Guest Post from Rudy Kiddell - 'Normal'.

Content Advisory: Contains scenes of bondage, ménage, spanking and submission.

Excerpt from 'Normal' by Rudy Kiddell

In the centre of the living area was a low table; squat, square and strong enough for its purpose—for her. Rings and cleats studded its legs and base telling anyone that knew of its many uses. Around it smaller occasional tables held an array of tools and toys that could be used for her pleasure and her pain. The barely subsided heat of her orgasm flared again. She was certain this was going to be a very enjoyable afternoon.

Alain turned to her. “Remove your dress and kneel on the table.”

She did as she was bid and Madame fastened her play collar around her neck.

A harness was looped over her limbs, leather and rings delineating erogenous zones. Deft hands had her wrists cuffed and her ankles tied to the four corners of the table. With her limbs spread open a little wider than was naturally comfortable, she tilted her hips presenting her glistening cunt to her audience.

She opened her mouth for the ball gag and felt the coolness of lube on her arse and the hard filling of it with a metal plug she had noticed earlier.

Her cunt was next, lips spread and her soft wetness filled with a large vibrator, secured to her harness and set to pulse deep inside her.

With her limited view she was aware that Madame had backed away during Alain’s preparation of her and was now seated as voyeur to the scene. Alain joined Madame, pouring drinks from a ready prepared decanter.

The vibrator moved inside her, rippling her muscles and nerves with pleasure.

“My pet,” Madame said, “you may come whenever you wish, as often as you wish. We will enjoy watching you and enjoy playing with you as you do so. Do not hold back, Alain has heard much of your ability. I would like you to dedicate your every orgasm to him today.”

Before Madame had finished the first sentence Eddie had given herself over to the toy working at her insides. Her vagina spasmed around it, her body rocked back and forth in her binds. She mewled against the ball gag and lost herself to the joy of her orgasm.

Sweat beaded across Eddie’s body as her cum seeped out and coated her inner thighs. Alain approached her, naked now. Hard and twitching, almost in time to Eddie’s gasping breaths, his cock responded automatically to the heaving woman in front of him. He removed the vibrator, positioned himself behind her and rammed into her cunt, pulling against her as he pushed in.

At the first feel of her hot, wet clutch, he growled and rolled his head back, rocking on his feet, ball-deep inside of her, giving her small, forceful thrusts as if he could open her wider with each movement. The pulsing of wetness increased around him, slickness coated him as her body responded to his cock.

Holding himself deep in her, pulling hard against the straps around her body, he reached a hand around and found her clit.

As yet untouched, but swollen with need, his feather-light stoke exploded Eddie’s nerves. Immobilised, she wanted to push onto the fingers, chase the pleasure of them with her clit but she had to wait. Closing her eyes, trying to find some focus, she slowed her breathing in an attempt to manage her body’s response.

The second touch, a whisper, barely a fingerprint on her clit, a delicious contrast to the swollen hardness filling her cunt. She was coming again, she knew it and gave herself over to it.

As he felt the change in her body, the tension of her lust overtake her reason, he changed his pace. Still grinding deep in her, his fingers now rubbed, pinched and tortured her clit until at the eddying climax of her orgasm he pulled out of her and started the hard fast fucking of her. Both hands twined in the leather braids, giving purchase to him while constraining her. He rode her, imagining her as some feral body to be tamed by him.

His change of pace forced her on again, she stopped trying to think and allowed her body to just respond. Do as it would, as it was done to. Through the quivering haze in her head a thought registered:

This fucking feels good.

Alain had a touch that sparked her beyond the compulsion of obedience and the training of her pleasure response. The thought flickered and was swamped by another wave of lust that forced her to bite down and rock back to follow it. Even as he pulled fully out of her, she continued to sway back and forth as the tide of the orgasms slipped away.

Her cunt felt hollowed out by the force of him and the sudden emptiness.

He moved around her and unclipped the drool-covered ball from her mouth.

She could smell herself on him, see her juice clinging to his cock and spread over his flesh.

“Clean me.”

She had barely gasped breath when he placed his cockhead at her lips. She reached out with her tongue and circled around him, feeling the smoothness of the head, the opening, the flare of him that dipped away to the thick veined shaft. Her cum tasted sweet and slightly sour mixed with his musk and the salt of his sweat. She lapped eagerly, up and down, around his balls. Meticulous in her attention, removing one wetness to cover with another.

His hands reached into her hair, pushed her head back. “Open.”

Of course she opened and felt the length of him slide into her mouth. He pulled her to him, ignoring her gag reflex until he felt the back of her throat and her nose against his belly. Just as before, he rocked slowly into her until she relaxed and grew accustomed to him.

“Madame, would you care to join me?”

The warm hands on her bottom, the clench of the strong fingers, nails dragging over her tight cheeks, had her rocking back even as she was held fast by her hair and nailed in place by Alain hilted deep in her throat.

The slap landed on her arse, the flat of Mistress’s hand stinging and heating her blood further. One, two, three cursory strikes of her glutes before Madame swiped hard at the sticky cunt, then the clit. Each stroke harder than the last making the flesh sing and throb.

Teetering on the edge of orgasm again, Madame’s fingers slowly pushed into her and rhythmically fucked her. Alain followed Madame’s pace. In and out, mouth and cunt; filled and furrowed.

No thoughts now, just the deep reaming of her body.

“Come for me, my pet, come for me now.”

Those words always worked on her, took over her will. The orgasms that they delivered were her most intense, but today, bound and full in every orifice Eddie could do little except allow her body to react, open her mouth as wide as possible and moan even as Alain stifled her voice with his cock.

“Are you ready, Alain?”

Her mistress’s question must have received an affirmative nod or voice of some sort, not that Eddie was aware of much, the rituals with Madame and the glorious pounding of her body had brought her to a trance-like state,

“Come again, now.”

