This is the third story in a series. If you would like to start at the beginning, read When the Sheets Talk.

I was jealous of the spa-rock floor pounded by the shower spray. I wanted a pounding, and it wasn’t happening.

Impaled on Rafe’s cock, he wanted to hear about Mara. I was embarrassed. No, I wasn’t. I needed to own my desires, but I wanted to keep that experience for myself. The problem was I didn’t hide things from him.

Rafe pulled me from my thoughts when his fingertips melded into my skin. His cock throbbed inside me. He sensed that I waivered, contemplating what to do. His teeth landed on that tendon on my shoulder, my spot of ecstasy. Adding his tongue and lips to the exploration, I dropped my head back. Rafe’s mouth produced magic here. He nibbled along my neck as he gripped my ass and when he reached my jawline, I caved. The words blurted out.

“I liked Mara’s technique better than yours.”

I worried he’d stop kissing me, but he didn’t. Instead, Rafe pumped his pelvis sending his cock deeper inside of me.

Needing to see him, I lifted my head. He nailed me with the intensity of his raw desire which pressed my buttons. I recognized that look. We were locked in for the final countdown.

“Her tongue was like velvet.” Rafe smiled.

 Watching me, he created a rhythm. It caused body memories of Mara’s tongue work to flood me.

“Mara had a light touch. She teased me to come out and play.”

“Mmmmm, yes.”

Forehead to forehead, I smelled his want. My ass dragged across his hairy legs as he clutched my hips pulling me closer with every pelvic thrust.

“Her tongue danced on my clit.”

“And you liked it?”

I hesitated for a brief second. “I loved it.”

“You want more.”


“I do, too.”

Rafe continued his stroking pace. This master of orgasm construction worked magic.

“Yes, Rafe.”

“Give me more.”

His words surrounded me like a warm towel, comforting and secure.

“She wrapped her lips around my clit as I do your cock.”

Rafe groaned. That was the detail he wanted. 

“She sucked hard. She nipped me. Her teeth grazed...” I sunk my nails into Rafe’s shoulder blades.

“She swirled her tongue.”

His moan erupted, along with his orgasm. Fingerprints would reside on each cheek after this powerful grip. And then Rafe let me have it. Hard. With frenzied hammering, he took me with him.

The water splattered on the shower floor.

Our quietening gasps encircled the space. A lavender scent hung in the air. Locked together in a body embrace on the bench, I blew out one long breath.

“You get me, Beth.”

I ran my fingers through his wet hair and kissed his forehead.

“You get me, too.”

“I would like for the three of us to talk…”

“Before we become a ménage.”

Rafe chuckled.

“I want you to have time alone with Mara.”

“You do? Why?”

“I feel it when you think no one is watching. It’s the look you get when you’re around Mara. It’s yearning.”

“Rafe, I think I’ve denied it.”

“That’s why I invited her over.”

“You know what I want better than I do, Rafe.”

“We continue to learn each other’s wants.”


“I bet you have ideas swirling around in your mind.”

I tilted my head and gazed into Rafe’s expressive face.

“Yes, discovery ideas. If you have any suggestions, I expect you to share.”

His cock came to life inside me.

“I always will.” 

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Click for choices in erotic stories.

This is a continuation story from last week, When the Sheets Talk. 

Rafe hummed a country tune as the plumbing pipes whooshed and the water spray hissed. I stopped at the opening to the marble shower. I admired Rafe’s stunning body. This locale was a spectacular backdrop for his male body art.

With his foot propped on the bench, he leaned over and soaped his leg. Muscles, lean and mean. What a toned ass. I loved watching him touch his body. Standing there, I considered what Rafe desired with Mara and me.

His hands cupped his balls and stroked his gorgeous cock. Holy hell, I wanted him. Something about a man pleasuring himself worked me up, and Rafe’s efforts always drew me in.

“’Bout time you got in here, babe. I wanted to share some fun.”

“Interesting use of words.”

I slid in close behind him and ran my hands up his thighs and squeezed his cheeks. I took the hand-held shower head and rinsed the soap off his body. After I had turned off the water, I hung the shower head on its stand.

“‘Fun’ is my favorite.”

