Talk to me about procrastination....

And I'll let you know why I'm the queen.

I just finished my second course towards my publishing certificate. And it was a tough one. Any of my friends on here will tell you that if you thought you knew about editing before, once you take an actual copy-editing course, you find you know NOTHING. I'm still fuzzy-brained from the information overload. Well, if nothing else, it will make me a better writer - I hope.

It's now *checks calendar* three days until Christmas. I have NOT finished my shopping, nor have I finished wrapping the gifts I currently have. And add to that, I do NOT have the week off between Christmas and New Years like I did last year. So all the things I was hoping to accomplish between those two dates are going to be crammed into two days instead of seven.

GLEEP.

I owe our lovely Trollop Alison about thirty thousand reviews for the numerous lovely little PDF's she's sent me. I owe a few to the wonderful Sommer Marsden for the gifts of hot novels she so generously sent my way as well. I need to finish (well, start first THEN finish) my entry for the next round of Project Smutway. I have characters begging to be let out, tied down, pillaged, plundered and all that good stuff if I could just get my muse to sit still for thirty seconds. (My WIP file is insanely huge).

I need to clean my apartment - and clean it out too. 

I need to sort some personal shit. I need to figure out the next step on my path, making sure I keep to the paved road and not wander down to the river and drown.

But, no matter what - I am grateful. I have a loving family, who is always there for me.

I have wonderful friends, who are incredibly supportive of everything I do, even when they don't agree with it, and love me no matter what type of mess I am (or am IN).

And I have the butterflies, which make life so much harder and easier all at the same time. But I wouldn't give them up for the world.

One day I'll explain those to you.

It's December 1...

Not only is today World Aids Day, but it's also the birthday of someone near and dear to my heart (and I'm sure some other body parts appreciate her too). 

Happy Birthday to the gorgeous, talented, quirky, adorable, and oh-so-FAB-U-LOUS Sommer Marsden!

In honor of both these days, I've found the perfect combination of sexy birthday wish and red ribbon.

So pop on over to give her a whack on that cute little ass of hers, toast her with a glass of wine (in crystal no less that thankfully didn't shatter when I sang to her this morning) and maybe read some of her stuff.  I hear she's pretty good....at writing that is.

Olly Olly Oxen Free...

My muse finally came out of hiding. Not sure if it's any good or not, but apparently it was inspired by Aisling Weaver's two brilliant poetry submissions today.

SIGH - here goes nothing.

Those eyes are my undoing.
I picture them in my sleep, in my waking hours, 

in my dreams, in my thoughts…

They see right through me, into the core of my soul.

There are no secrets from the heat of his gaze.

It is much more than desire,

So much more than need.

It is fact.

Those eyes are my undoing.

And I am happily undone.

Under Pressure....

Round eight of Project Smutway is over and I survived once again! Thanks to all who went and voted for this piece.  Pressure is right!  Congrats to the lovely and talented Emma Hillman, who's amazingly hot and sexy In The Middle took first prize this round.  If you didn't get a chance to read all the entries, pop over to Alison's blog and check them out.

Decisions

No pressure. Right.

They’d been doing this dance for months.

I want you.

I want you.

Tell me you want me too.

Her eyes laughed at him, her mouth teased him.

She was waiting. Her v-neck sweater strained to keep her braless breasts inside, thin cotton skirt swirling above her knees. Head cocked to one side to reveal her neck, which she’d told him was her weak spot.

Her scent permeated the air around them; musky, fruity.

Sex.

He had to make the move. He knew she wanted it.

But no pressure

His cock strained against his pants, demanding to fuck her. And he wanted to give in.

He wanted her sharp tongue bathing his shaft, wanted to look down at her on her knees while she sucked his prick into her naughty mouth.

His gaze travelled down, where her wet pussy waited for him to claim her.

Take her now, or never have the chance again. She was tired of waiting.

Her hands wandered to pluck at her nipples. Her eyes drifted closed as she licked her glossed plump lips. One hand wandered further down. She moaned, palming herself through her clothing.

He unzipped his jeans, freeing his aching erection. Stroking it with one hand, he pulled her skirt up, and spread her lips with his fingers, relishing in her heat.

Pulling her close, he thrust his tongue and his cock into her at the same time. She cried out his name as he made her his.

Decision made.

©2010

A breath away

Just one inch.

Kiss me. I thought.

Just half an inch.

Kiss me. I begged.

Your breath on my face, tickling my ear.

I could feel their shape, see their smile.

A breath away.

Kiss me. I hoped.


©2010

The Sisterhood

It was a close one.  This pervy piece got me through round seven of Project Smutway. The idea was to be inspired by sex toys from her sponsor Blowfish.  She gave us 900 words to weave our tales.  I was highly inspired by the glass dildos I saw on the site.  Tell me if this story inspires you.

ENJOY!

The Sisterhood

“Now Shannon, to begin your initiation ceremony, you must kneel before the altar, and speak the words of those who have passed through before you.  Allow the light to enter you freely and without prejudice so that you may go forth and spread his word in the ways of our sisters.  Remember not that which you are leaving behind, but look ahead to those lessons and experiences that await you on your journey.”

Shannon nodded, kneeling, hands tented.  Her eyes closed, and she felt a cool breeze caress her under the thin gossamer cloak, the only clothing allowed in the sanctuary.  Her nipples peaked in response, and a wave of heat shot through her groin. She licked her lips, and spoke, her voice trembling with the realization of the commitment she was about to make.

“Of my own choice, in sound mind, I open my body and my soul to you.  From this day forth, I am the mistress of my own pleasure.  From this day forth, no flesh shall touch my body but my own.”  Her hands drifted down her torso, over her chilling breasts and resting on her taut abs.  She raised her head, gazing at the portrait behind Matron Mary.  It was of Voluptas – the Roman goddess of Sensual pleasure, naked on a bed, one hand between her thighs, the other clutching a long, slightly curved stone phallis.

