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How Hot is It? Erotica Review

How Hot is… ‘My Knees are Knocking but You Can’t Come In… Yet!’?

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How hot is… ‘My Knees are Knocking but You Can’t Come In… Yet!’?

by I. M. Telling

reviewed by Reed James

 
penaltiesSusan Riddle was happy with her marriage to Lance until the Jackson’s moved in next door. Darnell, a handsome African American, and his beautiful, Hispanic wife Lucinda quickly became friends with the Riddles. At a party, everything change. Darnell, finding Susan alone, kissed her. She pushed away, but she couldn’t shake her burning desire to let him finish that kiss. As the weeks passed, it was all she could think about. Finally she could resist her desires no longer, and put on a skimpy bikini to sunbathe and attracted the object of her fantasies attention. Only it wasn’t Darnell that came over, it was Luscinda.

‘My Knees are Knocking…’ is a hot, interracial menage story. I. M. Telling captures Susan’s growing desire, and her eventual surrender, to her African American neighbor and his Hispanic wife. Telling provides a great build up that explodes with sensuality, paying off the build up with hot, sexy action. His prose is straightforward and simple, but well written, and though interracial cuckolding isn’t my favorite erotic theme, I really enjoyed this story, and I loved the epilogue! Read ‘My Knees are Knocking…’ to find out why.

A great, short erotica – with a burning-hot suntan lotion scene – that I give 4 out of 5 flames. At $2.99 cents ‘My Knees are Knocking but You Can’t Come In… Yet’ will consume your eReader with hot, interracial sex!

Available from Amazon and Smashwords. And check out I. M. Telling’s website and see the catalog of his very exciting, and naughty, books.

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How Hot is It? Erotica Review

How Hot is… ‘Penalties in the Locker Room’?

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How hot is… ‘Penalties in the Locker Room’?

by Christie St Claire

reviewed by Reed James

penaltiesPurported to be a true story experienced by the author, ‘Penalties in the Locker Room’ is the first in the ‘Delinquent Cheerleader Confessions’ series, chronicling the naughty adventures of the cheerleaders of Fenton University. Christie St Claire works at the school’s newspaper, and is researching a story at the school’s gym when she hears, “Please. I want it. Please let me have it.” She investigates the sounds of a woman in the throes of passion.

To her surprise, she finds a cheerleader named Brittany, who had bullied Christie in the past, tied up and being disciplined by a mysterious older woman in a dominatrix outfit. What follows is a steamy, voyeuristic tale as Christie watches Brittany’s domination, surprised at how turned on she becomes. The sex is great, very descriptive, and very hot. Anyone who enjoys young ladies getting tied up and abused by an older lesbian will love this story.

At the end, I was as curious as Christie to find out what was going on, and what other naughty surprise the Cheerleaders of Fenton University are getting up to. And pursuing some of the latter titles in the series, I’m eager to read and find out! I love naughty Cheerleaders and co-eds.

The short story, while very exciting, could have benefited from some more editing. Nothing major, a few format errors probably created when the file was turned into an ebook and a few minor grammar mistakes. Nothing that detracted from my enjoyment of the story. I found it hot and heavy, just the way I like my erotica, and I can’t wait to read the next ‘Delinquent Cheerleader Confessions’. I give it 4 naughty, tied up cheerleaders out of 5, and at $0.99 this hot read doesn’t break the bank.

Available from Amazon and Smashwords. And check out Christie St Claire’s website and see the catalog of her naughty cheerleader stories!

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My Musings

On Writing: Chapters

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Note Taking

by Reed James

A book is nothing more than a collection of scenes woven together for a narrative purpose. How these scenes are organized, paced, and divided into chapters greatly affects both the tone and the flow of the novel. Figuring out how to choose where your chapter breaks are can be one of the toughest decisions. There is a lot of advice out there, but what’s right for you and your work?

Short chapters can give an sense of urgency, propelling the story. Long chapters can give a story a sense of weight, a slow fire slowly bringing the kettle to a boil. The pacing of your scenes and chapters is so very important. So how do you make that decision? Some people live by the 5k rule. Studies show that most readers have about a half-hour to read before bed and prefer to stop at the end of a chapter. 5K words is what the average person reads in a half-hour. But is that the right way?

