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.

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.

The Glass Emperor-A Kink Crate Original by Dr. J.

Every Wednesday night, Mr. Ashton Blackthorne highlights one of his Wicked Pen Writers, and my turn had arrived to host my first Facebook take-over event in Blackthorne's Dungeon. Using my college classroom ice-breakers, I planned to introduce myself and facilitate fun sexuality games for the evening. But I wanted to have a special event, so I enlisted the help of my friends at Kink Crate.

I met the owners of Kink Crate back in November when they attended a pop-up book event where I was celebrating the release of Forever Tattooed. They shared information about their new business. The excitement for their project was infectious. Since then, we have been in constant contact. We’ve attended sex education functions together and discussed sex-positive business ideas.

So what is Kink Crate? It is an online subscription service for sex products. With a monthly subscription, five to nine naughty items around a particular kinky or sexy theme arrive for you in the privacy of your home. Along with the toys contained in your box is a handbook to help you unlock your personal pleasure and creativity. You may unleash your sexiness with either Kink Crate’s singles or couples subscription option. Their first theme was Cherry Pop, the second was Royal Luxury, and the upcoming theme is Deep in Love.

I knew that Kink Crate was selecting new toys for their future topics and I had an idea. What if they picked one toy they wanted to be named and I presented it to the Dungeon members during my party. Kink Crate agreed and last Wednesday in my party take-over, I showed the picture of the glass dildo they chose. Over the next twenty-four hours, members suggested names. With a total of thirty-one names, Kink Crate went to work to find the one that fit for their new product.

So today, it is my pleasure to share their choice with you. I introduce you to - The Glass Emperor. Isn’t it perfect? Pretty soon it will show up in a subscription box that could come to you.

One enthusiastic person will always know that they named this toy. As promised, Kink Crate is sending it to the participant who created the name. And lastly, I agreed I would create a short story, around The Glass Emperor.

Now you know the backstory of how The Glass Emperor got its name.

Is there a moral to this story?

Yes. Hang out with Kink Crate and me for a sexy, fun time. They provide the sex toys. I provide the naughty words.

Two weeks ago, I found myself sitting in a closet waiting out a 30 minute tornado warning. Real life became my muse. Enjoy.

Desiree bolted up in bed when the weather radio blared the tornado warning. The electricity was out, and lightning flashes provided the only view. Jumping from her bed, she moved frantically to get to safety in the closet. She dove in and pulled the door tight.

Why hadn’t Justin made it home yet?

Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears. Sitting in the dark shaking, she lost all sense of time. Memories flooded her. The storm, her loss, and then Justin’s absence enveloped her. A panic attack was closing in.

She never heard him until the door flew open. He’s here. Water droplets splashed through the air and landed on her bare skin. She smelled Justin above the scent of wet clothes.


His desperate words hit her.

“Oh, Justin.  I’m scared.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here.” She reached out toward his voice, and her hand pressed into his drenched coat. Justin dropped to his knees.

“You’re soaked.”

“I’m cold, too.”

“Let me help you get these clothes off.”

“Aaah, my sex kitten is ready.”

“Shut up. You know how inclement weather makes me crazy.”

“I know.”

They fell over each other, in the small, inky space as they both pulled at his clothes attempting to get them off.

“Hmmm. You are all nakedly warm and inviting.”

“How can you think of sex right now?”

“Maybe you should try it.”

The darkness in the closet cloaked them. Justin’s masculine scent merged with the soggy fabric and put Desiree on edge. Fear had pumped her adrenaline, and now it was threaded with lust for him. When her hands met his damp, cold skin, she shivered. His shoulder grazed her nipple, and it stiffened.

Deafening thunder caused her to jump. Desiree’s hand landed on his thigh, next to his hard cock.

“It won’t be like last time, Desiree. Push those thoughts away. We’re safe here.”

Desiree fought the memories of losing the house to a monster tornado. Could she stay encased in the darkness feeling the warmth Justin’s cock provided?

She eased her hand down to his balls and cradled them in her hand. Justin’s satisfied moan made her smile.

“Your man parts are warm.”

“Keep exploring like that, and my whole body will heat up.”

Desiree squeezed his balls. After she had pushed the pile of wet clothes away, she stroked his cock like she had a hundred times before. Even through the darkness, Desiree visualized his response. She leaned over and captured the head of his cock between her lips. His ass rose off the floor.

“Dez… yes. Roll over. Let me hear you, do yourself. Make it loud.”

Moving on her side, Desiree lapped at Justin’s hard cock. Sucking him soothed and pacified her. She drew love lines up and down her wet lips with her index finger. Desiree rubbed her outer lips between her thumb and forefinger grazing her clit. She concentrated on enjoying Justin’s hardness.

“I hear you, Dez. You’re so wet. Aaaaah your mouth, tongue. That’s it, baby.”

The storm intensified, and so did Desiree. She matched the storm’s pace on herself and Justin. Tree branches cracked and scraped across the roof. Hail pellets pummeled the windows. Her heart rate soared. This soundtrack sent her to a terrifying edge.

A thunder clap shook the house, and her mouth popped off Justin’s erection. At that moment, the noise made her task apparent. Change the meaning of this storm.

 “I have to be closer, Justin. We have to fuck. This tornado will not defeat me.”

“Forget sex kitten. You’re a lion.”

She straddled his lap, lined up his cock and seated him all the way inside her.

“Auuggghh, Dez.

The house walls shook as much as she did. The howling wind surrounded them.

“Fuck me, Justin.” Beating the wailing beast was her goal.

Justin wrapped his arms around her and drove her body up and down on his cock. Desiree ground her clit on Justin’s pubic bone with every stroke. It wasn’t enough. She couldn’t let the storm win.

“Justin, finger my asshole.”

“What? For real?”

“Yes, do it, baby.”

Justin’s hand dropped down her back, and he cupped her ass squeezing her cheek as she continued to ride him. He slid his finger down her crack and pressed against her hole.

She sunk her teeth into his neck and had lift-off.

She soared on the orgasm, floating over the roar of the freight train storm.

No debris hit her, this time.

No wind ripped her apart.

Justin growled in her ear as his finger danced on her asshole.

She rose above the storm.

Pleasure burst through her body.

Her mind echoed the chant, “I win, I win, I win.”

Spent, Desiree slipped into sleep. They lay entwined on the closet floor. These warm bodies had lived life on their terms.

When Desiree awoke, sunlight streamed under the door. A wet, musky, sex-scent hung in the air. Justin stirred, and she faced him, smiling.

“Thanks for last night.”

“You’re welcome, Dez.”

“I hope your unit was okay with you coming to me.”

“They understood. We’re in one piece, that’s what matters. How do you feel?”

“Pretty good. I didn’t have a panic attack, the house is standing, and we had hot sex.”

Justin chuckled.

“Does that good mood mean I don’t have to wait for a tornado to play with your ass again?”

Writing for Masturbation Monday. Go visit Kayla Lords and see who else whipped up a sexy masturbation story.

Writing for Wicked Wednesday. Marie Rebelle's prompt was NATURE. Check out other erotic stories of the outdoors.


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