Thursday, July 20, 2017

Revisiting Old Words

I recently had occasion to revisit something I wrote a few years back. I had read the Remittance Girl piece that inspired it just before boarding a plane, composed the response in my head at 30,000 feet, and word-vomited it onto my blog shortly after checking into my hotel, without benefit of reflection or revision. I think it stands up well, but of course all words benefit from edits. Here's the version I wish I'd posted then. It's tighter than the original, having shed about 30 words, and, I think, stronger. I hope you enjoy.

You think you know me, baby? Even before the door is shut and clothes come off, you have me sliced, diced, and sorted into your tidy categories. Man. Dick. Wanker.

That’s fine. Don your sex-kitten armor. Unroll it over your desire like a condom. I’ll enjoy your body and move on. Even soft-serve, dipped in chocolate to mask the vanilla, satisfies on a hot summer afternoon. Fuck you very much.

But don’t think I don’t notice the calm settle over you when my rope embraces your curves. Giving up control centers you, doesn’t it, baby? Quiets the voices in your head? I hear the mewl escape your lips when my clamp bites your nipple, see you squirm when I grab a fistful of hair and bend you over the sideboard, feel you press back against me as my lubed fingers invade your ass. Pain tolerance is harder to fake than an orgasm, baby. You have a taste for kink. The dark side whispers your name, and makes you wet.

I don’t pretend to know all that makes you tick. I barely know your name. But I already have trail markers to guide me as I set out for the edge of your comfort zone, seeking your buttons to push and knobs to twist, the ones that transform coupling by numbers into exquisite mindfuck. All I want, baby, is everything you have to give. And you don’t know Jack.

Monday, February 8, 2016

Princess Games

In 2014 the opening to my story "Princess Games" appeared in Alison Tyler's Never Say Never: Tips, Tricks, and Erotic Inspiration for Lovers, which you can read about here. For Valentine's day I thought it would be fun to revisit that scene from the heroine's point of view. Oh, and in case it needs pointing out, this scene is NOT safe for work.

Jason showed her the timer on his phone, set to sixty minutes, pushed the start button and set the phone down.

“Oh like I think you'd cheat, Mr. Stickler-for-the rules,” Allie said.

He made that half-smile, half-smirk that hit her right where she lived. “Then you should also know I'm a dotter of i's and crosser of t’s.”

“You do know I'm the queen of edging, right? I can hold off on coming for days. Weeks even. An hour will be a walk in the park.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, Princess?”

“Someone who didn’t know better might wonder if this was a ploy on your part, so you could try submitting to me without having to admit you want it?” She was baiting the Dom big time, but it would be worth whatever price she had to pay later.

He put his finger across her lips, shushing her. “Then it’s a good thing you know better, isn’t it? You’re going down, Princess. Figuratively, and literally.”

She tried to playfully slap him. He grabbed her wrist, held it down, and planted a kiss on her mouth.

She became suddenly aware of the—not quite weight, but the presence—of his body over hers, of the scent of his after-shave, of the grip of his hand on her wrist. Rational thought slipped away, her focus narrowing to right here, right now, this moment. She squirmed.

“Are you wet for me, Princess?”

“Of course.”

“Good girl.”

Jason picked up a length of rope, shook it out, wrapped it around her wrist in a single column tie. He repeated the process with another length and her other wrist. He unzipped her skirt, pulled it down and off, folded it, and set it aside. Why didn’t he just drop it on the floor, for goodness’ sake? Did he have to be so God damn anal about everything? Silly question, she knew.

He tied the remaining lengths of rope to her ankles. Jason was capable of elaborate, Shibari-style bondage, and she’d spent many a pleasurable evening wrapped in the embrace of his rope. This was not that. Tonight he tied her spread-eagled to the bedposts, like a couple of college kids experimenting with bondage for the first time.

He traced his fingertips from her wrists, lightly down her arms, along her sides. He did the same from her ankles, up the inside of her legs and thighs, toward her cunt. Rope space beckoned. She shuddered, and slipped away.

