Category Archives: guest blogger

Guest Blogger Mischa Eliot Kneads Out Our Kinks!

This is the second time that my friend and fellow Sister in Smut has graced my blog. The first time was finger licking good! Following the edible theme, here is an excerpt from her delectable novella, Knead…yum…

I wrote Knead while taking Rachel Kramer Bussel’s last Between the Sheets class at LitReactor. Thank the heavens for Dr. J. If she hadn’t told me it was her last class, I’d have waited for the next one. It was not only worth the money and the time, it was the best writing class focused on erotica that I’ve taken. Oh wait, it’s the only class focused on erotica that I’ve taken. But if you’re going to take a class, it’s best to go with the best of the best – the cream of the crop – the icing on the cupcake.
Speaking of cupcakes, our first assignment was to write an erotic short about food. I have a coworker who makes homemade pizza and knows that I write smut. It’s fun and interesting having people know your secret life. When I came to him and started randomly asking questions about making pizza he lit up. Who doesn’t want to talk about something their passionate about? Listening to him brought this story to life.
It was funny because he didn’t realize why and then he asked and things just went smutty from there. All the comments about sausage and pepperoni and who knows what else. Let’s just say, it made my day and made Knead one of my most fun writing projects.

Knead Excerpt:

The taste of peach tea and honey and Zane exploded on my tongue. I didn’t want to stop kissing him, but in order to undress, we had to do just that. “God, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” Tank tops went flying, my bra vanished somehow. But, his words stuck in my brain.
“You mean when you moved in?” I unbuckled his belt and then focused on the button and zipper. I wanted him naked in front of me now. Zane’s hands were following my lead and he had my shorts off before I had his jeans to his ankles.
“No, back in high school. You were writing in a notebook at lunch. I read a little of what you were writing before you slapped the notebook shut. It was fucking sexy as hell.” He pushed me up against the wall and kissed me hard, nipping my lips and tongue with his teeth.
Thrill zinged up and down throughout my synapses. This man, who I thought had never noticed me when we were young and dumb, had the hots for me when I was shy and geeky. Before I could say anything, he bent down and flicked his tongue against my nipple. I sunk my hands into his hair and pulled him tighter to me.
Instead of taking me right then and there, Zane pulled away. “I should start the shower.” He was panting and his eyes glowed with need, pupils dilated with his intensity. Turning, he turned the handle and water shot out. My insides felt like the drops of water when they hit the tub, bouncing and splashing, full of chaotic energy.
Zane stepped out of his jeans and into the spray. “Do you have any idea how many nights I lay away wondering what you’re typing over there? Your desk is against the same wall as my bed. Sometimes, you type so loud and fast, it’s like you’re in a frenzy.” His words bounced around inside my mind while I watched the warm water soak his hair and skin.
Swallowing hard, I took in his words and the way he looked all wet. It was better than I could ever imagine. “Well, when I’m in a frenzy like that, it’s because I could hear you watching porn through the wall and I kept picturing you stroking yourself until you covered yourself in come.” There was no stopping the words once they started. I had never thought to find a guy who could handle my perverted mind. Every guy I had tried to have a relationship with in the past had been disgusted with the stories I wrote.
Standing in front of me was a man who wanted to know more about me, about what I wrote, about my desires. Zane turned and leaned his head back under the showerhead. “What do you think, Adrienne? Would I make a good story like this?” I watched as he slid his hands down his immaculate body, tweaking his nipples, his cock hanging heavy and hard.

Mischa Eliot is an office superhero by day and a smutty erotica author by night bringing you the hottest stories!

Website: www.mischaeliot.com

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Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Us Aural!!!

My friend Jade A. Waters is no stranger to my blog, that is because she always raises the bar and inspires me…read and listen below! Jade is now an audiobook narrator! My first dip into the audio world was from Rose Caraway, who has a new blog post telling you about Jade’s journey to becoming a narrator. you can read that here.

Below Jade has given us her poems and samples of her narrating them! Pssst, I like to listen, and I bet you will too!

Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to be back visiting the lovely F. Leonora Solomon, who has always been such a dear heart and supporter of my poetry. That’s why I’m ecstatic she let me swing by today to share my latest poetry news: that it’s gone into the audio world!

Let me start at the beginning, with the A to Z Blogging Challenge that happens every April. For those of you who have never heard of it, the challenge is one in which participants write a blog post each day for the month that corresponds to the letter of the day—and in my case, I’d decided not only that I needed to do something in my poetry practice, but that I needed to connect each lettered poem through a full story in verse.