“So is ‘share,’ evidently. Have a seat on the bench.” I pushed him backward, and he plopped down.

“That’s cold.”

“Maybe you need some warming distraction.”

I dropped to my knees and sucked his cock deep into my mouth. His hands went to my head, and he lifted off the bench to meet my mouth.

After I had swirled my tongue on his erection, I peeked at Rafe. His head rested on the marble wall, and he appeared gratified.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Rafe?”

“Just thinking about you doing me, while Mara does you.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” I gripped his erection and alternated my mouth with my hand. “Paint me a picture.”

Rafe opened his eyes and looked at me. Sexual intent shot from him.

“You like this bench don’t you, Beth?”

“We haven’t used it much for me to know.”

“Come, sit on my lap.”

“Only if it will be ‘fun’…and you ‘share.’”

“No problem.”

Rafe pulled me up from my knees, and I straddled his lap, a male gearshift between us.

“Stroke me again.”

I took him in hand and found a rhythm. When Rafe moaned, I leaned in and nipped his earlobe.

“You are going to get what you want, so tell me,” I whispered.

He captured my face in his hands and kissed me long and hard. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled us close, the base of his erection rubbed against my clit.

Nose to nose, he skimmed his hands down my neck, across my shoulders and down to my ass. He yanked me harder against his cock, and I gasped.

“Are you going to tell me, Rafe?”

He cupped each cheek, kneading my skin as he inched his fingers closer to my wetness. He pulled my ass cheeks apart and held me still.

“How do you like this position?”

“I feel exposed.”

“Imagine a hot, wet tongue was licking you now while your clit gets a cock massage?”

“You want Mara licking me?”

“You’ll like it so much you’ll jump forward craving my cock. It’ll feel like this.”

Mimicking a licking tongue, Rafe wiggled his fingers back and forth in my wet vulva. He dragged my wetness from front to back. He sucked on my neck.

“You already know how good Mara’s tongue feels. She’ll drive you crazy and then she’ll slip in the butt toy I have for her, my favorite, moving it, in and out.”

His words ignited me. My juices flowed. I was ready.

“Yes, Rafe, that’s what I want, with you.”

“And when that toy is fully in you, I’ll do this.”

Rafe lifted me. His tip nudged my wet opening and hovered there. Staring into my eyes, he dropped me on his cock.

“Yes, Rafe.”

“You like?”

“Uh huh. Move, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Oh, you want some thrusting?”

“Yeah, give it to me.”

“I will, with some incentive. Tell me what went on between you and Mara.” 

For Part 3 of the series Sprayed and Pounded.

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Hop on over and see what other stories tickle your fancy.

I had to do it before the warmth of the sheets dissipated. I molded myself around Mara’s sleeping spot. With my face nestled into her pillow, the scent took me back to last night. Riveting. I arched my back and cupped my breast, slowly tweaking my nipple.

“You want this, right?”

That’s all she said.

I had never had a woman’s touch make me orgasm. We only had one drink, but I knew I had dropped my inhibitions. I wasn’t sure if she felt the same way I did.

I dragged my hand over my hip bone and dipped down past my pubic tuffs. My fingers slipped to my clit.

“You have the softest pubic hair. It’s like silk. I’ve never been with anyone with straight pubs.”

Something inside me surged. I boldly kissed her. Pure lust escaped in that kiss.

As I circled my wetness, the bed shifted, and I opened my eyes. Rafe crawled over, naked beside me.

“Can I help?”

His sexy, gruff words hit me like a tool aimed at stoking my fire.


“You were thinking about Mara, huh?”

I pinched my nipples. Rafe leaned in and licked. That’s what she had done.

“Uh huh.” His scraping teeth triggered a detonation in my pelvis. I throbbed, and he knew it. Pushing my hand away, he slid his two fingers inside, and my pelvis rose to meet them.

“Tell me, did she say yes?”

Mara had splayed open my legs and planted a kiss on my vulva. Her soft velvet tongue frenched my folds, wiggling and I quaked. Like now.

“Yes, she said yes.”

Rafe pumped his fingers deep inside me as his thumb executed the perfect pulse on my clit.

