I went to the Museum of Sex to see their newest exhibitions, and took pictures of myself participating in their Splendor in the Grass exhibit…read the signs!!!
More Sinful Sunday here:
Author Archives: F DOT LEONORA
My Sexy Saturday — While You Were Sexy…
I think suits are sexy–as I have written about here and here. This excerpt from my story, “The Story Begins,” was written for Lelo’s blog Volonté. Here are seven paragraphs that detail things that I find sexy: tuxedos, little black (vintage) dresses and masks…*fans*
The part that was the strangest to her was that she had not seen his eyes. That was uncharted territory for her…
The theme for the cocktail party was masquerade. Odile had one of her many little black dresses, topped with a decadent black mask that she got at a vintage shop. A man wearing a tuxedo without the bowtie, and a gorgeous mask that covered two thirds of his face appeared next to her.
What she saw made her want to see more of him.
They were standing near the bar, where she admired the way the tuxedo accentuated his body. She was surprised that she felt herself get wet, startled because she did not recognize it at first. Not until the first bit of gin filled her chest. His elbow brushed hers, and she felt their contact zing through her entire body. He looked at her briefly, and although her cocktail dress provided more décolletage than she would show during the day, it was not that provocative. But when the masked gentleman looked at her and she saw his eyes linger in the direction of the swell of her bust with her peripheral vision, she felt completely nude.
She carried her gin and tonic with lime to a corner where she planned to play the wallflower she usually was and sip her drink slowly. The masked gentleman cornered her and instead of feeling like prey, she felt herself grow wetter. He had gotten her wet when she did not even know what his eyes looked like. When she did not even know what his face looked like.
He smelled of cigarette smoke and gin. She smiled out of nervousness, but it sufficed for a greeting. His lips moved in what could be construed as a smile, as he took a sip of his drink.
“I want to tell you a story…” (You can read the entire story here)
See what everyone else thinks is sexy here.
masked woman via volonté
BDSM Writers Con: ‘A kinky writers’ fantasy come to life’ featured in Erotic Trade Only Magazine!!!
This past summer, I attended BDSM Writers Con, pictures of which you can see here. It was an amazing conference from a writing perspective, and because of all the friends that I made. My article on the conference for Erotic Trade Only just went live! Here is an excerpt from it:
Did you know that BDSM writers have had their own conference for a number of years? F. Leonora Solomon reports back from this year’s gathering in New York for ETO…
Walking through the lobby of the Doubletree by Hilton hotel, I approached a staircase that warned me that there was a private event for adults only and to use the bathroom nearby on that level. I knew that I was not in Kansas anymore, but New York City for the BDSM Writers Conference.
The conference is the brainchild of Dr Charley Ferrer, who developed it to help facilitate the exploration of all aspects of BDSM for writers, readers and anyone who is interested in the subject. Ferrer is the author of several books, and an avid reader herself. I heard her speak at an RWA-NYC (Romance Writers of America) chapter meeting, and loved her perspective on the lifestyle. She is charismatic and knowledgeable, and I was eager to see how the event would unfold.
Read the rest of the article here!
Girls Will Be Girls by Lucy Felthouse, Because Yes–Girls Will Be Girls!!!
I just recently promoted a new book by Lucy Felthouse on my blog, and before I could blink, this prolific lady had a new series of stories out! Girls Will Be Girls is her sexy new girl/girl anthology. And judging by the cover, Lucy has another hot one on her hands!
As inspired as I am by Lucy professionally–how could you not be?!–all I keep thinking about is how lucky I was to get to see her while she was in New York. She is exceptionally lovely, and we had a lovely conversation over my lox and cream cheese bagel with onions. She had pancakes, and I have been craving them ever since! Because of her, I finally saw Bridget Jones for the first time…yes, yes I know I am way behind the curve–she told me as only a true friend would! I am happy to consider Lucy a friend…
Now you are salivating for more details on her sexy new book, aren’t you? Here you go!
Blurb:
Six sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of popular lesbian erotica author, Lucy Felthouse.
Christmas cheer with colleagues, a driving disaster turned good, hot older women, girls in uniform, gorgeous gardeners and naughty fun in a changing cubicle… this collection contains a variety of erotic tales sure to tickle your fancy.
