A.H. Scott: Night, Angel

Portrait of young woman with black long hair wearing sheer nightgown
Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2022

Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2022


Night, Angel


Call me Serenity

With charm to disarm, here I am for you

None of what we long for comes out of the air so thin

Casting a spell

You know me so well

I move through the night ever so sprite

Now, here I am with you

Something it was, something it is

Back when our eyes met for the first time, there was a delicious reason and parallel rhyme

Yeah, it’s the way she moves

Slick glide of mercury across the floor she is

Knock at her pad came after dark

Under his arm was a white box with a bow

Oh, I’m a curious woman who wants to know

What could it be that he brought for me?

A few suppers here and there is beyond a simple blind date that is ever so rare

Getting to know one another has amplified my horizons in such varied ways

Oh, a tender gentleman puts me in a haze

But, I’m not silly to think that it’s only my visual that puts a guy like him on the brink

I’ve got that magic inside of me that illuminates in special ways

Soft melody plays

Not a cover-up is this gift, as my body slowly shifts within it

Delicate lace bow I release in a sensual tease with thumb and index finger is a breeze

His hands cradle gossamer the color of night upon my flesh, as I offer a humble sigh

My bedroom is my sanctuary and we are here together

Fragrant aroma of cherry blossom fills the air

As you hold me in those strong arms that are so dear, I nibble and whisper gently in your ear

You know me

Yes, I know her

She is tranquility that I never thought I would find

I am the man who she treats ever so kind

Tender words from those lips and actions that are mutual fascination is the magic we share

Gossamer vanishes to the floor

I want her more and more

Hardening as I do, it is when I’m with her that there is that lustful follow through

Soft hands of mine touch along his expanded crotch

Oh God, I want him inside of me so much

I guess I am a woman of a blissful spell, cuz’ I can get such a sexy man to swell

Not tooting my own horn, but there’s going to be more than one grind between us from after midnight to the coming dawn

Hands make their moves with rapid speed

This night is going well, indeed

Blush upon my lips is like a siren song

I picked up on her signs, as on the bed we climbed

She below me and my flesh entering slowly at first

Deeper and deeper we are making our connection with such untamed thirst

Sensuality’s spring is about to burst

Back and forth, I take that ride upon him

Feelin’ good, feelin’ groovy

Damn, this man is really knowin’ me now

Her body flourishes with every point of contact we make, as I am about to make a fast break

We hold onto each other, as what comes about comes

Both of us are heady in our passion as the room seems to spin around our bodies in a mystical way

As if we are imbued with the essence of falling leaves, we listlessly lay upon the bed

Strands of my raven hair are slightly entangled through my fingers as I touch his chest and rest my head against it

I hear his heart beating like a snare drum

Wow, what a torrid duo we’ve become

Silently I wonder if he thinks I was just a bit too wild

Midnight holds magic in ways neither needed to voice

Being with her was a delightfully humbling choice

I lifted my head from off his chest, kissed him and was lost in a sweet caress

As I look at your softness, your feathers are invisible to most who gaze at the woman before my eyes

Yet, I see them as I look at you….

She tenderly smiles, “I know this is true”

He whispered, “Night, angel….”


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and senior contributor to Tony Ward’s blog.  For additional articles by A.H. Scott, click here: https://tonywarderotica.com/a-h-scott-wavelength/

A.H. Scott: A Second Look

white woman bound at the hands nude
Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2022

Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2022


A Second Look


A pinhole
A peephole
A spyglass fantasy unfolds
Vision widens as does the focus
Is it her fantasy of being kept and adored?
Is it his fantasy of being a source of security?
Bounds of trust
Trust of bounds
Am I being taken?
Am I being taught?
Am I the subject being sought?
Confiding in my captivation from the moment she and I first met
In her I see possibility
In her I see memory
Mutual trust is combined with lust
No one will know about what we explore
Well, maybe it might be one could be peeking through the peephole in that locked door
Caught in the moment
Upswept in the rush
Of this, that, and such
Consumed by enraptured titillation of unspoken thoughts
Self reflection is silence’s mistress, as I have learned in being with him
Relinquishing the reins of my own self control
He knows me now as my trepidation has vanished
She has graduated from cords of silk upon those wrists, to something more of my liking
Her skin so soft, I kiss her cheek ever so gently
Oh, his lips are like reassurance in wayward storm
Never would I have thought of this hideaway of hedonism would be located inside my dorm
Skin like white lily
Coolness of brass grommets from this leather chair are teasing my calves as I am situated here
All I am thinking about is what awaits me
Precision is that which I have come to know
Sandalwood scent fills the air
Cord of caution was snipped the moment this seductive suggestion passed his lips
I didn’t even think a wise man of letters would notice me
But, he did and our experiences together has been splendid
Blushing and bound
Here I am, found
Not like the original editions bound by leather on your shelf
I’m glad I have your attention only for myself
Whenever you call my name with that casual ease
I really perk up and want to please
Summer breeze replaced by autumn chill is nothing compared to my vulnerability’s thrill
Pleasing is pleasure
Pleasure is pleasing
I slip off the cord from around her wrists
She is eager to continue our tryst
Tape is slowly removed from those silent lips
Her smile exchanges the view from that dull grey with a pleasurable reddened hue
This swirl we share is beyond my desire’s hopes
Windmill of wonder is what I’ve been exposed to in learning the ropes
By the way, we can see you watching through that peephole
Was it good for you?
Because, it’s always good for us
Keep watching…..from afar
This is one door that is never left ajar
white woman having her mouth taped shut nude and bound
Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2022


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and senior contributor to Tony Ward’s blog. To access additional articles by Ms. Scott, click here: https://tonywarderotica.com/a-h-scott-nightcap/

Bob Shell: Some Prison Thoughts

Woman masturbating in an old prison in Paris inside the catacombs
Catacombs. Paris. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2022

Text by Bob Shell, Copyright 2022



“Sometimes I think this world is one big prison yard,
Some of us are prisoners, some of us are guards,
Lord, Lord they laid George Jackson down,
Lord, Lord they laid him in the ground.”

— From the prison song ‘George Jackson.’
George Jackson was a California prisoner killed by guards who shot him in the back of the head.