“As Voluptas before me, I shall not deny myself the pleasure that my body can give me, as it is truly God’s most magnificent gift to us.  I shall seek to bestow that knowledge upon myself daily.  When I am ready, I shall go into the world, and spread the word of these pleasures to my fellow women, and show them that self love is truly the most satisfying”

She stood, arms spread.  “Paradise was lost once, and it is within us to find it again.  We, indeed, are all we need.  We are our own Paradise.”

With that, Shannon was helped up onto the altar with the utmost care.  As she lay back, standing above her was Sister Caroline.  In her hands, she cupped a glass dildo, made in the very image of the one Voluptas held in her hands in the portrait.  The legend spoke that it was molded from the original.  Each girl was presented with one at her initiation. 

She shivered as Sister Lisette slathered it with lube, like it was a real cock.  Carefully and with reverence, she placed it in Shannon’s hands.  She glanced over at the rest of the sisterhood, all watching her with eager eyes.

As she slid the dildo down her body, she rested it briefly on her clit, which was plump with anticipation.  She moved it around slowly, allowing the sensations to build up.  She stroked it up and down, pushed it left and right.  It had been so long since she’d masturbated, in preparation for tonight, that she had to fight herself not to plunge the smooth shaft into her eager pussy.

Instead she circled it around her entrance, her muscles contracting.  She dragged it through the wetness of her slit, pushing the head just inside her.  She let it sit there, relishing in the weight of it, the smooth texture, the sheer thickness.  Her other hand moved up to her breasts, caressing them through her habit.  She pinched at her nipples, whimpering as they tingled.  Her eyes closed, she pushed the dildo in further, stretching her walls and filling her to the core.  She moved it faster, in and out, tuning out the squelching sounds it made as she fucked herself with it. 

Her back arched with every thrust, her breath coming out in gasps as she twisted it, thrusting it forward to hit her G-spot.  Her free hand abandoned her nipples and moved to caress her clit.  She moaned loudly as she felt her insides clench.  She rolled her clit, scratching at the tip with her fingernail, bringing her to the very edge.

She needed to come.  It was the final ritual of the ceremony.  The ladies below all waited, fingers tracing patterns around their own cunts.  Their arousal was evident, as musk permeated the air.  Once she came, they would all celebrate by fucking themselves, celebrating their own bodies, and her acceptance into their family.  They watched carefully, some stroking their own toys as if they could milk them like a real cock.  Some circled them with their tongues, deep-throating them like they had in past lives.  All were eager to come.

Shannon didn’t disappoint them, working her clit and the dildo in the same frantic rhythm.  She shuddered and came with a giant scream, her body stiffening right down to her toes.

It was all the encouragement the girls needed.  As her orgasm slowly subsided, Shannon turned her head to gaze at the bevy of beauties in the throes of their own personal fuck session. 

She sat up on the altar, a little disoriented.  Matron Mary helped her down, and then kissed her lightly on the mouth.

”Welcome to the sisterhood child.”

“Thank you Matron.  I think I’m going to like it here.”

©2010

Are you in purple?

Amongst all the hectic crap I've got to deal with, I'm hoping that y'all are rocking the purple today, in memory of those CHILDREN who killed themselves because society is full of biggoted assholes who can't stand it when someone is "different".

So wear purple, stand up for those who can no longer stand up for themselves, and show that love is so much stronger than hate.

Over at Toy With Me, Aunt Becky wrote the most beautiful piece.  I highly recommend reading it and passing it on.  Whether it's to a gay friend, or a straight one, I think this is something everyone needs to read.

Here's the link: A Letter to My Gay Friends

Take part today, and every day.

I hope this makes a difference in someone's life today.

Smooches children.

I survived Round Sixxxxx!

And y'know, second place ain't so bad.  Especially when the winning piece was penned by the lovely and talented May Deva.  You can read her winning entry here.

The challenge was to use the word fortune.  Ms. Alison was nice enough to up our word count to 750, but just because there were more, didn't make it any less of a challenge.

Again, I kind of went a different way from most of the entries (all of which were amazing!)  Read them all at Trollop With A Laptop.

Museum Piece

He stood  gazing in lust at the radiant figure standing on the pedestal at the front of the museum.  She stood perfectly still, her dark hair shining under the lights, her skin warmed by the glow of the fortune in jewels she had displayed over her body.

Everybody admired her dedication, not moving for blocks of minutes at a time.  And when she did move, it was a fluid gesture, bringing the jewels around to another angle to display them better; a living advertisement for the exhibit inside.  Most patrons only watched for a minute or two.

Not Daniel.  He had stood watching her for hours, his jacket held in front of him disguising a rather obvious bulge in his pants.  For what he’d discovered, what others would if they’d only take the time to, was that this goddess before him was naked, save for the shiny baubles worth millions that adorned her skin.

Layer upon layer of necklaces hung around her graceful neck.  The hammered gold looked ancient, the stones colours not found in today’s palettes.  The chain fell so that bronze links circled her nipples, little erect pebbles of flesh that quivered when she moved.

Rings of all shapes and sizes rested on long tapered fingers.  Daniel tried to discreetly adjust his hard on as he imagined how those fingers would feel encircling his cock.  How soft they would be as they ran up and down his shaft. 

She shifted again, the floodlights catching the multi-layered belt hugging her hips, drawing attention to the gorgeous diamond embedded in her navel.  Hanging from the very centre were three sun medallions in descending sizes.  They swung from side to side, revealing a smooth bikini line. 

He moved closer, trying hard to catch a glimpse of what it covered.  As he stood there, his eyes captivated, he caught a slight giggle and looked up to find amusement in her eyes.  She still stared straight ahead, but he knew that she was laughing at him. 

Her plump, scarlett lips curled minutely, and she ever so slightly shook her hips.  The suns continued swaying and Daniel got what he wanted - a glimpse of a freshly shaven, smooth, perfect pussy. 

