No Strings Attached (16/45)

I can no longer afford the dental floss entwining him and me.
Freedom means releasing our noose.
I run from his arms to the thighs of a stranger.
Embracing the novelty and the anonymity and the enormity.
Don't seek to know me. Don't ask the simple questions.
Seek to swim my inner rivers without map or moral rose compass.

Drown.

If you seek liberation from your binds as well,
Come to me but do not look to me as sweet syrup haven or couple therapy.
I am the mossless boulder, you always imagined you pushed.

Sweat and struggle.

The Struggle (15/45)

Another City Council meeting; another ball of bile and regret.
I woke up tired from the struggle of the evening before and the evening before.

Then, I met him.

I took my two hands for granted,
their grasp, their hold, their future,
until he told me to touch the tip of his left nub.

I wrapped my fingers around where his wrist ended.
And, he smiled and sighed.

I kissed where his left hand used to start.

My lips curled around injustice's bitter taste.
The sour scent of someone done wrong filled my head.

I wanted to make my two fists for him,
but he opened my clenched claws,
one at a time,
and kissed my open, soft palms,
showing me the way out of anger.

And, as he entered me, 
I forgot my painful path and just stood with 
my head against the wall reveling in the moment.

For J (14/45)

"I feel the surprising warmth of the ocean, when I read you.

I feel the friction of sand, when I hear your words.

What do I have to do to feel more of you?"

I've often been a man's vacation spot. A property visited, celebrated, polluted, then left.

"No, I am an island man far from home. I recognize not exotify you."

Then, come and let my sun welcome and bake you.

Dinner's on soon.

Fireworks (13/45)

She wanted something different to do on a soggy Independence Day.  She browsed through her emails and caught him.  “He wanted to fuck her loudly on a hard bed with rain beating on the windows.” ― Don DeLillo, Mao II  Looking at his picture and rereading his quote, she wanted to show him the arch of her back and the ride of her breasts.  They found each other in the rain and were so involved in the echos of their desire, they did not hear any fireworks but their own.

JAM (12/45)

Jelly of the Journal Keeper by Jim Bodeen

Already our tongues are drunk

on those two J's howling after vowels.

Messy. Before you lick

your fingers clean, dip them

into the jelly and smear the page,

disrupting the seraphs and elegant

descenders alike. Stain the image.

This is sexy stuff, painting

your journal with jelly. The early

Church stripped its young confirmands

and anointed them in oil---naked &

shiny---initiation before Communion.

For him who gave me a jarful, when everyone else got a spoonful.

From Hate, I Remember Love (11/45)

Received my first death threat email last night along with two of my pieces flagged for deletion.

For those who need an end to my project, you only have 34 more days!  You don't need to off me!

To help me regain perspective, I would like to share some of the kind, friendly notes some of you have sent me.  I may not get to answer all of them, because of the daily nature of the project, I contact first the Charlottesville people who express specific plans or fantasies, show themselves to be interesting as well as interested, and send me face pictures instead of typical headless in the first ad response.  But, I do appreciate that all of you took time to respond.

“Intriguing story, definitely drew my attention.” NS

 “Hi! I though your cl post was very intriguing. You had me at Arnold Palmer's” VL

“Hi I am really intrigued by these meetings.” EW

“Hello there!  First, I'd just like to say that your ad is a breath of fresh air on Craigslist.  98% of the casual encounters W4M ads on here are laughably fake, you at least seem real.” BH

“All of your posts have been making me extremely horny. “ TR

“Hey There, You certainly have a unique CL posting.  I would love to know more about your writing project and how you handle, what I imaging are, horrible responses.” PO

“That was totally hot!!! Love it:)” Anonymous

“It seems as if I elected to move from Charlottesville many years too soon.  Who knew that such a naughty, intelligent being would be there later?  One that could satisfy me both mentally and physically. “ AB

“In the early morning light,
   I dreamed of you...
Kissing your lips,
   My fingers running thru your hair...

In the pale moonlight,
   You were standing
By the great Oak tree,
   Calling my name...
Come to thee

Whispers on the winds of time,
   Turning, rolling in my mind
Fire burning
   Brightly in my heart
Reaching across time
  Feeling your body
Next to mine...

Kissing and caressing,
   Rolling thru time
Dreaming in the...
   Pale Morning Light”
Anonymous

“ I have thoroughly enjoyed reading your posts. I bet you are a lot of fun!” DF

“I liked your craigs postings, especially the library one. Pretty hot, and daring. I am not a big Chaucer guy, or at least not yet :) Maybe you can turn me on to him? I'm more of a Cheever type. But I also have a strong background in Chinese poetry and early to mid 20th century American poetry. Regardless, here's mine. Would love to meet a woman intriguing enough to write such unique posts to craigs.

