Smooth Slick n Shiny. The kinky dreams of Andy.latex.....
This is a blog about Kinky stuff, at no point are any of the characters under the age of consent. This is the story of a young man discovering his true self with the guidance of a loving and understanding Aunt. It is a tricky world for those who are searching for identity and we should all offer our love and support to those who are struggling.
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Friday, 2 October 2026
Miss Kimmi's super selection
Wednesday, 30 September 2026
Wednesday returns
A Grand Day Out
By
Skinnie Stallion
1. Beginnings
Josh liked to think it started last Christmas but in truth it had begun much earlier. That time he’d gone to stay at hers was when things started to change. It had been silly to take one his magazines with him but he couldn’t very well leave it at home, not if Mum or Dad might find it while they were decorating his room.
He’d always known that Gran was a bit different. She didn’t dress like ladies her age. She didn’t even dress like ladies much younger than her. His Mum used to shrug her shoulders when he asked. She just talked about punk and rebellion and said, rather disapprovingly he thought, that her mother-in-law had never really grown up or settled down. Josh saw a bit of a streak of Gran in his Dad. He liked motorbikes too and played metal when he was in the car.
Gran had found his magazine. He liked to think that there wasn’t anything wrong but it wasn't exactly usual for a someone his age to have a copy of VOGUE hidden at the bottom of his holdall. And it was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He might have felt a thrill at getting two magazines for the price of one as he snuck out of the newsagents with VOGUE hidden beneath his latest LEGO Magazine but all he felt now was guilt. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, although it would have made a big dent in his pocket money, he just felt too embarrassed to buy it. He also didn’t want Mr Patel asking questions or letting drop to his Mum that he’d been buying a woman’s magazine.
He tried to defend himself when his Gran asked him to sit with her to explain: “I'm sorry Grandma,” he said. “I just....I like looking at the pictures. The way they dress and ...make up and stuff. It's not one of those horrid magazines I promise,” he protested. It was weak, he knew.
But his Gran was imperturbable. “I know darling, I know. It's ok really it is. I promise I won't tell anyone. I just want you to know that if ever you want to do more than just look, come to your Grandma. Because she loves you very much.”
He didn't quite know what to say or what she meant. He was simply grateful for the hug she gave him, the kiss on his hair, and the confidence that she wasn’t going to say anything to his parents. “Thanks, Gran.”
“It’s only VOGUE, after all,” she said, “but I’m guessing Marion doesn’t know you bought it.” He nodded, still unable to tell her his other secret. “I’ll tell you what: you can leave your copy here.”
“Thanks, Gran,” he repeated, relieved but sad to be losing that edition with its pictures of Cara Delevinge and Kendall Jenner.
“But I’ll get a subscription for myself. When you come over you can read my copies, or we can read them together. Won't that be nice? You could start a scrapbook if you want to cut out any pictures you like. You can keep it here. It’ll be our secret.” She gave him a little wink.
“Oh Gran, that would be magic.”
“Look, while we’re upstairs, why don't you have a look in my closets. It may not be the height of fashion like Vogue but you may find some clothes that interest you.”
“Are you sure that would be OK, Gran?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be suggesting if it wasn’t OK. I knows it’s all probably a bit fuddy-duddy..…. “
“Gran, it’s not fuddy-duddy to be wearing Bergman and Knightley.”
“Bergman and Knightley? How do you know I wear Bergman and Knightley.”
“Because they’re in so many ads, even in Mum’s mags. And you look amazing ….,” he added unguardedly, his voice trailing away as he realised what he’d just said.
“Thank you, dear. You’re very kind. I do like shopping at Bergmans. They really cater for my tastes, and I guess for those of quite a few young men. You obviously like the look.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. “Er…..,” he stumbled.
“Mmmm. I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’. Look, you can take out stuff out if you’d like a closer look. I’m sure they’ll be too big for you, but if you’d like to try them on one day…..”
“Oh…. Er……,“ he was lost for words. “Er… , thanks Gran.”