He picked up the blindfold, showed it to her, gently placed it over her eyes. “Say good-bye to being able to see what’s going on, Princess.”

Her sense of sight taken away, her focus narrowed further.

She felt him unhook the front of her corset. His hands worked their way under the steel-boned fabric and gripped her sides. He planted another kiss. Her tongue danced with his.

He moved off her. She heard him fumbling with something, and a crunching sound she assumed was ice cubes.

He traced around her left nipple with his fingertip, eliciting a warm glow. Peppermint oil, she realized. He blew on her nipple, his breath cool on her skin. Bastard had an ice cube in his mouth. He sucked gently on her nipple, confirming her suspicion as the cube came in contact with her sensitive nub.

He twirled the cube around her nipple with his tongue. The combination of peppermint oil and ice brought on a “Too hot! Too cold! Too much!” sensation that made her squirm.

His mouth withdrew, replaced by the bite of the clover clamp. She’d never been able to apply those to herself. It inevitably ended with, “Ouch! Hurt! Bad pain!” But when he used them? After warming her up like this? Exquisite. As if an electric current were flowing from her breast directly to her cunt.

He repeated the procedure on the other side, as she’d expected. Sometimes you’re a bit predictable, darling.

His hand cupped her cunt over her panties, his finger tracing lazily up and down. Her hips rocked. She pushed up against him, wanting more, craving a harder touch. The bastard withdrew, keeping the pressure constant.

“Fucking sadist.” she hissed.

He laughed. “You say the sweetest things, Princess.”

A second finger joined the first. He bore down harder, pressing the gauzy fabric against her opening. Her panties were soaked.

She felt him shift on the bed. His fingers withdrew, replaced by the feel of cold metal on the side of her hip, between the panties and her skin. A shiver ran down her spine. It had to be just scissors. Right? She’d worn panties to taunt him, deliberately picked a pair she wouldn’t mind him cutting off. That had to be what was happening. Whatever it was felt sharp though. Cold. Menacing against her skin. Please, please, please just be scissors.

Snip. Thank fucking Christ.

Another snip on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Princess. Did I make you nervous?”

Oh right, like you didn’t know precisely what you were doing. Fucking bastard. “No, not at all.”

His fingers returned, more firmly this time, pushing the fabric inside her cunt, soaking up her arousal.

“Funny. Your cunt says otherwise.”

He took the panties away, exposing her nether regions, then he shifted on the bed again. She felt his fingertip against her mouth.

“Open, Princess.”

She opened wide, knowing better than to disobey. He stuffed her balled up panties into her mouth. “Now close.”

Oh fuck. She hadn’t anticipated this. The sensation itself wasn’t pleasant. She enjoyed neither the taste of the fabric nor the taste of her own juices, but the fact he was making her do it slammed her hard into subspace.

He slid down her body. She felt his thumb on her hood, retracting it, then three drops of liquid landing directly on her clit. The burning confirmed it was peppermint oil.

More clinking of ice, then the feel of his cool breath against her cunt. If the sensation had been intense on her nipple, it was ten times more so on her clit.

His tongue, cold from the ice, lapped against her lower lips, tracing designs around her clit and probing into her cunt. She trusted him not to push the ice cube inside her, risking frostbite, but he was pushing this indirect ice play for all he could.

“Edge, Master.” With the panties in her mouth it came out as “Ej, Mafteh.”

“Don’t stop on my account. Go right ahead and come, Princess.”


His tongue resumed its work on her cunt. She tried pulling her legs together to hold the impending orgasm at bay, but the ankle ropes prevented her from doing so. She tried breathing exercises to push the edge away.

Sweat dripped off her body. She was about to fail when, mercifully, he stopped. The edge had slipped away just enough for her to regain control when his open hand smacked against her cunt. Fuck! The rope cut into her ankles as she tried to slam her legs together.

The first smack was followed by four more. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

He slid up her body. The head of his cock pressed against her opening. He impaled her cunt with a single stroke. She pushed back against him, wanting to be fucked.

He pushed her down against the bed with the weight of his body, frustrating her efforts to thrust. His thumb found its way to her clit, tracing small circles. She cried out in frustration. Fuck me, damn it.

