Eroticism

[Hmm72]

And the napes work so well with the backs. Every good nape must surely be an ally of an equally beautiful back. It's like the rolling prairies, the majestic wondrousness of the natural world, the oceans, and the creatures within them. What do you feel in the midst of a landscapes that speaks of your own insignificance?

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Damn absolutely elegantly stunning

 

[NivKay]

Napes - so little known, so little seen, but there they are, like little soft birds, twittering away in the background, filling our days and weeks and years with song we only sense, but never truly know how to hear.

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Surely one of these is you, @softbird? A Chilean-Indian, so I'm guessing the second one?

 

[softbird]

Cartography is the science or art of charting lines, maping worlds, bringing the cosmos into our imaginations, to catch the incomprehensible.

yet the lines, the little undulations, the dips, the valleys, the secret bumps beneath the surface of my body are forver beyond knowing, the almost hidden depression between folds of skin where the thighs come together, or the often surprising gift of the buttons, wrapped, but irrepressible - these are the jewels I offer, the gems I keep.





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[softbird]

One of my favourite posts, I think (it’s hard to tell, there are so many gorgeous images!) It’s just… the moment of touch, and the magnetism… or gravitational pull… the sheer physics of it! To be in a state of being, within which not to reach out or to place one’s own skin against the other is no longer an option. Like being in a miniature, momentary crisis… and needing to follow the heart’s demand!

The gentle placing of a fingertip into the small of the back, says:

“I can’t stand here like this any longer without making contact with you.”
“I’m here, right behind you… you are strong… I love you.”
“If you were to turn now, I would hold you”
“I’m quietly yours, in this crowded room, here and now”

Such emotive images!

They are indeed. The touch is like blood that course through veins. Awareness. Attention.

 

[kneelingagain]

https://modelsociety.com/image/6121...setParams=sort=newest&filter=allimages&cat=41

 

[NivKay]

https://modelsociety.com/image/612134?set=feed&imgIndex=179&setParams=sort=newest&filter=allimages&cat=41

How lovely...erotic, and also in so many ways, divine, transcendent. It's like the act of kneeling is a path to some kind of sublime elevation

 

[softbird]

https://modelsociety.com/image/612134?set=feed&imgIndex=179&setParams=sort=newest&filter=allimages&cat=41

Thank you for posting! It's so ethereal!, and I love the site!!!

 

[kneelingagain]

https://modelsociety.com/image/613165?set=feed&skip=73&setParams=sort=newest&filter=allimages&cat=22

https://modelsociety.com/image/335169?ownerId=3e39e034-f39a-4f5d-b3b9-9f1b744c4a21&skip=19

 

[softbird]

Oh… that’s got me.

Gorgeous necks, all on show… the little wisps of soft hair on the nape are so attractive! I’m a fan of seeking the nape under the hair. The act of stroking and parting hair at the nape and then leaning in to kiss the soft skin as it is revealed is tender and erotic. This is the realm of spine-tingling goosebumps! Even to catch a little wisp of hair between my lips while I tenderly kiss her nape, slowly pulling my mouth away, pulling gently on the hair while it slides away between my lips. I think that would require coming back for more, with an open mouth, to warmly consume more of the shapeliness of her neck. Kissing the neck is so tender to give, and so sensitive to receive, that I think it’s one the ultimate intimate exchanges a couple can experience.

So too is to run my fingers front the front of the neck, all the way around to the back, gathering her hair like a soft curtain, lifting her hair, pinning it up with my hand upon her head, tucked behind and around her ear, revealing the full majesty of the line which runs from the soft, sensitive skin behind her ear, to the base of her hairline, my eye following the gentle curving line, down and across her shoulder! I’ve never been able to resist touching and kissing necks. I’ve been teased about it in the past. If you combine this, with your previous post of touch, then perhaps it’s the most seductive, blissful scenario I could think of… straight from erotic heaven! These are the moments that make being close to someone rich and meaningful. And so erotic! OMG.