Forgiveness

The summer before fifth grade
we went to my uncle’s rectory
down the Cape for a week.
Monsignor Flaherty staked
tomatoes out by the garage
in a white t-shirt, cigarette
dangling from his pockmarked face.
My uncle said the bishop sent
him, thought the salt air
might keep him sober.
Besides, they needed someone
to say the early Mass in Latin
and absolve sins in Portuguese,
even if all in a brogue.

Flaherty owned two shaggy mutts,
Michael and Margaret, one brown,
the other black, one named after
a superior, the other the woman
who drove him into the priesthood.
The two people I like least in this world
he told us after supper one night.
I began to ask why he would name them
that way, but my mother cut me off
All right, off to bed now. Later I heard
her tell my father behind their closed door,
I don’t want him around that drunk.

He was sitting at the kitchen table reading
the Herald’s obituaries when I came down
early the next morning. The dogs licked
sand out of their paws from their walk.
I asked him about the names in a low voice.
He smiled, kept his eyes on the paper.
Because it seems to free my soul
of the animosity it holds against
those poor people when I say
Heel, Maggie! Sit, Michael!”
S

“Hello.  Today's post was the second one of your writings that I was fortunate enough to come across. Your style of writing is both intriguing and arousing. I extend a thank you for you choosing to share this project with us.” MR

“Wanted to let you know that I have been reading more of your ads/mini blogs on craigslist and I find them fascinating. I love the choice of language and tone.” WM

“Untitled

Somewhere between nothing done and my own damn fault
you find the words, buried in time, the time wasted long before
looking for a space to bury the words you've lost.
somewhere between the entrenched decision
and the long discarded task, where words alone,
buried in time, attest to times buried
in the space acquired, through constant
consistent begging, through profit, loss of an instant
carried through time, time and the words whose content timed
the con substantial being of such words: "What am I saying":
"What have I done": You know the answer at least
to one of those two questions, the irredeemable loss
of time's last word. You know for a moment
the spade digging through dirt, where memories dug
from somewhere dig back, and force dirt from the mind,
if buried too long in frozen moment, another question can surface
"How long has this task been about": Or rather "When did it start
and, "Where will it end?"
WD

“Hi,  I've greatly enjoyed reading your adventures.  Thank you for sharing. - A Fan “ AG

“I saw your ad and few days ago but did not respond.  Because of the post being up again,  I do not doubt your "realness".I find your project interesting.  And ad that length I normally would not read because I'd become bored lol. However I did read yours and did not lose my intrigue.” B

“That is so weird. (Hot, but weird). You honestly sound so sexy. Wow “ MS

“This ad interests me, seems like fun but don't know what to expect.” DM

Fire (10/45)

So, I am having my favorite lunch of lobster ravioli in pink lady sauce at Sal's, when I hear a deep voice behind me.

“Will you be my quirky queen today?”

I turn around, and a thick man with a nicely trimmed, salt and pepper, mustache and beard is beaming down at me.

“It depends on who wants to be king for a day.  How 'bout you sit down and chat with me?”

His smile gets bigger as he sits across from me.

“I've been reading your stuff for a week now.  I didn't answer, because I'm not really poetic or absurd or any thing like that.  But, I got to admit, you turn me on...Very hot.  And, when I saw you with the pink hair, I just knew you were the lady making me throb.  Is it okay that I talk like this?”

“So far...”

“I am in real estate. Luxury.  I think you are going to need my card soon.  I just think you are going to be a best seller or some sort of Sex And The City 2016 or something.  So, I was wondering if I could show you some properties, and you could maybe show me some things?”

We take a ride out to the county.  It was a really beautiful ride, perfect weather, large fields punctuated by grand houses.  We turned off the highway and visited this beautiful house on a hill.

He pushed me against the door and pushed his tongue into my mouth.

He, then, asked me to undress and pose for him in the fireplace.  I am not that much of a model, so I only did a few poses, before I asked him to join me.

The fireplace floor was uneven and roughed my hands and knees.

He filled the quiet property with a lot of dirty talk and growling.  He filled me.

C, I will definitely keep your card.

Blood Lust (9/45)

He wrote:

Confession:

I want to suck your blood.

Question:

What do you want to suck?

Exposition:

I savor the red copper my teeth excavate from your neck.

