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A collection of sexual scenes. slots prismatic in my erotic mind.

your words drizzled on my spread sex. my sex clutched tight around the tongue you offer me.

{rain sifting through sunlight.} muted by gray soft silver. the tang of my ball gag.

the cut of leather on flesh.

flashes of sexual memory. veins.

thick rivers snaked into gutters in the street.

you touch me. into position. bite my nipples.

tighten my reins.

my body. naked live wire. bared teeth.

your hands on my throat. your fingers against the press of my crushed breath.

my cunt swells full of your roughness.

the slide of your cock forcing open my ache.

your fingers digging into my thighs. as you stretch me.

break me in. like an animal.

fuck me.

fill me with your seed.

cunt to mouth.

to cunt.

until she overflows.

until you are pleased.

{()}

They keep telling me. not to be such a people pleaser. but I can’t help myself.

all I want is to bring you pleasure.

make you throb. pulse electric with thrumming heat. slip inside your erotic mind. and open my sex. her wet scent blossoming wild

in your animal blood.

Yours, Rosalie xx

{()}

*Thank you for reading. Paid subscriptions to my Substack allow you access to all Paid Only and Archived Erotica, Erotic Voice Notes, Audio Journals, & Poetry. Appears discreetly on billing as RF SUBSTACK.

**Tips of financial encouragement are happily accepted at ko-fi.com/rosaliefox.

The Erotic Journals of Rosalie Fox

An intimate collection of Ms. Fox's private observations on living an erotic life through voice notes, journal entries, and poetry. For those who crave connection with the deeper, darker, erotic psyche.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

Rosalie Fox Erotica

Sexual, elegant, stimulating. Erotic stories, scenes, and fantasies for a mature, discerning audience.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

{()}

{()}

I make the sign of the cross and spread my legs.

I begin to stroke my slit. already so wet. throbbing. aching for my touch.

prayer is my aphrodisiac. the one I kept hidden between my slick trembling thighs

as a girl. as a young feral creature

fast becoming a woman. a problem. a bad thing.

imagining going down on the Priest. taking the stiff cock of Jesus into my hot sinful mouth. blind with desire. to be better than good. to be the Best. at pleasing. at offering everything I have for the enjoyment, pleasure, perverted cravings of another.

glowing. use me. fuck my mouth. fuck my pussy.

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You inspect my body. in late afternoon. find me fully naked. as required. properly wet. as expected. kneeling spread-legged and aroused. hungrily attentive. only to you.

the blackened shadows of evening have not yet draped over my soul.

but as the closing of a dreamy eye ; they are falling in.

{ }

my mouth is open. my slit glistening. begging. clit protruding.

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Tonight. Strip me naked. without asking.

tell me how you’re going to use my body. any way you want. as you pump your fingers in and out of my dripping wet cunt.

tongue my shame until it runs scorched through my blood. rushes like a drug. make me look. at how ready my body is. for a good hard fuck.

make me tell you. i’m such a slut. i’m so desperate. to be ruined.

.fuckk.

;

fuck me up against the wall. tell me my holes are yours. make me say it. out loud as you pull my hair. tight. wrap a hand around my throat.

discipline me. for wanting to be such a filthy girl. bend me over your knee. spank me. hard fast slaps. one cheek then the other. make me count. make me scream.

make it hurt.

make me thank you for it.

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Good morning, my love. I dreamt in flowers. again. dreamt of you.

waking me with sweetest pleasure. your fingers

sliding deep in my warm sex. teasing me ; fragrant

opening me up.

You are so strong. so tender when you stroke my

elegant rose. my petals wet and radiant with morning dew.

Oh yes, baby. please don’t stop. you know i’m drenched and throbbing

;

aching over you.

;

your thick length. my succulent first taste of this fine spring day.

so sexy when you offer me your glistening tip already dripping

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{ erotic field notes }

What they don’t understand is that you have to be willing to risk it all.

and I don’t mean your house. your wife. your dog. your bank account. what I am saying is:

let go of everything. you cannot touch.

abandon your petty demands of a life which does not answer to you.

be done with forcing beliefs. expectations. the rules you make for yourself. that come from someone else. some social media junkie. you don’t even know.

{ }

who are you.

that’s what i’m saying.

who are you alone in the dark with your stiff cock in your grown hands.

jerking off to God.

knows what.

this is your erotic life. what is it you want to stroke. to feel. to fuck. to cum for.

({ })

can you taste how aroused you make me, baby. how I drip with electric intimate heat

for your body. on my body.

