Jan 16

Catch Dr. J. Reading Her Erotica

Last week I was a guest on the Rob and Slim Show. We had thirty minutes of sexy repartee about my sex therapy world, online dating, and being sex-positive.

Ending the interview, I read an excerpt from my story “Infused Leather” from Best Women’s Erotica of the Year Volume 3, published by Cleis Press and edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel.

Take a look at the guys on YouTube while you Listen. Click Here:

The Rob and Slim Show Interview with Dr. J.

Jan 09

A Firefighter’s Date

Last week I started the new year off with a story created from a photo that I called festive lights. This week Kayla Lords added a hot dick pick and it seemed to move last week’s story along. Please start at the beginning by reading The Calendar Man.

“I am not chicken.”

The scrunched-up lines on Macy’s face held a blend of outrage, embarrassment, and lust. So, was it the dare part that caused outrage, or was it me knowing she orgasmed in public and was embarrassed? The lust well, of course, just had to be me.

“Then you’ll have no problem allowing me to prepare dinner for you. Does Friday night, sound good? I’ll be coming off a long shift with the weekend to myself.”

I had been in this town for three months, a genuine rookie firefighter and I couldn’t get this woman, to give me the time of day. All the other women and a couple of men in yoga class gave me the once-over with a good eye-fucking, but Macy had locked it down, until today.

She gawked at me perusing the lines of my body with her eyes, and it felt like her fingers raked over me.

“Macy? Dinner?” She had that look like she was trying to wrap her head around something she couldn’t believe. “I’m a pretty good chef. My work schedule allows me the time to learn about food and other things.”

“Now you’re just toying with me. Did my sister set you up for this whole date thing?”

“Ah, I don’t know who your sister is. You and I have been mat-mates for a while now, and I’d like to get to know you better especially after the fundraiser.” I smirked a little as I raised my eyebrow.

Our discussion concluded as the instructor signaled the start of class. I hoped that by the end, Macy would have mellowed a little and give me a yes.

When class was over, I rolled up my mat and waited to see if she would answer my question. She moved through her typical end of class routine, and when she stood, her smoky-eyed quizzical look revved me up in places I was excited to visit.

“Todd, I would be pleased to have dinner with you.”

“Wow. No hard sell. Great. Give me your phone, and I’ll add my contact info.” She handed it to me.

“What time?”

“How’s 7?”

“That sounds good. Can I bring anything?”

“Lube, toys, and condoms are always good.” Those dilated eyes and pursed lips told me I’d either pushed too far or hit a sexual nerve. I hoped it was the latter. “I mean you know, only if you want to. I like white wine, too.”

“Good to know.” I handed her phone back, and we walked out of class together.

“Ok, Macy. See you on Friday.”

“Friday, it is.” I smiled and headed toward my car.

“Hey, Todd?” I turned. “I expect a special dance from you after dinner.”

Ideas flew in. Food. Fun. Dancing. Sex. What a night to plan. Did she think I was too forward with my toy interests? I guess I’d find out.

When Friday night rolled around, I was antsy, in a good way. I replayed her orgasm expressions from last week as I created the environment for our date. I had memorized her rotations by the stage, and they had been my wank fodder all week. I moved around the kitchen working on the pasta primavera dish and cutting fresh strawberries for dessert.

Moving to a new town can be difficult, especially if you were a little kinky. It was tough trying to figure out where to hang out and meet people, who were like-minded and exciting. If someone like Macy could have an orgasm in public because of me, I felt like that was a pretty good start.

The doorbell rang.  Showtime.

The woman at the door was not the woman from yoga class or the woman at the fundraiser. This Macy had a commanding presence with her makeup, style of dress, and demeanor. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but all the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“Hi, Macy. Please come in.”

“Nice place, Todd. Something smells yummy.”

“Thanks. Pasta and fruit. Can I take your coat?”

“Sure. I brought some things to add to the evening.” She held up a bag.

“So, you brought wine?”

“Ah, no. I brought lube, toys, and condoms.” My stunned expression brought a grin to Macy’s face. “And now you don’t know if I’m playing or if I’m for real, do you, Todd?”

“I’m hoping for real.”

I ushered Macy into the kitchen, opened the wine and poured our drinks. Our meal was friendly and the conversation open. After sharing the delicious strawberries, we moved to the living room sofa.

“Where’s the music, Todd? I told you, you’d be dancing.”

“I hoped for a different kind of dancing.”

“Do tell.” Macy leaned in closer to me, so close that I felt her breath on my cheek.

“How about a little horizontal bop?”

“Direct, as always, I see.”

“No sense in hiding who I am or what I want.” I took her hand and rubbed my thumb over her knuckle.

“Let me get my bag.” Macy stood and retrieved it from the coat stand. When she came back, she emptied the contents on the couch between us.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Butt plug, lube, condoms, cock rings, both silicone and metal and a crop.

“This is all for you, Todd.”

“Not much surprises me, Macy, but you have amazed me.”

I was a risk taker of the highest order, a Firefighter no less. I always put more into my sexuality. It must be a personality thing. Maybe I send off that vibe.

“Let’s see. Where shall we start? I’d like to bind your cock and balls with the silicone rings and place that lovely metal glans ring on the head of your penis I checked out last week.” She caressed my thigh. “Then you’ll be ready for a special dance just for me. My crop will serve to make the dance enticing.”

She was probably laughing at my mouth hanging open. I rarely get caught off guard. I believe heaven fell into my lap.

“Macy, you’re a fem-dom.”

“I am, and I don’t like to be kept waiting. I thought this could be a little session to check out our chemistry. Taking it slow addressing questions, comments, and concerns.”