“Oh you’re so bad you know that aren’t you princess?” Daniel murmured, his tone so low she had to strain to hear him above the background noises.  His eyes stroked her from head to toe, hungrily examining long tanned legs, and toned abs. 

He walked around her, examining the pure gold chainmaille apron that barely covered her ass cheeks.  Glancing around, noticing the security guards attention was elsewhere, he slid a finger up her crack, tickling her puckered hole.  Her cheeks clenched together, and he felt her tremble.  Smirking, he ran his finger down the back of her knee.

He moved back around to the front of her.  “You’re getting off on this aren’t you?  Knowing that you’re naked under those jewels, that anyone can tell if they take the time to look?  Showing off that pretty, pretty body of yours?”

His voice grew huskier.  “You enjoy knowing that guys are walking around with hard-ons for hours because of you.  Maybe you think about them going into the men’s room stall and beating off until they come on themselves.”

He got closer to her cunt, sniffing.  “I can smell you.   You are dying for one of those hard cocks right now.”   He licked his lips, observing a thin line of moisture drip down the inside of her thigh.

                                                                                                                                                                                    

“I can see your clit sweetheart.  It’s sitting there, begging to be licked.  I’d take the tip of my tongue, flick it gently, run my tongue between those lips and lick at your sweet juices until you beg me to stop. “ Her thighs trembled and he chuckled.

“Or maybe I’d just step up behind you, pull out my stiff prick and run that up and down your slit instead.  Tease you a little before fucking you slowly, all those pretty jewels bouncing off your tits.  I’d reach around, play with your clit, see how long it takes before that stoic smile on your mouth melts into a panting, hot hole of desire.  I wonder how long it would take you to beg me to let you come. “

He lightly flicked her clit with his finger before hopping down and noticed that she shuddered more visibly. 

“Enjoy the rest of your shift honey.  See you at home.”

©2010

Completely appalled...

Shit is going on in America, and it's got to stop.  Anti-gay sentiments are running rampant all over the media and it's killing it's future. 

My family is Italian.  And Catholic. And my cousin is gay.  And none of us care.  Not even my last-generation from Italy grandparents.

What has been going on in the United States is ... sad.  And disgusting.  When five kids in three weeks commit suicide because of their sexuality, in today's supposed enlightened society, it just proves that most of the country isn't enlightened at all.

My whole life, I've known what a homosexual was.  My aunt had a very good friend whom I had a crush on for years.  He was a walking, talking, living Ken doll.  He was gorgeous and fun, and I wanted him to marry my Aunt.  I was taken aside and given the talk.  She told me that he was a very good friend, and a good person, but he didn't like kissing girls.  I didn't ever see him kiss boys, but I didn't need to.  Somewhere inside I understood what it meant, and it didn't bother me at all.

It still doesn't.  I can't understand why people see it as an abhoration or a sin against God or humanity or whatever shit they're spouting these days.  These are the same people who will go home and tell their spouses, their children, their families "I love you."  How?  How can you possibly know what love is when there is so much HATE inside your heart?

My mom and my aunts were victims of hate crimes in the 60's.  Because they were Italian.  They didn't fit in at their all Anglo school.  They were called names, shunned, ridiculed.  They had done nothing to deserve it, except be born in an Italian family.

There's nothing different about this.  Hate is hate.

People have often asked me why I don't go to church, when I was raised Catholic.  It's quite simple.  I don't believe in religion.  I do believe that there's a higher being up there - and I believe that at the end of our lives, we will be held accountable for our actions down here.  I believe God is love, understanding, and all embracing.  But religion is what tells people that homosexuality is wrong.  It's what brought down the towers, it's what's caused more wars in the history of mankind.  People use it as an excuse for hate - and rarely do they truly celebrate life.

I have many gay friends.  I have many straight friends.  I have Jewish friends, and Irish friends, and Protestant friends, and Islamic friends and .... I could go on and on.

I'll admit - I do discriminate.  But not against race, religion, sexuality or anything of that nature.  I discriminate against ignorance.  I discriminate against hatred.  And I sure as hell discriminate against redneck (adult) fuckers - in positions of power no less -  who blog against KIDS and attack them for being who they are - in this case - gay.  Michigan's Ass't Attorney General Andrew Shirvell did just that to the University of Michigan's Student Council President on his public blog.

Or what about that jackass 50 cent?  His tweet the other day was so revolting I almost threw up.  But kids, for whatever dumbass reason, listen to him.  He's no role model, but he's got the public's attention.

If assholes like that are in positions of power - no wonder the state of the US is such a mess.  They might be world leaders in several areas, but where it's important, where it counts - tolerance, respect, understanding, enlightenment - they're almost in last place.  Sure, they're patriotic.  To white-hetrosexual-homegrown-God-fearing families and "values".

Not all Americans are redneck pricks - I know that.  I happen to have some very good friends who are Americans.  And they are people I am proud to know.  They are tolerant, they are open minded, they have big hearts and huge love for human beings in general.  I just wish that they were the ones that kids listened to, and looked up to.  Those are the type of people needed to run the show - and to prove that we are all the same no matter what.

Bullying is rampant in schools now.  It was pretty bad when I was growing up, but now it's just gotten worse for any kid who's different in any way.  Because of the internet, television, video games, and lack of parental supervision, they know words now that I didn't learn until I was sixteen or older.  And they're using that hate, those words, on their peers, who are barely able to get themselves to school, let alone defend themselves against something they have no control over.

Which leads us to the five suicides.

I find it sad when anyone kills themselves, because they are closing the door for good on all the possibilities life holds.  They are causing friends and family untold grief.  But they do it because society is a hateful creature as a whole. 

The next time you're going to project hate onto someone for their sexuality - or even the colour of their skin - neither of which can be helped, whether it's in the form of name calling, physical violence or even blogging - sit and wonder how you would want to be treated if the situations were reversed.  What if, suddenly, you were to be what you "hate"?

What would you do?

Don't....

Don’t ask me to behave myself.  Not again.