What came of this was A Love Affair, From A to Z, a bittersweet love story that arced through the alphabet. I posted it each day on my poetry site in episodic form, but later, I wanted to give this narrative in verse more life—as in, I wanted to breathe more life into it, and the best way I saw to do that was to jump on narrating it!

The experience was fun, challenging, liberating, and new…and I loved every second of it. And now, I’m delighted to share a sample of the story in verse here on Leonora’s blog! The clip you’ll hear below is a sample of the story from B to C…but as the story starts with A, you’ll want to read along with the start of the poem to get your bearings.

Here’s the beginning of A Love Affair, From A to Z, with audio:

A Love Affair, From A To Z

Written and Narrated by Jade A. Waters

Always

“Always,”
He tells her,
“Always I will be here, love you, hold you close”
The words are a melody in her ear
The antidote to all she’s known,
The graze of his fingers over her lips
The sweetest touch
She’s been waiting for.
“Always,” she whispers back,
Her heart perched on the edge,
Waiting for him to grasp it
To clutch it close,
To honor it as deeply
As the two of them fall
Into the spell that’s lingered between them
All these hours over drinks,
All these nights they’ve been pretending
All these years they’ve been waiting,
Waiting for this.

A Love Affair, From A to Z – Sample

Beautiful

Beautiful is how she sees it
How she’s known this, him
The silent love they’ve shared
Is the perfect bar crawl
On the longest evening
Repeated, over and over again.
The laugh that echoes between them
Is the song for all they have yet to say,
So when they begin to crash together
To melt, colliding
Into this love like they’d always known they would,
His lips on hers are honey
His breath in her ear like a rainstorm
Prickling her skin, teasing her lashes
Wrapping her up in the sanctity of what they will be.
His palms slip along the flesh of her back
Her neck, her hips, her thighs
And she is naked now, finally, for him.

Cascading

Cascading
She calls it—
Like the waterfall of love they’ve tried to hold back

With the world’s strongest dam is now

Tumbling, rippling, rolling,
A surge of lust and waves
Capturing them, sweeping them away
Beneath the fiercest moonlight she’s ever seen.
It’s brighter than every moonlight that’s ever shined above them
Waiting for this moment
Like they have all these years.

It’s so different from what they’d expected—
“Our first time wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he says,
And she smiles at the love, at the dreams he’s had as crystal clear as she has
When they slip closer together,
Leather scraping her knees in the back seat of his car
While they kiss so deep
Bodies pressed
Finding each other, again
Finally
Tonight.

I loved narrating this story, so I hope you enjoyed hearing it, too. Thanks for reading and listening!

And a special thanks to F. for always encouraging my poetry writing, and for having me over to visit!

XX,
Jade

Audiobook Buy Links:

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Ebook Buy Links:

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About Jade:

Jade A. Waters is a fiction writer, poetess, and voice over artist in California. She is the author and narrator of A Love Affair, From A to Z, and the author of the Lessons In Control trilogy. Her short erotic fiction and poetry has been featured in publications by Cleis Press, Coming Together, Fuse Literary, Cosmopolitan UK, and Stupid Fish Productions, including Best Women’s Erotica of the Year (Vol. 1), Best Erotic Romance of the Year, and Best Women’s Erotica 2014. Her stories have also been narrated on The Kiss Me Quick’s Erotica Podcast. Find out more about Jade on her website at http://jadeawaters.com, or visit her on Twitter and Amazon.

Super Duper Guest Blogger Oleander Plume Brings Superstar Horatio Slice to Us in a Flash!!!

Horatio Slice is hot af! *Fans* When Oleander Plume asked me to be part of his blog tour, I was a groupie just like anybody else! And she wrote a sexy flash for me which I am going to post here, and at my Friday Flash blog. Oleander and Horatio are just badass like that, gotta spread the love!!!

It’s only rock and roll but I like it…

When I see his name on my calendar, I cringe. Horatio Slice. Just the name sets my teeth on edge. According to my editor, Patty Shane, this interview is top priority.

“Like him or not, the kid sells,” Patty says, “Have you seen the proofs of the cover photos? Sweet Jesus on the cross, Caleb, if I had a uterus, I would fill it with his baby.”

“Why the fuck do I have to meet with him in person? No one does that any more. I interviewed Bono over the phone just last week.”

Horatio Slice, Patty informs me, hates talking on the phone, something about a fear of being misquoted, which I think is bullshit. But, Patty signs my checks and I like to eat, so I reluctantly agree to meet with this new era rock god in his hotel room.

I think I’m prepared, until he answers the door. The dude is huge. Linebacker huge. He smiles and sticks out a hand.

“Wow, Caleb Wallace from Rolling Stone magazine, I feel like I’m dreaming, man.”