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this is where the heart lies
closest to itself
                                        in the teeth of the blood 
of the one you will 
sacrifice
                                         live and let live
child
perish and let perish
hands behind your back

the pleasure will pleasure itself
the pain will help you
let go

;                                                              

kneel
open up that red stained mouth
be good for Daddy
touch yourself 

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/ welcome sweet voyeur / a pleasure to be held in your erotic mind’s eye /

;

you in the shadows

come; I will trace the jaw of your craving.

you in the cage

be still; I will feed your desire back into itself.

you through the looking glass

let yourself feel me; stroking the distance which fires the longing.

;

You want me. oh my sick savage. your venomous tongue licking your lips. (I wish it were licking my lips. making them supple.) fangs glistening. cock stiff. ready. and I want you on me. in me. anywhere you like.

I offer my body. surrender my mind. sing my soul. out loud.

for your exploration. please. probe. feast on me.

you like to watch. you like how He makes me wait. how He makes me lick the leather strap drenched in my own wet need.

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beg. I want to suck your cock, Daddy, please. I need your cock in my pussy, Daddy, please fuck me. take me so hard. fuck me til I scream.

I want your thumb against my tongue. a pretty bruise. hurt me. unflinching. you pin me against the wall. tell me to open my mouth. your spit lands right where you want it to. dead center on the holy filth of my nakedness. the beauty. I like to fuck with your lust for the insatiable.

my full breasts soft. supple. warm against your rough hands. stiff nipple to outstretched tongue. you tug at the leather. tighten my reins.

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{ { | from the unpublished journals | } }

erotic field notes } 1

His cock in my mouth. as I go about my day. the mind is far needier even. than the body. desire. woven into memory. laced and threaded into fantasy about the future. having his cum run down my chin. and breasts. again. and again. becoming a hand I place on myself. alone in a room. my breath falling out. heavy with craving. slick with arousal. I am so easily overcome. how madly I reach for the exquisite pleasure of my own sex. wet, dripping, heated with lust. the cock in the mouth. stiff flesh sliding in and out. over and over. snaked and cradled by my naked tongue. the thickness of it choking me. as I finger and claim myself.

;

erotic field notes } 2

the whore as black widow. slut as black hole. the pussy as tempt of the empty void. sirens. oblivion. orgasm. ritual pleasure. forced against the wall. the floor.

forced against

one’s will.

stretched on the cross. edged. made to expose the self. to taste it. made to grow wetter and wetter.

for the pain.

swell.

throb.

tremble.

ache and beg.

expected to cry out. to crawl against the carpet. tongue the soil. kiss the concrete. to sob with gratitude. for the want alone; unsatisfied. and give voice to it. the slickness of obscenity.

the rawness of the climax which splatters ribbons of cum on the face. the lips.

the bedsheets.

the pulse of scratched neck.

;

erotic field notes } 3

Come into me, my sweet. press yourself in roughly. let this body soothe you where you need relief. from a world untethered and unkind. from a life of struggle to contain the animal. mindlessly designed.

I will envelop you. slide slick and wet against every throbbing ache. suck hungrily on every straining need. coax the milky pleasure from your filthy darkness. the wickedness you keep. I want it thrust inside me. deep,

show me what needs to be forgiven, baby. tell me all the ways you think about my body. tell me the things you want to do to me that are so very, very wrong. as you grow still harder for me. that’s it. stroke it, my love. show me how thick. how solid your cruel pillar. how you produce your need for me in droplets for my lusty tongue.

I will straddle the monster in you. ride it. strong. steady. deep. ride you with angelic rhythm

all night long.

until you forget yourself. until you come undone. until all I let you do. is let me swallow you. oceans and oceans drowning me as I open wide.

holy whore. virgin bride. fuck me, Daddy. tell me i’m such a good little girl for you. so willing. so desperate. even when she’s spent.

my body is yours. to cum. and cum. and cum. inside.

;

;

{ }

*Thank you for reading and listening. Paid subscriptions to my Substack allow you access to all Paid Only and Archived Erotica, as well as the Private Audio Erotica Feature. Appears discreetly on billing as RF SUBSTACK.

**Tips of financial encouragement are happily accepted at ko-fi.com/rosaliefox.

***I do not use A.I. in my work. I am a flesh and blood human creating for the pleasure of other flesh and blood humans. Please respond thoughtfully and in kind.

Rosalie Fox Erotica

Sexual, elegant, stimulating. Erotic stories, scenes, and fantasies for a mature, discerning audience.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

The Erotic Journals of Rosalie Fox

An intimate collection of Ms. Fox's private observations on living an erotic life through voice notes, journal entries, and poetry. For those who crave connection with the deeper, darker, erotic psyche.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

{ }

erotic field notes } 1

cool morning. white doves on a high wire. { one. two. three. }

the poetics of a well lived life. opening up in front of me. I can feel it. in my capacity to love. to hate. to ring sweet with jealousy. frightened

and alive.

in the way the blade dangles. just above. a tired tongue.