He removed the clamp from her right nipple, then the left. The pain washed over her in waves as blood flow returned.

He started to thrust, vigorously, the full length of his cock withdrawing from her, then slamming back in.

“Now, Princess. Come for me. Give me your orgasm.”

Her body obeyed before her mind could intervene. She shattered into tiny pieces.

She floated in the bliss for the longest time. When she came back, she found he’d removed the panties from her mouth and the rope from her wrists and ankles. He lay by her side, cradling her in his arms.

“Still with me, Princess?”

“Oh fuck. That was amazing. Well-fucked is an understatement.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Princess. I do believe that makes it my game though.” He showed her his phone, with thirty seconds remaining on the timer.

“If that’s an example of what I’m in for, I don’t even care.” An errant though crossed her mind, and her brow furrowed. “You didn’t come though. Was it okay for you?”

He squeezed her tight. “Winning is never a bad thing, Princess. And now I’ve got the rest of the night to use you however I please. In fact, how about you wait here while I go fix us a bite to eat? Then I’ll get you repositioned. I’d really like to use that bratty mouth of yours for dessert.”

“Mmm hmmm, sounds yummy.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then got up from the bed. As he walked away she lay on the bed, watching his fine ass, content with their evening so far, and anticipating what was still to come.

“Hurry back, my prince.”

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this retelling of the scene from "Princess Games"! The next stop on the hop is Alexis Anne. Be sure to comment on each story to be eligible for the massive giveaway at the end. Thanks for joining us for #ValentinesRewind! ♥

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Who Do I Want To Be Tonight? — Alison Tyler

Last week I was fortunate to welcome Sommer Marsden to CJ's Place. This week Alison Tyler is stopping by to talk about her new release from Cleis Press. I'll keep the intro short. You already know she's fabulous, right?

Although I’ve never had the urge to be on stage—I adore role-playing in the bedroom. (Or at the restaurant. Or in the car.) To this end, I dedicated an entire chapter of my spanking-new guide—Never Say Never—to the genre.

Here’s a peek:

I’ve been a waitress, a nurse, and a bombshell. I’ve been a stripper, a streetwalker, and a dancer at the Crazy Horse. Trust me, I am no actor. I stutter and stammer on stage. Public speaking is my personal hell. But I love role-playing. Why? Because role-playing gives you permission to be anyone you want. And as you might have predicted, I have a wicked imagination. I’m an ace at thinking of new characters to be in the bedroom…and beyond. When I’m not creating ones from scratch, I’m embodying the characters of strangers I’ve seen in my travels.

Happily, you don’t need much to start this sort of game. A fantasy the two of you have shared. A movie scene you’d like to make real. A passage in a book—you only need to be on the same page.

One of the best things about role-playing is the fact that nobody is trapped. You can be one character one night, and someone new the next.

Andrea Dale’s “His Lady's Manservant,” plays with roles in a delicious manner:

Melina tended to be a screamer, and her orgasm solidified our roles: she as the lady of the manor and I as her manservant, the besotted lover kept secret because of class boundaries.

When she rode me (of course she’d take the dominant position), my thoughts truly were for her pleasure. My hands at her breasts, my hips bucking to her rhythm, it wasn’t until she was falling over the edge again and gasping “yes, come for me” that I was finally allowed—that I finally allowed myself—the relief I’d craved.

She didn’t banish me to the servant’s quarters that night, although for the remainder of my roles she stayed in character.

As I loaded our suitcases into the car, I could only think ahead to when we’d reprise our parts…in private.

Cora Zane’s “Bad Kitty” shows that you don’t even need to be human when you’re playing a part.

She watches me unzip my pants, and I recognize that look of majestic indifference. Sasha meows and stretches her sleek body across the unmade bed. Her vinyl-red claws rake the black satin sheets as a proper pussycat is want to do. The little bell on her studded, leather collar is a soft chime marking her every movement. I step to the edge of the bed, hard cock in hand, and in defiance, she lies on her side and flicks her cheetah-print tail at me.

