“Make love to me right now, dear Lilith. Let nothing, not distance or heaven’s wrath, come between us.”
Come along with Lilith through the opulence of Inanna’s temple to the secrets of Noah’s ark, fucking demons and mortals along the way. Here is an excerpt from the chapter Lilith’s Mirror.
“A wondrous pastiche of biblical ‘magical realism’ akin to The Satanic Verses, albeit funnier and far more erotic in tone and prose than Rushdie’s works. It also has a sweet and endearing side to some of its characters, and with a plot that dashes in a bit of horror near the end for good measure.” – ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ from Son of Odin
Thank you for appearing to me in my dream. You look beautiful! The whole dream was lit in the romance I have come to see in places and people I miss. I am in an old Spanish style house in an unknown Philippine province. I am putting clothes away in a cabinet. The capiz shell windows glow in the sun. It is high noon but cool indoors. I hear a tricycle pull up outside, bags being loaded. I go out and there you are, about to get on that tricycle.
“I’m going back to Manila,” you say. “Come with me.”
I shake my head. “Not right now.”
I really want to, but I decide not to. I still have things to do. I don’t think too hard about it.
So I watch you go off on that tricycle kicking up sepia dust on that bright sunny day. I’m filled with joy having caught a glimpse of your otherworldly beauty. I feel the loss of having chosen to stay behind.
I woke up crying and realizing the impact of another dream I had, about a month before you died. I didn’t give much importance to it at the time. I blogged about it, but didn’t name you, or let you know it was you. I was embarrassed. It revealed more than I was willing to share.
In the dream I was walking along a beach with you. There are two guys with us. I don’t recognize any of them in my lexicon of real life guys, but in this dream world we are hanging out with them. You throw off your clothes and jump in the water. The guys follow quickly. I fumble with the buttons on my white shirt. It is taking me so long to undress. I woke before I am able to join you skinny dipping.
I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t see that dream as a premonition. I felt remorse for being too late, regret for moments I let pass because of some stupid reason or another, a crippling awkwardness about things. A little over a month after my dream, you slipped into a coma and died.
One of these days I will be able to join you in the ocean or ride away on a tricycle. Maybe I’ll catch you the next time you come around. As the sky goes dark tonight, I am reminded that pain is not the enemy. It merely points the way to the wound. Before we tend to it, we have to understand what the injury is. We have to allow ourselves to experience it. Then we can take steps toward healing and transformation.
I suppose a lot of fallen beings now miss The Garden’s heavenly Fruits. And I’ll tell you why:
In that place exists Complete Bliss. A Fruit—any Fruit—plucked from its enchanted trees, and savored garden-fresh is guaranteed to bring you to the Ultimate of your Being—no matter what level of Be-ing you might be at the moment. This is an experience many seek, for both enlightenment and pleasure, and it is because of this service that many bitter beings—those denied access and who sulk salivating hungrily at the Gates—call it The Cosmic Brothel.
Yes, dear friends. In The Garden one could find the Supreme Fuck, and reach the mind-shaking, soul-stirring Orgasm that could fire up your neurons swifter than Hermes on speed and expand your consciousness faster and greater than Zephyrus could ever impress with his smoke-rings.
In The Garden, Orgasms are made into Legends. That rumor about Osiris and Isis making out in The Nile and a crocodile biting off Osiris’ Venerable Dick? It occurred Right Here, when he won Isis (then a plump, ripe, rare Fruit-Woman specimen, in bloom only for every dozen millennia) in a game of dice, and chose to hump his prize in the Stream of Mother’s Milk where a gameful lizard nipped at his member. Strengthened by the milk, Isis was blessed with the awareness to search for the still-throbbing penis while Osiris howled in unholy pain. You all know that the search proved futile, but since then every being was aware of who wore the proverbial pants in the family.