Your tortured pain feeds my decadent delight.

We revel in the spurts of smoke and jasmine.

Come to me, or I'll come to you.

I await haunted dreams of us.

I wanted to donate blood for the survivors of the Orlando attack, so I thought he could come with me.

We told them he was my “moral support.” After, I donated and before they put all the tape on my puncture, we told them I had to go to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he kissed and gently sucked my boo boo.

I felt nervous, but on the fringes of the fear I was excited.

It didn't hurt, and he stopped when he started to moan. I noticed his hard on.

He looked down at his pants too and looked up and smiled.

“I think I need to stay here for a while.”

I smiled and left to get taped and eat my juice and granola bar.

I didn't see him again.

My Personal Rainbow (8/45)

I loved how you were so excited to show me your new aberrometer. I had never thought of ophthalmology as creative. You proved me wrong. 

I had always had my eyes checked on a phoropter, so I knew that the constant, lengthy shifting of lenses might make for an interesting "read the chart until you cum story." But, I wasn't sure how you were going to be sexy in a few seconds.

Well, five seconds later, I was standing next to you looking at very interesting "wavefront" map of my pussy. The rainbow contours of my intimate geography were actually pretty. 

I was honored to be your first "pussy portrait" and smiled when you asked for my autograph.

I had never taken a picture of my vagina, because I thought it kind of ugly.

You made it beautiful.

I hope your collection goes well.

Thanks, Doc.

My Piano Man (7/45)

He wrote:

"First, I am not a poet; I am a pianist. But, I really enjoyed the Wild Nights poem you wrote about. It reminded me of the Eddie and the Cruisers song "Wild Summer Nights." The movie also had another beautiful song called "Tender Years" with a sweet piano solo extro. Here, are the lyrics and here is my photo... Hope I have your interest.

When the moon hung soft and low
Catching stardust in the light
You held me closer and closer
There was magic in the night.

A sweet love song, a melody
That I still can recall
Two young hearts filled with dreams
To walk away with it all.

Whoa, whoa tender years
Won't you wash away my tears
How I wish you were near
Please don't go, tender years.

A summer love, a beach romance
Sought her kisses in the sand
Two young hearts filled with fire
Lost in never-neverland."

His response was surprisingly sweet. And, I remembered loving that movie. So, I met him on the front steps of the Music Resource Center church. And, I swear the sun came out just when our eyes met. We walked to his place on 5th street.

We undressed to our underwear, and I sat in his lap facing him on his piano bench. Although I couldn't do a Middle English accent, I leaned forward and whispered the good parts of Chaucer's "Miller's Tale" into his left ear while he played an interesting, piano rendition of Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale," my favorite song from a movie soundtrack.

I don't know why I cried. I guess I was moved.

Then, he kissed my tears.

And, our time was up.

Thank you, F. It was a moment.

Our Cock Fight (6/45)

I know I usually only reward folks who comply.  And, I asked for nothing rhyming, however he wrote the dirtiest, funniest limerick about my pink hair I have ever read!

Also, he suggested the most unusual sexual act I've ever encountered.

He wanted to cock fight me.

He had to play early this morning, because he worked two jobs and had to be at the first one at around 8.

I woke up this morning smiling, because he seemed like such a character.

So, after a quick meet up at Bodo's Bagels on Preston, we went to his apartment over in Eagles' Landing. He had one of those nice, little two bedroom ones and had not been assigned a new roommate yet.

I helped him duct tape aluminum foil on his living room's patio glass windows.

He helped me into a strap on with about a nine inch brown penis attached.

He then gave me a red, glow in the dark condom, and hardened himself and put on a green one.

He then turned off all lights.

And, he said, “The force is mighty with you.”

Then, he started making light saber noises and started hitting my strap on with his cock.

I started laughing uncontrollably, and he did too.

Eventually, I started hitting him back and making my own light saber noises.

We played for about fifteen minutes, then he came.

I found the whole thing silly, hilarious, quirky, and good exercise.

Thank you, R for being you.

Thank You, Professor (5/45)

He writes...

"I loved your Hamilton's piece.  I've attached a photo and my master's thesis about Emily Dickinson's use of the dash.  If you find it smart enough, go to Alderman Old Stacks Level 1 at 3:30 and find the carrel with Emily Dickinson's Wild Nights: Selected Poems.  Sit staring straight ahead with your feet on the floor and your palms on the desk.  Don't touch the collection till I cum to you.  And, don't wear any panties."

