Friends Will Be Friends

Another short for another wonderful contest from Ms. A. Tyler – yes, our favourite Trollop with A Laptop. But this time, I didn't win. And rightfully so. There was a tie for first and second with four WONDERFUL stories. Pop over and check them out – and read below for my contribution. Where can I find invites to parties like this one?


Ryan loved these black out parties. He just had to find his girlfriend. Hands stretched in front of him, his palms met a set of DD's that were familiar.


Her lips were soft, pliant. Even in the pitch black, he knew they were Jenny's. He moved his hand through her wetness, her scent familiar. As he inserted two fingers into her waiting pussy, he pulled her into him, mashing her other lips against his.


Instead of the usual tonsil hockey, she was playing shy, the tip of her tongue barely making contact with his. But her hips thrust against his hand, riding his fingers hard. She reached for his jeans, fumbling to remove his hard on. He lifted his head, panting and confused. Jenny must be really drunk. She usually wasn't this clumsy.


But he couldn't fault her enthusiasm as she wrestled him out and dropped to her knees, taking him all the way down her throat in one swallow. His knees buckled, and he braced his hands against the wall for balance. She sucked his cock frantically, the squelching sounds from below telling him that she was fucking herself. As he spilled into her throat, he groaned her name. "Fuck Jenny...."


"Ryan?" His name came from somewhere to the right of him. Fumbling for his cell phone, he used it as a flashlight. He saw Jenny bent over a chair, with some strangers cock imbedded in her ass. She laughed awkwardly.


"Well, guess we both made new friends tonight."


©2010

Top Five Percent

Another flash for a contest over at Trollop With A Laptop. This puppy came in first out of seven scrumptious entries. Thanks to all who voted!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Suzy and I figured it out yesterday." I trailed my fingers across your crotch. "Out of all the partners I've had, only a small per cent have ever given me mind blowing orgasms. And I find that sad."


You nodded. "So do I." Your voice was husky as you shifted closer to me on the couch, leaning in to nuzzle my ear. "What exactly WAS the percentage?"


"Five." The number came out softly, as your hand reached between my thighs. I sighed, my head falling backwards. "I mean, it's not like I've had horrible, selfish lovers. They all made me come, one way or another." My pussy twitched as I said 'come'. "But toe-curling, atom splitting orgasms? Very few were generous that way."


I felt your finger on my clit, which was suddenly slippery. My legs spread wider, very aware that we were both naked in the middle of my living room. But as you slid two fingers into me, I didn't care. I moaned as you slowly fucked me, your tongue abrading my right nipple.


My breath came in one long shudder, as I fought for words. "I mean, shouldn't every woman expect to come so hard she passes out every time she fucks?"


You stopped all your attentions. "Oh I totally agree with you." Confused, I almost whined. "So why did you stop?"


Kneeling between my legs, you spread my lips with your fingers. "Honey, prepare for unconsciousness. Because I'm gonna give til it hurts."



©2010

A new and exciting challenge....

Not a sex post, but one that is appropriate to post here, due to the readers I get on this blog.

I am going back to school. Well, at least that's the plan. I need to get financing in order for it, and then apply.

I am going to get my certificate in Publishing. And it is thanks to a few wonderful individuals that I met on the wonderful world wide web that I am even considering it.

However, I am TERRIFIED. I never was good in school. I was smart enough, but I hated the homework, and the classroom boundaries. And never having gone through any post secondary education, I'm wondering how I'll hold up. I haven't been in a classroom in seventeen years. I haven't had homework in that long.

But I need to do something with my life. And I love writing. But I want to help give new authors a voice.

Just like one of the women who inspired me to be here. You all know her, you all love her. Ms. Alison Tyler. She's not only one hell of a writer, but her efforts allow those of us who would normally only dream about being published, to be read by millions of people. Just check her anthology sales - her record speaks for itself.

And even when she's going through her own personal hell, she manages to focus and still produce work for us to enjoy. She still runs contests, keeps us updated, and promotes writers and Etsy artists that she finds and enjoys. She's a generous individual who gives of herself continuously. She pumps up people's egos, encourages others and is just the type of person that we all should aspire to be.

Through her blog I have discovered some incredible writers. Sommer Marsden, Jeremy Edwards, Violet Blue, Kristina Lloyd, Janine Ashbless, Madelynne Ellis, Portia Da Costa, are just a few of the amazing authors that I've discovered since finding my way to Alison's blog. They are all completely inspiring, funny, down to earth people who love what they do, and they do it well.

But, if it wasn't for one particular person, I definitely wouldn't have found my way here. We were brought together through our love of particular music acts - Styx and Lawrence Gowan.