Isis was one of the few fruits to achieve Deity-status, which she probably earned by impressing upon everyone that the heat that possessed her loins equaled only the determination to find her mate’s penis. There’s nothing like a single-minded, driven woman, and she got her due reward! They never found the real organ, but being the cosmic beings they were, they discovered alternative ways to get it on, and always, in the warm creaminess of the Stream, which, in their more affectionate moments, they called their “mother”. It is because of this, perhaps, that some have thought Isis and Osiris sister and brother.
There were clouds and rain on the forecast but it was sunny on the morning of my birthday. Maybe a little windy, but the sun felt warm on my bare skin. https://t.co/2CZnCaACNNpic.twitter.com/fa595Z0C33
I put on the antlers Jay bought me a few days ago. It made me happy to run around naked in the woods behind our house where many a herd of deer have passed through. I keep a pile of fruit and vegetable scraps at the edge of the wood year round, but winter is when the wild life need it most.
I hiked to the top of this cliff. Jay took my photos from the bottom of the rocky hill.
It was a perfect autumn morning. The wind prickled my skin and the sun soothed it. Pine needles on the bald rocks felt slippery under my bare feet. https://t.co/2CZnCaACNNpic.twitter.com/L69UUNw9Ly
I went down on all fours like a beast, waving my invisible tail side to side. When I descended he covered me with his arms and told me I was beautiful.
It’s gorgeous out! Gonna get some sun time. Have a beautiful Saturday! Here’s some more from the full set of birthday nudes barefoot outdoors pics at https://t.co/urjztDkZYD 💋
We made love tenderly at first, then dirty, like animals. He filled me and filled me and filled me until I oozed delirious and he was spent.
Every year since 1999 I take a nude photo on my birthday. It’s now a 21-year tradition that will not end in 2020. Life goes on and so will I. This year’s birthday nude is coming soon to https://t.co/2CZnCaACNNpic.twitter.com/phlSkfdPwS
I washed up, got dressed, and picked up our kid from school. I slid to the passenger seat to let her drive us home.
“How was your day?” I asked. She paused before she told me she had a weird day of not much happening in her classes, then at study hall her friend messaged to say that his dad died. He wasn’t ill. He just died. My daughter seemed deeply affected by that. It hit her hard to think that any day, without warning or indication, she could lose either one of her parents, too.
I took a proactive role and said that we should go get food for her friend’s family. We got a whole rotisserie chicken, a vegetable side dish, and yellow chrysanthemums. I told my daughter to text her friend to ask if we could come over with some food. He said yes.
By the time we got out of the grocery store, it was pouring really hard. My daughter drove in the rain to her friend’s house. It was a long way to Hope, which is the next town over from ours. She turned into a dirt road and up a hill. At the top of the hill is her friend’s house. His family had moved here from Illinois just a year ago. The car parked outside still has Illinois plates. Who knows what situation they are in now without the father?
My daughter wanted me to come along with her. She is so shy, my kid. We put on our masks and walked up to the house.
Her friend answered the door. He looked tired. His eyes were red and puffy.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, as I handed him the paper bag full of food.
He said, “None of us feel like cooking.”
“We figured,” I said. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t know what was right anymore. We ran back to the car to get out of the rain.
When we got home, my daughter baked me a birthday cake while Jay and I made dinner. We talked about life and love. We told stories and laughed. Underneath it all was the thought that death comes for us all, sooner or later. The question isn’t when, it’s how.
We all get to pick our poison. Some people choose alcohol, drugs, sugar. Others have an obsession with thinness and beauty. Then there are those whose passion becomes a poison, revolutionaries, workaholics, lovers of all kinds.
Jay always said he wanted a beautiful woman to kill him. She could be me, killing him slowly, one headache, one heartache, at a time. If my life was a painting, I’ve already messed up the canvas, made many mistakes and accumulated regrets for inaction. It’s time to pull together all the loose ends, the painful lessons, the dark memories of my life and transform it into a beautiful work of art.
That night, as I blew out the candles on my birthday cake, I wished for more time to love him the way he wants to be loved as a unique and extraordinary human. I’ve only just begun to learn how.
