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.

 

Sep 26

When Male Bodies Meet

This story is a serial. You can start at the beginning with When the Sheets Talk.

When the door closed behind Beth, I jumped off the couch and began pacing circles around the room. Her excitement and nervousness ran through my body. We were so in tune. Beth had told me that when she and Mara were alone, Mara focused on Beth’s orgasm. Alone time today meant that Beth would learn what it was like to be the giver. For my selfish reasons, I wanted her to have a good experience. I wanted our threesome to continue.

I liked that Mara was taking her time with Beth, allowing her to find her footing with female desires. Beth would discover the pleasure I already knew. The scent of a woman, her soft, supple folds, and the hard, round nub of a clit on your tongue. She’d have her first experience with all of that and then bring it back home to me.

Am I jealous? Well, maybe I was. Beth would be having fun without me in the mix this afternoon. I would miss Mara’s luscious lips going down on Beth. I craved to see Beth taste Mara. Her tongue was magic, and I wanted to see Mara respond to my woman. That picture created an instant boner.

I strode over to the coffee table, picked up the remote, and sat down. Hitting favorites, I pulled up our porn link. A new channel featuring men-on-men caught my attention. I considered Beth’s dream, me with another man. I wasn’t sure what I thought about her idea. It wasn’t something I’d done before, but I was curious, so I clicked on that channel.

Two ripped, nude, well-endowed men appeared front and center on the TV screen as my front door flew open.

“Hey, dude. I saw that Beth left. You want to do something?”

Fumbling with the remote to turn off the TV, I hit all the wrong buttons. I looked over my shoulder, and there stood Jason staring at the TV.

“Jason, man. What’s up?” He pointed past me.

“Well, duh, that’s a stupid question. Look at those dicks on those guys.”

I glanced back at the TV to see a new scene with two, hunky weightlifter types stroking each other’s cock.

“You like gay porn, Rafe?”

Not a question I expected to hear today, and certainly not from Jason. We had met six months ago at the local bar. When Beth and I moved into this apartment complex, we found that lots of the tenants hung out there. Since the day we met, Jason and I routinely drank beer and watched sports. Sex was not a topic we discussed.

“I don’t know that I do.”

“Then why do you have it on? Damn, these guys are good. And hung, too. They’ll be shooting off in no time.”

I looked back at the screen, evaluating the picture. Two sets of eager fingers worked their way over balls, cocks, taints, and holes.

Jason plopped down on the couch beside me.

“I like that blonde’s stroke. It made me hard. Turn it up.”

I looked down at the remote in my hand and pressed the volume up button.

“You don’t mind, do you, bruh,” said Jason as he unfastened his pants, pulled his zipper down, and grabbed his cock. “This is too good to waste. Join me. I see that chubby you’ve got.”

Jason was right. I was hard. Now that he had pointed it out, I got harder. That was a first. Me getting hard around men. Beth’s dream must be affecting me.

“Damn, Rafe, look at how that guy rubs his thumb right at the base of the helmet. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Jason had his cock in hand, and I was, I don’t know, interested? Intrigued? Horny?

Groans, mumbles, and moans from the surround-sound system filled the room. What should I do? One part of my body had a clear plan. My cock pushed against my pants wanting release. Why not join Jason? He had sprawled out on the couch for either maximum comfort or pleasure.

“Do you usually watch guys do each other, Jason?”

“Sometimes. When I want it hard and fast, guys serve the purpose better.”

“How so?”

“I like the gusto that men bring to sex. It’s different and fun.

I stared at Jason jerking himself off, while the sights and sounds of the guys on TV complimented his effort.

Life had presented me with an opportunity to check out the possibility of Beth’s suggestion. Since Beth was enjoying herself with Mara, I could do some research about her dream. I didn’t think she’d be upset, so I pulled down my gym shorts and whipped out my dick.

Jason matched his stroke to the blond on the TV. What a wanking pair we were. When the blond reached over and grabbed his partner’s dick, it spurred me on.

“Let me, Jason.”

He grinned. “Alright. Have at it, man.”

With his dick in my left hand and mine in my right, I pulled equal strokes. Jason had an ample girth, more than mine but his skin slid over the hardness effortlessly. It was a powerful feeling to wield two hard cocks producing the ultimate in pleasure. I pretended both were mine. I was going at it strong when Jason stopped me.

“Rafe. How about taking this a little further?”

“What do you mean?”

He nodded toward the screen. “Look at the guys.”

The sounds from the TV registered before I viewed it. It was a mmmm-moaning. When I checked, blondie was going down on the brunette. The dark-haired man nearly levitated off his seat. Damn, it looked so good that I thought my balls might explode.

“Go for it, Jason.”

And he did. Jason performed a hoover-maneuver on my cock as I had never experienced. He bobbed, sucked, and licked. The power of his mouth blew my mind. It was consistent, firm, and tight on my cock. I was in heaven. While he worked me over, I continued stroking him until I was about to cum.

“Jason, I’m coming.”

He never let up. I emptied my boys as hard as I ever have and my moaning covered the TV’s soundtrack.

Jason was still hard in my hand, and I kept rubbing to finish him off, too. He settled back in the cushions.

“What do you want me to do Jason?”

He turned his head and facing me and and nailed me with a seductive gaze.

“Nipples. Do my nipples.”

He pulled up his tee-shirt. Damn, his pecs would have made a marine Sargent proud. Two pierced nipples with a nipple ring each completed the set. It was hot. I moved closer to him and kept the stroke going.

To taste a man. Could I, do it? It was skin, a nipple. My thumb had just hit the sweet spot on his erection, and Jason let out a sound, a cross between a whimper and a whine. It elicited a familiar feeling in me. I knew he was close. A little extra would tip him over the edge…touches or licks. I leaned over and tongued his metal ring until I heard it clink on my teeth. I latched onto his nipple and picked up the pace on him.

I closed my eyes. First, I imagined Beth caressing me. I could see her watching me pleasure Jason. I felt her warm eyes glowing with excitement. This action would turn Beth on.

Jason’s jerky pelvis announced his orgasm.

