Category Archives: guest blogger

The Epitome of Loveliness: Guest Blogger Marie Rebelle

This is a very special guest post for me, I did a teaser for my newsletter! I remember very well meeting Marie Rebelle, at Eroticon. All I can say is she is gorgeous inside and out. She is the epitome of everything a woman should be—everything a human should be. All of the good things. She is warm, loving and nurturing to this community. Marie has such grace and charm and … let me let her tell you more!

I am delighted to be a guest on Leonora’s blog today. She’s one of the loveliest people in this community and is always very supportive of my work and encouraging me, which I highly appreciate.

Who am I?

I am Marie Rebelle, owner of Rebel’s Notes, published erotic author, wife, submissive, mother, grandmother… and a myriad of other roles.

What do I do?

I started Rebel’s Notes six years ago in January 2010 and back when I started it, have never thought it will become as successful as it has. I still thoroughly enjoy doing it, as well as all the other things I am doing around it, such as Wicked Wednesday and other sexy memes I run. It’s hard work, but the amount of satisfaction I get from it and the amount of appreciation from fellow members in the community, energizes me to keep on going. It doesn’t feel like work, even though I approach it as a second job. Besides everything I do in the English sex blogging community, I also run my own writers group in the Netherlands, which have grown out to a tiny company I am expanding step-by-step. I do, however, keep this writing group separated from my Marie Rebelle persona.

How do I do it?

To be able to maintain my blog while also working full time and having a family, I have a strict planning for everything I do. I keep track of all my blogs in one Excel file, where I work with abbreviations and colors for the blogs and I plan posts ahead. There are colors for posts that still have to go live, posts that have gone live but still have to be promoted on different social platforms, and colors for posts that are live and have been promoted. Without this strict planning I would not be able to keep track of all that I do and it would have been a total failure long ago. Besides the Excel planning, I keep track of things in my agenda, for specific things that I have to do on specific days, such as reading Wicked Wednesday posts on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings, posting the prompt for Sexy Searching on the last day of the month or on which evenings I have to work through the email I still need to reply to.

When do I do it?

During the day I work for a boss, like so many others. I work full time, which means you can find me in the office five days a week. The moment I get home, I switch on my laptop and I start my second job, writing and updating my blogs. My daytime job costs me energy that is replaced by ‘working’ for the sex-blogging community. In January the working hours for my daytime job is changing, which will give me a whole day extra to write and to build my own writing company.

Some people say that they don’t understand how I do it, everything that I do. Yes, I am just like anyone else, I get tired too and I also get tired when I have been working on my blogs. However, it also energizes me. It’s a different kind of tiredness from when I leave work in the afternoon after a busy day. I’m not a superwoman. I just work hard on something I love to do and where I get to help other people too.

Why do I do it?

I think in the last sentence of the previous paragraph I have already touched on this: I love to do this and I love helping other people. What is ‘this’ then? I love to write, whether fiction or fact, and I love to share my knowledge on things I have experienced or learned. I have always loved creating things, for as long as I can remember. All through my life creating was part of it: drawing, making clothes, creating websites, painting and of course, writing. In the beginning phase of Rebel’s Notes I completed quite a few paintings, but eventually I came to the point where I had to choose. I chose for writing, as by then I had also started my writing group and noticed that there was a need for this. More and more people attended the workshop meetings I had set up and I loved seeing their writing improve and learning through their experiences.

I love that I can express myself in fact and fiction, the I can express my verbal and visual exhibitionism, but that in all of it, I can help other people. The best compliment I ever got is when someone had read an article on Rebel’s Notes and they thanked me because it helped them in some or other way.

Where do I do it?

As said above, I get home, switch my laptop on and install myself on the couch. My papers and agenda are always on the seat next to me, my drink on a table on the other side. Some years ago my best friend gave me a wooden laptop standard which I call my ‘office’. On weekends I tend to sit at the breakfast table for most of the day and then move to the couch and my ‘office’ sometime late afternoon or early afternoon. This is the physical place where I do it, but of course there are many online places where you can find me:

* My primary blog, Rebel’s Notes

* Weekly meme with (not-compulsory) prompt: Wicked Wednesday

* Monthly meme where you can recreate your favorite search terms: Sexy Searching

* Experiences with menopause: The Menopause Diaries

* Tell me all about oral sex: The Oral Sex Project

* My author site: Marie A. Rebelle

* My 365 projects: Marie Rebelle’s Projects

* Follow me on Twitter

* Like my Facebook page

Thank you all for reading! I would love to hear from you!

And last, but not least, thank you to Leonora for having me on her blog!

~ Marie A. Rebelle aka Rebel

I thank Marie for being a very special lady!!!

iconic tattoo photo courtesy of Marie Rebelle

Guest Blogger Ria Restrepo is Enrapturing Readers as usual!!!

I met Ria Restrepo through the best kind of serendipity. We are both authors in Spy Games edited by Jillian Boyd, and in the upcoming Prompted anthology that I am editing with Oleander Plume. Ria is passionate and amazing, and I have a bit of a crush on her so I had to have her on my blog to enthrall you–so without further ado!!!

I want to sincerely thank the amazing F. Leonora Solomon for inviting

me to be on her blog. I’m fairly new to blogging and even newer to

guest blogging, so I’ve been pretty neurotic about it. Leonora was

very encouraging and said she trusted me to write about anything that

excites me. Her only request was that I bring passion.

I had to chew on that for a while, because many things excite me as a

reader and writer: strong female characters, alpha males with a

sensitive side, page-turning plots, an engaging voice, vivid writing,

a satisfying ending, sizzling sensuality, kinky sex, and so on.

However, when it comes to writing, I feel most passionate about

enrapturing readers. What do I mean by that? I mean creating stories

that grab the reader’s attention from the first line and gets them so

absorbed in the characters and their story they can’t stop reading

until the very end.

I want readers to feel how I do when I read a great story. I want them

bouncing up and down like giddy schoolgirls at some flirtatious

banter. I want them biting their fingernails as they turn the page,

because they’re worried about what will happen next. I want them

squirming in their seats and fanning themselves while reading a torrid

sex scene. If I’ve really done my job well, they might even need to

take the edge off, so to speak.