There had been barely a cock-stroke between the last orgasm and this next command, but her body did as it must. At the same time, Alain’s strong hands pulled her head to his warm belly, the musky scent of him filling her nose just as his salty cum filled her mouth, spurt after spurt pulsing against the back of her throat.

~*~

Like what you've read? 'Normal' is available to buy from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, and Republica Press.

About the Author:

Ruby Kiddel lives in England with her daughter, The Imp.

If you count smutty texts she has been writing erotica for several years, if you don’t she started in January 2010 to engage the interest of a suitor.

The suitor fell by the wayside but by then she had found her way onto Twitter and a more appreciative audience.

Ruby hopes to continue to be read and one day get the hang of writing convincing dialogue.

Ruby is also the founder of Eroticon the UK's first conference for sex bloggers and erotic writers to be held in Bristol on 3rd March, a must attend event for anyone wanting to write sex right. Tickets are still available and all tickets also include £50 to spend at Lovehoney and a £30 gift bag!

Guest Blogger - Danielle Ravencroft!

Content Advisory: m/f sex.

Ophelia Martinez has a chance encounter with internationally famous rock-star, Trace Curtis. To Ophelia, Trace will always be the charming boy she met in high school. They share one night together in which Trace falls in love with Ophelia. But Ophelia knows she can’t continue to live in the past, at least not with the secret that haunts her present.

A Trace of Love excerpt:

Ophelia scowled. “Why are you doing this?”

Trace blinked in confusion. When he spoke, his voice was no longer playful, but deep and serious. “Why am I doing what?”

Ophelia looked him straight in the eyes. “Why, Trace Curtis, lead singer of Molten Silk, are you sitting here talking to me when you could be with any girl in world?”

He was very still for a long time, staring at her through narrow eyes. Just when she thought he might recognize her, he said, “Is that all I am to you? A famous name?”

Ophelia sighed, her heart breaking at the new direction the night headed. “Trace, we’re strangers. We don’t mean anything to each other.”

“Maybe I meant to change that. Maybe I wanted to mean something to you,” he mumbled. Ophelia stared, momentarily shocked. Trace sighed and stood. “I should go.”

Ophelia shot to her feet, grabbed Trace’s shirt with both hands, and yanked him toward her, planting her lips on his mouth.

Trace didn’t miss a beat. He placed one hand on her waist and one behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He held her tight, their lips melding together. His tongue gently parted her mouth a little wider and glided over hers in a slow, circular motion. His breath tasted like cinnamon gum, warm against her lips. Her hands slid along his chest and wrapped around his neck where she ran her fingers through his soft black curls.

His hands slid under her blouse, leaving trails of heat on her skin as they explored every inch of her abs and lower back. He reached up and unhooked her bra. One hand slid under the lace and massaged her breast. A tender, callused thumb traced circles around her nipple until it tightened and puckered under his touch. Damp warmth began to tingle between her legs as his other hand reached down, over her jeans, and gently squeezed her butt.

Trace deepened their kiss; pressing so hard against her she thought she might fall backward on the bed. Heat burned through her clothes where their bodies touched; his chest, abs, and hips aligned with hers. She felt the bump of his desire through his jeans, pushing against her thigh.

Her trembling hands reached for the hem of his shirt, but she fumbled, forgetting about his coat. Trace tore himself away from her and yanked off his jacket, his pale blue eyes never wavering from her brown ones. He crossed his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it land on the floor. Ophelia wet her lips and swallowed as she took in his perfectly chiseled pectorals and abs, right down to the sculpted V of his hips.

She pulled off her top, along with her bra. Her cheeks warmed as Trace looked at her, but she refused to hide from him. There wasn’t any point in being shy this far into things. He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to her forehead while unbuttoning her pants. He got on one knee, kissed her tummy, and pulled her jeans down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, turned and pulled the covers off the bed.

Ophelia slid under the sheets. Smiling, she inclined her head and gestured for him to join her. They lay on their sides, face to face for a moment. He smiled and kissed her nose and forehead. Heat burned where his lips touched her skin. He placed a hand under her jaw, his thumb gliding over her cheek, and pulled her closed to him, kissing her lips. With each kiss, Trace opened his mouth a little wider, dipped his tongue a little further, and held her a little tighter.

She gently pressed her hands against his shoulders, easing him onto his back. Still exploring his mouth with her tongue, Ophelia let her hand glide over his rock solid chest and abs, over his boxers, into the little flap of the crotch. She found the hard, hot length of his sex and freed it from the confines of his underwear. The huge, pulsating flesh flopped against his tummy.

Ophelia glanced at it from the corner of her eye and nearly gasped. She briefly wondered if it would even fit inside her. She stroked it, her fingers trembling at its size. It bobbed against her touch, like a puppy begging to be petted. His skin was so soft and delicate as it stretched thin over the vein. Trace tilted his head back. A soft moan escaped from his lips.

An idea came to Ophelia, one that made her smirk. She sat up and moved next to his hips. She was about to lean over his sex when Trace grabbed her arm. “Wait,” he said while pushing himself up.

Ophelia straightened. “What is it?”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I want to be on top.”

Ophelia nodded and lay against the pillows.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

“Close your eyes. No peeking.”

Ophelia snickered, but did as he said. “Promise,” she grinned with her eyes closed. She felt the bed bounce slightly as Trace stood and moved about the room. The light behind her eye lids darkened and she knew he turned off all the lamps. He joined her on the bed once more, sitting by her side. She expected a quick entry, but that proved not to be what Trace had in mind.

Instead, he took her right hand in his and held it up to his mouth. He pressed tiny kisses against the tips of each of her fingers. Then he kissed the palm of her hand, the underside of her wrist, and her forearm, slowly working his way down to the inside of her elbow. His warm, moist breath tickled her skin along her bicep and shoulder.