“So that’s how it is, is it?”

She lifts her chin in dismissal.

“Bad kitty.” I slip my finger under the edge of her collar, and pull her toward me, the motion forcing her to her knees.

Annoyance flickers in her emerald eyes.

“You know master wants his cock sucked.”

To soothe her, I stroke her black hair, and reluctantly, she nuzzles her face against my hand. That’s when I press the head of my dick to her lush mouth, smudging her wet, red lipstick.

She bathes my cock with the tip of her tongue then sucks me in deep.

I fuck her mouth for what feels like hours. When I’m close to coming, I tighten my hand in her hair, and Sasha digs her claws into my thighs. Moaning, I explode into her mouth. Good kitty, she licks up every drop. When she finally releases me, I’m shaking and weak—and she’s grinning at me. My smug little cat who got the cream.

CJ Lemire takes a page from a fairy tale in “Princess Games”:

Sleeping Beauty lies sprawled across our canopy bed, dolled out in ruby-red corset, long black skirt, and fuck-me shoes.

Acoustic guitar plays from the speakers. An orangey scent wafts across the room. Reflected candlelight tangos across the bedroom walls.

I set the ice bucket on the dresser, kiss her, take in her perfume. Boyfriend. The one that makes her smell like she’s just come from some other man’s arms.

My hard-on strains against my suit trousers. Wait till my mouth gets to your other lips, Sweetheart.

From the hope chest at the foot of the bed I select four lengths of rope, the blindfold, lube, peppermint oil, and a pair of nipple clamps, which I toss into the ice bucket.

Anything else I might need? Once the lid’s closed I can’t go back, my selections are made. Perhaps the vixen has panties on, cleverly tucked under her garter straps? I add a pair of EMT scissors to my pile.

I have an hour to get Sleeping Beauty to rouse and respond. Fail, and I’m hers for the night. But if I win, and I intend to win, she’s all mine.

Game on, Princess.

Although you really don’t need anything in order to role play, costumes and other accoutrements (say a sex toy or two) can ratchet up the pleasure immediately. If you open that door in your mind, you’ll find all sorts of unusual uses for rubber gloves, ties, ace bandages, spatulas… Then ask yourself: Who do I want to be tonight?

Alison Tyler is the editor of fifty erotic books for Cleis Press. Her novellas have been published by Harlequin, Go Deeper, and Pretty Things Press. “Dark Secret Love,” her first in a series of meta-novels, recently won the Gold Ippy for Erotica. Please visit her at for coffee and snark 24/7.

Buy link: Amazon

Monday, May 19, 2014

Sommer Marsden — Poster Boy for Fabulous

This is me, dusting and polishing the blog, and doing my best not to fanboi all over the place. Some of you may know what a fan I am of Sommer Marsden and her writing. She has a way with slightly goofy heroines, controlling heroes, and the hot—and often kinky—sex they have together. Anyway, Sommer's Poster Boy for Average was released earlier this month from Ellora's Cave, and I'm happy to welcome her today to tell us a bit about it. Without further ado!

There’s something heart stopping about that moment you’re around someone you’ve had a dirty fantasy about. Someone who’s been your mastubatory fodder. Especially if there’s even a slim chance it could go beyond the fantasy point. That’s a lump in your throat moment, even more so if they’re on to you. Or as I like to call it: don’t look at my nipples, don’t look at my nipples, don’t look…


Indie photographer and book cover artist Aubrey Singleton is living up to her last name. A long summer at the lake has cured her of her recent breakup, and she’s embracing life as a single woman. What she’s not prepared for is to come back home to find she has a handsome new single neighbor.

Mike Sykes is a roofer—though he’s afraid of heights—a father of two and recently divorced. Oh and one might classify him as smoking hot.

The photographer in Aubrey is smitten, the single woman in her is breathless. She’s ready to make Mike a star—on book covers and, though she’s wary of a broken heart, in her life. He’s not so sure. Mike sees himself as a life complication due to his younger son’s illness, and not hot by a long shot. In fact, he thinks he’s the poster boy for average.