One of my favorite ways to enrapture readers is with riveting

chemistry between characters. Showing chemistry between a hero and

heroine can be a tricky thing. Chemistry is an ineffable element that

should be so tangible to the reader they can imagine themselves in

place of the characters they’re reading about. I think this is most

effectively accomplished with a combination of feisty and/or

flirtatious dialogue, alluring body language, and tantalizing

descriptions of actions and reactions.

I know, you want a demonstration, right? Okay, I always aim to please.

Let’s take a strong, sassy heroine — we’ll call her Lana . . .

She’s been up most of the night preparing a kick-ass proposal she

hopes will land her a prestigious promotion. As VP of Marketing,

she’ll finally prove to her condescending, misogynistic father that

she can make it in the business world. But first, she needs coffee!

Before the meeting that could change her life, Lana goes to the break

room for a necessary shot of caffeine. Unfortunately, someone took her

favorite coffee mug. Damn! There’s only one mug left. It’s black with

bold white lettering that reads, “Mine.” Lana rolls her eyes. She

knows exactly who the mug belongs to.

Normally, she wouldn’t dream of touching it or anyone else’s mug, but

she’s desperate. She quickly grabs the cup, fills it with fresh dark

roast, and adds sweetener and cream. Hopefully she can down a quick

cup, wash the mug, and put it back before it’s missed. As she brings

the steaming hot mug to her lips, she turns around and freezes when

she spots the mug’s owner in the doorway.

Devon Reed is the kind of man who seems to have the world by the

balls. His short black hair is perfectly in place and his crisp

charcoal suit is so well-tailored it accentuates his tall, lean,

powerful frame. He exudes confidence so effortlessly it annoys Lana.

Lana’s heart flutters wildly in her chest and a familiar ache blossoms

between her legs. It irritates her that her body betrays her every

time Devon’s around. She’s sure he knows the effect he has on her —

and so many others — and uses it to his advantage. Men like him

always get what they want. That’s reason enough to dislike him as far

as Lana’s concerned.

Catching her red-handed, Devon arches a dark brow — the one with the

small scar that bisects it. Lana has caught herself staring it in

meetings, wondering how he got it. Somehow it only adds to his

masculine appeal, giving him a slightly dangerous edge.

But at that moment, his dark blue eyes entrance her as he stalks

toward her like a panther ready to pounce. Lana wills herself to snap

out of it, but she just stands there like a cornered rabbit. When he

reaches her, he places one hand on the counter by her hip — not

touching, but oh so close.

The corner of his mouth curves up slowly. “It’s not enough to go after

my promotion? You have to take my coffee mug too?”

Lana clears her throat. “Someone took mine.”

His other brow rises to meet the first. “So two wrongs make a right?”

Lana sighs, then takes a gulp of coffee. The warm creaminess slides

down her parched tongue, making her feel a little more in control —

but not much. “I’m sorry, but I really need it. I’ll wash it and give

it back to you in a moment.”

“Well, I always enjoy giving a woman what she needs,” his says, his

voice lowering as he leans in closer. “But what about what I need?”

“Uh . . . you?” Lana wants to slap herself for that brilliant

comeback, but he’s so close his spicy manly scent is intoxicating.

“I have the same important meeting you do.” His gaze leisurely

explores her face, finally landing on her mouth. “It doesn’t seem fair

that you get the benefit of coffee and I don’t.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine without it,” she says and takes another long drink.

Devon’s smile widens. “Or we could share.”

“Share?”

“Oh, yes.”

Lana gasps when his free hand gently grabs the underside of the mug,

taking it from her.

Realizing his intent, she quickly says, “That’s probably not the way

you like it.”

His eyes never leaving hers, he turns the cup around and places his

lips where hers had been. After a deep swallow, he murmurs with

pleasure.

“Perhaps a little sweet, but deliciously strong and creamy,” he says,

his warm, coffee-scented breath teasing her. “I like it.”

***

Would you like to know what happens next? I know I would! Could you

feel the chemistry? I hope so, or it’s back to the workshop for me. If

you’re stomping your feet and crying, “You can’t leave it there!” —

then my work here is done. Who knows, I might finish Lana and Devon’s

story. I really like them already.

Ooooh Ria got me all hot with Devon’s charcoal suit, and you know how I feel about those! Want to read more from Ria? Try her guest post with the Brit Babes!

Bio

Ria Restrepo has written in many genres, from literary fiction to

political humor, under various names. Now she’s focused on writing

what she loves to read — romance, erotica, and all the shades in

between. She’s spent most of her life in South Florida and continues

to live in the Sunshine State, because she still has nightmares about

standing in feet of snow, waiting for the school bus in rural

Pennsylvania. Her work has recently appeared in Spy Games: Thrilling

Spy Erotica and in the upcoming Prompted and Best Women’s Erotica of

the Year, Vol. 1.

Links

Ria Restrepo’s website

photo courtesy of Ria Restrepo

The End of an Era: Tamsin Flowers Tantalizes with Alchemy xii One Last Time…

This year Mad Men had its series finale, and now? Tamsin Flowers‘ Alchemy xii series has reached its final chapter–I really cannot say much more…I am letting Tamsin take over!!!

Alchemy xii – December: It’s the end of an era…

First of all, thank you, F Dot, for having me over today – I love your blog, so it’s a great thrill to be able to come and visit it!

It probably hasn’t escaped your notice that today’s December 1. It certainly hasn’t escaped mine, because it’s a day of beginnings and endings for me. As the first day of December, it’s the first day of my annual Superotica Advent Calendar – there’ll be a new story by a different writer every day over on my blog until the 24th. But sadly, it’s also the end of an era for me, as today sees the publication of the final episode of my Alchemy xii serial, Alchemy xii – December. Sniff. Excuse me while I wipe a tear from my eye.

Harry and Olivia, the two central characters in this epic BDSM club saga, first saw the light of day in December last year when I published the very first instalment, and intrepid readers have been following their exploits ever since. Today’s episode will tie up all the loose ends and bring the story of the two protagonists to its final conclusion.

So how do I feel? Sad and relieved in equal measure – there are things I’ll miss about publishing an ongoing series and things I won’t!

Things I’ll miss about Alchemy xii:

Harry Lomax. If ever I’ve fallen in love with one of my own characters, it’s Harry. He’s such a charming rascal, it’s no wonder literally no-one can resist him.
My beautiful cover images by White Room.
The slightly panicky feeling I get when I think I’m not going to manage to finish the next episode on time.
The wonderful support of my three beta readers, Malin James, Delilah Night and Jade A Waters – not that they’re going anywhere – they’re wonderful friends as well.
The excited tweets from the series’ fans when they realise a new episode has arrived in their in-box.

