That is the Question…

Posted in collaboration, Erotic Pieces on August 29, 2011 by ApathyKiss

I have been working with a few people on some amazing projects in the past few weeks and have many more planned. Not only erotica, but songs and even a screenplay.

This poem was written by my favorite poet and sister Chante. I added and changed a few things and now it is a wonderful display of two writers coming together to write about a beautiful sexual experience. I hope you like it… and gentlemen? Take notes.

To Eat the Peach or To Not Eat the Peach
By: Chante Douglas and ApathyKiss

To eat a Peach or not eat a Peach..that is the question
When true delight is handed to you,
A delicious treat from the sacred garden,
I hate to tell you this…
But it is necessary to devour
And enjoy every lick.
To see how many it takes to get to the core
Where the sweetest juices flow
Don’t bite it or break the skin
Don’t fake like you enjoy it
I want you to love it
Its soft and sweet
with a little peach fuzz
Then you tell me….
You dont eat peaches
Excuse me?
But you want me to eat your fruit instead?
FUCK that!!!
Then there’s YOU…
mmmmmmmmmm
who loves to eat peaches
hold my hands down
so i cant move
My peach open and ripe
Somehow your arm gets wrapped around my waist
and my legs are shaking
I’m screaming in a different language
that I didn’t think i was fluent in
I’m starting to sweat
My heart is racing
I cant catch my breath
You grab my breasts
Until i feel like I’m passing out
I’m trying to hold on but I cant
I’m losing control..
Where the fuck are you going??
We aren’t close to being done yet….

If you enjoyed this poem, you can contact me at apathykiss@gmail.com or hear her read in person at the Erotic Literary Salon every third Tuesday of the month. Eroticliterarysalon.com

Try to figure it out..

Posted in opinional rants on August 12, 2011 by ApathyKiss

I have been writing for over ten years. Most of that time has been erotica and short romance stories. I use different descriptions and ways to describe emotions that are really just my own interpretations of the moments I can relate to. The reason why I choose to write erotica is because when you have sex with someone, it’s very psychologically stimulating as well as physically. And erotica let’s me talk more about that part of the act as apposed to just the dirty deeds. Even though I include them all. 😉

As far as the mind is concerned, the emotions that you feel when you are with someone, whether you love them or not, are insanely intense. The anticipation of the first move, the impatience of wanting his hand to touch you, the thrill of getting what you want when you want it, or the thrill of being denied what you are hungering for. Seeing those emotions swimming in the other person’s eyes when you are in the middle of the act is such a mind fuck. You know there are thoughts and wishes and mental caresses going on in that mind, and you wish you knew what they were thinking. It’s that desire that finally takes you over the edge where you explode into a million fragments that burst… to be rejoined at the moment when your mouth pours out the cry of release.

You don’t need toys or whips or chains all the time. You just need that mental connection. And having a large cock helps too.

What is the safe word?

Posted in contest on July 27, 2011 by ApathyKiss

Do you have a safe word? Do you have a word that you hold onto in your heart, on the tip of your tongue, but never whispered for it to stop?

I want to know what that word is. I want an inspirational safe word to catapult my first official novel into the erotic world and I want my fans to help me! I will be polling everyone and asking for suggestions and favorites on Twitter and Facebook for the next few weeks.

The deadline will be the end of August because I want a lot of ideas. I want to know why and I want to know if you ever used it. And don’t forget, this is a contest!!

What do you win? Oh, let me tell you. You will win a free copy of the novel you inspired! And even a mention in the dedication. Because if not for you, it would have never been written.

Make sure you get credit! So email me at Apathykiss@gmail.com with your submissions or find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Let the games begin!!!

She will eat you alive.