But a “business” trip to Key West, rife with hunky models, sets a backdrop for a shot at true love…


“Didn’t you just run?” Just the running in place was getting to her. She felt her heart give that little fish-flop thing it did sometimes. She had decided to do this to get away from thoughts of Mike. Now he was going to come with her?

She stifled a groan.

“I did. But I could go for a bit longer.”

This time she did groan.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Aubrey moved forward as tan, glistening Mike kept pace with her. His legs were as nice as his arms. “I’m fine. Just out of shape.”

He grinned, staring straight ahead. Aubrey was glad he wasn’t looking at her because the grin did strange things to her. Made the sensation in her pussy seem to hum through her entire body. Despite the warm autumn sun, her nipples peaked hard inside her sports bra.

In her head the mantra don’t look at my nipples, don’t look at my nipples, don’t look…was on a constant loop.

“You look pretty in shape to me, Aubrey.”

“Ugh. You won’t say that in another block or so.”

“No?” He seemed to be gaining energy instead of losing it and Aubrey hated him just a little for it.

But then she thought of the stamina he must have and had to cut off another surprised squeak. She could feel it wanting to bust free of her.

“Nope. When I’m hanging off you and begging you to kill me, you’ll see me for what I really am. A part-time wannabe runner at best.”

He laughed and she pointed right to Ruby Avenue. “Up there,” she gasped.

It was a hill and why she’d chosen it she had no idea. But it started to seem like a good idea when he took the lead, running just ahead of her. His legs were as nice as his arms, and his ass, in those worn gray athletic shorts, was pretty much biteable. She did her best not to picture it naked and walking across her bedroom toward the bathroom and failed. It would probably be slightly sweaty in their postcoital glow. Possibly even sporting her teeth prints.

That made her giggle and the giggle made him pause.

He glanced over his shoulder, cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, only slowing a bit.

“Nothing. Trust me.” He kept staring. She added, “You don’t want to know.”

“Oh but I do. Is it dirty?”

“Yep.” His grin grew and she realized she’d just blurted out the truth. “I mean…oh fuck,” she sighed.

“Will you tell me?” He put some more speed in his stride and she had to do the same to keep up.

“Maybe one day.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her again. “Is it about me?”

Again Aubrey found herself confessing. Kind of. “Maybe.”

“Oh I think it is,” he said as she somehow managed to pull up alongside him. The hill was behind them now and Aubrey knew she’d feel a momentary—fleeting—amount of relief. Her speed would pick up. At least until she realized that she was running.

That always slowed her down.

“And what makes you think that?” She tried to look fetching but figured she probably just looked apoplectic.

“I know a leering look of lust when I see one.”

Buy links:

Ellora's Cave

About the Author:

Professional dirty word writer, gluten free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker, expert procrastinator. Called "one of the top storytellers in the erotic genre" by Violet Blue, Sommer Marsden writes for HarperCollins Mischief, Ellora's Cave, Excessica, Xcite Books and Resplendence Publishing. She's the author of numerous erotic novels including Poster Boy for Average, The Accidental Cougar, Lost in You, and Learning to Drown. Visit

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Erotic Clue: The Entries

Before I left on vacation, I posted this writing prompt. Three writers decided to participate, and I loved reading the different approaches each took to the assignment. Lovely, all three!

First up was this entry from Jennifer Porter. Professor Plum in the library with the... well, you're just going to have to read for yourself.

Jodie Griffin went with some f/f rope bondage. These are a few of my favorite things.

Finally there's this from Mermaid Sharon. She asked me to post it here, as she doesn't have a blog of her own. She also went a bit long with it. Some people have a hard time following the rules.

Bee Loved

The Keeper in the Garden with the Honey.

Claudia stretched her arms above her head, craning her face towards the noon day sun. Summer was finally here and she was determined to enjoy every minute of it. Starting with her long neglected tan.

She reached for her homemade honey sweetened strawberry lemonade and took a long, deep sip. A large drop of condensation dripped off her glass and onto her skin. It left a trail down her naked breasts and pooled into her navel. She spread the cooling moisture down into her mound of light brown curls.