I swallowed hard and hoped my cock would be soft enough to get those items on me. Because I wanted them on.

“Yes, ma’am. I’d love to see how we work together.”

“Clothes off, now.”

I jumped up to undress. “Todd, by chance, do you have any firefighter gear here?”

Oh, my god. Her wheels were turning. She knows I like it hot.

 

Please go see the lovely picture that inspired the continuation of this story and read what was created this week at Masturbation Monday.

 

Jan 02

The Calendar Man

My phone buzzed in my hand. Tricia.

“Hey, Macy. Are you in the yoga studio?”

“I’m just leaving. Why?”

“Stop and look at the bulletin board.”

“I’m already in the car. What is it?”

“There’s a fundraiser tonight for the domestic abuse shelter. You have to go with me.”

“C’mon sis, you always drag me to the things last minute.”

“I do, but you always have fun. We’ll have another crazy sister story to tell. You’re not chicken, are you?”

I hated it when she called me that. She’s done it since we were kids. “I’m available. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 pm. Make sure you bring your checkbook and lots of one-dollar bills.”

“Wait, for what?”

“Um, for tipping the—”

“You’re taking me to a strip club.”

“Not exactly.”

“How not exactly?”

“There is a strip club stage, and there will be bodies to view.” She yanked my chain hard now.

“Tricia Anne Williams!”

“Okay, okay. A group of firefighters sponsors this event to make a nude calendar. They create an individual act with some holiday music and scenes. You know, like for the backdrop of their photo. The audience members select the top twelve to get on the calendar by voting with their wallet, and the top contributor to each firefighter gets a date with him.”

“When were you going to tell me all of this?”

“Ahh.”

“You weren’t going to, were you?”

“Bad cell reception. I’ll see you at 7:30 pm.”

Tricia’s usual promptness prevailed, and when I saw her caring look, all was forgiven. My older sister may make me crazy with all her schemes, but she was the most big-hearted person I know.

The entire community supported local fundraisers especially if they thought that skin would be on display. It was as much a social event as a money-maker. Tricia’s description had been accurate. The strip club had been classed up. The stripper poles were decorated. It wouldn’t matter, everyone focused on the stage to the men teasing us in their performance. Each man commanded attention, and some were more sexually provocative than others. The audience was alive as a living thing.

I laughed and yelled until the arrival of one particular man on the stage who stole my breath away.

He may have been introduced as Todd the Rod, but I knew him as the new guy from my yoga class who sprawled his mat next to me. I had lusted after him for weeks and hadn’t found the courage to speak.

As Todd appeared on stage, strands of white light dropped from the ceiling. Music blared. His costume, if you can call handheld props a costume, was art inspired. He reminded me of a male version of a burlesque dancer in a setting like the Garden of Eden or on stage in the play A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream. Erotic and seductive, he was the most forward contestant as he was naked and using his props to hide the enticing parts. And like in class, his skin glistened highlighting the detail of every visible muscle. That was my invitation to watch, and it mesmerized me.

The crowd’s whooping and hollering increased as he began to interact individually with audience members. And then he pointed his finger at me.

Hesitant, I began backing up, but the crowd would have none of it. Hands on my back pushed me forward right up to the stage. Todd’s suggestive movements hypnotized me, and my arousal grew. As it moved through my body, I tasted it in in my mouth. I had lusted after this body in every yoga class, and now I fixated on all his sexual goodness.

Todd held his prop, like a fig leaf, over his cock, moved to the edge of the stage and leaned down to my ear.

“You have to help me.” He stood and danced around the stage and then returned to me and bent over again.

“What?” I screamed.

“They bet me, the rookie, that I couldn’t get on the calendar.” The music tempo changed and he danced a jig. I laughed and gave him a thumbs-up when I had got a glimpse of his goods, and I throbbed in time with the music. This man was so at ease in his body, and he was sex on legs.

“Money. Give me some money.”

I reached into my pocket, took out some dollar bills and spewed them all at his feet. It set up a giving frenzy. The music boomed. Secured in an erotic bubble with bodies pressed up against me, a mostly naked muscle-toned man danced for me.

Todd became my masturbation aid. Yep, I imagined his gyrations meeting my body, my hips, my clit. Damn, I was buzzing. I was hot. He was hot. Fantasies of licking, tasting, and touching him ran through my mind as he moved. My body mirrored a response to every movement he made, and he grinned. I hoped that everyone else was watching him and paid no attention to me. There was no hiding my interest from him now. I licked my lips and placed my palms on the stage and danced in place as if I was his partner. I had never been so worked up. My bobbing rubbed the seam in my jeans the right way stimulating my clit. I was sure I would orgasm on the spot. Along with Todd’s toned body, his intense stare gave me things I never expected. He woke up my sexual-self. I locked my gaze on him as he brought his number to a close. When he blew me a kiss, my body shuddered, and I orgasmed on the spot. And Todd knew it.

Next week in yoga class, when Todd placed his mat beside mine, I revisited my orgasmic vibrations. As he sat on his mat stretching his long legs out in front of him, he looked as good as he did on stage.

I took a deep breath and bolstered my nerve to speak. “Congratulations, Todd. I hear you secured your spot on the calendar.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I did. I slid in at Number 12.” He bent forward stretching his arms down to his toes. I thought I might incinerate watching his muscles flex. “A wonderful fan’s donation put me over the edge.”

“Really?”

“You’re going to be shy, now are you?” I felt the heat of my blush running up my neck. “I’d like to thank you with a special date, Macy.”

“Hmmm.” My nervous giggle filled the room. “What did you have in mind, Todd?”

