If you love GIFS with cum please enjoy Cum Fetish Erotica by Moctezuma Johnson.
You will love sexy Jynx from Korea. She has a major obsession with cum and with her super-hot boyfriend MJ and, ideally, wants to milk one out of the other. Unfortunately, there’s a smoking hot, tall Korean chick in her way. MJ has left Jynx in the dust to pursue this leggy supermodel with long black hair. Jynx needs to feed her obsession. Without a steady dose of her favorite protein she’s fading. Jynx has a plan to put all three of them together on a rooftop and exact and nasty revenge on Jenny while getting her much vials filled with the much needed semen. Once on the roof, her plans fall to shit as MJ, swayed by the round curves of Jenny’s fine ass, can’t follow the rules Jynx set for him. Mayhem leads to Jynx pulling out all the stops before she loses love and her obsession in one fell swoop. If Jynx goes to plan B, MJ and Jenny have to worry for their sanity and safety as Jynx is wearing a necklace filled with the Devil’s Breath. See how far Jynx stoops to satisfy her depraved craving. Will she go as far as murder to get the holy protein? Read Chronicles of a Humiliation Backfired (a Cum Fetish Erotica) by Moctezuma Johnson and find out.
If you love GIFS with cum please enjoy Cum Fetish Erotica by Moctezuma Johnson. You will love sexy Jynx from Korea. She has a major obsession with cum and with MJ and, ideally, wants to milk one out of the other. Unfortunately, there’s a smoking hot, tall Korean chick in her way. See how far Jynx stoops to satisfy her depraved craving. Will she go as far as murder to get the holy protein? Read and find out.
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I splashed through my trivial thoughts
on butterflies and wormholes
Until I heard her voice
my shoulders nearly shook
Without even a touch
water leaked out my ears
as she told me to take out the garbage
and clean the cat litterbox again.
Week 8 – Snap, Crackle, Strip! | This week we look at Comic Strips in art and poetry | #NRRTG #LPRTG #PopArt
Week 8 – Snap, Crackle, Strip!
Comic Strip Style Pop Art by Roy Lichtenstein with accompanying Comic Strip Style Poetry.
Most of you will know “Drowning Girl” by Lichtenstein best. You may have seen me use it with a mock-caption of my own in Week One of this Snap, Crackle, Art by MJ stuff for the Too Pedantics, err, Blue Semantics, oops, Stew Gigantics, err sorry, I meant Necromatics, blah blah…Nu Romantics. That’s the one.
Lichtenstein’s paintings have sold for millions of dollars but they may be blatant rip-offs of some other artists toiling away for DC Comics and other locations.
Indie authors may not be the only ones guilty of copycatting. Perhaps a Sarchasmo character cockslapping fools (geni.us/Sarchasmo & geni.us/Sarchasmo2) was needed to mete out justice for some of those who penned comic strips. I’m only half-kidding. Lichtenstein’s relationship to criticism was complex at best.
Anyway, I digress.
Most of Lichtenstein’s best-known works are relatively close, but not exact, copies of comic book panels, a subject he largely abandoned in 1965, though he would occasionally incorporate comics into his work in different ways in later decades. These panels were originally drawn by such comics artists as Jack Kirby and DC Comics artists Russ Heath, Tony Abruzzo, Irv Novick, and Jerry Grandenetti, who rarely received any credit. Jack Cowart, executive director of the Lichtenstein Foundation, contests the notion that Lichtenstein was a copyist, saying: “Roy’s work was a wonderment of the graphic formulae and the codification of sentiment that had been worked out by others. The panels were changed in scale, color, treatment, and in their implications. There is no exact copy.” However, some have been critical of Lichtenstein’s use of comic-book imagery and art pieces, especially insofar as that use has been seen as endorsement of a patronizing view of comics by the art mainstream cartoonist Art Spiegelman commented that “Lichtenstein did no more or less for comics than Andy Warhol did for soup.”
Like I said, I digress.
What I want to get to is the idea of comic strips as poems. See some from ‘The Poetry’ and ‘The Poetry Foundation’. These little comic strips are poems. They have rhythm. They show the history of an emotion. Some of them even rhyme. I think they are a lot of fun. Check a few out. Click the Images to Enlarge.