It's 3:40, and as I stare straight ahead, I occasionally let my eyes look at the book cover.  I really love how the blue sky and fuchsia clouds create a pleasant contrast.  And, I really like the black and white image of Emily Dickinson.  Until now, I did not really know what she looked like...

At 3:45, a man moves behind my wooden, hard chair and tells me not to turn around.  He hands me a bag over my right shoulder and tells me to open it.  In the bag, was another clear, sealed bag with a small, purple pleasure orb.  He tells me to unseal the bag and give him the orb.  He then tells me to stand and lean over the desk.  He tells me to turn to Wild Nights and recite it till I cum.

As I find the poem's page, he turns on the orb.  As I begin to read the poem aloud, he reaches between my thighs and puts the orb on my clit.  The battery is very new, so the high intensity of its vibration make me stutter. He tells me to read slowly and clearly.

Wild nights - Wild nights! 

Were I with thee 

Wild nights should be 

Our luxury! 

Futile - the winds - 

To a Heart in port - 

Done with the Compass - 

Done with the Chart! 

Rowing in Eden - 

Ah - the Sea! 

Might I but moor - tonight - 

In thee! 

I recite the poem four times and crumple in the chair at the fourth Rowing.  He leaves.  As I turn to watch his retreating figure, I see him put the orb in the pocket of his slacks.

Thank you, Professor.

A Sunday Brunch (4/45)

I was uncomfortable and torn.

On one hand, I had to bite back a bit of my poverty snobbishness, when I first saw you wanted to have an encounter at a brunch.

On the other hand as I told you, every time I passed that Downtown Mall restaurant, I was always tempted to steal one of their perfect, cobalt colored, water glasses and longed to feel the linen textures of their very white table cloths.

But, a project is a project, so I agreed and went.

When I saw how handsome you were in your official UVA blue suit jacket, khakis, and orange and blue bow tie, I was curious what I had got myself into.

Also, I felt under dressed, because I had worn the flip flops per your request instead of something strappy and more formal.

I sat down and discovered you had already ordered for me.  This felt chivalrous and rude at the same time, since you knew nothing about any of my possible food sensitivities or allergies.

Then, I heard a bell.  I thought it meant you had to leave.  Instead, you told me to take off my shoe and put my foot in between your thighs.  I knew the table cloth that turned out to be very soft was long enough to hide any misbehavior, and I felt subversive doing something like this in such a posh place.

So, I complied.

You answered your page, unzipped and took out your cock, pressed my sole to it, and used unknown words like borborygums, hypoxemia, and purura into your cell phone.

I felt your warm drops of pre-cum when you said, "Ecchymosis."

I felt your climax's sticky globs spurt as you rubbed them into my foot when you said, "Analgesia."

You asked the server if I may have the water glass.  He said yes though I think he charged you for it.

You rose, presented me the victory cup as you put it, kissed me on the cheek, and began your walk back to the hospital.

It was amazing, interesting, weird, educational, and erotic.

And, the fifteen dollar crab cake was good too.

Thank you, A.

A Conversation (3/45)

So, a friend of a friend found out about this project and wished to ask me a few questions about his online dating on OKCupid.com.

I told him I primarily used Charlottesville craigslist casual encounters, because I found that "dating" or "hookup" spaces that provided online chat capabilities turned into online social networks or online hang out spaces more than it produced offline experiences.  This is fine for people who are into chatting up strangers with compelling profiles but not the best for folks who want to hang out with someone within a week or less of connecting with them.

He agreed with this, because he had been primarily using it to chat with women of like minds for several months and had only been out on one date with one woman with whom he had been chatting for a long time.

He also asked if it was wrong of him to be on a dating site, when he was not interested in dating anyone.

I asked him if he only checked the seeking friends option, he told me he checked all of the possible relationships.

He also did not feel compelled to check out what the woman said she was seeking before approaching her for chat.

He felt that he was not wasting the woman's time who was looking for more than he was interested in, because he was such a good conversationalist.

Also, he wasn't sure that maybe next month he would want to date someone.  I pointed out that he could just click on more choices next month instead of misleading women this month.  He didn't really respond to this.

Overall, deceit and/or leading people on about what you want to get more respondents does not seem the best way to start a relationship even friendship.

But, the truth of the matter was the guy was handsome, single, athletic, young, smart, quirky, white, and seemed willing to talk to anyone, because ultimately he didn't want anything.  So, this access to someone with all of these popular things would probably really be a waste of time and energy for someone looking for more but the engagement would appear worth it to her.

I mean how often do you get to talk to the "beautiful" people online?

