Yesterday in the rose garden…with a rosier hue…
More sinful hues here:
Author Archives: F DOT LEONORA
Total Blog Takeover by JG Faherty Featuring An Excerpt From His Latest, THE CURE!!!
Hi, there. My name is JG Faherty, and I’m your guest blogger for today. Leonora has thrown open the doors and let me do whatever I want! Which I can do—I’m not shy when it comes to promoting my own stuff! But I want to do more than just talk about my book. I want to explain why I’m talking about it on a blog that’s usually focused more on the romance and erotica ends of the fiction spectrum.
I could say it’s because I’ve written plenty of erotica and romance myself, both under the name JG Faherty and under various pseudonyms. I could say it’s because Leonora enjoys a good scary book now and then. I could say it’s because we’ve worked together on projects before. All of those would be true. But the real reason is, horror and sex go together like, well, sex and anything. What doesn’t go well with sex? (Except picturing your parents while you do it.)
My novel The Cure is no exception. Depending on who you talk to, it’s a paranormal thriller (that’s what I call it), a horror story, or even a mystery. But at its very heart, it’s a story about love, sex and fear, because those are the things that drive so many of the things we do in real life.
In The Cure, Leah DeGarmo has the ability to cure animals and people by touching them. But she’s also as cursed as she is blessed, because whatever she takes from the sick and injured she has to pass on to something/someone else, or suffer it herself. This not only makes her valuable to the wrong kinds of people as a potential weapon, it makes her life very lonely.
Like most of us, Leah longs for love. After losing a fiancé to a freak accident she couldn’t prevent, she’s become an emotional recluse, refusing to share her heart or body with anyone. It takes police officer John Carrera to unlock her doors, to get her to feel again.
And what happens when she does? People find ways to use her love against her, to force her to do things she doesn’t want to do in order to save John’s life. It is the horrors they experience together that bring them closer, and also threaten to destroy them as a couple. When they finally consummate their love, it’s in the worst possible situation, captured, in fear for their lives, and monitored by shadowy figures. Yet they still do it, because sex, like fear, is such a powerful urge that it can break through boundaries, knock down walls, make everything else seem insignificant.
Think about it. What else besides sex and fear can make people do such crazy things? Love? Sure, in some instances. People will risk their lives for love. At least, some will. Money? Sometimes. People will lie, cheat, and even kill for money. But not everyone.
Sex, though, sex short-circuits rational thought like nothing else. Think of the insane things people do when it comes to sex. We take perfect strangers—potential murderers, thieves, perverts—into our bedrooms because we want to fuck them. We spend every last dime in our wallets, even our bank accounts just to get someone into bed. We risk our health on prostitutes, or skip using protection rather than miss out on great sex. For thousands of years, sex has been used as a weapon, a method of coercion, a blackmail tool, and even as a way of bartering for goods. The need for sex can drive prisoners to homosexual acts. It’s such a powerful driving force that men and women were (and still are) routinely shorn of their sexual organs in order to create easily controlled slaves. Sex causes people to ignore social and familial mores, commit adultery, and even break religious vows.
The only thing that compares to it is fear.
Fear can be so powerful that it not only creates a state of temporary insanity, it can cause physical harm. Your heart beats too fast, adrenaline courses through your veins, your pulse pounds in your temples until your head aches, and your stomach clenches. If this goes on too long, a person could have a heart attack, a stroke, or just plain pass out and crack their skull open. Fear can be so intense that it causes you to piss yourself, toss your cookies, or soil your pants. Fear can turn the bravest man into a whimpering coward. We all would like to think that in a life or death situation we’d be the hero. Save someone from a burning building, stop the mugger with the gun, or tackle the person about to cross the street in front of a truck.
But would we? Or would we freeze in terror while disaster strikes? Think of what people do when they’re frightened. Drop a spider or snake onto someone who has a fear of them, do they quietly brush it off? Hell, no. They scream, frantically shake their arms or dance in mad circles. They’ll fling that deadly animal off themselves with no thought of where it’s going to land—on their spouse, their mother, their child. Shout fire in a theater (no, don’t, just imagine you did!) and watch as people trample each other in panic, run face first into walls, pound frantically at doors they can’t open because they didn’t read the sign that says “pull.”
Like the quote from Dune by Frank Herbert, “Fear is the mind killer.”
The only real difference between fear and sex, is that sex (for most of us!) is enjoyable, while fear is not.