After his breathing slowed, Jason dropped his head on the back of the couch, and I used my tee-shirt and wiped my hand.

Everything was still, and then a new porn clip blasted in the air.

“Hey, Rafe, great jerk, and suck. I’m all mellow. Perfect time for me to go take a nap.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“If you’re into it Rafe, maybe we can do that again, sometime.”

“Ah, we’ll see.”

Jason tucked and zipped. Before he left the apartment, he called out to me. “Tell Beth, thanks for the heads up.”

I stretched out on the sofa wondering what he meant and if I’d take him up on his offer. In no time, I fell asleep.

Warm lips nibbling on my ears woke me.

“Hey, darlin’. Not like you to take a nap in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, extenuating circumstances.”

“Really? I see you have the gay porn channel on and your shirt is crusty here.” She slid her hand across my stomach. “You’ve been enjoying yourself.”

I bolted upright and saw ‘our’ entertaining film.

Beth looked at me and smirked. “I like your ingenuity.”

She kissed my nose, and an unmistakable aroma wafted off her.

“Hmmm. What is that new perfume, you’re wearing? Perhaps, Scent by Mara?”

Her blush hit me in the groin. She bit her lip and grinned. “You know, Rafe, this room has a specific aromatic smell, too.”

Had she set me up?

 

Writing today for Masturbation Monday.

Click to find other smutty stories.

Sep 19

Exploring a Sex Goddess ~ff~

This is a serial. If you would like to read from the beginning start with When the Sheets Talk.

Holding Mara’s breast in my hand, I pondered her words. How would I describe to Rafe, what I did with Mara? I had never talked about my attraction to women or their breasts, much less knowing I enjoyed decorating them. But he gets off on me discovering new things about myself and sharing that information. That thought calmed me.

I’d tell him all about the art in the living room that depicted graphically, women loving women. I’d explain how my heart rate went up when Mara walked in, with swaying hips accentuated by the knot of her sarong and highlighted by her bare but now decorated breasts. They seduced me.

“Mara, do you allow people to freely touch your body?”

“Only women. And I must feel lust.” She winked at me.

“You’re talking about me.”

“Yes.”

How could someone half naked be so comfortable with this situation? I wasn’t. So many feelings rushed through me, anxiety and desire. My body reacted. The smell of my want expanded into the room. I had been cradling Mara’s breast and using my thumb to enjoy the metal balls on either side of her nipple. The contrast was pleasant. Hard against soft, slick next to silky.

“This is all new to you, isn’t it Beth?”

“You were my first female lover, Mara.”

“Everyone has a first time. That explains your tentative touches. I’m happy it was with me.” She reached out and touched my wrist. “Try using both hands.”

I liked talking about sex while being sexual. Rafe and I were good at sexual banter, in and out of bed. I never imagined it could be the same way with a woman.

Taking a breast in each hand, and I continued to stroke Mara’s nipples.

“Mara, what if I wanted to explore you everywhere, slowly?”

“If that’s what you’d like. How about now?”

Now? Decision time. She took my hands in hers and kissed them. Her touch was a lifeline to possibilities.

“Yes, but what if I disappoint you with my lack of experience or ease?”

“You won’t if you stay with the moment and what you are enjoying. Listen for feedback. I’ve seen you follow your intuition with Rafe. We’ll be great.”

She pulled me up and threw me a knowing grin. Every part of my being said to go with her suggestion. When Mara dropped my hands, she unknotted the sarong and let it drop. Her naked exotic beauty with those adorned nipples captured me. I wanted her. She turned, and that gorgeous ass beckoned me to follow.

“I have a huge bed, Beth. Come see.”

As I walked into Mara’s boudoir, dark but vibrant tones outlined in gold fabrics illuminated the room. I smelled a hint of sandalwood. Photographs of women loving women graced every wall. These pictures were current, not historical. Mara was in only a few pictures. I guess if you produced porn that wasn’t surprising.

“What do you think, Beth?” Mara began to remove the comforter from the bed.

“It’s intriguing and sexy.”

I walked to one wall and studied the pictures. The essence of pleasure captured in the shots astounded me.

“Who is the photographer?”

“I am,” said Mara as she placed the folded comforter on the loveseat.

The attention to the detail inspired. Mara had precisely captured where pleasure resided on the women’s bodies. It impressed me.

“You’re good, Mara.”

“Maybe one day, you’ll allow me to photograph you.”

That would take some courage, but I wouldn’t immediately say no.

“Maybe.”

When I turned around, I discovered Mara had arranged herself centered on top of indigo-colored sheets of her king bed.

“Join me, Beth.”

My nervous laugh escaped into the room. The first time we were alone, we had had a couple of drinks.  “I’m feeling a little overdressed.”

“Please, get more comfortable. I’d enjoy a show.”

Rafe loved to watch me strip, and I enjoyed teasing him while I did it. Would it be different with Mara? I wanted to see how a woman responded to me so maybe this was the place to start. Mara repositioned herself in the pillows. She looked like a sex goddess, and I felt like her servant. I wondered, would she command me? Or tell me exactly what she wanted me to do? Or guide my exploration?

“What do you like, Mara?”

“Show me how you enjoy your skin.”

My silk camisole under my blouse shifted on my skin as if it got the message to begin. As the fabric caressed, my skin always reacted. It was as if someone was tickling me with a feather in just the right places. Moving toward the end of the bed, I felt my thong press into the crack of my ass. It reminded me exactly where I was and that anything could happen.

“Can we have music, Mara?”

“Tell ‘Alexa’ your song choice.”

I would choose a song for me. It had to be sexual and sultry. “‘Alexa’, play Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye.”

“I like vintage music, Beth.”

From her position on the bed, Mara pulled her knees up and flashed me her lovely, delicate vulva. She was be-jeweled there, too. Her pierced nipples and vulva made living sexual art.

As the music drifted in, my nimble fingers unfastened the blouse buttons, one by one. My body swayed to the rhythm of the song and Mara’s breathing. As I dropped my top on the floor, I skimmed my hands over the camisole and my breasts.

