G The Hollowest Girl of Them All

The Hollowest Girl of Them All

Pull-out: Late nite sex, pills, & politics: My only grudge against nature was that I could not turn my Lolita...


My only grudge against nature was that I could not turn my Lolita inside and out and apply voracious lips to her young matrix, her unknown her, her nacreous liver, the sea-grapes of her lungs, her comely twin kidneys. On especially tropical afternoons, in the sticky closeness of the siesta, I liked the cool feel of armchair leather against my massive nakedness as I held her in my lap. There she would be, a typical kid picking her nose while engrossed in the lighter sections of a newspaper, as indifferent to my ecstasy as if it were something she had sat upon, a shoe, a doll, the handle of a tennis racket, and was too indolent to remove. 

—Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Movie adaptation of this scene.

I read this book when I was 11, and again when I was 13. I’ve purchased it 3 times as it gets worn out from being carried around and lent out. It is one of my favorite books of all time.

(Source: dialfour)


This kind of looks like Steven. Reblogging this on thehollowestgirl later tonight…

Found this earlier today. Its always shocking when you see people who look like people you used to know. Steven looked kind of like this, but with a wider mouth and sharper cheekbones.
He’s the one who got me into long haired guys.  Because seriously, fuck.



This kind of looks like Steven. Reblogging this on thehollowestgirl later tonight…

Found this earlier today. Its always shocking when you see people who look like people you used to know. Steven looked kind of like this, but with a wider mouth and sharper cheekbones.

He’s the one who got me into long haired guys.  Because seriously, fuck.

(Source: blackandwhitemodel)

I’m not sure why I wrote about Steven today.

I just missed him a bit. I think it was that heat that did it. The sun-rain.

Some people, you just associate with certain weather, you know?

That, and I wanted to help divert attention away from the terrible erotic fiction that I wrote. I don’t think I’ll ever write that kind of stuff again. Memoirs are so much easier.

Also, I’m feeling like questing out and finding myself a new boy. Someone interesting. I’ve been really into punk guys lately. Maybe I’ll go down that road. And pull out my old Doc Martens.

Steven: The Challenge (Part 2)

Steven turned onto his back and squirmed a bit to get comfortable.  He was already beyond ready, his cock angry and red, leaking a bit on his hard stomach.

"Am I allowed to talk through it?" He asked, still grinning.

"Mmmm…. Lets see if you can manage without." I said, kissing him on the forehead. "Mmkay, dear. Tally-ho."

Steven stretched first. He flexed his arches, pointing his toes, and rolled his broad shoulders. He tossed some of his hair over his shoulders so the ends could brush against his already sensitive skin.  Then he closed his eyes.

It took a while.

But slowly, a brilliant soft flush rose up his chest to settle on his cheeks. He bit his lip and strained his head back, the long white column of his neck like an offering to a hungry god. As he pushed himself further into his fantasy, his hips shifted uncomfortably and his nipples rose, dark and pebbled from his chest.

I just watched in awe. He was really doing it.

He tossed his head from side to side, as he gripped the sheets tight in his fists and gave a breathy moan.  He oozed more furtively now, dripping down over the side of his thigh, the evidence of his desire glimmering wetly in the light from my bedside lamp.

Steven gasped and arched his back again. He breathed hard, then whimpered. Goosebumps spread up his arms and he shuddered.  Then, without warning, he reached up and pulled his hair, yanking his head back even further. He clenched his teeth so hard. So very hard.

But touching his hair was touching himself, so I reached over to pry his hands out of his hair, annoyed that he wasn’t following the rules.
      The instant I touched him, he screamed and came hard. 
He wrapped his arms around himself, like he was desperate for someone to hold him, and quaked with the force of it.

When Steven finally settled down, he didn’t say anything. He just scrambled into my arms, still dripping, and hid his face in the curve of my neck.