Maintaining his stretch with his hands on his ankles, he turned his head toward me. “Something private. Because if you can orgasm from eye connection, imagine what skin to skin contact and gadgets might do,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

I attempted to swallow my nerves, but my dry mouth got in the way, and my words were a whisper.

“Yes, imagine.” The room temperature rose, and I wondered if everyone heard my pulsing heart.

Todd did a twisting stretch from his waist. “You’re not chicken, are you?”

 

My first story of the New Year combines Masturbation Monday and Wicked Wednesday Prompts. The lovely photograph of Adam provided for the MM prompt sparked the story and then, of course, I had to work in the idea of gadgets provided by Marie Rebel, sex gadgets, that is. Please click on the pics below and check out both locations to find other sexy stories.

Dec 29

Dr. J.’s 2017 Year End Review

I write this post sitting at my childhood dining room table. This month has been a bittersweet time for me. I have lost two family members and supported another during an emergency surgery. Writing has not been my number one focus for December, but I wanted to take this time to make an abbreviated update on what I have accomplished this year.

REFLECT AND TAKE STOCK.

I always stop and remember December 29, 2015. That was the date my first story went out into the world. It is hard to believe that was only two years ago. In May as a founding member of Wicked Pens Writers, I helped to select our colleagues. What a wonderful group. This year my work was accepted with Bedtime Diaries, Radish Fiction, and Bellesa. I have a story in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year Volume 3 and Big Book of Submission Volume 2. I was named a Top 100 Sex Blogger of 2017. I am very proud of these accomplishments.

PEOPLE WHO HAVE MADE MY YEAR and left their mark.

Mischa Eliot, Oleander Plume, Kayla Lords, John Brownstone, The Wicked PensKink CrateProfessor Sex and Eliza David. This is my crew. Rachel Thompson has made my social media world, and I can’t thank her enough for her insights. I met sex researchers and therapists, David Ley, Michael Aaron, and Heather McPherson in NYC. I also met Romance Writer Tamara Lush, Rebecca Brooks, and writer/editor Lenora Solomon. I went to  Orlando in July and met a lovely group of new group Romance Writers on Radish that Tamara Lush introduced me to along with Radish CEO SY Lee and Editor Katherine Pelz.

The neat part of the year was meeting my fellow Wicked Pens writer, Jill Shannon in New York. Wicked Pens writer Pandora Spocks and I have met in Orlando twice. On our second get together, I introduced her to my Tallahassee and Amelia Island crowd. Meeting each one of my Wicked Pens Colleagues is on my bucket list.

WRITING PLANS FOR THE NEXT YEAR.

I have several stories in the works: Tops and Bottoms Club for Radish. This series is a spin-off story from ‘When the Sheets Talk’, Rafe and Beth had begun including others into their sexual activities and now they begin to discover the joys of a sex club. The novella in the works is called Our Lucky Charm. It is an erotic romance sports story set at a Petanque tournament. My novel called In Deep is in draft mode. It’s about a grieving sailor, Jericho Stone who needs fast cash to save his family boat.  He takes a job making sexual fantasies come true and must work with a woman, Katja Holst intent on discovering her body’s sexual desire, so she feels worthy of a relationship.

To date, I am scheduled to attend two conferences- Amelia Island Book Festival in February and Florida Writers Conference in October.

I am excited that I have a new member to add to my team. Chasity Gosnell Mahala has agreed to be my PA. So 2018 is looking good.

As always, my locals keep me grounded. Tracie, Kristi, Heather, and Darryl along with the rest of my WIPS and Pen Ten members. Thank you for your love and support.

NON WRITING LIFE

This new year will be very different with my house construction project finished. The first of the year will include landscaping and the creation of a petanque court in our yard. Travel will be a significant part of the year. Several trips are planned to visit friends in Orlando. I’m looking to select a river cruise in Europe. Look out Angora Shade.

Lastly, Happy New Year to all my followers and readers. I wish you the best of everything in the new year. Thank you for joining me on my journey.

Dec 04

Let the Writer’s Retreat Begin

I drove through a forest of dense hardwoods, down a two-rut road to reach my destination on the peninsula’s end. The shimmering lake waters greeted me. I pictured my friends, Heather and Darryl sitting inside the cabin working away. They had arrived two hours before me, and as I drove, I felt their writing energy pulling me along the road. Spending time with friends who no longer are a fifteen-minute drive away is a precious commodity. My heart sang.

After a hello break, all heads were down. I opened my computer to begin my writing process. Time is an artificial constraint because we picked up where we left off. Look at our habits. Everyone sat in his or hers previously designated spot. Doing what they did best, creating stories.

Today, sitting with these two folks, affected me. I remembered when we met, our initial writing discussions, and our dismay that I would be moving three hours away. This meeting marked another change. The second of the third musketeer is relocating. Our writing location here in the woods has been the spot that kept us connected and it will again.

Today, we marveled that we have writer retreat options. Collectively we have access to a lake house, a mountain house, and a beach house. These were our quiet settings that provided the place for our creative juices to flow freely. Does a writer need much more?

Being together to write, one learns about each other’s unique writing rhythm and process. Sharing that private writing space is an honor. I do this in real life with Heather and Darryl, and I do this in virtual space with Mischa and Oleander. Writers make things happen in whatever location we place ourselves. When we add the ingredient of friendship and caring, we move writing mountains, singularly and together.

This week, I beta-read Darryl’s latest book and had the privilege of sharing my comments with him in person. I did this a year ago, but now I appreciated how much I had learned about writing since his previous book. I brainstormed with Heather ways to condense four scenes into one while maintaining the elements she wanted to bring forward. That too indicated to me how far I’ve come in learning about writing.