“I remember how good you feel, Beth.” Her voice was a sexual tool causing me to crave her.

“I want to be able to say that about you, Mara.”

Looping my thumbs in my skirt’s waistband, I dragged the material down my hips and legs. A glimmer of light caught my attention. Casting my eyes in that direction, I saw a reflection of a lusting woman, erect nipples kissed by a camisole with bare ass cheeks divided by purple lace. The vision, the music, and the lyrics pushed me on.

As if I were on center stage, I danced around the room commanding attention. I had Mara’s. She smoldered. Her nipples had darkened, and her vulva lips were full. I crawled onto the bed in front of her, moving in between her legs. I needed a reminder of our connection, so I rubbed my silk covered nipples on her face. Craving skin to skin contact, I lifted my camisole.

“Kiss me.” When her moist lips touched my skin, I relived the few but precious moments we had spent together.

“Thank you for the reminder. I’m ready to explore you, Mara.”

Easing her into the pillows, I kissed each nipple and rolled my tongue around the jewelry. As she watched me taste her, my accelerant was her gaze. We were locked in a mutual give and take. I traced a line down her flat stomach with the tip of my nose. I was an explorer in a new responding land. Her sexy scent beckoned me toward her female heaven.

My fingertips drifted over the skin of her thighs, and I splayed her knees out. Her sigh warmed me. Enjoying this close-up view of her vulva, I stroked her bare glistening skin with one finger, up and down, reveling in the wetness created. When I glanced up, Mara’s expectant nod reassured. I leaned down, trusting my lips and tongue and placed my first kiss on a woman’s sex. An exquisite moan erupted in the room.

 

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Click on the pic for more smutty stories.

Sep 11

Creativity Sat in the Middle of Hurricane Irma

For two years, much of my life has lived in U-Haul boxes. The month before last, I moved into my new house, and I began to unbox. When I evacuated for Matthew last year, I couldn’t see the things that were in all those boxes, plus I had no idea where anything was located. This time as Irma came raging through, my belongings had new places in my home. Many items were out of the boxes, but not all. I stood looking at my possessions attempting to decide what I would carry with me in my Prius. So, what did I choose?

1-My computer. It is a Lenovo Yoga, a birthday gift and only two weeks old. It is my lifeline for my writing and has everything I need for doing that. It is also the newest lightest computer I’ve ever had. I’m beginning to fall in love with it.

2-My knitting tools and two current projects. These knitting tools are items that I have collected since 1982. The projects, socks for the men I love. Sentimental value aside, they are the things that assisted me in creating many creations for myself, family, and friends.

3-My most favorite pieces of jewelry, handmade. But the most cherished jewelry was a new piece that my friends Mischa Eliot and Oleander Plume also have. It’s not really what it is but what it means. Little, colorful tie-dyed bands have been my rock, my connection to my life outside the island. A source of strength, comfort, and love. I carried them with me.

I looked at these three groupings and realized that I value creativity. My tools of creation and tools of inspiration resonant with me. Those things represent movement and life force energy.

My heart traveled with me. That man is a rock, and we now have had another life adventure. It doesn’t get better than that.

Thoughts did turn to what I left behind. I couldn’t reach my picture albums, so they stayed. When I get home, I’ll find the wedding and baby albums, place them in safety go-bags, and store them in a place to be ready to leave for the next evacuation.

In preparation of losing the house and home I just created, I said goodbye. We were just settling into it and enjoyed the idea of the future fun we would have there. I hunted for a silver lining in this scenario. If the house goes away, I’ll get to tweak the floor plan design.

As I typed this sentence, I received a text from a neighbor who said my house looks good. We shall see. My shoulders dropped.

Maybe the crisp and vivid rainbow on the way to evacuation point two was a good omen. Maybe the good thoughts and wishes of family and friends helped the process. Maybe the kindness of my friends who offered to take us in sealed a good deal. Either way, I am on the other side of Hurricane Irma ready to see what the next adventure will be.

Thank you to all who reached out to me. Your kind words and thoughts uplifted a weary soul.

My heart goes out to all those not as fortunate as I am. I will be looking for ways I can help to ease their pain and suffering.

P.S.

So far there are four great erotic storylines born from this event!

Sep 05

Be Jeweled

This is the sixth episode of Beth, Mara, and Rafe. This serial that begins with When the Sheets Talk.

I cherished the words that Mara had left me in the note.

I can’t get enough of you. You radiate sex and then embody it. Divine. I enjoyed sharing you with Rafe. Let’s you and I get together Saturday-Noon at my place. I have an idea I want to share with you.

When I arrived at Mara’s door, her jazz music filled the hallway. I was poised to knock on the door, but it opened. An exotic looking woman with a light cinnamon scent smiled. Her olive skin had a sheen and looked so soft. She wore a sheer sleeveless blouse that did nothing to conceal those beautiful areolas and nipples encased in jewels.

“Hello. Mara is waiting for you inside. Go on in, Beth.”

“Thank you. You know me.”

“Only that you are the lunch guest. I’m Celeste.” She extended her hand, and I shook it. The touch confirmed my thought. Maybe I had never touched skin this soft or receptive. “Of the Tops and Bottoms Club.”

“Sorry. I’m not familiar with that.”

“No worries. Enjoy your lunch. I hope we meet again.”

Stepping by me, she exited down the hall. In amazement, I turned to watch her walk away. Celeste captivated me. Her sensuous body movements and the light fabric she wore left little to the imagination of her female form. It surprised me that I wanted to see more. I shook my head and moved back to the door to find Mara was staring at me. An embarrassed heat flushed through me and settled on the tops of my ears. That feeling vanished as Mara took my face in her hands and kissed me. The kiss lingered, like an old friend reacquainting itself to me. It was a conversation. Mara’s lips invited me in, and my tongue replied hello.

“Mmmm. Just as good as last week, maybe better.”

Mara’s kiss had sent the message, “Take me, I’m yours.”

“I agree better,” I said.

“Come inside. You met Celeste?”

“I did, yes.”