I don’t like the firm way he shakes my hand while staring into my eyes. It’s unnerving. The fucker. No one should be that good looking.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mumble, feeling like a dick when I notice the hurt expression on his face. “I mean, you’re probably sick of talking to reporters, right?”

The smile returns. “Yeah, maybe a little, but I can’t wait to talk to you. You’re Caleb Wallace.”

By now I’m thinking the kid is a little stoned. I follow him inside, and we both take a seat in the living room of his fancy suite. I set my mini tape recorder on the coffee table and press record.

“So, Horatio Slice, how goes the tour?”

“Amazing. Happy to be in New York, my home base.” He flips that long hair out of his eyes. “Hey, would you like a beer or something?” A glance at my recorder. “Sorry. You can edit that out, right?”

Yup. Stoned. “No worries,” I say with a force smile. “I understand you’re quite the sex symbol. What’s that like?” Glancing around the suite, I don’t see what I expect, namely women’s panties draped over every available surface.

His expression tightens. “I don’t consider myself a sex symbol. Just a musician.”

“Come on, dish me some dirt, Horatio. Strictly off the record.” He just stares at me. “I’m an old man, kid, let me live vicariously through you.”

After a long sigh, he says, “I thought you’d be different. I thought you’d want to talk about the music.”

The music. That’s the reason I became a rock journalist in the first place. When did I turn into such a jaded prick? “Let’s start over,” I say, rewinding the tape. “Let’s talk about the music.”

And we do. Minutes turn to hours. One beer turns into four. The conversation drifts from sixties acid rock to nineties grunge and all points in between. Somehow, we end up sitting next to each other on the couch. His knee touches mine and my balls tighten.

This is why I balked at the interview, I realize. I knew I’d want him, knew I’d want to touch those firm muscles and stroke that olive skin. Slide that zipper down and suck and suck and suck. Even at 40, I’m in shape, attractive even, but this guy is way out of my league.

And I hate accepting that.

But a few whiskey shots later, my dick tells my brain to fuck off. Something about the way he’s looking at me – lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded – makes me think he won’t mind if I slowly slide my fingers over his bulge.

“I want to suck it,” I say, enjoying the way his dick hardens beneath my touch.

“This is, like, the best interview ever,” he says.

The rumors are true. Horatio Slice has a behemoth between his legs. Erect and majestic. I lick the crown and the taste of him goes right to my head. Now starving for cock, I swallow that beast and suck with all I’m worth.

He likes to talk dirty. “Suck me with that hot mouth,” he says, fingers gently playing with my hair. “Then, I’ll blow you until you come. Or maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Would you like to fuck me?”

Like he even needs to ask.

Yes, you now have an all access pass to Oleander Plume's AMAZING new novel, with my friends at Go Deeper Press! I know I want a slice of Horatio Slice…sigh…

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To Have…Guest Blogger Malin James Talk About Roadhouse Blues!!!

Malin James is a special friend, and as far as I am concerned (and as I tweeted yesterday), she is the gold standard as a writer, and more importantly as a human. I am honored to have her as my guest today, with a decadent post after my own heart to promote her new collection, Roadhouse Blues, with Go Deeper Press!!!

Thank you so much for having me, Ms. F! It’s a privilege and honor to be here!

My collection of linked short stories, Roadhouse Blues, came out this week with Go Deeper Press, but I didn’t want to do a standard Please Buy My Book!!! promo post, (though if you’re at all inclined to by my book, please do – you won’t hear me complain). Don’t get me wrong, I’m damn proud of the collection, but I wanted to talk about it in a different way—one that taps into some of the aesthetics Ms. F and I share. So. Let’s talk about noir.

I love noir and classic films. I always wanted to include a noir story in Roadhouse Blues, but I wasn’t quite sure how or where a story like that would fit. Roadhouse Blues is set in Styx, a blue-collar, truck stop town in the middle of nowhere. It’s dusty and oppressive and the most glamorous thing around is the tabloid rack at the local Pak ‘n Buy. It’s about as far from a gritty urban jungle full of hard-nosed men and glossy, sinister dames as you can get.

I was about ten stories into drafting the collection and had pretty much decided to save the smoky, Sam Spade feeling for a different collection, when I started writing what would become the title story, “Roadhouse Blues.”

“Roadhouse Blues” is one of a handful of stories set in Rowdy’s Roadhouse, the only strip club for miles. Mick, the protagonist, tends bar and keeps a general eye on things. At the start of the story, he’s getting over a messy divorce and has pretty much vowed never to get involved with anyone ever again, but that doesn’t mean he can’t text (and maybe sext) with a woman named Jett, whom he met on a classic film forum online. But when Jett comes to the roadhouse late one night, she upends Mick’s lonely intentions.