Not tonight.

I’m done being the good girl.  Done behaving like I don’t want you - and like I don’t know that you want me.

They say to dance like no one’s watching, but I know you are.  And so I will.

Don’t ask me to not get close, lips inches away from yours, so that you don’t forget that they are there, waiting for you to taste them.

Don’t laugh and pretend like you don’t know I’m serious when I say I will have you.  Because you know very well that I am, and that I will.

It’s all a matter of when.

Don’t ask me to stop flirting, asking you to take what I’m freely offering.  What I am willing to give you.  Very willing.

Don’t back away when I’m pressing against you - retreat is a sign of weakness, and we both know you are anything but.

Don’t look away when I gaze into your eyes, silently asking if tonight is the night. 

Don’t deny what is between us now, or what could be if we’d let it.

So please, don’t ask me to behave myself.

Not with you.

Not tonight.


©2010

Calling all Scribes - riddle me this....

I have a question for my writer friends.  Exactly how do you manage to organize your WIP’s? 

I have about sixteen notebooks, most of them with little snippets of stories, conversations, characters, or plot lines.  And it’s so hard to keep them all together.

Do you have an organizing system?  I try to type them out and have a flash drive with them on it, but there are days that the mood just demands writing it out by hand the old fashioned way.  I know some people staple their scraps into another notebook, in random order.  But if that’s done, then when you want to continue it there’s no where for the subsequent notes to go.

I like the idea of trying to keep all my stuff together.  I hate having to search my books to find which one has the story I want to continue.  Often when I have to do that, I tend to lose what I wanted to write in the first place.

So, all you wonderful wordsmiths - how do YOU organize?  Got any tips for me?

So Who Done It?

Me did!  I mean, I done it.  I mean I won Round Five of Project Smutway!  I was in a first place tie with the lovely, talented and totally preeeeverted May Deva!

And this was the story that left 'em wanting more.


Fucked to Death

There were a thousand stories in the naked city. Hers was just one.

Her unseeing eyes lay staring at the ceiling, the events of the night evident on her thighs, as police questioned the guests in attendance. Faces tear stained, bodies cum stained, voices strained with grief – all claimed innocence. But one had to be guilty. Which one poisoned the naked socialite?

Earlier....

She strode into the dimly lit ballroom, voice carrying as she moved to the centre of the room, where her guests were in various states of undress and intoxication. “My friends, I hope you are all enjoying yourselves, and …” her scarlet lips turned up in a smile, “each other.” They all laughed. Katherine’s pussy dampened as she observed her husband licking Kitty Carrington’s shaved mound, his strong hand pumping his cock in rhythm.

She beckoned Jasper, her faithful butler, to her. She smiled, stroking his cheek with her hand, kissing him gently on the lips. She removed her nightgown, sinking down into the middle of the group, thighs spread wide, ready, willing.

Her husband smiled, plunging two thick fingers into her already wet hole. She arched in pleasure, reaching for the nearest cock. Paul Styles volunteered, groaning as her hand encircled his engorged shaft. Her pulse accelerated.

Katherine’s mouth hung open as her husbands fingers pounded into her. James, her ex-boyfriend, saw opportunity and fed his ten inches between her lips. Katherine’s heart pounded as she took his meat into her throat, her eyes focused on his. He winked as he held her head, gently fucking her mouth.

Paul’s cock grew under her skillful hand, his breathing becoming laboured as he approached his climax. Her grip tightened, her strokes hurried as he came with a groan, shooting off all over her luscious tits. Shaylene, Katherine’s best friend, was on it in a heartbeat, lapping up the cream, paying close attention to her nipples, which were hard and aching. Katherine’s breathing became laboured.

“Someone fuck her.” A disembodied voice reached her ears, and she nodded eagerly. Jasper stepped up, sliding his prick into her dripping cunt. She gazed into his bright eyes and nodded. At that, he quickened the pace, ramming into her, hitting the spots he knew intimately, his finger flicking her clit.

Katherine’s pussy clenched, her orgasm tearing through her like a hurricane. Her heart felt like it exploded, as she stiffened.

Jasper groaned, collapsing on top of his mistress. As he noticed she wasn’t moving, his eyes filled with tears. “Goodbye m’lady.” He whispered into her skin.


The start of the night...

As Katherine surveyed the skyline from the darkened study, she caressed the snifter of brandy she carried, before draining it viciously. She wanted this. She would live in infamy.

They’d all be found innocent, eventually. And she’d be beautiful forever.


There were a thousand stories in the naked city. And hers would be one they’d talk about for years to come.
 

©2010

T'was a dark & stormy night....

DING -Round five of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon is up and votable (is that even a word?)

It can be found HERE.

The theme, was mystery.  A who-dun-it if you will.  And I have to admit - I'm not quite sure I like mine best anymore.  In keeping with the theme, Alison has not only hidden our identities, BUT she's also hidden the results of the poll.

SO GO VOTE PEOPLE.  LOL.

You never know who's going to be behind - or ahead - in this one.  Yes, I know I'm behind - after all it's been up a whole two days and I haven't gotten over here to pimp it out.  But I've been busy.

There's also news about the Smut Marathon - but I'll leave that until the end.  I want to see how long I'll last.  LOL.

See y'all soon!!

Not -So-Cordially Yours...

Ok, so it didn't win this round of A.T's Smut Marathon, but it DID take me through to round five.  I don't think I did so badly seeing as how it was written on a "family" vacation, in a place that had no wi-fi at all. I had to go to the compound's clubhouse in order to send it.  The challenge?  To pen a sexy letter.

And, as always, I took it in a bit of a different direction.



Dear Asshole:

I can’t believe that you’ve done this to me. What gives you the right to ruin sex with any other man? Where do you get off being good enough to get me off six times in one session?

How do you think that I’m going to manage to look at another man’s cock and NOT think of your hard length pressing against my clit as you lie on top of me, teasing my dripping pussy before you enter?