She could hear the bees busily working and thought about what a success her honey crop had been this year. After her accident this winter, in which she broke her wrist, she didn't think she would have any honey for her homemade products. Thankfully Rafael had been there to help her get her garden ready for spring. And to plant more than a few fantasies in her mind.

Looking around her garden she couldn't help but think about Rafael now. His quiet but hard work checking her beehives. How he would look at her and smile after a long day in the sun side by side. The flex and strain of his muscles as he pulled weeds by hand. His hands tilling the soil, turning it over and over. And now, as if she was his earth, her fingers started moving purposefully across her opening. She swirled them in a circle, collecting the moisture that was quickly gathering between her lips. She pushed the wetness up to her clit and started kneading at that little bud with her fingertip. She closed her eyes and sighed, relaxing further into the plush garden couch.

She was so lost to her own pleasure that even the sound of the outdoors became muted. It was a crashing sound that yanked her out of her reverie. Her eyes popped open quickly and zeroed in on the cause of the sound. It was Rafael, standing a few feet away from her and eyes locked on her hand between her legs. At his feet was the remnants of a shattered terracotta pot. The contents of which lay in a lump on her tiled patio.

Neither of them said anything for the space a few seconds. Claudia stared at Rafael. She saw his breathing speed up, his mouth open wider. He was quietly panting. Rafael's eyes never left the beautiful sight they beheld. A woman's most intimate parts, open and inviting. It was Claudia who broke the spell when she closed her legs and threw them over the side of the lounge to stand up.

Rafael's eyes flew to hers and he blurted out,”You're naked!” To which Claudia replied, hands on her hips,”Yes, Rafa, I'm naked in my own private backyard. Why, exactly are you here?”

“I, uh, um, I brought you a, uh, gift. Um, a p-pp-plant,” he stammered. When Claudia cocked her head to the side and continued to stare at him he started trying to explain more, “A, um, tree, a Manuka tree. For the, um, bees? For the honey. I remembered you had said something about it once.”

Claudia's eyes widened and she looked at Rafael with something akin to awe. “You remembered some off hand comment I made weeks ago?”

Rafael nodded and looked at her toes as he felt his cheeks redden. Even her toes were perfect in his opinion. As he saw her take a step towards him his gaze traveled upwards. He admired her delicate ankles, defined calves and muscled thighs. The sun glinted off of something a bit further up and his eyes latched onto it. “You've got a piercing!”, he cried, meeting her eyes in shock.

Claudia stopped in her tracks, threw her head back and laughed that deep throaty laugh he so loved. “Yes”, she said ,”A belly button piercing. I got it for my birthday this year.” She smiled at him and he expelled a breath he didn't know he was holding.

”Did it hurt?”, he asked.

“Not at all, actually. I had always wanted one but I didn't like the idea of inflicting intentional pain on my body. I was surprised at the lack of it.”

“I've got a piercing.” he stated bluntly.

Claudia's smile curled up at the corner of her mouth. “Really? Well, since you've seen mine it's only fair I see yours.” She took a few more tentative steps towards him but he didn't back away. In fact, he proceeded to unbutton his pants.

“No...”, she whispered.

His fingers stopped unzipping at her utterance. “But,um, you said you wanted to see it.”

“I just didn't think it was there, Rafa. If you're not comfortable with showing it to me...”

“No, I definitely want to show you. I've wanted to show it to you even before I saw yours. I just .. I just needed to know that you wanted to see it. I needed your permission.”

“My permission? Well, you have it. My curiosity is piqued. I absolutely must see it now.”, she said with a laugh.

He grinned at her warmly as he unzipped the rest of the way and pushed his shorts and briefs down to his ankles.

His erection, and piercing, were pointing straight at her as she closed the gap between them. He was staring at the ground again so she took his chin between her forefinger and thumb and raised his face to hers. She looked into his eyes and said,”A Prince Albert. Nice. Did it hurt?”

“Nn-uh-h.. No.”, he stammered. “I was scared but .. but .. I enjoyed it.”

“Being scared?” she asked.