She breathed deeply and turned her head away as he reached her collar bone. He kissed her neck and took his time nuzzling, sucking the delicate skin between his teeth, playfully nipping. His trail of sweet, burning kisses continued down, between her breasts, down over her upper abs and tummy, down to her groin.

She heard him push the sheets completely away from her. His fingers slipped under the straps of her thong and gently pulled it off. He placed both hands under each of her knees and slowly parted her legs. Every fiber of her being was ready for him; she gripped the bed in anticipation. She wanted to open her eyes, to watch as he worked, but she kept them closed as she’d promised, knowing how much better it would feel.

Trace nipped at the spot where her thigh joined her hip, sending a shiver of goose bumps over her body. He pressed his lips sweetly against her sex, instantly filling her with a tingly heat. Ophelia’s eyes fluttered open just slightly. She reached down to push the soft curls of his hair behind his ear. “Trace….” But she felt him smile against her. His head dipped low and she felt the burning heat of his tongue entering the core of her body.

Her head fell back against the pillow and she moaned as he rolled his tongue from her vagina to her clit. He repeated the motion until her entire sex was slick with moisture. He turned his focus to her clitoris. He massaged it with the tip of his tongue, suckling every so often, until it hardened into a tight little bud. Her core trembled for attention again. Just when Ophelia thought she would scream, Trace pushed his index and middle finger easily inside her, invading and exploring her sex.

Trace continued to massage and suckle her clit. At the same time, he pumped his arm, slowly at first, but then increasing in speed. Ophelia dug her fingernails into the mattress, moaning until she came once, twice, a third time. Trace kept on going. Ophelia trembled under his every touch, almost to the point she thought she might explode. She shuddered so much, she had to gather all her strength just to reach down and pull his face up.

“Trace…I need you inside me.”

He kissed her thigh, his lips glossed over with moisture. “Not yet, trust me.”

When Ophelia came the fourth time, her eyes rolled back, her torso lifted off the bed, and her hips trembled in overwhelming pleasure. When Trace released her, she fell against the bed and tried to catch her breath. Little spasms continued to ripple through her core, aftershocks reminding her body of the pleasure it felt.

Trace lay by her side, patiently waiting for her to collect herself. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Do you still want me inside you?”

Ophelia faced him, wide-eyed, chest still heaving. “Oh yes.”

He chucked then pulled the covers up and positioned his body over hers. She felt the burning heat of his flesh poke against her tummy. She reached down and stroked it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was even bigger now than when she’d pulled it out of his boxers. Ophelia tried to prepare herself by relaxing her muscles, but she just didn’t think it was possible.

Trace didn’t try to force himself. He kissed her neck and gently messaged her breasts until all the tension melted away, replaced by a familiar warm tingle. Trace pushed his sex inside her a little bit at a time until, finally, she somehow stretched enough to take in all of him. He pulled out and this time, his entire length slick with her moisture, he drove all of it into her core at once.

Ophelia gasped, feeling the most heavenly pain a woman could ever know. He filled her completely, the connection whole, perfect, like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. She dug her fingernails into his back, drawing blood, but he never flinched.

Somehow, it wasn’t enough. Ophelia wanted more, wanted him deeper. She mumbled her request in his ear. He lifted her into his thick, capable arms, crawled to the head of the bed, and rose to his knees. Her back pressed against the cold headboard. He hooked one arm under her knee and pulled her leg up until her toes pointed to the ceiling. He pumped hard; making sure every inch of himself entered her body with each thrust.

Soon their skin dripped with sweat, gleamed silver in the moonlight filtering through the window. Ophelia and Trace had sex until the sun rose. At some point, Trace took Ophelia’s hand and held it against his chest, directly above his heart. He fell asleep, holding her hand there.

But Ophelia couldn’t rest. At some point while they were supposed to be having casual sex, Ophelia fell in love with Trace Curtis. She knew it. She recognized it. But she couldn’t allow it.

What did she expect him to do, stay in the city with her? Have a real relationship? Marry her? She wasn’t a teenager and this wasn’t a daydream. Hell, she hadn’t had sex with Mathew, her old crush, who was oblivious to her existence. She had sex with Trace Curtis, international rock star. She just slept with a man who was used to sleeping with groupies every night. No, Trace Curtis would get on his tour bus, go to the next venue, perform another show, and have sex with another woman. There would always be an endless supply of willing ladies for Trace Curtis, even if there was never another man for Ophelia. Trace would easily forget about her.

With a heavy heart, Ophelia slid her hand out of his and gently left the bed. She dressed quickly, in silence. She grabbed her shoes and tiptoed out of the hotel room, away from Trace.

~~*~~

Copyright 2011 Danielle Ravencroft

To find the author, please visit her at:

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Blog

To purchase A Trace of Love in non-Kindle formats, please visit the publisher direct: MuseitUp

Contest Time! Danielle has graciously offered a free ebook to one lucky commenter here today on the blog. Please leave your email address if entering, thank you!

Guest Post from Jeffe Kennedy!

Content Advisory: The following is an excerpt from Jeffe Kennedy's new release, 'Feeding the Vampire'.


 Ivan lay on his side next to me, propped up on a bent arm, heavy leg draped over me. As if he owned me.

I tugged at the silken cords holding my wrists together. My arms stretched over my head, tied to the heavy wooden headboard. My ankles felt similarly lashed together.

“I don’t always get this privilege,” he purred, stroking my throat with a long finger, “of watching my victim wake up, remember what happened, and realize that she belongs to me now. It’s quite delicious. Makes it worth being out in the open again.”

I forced myself to look at him, not the mirror overhead. The reflection showed a pale, vulnerable woman, bound and terrified, her dress hiked perilously high up her thighs. I couldn’t bear that I was her.

He met my eyes with grave amusement. He looked better, flushed and glowing with my blood.

“You’re wrong,” I managed. “It has never once occurred to me that I belong to you. Because I don’t.”