In The Cure, fear is more of a driving force than sex. Leah is forced to confront her fears, both psychological and physical. Her mind and body are abused until finally she simply can’t take it anymore. And that’s the crucial element of the story. Will she snap, let insanity take over, or give in to the darkness? Or will she overcome her fear and master it? It’s a quandary we all face, albeit on a smaller scale. Deadlines, presentations, first dates, illnesses; all the things in life that create fear. Do we submit or conquer? Give up or fight?
The same can be said of sex. Sex has the power to drive us over the edge. People become addicted to it. They need more sex, have to have it. For some it’s porn. For others, it’s the actual physical act. What was once enjoyable becomes a compulsion.
That is why I’m blogging today. To let you know that horror and erotica/romance have always been, and always will be, entwined. And if you don’t believe me, I’ve got a book for you to read. It’s all about lesbianism, bisexuality, fetishes, dominance and submission, rape, oral sex, and bestiality.
It’s called Dracula.
And now back to your regularly scheduled blog programming!
Thanks, Leonora, for having me.
Excerpt from:
Leah knew only darkness and pain. They surrounded her, encased her in walls of black fire. There was no conscious thought, no sense of body or mind. Just endless torture.
Just when she thought she might explode from the pain, a glowing sun appeared in the distance, its light enticing her with salvation from the eternal hell of her existence. Without being aware of moving, she reached for the golden promise of deliverance.
The moment she touched it, the brilliance poured through her, melting through the burning dark in waves of cool, soothing pleasure that was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Better than an ice-cold drink quenching a parched throat, better than stepping into a frigid mountain stream on a hot day. She let the waves wash over her, wanting to bathe in them forever. As the yellow light grew stronger, she felt its energy recharging her, revitalizing every cell in her body. In her mind, she shouted with laughter as conscious thought returned.
This was it! She’d finally reached heaven!
Leah opened her eyes, wanting to see the beauty of the afterlife.
And found herself face-to-face with a monster.
All of Leah’s good feelings shattered at the sight of the shriveled, twisted mummy standing less than a foot away from her. She cried out and jerked away, but it followed.
It’s got me! It’s got—
Realizing she was holding on to the creature and not the other way around, she let go, her hand unclenching like she’d grabbed a red-hot pan. The thing slowly toppled backwards and hit the floor next to her, its limbs as shrunken and deformed as its face.
Leah gasped as she recognized the monster for what it really was.
The corpse of Tal Nova.
JG Faherty is the Bram Stoker Award®- and Thriller Award-nominated author of four novels, seven novellas, and more than 50 short stories. He writes adult and YA horror/sci-fi/fantasy, and his works range from quiet, dark suspense to over-the-top comic gruesomeness. He enjoys urban exploring, photography, classic B-movies, good wine, and pumpkin beer. You can follow him at www.jgfaherty.com, www.twitter.com/jgfaherty, www.facebook.com/jgfaherty, and http://jgfaherty-blog.blogspot.com/.
Wicked Wednesday #157 — Three
Marcus kept his hand on Eliza’s thigh. She was not crying or emotional, but he caressed it nonetheless.”I thought Rafe told you, I thought they would decide to tell us at the same time.”
Eliza shook her head. Rafe had not told her anything, not yet at least. She concentrated on Marcus’s hand on her thigh because she did not want to think, she did not want her thoughts to wander because they would only venture into pain.
“I think the part that bothers me the most,” Marcus said as he squeezed her thigh. “Is that when I had the chance to do the same thing to Sandrine, I chose not to do it.”
Eliza nodded, and sipped her drink.
“When I was just starting out, I was insanely attracted to one of my co-stars. I’d never been attracted to a man like that before. He was incredibly good-looking, and got my attention that way. I was open to it you know? But when I started noticing the signals…it is not different between the sexes I find. If you like someone it is always obvious, and it was obvious he liked me and I realized I liked him because he liked me…We were at a bar, and it was intense because I was in a play with him and that is a different experience than being in a filmed production…He was sitting next to me, and he had his hand on my thigh.”
He squeezed her thigh with emphasis at that moment, and Eliza felt herself grow soft between her legs.
“Like your hand is on my thigh?”
Marcus grinned, and looked at her.