A chapter needs to have its own life and purpose. It’s there to accomplish a task. When I write a chapter, I have a mini-theme and story I want this chapter to convey and it will be as long or as short as it needs to be to get the job done. Perhaps its an action chapter, or maybe it’s setup where I’m weaving several characters to the verge of collusion. The most important thing is to be true to the story your telling. If it’s a fast paced thriller, use short chapters, if it’s a long epic, stretch it out a bit. I’ve seen a chapter that’s 190 pages long in the hardback edition. It was a single battle, the chapter seemed to never end, making me feel the exhausting, unending brutality that the characters felt. I have seen other chapters that were but a single sentence of even a single word. A word so important, so profound to the story, the author gives it such weight by having it exist as a single chapter.

What’s really important, once you have your pacing, is how you end the chapter. While most readers may want chapters to let them take a break, you should ended it so they’re wanting more. When people say a book is a page turner, they mean that at the end of every chapter was a cliffhanger that made the itch to find out what happened next. “Just one more chapter,” becomes the mantra. It doesn’t have to a life or death cliffhanger, but maybe it’s a question asked, a sudden twist, an unexpected character showing up, or a character breaking down on the verge of being crushed under the weight of their problems. Keep them reading. That’s really the most important thing.

If you were wondering about the 190 page chapter, ‘A Memory of Light’ by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson. I’m blanking on a one word chapter that I’ve read. I feel it was a Steven King novel. Google is failing me in this regard. The only one I can find is ‘Misery’ and I never read that one.

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How Hot is It? Erotica Review

How Hot is… ‘Doctor Next Door’?

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How hot is… ‘Doctor Next Door’?

by J. D. Grayson

reviewed by Reed James

 
object001_2Dr. Lucas Aiden, a 45-year old widower, though handsome, has given up on love after his wife’s death. However, watching his daughter Kate and her friend Ella wash his BMW in skimpy bikinis, desires stir in the Doctor. Ella was beautiful, and reminds him of his departed wife. Kate sees the lustful looks of her dad, and hatches a plan. Her dad, a Gynecologist, needs a volunteer to train his new Physician’s Assistant in performing Gynecological exams, and Kate thinks Ella would be the perfect candidate.

The story is nothing new, a widower meets a new woman, they get set up by his daughter, etc. We all know this tale, but Grayson takes it into some hot, and very naughty, directions. From Ella’s arousing medical exam, to bondage and domination, with a little girl-on-girl thrown in for good measure, this story keeps you right on the erotic edge, eagerly awaiting what new, sexy situation Ella and Dr. Aiden find themselves in next.

My only complaint, and its really my own personal preference, is the story’s POV. It’s 3rd person and slips between the three characters thoughts between paragraphs. It’s always clear whose thoughts your inhabiting, but I prefer the more unreliable narration of 3rd person limited or 1st person. But this is minor, and in no way detracted from my enjoyment of the story.

With a mix of hot, steamy, and very naughty sex, and a sweet story of two souls fumbling to find love, this book has something for everyone’s tastes. I give it 4.5 out of 5 flames. At $2.99 cents ‘Doctor Next Door’ will give your eReader a scorching-hot examination!

Available from Amazon and Smashwords. And check out J. D. Grayson’s website and see the catalog of his very exciting, and naughty, books.

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How Hot is It? Erotica Review

How Hot is… ‘Playful Punishments’?

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How hot is… ‘Playful Punishments’?

by John Satisfy

reviewed by Reed James

9bde466ce9d7a213898f2d0c5afbb07fec3187f9-thumbThis short story collection (and I mean short) has the theme of spanking. The stories are short, to the point, and very erotic. There’s no plot or character development. This is stripped down, bare-bones erotica. John Satisfy draws you into the sheer, erotic delight of a couple enjoying a disciplining relationship.

The stories are written with a very unique style that I found to work very well. It’s a mix of first and second person, and I think it’ll make an exciting read for both men and women. In each story an unnamed man is disciplining an unnamed woman. The man’s part is written in first person, making it very easy to become the man spanking the beautiful woman. The woman’s part, on the other hand, is written in second person, and it makes you feel like you are the one being disciplined by the narrator.

