Holiday Thanks

Hold hands with the person next to you. For me, it's disappointing, because it's not you. Won't be, can't be. Right now, it's him.

"We now bow our heads Lord, and silently give you thanks for all the blessings in our lives."

I'm hot. These days it doesn't take much - just a thought of your lips on mine, or the phantom touches that remain in my skin's memory from the last time we were together.

And it's been too long.

My body aches for your touch. Even something as innocent as holding your hand sends a burning through to my core.

I need you.

As we sit at the family dinner table, heads bowed, I smile because they would all be shocked if they could hear what I was giving thanks for.

I'm giving thanks for the eight inches of solid cock that I love sliding in and out of my mouth as your long fingers probe my aching pussy. I lick my lips as if I can still taste your jets of come spurting down my throat.

I'm giving thanks for that talented tongue that takes long laps at my wet cunt, from hole to clit and back again. I try not to visibly squirm as the thought causes my juices to flow, and my thighs tighten to hold back whatever might leak onto the good chairs mom has put out for the holidays. My stomach clenches and quivers as I think about long you fuck me with that tongue, bringing me to the edge, but never letting me go over. You're too cruel for that.

I try to sigh inaudibly, as my mind wanders, remembering laying flat on my back while you climbed on top of me, teasing me by rubbing your hard on against my slippery clit. I bite back a moan as my clit grows in anticipation, even though I don't know when I'll see you again. I shift a little, the movement causing friction against my sensitive bud. I hold my breath, waiting for the sensation to pass.

I'm giving thanks for your able hands, and how they grasp my sensitive nipples and twist them at just the right time, causing pain to add to my pleasure; how they tangle in my hair, forcing my head to the side so that you can bite into my neck, causing an internal bruise, but no marks are visible; how they caress my ass cheeks, bringing them apart before you insert a finger into my puckered hole.

I'm giving thanks for the time we have together, where you fuck me senseless; where I forget my name, and all that my life entails. I'm giving thanks for the way you fill me, in every sense; for the way you fulfill my desires and fantasies, even those I've never articulated.

And I'm giving thanks for the numerous times you've made me come - waves upon waves of hot, sticky pleasure, whether it be with your cock, your tongue, your hands, or with your memory and my hands, my toys.

I look up to see little sister staring at me with a bemused expression. Only she knows my secret. Only she knows why I'm smiling. He glances over, and smiles back at me. He'll never know.

"For all this and more, this holiday season, we give you thanks Oh Lord."

A-men.



©2008

Broken

Another challenge from the lovely Ms. Tyler. This one was 250 words around the theme 'broken'. Enjoy.

*****************************************************

The radio plays our song.

I refuse to cry.

Instead my hands move along my bare breasts, tracing your path to my erect nipples. My fingers skip lightly across their tips, in tribute to your touch.

I shakily exhale, the sob stopping in my throat. My hands continue their journey, down my midriff, playing briefly with my navel piercing. I smile, remembering the day I got it done, how your face paled when they put the needle through my skin.

Tears prick at my eyes.

I refuse to cry.

My fingers tangle in the soft brush of curls, making their way down, sliding through the wetness. One finger slowly penetrates, my thumb gently pressing my clit in lazy circles. A second digit joins the first, my free hand grasping my throat. I can still feel your bite – the same spot, every time.

My fingers pound in time with the beating of my heart, and I close my eyes to imagine they’re yours.

The singer croons for lovers.

I refuse to cry.

I’m coming close. I piston my fingers in faster, harder. My other hand takes over on my clit. My middle finger rubs against the sensitive bud fast and furious, as a third opens me up further.

My knees buckle as I cry out, waves of pleasure causing me to crash to the floor, sobbing. My hands, sticky with sweat and come, reach up to cradle my cheeks.

The music stops.

The song is over.


I’m finally broken with goodbye.


©2008





"'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away"
-'Broken' by: Seether

Somewhere only we know...

It made you feel cheap, you said. You felt bad that I would have to spend money to be with you. That's why you turned down the motel idea. That's why you gave me no encouragement when I asked for the tiniest little sign for me to turn around and drive to the nearest run-down, sleazy motel that I could find.

I understand what you meant. I can even respect that.

