Celebrating the last day of National Masturbation Month.

The party was going strong. Significant amounts of perfume combined with the alcohol assisted the beat of the music in pounding my head. Pounding, just like I imagined him doing to her luscious body. It was happening, and I had agreed to it.

I surveyed the buzzing room after Joy and Richard had left to talk. I wasn’t sure how this would transpire or how I would feel afterward? What did I know about watching my wife get banged by another man, much less my best friend? Nothing. I had left the details up to Joy. I had known he wanted to fuck my wife. Joy wanted him, too.

I was standing beside the island in the kitchen when I saw them re-enter the room. They glowed as they meandered through the crowd and stood across from me at the counter.

“We are all set, John. Richard and I have an agreement.”

“That was fast.”

“We’re clear on what we want.”

“So, when?”


“For real?”

“Uh huh, just follow along.”

Joy leaned over on the counter and stretched her hand out to me. I set my drink down, and I clasped her fingers. Richard’s arm movement caught my eye. When he snuggled against Joy’s back, I knew what he was doing. Her expressions gave it away.

“Tell me,” I said, as I toyed with her fingers.

“His hand is where you like it.”


“Moving up the inside of my thigh, closer to my wet panties.”

“You are already wet?”

“Yes. Does it make you hard knowing what Richard is doing?”

Hard? As Richard touched my favorite part of Joy’s leg, my erection had never been stiffer. What she didn’t know yet was that I was steel because I also visualized him touching me.


She licked her lips and squeezed my hand.

“Guess where his fingers are now?”

I didn’t have to guess. Joy’s flared nostrils meant Richard had either found her clit and her wet lips or fingered her tight channel. Sucking in the air with those rounded lips was Joy’s signature response when my fingers played with her.

Is it possible for a person to explode from need? I swallowed hard still tasting that last sip of gin.

“We have a room ready.”

Richard straightened up. I watched him taste his fingers, and I clenched my jaw. I savored that flavor well. He nodded at me as he rubbed his bottom lip with his forefinger. Then he used his tongue. That tongue, those lips. And then they smiled at each other. I couldn’t get out of this room fast enough.

Following them up the stairs was agony.  The motion of their two asses teased me. Joy squeezed Richard’s cheek, and he groaned.

I might not make it.

I wanted my fingers kneading his ass. I should just tell them I agreed to this so I could be with him.

After entering the bedroom, Joy pulled Richard’s shirttail from his pants, and I glimpsed the hard lines of his stomach. His abdominal definition made me hot, always. This view was better than watching him at the gym.

“John, unbutton Richard’s shirt while I work his pants off.”

I looked at Richard whose Cheshire cat grin told his happy story. Yes, he was about to discover all the sexy goodness of my wife.

He glanced down and saw my erection.

 “So far so good?” Richard asked.

 “Yeah, what about you?”

“I’m getting more than I hoped for, mate. That’s for sure.”

Joy had taken care of his shoes and pants while I had removed his shirt. Richard stood there in his tented boxers. Joy moved around Richard and caressed the muscles of his arms. She tilted her head around him and gazed at me and blew me a kiss. What the fuck.

“John, go ahead and pull down Richard’s boxers. Take it slow. All the way.” I threw her a questioning look. “Do it for me, baby, please.”

She taunted me, and if humiliation was the goal, we had arrived.

As I squatted and pushed down Richard’s boxers, one gorgeous cock greeted me. The one I craved and one Joy would appreciate.

Joy wrapped her lavender scented arms around me. Her warm embrace settled me, and she kissed my cheek.

“Baby, today, he’s all yours.”

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Go see what other hot little stories are available. You know you want to.

Tonight, like every Wednesday night after work, I observed her in the bustle at Lillie’s Victorian Establishment. Her tight black dress accented her curves, and her heels complimented her fit calves. Flicking her hair and contorting her body either higher or lower, she molded into the space of her person of interest. She worked her charm. She hunted.

Amidst the smell of body heat and liquor, her sexual energy permeated the bar. In this chosen sphere, she proceeded from one person to another searching for the connection. With her scope narrowed to her immediate circle, she didn’t know I watched. I loved her energy, her efforts. She was a seductress.