Happy birthday, World Wide Web! I still remember the sound my dial up modem made, the raspy cry of a newborn baby web. Little did I know that soon after, a baby web whore would be born: ME!
🍾 Here’s to my first photo shoot, Rainy Girl in NYC, which was shot in film, scanned to digital, then UUencoded and posted on the usenet newsgroups in 1996.
🥂 Here’s to my first digital camera and nude photos posted on my AOL home page under the screen name MrsWiggles, shut down for nudity and racy content in 1997.
🍹 Here’s to moving to California and starting a tripod site called clix.to/lolita, shut down for XXX hardcore content in 1998.
🍸 Here’s to my first webcam and webcasting on iFriends as MAYCAM in 1999.
🥃 Here’s to creating my first members only pages through the Adult Check password system and hosted on the iFriends server free for video chat hosts in 2000.
🍺 So here’s to you, World Wide Web. Look at you, wireless, mobile, social, deep, and dark. How you’ve grown! You’ve changed the world as we know it, for better in some ways, for worse in others. You’ve shaped the way I live and love, make a living and make love. You’ve made me your whore. A toast to the World Wide Web! Cheers! 🍻
“Your mouth is worth more than all the diamonds in Africa,” you answered.
“What is my ass worth?” I asked.
“Your ass is worth more than all the pearls in the oceans,” you answered.
“What is my cunt worth?” I asked.
“Your cunt is worth more than all the oil wells in the Arab deserts,” you answered.
I was humbled by your replies. “You have turned this common whore into a Queen. I will kneel at your feet and serve your cock with my mouth. I will bow my back and serve your cock with my ass. I will spread my legs and serve your cock with my cunt. You will be my King.”
My daddy forbade me to get naked for a college play. He didn’t realize it was not his call to make. I was eighteen. I could make my own decisions about my body.
I had just finished a run of my first professional theatre gig. “By George!” was a musical revue of George Gershwin starring Dulce and directed by Behn Cervantes. I was a wispy little chorus girl, but I had a solo part after Michelle Gallaga in the song, “I Got Rhythm.” It was a showstopper!
Throughout the run and for weeks after it, I hung out with Dulaang UP kids. Even though I went to Ateneo, I auditioned for a part in the play “Fili,” adapted by Floy Quintos from Jose Rizal’s “El Filibusterismo.” Director Tony Mabesa must have been amused by my novelty because he cast me in a big part, the role of Kontessa, the Kapitan-Heneral’s whore.
Sisa was Eugene Domingo, who had briefly changed her name to Geena Domingo to assume a more dramatic persona. She was a student then, not the big comedy star she is now. Dolly de Leon, who later in life got a plum part in the international movie Triangle of Sadness, was her alternate for the role. But this was long before they became superstars. Back then, the big star of the show was film director Mario O’Hara as the protagonist Simoun.
Rehearsals were exciting. I was getting a master class in theatre performance from the best in the Philippines. I tried my best to keep up when we read through the entire script. I was in one big scene with chunky monologues and several lines back and forth with the Kapitan-Heneral. I was off-book and ready when it was time to get the scene up on its feet.
Sir Tony had me enter with a lit candelabra in each hand. I recited my lines, projected my voice as big as I could make it. My scene partner, the Kapitan-Heneral, was played by a flamboyant opera singer. I couldn’t let my voice drown alongside his. At center stage I was directed to hand the candelabras to the Kapitan-Heneral, kneel in front of him with my back to the audience, and undress.
Undress?
Sir Tony was serious. I would be getting naked onstage.
My heart raced. My face heated up. I felt small. Literally. I had no tits. I was very self-conscious about it. We weren’t even onstage at the time. We were in a rehearsal room with unforgiving flat fluorescent lighting. I sheepishly removed my street clothes and returned to my spot center stage. The Kapitan-Heneral looked down at me. He was enormous.
“Drip wax on her,” Sir Tony directed from behind a desk. The stage manager sat next to him coldly taking notes on her script.