Things I won’t miss about Alchemy xii:

The slightly panicky feeling I get when I think I’m not going to manage to finish the next episode on time.
Editing and proof reading – though as a writer, I’ll never escape from those two!
Formatting each episode. It’s not hard but it is boring.
Confronting my failures as a marketer.
Readers who let me know in no uncertain terms how irresponsible I am not to make my characters wear condoms. (As if I have any control over them!)
Raf Castro!

If you haven’t read any of the Alchemy series, you’ll need to start all the way back at Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve, but for those of you who’ve been following the story, here’s a short snippet from Alchemy xii – December to whet your appetite.

Excerpt

Harry came to my apartment, just a few days after I’d topped him. He didn’t announce himself—just turned up at the door, clutching a little black velvet bag.

“Hello, darling,” he said, sweeping in and backing me up against the wall for a kiss, in which we lost ourselves.

But finally I had to know what he was doing here.

“I brought these,” he said, holding up the black bag. “They came in the post today, and I couldn’t wait to try them out on you. They’ll be just your cup of tea.”

“What are they?”

He pulled open the bag’s drawstrings and shook it over his hand. Small silver clamps scattered across his palm, jingling like loose change.

“Clamps. For your tits and your clit, and your labia. And wherever else on your anatomy I choose to attach them.”

Excitement, hot and wet, bubbled through me.

“Now?”

“Yes, now, you greedy girl.”

He wasted no time in divesting me of my clothes. Then he laid me flat on my back on my bed, while he, still fully dressed, knelt above me.

“I think I need to tie you up for this,” he said. “Otherwise you could flick them off as quickly as I put them on.”

I grinned. “I wouldn’t want to.”

But he insisted and I was delighted. It would make it a whole lot better if I was restrained. Pain is always better when my wrists are bound. He tied me up quickly and then grabbed his bag of clamps. First, he applied two of them to my nipples. The pressure was strong and the pain deliciously sharp. Nipple clamps were practically my favorite thing and Harry usually kept a pair of them in his jeans pocked whenever he saw me. But having a row of clamps attached slowly, one by one, to my labia? What a revelation.

I relaxed back into the pain, letting the tension flow out of my body as the intense physical sensation cleared my mind. I murmured my approval and Harry bestowed a quick kiss on my clit before carrying on. It sent a delicious shiver through my core. I closed my eyes and arched my back as I became more and more aroused. When I moved, I heard a soft tinkling as the steel clamps skittered up against each other. When each of my outer labia was adorned with metal, Harry applied some to my inner lips. The pain was way sharper as the flesh was thinner. I gasped, my breathing now labored. I was so ready to climax that it would only have taken the softest touch to my clit. But Harry was nothing if not diabolical, and with a snap, he attached a clamp there instead. I shrieked and when he shoved two fingers inside me to massage my g-spot, I exploded. An orgasm barrel-rolled through me, as sweet and sharp as the pain from the clamps.

“Damn,” said Harry. “You came much too quick.”

“It was lovely,” I sighed.

“So now I’ve got to take them all off again.”

“Leave them on for a bit,” I said. “It’s heavenly.”

“Oh, Liv, you always say exactly the right thing at the right moment. I rise to the challenge of making you come again.”

It wasn’t difficult. Nor for the third or fourth time. Admittedly, to make me come for the fifth time, he did have to remove the clamp from my poor squished clit and give it a bit of tongue love. But we got there.

“Now take them off,” I said. When you want clamps on you want them on, but when you’ve had enough, they can’t come off fast enough. “Quick.”

If you have not been reading, I recommend that you start with Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve like Tamsin said, and work your way up to Alchemy xii – December !!!

Guest Blogger (and Friend) Kayla Lords Shares Her New Release Sir & Babygirl !!!

I am delighted to have Kayla Lords back as my guest! The last time she was here, we had cake and celebrated the one-year anniversary of Masturbation Monday. She is back to share the release of her newest (and of course sexy as hell) new release Sir and Babygirl: Family Ties–the third in the series following Sir and Babygirl and Sir and Babygirl: Bound by Love. And yes, you can judge the book by its cover…let me let Kayla tell you more…

I’ve got nothin’ but mad love for Leonora (who I keep thinking of as “F Dot” – I really need to stop that crap!) so when she asked me to come visit again, of course I said yes! I also batted my eyelashes and asked very sweetly if I could share my newest release with everyone.

Actually, I think the exact phrase use was “pimpin’” but that’s me being sweet. Ha!

Anyway…

My latest release is the third in a series I now refer to simply as Sir and Babygirl. Each book focuses on a different part of their relationship, and each chapter is meant to stand alone. As you go through each book, you see their relationship development over time – and a lot of personal growth for a certain babygirl submissive – but I didn’t write it in a traditional romance novel format. Weird, I know. Blame it on my blogging roots. I like definite beginnings and endings when I write, and I have a short attention span with stories. (Sad but true.)

Anyway, these two are kinky people who live the BDSM lifestyle and have developed a Dominance and submission (D/s) relationship. So yes, there’s romance and relationships, but there’s a LOT of kinky sex, spankings, and both forced and denied orgasms.

The characters may or may not be based on my own relationship. Okay, it kind of is. The details and situations are different, but the personalities are a bit of us. (Oh, and not to spoil anything, a friend and reader asked if the ending of book 3 – Family Ties – had happened in real life yet. The answer is no.)

On to Sir and Babygirl: Family Ties (Book 3) which focuses on the most dreaded part of most relationships – meeting and getting to know their families!

Blurb

Johnathan is ready to take his relationship with Katie to a whole new level. His kids are away at college, and his sister has moved out. After months together, discovering their love and a D/s relationship as Sir and Babygirl that works for them, it’s time to meet the extended family.

Will Babygirl be able to move past her own anxieties? Can they survive the expectations of their families? And what happens to Sir and Babygirl next? Find out in the third set of adventures between a loving Dominant man and his willing and eager Babygirl.

Excerpt

Snaking an arm around her middle, he grabbed her mound and squeezed. She whimpered in response. The pain in her backside allowed her to ignore the swollen damp feeling coming from between her thighs.

