Somnophilia: Snooze

Photography by Angelito
     I can't recall what I was dreaming about..something involving spears, penguins and Aretha Franklin.  The alarm clock failed at its function; more annoying that awakening.  However, I couldn't hit the snooze on his touch.  Firm and hungry, I woke up with his hands wrapped around my ankles.  My dreams of The Queen of Soul was interrupted by his tongue raking against my soles.  I remember being unsure.  Uncertain whether I was actually awake or if my dreams jumped to another station.
     In the brief moments where my flesh wasn't between his teeth, he said, "You're going to be late for work."  Gnawing at my legs.  Sticking his nose inside my briefs.  Sucking at the stiff bulge begging to be released from the black cotton, his voice vibrated at my crotch, "I'd hate to see you rushing out of here. Do you see what time it is?"


     I open my mouth wide to get some air.  All I can see is his abdomen as his morning wood crams itself down my throat.  Gasping.  Sucking.  Breathing around his thick cock sounds ironically like I'm snoring.  Choking.  Slurping.  I feel like he's leaning all of his weight into my face as he pumps his hips.  Prying my mouth open with his fingers, getting his dick in there good and deep, "What time does your office open, again? Nine? You really should be getting up, baby."
     Getting out of bed.  Brushing my teeth.  Showering.  Jumping on the BART.  This all feel impossible without busting a nut.  Eating breakfast.  Putting on my tie.  Signing in at work.  None of that seems feasible without spilling this load.  Stroking my cock.  Pinching the head.  It's 7:45 a.m.  Salivating.  Scheduling my next breath on his out-swing.  If only I could schedule this orgasm.  The sooner, the better.


Love Spell

Peppermint Oil
St. John's Wort

     Those pretty eyes of his glare in my direction, "Are you casting a love spell on me?"  Swishing around the flavors of Fernet Branca, Alice Coltrane and every rumor he's heard about me, skepticism and arousal becomes the cocktail of the night.
     Pouring him another shot, "What if I was? Would you stop?"  Taking the small glass from my hand, his head snaps backward to gulp down my bitter potion.  He's committed.  Doing the research.  Reading the testimonials of both favorable and....

"Forbidden Light is a monster.
He is the worst person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."
- Toddy English

     Emptying the contents down his throat, "I'm not scared of you."  Whether to green pastures or the slaughter house, he is committed to see where this thing goes.  But, he isn't the only one embarking on a new journey.  I've learned that a new companion can make a beaten path fresh again.  I am equally aroused, yet suspicious.


     More drunken, the bitterness from his cup translates into his gaze, "You aren't the only one with love spells."  I know this to be true.  He doesn't know how often I recollect his hands gripping onto my legs.  How the sensation of his teeth sinking into my soles stains my every dream.  I'm not the only one.
     Every night with him, I become more and more aware of how magical sex can be.  I've spoken in tongues, came into paper so I could set my prayer on fire.  I've channeled his aunt and gave him advice as his tongue plugged by asshole.  He cries in his sleep and I dream to comfort him.

Bay Leaves

     Swishing the flavors of Fernet Branca, Alice Coltrane and every rumor I've heard about him.  I realize that the tables have turned.  The hypnotist has been transfixed.  Intoxicated.  My vision doubling.  I squint to find his true location, "Are you casting a love spell on me?"

'The Fernet Fairy' by Forbidden Light

Daytime Kink

What happens to kink during the day?
Does it retreat into the closet?
Does it lose it charm?

     There was a time when I was strictly anonymous.  Fronted by an avatar, I enjoyed a great deal of creative freedom.  I had no fear of being found out.  My voice translated to readers much clearer with the omission of personal details.  At a time in my life where I felt so stifled, repressed and misrepresented, “Forbidden Light” was created to be sacrificed.

Or, so I thought.

     Writing and experiencing, I am learning that this character isn’t fictional or an alter ego, but a malnourished aspect of my whole self.  “Forbidden Light” is just that.  He is the dark place within myself who finds his own dawn.  Living to be inspired… Connecting with readers…. Finding community…  My daily life, little by little, in beginning to resemble posts from “Journals of an Intelsexual”.

What happens when perverts become real?
Does our hot flesh cool to 98 degrees?
Do we become ordinary?