“…… and when you’re done, my motorbike leathers are hung up in the Utility Room. They could do with a clean and a polish after my last ride with the ladies. Would you do them for me? I’ll give you some pocket money if you get them nice and shiny.”
“Sure thing, Gran. That would be great. Love you, Gran.”
“Yes, dear. I love you too.”
Over the years, that little had acorn began to sprout. Helping with his scrapbook and cleaning her leathers, progressed quite naturally to letting him clean her bedroom and arrange her closet. She let him linger by himself in her bedroom. She knew how much he valued a little ‘me time’. The extra pocket money came in handy too. She’d even take him on some of her shopping trips. A new world was opening up.
Vanessa had been waiting to get him alone all evening. It hadn’t been easy. It was natural that he’d be in demand. She’d hit the prosecco in frustration about the lack of opportunities. She wanted to wish him a happy New Year and kick-off his birthday celebrations. Now, in the kitchen, her moment had arrived.
Until this evening she’d felt a bit sorry for him being born on the first. It seemed such a bummer: his birthday always tended to be overshadowed by New Year’s Eve celebrations. She was wanted to make an exception this evening. Turning eighteen ought to be a special moment, and she was determined that this birthday and this New Year’s Eve were going to be extra-special.
She had to accept that he was growing up and would be off to university at the end of the summer. There’d be much fewer opportunities to come and stay with her. It might be now or never. And she had a mission to accomplish.
As midnight approached, she followed him through to the kitchen as he went to fetch more ice. She lingered while other guests went back to the lounge to await the chimes. She was glad not to be joining them. Soon they’d be linking arms and singing that bloody dirge. She hated that song. Another year gone by. Another year she wouldn't get back. All she could do was make the most of the ones she had and spend them with the ones she loved. And she loved this one. She’d stood by him and kept his little secrets. Strictly ‘entre nous’, she’d said. He’d appreciated that. Her special boy.
There were calls from the lounge that she ignored as the Westminster Quarters began ringing for the last time that year. She blocked his way as he turned from the icemaker. Maybe it was her scent or her breathing but he’d already sensed her behind him. As she closed on him, he took the initiative, extended his arm and pulled her close. She almost melted in his arms but he was her grandson. They both understood the game they were playing. She’d never felt prouder of him. Almost a man. But not quite. At least not quite yet. And not if he didn't want to be.
The Great Bell of Big Ben struck. With each clang she planted a little kiss: his hair, his forehead, his ears, his nose, his chin, his cheeks On the twelfth, the prosecco took hold and she kissed him full on the lips. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” she slurred. “Now I know you are my grandson and all that and I love you so very much, but I am afraid this drunken old granny has a very special year planned for you. And I don’t just mean you going to University. Happy birthday, darling. Hic!” The prosecco repeated on her. “Eighteen. Who’d have thought it? I’ll give you your present tomorrow. It’ll be just between the two of us. OK? Hic!”
“Yes, Gran. Of course, Gran.” He wasn’t sure what to do but her puckered lips were too tempting.
“Remember, tomorrow morning,” repeated Vanessa as she pulled away. “Hic!”
The house was still quiet when Josh sat down with Vanessa. He wasn’t getting the chance to stay with her over Christmas so some private time together was the next best thing. Neither mentioned their midnight kisses. They brushed them off as just New Year’s Eve exuberance. Both knew that there was something more. It was all part of their secret understanding.
Vanessa waited for Josh to settle on the sofa beside her. She wasn’t holding a card or a present. All he could see was what looked like a magazine in her hands. “For your birthday,” she said as she handed it to him. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not returning your copy of VOGUE,” she grinned.
Josh flinched. She remembered. She still remembered that first time: her first inkling of his interests. That was another time he’d settled on a sofa beside her. She’d not been surprised back then. Perhaps it was something that ran in his family. One day he might pluck up the courage to ask his Dad. But not now. Not yet.
When he could take his eyes off her, he looked more closely at her ‘gift’. It wasn’t a magazine, it was the Bergman and Knightley catalogue. Her thumb was inserted at a particular page leaving it open at a section headed Fem‑Me. Vanessa pointed at one of the options. She gave him a chance to read. “Yes?” she enquired with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical smile.