I am approaching the beginning of my fifteenth year of incarceration, which will begin on September first. People ask me, ‘How have you kept your sanity?’ Actually,it hasn’t been that hard, because I know in my soul that I am right and they — the so-called ‘justice system — are wrong. My conscience is clear. I can truthfully say that I never killed another human being, or contributed in any way to the death of one. Nor have I acted inappropriately with any of the over two hundred women who have modeled for me. That’s why so many of them are my friends today. I always respected them, treated them as persons, collaborators in the production of my photographs. They were always paid well.
In January of this year, after looking at all of the evidence in my case, most of which is demonstrably false, the Innocence Project took my case and assigned me an attorney. Their standards are very high, and they only accept a tiny fraction of the hundreds of cases brought to their attention. They studied my case for five years before taking it. They have asked me not to talk about the specifics of my case here, so that is why I can only speak in generalities, but I have genuine hopes of release.
Photography was in my life ever since my father taught me to develop film and make prints in his basement darkroom in my early teens. I had an old Ilford Ensign folding camera that I bought at a Goodwill store for something like fifty cents. It took remarkably good photographs. I even adapted it to work with my microscope. As I learned more about photography, my father let me use his cameras, first an Aires rangefinder camera, later his Exakta and Leica cameras. I got hooked on photography and never looked back.
But I originally didn’t think of making a vocation of it. If I thought about it at all in those early days, the late 1950s and early 1960s, I envisioned it as a hobby, like my father’s.
In 1965 I graduated high school near the top of my class and went on to college at Virginia Tech, majoring in biology and fine art, where I took my first, and only, photography class. After graduation, I was offered a job at the Smithsonian Institution, and went to live in Washington.
Fast forward to the 1980s. By 1985 I’d established a reputation as a photographer and writer, with agents for my photography in Europe and Japan. I became known for my classic nudes and Virginia and other US and foreign landscapes. My agents placed my photographs in many publications, including Asahi Camera, Japan’s preimminant photography magazine, on the covers of the Japanese editions of Danielle Steele romance novels, in a series of books published by Rotovision in Switzerland, and in ‘Asian Photography’ magazine in India. I won an international design award from Graphis for one of my magazine covers.
I made my first trip outside the USA in 1980 to attend photokina, the ‘World’s Fair of Photography’ in Cologne, Germany, and attended that event every even-numbered year until 2002, meeting photographers and people associated with photography from everywhere in the world, networking, establishing a worldwide network of friends and associates, many of whom I am still in contact with today.
My first one-man gallery exhibition of my photography was in 1973, in Richmond, my last in 2004-5 in Chicago.
By the time of my arrest in June of 2003, I was, in the words of Federal Judge Glenn Conrad, “A renowned photographer with a long-established reputation.” My arrest was reported by media in England, France, Germany and Italy, that I know of, perhaps in other countries where I was well-known.
I worked very hard at my photography and writing to establish that reputation, but to the small-minded police and prosecutor, it meant nothing. A lifetime’s work went up in smoke.
As a result, I have not so much as touched a camera since August of 2007, and only had limited access to computers in prison law libraries, for legal research and writing only. These computers are not connected to the Internet.
I write these posts and my blog on a JP5 mini tablet, which has a 4 1/4 inch screen and a tiny Android keyboard. I’m on my fifth one, because the batteries don’t last. We’ve been promised the larger JP6 for well over a year, haven’t seen them yet.
So here I sit on a hard bunk at 4:00 in the morning writing these thoughts. Going back to the question of preserving my sanity, writing these posts has really helped as has writing my blog, and a few magazine articles as well as my 2019 book ‘Cosmic Dance,’ which has sold fairly well considering I have been unable to actively promote it.
Before my incarceration in this human warehousing system I’d written more than two dozen books and over a thousand magazine articles for magazines in many countries, translated into most major languages, even Serbian.
Contact via letters and email with friends around the world has helped me keep a positive attitude. They know the truth about me. I even have one friend who emails me regularly from Tehran, Iran. Anyone reading this can email me via JPay. On JPay.com you can sign up using my name, Robert Shell, and my ID number 1201280. I’m always happy to hear from people out in the real world.
At age seventy-five I know there are far fewer years ahead than have passed, and can only hope to be free once more when I have some years left. The man in the cell next to me is in his mid-90s, feeble, possibly suffering from Alzheimer’s. I have watched many men die in prison in my years of incarceration, the saddest death I can imagine, and I certainly don’t want to be another one.


About The Author: Bob Shell is a professional photographer, author and former editor in chief of Shutterbug Magazine. He is currently serving a 35 year sentence for involuntary manslaughter for the death of Marion Franklin, one of his former models.  He is serving the 15th year of his sentence at Pocahontas State Correctional Facility, Virginia. To read Bob Shell’s, first essay on civil war, click here: https://tonywarderotica.com/bob-shell-photographers-language-and-thought-police/

A.H. Scott: Nightcap

Portrait of tony ward muse Alice Chaillou paris
  Photo: Alice. Paris. Tony Ward, Copyright 2022

Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2022




Italian has always been my favorite
And, you are the man who knows my appetite
Red dress, red lipstick and red shoes
Sexy redhead that never has the blues
Smile for you as I walk into the restaurant
Dress jacket of black, white shirt and jeans give you a look of casual coolness
You stand up and greet me with a peck on the cheek
After a lovely meal and red wine, we take the dance floor
Your spontaneous heart is what I adore
Slow dancing in each other’s arms, as you dip me with such flair
We make it back to your place for a nightcap of sweet delights
Dipping a strawberry into chocolate is a nice start
Dip that juicy fruit into my mouth and watch me melt
Red dress I take off in a way of burlesque
Sash of my dress had made its’ way into your jeans’ pocket
Never a tacky teaser is the way I am
My body may be nothing dazzling to brag about
Yet, I’m being bold enough to do a little bump n’ grind to grab your attention
So, here I am in red satin bra and panty to match
Hips caressed by those hands of yours from behind
I sigh at the words you say so clear and strong
“You are really turning me on”, whispered from you
“I’m glad I can”, I place my hands atop yours
Our bodies move in syncopation as I can feel your burgeoning salute
I step away from your grasp and turn around to face you
My playful side comes out when I’m with you, as my polished fingernails touch lightly below your waist
Without missing a beat, you calmly speak, “I’m going to make to you without haste”
That naughty look in your eyes let me know I was in for a surprise
Red sash taken out of the back of your jeans’ pocket made its’ debut for decadence
I was up for the games we play and turned around in a snap
Sash converted into blindfold was placed onto me by you
You kissed me on the left cheek and I couldn’t resist a reply, “My senses are ready for the ride”.
Taking me by the hand, you lead me upstairs
My mind’s racing about the possibilities that you’ve got planned for me
You lead me to your bedroom and take off my intimates
In your bed, I’m naked without vision but acclimated of seductions sight
Those kisses of yours upon my lips are driving me wild
And, those hands of yours know how to move like mercury
Suddenly, no longer am I touched, as that sound of a jeans’ zipper fills the air
My senses are rising, as you climb atop of me on that bed
I want to take off the blindfold and look into those blazing eyes of yours when you are inside of me
Damn, slowly and deep you are pressing, as I breathe deeply
Yes…yes…like heaven in your arms
Always so nice to cuddle in the afterglow when we are through
Nightcap satisfied
About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and senior contributor to Tony Ward’s blog. To access additional articles by Ms. Scott, click here: https://tonywarderotica.com/a-h-scott-wavelength/

Shanell Verandez: The SexiBeast


Text by Shanell Verandez, Copyright 2022
Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 2022
Creative Director: KVaughn
Assistant to photographer: Anthony Colagreco
The SexiBeast
I hope I don’t offend, but I have a high disdain for sex…. I am an Asexual Being. At times this has caused a lot of misunderstandings and hurt feelings towards others including myself. One would wonder… What does this stem from? What has now caused me to embrace a life of Asexuality? Shall we begin? I was a very horny little girl, I was fascinated with my tiny breasts and would always pose nude in mirrors any chance I got and used to hump my stuffed teddy bears, and pillowcase edges. 
Sometimes at night my parents would come home and find me naked in their bed with a smile on my face. I would even flirt around with my Uncles ( one paternal, one maternal) they were only two years older than me as well as some of my female friends (remember I am fascinated with breasts) and I had some very developed female friends.  I was trying just about anything to relieve my sexual tension as a young girl. Then I became menstrual at 11 and my Mother (whom to this day I still have an intense strained toxic relationship with) went bonkers. I thought I was dying because of her reaction to my panties. She didn’t explain to me what was happening to my body, I had to get the lesson from my Aunt.
Throughout my teens, I started to feel ashamed and shy about sex, because my Mom would constantly accuse me of having sex and even would “check” my panties after a slumber party or events to smell or see if I had sex. Then I discovered sex games, spin the bottle, etc and almost lost my virginity to a cute mixed neighborhood boy in his backyard, but he couldn’t find my opening.
My Mom at one point even let me take a boyfriend but I refused to have sex with him because I now wanted to be the good girl who wasn’t a pregnant statistic in the neighborhood, so I focused more heavily on school, sports and music. I had no more time for human interaction, nor intimacy. I kept my virginity until I was 20 years old and lost it to a narcissist, abusive mixed East Indian man boy. I will finish that relationship right there, he doesn’t deserve anymore space. After that sexual experience, I started to attract the same shitty men with the same intentions in mind… Hit it then Leave.
I started to realize that sex to me is meaningless and serves no purpose in my life. At the same time,  I admire people who embrace their sensuality and are sexually free. Believe me, I have had my share of sexual encounters from being a Dom at the Hellfire club , Voyuerism, Ménage a Trois and Tantra.  Maybe I was exposed to the wrong people at those times but it made me realize what type of pleasure I want and don’t want. As an Asexual Being, people wonder… How do I please myself? Toys Toys Toys they are a Godsend. Maybe one day my sexual drive will come back on high gear and I will be back on the intimacy  trail with some lucky guy…
             Stay Tuned…..
Editor’s Note: This is Shanell Verandez first sitting with Tony Ward for the Vixen’s series. To see all of the work to date from the new series, click herehttps://tonyward.com/new-work-the-vixens-series/