“Higher.” He squeezed her thigh more, and continued. “I held his hand in mine, and told him I was seeing someone. That it was open, but I needed to tell her if I wanted anything to start with him. He respected that. Oddly enough it was the three of us at the wrap party, when the play finished its run. Sandrine came with me, I figured it would be okay if she saw us together. So it was the three of us at a table, and she actually put her hand on my thigh and asked me if I liked him. She could tell, because I had been talking about him at home and simply because she was not stupid.”
Eliza saw their reflection in the mirror over the bar, and she knew that anyone seeing them would think that she was having an affair with him. Or that something steamy was going on, as opposed to him talking about his now wife and a former lover.
“So did you get together then?” she questioned him.
Marcus squeezed her knee again.
“Yes, we got together several times after that, and he is still a friend. He is a producer on the show actually.”
Eliza nodded.
“He saw me chasing you, and told me the last time that he saw that expression on my face was when I was just starting to see Sandrine. I thought that you just wanted to be with me because you were mad about Sandrine and Rafe…but…”
The names Sandrine and Rafe made Eliza wince, but then she was still.
Marcus’ hand slid up her leg, and it felt like fire. Eliza leaned into him, her hair came undone and she did not bother to fix it. The round mound of his palm was on her hip, and his fingers trailed along her backside.
“I don’t want to be with you Eliza, to drown your pain.”
His hand slipped down her thigh, to rest on her knee.
“It would not have been like that, I would not fuck you to forget…”
She looked away from him, and she saw Oscar. He and Polly were walking into the bar, and Eliza laughed. The irony that the three of them would be in the bar at the same time. Splashing liquor on herself as she attempted to have a sip of her drink, Eliza was pensive as the alcohol trailed down her leg. Marcus no longer touched her, his hand floated off of her knee. Her eyes floated to the picture over the bar of a woman looking out of a window, and she wished she could crawl out of one.
More Wicked Wednesday here:
photo of a grete stern dream photo by f dot leonora
Sign Up for My Newsletter, Free Books and BREAKING NEWS!!!
Since people often ask me when are my books coming out, when am I going to have calls for submissions and what I am up to in general, I decided why not start a newsletter?! My inaugural issue will be out soon…AND for a limited time, when you sign up for it–by leaving a comment on this post–I will give you a copy of Chemical [se]X or Spy Games which have stories written by me…or Tie Me Up which has stories edited by me! Or you can sign up for the newsletter, by e-mailing fdotleonorasolomon+newsletter@gmail.com.
Speaking of which, I have NEWS!!! I am looking for erotic stories about the Victorian Era and femdom, for upcoming anthologies with Riverdale Ave Books. The details can be found here and here via ERWA.
Looking forward to sharing more with you!
Masturbation Monday No. 39
Nichy pressed her nails into her palm so deeply, there was an imprint that she rubbed now sitting at her perch as the faux librarian.
Her boss had been gentle about it, but since out the day before she was scheduled to work in the library this evening. Sitting there now, she rubbed that ridge on her palm. Pressed that same palm to her face because that Gavin held when she told him that she was going to have to work that night.
“We can go out after everyone has left,” he said to her as they walked outside during lunch.
“But you know when we have parties no one ever goes! They stay until the booze is done!”
“I will wait for you princess, I will wait.”
He stopped in the middle of the street, caressed her cheek and pushed loose strands of her hair away from her eyes. Their second kiss was the most natural thing, feeling more like need than desire. Gavin held her close.
“I will wait for you.”
The feeling of his body against hers was still heavy upon her as she sat at the heavy oak desk, remembering what Renee had told her. She wished she had had the nerve to ask Gavin to sit with her, but she had not. At least she knew that he would wait for her.
If she could not quench her desire at all, at least she could get up and get a drink. She was allowed to get as much as she wanted to eat or drink while she worked and she would get a car home. Gavin could go home with her, and they could go to the restaurant where he had found her when he came looking for her.
Nichy washed her mouth with a second gin tonic, and nibbled on a small plate of appetizers. Her tongue lingered over the savory blood on the warm slices of lamb on crusty bread, as if she was seeking the rawness of life.
After she placed the small plate on a silver tray for the servers who walked around, she sipped slowly on her gin tonic with copious cucumber pulp.
Gavin sat at the library desk, replacing her. Nichy paused, a little heady from having her second gin tonic. It was late enough that she was beginning to think that they were not going to have a date. But he sat there sipping scotch, she knew that was what he liked from being with him after work at the bar.
“So I guess we are going to have to have a date here then,” he announced.
Gavin got up, and pulled out the chair for Nichy.
She sat down, and he pulled up a chair to sit beside her.