“Yes, please Grandma,” he replied scarcely able to contain his excitement. “Oh God, yes. A thousand times yes.” There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He handed the catalogue back to her.
“When you’re ready, hun,” was all she said as stood up. “The summer maybe, when you’ve got time after exams?”
“Sure thing, Gran. Sure thing. And thanks again, Gran,” he said as his father shuffled in wearing a dressing gown and looking bleary eyed.
“Thanks for what?” asked his Dad.
“Oh nothing, Richard. Josh and I were just having a chat about what he might want for his birthday.” Vanessa lowered the catalogue out of the line of sight. “And I was telling him about the next bike I’m planning to get. I’m thinking about a Norton Commando like the one you’ve got.”
“Really Mum!” exclaimed his Dad. “Won’t you ever grow up? Anyone like a coffee? I’m making a pot,” he said as he traipsed towards the kitchen. “Boy, do I need it.”
“You need to put the kettle on Mum,” Josh called. It was easy to tell when Gran was on approach: he could hear the throb of the Norton’s engine from afar and its change of note as it decelerated to turn into the cul-de-sac. Gran clearly had no intention of sorting out the exhaust baffles. She’d had the muffler drilled out for a reason: she wanted to be noticed.
He went out to meet her as she parked the bike and put it on its stand. It was already attracting admiring glances from lads living further up road, although most of their glances appeared to be directed at her rather than the bike. The Norton 961 had given her a new lease of life. Gone her were her old black leathers. In their place were a red leather biker jacket and a pair of red PVC pants. He knew they were from the JaneStyle Collection at B&K. He was relieved to see that she hadn't gone for the AndyLatex option with the through crotch zip. She’d held back on that although he had to admire her large hoop earrings. He loved her just that little bit more when she went that extra bit tarty. She was out to make an impression and that impression was mostly: ‘”I don't give a fuck what you think of me. I’m going to dress the way I please.” She still had the free spirit of her youth.
She extended her hand for Josh to hold as she strode towards the house. He wasn’t used to her striding. It was hard to stride in her customary five inch heels - he knew, he’d tried enough times - but today she was in biker boots with only a modest heel. He took her hand readily, knowing the even deeper impact that would have on the lads. If they thought she was his girlfriend, so much the better. One day he hoped he might be holding hands with a lady like Gran. He knew what he wanted: not Gran but a lady like her. A lady he could get closer to. Everything was so much clearer when he was with Gran. But he would seek his Gran’s blessing given all she’d done for him.
When they were sat down drinking tea, Vanessa didn't wait long before getting to the purpose of her visit: “I’d like to borrow Josh tomorrow, please.” It was said more as a statement than a request.
“You what?” asked Marion.
“Borrow Josh. I’ve got a bike trip with the ladies tomorrow and I need someone to ride pillion and help me navigate. Would you like that Josh?’
“Er… yes, Gran.”
“He’ll need a helmet,” interjected Marion.
“Of course he will, and I think I can find him some leathers too. So is that all settled?”
************************
Monday, 28 September 2026
New art, Mirror Mirror
Monday, 21 September 2026
New Art. Run Along : part 2
Friday, 18 September 2026
Thanks Miss Kimmi, It's Christeen time
Wednesday, 16 September 2026
Wednesday fun, with Skinnie and Amber and Dani and more
Hi Everyone
Sorry this is a bit messy, but I have had almost no time to sit and work this week. I seem to be running faster and faster and getting nowhere, but I guess I am not alone in that these days.
That said I felt I needed to share some of the amazing bits and bobs I am sent.
This also included the final part of Skinnie Stallions amazing story
Hope you enjoy
XX
Andy
Firstly I came across this the other day, it is a sweet reworking of one of my stories, recreated in video form in Spanish.
It is such a treat to think my silly work is worth someone's time to rewrite and create. I am touched XX
Funnily enough I have been working on this series myself in another form, so stay tuned.