Jett is sultry and sassy and damn, can she crack wise. The woman walks around like she was filmed in black and white, but under the Lauren Bacall glamour, she needs to get away from a life that isn’t working, so she runs to the middle of nowhere, straight into Mick.

As soon as Mick saw her standing in the doorway, I knew I had my film noir story. A beautiful woman with a mysterious past, a good man worn down by life…. So, I stayed with it until it became clear that the whole point of the story was to get Mick from “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine” to “here’s looking at you kid”. It just took a little rough sex to get him there.

While there are no crimes or gangsters or dead bodies in an alley, there’s a lot going on in “Roadhouse Blues” that directly references or pays homage to noir and classic film—the damaged characters with difficult pasts, the spikey chemistry, and yes, rough sex. More than anything, the rough sex.

In a lot of noir and classic film, sex is a fade to black thing, but there are plenty of women getting slapped or dragged around in an implied sexual context. In the film and fiction from the ‘30’s, ‘40’s and 50’s, casual violence towards women is a window into the attitudes of the early 20th century. It’s an interesting historical snapshot, but not something I wanted to sexualize or glamorize in an erotic story in the 21st. Which is why I wrote the sex scene in “Roadhouse Blues” the way I did. As opposed to the standard trope of the femme fatale getting punished by a dominant man, Mick and Jett unequivocal equals—equals who just happen to want to slap each other around.

I like rough sex. I like it a lot, but only with the right partner. The chemistry has to be right for that kind of dynamic to work. Happily, the chemistry between Mick and Jett was right. I wanted to let consensual violence play out between two strong people, but if I was going to do that, it was important to establish the fact that they were meeting on equal ground. Mick spanks Jett, Jett decks Mick, but they do it in a way that is actively consensual, which let me dig into the dynamic to find the sweetness in the rough. I wanted to give the reader the sense that the night they spend together is full of joy for them.

Mick and Jett have a rare kind of chemistry. They naturally communicate through short hand, like the dialogue in To Have and Have Not or Double Indemnity. Because the connection they have is instinctual and highly tuned, they are able to do things that, with a different partner, would be off the table. Jett holds her own, and Mick trusts her to voice her boundaries. Jett, in turn, trusts Mick to respect them, which he instantly does. It’s an ideal version of how a dynamic like this could play out with two well-paired equals.

Unlike in noir films, when a man slaps a woman and sends her sprawling before a fade to black, Jett gives as good as she gets, and Mick falls for her because of it. I wanted to see how their dynamic would play out, especially with the ghost of black and white film underpinning the story. I wanted to see what would happen if Bogart and Bacall got a little rough with each other while they were falling in love. I didn’t think I’d have a chance to do that in this collection, but Mick and Jett surprised me, and I’m glad they did.

To read an excerpt from the story, “Roadhouse Blues” click here.

Are you swooning like me? Want more Malin? I am so happy to be part of her blog tour–here are the links to the rest of it!

The Go Deeper Press Launch Post

Interview with Xan West

Interview with Emmanuelle de Maupassant

Review by Ella Dawson

Interview with Jade A. Waters

Review by Jo Henny Wolf

Guest Blogger Coffee and Kink Gives Us Smut-A-Thon!!!

I met Amy (Coffee and Kink), at Eroticon and I can tell you she does loves coffee and she is cute as a button in kitty ears! She is also ridiculously smart, and community conscious so when she came up with Smut-a-thon, I knew I wanted to support her. She is much better versed to discuss the nuts and bolts of this than me, so here she is!!!

We’re in the last few days before Smutathon 2017, and it’s Donation Drive time! Leonora has very kindly agreed to let me take over her blog briefly to tell you all about our sexy fundraiser.

Sometimes, I have ideas in the middle of the night. They’re often fleeting and gone just as quickly as I realize they haven’t got the legs to work, or I haven’t got the time/energy/inclination to get them off the ground. Sometimes, though, an idea or a thought or a potential project grabs me by the heart, and won’t quite let me go until I put it into action. Starting a sex blog was one such idea. So was Smutathon.

Charities have always been important to me in both my personal and professional life, and I’ve been wanting to do something to give back to amazing pro-sex, anti-sexual-violence causes for ages. My first few ideas didn’t really take hold, but after I met my tribe (link: http://coffeeandkink.me/uncategorized/ten-things-i-took-home-from-eroticon/) at Eroticon, it suddenly came to me: a sponsored sex-writing marathon!

So what is Smutathon?

