Writings from an Artificial Muse

[Raelyn]

 

Hello Ecchi universe,

I’ll be using this space to post random stories and poems that are floating around in this tiny brain of mine. 
 

* * * Please refrain from commenting so that this thread remains as clean as possible. If there is something you’d like to comment on, feel free to EcchiText me instead. * * *

 

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Diamond Hearts

 

It's cracking
This diamond heart 

It shined once
A magnificent rock of
Untouched innocence
Pure notions
A world without apprehension

It was trained to withstand 
The force of a sledgehammer
Falling from the highest cliff
And the tallest tower
Even God's almighty fist could not 
Break the invincible exterior

But a mere ice pick
Has somehow chipped away 
Tiny pieces 
Leaving behind proud memories 
A solid foundation for 
A powerful future
Crumbling into ruins

It's become black like coal 
Having been set on fire
Until ashes have consumed 
Its entirety
In the pit of what feels like hell
There are others with similar 
Characteristics

But it still climbs 
Managing to find 
What it used to be
Though never going back to
What it used to be
Battling a severe case of corruption 
As if it were an illness

In the end
It loses
Because that is its destiny

Dull 
Innocence lost 
Purity is a thing of the past
The forbidden gates have opened 
Leading into a world hidden behind 
Thick drapes of false nirvana

In years to come
The shiny exterior will return 
If polished and carefully handled
Kept stored in a safe
Locked away 
Only to be taken out during
Extreme circumstances 

Its clear coat will never return
Black has always been its true form
Remaining that way even after it's
Buried six feet under 

New and exquisite features
Beat life into eyes that have been 
Reborn

Claim it
Accept it
Succumb to it
This obsidian heart 

[bumpnrun]

I generally don't gravitate to poetry but I do like what you have written. Let that "tiny brain" overflow for the enjoyment of this community and give some color to this landscape.

[Raelyn]

Goodbye, Red Winter

 

Yesterday, I watched the last snowflake melt in the palm of my hand. It reminded me of how miserable I’ll be in the next eight excruciatingly long months. I already miss the fresh, white snow, the dreadful cold, the sidewalks carpeted in white, and the blinding colors of nature surrendering to the inevitable monochrome season. It’s so beautiful. 

So beautiful...

So beautiful…

 

So beautiful…

 

 

So beautiful…

 

 

 

 

So beautiful…

 

 

 

 

 

 

So beautiful…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So beautiful…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So beautiful…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...with a splash of crimson RED. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

               Splashing,

 

 

 

                                                       splattering,

 

 

 

 

                               sloshing,

 

 

 

 

                                                                        squelching,

 

 

 

      sprinkling,

           
             

 

 

 

         
                                                  spilling…

 

 

 

Red spots in various sizes. Some too near, some too far. It was always a struggle cleaning every scarlet speck, but I secretly enjoyed that part the most. 

 

I shake the memories from my fractured mind as I walk along the dry, concrete sidewalk.

I can hear everyone’s footsteps.

                                 It’s   d   e   a   f   e   n   i   n   g.

 

 

The clattering and clunking of skinny and fat heels, and soles dragging across the paved surface, are sensitive to my ears.

 

I hate it. 

 

I HATE IT.

 

 

I HATE IT.

 

 

I HATE IT. 
 

 

 

I FUCKING HATE IT.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who can I play with next winter?
I look around me, searching for no one in particular, until I feel the annoying “itch”. It won’t go away until I find someone to play with, but I have to wait several months before I can invite them over.

 

Who can I play with next winter? 
I look around me, searching for no one in particular.

 

Who can I play with next winter?
 

It won’t go away……..

 

It itches. 

It itches. 

It itches.

It itches.

It itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, and itches, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES, AND ITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

STOP.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I insert my ocean blue earbuds into my ear canals and blast “Beethoven’s Silence” until it feels like my eardrums would burst.

The music calms me.

It’s my favorite song.

I’ve listened to it at least 50 times a day since I was nine.

Nine was when I first felt the urge to...............................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh!

 

An empty bench. I take a seat and look up at the budding trees.

The park is lovely today.

The air is still a bit crisp but a light jacket is enough to keep warm bodies warm. 

 

 

Warm bodies.

 

 

 

Warm blood. 

 

 

 

Blood.

 

 

 

I’m reminded of the end of winter as I look down at the ground and see patches of green sprouting from the filthy earth.

My body shivers as a light breeze blows by and I’m rocketed into my memories of this past winter.

I close my eyes and recall the last event.

It happened 21 days…

17 hours…

31 minutes…

And 6 seconds ago...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A shovel.

Footprints in the snow.

Stars shimmering in the night sky.

The moon a radiant white crescent.

Silence all around us.

Somebody wrapped entirely in a cream-white sheet. I always try to find white sheets to match the color of snow. Oftentimes, the color is slightly off and it burdens me.

It’s heavy.

I grunt as I push and pull,

 

                                  push and pull,

 

                                                  push and pull.

The once undisturbed snow has been plowed by this lifeless body, but that’s alright. I enjoy disrupting freshly fallen snow. The crunching of packed ice beneath my feet sounds almost as lovely as my favorite song. 