Now this is a sneak peek at the work of Brianna who has a paid for Patreon and is creating a story based on my art.
As a fellow Patreon user it is only polite to promote their work and Brianna is quite a talent.
For more https://www.patreon.com/BriannaDemonet/posts/aunt-jane-and-1-161938499 As ever all Patreon is a paid for platform.
Here are a few bits I created a while ago but am pretty sure never saw the light of day.
From the imagination of Sissy Dani. I have lots of Sissy Dani's work,but selected these for today. For no reason other than I like them....a lot
ing all that on its shoulders, the final part in Skinnie Stallions amazing story. Gotta say I love this one.
8. No Way Out: Art for Art’s Sake
Mariana sent Monica to bring the next reporter through. “Thank you, Monica. And who are you, and who do you work for?” she asked the petite blonde girl. The girl looked far too young to be working for a serious journal.
“I’m Jenny Smith from ‘Art Review’, Ms Abramopov,” said the girl.
Mariana was pleasantly surprised. So young. So pretty. “Mmmm…… Jenny Smith? Ah yes, didn’t you write that splendid piece on Jules Mahrute?”
“Yes. Do you mind if I record?”
“Not at all, my dear.”
Jenny turned on her hand held recorder. “Can you tell me, Ms Abramopov, about your new show and its provocative title?”
“I have been planning this show for a long time. It seemed like a natural follow on from my last show, ‘Erotic Journey’. This will also be a show that will be easier to tour.”
“And its title…..?” queried Jenny.
“It’s a rebellion against the male dominated, formal art Establishment. I call it ‘Cunt’ because I feel it dares to utter and evoke the female condition of so many women. In an epistemiological sense, a woman’s cunt can define the role of a woman; it can also mis-define. It is both a symbol of her oppression through history and her way of expressing herself. It is a source of both her weakness and her power. Her menstrual cycle shows her alignment with the lunar cycle and fixes a woman’s attachment to the Lunar Goddess who oversees all womankind. A woman’s fertility both empowers and enslaves her. A woman’s period is one of the original causes of sodomy in the human species. The first woman would have been sodomised by the first man when she was having her period. Adam would have sodomised Eve. It’s only after their offspring matured that the beauty of the arrangement will have become manifest. Mankind is one of the few species that makes use of the secondary route; its availability liberates both men and women. Men can experience what it is like to be a woman, or what it is like in between. This show demonstrates that we are all, each and every one of us, Cunts.”
“There is a difference in this show though in that you will not yourself, be one of the exhibits, Ms Abramopov.”
“Not at all, Ms Smith, or can I call you Jenny? Unlike my other shows, I will not be a fixed exhibit, but I will be present and perform at all my showings. I will be wearing this outfit and walking round the gallery. I have particularly chosen to wear this cashmere jacket from Ralph Lauren coupled with a pair of JaneStyle latex pants from Bergman and Knightley, and a pair of Louboutin SoKate 120s. I carry a matching shiny black Yves St Laurent handbag. Each of the four items embody style, luxury and feminine sexuality.”
“I certainly love your pants and your heels,” said Jenny.
“They help me exude the mystery of the femme fatale or the Mistress. They signify the allure and power of the Dominatrix and express the freedom and supremacy of women today in our continuing fight against the patriarchy. I will also be wearing a BumbleBee Egg from Bergman and Knightley.”
“An egg?”
“Yes, an egg. A vibrating egg. The egg will be timed to vibrate every thirty minutes for five minutes.”
“Won’t that be uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. My art shows that it is the true route to pleasure. In Gallery 1, I will masturbate ……”
“Masturbate!?” interrupted Jenny.
“Yes, masturbate. Do not be shocked, Jenny. It is an act as old as Eve. Every hour, on the half hour, I will masturbate by rubbing my crotch while looking at the one of the pieces on display, pieces that show the female gaining satisfaction in the way that the Lunar Goddess intended.”
“These are the portfolio pieces, the photographs that you call …..”
“That I call ‘Cunt 1: Wet. All the girls that ever fucked and sodomised me.’’
“Isn’t that rather derivative of Emma Tracey’s work?”
