Nancy Drew
Ron Koertge

Merely pretty, she made up for it with vim.
And she got to say things like, “But, gosh,
what if these plans should fall into the wrong
hands?” and it was pretty clear she didn’t mean
plans for a party or a trip to the museum, but
something involving espionage and a Nazi or two.

In fact, the handsome exchange student turns
out to be a Fascist sympathizer. When he snatches
Nancy along with some blueprints, she knows he
has something more sinister in mind than kissing
her with his mouth open

Locked in the pantry of an abandoned farm house,
Nancy makes a radio out of a shoelace and a muffin.
Pretty soon the police show up, and everything’s
hunky dory.

Nancy accepts their thanks, but she’s subdued.
It’s not like her to fall for a cad. Even as she plans
a short vacation to sort our her emotions she knows
there will be a suspicious waiter, a woman in a green
off the shoulder dress, and her very jittery husband.

Very well. But no more handsome boys like the last one:
the part in his hair that was sheer propulsion, that way
he had of lifting his eyes to hers over the custard,
those feelings that made her not want to be brave
confident and daring, polite, sensitive and caring.

***

You may recall that Mr. Koertge was featured here once before with his poem, Kryptonite, one of my all-time favorite poems. I think he is one very cool, poet; don’t you?

• About the poet
• Other poems
• An interview

xo, Angela

Just so you know. I haven’t been ignoring you.

I’ve just been wrestling with a terrible bout of allergy-related maladies (itchy eyes, sinus headaches, et al) this past week and a half. Therefore my less-than-constant availability for calls (sniffling Mistresses just aren’t that sexy…unless you have a snot fetish) and relatively sporadic blogging.

Since I’ve been taking a bunch of meds and inhaling various sinus sprays with less than stellar results, I guess I will have to consult an allergist. I will keep you posted on how it goes and –in the meantime– will be available as much as possible. I promise.

But I’m sure that while you’re waiting you can find plenty enough to keep you more than occupied. I mean it is the Internet, for gawds sake, the never-ending, always new, forever and ever born again, world wide web.

Looking for a Kinky Forum?

Submissives looking for a bit of intrigue and titillation can always visit Mistress V.

Face slapping anyone? Richard’s got the skinny.

Sissies in search of a home away from home can always visit the Pink Panty Cafe

Interested in Psychopathia Sexualis? See version 2.0 here. Hmmm…wonder if it’s Beta?

And of course there’s always my Flagship website, Literate Smut.

Then there’s Delia, the sexiest cross-dresser on the web today.

So that is a start, anyway. Check everything out and get back to me. Because there just might be a quiz. With a nice prize for the winner. You never know!

xo, Angela

Who in the fuck cares anyway? And since when did it become the business of us to judge others’ sexuality?

Let me make this clear to you close-minded, uptight, bible-bitch slapping homophobics out there: I don’t give a shit what you think or that you think your thoughts are God’s thoughts.

FYI: God DID make Adam and Steve. Of course he did. Who the hell else could have? Do you think he stopped after Adam and Eve and then invited some other God to step in to create the rest of us? Or at least the people you don’t like?

I am so intolerant of your intolerance.

What would Jesus do? Anything but what you do — you smug, condescending (and not to mention mean-spirited and wickedly cruel) sad little person.

Okay, I feel better now.

Night all.

xo, Angela

Speaking for myself and only myself.

Of course.

My passions tend to vary. Some belligerently take center stage without notice or reason to stay for a while then fade with nary a goodbye. Some last only a day or two, never to be seen again. This goes for the everyday stuff of my obvious life (perfect hair, tuna casserole, bubble baths, the color pink, shoes, spa pedicures, watches, purses, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, French fingernails)…

…and for the sexual turn-ons which guide my mendacious and curious libido. And you know me by now, dontcha? You know that sexual turn-ons for me are a lot about fantasy. Masturbational fodder–more or less. I just don’t need to live out everything I think about.

I’m too smart for that and I’d never be done.

Just ask anybody who’s awakened to hear me list off my dreams from the previous night or recent nap. Because it has always astounded my listeners. My brain would most likely destroy my body if I had to live out every sexual idea my cerebellum entertained.

I am always reluctant to list or write in detail about my own fantasies or those my callers share with me because most people are surprisingly intolerant and harshly judgmental of other people’s fantasies. I hear this all the time in my everyday life and even from some of my callers, silly boys.But enuff of that. Back to my passions, which is, after all, how all of this started.

We were speaking in sexual terms…if you need reminding.

For me, it all revolves around power — either lacking or possessing it. And it can go either way. As much as I love administering FemDom mind-fucks, I can also be incredibly aroused by giving up power. Usually I only do this in my mind, thus the masturbatory inclinations re. “powerlessness.”

Try this on for size: Wherever, whenever sex occurs, there is a power exchange.

What do you think? Sound too generic, too generalized?

I don’t happen to think so. In fact I think it is a basic constant where truly good sex is happening on a regular basis.

And it doesn’t have to be anything fancy or complicated or brutal. It really can be as simple as who is on top. Or the act of holding someone’s wrists. Or whispering forbidden, dirty words. Or not permitting orgasm until permission is requested and granted. Or gently taking someone up against a wall…or while their friend/family are in the next room…or under a blanket at the park. In other words–times and places one normally wouldn’t concede to having sex.

Newness (AKA spontaneity) also counts for a lot. I have only lived with one person and can’t claim the experience of marriage. But I do talk sex with a lot of guys and in a variety of venues (even in mixed crowds). So I briefly encountered a loss of spontaneity in my own personal sexual arena and have heard the complaint more times than I can count. Not to put too fine a point on it, but boring sex sucks.

And sexy is not about physical perfection. The urban legend is, indeed, fact: perfection can be quite boring. Pretty boys (I’ve had a few) are usually (95-99% of the time) empty vessels. Sexy is about attitude. And every breath we live defines our attitude. So, no slumping…that is if you want the pay-off of hot sex.

So, anyway…there’s a bit about passion.

…or something like that.

Actually I have no idea what the artist’s intent is. You can see the full-size original here. There is also a related blog here.

I am totally confused. Particularly since Porno Person told me he thought of me when he saw this. Hmmm….

So what do you guys think? I’m dying to have your imput.

xo, Angela