He chuckled and ran a lazy finger along the center of my chest. My heart thumped, though I tried to keep my breath even.

“It looks to me like you do.” Ivan glanced significantly at the cords tying me to what was clearly now his bed.

“I volunteered to feed you once, that’s all. Not to be kidnapped and…” And I really didn’t want to finish that sentence.

“Ah, that.” He dragged the single fingertip down my stomach, circling the indentation of my bellybutton under the thin cloth. The unrelenting heat and humidity outside made it unbearable to wear anything heavy. With all the volcanic ash in the air, the typically stifling summers in our river town became that much worse. Now in this cool, candlelit room, I fervently wished I’d worn more to the meeting. His touch burned hot. “You see, while you were passed out—you really should be eating better—your cohorts agreed readily enough to the bargain I offered.”

My stomach congealed in a hard knot of fear.

Ivan nodded, reading it in my face. “Yes, I agreed to help defend your little community. I’ll lend my strength to your building projects. It’s an intriguing idea. I generously agreed to only one thing in return.”

Ivan’s finger slipped down farther and I pressed my thighs tightly together. He raised an eyebrow and traced the outline of my mound, then down the seam of my thighs, until he met his own lean leg. The finger started its journey back upward. I squirmed and he smiled. Hungry.

“Do you think to resist me somehow, little rose?”

“I don’t—” My voice caught in my too-tight throat. I cleared it. “I don’t agree.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Well,” he mused, pursing his lips as if he truly mulled it over. “I suppose we could tell the others. They’d likely expel you from the community, but perhaps you prefer what you would face in other towns is less fearsome than this?”

He dragged the hem of my dress upward, exposing the lace panties I indulged in. So few luxuries these days, but I regretted this one. Ivan feathered hot fingers over the lace. I could see myself shudder in the mirror overhead and closed my eyes to it.

“Do you?”

I’d forgotten the question.

Ivan leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek. “See, I think I can make your life very pleasant, my little rose.” He nuzzled my earlobe and licked it with tender laps that sent arrows of electricity to my groin.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he took his hand off my sex. The reprieve ended when he began circling my left breast with languid fingertips. The mirror showed my nipples thrusting hard against the thin cloth, my dress up around my waist. Though my thighs were closed, they looked less like a defensive protection than the helpless clutch against the desire surging in me.

Ivan moved his hand to my right breast, never having hit the sweet spot in the center of the other. I bit back a ragged moan. He snuggled down against me. His hot tongue licked my neck, sending shivers through me.

“The thing is, little rose…” The tip of a fang grazed my tender flesh. “I’m still hungry.”

I went rigid and he clucked soothingly, kissing my throat with light and sweet touches. “I offered you blood, not sex.” I whispered it in desperation.

“For a vampire, they’re much the same. They have to be the same for our…partners as well. The bite hurts. It always does. So, you remember the pain, yes, my delicate flower. But let me show you the pleasure too. The pleasure is the other side that keeps you willing to feed me. I need you willing.”

“I’m not willing.”

“I know—that’s what I’m working on now.”

He leaned up on his elbow, cupping my cheek in one long-fingered hand. His eyes glowed, long hair fell over his shoulder, golden like the silk cords that bound my wrists. “They’re two faces of the same coin, you know. Over time, you’ll find the pain is seductive in its own way.”

He bent over me, his hair falling around me to curtain us from the world. His lips brushed hot against mine, drawing a helpless sigh out of me.

“Let me seduce you, my rose.” His mouth sank over mine, tasting of cinnamon, mace and blood.

Longing swelled up in me and I melted beneath him. His lips moved, strong and gentle, thrilling in their searing touch. He licked my lips, a breath of movement and sank in again, urging me to open to him. With a helpless moan, I did. I didn’t have to tell him he’d had me since that first feeding. Since I’d handed myself to him on a faux-foil cardboard platter under fluorescent lights.

He hummed with delight, his tongue sliding along the tender tissues of my mouth. I drowned in the shivering sensations, pleasure roaring through me. His hand slid down my throat in a lingering caress, trailing to circle my nipple again. I strained against him, close to begging in my delirium. Red and black pulsed in my brain. I tried to remember what I’d been unhappy about. Nothing mattered but this.

A sharp fang sliced the slick tissue of my lower lip and I convulsed, the pain cutting through the dark and sensual haze. His tongue laved the cut, sparking an ache. He crawled over me, straddling my body with his knees and cupping my cheekbones with both hands, tilting my head back so he could better slant his lips over mine. Blood swirled in my mouth and Ivan sucked on it, feeding from me with deep, thrilling kisses. I was a goblet he drank from.

When he released my mouth and raised his head, his lips were stained red with my blood. He knelt over me and smoothed his elegant hands along my throat. My frantic pulse pounded under his touch. His avid hunger frightened me.

“If you keep drinking from me, I’ll die,” I gasped.

I realized at that moment—with my mouth a ravished throbbing ache, wrists swollen against the ropes, and body taut with desire for my predator—that I wanted most to live. I’d seen too many people die. Nothing else really mattered but living. I didn’t care how.

Ivan touched my cheek with tenderness, gray eyes catching candlelight like crystals.

“You think I’d drain my rose?” Ivan caught his own lip with a glistening fang, looking for a moment young, as if he bit his lip in worry. The image vanished when the bright drop of blood, iridescent crimson, welled up in its wake. He bent over me and I tried to turn my head. With a quiet growl he caught my chin and held my head still.

“No escape, rose,” he breathed and covered my mouth again.