So, what did I take from this?

December is a time of personal reflection for me. As the end of the year approaches, I begin to take stock and plan for the future. Today, I appreciated these two people who were with me when I started down the writing path. They have inspired me. They have celebrated my milestones with me while they allowed me to share and learn from theirs.

I told them my news about being included in the list of the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2017. I felt their immense joy and pride. Of course, that had me crying. When you begin something from nothing, like I did with writing, and tackle it with every tool you have in your arsenal, wondrous things can occur. This accolade was one of them.

As 2018 begins, I plan to introduce you to the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2017. My hope is they can inspire you to dream and write. And in between, I’ll be here blogging erotic sex stories in keeping with my forever goal to maintain a sex-positive stance in the world.

What has helped me thus far? Friendship. Bulldog tenacity. Perseverance. Drive. Enjoyment. Connection. And a Passion for something that has a meaning to me.

I wish that for you.

Nov 27

Icy Hot

The chill in the room continued to drop. My teeth chattered, but I had to stay focused. Rod had never used temperature this way to ramp up my desire.

If I wiggled my foot, I touched the cold wrought iron bedpost. If I jiggled my hands, the icy metal of the handcuffs set me off. I imagined that even my warm breath made a little cloud in the air as I exhaled.

What do I do now?

The cloth blindfold was the only thing that could have provided warmth, but all it did was taunt me with the idea of it. Positioned on the metal frame, the air from underneath cooled the slats, and I struggled to remain still, maintaining body contact to keep them warm. My nipples were tight and pointed. I wondered if they would slip out of the clamps.

How long have I been waiting for him to return?

Summing my power to concentrate was the only option I had.

What craving was Rod setting up?

What delightful experience was he creating?

Clues, I needed them now. I racked my brain for any words from of our last conversations. What had I let slip?

“Can you please unpack the groceries for me, babe. I need to return this call pronto.”

“What will I get in return?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something in that bag will inspire you.”

“You mean like zucchini or cucumber.”

“You were always the creative one.”

“Oh, a new kitchen implement.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hey, what’s the Icy Hot for?”

“I have a sore muscle from my work out. I thought it might help.”

Was that the conversation that got me in this position?

The doorknob turned. “Bbbrrrrs. It is chilly in here. How are you doing, baby girl?”

I knew that lilt. I pictured the satisfied look on Rod’s face. He had created an event to surprise both of us.

“You have chill bumps on your skin. I bet they’re on your ass, too.”

No speaking yet, Lara. You do not have permission.

“I’m going to unfasten your feet. When I do, I’m placing a metal bar under your raised knees. It’s been in the room with you the whole time.”

My entire body shook. A bar? What does that mean?

“Yes, it’s going to be icy, but I think you’ll like what follows it.”

Hot? Please be hot.

What incredible warmth does Rod have planned?

As he moved around in preparation, I heard a pop and then a sulfur-like odor.

A match.

And then I smelled the wax.

Rod loved to give hints and set the stage. By my head, I heard a sloshing sound against metal like in my travel coffee mug but with additional clinking. An iced drink?

He had a spanking implement because I heard him tapping it against his hand. My ears strained to determine the type. But I wasn’t sure this time. My face must have given me away because Rod chuckled.

“Baby girl, are you ready to play? You may use your words.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to start with the bar.”

“Yes, sir.” Since I expected it would be cold, I relished the warmth of his hands as he worked to untie my feet. I fixated on the heated connection.

“Lift your knees so you can receive the bar.”

I pulled my knees back and opened up, so there was room for him to work.

“You know what to expect?”

“Yes, sir.” I hoped he would use that implement on my ass to warm me up.

“Okay, here it is.”

And like that, a freezing rod was placed behind my knees, and I pressed down to hold it in place. My teeth gritted, and uneven breaths left my lips. I must have been a naked, shivering sight.

“You did that so well, baby girl, you get a reward.”

Warm hands rubbed my ass. Oh god, the contrast. Heated digits traced my folds, and instigated my erratic breathing. I focused on the heat.

The liquid container clinked again, and then I knew.

Ice.

I pressed so hard into the bar. Yes, my body temperature would heat it up. I had to focus because cold, icy lines were being drawn on my hips and up my sides.

“I’m unclamping you next, baby girl.”

If heat were energy, the surge produced in my freed nipples might have lit a small city.

And then another ice cube moved across my nipples.

Icy. Hot. Icy. Hot.

I panted with a pent-up fire. Dare I beg? He had to know how hard this was for me. I wanted to crawl the walls and unleash all the sensations on his cock. He fucked with my head so well.

“Are you ready for scorching, baby girl?”

“Yes, sir, please, sir.”

Rod removed the rod and sat my feet on the frame.

The next sound broke me open.

My magic wand was buzzing. Rod’s talented hot hands were strapping it to my thigh with latex tape, leaving me the room to move as I pleased. He paused, and I heard the ice tinkle against the metal container.

I gasped when he inserted two icy fingers inside me and wiggled making sure to tease my clit with his thumb.

“Remember, I get the last orgasm here. I’ve got a lot of wax, and I’m going to enjoy decorating you. Pace yourself, baby girl.”

 

Author’s Note:

I am always amazed at what gets a story going. This one was a combination. I heard Reese Wetherspoon give a talk where she asked the question, “What do I do now?” It was a commentary of women asking that of themselves. The other part was having the first cold snap of the season and experiencing my new house in the cold. There was a playful grocery bag discussion that helped, too. Those three things combined for to inspire this story.