I know that we could go to your place. I know that chances are the roommate will be home, as she always is. And I know that we'll lie on your bed, slip a DVD into your computer, and then not bother watching it. I know we'll be together tonight.

The walls are paper thin. The roommate isn't getting any right now, and besides, she's known you all your life. It's like fucking in the same room as your sister. EEEWWW. Yeah, I get that. So we want to be discreet. We could wait for another time, when she's not home. But then there are the neighbours. It's never really private.

But I want you to understand why I need you in a hotel, why I need you someplace private.

Somewhere only we know.

When you kiss me, nipping at my lips, tongue seeking mine, I want to be able to moan. I want to be able to sigh when you envelope me in your arms. When you tackle me onto the bed, I shouldn't have to stifle my laughter.

I want to hear the echo of your thighs slapping off mine, and the crack of your palm as it deals out punishment to my trembling cheeks. I want to shriek and scream as your tongue delves between my legs and laps at my wetness. When your fingers slowly penetrate me, I don't want to have to bite down on a pillow, or a sheet. I want to let loose the primal cries that over take me.

I want to tear down the walls when I feel the tension of you between my thighs.

And when you finally fuck me, I want to pant, wail, pound and grunt like animals. When you take me from behind, I want to hear you call me your slutty bitch. When you fuck my ass again, I want to let you know exactly how good it feels. I want to hear you call me yours when you come inside me. When I come, I want to sigh your name, and melt into you.

I don't want us to have to hold back.

Let's go...somewhere only we know.


©2008

Finally Fucked

(Courtesy of another hot contest by Trollop with a Laptop, Alison Tyler)

Alison loves the word FUCK. So she challenged us, her readers, to a flash contest. The word FUCK must be used in the title, and it seemed like as many times as possible in the story.

Here was my contribution.

Thanks again Ali, for bringing out the FUCK in all of us.

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“Hi.”

It was instant – the desperate desire to tear his clothes off, to be fucked until I didn’t know my name.

Our kiss was hard, electric. His teeth grasped my bottom lip, his hand going to my braless chest and my erect nipples.

“Fuck me.” I moaned into his ear, hands wandering to his zipper. He shook his head. We weren’t alone. His mother was in town, and staying with him, as damned inconvenient as that was. He led me inside by the hand. I smiled at his mom, hugged her hello. Over her shoulder I mouthed “Fuck me.” He shrugged his shoulders, helpless.

We sat on the sofa, chatting about inane everyday topics, but my mind wasn’t focused on conversation. He stroked my bare leg, his touch sending spirals of heat through my body. My pussy clenched, tingling with need. I stood up. “Anyone for a refill?” I gestured to our empty wine glasses.

I called for help with the corkscrew. As he entered the kitchen, I threw myself at him, falling to my knees and unzipping him in one smooth movement. I took his cock out and placed it in my mouth. Sucked once, sucked twice. I looked up at him.

“Fuck me.” I stroked his hard on, licking at the tip with my tongue, begging with my eyes. My hand was under my skirt, and my scent filled the kitchen.

He hauled me to my feet, bending me over the sink.

“Fuck you.”

"Finally."


©2008

haunted moon

Last night,
I gazed at the moon,
the centre of a
luminescent rainbow in the clouds,
and thought of you,
wherever you were.

Did you see it?

Did you think of me?

I stood alone,
yet felt your arms around me;
felt your moist breath
on my bare neck.

Did you feel me?

My ear tingled with
the memory of
whispered passions.

Did you hear me?

Phantom lips
tracked kisses
down to my shoulder.

A cool breeze skipped
across my heated breasts,
causing my nipples
to stand erect,
as your touch has done
so many times before.
I imagined it was a gift
from you.

I stood and gazed
at the haunted moon,


And I ached to be with you.





©Miz Angell 2008

Work place flash: Untitled (250 words)

Ok - this one is definately FICTION. Yes, I am the only woman in a male dominated workplace, but the guys here are not even close to hard bodies, or sexy.

And I always wear underwear to work....*wink*

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It’s hard working where I do. Being the only woman in a company of hot, sweaty, grease covered men really taxes ones … patience. *grin* It’s not easy to behave, sitting at my desk while they parade by, their coveralls pulled halfway down by lunch, showing off their ripped bodies covered in sweat from hauling transmissions around.