Taboo Play at the Park: A Photo Series (2/45)

I flutter from man to man. Seeing them all as temporary, random events.
Sometimes, I fall on short dressed knees, on park benches at their feet, or on sparse grassed ground.

So, unlike a tree.  They promise to be there...
Till they are not.

But, they change their names to log cabins, picket fences, paper.
These things bare down the hands of man.

What a long path to find the hands of man.

Among the trees, I find him.

I gently caress his back tickled by his bristles.

I want to sit at his bare feet with my back against his tree and my mouth waiting.

But, today is just about looking.

His fruit of the loom weaves sweet skinned, forbidden.

I want to rub his belly for luck.
I want him to rub me.

I want to play his viola all the way to his...

A new sweet friend.

Shy and wonderful.

Thank you D for such a fun time at the park today.  I appreciate you letting me take your photos. :)

Last Evening (1/45)

(If you would like to participate in my ongoing documentation of my Charlottesville, Virginia craigslist casual encounters, let me know. Serious inquiries from Cvillians only.)

Last evening, we thought we were going to catch the end of the reggae show at the Sprint Pavilion.

Instead, you helped me, an ambassador, and a police officer help a fallen, elderly, drunk man rise from the Downtown Mall bricks into a chair.

After that drama, we decided to have a bite at The Nook. You told me, you liked how I looked out for people and that I deserved something very special. You fed me a cheese, crinkle fry and winked at me.

We went to my place.

And, you told me to change into a nightie. Intrigued, I did as you wished. I came back, and you were gone! Luckily, you had just gone to your car for my "something special". You told me to lie down on my bed. Again curious, I did as you wished.

You opened the bag and produced a Snapple Half & Half and my favorite peanut butter cookies from Campus Cookies.

I had to giggle. I am totally into men who are into the details.

You tucked me in.

Then, you pulled out a leather notebook and sat on the edge of my bed reading me your original erotica about your larger woman turn on. You even shared one that you had just written about me and you and "biting me to the pit gorging on summer."

Then, you closed your book and kissed me on the forehead and left.

I've been such a wreck since.

Thank you!

Welcome To My Project!

Dreams can be dangerous experiences.  They may guide you to paths that others find crazy, confusing, and condescending.  They may also guide you off cliffs and maybe in the process teach you to fly.

In my dream, I reduced rape culture and increased the safety of brown and black trans sex workers.  I made this magic by changing in small ways how people connected with each other in anonymous, sexual encounters like those advertised in Charlottesville, Virginia craigslist casual encounters personal ads.

I woke up wanting to understand and possibly adjust this niche culture.  I thought maybe I could help, because I loved writing and had a University of Virginia BA in English Lit. had an understanding of wanting to overcome social disconnect from my experience as a mental health peer support specialist, and had a comfortable way of suggesting changes or improvements from my life coach certification.

Also, I was open to participating in instead of judging a space that would become really sex positive instead of constantly dealing with deceit as discretion and shame instead of sexual liberation.

As you may realize if you read some of my passages... when I am not being naughty, I write about being naughty among other things. :)

To get the full range of experience, sometimes I posted as myself, more traditionally attractive women, and men.

When I started this project documenting my experiences using Charlottesville, VA craigslist casual encounters and sharing unsolicited online dating advice, I celebrated by committing to meeting up with at least one respondent to my ads a day until they expired in forty five days. However, my ads never last more than 24 hours. :)

What am I into?

Only interested in other Cvillians.

I am poly.

As for the rest...depends on the man who answers the call. 

I wasn't sure what I would find. I wasn't sure I could really change anything.

So far, I have one primary relationship with a fabulous workaholic, a benefit friend with a guy who is incredibly busy raising his kids, getting through his divorce, and work, a guy who sends me fractured Shakespearean sonnets daily, and photography sessions with a local exhibitionist. 

If you are okay with me writing about our experiences (while protecting your identity of course), you should leave me a comment or email kondescendingkunt@gmail.com.

Just a few tips about me...

My preferred beverages are mango lasses, chai milkshakes, and arnold palmers. My preferred movement is dance and Downtown Mall strolls. My preferred position is doggy. My preferred birth control is condoms. My preferred time to play is on a weekday.

I dislike cunnilingus, hiking, yoga, coffee shops, and making arbitrary lists about likes/dislikes for online strangers. :)

And, the kurious name of Kondescending Kunt kame from one of the men I made angry during my research.  It seemed so lofty and erotic at the same time, I just had to keep it.

If you would like to know more, please be specific and ask.

Cheers!
Veronica Haunani