Of the three stories, my favorite was ‘Red, White, and You,’ set on a boat during the a Fourth of July celebration. It’s the longest, and has one of my favorite kinks: forced exhibitionism. The other two stories are pretty hot. ‘Office Discipline’ seems to be a boss dealing with a secretary, and the second story, ‘Punishment for Being Lazy’, is very short, but very hot.

My only complaint is the brevity. The three stories combined are about how long I like my erotica to be, with some character development and plot, and each left me wanting to read more about these characters, particularly ‘Office Discipline’. I love an nice abusive of authority story. But I can’t deny how effective John Satisfy’s style is at sucking you in and making you feel like you’re one of the characters. It’s a stroke story, and completely unashamed about that.

I give it 4 out of 5 flames. At only $0.99 cents ‘Playful Punishments’ will heat your eReader up nicely.

Available from Smashwords and Amazon and check out John Satisfy’s blog.

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Sample

Naughty Wife’s Surprise (Naughty Wives 2) Sample

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naughtywives2coverHere’s a sample of my upcoming erotica, ‘Naughty Wife’s Surprise’. It’s Friday again, and Frank and Evie are looking to have more naughty fun. Last week, everything changed for the couple. Frank had watched his wife be very naughty with the Black cop, and he learned just how hot it was to watch her with another man. But now its Frank’s turn to have some fun, and he wants to bring another woman into their bed. After last week, Evie’s more than happy to do whatever her husband wants, she’ll even be his slave, and find out just how much naughty fun two wives can get into.

Contains explicit depictions of bondage, exhibitionism, cheating, domination, spanking, threesomes, oral sex, anal sex, and wife watching.

The exciting, and very explicit, sequel to ‘Roleplay Gone Wrong’!

Friday was dragging along as slowly as Wednesday and Thursday had, and Evie was a bundle of excited energy as she played scenario after scenario in her head, trying to figure out what her husband had planned for tonight. It was so rare for him to come up with one of their games. While she liked to be submissive in the bedroom, she was the dominant one in their marriage, making most of the minor decision: where to eat, which social event to attend, what type of sex game to play. Frank was a laid back guy, content to let her make those sort of decisions most of the time.

He must have thought of something really kinky, she decided, and it involves someone else. All week her husband had been having hushed phone calls with a mysterious person. She had resisted the urge to snoop on his phone and figure out whom he’d been talking to. Maybe he’s found a woman to join us. Perhaps one of his coworkers? She always suspected Carol from his office as having a crush on him. And she was a leggy woman that all the guys, her husband included, panted after.

The thought of being with a woman excited her. She had been curious in the past, and even kissed a a girl, Michelle Sanders, in college. Then she had met Frank her Sophomore year, and her curiosity for women had been driven out of her head by this great guy she was dating.

The final hour of work seemed to last an eternity. She glanced at the cloak twenty times a minute, urging the minute hand to move faster. When Five o’clock finally arrived, she was off like cheetah after a gazelle, almost running to the elevator. The ride down to the parking garage seemed to last forever. The moment the door’s opened, she called Frank. Her phone rang, and rang, and rang.

She frowned. He did tell me to call, so why isn’t he answering?

She reached her Audi, worry nibbling at her stomach, when he finally picked up, and barked, “The safeword is ‘matrimony’.”

“Okay,” she answered, and a thrill filled her—more bondage!

“Okay, Master,” he snapped.

“Sorry, Master!” she gasped. Pleasure shivered through her body straight down to between her thighs; he sounded so strong, so powerful. She pressed her thighs together; her clit suddenly aching.
There was a sound in the background, like someone sucking on a lollipop.

“In the trunk of your car is an outfit,” Frank continued; his voice grown husky. “You will strip naked right there in the parking garage, and put it on.”

She hesitated. She wasn’t alone in the parking garage, and the thought of some stranger seeing her naked only made the ache between her legs grow. “Yes, Master,” she purred, surrendering control to her husband.

“That’s a good slave,” moaned her husband. “Now lick my balls.”

“What, Master?” Evie asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“I was talking to my other slave,” he chuckled. “She has her pretty tongue running across my balls right now. You better hurry home, or they’ll be no cum for you to share.”

She pictured leggy Carol on her knees, licking his balls while he sat on his recliner. Jealousy surged inside of her. That’s my cock she’s sucking! Then she imagined herself kneeling next to the woman, sharing her Master’s cock and taking turns licking his shaft. Maybe their tongues would brush, their lips would meet, and they would kiss around his dick. She shivered, breathing in, and she could smell her spicy arousal; her panties were drenched with her lust.