Pulling the Magician from my tarot deck earlier signaled my plan. Swift movement, organization.

When she left for the bathroom, I was ready, following.

As she stood at the vanity, I approached her.

“You like the chase.”

She looked up and gazed into my eyes, “Very much.”

“Does it matter if you’re the chaser or the chasee?”

She scrutinized me. My hard nipples rubbed against my silk top, and I’m sure she saw them.

“I love the entire game.” She turned and faced me. “What do you know of it?”

“You do it every Wednesday.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“I enjoy the way you ramp up your sexuality craving with your little groups. We’re no different.”

She smiled that smile, the one meant to entice. And it did. Heat ran through my body. She turned facing the mirror, and I pressed my nubs into her back.

“You want this?”


I cupped both her breasts.  My fingers felt her heartbeat. She was as excited as me. After pinching her tight nipples, my hands skated down her hips to her ass. Her fragrance surrounded me.

“Put your hands on the counter and spread your legs.”

Squatting down, I nuzzled her ass through the tight dress and confirmed she wore no panties. I lifted her dress to naked skin, and her pungent sexual perfume swept me higher into desire.

“Wiggle your ass.”

I massaged both tantalizing ass cheeks as the bare skin of her glistening sex beckoned me. Her wiggling reminded me of her movements in the bar. She pushed for what she wanted. I would work with that but on my terms.

I ran the tip of my nose over her cheeks and eased it down her crack to her wetness. She backed her butt into my face like she pushed her body onto those in the bar. I dabbed my tongue for a quick taste, and she moaned. I kneaded her cheeks as she squirmed.

“Go back to your group. Work your usual magic and build desire for later.”

“You have faith in me.”

“I know your work, and tonight I’m the magician. Our connection will be forged through the fire of my will.”

I licked her again to make my point. She shuddered.

“Go, I’ll be watching.” 

I crafted this flash fiction for the lovely, Leonora and her birthday celebration. Not only did I include Tarot in my celebratory piece but I placed it in the setting where we met each other in real life. Happy Birthday, my friend.
Get flashed on Friday Flash.

Who celebrates the one week anniversary of a new job by purchasing lingerie? I do.

As I arrive at the boutique, I wonder what lacy bits will entice me. I adore sexy undergarments and how they send my sexual senses on high alert. I pass an impeccably dressed gentleman in a black suit near the entrance. I’m sure our pheromones mingled. He notices me, and his dark eyes make me shiver.

Heading for the bra and panty sets, I realize he is the only man in the store. Sorting through colorful satins and lace, he ignores all the fellow shopper’s gawks. His penetrating stare follows me as I pick out items. His presence is all encompassing and makes me feel good, woman good. Clearly, his likes and wants are well-established, and he has exquisite taste. Two can play this game. As he admires an exotic, black bustier, my sassy little southern-self sashays over.

“Excuse me. I’m choosing an indulgence for myself, and I’m not sure which to select.” I hold up the two items in my hand. “Would you give me an honest opinion?”

Behind him, the dorky, store clerk at the register raises her eyebrows, gives me thumbs up and fans her face.

Sexy hunk flashes a disarming smile. “North or South?

“Pardon me?”

“Your accent. North Carolina or South Carolina?

“Why North, thank you. You have a keen ear.”

“I’m into details.” He scans my entire body. Just like a magician performing a disappearing act, I feel like my clothes vaporized. “For a real appraisal, I’d have to see it on you.”

Was that a dare? Is he pushing my sass?

“Well, okay then, sir, I’ll take these to the dressing room.” He raised an eyebrow. Did I just agree to model these tiny bits for a hot, stranger? I may have flirted myself beyond my comfortable sexual element and perhaps out of my league.

He follows me toward the dressing room. I turn, gazing into a set of all-knowing eyes and a scruffy face that makes me hot and bothered. He is so, not my usual, guy next door pick. He’s a gentleman, cultured and distinct with an edge about him. “You wait out here.” His nod provides no assurance, and now I’m unglued.

