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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


Archive for the 'Bedtime Stories' Category

Poetry to Swoon For

Monday, February 29th, 2016




The Floating Poem, Unnumbered

By Adrienne Rich

Whatever happens with us, your body

will haunt mine — tender, delicate

your lovemaking, like the half-curled frond

of the fiddlehead fern in forests

just washed by sun. Your traveled, generous thighs

between which my whole face has come and come —

the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found there —

the live, insatiate dance of your nipples in my mouth —

your touch on me, firm, protective, searching

me out, your strong tongue and slender fingers

reaching where I have been waiting years for you

in my rose-wet cave — whatever happens, this is.


This poem was first published in 1971 in the collection Twenty One Love Poems, which is now so highly regarded (and evidently out of print) that it is being sold on Amazon for $125.

But I’m hooked. So what’s a girl to do? Well. I’ll buy it for myself, of course! I’ve also added a more reasonably-priced collection by Ms Rich to my gift list. Who is going to make me happy?


Thursday, June 4th, 2015

She is sleeping quietly in her crib. I am propped-up in bed reading. I listen to her breathe. I check the clock. I begin to wonder how late you will be.

You are hunting tonight. We stay safe in our den, relaxing or sleeping or taking time for mundane chores. In our bed I listen to every sound until I hear the door.

The door closes and I can hear what I have longed to hear. My warrior walks the length of the wooden hall. Her heels ring out like hobnails once might have done. Louder and closer she comes.

She enters, radiant, beautiful, and commanding. Her heels come off. Her dress comes off. She scoops our daughter from her crib and carries her to bed. She feeds. Her mother has already fed.

Was her prey young or old? Did he find satisfaction or frustration? Her mood is not changed by the feelings of the prey. She lured him towards her. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she frowned. Maybe she spoke too loud. Maybe she spoke too soft. He chased, unsure, too sure, but he chased. Thinking he was hunting, he was hunted. Thinking he was making his move, he was conquered.

The baby has fed. You hand her to me and I carry her, sleeping and satisfied, to her crib. I return to your bed. You are satisfied but alert. A motion of your hand and I stop. Your breasts are bare and swollen with milk. I kneel, naked and hungry before you. Your hand is moving and so am I.

I approach. I tremble. I quake. I throb. I salivate.

You hold your right breast in your two hands.

You speak: drink from me!

I fall upon my task with ardor and greed. With my mouth, I suck. I lick. I knead. I lap. I lavish. My tongue is fast and slow, gentle and firm. I take short and long passes across your nipples. They are tender. They reward me. As your milk flows into my mouth, your hand wrap around my cock. I am in ecstasy without fulfillment. I want more and more. Tender swollen breasts and warm sweet milk on my lips compete with the firm gentle fast slow scratching soothing actions of your hand on my cock.

I am chasing and chased.

I feed upon you.

You smile, victorious, another prize taken by the huntress.


just a lil kinky story from a fanboy

It’s a religious institution, by God!

Saturday, March 23rd, 2013

Thanks to

Addicting Info and Director Jerome Davis

Poem for the Foot Fetishist

Monday, February 4th, 2013

Your Feet

Pablo Neruda

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

Talking Dirty about Dirty

Monday, November 12th, 2012

You guys know I like to write dirty stories, yes?

And you like them, don’t you? Oh, don’t fib to me.  Of course you do.

How do I know?  Because you tell me!  You send me emails, comment at the Blistered Lips site (FREE SMUT from yours truly), and — when you call me — you often mention the ones that particularly tickle your kink-bone.

In fact, more than a few of you have requested I record the stories for you, so you have something to listen to while you, um, fall asleep.  So … you’re not fooling me.  (And I love you for it, sweet boys.)

Well here’s you chance to TALK LIVE with me on the radio.  Ask me questions.  Requests new stories. And if you haven’t called me before and just want to hear my voice you can even listen in anonymously. (Mr. Smith: I mean YOU!)

Tomorrow night — or tonight, if you’re reading this on Tuesday — I’m going to be letting it all hang out with a group you just might be interested in meeting.

Because …

… I will be be joining fellow Erotica writers Irv O. Neil, Ed Cantor and Porno Person on In Bed with Doctor Sue,  the blog-radio podcast show hosted by Dr. Sue Storm,  herself.

Oh yes I am.  There’s even a chat-room for the quasi-shy.  See?  Something for everybody.

So take note:

Show:  Writers of Fetish Literature presented by Doctor Sue

Day:     Tuesday (November 13, 2012)

Time:    10:00 PM (EST)

Place:    Click Here

Call in Phone Number:   (646) 478-3644

Sign-Up to Chat room:    Click Here

I hope you find the time to listen it, maybe even chat or call in.  And check out the above linkage.  These are some pretty fine people and I’m honored to hang out with them.

xo, Angela