“I was thinking that we were not going to have our date after all. And that I should have asked you to come keep me company.”
“Glad I came Nich.”
He sat beside her, and they talked about the goings on around them. Nichy realized that just having him there talking with, made her feel the same electricity that Renee had described to her doing far more with Tyler. Gavin stayed with her until almost everyone left, but she was at least relieved when her car came. They said nothing, but walked out together and into her car.
Nichy looked at the stars in the sky from out of the window, her eyes already full of them.
It was just after midnight, and she was exhausted. They stopped in front of her apartment building, and she walked out looking up at the full moon. The moon shone so bright, she almost had to shield her eyes from it. But instead her eyes closed as Gavin kissed her. Their hands moved faster than the speed of light over each other. Gavin caressed all of her curves softly when he encountered them though: one hand lingered on the curve of her backside just under the swell of her cheek, while the other was filled with the fullness of her breast. He almost pulled away from her lips, but sucked on the bottom one like a candy.
“I needed the taste of your lips again,” he whispered finally letting go, and squeezing her bottom which made her feel like she might come. His touch made her labia tremble.
Nichy’s answer was her hands in his back pocket, as she kissed him again. She kissed him tiny kisses as infinite as the petals of a flower, before she utilized words.
“You should have asked the driver to wait for you.”
“It is okay, I will walk home. Tomorrow, we will have a real date?”
Nichy stood still, but her body felt as though currents raced through her. The electricity of her desire was rampant. Gavin smiled at her, and she squeezed his hand before she let it go and watched him walk away until he disappeared into the night.
His kisses left her wanting more. Under her sheets much later, she caressed her bottom the way he had when they kissed. Her finger lingered just under the curve of her cheek, but did not stop there. She let her fingers slip between the divide of her cheeks and let the tips of them address the wetness there. Between her legs was congested with the desire that their kissing had created. Now she let her fingers move along the wetness there, and she did not even have a chance to touch herself in earnest. With just the recognition of how wet she was, Nichy made herself come with with the lightest of caresses. She was so tired that her climax lulled her to sleep, and she woke up with her hands sticky between her thighs.
More Masturbation Monday here:
electric arc via wikipedia
Kink of the Week — May 16-31: Suits
I remember being seventeen, on the train, and seeing men get on in suits. I loved it. Love seeing men in suits still. Some women like men in uniforms, but I like them in suits. I believe that putting on a suit transforms a man, and so does the way he wears it. I had a firm crush on a co-worker, who used to like to wear his tie flipped over his shoulder. The way a man wears a suit says a lot about his character. If it looks like the suit is wearing him, that is awful. If he wears it perfunctory with solid-colored ties and typical suit colors and prints, he is practical. If the suit seems tailored for him, or he wears it with atypical ties, suit patterns and colors it means he is not so rigid.
I wrote two pieces recently–my story in Spy Games, and this post–where I wrote about suits, or at least elements of suits. The difference in these pieces, was my mindset when writing both. The fetishized suit in Harper in Spy Games was a spontaneous scene, I did not plan it. When I wrote the blog post, I knew I was planning on including a suit fetish scene…the focus on cufflinks was incidental. What caused the difference? I had a conversation with a friend who has a particular fetish, and noticed a catch in my breath as I began talking about suits. I realized that we shared something, the same feeling but for different things. When I saw this prompt, I got very excited especially since I had just created a suit fetish Pinterest board!
I am not sure that I am a bonafide suit fetishist, but I know I get very excited if I see a man with (an element of, or a or full) suit I like. During this very cold past winter, I saw a very gorgeous man I know wearing a fedora. I complimented him, and felt flushed when I saw the fedora later hung up on a hook. Now I recognize that I watched Mad Men primarily for the fashion…and Jon Hamm…in a suit…with a fedora on…
Below is a sample from my short story Harper, in Spy Games:
“Take off your clothes,” he grunted, unbuttoning her blouse.
“Leave on your suit,” she replied, her voice sounding just as huskily.
He smiled at her as he watched her finish unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her bare breasts right off the bat.
“So there’s a bit of kinkiness in you? A suit fetish, perhaps?”
Removing her skirt revealed that she hadn’t worn any underwear. She looked up at him.
“Talk? Or do?”
Russell pulled her to him while she was taking off her thigh high. She dug her nails into the other leg, tossing both ruined stockings carelessly onto the floor. She buried her face in his suit jacket, realizing he might have been right about her kinkiness. It was not something that she thought about before, but she guessed it was there right now.