Smutathon is a 12-hour, intensive sex writing challenge. We will get together (some of us in person, some participating virtually from far-flung locations) on Saturday 1 July, and WRITE LIKE MAD THINGS from noon to midnight. Everyone has their own individual target and we’re asking our friends, readers and supporters to sponsor us as we try to hit them. Some of us are going to share our works-in-progress on our blogs, and we will all be tweeting along at #Smutathon2017.

What’s the charity?

We’re splitting the money we raise equally between two amazing organizations:

1) Backlash UK: Backlash campaigns for sexual freedom for consenting adults and provides legal support for sexual minorities who are unfairly targeted by outdated and nonsensical “obscenity” laws. Among other things, they have been responsible for getting the ridiculous “tiger porn case” (look it up) struck down, and for campaigning to get amendments added to the Digital Economy Bill to make it less harmful to consenting adults engaging in safe and victimless fringe sexual practices. Pandora Blake and Myles Jackman are advocates, and key figures in Backlash’s work.

2) Rape Crisis England & Wales: Stats suggest – conservatively – that 1 in 4 women and around 1 in 10 men will experience rape, assault or other form of sexual violence in their life. Rape Crisis is a feminist organization, that exists to promote the needs and rights of women and girls who have experienced sexual violence, to improve services to them and to work towards the elimination of sexual violence. Rape Crisis Centers are women-led, and offer a range of support, advocacy, counseling and information, and also have separate services for male survivors.

Why?

The short answer: because freedom of sexual expression and freedom from sexual violence are human rights which are constantly under threat.

The long answer: Here. (Trigger warning for rape and intimate partner abuse.)

I want to get involved! What can I do?

If you’re a writer or budding writer, join us on the day! All you need to do is set yourself a target, put aside the time between noon and midnight on Saturday 1 July, and write, write, write! Don’t forget to share, and ask your friends and followers to sponsor you! If you let me know you’re taking part (DM @CoffeeAndKink on Twitter or email coffeeandkink69 (at) gmail (dot) com, I’ll add you into the group participants’ chat.

Otherwise, please sponsor us! We’ve had gifts ranging from £5 to £100, and every single penny really does make a difference, so please do chip in whatever you can afford. Our JustGiving page is here:

You can also support us while buying quality sex toys by purchasing from My Delicate Touch, who have kindly sponsored Smutathon, and are giving 50% of profits from selected products to the fund. They also designed our beautiful graphics, some of which are included in this post.

Thank you for your support!

Biog:

Coffee & Kink (also known as Amy) is the alter-ego of a twenty-something queer British girl usually spotted bouncing around in kitty ears and drinking something caffeinated. She is a fiction writer, toy reviewer, sex geek, and an advocate for consent culture and pleasure-focused sex and relationships education. She blogs at http://coffeeandkink.me, tweets at @CoffeeAndKink, and can be supported at http://patreon.com/coffeeandkink.

Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Us The Reward!!!

I am so honored to be here today! First, it’s such a treat to get to visit the lovely F. Leonora, especially with her incredible cheers and notes of encouragement to, like, everyone in the writing community. She is a superstar and I have never been more grateful to know such a sweet person! But today, it gets even better—because Leonora has honored me beyond belief in celebration of the release of the last book in the Lessons in Control series, The Reward.

See, our dear F. has long been enthusiastic over my poetry habit. Because of this, I’ve always been eager to not only talk about flow and verse with her, but to share poetry connected to book one, The Assignment, like I did back at the launch of the series. But today, fantastic Leonora has paid the biggest, most hugest of honors to me.

She wrote a poem for the Lessons In Control series!

bottle

you’re like a mist

the thin film of you invisible

tactile to the flesh

an ache from your aura

this desire i fell over every crevice

nothing untouched

that burns me up inside

there is always a fever

deep in my

core

you reach in so deep where you

touch

i cannot quench myself

i need you all of you to slip

into me like i am the

bottle that contains you as a

genie

you are magic

hidden as a mist but

everywhere upon

That’s right, guys. Right here, you get to see Leonora’s verse. Yes! What I particularly love about this poem—besides the fact that she wrote it inspired by my series and sent a picture of it to me in its early form written in her beautiful cursive—is that it really captures the feeling between Maya and Dean throughout the series. Theirs is a passionate, deep, intense love that is fueled by their sultry sexual dynamic, and I can’t get over how beautifully Leonora sprung off that to write her poem. When Maya and Dean meet in book one, The Assignment, Maya is compelled to find out more about Dean…and by the time we get to The Reward, out now, they are both deep in their sexy relationship with no signs of giving up their D/s exploration. I had such a blast writing this series, and now having Leonora write a poem inspired by it? Hot damn. That’s better than any fan fiction I can think of!