I dug a deep pit earlier that day. The body falls into it quietly. It’s so eerily quiet.

I stare into the pit.

I can’t see my masterpiece but I know what is underneath the red-stained sheet.

It bled more than the others, but that was because I was experimenting with new tools.

Perfection was something I strived for.

 

I just needed more practice. 

 

 

 

 

 

But the next snowstorm never came. 
 

 

 

 

 

The sun...

 

 

 

 

 

 

                               The damned sun melted everything away...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m pulled back to the present.

I’m still sitting on the bench.

My song is playing for the seventeenth time today. 

I look up at the trees and lock my eyes on the birth of a new leaf sprouting from a cracked bud.

The corners of my lips pull down with gravity. 

I’m reminded of spring but I know the excitement of winter keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane. 

 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

 

Keeps me sane. 

Keeps me sane.

Keeps me sane.

[Raelyn]

Diary of a Prude Woman

 

Dear diary,

       There's a fire inside that burns greater when I'm around him. Hotter and hotter until it reaches the center of my core. I want to purge myself of this beckoning heat that tells me I should just fling myself at him, but that wouldn't be ladylike at all. Only whores did things like that. 

       Looking back on my life, I realized I've never done anything all that "naughty". It's too far outside of my comfort zone. The men I dated had boring personalities which made things in the bedroom terribly dull. Sex was never satisfying. Fake orgasms were the only thing I learned and mastered from the monotonous activity. 

       Hell, I don't even own a vibrator like the rest of my girlfriends. All I have are my favorite two fingers, but I don't need anything or anyone else to give my body the electrifying pleasure I deserve.

       Hm. Maybe I'm the boring one. 

       Ever since I met him, however, my thoughts have grown quite impure. All I can think about is his large hand clamped around my saturated sex. Perhaps, even a finger or two could slip into my velvet entrance and explore me deep and well. He'd toy with me until finally finding my G-spot, and then rub my tender walls until I keeled over in a fantastic orgasm. 

       Oh, dear. Fantasizing about such delicious sin made me wet. 

       His name is Kyle. His last name is irrelevant. In all honesty, I don't know it. 

       I saw him earlier today flirting with the corner store whore who works behind the cash register. There were a few grocery items I knew the corner store kept stock of, so I'd gone there instead of a proper market. Seeing the two share sexual tension not only made me envious, but it lit my core in an unusual way. If the cash register wasn't between them, I bet they'd fuck right then and there for everyone to see. 

       Though, I wouldn't mind witnessing a live fucking. Whenever I watch porn, I prefer webcam videos because they feel more authentic. Watching real people go at it easily skyrockets my libido.

       After Kyle left the store, I wondered if the corner store whore's panties were soaked like mine. Stepping up to the register, I examined her flushed features and greeted her with a civil smile. Her shit-brown eyes didn't compare to my fluorescent blues, and her skin color was a bit uneven from a fake tan she must've gotten some weeks ago. Unlike her, my beige skin was naturally kissed by the sun. The only honest compliment I could offer was how gorgeous her glossy auburn hair looked cascading over her slender shoulders. Although, I still favored my wavy caramel locks. 

       While the corner store whore scanned my grocery items, my imagination ran wild. I imagined a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets and large fluffed pillows. A dim red light illuminated the room and provided an erotic atmosphere. 

       Lying on the firm mattress on her back was the corner store whore—completely nude—gripping onto both sides of the pillow beneath her head. Her moans filled the room whenever she arched her back from the quick strokes of my tongue on her delicate ball of nerves. My face was buried in-between her thighs, inhaling her sex as I ate her shaven pussy with vigor. The little minx kept trying to close her legs so I had to force them apart with my hands pushed against her inner thighs. 

       Kneeling behind me was Kyle with his cock buried deep inside me; his hands were gripping my hips and his eyes were fixated on my ass. My cheeks rippled every time he slammed his hips into them. His enormous cock stretched me entirely and it felt superb. 

       I'd force the corner store whore to orgasm first by sticking my favorite two fingers into her sopping pussy—I don’t mind sharing my fingers in this instance. I’d eagerly stroke her G-spot while lapping at her swollen clit. Watching her squirm boosted my sensitivity, allowing me to orgasm next from the rapid and powerful thrusting of the man behind me. The muscles inside me tightened around his cock to add that extra bit of pleasure so that he, too, could climax just as intensely. He'd fill me up with every last drop of his thick and milky essence. 

       My fantasy was interrupted when the corner store whore spoke. I'd almost forgotten I was paying for simple grocery items. I promised myself I'd fulfill my lustful craving once I returned home...alone.

       Let me tell you, diary, that I made myself orgasm at least ten times within the last hour. I actually wished I owned a vibrator. Inviting a random man to just fuck me in order to satisfy this unique thirst had even crossed my mind. Now that I think about it, my favorite two fingers won't be able to do me justice any longer...

       I think I'll go visit the corner store whore again tomorrow. For some reason, I can't stop thinking about her, too.