“No. Yes. And the feeling. During and after. The feeling of it being down there. I feel it all day.”

“May I touch it?”

“Oh, God...” He moaned and closed his eyes.

“Does that mean no? Open your eyes. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes slightly,“No, God, yes. Yes. Please. Touch it.”

She looked down as she fingered the tip of the ring where it came out on the underside of the shaft. Then she traced the curve of the circular barbell where it went into skin all the way to where it came back out at the top of his glans. She flicked the piercing with her fingernail and Rafael pushed his hips towards her as if wanting more contact. His eyes were closed with his head thrown towards the sky as Claudia stared at lust slackened face.

She grasped the head of his penis with her thumb on the underside and two of her fingers on top. She started to slowly pump his tip with them. All the while she stared at his beautiful visage of surrender. When she felt the precum at the tip she took some off and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. “Watch me,” she demanded in a whisper. His head snapped forward and she looked at him intently as she put her fingers in her mouth and took a long, slow suck. He tasted just as she thought he would. Like the earth. His eyes were locked onto her mouth as he said,”Please, will you let me kiss you? I want to so badly.”

“No.”, she stated. “I want you to get as naked as I am. Then go lay down on the chaise lounge. I need something from inside.” As she passed by him she gently brushed her breast against his upper arm. “Be a good boy and you'll be rewarded. Go.”

Claudia glanced at Rafa's back as she made her way into the house. She stifled a giggle as she watched him trip over his own pants trying to take them off and walk to the chaise at the same time. She walked quickly into the house and grabbed a jar of honey that had come from her garden. She wanted to give Rafa a taste of his hard work.

The sight that greeted her as she walked through the back door took her breath away. Rafa was on his back, gloriously nude and reclining in the sun. The noise as Claudia popped the cap off the sealed jar of honey made Rafa open his eyes and sit up straighter. She couldn't help the way her hips swished as she closed the distance between them. The way he hungry way he looked at her made her feel desirable.

With her foot she pushed his legs a bit off to the side and sat down near his hip. His eyes flicked to the jar in her hand and she said,”You never did get to taste my honey did you? After all the hard work you put in you should be able to enjoy the fruits of your labors, don't you think?”.

He nodded and said, ”It looks delicious.”

“Oh, it is.” she replied. She dipped her finger into the jar and pulled it out taking a long sticky string with it. She curled and cut off the remnant and put her fingers at his lips. ”Here, have a taste.”

Rafa tentatively flicked the tip of her finger with his tongue. When he started licking in a circular motion around her digit Claudia's breath hitched. Then he opened his mouth and took her finger into his mouth all the way to the knuckle. Suckling on it he gazed longingly into Claudia's eyes. Claudia grinned and pulled her finger out of his mouth with a pop. “My turn for a taste.”

She stood up and handed the jar to Rafa.”Hold this in your left hand and keep both hands on the arms of the chair. No touching me.” The sound he made sounded almost like a whimper. After he had taken the jar from her Claudia placed her knees on the chaise on either side of Rafa's thighs. Straddling him she pulled more honey out of the jar he was holding and let the drips fall at will. She put her finger up to his mouth and said,”Suck” and he happily did. With her finger still in his mouth she leaned over his body and started lapping at the incongruent trail of honey. Some had landed just below his nipple and she was careful to not give in to her desire to take that sensitive nub into her mouth. She knew she was torturing by not taking the initiative because of the way his hips fitfully pushed his erection into her belly. “Stay still.” she commanded firmly. “It's not time for that yet.” Rafa groaned in anguish but ceased squirming underneath her. She continued to drizzle the heat warmed honey all over his chest and stomach. And she made sure to lick up every Rafael flavored bit of it. Even though Rafa had stopped his thrashing below the waist his head was another matter. His eyes were screwed shut and his face was twisted in a grimace like he was in pain. His hair was tousled from tossing his head back and forth so forcefully. Claudia decided it was time to stop torturing the poor boy and give him his reward.