It’s not easy to sit across from my boss, his deep blue eyes twinkling as words like dipstick, lube, shaft, moisture, and ram - the truck of course - fall from his beautiful lips. He knows what he’s doing. He knows the type of girl I am – the type who appreciates the male form, the type who is in full acceptance of her sexuality.

The type of girl that today isn’t wearing underwear under her skirt.

He’s making me squirm, and he knows it. His hot gaze burns a hole through my shirt. I know he can see my nipples poking through the thin material. My pussy is so wet that I can’t get up without leaving a trail on my leather chair. So until he leaves, I’m stuck where I am.

My hand travels down to pull up the material that is the only barrier between myself and release. I pull my chair in closer to the desk, so that he can’t see what’s going on. But by the smile on his face, he doesn’t have to. Slowly, my thighs part. My fingers skip across my clit, and I almost moan out loud.

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.

And neither can I.


©2008

Walk Away (Kiss challenge - 250 words)

I entered this over at Trollop with A Laptop for her Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me challenge, and thanks to the wonderful voters (some of whom were my very good friends), I WON. Even if I hadn't - I think it's a unique twist at the end.

What do you guys think?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Not yet.” He grabbed her as she stalked past, pulling her roughly into his bare chest. “You don’t just get to walk away.”

His hand came up to softly carress her cheek, his eyes burning a hole through her, weakening her resolve.

“Josh…” His name was a whisper on her lips, and she struggled briefly, but without real effort, to remove herself from his arms. His thumb moved across her lips, barely touching them before he angled his head, claiming her mouth ravenously.

Her nails dug into his pecs as she leaned into him, thrusting her tongue against his in the familiar dance. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, demanding total surrender, and against her better judgement, she waved the white flag, thrusting her aching groin into his hard on beneath the towel he had slung around his hips.

He took a fistful of her hair and yanked to the side, exposing her jugular and wasting no time, sunk his teeth in, biting in his practiced way so as to not leave a mark. But he did leave an internal bruise that she would feel for months at a time; the haunting, orgasmic sensation of his claim.

His tongue left a moist trail from her collarbone to her earlobe. “Come on babe. Don’t go.” Her resolve weakened, and for that one moment, she couldn’t remember why she was leaving.

“Hey Josh. Where do you keep the shampoo?” A woman’s voice called from the bathroom.


Oh yeah. THAT was why.


©Miz Angell 2008

We

Do you miss me?
Let me hear it


Do you want me?
Let me feel it


Do you need me?
Let me taste it


Sit next to me,
with your arm around my shoulders
proclaim to the world
I am yours


Stand behind me,
pressing your hard on
against me
proclaiming to me
you are mine


Kiss me with passion
tasting my dreams
taking them with you
inside


Brand me with your mark
not visible to others
but one that haunts
and reminds
who owns me


Moan my name in my ear
when I caress your desire
whisper you love me
when I release your want


Dream of me when we're apart
and find ways to tell me
that I'm everything


Don't be afraid
for fear limits
inhibits
our actions


Life is too short
and we should be
uninhibited
unlimited


together.




©Miz Angell 09/20/08


"You're all I want, you're all I need, you're everything."
-Lifehouse

Endless Summer

I thought about you last night.

I thought about your text message.


You can't wait to see me. "Miss me that much?" I teased back. "Yes I do." was the reply.

Instantly I grew warm. My adrenaline started to rush. I knew I couldn't wait to see you. It's been a long summer without you baby.

I imagine what I'm going to do to you when I see you again. I can only imagine what the long months without any form of sexual partner has done to you, and I pray that your body remembers mine in the same way mine does yours.



I know I'm going to want to rip up the black shirt you'll be wearing - you're always in black - placing my hands on your chest and inhaling your scent that takes me back to when we first began, in the alley, behind the bar, when we both realized how much we needed each other. You'll smell of smoke, and musk, and desire. I'll lick a circle around your nipples, feeling your heart rate quicken under my palms. I'll reach behind, and run my nails down your back, as my tongue seeks out the pulse at the base of your throat. I'll press my lips there, your pulse racing under their softness. I'll feel your cock getting hard under the miles of material that make up your too-big bondage pants, and I'll trail one hand down to your ass to squeeze a firm cheek.