My nipples cry for your touch, as much as it pisses me off. You know where to rub, to flick, to circle. Only you have been able to cause me to moan in heat and release.

I’m so pissed at you I would scream...if it didn’t remind of me of how you had me screaming your name, over and over, as you fucked me sideways, backwards and over the top of the moon.

I’d rather be mad at you than recall your smooth cock pounding into my aching cunt. I’d rather try to hate you than spend my days dreaming about your talented tongue as you licked me clean after shooting off over my freshly shaven mound, making me come so hard I almost bit through my lip.

I think I’ll try and hate you. It’s easier than using my fingers to fuck myself at night in a sad, imitated but never duplicated attempt to bring myself off the way you did.

You fucker.

Thanks for ruining me.


©2010

Head Games

I know you’re thinking about me.


I know when you lie in bed at night, with her next to you, you wonder what it would be like if it was me. You’ve wondered about it before I’m willing to bet. But before, it was a long ago memory, a ghostly desire.

But now….now that you’ve tasted my lips again, felt my skin under your fingers, my breasts pressed against your chest, I know now you can’t get me out of your head.

Oh there are times during the day I’m sure where you manage to get rid of my image, forget my breath hot on your cheek, dash away the haunting whispers.

You’ve never seen me naked for real, and yet you’ve explored my body in your mind a million times. You want to know how I taste when I come, how good it feels to be encased inside me while you bring me to screaming heights.

You want to watch me fall with your name on my lips.

You dream of me. You know I can fulfill your needs, wants, desires. You know I’ll take your depravity, your kink and swallow it whole with lust and relish.  And then beg for more.

I amuse you - which counts for a lot in your mind.  If someone can’t hold your attention in a positive way, you reject their negativity regardless of how badly you might want to fuck them.

And you want to fuck me - badly.

So, in your head - for you’ll never be brave enough to do so in real life - come, take me.  Turn me over your knee and spank me for being naughty enough to keep your thoughts.  Spear me with your cock, driving into me over and over while you try to banish my soft curves from your blood. 

Fuck me with your tongue while you overdose on the liquid candy you’re tasting, and lie to yourself that this once will be enough.

Tie me up and use me.  Push your hardness between my lips, in and out, until heat, pain and lust cover my breasts.  Punish me for living inside your dreams.

And when you’re done, leave me there, spent and wanting.

You swear you’ll never return.








I know you’re thinking about me….again.


©08/2010

Size Sevens From Heaven

is my latest entry into Alison's Smut Marathon.  Thanks to those who voted for me.  I made it through to round four - which promises to be VERY interesting indeed.

For those who missed it, here it is.  (oh and the 80's movie?  Mannequin with the very dreamy Andrew McCarthy & the incredibly hawt Kim Cattrall)


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

‘Made for pleasure.’ Ian thought to himself as he crouched at her feet. His eyes stroked a pair of caramel coloured long legs lovingly as they stood in front of him. His mouth watered at the sight of ten tiny toes, perfectly painted in a practical plain polish.

Ian’s prick pulsed as he opened the shoebox in front of him. He tenderly lifted the contents out. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but the eyes above him stared straight ahead. Surreptitiously he ran his lips across the smooth material, longing to lick the lace at the peek-a-boo toes. The size seven scarlet satin stilettos were made for him to worship, to suffer under.

He knew how the smooth sole would feel as it pressed his scruffy cheek into the ground. He knew that with just enough pressure, those delicious spiked heels would threaten to tear open his sac. He knew the bruise that would be left when it stomped on his chest. He shifted his weight, and bit back a groan as his jeans rubbed against his full, aching cock. He needed to cum, wanted to, right on the insole of that fuck me shoe.

“Hey Ian.” His boss stood in the open doorway. “Finish the display and go home. This ain’t the movies kid. She’s not coming to life.” He smirked, and closed the door.

Slipping the other shoe into his bag, he winked at the mannequin. “You can have this back in the morning.”








©Miz Angell 2010

Stilettos....

I can't walk in the damn things - hell I can barely even balance in them.  And, like our hostess with the mostest Alison, the only time I would wear them would be in the bedroom - and that way I can be on my back, or my knees, or balanced against a wall....

Anyway.....that was the theme for this round of Project Smutway.  I spend days wishing I was as imaginative as Ms. Tyler is.  There are eleven stories to try on for size.  Pop on over to find the perfect one.

Round Three

And then pass on the word to all your perv friends.  In the interest of fairness, I won't tell you which one I wrote.  But let's just say if you read carefully, you'll find my love for 80's movies in there somewhere.

*wink wink*


SIGH - Andrew McCarthy was SUCH a cutie....

It's Mah BIRFDAY

And I'm gonna celebrate with all of you by sharing this.

And just to show that I'm an equal opportunity pervert

So nosh on those for awhile (god would I love to!) and I'll be back soon!

MWAH!

Secrets Revealed...

Ok, so I came in fourth place in round two of Alison Tyler's Project Smutway.  But I haven't been eliminated - I'm still alive.  Congrats to Monocle, who won with the hot and sexy We All Have Our Secrets.  Thanks to everyone who voted for....

Can you tell?

I wonder if you know my secret.

I look into your amused eyes and wonder if you know what I’m thinking.

Do you notice when I shake your hand hello I take a second to stroke your fingers? I’ve always wondered how those long fingers would feel buried deep inside me. The thought makes my pussy damp with need.

When we speak, I wonder how you would sound panting, moaning my name. Would your voice grow deeper with desire? Would it be high, pleading for release? The imagined sound makes my nipples harden with desperation.

When you laugh, your tongue peeking out from between those pink lips, I wonder how well it would swirl around my clit, lapping up my juices before plunging in and out of my wet cunt. My clit throbs, straining against my thong.

When you move behind me, to let another pass us in the hallway, I can feel your hard cock, and I wonder if you’re long enough to hit the right spot, the one guaranteed to make me cum and cry in release and relief. I wonder if you’ll be able to fuck me to satisfaction.