It's all thanks to Dayle Dermatis - a.k.a Andrea Dale, Sarah Dale and one half of Sophie Mouette, and a former Lustie - that I am here. I met Dayle online years ago, and back in 2007 we met in person at Styxfest here in Orillia, Ontario. And we hit it off. She had written a book I'm sure most of you on here have already read - and if not what the hell is taking you so long? - called A Little Night Music. She directed me to Lust Bites (I'm sure some of you remember that lovely blog) and that in turn led me to Alison, and everyone else.


I've been writing since I was old enough to string a sentence together, but only ever dreamed of being published. I didn't even have a clue on how to go about it. But then Alison really enjoyed a piece I wrote for one of her posts, and included it in her anthology Frenzy.

And getting that contract in the mail was one of the best feelings in the world - second to actually SEEING my "name" in print. When I held a copy of Frenzy in my hands, I felt like I could take on the world.

And I want to help give others that feeling.

So, to all of you who've read what I've written, commented on it, voted for one of my pieces on Alison's site, or just responded to me in general, THANK YOU. Because you've contributed too.

Now, here's hoping for the best.

Sleep Invasion

Produced for another contest by Miss Alison Tyler, this 250 word piece had to feature the words pink, glowing, and tart.
 

The contest is still ongoing. But I don’t believe that posting this here will influence the voters in any way. There are six scrumptious pieces up and the writing is just delectable! In my opinion, the readers are the winners in this.

Enjoy!




You came to me in a dream…

I stood, wrists lashed together behind me with silken scarves. Dressed in a cotton candy pink demi bra and thong, my neck encased in a ruffled collar. I felt like a strawberry tart, and the wetness pooling between my thighs made up the creamy center. I stared into the void, shoulders back, legs spread, at ease in military form.

I sensed, rather than heard you behind me. Felt the change in the air as you spoke, your breath hot on my ear. “Did you think of me last night?” Your voice, soft and low, made me squirm. I nodded, and winced as I was slapped on the ass with what I assumed was a riding crop. "Yes sir." Voice reverent, it was what you wanted to hear.

Another strike with the crop. “Oh, your ass is glowing nicely. Did you touch yourself,” you hissed “while imagining my fingers, my tongue?” I nodded, biting on my lip as the strap was brought down again. “Could you feel my thick cock?” I nodded again. “Yes sir.” I whispered.

Your hand shot out, grabbing my ponytail. “Did. You. Come?” I nodded again as my head was jerked backwards. Your free hand slipped down my panties, one finger between my folds into the heat. You slid it up, touching my clit.

Swallowing my cry, I shattered. Rubbing your finger over my lips so I could taste myself, you kissed me hard.

“Think of me again tonight.”



©2010

Men should really READ

I'm a writer. It's what I do. No surprise here right?

So, why is it that a man can't figure out that the perfect way to seduce me, is to read what I've written.

Seriously. Pay attention to my stories. Half the time, the main characters are based on me in some form or another. I know it's not always advisable and usually frowned upon in fiction, because then the characters are limited. You say "Well, I'd never do that." With me, it's a little different. There isn't much I wouldn't consider doing, so each main heroine always contains a little bit of me. Whether it's my mannerisms, or my look, or my voice, I'm in there.

And so are all the clues to a perfect seduction.

When I describe a characters wardrobe, chances are it's an outfit I own, or something I've dreamt about owning. And, chances are, the reaction that she gets from her object of affection is the reaction I'd be going for if I was to wear it for you. So if I dress my character in black with a collar, leather wrist cuff and heavy eye makeup, and I write the male's reaction as hard kisses, pulling hair and rough, crazy sex – GUESS WHAT? That's what I want from you when I show up in that outfit. I want you to be rough with me – choke me with your tongue when you kiss me, pull my hair hard, bite my neck. And when you get me naked, slap my ass, slam your cock into me and make me scream in pain and pleasure. No need to hold me, no need for pleasantries. Call me slut, whore, order me to beg for mercy.

On the other hand, the opposite is true too. If I show up to a "date" wearing softer make up (except heavy mascara – always big on the mascara – I LOVE my eyelashes), a chain around my neck and a shirt that leaves my neck and shoulders bare, I'm looking for moonlight and roses, in a manner of speaking. That's when I want soft kisses, caresses, beautiful words and strong arms to hold me. I want you to explore my body, tell me how much I turn you on, tell me you've been dreaming about me, about this moment. I want to shiver when you plant light kisses on the back of my neck, run your fingers down my bare shoulders, cause me to tingle all over. Take your time as you nuzzle my cheek, kiss every inch of skin you can find, stroke my hair, gently pull me in for kisses that turn me inside out and backwards. Trace my mouth with the tip of your tongue, use your fingertips to explore my cheeks, my hairline, before pressing a kiss into my collar bone.