Posted in Erotic Literary Salon, Erotic Pieces, opinional rants on July 21, 2011 by ApathyKiss

As Many of my fans know, I am a huge music nerd. I have even been called a musical elitist. And I accept that. Movies like “High Fidelity” and “Empire Records” have been written about people like me working in a record store and giving people dirty looks for not knowing that bands like “Ours” and “Loudermilk” actually exist and that there is more to metal and hardcore than what you find on the wall in Hot Topic next to the Justin Bieber cd’s and the neon bracelets. People like me who you walk up to and say, “I don’t know who sings this song but it’s a guy and he says, ‘I just want to love you’ and I think it was on the radio. Do you have that?” and I can walk up to the section and find the cd for you. Being a music elitist, I have a huge wealth of musical nonsense in my head that I use at every opportunity.

Most of my writing is influenced by music. Which brings us to the feature presentation.

Maynard James Keenan is more than just Tool. He is also countless other projects and bands, one I love and worship called “Pucifer” is especially amazing in my critical eyes. The first song I heard from them was on the Underworld soundtrack called “Rev 22:20” and it blew my mind. It was dark and simple, seductive and deep. Some of the lyrics would make you close your eyes and take a step back to rethink the idea of Jesus martyring his mother to ride to hell between those thighs. It was incredible. I include this song on every playlist I make and on every list I write.

I began writing an erotic piece using some of the lyrics from the song and it turned into a dark and controversial piece that I absolutely adore. I wrote this piece to be read at the monthly Erotic Literary Salon this month but as I was writing it, it was done from the male’s perspective. And while I have no problems with gender bending and switching places, this piece would have sounded a little odd coming from a female. That was just the way I wrote it. Luckily, I had a man that was itching to read and when presented with the opportunity, he did an incredible job and read it better than I ever could.

 

 

 

 

 

Rev 22:20

Don’t be aroused by my confession unless you don’t give a good God Damn about redemption. I’m not looking to be saved, and if you are listening, neither are you. Jesus has risen, it’s no surprise. Even he would martyr his Mama to ride to hell between those thighs. The sexy devil seduces us all, and I’m not sure I can resist this time. ‘Cause nobody ever survives. Prayin’ to stay in her arms just until I can die a little bit longer. Saviors and saints, devils and heathens alike- She’ll eat you alive.

 

Seduced and slammed without enough time to catch my breath, she has me right where she wants me and there is no turning back. The warmth of her breath is like steam on my face, leaking from her seductive grin when she takes me in hand and asks me just how bad I want her. I can’t deny the velvet steel she has in her grip. Dark tipped fingers lace through my hair, as a sound unfamiliar to me escapes from my lips, she pulls my head down, burying my face in her soft chest. Cloth is discarded like melted ice in a fire, no longer a trace on her soft skin. My mouth opens, tongue falling out and laving a long wet line from the valley of her dolls to the cavern of her clavicle.

 

The steamstress shivered. She actually trembled at my kiss. Bringing the devil herself to a state of mind-crumbling pleasure will give me a satisfaction I never thought possible. Her body presses close to mine and I feel the heat of her desire seep through my skin. I have to have her. And if I have to sin to have her I’m going to lie, lie lie…

 

Legs wrap around me like poisoned vines and I am held captive in her embrace. Like a snake, the devil slithers down my body, her venomous lips leaving a trail of honey on my skin. Where her hot mouth mets flesh, it is scorched with her kisses. Breath meets the throbbing skin of my hard cock and before I could even plead for her to continue, weep for her to taste me, cry for her mouth to engulf me, she laughs. What is she, what is she, what is she waiting for?

 

Her touch is both innocent and evil. I don’t know how she did it, but I am crying inside for her kiss. My skin is shivering even though I am burning up. I need her like you need to be woken from a nightmare. Break me and hate me but please, fucking take me. I open sore and wet eyes to look down and am treated with the most amazing sight. The princess of pain on her knees before me, watching my every move. Fingernails are digging into the backs of my thighs; I’m sure there will be bruises and blood behind them.

 

I’ll sell my soul to be back in her bosom. Gladly. Now please suck me dry.