“Not at all. With her “All the sissies that ever fucked me’, Emma is just being an exhibitionist. There is no spirit or passion behind the work. There is no message except Emma’s own self-absorbed fixations. In ‘Cunt 1: Wet’, I am showing femininity as a source of power. The lady is not being fucked by men. She is being penetrated by girls. Fucked by girls. Sodomised by girls. Girls with cocks. Men as they should be if we all followed the Lunar Goddess: men feminised and serving the female as equals. Men behaving as girls, succumbing to their own lusts and pleasures with their colleagues when the lady is not available. Men performing an act that used to be illegal even in your enlightened country. An act that conventional religion has condemned since antiquity and many counties still consider illegal. In contrast, the Lunar Goddess endorses a source of please that brings equality and sharing between the sexes. Men and women alike can partake of the same wonderful experience. There is no stigma, only joy in such exchange and role reversal. While observing ‘Cunt 1’, I will masturbate while receiving anal stimulation from my BumbleBee in celebration of the ancient ways of bringing pleasure and equality.”
“Oh!” said Jenny, taken aback. “I see. Moving on, your second gallery, somewhat confusingly titled Gallery Zero, is simply a white space, empty except for a white sink and a white shelf with transparent glass jars.”
“Exactly. It’s a deliberate contrast to Gallery 1. It’s why I call it Gallery Zero. The empty space is an entirely new work, ‘Cunt 0: Absence of Cunt’. In the same way that John Cage showed the hypocrisy of audiences and their oppression of musicians, I highlight the Patriarchy’s hypocrisy and oppression. The empty white room’ of ‘Cunt 0’ represents the toilet where men retreat for their solitary pleasures. Practising their self-abuse is an insult to women. Adam will have masturbated when Eve was having her period before he learned to sodomise her. Self-love excludes the love of others. It is exclusive rather than inclusive. The Lunar Goddess believes in the love of all. ‘Cunt 0’ is therefore intended to be a participative piece of art. Male visitors will be invited to live out the stereotype of male corruption and become part of the show. They can even contribute permanently to the display, should they choose, by adding to one of the jars. All will be able to observe the wasted fertility and energy. True performance art for the masses and their messes.”
“Gosh! And will you perform in this space?”
“No. It would destroy Cunt Zero’s message of toxic masculinity. I will stage my next performance and appearances in Gallery 2. Every sixty minutes on the hour, I will put on a strapon and masturbate in front of the piece before me.”
“Masturbate? A strapon?”
“Yes, I will stand and stroke the strapon while standing before my latest work. In protest against the display in Gallery Zero and egregious masculine conduct, I will wank the cock to represent the degenerate, oppressive behaviour of the Patriarchy towards womankind.”
“The controversial exhibit that you call …..”
“That I call, ‘Cunt 2: Dry Chastity.”
“And it’s with a live model, I understand. Does she have a name?”
“Probably yes, but it that’s unimportant. It’s the message the work sends that is important.”
“And that message is……?” asked a perplexed Jenny.
“That submission to the male is passé. Subservience to the male is finished. Women are liberated to live the lives we choose. We are free to make choices but continue to be imprisoned by society’s straitjacket. The piece symbolises a woman’s struggle to free herself from these bonds. It symbolises devotion to the Lunar Goddess. It demonstrates the highest form of feminine liberation: her preferred and chosen devotion is to me, the Artist, her creator and salvation, the owner of her debt. While she is fastened to the wall, I, of course, am the true centrepiece of my expedition. She is encased and helpless, while I am free. My strapon will squirt and ejaculate over the latex covering of ‘Cunt 2’ as I reach peak arousal from my BumbleBee.”
“And the title?” asked Jenny, still none the wiser.
“Her encasement in latex symbolises her perpetual struggle to free herself from her earthly constraints. Her cunt is empty. Her arse is empty. She can hear us now: her only hope is that I will release her and fuck her.”
“And the model understands this?”
“Of course. What was important to me was that she be a professional. A woman of intellect and beauty. It is vital to the integrity of the piece. If she had been a hired, willing model then the theme of removal of power would have been dulled.”
