Bush Pilot [Poem] by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

We are defiling her bed in glorious ways
after the bottle and music by candlelight
and there I am just above her splayed legs,
my face strafing across the horizon  
and I start making these sounds like a small plane
so that she asks me what the hell I’m doing
and I tell her I am a bush pilot coming in close
over the thick lush canopy,
she closes her legs and begs me to stop 
making that awful noise,
but I tell her I can’t, that if the plane just stops
I will fall right out of the air and crash to my death
and that looks like unusually thick bush down there,
even a seasoned search team would not stand 
a chance.

Just what every woman wants to hear!
she sits up in bed 
and crosses her arms.

But I have already climbed back up to altitude 
and flew right out of the room with my outstretched arms
for wings and a fuel gauge running on low.

Three Poems by Bill Wolak

The Helplessness of Orgasm 

From the excited delirium  
of contorted flesh, 
arises the sudden  
weightlessness  
of an embrace. 

Out of the trembling  
helplessness of orgasm, 
emerges the intimate  
stillness of honey. 

Harder 

When your naked body  
quivers out of control, 
pale as the afterimage 
of a lightning flash, 
whisper into a flushed ear 
with a murmured sigh 
harder, harder, harder. 

Then speak only  
with the pressure 
of your thighs. 

Flashing 

Flashing your breasts 
so that only  
I could see 
quick as  
the middle  
of a dream 
all the open  
buttonholes 
of your blouse 
are still smiling. 

“Producer” by Ty Spencer Vossler now available on Payhip

We’re all about sharing something new with you our devoted followers, and today we’re proud to announce that long-time contributor Ty Spencer Vossler and Pink Litter have teamed up to produce, well, “Producer“, a tale about lovely wife Lucia and her husband who trade cash for a professional fucking by one of the adult film industry’s leading men.

This is just the beginning, as the plans are to produce a full-length anthology of these stories. Stay tuned for more updates!

C.E. Hoffman’s “Sluts and Whores” Slated for Release

Past contributor C.E. Hoffman, who penned Bloom (Blowjobs) is set to release her collection of short stories February 14, 2021!

Go to her website for more information.

Here is an interview with the author:

PL: Please start by telling us a little about yourself and how you began as an artist.

C.E. Hoffman: I’ve felt the creative urge as long as I can remember. My parents will tell you I used to narrate stories minutes long (often longer!) when I was  wee. I wrote my first full-length novel (over 400 pages) at eleven years old, and the muse has remained ever-loyal- if not demanding! 

PL: What does the art express or mean to you personally? At the same time, what kind of thought or feeling are you trying to evoke from your audience?

C.E. Hoffman: Writing is my liferaft. Some seek inspiration to write- I seek methods to stop! Expressing myself via written word is a balm for my mental illness, which bodes for a highly-charged life experience. 

I’d love my writing to be a liferaft for others, too. To be that friend a shy person can carry around in their pocket. Through being heard, I want others to feel heard, too.

P.L.: Please describe your creative process (i.e. how do you work, stay up for days at a time or do a little here and there?)

C.E. Hoffman: I love having a project. When absorbed in a short-term task, like editing a finished manuscript, I may indeed work for 1-2 days non-stop. For longer endeavors, like plotting or writing a new novel, I try to take little steps every day. Either way, I work best in the morning, and often find myself bored by 11AM. 

P.L.: Who are some of your main influences?

C.E. Hoffman: Zadie Smith!! (NW- read it? If not, do so immediately!) Irvine Welsh. Martin Millar. C S Lewis. And many more! (Inspiration is everywhere!) 

P.L.: What is it you are trying to accomplish with your writing? Is it purely an expression of desire or more premeditated? 

C.E. Hoffman: I want to inspire people to heal their past and shape their future. In a time of division, I seek to unify. 

P.L.: Do you have a specific “type” of piece you enjoy creating more (i.e. an “energy piece” or a kind of pithy or quirky piece?) Is it more serious or fun stuff?

C.E. Hoffman: I love experimental thoughtstream narratives, wherein little is certain but feeling. I have a lot of fun with quirky dialogue, too! 

P.L.: What turns you on, personally and professionally?

C.E. Hoffman: People who respect me, and respect themselves. Oh, and Taron Egerton. 