Mara’s living room transported me to another time and place. Was I having an outer body experience? Déjà vu? Past life? It seemed I had landed in an art gallery of the erotic. The room was modern in furniture, but the decorations and art celebrated women, in all their historic glory. Paintings, drawings, sculpture. It intrigued me. Everywhere I looked women were loving women in various positions and locations, throughout time.

“I didn’t expect you to be so open with your sexuality here.” I must have sounded like an ignorant student.

“Here and in other places. Sexuality is an integral part of my life, personally and professionally.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I had met Mara at a local film festival focusing on strong women characters. Mara was in the business, but when we met, I didn’t know that. In the theatre, we struck up a conversation over the heroine in the movie and continued the talk over coffee. Mara shared that she produced porn. The event and conversation felt surreal. Sort of like now.

“Come sit. I made us lunch.”

Serving dishes filled with colorful finger foods graced the coffee table.

“This looks lovely. Thank you and thanks for your note.” I sat on the sofa remembering our threesome, sexy and delightful. I smiled. “Rafe is so happy about our sexual exploration.”

“That’s the theme of my life, and I wanted to share that with you. Hence the invitation.”

“What are you sharing?”

“Celeste and I own the Tops and Bottoms Club. It’s an exclusive and private location for women to explore their feminine desires together.”

“Like we have done, with and without Rafe.”

“Yes, but I believe that you are one of those people who would respond favorably to a significant amount of sexual stimulation.”

“I did get off being with the two of you.”

“Imagine that while being in a room full of people, allowing for viewing and exploration.”

An immediate throb registered between my legs. More.

“But all the people are women.”

My mind reeled as the image of Celeste’s adorned nipples popped in. As I looked around the room, I appreciated the exciting ways that seductive clothing, jewelry, and body paints embellished women. All of it turned me on.

“What are you thinking about, Beth?”

I chuckled. “Jewelry. Does Celeste have her nipples pierced or was she wearing pasties or something?”

“She has pierced nipples and be-jewels them if you will.”

“Do you have pierced nipples, Mara?

“I do, but I chose not to wear any jewelry when we were together.”

I nodded my head and observed the food.

“Would you like to see?”

With that invitation, my hands got sweaty which signals I am anxious or excited. At this moment, I wasn’t sure which feeling was the culprit.

I uttered, “Yes,” before I even thought about it.

“Have some food. I’ll be right back.”

The fruit platter was amazing, and when I looked at it further, I was stunned. The fruit was arranged to form a woman’s body. All the food was femininely erotic. I zeroed in on the nipples of the fruit arrangement-two raspberries. I picked up one and popped it in my mouth. Pressing the ripe morsel between the roof of my mouth and my tongue, I rubbed the tender texture until the flavor burst forth. The sensation caused me ache in my pelvis, and I wanted to feel Mara’s nipple on my tongue again.

As she strolled back in the room, I shifted my body in her direction. To my amazement, she approached me topless, with a sarong tied around her hips. Her plump breasts had erect nipples that looked like the raspberries. She carried a large jewelry box and placed it on her lap when she sat down beside me.

“I thought you might enjoy choosing the jewelry and putting it on me.”

Staring at the body part ready to be adorned, I nodded yes. Mara opened the box lid.

“Choose whatever strikes your fancy. Embellish me.”

In some ways, it seemed that I was playing erotic dress-up for naughty grown-up women. It was hot. I searched the compartments. Something dainty and shiny caught my eye. It was a silver bar with an unusual dangling charm attached. I toyed with it between my fingers. I wondered what the emblem meant.

“That was my first jewelry piece when I got pierced. I felt empowered wearing it.  Feel free to slide in through my nipple.”

I unscrewed the ball at the end of the bar. I knew nothing about nipple piercings, except that I seemed to be in love with them. I hoped it would be similar to inserting earrings into my earlobe hole. I glanced up and looked at Mara for reassurance.

“Do whatever you like, Beth. It’s about exploring.”

I couldn’t resist any longer. I leaned over and sucked Mara’s erect nipple into my mouth. The raspberry essence re-emerged as I rolled my tongue around Mara’s flesh. When my teeth and tongue settled onto the nipple, she moaned. I took her breast in my hand and kneaded it. She moved closer to me on the sofa. I wondered what her nub would taste like with metal affixed. Ready to find out, I sat up and studied it to locate the holes. It felt so intimate and sexy. With the bar between the fingers of one hand, I held her nipple with the other. I slipped the bar through the hole; then I screwed the ball onto the end. I traced my fingers around the areola and touched the dangle.

“This is beautiful, Mara. Like you.”

“Sometimes I think when adorning our sexual parts to our liking, positive sexual energy is released.”

The idea intrigued me. How might that feel to me? I had always considered piercing my nipples but lacked real inclination. I admired the beauty of Mara’s nipples. Maybe the time had come.

“Go ahead, Beth. Taste what you have released as you imagine describing it to Rafe.”

And just like that sexual desire consumed me.

What tasting occurred? Read Exploring a Sex Goddess.

Writing today for Masturbation Monday. Check out the other hot stories.

Aug 31

Making A Threesome Come True

This is a serial. If you would like to start at the beginning read: When the Sheets Talk.

I sat up, moving to my hands and knees and faced Rafe’s crotch. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his pants, probably because Mara had flipped my skirt up and begun tugging my panties down. My body felt electric.

Since Rafe was all about watching, I considered this scene from his perspective.

Mara and Rafe sat on opposite ends of the couch. I was kneeling over him with my ass in her face. Rafe had the unobstructed view across my back to see everything Mara did. When he realized I had stopped my unbuttoning efforts, he looked at me.

“Baby, this scene is scorching hot.”

I massaged his cock through his pants and grinned. “Can you get any harder, Rafe?”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to find out.” He kissed my forehead.

“What do you think, Mara?” I heard the anticipation in his voice.

Rafe was nearly drooling, and I watched his eyes bug out as I felt the sting of Mara’s smack on my butt cheek.

“Oh, baby. Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“This lovely ass gives a full moon a run for its money,” said Mara.

She leaned over and nipped me and then dragged her teeth across my tender skin. Rafe squirmed in his spot.

