Brothers and sisters, lovers and sinners, witches and bitches, vamps and tramps, masked men in a mystery, role playful women through history, belladons and erotic personas, as nights grow along from the witches' hex, let us enter the realm of scary sex. There they're, darling. Don't be afraid. Tis the season of masquerade, so come, all ye witches, ye dark brides and grooms. As the time to hop on your brooms, fly past your fears and over the years of oppression, repression, being burned at the stake, stoned by the shake or drowned in the lake, and rise up ye sexual renegades, join the erotic masquerade, straddle your flying phallic, strap on brooms, turn on your vibrators to the moon, fly high in the sky to that wild domain where witches reign as goddesses and protesters, as femdoms and love-doctors, time to put on your party mask as you take off your daily mask, time to reveal what you so often can see you. Your erotic persona, your inner belladana, your secret identity, your scary sex entity, your evil twin, the wizard within, time to awaken, stirred and shaken. Your heart beating like a bongo, your blood rushing like the Congo. Maybe you meet someone who looks kind of scary, a witch, a bitch, a cop, a fairy, when out of the clear with a flick of the tongue, your shivers of fear turn to passion and fun, mixing fear and sex creates special effects. See what turns us on isn't always the nicest. So we're often afraid of just what excites us, or are we excited by that witch we fear, both my dear, it's biological, it's neurological and it can be pathological. So be careful, consensual, practice safe for sex and don't overdo and stir this recipe into your witch's brew. A pinch of fear gets your mojo in gear like heat in your mesquite, but too much fear burns your meat. Stick that in your bag of trick or treat. And this Halloween or sometimes soon, take a trip to the moon, the full moon on your vibrating broom. Join the erotic masquerade.