{ never speaking. }

how would you have me, Sir. what is the taste of it.

Read more

{ }

erotic field notes } 1

The erotic is a form of intelligence, yes. but not in the way we tend to want to use ‘intelligence’ as a shield against our own vulnerability. intelligence is a life form more vast and unwieldy than we can fathom. an unpredictable life force. moving probing stretching spiraling out in all directions.

a living organism which extends and expands erotically. that is to say: in ways the human mind alone is not capable of fully grasping. accepting. containing.

to live erotically is to let go of what we believe ‘intellect’ to be. (something to collect, accumulate, ‘have’) and instead allow it to become the way we trust more deeply, willingly into our senses, our bodies.

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erotic field notes } 1

the sun is rising over the fences and trees. springtime. i’ve had coffee. written a few pages of my cluttered mind. onto the page. ink and coffee. sleep fade. I think about what it means to offer myself. into the world. to take what the erotic has shown me and spill it. wet. vulnerable. cooling on the table top as the sun comes up. too early.

;

erotic field notes } 2

perhaps we crave the erotic. because we are so tired. of holding back. of managing. perfecting. chasing. striving. none of it beautiful. none of it prolific. none of it real. none of it wild. when all we want is what we were designed for. to flow into the dark. be carried. be allowed. be led. back into the depths. the places we do not speak of. the places we once fled. long before we knew what any of this meant. pleasure. anguish. life and death.

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For the record I wanted to not be this person. The one who thinks so hard about things that are supposed to come easy. Like pleasure. Especially pleasure. Why can’t I just write sex scenes. Why can’t I just be dirty and be done with it.

I don’t know. I’m sorry. And I’m not sorry at all. My erotic life includes my mind as well as my body. My spirit as well as my soul. And try as I might to separate them, it cannot be done. Better to show up whole. Than show up pretending I’m fine dividing myself into pieces to suit every one else’s needs.

;

I want you aroused. Infatuated. Not with me. With yourself. I want you to feel your own arousal and inhabit it. Not flinch. Not look away. Not numb out.

I want you stiff. And aware of it. I want you to be with it. Let it awaken and frighten you how turned on you are. By words. By voice. By your own imagination.

I don’t just want you hard as fuck. { Though I do want you hard as fuck. }

I want you in your body while it’s happening. Without rushing to release. Without pumping yourself like it’s a desperate job to cum. But instead, feeling that exquisite pressure throbbing. That rock hard steely power of your carnal craving. To penetrate. To sink in so deep, so deep. All the way inside. To thrust. And to deliver. Deliver your hot salty seed. Explode all over the hot wet tight walls of the gateway to heavenly bliss.

;

This is not porn on demand. It’s not a jack off and disregard.

I am not a porn actress. I am not an actress. I am not an A.I. bot. I am not a fake. Not a clone. Not a copy of every other pair of tits. Set of lips. Carbon imprint of every other cliche desire, kink, perversion. I’m not following a script or a formula or a business model.

I am an erotic artist. { I am an artist. } I am a flesh and blood human. A woman. A portal through the senses of the body into the endless space of the consciousness beyond the mind.

Sex is not just sex. My body is not a collection of parts. I am whole. I am sex and emotion in constant flux, flow, expansion.

;

;

This space I have created, and continue to create, it is a pleasure at its Highest High.

Sexual energy is potent as fuck. It can empower beyond your wildest dreams. I am all about that.

Or it can abuse. Debase. Dehumanize. I want nothing to do with that.

As an artist. As a woman. As an erotic, sexual, fully embodied creature of wild and feral energies, I need my erotic creations to square with who I am in spirit and soul. Otherwise, I am lost. Under the madness of the algorithms and sales pitches. The erotic can become the pornographic in one slip.

I don’t want that. to happen here.

;

I don’t do this just to get you off. Or me. When I write erotica, I am fully aroused, engorged, wet, throbbing. Pulsing with the energy I pour forth for you.

It exhausts, drains, and depletes me in the most beautiful ways. It is my work. My play. My essence. I want it to matter. Not just in the moment but also in the long run.

Maybe that’s the difference between porn and erotica. Porn is of the moment. The erotic is of the eternal. Both are valid. Both are human. But you have to know which you are about. In what you do. When you play with sensual fire. You want to know.

;

This is beyond porn or kink. It is a love language. The high expression of all we try to hide. The shadow. All we shame ourselves for wanting.

But still we want. In spite of all the rules. All the shame and restrictions and warnings. All the trying to be ‘good.’ The erotic unfolds us. Until we are forced to accept that sometimes what is bad is good.

Sometimes, deep down, for reasons we are not meant to fully understand: what is wrong hits the spot inside just right.