Copyright © 2011 Jeffe Kennedy

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

About the Author

Jeffe took the crooked road to writing, stopping off at neurobiology, religious studies and environmental consulting before her creative writing began appearing in places like Redbook, Puerto del Sol, Wyoming Wildlife, Under the Sun and Aeon. She has been a Ucross Foundation Fellow (2001), was a Wyoming Arts Council roster artist, when she lived in Wyoming, and received the state’s 2005 Frank Nelson Doubleday Memorial Award for a woman writer of exceptional talent in any creative writing genre and the 2007 Fellowship for Poetry. Jeffe has contributed to several anthologies, Drive: Women’s True Stories of the Open Road. (2002), Hard Ground (2003), Bombshells (2007) and Going Green (2009). Her first book, Wyoming Trucks, True Love and the Weather Channel was published by University of New Mexico Press in 2004. An erotic novella, Petals and Thorns, came out under her pen name of Jennifer Paris in 2010, heralding yet another branch of her path, into erotica and romantic fantasy fiction. Jeffe lives in Santa Fe, with two Maine coon cats, a border collie, plentiful free-range lizards and frequently serves as a guinea pig for an acupuncturist-in-training.

You can visit her at her website,  blog, or facebook page. You can also follow her on twitter or friend her at Goodreads.

'Feeding the Vampire' is available to buy from Jasminejade.com.

Blurb:

Through good luck and healthy cowardice, Misty has survived the earthquakes that have torn the world apart, but has no skills to speak of. Or so she thinks. She does have blood, and someone must feed the vampire who has offered his protection and strength in exchange for sustenance. Feeding Ivan is a priority, and Misty finally serves a purpose. But when she awakens tied to his bed, an unwilling gift to Ivan from the townspeople, she discovers he has hungers other than blood. Hungers he expects her to satisfy in the most carnal manner. Under his seductive persuasion Misty discovers she has the power to sustain Ivan in all ways, while experiencing unspeakable pleasure herself.

Guest Blogger Roz Lee with THE LUST BOAT

Advisory Content: m/f sex

An excerpt from THE LUST BOAT – book one in the Lothario Series by Roz Lee

Ryan advanced one slow calculated step at a time, until he’d closed the distance between them. “I need to hear you say it, Candace.” He still hadn’t touched her. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to have you for dinner, every last inch of you?”

She nodded her head, or at least she thought she did, but still he didn’t touch her.

“I’m dying here, Candace. I want you so bad I may spontaneously combust, but I’m not going to touch a single hair on your head until you tell me that you want me to make love to you.”

“I…,” she began. She wanted him more than anything in the world, and his restraint, when everything about him telegraphed his need and desperation, went straight to her heart. He’d asked if she wanted him to make love to her, not if she wanted to be fucked. Her heart slowed into a more normal rhythm and love swelled up inside her, giving her the courage she needed. “Yes.” She pushed the word past her lips. “I want you to make love to...”

Ryan swallowed her last word with his mouth over hers. He braced himself with his hands on the door on either side of her head, so only his lips touched her. His kiss urged her to respond, and she did, meeting him on equal terms. He took, and as if sensing her need, backed off and let Candace take the lead. Their mouths danced a primal mating dance, tasting, arousing and promising.

Candace couldn’t think. Her body responded to Ryan’s like a marionette to a puppeteer. He pulled the strings, and she followed, until the momentum shifted, and she realized he wanted her to take the lead. She did, kissing him with all her limited skills and every bit of passion she had in her. His hands came off the door and framed her face. Candace ceded control back to Ryan, sliding her arms around his waist and molding her body to his. His skin radiated heat and she tried to get as close to it as possible.

His lips left hers to trace a heated line along her jaw, down the pounding pulse in her neck to her collarbone, and lower to the swell of her breasts above the black lace bra. His hands followed, skimming down to rest on her ribcage. Her breasts ached for his touch. She sucked in a harsh breath as his thumbs scraped along the bottom curve of her breasts. Candace cradled his head in her hands and arched her back, urging him on.

She wasn’t disappointed. He explored every inch as promised, but he did it at a pace so slow she thought she might go insane. “Ryan,” she begged, but he ignored her pleas. His tongue and lips slipped along the top of her bra and nuzzled her nipples through the lace. Her nipples pebbled and he nipped at them with his teeth. Candace cried out at the pleasure-pain, but still he ignored her. She wanted the bra gone, wanted to feel his mouth on her breasts, without the fabric between them.

As if he’d read her mind, Ryan slid the bra straps down, trapping her arms to her side. With a rough tug, he wrenched the fabric down to expose her breasts. She’d leaned against him and he pushed her back against the door and stared at her aching breasts. What a sight she must be, she thought. Her lipstick had to be all over her face, her bra half on, baring her to his gaze.

“My God, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His hands came up to cup her breasts in the most tender caress possible. “I’m going to suck your breasts.” Ryan raised his eyes to hers. She saw wonder and desire, and a subtle question in them. Once again, he offered her a chance to call it off.

Candace raised her hands to cover his and arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. “Suck me, Ryan.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Candace groaned as Ryan feasted on her breasts, alternating between them, but always touching them. While he sucked one, his hand worked the other, squeezing and pinching the nipple between his fingers; tugging and teasing until she tried to pull his head away from one breast to move him to the other. In answer, he yanked her bra down to her waist, trapping her arms lower.

Candace surrendered control to him. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the door. Her pussy softened and engorged, preparing for mating. Liquid heat pooled between her legs, but Ryan continued to worship her breasts like a man starved for nourishment.

 Her knees weakened and she slipped lower against the door. Ryan swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He made short work of removing the dinner tray. His sarong landed on top of the tray on the floor.

He crawled across the foot of the bed toward her. His eyes never left hers, again, giving her a chance to say no. With her arms still trapped at her side, she spread her legs in invitation. Ryan crawled between them and bent his head to her, picking up where he’d left off.

Candace stared up at the mirrored ceiling, expecting to see a frightful mess. Instead, she saw a woman aroused, and thoroughly in love with the man kissing his way down her body, inch by maddening inch. Her reddened nipples and areolas attested to Ryan’s thorough attention. The thin band of black fabric beneath her breasts and around her arms made her body flush with arousal. He’d bound her, but at every turn, he’d given her the choice to continue or not.