Writing today for the wonderful Masturbation Monday Meme via Kayla Lords.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nov 15

My Legitimate Seat at the Erotica Table

“Hi. My name is Dr. J. I am an erotica writer.”

Your turn.

As an experiment, insert your name and make that statement to someone.

Did you hesitate?

What was your body response?

What was their body response?

What did the person say to you?

If your experience was like mine, you received an instant like or a dislike response, no in-between grey area.

This week I have confirmation that I am an erotica writer. My work releases on Tuesday, November 21 in Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 3. Read what my editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel said about it.

Infused Leather, by Dr. J., “tackles the topic of sexual abuse as its heroine discovers a way to overcome her past and make her current fetish one that leaves her utterly smitten, while also showcasing just how hot having an inanimate object to fixate on can be.”

With the impending release of this book, I stopped to reflect on the totality of my sexuality career.

Surreal.

Many of you may know that writing erotica was never on my To-Do List. When I began writing for this submission call, I didn’t knowingly set out to write an erotica story about sexual abuse and healing, but it emerged. After re-reading Rachel’s comments, it appears that my sexuality career experiences have integrated into my subconscious.

Somewhere in the midst of my reflection, this question popped in: Is writing erotica legitimate?

For years, I defended that question about sexuality education and therapy. When individuals had a sexual concern, I wondered if they considered who would help them to address it. Who was an expert? What training had they received about sex? Who did they think provided sexuality training for physicians, nurses, PAs, and therapists? Feel free to continue the list. And remember to add teachers and parents.

For my entire career, I provided sex therapy to clients and trained professionals in sex-positive modalities. I sought out a higher standard of training in human sexuality and obtained degrees and certifications. I was fearless in teaching sex-positive education. Spewing facts, dispelling myths and misinformation was my thing.

So how does this fit with writing erotica? It seems that the lack of acceptance of sexuality effects erotica too, if not more. I believe it is still a social construct issue.

I asked my #sisterinsmut, Mischa Eliot, to share her thoughts about the societal view of erotica. “Erotica is automatically dismissed simply because people consider it to be written porn. They expect nothing about character growth or morals or learning or anything else. They see the word erotica and make that face like something stinky was just placed in front of them.” And in writing specifically, “Erotica is the black sheep of the romance family. The aunt that drinks too much and pinches too hard. The slutty sister that continually gets her heart broken.”

Encapsulated in Mischa’s responses are those negative societal beliefs which are also entrenched in the microcosm of the writing industry.

So again, I find myself in the arena of working to legitimize sexuality, this time with erotica.

I have many thoughts on this topic and will write more about them in the future.

For now, please check out Best Women’s Erotica, Volume 3 and all its talented contributors.

I am honored to included among other wonderful erotica authors: Abigail Barnette-Jenny Trout, Rachel Woe, Sommer Marsden, Thien-Kim Lam, R.J. Richardson, Kris Adams, Angell Brooks, Lyla Sage, August McLaughlin, Charlie Powell, Dee Blake, Aya de Leon, Brandy Fox, Leandra Vane, Lynn Townsend, B.B. Sanchez, Charlotte Stein, Tamsin Flowers, Emmanuelle de Maupassant, and Annabel Joseph.

I hope you enjoy my new story as I embrace my new life mission—Legitimizing Erotica.

P.S. Authors thrive when you share review love!

 

 

 

 

Nov 04

A Dirty Martini and Other Naughty Things

This ninth story finishes out the current Beth, Rafe, and Mara adventure, but it’s not the end. Go see what happens. If you want to start at the beginning, click here.

Because of our long grueling workweek, Beth and I had not talked about her sexual adventure with Mara. I had not yet shared the hand-job events between Jason and me or the blowjob he gave me. But now that Friday night rolled around, I was ready to spill my story and compare our notes.

We headed out to hear our favorite local rock and roll band at a swanky new club. A thumping bass greeted us at the door and with the whooping and hollering bouncing off the walls, the place was packed.

“Head over to the bar, Beth. I bet we can squeeze in there.”

“Sure, Rafe. I know you are always looking for a dark place.” She winked at me. I pushed her in front of me and squeezed her ass.

Her auburn hair cascaded down her back over the new corset and top she wore. Her dancer’s legs under her short flirty skirt had me reeling. My mind was a soggy sexual mess. I had had fantasies about her, Mara, and Jason all week.

I followed her around the corner of the bar, down to the short end with four seats. A couple vacated the two stools next to the wall as we walked up. Perfect.

“I want a playful drink tonight, Rafe.” Oh, I liked it when she played this game. I pulled the bar stools out, and we slid into the corner.

“Drinks aren’t playful.”

“I want one to match my mood.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and rocked her body to the beat. Beth’s hard nipples under the nearly see-through top under the corset came into view. She was on the move. My woman was perfect and could tease. Her black corset pressed up under her breasts and set them on center stage. The light material shadowed her nipples. Hmmm, such an invitation.

“Which mood is that?”

“Flirty. Or maybe filthy. Like Sex on the Beach.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I can persuade you to have a Slow Comfortable Screw.”

“Oh, no. Since I’m in a beach mood, maybe I should try something new, like Oral Sex on the Beach.” Beth waggled her eyebrows.

Any other time I would have thought about her going down on me, but today all I could think about was her with Mara. I had to hear the details. No, I needed to experience the details. I wanted Beth’s description of her tongue action between Mara’s legs. I planned to include the specifics, the images, and sounds, into my repertoire for getting off with her. Just thinking about it caused my heart to race.

I wondered if she would think about Jason and me the same way? I mean, she was the one who wanted to see me with a man. How would that heat her up? Beth pulled on my arm, lifted it, and placed it on her shoulder as if she confirmed hearing my thoughts. Her hair tickled my face, and her floral shampoo delighted my nose.