After soaking up his response and savoring the lovely tingling handprint on my butt, I wondered if I would make it through the intensity of this.

“It’s too hot, you two. I have to get these clothes off me.”

I stood up and pulled my shirt and bra off. After I shimmied out of my skirt and panties, I pushed them down my legs. Rafe stripped faster than me.

“Why don’t you sit on this end of the couch, Rafe. I want Beth to be comfortable. She can bend over the arm of the couch and be in the perfect position to suck you off. It will be the ideal height for me to kneel on the floor.

Yes. And do naughty things to me.

A chill ran through me as if a director of a movie just gave me my part. I was excited. Did actors and porn stars feel this way? I’d have to ask Mara later.

Rafe settled onto the cushions in all his naked and aroused glory. I walked around and bent over the arm of the couch. As I worked to get the angle of my position just so, Rafe gathered my hair in his hand and kissed my ear.

“You’ve never been more enticing to me than you are at this moment.”

“I can’t believe you supported me in being with this amazing woman.”

“I love you, Beth.”

Mara’s warm lips and tongue settled on me at the inside of my thigh, where my thigh and butt meet. Her hair tickled my skin. I inhaled and trembled. Warmth spread through me.

“We’re going to be so good, Rafe.”

I wrapped my hands around his cock and stroked up and down. He was massive, steel cloaked in velvet. This event stirred us up—our bodies, our desires, our connections.

As Mara’s lips moved closer to my sex, her talented hands kneaded my ass.  When she pulled my cheeks apart, my body read it like a signal. I went down on Rafe, consuming his erection and he rose to meet me. He tasted divine.

I had always relished giving him head, but today was special. It was as if both Mara and I were blowing him. Every nibble, touch, or little suck that she planted on me rolled through my body and came out my mouth on him. It may have been more than Rafe anticipated. He moaned and danced in his seat. I heard his head tossing to and fro. I imagined he was consumed with looking and figuring out how to see it all. He remained connected to me, caressed my back mimicking my strokes on him. We must have been a sight, a fleshy, sexy machine, each of us a cog in our erotic system.

Rafe leaned sideways over my back and let his hand ride me like a roller coaster. He dipped between my shoulder blades down the curve of my spine and up my cheek. He ended his journey by exploring the crack of my ass.

“Yeah, Mara, that’s real good,” said Rafe.

His encouragement added heart to the mix, and it bound me to him.

Mara’s mouth and fingers were treating me right. Can a woman know better than a man how to please a woman? As that question sailed through my mind, I realized my body had an answer. I was dripping wet. The slurping sounds echoed through the room, Mara on me, and me on Rafe. We rocked together, and when her tongue drifted closer to my back door, I knew my orgasm was close. I could feel Rafe’s stomach tensing which always let me know he was about to come.

I tasted his salty spurt just as my orgasm started. Rafe moaned and crunched forward running his palm once again down the length of my back. Mara’s fingers were everywhere, driving me crazy. As if I had given directions, Mara shoved fingers inside me as Rafe plunged his into my crack and slid one finger into my slobbery, lubricated ass. Full, hot and exploding, I bobbed and groaned as the three of us made our orgasms happen.

When Rafe’s cock went soft, I dropped my cheek to his thigh, but Mara pushed me for more. She continued licking me while rubbing my G-spot as Rafe held me in place, wiggling his finger in my ass.

These sexy sensations overwhelmed me, and I gripped Rafe’s thighs tightly.

“You’re okay, baby. I got you. Go again. Ride it, for you.”

His encouragement was what I needed. I let it all go. The scream that emerged from my lips signified the best orgasm of my life.

The rest was a haze. I don’t know how long I laid with my face in Rafe’s lap, inhaling our funky sex scent. It was like a drug, and I must have fallen asleep.

When I woke up, Rafe was sitting on the floor, and I was on the couch. My head rested on his shoulder. Mara was gone.

“We wore you out.”

“Yeah, it drained me.”

“Beth, baby that was beyond what I expected.”

I laughed. “Me, too.”  I knew I would want more with each of them, together or apart.

“You want to do it again?”

“I do, Rafe.”

Rafe tipped his head over toward the table.

“Mara left you a note.”

“Ok.” I slid my fingers in his hair, reaffirming my connection and wondering how I got so lucky.

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I had a dream just now.”

“You did. What was it?”

“We had another threesome.” I held my breath for a second. “I watched you with a man.”

Rafe nodded slowly. “You don’t say.”

What did the note say? Read the next installment. Be Jeweled.

Aug 24

Orfeo’s Ascent: A Modern Opera – Part 2

#FollowFriday I am pleased to share the second part of this historical romance with heat!  Click here for Part One of Orfeo’s Ascent. Be sure to follow L. Devin Verity on Twitter. 

Peter edged closer. “Anwen? Where did he go? Are you all right? What’s —?” The softness of fingertips hushed his lips, tugged him closer to the shadows.

“I paid him. He’s gone now.” Her fingers slid down, tracing Peter’s lapels. “The thing is… I’m feeling very much like our poor heroine.”

His heart clenched, his voice weak. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

She stood before him, her dress illuminating her figure in the most angelic and mesmerizing way. His breath caught.

The stage lights flickered behind them through the wall seams, prevailed upon the audience in the distance. Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, glimpsed beyond his wife for a moment, recognizing the place as an unused, side-slated trap door beneath the main stage.

She grasped his shoulders and pushed him against the near wall.

“My lady, I’m not sure I understand your will,” he whispered, shame creeping into his countenance.

“If you don’t understand me by now, my lord, then I don’t think there’s much hope in continuing our courtship.” The delicate brow of hers cocked.

The viscount held himself perfectly still, assessing the lady’s intent. “You’re my wife.”

“Show me that is true, my lord. Please. Come for me.” She leaned toward him, standing on tip-toe to press her lips to his freshly-shaven cheek. Her mouth lingered, her hot exhalation at his ear.

The double-meaning of her phrase, the allusion to the scenes performed above, was not lost on him. His initial fears returned, his eyes closing to keep her out, to reject and protect her — even now.

“Mmm. Show me, darling.”