She flexed her fingers, wanting to run them through the dark head of hair bent over her stomach. Fascinated, she followed Ryan’s progress down her torso. His broad shoulders and back drew her attention. Her eyes followed his spine down to his firm ass and long legs sprawled between hers, and a feeling of utter contentment swept through her. Ryan had shown her how to express herself sexually and asked nothing in return. Now it was her turn to give.

Ryan hooked his fingers under the band of her panty and Candace, unable to rise on her elbows to see because of the hobbling bra, watched in the overhead mirror as Ryan drew the fabric down to reveal the crystal heart with his initial in the center. What would he think? Was it too much of a declaration, too soon?

His hands stilled with the panty low enough to reveal the tattoo and a hint of her waxed mound. The heart shaped tattoo refracted the scant light, sending tiny multi colored spears flashing around the room. Candace held her breath, waiting for Ryan to say or do something. His finger traced over the heart and the scripted R inside. She let her breath out, only to have it catch in her lungs as Ryan lowered his head to her once again and placed a soft kiss over the heart.

Ryan growled like a crazed animal and rose to his knees between her legs. Her panties ripped in his hands and seconds later he was sheathed and poised to take her. With rough hands, he lifted her thighs and shoved them up and out, holding her at the back of her knees so she was open to him. She’d broken through his wall of restraint at last.

“Mine,” he grunted and speared her with his cock.

Candace closed her eyes and screamed his name as he buried to the hilt inside her. It felt so damned good, better than she had imagined. Ryan drew all the way out and plunged back in again, seating himself against her womb. “Mine,” he repeated and dropped his hold on her legs and came over her, holding himself above her on his forearms.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Candace opened her eyes and saw the fierce possessive gleam in his eyes. His strokes were hard and fast, claiming her as she’d never been claimed before. Candace reveled in it. With every pounding thrust, Ryan showed her how much he loved her. She cradled him between her thighs in welcome, giving over all she was to the man of her heart.

Ryan reached beneath her and flicked the clasp open on her bra, freeing her arms. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back, his shoulders and down to his firm, flexing ass. “Mine,” she whispered.

“Forever,” Ryan said against her lips.

“Forever,” she agreed.

He kissed her with heart melting tenderness, slowing his thrusts to match the poignant moment. His claiming turned to sweet loving. He gave instead of took. His hands roamed her body as hers did his, giving and receiving love, until the exquisite gentle torture built into a raging need inside both of them.

Ryan stoked the fire inside her. Candace ached, clawing his back, striving for the glorious release Ryan promised with every masterful stroke. She ground her clit against him in the age-old rhythm of lovers. Candace gasped every time her swollen bud pressed against the rough hair around his cock. With each thrust of Ryan’s powerful body, the tension inside her grew. Release taunted her with its nearness, so close yet beyond her reach. She wanted to weep, her mind and body begged for sweet abandon.

Candace bucked her hips off the mattress, clinging to Ryan, reveling in the feel of his cock inside her wet sheath. Every stroke was a sensual assault on raw nerve endings. Her pussy made small sucking sound as Ryan pulled almost all the way out of her, as if trying to suction him back in. Over and over his cock made the torturous slow slide out, and back in. Wet skin slapped against wet skin. His balls ricocheted off her perineum with each downward thrust.

 Like a mountain climber, her lungs burned for oxygen, as Candace climbed higher and higher. The summit shifted further away as she approached it, distorted and elusive in its simplicity. She had to reach it, and so she concentrated on the center of her universe, where Ryan’s body joined hers.

Oh God, he felt good. Each bold thrust stretched her, filled her, and moved her closer to the elusive peak. Ryan shifted and changed the tempo. With each stroke, he buried to the hilt and ground against her clit before pulling out again.

“Oh God, Ryan!” she cried. She dug her nails into his back and clawed her way toward the summit. One more step, one more stroke, one more slick slide inside her. Her body sang as euphoria overtook her. Ryan buried his cock against her womb and pushed her over the edge. For a timeless moment, Candace hung suspended above the world, hanging on by a rope woven with the fiber of their love, before she plummeted heart first down the mountain.

Her pussy clenched around Ryan’s cock as waves of sweet, torturous release swept through her body. Every muscle quaked with the force of it. Swept away on a current too strong to fight, Candace drifted in an altered state of consciousness. Ryan flexed his hips again, drawing all the way out before he slid in one more time, arduously slow, until he touched her womb. His groan vibrated through his chest, and bounced against the paneled walls of the cabin as his body responded to hers, and he plunged over the edge with her.

~~*~~

~Roz Lee~

SHOW ME THE ROPES – book two in the Lothario Series

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Guest Blogger ~ M. Makael Newby

Content Advisory: Descriptions of oral sex, and m/f sex.

My Erotic Adventure: The Belle & The Ball allows you to make the choices – just click on the action you'd like to take and see what happens next! As the narrator of your own story, you’ll navigate real-life sexual dilemmas, experience surprise endings that leave you laughing, and luxuriate in steamy scenes of lustful abandon. Will you accept an indecent proposal, try your hand at S&M, attend an anonymous orgy, or risk having sex in public? Will you allow yourself to be videotaped, enjoy a threesome, or chance finding love through expressions of lust?  48 unique endings await. Let the adventure begin!

Recap: It’s been a hell of a night already! Uncomfortable in my slightly too-tight ball gown at an otherwise boring charity gala, I met Trevor, who remembered me from a similar event several months ago. Instead of investigating the possibilities, I chose to find my girlfriend Lynne. She introduced me to Reggie, Tasha, and Eirik, a unique trio with a deeply erotic energy that left me perplexed. I squashed my curious side and chose to again follow Lynne on her social meanderings. This led us to Brian and his crew of very handsy compatriots. I didn’t know that they were swingers at the time, but they invited us to Serena’s house for a party, and Evan explained it all to me when we arrived. As my tour guide, Evan has led me downstairs and now I must decide where to go next!