 

The feeling of her mouth around me is overwhelming. I won’t hold back the groan of torturous delight. It escapes me and feels so amazing that I do it again. Rewarded with a twist of the fist. She pulls me into the depth of the dark cavern of her mouth. Little sparks of rapture start to pop inside my head as smoke starts to curl out of my ears. What… was I saying again?

 

So steady now, close and I’m ready to blow. I burn for my steamstress. I ache and writhe under her machinations. Before she can bring me to the sacred end, she releases me and steps back.

 

An offering. Arms wide and body bare, she is giving herself to me. What fool would deny the devil herself? With a cocky grin, I step forward.

 

Her mouth tastes sweet and smoky, rich and full. She is a dark delight that trembles my taste buds. Taking her in my arms, I have her open and on her back in a moment, preparing to enter the hottest place on her body. A slice through my cock. Fire flows up to my stomach and I think I am engulfed in flames. She has me, the sneaky siren. Inside, her muscles hold me tight surrounded by molten lava. It is such a wonderful torture; I don’t know how to yell- in pain or pleasure. Set the ember rhythm.

 

The pressure is building at the base of my spine. My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding. The pressure is so overwhelming and building.

Every sin that I have ever possessed, every desire that I ever craved,  every time that I defied my maker, builds up to this one last moment.  And my soul has been sold. Giving into temptation and following those who trespassed against us has never felt so amazing.

 

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’”

– Revelations 22:20

 

 

 

On a side note, one of my grown up jobs that doesn’t include writing dirty thoughts and dangerous deeds is working with a local concert promoter. And one of the perks is hanging out backstage at shows. I had the dizzying pleasure to meet members of this band and to tell them how they influenced this piece and how I appreciated their music. So thank you Matt and Jeff!!! Hopefully you enjoy reading the piece as much I enjoyed writing it and listening to a sexy male voice read it to a crowd of listeners.

 

 

-Love AK

 

 

 

 

Temporary Insanity

Posted in Erotic Literary Salon, What's new? on July 9, 2011 by ApathyKiss

The paths we take and make for ourselves are always trying to change us. I know this. Inside I am constantly changing myself to fix what I find broken or unsatisfactory.

Saying so, I have changes that are coming and going. It’s a rough run for us all, but we take them one day at a time and one caress as it comes.

-Working on the “Bittersweet Memories” series and turning it into a novel. A full novel. Plot thickens and unfolds… Stay tuned for more of that.

-In the works with a few anthologies for submissions and print. Hopefully some of them won’t be too intimidated by my work…

-I found a publisher or two that specializes in off the chart erotica. They desire the undesirable desires that people are afraid to admit they want. I have a few stories that will not be accepted by certain sites that I want to give to them. Also, any and all odd fantasies are welcome for suggestions.

-Myownlovestory.com!!!!! A.K. Corgan will write all fantasies that you desire! She will even star in them if you wish. 😉 Orders can be placed at the site and are welcome all the time! Come on… challenge me. I dare you.

-July 19th is the Erotic Literary Salon in Philadelphia. I have something wonderful in the works with a nice little surprise. Come and see what I have in store for you as well as a group of amazing writers and readers. It’s always an amazing time… Visit theeroticsalon.com for all details.

Times they are a changin’. Won’t you stick around for the show????

Beauty in Tragedy.

Posted in opinional rants on June 23, 2011 by ApathyKiss

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

The term “beauty” is such a desperately distracting word. The Merriam-Webster definition of beauty is “the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit.” Nowadays people are preoccupied with being one of the beautiful people but who is to say what true beauty is? I can find true pleasure in something that another one might find repulsive or ugly. For me, beauty is not a standard. It is an opinion.

Chocolate stimulates my senses in just about all ways. I have a feeling a lot of women will agree with me on this.

