Wasted away again in KINKYVILLE....

And you can bet I've got my margaritas! Hey all my hoochies, hotties and heaux!

I've got some incredible news. A short time ago, an open call was made for short dirty tales of small town smut. I am dead chuffed to announce that my short Saturday Night is included in Sommer Marsden's e-anthology KINKYVILLE - 13 More Tales of Small Town Naughty!

Currently, it's available on Smashwords and 1romanceebooks.com. I'm in brilliant company with some of my idols. Check out this sexy line up.



Alison Tyler
Shanna Germain
Scarlett Greyson
Benjamin Eliot
May Deva
Charlotte Stein
Parker Ford
Lux Zakari
DL King
Rita Winchester
J.D. Waters

and of course our editor AND contributing writer Sommer Marsden herself.




Look for us to go live on Kindle and 1Eroticaebooks soon! And of course, while you're picking up your copy to steam up your e-reader, check out the original inspiration for this anthology - DIRTYVILLE - 13 Tales of Small Town Naughty, with it's own killer stories.

So what are you waiting for? Go get 'em. And then come on back and tell me what you think. :D

MWAHS all around kids!!

In dreams....

I’m dreaming of you.

But you knew that already, didn’t you.

Before we met, before I even saw you, somehow you knew that you’d have this affect on me. And then you took one look in my eyes, and seared yourself into my subconscious.

We chatted and smiled, and all the while, your gaze trickled over me, stroking me as if your hands had reached over the table and slipped beneath my bra. 

My nipples hardened and I wanted desperately to feel your hands on them.  To feel you pinch them, twist them, lick them.

Your tongue took on a life of its own as we spoke.  I watched it with every word that fell from your lips.  I felt it between my thighs, its tip flicking my clit, the length entering me, fucking me as thoroughly as your cock.  I was sure you could smell my hormones, feel my wetness, hear my heart beating and taste the desire in my blood.

But you just kept smiling, and talking, all the while hypnotizing me with your voice, your stare, your energy.

I would have been easy to take.  The right word, the right move.

One kiss.

The urge to drag you off to any of the rooms along the corridor was overwhelming, and yet I sat, behaving, while my inner whore begged to come out to play.  You could have bent me over the table, pulled up my skirt, and had me in every way you desired.  And I would have screamed, and cried, and begged for more.

But you just kept smiling, and talking, all the while fucking me with your voice, your stare, your mind.

I’ll dream of you tonight.

But you already know that.





Don’t you?




©2012

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.