Tag Archives: erotica

Bases Loaded Cover Reveal!!!

It has been amazing posting recent cover reveals, but I have to say it is extra special when it is my own! This anthology is coming your way soon, and in terms of heat? ALL BASES ARE COVERED!!! 

The Story Begins…

I am so happy to have my story “The Story Begins…” published by Volonté, a pleasure project by Lelo. Lelo was at last year’s Eroticon–where all good things happen!!!–which is how I found out about Volonté and got involved. Take a look at my story here!

I love the cover art they selected as well, so very much my style!

E[Lust] No. 72

An Erotic Adventure Image
Photo courtesy of Tabitha Rayne

Welcome to Elust #72

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #73? Start with the rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Broken
Invisible Pride: Bi Erasure
Disabled Gentleman

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Erotic Fiction: “Passerby”
Overcoming resistance

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

#AskELJames: The Poignant & Profitable Martyrdom of E.L. James

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days.

Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Tits, Ass, Monogamy, and Muscles
Numbers
ATVOD’s Preliminary View

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Perfect Stranger
Remembering my first sex toy
On Relationship Anarchy
In Defense of Big Toys
Unpacking Assumptions About Sex and Stoneness
A Thousand Miles
Six Important Reasons Not to Fake an Orgasm
Flying With Sex Toys
What is your preferred way to orgasm?
First

Erotic Fiction

kotw: anonymous sex
Breathe
Intrusion
A Firm Hand and Lessons
The Sounds Of The Night
Office Assistant

Events

Happy Bloomsday! What Would Molly Do?
Bare Reality: 100 women and their breasts

Poetry

Deacon Jones: A Lusty Limerick

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Trust Me: On Edge Play in Erotica
Come on Command

Erotic Non-Fiction

Chasing Orgasms
Did You Just Laugh At My Instructions?
I’m always going to get mine.
Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 52
that was intense

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Kink of the Week — May 16-31: Suits

I remember being seventeen, on the train, and seeing men get on in suits. I loved it. Love seeing men in suits still. Some women like men in uniforms, but I like them in suits. I believe that putting on a suit transforms a man, and so does the way he wears it. I had a firm crush on a co-worker, who used to like to wear his tie flipped over his shoulder. The way a man wears a suit says a lot about his character. If it looks like the suit is wearing him, that is awful. If he wears it perfunctory with solid-colored ties and typical suit colors and prints, he is practical. If the suit seems tailored for him, or he wears it with atypical ties, suit patterns and colors it means he is not so rigid.

I wrote two pieces recently–my story in Spy Games, and this post–where I wrote about suits, or at least elements of suits. The difference in these pieces, was my mindset when writing both. The fetishized suit in Harper in Spy Games was a spontaneous scene, I did not plan it. When I wrote the blog post, I knew I was planning on including a suit fetish scene…the focus on cufflinks was incidental. What caused the difference? I had a conversation with a friend who has a particular fetish, and noticed a catch in my breath as I began talking about suits. I realized that we shared something, the same feeling but for different things. When I saw this prompt, I got very excited especially since I had just created a suit fetish Pinterest board!

I am not sure that I am a bonafide suit fetishist, but I know I get very excited if I see a man with (an element of, or a or full) suit I like. During this very cold past winter, I saw a very gorgeous man I know wearing a fedora. I complimented him, and felt flushed when I saw the fedora later hung up on a hook. Now I recognize that I watched Mad Men primarily for the fashion…and Jon Hamm…in a suit…with a fedora on…

Below is a sample from my short story Harper, in Spy Games:

“Take off your clothes,” he grunted, unbuttoning her blouse.

“Leave on your suit,” she replied, her voice sounding just as huskily.