Removing my clothes, I select the teddy. By lingerie accounts, it is conservative, my typical style. Ready for his thoughts, I push the door open. He peruses me. I feel every discerning aspect as if his eyes were hands tantalizing my skin.

“You look lovely, but your assets are hidden. Try this; I believe it will suit you.” He holds out a hanger. His wicked grin turns my knees to jelly and my southern lady parts throb. That little smirk tells me he knows something I don’t. What is it about a dare? I always go for them.

“Great. Thank you.” I snatch the hanger.

“If you need any help, I’m right out here,” he said and pointed to the chair across the way. Damn. He delivers his precise words with an understated command and control which showcases art and science.

After closing the door, I remove the teddy. It’s official. I have lost my mind. I am buck-naked less than five feet from this random, enticing gentleman who has selected silky undies for me. I retrieve the hanger containing a two piece bra and panties thing. As I hold it up, I want to slap my big mouth that works before my brain. There isn’t enough material to fit around my breasts. I struggle with all the ribbons on the bottom and how they attach. He must enjoy tying things up. I freak out when I see my reflection. Nothing is left to the imagination. The reality of what I’m doing hits me, or maybe my good girl side raised her nagging head.

“Hmm, this isn’t me,” I stammer as his footsteps approach the dressing room.

“It is perfect for you. I can help you get it situated.”

My heart sprints and my crotch plays some fast Latin number. You’ve gone this far. You don’t back down from anything, even this. It may be new, but you can do this. I open the door to a set of smoldering gaze brands me as he steps into the changing room. This gorgeous stud assesses strips of material dangling off my body, covering mostly nothing. I have no moisture in my mouth; it’s all headed south. I am in heaven, and it is blistering as hell.

“Well, you are twisted up. Turn around.”

As I turn, the mirror reflects a fully clothed him and a barely covered me. My breathing falters. He raises both his hands, firm and broad, in the air and his finger gestures at my back where I have tangled the bra clips. I nod yes.

I breathe in his potent maleness as his fingertips work to adjust my attire. He unclips, straightens, and re-clips the bra like a male well-versed in women’s sexy foundations. After smoothing the band on my back, he continues around the front band under my breasts. His thumbs graze me. My nipples pop out like dough released from of biscuit can, seen through this sheer bra. He observes me as if he is anticipating a response. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. Dark eyes probe mine. He eliminates ribbon twists on the shoulder straps. His touch greets every sensual nerve ending on my body. He works diligently preparing something, and that something is me.

“And now the bottom,” he said.

“The bottom?”

He looks to the panties, “You are going to have to step out of those.”  

I almost swallow my tongue. How ironic. I have to pull up my big girl panties to push the erotic ones down. Is he always this proficient at divesting women of their intimates? Well, I’m not stopping now. When I bend over, my ass shoves into him, and his thick erection startles me. I look up, and the intensity of his gaze causes me to shudder. I have throbs where I didn’t know I had places. He knows what he is doing to me. His smile signals intent. Yes, I’m pretty sure he’d be proficient at licking, sucking, fingering, and fucking me.

Taking the panties, he unties the ribbons.

“Hold this to your belly.” How can one guy know so much about affixing lingerie? He squats, eye to eye with my ass. Holy hell. With his face between my legs, he exhales on my skin as he reaches through and grasps the panties. I reek of sexual excitement; my scent arouses me. The back of his hand slides by my vulva lips, touching me ever so slightly. He pulls the panties through and up as he rises. He sniffs his hand. Mortified and turned on, that’s me.

When he stands, dominance emanates from him.

“Turn.” Sideways, he ties the ribbons on my right side. He leans in over my right shoulder and admires my cinched up breasts. His hard cock nestles in my ass. My heart races and he groans, “Done.” He tilts his head right and left studying me. “One last inspection.”

My needy sex squeaks. “Yes, sir.”

He evaluates every angle where the fabric touches my skin. His finger traces the lace edge of the bra cup again and smooths the band. I imagine his thumb pads on my aching nipples, and I grit my teeth. He crouches in front of me, eye level with my hairless sex. Oh, my God. I hold my breath.