Her hands flew to the buttons of her blouse. She had to get home as fast as possible. With her blouse hanging open, she pulled her keys out of her purse, and popped the Audi’s trunk open. She carelessly threw her blouse into the compartment, and found a package from their favorite sex shop. She opened it up, and blushed.

I can’t wear this in public!

“Suck my cock some more, slave!” her husband moaned through the phone. “You better hurry, Evie. This little whore knows how to suck cock! I’m not going to last long.”

Evie didn’t want the hussy to have his cum all to herself; she reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra. The parking garage air was cold on her breasts, but that wasn’t why her nipples were as hard as diamonds. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she unzipped her skirt. The shame went straight to her vulva, igniting a bonfire inside her. Her skirt fell down her legs. She stood in her work’s parking garage wearing only her panties, and felt like a complete tramp.

She took a deep breath. I can stop this. One word.

She slid her frilly panties down her legs, the gusset drenched with her lust.

The elevator dinged; footsteps echoed through the parking garage. She flushed, leaning into her trunk. Part of her wanted to be seen – the part controlled by her aching pussy, begging her to be free, and let a complete stranger, or even a coworker, see her naked glory – but the rationale part of Evie, her brain, feared the consequences to her career. The mix of danger and excitement was intoxicating; she couldn’t resist sliding a finger between her labia.

The footsteps grew louder, and she was all to aware of her husband’s deep moans coming from her phone. She never realized how loud the speaker on her smart phone was until this exact moment. The stranger was going to hear and investigate; her pussy dripped in anticipation.

“Suck it harder, whore!” her husband moaned. “Damn, Evie. This slave could suck the paint off the side of a house.”

She pulled out a leather corset from the bag, similar to the one she wore last Friday. Only the bodice of this corset was made with a fishnet mesh. The footsteps grew softer, moving away. She gave a sigh of that was a mix of relief and disappointment, then pulled the corset over her body, lacing it up the front. The mesh pressed tight against her round tits, and she could see her pale flesh bulging through the gaps along with her hard, pink nipples. The corset ended at her bellybutton, and two garters hung down. She glanced in the bag; there were no panties, only a pair thigh-high fishnet stockings and a leather slave collar.

Frank grunted, and the mystery woman sucked nosily on his cock. “Deep-throat me, slut! Yes, that’s it!”

“I can’t wear this on the drive home,” Evie complained. Her stomach churned with fear; her pussy churned with lust. “There’s no bottom, and you can see my nipples clear as day.”

“Your windows are tinted,” Frank answered. “And if you get pulled over, I’m sure you know how to get out of trouble. Say the word, and you don’t have to do this. It’s your choice, Evie.”

She flushed; her pussy ached too much to stop now. She grabbed the fishnet stockings, pulling them up her sleek thighs, and clipped them to the corset’s garters. Then she pulled the last item out of the bag—the slave collar. She starred at it clutched in her trembling hands. The collar was made of black leather, dotted with metal studs, and a short length of chain dangled from the front. This thing was designed to degrade, and to make her feel like a bitch—Frank’s bitch.

It’s my choice.

Evie secured the collar tight about her throat, the chain rattling. The leather was cold against her skin, and a degrading shame went straight through her, ending at her throbbing clitoris. She needed relief, and pressed her burning groin against the side of her car.

She climaxed the moment the cold metal touched her hot clitoris.

“Oh god, Frank!” Evie screamed, her voice echoing through the garage. Waves of passion pounded through her, and she didn’t care if she was heard; she just needed to shout her submission to her husband as loud as she could “Oh, Frank! I’m your slave tonight!”

“Good! Hurry home!” The phone went dead.

Available for preorder at Smashwords, and releases at most ebook retailers on 5-19-14

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My Musings

On Writing: Taking Notes

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Note Taking

by Reed James

Organization is so very important when it comes to writing. You may think writing is easy. You just sit down and let your fingers fly across the keyboard. But if you really want to write something meaningful (I know, a guy who writes smut is talking about writing something with meaning) you need to take notes.

Have an outline to guide you as you write. It doesn’t have to be super detailed, that’s really up to your own tastes, but you need something down to give direction, to know where your characters are going, what challenges they’ll face, and how experience will change them. I prefer to outline the major points of the story and then see where inspiration takes me as I journey to those points.