Scooting back so that her behind rested on his shins Claudia admired his erection and the jewelry it sported. She took the bottom of his shaft in her left and and squeezed softly. “Rafa, look at me. Watch me. This is for you. All for you.” He watched her then as she smeared honey around his tip and took it into her mouth. Sucking on his head she flicked her tongue on his piercing and into his slit. She squeezed his balls with her hand and traveled upwards towards his shaft. She looked at him then. Her brown eyes meeting with his green and he felt a shudder run up his body at the connection.

Claudia surprised him then by hooking three fingers into the honey jar and smearing a large dollop of it down his erection starting from the head. She fisted her hand around his cock and stroked up and down spreading the sticky sweetness all around. Rafael had never felt such a sensation before. He watched in wonder as Claudia worked his shaft with her hand and started sucking on his head. She tapped her tongue on the underside of his shaft and he could feel the tacky honey being pulled from his cock onto her tongue. When she took him fully in her mouth he moaned loudly in pleasure. Claudia moaned around his cock in response. She found her rhythm between hands and mouth. Rafael dug his fingernails into the arm of the chair and curled his toes. This was too much for him. He could feel where the honey had been on his chest. A sticky annoyance that reminded him of the way Claudia had looked as she licked him. He could feel where the honey had dripped down onto his balls and he hoped she'd lick him there. While looking at her head moving up and down on his cock he saw the first bee land on his chest. “Bee!” he grunted. As Claudia looked up she pulled his shaft from her mouth. “Just don't move. They're not interested in you. They smelled the honey.” Rafael didn't move a muscle as Claudia went back to work with her mouth on his cock. He could feel the bee's little feet as it walked across his chest. It was the oddest sensation. He was freaked out by the chance that the bee would sting him but at the mercy of the pleasure Claudia exacted with her mouth and hands. He had never been so scared and aroused at the same time. He didn't think he'd last long without coming if his emotions stayed at this heightened state. He was right. The bee ceased exploring his body and took off flying back towards the hive. The relief Rafael felt in that moment was followed quickly by the tension gathering in his balls. “Claudia, I'm gonna come!” he cried. “Mmmmhhmm” she moaned in acknowledgment. As the first spurts of it landed on her tongue she swore it tasted like honey. As he arched his back and threw back his head more wetness flooded into her mouth. Now it tasted of Rafael. Earth and sweetness. It was a taste she knew she'd never forget and never get enough of.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Writing Prompt: Erotic Clue

I'm turning into a pumpkin for the next couple of weeks, so I thought I'd leave y'all with a writing prompt inspired by a recurring conversation on Twitter: erotic fiction, of 500 words or less, employing a creative twist on the board game Clue (such as this gem from @mharvey816: "bum love in the shed with the garden gnome"). Let's try to keep the usual no-nos in mind: No sex with relatives, animals, dead people, underage people, or people who have not consented to it. Other than that, be as kinky or vanilla as your muse takes you. Post it on your blog, including a link to this prompt, then come back here and post a link to your entry in the comments. I'll check in on 5/17, once I'm back in the land of the living, and see what everyone came up with.

Happy writing!

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Red-Letter Day

Do kids today still use that expression? Have any idea what it means? No? Oh well.

Yesterday afternoon I walked to the end of my driveway to fetch the mail. In the mailbox I found a manila envelope from Cleis Press, Berkeley, CA, containing two copies of Alison Tyler's Never Say Never. Author copies. I'm ridiculously excited about this, out of all proportion to the number of words in it that are mine (a 200 word excerpt from one of my stories at the end of Chapter 8).

First of all? I had words accepted. By Alison Tyler. How cool is that?

Second? I'm in there alongside so many of my writing idols. Sommer Marsden. Shanna Germain. Donna George Story. Teresa Noelle Roberts. Thomas Roche. Kristina Lloyd. Charlotte Stein. Angell Brooks. People whose words I've been reading forever, who inspired me to try my hand at this writing thing in the first place. When I grow up, I want to be able to write like them.

Red-Letter Day: A memorable happy or noteworthy day. A day with personal significance. Yesterday definitely qualified as such around here. How about you? When was your last personal red-letter day? What were you celebrating?