“And I am right in thinking that the same woman features in the photographs that make up the majority of the exhibit in ‘Cunt 1: Wet’ in Gallery One?”
“That is correct.”
“Is it important that it is the same woman?”
“Yes. ‘Cunt 1’ is an expression of naïve freedom. A woman may lead her life in the way she chooses. But even within that freedom, she remains trapped within our expectations. The women still receives. She does not own or control the girls. She submits to her own lustful desires. She still serves and worships cock rather than the Lunar Goddess. ‘Cunt 2’ shows her path to enlightenment and a maturity of purpose. The absence of cock is liberating her to recognise her true female self. It’s why it’s so important she can hear us talking now.”
“So this is her choice?”
“Yes, but she has no option. She has a debt to pay. To go from a position of trust and strength, to being a mere item, a work of art admired for its beauty alone, is quite a thing.”
“So do you own her?”
“In a sense yes. She has a debt to pay. A debt to pay for herself, a debt to pay for being a woman, a debt for yourself, a debt for all womankind who do not yet serve the Lunar Goddess. A serious debt. I own her debt. I control her debt. I am the salvation for her debt. Her body is trapped in a latex vacuum with just enough air to breathe. She knows her past misdeeds. This is why she is chaste. I, the Artist, decide that she be chaste. You can see her writhe within her bonds, her cunt yearning for pleasure in her delicious cocoon but forever deprived. Her arms imprisoned by her side not even allowing her to pleasure herself. She will hear me when I masturbate my strapon in front of hear each hour. I have the freedom she craves. While paying her debt, she symbolises the deprivation and subservience that women have experienced through the ages. Only by ascending the Gynarchy and serving the Lunar Goddess can she hope to escape her bonds.”
“I see,” said Jenny, still entirely baffled. “And please tell me about Gallery Three. I understand that it’s still being set up.”
“Yes, let’s walk through. We are fortunate to have the piece on loan from a great friend of mine, Pamela Vantari. It’s been shipped with the help of Bergman and Knightley who are also the Sponsors of this exhibition. We have only just received delivery from Shanghai and have been uncrating, lubing and hydrating the exhibit this morning.”
“Hydrating?” queried Jenny looking at the shiny mannequin.
“Yes, hydrating. There is a living boy inside the casing.”
“A boy!!? And what do you call this exhibit?” asks a shocked Jenny.
“I call it ‘Cunt 3: Boy’.”
“And how does it fit with the theme of the Exhibition? I note that the boy is wearing high heels,” queries Jenny, trying to move the interview to safer ground.
“It shows the future of mankind, by which I mean the future of masculine kind. If we are to going to colonise the moon, colonise Mars, this is how the men must be. We should go in peace. Women do not create wars; Men create wars. High heels are now longer a symbol of oppression but of liberation. His heels show he has accepted his subservience and willingness to embrace his femininity.”
“And does the mannequin have a name.”
“Yes, but it has been lost. Deliberately lost. Forever, he will be ‘Cunt 3’. The man of the future.”
“And will you be performing in Gallery 3.”
“Yes, but only after the Gallery has closed. ‘Cunt’ is intended to fuel visitors’ minds and imaginations and provide them with a future vision. Visitors will be able to meditate on what I do with ‘Cunt 2’ and ‘Cunt 3’ after the Gallery has closed each evening. A select group of my Sponsors will join me as we celebrate the Lunar Goddess.”
“Thank you, Ms Abramopov. That has been most enlightening. I’m sure our readers will be interested to learn about ‘Cunt’ in our next edition.”
“Not at all my dear. Here, take my card. Do you have a telephone number? I will be having an evening soirée after the Official Opening with drinks and a private of tour of the gallery. You will get the chance to ‘meet’ the exhibits in person. I do hope you will be able to join us. Or perhaps you’d like to stay on now? We can talk some more and maybe you’d like to come back to my apartment after we’ve settled ‘Cunt 3’? I already have plans for ‘Cunt 4’.”

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