P.L.: From poets to erotic bloggers, online communities such as FetLife to pure fiction, writers and artists are making their “personal” business public in one form or another. How do you feel that, are sex experiences all public or all private or somewhere in between? Can they be both? Is sex meant to be a shared experience (beyond of course the literal meaning)?

C.E. Hoffman: I explore this theme in I Could Have Danced All Night (My First Orgy), a story found in the collection! 

Sex is, in some ways, the most public thing that exists. Any human is a walking testament to sex and birth. In that essence, sex is life, which is all at once totally private (isolated, even!) and absolutely universal. 

P.L. In that sense, in the private world, pornography has a wide audience (and outsells regular movies) but most won’t admit to watching. Similarly “erotica” is greatly marginalized both as a creative art form (writing, art, etc.) Do you see it ever changing from this mold, becoming accepted or even normal?

C.E. Hoffman: Great question! Something divisive occurs in the human mind when sex enters the picture. Even Sluts and Whores has been mistaken for an erotic collection given its title- as if sex workers and sexually-active humans have nothing to offer outside eroticism! If we are to come to a healthy balance with sex, sexuality, and pleasure, acknowledging these forces as natural, beautiful, and powerful, I reckon we have a while to go. I hope this collection can do its part to bring that change forward. 

bathhouse [poem] by Jack Henry

it’s an exchange of glances
gestures and smiles to communicate
desire, lust, need;

it’s our code of conduct,
a secret language;
i understand implicitly,
when he looks at me;

i obey,
completely;

without careful consideration,
momentary reflection,
i make my way to him;
the room dark, air heavy;
the smell of masculinity
and desperation mixes with
strange fragrances of spice
and jasmine; and the sounds
of fucking;

we kiss hard, bodies press together,
both naked, erect, tangled intimacies;
no time for introduction,
pleasantries, normal correspondence that
might lead to consecration;

the concrete floor is hard on my knees;
his cock in my mouth, his hands holding
my head, his hips moving;
it doesn’t take long;

he walks away, sated, leaves without speaking;
the room is not empty, others move in closer;
blood in the water;
four, five, ten;
roll around, penetrating, stabbing flesh;

high and careless, each takes their turn,
adds their emission; i find my own release
in a corner, alone; used and useless;

the night is cold as i exit,
footfalls ring out against concrete;
i light a cigarette,
realize there’s no sun to warm me,
no light to guide me,
only gray clouds and a sudden rain,
and sense of drowning in a gutter near mid-town;


jack henry is a california based poet living in the fringes between real and terror. more of his mutterings can be found at jackhenry.wordpress.com.

Love 1 [Poem] by Frederick Foote

I love the golden enchanted forest between your legs
My intrepid tongue, my greedy lips explorer for the hidden ore
You sigh, grow wet, creamy, explode in sweet delights
You pull my head roughly into your gushing vagina
I grab your ass pulling you tighter to me forming an unbreakable seal
Later, I lick your hairy bush, your sticky thighs clean of cum

Hundreds of miles apart I dream of invading those slumbering thighs
In my sleep I kiss those welcoming wet lips, lick your pussy, suck your clit
You call me groggy, moaning, groaning, pleading for more
I plunder you in our dreamscape until morning calls me
to switch channels to daydreams of you and I


Since 2014 Frederick Foote has published over two-hundred-fifty stories and poems including literary, science fiction, fables, and horror genres. Frederick has published two short story collections, For the Sake of Soul, (2015) and, Crossroads Encounters, (2016).

Besties [Poem] by David Sprehe

sometimes i play and think about you
you quiver
my shiver is never good as yours 😦
i penetrate myself with thoughts of you
i groan, stuffed,
my tongue in your pubes
our nipples touch
your finger in my cunny
juicy my panties
you fuck my ass
choke me
shuddering
semen rolling in pulses down your throat
our testicles press, smeared in expulsions
giggling,
fingers eager for buttholes
spit, spit on my stomach,
my back,
push our dildo far as it will go
share
share taste
share oxygen, heart
your finger burns my clutching butthole
you sniff your finger
gag
we laugh
you wipe your finger on the sheets
rolling together
i like it
so do you
legs up and smiling
i expel, pushing in
you fart, when I pull out,
fart the love I put in


David Sprehe types in SoIL, US