He smiled at her as he watched her finish unbuttoning her blouse, exposing her bare breasts right off the bat.
“So there’s a bit of kinkiness in you? A suit fetish, perhaps?”
Removing her skirt revealed that she hadn’t worn any underwear. She looked up at him.
“Talk? Or do?”
Russell pulled her to him while she was taking off her thigh high. She dug her nails into the other leg, tossing both ruined stockings carelessly onto the floor. She buried her face in his suit jacket, realizing he might have been right about her kinkiness. It was not something that she thought about before, but she guessed it was there right now. 
The feeling of his suit against her bare skin while he was kissing her was one thing. Her bare ass against the chain that barred entry seemed ironic to her. There was no desire in her for others to enter, but she liked being watched, and that wasn’t something that she’d ever realized she liked until the past 24 hours. First in the bar, and now here with Russell.



You can get a copy of Spy Games in the US, or the UK.

More suits here

  

random photograph taken by f dot leonora

E[lust] No. 70

exposing 40
Photo courtesy of Exposing 40

Welcome to Elust #70

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #71? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Exposed! My Mom Knows!

Flash Fiction: “A Taste”

I am a Sex Blogger & I Reject Pseudonymity

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

‘X’ is for X…
Give my guilt an erotic payoff? Tell me more.

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Dis-moi…

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Blogging

Hidden

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

The Great Outdoors (Or Why I Trust Him)
I’m Reminded You Can’t Force an Orgasm
Yes I am Sexy
Why Choose Monogamy When You Can Choose Every
Would you? Could you?
On Being Haunted

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

A Horse Among Unicorns: Embracing my Straight
Being a Disabled Top in Kink Community
And here I thought kink was all about consent
10 Signs You Don’t Understand Submission
The Answer

Writing About Writing

Sex in Real Life vs Fiction
Terms of Use

Poetry

Six Nine – A Happy Horny Haiku

Erotic Fiction

One Saturday Evening
Cerulean
Stolen Minutes
Taste
Haunting you
Woken
Q is for Quenched
A schoolgirl spanking story 10
Sit Here Please
My Prize

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Fat-Shaming
Spanking, Brits, and what if we didn’t?
“V” is for Virgin

Erotic Non-Fiction

My first date with Lexy – Part 2
Goodnight kiss
How To Kiss Me Like You Mean It
running cold and hot
His cum came out my nose.
Going Down. Honey, Coconut Oil and Cum.

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The Big Day is Here–Happy Erotic World Book Day!!!

On this inaugural Erotic World Book Day (EWDB), the concept alone makes me happy because of all the random celebratory days that pop up all of the time. Erotica deserved one! I am an editor and writer of erotica, but the bridge to that was being a reader of it.

As a young girl in a house filled with readers, I was exposed to all sorts of books…which I always sought the erotic bits of! I was always in search of erotic novels and at this point, needed more of an edge than your average reader. I love erotic tension as well, it doesn’t always have to be explicit for me. There is a scene in Asylum by Patrick McGrath which is one of my favorite books, that makes me breathless and does not involve sex at all. But such a level of intimacy is explored in that scene, it is breathtaking. I love the exploration of raw emotion, and there really can be nothing rawer than what you encounter in an erotic scene. Everything is stripped away–literally most times–and you have to deal with that moment. I love the line in Simone de Beauvoir’s The Mandarins, in which a character after making love, says that the only way to really know a man is to make love to him. I am paraphrasing, but that was such an astute observation to me.

That in a nutshell is why I love erotica, and it makes me happy that the genre is being celebrated in such large scale today. This brain child of Emily Dubberley, has caused such an amazing buzz within the erotica community. The best part is EWDB celebrates erotica as a genre in a myriad of ways including an anthology, the proceeds of which will support Brook and you are invited to donate to Brook if you wish. There are also a plethora of prizes for you to win all day in celebration of EWDB. I have contributed a copy of my upcoming anthology Tie Me Up, which is being released by Riverdale Avenue Books on March 18th!