So, let’s give a round of applause to Leonora for writing this sexy poem and for sharing it here today. I have no doubt you’d find it as delicious as I did! Thanks for the tribute, Leonora!!

Speaking of sultry, Jade is a frequent guest–read her previous guest posts here. Can’t get enough of Jade? Go visit her blog!

The Reward is out now!!! Reward yourself, and get your copy here! You can also get the first two Lessons in Control books on sale now!!!

Guest Blogger Mischa Eliot Serves Us Finger Licking Good!!!

Mischa Eliot is a new friend, she does Masturbation Monday like me. She is naughty and supportive, and such a gem in the community. Today you are in luck! She is my guest blogger, and wrote this sexy story andddddd??? She participated in my Friday Flash meme, special for my birthday!!!

So yeah, double your pleasure with Mischa Eliot today!!!
Naughty Spy in the Cabana

Sitting up, I looked around, mind groggy from sleep. Sleep. I fell asleep! The little cabana curtains were still closed as I had left them earlier in the afternoon. My heartbeat returned to normal speed, once my surroundings made sense. It confused me that the staff from the hotel hadn’t woken me, but perhaps they hadn’t bothered to check for anyone in the cabana.

As I opened the curtains, soft voices and laughter greeted me. I hadn’t heard them speaking earlier when my pulse rushed through my ears.

“There’s no one around, babe. Let’s have a little fun.” The man’s voice was gruff, and loaded with desire. Something in me shifted, and I wanted to be the woman he was here with. Her laughter tinkled through the night, tickling my ears.

“Noah, someone could see us.” She didn’t sound all that worried to me and from my vantage point, I could see her actions didn’t match her words either. They were seated on a double chaise lounge, perfect for cuddling.

“C’mon Gracie, it’s late. Everyone else is drinking in the bar or fast asleep. It’s just you and me, babe.” His hand squeezed her neck lightly while the other cupped her breast, thumb ticking back and forth over her nipple.

It was evident that she enjoyed it, and I couldn’t help but want to be her. I mimicked his movement, reaching up to tease my own nipples. They were hard nubs, and I wanted a mouth on them. Sucking, licking, biting. A sigh slipped through my lips as desire rose throughout my flesh.

“Did you hear that?” Her voice lowered, but the breeze carried her words to me. I dropped the curtains I hid behind, and the breeze ruffled them. My breath arrested in my lungs as I waited, straining my ears. Was I about to be found out?

“You’re hearing the wind, nothing more.” Giggling reached my ears and I peeked out again, watching her as she threw her head back and Noah nuzzled, then kissed along her exposed skin.

I couldn’t help it, my mouth fell open, my bikini bottom stuck to me, and I wanted him. I wanted her. An uncontrollable urge filled me. I wanted to be sandwiched between them. With four hands and two mouths playing my body like a fine instrument, I was confident I could make beautiful music with my moans and squeals of bliss.

“Oh, Noah.” Gracie’s moan caught me off guard. My fantasies of being teased and taken by them had taken over. Noah’s hand stroked down her back, and his fingertips slid beneath her bikini bottoms. From the way she writhed and his finger wiggled, he knew just where to touch.

“Please, babe? I promise, no one will catch us. We’ll be quiet and quick.” His words became muffled, as he nuzzled and nibbled her neck. Noah rained kisses along her collarbone. Another moan from Gracie’s lips caused a shiver down my spine. And then Noah kissed her.

I touched my lips, licked my fingers and gave in to my need. Fingers slipping beneath my bikini bottom and finding myself slick, I played myself like a well-made guitar. Another sigh escaped, this one much more constrained as I watched Noah and Gracie. Pinching my nipple, flicking my thumb back and forth, kept me on edge.

Gracie moaned again, and I saw Noah shift her to straddle his hips. He moved swiftly, but gentle as he slid inside her. I watched as her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust, as Noah moved captured my sight. I wished to wrap my lips around her tit, and suck as much as I could into my mouth. Swallowing hard, thoughts of marking her with my teeth drove me mad.

They moved together like professional dancers, each move specific and perfect and with purpose. I plunged my fingers into myself every time Noah drove into her. Trembling took over my body, I wanted to climax, but the need to come with them was greater.

Battling my urge bore fruit. Gracie’s body stiffened, and she clung to Noah like a lifeline, as though she was afraid she’d be lost on the tidal waves rushing through her. A sharp moan erupted, but Noah muffled her with a kiss that put the earlier one to shame. One of his hands squeezed her breast, while the other held her ass. My own climax hit me, when I realized that the hand on her ass had a finger embedded between her taut cheeks.