“She’ll fuck you while I watch?” He slowed his strokes.

No, don’t stop.

“You know what I want to hear, Beth.”

“She’ll fuck me.” Rafe picked up his pace, but I wanted, no, I needed more.


“However you instruct her.”

“With her fingers?”


“With a toy?”


“In any hole?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“I’d do you any which way to Sunday, Beth. I’m happy that Rafe will share.” She had latched onto my clit and with fiery intent sucked an orgasm out of me.

Rafe intensified his stroking pace and kissed me as my orgasm erupted. His natural taste mingled with her perfumed scent and spoke to me of things to come.

“I’m going to hop in the shower. Join me. We’ll celebrate.”

“You start, I’ll be right there.”

When Rafe left, I gathered the sheet that had absorbed his smell. I placed it next to the pillowcase with her scent. Inhaling their mingled fragrances, I held the essence of two people who wanted me and I smiled.

Want to know what happens next? Read the continuation, From Sheets to Shower. 

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Click below for more smutty goodness!

Many erotic authors strive to entertain you while they create stories that first amuse them. What do you think keeps our creative effort and energy flowing? Besides you, dear reader, the answer is each other. If you think it’s fun reading our stories, imagine our joy in creating them. We share everything from our inspiration of originality to our plots and final drafts with each other. And there’s more.

I was at dinner the other night at Top Chef Kenny Gilbert’s restaurant, Gilbert’s Underground Kitchen. The menu boasted a tasty sangria flight, so everyone at the table decided to give it a whirl. The colors were vibrant, the ingredients intriguing, and when presented all together, they made an artistic statement. I pulled out my phone and snapped the picture. As I thought about the depiction, it conjured up images of all the new writing friends I have made and the lengths we go to be with each other by DM, PM, twitter chats, texts, calls, SKYPES, drives, and flights.

What have those interactions given me?

1. Spark. Our combined energy is astounding. Sometimes I think writers should have a side comedian gig. Mischa Eliot is the funniest person I know. Follow her on Twitter, and you will see what I mean. We could be a comedy team because we complete each other’s mischievous thoughts.  Are we redheaded twins? Our thinking processes may not be the same, but we pack a punch in getting to the same place at the same time. Then we become elated. Our telephone calls and now SKYPE sessions are an event. Next, we'll be selling tickets on Ticketmaster.

2. Knowledge. Writers delve into the how-tos of writing. We approach this from the every angle. Serious, silly, thoughtful, and even well, naughty. We discuss writers, inspiration, book titles, and resources. We share, generously. For example, for author resources on social media, the queen of sharing is Rachel Thompson. Her Wednesday Night 9 pm #bookmarketingchat on Twitter provides a wealth of information. If I get stuck on how to do something, a writer is there to help. Writers have bigheartedness.

3. Insights. Writers dissect everything to get insight. We pick each other’s brains, and we go to where the action is to glean that information. After many conversations on social media, Tamara Lush contacted me to meet her in Jacksonville at a book event. Our only contacts had occurred through social media and when in real life we walked and talked like old friends, sharing the awareness we had gained thus far in our writing adventures. And sure enough, as I write this, Tamara sent me a tweet connecting several authors together to join her on a trip to the British Museum. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

4. Connoisseurs. Writers inhale the sensuality of food and coffee. I met Leonora Solomon and Rebecca Brooks at fantastic restaurants in New York City. Leave it to local writers to know where to take a tourist for sustenance. Locally, I frequent Amelia Island Coffee to discuss writing business. Coffee and food set the ambiance for the writer’s mood. Sights, sounds, scents, tastes, and feelings enrich the writing environment. We partake together. We feed one another, literally and figuratively.

5. Community. Writers create community. My newest connection is with Wicked Pens. Our description on Facebook says, “The Wicked Pens are an independent group of romance, erotic romance, and erotica writers dedicated to each other and united in a common cause. We support each other and our group, promoting excellence in writing and working toward individual and collective success.”  Whether we are brainstorming, editing, beta reading, or having fun with each other, we are one-stop shopping for reading enjoyment. Check us out to see our latest news.

Believe me, the life of this author is never dull. I could tell you more, but I must go now; I have a writer date.


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