So please go to the site! There are so many ways to celebrate and contribute…have a very happy Erotic World Book Day!!! 





woman reading photo via cdn.cnet.com.au

Wicked Wednesday #108 — Flight Attendant

Severine looked stern as she walked through the terminal. She had not put up her hair, so it tumbled wildly long like a demi-cape behind her. Her impossibly high stilettos were more than possible for the long-limbed former dancer, model and current flight attendant.
When she saw him, her stern expression softened. She put her bag down, and stood in front of him.
“Your hair looks wild,” he remarked.
Obediently, she reached to sweep it up. He stopped her hands over her head, pulling her to him with her hands in his.
“I like it like that.”
There was a suggestion of a smile on Rafe’s lips, as he watched Severine search for cues from him. He thought of her long hair spilled across his bed, the way it tangled about her and the things that he had done to her.
Severine was not like Eliza. It was nice with Severine because he could tell her what was going on, and he knew that she would be fine with it. He could tell her he would not see her anymore, and she would not get emotional.
He let her hands go. Touching her made him want her: the softness of her flawless English with a French accent, and the filthy things that she said to him in French.
He put his hand at the small of her back, and led her to an intimate corner of the airport bar. He knew she was already wet and ready for him, and he was quite ready for her but he was not going to scratch that itch.
The slap she delivered him when he told her about Eliza made him raise his hand to strike her, simply because he was so startled. But he caught himself.
“I only see you occasionally when we are able to meet up, you are always flying…how could that be serious?”
“I thought that we were not together because of my job. I always wanted more Rafe, I always wanted to be with you…”
He had not meant to hurt her, but her dark eyes were moist even though he knew that she was not going to cry in front of him.
She looked down at her drink and took a sip. He loved having afternoon cocktails with her. Her kisses when she greeted him were usually of champagne she had had in the first class section of the plane, but she liked prosecco mixed with amaretto with him.
“So why are you still sitting here?” Her eyes retreated as she took another sip. He ran his hands through her hair, knocking over her amaretto and prosecco.
Severine gasped as the drink spilled on her lap. Rafe kissed her, and ran his hand up her leg to the dampest spot of her lap so she gasped even more.
Afraid he was going to fuck her at the table, he signaled for the check with his free hand.
Tangled hair about her body, Rafe looked at Severine in her airport hotel room moments later.
“A goodbye fuck?” she questioned rolling onto her side. “Adieu,” she whispered leaning to kiss him. He tugged a section of her hair, kissed her and pulled her to him. Using her hair, he climbed on top of her with his fingers between her legs.
“You are always wet aren’t you?” he breathed, then licked along her ear. “Aren’t you?”
With little preamble he entered her. Inside her, he remembered saying to Eliza if she was having sex with someone she was in love.
Inside of Severine was a feeling he could not describe…Sex with her was extremely good, when he was with her she was perfect. Just perfect.
She clung to him after, he breathed out strands of her hair. He had underestimated her feelings for him,
and apparently his own lying in the Venus Flytrap of her hair, soft skin and French perfume. Severine emitted a sweet French song of words that was not the usual filth she titillated him with, but something else.
Something else that did not need a translation…

You can find more Wicked Wednesday here

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photo via wikipedia

Motel Stories

The first time is always the hardest. Although my first time…with a guest blogger, I joined forces with my friend Oleander Plume. We wrote stories based on a phrase I overheard, that she tweeted would make a good story. You can read that here.

This time thanks to my semi-addiction to my Tumblr which feeds to my Twitter, Kenny C. tweeted that this image would make a good story. Inspired, I said let’s do it! I am thankful to him, for getting me focused on this project. We have swapped blogs for today, below is his steamy “motel story.”

A Fantasy Fulfilled

The clouds finally parted, and a streak of sun shined on his life for the first time in two years. The light was named Anaé, and Nick knew the moment he saw her that she’d change him.

She was lithe, with dark hair and big eyes. He approached her at a wine bar in the suburbs. Nick hated the fucking suburbs. To him they represented the lies of marriage. The lies of the middle class American family. He left the suburbs, and all its lies, two years ago and found a small room at a downtown motel. The place was old, but clean and fairly safe. He took a second floor room and moved in a few personal things to make it home.