You'll pull back, as you always do, and grab a fistful of my hair. Yanking down on it, you'll force me to my knees, and press me against your crotch. My hands will tremble as they make their way around to the fastenings and quickly tear them open. No boxers or briefs tonight - you'll have taken a chance that this is what I'll want.

You know me so well.

I'll take you in my mouth, and coax you into your full potential. Public places like this always make you nervous. My fingers will encircle the base of your beautiful cock, and apply pressure as I stroke the length. My lips will slide over the smooth skin of the head, slowly encasing your shaft in my hot mouth. I'll moan, because my body has been missing you in ways I never thought possible. You'll moan, because it's been awhile since someone's gone down on you, and a long while since it's been me. I'll be slow, and thorough, bathing your hard on with my velvet tongue, and tracing patterns along it with my nails, painted black just for you.

My other hand will raise up and play with your balls, gently squeezing them, playing with them, making sure they also feel the love. I'll playfully nip once or twice at them with my teeth, causing you to gasp. I'll gaze up once or twice, and I'll see that your eyes are closed, and you are the perfect picture of a man being serviced.

You'll reach down roughly and haul me to my feet, your cock springing free of my grip. Backing me against the wall, you'll reach down and raise my skirt. You'll rub me through my soaked thong, as your teeth find that sweet spot on my neck, right along my jawline, just under my ear. You've bitten me there several times before, but never breaking skin. Visibly leaving your mark, as much as I desperately want you to, is not an option. But it's always hard enough to cause a bruise under the skin, which I'll feel even months later.

Your hand will still caress me through my thong as your other hand grabs my hair again, pulling my head to the other side. Your tongue will lick from my collarbone to my ear, where you'll growl "Never forget who you belong to."

Never.

And with that, you'll push my thong aside, and in one easy movement, you'll slide your cock into my dripping pussy. Again and again, you'll fuck me up against that wall, in the heat of the fading summer. My leg will come up to encircle your waist, and I'll bury my face in your neck, biting down to keep from crying out, and you'll do the same, only you'll be claiming me once more - reminding me that I am yours.

In every sense of the word.

Hurry home.



©2008


I'll keep your secrets. I'll sooth your guilt. I'll take care of all your needs. I'm here to please you and make you cum hard. I'm your whore after all.

Forgive me Father...

Indecent little secret huh? Well, let's see here...

Senior year of high school. A group of us known as the Chaplaincy Riff Raff - called so because we never wore our uniforms proper, we never went to class, and we were always in the throes of ultimate slacking - had taken control of the chaplain himself, and he always allowed us to use his office, as long as we didn't get busted by anyone in administration. ( He felt that we were in control of our own lives, and the choice whether or not to go to class was ultimately ours. Plus, he liked having us kids for company. He always tried to appear hipper than he was, and our conversations with him were completely out in space.)

This day, it's just myself, and Dok. He has a crush on me and I've never given him a second look. I always had my eye on his best friend.

Second period - the office should be empty. Father Miles is supposed to be giving a lecture in my OAC theology class, which I'm skipping (technically I'm repeating the class as I dropped out for a year - 18 feels so much older than 17 when you're the one left behind). Sitting in Miles' office, my feet up on his desk, Doc Martin's casually undone and my skirt blowing in the breeze from the fan, I'm reading a trashy romance novel. The ultimate picture of a teenage rebel. All I'm missing is a smoke.


Enter Dok, with his headphones on and a copy of Interview with a Vampire in his hands. He flops on the sofa, giving me a courteous nod. With both of us submerged in our books, we still steal glances at each other, pretending to examine the wall, or look at the clock whenever our eyes meet. His dark eyes caress me, and suddenly the breeze under my skirt isn't enough to stop the wet heat between my thighs. I slowly remove my school hoodie, tossing it to the side, and unbuttoning my blouse to expose my low cut tank. I could have meowed, I was feeling so sex kittin-ish.

As I look at my book it hits me, that while I feel this way, it's about Dok! That's not part of the plan at all. Then, I hear the door open again. Thinking that it's just one of the Riff Raff seeking refuge from another boring class, I stay put, breathing a sigh of relief. With another body in the room, maybe this sexual tension would fade. It's just biology anyway, right?