The sound of satisfaction evoked a shiver from him as her hands drifted lower, reaching beneath his coat to his trousers, the back and then the front.

His reaction left her without doubt, the answer of his affection evident. Her eyes flickered up to his, still closed.

“Peter?” Her voice broke.

The blue of his eyes finally shone down on her into the shadows, his breaths halting, frightened now at the revelation. “I don’t want you to see me. I’m not that man anymore, not the one you loved.”

Anwen’s eyes glistened. In reply, she left one hand to stroke his trousers and the other to deftly touch his cheek, trace his lips, before she kissed him. Gentle, pressing until he finally surrendered his lips to her, parting them eagerly, thirsting for depths of her, their tongues fervently tasting.

Peter paused, groaned, stepped back for a moment, his breathing erratic and alive. Paralyzed now by the notion of her so close, alarmed at the way her breasts pushed so beautifully from the cut of her dress — so wanton and ladylike at the same time and so very much in need of him. Could she?

She closed the distance between them swiftly, tenderly undoing his tie, his waistcoat, his shirt, as he continued to witness this miraculous act. All the while, she whispered, commanded, doted on his insecurities as his flesh revealed the wounds of war. In the darkness of the remote space of theatre, she undid him: one touch at a time across the map of his chest, the ridges and puckers of scars, and kissed him at each intersection of marred and smooth skin he thought too ugly for her to witness.

After she cleansed his shame, she gazed into his eyes and, silently, kissed him again. The breath of life restored, he fully returned her kisses, moaned in return with each rush of taste and tongue. His hands explored, traced her neck and jaw, the line of her throat where the dress dipped low to her breasts. She ached for him, hesitated for mere seconds to work free of the garment. Standing before him, his own body bare from his waist up, she now slipped off her shoes, gown, chemise, and revealed the most tantalizing detail: no knickers. He gasped. She grinned. She placed his hand on her breast, moving it gently as if reminding him of how she felt, how she moved in rhythm with her hips encouraging him with the press of her bare body against his wool trousers.

“You didn’t wear knickers,” he stammered.

“I’m quite well aware, my lord.” The innocent, coquettish nature thrilled him. “Touch me?”

 

The swell of music above. The hitch in his breathing as he reached, her legs parted for him and he cupped her with his palm, slipped one finger and then two between her legs, her hot center so wet he groaned. The moisture on his fingers he used to rub her, to remember what it was to arouse her to this state — her hair falling loosely from the tightness of the clips, her head tilted, her cheeks flushed.

“Mmm. Yes, Pet — darling — ” Her legs weakened with the stroking, the combined rub of his finger and then the come hither deep within, bringing her closer to bury her head in his shoulder, her fingers clutching his hair as she cried out against him.

The softness of the beckoning strings gave way to the tender plea of Act 3. Peter knelt before his nude wife, urged her to part for him once more, held her hips, felt her fingers in his hair again, pulling him to her for more, for supplication and need at once as his tongue and lips sucked and swirled, left her hips moving against him to chase the pleasure again. Her wetness only making him harder. Unable to stand the climb alone, she pushed at him, forced him to stand and relinquish his trousers. A quick glance into the surrounding darkness, Anwen took his face in her hands again, focusing his concentration fully on her with a powerful kiss and moan. The two knelt again, her hands grasping for his hips now, wanting him inside of her so badly that her own hips rubbed against him incessantly.

“Please — ” she said, reaching for him, gripping his shoulders, pulling him down to her.

He couldn’t keep up and nearly lost his balance. She spread her legs wide for him, still urging her hips upward toward him, the throbbing between her legs causing her to whimper for him.

The burst of tympani and soaring strings reverberated as triumph reigned on the stage above and Peter entered her, filling her so deeply that both cried out at the relief of the solitary ache so long uneased. He moved inside of her, slowly, savoring her at first, pausing to allow his fingers to elicit that exquisite sound of her moan once more as he sensitively circled her clit. Unable to stand the delay in completion, longing to reach the precipice, she pushed at him until he shifted, allowed her on top and merely watched her fingers trace and knead his chest as she rushed to the exquisite heights, her cries drowned out by the climactic victory of love aloft. His pleasure in seeing her come seared, brought tears to his eyes and a hot rush of his own surrender to her.

As the final sweep of the orchestra quieted, the heroine retrieved from the underworld, and the hero forgiven his passionate mistake — the couple came together below in a raw and desperate reunion. The crowd’s applause above thundered around them. The bows taken on the stage, the viscount and his wife finally parted in satiated bliss, more than five years in the making.

Peter swallowed, still trying to catch his breath after his performance. Anwen’s eyes floated over him, lingering as he fought with pulling his trousers up again. She lazily reached for his shirttail, tucked it in slowly, pulling him to her inadvertently as she went, and tidying the clasp. She finished and looked up at him. There was a difference in his demeanor now, a slight smile threatened at his lips. No words came. Somehow, each knew, as in their past life long ago, their love endured. He watched as she donned and smoothed her dress, hid the sweet indiscretion of their actions with her attention to detail, and then he took her hand to lead her out of the blissful underworld. Peter held his lover’s hand, his wife curious to see if he might lose the eternal battle for her soul, as the hero overhead had, as they wound their way out of the darkness and into the light of the theatre’s exiting attendees. Fingers interlocked with hers, the gentleman didn’t dare glance back towards her. Instead, Peter gave a gentle squeeze to her hand, made certain she remained with him, and, in his mind, imagined the possibilities of the reclaimed life that lay ahead.

Aug 23

Dr. J.’s Spotlight: L Devin Verity

It’s #WriterWednesday. Join me in welcoming a new voice to the erotica writing world. Today, I am sharing my platform with L. Devin Verity, who has woven a tale set in London that touches the heart and the body.  For me, setting a stage for an erotic romance in historical fiction is difficult to do. I’m excited to showcase a writer who does it well. Lie back and enjoy an erotic story from another time and place. You can follow her on Twitter. Click on her name above.