I wonder if you even have a thought that after you go to your office, I’ll have to rush to the ladies room and finger myself until I manage to gush all over my hand with pent up frustration at the wondering I’ve been doing.

Every day, at eight o’clock – I wonder if you know my secret.

©2010

Stay tuned for Round Three! 

DING DING - Round Two...

Contestants - start your fingers. :P

Round two of Project Smutway is up over at Alison's blog.

HOWEVER...this time, the identities are a secret.

So, while I cannot publicly reveal which story is mine, I would appreciate it if you popped on over to her blog and voted for whichever one is your favourite.

And for my hoochies, hotties & heaux, if you've been reading my stuff...you can tell which one is mine.

Project Smutway

Getting to know you.....

Or in this case, ME.

Lux Zakari, interviewer extraordinaire and fellow 'Ville author, was sweet to ask me a few questions.

Want to know more?

Follow your nose (so to speak)

Bending Genders

I stood back, watching the vision before me primp before the full-length mirror. Long black hair twisted up in an elegant curl. My eyes followed graceful hands as they smoothed a satin gown down the lithe body I knew as well as my own. My cock throbbed, under the uncomfortable briefs. If this banquet wasn’t black tie, I’d have gone commando.

Caught staring, a lusty smile curled my lips. “Baby, you look so fucking hot. ” My hands grasped svelte hips. I kissed the soft skin that had been taunting me all day. “I really want to fuck that ass.” A sultry laugh caused a shiver down my back.

“Come on. Feel that.” I thrust against the object of my desire, my cock fitting right in the crack. A soft moan echoed. My trousers and briefs were puddled around my feet in record time. Fisting my hard on, I reached for the lube, the bottle squelching as I pumped some across my shaft. I used my free hand to part those perfect cheeks. I aimed at the puckered hole, moaning as the tight tunnel closed around me. After a few slow thrusts, I pumped in hard and fast, breathless gasps escaping us both. I knew it would be a quick one, and groaned as I shot my load. Pulling out, I used my briefs to clean myself. Then reached around the front of that smooth satin dress, grasping his hard rod beneath it.

“Later tonight, you can be the man.”


©2010

Pulled out of the Black Hole in my brain....

I TOTALLY forgot to post about this back in February.  I'm such a schmuck!

Anyway, Alison informed all Frenzy writers back in Feb that we had been picked up by a university to be used in their Fundamentals of Creative Writing course!

Here's the post


A College Text!

Ok, how seriously cool is that?  It's being used at Binghamton University.  I'm still trying to get a copy of their curriculum or reading list just to see that on there. Personally I'm seriously jazzed that something I wrote is gonna learn kids on how to write properly. hehehe.

And speaking of Frenzy - guess what's #3 on Amazons erotic Anthologies list?  YAH BABY.  Check it.

Ok so the quality isn't the best lol. I'm still learning how to do this stuff.

I know I haven't posted in awhile, but I'm working diligently on some editing for a friend, editing an older story for submission and of course, there's Ms. Tylers round two of Project Smutway.

I do promise to have something up soon though.


MWAH!

Project Smutway Has Begun!

Hey there to all my hoochies, hotties and heaux!

A few months ago, our lovely Trollop A.T. (yes that's Alison Tyler for you newbies) decided that she wanted to host the mother of all competitions.  Inspired by Project Runway, she decided to do her own twist - and Project Smutway was born.

There are fifteen writers participating in this far-from-reality show.  I'm totally stoked to be in the company of some incredibly imaginative people.

And today marks the first day of voting!

My story - Bending Genders - is my first entry.  I've read the others, and it's going to be a CLOSE one this time around - I can feel it.  So, like American Idol - it comes down to votes.

Pop on over and check it out.  Tell your friends.  Tell your family.  Tell your lover.  Hell, tell your mailman.  Read some amazing stories, try some new positions, and spark your imagination.  And PLEASE, don't forget to vote!  (Even if it's not for me - I want y'all to go with who's truly this best on this - otherwise it's hardly fair now, is it?)

Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon

NOTE: I had to change the url above to Alison's Trollop blog because I just discovered that the Project Smutway blog is by invite only.  But you can still read and vote there! 

So what are y'all waiting for???  LOL.

The poll is open until Friday at midnight.  (I think that`s PST as the lovely Alison resides in Californ-I-A)


Good luck to my fellow scribes and let the SMUT begin!

Sexy Vampires & Smoking Werewolves - which team do you choose?

My stories don't jump to the paranormal - at least not yet.  But anyone who knows me knows that I live for all things Vampyre (well, except for Twilight - that's a whole bunch of teen-angst-batshit-crazy that I want NO part of).  Since I first read Dracula when I was twelve, I've been in total lust with the suckers.  LOL.  And if you read my entries, you can tell that my neck is a serious erogenous zone.  So when I read that Moira Rogers was having a Kindle contest (and don't you just LOVE her name - Moira - so exotic and yet simple), I had to weigh in on this. Plus I am DYING for a full sized Kindle - the app on my iPhone is causing my eyes to cross on a nightly basis, which can't be good.

When given the choice between a bootlegging werewolf, or a vampire lumberjack - there's no contest in my eyes.  Even though the werewolf would have the bonus of bringing booze with him, if I wanted a guy covered in hair I would have married the Italian guy my father tried to set me up with (Kidding - as an Italian I can say that LOL).

My choice?



I did a little reading and found out that the blood-sucker wasn't just handy with sharp implements, he's a bit of a bad ass too.  And that just fueled the lust.  I picture strong biceps, cut abs, and gleaming white teeth just waiting to claim me.....

Immortality doesn't seem so bad when you put it that way huh?

So?  Which one gets your paranormal blood boiling? A Vampire Lumberjack, or the Bootlegging Werewolf?

Choose now.