Instead I hear Miles' voice, along WITH the vice principal. I hit the lights and dive onto the sofa, my hand across Dok's mouth. I'm praying that they have no reason to enter the office, and lie as still as can be. He looks confused and I put my mouth right to his ear. "Miles is outside with Jenkins." His hair tickles my lips, and my breath is uneven. He nods briefly.


My body grows warm with the awareness as I feel his body under mine. His hard abs press against my softer ones, and my bare thigh rubs against his silky dress pants. I am fully aware that my tits are falling out of the scant tank top, and they're practically at his mouth. All I need to do is move my hand.....


I feel my fingers moisten, as Dok begins sucking on my digits one by one. And sure as can be, my fingers aren't the only things moist now. His hand, trapped between our bodies, begins to gather the material of my kilt and pull it up. I hesitate briefly, and then move slightly to allow it. Then, with my heart pounding in my chest, and my thighs slippery with anticipation, he moves the slight material of my thong, and begins to rub my clit with his thumb, the rest of his fingers journeying their way down to my slit.

He inserts one finger in me, gently, but firm. I close my eyes in ecstasy as he twists in and out of my wetness. A second finger joins, and the pummeling comes harder, and faster. His thumb is still working on my clit. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. Getting busted is not high on my to-do list. I clutched at his trench coat, my body going into spasms as I come again and again.

Right then and there, he gave me the best orgasm I'd ever had, and I gave up on his best friend. We never actually got together as a couple, but it was a while before we let anyone else skip class with us.


©2008

"Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand."

Oh My GODDESS

Today I am worshipping at the feet of a newly discovered blogger, an artist who paints the most erotic pictures with her words. I find myself reading them aloud, and desperate to fuck afterwards.

The indescribable A. Secret at Pocket Secrets mesmerized me from the second I saw the first entry I read. As You Wish.....by the end I was wondering where the fucking lamp was so I could rub it.

If you don't get your asses over there to check out her assets, amongst other things, then I will have to question your sanity. When someone writes a line like What if another is fucking my mind. And what if I am liking it, there's just no way to NOT read the rest of their prose.

I am in love, horny as hell, and aiming to find someone to do something about it.

Only the young can say...

I was just MSN'ing with a friend of mine who happens to be male, younger and YUMMY. He's got tickets for a Trooper show in Barrie this weekend, and was complaining cuz everyone he was supposed to go with backed out.

Immediately my response was to sit on my hands in order not to type "I'LL GO". I mean, the other half would freak out immensely if I was to leave for the weekend with no one but this absolutely delish younger man. This is the equation that would pop into his mind:

MIZ ANGELL + YOUNGER MAN + CLASSIC ROCK + WEEKEND AWAY = DIVORCE

I had a few other equations popping through my head. My imagination just ran wild with me. Oh the things I could do with that boy....and I do mean boy, despite the fact that he is in his early twenties. I could try and sneak away for the weekend. I'm sure I have a friend or two that owns a cottage that would cover for me. Just him, and me, and tunes that make me want to rip clothing off and fuck wildly into the night....sometimes in private even.

Mrs. Robinson ain't got nothing on me.

So, would you go?


"If you won't sleep with me this time, Benjamin, I want you to know you can call me up any time you want and we'll make some kind of arrangement."

Three is always better than two....

About a two weeks ago, Alison Tyler asked us about threesomes. She asked for, and I quote "a fantasy about a three-some, or one that really happened."


Is this one real, or fantasy? I think I'll let you decide.....

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How very silly of him, I thought to myself. How could he leave me alone with these two beautiful men? The answer was simple - he trusted me implicitly. Up to that point, he had every reason to.

Tonight, however, he should have played it smart.

"I'll meet you guys back at Don's at eleven." he said before he kissed me goodbye. Thinking Don's roommate was home, that we would just watch movies or play video games. Or drink.

Well, he got that part right anyway.

I drove us to the local ski hill, which doubled as a regular party place in the off season, whether for teenagers, or kids. I parked at the base of the hill, the night silent as it enveloped us. It was spring, and still a little cool for the kids to be out playing, as they normally would in warmer weather. Don passed me the bottle of Southern Comfort he had started. I gripped the neck, and took a long swallow, shuddering. I hated the taste of liquor, but hey - we had time to kill.