;

What do you make of that. What is porn. What is erotica. What makes you feel alive, aroused, satiated, gorgeous and sustained when it’s all over. What makes you feel dread, disgust, dejected. Which do you want.

If you want both, how will you balance it. Meld them. Blend them. And why. Who will you look to for what kind of relief. Or release. Or control, acceptance, indulgence, absolution.

Only you can explore that for yourself.

;

;

Only I can decide where I will take my art. My words. My voice. My arousal, energy, desire, curiosity.

The erotic is not my material. It is my One and Only Guide.

What I want for you. My audience. My fans, consumers, voyeurs, misfits. Is to open you up to yourself. Erotically.

To expose you to the challenge and the turn on of yourself. Alone in a room in a mind that simmers and sparks with eager curiosity.

To show you that when you give, exude, ejaculate, deliver. When you are in the process of becoming aroused, it is a luxury.

A beautiful, beautiful thing.

But only if you see it that way, too.

}} Yours. Rosalie x

*Thank you for reading and listening. I hope you enjoyed this piece. Paid subscriptions to my Substack allow you access to all Paid Only and Archived Erotic Voice Notes, Journals, & Poetry. Appears discreetly on billing as RF SUBSTACK.

**Tips of financial encouragement are happily accepted at ko-fi.com/rosaliefox.

The Erotic Journals of Rosalie Fox

An intimate collection of Ms. Fox's private observations on living an erotic life through voice notes, journal entries, and poetry. For those who crave connection with the deeper, darker, erotic psyche.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

Rosalie Fox Erotica

Sexual, elegant, stimulating. Erotic stories, scenes, and fantasies for a mature, discerning audience.

By Rosalie Fox | Eroticist

erotic field notes } 1

He has already made me cum three times on my own hand. My hair is a mess. my mouth sloppy from the spit he made me slide up and down his cock with my tongue while I ruined myself.

he wouldn’t let me have the cock whole.

said he liked to hear me whine for it as I fell breathless over the edge each time.

‘Patience, pet. Cum for me again.’

I tried to take his cock all the way into my hungry mouth as I came hard the second time. I was dying for it.

I was hungry. starved. wild with need for the meaty hardness of his erection to invade my mouth like the massive head of a hypnotic serpent. I wanted to feel the heavy weight of my greed shoved in my face. the gag of excess. the choke of what it means to whore. froth. become the need itself.

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erotic field notes } 1

In the shower. I bring myself beautifully to orgasm. once. twice. three times. clenching tight on the fingers pressed deep inside my pulsing wet pussy. sucking hard on the fingers melting in my hungry, slutty mouth. imagining multiple men.

getting off to being fully filled.

from the front. from behind. from below and above. they use me. pump their hard magnificent cocks into every tight welcoming hole. thrust them against both of my willing hands.

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Gray morning. Sunday. a day of holiness. prayer. nudity. orgasms. one. after another. after another. like saying grace before meals. thank you, Lord of this sin soaked flesh. for this our daily ecstatic bread.

I guess some would call it making love. all I know is. the way he ruins me on Sunday. wrecks me all goddamn week. wrecks me so beautifully. so thoroughly I might call it obscene. to be made to come so fully outside of oneself while at the same time… plunged into the nerves, the sex, the blood, so deep.

I bring him coffee. wearing only the glow of my warm skin. when I bend over to place the mug on his bedside table. he smooths his rough fingers over the curve of my naked hip. clutches firm.

he slides his hand between my bare thighs.

I stay still. close my eyes.

my pussy lips are tender from the way he had thrust into me, repeatedly. urgently. forcefully. from many various angles. from darkness into daylight. morning sifting like feathers in through the curtains.

he strokes my lips now in soft, gentle circles. until the little pink tongue protrudes. and the lips, once again, moisten with fresh cream.

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Welcome to The Erotic Journals of Rosalie Fox. Formerly limited to featuring erotic poetry, this site will now also serve as the home for Ms. Fox’s collection of erotic voice notes and journal entries where she will share private thoughts, experiences, and perspectives on the erotic as philosophy, the erotic life and lifestyle, and, of course, explicit erotic poetry.

Please bear in mind. when an artist is honest. even (especially) in private. she contradicts herself. she is the friction of a push and pull. she embodies the living tension between what to reveal and what to withhold. toys with how close she will come to the edge. of herself. of the truth.

; of what she is here to do.

; of what is expected of her.

as a creature marred by the stains of greed, weakness, atrocity. as phantom limb. lip. sex. rib; teeth of the Godbody. as a poet who cannot help but to bleed all over. even the good things.

For even the good things. contain the sin; the raised scar. of the origin.

and so. it’s here we begin.

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