The high-pitched, whining buzz drowns out the quiet music, just for a few seconds, and I stiffen. I search his face and find nothing but patience in his eyes, an encouraging smile tilting his lips. He raises his brows, a question, my answer is a nod. Satisfaction. That’s what his smile is showing now.
I don’t watch as he smooths his fingers over my skin. Don’t flinch when his bike chain bracelet clinks against my belly bar. I just look at the light blinking in the window, reading the neon words backwards. One of them is his name. It’s a palindrome. No matter which way you look at it, it’s his. I focus on it, face neutral, but I’m gnawing away at the inside of my cheek, concentrating hard on remaining still. Continue reading “The Things We Do for Love”
Curtis had June’s chin clamped between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged a bit, lifting her head so he could stare intently into her glassy eyes. She was fuck-tired, floppy, probably close to the point where he’d safeword on her behalf. But she made the effort to hold her lids open, nod her head and slur a single word.
Curtis hesitated, watching June carefully to ensure she really was still in the game. Certain that she had a little bit of life left in her, Curtis pulled her jaw until she parted her lips. Her tongue automatically snaked out and pressed against her chin, suck-job ready. Curtis hesitated again. Did she have enough energy left? Could she stay with him while he used her mouth the way he’d been using her cunt for the last hour? Continue reading “Sugar Lips”
Image owned by (and of) the beautiful Candy Snatch Reviews
This piece is basically me flexing my fingers in practice for #EUPHOFF. To be honest, the only thing sexy about it is the picture of Candy at the top but I’m publishing it anyway cos it made me giggle. Hope it gives you a smile, too.
19-50-CANDY what’s your pleasure…
Uh, yeah. Hi. So I, uh, I was cruisin’ just now and decided to hit Jenny’s for an ice cream float. While I was takin’ a leak, I lamped your picture stuck to the wall. I don’t usually… but wowee, you are one hot mama. A total knockout. Anyway, the card said to give you a bell for a good time and I couldn’t resist callin’.
Tell me what you want, Big Daddy… Continue reading “Dial 19-50-CANDY”
Image used with permission of Floss Liddell
The walk from my back door to the bottom of my garden is a short one. Thirty steps, give or take. Even so, it always takes me a good twenty minutes to shamble down the length of the stepping stone path. Partly because I dislike the heavy feeling I get in my heart when I reach the end and partly because, every few feet along the way, a different memory is called forth.
See that stone bench over there with the carved koi base? When Jenny lived here, we’d use it as a spanking bench. We’re both tall and the bench is low and close to the fence, but we’d made it work.
And the park bench, iron-footed with wooden slats, is where I used to bind Teresa with shackles. That memory always makes me smile in a way she would have called dirty. It can’t be helped, though. The sides are just far enough apart for her legs to be as wide open as any pair of legs could be. Look, underneath it. There, in the grass. That’s the riding crop I used to spank her soft folds with. I can’t bring myself to take it inside. Not now that she’s gone. Continue reading “All That Remains”
It comes alive at night. I keep praying it won’t, but the moment my body begins to relax as I enter the quiet place that precedes sleep, it comes. Dread steals the power from my limbs, my lungs deflate, and I forget how to refill them.
I can’t run, can’t hide, can’t even scream. I’m motionless, staring at the sickly, pale green glow that creeps across the ceiling, getting ever closer to my bed. All there is for me to do is wait. Wait for it to reach me, for it to take what it wants, for it to shamble back to its rightful place again. Continue reading “It Comes Alive at Night”
I’m turning my #StoryIn12 tweets into 500(ish) word blog posts! Some will be sexy, some won’t, but all of them will feature my tweet in full and unbroken.
I watch Daisy pad barefoot across the lawn in my folks’ back garden, trying my best not to laugh. She’s moving so carefully, so stiffly, people are asking her if she’s alright. They get nods. A dismissive wave of a hand accompanied by mutters of ‘I’m fine.’ They get a string of lies because she isn’t fine at all. Continue reading “#StoryIn12 – Cherry”
Run by the awesome Molly Moore and Wriggly Kitty, #StoryIn12 is the latest meme to take Twitter by storm. A daily prompt is posted every morning and all and sundry are invited to write a 12 word story that includes it. Some of my offerings have taken root in my head and are insisting that they be turned into blog posts at the very least. So I’ve challenged myself. I’m gonna turn each of my twelve word stories into 500(ish) word stories that may or may not be erotic. Here we go… Continue reading “#StoryIn12 – Enlarge”
Do I love her?
Every time I pass her in the street my heart forgets the meaning of rhythm. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, my lungs shrivel up because all the moisture in my body is spreading over the surface of my skin.
I stare at her so brazenly, even during the day, it makes the pedestrians around us snigger. How can they not see that her beauty is unrivalled, even in a city of millions? From the flowers in her hair to her ever-obscured eyes and pillowy lips, she’s perfection.
Yes, during the day I stare, but only at night do I approach. Continue reading “Abstract Love”
Check me out, writing some terrible sex especially for The Other Livvy’s #EuphOff erotica competition! I apologise in advance cos this stuff is mortifying.
Mercedes rolled into the garage just after midday. All the boys downed tools to stop and stare at her magnificent chassis. The older guys were fascinated by the curve of her rear bumper, the younger ones mesmerised by her airbags. They couldn’t be blamed, though, cos they were massive when fully inflated.
Only Axel looked Mercedes in the headlamps. They were on full beam, the paint job that framed them the best he’d ever seen. She fluttered her wiper blades at him, put her hips in first gear, and parked right in front of him.
The others went back to work, some of them with their hands in their pockets, fiddling with their wrenches. Axel tried to play it cool, but he could feel his dipstick getting harder and oilier by the second. Continue reading “Fully Leaded”
God was six days sober
On the night that she was born
To the glistening star of a bible class
An icon now in religious porn
She was Alice through the glory hole
An ejaculate misconception
Disney-esque, the high priestess
Of greed and deepest dark deception
Verse from “Libertina Grimm” from the album “Thornography” by Cradle of Filth
Cum dripped down the latticed partition, making a network of sticky webs in the tiny crosses that had been carved from the wood. Libertina heard the sharp rip of a zip-fly, an embarrassed laugh, the scrape of curtain rings on a rusted metal pole. Low mumbles, soft laughing, back slapping. Continue reading “The Confessional”