From the backseat, Mike reached up for his turn. Handing it back to him, his fingers lingered on mine, and the resulting heat could have turned April to July. I knew what he wanted, what we all wanted. We’d been tiptoeing around each other in public for quite some time, but now, with two hours to kill, the sexual tension was stifling.

I felt his blue eyes strip me to the skin, as he gulped back two or four shots of the sweet liquid and handed it back to Don. “Does the seat go back?” Without speaking, I lowered the driver’s side, gazing up at him from flat on my back. Don leaned over and kissed me, his mouth full of booze, forcing it into my mouth, and down my throat. I coughed, but managed to keep it under control. His hands unbuttoned the shirt I was wearing, parting the panels of silk to reveal my soft belly. I tried to cover up, self conscious about my weight. I’d been with Don before, but the encounters had always been desperate, clandestine affairs, fully clothed in a public place. My body wasn’t something I was proud of, but at this point, neither of the gorgeous men in front of me cared.

They just wanted to fuck. And so did I.

Mike grabbed my hands, as Don unhooked the front clasp on my bra, and immediately took a breast in his mouth. I moaned in pleasure, and Mike released my hands, tearing his clothes off, and instructing Don to remove the rest of mine. Fortunately, I was in a skirt, so there wasn’t much to remove. When all three of us were naked, we figured the logistics of trying to have a threesome in a Pontiac Grand Am. Thankfully, the back seat folded down, and the front seats went back.

I lay with the lower half of my torso in the spacious trunk, Mike on top of me, eager to sink his rock hard cock into my waiting pussy. Don knelt on the passenger seat, stroking his impressive erection, and my mouth opened automatically. Both men looked at each other, and in a silent countdown, both sank their engorged rods into my hot, wet holes.

Don thrust into my mouth over and over, forcing himself down my throat, as Mike pounded at my slit, his pubic bone striking my clit with every thrust, and causing me to come much quicker than I would have liked. My hands clutched at my tits, pinching and pulling at my nipples as I moaned around Don’s cock.

Mike pulled out. “This is killing my back, and frankly, I want to feel that hot little mouth of hers around my cock. I’ve got another idea.” Don helped me up and, moving me to the front seat, one knee balanced on the drivers side, he impaled me from behind, as Mike lay back on the bed the seats made, and I anxiously took him inch by inch down my waiting throat.

Don bent over me, his face a mere inches from Mikes in the enclosed space, as my tits swung back and forth and I bobbed up and down on Mike’s knob. This was a much more comfortable position and we established a better rhythm. My clit was still throbbing from all the contact it had before, and a mere touch of Don’s finger sent me spiraling into space again.

Don groaned, a sure signal he was going to come, and grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing me off Mike and almost banging my head on the roof. His free hand grasped my clit and pulled hard on it, causing me to scream in ecstasy, as my juices mingled with Don’s and ran down my thighs.

Mike, turned on by the sight of me in total submission, began jerking his fist around his cock, which looked ready to explode. “Let her go Don. I want her to swallow this.” Don obliged, shoving me forward, my mouth ready and willing. I took him back in my mouth with seconds to spare as he shot his load down my throat.

I eagerly swallowed every last drop, and collapsed on his thighs. Don had moved into the driver’s seat and was leaning against the door, panting. The bottle was passed around again. This time, I just rinsed out my mouth with it, and popped a mentos. I climbed out of the car to get dressed, not caring if anyone saw me after what I had just gone through. The boys did the same, and we drove back to Don’s with the windows down, to rid the car of that “just been fucked” smell.

When Kevin walked into Don’s place half an hour later, we were watching a movie….



©2008


Pandora's proverbial box had been opened, and what's more, none of us were sure that we wanted it closed again. (Threesome 1994)

Got writers block? GO SHOPPING

All I have to say is that thanks to Alison Tyler, my life is NEVER going to be the same again. That trollop has got me thinking SEX ALL THE TIME. (ok, peanut gallery - this is where you keep your mouths shut - here - have a lolly).