PAGE 92

I nod to the right, and as Evan leads me down the hallway, a petite, buxom, strawberry-blond honey rushes toward me saying, “Oh thank goodness! The game is about to start and we need one more couple. You’ll be perfect!”

Evan looks at me with a question in his eyes. I smile and shrug in response. Why not?

Marina, as she introduces herself, opens the door and ushers us into a spacious, softly lit playroom with a standing bar and sink on one side and a powder room on the other. There is a basket of condoms on the bar counter, next to what must be packets of lube, and several canisters of antibacterial wet wipes “with Aloe.” The most unexpected feature is the floor, which is covered by what I believe to be exercise mats peeking through burgundy sheets.

Following the example of the other couples and single females in the room, we slip off our shoes and step onto the mats, taking the open space in the circle of players. This should be interesting!

“Okay, everybody,” says Marina, clearly the ring leader, “we’re about to get started.  Thank you all for coming tonight! It’s already starting off to be an unforgettable evening… let’s finish it out that way, huh?”

That gets a round of cheers and playful grunts from the assembled crew and starts to birth butterflies in my stomach.

I hope she doesn’t single me out.

“Is there anyone here who’s brand new,” she asks, looking at me inquisitively.

“Yes,” I admit reluctantly.

“Then you get the honor of choosing the game,” she says, pulling me into the center of the circle. 

“In my hands I have a bowl with various colors of poker chips,” she explains, displaying the bowl with a flourish and shaking the chips dramatically. “Each chip corresponds to a particular game. You’ll pick a chip from the bowl, and that’s the game that we’ll play. Ready?”

“I guess so,” I say, closing my eyes and reaching into the bowl.

I’ll grab the first chip my fingers touch.                                    Page 134

I’ll dig around the bowl before picking a chip.                        Page 138

PAGE 138

Opening my eyes, I hand a blue poker chip to Marina.

“The 10-Minute Rotation Game!” she yells. “Choose your first partner, ladies. Every time the 10-minute timer goes off, the men will rotate clockwise to the next partner.”

My jaw drops as I look at Evan.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, “and you don’t have to start with me either.”

“No, no,” I say, trying to reassure myself. “I’m game. Try everything once, I like to say.”

A firm hand on my elbow draws my attention to an attractive African-American gentleman of medium height and moderate build with warm brown eyes and an inquiring smile.

“May I have the pleasure?” he asks politely.

I look at Evan, I look at…

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Derrick,” he responds.

I look at Derrick, and back to Evan.

A sexy brunette takes Evan’s hand and leads him a few feet away. Decision made.

“I guess so,” I tell Derrick with a brave grin. “Be patient with me, okay? I’m new to all of this.”

“Absolutely,” he replies, running a hand through my hair and pulling me in for a gentle kiss. He has very full, soft lips and a gentle, yet firm touch, and I start to relax into the moment. With closed eyes I can imagine that the two of us are alone in the room, with the bowl of condoms, and the padded floor…

Okay, this really is a bit weird.

Nonetheless, I allow Derrick to unzip and remove my bodice, the taffeta swishing softly as it falls away from my breasts. He caresses me with the skill of a practiced lover, reassuring with every move that I’m beautiful and adored. His arms wrap around me, holding me tightly as he unzips the remainder of my dress, allowing it to drift slowly to the floor.

I step over the boundary of my skirts, and now I’m in my bra and panties in a room full of strangers, and making out with another one. I never imagined a scenario like this, not even in my deepest fantasies! Now, however, my mind is flooded with possibilities.

Derrick expertly spins me around in front of him, facing me into the room as he attends to my body, providing me with a clear view of the other couples. Some are rough and passionate, others gentle and tender; some are standing, or kneeling, or laid out on the mats. A few lucky men have two women to please…and I wonder if that would lead to more pleasure or more work? My body is humming, my thoughts a swirl.

I catch the eye of a man across the room, watching him get his dick sucked as he watches Derrick fondle me, and suddenly I’m aware of every imperfection in my body ― every little thing that has ever bothered me is now screaming for my attention, and I question how I must look to everyone else in the room.

At the same time, it is sort of a turn on, seeing and being seen, watching and being watched, knowing that the man who is watching me right now will be pleasuring me in 30 or 40 more minutes. It is naughty, forbidden ― and tempting.

The bell rings as Derrick engages me with one more scrumptious kiss and moves clockwise around the circle. The man to my right is naked and rubbing his cock and balls down with a wet-wipe as he strolls in my direction, a gleam in his eye.

This might simply be too much.

If I’m going to make a break for it, it had better be now, or I could embrace my inner freak and surrender entirely to the joy of the game. 

Do I want to stay or not?

No man, this really isn’t for me.                                                Page 184

Yeah, this is kinda fun!                                                            Page 194

PAGE 194

I flash a wicked, lascivious grin at my companion who returns the same. I hold his gaze as I reach up and unhook my bra, every inch of revealed flesh another opportunity for delight.

He strokes himself in response, tasting me with his eyes, caressing me with his almost-palpable thoughts, the blending of our scents reminiscent of burning cedar.

Caution to the wind? I think. Consider it thrown.

I step forward to meet his advance, wrapping my arms around his beautiful, muscular body, leaning into his hungry kisses. He pulls off my bra and throws it to the floor. My fingers plow through his hair, grab his shoulders, stroke the taut ridge of his spine, my tongue tastes a lingering shade of mint on his breath as he deftly picks me up and takes me down to the mat, brushing my dress aside and laying me out beneath him.

Good lord, I wonder, as he enthusiastically pulls aside my panties and buries his tongue in my moist pussy. Are all swingers this gung-ho to perform oral sex?!