“You’re playing with fire, Beth. I want to know what happened between you and Mara.” I licked her ear.

“What’ll it be?” I looked up to see the bartender blatantly staring at Beth’s boobs.

“I’ll have a dirty martini,” said Beth.

“Gin and tonic. Thanks, man,” I said through gritted teeth. “You see you’re a sex magnet in that new outfit.”

“Babe, I like it hot, and I wore this for you.”

“Your sexy magnetism in this outfit is undeniable.”

“I like that, Rafe. Let me show you more.”

Her fingers walked from my forearm to my face and with her pointer finger, she traced across my bottom lip. My mouth went slack as she dipped inside my lip ever so slightly. She cooed and brushed the moisture over my lip. Her delicate touch traced and explored, loving me. Beth tasted like desire. After snagging my lip with a playful bite, her passion came at me through a deep, long kiss.

“Are you fired up because of me or because of the bartender?”

“Hmm.” Beth laughed. “He was looking at your hotness, Rafe long before he looked at me and that turned me on.”

“It turns me on, too.”

Beth jumped and looked over her shoulder toward the sound of the voice.

“Jason.”

“Beth. Rafe.” Jason’s piercing stare pinned me, and when I recognized the glint in his eye, I experienced a natural arousal response.

“What are you drinking, Jason?” What a lame attempt at normalizing, Rafe. Not sure I could normalize with the sexual tension that filled the space between him and me. Could Beth feel it?

When the bartender placed our drinks in front of us, he turned to Jason.

“Beth, did you get a dirty martini?” said Jason chuckling.

“You know I like it dirty, Jason.”

“So, I’ve heard. I’ll have what he’s having, thanks.”

I emitted a ridiculous strangling sound as I attempted to sip my drink.

“You okay, Rafe?”

“Well, I—” What an awkward moment. I was back on the couch fisting two cocks and then—

“Rafe, you haven’t told her.”

Well, fuck no. I planned to discuss sex over the weekend, but Jason had preempted me.

Beth stirred her martini and scrutinized me. Moving around her, Jason stood in front of both of us.

“Have I misunderstood, something? I thought you two wanted to include others in sexy time.”

“Jason, you’re right. Rafe and I are working to add other people in our sexual play.” Beth glanced at me. “I told Jason about my fantasy of you being with another man.”

And with that tidbit, Beth confirmed that Jason was a setup. But she didn’t know what happened.

“Jason and I talked, too,” I said. Jason smirked. Beth watched us both carefully and then looked down at my tapping finger. “Ok, we did more than talk.”

“Aha! I was right about the sex smell in the room when I came home from Mara’s.” She patted my knee. “Working to make my dreams come true.”

“Wait, you were with Mara, Mara Bentley?”

“Yeah. Do you know her?”

“Mara’s my boss. I’m the manager of the Tops and Bottoms Club.”

“She mentioned that she and Celeste owned the club.” All of this information was news to me. What was this club?

“That’s why I’m here tonight. We’ve set up a little introduction to the club in the women’s bathroom. You should go check it out, Beth. Next to the last stall. And here, take this with you.” He pulled a small, flat vibrator from his bag and handed it to Beth.

“This sounds intriguing. I’m game. Get me, Rafe, if I don’t come back. I’m working on filthy.”

Beth left, and Jason sat down as the bartender brought his drink.

“Didn’t mean to overstep there, Rafe. Beth talked like you two were on the same page.”

“Yeah, we are. All this is new. I’m finding my footing and how to talk about it, that’s all. No worries.” Jason seemed so carefree about our time together. Would I ever get to that place? I took another sip on my drink. “Why don’t you tell me what Beth’s going to find in the bathroom?”

“We created glory hole for breasts. It should be fun.”

****

After I pushed open the heavy door to the ladies’ room, I headed for the designated stall, eager about what would happen. A flashy advertisement for the Tops and Bottoms Club decorated the door. It included an invitation to come in and sample. I stepped inside, closed, and locked the door.

“Hi, there, girlfriend.”

“Hello.”

“You ready to have a little naughty female fun?” Mara had whetted my appetite for female play and if this was her business, how could I not want to check it out.

“Sounds fascinating.”

“Do you have the toy?”

“Yeah.”

“Open the package, so it’s ready when you are.”

“Ok.”

“Bare your breasts and then lift the Tops and Bottoms placard from the wall divider. Place the placard on the hook and push your girls into the open hole.”

That was pretty straightforward. I pulled my shirt down over the corset and released my breasts to the air, and my nipples hardened. Am I doing this?

Carefully, I lifted the placard and peeked into the next stall, seeing nothing, before I set it on the hook. I eased my chest forward presenting my breasts into the open space as I pressed my body flat against the stall divider. All my feminine glory was now on display in the next stall. If this exhilaration is how men feel shoving their cock in a glory hole, I understood the draw.

“Are you ready for this?”

“God, I hope so.”

With warm hands cupping my breasts, kneading and pulling on them, my hip bones ground into the rigid surface. It was as if every aspect of my body wanted to participate. I was giving myself over to the sensations of the massage. I was giddy, horny, and wanted more.

“I’d like to provide another service.”

“Yes, surprise me.”

Nailed fingers began clawing at my nipples as warm lips and a nose nuzzled under the swell of my breast.

“Yes…Aaahh.”

“This combination appeals to you?”

“Oh, yes.” The instant heat between my legs surprised me and ramped up my excitement.

A firm pinch and twist to my nipples caused me to bump up against the wall.

