Nov 28, 2012

Dates announced for 2013 Cinekink Film Festival

New York, NY - November 28, 2012 - Scheduled for February 26-March 3, 2013, the tenth annual CineKink NYC will feature a specially-curated program of films and videos that celebrate and explore a wide diversity of sexuality. In addition to screenings, plans for the festival also include a short film competition, audience choice awards, a special adult entertainment showcase, and a gala kick-off event, along with retrospective screenings commemorating a decade's worth of kinky programming. A national tour will follow, showcasing audience favorites from the NYC festival selections.

Billing itself as "the kinky film festival," the event is presented by CineKink, an organization dedicated to the recognition and encouragement of sex-positive and kink-friendly depictions in film and television. With offerings drawn from both the independent cinema world and the adult, works presented at CineKink NYC will range from documentary to drama, comedy to experimental, slightly spicy to quite explicit--and everything in between.

"It's so amazing to me that we've made it to the decade marker," said Lisa Vandever, Co-Founder and Director of CineKink. "Looking back on all the films we've presented since 2003, it's incredibly gratifying that we've been able to connect such smart and sexy works, and such talented filmmakers, with an appreciative, like-minded audience. And we're looking forward to another year of it!"

The organization is currently seeking works for CineKink/2013, with a call for entries open until December 11, 2012. The festival line-up and schedule for CineKink NYC will be announced in January.

For more information visit

Nov 27, 2012

The Good Uncle

I've always wanted to be considered "the good uncle" or "the fun uncle."

I'd always try to take my niece and nephews out to see the big movie premieres or to special events. I made sure to get them a few gag gifts around the holidays along with something that would garner an "awesome!" or two.

When the boys, I'd kid with them incessantly. I got into the habit of telling them tall tales, building on them into the stratosphere of ridiculousness until they'd finally call me out on them. "You know, those planes aren't actually getting higher, they're getting smaller..." They ran around the rest of the weekend trying to catch planes by jumping into the air.

I suppose I was teaching them to not trust authority; something I always valued.

With the girl, Jill, I tried to bolster her confidence, trying to inoculate her against the bad messages that come at young women all the time. The week before my niece's homecoming dance, my sister asked me to come over and stay the weekend. Jill was of age but my sister couldn't handle the idea of her daughter being alone for the weekend.

"Whatever you do, don't call it babysitting," Jill pleaded with me when I arrived.

"I wouldn't in a million years," I assured her. Jill was no baby. She'd long since gone from the little girl I once knew to a beautiful young woman. I'd watched her blossom, seeing her change more and more at every family function.

The week went smoothly. While my sister has lousy taste in movies, the boys hadn't taken all their DVDs to college with them, leaving me a wide array of action and horror movies. I had to get on Jill a few times about doing her homework before allowing her to join me watching movies. Like most teens, she was somewhat sulky and often a smartass. As the week went on, it felt like she had something she wanted to talk about but I didn't press her. I remembered what it was like when adults in my life used to pressure me.

I found myself with her on that Friday night, surprised that she'd be spending time at home with me rather than going out with friends. Don't kids always have to be somewhere? Soccer, track, dance class, the mall?

"Are you going out tonight?" I asked her. I don't know what it was; maybe that I had finally asked her something but what she had been holding back all week finally came tumbling out.

She started tearing up a bit and shook her head. "No, I'm not going anywhere."

"Were you supposed to be somewhere?"

She paused, biting her lip, and whispered, "Tonight's homecoming."

"Ah," I intoned, knowing that homecoming was once important to me when I was her age. "I don't want to be indelicate, but why aren't you going?"

She turned her head and I expected waterworks. My heart sunk. "Oh, shit. Now I have to comfort a crying teenager," I thought.

I breathed a little sigh of relief when she turned back to look at me and said, "Because I was afraid."

Without thinking I asked, "What are you afraid of?"

Her face flushed immediately with embarrassment and her eyes hit the ground. She made a few gurgled sounds in her throat and I tried to intuit the answer to my own question.

"Did you feel pressure that something might happen at homecoming?" I asked. I could see that I was getting close to something. "Or... after homecoming?"

"Yes," she whispered.