Goosebumps

 

[softbird]

Rope, how beautifully it cuts into flesh. Keeps you immobile, suspended, and yet, keeps you caged and safe...why do I swoon so much at the thought of rope against my flesh? Do you see how it pinches her? Do you feel how I shudder?



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[NivKay]

@softbird, given your way with words, I’m surprised you haven’t written anything and published. I’d be very intrigued to see some of your writing!

 

[softbird]

@softbird, given your way with words, I’m surprised you haven’t written anything and published. I’d be very intrigued to see some of your writing!

No, I haven't published here, nor anywhere else, though I do dabble in some scribblings. I think I would be quite awful at it, I certainly wouldn't wish to be so bold as to think any writing I did would be good!

 

[Hmm72]

No, I haven't published here, nor anywhere else, though I do dabble in some scribblings. I think I would be quite awful at it, I certainly wouldn't wish to be so bold as to think any writing I did would be good!

I would beg to differ on that and believe you would be quite the writer that will have people erotically captivated

 

[softbird]

There is an art to sitting. When one sits, one becomes grounded, landed, perhaps even hobbled, metaphorically speaking. But when one sits with brazenness, with an awareness of being observed, a sitting that calls attention to the radical rejection of proper-ness, then sitting becomes an act of agency, a narrative, voice, it becomes speech, eloquent iteration of fire.

Either folded, or parted, she sits with intent. Notice where her hands go, instinctively, traimed, it would seem, to protect, but I also see in that instinct, defiance, a gentle "no".

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[softbird]

I would beg to differ on that and believe you would be quite the writer that will have people erotically captivated

You’re a darling

 

[NivKay]

No, I haven't published here, nor anywhere else, though I do dabble in some scribblings. I think I would be quite awful at it, I certainly wouldn't wish to be so bold as to think any writing I did would be good!

I think none of us believe that. I think we would all agree, you’ll be brilliant at it!

 

[softbird]

Sometimes, the details, the minutiae of her form matters more than anything else. These subtle glmipses, they have the power to crumble the coldest exteriors. They don't seek to challenge, or question. They do not refuse, nor do they perform. But these details merely are. And yet, wars are fought over these details.

 

[NivKay]

I hear you. These are subtle messages we send into the world, right? I don't think we intend to. They're just there, happenstances. Maybe that's the magic behind them? They're unplanned..

 

[NivKay]

Movement, like Time itself, is both cruel in its eroticism, and tender in its seduction

I hadn't seen this before. But that is quite mesmerising!

 

[NivKay]

Legs are rivers, fluidity made manifest in bodies.

Even Neruda could not resist:

My thirst, my desire without end, my wavering road!
Dark river beds down which the eternal thirst is flowing,
and the fatigue is flowing, and the grief without shore.

They stamp their mark, like embossed tulle over the the skein of the world. Long after they have been seen, they track our paths like road maps, guides lighting our way.

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I think what these images are doing, @softbird is teaching us all how to see. Is that what you're doing? teaching us how to see?

 

[NivKay]

https://imgur.com/a/2qHXQ78

I find ambiguity to be very erotic. Eroticism can come from the definite… the explicit… the apparent, because our eyes are enticed by what we see, but I believe eroticism can also come from uncertainty; the excitement of not quite knowing for sure; to catch a glimpse of a signal; a lingering, desiring, even lustful glance… before a mutual sensation of being caught, and looking away. Our greatest unconscious desire in that moment is that we will look back at one another in synchronicity. But nothing is said yet! Nothing is certain! I feel the danger of advancing without being sure: is there consent here? Am I reading this correctly? I don’t know! The wait; the anticipation; the imagination running wild because there are no boundaries formed yet; I have already imagined our embrace… the touching of our foreheads as we stare into each others eyes while our hands seek out ways to release each other’s skin. When we say “yes”, only then there is certainty… in that comes form and a conception, perhaps leading to the intimate moment. But before this? It is a world of infinite, formless, chaotic possibilities, where imagination runs riot! It makes the heart beat fast and the mouth open to cope with the breathlessness of it. The allure of the not-quite-knowing can be extremely erotic. If we are present, and pay attention then we may catch ‘it’.