“Damn, that’s good.”

“You want a real fucking, don’t you sexy?”

My breasts were squished together, and a wet, long tongue wiggled up and down their crevice. When the hot, mouth and lips sucked one nipple in with a nip, I instinctively drew my body up tall. Lifting my arms, I held onto the top of the stall divider and pushed my breasts out further hoping for more. My hard barrier could only let me go so far. Fingers were everywhere, lips and a tongue were everywhere. I couldn’t believe how wonderful this felt. My excitement pooled in my crotch. I was needy.

Had my nipples and breasts ever been the focus of such hot sexual action? I loved it. I felt naughty here in the restroom, and I wanted raunchy.

“Talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a good slut. Those nipples are mine.”

“Yes, yes they are. Slap them.”

Smack. Smack.

“They look sexy wearing my handprints.” I wiggled up on my toes, hanging on by my fingers.

“Pinch them harder.”

“Oh, you slut. I can do better than that.”

I nearly shot off the floor when something hard and cold clasped my nipple. Pain riveted through my body as wetness ran down my thighs. A deep craving bloomed inside of me.

“Oh, oh, ohhh… what’s your name.”

“Candace and you’re my nipple-pain-whore.”

Candace slapped and then massaged each breast.

“Oh, please, clamp the other one, Candace.” The aching in my pelvis matched the throbbing of my nipples, amplifying my need, my want, and my desire to orgasm. Candace moved quickly and with no other warning, clamped my other nipple.

I was sure Rafe would never believe this. I imagined him being in the stall with Candace, watching as her breasts responded. He would use his fingers, his mouth, his cock to help me orgasm.

“Candace, I have to come.”

“Take out the vibrator.”

I pushed the vibrator out of my pocket and flipped the switch with my thumb. The buzz filled the space. I slid the flat, vibrating toy between my legs against my clit.

“Oh, my slutty whore, I’m going to rile you up.”

Candace wiggled the metal on each clamped nipple, and I thought I might implode. Did she pull on both of them at the same time? With one hand pressed tight against the vibrator, my other hand held me in place against the wall as I dropped her head back. I savored the erotic nipple adventure with Candace.

“Oh, God, Candace, I’m coming.”

“Yes, you are my slut.”

And in that second, she pulled the clamps off my nipples, and the blood rushed in. I had never throbbed like this. Sounds came out of me that I couldn’t comprehend. I tasted blood as I must have bit my tongue. Who would have thought a bathroom stall would be where I had the orgasm of my life?

As my consciousness came back into bathroom reality, Candace continued massaging, licking, and kissing my nipples. She bathed me in warm, loving sensations.

“Miss Slut, you were awesome. That vibrator is our gift. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Can you talk to me while I dress?”

“I can. First step back. Then hang the placard over the opening.”

I followed the instructions as I looked down at my breasts.

“You see the pleasure marks?”

“I do. Wow, I have never been this colorful before.”

“When you’re in the space between pleasure and pain your body can experience a lot. You see what yours did. Pamper your skin when you go home.”

“Okay. Is this how women play at the Tops and Bottoms Club?” I pulled my sheer blouse up over my shoulders and breasts. As I buttoned up, the material touched my tender nipples.

“Ooh, a little sore.”

“Breast worship is a common play at the club. Your nipples will toughen up if you continue this play.” I remembered the nipple jewelry that Mara and Celeste wore. I was beginning to understand. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Absolutely, phenomenal.”

“Jason has the membership information. Check it out. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Thanks, Candace. I’ll get it from Jason.”

****

I felt Beth return to the bar before she leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Thank you for allowing me the interlude, Rafe.”

I could see a few marks on her skin and my cock stirred. So, this was an outcome of the glory holes for breasts?

“Did you like your surprise?” I asked.

Beth snuggled in between my legs and whispered in my ear. “Yes, and I thought about what it would make you do.” She turned and picked up her martini and sipped. Her skirt covered one of my legs, giving direct access to her nakedness. Beth wiggled and scooted closer to me. I felt the wetness on her thigh, so I moved my fingers higher and found ample lubrication. I stroked back and forth in her slick channel. Beth squirmed.

“So, Beth, what shall I tell Celeste and Mara about their advertising experiment?”

“Yeah, babe, do tell.”

“The um, treatment was stellar. And thank you for the vibrator.”

“Think maybe you’d like to partake in a more individualized and tailored event at the club?”

“I believe I would, Jason, but Rafe would have to fit into this plan, too.”

Beth pushed back into my hand, so I slipped two fingers inside her wetness. Her arousal wafted in my face.

“Yeah, how about me?”

“While the club is a haven for all feminine desires, they do cater to the requirements of women about their men. Submission scenes, cuckolding scenes or whatever other desire a woman might want to experience with her male partner. We’ll set up special events with members interests in mind.”

As the music changed to a faster beat, Beth bobbed to the music fucking my fingers faster while Jason watched. This behavior was new and in public, hot as hell. Whatever happened in the bathroom will happen again.

“Jason, if we can enjoy ourselves sexually with like-minded people while we explore new activities that incorporate safety and consent, I’m interested.”

“What about you, Rafe? I’d be available for the male-on-male action at the club.”

Before I could answer Beth exploded. The crescendo of the music and her orgasm were simultaneous. She raised her hands as if she was dancing.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

When the song ended, Beth slumped back in my lap, and I let my fingers stay inside her, so she remembered we were connected.

“If a new adventure is what Beth wants, I’m in.” I wiggled my fingers inside her, and she snuggled into my chest.

“It’s clear that Beth is a woman who goes after what she wants. Let’s toast,” said Jason. We each picked up our glass. “To new adventures at the Tops and Bottoms Club.”