“I like malbec…from Mendoza.” Anaé sat across the table from him, her lips perfectly glossed and pouted.

“I do too.” Nick had caught her eye as she ordered her first glass and waited until her glass was empty before making the bold move to ask her if she was expecting someone. She wasn’t, and after the usual pleasantries, they settled at a quiet table.

“Have you been to Argentina?” Nick asked. He was dressed in his work attire. A suit. Nick was a suit now and although he’d once hated the idea of tying a tie each morning, it had grown on him.

“I have. Have you been?” Anaé kept her glass close to her face as she talked. Her eyes were painted dark. Nick liked that. Like wearing a tie, he’d let go of previous prejudices about women and what he found attractive. She wore a black cocktail dress that fit her perfectly.

“I haven’t. It’s on the list.” He smiled, then tasted the wine.

“Oh, there’s a list? I must hear more about this.” Anaé smiled as she talked, her eyes teasing Nick.

“Actually, I don’t have a list. Just a few things I’d like to experience.” Nick held her gaze. His heart flipped in his chest, then flipped again. He hadn’t had the attention of a woman like this since well before he was married.

“Tell me some of the things on this list, I’m interested.” Anaé touched the glass to her lips and continued to stare at him.

“Will you tell me some of yours?” Nick asked. Anaé nodded, smiling.

Over the next hour they shared, wine and stories. Aspirations. At one point Anaé excused herself to the ladies’ room and Nick noticed how the men looked at her.

When she returned the eyes of the men were again on her body, her beauty. They couldn’t help themselves. The conversation continued. More wine. More smiles and sharing. They grew increasingly comfortable with one another. The bar emptied out, suburbanites returning to their heavily mortgaged homes with manicured lawns and friendly neighbors. Nick had no mortgage, no lawn, and his neighbors included a drunken writer and a young couple who’d eloped.

“Tell me, Nick,” Anaé smiled devilishly at him. “Is there anything sexual on your list of things you’d like to experience?”

Again, their eyes locked as Nick considered the question. The malbec dampened his nerves, and heightened his sexual senses. “Just one.” he said.

“Tell me.” she said.

Nick began.

He woke with a wine induced headache that subsided when he remembered his night with Anaé. His morning was spent sipping black coffee, ignoring the work on his desk, and replaying the conversation from the night before. He floated when he thought of her words, her smiles, and the way she felt in his arms when they hugged before leaving in separate taxis. His confidence refreshed him with possibility.

At three in the afternoon, while in the break room pouring what must have been his tenth cup of coffee, his phone beeped the familiar sound of an incoming text. His heart filled, then filled even more when he saw it was from her.

‘There’s something I’d love to show you tonight. ;-)’ Nick read the message again. He contemplated the possibilities. He read the message again as he walked back to his desk, spilling coffee on his shirt. At his desk, he read it again.

Nick ignored his work for twenty minutes, the same as he’d ignored it all day, then answered Anaé’s text, ‘I’d love to see. 8 o’clock.’ He added his address and room number.

Once home from work, he poured himself a drink and took a shower. He put on a fresh shirt and pants. His thoughts were scattered, yet focused only on her. At 8:15 he checked his phone to see if he was mistaken on the time he’d given her. He poured another drink. At 8:25 he heard a car door slam in the parking lot below. He glanced through the thin curtain and saw her, Anaé. It was only then that he was certain it wasn’t all a dream.

She had on a long black coat and her hair was pulled back. He lost sight of her while she climbed the motel steps but his heart jumped nonetheless when she tapped on his door. He opened it, smiled, and without a word, welcomed her into his room.

He handed her a drink, whiskey, per their conversation the night before. She touched the glass to her lips without taking her eyes off his. She was even more stunning than he’d remembered. The room was illuminated only by the red neon light of the motel sign near the road.

Nick sat in the chair near the window. He downed his drink, an attempt to quell the nerves. She bent over and set her drink on the small table next to Nick. He could smell her perfume.