“Mine.”

That one word sent spasms through her body. Oh yes, she was his. Every part of her was his. She desperately hoped he’d claim his property. Now, before the door bell rang and their vanilla life intruded.

He pushed one finger into her slit.

“You’re soaking wet, girl. Such a slut.”

She moaned in response.

In and out, in and out, his finger stroked the deepest parts of her body. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

“Don’t fidget, girl. I know what you need.”

With the smallest of movements, she nodded her understanding. He’d given her what she’d asked for, now he was going to take what he wanted. In the end, they’d both be satisfied.

The tip of his finger began to make small circles over her clitoris. Small, slow circles. Heat and pressure began to build. When she moved against his hand, he stopped and stroked her slit, slipping a finger into her body. Once she was still, he moved back to her clit.

Patience was required, and he was going to teach it to her one way or another. The circles came faster. Her juices coated the swollen nub, allowing his hand to move with greater ease. The pressure built higher and faster. A line of fluid trickled down the inside of her thigh. Her desire so high it could no longer be contained by her body.

He laughed against her ear. Yes, now, please. But he wasn’t ready to stop his game. Not yet.

Thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy, he found her innermost tender spot. Hooking his fingers, he began a familiar tap-tap-tap motion. Babygirl trembled from head to toe. Her head fell back against his shoulder. Cries and whimpers filled the air around them. She was going to come and soon but she knew instinctively if she begged or asked for release it would be denied.

Just as her body began to convulse around his hand, he stopped and pulled away. An empty feeling deep inside caused her to groan. Dark laughter was the only response. A chuckle and his touch on her clit again. Hissing between gritted teeth, she tightened every muscle in her body, desperate to hold back the looming orgasm until he granted his permission…

You know you want to read more!

Purchase Links:

About Kayla Lords

Kayla is a full-time writer, sex blogger, erotic author, and babygirl submissive. When she’s not writing about BDSM from her perspective, she’s coming up with kinky sex scenes and waiting for her own Dominant to give her a much-needed spanking.

Follow Kayla on Twitter (@KaylaLords) or over at her website (KaylaLords.com) where there’s always something kinky to read.

Doubling Your Pleasure With Where I Found My Heart by C. E. Hansen!!!

Sooooo happy to have my friend, fellow Chemical Sex author (and chocolate lover!) C. E. Hansen on my blog today!!! She is a fantastic writer with an amazing new book, Where I Found My Heart. And she is generous too! She gave me not one, not two, but THREE excerpts from the book to share with you! Enjoy!

Blurb

Reny unable to face life head on, effectively shut out the world beyond her windows. Closing off anything that would remind her of her past – a smile, a laugh, a touch. She lived in a world of pain and sorrow, remaining safe in her cocoon, barely existing.

Libby was plagued by a desperate need to comfort Reny, needing to help her heal. Knowing without Reny’s recovery, she herself would not find peace.

Mark was searching for someone, he didn’t know who, but felt a strong need, a determination to keep looking…he had to find her.

Three people…three worlds collide, leaving behind the true path to happiness. Maybe you just have to say goodbye before you can say hello…

Excerpts

I learned real fast the pain is mine. All mine and will stay with me, whether I want it to or not. And no one, and I mean, no one, will or could ‘shoulder’ it at anytime. It’s mine. I paid for it and I own it.

I’m okay with owning it. What I’m not okay with is why.

Why did it have to be Dylan?

Why couldn’t it have been someone else, anyone, even one of those who wanted to shoulder it? One of those assholes who pretended to be heroes.

You don’t know how many times I wanted to say ‘You know…that’s a good idea. I wish you could take the pain. I wish you were dead instead of him.’ But those words never left the tip of my tongue. Instead they stayed there, lingering, turning sour like bile in the back of my throat. Simmering into a stew of malevolence until I had nothing nice to say to anyone…about anything.

Damn you Dylan. Why did you leave me?

I swiped at my tears. Still amazed I had any left after so many countless swipes.

“I’m so tired Dylan.” My words drifted up into the ether.

I left the half drank coffee cup on the table, stood and before I knew it, I was back in bed, under the blanket wishing I could fade away, disappear into sleep.

I rolled over and my eyes immediately fixated on the pill bottle prominently standing on the surface of nightstand and right next to it a gold band.

“Fuck you.”

They both had a power over me. I needed them to remind me of what I was, who I was. Those little blue pills were the only thing I had that could dull the ache. Lessen the emptiness, and the band…well, that’s why I needed the little blue pills.

*****

He traced the bottom of my bra with his fingers until he got to the center. Then he slowly—achingly slow—walked them up until he reached my nipples, which were tightening into oversensitive nubs.

I took a deep breath, trying hard to get air into my lungs so my head would stop spinning.

“Jesus Dylan.”

He pulled me back to him, until my body was against his and I could feel him conform to me.

His body actually molded to mine.

It was hot as hell.

He was hot as hell.

It was like we were one. I really think sometimes we were.

“No, just Dylan. Or sugar lips, or honey pie.”

I laughed out loud.

“You are so corny sometimes. You sound like a character in Gone with the Wind or something.”

“I do, don’t I?”

He cupped my breasts, and I immediately put down the spoon I was stirring the sauce with, and turned around to face him.

His eyes literally twinkled and I almost lost it. His amazing, light hazel orbs with the golden specks surrounded by thick dark lashes were my undoing. No. Actually, it was that damned smile of his. Gut punched me every time he used it. And he used it a lot.

“I think you need a break.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yeah, you been slaving over that stove for um…” He overzealously looked at his watch, “twenty minutes now. I think you deserve a break.”

“Mmmm. I think you’re right.”

******

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do that thing you do?”

I smiled. I was pretty sure I knew what he was referring to, but I was going to make him say it.

“What thing is that exactly?”

“You know.”

“No. I do a lot of things. Which ‘thing’ are you referring to?”

“The one where you put your mouth…”

I blushed. Yes, I still blush, but quickly recovered.

“Oh that thing.” I smiled.

Before he could ask again I scooted down to the end of the sofa and unzipped his jeans. He was musky from working out in the sun all day, but it was sexy. You know? It was sexy. It was Dylan and I’d take him any way I could get him.

He quickly stopped me from lowering his jeans, but moaned. I felt his erection under my fingers.