In my stories, or my articles, or my letters – whatever I write – there are hints on what to say, how to say it, and what to look for. If I appear hesitant, by doing your homework, you can tell I'm nervous, even if I don't show it outwardly. A lot of the conversations I have with the men in the stories are ones I wish I could have in real life. Sometimes, when my characters speak, and it's flowery and pretty speeches, it's something that I want to hear, would LOVE to hear.

Pay attention to the settings. If I write about an encounter outdoors, chances are it's doable in the spring and summer months. If I write about a particular place, bring me there. If there's music in the background, what songs are playing? I'll usually name them, or at least the band. My stories come right out of my head, my desires, my needs. It's a recipe if you will, and if you take the time to learn the ingredients, any way you put them together will be a success.

Oh yeah, and you'll be guaranteed to get laid.

This ain't your daddy's porn...

When Alison Tyler informed us that Violet Blue was going to be on Oprah, and that the Queen of Daytime TV was FINALLY going to do a show on erotica and pornography, I immediately set my PVR to record the show.

In my opinion, it's about time that pornography and erotica are brought to the forefront in society. For years, they've been taboo subjects, only brought up in back rooms and at poker games with the guys. Women whispered about it, sneaking stealthily into shops to gaze with envy and wonder at the women on the covers of the videotapes and DVD's, but never realizing what exactly it was all about.

I started with my dad's Playboys when I was younger. I gazed in awe at the gorgeous women with the perfect bodies and wondered if I was ever going to look like that. For the record, I also found the comics incredibly amusing - lol. But not once did I ever actually read the articles.

Then, when snooping in my great-grandmothers basement, I came across an erotic novel called My Sexy Sis. I snuck it out of the house and brought it home to read. It was my first foray into the written world of erotica. It was hot, it was steamy, and it brought me many self-induced orgasms. My older brother stole it and it made it's way around his friends and eventually, around his high school. I never did get it back for the record. LOL.

I've always been fascinated with sex. At school, in health and religion classes, they always tried telling us that it was meant for married people only, and we were supposed to wait until we were in love.

I did. My first actual sexual encounter was when I was 18 and with my first boyfriend. BUT, I would like to mention that it wasn't for lack of interest with other guys - it was lack of interest FROM other guys. When we were younger, it was all about appearances. And I wasn't the prettiest or the hottest girl in school - despite having huge tits. I also had bad frizzy hair and glasses. Even when I finally got contacts, my hips were proportionate to my breasts and even playing sports did nothing for my popularity with the guys.

But, I'd always been interested in sex. My cousin and I used to mastrubate together when we were kids, not thinking that anything was wrong with it. Our innocence allowed us to experience the joys of orgasms, without realizing that society was frowning on us. In retrospect, I think that it was probably those incidents that brought out my bi-sexuality. We would act out sex scenes with our Barbie and Ken dolls late at night during sleepovers. I'm sure she's forgotten all about them, but she was always the "good" one. LOL.

So, with my interest in sex being as deep rooted as it is, my husband being an avid viewer of porn, and being a huge fan of Violets, I couldn't wait to see what Oprah had planned.

It was very tastefully done. Jenna was a jewel, exposing not only her previous life, but her current life for millions of viewers, and giving some very good sound bites about the industry. I think the best advice she gave the masses was about boob jobs - DON'T DO IT. She exposed exactly how much work it is to be a porn star - the upkeep and maintenance of her body being a huge job, not just something that comes naturally. I mean, if the average woman finds it a pain to always be tanning and "landscaping" their bodies just to be attractive to their partners, can you imagine how much work it must be to remain attractive to millions of people who count on you to spice up their sex lives?

I love that they brought up erotica as a tool to empower women, in the bedroom, and realistically, it can empower them outside of the bedroom too. Imagine having the best sex ever with your man, after viewing one of the tastefully produced videos from Lori Moore AKA Sky Blue over at Playgirl, and then walking out in the real world to do a deal across the boardroom table. That confidence just oozes out your pores.

But as I'm watching, I'm reading the comments left by viewers and am totally amazed and partially disgusted by the attitudes that the viewers had. They argued that it wasn't empowerment to show the younger generation that taking your clothes off for millions of people can be the gateway to fame and fortune - it was simply an act of enslavement. I don't see how that is possible. If educated properly, the women making the active choice to participate in this life style are doing so for their own reasons, whether it's love of fame, love of money or love of sex. And if we keep porn and erotica and all that goes with it in the back rooms of seedy video stores, how can we possibly educate them at all?