     I foresee a shift occurring in my writing to come.  Still perverse.  Still charged with wanton sexuality.  But, more whole, more inclusive of the man my Mama raised.  Hiding less behind poetry and metaphors, it’s becoming pivotal to reach out from the darkness and profess life.  This time, the “Forbidden Light” shines unto the truth that perverts can love God and start families.  Perverts can be good, loving people.  Perverts are people.

What happens to kink during the day?
It becomes translucent.

Sex for Disabled People

     I have lovers who are sex workers.  Occasionally, they are contacted by clients with certain disabilities and/or deformities. Searching for an intimate, sexual experience, they desire to be pleasured by someone who sees beyond their disabilities and/or deformities.  I moment to let their inhibitions go without judgement.  This brand of acceptance is very scarce in this world.
      In a society where sexuality amongst the handicapped is considered taboo, there are low to zero opportunities to have the sexual/intimate needs of disabled people met conventionally.  I can certainly see how one could be very frustrated with the limited possibilities available.  Especially knowing that some disabled people identify themselves as queer and/or kinky.  I can only imagine how challenging it can be to find satisfaction.
     Personally, I have always felt a discrepancy around able-bodied and handicapped relationships.  There is always a fear that the disabled could be preyed upon and taken advantaged of sexually.  As mentioned in the video, it never crosses their mind that: (1) The disabled are mature sexual beings, complete with needs and resources to engage in adult situations.  (2) Most disabled adults are competent enough to reject unwelcomed advances.  (3) There are disabled perverts out there who would love to be objectified, if given the chance.
     Ultimately, it is up to disabled men and women to assert themselves and challenge the opinions of the majority.  I, personally, would love to see a sexually liberated person with disabilities!  Hearing impairments have never been known to reduce libido.  Men, whether with seeing-eye dog or crutches, will always be men...fully intact with with hormones and hard-ons.  We all need to hear more stories about fantasies wetting the seat of her wheelchair.
     I honor my lovers' practice and I consider their sex work a ministry.  Giving disable men and women the tools and environment to further understand their emotional and sexual identities is commendable.  With better knowledge about themselves, I believe they are better equipped to engage with a conventional partner...just like the rest of us

Turning Twenty-Nine

     Every year around my birthday, I sink into depression as I take inventory of my life.  Where have I been?  Where am I going?  The answer that followed whenever they asked a nine-year-old Forbidden Light, "What do you want to be when your grow up?"  I came out of my psychological cave with a great deal of gratitude.  I must say, I am rather content with my life.

This is new for me.
     Being someone who thrives under the internal pressures of envy and fear, I feel like a fish flopping happily outside of water.  Its a great feeling to know that I wouldn't have done anything differently.  It's a greater feeling to feel that all of my desires are within my reach.  Fantasies.  Professional Opportunities.  Love.  Evolution.  Everything is ripe for the picking.  I expected to feel the opposite as I drew closer to thirty.
     This birthday has also allowed me to be very thankful for all of the extraordinary people in my life.  Readers.  Friends.  Family.  Reading some many revelations disguised as birthday wishes, I was overwhelmed by the love and empowerment I had access to.  There are so many who are very supportive and inspiring in their own rite.  Artists.  Writers.  Fellow freaks and queers.  Lovers.

I must say, I am pretty damn lucky!  

Fetish #229190: Arousal by Weighlessness

     I lost my balance but did not fall.  Tipping over, I remain upright.  He has me.  Wrapping my limbs around him, my legs are impressed by the firm torso bearing my weight.  The ground become irrelevant.  Falling became folklore.  Weightless.  Suspended.  Damn, his hand feels good holding my ass up.

His palms are the perfect platform.

     Kissing him.  Sucking his neck.  Fondling the big, thick cock throbbing within his jeans.  He was so much bigger.  Taller.  More muscular.  Enough girth to give me lockjaw.  My brown skin got lost in his beautiful black.  My 180 pounds disappeared in his arms.  My reservations falling apart in his lap, I see why he calls me 'baby'...and why 'Daddy' sounds so-fucking-good whispered into his ear.

Weightlessness feels wonderfully new.

'Ultimate Bondage' by Sergei Bizjaev



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