(part 1)

Steven: The Challenge. (part 1)

It has been three days of dryness for him. He was strung tight as a bow and the heat rolled off his skin in waves. He bit down on the pillow and clenched his eyes closed in pain.

Steven was demanding and petulant, like a spoiled child; and as much as it annoyed, I liked that part of him. Particularly when it was coupled with his nakedness.

I had asked him to try going without sex for a week, and it was only Wednesday. It didn’t bode well for him to be this far gone in such little time…

It was an experiment. From it, I learned the true meaning of addiction, and he learned how he could outsmart his body with his mind if things got terribly dire.

We’d laugh about it months later. But for now, he was glaring at me, from under swathes of his silken hair like I had murdered his best friend.

"But,you don’t know what its like.” He bit out

I’d already heard that one several times before Tuesday. It wasn’t going to work.


He looked up at me and scowled.

To this day, I still  think he was the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. But that wasn’t going to get him off the hook at all, and he knew it. Steven harrumphed and clutched the pillow again tightly, the muscles bunching deliciously in his arms.

"I’ll give you a loophole." I said finally. "If you can make yourself come without touching yourself, or touching me, on your back without help from anyone else…. it doesn’t count."

He grinned.

(Part 2)

Once Upon a Time, I dated a guy who liked me to write for him.

One day, he requested that I make him an erotic fiction piece and this is what I came up with. Don’t laugh. Its not really my forte. I’m more into sensuality than sexuality when it comes to words. Or maybe I’m just a crap writer. Fuck knows.

He was a beautiful man. Not the best I’d ever seen, but he sure gave the rest a run for their money.  And yes, I knew he was cocky, but his arrogance was a surprising turn on. It was that self assured confidence bred from years of success that lingered on blue bloods and middle-aged businessmen that had somehow found itself smeared all over a broke art student.

I would have chuckled at the irony, but my mouth was full of cock.
I loved this. Just fucking loved it.

He grabbed my hair and he tasted too good and I could ride him forever. You know that saying “size matters”? Or the defensive one “ It doesn’t matter how big, if they know how to work it.”? Both are utter bullshit. I believe there is a Goldilocks Zone. A Goldilocks Zone of cock, somewhere between too big and slightly below average where the closer you get to the middle the more perfect everything is….

But unfortunately, my pseudo-scientific mental ramblings were cut short by him roughly wrenching me off him.
“ Stop. I don’t want it to end like this.”

 I pulled forward against his grip and licked the tip with the end of my tongue. Just to show him how much I wanted it. He shuddered. I stood and cupped his face in my hands. I kissed his temple softly, then pushed him back onto the futon.

I like to use this mixture of softness and wantonness with him. It would be easy to  haul off and just writhe on him like a slut, but he’d probably expect it. No matter how much I’d love to do just that. But there was something enjoyable about hitting him with sweetness when he didn’t expect it. Kissing his dick before I sucked it. Looking at him in surprised ecstasy as he fucked me hard. Saying ‘please’ in a quiet voice before he came.

I bit each of his nipples hard then kissed the middle of his chest and stroked his sides softly with my finger tips. He grasped my hips roughly, kneading his thumbs into my joints. I arched back and pushed my tits into his face. God, its cute how much he loves that.

I combed my fingers through his hair roughly so it stuck up in spikes.

“As you ready?” I asked.


I lowered myself onto him and moaned loudly, the fullness, Oh the fullness. He arched up and hissed as I took him all the way in.
His roommate banged on the wall in annoyance and we both laughed and he banged back. I rolled  my hips cheekily and covered my mouth in mock embarrassment. He smirked and offered me his hands. We laced fingers and I began to ride him.

Usually we have more time than today, so it will have to be quick. I started slow, just enjoying the feeling; teasing him, by squeezing him inside on the down-stroke and swiveling enticingly. I tossed my hair back and gasped. It was nice, but I really had to get back to work in twenty minutes so I sped up, bouncing on his dick wantonly. 