 

Orfeo’s Ascent: A Modern Opera Part 1 of 2

London, 1920

Peter stared at the opera tickets his wife, Anwen, left on the escritoire earlier as she had reminded him of their anniversary. Orfeo ed Eurydice. A dead wife rescued from the underworld. He knew the myth well: great love, tragedy, resurrection. Impossibility.

“We used to love it,” Anwen said, the wistful tone failing to conceal the present bitterness. He’d said nothing, so she’d added the postscript herself: “I know it won’t be like last time, but… ”

The words suspended, her figure disappearing back to her sitting room in the London town home. The last opera concert ended with the clamor of applause and a replaying on the gramophone once they’d arrived back at their country estate: stripping one another of every vestige of clothing in favor of the most indecent and exquisite lovemaking the gentleman ever experienced. The music set his wife aflame with passion she otherwise demurred, and they had only made it to the gramophone in the sitting room, the billiards table providing a level plane for her as he’d tasted her before taking her. Peter’s lips pursed, his eyes closed at the memory as his body tightened, lost in the resonating sounds of her pleasure from long ago.

Now, five years — and a war — later, she expected him to relive the magnificence of the last opera with her? Recapture an ecstasy he knew himself physically incapable of after the horror of his wounds? Couldn’t she understand he was protecting her from the sight of him, from the guilt?

Their marriage withered on the vine of silent, unrequited tension that held taut at every turn as Peter tried to resist and Anwen tried to push. The war still haunted him with physical reminders that he refused to allow her to see. Four months after his return from France, he’d kept her at a distance with the exclusive use of a valet — a man he’d served with in the trenches. The intimacy, the one part of their marriage the world could only guess at and the two of them took such pleasure in, disappeared at Peter’s insistence. She’d tried again and again, to pursue him, to reawaken his desire for her with her nightgown, her bath soaps and perfumes, her rather blunt and open invitations to her bed. He didn’t even look at her in those moments of absolute, tacit refusal and the tone of his voice, though pressed, carried a chill. What did he find so repulsive? Why could he not trust her with his body? She knew he’d been in hospital, knew his chest and leg had been badly injured, but what could be so wrong about her ministrations, her touch to those wounds to resurrect their life together?

Now, on their anniversary, staring into the mirror, she’d determined the celibate life would never work; she loved him, but he obviously didn’t feel the same about her. The form-fitting, tailored chemise and pearl white gown displayed her attractive curves quite tastefully. If he no longer loved her, then perhaps she would catch another’s eye this evening and test her chances in the social circles again as a single woman. After all, neither did anything wrong and their reputations would survive the disruption of divorce without taint or dishonor.  There would be whispers, but those would subside eventually and the war proved an acceptable excuse for nearly everything these days. She puffed the flower scented perfume and glanced at the photograph of him with her just before he left for France: his officer’s uniform dashing, his hat off for the photograph, revealing his light hair and intense eyes — gray in the photograph. Her heart ached, the heat of tears forcing her to grab the frame and push its face against the wood of the vanity.

“Never again,” she said. “I’ve loved you through this, but never again.”

 

After the bout with morphine, the doctor prescribed books, of all things. Peter stared at the Austen novel, dismayed. Stubborn, clever people living in a different time, a time before all of this chaos, he thought, standing by the window. The evening street lamps lit the night, punctuated the doorways and walks with a romantic intensity he’d not noticed before. Couples laughed together or huddled close. He thought of how Anwen knocked on the door to his room last night, invited herself with the sweet smile and hope in her eyes before he crushed her, yet again, with self-preserving will despite his heart pounding at the thought of seeing her become all his again, making her —  Why couldn’t they be one of those couples in the street? Carefree and content, intimate amidst the crowd of people. She couldn’t stand the sight of me, he reasoned. God knows, I can’t.

Hamilton, his valet, appeared with the waistcoat and finished helping Peter dress, carefully lifting his collar and completing the tie, covering the scars at the viscount’s neck.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

“Yes, thank you.”

 

In the car to the concert hall, Peter sat mostly silent, politely complimenting his wife’s attire before retreating into his own thoughts.

“I can’t live like this any longer,” she whispered with hands by her sides in the seat. “I’ll be leaving for my parents’ first thing in the morning.”

He knew precisely her meaning; the opposite of the romantic jests Austen told. His chest pierced with the thought of losing her. A flash of his shirt going over his chest as the valet helped him dress. A yell from outside on the London street startled him; his blue eyes searching for the cause.

Anwen looked and saw his distress. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I wish — ”

Peter faced her, the street lamps lighting the inside of their car in patterned intervals. She saw the sober desperation in his eyes and heard the break in his voice when he finally spoke. “You wish what?”

The car stopped. Quickly, the driver came around and opened Anwen’s door before she could answer. Peter stepped out on his side and cast a weary glance to the surrounding spectators chatting and walking into the great hall. He’d brought her here during their first month after having taken up together in 1914. The driver gave a brief nod and helped Anwen take the first step toward the entrance, and Peter admired his wife’s profile: rich brown hair luxuriously curled, her nose long and aristocratically angled, and her figure flattered by the silk of the dress she wore. He saw the shimmer and glow of the gown, and his eyes widened, flashed to hers, and caught her staring back at him.

“Are you ready?” was all she asked.

Peter smoothed his white tie and waistcoat. “Ye-yes.”

 

The couple took their seats, demonstrating a courteous facade to those near them. As the opening chords of Orfeo ed Eurydice began, the zeal and tempo startling Anwen nearly to the point of impetuous applause, Peter kept his eyes on her as much as he did the assembly of professional musicians. The scent of her perfume fused with the heat inside the Hall, intensifying the effects, forcing Peter to concentrate and not lose himself completely in her rather than the music. Peter could tell by the ways her eyes glistened short of the eleventh minute and then lit at the bold chords and powerful bursts of crescendo at the loss of Orfeo’s wife and his stunning grief, that tear drops threatened to spill at her delicate, dark lashes.