What the fuck? Had my sister never had the talk -- and I mean the talk -- with Jill? The same one mom had with us where she scared us shitless about sex and made us sign a contract that we wouldn't ever go "all the way" with someone of the opposite sex until we were twenty years old? I wish I could say that was a joke but it was as real as the ink we used to sign it (I had asked if she wanted it signed in blood and received a cuff to the ear for that one).

"Are you worried more about being pressured to do something you don't want to do or afraid that you don't want to do something or scared about wanting it?"

It took a moment for the full implications of my question to hit her.

After an uncomfortable silence, she stammered, "I - uh - I..."

I let her off the hook.

"Did you buy a dress for homecoming?"

Thankful for a new question she quickly answered, "Yes, four weeks ago."

"So, you were definitely planning on going," I said. "I don't imagine you can use the same dress for the prom. It seems a shame to waste it."

I stood up, moving to the window where I could look at her indirectly as a reflection that got clearer each moment as the sun rapidly descended in the western sky.

"How about," I said, "We have our own homecoming right here. You go upstairs, put on your dress; I'll put on some music, and we can have our dance here. I don't know what else they do at these dances. Food? Drink? Streamers? Tell me and I'll do what I can to make sure your dress doesn't go to waste."

I watched her reflected in the window. I could see her considering my words, wondering if it was too nerdy to go get in her party dress and dance with her uncle or if privacy allowed her this indulgence.

Without saying a word, she left the room. I turned in time to see her head up the stairs to her room.

I prepared the sitting room; moving furniture out of the way to give us a dance floor. I lowered the lights and spent far too long with my sister's over-complicated stereo system before I could get it tuned to a satellite station.

I wanted Jill to have her Homecoming. I had never gone to any of my high school dances in any capacity other than getting in for free as a perk for being in marching band. After weekly football games, I'd put away my instrument, change out of my uniform, and wander into the gym where I'd hold up a wall for a half hour before going home and thinking about all the girls I wanted to ask to dance.

And now? Dancing with my niece. I hadn't done so since my sister got married over twenty years ago.

I remembered how intense things like dances could be. I hoped to at least let her have something special to remember. I thought she might consider the whole idea too "lame" but she seemed to jump at the chance.

I heard the clack of her shoes on the wood stairs. I turned to see her coming down. She looked gorgeous. Her hair was in her best up-do with tendrils framing her face. Her dress, a maroon satin creation, emphasized her budding figure. It boasted an embarrassing amount of cleavage and I wondered how my sister had approved of it.

As she reached the final step, I told her how terrific she looked. Even in the dim light I could see the color rising on her cheeks.

A slow song started on the satellite station. I reached out my hand. "May I have this dance?"

She gave me hers in return and we met halfway. After a moment of fumbling with our hand positions, she ended up with her arms up over my shoulders while mine rested at her waist. The heat of her body felt good beneath my fingers.

She would try to meet my eyes and then look down as we swayed to the rhythm of the music, slowly moving across the wooden floor.

The song changed and Jill moved closer, resting her head on my chest. I put my chin onto the top of her head, smelling the sweetness of her hair. I felt her body relax like she had finally let out a breath she'd been holding in for too long.

"Is this anywhere near to what you had in mind?" I asked.

"This is better than I could have hoped for," she said in a whisper. She wrapped her hands around the back of my head.

"Why is that?"

"I was afraid and I'm not anymore," she said.

"Sometimes it's good to be a little afraid. It keeps you on the straight and narrow. So, what were you afraid of? Can you tell me now?"

She began to pull, lowering my head as she raised hers. Our mouths met. She kissed me passionately, if inexpertly. As she broke from me she whispered, "That."

It took me a moment to catch my breath. My head was swimming.

"Were you afraid to kiss a boy, or afraid to kiss me?" I asked.

"I don't want a boy. I want you," she said, kissing me again.

"This isn't right," I told her, despite how much I wanted to kiss her. I caught a whiff of her perfume and wanted to nuzzle against her neck.

Her voice dropped down to a throaty whisper. "I feel safe here with you," she said. "I feel pressured by boys to do things that I don't want to do... with them. I want to do them with you."