The feeling of his suit against her bare skin while he was kissing her was one thing. Her bare ass against the chain that barred entry seemed ironic to her. There was no desire in her for others to enter, but she liked being watched, and that wasn’t something that she’d ever realized she liked until the past 24 hours. First in the bar, and now here with Russell.
You can get a copy of Spy Games in the US, or the UK.
More suits here…
random photograph taken by f dot leonora
E[lust] No. 70
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40
Welcome to Elust #70 –
The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #71? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~
I am a Sex Blogger & I Reject Pseudonymity
~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~
‘X’ is for X…
Give my guilt an erotic payoff? Tell me more.
~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~
*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7
days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Blogging
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
The Great Outdoors (Or Why I Trust Him)
I’m Reminded You Can’t Force an Orgasm
Yes I am Sexy
Why Choose Monogamy When You Can Choose Every
Would you? Could you?
On Being Haunted
Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish
A Horse Among Unicorns: Embracing my Straight
Being a Disabled Top in Kink Community
And here I thought kink was all about consent
10 Signs You Don’t Understand Submission
The Answer
Writing About Writing
Sex in Real Life vs Fiction
Terms of Use
Poetry
Six Nine – A Happy Horny Haiku
Erotic Fiction
One Saturday Evening
Cerulean
Stolen Minutes
Taste
Haunting you
Woken
Q is for Quenched
A schoolgirl spanking story 10
Sit Here Please
My Prize
Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor
Fat-Shaming
Spanking, Brits, and what if we didn’t?
“V” is for Virgin
Erotic Non-Fiction
My first date with Lexy – Part 2
Goodnight kiss
How To Kiss Me Like You Mean It
running cold and hot
His cum came out my nose.
Going Down. Honey, Coconut Oil and Cum.
Wicked Wednesday #156 — Roses
Eliza collapsed besides the vase filled with roses in the backseat of the taxi. The gorgeous blooms reeked of sage to her, their natural scent eclipsed by her memory of Marcus’s. Her hand dropped lazily between her thighs. He had told her that she would burn for him, that he would make her want him that much.
She did.
Eliza wanted him so much it weighed her down. She moved and thought like molasses, at work she was prone to distraction and caressing the parts of herself that she could in an office. Stroking her collarbone was like rubbing her clitoris, she needed to be touched so bad that even that absent stroking eased some of her desire.
At home, she was not sure if Rafe noticed. Something was going on with him–with them. She wondered if he was seeing Severine again, because he was distracted. But she was distracted, so she was as not upset with him about it. Sleeping at night in his arms, he held her tight and she felt safe and loved. But she could feel he had a secret, he did not have to tell her.
Eliza rubbed the inside of her knee, wondering if Rafe could feel her desire. Sitting in the back of the taxi and saturated with lust, she looked out of the window at New York flashing by her. She was infatuated with Marcus and New York at the same time. The city looked different, was lit up with her excitement as she headed to a bar near where Marcus was filming. He had not told her, but she felt that she was not going to really be with him until he was finished filming this season of his show. The taste of her blood was sweet, after she bit her lip thinking to herself when would her cliffhanger cease? When would her need be quenched?
Her lips were parted, and she licked them as they stopped at a corner. Eliza giggled as she saw a billboard that revealed several layers, one of them was an older ad for Marcus’s show.
He was everywhere, and not just ads or billboards. She saw him every time she saw a man’s fedora. Fedoras were suddenly ubiquitous in the same vein as bowler hats were for Magritte, or as in The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Fedoras triggered her as much as Marcus’s kisses had, made her quiver on the brink of imploding.
She got out of the taxi on shaky legs. When she regained her balance, she realized that she had left her roses in the backseat. Tears came, even though she did not want them to. All she had left of the beautiful roses Marcus gave her, were the ones she had adorned herself with in her hair, in the waist of her skirt and the petals she had stuffed in her bra.
Marcus sat at the bar, when she walked over to him he studied her face. There was nothing she could hide from him, and she knew that he knew that she was weak with desire for him. She did not blame him for lingering since she had acted like she did not know what she wanted, when he asked her if she wanted him to seduce her. Now she wanted him so much, she did not need his seduction or roses. Maybe leaving the roses in the taxi was symbolic for her not wanting to wait anymore for him. That she wanted him to take her without finesse. She wanted raw emotion, raw physicality between them.