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Biography of Lichtenstein From Wikipedia:
Roy Fox Lichtenstein (pronounced Funkenstein, just kidding, it’s /ˈlɪktənˌstaɪn/; October 27, 1923 – September 29, 1997) was an American pop artist. During the 1960s, along with Andy Warhol, Jasper Johns, and James Rosenquist among others, he became a leading figure in the new art movement. His work defined the premise of pop art through parody. Inspired by the comic strip, Lichtenstein produced precise compositions that documented while they parodied, often in a tongue-in-cheek manner. His work was influenced by popular advertising and the comic book style. He described pop art as “not ‘American’ painting but actually industrial painting”. His paintings were exhibited at the Leo Castelli Gallery in New York City. His patron was Gunter Sachs.
Whaam! and Drowning Girl are generally regarded as Lichtenstein’s most famous works, with Oh, Jeff…I Love You, Too…But… arguably third. Drowning Girl, Whaam! and Look Mickey are regarded as his most influential works. His most expensive piece is Masterpiece, which was sold for $165 million in January 2017.
If you like your smutpunk messy, I suggest you try the Cum Party Bundle known as Chronicles of a Humiliation Backfired or the Smutpunk Exclusive VIP Archives for Smutpunks Only.
Four-Poem Friday (originally published at Nu Romantics on 7/31)
I beat her teat
With my friend
I call him Pete
Pete likes to go beat beat
And smack the teat
Of every freak
She’s pregnant and doing yoga
Her belly is touching the wood floor
Even though her hands and feet are down
On the wood
her ass is up
And from there
Her belly hangs
Her belly is Mt. Seoraksan, upside-down
A wormhole through creation, spinning
His wings flapping
His breath a fire stained
Umbilical cord like the striations
Of her muscle and the big, round
Bulbous planet that is her
Flies through the swirling stars
Earth got knocked up
Smutpunk must have leaked out her asshole
Into the moist green valleys of her terrestrial cunt
I’ll be blamed,
I’ll be guilty,
Lay on top of her and romantically kiss the back of her neck
You climb on top of her. “That feels so good honey. Gosh darn. If I wasn’t Allah’s honorable disciple I would let you ravage my pussy baby, but it’s best this way, it more romantic.” She really emphasized the word romantic disgustingly. “I could rape your ass at any time, hun. But I love you too much.” She giggled lovingly. You weren’t prudes. I mean, fuck. You were smart but just didn’t trust this world. You were different. You were raised in a different culture that demanded temperance. You were human and all sexed up and mostly expressed it through talking about it. You placed yourself so your dick was up her but crack, but you had on tighty whities and G-strung had on a g-string so you were all heavenly pure in that religious fanaticism kind of way that made your dick ultra-spiritually hard. Shit. You fit in G-strung’s crack perfectly and your pressure on her soft bulbous hardness felt insanely great. You could bake jizz cookies in her cunt oven you were so in love with her, but you would wait until it was god’s gracious goodness to gloriously, appropriately, and legally anally bake her chocolate cunt cookies. Instead of using your dick as a paddle in her cutely inappropriate cunt hole, you pressed your chest down onto her back without pushing too much weight onto her demure top half (how did this delicate torso hang onto that bad-ass booty of a bottom half, it was mathematically improbable), and buried your lips in her weave spread out over the nape of her neck like Hokkien noodles and kissed her tenderly until the hairs on her neck stood up. “Oh, honey, I love you. When we are married I will use my pussy like a washing machine over your cock. You’ll see. It will be the Kama Sutra’s Helicopter over the Congress of the Cow with a side of Splitting the Bamboo for you, baby.” You leaned forward and found her lips. You brushed some of her thick hair off her face and your tongues met and you French-kissed deeply. You were so on the verge of cumming. You could feel her engorged clit through the fabric between you. It was pulsing, trembling, a small sexual earthquake. She was humping the floor. You could just jizz so easily you thought of other things. You thought of pi, then of dirty toilets in the old train. Your orgasm subsided a tick, but it was still right there on the precipice. She climbed your tongue with an intense suction until she hung from the back of it, in your mouth, breathlessly. Then her hips stiffened. She went dead like a fish after it’s all flapped out. You increased the pressure of your cock in its undies in her ass crack and that released the cum-kracken. You spurted down her ass crack (in undies, of course. Safety first). “You’re the best,” she said and rocked until you fell off to the side of her and nuzzled up into her smelling her cocoa and coconut funk butter until you drifted off to sleep.
Unfortunately, not getting dick in pussy was making you go a bit mad. You couldn’t continue like this. You loved her but you needed sex. It was a biological fact. The more you thought about it the more you justified it to yourself. As you walked around town, every hot chick you saw was further proof that you would get yourself some ass by hook or by crook. You decided that she must feel the same way. In fact…