compensate for not having a penis. Freud would have a ball with that one….

So it can either look like a throng of gangbanging pixies from another dimension came all over my ass… or like I fart rainbows or like my ass sprouted butterfly wings. Or something completely different.

Maybe I can call it “Neon Pixie Gangbang” or “Butterfly Bum”. Any ideas? I am fucking weird.


Psychedelic Post-Paint Play Mirror Selfie

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I made a painting this past weekend, and it felt amazing… can you detect the paint on my breasts and belly in the photo? My masculine and feminine energies were very connected and balanced, and they wanted to manifest through my creative pursuits… and that they did! I will post about it in the near future.

I still have another painting from a couple of weeks ago that I wish to share with you, but for now… psychedelic filters and painted boobies!!!

Happy Monday!


Painting With Body Parts #19: Delicious Mess Edition

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Sticky pink and creamy white smeared and splotched across a bare expanse.

Some days you feel pink hot, and want to get messy.

Really messy….

Even if it is unseasonably chilly outside… it is pretty steamy up in here.

It looks like a cupcake fight I had with myself. It’s called, “Delicious Mess”.