Next you should keep notes. If you have a character, say a minor cop that likes to chew a specific brand of tobacco, you should write that down in your notes. You may never even plan on using the character, but down the road you just may realize you need him/her to fulfill some part in your story and you’ll want those notes to keep the character traits consistent. Believe me, someone will spot the discrepancy. Keep notes on everything, descriptions of characters, of places, mannerisms, ticks, fears, relationships. If you do this from beginning, it will save you headaches down the road.

Have a system to find your notes. The most detailed notes in the world will not help you if you can’t locate the information. Whether you write your notes down and keep them in a filing cabinet or you have them as files on your computer, have a system. Use subfolders, consistent file naming, or whatever method you want, just be able to find those notes when you need them.

Do not rely on your memory. If you haven’t written a character in a while, you’re liable to grow fuzzy on some the details. Read your notes, that’s why you wrote them down to begin with. You’re only human and human memory is mutable. It changes, shifts, distorts with time. Maybe you’re that rare person that can hold all those details in your head. Good for you. But I bet the vast majority of us (yes us, I have made this very sin before) just are not capable of doing that.

Readers love consistency. It shows that you care enough to put hard work into your writing. So do the best you can, be the best you can. Whether your writing a novel exploring the myriad aspects of the human spirit or smut, put your all into it. It may be what separates you from the thousands of other writers out there.

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Uncategorized

Win a Free Copy of ‘Girl at the Bar’ by Reed James

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Win a free copy of my upcoming Girl at the Bar, releasing 04-21-14. Leave a comment below with a good email address by Sunday 04-20-14 8 PM PST and be entered in a drawing to win a copy of new erotica! One person will win and receive their conformation Sunday night!

Aurora sometimes feels like she fall in love a hundred times a day. There are just so many beautiful, vivacious, exciting, and wonderful women out there, and she wants to love them all. Like a butterfly, she flits from flower to flower. She only wishes she could stay in love.

On New Years Eve, she’s out at the bar with her friends and sets eyes on Ursula, a gorgeous, leggy beauty with raven-black hair and emerald green eyes. Aurora’s in love. Only there’s one problem—Ursula has a boyfriend.

Aurora boasts to her friend that she could seduce any woman, no matter how straight, and has her eyes – and her heart – set on Ursula.

Excerpt:
“Just show me, Ursula. Stand behind me and guide my arms. I want to be as good as you are!”

She swallowed. “Isn’t this a bit of a date cliche?”

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I thought we were friends. Don’t make it weird.”

“I… Okay.” She moved up behind me, her breath quickening. Good, she’s interested.

I stood at the table, almost trembling in anticipation, as her arms wrapped around me. “Put this arm like this, Aurora,” Ursula instructed, moving my right hand. Then she grabbed my left, sliding it down the stick. She tried to keep her body from pressing against my back, but that was impossible.

She was warm and firm and soft and wonderful. I smelled her perfume, a light, spicy scent that almost made me swoon with its loveliness. Her breath tickled my neck. That wonderful ache intesified between my legs, hungry for her touch. I shifted my hips, letting my rear press into her groin. My heart pounded; my skin tingled. The pool stick was smooth and cool; her hands soft, trembling with her excitement.

Find out if Aurora will be lucky in love and sex in ‘The Girl at the Bar’ by Reed James.

secucingwomencover1-b

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Sample

Sample for ‘Girl at the Bar’ by Reed James

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secucingwomencover1-b

The Girl at the Bar is the first in the Seducing Straight Women Series. Aurora is 23 and her life’s a mess. She falls in love at the drop of the hat–she just can’t stay in love. While out at a bar with friends on New Years Eve, she makes a drunken bet to seduce 100 straight women in a year for $10,000 dollars. Aurora has her sights set on raven-haired and emerald-eyes Ursula sitting at the bar. Only problem… Ursula’s with her boyfriend. That’s not going to stop Aurora from going home with the ‘Girl at the Bar’. Coming 04-21-14 by Reed James.

Chapter One

I sometimes feel like I fall in love a hundred times a day. There are so many beautiful, vivacious, exciting, and wonderful women out there, and I want to love them all. I’m like a butterfly, flitting between flower to flower. Wonderfully pink flowers full of succulent nectar.