Peter, discreet in his movements, removed his handkerchief and made as though he meant to simply lay his arm beside her and placed the silk in her gloved palm. Anwen felt the pressure of his fingers in her palm and glanced to him, lips parted slightly and eyes flickering between joy and something Peter couldn’t quite name. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ and dabbed at her eyes as she turned, leaving the besotted, anguished gentleman to observe her profile, the tears still escaping. Inexplicably, with one hand still dabbing, the other rested once more beside his hand and, tender, the back of his hand touching hers, Peter’s larger hand opened to reach for hers only to feel her fingers lay instantly in his—willing him to hold hers. Caressing, surrounding her small hand in his, the constriction in his own throat bringing a heat to the back of his eyes, Peter smiled, looked down at his program so as to be inconspicuous, and then gazed straight ahead to the stage.

By the end of Act 2, Anwen disappeared. At the interval before the final act, an usher found Peter and handed him a note.

Please come. – A

“Follow me, Sir.”

The usher led him down a corridor, which twisted around to what must’ve been behind the stage. Before he could speak, the lights dimmed and the usher disappeared.

“Come closer.” Her voice in the darkness.

Aug 21

At the Heart of a Threesome ~ffm~

This is the fourth episode about Beth, Mara, and Rafe. If you’d like to start at the beginning. Click HERE to read When the Sheets Talk.

Good to his word, Rafe had invited Mara over to our house the following weekend. My heart pounded in my chest. The two people that lit my fire were huddled together on the couch clarifying our threesome plans. There were so many things I loved about both of them, and it was amplified seeing them laughing.

Rafe heard the floorboard creak.

“Beth, come join us.”

Excitement registered on Mara’s face with a grin. She licked her bottom lip and bit down on the corner as she shifted to open a space between them. I scooted in. I couldn’t decide who smelled yummier. In a relaxed manner, Rafe draped his arm around my shoulder, kissed my hair and looked down at me.

“We’ve been talking about what turns us on and how to work the boundaries for our love-in.”

“Man on a mission, I see.”

I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. My silly childhood fear that I might not get what I wanted, reared its ugly head.

“I appreciate being with couples, especially focusing on the woman as long as the man is on-board. It’s important we’re all on the same page, Beth,” said Mara.

“I reassured Mara that I am 100% into this plan. I explained that I want to honor your fantasy of a sexual encounter with a female separately as well as when we are all together.”

I blew out a breath. The words sounded so different floating through the air at me in Rafe’s voice than they did in my head. But, yes, this is what I want. They both stared at me, and I realized no words had come out of my mouth.

“Yes, Rafe. That would be brilliant.”

“I have a different idea than the one Rafe suggested,” said Mara.

I looked from Rafe to Mara.

“Okay.”

“Beth, it might help if the three of us enjoy a little time together before you and I are alone. That way, you can see how you like Rafe’s response and if our combined three-some sensations are meeting your expectations.”

“That is an interesting idea. Not one I had considered, Mara.”

I lifted a questioning eyebrow at Rafe.

“If you’re good with it, I’m good with it.”

I nodded my head at Rafe. He fiddled with my fingers providing connecting reassurance.

“I also told Mara, that this is about you two being sexual while I touch you.”

The shower scene replayed in my mind. When I had described to Rafe what Mara had done to me, it ramped him up. I imagined how he would sizzle watching her do sexual things with me.

I turned to Mara.

“Rafe is a voyeur. He loves to see how I experience pleasure and then he’ll be the recipient of our sexual activity through me.”

“I get that. No problem. Do you get turned on with him watching?”

“I do when he watches me masturbate. You’re the only other person I’ve been with, and Rafe didn’t observe us.”

“That’s why I thought maybe we could see how you feel when all three of us are together. It’s up to you.”

“Rafe, I think it’s a good idea. We can make it up as we go along finding what’s fun.”

“I’m with you, Beth.” I glanced down and saw Rafe’s erection bulging in his pants.

“I believe you are. How shall we proceed?

“How about stretching out on the couch on top of both of us? We’ll mingle our efforts and see how you respond,” said Mara, as she gazed down my body.

Wow. The fantasy I had is coming to life. It is real. Two smiling faces prodded me to move, and I did.

Since I wanted to feel Mara’s warm lips on mine, I laid my head across her lap and put my legs across Rafe’s thighs. When my body connected to each of theirs, a sexual jolt coursed through me from head to toe. My want and desire hung in the air like a kite in the wind, dipping and soaring. I had to stay in the lead to assure Rafe I was okay.

I wiggled around on the couch repositioning my skirt. When Rafe stroked my bare legs, I reached up and pulled Mara’s face to mine. Plump, soft lips greeted me and then her tongue caressed the seam of my mouth. I opened anticipating her velvet feel. Rafe began working long kneading strokes up and down my legs. Their combined touches made my insides shake. I hadn’t expected this amount of intensity. It was as if someone had turned up the dial on my internal thermostat. I moaned into Mara’s mouth, and my knees automatically dropped out to the sides over Rafe’s lap.

“My baby’s enjoying this, Mara.”

“I think she is, Rafe.”

Mara continued kissing me, and when her hand touched my breast, an all-encompassing ache bloomed in my pelvis and surprised me. Mara lifted my shirt and caressed me at the swell of my breast. It electrified my skin. After she pulled my bra cup down, she sucked her index finger while she looked at Rafe. Oh, god, what was he thinking? With her wet finger, she drew circles around my areola. She pinched my nipple as Rafe scraped his nails down the inside of my thighs. I quivered. When she leaned down and licked my hard nipple, Rafe massaged my vulva through my silky panties and grazed my clit. His touch reminded me of how much I loved Mara’s velvet tongue between my folds. I nearly exploded, and so did Rafe. His erection nudged me on the back of my leg, and it was getting harder. I wanted more from both of them.

“Mara, I want to go down on Rafe while your tongue and lips are between my legs.”

Rafe sighed and stared off into space signaling to me he had begun to create a visual image as he had done during our shower experience.

“Oh, yes,” said Mara.

“Rafe, I want you to watch everything Mara does to me because I’ll be giving those same sensations to you.”

Rafe chuckled. “Whose dream is coming true here?”

“Mine. Now let’s get our clothes off.”

What happens next? Read Making a Threesome Come True.

 

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