“Why are you stopping me?”

“I need to shower for that ‘thing’”

“Then what ‘thing’ did you mean exactly?”

“The thing where you lay on top of me and let me hold you close.”

“Oh, that thing.” I was as confused as you are now. I crawled back up his muscular body and lay my body over his. He crushed me to him with his strong arms and I sighed. I felt him kiss the top of my head and inhale deeply.

“Love the way you smell.”

“Good.”

He squeezed me.

“Love the way you feel.”

“Mmmm.” I was liking this.

“Love the way you feel against me.”

“Me too.”

I listened to his chest and heard his heart beat quicken. But not soon enough…and I wasn’t prepared. In one smooth move, he stood up, tossed me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes, and walked with me squirming into the bedroom, then through to the bathroom. He leaned inside and turned the water on. All the while I’m flailing and yelling. Then he carried me, fully dressed—so was he—into our large shower and let the water cascade over both of us. I screamed then laughed so loud I was afraid I woke the dead.

“Dylan!”

He laughed, as only he could, and believe me, it was contagious.

“Oh, you!” I cried out in feigned indignity.

“You got me thinking.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Bout what?”

“Bout your offer.”

“What offer…” Oh, I got it. “And you thought you’d bring me in the shower with you so I can do what I offered.”

“Figured I’d kill two birds.”

“Oh, and how did you figure that?”

“I figured I’d help you with the laundry too.”

Wanna read more? Get your copy of Where I Found My Heart here:

Visit the Where I Found My Heart Goodreads page as well!

Happy (Book Release) Birthday Rachel Kramer Bussel from me & Guest Blogger Erzabet Bishop!!!

I am very happy to have Erzabet Bishop as my guest to help me celebrate the Dirty Dates book release, and my friend Rachel Kramer Bussel‘s birthday! Erzabet had me from polka dots…and she will have you too…

It’s release day for Dirty Dates and a very special birthday. My editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is gonna have the hottest party ever. I just know it. Maybe it will be clothing optional… I was asked by the amazing Leonora Solomon to write a little bit about my motivation for pretty things with a vintage kick and well…let’s start this party off with a bang.

Happy birthday Rachel. You rock, babe!

Beautiful things and people have always attracted me. Glam shots and pin up girls in particular. There is something artful about their knowing glances and suggestive smiles. Perfection under glass that you want to reach out and touch. But you don’t. Not without permission. You might get your hand slapped or a flogger to your backside.

Mmmm. A sexy thought…

My story in Dirty Dates is just such a tale. “Polka Dot Dress” is centered on Vintage Night at a local BDSM club. The main character Justine is gearing up for a hot interlude with her girl. Red lipstick (another fetish of mine and if you check out my Pinterest page you’ll see what I mean), a polka dot dress and some kick ass heels complete the look. Something decidedly surprising hides beneath Justine’s feminine frippery, and she can’t wait to show it to her girl. Ameliah waits for her lover, clad in a see-through dress, just itching for the punishment she knows is coming…

This story was so much fun to write. I like a dose of pretty with an edge. A dominant female who can take charge of a situation, and not be afraid to be a woman at the same time. Vintage looks personify that very thing. You don’t see the look often enough. Whether it is a female/female pairing or a male/female (or ménage for that matter) tryst I love exploring the power dynamics behind a woman being in charge. The thing I have found with my many conversations with people in the lifestyle is this–being a Domme is a responsibility and you are not necessarily the one with all the power either. The submissive calls the shots. Most people don’t get that unless you are in the know. It is a balance and one that can’t be forced by wearing mile high boots and wielding a whip. There has to be caring and trust involved. If you are the dominant partner, you act with the other person in mind always. Sort of like marriage. It’s a commitment. A choice.

Lately I have been writing a lot about Dommes and how they relate to the women and men in their lives. In my story Crave coming out from All Romance e-books in December (Pre-orders start on November 15th), I have a woman who was victimized by a serial rapist turned killer, but comes back to find her perfect place between two men. I found myself in tears more than once writing it. One Mistress. One Master. One submissive. Three makes a family. It is a police procedural ménage novella, and I can’t wait to see what you think.

In January, I have a new series starting based on the premise of this very story. A Cinderella tale of a missing Prince Charming and the two women who want him in their bed. But his former Mistress may not be ready to let him go. The war is on…The title is called Red Hot, and it is book one of the Sapphire Masquerade trilogy. It all came about due to working with Rachel, and wading deeper into the pool of erotic romance. In a vanilla world, sometimes there has to be a little bit of naughty. Dirty, pretty things make my heart ache with wonder and keep me writing into the night.

Happy reading…

XOXO

Erzabet Bishop

Excerpt from “Polka Dot Dress”

“What do you think? Falsies or mascara?”

Sorcha stood up and eyed the makeup tray. “Oh God. The last time I wore those damned things one fell in my drink.” She shuddered. “Here. Wear this one.” Sorcha handed Justine a tube of lash exploding black mascara. “It’ll make your lashes look bigger without having something looking like a fake spider on your face. You didn’t answer my question.”

Justine aimed the wand at her eye and paused. “If I don’t answer, you can deny all knowledge if she asks you when she comes home with me tonight.” She applied the mascara. “You didn’t glue the falsies down enough. They aren’t supposed to fall off like that.” She chuckled. “Besides, it’s only Pin-Up Night, not a beauty contest.” And then next week I’ll be back in my leathers.

“And how do you know?” Sorcha narrowed her eyes. “Jeez woman. I go to clubs in girl wear more than you do.” Sorcha’s gaze grew pensive. “So, are you going to spill about the sudden change in, um style? You could put a rockabilly chick in a permanent coma with the way that polka dot dress is clinging to your boobs. ”

“That’s the point, chica.” Justine winked. She reached for the tray of lipstick Sorcha brought out and paused, undecided. “What color?”

“Oh. Go for this one. The wine red will rock the red in the dress. And those kick ass shoes.” Sorcha picked out a shiny silver tube. “Here. Try it.”

Justine uncapped the tube and set the top on the tray. The lipstick popped up and she slid the sensual red color over her lips in a deliberate swipe. “How’s that?” She made a moue with her lips and blinked her eyes.

“Hussy.” Sorcha giggled. “Okay. So I won’t ask. You look like you should be baking cookies in someone’s kitchen.”