I only wish I could stay in love. It would solve so many problems.

My phone vibrated, buzzing on my nightstand. I tried to ignore. I needed more sleep. I buried my head beneath my pillow and squeezed my eyes shut. Sleep started to return, a comforting, black darkness that smothered my thoughts into blissful…

That damned phone!

I should have turned it off instead of leaving it to buzz loudly on the dark-stained wood of my nightstand. I opened my eyes, staring balefully at my phone. It sat next to my alarm clock, the red digits displaying 12:04 PM. It wasn’t even three in the afternoon yet! Far too early to wake up.

I grabbed my smart phone, swiped the screen and saw a dozen messages from someone named Natasha. “Who’s that,” I muttered.

I could feel the anger of whomever this Natasha was through the inordinate amount of capitalized letters and exclamation marks in her texts. “Aurora WHO THE HELL IS THIS!!!??!!” the first message read, linked to a instagram pic of me and a tan, dark haired girl grinding together on the dance floor of the Clam Diver, the hot, lesbian club I loved to go with.

I studied the photo, wracking my sleep-deprived mind. This was last night, I decided.

I smiled, remembering the petite, shy girl I had met last night. She had the most beautiful, tan skin and I fell in love with her the moment our eyes met. I had been pleased to discover my new lover had no tan lines anywhere on her lithe body when we stumbled into my bed around four this morning. I could still smell her flowery perfume in my bed.

I frowned. Where was the girl. Lacy, I think her name was. Or was it Macy? Stacy? It may have been Tracy? I struggled to make my sleep addled brain think. My phone vibrated again. Another message with far too many exclamation points from Natasha.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I stretched, deciding sleep was pointless, and rolled out of bed. I lived in a loft apartment converted from some old office building. The floors were beat-up hardwoods and the walls cement bricks painted white. My bed was in the southeast corner before a set of large windows that gave a magnificent view of Commencement Bay and the Port of Tacoma. Sometimes I would sit here and watch the massive, orange cranes unload cargo ships for minutes, fascinated by the frenzied activity.

Then I’d get board. I have the attention span of a butterfly, and I would flit off to find some new amusement.

I passed my floor mirror and paused to peer critically at myself. My long, fiery-red hair tumbled in a mess down my shoulders and back. Silver glinted from the barbell piercing in my right nipple and the green scales of my serpent tattoo flashed metabolically. The snake curled around my right breast, it’s forked tongue flicking out at my nipple like he was licking me. I turned and winced when I saw the slight plumpness around my butt and waist. I put on five pounds. All those Christmas cookies!

Sighing, I stumbled past the Japanese triptych I used to partition off my bed from the rest of the loft – a vain attempt to make it feel less like a wide-open hanger and more like a home – heading for the bathroom.

The shower was running. Tracy must be in there. Or was it Marcy. Kelsey? No, that sounded wrong.

I tottered past my second-hand living room furniture I had scrounged up at various thrift stores – none of it matched, and all of it showed its age, but when you were poor, you made do – and reached the small kitchenette. I set a pot of coffee peculating, and plopped naked on a chair. Then I laid my head on my small, round kitchen table.

I could catch a nap waiting for the coffee.

The pounding on my door woke me up. “The fuck,” I muttered, stretching and brushing my fiery-red hair out of my face. I stumbled to the door, bare feet padding on the hardwood floors.

A bleached-blonde woman with a round, Slavic face – quite beautiful, with high cheek bones and gorgeous, blue eyes and dark lashes – stood n my doorstep. Anger twisted her vaguely familiar features, red suffusing her cheeks. Then she blinked, looking me up and down. Cold air rushed in around her; I shivered and realized I was naked, my nipples hardening in the icy breeze.

“Hi, uh, Natalie,” I greeted, pulling a name out of my sleep addled brain.

“You whore!” she screeched. “You don’t even remember my name!”

“Sorry,” I muttered, racking my brain. “Um, it starts with an N, right?”

She just starred incredulously at me, then her anger came roaring right back at me. “It’s Natasha!” Right, angry texter. “Who the hell were you dancing with last night!”

“Um…” I started to say and she brushed past me.

“I can’t believe you cheated on me, Aurora!” raged the blonde. “I thought we had something! Didn’t Saturday mean anything to you?”