I fought the urge to cry out and my eyes slammed shut as the tremors rocked through me. Panting, I lowered myself back to the lounge chair, sticky and sated. The smell of sex filled the little cabana, and I licked my fingers clean. Falling asleep was the best thing to happen to me on this vacation so far, and I couldn’t wait to see what kind of naughty trouble I could spy upon tomorrow.

As promised, there is more Mischa! She wrote a sexy birthday flash for my Friday Flash meme! You can also visit her sexy, sexy website!

Why Don’t We Talk More About Masturbation With Kayla Lords?!

Thanks to my soul sister, Leonora (who I refer to as f-dot in my head), for giving me space to ramble about something that’s been on my mind for a while.

Why don’t we talk about masturbation more often? Most of us do it – and frequently. We’ve got toys for it. There’s an entire month to celebrate it (May is Masturbation Month, if you hadn’t heard). I know erotic authors who can write the most hard core, dirtiest, kinkiest, questionable consent story but get a little weirded out when writing about masturbation. Some people don’t even want to say the word! (Okay, I kind of can’t blame anyone for that – it’s kind of a weird word and doesn’t exactly make you think of moaning or screaming orgasms and sexual pleasure.)

Should we introduce ourselves to new people by saying, “Hi, I’m Kayla, and I masturbated before work today”? Probably not. Especially if you’re shaking hands. Awwwwk-waaaard.

But in the online world where many of us have fake accounts and pseudonyms, and we talk about how we want to fuck and be fucked – we don’t talk about masturbation. I say no more!

We need to celebrate masturbation! Flaunt it! Revel in our ability to find pleasure with our hand and maybe a toy.

It’s not cheating when you’re in a relationship. It’s also not gross, yuck, or a “betrayal” as I once heard it referred to. Masturbation is natural and healthy.

Think of all the lies we were told about masturbation back in the day – hairy palms, blindness, no one does it. Fuck that! Everyone does it. And until we admit we masturbate and celebrate it a little more, we’re all going to hide our vibrators or Fleshlights (for the penis-havers out there) like they’re a dirty secret.

I say, “No more! I’m not afraid!”

My name is Kayla Lords, and I love to masturbate. I make myself come so fucking good the neighbors need a smoke when I’m done. I have too many sex toys and not enough cords or batteries, and I like it that way! Except I wish I had more batteries!

Not ready to make that declaration? That’s okay. Stick around with Leonora and I long enough, and you will.

If you want to celebrate masturbation with me a little more, join me and my smutty writer friends over at Masturbation Monday each week. The stories are either all about masturbation or so hot you’ll want to touch yourself, so either way, you win! Visit in May, and you can enter weekly giveaways for sex toys to make your next wank even more exciting.

Guest Blogger Tom Starling Serves Us Back to Front

I have been admiring Tom Starling on Twitter forever! His pictures are soooo sexy, but their edge is that they always tell a story…so I asked him to tell me a story…

Back to Front

They almost came at the same time. But not quite.

When he let go he sighed and released three short bursts of come onto her face.

The first shot landed on her right cheek, and slid down her face. The second fell across her bright red lips, and ran down her chin and started to collect in a large droplet. The third went lower, and landed on her pretty collarbone and a silver chain that her parents had given her on her 18th birthday.

She was on her knees, and had three fingers inside her cunt. She had thought she might not come, but his ejaculation had made her feel defiled and foolish. The orgasm came like a giant wave in slow motion.

She pushed her fingers to the back of her cunt, to the place that she knew best. She arched her back, and felt the heat rise in her. The come hanging from her chin fell onto her right tit, and she knew what she was. The orgasm started in her sore, wet pussy but flew to every corner of her body. She felt it on the tips of her teeth. She felt it at the end of her fingernails. She shuddered and muttered the word “fuck” three times, before collapsing on the floor and trembling like a hurt animal.

She felt more of his come fall onto her bare legs.

“Get out. Leave,” he said.

She wasn’t at all sure if she could remember his name. She managed to prop herself up onto one elbow, and went to wipe some of his mess from her face.

“Leave it there,” he said. “Don’t clean your face until you get home.”

She wasn’t at all sure if she even liked him. That made it better.

Her shoes were still on; black high-heeled shoe boots. She found her shorts. They were damp, and smelt of her wetness. They were too small, and made her butt look big. She found her t-shirt. She didn’t need a bra. She didn’t need too. She had small tits that stayed up on their own. They drove men wild.