This post is a part of Moira Rogers’ Creature Feature Kindle Throwdown Contest. By leaving a (meaningful) comment, you will be entered to win a Kindle from Amazon.com, or an alternate grand prize of $275 to spend at an online book retailer.  For a full list of rules and more ways to win, visit the contest page.

Tourism Video - Destination: Dirtyville/Kinkyville!

The absolutely wonderfully talented Willsin Row, has decided to expand the growing resume and add travel agent to the laundry list of talents already exhibited.

Check out this lovely little promo video for The Dirtyville Project, and tell me if you wouldn't want to vacation in either of the lovely little towns of Dirtyville or Kinkyville.

Personally, my bags are already packed. Gorgeous, practical, enivronmentally friendly bags found (along with other fantastic merchandise) over at the Dirtyville Blog.

If you haven't gotten them already, check out the side bar for links to get your copies. Well? What are you waiting for? Make it quick - cuz most of the fun happens when the sun goes down.

Chemistry

Diane shouldn't have answered the phone. She was on her way to get laid. And after the week she'd been having, she really needed a good fuck. But when John called, saying he was meeting Mike for drinks, and inviting her to join....well she just couldn't refuse? Sex could wait - it had been awhile since she'd had a brew, and longer still since she'd seen Mike. And she wanted to see him. More than words could say.


It was perfectly innocent. They were just three friends getting together for drinks after a dozen years apart. And when Mike took her in his arms for one of his patented hugs, she was happy to see he hadn't changed - not even a little bit. 

But she was over him. She'd forgotten how he'd unwittingly broken her heart; at least that's what she'd told herself. And there was no need for Mike to ever remember that he had.


After two pitchers, and a lot of laughs, it looked like it was time to go. Diane was meeting friends for sushi, and she invited the two boys to go with her. John had already consented, now there was just Mike to convince. She reached for his hand, knowing he wouldn't pull away. Batting her lashes flirtatiously, as always, she cajoled. "Please. Come to dinner." He shook his head. "Sorry darling, I can't make it possible to get off the leash that long." Ah yes, the wife; a reminder that she shouldn't get involved. After all, not only did Mike have a wife, but a mistress. Women problems galore. But it couldn't stop her from playing. She stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, and her voice grew low and soft. She didn't see the harm in flirting. It was safe.


Or so she thought.

Mike gazed down at their hands entwined on the tabletop, taking the time to examine them, as if noticing for the first time since they'd known each other how well they fit together. Di's hand grew warm in his, as her pulse began racing. The safe and familiar was suddenly foreign and exotic.

He didn't pull away, instead holding her trembling flesh delicately, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. A lazy smile was aimed her way, those big brown eyes staring up at her from under long light brown lashes.

Her legs tensed, as if to run. 'I can't ... I shouldn't ...' and then he winked at her.

It was a flash of lightening, to a time long past.

Arms holding each other, his hand on the back of her neck, pressing her deeper into a kiss that was slowly turning her inside out. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, coaxing them apart. Her panties were drenched, and lust permeated the air.

His hesitant touch on her arms sent shivers through her entire body. She moaned against his mouth. "Mike..." His name was like a plea from her lips; a whisper of desire. He pulled her in, covering his body with hers, and he didn't need words to tell her what he needed. She could feel it in every tense muscle, in every stroke of his tongue, in every breath he took.


Diane's hands trailed down his arms, across his chest, her fingers feeling the muscles outlined there. Not the perfect physique in anyone else's eyes, but perfect in hers. She wanted him. And his lips along her jaw line, nibbling on her earlobe, well, they told her that he wanted her too.

The thin material of her bra was the only barrier between them. Mike hooked one finger under the right strap, easing it down her arm, his lips trailing a path down her bare shoulder...


She swallowed hard, trying to attempt a graceful way to extract her hand from his grip, when the waitress brought the bill. She almost sighed in relief, as he released her in order to sign the cheque. But before she could put her hands out of reach, she was distracted by the sight of his fingers as they gripped and twisted the pen between them, her nipples hardening under the silk of her bra as the sensation tugged at her memory. She didn't pull her hand back fast enough, and he managed to encase it in both of his this time, continuing the delicious subtle assault on her flesh, and her senses. This time, he cradled her hand, palm up, stroking the center with his gentle touch. Inside, she had no doubt he knew EXACTLY what he was doing.

Di smiled nervously. There was no way his mind was back there too, no possible way he could know what she was thinking, or how she was feeling. There was no way he could know how wet she was, and how desperately she wanted to take him into one of the darkened doorways of the quad, strip him down and suck his cock, feeling the hard, smooth flesh in her mouth once again. Only this time there would be no comfy bed under her knees. Just hard pavement, cold gravel and hot bodies.


She knelt in front of him, unzipping his pants as she set herself at the right level. His cock was hard, and smooth. She couldn't wait to get it in her mouth. She bathed the shaft up and down with her tongue, circling the head with the tip. The hand she wasn't using to balance herself came up to caress his balls, running her nails over them lightly, cupping and rolling them around her palm. She glanced up at him, his head thrown back, eyes closed.....

She smiled, trying to extract herself as gracefully as possible. "Sorry boys, just have to use the ladies room." She stood slowly, raising her chest high, making sure both sets of eyes were on her tits, which were spilling out of the red top she had worn in a happy coincidence, not knowing that she'd wind up at the place where it all started. She swung her hips, hoping that he was watching her ass, and enjoying the view.


Locking herself in the second stall in the small bathroom, she leaned against the door and let out the breath she'd been holding as she walked away. She couldn't believe that one touched had pole axed her that badly. She could tell that her panties were drenched. She shook her head, marvelling at how he was still able to get her so hot so quickly.


She unbuttoned her pants, sliding her hand down the front to her clit. It was standing at attention, begging to be touched. She lightly slid her middle finger over it, biting her lip to keep from moaning out loud. She remembered how soft his hands were holding hers, and imagined that he was touching her, watching her.