He adjusts the ribboned lace of crotchless panties so that my engorged vulva lips and clit protrude. I should bottle the fragrance of horny me mixed with him for a potent elixir and sell it. He is so close to my sex he could stick out his tongue and taste me. Do it. Do it. I know he sees my secret, a new piercing, never seen by anyone. He looks up, grins at me and stands. He finishes his inspection by moving me to face the mirror as he smooths the panties lace line, and he fingers the open heart design of the ribbon bow on my ass. His touch tingles on my skin. I am captivated.

“There, perfection.”

The erotic tension mounts in this small space as we stand there drinking each other in, neither one moving.

Flustered words sail from my mouth. “Thank you—for everything.”

Appearing comfortable with the tension, he lingers for a few seconds. What is he thinking? I’m not moving, sir. I can’t take this any farther. My heart, matching my pelvic throbs, is beating so loudly the whole world must hear it.

Finally, he speaks. “It was my pleasure.” With one last, long look, he exits.

I collapse against the door panting. In the mirror, a sex siren stares back at me, not the woman who entered this room. I experience myself through his intense eyes, touch, and a devilish smirk.

Did this event happen?

I blow out a long breath. Dare I relieve my horniness before I begin to dress? Hell, yes. No one has ever worked me up like this. I replay every second of our encounter as I use my hand, wishing it was his. Sizzling and sexy in the lingerie he picked out for me, in the tiny space that holds the essence of our exchange, I orgasm.

When my heart rate slows, I dress and gather my purchases.

As I approach the cashier, she scrutinizes me. “Wow, I bet you have some story to tell.”

My embarrassed flush burns.

“He helped me pick out lingerie.” What a lame response.

“Well, okay, if that’s what you want to call it. Your helper asked me to give you this.” She holds out a business card. “And just so you know, he never gives out his card.”

I take it and stare at the written words. 

“Southern Belle, I know what you did. I want you to do it for me. Wear your purchase on Saturday night. Call for time and location.”

I flip the card over. 

Writing for Masturbation Monday during Masturbation Month. There is plenty of hotness there, go see.

I had a glorious week in the Big Apple. What did I learn?

1) Let’s get basic. If you want to jump start your exercise program, this walking city is the way to go. I averaged 15,000 steps a day.  When I headed out the front door of the hotel, boom, I was in cardiovascular exercise mode—for the whole day. The theme of this trip was to experience vibrant people, places, and energy.

2) The people made the city. My first people connections involved seeing old friends. These long time friends moved to NY from our little world of Tallahassee. Experiencing the city from their perspective was wonderful. My group picked interesting restaurants and attractions that continued our previous sharing together—food and drinks and art. It was also nice to be a tourist with them.

3) From my current writing world, I met three author/editor friends. It was surreal to meet Jill C. Shannon, F. Leonora Solomon, and Rebecca Brooks. I covered breakfast, afternoon drinks, and dinner with this crowd. We discussed writer topics and then many others. We chatted about train rides, work areas like the NY Public Library, and theories of people picking up other people in social places which we observed carefully. I was intellectually stimulated, engaged, and playful.

4) The impetus for the trip was the AltSexNYC Conference. I still have my finger on the pulse of sex research even if I don’t do it anymore. There is a special energy in that work. AltSexNYC may well be one of the best research events I have attended. I met three super cool sex education/therapy/research folks from my Twitter life. Check out Michael Aaron, David Ley, and Heather McPherson. I shared with Michael Aaron that I believe the future of sex research is in good hands with his generation. Now that I’m home reflecting on it, it is so true.

5) While I was in NYC, I received my contract from Best Women’s Erotica of the Year. It was dreamlike to be out of my usual space and receive it. I am looking forward to working with Rachel Kramer Bussel and Cleis Press on this endeavor. My feelings were all over the place.

In conclusion, go to New York City. Dreams do come true there. It was incredible to combine all the different parts of my life into the experience of one week. It was a real getaway. Life does seem bigger and brighter from the Big Apple.


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