Justine grinned. “Now there’s something.”

Erzabet Bishop is an award winning author who loves to write naughty stories. She is the author of Lipstick, Dinner Date, Crave, The Science of Lust, Arcane Imaginarium: Spirit Board, Holidays in Hell, Mallory’s Mark (upcoming 2016),The Devil’s Due (upcoming 2016), Charity Benshaw’s Enchanted Paddle Emporium
(upcoming 2016), Sigil Fire, Glitter Lust (upcoming 2016), Written on Skin, Club Beam, Pomegranate, A Red Dress for Christmas, The Black Magic Café, Fantasies in Red, Sweet Seductions: The Erzabet Bishop Collection, Holiday Cruise, Fetish Fair, Temptation Resorts: Jess, Temptation Resorts: Marnie, Taming the Beast, The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation along with being a contributor to many anthologies. Erzabet has been a finalist in the GCLS awards for 2014 and 2015, winning the Goldie for her spot in two anthologies. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in lo
cal bookstores. She loves to bake, make naughty crochet projects and watch monster movies. When she isn’t writing, she loves to review music and books.

Connect with Erzabet via her website, Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads.

Click below to get down and dirty with Dirty Dates!

Let's Ride With Guest Blogger Rebecca Black and Her New Book Release!!!

I remember reading this story Rebecca wrote for Masturbation Monday, and thinking I would love more of those characters. Well here they are! For the second day in a row, I have a brilliant author as a guest with a brand-new book! Welcome back Rebecca!

Hello!
Thanks for having me today so I can give my new book Let’s Ride a shout out.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I really love a good, quick read. Busy lives often don’t leave as much time as we’d like for reading, do they? I’m not always so bothered about the backstory, I just want to live vicariously for a moment through the characters as they experience that first rush of lust and desire in a new relationship – I want to get a little hot and tingly 😉
Well Evernight’s Romance on the Go range is all about fulfilling this reading need and my new release Let’s Ride is a part of that.

Let’s Ride started life as an erotic short that I wrote for Masturbation Monday (a meme that I write for most weeks). I saw a black and white photograph of this gorgeous, androgynous woman sitting on a kick ass motorbike in just a pair of knickers and this piece of flash fiction just fired out of me. Talk about inspiration!

She looked like she wouldn’t take any crap and she looked very capable of sweeping someone off their feet. It got a lot of great feedback so I decided to extend it and lucky for me, Evernight liked it too.

I’ve read some great books with well written dominant male characters, both straight and gay, but I really wanted to write a recognisable archetype with a twist. There isn’t one good reason on this earth why the hero has to be male. Let’s Ride completely rejects that assumption. Jo is confident, self-assured and has a dominant streak a mile wide, but she’s also a beautiful woman, inside and out. She rides into town and sweeps Mary-Beth right off her feet and into her bed. I love her (I know I’m not supposed to say that because I wrote her, but I really do!) and I hope you do too.

So here’s the blurb:

“I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.”
Trapped in a small town life, Mary-Beth always knew there was something better out there. Then Jo rides into town and walks straight into the diner where she works. Sexy, dominant and self-assured, Jo is everything Mary-Beth wishes she could be. Their hot, intense meeting crashes through Mary-Beth’s small world and offers her the promise of a new start.
Will Mary-Beth leave everything behind and ride with Jo towards the chance of a new life?

Excerpt:
Standing by the window, I’m trying to take a lunch time customer’s order but my attention is caught by a bike riding into the gas pump out front.
I hold my breath. She is pretty much everything that I wish I could be. Tall and lean. Enough fuck you attitude to tame a horde of marauding Vikings. She straddles that bike like she was born to it, like she never rode a trike. Like she just stepped right onto all that horsepower and with a flick of her wrists rode off into the sunset, giving everyone the finger as she went.
I would do just about anything to be on the back of that bike when she leaves this place.
She kicks the stand and moves the bike smoothly into its stationary position, slinging her long leg over the back wheel.
I jump a little when our eyes meet through the window. I’m supposed to be taking this guy’s order but I got distracted, seriously distracted. She smirks when her eyes roam over the redness in my cheeks.
Heat has suffused my body; a fine sweat has broken out on my skin and I know I’m in trouble. So much trouble.
I manage to scramble my brain sufficiently to take his order and drop it off at the kitchen. Moving around the bar, I grab the coffee pot to do refills. I can’t stop looking at the door.
Will she come in? Or has she just come for gas?
Please let her come in.
I want to see her up close—I want to see her eyes—that flawless skin. I want to run my fingers over the black shaved hair on the sides of her head, run them through the longer top that she has greased back. I want to watch her eyes close with the pleasure of it.
I hold my nerve when I hear the bell ring over the door. I’m pouring coffee—it really wouldn’t do to spill it and burn a customer. I’m bent over slightly to reach the cup, and my skirt brushes against the back of my legs when she walks past me.
I smile distractedly as the customer thanks me, turning my head to see she has taken a seat at the bar.
Walking over on shaky legs, I smooth my damp palms down the front of my uniform apron.
She sits tall, resting her elbows on the counter. Her legs are open, one heel of her heavy black boots hooked higher on the stool than the other. Her jeans are tight, riding low on slim hips, well worn with a small rip over one knee. A tight white t-shirt stops a few inches from the waistband of her jeans, showing smooth lightly tanned skin that I desperately want to touch.
Her knowing gaze follows me as I move around the bar to face her. I can almost feel a pressure on my skin where it touches me.
“What can I get for you?”
“What have you got?” she asks in a low, husky voice. Her eyes lock on mine. Her eyebrows are like a raven’s wings, perfectly shaped, drawing my attention across her arresting face.
“Pretty much anything, as long as it’s deep fried and unhealthy,” I say wryly.
She laughs. The sound is low and rough and strokes over my nipples.
“Always tastes good, though, don’t it?” she replies. That smirk plays across her mouth again as her gaze drops to my lips. “I’ll just take a coffee for now. Think I’ll get something sweet in a little while…”

Thanks for reading!

Purchase Let’s Ride:
Evernight | Amazon | All Romance | Bookstrand

About Rebecca Black:

Rebecca Black is a Yorkshire girl born and bred. She is first and foremost a voracious reader and lately an author of erotica and erotic romance. She believes that the hottest sex scenes are the ones where emotions are involved (plus lots of dirty talk, lots of spanking, licking and sucking and well… you get the idea). She is the author of A Taste For Three (m/m/f) from Evernight and has several short stories due to be released in erotic anthologies. Rebecca is a regular contributor to the fantastic Cliterati magazine.