The sight of a piece of chocolate makes me smile with anticipation of being able to eat it. When I open the wrapper, the sounds of the paper or foil will make my mouth water and my tongue escape to lick my lips. The scent of chocolate will give me cause to close my eyes and sigh, a comforting scent that reminds me of cookies baking in the oven or smores by a campfire. It triggers memories inside that I forget until the tendrils of scent reach my nose. Then the taste. Each piece of chocolate is different but they all have the same qualities of richness and flavor. Savoring each bite of my candy and making it last is difficult when I want to devour the whole thing, but I wait and take a bite softly, letting it rest on my tongue. I wait for it to melt before sliding down my throat. And don’t forget to lick the melted chocolate from your fingertips. One last taste before the confection is a memory.

So, technically… chocolate is beautiful. Now, to someone who is allergic to chocolate, the senses won’t feel the same and so they won’t experience the same joy in the beauty of piece of candy that I do.

But the same can be said about a man. A man I find beautiful might not appeal to you or your friends. Someone with a scar, for example, might not reach your beauty standards, but me? I find scars sexy. I feel that someone with a scar has a story to tell and a battle to be proud of. But only certain men stimulate our senses.

The sight of a sexy man walking towards you will make you smile and something low in your body curl. The feel of his arms wrapping around you will bring an army of goosebumps to your skin and make you arch your body closer to his. The scent of his cologne fills your lungs when you take a deep breath and reminds you of dark corners and tangled sheets from the last encounters you had with him, bringing memories to surface of long nights spent in his arms. The taste of his lips as you kiss them delicately, opening your mouth a little bit to let the tip of your tongue trace his bottom lip, will hit you like a drug making you dizzy and cling to him. Hearing his moan begin deep in his throat, makes delicate places on your body tingle and tremble with the want of his hands touching you. When your name escapes his lips and hits your ears… heaven.

Now THAT is fucking beauty.

My Love is Music.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 20, 2011 by ApathyKiss

Something about a really great musician that gets my blood pumping faster than a speeding locomotive. Especially when he is a player that puts more passion into a guitar solo than most bands do in an entire album. It’s difficult to fully perform something that you care about with your eyes open. If your eyes are open while you wail on that rosewood fretboard, you aren’t playing as hard as you can. Watch a Jimmy Hendrix video and tell me if his eyes are open.

When I saw him on stage, the lights were completely out. A hush fell over the crowd and a few notes were plucked with nimble fingers on dirty steel strings that were played to the right place for maximum sound. Goosebumps completely ran over my body. They all rushed to the top of my skin, trying to get closer to the sound like they wanted to rush the stage and get in front of everyone. The first note from his mouth was a slow, high cry. Soothing at first but then his vocal chords opened and they let more sound flow through.

Then a single light shined on the majestic maestro. Lone soul baring his before the world.

What he does to me when he plays is better than what the most skilled lover can do to my body when we twist between the sheets. The song picks up and more notes fill my ears, traveling over my senses and igniting each one with a new sensation. Notes play on my body like fingertips, traveling inside and out, feeling for the perfect place to call home. My hands by my sides can’t sit still and want to reach out to grab each note he is singing. I let my fingertips travel over my hips, my ribs, the sides of my breasts until they tangle in my hair and move with my head, tossing side to side and keeping beat. That beat. It fills my bloodstream and skips my heart, making it pump with a tempo his inspirational flow.

Throw your hands to the sky.

My hips move back and forth, pulsing with the beat and twisting with the tone. He makes my body vibrate and move in a way that I can’t stop. I long for the dark corners of the venue to pull my clothes aside and be pure and naked, feel each note over my body like I can feel it twisting my soul.

The next melody starts and it’s faster, deeper and stronger than the last. My body takes it inside and moves with the flow. Tingles are racing through the air from his fingertips and touching my skin, under the cloth covering everything I want to expose. I will his fingers to leave the instrument and touch me, traveling callused and worn skin over the softness of my stomach. Calluses built from years of musical interpretation of emotions and art. This man has created more than music. He has created life with his art. I wanted to experience that.