“You were crying,” he said, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “Do you want me that bad?”
She nodded.
“I left the roses in the backseat of the car.”
“They were not that important to you then. Or maybe you wanted them on your body, and not in a vase.”
“I want you.”
He stared at her.
“Why because Sandrine is sleeping with Rafe?
Eliza caressed her collarbone with anxiety.
“What?”
Marcus swallowed, and she salivated with the movement of his Adam’s apple.
“Rafe did not tell you?”
Eliza shook her head, shock chilling her desire.
“No, he can sleep with who he wants to and I would not sleep with you for revenge.”
“So you want me?”
Eliza nodded, the scent of roses on her body like fire ignited her desire again.
More Wicked Wednesday here:
roses photo by f dot leonora
Masturbation Monday No. 38
When Nichy’s buzzer buzzed, she assumed that it was Gavin–not wanting to wait for date night after all. “Nichy?”
Renee’s scratchy voice was disembodied coming through her speaker, as she buzzed her in. Her friend’s actual presence was even more unsettling than her voice was.
“Are you okay Nichy? I was trying to get in contact with you all day, but I kept getting your voicemail.”
“Why, what happened with Tyler?”
Renee stared at her.
“I did not come here to talk about Tyler, I came to see you! To make sure you were not dead or something. You never take time off.”
“Well I needed some time to myself.”
Nichy’s body still buzzed from making out with Gavin. She could still smell his warm scent, and feel the scruff of his beard against her face. Felt his hands on her body…she was saturated with desire all over again.
“Why are you being so mysterious Nichy? What is going on?”
“Nothing,” Nichy said quickly. “Would you like some wine?”
“Sure!”
Nichy knew that she would be able to distract Renee with the offer of liquor. Renee plopped down sloshing red wine on herself and the couch. Nichy looked at the bruise-colored stain, and shrugged her shoulders.
“And Tyler did come in today…” Renee started.
Nichy drank a few more glasses of Lambrusco than she was planning to. The sweet red wine tasted like bubbly punch. And there was really no words to get in edgewise, once Renee started talking.
“I covered the library today since you were out–”
Nichy pressed the back of her hand to her mouth but before she got an apology out, Renee continued.
“Tyler came in to keep me company. He was sitting next to me, and since the library was empty…and since we had not seen each other for a long time…” Renee looked dreamily into space, and then finally purred. “He plays my pussy like a violin…”
Nichy remembered almost kissing Gavin in the library, and actually kissing him just moments ago. Renee had a knack for getting her wound up. She wished Gavin had come back to see her, instead of listening to Renee who was making her body heavy with desire telling her about Tyler.
They both jumped when wild lightning flashed first, then deafening thunder followed it.
The pouring rain outside made Renee sit up straight.
“Do you mind if I stay over? I know it sounds terrible, but I am afraid of thunderstorms.”
“Sure,” Nichy shrugged. “It’s late anyway.”
Nichy got up, and pulled out her own stuff out of her overnight bag since she did not often have guests stay over. She placed everything on the couch where Renee sat stiff, just nodding to show her appreciation for the donation.
Nichy got herself ready for bed, her body was soft and desired to be touched. Renee had made her want to be touched even more than she had already wanted to be. The sheets aroused her as she got into bed. The rain poured steadily against the window, and lightning in broad white bursts like the Fourth of July before finally thunder so heavy. Renee jumped into her bed, and under the covers with her.
With Renee in her bed, she was even more restless than she would have been if she had been in bed alone.
Renee shifted more than the occurrences of lightning and thunder combined, which made Nichy lie in bed with her eyes open. When the rain subsided, Nichy’s eyes got heavier than her desire. She was drifting into sleep when she felt Renee her body pressed close to hers, Renee’s arms about her. She shifted to get out of her embrace, but Renee grabbed her breast and moaned between her shoulder blades. Nichy jumped out of bed.
“Renee!”
Renee rolled around, and covered her head with the sheets.
Nichy realized she was not going to get a bit of sleep in the same bed with Renee, so she let her have it.
In the morning, Nichy found herself with her head on her arms at her dresser. She felt that she had not had enough sleep, but at least the sun was out. Nichy got up and got ready for work, after she had hit Renee several times to make her get up.
To no avail.