Saturday? My brain didn’t work without coffee.

“What’s wrong, Natasha?” I asked. I vaguely remembered that night. “We had fun, what’s the problem?”

“You were grinding all over that slut! That’s the problem!”

“No, I mean you and I, we had some fun, but that was it? Why are you overreacting so much?”

“But…” her voice quivered. “We had something magical that night. Didn’t you feel it. It was more than sex. We made love.”

It was all coming back to me: the flirtatious dancing at the club, the passionate kisses we shared in the cab ride to her apartment, and the even more passionate sex we had in her bed. My heart beat with excitement, the memory of our love bubbling back up. She was gorgeous—leggy, piercing blue eyes, smooth skin.

“We did make love,” I sighed. “It was a magical night.”

“Then why were you grinding on this woman?” she demanded, holding up her phone and showing off the pic. “Who is this women?”

“Um, Stacy,” I answered. “Or maybe its Nancy? I’m bad with names.”

The bathroom door opened and Lacy – or Macy or whatever her name was – stepped out amidst a cloud of steam, her tan body glistening with moisture, as beautiful as the sun burning through the morning’s fog.

“Gosh that was refreshing,” she said with a smile. “I hope you don’t mine me stealing all you’re hot…”

“What’s she doing here?” snarled Natasha. “You brought her home with you? How could you, Aurora?”

“Well…” I tried to explain.

“I thought you loved me!”

“I…”

“Did you even love me?”

“Yeah…”

“Did our night mean nothing to you! It was only two nights ago!”

“Let me…”

“I’m not the type of girl that just has one night stands! I only slept with you because you said you loved me!”

“Please…”

I just couldn’t get a word in. Her face grew more and more red; poor Stacy froze like a deer in headlights beneath the never ending barrage of Natasha’s tirade. Then my new lover started edging towards my bed, grabbing her mauve party dress, pulling it over her head. She was retreating, lucky girl.

Coat slung over one arm, heels and panties clutched in the other hand, Macy slipped past us, waving weakly at me, and escaped. I wished I could follow her, but that would mean leaving Natasha alone in my apartment. That seemed like a bad idea. I had a number of breakable objects in here that I quite valued.

“Listen…” I tried to say.

“Didn’t you feel how our souls touched. Didn’t it mean anything to you, Aurora?”

Oh bother.

“How can you hurt me like this? How can you…” Tears brimmed in her sapphire eyes and her momentum faltered.

“We met at a club and had some great sex,” I told her, finally getting a sentence out. “But that’s all it was.”

“You said you loved me,” she sobbed.

“I did love you,” I told her, reaching out to stroke her face. “How couldn’t I love such a beautiful, sexy woman. You’re irresistible.”

She sighed, rubbing her cheek against my hand. “You do love me?”

Wait, what? “No, I mean, that night was magical and I couldn’t help but love you…”

Her lips tasted sweet and minty as her tongue wiggled into my mouth. I froze for a second, caught complete off guard by her sudden, passionate assault. Her body pressed against mine and I melted into her kiss. There was no room for thought, her lips were too insistent, her body to inviting. My innards were a maelstrom of passion awakened by the kiss of this beautiful woman.

I let my hands roam her body, unbuttoning and unclasping, helping to get her as naked as I was. I burned to feel her silky skin pressed against mine. Her fingers teased and prodded my intimate flesh, light, fluttering touches that stoked my passions. I buried my face in her neck; she smelled wonderful. Rose and lavender.

We fell into my bed in a tangled heap of searching hands and kissing lips. I had to touch every part of this goddess. My fingers traced the line of her arms until I captured her hand and brought her fingers to my lips, licking and sucking them.

“I love you,” she panted as I kissed up her arm.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to fight down the roar of emotions in my head and think for once. It was too hard, she was too irresistible. A statue carved to perfection by a master sculptor that demanded my admiration. “I love you too,” I whispered back, my heart beating with the emotions.

She squealed in delight and pulled my lips down for another wonderful, mind-numbing kiss. She rolled us over so I lay on my back, her bleached-blonde hair falling in a curtain about us. “I love you so much,” she cooed.

No you don’t, I wanted to say. It’s just lust—right? You can’t really fall in love this fast. Instead I moaned, “Yes, yes! I can’t even describe how much I love you!”