I continued my lines, gasping every time hot wax hit my bare skin. I felt all eyes on me. Cast and crew held their collective breath as a virgin had her first taste of Dominance and submission. Public humiliation. I didn’t know any of them and none of them knew me. I was an outsider. Just a doe-eyed girl from Ateneo who thought she could run with the cool kids at UP. I felt so alone.
As the scene drew to a climactic end, Sir Tony said, “This is where you have an orgasm.”
“What’s an orgasm?” I asked.
Sir Tony laughed a big booming laugh that echoed throughout the rehearsal hall and in the back of my head for years to come.
“You poor girl.”
Sir Tony took out a cigarette and stood up. The stage manager called a break.
We worked the scene in the succeeding rehearsals. I grew in confidence each time we ran it. I was determined to conquer this role. Eventually, though, Sir Tony decided to get someone else to play Kontessa, a woman named Grace, who rumor had it was a Muslim princess. She was a grown woman with full breasts and dark hair down to her ankles. She fit the part more than I did. She knew how to have an orgasm.
I’m trying to imagine my 18-year-old self as the Kontessa. Not yet five feet tall, a tit-less waif. I would have been the child prostitute version, which is not without a visceral power of its own.
I was demoted to the part of a common whore. I wore a blonde wig and a big poofy dress. I had a couple of lines and got to kiss Sir Mario O’Hara at the beginning of the play.
I got asked out on dates a lot during the run of the play. Maybe I was fresh meat from Ateneo. Maybe it was the challenge of giving me my first orgasm. Maybe that very first wax dripping scene rehearsal played in their imaginations more often than they could bear it. More than my naked body on display, I like to think it was my innocence, vulnerability, and courage that captivated them that day.
This is an excerpt from the memoir I am currently writing. I am so proud that I got to work with Sir Tony Mabesa, who recently won the MMFF award for Best Supporting Actor in the movie Rainbow’s Sunset.
I awoke to darkness. It took me a while to realize that I was indeed awake, that this darkness was not a dream, that I was bound and blindfolded in a bed. The smell of burnt wood brought me back to the moment before I fell asleep. Or did I die?
I was engulfed in flames, surrounded by kindling that burst quickly. The fire took my breath away, but before it did, I remember it turning my clothes instantly into ash. I remember standing in the fire, naked, looking out at the crowd gathered to watch me burn. I saw the fire dance in their eyes. I saw their collective lust flicker as I writhed in my inferno. I heard the words spat into the air I struggled to breathe.
Witch!!! Witch!!! Witch!!!
I felt hands spreading my thighs wide. Fingers crept deep between my legs and pushed digits into my cunt. I gasped. For the first time since I awoke I realized that I was breathing. I wiggled my toes, struggled against my restraints, took deep breaths. This body is alive, awake, and ready.
MAYCAM 💋 is resurrected. It is alive with hundreds of years worth of real life stories, photos, and movies to capture your immortal soul in that deep dark place between my legs. Come. Find out the true story behind this photo. Read about deception, vulnerability, intimacy with strangers. Watch the video clip. I promise it is more fantastic than the fiction I wrote above.
Let me take you to another world, a world created by my words and my voice. I want to take the intimacy between writer and reader to the next level. Let me make love to you aurally. We’ll explore Eden and the ancient world together. Listen as Lilith discovers the mysteries of sex, the forbidden fruit, her free will, and the power of words.
Did those excerpts whet your appetite? That’s good, because I’m giving away free Audible audio book downloads of Lilith: Generations of Cain. Here’s a tip: If you’re not an Audible member yet, sign up for a free 30-day trial membership and they’ll give you your first audio book free. Choose Lilith: Queen of the Demons as your free first audio book, then contact me for the coupon code that lets you download Lilith: Generations of Cain for free.
In exchange I would appreciate honest reviews on Amazon, Audible, iTunes, GoodReads, or your own blog/social media channel. As a new author, and a self-published one, I can only rely on friends to help me get the word out. Reviews really help.
Here’s to starting my blog, 