Imagine we are in a beautiful hotel room, on a huge four-poster bed. We awake from our restful embrace, and untie ourselves from each other’s limbs. I look deeply into your eyes as I take the blindfold from the sheet beside us and gently, silently place it upon you. Just like we agreed I would. Suddenly your usual erotic visual stimulus is gone and your other senses try as hard as they can to compensate. We say nothing but listen to each other’s presence for a moment. You take a moment to imagine that I am looking at you, while you lie blindfolded and vulnerable, with possessive eyes. Without warning, you are shocked that I unexpectedly rise, cross the floor and leave the room… you are alone. Why did I go? Why have I left you alone like this? Where have I gone? Should you take off the blindfold and get up, or should you stay and wait? You lie still, listening, anticipating. You can hear your heart beating. One hundred, pounding beats. Footsteps outside the door come to a stop. There is a pause… how long have you been here like this? Was it one hundred beats of your heart or one thousand? The pause is long. It is so long that you wonder whether you heard those steps at all! Did you imagine them? You suddenly feel alone and feel a strong desire to remove the blindfold, but you don’t. There is a profound silence. Are you alone? Did I even leave the room! You imagine that I have been in the room, counting your heartbeats with you, until it is time.

A key turns in the lock, quietly, as if trying to hide it from you. Is it me? You can’t be sure. You utter, with a light whisper, as if you are asking only yourself “is that… you?”. The uncertainty of the moment makes you tense. If this is not me then who is it? I am the only one with a key, unless it is a member of staff! You trust me… we spoke about trust… so it must either be me, or the one person in the hotel tonight that I know you desire. I know who you well enough… what if I handed the key over to… her! You imagine the sensation of her lips brushing across your thigh, and her seeking tongue entering you. There is silent movement in the room, you feel the air of the room moving on your skin! You take a deep breath and accept the pleasure found in the ambiguity of the moment.

I place my hand gently on your chest; warm and restful, fingers splayed apart. You know my hand, it is a familiar energy. I can feel the beating in your chest, and you smile at the moment of imagination you had. For a moment, you quietly wish it was her, but this is replaced, like a queen taking a pawn, with a wicked grin when you realise what is now in store… what is it going to be? The aching intensity of no longer knowing where and how I will touch you next! How will this play out? Suddenly you find yourself back in this moment of ambiguity, unsure of what journey this will take. But there is one thing you do know for certain; over the next hour, I won’t tell you what is going to happen next, but whatever it is will allow your senses to be flooded, and your imagination to be free. Maybe she will join us, after all.

I look over to her, as she fills the glass with ice, and lights the candle…

Quite beautiful, mate!

 

[NivKay]

See how she blends with light into the world around her. See how she eludes capture, eludes our comprehension. And yet, she is real, real, in the immediacy of our apprehension. How often do we miss the erotic present, and we only get the traces of their having been there?

The erotic never stays, it is like apparitions that plague the soul by their ephemeral nature.

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Another seated figure...but its interesting how you switch the lens, and we focus on different things.

 

[NivKay]

The unsaid - how delectable it is! Language steps in the way of meaning. Because words, while beautiful, poetic, cadenced, are always like the stars in the sky. They are merely reflections of light emanating from the stars which are light years away.

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That fir4st image with her panties on a pile of books! Overpowering!!

 

[sunset_dreaming]

Wow.. so much to catch up on!

Cartography - I love the comparison to the form of the body. One examines the topography of the landform on a map by way of contour lines. You take that analogy and apply that to the female form. That exquisite observation of such delicate contours. Then we apply lighting to those contours through photography to accentuate and highlight. Or hide and disguise.

Can that same ephemeral principal of light casting shadows be captured in music...? Maybe Cocteau Twins came close.

 

[sunset_dreaming]

Rope, how beautifully it cuts into flesh. Keeps you immobile, suspended, and yet, keeps you caged and safe...why do I swoon so much at the thought of rope against my flesh? Do you see how it pinches her? Do you feel how I shudder?

Tension. Restriction.

Sometimes less is more