I looked down to take her in even more. I watched the rise and fall of her chest, my eyes feasting on her cleavage, seeing the lightly freckles on her tanned skin. I watched the tendons of her neck stretch as she looked up into my eyes.

"I wanted this night to be something to remember, and now it is. I don't want to lose myself to anyone but you. Will you take me?"

The pleading in her eyes made my knees weak.

"Please?" she asked.

"Why me?"

"It's always been you. Once I knew that I had this to give, I wanted to give it to you. I've laid awake so many nights, dreaming about it."

"This isn't right," I said.

She leaned up to me ear and whispered, "I don't care."

I ran my thumb along the top of her dress where her breasts met the material. She gasped in my ear when my skin met hers.

"I want you to take me," she whispered.

I moved my mouth to her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my lips as I kissed her there. She leaned her head to the side, exposing herself to me. My lips parted and my teeth sunk into her tender young skin. She gasped and I felt her hands hold tighter onto my head, pulling me tighter.

I moved my head down further where I began to plant kisses across the expanse of her cleavage. She moaned as my hands crept onto her bottom, squeezing her tightly.

I stood up from her, releasing her.

I looked into her eyes and she knew why I had stopped. She knew that it was up to her to make the next move.

She reached down to the bottom of her dress and lifted it, removing it. I watched as she revealed her long, tanned legs.

She was naked beneath her dress.

I took in her pubic thatch, her thin hips, her flat stomach, her budding breasts.

She looked at me before quickly averting her gaze. I put my hand beneath her chin, lifting her face to mine. I looked down into her eyes as I told her how beautiful she was.

I let my other hand trail from her shoulder down her body, stopping between her legs.

I pushed a finger inside, finding her pussy wet and waiting for me. She gasped as I plunged into her, feeling her grasping at my digit as I sunk it deep into her. I watched as the look on her face went from lust to panic and quickly to pleasure.

My middle finger moved into her while my thumb found her clitoris. As I moved my finger in and out of her, my thumb brush over her clit and back again in time. I felt her begin to move with my rhythm, moving her hips against the movement of my hand.

Her eyes rolled back and her mouth opened slightly to allow a small moan to escape.

As I fingered her, I realized that I really wanted to take her cherry. Who knew what kind of boy was going to want to get in her pants? Why shouldn't I be the one to introduce her to the world of sex? To teach her. To make sure she's treated right. To comfort her after the first time? Why shouldn't I do it? Why shouldn't I fuck her?

The only argument that came back to me was one word, "Pregnant." I couldn't cum in her. That I couldn't do. But, everything else? Why not?

Maybe I'd fuck her so hard that she would hesitate to have sex again before she got out of college. I knew she'd probably already be racking up some extensive therapy bills, it was just a matter of why; sex with her uncle or rough sex with her uncle?

Her mouth worked, opening and closing while her eyelids fluttered. Finally, from somewhere deep inside her came a noise that began as a low moan, almost like a sigh, and crescendoed to a howl. Her eyes opened as she hit the top range and locked onto mine. Her pussy quivered and I felt her muscles spasm. Soon, her whole body seemed to vibrate.

I knew she was ready.

I raised my fingers to my lips and began to lick them clean. "Get down on your knees," I told her.

She dropped as if all the strength left the muscles in her legs. Without saying a word, she knew what to do. She knew what she needed.

She worked at my belt with deft fingers, quickly undoing my pants and freeing my cock. She hungrily took it into her mouth, clumsily sucking on me, perhaps in an imitation of something she might have seen in an adult movie or, more likely, something simulated in a late night soft core film on cable.

I let her continue for a moment before I reached down to pull her off of me. "But, I want to!" she said, almost pouting.

"Maybe later," I said. "But, first, I need to be somewhere else inside of you."

I got down to my knees, putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing her back. She took my lead and lay back on the floor. I crawled to her, taking her legs and lifting them aloft, she seemed surprised but allowed me to move her into a position where I had easy access to her pussy.

I got up close to her, leaning her legs against my shoulder with one hand while I used the other to run my cock up and down the folds of her pussy. I maneuvered myself into the right spot. I looked into her eyes and told her to relax. "This will hurt just a bit," I said, pushing into her.