Anaé stood before him and opened the coat. Under it, she wore only a short, black camisole. She took the coat off her shoulders and set it on the bed next to him. She stood still for a moment, and then began moving her hips back and forth, slowly. There was no music, but Anaé moved her body with a slow rhythm. Nick settled in his chair.

Anaé’s hands caressed her body through the silk camisole. Her fingertips traced her hips and across her chest. Nick watched, fighting the urge to reach out and grab her small body and hold it against his. After a few moments, Anaé took the thin straps off her shoulders and let the lingerie fall off her breasts. They were small, with dark nipples that were puckered and standing up.

She moved between Nick’s knees and bent over, her hands resting on his thighs. Without kissing, she grazed her lips over his. Nick again fought instinct to take her. She continued tracing her lips over his cheek and down his neck.

Anaé stood, and pushed the camisole down over her hips. It fell to the floor. She was naked now, and Nick could see the small black patch of pubic hair between her legs. It was sleek, and lay flat against her body. He watched as she began moving her hips again, though this time, he could see the entirety of her body. She turned around, like her breasts, her ass was small and round, not yet affected by the cruelty of gravity.

Again she put her hands on Nick’s thighs and touched her lips to his. They were sticky, and her breath smelled of the whiskey she stopped and sipped every few minutes. Not yet had a word been spoken, but so much had been shared and experienced since she entered his room.

Anaé held Nick’s head with both hands and massaged his face with her nipples. They were as hard as pebbles. Nick opened his mouth and let them in. His hands, which had hung at his side until now, were on her hips. Anaé ran her fingers through his hair while Nick tasted her breasts.

Anaé rubbed Nick’s penis through his pants, then lowered his zipper and took him out. Her long, delicate fingers wrapped around him, and Nick let out a sigh. Anae stood, and walked to the dresser across.

Nick stood, and moved behind her. He traced his finger tips up and down her back for a moment, their eyes locked in the reflection of the mirror. He kissed her thin neck and shoulders, kneeding her breasts and nipples with his hands. She bent over the dresser, her eyes inviting Nick to put himself inside her. He did, slowly. Anaé gasped, then looked at Nick over her shoulder.

She was tight around him, pulsing with each stroke. Nick knew he wouldn’t last long, the moment was too electric, too intense. This young, exotic girl, smart, well-travelled, and here she was, fulfilling one of his fantasies. It wasn’t lost on him that her every move had been about him. About making his moment perfect. She was still looking over her shoulder at him with that same devilish smile on her face as she had the night before when she asked if any of his unfulfilled experiences were sexual. Nick smiled at her. It was then, the moment perfect, Nick finished.

Anaé turned around and Nick kissed her deeply. He wrapped his arms around her small, naked body and held her tight. Then, still without a word, Anaé moved away from him, put on her coat and stuffed the camisole into her purse. She smiled at him as he held the door, then she left.

Nick watched out the window as she climbed in a waiting taxi.

A few hours later, his mind still filled with the images of Anaé dancing before him, Nick’s phone beeped the familiar sound of an incoming text. It was her.

The clouds that had shadowed his world for the past two years were now fully parted.

Steamy enough for you?! I love how even though we did not plan it, Kenny and I have similar moments in our stories…You can find mine on his blog, and follow him on Twitter.

photo courtesy of tumblr

Sticky Note No. 4

I had an idea for a story last night, one that mixed horror and erotica. It seemed a good idea to start with a story on a sticky note a la Being Blacksilk, to whet my appetite. Plus last night, I had unexpected inspiration from Twitter to start really brainstorming something…
Conveniently it is raining today, and I have a gorgeous picture I saw on Tumblr in mind to put me in the mood…This is a very rough draft on a pink sticky note below…typos included!