Her lips were fire as she nuzzled my neck, her soft breasts and hard nipples rubbing against my body, igniting more nerves. She kissed lower and lower, burying her face between my breast. She took great delight in kissing my snake, starting at the base of my breast and circling up to my hard nipple. I gasped as her tongue played with my piercing, flicking and toying. Sparks crackled through me, my back writhing on my soft sheets.

I burned between my legs. An insistent fire that needed to be doused. “Lower, please!” I moaned. “I need you to love me!”

Natasha teased me the entire way, letting her hair and breasts drag across my stomach as I writhed in desperate need. Her tongue traced my ribs then probed my bellybutton. I gripped the sheets, arching my back. I needed her mouth on me. I needed the fires doused.

“Oh please! Please! I need it so badly?”

“What do you need?” A naughty grin painted her face nestled between my thighs. She was so achingly close.

“Eat my pussy!” I gasped. “Make me cum! Please! I need your love!”

I exploded. Her tongue was skilled, exploring my flower as delicate as a butterfly, probing her tongue into all the sensitive, wonderful, achingly delightful spots. My climax rippled through me and I could smell my passion: a tart musk mixing with the scent of her rosy perfume.

“Yes, yes!” I moaned, another orgasm building inside me. “I love you! Make me cum! I want to explode all over your wonderful mouth!”

A finger slipped into me; my eyes shot open at the intrusion. Her tongue flickered on my tiny pearl and pleasure vibrated through me. She worked her digit in and out of my sheath, wiggling it about and touching every wonderful spot inside me.

“Keep cumming!” she purred. “I love it! You taste divine!”

Her finger curled just right. I erupted and howled wordlessly. Passion shot through me. Rapture consumed me. I never loved a woman more than Natasha at this instance. I cried my love out as pleasure crashed through me again and again. I collapsed on my sheets, drenched in sweat, staring up at the metal rafters unable to move.
Natasha crawled up my body, smiling proudly, my passion glistening on her lips. I pulled her down for a sweet, gentle kiss, savoring my tartness. Her breasts pillowed against me as I held this wonderful, beautiful creature, our lips sharing our love.

At this exact moment she was the love of my life.

“Let me return the favor,” I purred and she smiled.

Coming 04-21-14 to Amazon and Smashwords

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My Musings

On Writing – Facing Fears

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Writing is never easy, and writing erotica can be even more daunting. You’re taking your fantasies and sharing them for the entire world to read. Maybe you’re ashamed of them, or maybe you’re just afraid of what your friends and family will think if they find out just the sort of kinky things you’re into. Fear was my number one hurdle. And not just fear that my mom would find out what I was writing (the woman has a very anti-porn stance and kicked me out of the house when she found my own porn collections). I was afraid of criticism.

I was afraid to share even my non-erotic writing with friends and family. What if they don’t like it? What if they hate it? Could my self-esteem survive the crushing, vitriolic hate that I feared I would get? It took me years to overcome that fear. I started by posting anonymously on the internet, finally sharing my writing instead of letting sit on my hard drive for years (or even decades, and trust me you don’t want to read the stuff that’s been there for decades).

“Why don’t you shove a pineapple up your ass,” was one of the first comment someone posted on my writing.

I learned something—I could take vitriolic hate. I had thicker skin than I thought. I was even tempted to write a witty comment back like, “I did, and it felt great, I have a cactus that’s ready to be shoved up yours.” I didn’t. No sense in feeding the trolls. And then the positive comments came and I started to realize just how much I wasted my twenties. I could have been writing, getting better, sharing my works, for all these years.

Writing has been my dream since junior high school. It was my dream and yet I let fear keep me from pursuing it. So if it’s your dream to write, to paint, or sculpt or to do anything else—pursue it. Don’t let your fears or small minded, hateful comments, like the pineapple one, hold you back. If the criticism isn’t constructive, discard it, otherwise take it as an opportunity to learn, to grow, to get better. If someone is negative, but not hateful, think about what they said. Maybe there completely off based, but maybe there is something that you could improve. No one’s perfect and everyone can get better. I strive everyday to improve my writing, I welcome any criticisms so that I can improve my craft.

Life is too short and too precious to waste it on fear. Live to your fullest and follow your dreams, else you’ll soon be old and filled with regrets.

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