Find Rebecca here:
Twitter | Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Tumblr | Goodreads</a

Guest Blogger Xan West Shows Themself to Us With Their New Book Release!!!

I discovered Xan West as an e[lust] judge. Their informative, layered and sexy writing always got to the core of me. It is with a great deal of pleasure that I am the current stop for the blog tour of their new release Show Yourself to Me. Without further ado, I will let Xan show themself to you…

I wrote rough body play before I did it. I’m not talking about erotica stories. I wrote rough body play for the first time during cybersex. Cybersex was one of the first ways I started writing explicit sex, and I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without starting (and getting a hell of a lot of practice) from a place that was about getting us both off over the distance in the glow of a computer screen.

I’d gotten very excited about cybersex from reading Kate Bornstein’s and Caitlin Sullivan’s novel Nearly Roadkill (which I highly recommend, by the way, though it may be hard to get your hands on it). Right at the tail end of the chat years (when people still went onto websites to meet up in chatrooms), around 2001, I exuberantly entered the queer chatting universe, hoping to have an arena for the kind of gender play and D/s I was aching to explore.

It turns out some things are easier to translate to textual interaction than others. Folks in meatspace BDSM communities are quick to scoff about online BDSM, and they have a point about a good portion of what goes on. But there are some things that live textual interaction can create more space and ease for, especially at first. Gender play is one. And there are some kinks that you can do online and get to really beautiful hot places. Psychological play and role play being really good examples.

It’s risky to go to some places with a stranger, even over the internet. I definitely learned that in those explorations. And, there are some places you can try to go in your mind, over text, but if your body doesn’t know them…it just doesn’t even come close.

So, I was doing a dream of a pirate captain/cabin boy scene, bottoming to this hot butch in a private chatroom. It felt so visceral, so real, such a gorgeous intense exchange, that when she started the rough body play, I went with it. Even though really I had no idea what it would feel like to get punched in the chest, or kicked in the thighs. I didn’t know what boots driving me into the rough wood of the deck of a pirate ship might be like, what would happen in my body when she placed her boot on my neck and looked down at me. I just tried to imagine it: visceral, intense, jarring, hot. I guessed that it would probably make me feel so alive and aching, so full of sensation and feeling. She thought I could take it, wanted me to take it for her, and there was nothing like the confidence of a Dominant to capture my stubbornness and my sense of my own strength. I wanted to take it for her, and in this online arena, nothing could stop me from doing so.

As it turns out, my last scene as a bottom was with that very same butch. She turned out to be so damn handsome and tough and I didn’t even think to say to her that I wasn’t sure I could bottom that hard, that I didn’t know if my body could do in life what it could do in my imagination, in a chatroom at midnight. I was a novice in so many ways, and one of the things I didn’t know was what my physical limits were, how much I could take. I’d had chronic pain conditions for years and had survived a hell of a lot of bad pain. I thought if I could do that, good pain was no problem.

I wanted to take a lot of pain. Not for her, but for me. I’d emerged from an abusive D/s relationship just a few months before, and I wanted to show myself that I was tough, a survivor. And I did. For years, I could think back to that scene, to how it felt to recognize my own toughness in what was a combination of strength, endurance, and stubborn will. I could think back, and draw from witnessing my own courage, in choosing to bottom again, in choosing to bottom in this way, in choosing to take way more pain than I ever had in play before.

Against a wall, in a public dungeon, I felt the things I’d only imagined feeling when I was cybering with her imagining myself on the deck of a pirate ship in front of the whole crew. It did make me feel so damn alive, so deeply in my body, like I thought it would. I stuck my chin out and took it, and reveled in the intensity of the sensation, what it felt like to take punches and kicks, how deeply queer and gorgeous this kind of play was. How it was so close to what I’d dreamed it would be.

I was riding this amazing wave of adrenaline. All the while I was marveling at how play like this, that looked so much like violence, could feel like care and respect and joy, while something that looked like sex and sweetness could feel so much like terrifying soul-killing violence.

My skin blossomed so fucking fast. I think that’s why she called the scene, because I was so damn black and blue, so damn early. Or maybe she guessed that I was too high from the play and too fucking stubborn that I wouldn’t have done it myself. I’m not sure. I just know that she wrapped up, and that she was still so full of adrenaline, she was almost shaking.

Calling a scene is not easy on anyone. I respect her for doing it, and thinking on it now, I have so much compassion for both of us. I was not able to support her as a bottom in the ways she needed. I didn’t know how or even know it was my job to do that, had shitty models for BDSM and little education outside of books. I had orchestrated my own transformative scene, but I hadn’t given her the information she needed to be a partner with me in that. (And she hadn’t asked me much of anything, had done quick and dirty negotiation more appropriate to an experienced heavy player than a novice like me.)

I stopped bottoming after that scene. It changed me, felt like it had washed me clean, given me a touchstone memory of bottoming that was wholly different from the abuse I’d endured. So that I didn’t feel like bottoming had been stolen from me by my abusive ex. I had taken it back for myself. Stopping after that scene was a way to stop from a place of strength.

I don’t recommend this path for transformative play, or rough body play. I became a kink educator to help people find other options. I have written story after story about rough body play, transformative play, and edge play in order to offer multiple models of doing this differently from how I did it that night. Models that are more careful and mutual and caring and risk aware. Because I know that so many people, especially trauma survivors, go to sex and relationships and BDSM seeking transformation and intensity and healing. Because I want people to dream bigger than I did. To dream up ways to meet their desires that can include more trust and honesty and care for each other. To dream of ways to play where they can bring all of who they are and be recognized in the fullness of themselves.

Show Yourself To Me is a collection where tops get to be vulnerable and bottoms get to support them. Where sadists get celebrated and honored. Where submissives are recognized as strong and powerful. Where folks work hard to create arenas for pushing edges that feel like safe-enough containers. Where tops and bottoms support each other in seeking transformation through BDSM. Where queers create play that is deeply mutual, clearly negotiated, intensely intimate, and full of courageous honesty. Where you get to see the gorgeous possibilities of rough body play, from the inside.