The bass beat of the single drum cadence was thumping into my chest, hitting me hard from the speakers and I felt the tingling in my pussy with each sonic hit. The music was stroking my wet flesh with each tap of his foot on the pedal. I moved my hit as if a finger was pressing onto my clit with each beat. The melody picked up and the strokes came faster and faster. My body responded in kind and my hands once more tangled in my hair. The amazing feeling of sound waves flowing through me was making my legs shake and my breathe come faster.

And now… his solo.

The strings on his guitar was puppet strings and he controlled them like a master, dancing the melody to reach my skin. The notes were an enigma of a pattern but each one hit me so hard and fast, making me drench my panties and bite my lip. I wanted to feel those fingers moving so fast and sure. I imagined those fingers touching me and dipping between my legs and finding the proof of my desire for his talent.

Over the solo, the drum beat continued. Pound. Pound. Pound of the pedal on the head. I couldn’t take it anymore, my body burst with passionate flames, fire exploding inside me with the climax of the song triggering my own until I was shaking and crying out for more.

More! Play on!!

I need an encore more than my next breath.

Play for me??

Some men don’t get that women like to be hunted.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 14, 2011 by ApathyKiss

Getting readers’ emails are one of the best things about publishing my work. When I put up a new story and come back, there will be tons of people responding to the story telling me whether they liked it or not and how they *ahem* took care of whatever condition my story caused in their body.

 

But every once in a while, I will get an email from a fan that makes me… a little confused. I really don’t know how to respond to these emails, but I try as hard as I can. These emails usually start with something crass and obnoxious like, “Your story got me so hard, I’m holding my cock thinking it’s you..” blah blah kind of typical unimaginative purple prose that I try to avoid using anyway. Then it will go into a bit of detail about what he wants to use that exaggerated hard and cut cock to do to me. Just because I wrote a story about fucking a guy in the back seat of my car.

 

I’m not saying I don’t enjoy dirty talk, and I love sex as much as any other erotic author does, but when you write me over 1000 words on what you would like to do to me, it doesn’t quite get my skirt up over my thighs. No matter what kind of instructions you give me to dip my fingers in my wetness that you seem to think you created. I don’t mind my boy telling me what to do, but you, kind sir… have not been granted that permission. I am very submissive. But I am a submissive that has dominate tendencies and when you haven’t earned a safe word, my hair stands on end.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE hearing my fans tell me how hard I got them or even how wet, I do have some female fans as well… If I didn’t enjoy the feedback, I wouldn’t write stories for my fans. I like the ideas and the thoughts and what they loved and hated about what I wrote. Keep them coming!

I just really don’t know what you want me to do with 75 questions, some of which my own primary care physician doesn’t even know, and then a detailed description of how to touch myself while reading your requests. It’s also difficult to read when you use little punctuation and don’t capitalize. ANYTHING.

In the meantime… keep an eye open for new work and mark your calendars if you are in the Philly area. The next Erotic Literary Salon is coming up next week, June 21st and it’s from 8-10 at the Bohemian Absinthe Lounge on Samson st. I will be reading an excerpt from my sample story at myownlovestory.com about a girl finding her inner submissive.

 

-love AK

My Own Love Story

Posted in Uncategorized on May 25, 2011 by ApathyKiss

As of today, I am officially a freelance writer for myownlovestory.com. This site is a custom erotica site where you can order your wildest fantasy that you have always wanted to experience or maybe an anniversary gift for a loved one that you can’t find the right gift for. Prices and styles range so go check out the site for all the wonderful things we have to offer!

Second is the Best

Posted in Uncategorized on April 29, 2011 by ApathyKiss

Changes are coming to the site, my precious snowflakes. So keep your eyes open and come back to see all the wonderful things that are coming.

In the meantime, come find me on Twitter and Facebook and say hi!

Or you could go to eroticstories.com or literotica.com and read the already published works I have for you to play with.

-AK