I perform this piece as part of a one hour show with my troupe, "All The Kings Men" (  Breasts bound, packing, ripped jeans, t-shirt, bandana, and hair down; reading from my journal and standing before a mic, I perform this piece appearing as myself - the more androgynous, slightly masculine form of me.


Her thighs were impressive.  Strong, broad, reaching up to meet a round, desperately sexy ass.  I skip a beat when it spreads as her thighs wrap powerfully around my torso.  She squeezes and I die a small death at the smell of her sweat, greedily burrow in the curve of her pit, and fall backwards.  It is a Thursday evening in early September and we are up against a huge night-blackened arch window, high above the New York City sidewalk.  I imagine crowds gathering below to view our struggle, breathing in unison as we build, and exhaling at the raw splendor of our fucking.  I am slowly sinking down the glass wall under the weight and thrust of my ravenous lover.  Her scarlet lips and full chest pressing into my own are more than enough to awaken the animal in me.  I push against her will, and act the part of a seventeen year old boy, growling against her strength and fullness, biting back and driving forward.  Holding her wrists with one hand I kiss her face a hundred times.  My lips travel to her chin and below, arching the small of her back.  I know the quickening of her heart is the beat I will follow until it explodes, flying in a million directions leaving her wet and wasted on the floor.

There is a freedom to a woman's body in heat.  The squirming and grunts are an aphrodisiac all their own, and I need nothing more from her tonight.

My starving fingers linger at the V-shaped neckline, slipping beneath their elastic boundaries, and grazing the softer skin below.  I am in.  Barely and victoriously, as they hover, her nipples expand and a gasp guides me even slower down over handfuls of curves.  The lower, more sensitive parts are new to my mouth.  Ribs, stomach, hip, shaved bits.  As my lips and tongue take over both hands scratch urgently over her full stomach and hard hips.  I can rest my palms on either side of her, push, squeeze, or pull down, but I choose none.  I let my hands slide around and under.  I want this lower half hard against me.

I breathe steady and focus now...
I will earn this woman tonight.


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    Photo by David Aquilina

    Karin Webb

    I write.  I perform much of what I write.  Often I am asked about this or that piece.  So, due to popular demand, I'll post some of what I have written, some of what I perform right here.  I will also post thoughts and ideas that come my way...  I hope you enjoy it; if you're one of the people who has approached me post-show, thank you for your interest in my words...


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