The answer appears to be “yes” as I look around the room to see the majority of partnerships orally engaged, soft moans and passionate commands combined with writhing bodies and seductive glances. The minutes flow together as he squeezes my breasts, pinches my nipples, swings over my body to offer his cock for my mouth, his shudders revealing his appreciation for my tongue.

The bell rings!

“Already?” I ask, laughing as I taste myself on his departing kiss. He smacks my ass as he leaves, his wink implying an open invitation to return for more.

I never even got his name!

Lying on the floor, I raise myself up on one elbow and glance up to see a man of medium build, average body, and non-average cock coming my way with a condom in hand.

Oh goodness, I think, eyes widening. Please give me the strength…

He stretches out next to me casually, as if to join me for a cup of coffee, and begins making small talk!

“Hi there, I’m Trey.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“I’ve not seen you around before,” he says, running his fingers through my hair and leaning in to nibble on my neck.

“I haven’t been around to see,” I reply, trying to maintain my focus as he runs a hand down the length of my body, nails lightly scratching my skin into a mesh of goose flesh. I shiver and gasp, my back naturally arching in response and wonder at how many women these men have done to become so skilled.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, fingers pressing into my lower back, a corresponding tingle shooting through my groin and causing me to moan uncontrollably as he licks at the tender flesh bordering the side of my breast, more fingers delicately probing my nether lips, seeking my wetness.

Inspired by his tender and faultless execution, I reach down to stroke his significant manhood, my thumb trailing light circles around the head of his penis. He groans, and I can feel him smile as I cup his balls in my hand and roll the loose flesh between my fingers, pulling and tugging gently.

“May I?” he asks politely, bringing the condom wrapper into view.

“I was hoping you would!” I reply, releasing his package to him for gift wrapping.

Looking around the room, I see couples and threesomes in varying positions…one woman is being fucked by her partner while another woman rides her face ecstatically; two couples seem to have blended into a foursome; another couple is doing it doggie-style, her back arched dramatically, face to the mat while he holds and guides her hips; and another gentleman is eating out one partner while the other sucks his cock noisily.

Trey’s tongue on my clit brings me back to my own body, and I look down to see him grinning up at me devilishly.

“Come and get it,” I say, crooking my fingers to entice him upward.

He raises his chest and slides his body along the length of mine until, reaching below with one hand to direct the action, his wonderful, tantalizing cock begins to fill me. I gasp as every bit of my consciousness is directed to the nerve endings inside my vagina, the stretching of my flesh, the head of his penis as it passes each new quarter-inch of sensation-filled internal wall. I feel the pressure of his girth in all directions…all delicious, blissful directions. His pelvic bone bears down on my clit as his cock reaches full depth, and together we groan to feel the head of his cock pressing against my cervix.

He begins to stroke in and out of me, kissing me lightly, my lips parting and my eyes alternately clenched shut and wide open with wonder and a flood of awareness. I lose track of time, our bodies merging and moving together poetically, our sighs increasing in volume, my arousal deepening and bringing me toward inevitable resolution…

And the bell rings.

“No!” I cry, grabbing him and holding him to me, pouting in a way that I hope is adorable.

“I understand completely,” he says, chuckling, “but rules are rules. That’s the fun of the game!”

I roll around on the floor in a mass of tension and anticipation, full of unresolved fervor as he withdraws with a kiss and steps aside to clean up and get a new condom.

That’s a good idea, I think, and quickly, snag a wet-wipe from a box nearby and run it over my juiciest parts.

“May I help?” asks a silky voice at my side, a hand taking the fabric from mine and gently brushing the folds of my most tender skin.

“Yes, thank you,” I sigh, turning my head toward the man I’d noticed getting his dick sucked during the first round.

“I’ve been itching to get over here all night,” he says, tossing the expired wipe aside and replacing it with his tongue. “I’ve wanted to taste you since the moment you entered the room.”

“Don’t I taste like antibacterial agent plus aloe?” I snicker.

“Oh, no,” he mumbles into my warm, aching bits, tickling me with his voice. “You taste wonderful.”

He delves into my warmth, clearly relishing the fulfillment of his desires, his tongue, his hands, his lips, even his teeth slowly driving me wild.

“I can’t take much more of this,” I warn breathlessly.

“You want cock, do you?”

“Yes, please!”

“Well,” he says happily, “never keep a woman waiting!”

And he doesn’t. Within a moment, I’m once again full of hard, throbbing maleness, this time with a slight curve that teases me internally and leaves me gasping with surprise.

“That’s right,” he whispers in my ear, “here’s the cock you wanted. Do you like my cock, you dirty little slut?”

“Oh God yes!” I gasp, unexpectedly turned on by his words, my hips rising to meet his thrusts.

“You’re a nasty fuckin’ whore, aren’t you? You want every cock in this room, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes I do…”

“Say it.”

“I want every cock in this room.”

“Oh, you’re such a good little cunt,” he cries, his thrusts lengthening as I squeeze his stiffness with my pelvic muscles, building myself toward climax.

“What an amazing pussy,” he says, “I love the way you’re milking my cock.”

His nasty words burrowing into me is more than I can withstand and I explode into an orgasm, flooding my whole body with tingling warmth and twitching muscles. Triggered by my release, he responds in kind, slamming into my swollen cunt, hands fisted in my hair, body rigid with exertion, groaning into my neck and shoulder with absolute liberation.

And the bell rings.

THE END

Copyright 2010 M. Makael Newby

Illustrated Kindle version available through Amazon. Linked PDF and print versions available through author’s website at www.mmakaelnewby.com.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable including but not limited to: MFM & FMF threesome, MFFM foursome, swinging, orgy, anal sex, age play, role play, bondage, spanking, forced oral, forced orgasm, slapping, verbal humiliation, and F on F strap-on sex.

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