The series the Tops and Bottoms Club will be exclusive on Radish Fiction beginning January 2018. Go to your iTunes or Google Play store and download the app to see what happens with our crew.

Writing for Masturbation Monday where you can find many sexy stories to take the edge off!

 

 

 

 

Oct 18

Two Years Down the Writing Road

Two years ago, I attended my first Florida Writers Conference, 2015. I arrived with only an idea of what fiction writing was all about, and I learned so much. This week is the annual Florida Writers Conference 2017, and I’m excited to go. Since I’m a little further down the writing road, it will take on a different feel.

 

 

 

I will be staying with two women from my Pen Ten Group, Editor, Heather Whitaker and Author, Laura Lascarso. Heather and I met six months before I went to that 2015 FWA conference. I have attended several of Heather’s workshops, formal and the most fun, informal. She has created a new working writers group. There are ten of us, thus Pen Ten. Everyone lives near each other except me. I SKYPE in. Laura is in the group, too. Laura has been a guest on my blog, yet we’ve not met except for waving at each other on SKYPE. This conference will be our real-life meet.

Driving up from South Florida will be my Wicked Pens Colleague, Pandora Spocks. This meeting will be my second get together with Pandora. She is an excellent storyteller. Check out her work.

As Wicked Pens, we have partnered with Kink Crate to share your products. Networking for erotica at this conference will be on the down low. Most folks won’t know that I get to spend time with Kink Crate folks there. I hope to be able to introduce Pandora to their team.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandora came to see me that day in July when I drove to Orlando to meet The Radish Fiction CEO, Seung-yoon Lee (SY) and Editor, Katherine Pelz. That seems like a lifetime ago. Meeting the people who represent so many components of the writing and publishing is a highlight to the process of being a writer.

Check me out on Radish Fiction. I have two stories available in the new Late-Night section.

And my liveliness for all this writing growth ties directly to Mischa Eliot and Oleander Plume. We had our first three-way SKYPE this week. Our energy was high. We kept blowing up the technology. It took nearly 30 minutes to get is simmered down, but after that, our conversation inspired. The next morning, I awoke with an ending of one story and the beginning of another. Yey, team. Check us out on Twitter. We rock there, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So now, I am packing up my stuff, and heading to the FWA Conference. Steve Berry and David Morrill are headlining. I look forward to meeting new folks and catching up with old friends.

Look out. I’m on the loose. Creative muses find me!

Oct 02

My Writer’s Life: 5 Times I Laughed and Learned this Week.

This past week had five lovely moments of laughing and learning.

1-My Live-in Editor.

Every writer should live with an editor for a while, especially if it’s your favorite. For me, that would be my friend, Heather Whitaker. While she worked on different manuscripts at my dining room table, I experienced her editing process. We traded words and ideas, storyboarding, micro-tension, internal and external conflict. The learning curve was fascinating. I stayed up late, I slept harder, and my dreams commenced. It was an invigorating experience. Every writer should take the opportunity if they get it. Oh, the laughing and food were good, too.

 

2-Radish Fiction-Week One.

I posted my first story a week ago Saturday at Noon with Radish Fiction. My writing buddy, Mischa Eliot held my proverbial hand as we giggled together on SKYPE while I pressed the release button. I believe life’s significant moments should have witnesses. This event was a defining moment for me, and Mischa was my witness. I am happy to share that I have accrued 1029 views. I am tickled pink.

Do you know what Radish is? Serialized reading is the Radish concept. They even call each new part of your story an episode. That makes me feel like I’m the director of my weekly TV show. I ask myself, how I can get my characters into sexual predicaments that the readers will enjoy? HMMMM. If you stay tuned weekly, then you can see what happens.

3-Consensually Speaking Podcast Interview.

I met Consensually Speaking host, Gio the Arrogant on Twitter. Through our great connection and after Gio had interviewed the two other people of my author tripod, Mischa Eliot, and Oleander Plume, he invited me to his podcast. He had a calm and folksy ease with his questions and comments. I love it when I surprise people who have one impression of me from social media and then interact with me. Maybe only a few will believe it, but he said he thought I’d be reserved. People who know me in real life know, what you see is what you get.

Tune in to Consensually Speaking podcasts and hear about sex-positive kink. As I typed this, it struck me that Gio’s voice, in tone and delivery of lines, reminded me of Christian Slater in the movie (1990) Pump Up the Volume.

4-A HOT Muse Walked into My House.

Yes, he did walk into my house, and everything went into slow motion. Instantly, I pressed the pause button on my life, and a fully formed story arrived. I digested what was in front of me and how I could use it. Hello, Jericho Stone, my new character. It’s incredible when the perfect muse shows up with a writer gift and points you toward your storyline that had been sitting on the back-burner. Priceless.

5-My Monthly Hair Event.

At the end of the week, I had scheduled my pampering and massage, in the form of my hair appointment. Head massages are my favorite. It is something I look forward to every month. The best part, it is reciprocal. The folks there look forward to my visits because they receive previews of coming writing attractions. But this week, they stole the show, and I got story ideas from them. My presence alone must promote the creative sexual juices flowing because they mused about what their sexual senses craved. We got down to the details like how handy the up and down motion of the salon chair might be for sex scenes. I tweeted that something interesting was happening at the salon. Three people joined in that feed, and I thought the people at the hair salon were going to explode. Everyone had a blast participating in this brainstorming story idea. A thank you goes out to my hair and Twitter crew. I’m still laughing. You know who you are and what you did!

That was last week. I don’t know what this week will bring, but I hope the laughing and learning continue.

 

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