Some bring up very good points about the psychological damage it can do to a relationship and a family, however, I think that had these people been introduced to the actual JOYS of sex instead of the taboo side of it - ie/ it's only for married couples in loving relationships - I honestly believe that attitudes would change. Again, EDUCATION.

And yes, some make the arguements of HIV and other STD's running rampant. But those in charge of the industry today are taking responsibility, setting up clinics, having on call doctors and ensuring that each performer gets checked regularly. Those test results, as shown on Oprah, must be provided at each and every shoot before a performer is allowed to participate. Yes, there are chances that something could have been picked up within the time between the test and the shoot, but it's like anything in life - you could step out your front door and get hit by a bus. In every day life, random things happen. It's just what life is.

One of the things I love about Alison Tyler, and the others who visit, comment, write and produce blogs books and videos for this "industry" as it were (myself included) is that we are taking back women's sexuality.

We are putting ourselves in charge of our bodies and the decisions of what we do with them. I've always been disgusted that men can sleep with as many women as they want to and be called a stud, but if a women does it, she's misguided and labelled a slut.

The fact that such narrow-minded attitudes STILL exist in todays world just goes to show that we're on the right track. We are re-educating the masses and we shouldn't stop.

Porn is an active part of society, and it's mainstreaming as we speak. So we have two choices - we can try and ignore it, forcing it into the back rooms and taboos once again, or we can bring it to the forefront, legitimize it and give the men and women the right tools to continue.

Because like it or not, sex is here, and it's here to stay.

deliciously depraved....

I've been having the most deliciously naughty thoughts about you. The darkest, most erotic fantasies starring you. You with your fabulous body, and your charismatic smile. I love that you have fangs - it fulfills every fantasy I've ever had.

I can't remember the last time I was fucked by a hard body. Not that I'm complaining about my lovers - they, after all, have given me hours upon hours of pleasure, countless cosmic orgasms. I've come buckets of satisfaction over hard cocks, probing fingers, and delving tongues.

I've twisted my body around car bumpers, desperately matching lips while being thrust into from behind. I've wrapped my thighs around strong hips, while brick walls abraded my back, riding into oblivion while on a tequila high. I've contorted into positions I never thought I could for the simple pleasure of taking a hard on down my throat while my pussy's been licked clean by a third person.

Oh yes, my past has fulfilled many desires, many times.

But something about you brings out the darkness, the evil in me. Because I know, that for once in the longest time, this can't hurt me.

Emotions are nowhere to be found. I am riding waves of pure desire. It's all about lust. Your hard cock, my wet cunt. A perfect match for a night of depravity. I dream about your lips, how they'd feel on mine, how they'd leave hot trails down my neck, pulling back from your gleaming white teeth when they found the perfect spot to sink into my neck.

Draw blood if you must but leave me a reminder that you were there.

Throw me against the wall, kissing me fiercely. Rip off my clothing, leaving me in rags. Give me no peace, no romance, no courtly manners. Let me hear the words I need. Delectable, hungry fuck words - filthy, smutty, soiled whispers. Don't tell me I'm beautiful, don't mention love. Pretty words fill the silence, nothing more. Instead call me your whore. Your wish is my command. Show me who's in charge, open my eyes to the master.

I see your bare chest, imagine how smooth the skin would be when I raked my nails down, tracing the outline of your six pack with my lips on my way down to the heavy rod between your taut thighs.

I imagine the taste of you - sweat and heat, ice and life. You are a bright and shiny new toy for me to tarnish, to mark. I'm an easy target, a wet heat that surrounds your cock.

Grasp my hair with both fists. Fuck my mouth. Revel in the feel of my tongue bathing your shaft, gasp as I show you the art of deep throating.

When you're ready to come, shooting your load down my throat, don't. Instead, pull me up to stand on shaky legs, thighs quivering with anticipation, knees scraped and bloodied.

This is all about you - my pleasure lies within giving you pleasure. Probe between my lips, finding me wet, finding me wanting. Take no more time, but drive into me, ignoring my whimpers. Make me cry out loud. Show me no mercy, no weakness.

Fuck me until I scream in pain and relief of release. And then fuck me some more. Once you're ready for relief, shove me back to my knees. Force your head between my kiss bruised lips, and watch with satisfaction as I swallow every last drop of you.

All lust, no love. And ultimately...

freedom.







©2009