Also, she has introduced her devoted, devout and loyal voyeurs readers to the wonderful artists at Etsy. If you're a fan of Alison's, you've seen a lot of different artists on there. From the sublime to the silly, from the kinky to the sweeeeeeeet (ie/ the above lolly's). You can do a search for any terms, and I have. Most of them were four lettered ones too. LOL.

I spent today surfing the site, and these are some of the wonderful items that could make me a whole lot poorer in the pocketbook (if I can't resist buying), but they're going to make my imagination a whole lot richer.


Take these lovely items for example....

All they are missing is a couple of D rings on the front of them. There's a thrilling story, and experience, somewhere in there, I'm sure of it.



I just fell for these earrings - although I probably wouldn't wear them, the scene depicted is HOT. I'm tempted to try and reproduce it in reality - well, the outfit and pose and bondage part anyway. Don't know where I'd find the giant boot....

It's my new cure for writers block. Whenever I'm stuck, I'll just surf on over and see what the lovely artisians have to offer by way of kink, promise, and imagination.

Thanks Alison - now I'll have to get a third job.

I WANT THESE

Darling hubby's nickname is Batman. Maybe if I bought these, he might clue in and be inspired.


What do you think?

Music to Quiver to

Ok, anyone who knows me knows that music drives me. It's an integral part of what makes me who I am. And in a lot of cases, music is what inspires a lot of my writing. Especially my erotica.

Anyone who's read some of my older stories can see the influence of music in them. I often picture the action timed with the soundtrack before I can write the words. The trouble is being able to be descriptive enough without being redundant, or long winded. It's not easy walking that fine line. You don't want to lose the reader, but you want to be able to do the scene, and your characters, justice.

Sometimes it's not the whole song that makes my knees turn to jelly, or gets me hot. Sometimes it's just one or two lines. Example - I'm sitting here, listening to music and praying that I win the lottery so I don't have to come back to this soul-sucking-life-killing day job that I can't fucking stand, and Hysteria by those long haired gods of rock comes on. And yes - I mean Def Leppard. The song plays, and while it registers with my brain, nothing happens until these lyrics send my body quivering.

I've gotta know tonight
If you're alone tonight
Can't stop this feeling now
Can't stop this fight

Suddenly I'm seeing two bodies, standing an inch apart, barely touching, and the heat between them could melt an ice cap in the South Pole. Putting myself in one of the bodies, I can feel the others breath on my neck...can feel their pulse through their fingers, which aren't even touching skin...can see the moisture beading up in the hollow of their throat...

Ummm, sorry. Where was I?

Yep, this happens often.

It's not always a hot scene either. I mean, well, it can be. But there's another one that goes through my head on a constant basis. It involves a past lover, and all we'd gone through. When I hear Chasing Cars, from Snow Patrol, suddenly I go back in time, and all the good times we had play out, like in a music video. And I feel like I'm a ghost or a spirit, standing, watching, but not seen. I keep thinking that it would be a great video if I knew anyone who did that sort of thing, and then I would have to convince the ex to go for it. So it's the sort of thing that's better left either in my head or on paper. Unfortunately, without listening to the song, I doubt it would hold a lot of poignency for the reader. So in my head it shall remain.

Enough schmaltz. I hate when I get that way. I spend so many moments crying over stupid shit, I don't want to relive it and cry some more.

So some songs that really inspire me *wink wink*? Let's see what Mr Ipod can cough up.

*Moonlight Desires - Lawrence Gowan
*Another - Glen Burtnick
*Blue Monday - remake by Fluke
*Closer - NIN
*Animal - Def Leppard
*Lips of An Angel - Hinder
*Love In An Elevator - Aerosmith
*Wicked Games - Chris Issac
*One Night Love Affair - Bryan Adams
*Cry Little Sister - Sisters of Mercy
*Bring me To Life - Evanessence
*Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
*Master & Servant - Depeche Mode
*Sunrise - Simply Red
*Harder to Breathe - Maroon 5
*Broken - Seether
*almost anything by Nickleback
*Your Song - Ewan McGregors version
*When You Were Young- The Killers

And those are just a brief sampling of the over three thousand tunes I have on my iPod. They don't count the ones that make my knees weak for personal reasons...otherwise I'd have to list over a thousand songs. Maybe I'll do another post in the future.