He bit his lip and thrust up  for a  while before getting tired of the pace and flipping me abruptly. Not expecting it, I shrieked in surprise, and bounced up from the mattress. We brutally collided foreheads.  Both of us groaned in agony and he covered his eyes.

His roommate banged on the wall even harder.

“Would you guys shut the fuck up?!”

It was so absurd and awful and hilarious that I just started laughing.

He raised an eyebrow,  then kissed me playfully and scraped my face with his stubble with a vengeance.

“I know you’ve gotta go, so lets make this quick.”

He reached down and fucked me slowly playing with my clit. I wrapped my legs around his back and arched up towards him in encouragement. I could feel myself getting closer, so I rushed forward towards it, pinching my own nipples and leaning up to be kissed.

I gasped and came hard, clutching his shoulders. I tried to be quiet, because really, his roommate is a very nice guy. Law student. And it was finals week.

My art student, however didn’t give a fuck. He moaned loudly as he finished, collapsing heavily onto my chest.

3-2-1 Obligatory cuddling. Then I wiggled out from underneath him and starting throwing my clothes back on. He watched me as I got dressed. Pulled up my stockings and tied up my hair.

“Don’t forget the midterm today.” I said, putting my glasses back on and throwing my purse over my shoulder.

“Is it hard?” he asked, partially muffled by the sheets.

I laughed then patted him on the cheek. “For you, dear,  it doesn’t matter.”

Switched Accounts

That way I can subscribe to all you lovelies without startling myself while scrolling my dash while on my RedandTheBomb account by seeing hairy balls interspersed between poetry and benedict cumberbatch fan art .

     Now when I scroll it will be all hairy balls all the time.

Just a heads up, so you all know who in fuck is following you and you don’t think my new account “Thehollowestgirll” is some kind of imposter.

That will be all.

Also, tonight is erotic fiction night. btw. I have the most embarrassing writing to share with you.

My boyfriend is so sexy when he gets off. I swear, I’d rather watch him please himself than do it for him, or have sex… The faces he makes, the sounds…. The grin after he finishes. Fuck. I wish he was right beside me at this second, going to town on himself.

(via yourfilthysexsecret)

I’m Kayla and I approve of this message.

Sorry about the namelessness of late.

There are people who read this blog who may know the man in the last post, and i’ve forgotten the name of the guitar teacher.

I’m not trying to be all obtuse or secretive.

I’d like to keep things as open as possible since this is basically just a place where I record events.

Oh, and for new readers: This is entirely non-fiction.

Roe and khol

There was a moment of silence before I grasped his chin.

I could feel his stubble close beneath the skin. His face was open, his eyes were trusting but a bit scared as they flickered to the closed classroom door. He licked his lips.

“Close your eyes.” I said quietly.

He obeyed.

At the first stroke, he inhaled sharply, but kept his eyes closed. I brushed the wand against the tips of his lashes.  His lips were parted and full, his breath was warm on my face. I leaned towards him, inches away, close enough to steal a kiss if I wanted to. But I didn’t. Instead, I slotted my knee in between his and concentrated on the task.

He placed a hand on my arm as if to steady himself. I smiled nervously. Brushing the wand in an arc, so slow and steady handed, and gentle like I was calming a foal.

I moved to the other side and began anew. He brushed his thumb against my wrist, and his eyes moved beneath his eyelids as I worked. The silence was deafening.

I put on a second coat for good measure, then blew lightly to dry it. Then I sat back.

He spent a moment with his eyes still closed before opening them to gaze at me.

“Can I see?” He asked, in a whisper so low I could barely hear it.

“Of course.”

I handed him my compact and he looked at himself, tilting the mirror this way and that.

“You’re beautiful.” I said.

He smiled.

(Part 1)

Instead of the proverbial notches on my bedpost, I decided to write about them instead. My loves. My experiences. I've definitely had enough of them to entertain someone out there.
"Cento" Copyright © Andrew Brinker 2011.