She had outdone herself. Her taste in men was always particularly bad: an assortment of creative types, overzealous creative types, addictive personalities, semi-abusive–she had been lucky to get out of that. And now, now, she smiled as the rain beat against the windows of the car and on its roof like a melody she must observe. now she was heading to a motel to meet a man whose online darkness was so sparkling. he told her he’d do things to her she would be ashamed she asked for. It was all part of the game. He said he could kill her.

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The "Violation" Story Challenge

Since I can never drown out other people’s conversations (and probably don’t want to), I permanently overhear some fragment of someone’s conversation. I was in Starbucks when the young girl walked past me and said casually, “No one can violate him but me.”  I immediately tweeted what I heard because I was sure someone else could use it for inspiration. Immediately Oleander Plume tweeted that it should be used for a story. Almost like a dare that was too hard to resist, I suggested we use the line to write stories for each other’s blogs. Oleander of course, wrote hers right away. I lagged a bit, but FINALLY I finished mine so we could publish them simultaneously. So from the beautiful mind of Oleander Plume, a tale of violation:

The Kingdom Falls

 by Oleander Plume

“No one can violate him but me!”

The king’s protests fall on deaf ears. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I pick the slave up from the floor, he’s trembling and sobbing. The guards look to me for instruction.

“Take his highness to the dungeons and lock him in the coldest cell. I’ll take care of this one.”

He’s filthy and bruised, yet still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Skin like cream, eyes as dark as night. Yes, I’ll take very good care of this one.

“Master, you needn’t bother yourself with such vermin, I’ll take the slave to the gallows.”

“No, Cedric, he’s the king’s favorite plaything, and I have greater designs for him.” I stare into King Vlad’s steely gray eyes and sneer. “Think about all the wicked things I will be doing to his sweet body while you rot in prison.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“But I would, you can count on that.”

I pull the slave closer and run my tongue down the side of his face, while keeping one eye on the king. His eyes narrow, his cheeks turn purple, and he violently struggles against the hands that hold him back. The handsome bastard is so enraged, he could probably spit fire. Nothing else I have done today has caused such ire, not even when I lopped off the queen’s head with his majesty’s own sword.

“That creature is my property!” Spittle spews from his mouth as he bellows.

I yank my short blade from its sheath and press the tip against the king’s neck. “You are no longer in charge, of anyone, especially him.” I smile as a small bead of blood coats the edge of the blade. “I should make you watch.”

“Bastard!” The king’s eyes glitter with rage, but he holds his head high, ever the true, haughty monarch. “The citizens of this land will revolt, and I will take back the throne. And when I do, you’ll be the first to be drawn and quartered in the village square.”

I spit in his face. “Your citizens will rejoice while you dance in hell’s belly.” I pointed to the door. “Take him away, the sooner the better.”

The king wails and struggles, but he’s no match for my men. I stop one of them, and whisper in his ear. “I want you all to take him, as painfully as possible. Leave him screaming and covered in your fluids.”

Giles grins wickedly. “I’ll make sure he screams loud enough for the devil to hear.”

The slave is on his knees, shaking like a newborn lamb. I sling his frail body over my shoulder and carry him to the stables. After choosing the king’s best steed, I ride off with the young man draped across my lap. The grime covering his body turns my stomach, and I am happy to come across a small pond that will serve as a proper bath.

I strip away his ragged clothing, then remove my own. Cradling him gently in my arms, I wade into the tepid water, the feel of his naked flesh against mine stirs deep longing. He’s so frail, so wounded, I can’t go forward with my desires, not yet. But as I struggle with my inner turmoil, his fingers dance over my skin and his sweet lips caress my ear.

 “Elyan, I knew you would save me.”

Oleander told me that this story was a teaser and it is–the best kind! I need to know more about these characters, I especially need all the titillating bits fleshed out to the fullest! But then I am the kind of girl who overhears suggestive phrases in Starbucks…

Fortunately, Oleander is one of the most prolific writers I know, so continue to follow her blog. Or you can follow her on Twitter where she is generous with her wit and writing. If you visit her blog today, you can read my take on violation