(If you want a taste of how I write rough body play, here is an excerpt from the bottom’s point of view, and here is an excerpt from the top’s point of view.)

Book Description:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

You can get your copy of Show Yourself to Me via Go Deeper Press, Amazon or Nook. And you can engage with the book on Goodreads as well!

Do not miss the other stops on the blog tour:

October 1: Xan West
October 2: Book Birthday!
October 3: Heather Elizabeth
October 4: Sinclair Sexsmith
October 5: Hermia Swann
October 6: Dilo Keith and Cecilia Tan
October 7: Kinky Brits
October 8: Stella Harris
October 9: F. Leonora Solomon
October 10: Tasha Harrison
October 11: Benji Bright
October 12: Tamsin Flowers and Karida
October 13: Cassandra Perry
October 14: Peep Scoop and Radical Access Mapping Project
October 15: Sugar Cunt
October 16: Emily Byrne
October 17: Oleander Plume
October 18: K. A. Smith
October 19: Giselle Renarde
October 20: Butchtastic Kyle
October 21: Lisabet Sarai
October 22: Syrens
October 23: Anna Sky
October 24: Jade A. Waters
October 25: Kal Cobalt
October 26: Rebekah Weatherspoon
October 27: Malin James
October 28: BD Swain and Jillian Boyd
October 29: Kaleigh Trace
October 30: Kiki DeLovely
October 31: Xan West and Annabeth Leong

Hold Tight! Special Guest Blogger and Dear Friend, Lise Horton Takes The Reins!

It makes me happy to have Lise Horton as my guest, because she is a brilliant writer and my friend. We go way back! Her newest release, Hold Tight with Loose Id is hotter than lava and that is barely a metaphor. She is a voracious reader, I love to her talk literary to me! Read on to discover books that have inspired her, in honor of Banned Books Week…

…I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
–James Joyce, Ulysses

Thinking as I do annually about Banned Books Week, I thought back to my (ahem) formative years, literarily speaking, and had an epiphany about what I love to read, and especially what I love to write.

From Ulysses to Fifty Shades, books have most often been banned not because of the violence they depict. Not for political reasons. Not because they foment bigotry or hatred. But because they depict S-E-X. Obscenity, or as the famous judge quipped, “I know it when I see it” – which to me is purely subjective personal judgement. Sex in literature is treated as something nasty, something to be hidden away, lest it corrupt us; when, in fact, depictions of adult human sexuality are based on, guess what: the real thing! That sort of important (and fun) activity we all participate in. Birds do it, bees do it and hello! Guys and gals do it, too! With great regularity. And amazing ingenuity.

As an author of kinky erotica and erotic romance I have come to discover that it was reading all manner of banned, salacious and graphic books, along with many others in my youth, that has led me to the balanced place I am today as a writer.

Some naughty tales I first partook of were historical epics by an author lost in the mists of my brain, but I later happened upon works by Anais Nin, Erica Jong, Henry Miller and Marilyn French’s The Women’s Room, in all their carnal glory. I devoured feminist tracts by Kate Millet and Simone de Beauvoir, along with earnest books like Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex and Our Bodies, Ourselves.

And into this cerebral cauldron went early romances, from Mary Stewart’s romantic suspense novels to the gothics of Victoria Holt. Books that hinted at attraction and love, but kept the bedroom door closed as tightly as could be. At a pivotal moment I read Love Story and there was no turning back!

What emerged from my odd amalgam of reading material was the magical spirit of frankness, romance and sexual curiosity that gave rise to my writing today. Writing where anything goes (as long as it is legal!) I am a feminist who believes that depicting a submissive woman in a BDSM relationship does not, in fact, go against my beliefs. A character choosing her path, sexually or otherwise, in pursuit of happiness and satisfaction, is a feminist in my mind. And adding romance to the mix is not dumbing down the human sexual experience, but rather projecting what so many of us yearn for – a trustworthy companion to share our life who happens to be as hungry for our body, as for our mind, or our heart, and soul. Rounding out the mix is the earthy carnality and unfettered lust that is part and parcel of the human condition. When not burdened with others’ mores as to what is “right” or “acceptable” men and women explore their sexual selves with great freedom. Happier and more accepting of others because of their understanding of themselves.

A wonderful mantra in the BDSM community is “My kink may not be your kink, but your kink is okay.” And “safe, sane and consensual” is a wonderful credo for everyone (vanilla or not so much) that urges us to look at the world around us and demand that adults get to go for their sexy gusto without censure or condemnation*. And that goes for what we want to read, as well!

It makes me smile to remember my favorite expression growing up – one which embarrassed my mother beyond belief.

“Whatever blows your skirt up!”

And would you look at that! I’ve grown into an author who writes exactly what blows my own way, way up – and hopefully, yours too. With that in mind, I’d like to urge everyone to turn themselves on.

In honor of Banned Books Week, read a dirty book today!

She felt every stroke, every sensation, as he possessed her completely. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady so he could force his way in as deep as possible. The stretching of tissues, the friction, the pain, the possession, his words, his grunts and growls barreled up and up, and everything began to tighten and coil deep inside, like a spring, poised to fly, to send her into an orgasm so monstrous she might not survive.
–Lise Horton, Hold Tight

* I advocate sexual freedom only among consenting adults. I do not condone fetishes that fall into the realm of abuse, pedophilia, bestiality, etc.

I know you enjoyed Lise’s passage from Hold Tight, click on your preferred format below to get your copy!

Amazon Kindle
Apple iBooks
B&N Nook Books
Kobo
All Romance E-Books

Yesterday…

Yesterday was a really awesome blog day for me. I had my amazing, brilliant friend Vena Ramphal as a guest on my blog. I met Vena at Eroticon a few years ago. Her session was so life-affirming and rich, and her post is the same–full of love and life…You can read it here if you missed it, or again!

This year at Eroticon, I met the equally amazing and brilliant Girl on the Net. GOTN was there last year, but I did not get to meet her. This year I did, and she is really awesome! She did a fantastic session which you can read about here, and gave us lots of chocolate–so I am a friend for life! But most of all, she is full of such great energy and shares my suit fetish–which is what my guest post on her blog is all about! You can read it here.

It only seemed fair in an ode to my great blog day yesterday, to honor something else of yesterday…Don Draper in his suit!

photo of Don Draper via flickr