Available to buy exclusively from Amazon, and to read as part of the Kindle Unlimited programme.
Add to your Goodreads shelves:
*****
Excerpt:
She was now mere inches away, but the thickness of the bushes meant she could still only see the boots and now a bit more of the green trousers. Stepping onto the mud, she crouched down beside the feet, carefully pushing the foliage aside so she could see what the hell was going on, and figure out what she was going to do about it.
The view opened up, and Verity, far from seeing a helpless person lying on the soil, was presented with a green-clad arse reversing hurriedly in her direction!
“Hey!” she said, letting go of the branches and shifting back so abruptly she ended up on her own arse on the grass. “Be careful! Are you all right?”
As the body continued emerging, Verity slowly came to realise her mistake. Dirt-covered trousers, a filthy black waterproof coat, gloved hands, and a head topped with a floppy hat were soon visible. Slim white cables trailing from each ear and disappearing into the collar of the coat explained why she hadn’t been heard calling out, or received a response.
This woman hadn’t hurt herself. She was a fucking gardener!
Frozen in her uncomfortable position, Verity wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Perhaps as revenge for her landing on it so hard. But she had no such luck. Instead, she heard, “What on earth are you doing down there? Are you all right?”
Struck dumb, Verity nodded and took the now glove-free hand that was offered to her, allowing the other woman to pull her up off the grass. “I—I’m fine,” she finally forced out, breaking the brief eye contact and making a show of brushing herself down, though it was probably only her bottom that was dirty. Her cheeks blazed, and she took a step back, hoping to beat a hasty retreat.
“Well, I’m glad. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing down there.” The ear buds now hung down the woman’s front, and she was apparently poised, awaiting a reply.
Verity shook her head. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”
Narrowing her eyes, the gardener said, “Try me.”
Christ. Just to add insult to injury, it seemed she was now suspected of some kind of wrongdoing, too! “I—I was over there,” she pointed to where she’d come from, “and I saw your wellies poking out from the bushes. I panicked because I thought someone had fallen and hurt themselves. I came over to try and help. I did call out to you, to see if you were all right. But all I could see was the boots and a little bit of your trousers. I had no idea what was going on. Much less that you were the bloody gardener and remained oblivious to what I was up to because you had headphones in! I crouched down and pushed the bushes aside so I could see you better, and the next thing I know you’re shuffling back towards me. I shifted out of the way and ended up tumbling over on my bum.”
It seemed her story was too amusing to be anything but true, because the gardener grinned widely, then clapped a hand over her mouth momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she then said, “I didn’t hear you, honestly. But I guess I can see why you thought that. Thank you so much for coming to check on me, but it really wasn’t necessary. All I was doing was fighting with a particularly vicious weed.” She pointed down to an uprooted plant at her feet, then widened her eyes. “Are you all right? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
Twisting to try and look at her bottom, Verity brushed again at the seat of her jeans. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit of muck and grass stains, I think. Nothing that won’t come out in the washing machine.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad. I feel bad enough as it is without thinking you’ve hurt yourself or ruined your clothes, too.”
“No, I’m good. And I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
Silence hung between them for a few moments. Then Verity took another step back. “Right, well, I’d better get going, anyway. Nice to meet you.” She turned to go, but the other woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Hey, wait. No need to rush off. I’m just about to go on my tea break. Want to join me? Perhaps a brew will make up for it?” Her green eyes—apt, for a gardener, Verity thought—sparkled with humour and intelligence, and for the first time, Verity realised that, underneath the grubby gardening gear and large hat was a very attractive woman.
Still, an excuse was on the tip of her tongue—she had come here to be alone, after all—but fate intervened. Or the British weather did, anyway. A handful of fat raindrops fell onto her, followed by a few more. Then, the heavens truly opened.
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
Wicked Wednesday #179 — Happy Place
He and Eliza were in a happy place, Rafe could still smell her on his skin. He had just held her face, and kissed her thoroughly before he left her. This time, he did not make a mistake, and let her know that he was going to see Severine.
“That was the reason why I left before,” Eliza had said, holding onto his collar as she kissed his neck and throat. “Not because you were with Sandrine, because we opened us…but because you did not tell me…”
Rafe closed his eyes, and kissed Eliza’s forehead in his memory again. Severine was in New York, and if nothing else she was still a friend, and he wanted to see her. He was going to tell her that things were going well with Eliza.