She stroked upwards, every nerve ending singing in pleasure, straining for release. Her other hand slipped into her shirt, fingers immediately finding her nipples still hard and peaked. As both hands worked on the sensitive buds, her head thrashed against the wall, the rough concrete creating a contrast with pain, to the pleasure she was bringing herself.


Her knees buckled as she came quick and hard, his name on her lips, cum drenching her hand, and her thong. On shaky legs she zipped up her jeans, cracked open the door to check if she had company, and stepped out of the stall. She washed her hands, noting the flush in her cheeks, the glossed over eyes, and the way her hands shook as she pulled down on the rough paper towels.


She took two deep breaths, and walked out the door. And was caught around the waist by a pair of strong arms, and backed up against the wall. Their foreheads were touching, his breath hot on her already flaming skin. She could tell he caught her scent, as he smiled. "Bad girl." He murmured. "You smell terrific." And with his hand grazing her groin, he let her go and walked into the men's room.


She high tailed it back to the table. John gave her a smirk as she sat down. "Ok, so before he gets back…." She held up her hand. "John, I don't want to know right now." He shrugged, and took the last swig from his pint. Mike walked back to the table. "Well, what did she say?"


John stood, pulling his sweatshirt over his head. "I don't know. She didn't let me talk." She shook her head, slinging him a dirty look under her lashes as she put her jacket on. Mike followed suit, speaking the whole time. "One week from tonight. What are you doing?" Diane shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "Nothing I guess."


He held the door open for her as she walked through. "Wrong. You're having dinner with us." She grabbed for her cigarettes, needing a nic fix to calm her nerves. John held his lighter open for her and she sucked on the filter long and hard, wishing it was something else. As she exhaled, she glanced over to see him studying her, and felt like she might melt into a sticky puddle of cum and sweat, and lust.


They all chatted for a bit, and then they stubbed out their smokes. As she hugged him goodbye, she couldn't help but hold on, just a little tighter and a little longer than she should have.


"So good to see you." His husky voice dribbled into her ear like a waterfall, the sounds carrying down her spine, causing ripples of longing that were so much more than simple desire, and infinitely more desperate than need.

Di didn't want the time together to end, but she knew that he didn't have much more time off the leash, and they did have to meet the others for dinner. Reluctant to let go, she pulled away, but continued to keep the connection, holding his hand tight. "So...do...you want to come up and see the lab? It's on your way to where you parked." Mike sounded hopeful.


"Yes!" she practically shouted. "I mean, yeah. Cool. I've known teachers all her life, but never ones that taught above the high school level. And I've never been friends with them." John smirked in her general direction at her babbling and headed off ahead of them, giving them a mere modicum of privacy. She smiled shyly, and followed.

"So, Mike, what is it you teach again?" They had stopped at the light, and he turned to her. "Chemistry." She was impressed that he managed to say it with a straight face, even if his voice did drop to a husky tone, and there was a slight twinkle in his eye.


Walking through the hallways, they were relatively silent. When they stopped in front of a door, he drew his school ID in front of the pad, and pushed the door open. "See, we've got the same stuff as on CSI but no mood lighting." She giggled, but it was mostly out of nervousness. He strolled to the opposite corner and opened another door. "And this...this is my office." She walked in, taking in the plain walls with a quick glance, wanting to push the door closed on John and fulfill her student-professor fantasy. But she had no idea if he even wanted her that way again, or if it was just a tease.


Diane put her arms around him as he leaned against the desk. She touched her forehead to his as his arms drew her close. John pretended to examine the blank walls. "I should go." she whispered. Reluctantly she stepped back, his hands moving to her hips. He nodded.


"Next week though." He looked at her, knowingly. She briefly nodded, acknowledging that she'd be there. And as John and Diane walked away down the hallway, she felt her heart racing.


Next week couldn't come soon enough.





©2010

Blocked....

I have a new WIP - one that, if I can break through this block of mine, will be a great accomplishment.  In my mind anyway. 

But I am seriously blocked.  And I have no idea why.  Maybe because I'm rushing it.  Or maybe because I've never written anything like this before, although in reality, it's not so different from what I'm used to writing.  The only difference is the length.  I'm almost 3000 words into it, and yet still haven't hit the sexual...well, anything..yet.

I'm invested in the characters, so much that I see them in my mind.  I thought it might be a problem of too much visualizing, but once they come to life, it's hard to turn it off.

I can see the scene in my mind - hell, I can feel it between my thighs.  LOL.  But for some reason, the words just won't hit the screen.  I wish I knew why this was.

I'm wondering if I should try to actually *gasp* put pen to paper and write this out, it might help. 

Anyone else have any ideas?  How do you get through your blocks?

Just a brief note...

Hey hoochies, hotties, and heaux.

For all those that expressed an interest in Kinkyville - THANK YOU.  I can’t tell you how much your support means to me, well, to all of us involved.

I’m getting all prepped to go back to school.  It’s scary and exciting at the same time, and I can’t wait to start.  Of course, it might cut into my writing time * roll eyes *.  I’ve got about ten WIP’s going, and another ten outlines in my head or in my notebook.  Trouble is, it’s tough to concentrate on just one, especially when your characters want to jump ship to other works.

But I finished one recently, which, although seemingly simple, took me FOREVER to write.  It’s not too smutty, not too raunchy.  But just right. :D

I do keep getting one question repeatedly over and over again - is my writing inspired by reality?   The answer is yes.  But it’s a rare piece that is inspired by any one particular person.  And NONE of the incidents are completely real, and the real parts, might not even have happened to me.

So y’all are safe….for the most part.  * wink *

Stay tuned.

Everyone's getting Kinky...

 

We are now live on EIGHT sites kids.

That's right.

The wonderful Sommer Marsden has used her powers of persuasion, amazing sales techniques AND her incredible feminine wiles and gotten us on the lists at

AllRomanceEbooks

and

Omnilit

as well as the six sites listed here!!

PS - in hommage to my wonderful pal Alison Tyler, this adorable necklace by qacreate.