Wednesday, 23 March 2011


A very short but sweet first attempt at a Wank Wednesday prompt. I didn't manage to find my muse on this one but I've tried, at least! Go have a look at Ruby's website, there's some delightful stuff on there. :)


Shannon knew that it was tantamount to prostitution to bed a Jer'Tht but she needed to know. She had long fantasised about being brought by multiple limbs, some entirely useless apart from for this purpose.

Lee was gentle but forceful, battering Shannon's senses as he stroked, squeezed and penetrated her simultaneously. He seemed thrilled by her response, yet he never spoke. Shannon couldn't concentrate on the curious hue of her tormentor, such was the intensity with which he worked her.

When it was over, Shannon felt a pang of loss, knowing that six hands were indeed far superior to two.

Friday, 18 March 2011

Court: A Fuck Me Friday Story

With thanks to Aisling Weaver for this fantastic idea.

It’s the middle of the night. I know I shouldn’t be here but it’s so quiet and peaceful and sometimes I think it’s the only place I feel I can really think, unhindered by other worries. The security lights went off about an hour ago and it’s completely dark. My only gripe is that I am alone. I still can’t quite believe how long it has been since you left me. I’m slightly embarrassed to say that I’ve been coming here a lot in recent months, just to remember you.

I never would have thought we could even break into the tennis centre if you hadn’t dragged me along that night in June, when the stars were bright and the air was warm and cool, and it seemed the whole world was asleep except you and me. We lay on our backs in the middle of the court and gazed at the sky and you pointed out constellations to me and reminded me of being a little girl in the Brownies, first uncovering the mysteries of the universe.

Then you kissed me, and I was no longer a girl but a woman again, with all the ferocious animal passions that only you ever awoke in me. There have been other men since, but nobody touches me like you did, nobody makes my skin come alive with fire and electricity like you. You traced the lines of my body with heavy fingers until I nearly screamed at you to fuck me, and then you gagged me with your scarf so that you could continue to torture my aching body without fear of being caught. You took off your shirt and I marvelled at your lustrous body, finely muscled and toned from years of dedicated tennis training. I wanted to lick the sweat from your chest and your nipples until you gave into my desires, but you were having none of it. You took control of me like you knew my body inside out.

You laughed at me as I piteously tried to persuade you to penetrate me and the more you resisted, the more I wanted you until I was nothing more than a slave to your will, open to whatever glorious pleasure or pain you had in store for me.

That was when you had me where you wanted me. As you slipped the condom over the handle of the racket I knew that I would never, ever forget you, or the depths of lust that you drove me to. I looked at the shaft with a mixture of fear and excitement. I was innocently curious, my desire-fogged brain slow to catch on to your intentions. I think I tried to scream but at that point you thrust your fingers inside me and I was lost in a rush of ecstasy and I forgot all about the ridiculousness and stupidity of your plan. When you drove the shaft inside me I was ready, wet and loose and you just slipped it in like you had done this a hundred times before. My body revelled at this strange and curious sensation and I raked desperate fingers at your body, pulling you into kiss me, again and again as you slowly moved the handle in and out, the strings tickling at my thighs.
As you began to pick up speed, you added fingers to the equation, rubbing my clit like it was a button that could be pushed to release me into oblivion. At times I thought the sensory overload would drive me insane but you somehow kept me teetering on the edge between madness and bliss, until finally my body could take it no more and I tipped over the precipice into orgasm, sweet joy rushing through all my limbs.
I lay there for a while, unable to move, my cunt sore and throbbing, my heart beating so fast that my head pounded, rendering any thought impossible. You stroked me and told me I was a good girl, and I was confused at the flush of pride that I felt, as though I had done something amazing.

Sometime later, I asked you why you’d done it. You just shrugged and gave a wicked grin. I looked away, speechless.

Even now, I cannot watch your beloved sport without feeling dirty and subversive, and blushing so much that I have to leave the room. When you’re playing, I have to hear about the score afterwards, because I am overwhelmed with memories as soon as you walk onto the court. And when you kiss and thank your wife when you win, I take smug satisfaction in knowing that you still have that piece of me, unseen but always present, wherever in the world you find yourself.

Sunday, 13 March 2011

Ooh! Comments!