When Renee finally woke up, she walked into the bathroom with just a thong. Nichy felt Renee’s breasts pressed to her back again. She was not sure how much more of Renee as a sexual being she could take, between her stories and having her in her bed. Renee telling her that sitting in the same chair that she had sat in, where she had almost kissed Gavin for the first time, that Tyler had caressed her thighs and that he had touched them slowly, digging his finger in the part between her upper thighs until felt the hair between her legs. He ran his fingers through it, ran his fingers through her hair and circled her labia, until he felt felt her wetness which he smeared first in her pubic hair…before played her like a violin…before she came in the chair Nichy usually sat in as faux librarian.
Nichy smiled at Renee who walked past her into the bathroom. She waited for Renee to get ready so she could lock up after her, and fished through her bag for her phone when she saw it:
I can still taste your lips.
Nichy pressed her lips to the phone, where Gavin’s text was located with anticipation…
More Masturbation Monday here:
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Never Too Late for a Take This Man Excerpt by Oleander Plume!!!
When my dear friend and Chemical [se]X (which you can currently get for free!!!) editor Oleander Plume told me she was in another anthology, I jumped at the chance to host her (again!) on my blog! Take This Man is the brainchild of Neil Plakcy. Neil tells us a bit about his process below:
When I put out the call for Take This Man, I wasn’t sure what I’d get from authors. So much of gay erotica is based on the thrill of meeting someone new—making that first connection, the attraction of opposites and so on. Would my idea about sex between committed couples work?
I was delighted when the first stories began arriving in my email box and I realized I shouldn’t have worried – talented writers can take any idea and make it sing!
Not every story was great, of course. Some authors’ idea of “commitment” seemed to be having sex with the same person more than once. Others didn’t seem to grasp the idea that erotica requires the characters to engage in sexual intercourse at least once during the story. Others got bogged down in details of “how we met, how we fell in love, how we moved in together” and so on.
But the ones that made the cut? Pure gold!
Enter the golden Ms. Plume, who describes a little about her inspiration:
The submission call caught my imagination and wouldn’t let go. Here is the kind of story Neil Plakcy was looking for:
A rarity — romantic erotica focused on male couples in committed relationships — Take This Man comes from one of the top-flight gay fiction writers, Neil Plakcy. Many erotic stories focus on the thrill of first contact, but Take This Man is thrillingly different, taking a close look at how much sexier an encounter can be when the two men involved have been together for long enough to make a commitment to each other. Formalized or not, the fact remains that knowing what turns your partner on — and vice versa — makes encounters even hotter, especially when the erotic encounter is an expression of an emotional bond.
After I read the prompt, an idea formed almost immediately. (That does not happen often!) I typed out a rough draft from start to finish, and the story never really changed. (Another rarity.)
Once I had the story fleshed out, I added a few details about the characters, Braiden and Tony. I developed a fondness for them, maybe because they are my age. Writing a contemporary romance story was a creative stretch for me, but I loved it and will definitely delve into that genre again. I also enjoyed writing about lovers who have a history with each other, I think the story is richer because of that relationship.
Wanna sample? Here you go, an excerpt from “Never Too Late.”
He grabbed me and kissed my lips as he pushed me back on the bed. I dug my heels into his back and ground my cock against his. The heat between us roared back to life, igniting us both until I thought we might burn alive.
“Fuck me, right now. No foreplay, just get up in me.”
“I need a shower.”
“Tony, please, I need it so bad. There’s lube in my suitcase.” I felt like I would die if I didn’t get his cock inside. My clothes flew in all directions, but Tony just unzipped and pulled out his dick, it was harder than I had seen it in years.
“Braiden, my balls feel like they’re going to explode.”
His hands were shaking when he greased up his dick. I pulled my legs back. Tony licked his lips while he stared between my legs.
“It’s still so pretty, fuck, I’m so hard.”
“Tony, hurry.”
“Yeah, yeah, here it comes, baby, I can’t wait either.”
I groaned as he pushed in, it had been awhile, but I loosened up quickly. This was what I had been craving, the feel of his hardness mingled with my softness. To be one with him, joined in mutual satisfaction. His cock spread me open wide when he drove in deep. Tony growled.
“That’s it, the sound I’ve been wanting to hear. That sex growl you always make.”
He did it again, I got goosebumps all over when it rumbled from his throat.
“Sweet angel, you’re so tight.”
“Keep talking.” I wanted him in every way, to hear his voice, to feel body, to smell his male musk, to taste his lips, to see the lust in his eyes, all for me.
“Tell me more.”
You better take this book!