He had not been with another woman recently, except for Fiona. It was the three of them a lot. Fiona told him that she was very happy that he and Eliza had made amends.
“You seem stronger than ever, more in love than ever,” Fiona said to him, when Eliza was out of earshot. “Don’t forget what shit you looked like without her.”
Tugging on his coat, Rafe noted he was blocks away from the cafe where he was meeting Severine.
When he saw her.
Sandrine looked at him like he had stabbed her in the heart. Her eyes were cold, nothing like the warm brown he had known of them. The warm brown that burned like a dark flame when they made love. The abyss that he looked at now froze him in place.
She walked toward him, and then away.
“Sandrine…”
He reached for her, but her arm flailed out at him. Her manicured nails snagged on his jacket, and broke his skin where it was bare. Rafe did not even register the bite of her nails into his flesh. It was the look on her face.
“I know everything that is going on Rafe. I know that you and Eliza are very happy, and that everything else was just a big joke for you!”
“Sandrine…”
He grabbed her forearm, as she went to hit him again. In her fury, she broke free from his light hold and she set on him like a wildcat. She clawed at him wherever she could, Rafe was so startled that he remained still until she retreated. Her eyes were red, she looked like a monster. But the anguish on her face, the way that her eyes had softened with her pain…she pounded her fists on his chest exhaustedly, until he held her to him.
He pressed his chin on top of her head, and held her close to him. Her body heaved with tears, that he had not seen or felt from her since she was younger and they were together.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, Sandrine.”
She heaved all the more, and all he could do was hold her. He was scared and guilty, as he rocked her softly. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he saw Severine’s face pressed to the window of the cafe. He could not read her face, but he could read Eliza’s.
Rafe had told Eliza where he was meeting Severine, and now she looked at him with Sandrine in his arms.
Even with Sandrine’s bloodied fingers, the look in Eliza’s eyes made Sandrine’s earlier look warm.
Severine walked out of the cafe, and stood next to Eliza.
Rafe was still, except for Sandrine heaving like a heartbeat.
More Wicked Wednesday here:
bloodied fingers via wikipedia
Sticky Note No. 11
I write this note awhile ago, but I do not remember what my inspiration was!
she held the pearls between her lips as she pulled up her hair into a neat bun. the pearls were smooth and round on her tongue, as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. The pearls were all she wore, and the way she looked she did not need much more. she was perfectly scented, perfectly moisturized, she looked perfect. for now. later there might be a mess of mascara, or drool from the corner of her mouth or other indicators of disarray. and the pearls would be around her neck.
Want to Come…Over?
What happens at Eroticon does not stay at Eroticon! K D Grace inspired me to write a story, and be a guest on her blog! Today is the day! If you like my Masturbation Mondays–this should be right up your alley!
Here is an excerpt:
He was not the love of her life by any means. They had only gone out a couple of times—in some cases he just filled the space just so that she would not be alone. After a few drinks—they did not even have dinner—she wanted more than his conversation.
Lying on her side now, the night after, she could still feel the scruff of his stubble all over her body. She liked the chafed feeling of where his mouth had been on her. His mouth was the ultimate turn-on for her. Not so much the feeling of it, but what he said.
You like it rough don’t you, you like it raw right?
Hmmm, see just how rough and raw on K D’s blog!!!
Masturbation Monday No. 61
Was it because he had the gun on him, or was it because she had wanted him for such a long time already? Nichy was not sure. Gavin had kissed her, and pulled her against him as soon as they got in his apartment.
Waking up beside him had made her wish that they could have had sex right that morning, but she still felt some guilt because she had given into Graham so easily the night before.
Because she would always give into him easily…
But beside Gavin, the feeling of his skin next to hers and his scent was all-consuming. She grabbed him as he backed her into the wall, and they knocked over a small table that was there. Gavin was unaffected, as he continued kissing her.
Trying her luck, Nichy reached inside his jacket again, hoping that he would just admit that he had the gun and why.
He took her both of her hands in his.
“Nichy…”
“Just tell me, just tell me…” she breathed, resisting his hold.
Gavin kissed both of her knuckles, as he raised them to his lips.