Not like I ever get a lot of responses, but I'll ask anyway - does music inspire your writing? And if so, is there a particular band (Dayle, I know the answer to this one for you LOL), or one song in particular that has been uber-inspiring?

SHARE people - after all, we're all friends here, right?

Shouting it from the rooftops

I have received notification (and the contract) that I am OFFICIALLY going to be published in FRENZY, from Cleis Press, which will hit shelves sometime in October!!! (But can be pre-ordered now by following the link *wink wink*)

This is my first story being published in actual print (ever) and it's my first erotic story that's been submitted for publication. Of course it was requested by the wonderful Trollop with a Laptop, the amazing and talented Alison Tyler - who now has a page in Wikipedia (and I say it's about damn time).


I posted about the book about a month and a half ago, but it turns out it was a little premature. It was also titled Flash Fucking back then. So the title has changed and I am so proud to be a part of it with talented authors like Jeremy Edwards and Andrea Dale, both of whom are names to be reckoned with in the genre.

MY NAME IS ANGELL AND I - WRITE - EROTICA!!!!

Sex appeal is 50% what you've got and 50% what people think you've got.
-Sophia Loren

Fishnets, and muscles and corsets.....oh MY!

This is a clip of The Rocky Horror Show from CanStage's production last year. The guy playing the lead is a wonderful actor named Adam Brazier. Adam and I worked together - so to speak - when he was appearing as Skye in Mamma Mia at the Royal Alex many moons ago (seems like a lifetime). I know that Tim Curry is the original Frank and that NO ONE can do it better than him, but this guy is sexay HOT in his fishnets and corset. This is Tim's signature song - Sweet Transvestite. It's the second best version I've ever heard - Tim's being the first. A friend I went with to see the show (my second time) said he would gladly go gay for this guy. For me, all it would have taken was a come hither stare and a free room for an hour or two, and I would have gladly been naked and his slave. SIGH.




Ladies and gents, prepare to wet yourselves - in several wonderful ways.

ENJOY!!!!

Thursday Thirteen: Things that get me wet in public

Totally innocent things that send my blood racing through me and my thongs to become puddles of desire and heat.



13. Fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck - makes me instantly want to get on my knees and say Yes Master.


12. A smooth baritone (preferrably with a southern drawl but any one will do) saying "Hey Darlin'.."


11. Direct eye contact from a possible boy toy


10. A beautiful singing voice, regardless of what body it's attached to


9. Gorgeous biceps - I'm a sucker for arms - they dont' even have to be huge, just defined


8. Intelligence - nothing is sexier than a person who knows what they're talking about , even if I don't.


7. Denim jackets worn the right way, and NO popped collars


6. Tattoos, however when it totally covers an entire limb, I tend to steer clear - also not too crazy about facial tats


5. Almost-kisses. You know the ones - where the object of desire leans in so close and then just stops...leaving you wanting


4. Men's hands - if they're manicured, it means they take good care of themselves, but if not, it means that they're not afraid to get down and dirty


3. Musicians - if you can play a guitar or drums or keyboards and I'm watching...it's as good as gold.


2. The way a man's adam's apple bobs as he's swallowing his drink


1. Holding hands with the object of your desire, regardless of who it is

I'm So Excited - and I ain't gonna hide it

This is the book I am going to be published in (at least that's what I've been told). Alison Tyler is finishing editing it, and then it'll hit the shelves - hopefully in time for some steamy hot summer sex.

Alison says there will be sixty lucious tidbits in this anthology, some from established writers, and some from newbies like me. It's so encouraging.

For the record - the story is published here on this blog - but to see it in print is going to be divine, to say the least. AND, as yummy as the story is, it IS fiction.....




....for now. *wink*

Flash: Hot and Fast

His hand grasps my hair; yanks my head back.

“Please.” I whisper.

His teeth sink into my neck. My thighs get soaked. “Please.”

His other hand reaches under my skirt, finding me wet. I bite my lip. He sinks his fingers into me violently.

“Please” I moan.

His tongue licks my lobe, trailing down to my collar bone, his fingers continuing their invasion.

“Please.”

His thumb finds my clit, repeatedly pushing that button. I’m so close to coming.

“Please.” I whimper.

His tongue replaces his thumb. My pulse throbs. My body falls. I shatter.

“Thank you.” He whispers.


©2008