My Photo

Je veux être la fille avec la plupart de gâteau. Regardez-moi dans la glace.
This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from Madeline Glass. Make your own badge here.

21 May 2007



You know how sometimes you go to a potluck and taste something amazing and you can't get it out of your mind? I gravitate to the vegetarian selections. It's like saying, "I'm cool with this, I love vegetables, too," and I can share in the secret society of non-flesh-eaters.

She brought sushi.

I was there when she rang the bell, and we shook hands when I opened the door. I don't think we kissed cheeks. Yet. But hers were there, fresh-scrubbed and full and flushed from the walk in the cold. Her dark hair was cropped close and accentuated her huge eyes and natural brows. I may actually have sighed. She carried her sushi to the kitchen and I turned and said, to no one in particular, "She is the most handsome seventeen-year-old boy ever."

I flirted, talked, joked and escaped for a smoke with some of the other attendees. I was, I realized, distracted. I ate sushi.

I watched her, sitting in the low chair, leaning forward and listening to some other person going on about some other thing which couldn't possibly have been as interesting as the things I wanted to tell her; she smiled at them and nodded, encouraging.

She's quiet, but sure of herself, I noted. I am built similarly, being undemanding, yet consistent in my desires. I know what I want, and I am patient.

I was glad when she started and looked at me, come upon her from behind, my hand just touching her shoulder, bending over to speak into her ear, our faces close. She smiled and said, "that sounds promising" when I suggested she come home with us.

Seven months hence and I can't shake the strength of her body pressing down on me or the feel of her torso behind my legs as she held my ankles up to her shoulders and rocked into me with my own strap-on. Her voice coming out of space encouraging me, relaxing me.

But that thing that I want to taste again–the recipe I forgot to get–is the all-encompasing, never-letting-me-go embrace she kept me in for a very long time after the slow withdrawal of her fist from my body.

10 May 2007


I'm No Diva, I'm a Visual Aid.

No, it's not a new Panic! At the Disco song, it's a new blog by my sweet friend Lolita.

100 Divas is Lolita's chronicle of her quest to spank 100 divas. I'm not on the list.

Because I'm not a diva.

But may I just say, Lolita's expert swatting on my tender bits and Jefferson's eye for detail and well-wielded camera make for one fuck of a photo.

Nice work, friends.