It only took the briefest of moments to steal her virginity, to feel her break beneath me, to smell the scent of her blood mix in with her excitement, to see her face go from pleasure to pain and back again.

Her hands were above her head, hands grasping at nothing. Her eyes fluttered, going from my face to the spot where our bodies conjoined. She bit down on her lip, so hard as to draw blood. I watched a tiny droplet move down her chin, moving in a ragged line as I continued to pump into her.

I ran my hand down her leg, wrapping my arm around the front of her thigh and fishing my fingers inside of her to find her clit. As soon as my fingers found it, I felt her clench even tighter on my cock. It took every ounce of control to not cum at that moment.

I wanted to feel her cum on my cock; I wanted her to know what that felt like. I rubbed against her in time with my thrusts, pushing harder and deeper, my balls slapping against her ass. I heard a grunting sound. I looked down at her but Jill's mouth was clamped tight. I realized that the I was making the sounds; raw, loud, animalistic. I knew I was getting close but wouldn't let myself cum until I felt her let go once more for me.

She gasped and her eyes opened wide. I felt her pussy begin to spasm around me. She lowered her arms and started pounding her fists against the floor, crying out, pleading to God, Jesus, and me.

I slid myself out of her and laid my cock on her furry patch. Without another movement, I began cumming, splashing my seed against her lower belly. Some of it pooled in her navel. The rest ran down either side of her with some of it coming back and getting trapped in her pubic hair.

I left her, still panting, on the floor to pad out into the kitchen for a wet towel.

I cleaned her off, completely wrapped up in wiping all traces of sex and blood from her body. A strangled noise in her throat made me look to her face. I could see it awash in a maelstrom of emotion.

"What we did was wrong, Jill," I whispered. "But I don't regret it. I'm glad it was me and not some teenage boy fumbling in the dark, wanting to get his rocks off. Now you've got a few choices that you need to make. You can tell your folks about this and never see me again. You can keep it a secret to yourself and we can never do this again. Or, you can keep it a secret between us and I can give you more of the feelings you had today. I don't want an answer now. What I want is for you to get up, put your dress back on, and dance with me again."

The music still played as we swayed together for long hours into the night. The next day my sister came back home and that was the last time I ever saw her or Jill ever again.

Nov 18, 2012

In the Garage

I've been living in this house for going on eleven years. For all that time there's been a storage locker in the garage that came with us from our old house (where it also spent most of its days in that garage).

That locker contains a lot of hopes and dreams. It contains memories of bygone days. Also packed in there are a collection of toys. It's been so long since I've seen inside the locker that I forget the inventory of what's there.

The toys have no personal memories associated with them as I never used them or used them on anyone else. Most of them were "donated" to my wife from the days when she was Dominant. Some were left in safe-keeping by submissives who couldn't keep toys at home for fear of discovery. Some were purchased by my wife with hopes of using them on someone. On me? Perhaps. But that she had them all before we met, that's doubtful.

I remember a set of four-point restraints that were secreted out of a psych ward. There's an array of vibrators whose batteries have most likely corroded. I don't remember anything else.

That chest bothers me. It sits out there day after day, taunting me.

It's a shame that these toys go unused. I'm of two minds with it. I want to go out and throw it away. Not just the contents but the chest as well. Or, I want to dig out everything and use it on a very special someone (after being washed and given new batteries, of course).

Nov 12, 2012

On a Podcast!

I was on the "Writers of Fetish Erotica" episode of In Bed with Dr Sue® via Blog Talk Radio along with my fellow smut writers, Irv O. Neil, Ed Cantor and Angela St. Lawrence.

We also had a surprise guest, Lori Perkins, a literary agent from NYC. Unfortunately, the conversation turned to 50 Shades of Grey and it felt like everything I said was being misconstrued as a criticism -- even when I was talking about how wonderfully agnostic kindles/e-readers are (you can read whatever smut you want an no one's judging you by the cover of the "book" you're holding.

We were live on the air with callers. Anything could happen... and did!

Get the episode via iTunes or from the Blog Talk Radio website or listen to it directly via the interface below.

Listen to internet radio with In Bed with Dr Sue on Blog Talk Radio

Harley & Ivy