“I can’t tell you Nichy, I can’t.”
He let her hands drop, and took the gun out. He did not point it at her, so she was not scared. She had never been afraid of guns, even though she had been close to them on so many occasions.
“Then I can’t Gavin, I really can’t.”
Nichy turned away from him, and he kissed the back of her neck.
“Nichy, I need it. Lots of people have guns. It is legal.”
She turned around to look at him.
“Are you serious? You think you are going to pull a gun out on me…”
“I did not pull a gun out on you.”
“Pull out a gun, and I am going to fuck you?”
“I thought that you did want to fuck me.”
She did, but she was not going to let him get off that easily. In the cab, and coming into the building, she had been scared to death of him.
“I am going home,” she said finally, turning around. Nichy knew he was not going to shoot her, but she also knew that she had enough men in her life with shady backgrounds that she was not going to let it happen to her again if she could help it.
She left the apartment. When she got off of the elevator, the doorman still smiled at her. Not in a knowing way at all, as he hailed a cab for her. Nichy sank into its plush seat. Her body literally hummed with sexual frustration.
She turned her phone off, even though she saw she had a missed message from Gavin. When she walked in, she could feel Graham.
Nichy never needed to see Graham to know what he was there.
“Nusch?”
She was quiet as she took off her coat. When he called her by his nickname for her, he got to her. But she was not in the mood for him to break her down. Even though she knew he would, because he always did. But she did not have to be so easy.
“Nusch…”
She took a deep breath and looked at him. In less than one hour, she was pressed against a wall by another man.
“You’re back,” she said quietly.
He kissed her, he knew when that was all he had to do. Her body hummed with tension, as Graham pressed her to him.
“I was waiting for you,” he said.
Nichy wondered if she had been waiting for him too why it was so easy to leave Gavin—gun or no gun—as she pressed her body to Graham’s…
More Masturbation Monday here:
waning moon via wikipedia
Sinful Sunday, Week 238: Rush Hour
I heart New York, because we have ice cream on the trains during rush hour!
More Sinful Sunday here:
The Demon's Kiss by Special Guest Halloween Blogger, Oleander Plume!!!
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, I don’t dress up–but I get lots of candy! Oleander Plume has been having a ball with Halloween! She did a favorite horror book round-up of the Prompted authors, including me, and talked horror flicks with Roger Jackson. When she asked me to do a scary story swap, I did not hesitate! Ever the most prolific person I know, she got her story to me right away–and now I get to share with you!
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
Demon’s Kiss
By Oleander Plume
I told her no, that temptress, that she-devil. But that gal don’t listen – she takes – until all that’s left is a pile of smoldering ash.
I met her in a dive bar. Whiskey on the rocks she ordered. What kind of woman drinks whiskey? The kind you should stay away from, that’s who. You see a dame sipping Jack, you turn tail and run, boy. Fast as you can into the night, eyes down, watching for shadows and the sound of leathery wings.
She’s a demon! I speak the truth. Her perfume smelled of sulfur and hair was the color of hell fire. Those crimson nails left rake marks on my back that never fade – scars on my heart – blood gurgling in my lungs. She destroyed me, I know this. Ruined me and left a shell of a man behind.
That wicked succubus, drew me in with her creamy thighs and tight pussy. Rode me hard until she got hers, sometimes all night long. Once finished, out the window she’d fly, before sun up, always before sun up. Afraid of that ball of orange rising in the east and maybe the blue sky, too.
She drank the night. Yeah, I said whiskey but she drank the night, too. Tall glasses of inky black, stars floating at the top like tears. I took a sip once and it damn near froze my tongue. I know if I tasted her blood it would do the same.
That witch tried to force it down my throat. Be like me, she said. Dance in the ebony gloom, naked, skin bone white, for all the ever after. No thanks, I told her. I’ll keep my ever-loving soul intact, and one day I’ll soar to heaven on a golden beam. She laughed like the caw of a raven. There’s no heaven, she said, only the pyre and screams of the damned.
Her kiss was like a burning ember. Singed me to the quick. If you stripped away my skin you’d find soot, I swear this is true, I swear on all that’s good and holy. Yeah, I’ll have another, but not whiskey. No, sir.
That’s the devil’s drink.
Loved that? Go read my story on her blog!