I got a wonderful comment on One Last Time Again from Erotica writer Jaye Raymee, who has an imagination far more wicked than mine and a penchant for finding erotica in the most interesting places:

"I loved the intensity, esp the inner turmoil and passion! All in addition to the hot, slippery, pulse-raising naughty bits!"


You should go check her out. Especially her most recent offering, lesbian encounter Seeking, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Saturday, 12 March 2011

Solving Mysteries, and Leaving Them Unsolved

Recently I have been writing about the same characters a lot. I didn't set out to do this, I just had lots of ideas, and as they've come to fruition I've realised that the tone and the behaviour of the pair slots together. The story of these characters has become a jigsaw puzzle to me, all the pieces in the wrong order with the gaps just begging to be filled.

I don't want to write a chronological account of the encounters of these characters, as I feel it would lose a lot of the romance. Nor do I want to fill in ALL the gaps, as I think it would ruin the mystery of how the characters connect. All I know is that I cannot stop writing them, nor do I especially want to as they can be sickeningly cute at times and so gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking at others.

I've never felt so controlled by characters that I knew so little about. I don't even know their names. The male protagonist is occasionally referred to as Andrew, but the female has never revealed her name to me, and I wonder if it's silly of me to think that maintaining her anonymity helps the story to be more relatable, as if she were not one person but many.

Strange times. But writing is an adventure - you never know what's going to come at you next. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Saturday, 5 March 2011

One Last Time Again, Final Part

Follows on from Part 4.

I fumble with your cock, try and pull you into me. You are a little shorter than me, but we're standing up and the angle is still all wrong. I move into the corner of the shower cubicle, stand up on my tiptoes on the ledge around the bottom, and with a thrust you are in me, and I moan loudly, tears squeezing from my eyes because nothing I've ever experienced comes close to being as amazing as the feel of you inside me, the weight of my body bringing you further into me with every upward thrust from your hips. Your mouth is on my breast, your tongue flicking across my nipple, sucking the moisture from my skin, your hand cupping my breast from underneath, squeezing and feeling and experiencing as you send shivers of pleasure shooting through my body. Standing on my tiptoes has all the muscles in my legs screaming but the adrenalin coursing through me masks the pain and all I can think about it bringing you, pulling that low, primal moan from your mouth as you can no longer hold onto your orgasm and you expel yourself inside me with violent shudders.

We have settled into a rhythm, and with each upward stroke you push yourself further inside me, until I feel that if you tried to fill me any more I would explode. I can feel you growing and I know that you cannot be far away, and a stab of pain runs through my chest as I realise that when you come that will be it, there will be no more us again.

Tuesday, 1 March 2011


I feel very strange about posting a sex scene for the first time. I tend to focus on the erotic nature of a moment, rather than the actual act of sex. But I'm quite glad I have posted it. I think that sex can be beautifully and passionately written, and I hope that I have captured the wonder of the moment that I feel for my characters when I am writing them.

One Last Time Again, Part 4

Follows on from Part 3.

I pull into the space by your house, and we get out and go into your building, your small but perfect ground floor flat. We sit in your kitchen and I sip water. We make small talk. I'm getting cold and slowly realise I'm still wearing my sweaty running gear.

“Can I use your shower?” I ask. You find me a towel and leave me in the bathroom. I turn on the shower, peel off my clothes and step in, the hot water a stark contrast to my apparently freezing body. The pounding jet is heaven against my sore limbs. I wonder again why I'm here.

The shower opens and you're standing there, looking at me. I know that I'm naked but I don't feel embarrassed. Even after all the time we've been apart, being with you is still natural, like breathing. Water is spilling onto the floor and I wonder what you want. Quietly, you slip your clothes off and step into the shower with me, pulling the door closed. It's not a small cubicle, but it's still cramped with both of us here. I put my arms around you, pull you in towards me. The shower is still on and our skin clings together as the water coats our naked bodies. You're warm and soft against me, your arms strong around me. I let my hands slip down towards your bottom and caress the curve of your buttocks. God, how had I forgotten about the perfection of your body? You are semi-erect, a weight against my crotch but not hard yet. I imagine you swelling against me, the firm length of your shaft in my hand, how you would feel slipping inside me, how good it would feel to have my aching void finally filled, up and up until I want to explode...


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