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doors open, mouth shut

it was a lovely day

hot and sunny

The balcony doors open, breeze blowing the voile, the gardener and house keeper milling about outside whilst they were like teenagers upstairs playing.

She liked to keep quiet and discrete – his arousal heightened by the exhibitionism of people knowing/thinking they know what they were up to.

She is training him now to absorb the feelings rather than let them escape. A thwack is now not followed up by a cry out…rather a low animal moan. The rhythm of being fucked and taken, not followed up by panting and loud positive exclaimations for God. Rather a near silent outpouring of built up pleasure, pain and power. She prefered it like that – it wouldn’t burst their bubble, it kept it all for themselves, their secret, their history been made, the eternal she and he, the universal us.

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About Prim Quim

I am an artist and therapist. I work within the themes of sexuality, repression, guilt, greed, contradiction, objectification, compulsion, itches that need to be scratched and bruises that need to be pressed. I am a consentual bruise presser, a boundary straddler and limit pusher. I interview people and witness their lives, I write about what I see, how I feel and all the beautiful fragments that make up my reality. I am the sum of all my parts - some bits move and other parts are static, some bits need oiling and other bits just run and run. I am both subject and object to myself. I am slave to my Art and so are the others who come into my sphere. I objectify and use, interrogate and examine - I need their reality and reasoning to lay alongside my own to compare, contrast, season and gorge upon. Exponent of automatic writing, compulsive self realisation and daring myself to go further.

One response to “doors open, mouth shut

  1. Pingback: Training him to be quiet. (1st draft) #newblog | joaoalvesdacosta

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