She could see he was getting hard again. She left without speaking.
Come never stayed warm for long. It was cold by the time she got outside on the street. It rarely looked white and gloopy like in the porn films either. His spunk was largely clear, and starting to dry. Nonetheless, if you were to take a look directly at her face, you would see it. Spunk on her cheek. Spunk on her lips and chin. Spunk on her neck and collarbone.

She knew what she was.

She wanted people to notice, she wanted people to know.

She saw a black girl with a big arse in tight ripped jeans. She hoped the girl would see the come on her face, and know that she was slut. She wanted the girl to take her home, and sit on her face. She wanted the girl’s cunt juice to mix with the man’s come, and smear her make up. She wanted to taste the girl’s arse.

She saw a fat old man. He was old enough to be her granddad. She imagined walking him down a side street, and making his dick big and swollen. She imagined what it would feel like to swallow him down, and then ask him to bring four more of his friends to her because she hadn’t tasted enough.

She saw three boys coming out of a chicken shop. She imagined going up to them and telling them that she had the come of a total stranger on her face, and she wondered if they could do the same to her. She wanted them to fuck her face while they ate their chicken.

She got back home to her house. She made herself come with her fingers while she looked at her face in the mirror.

She knew what she was.

She was powerful. She was fearless. She was always in control.

Fans.

You can find more of Tom Starling here

picture obviously by Tom Starling!!!

A Little Candy (Snatch)🍭🍭🍭

So I have a new girl crush, and she is AMAZING! Candy Snatch first came to my attention with her searingly hot flash fiction, for my meme Friday Flash! Then I met her at Eroticon, and was overwhelmed by her style and beauty. So I asked her, when are you going to guest blog for me?! She whipped up this hot like lava confection for me instantly–and I am sharing with you…

You’re welcome!

I awoke with a cat-like stretch, lazily blinking against the watery morning sunshine. Glancing over to where he slept. He’s such a good boy. Stroking my hand down his back I smile as he murmurs in his sleep and rolls over. Exposing his throbbing morning glory to my greedy eyes.

I feel the stirrings of my early morning lust begin to rise. Reaching over I slowly drag my nails across his soft balls, fascinated by his twitching cock. Standing proudly upright begging for my attention whilst he sleeps unaware.

Gently stroking my finger up the underside of his shaft I can’t help but marvel at how hard he is. Always a fan of a hard cock, I never cease to be amazed by how beautiful I find his. Curling my fingers around him I gently squeeze. His eyelids flutter open and as his focus centres on my form a smile plays across his lips.

Crawling up the bed I pause as my cunt hovers over his hardness. Kissing him gently at first, my hips dip lower to stroke my wetness up his shaft. His low moan speaks volumes of his need.

“Does my baby need milking?”

His frantic nodding amuses me. He’s so handsome, bathed in the morning glow of our room. Sliding back down the bed till I’m face to face with his raging erection. Teasing my tongue around the tip I meet his eyes.

“How badly do you want it baby…”

Sliding the glistening tip into my warm mouth his eyes roll and he moans louder.

“So bad… Please…”

My lips travel down his length, as my stomach lurches at the violation in my throat. I’ve no intentions of finishing him but I love the way he tastes. As the first drops of precum tickle my tongue I stop.

Pulling him over onto his front I smack his arse hard. He knows the drill. Up onto all fours like a good boy. I stalk around the bed, fastening his wrists into the cuffs hanging there. He watches and I revel in that lick of power inside.

Pushing his thighs apart I stroke a finger down his back, lower, lower till its pressed against his hole. He tenses and I chuckle. Not yet my darling.

Pulling his cheeks apart I gently blow on him. He shivers and I reward this response with the heat of my tongue. Long flat strokes massaging his aching hole. Swirling and pressing against him, hearing his moans grow more desperate.

Reaching round to feel his straining cock I finally take pity on him. Stroking a finger across his wet hole I gently press. He gasps as my finger slides deep inside him, inching further as he arches his back against the invasive sensation.

Feeling his warmth envelope my finger I begin to stroke his sweet spot. Gentle circling motions, watching his hips mimicking my movements as the intensity builds inside. Stroking him with the other hand, marveling at the pre-cum dripping from his cock. This is what I do to him. This is my power.

Carefully teasing him, you can’t rush perfection. He edges closer. Leaning into him I use my tongue to soothe his opened hole. Gentle licks allowing me to fuck him slowly. Curling my fingers up to coax him to finish. Watching for the tell-tale signs.

His legs begin to shake, his muscles tense, oh we are almost there…

“Who owns this cock?”

“You do! Oh, God Please!!!…”

“Cum for me baby”

I’m filled with an immense feeling of love as he jerks in my hand and explodes all over me.

Want more Candy? Click here!

lollipops via wikipedia