Lady Amelia

Content Advisory: Sex between m/f, graphic language and description

A deep voice growled in Lady Amelia’s ear. “Where is your husband?”

Shivers raced up her neck from the caress of Lord Elton’s warm breath. She flicked open her fan and covered her mouth. Turning her head slightly, she fluttered the delicate fabric. “Otherwise disposed in the gambling parlor.”

She stilled herself, trying to appear poised and relaxed as James' hand slid down the rounded curve of her ass and squeezed.

“Meet me in the alcove by the library.” He pinched her right cheek, sending waves of longing through her body. Amelia’s nipples tightened against her powder blue bodice. She lowered the fan and gave a single nod.

The ballroom suddenly felt oppressive. Her skin flushed from the short contact with her lover and the anticipation of what was to come—hopefully her. She watched the dancers, silently counting to one hundred before making her discrete departure. Pushing through the crush, she smiled and fluttered her fan, acting as if she needed fresh air.

She reached the terrace doors and gave a quick glance over her shoulder. Nobody watched—each guest thoroughly absorbed with their own activities and the sparkling grandeur of her May Day Spring Ball. Ignoring the wide French doors leading to the gardens, she slipped along the hallway and up the spiraling staircase.

Slowing her pace but not her racing heart, Lady Amelia Collis made idle conversation with the milling guests on the second floor. She chatted about the dancers swirling below them, the menu for the late dinner, and many other topics she didn't give a damn about. All she wanted was to race to the dark niche and into her lover’s arms.

Smiling and laughing , Amelia extricated herself from the conversation flowing around her and slipped down a dimly lit hallway toward the library. She gasped as a strong hand grabbed her when she neared the alcove, hauling her into the dark recess. James backed her against the wall to cover her body with his.

“I thought you’d never get here.” His erection rubbed against her stomach as his hands cupped her ass and lifted her against him.

“I’m here now.” Amelia’s panted as she struggled to spread her legs.

“Mmm, indeed you are.” Pressing his mouth to her neck, he blazed a trail of kisses over her shoulder and across the swells of her breasts. She arched toward him, needing more—wanting his lips.

With deft fingers, James unlaced the bodice of her dress and yanked the material apart. Amelia pushed the lacy shoulders of her gown down, desperate to feel skin against skin. She tugged at the buttons on his navy blue coat and shoved the jacket off his shoulders. Making quick work of his white shirt and vest, she sighed as her fingers skimmed across the hard smooth muscles of his chest. Lord Elton looked nothing like her pudgy husband, who could barely do more than roll on top of her, pump a few times, and fall asleep. But not James.His stunning handsomeness and rakish nature incited a riot of emotions and naughty thoughts within her. He always saw to her needs. Hands caressed and fondled, exploring every inch of glorious bare skin once they were naked from the waist up.

James cupped her breasts and kneaded her nipples. “Hello my lovelies.” Bending, he placed a kiss on each stiff tip. “I’ve missed you.”

“Are you talking to me or my bosom?” Amelia chided.

“Both.” He lifted his head and smiled at her. “You are one in the same.”

“Saints alive, I hope I am more than just a pair of breasts.”

“Oh—you are.” he drawled. James ran one hand over her knee, gathering the material of her confining skirt. His fingers glided along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “You are so much more.”

Amelia groaned as his hand crept higher and lightly traced the folds of her sex, sending shudders through her body. Leaning her head against the wall, she watched his expression darken with desire. He slid his knee between her legs and lifted his foot to prop his boot on a stone ledge near the floor. Her leg raised and spread, her skirt pooling around her bent thigh. Cool air rushed in and caressed the heat between her legs. She moaned and arched her hips, searching for his talented touch.

Amelia tugged at her skirt to move the material out of the way and give access to her lover’s cock and stroked his shaft through the light wool of his trousers. James pushed against her hand, gyrating as she struggled one-handed with the button at his waist. Releasing the clasp, she pulled his cock free of the confining breeches and caressed its swollen head. He captured her mouth and moaned as his fingers slid along her slit, spreading her lips to play. She whimpered and rocked against his hand as one digit grazed her sensitive clit.

“Oh James,” she moaned into his mouth. “Deeper.”

Two fingers plunged into her opening, pumping and swirling, taunting and teasing. She could barely breathe—barely stand as he fucked her with his hand. Not to be outdone, Amelia slid her hands under his cock and fondled his tight balls.

“I need to be inside you, Am. I need your hot velvet around my cock.” He covered her hand with his and guided her strokes.

His words inflamed her and moistured pooled between her thighs. “Yes, I can’t wait any longer.”

Lifting her leg higher, he guided the engorged head to her entrance. “Touch your breasts.” She did, cupping the full mounds and massaging. “Your nipples.” His voice came out in gruff pants. “Lick your fingers and rub your nipples for me.

Sticking her index finger in her mouth, she swirled her tongue along the digit and slowly withdrew. James watched her movements, his gaze burning as he pushed slowly into her. Amelia circled the stiff nubs, pulingl and twisting. Shocks of pleasure raced to her pussy and she bucked against him.

“I need you James.” She rolled a nipple between her thumb and finger and gripped his shoulder with her other hand. “I need your cock.”

James groaned and buried himself against her slick folds. “God Amelia, you’re so bloody tight.”

He filled her and it felt like heaven. Amelia moved against him, her breath catching as the tingle of pleasure tickled her pussy. Gripping her ass, James spread her cheeks and lifted her higher. His fingers circled the tight puckered hole as he thrust deep and withdrew slowly into her sex. She wanted him everywhere at once.

Her muscles clenched. With each thrust her body spiraled toward the pleasure he’d always given her. She palmed her breasts, tugged at her nipples, but it wasn’t enough. “Harder, James. God, I need more.”

Dropping his foot, his cock slid free from her pussy. As she started to protest, Lord Elton spun her to face the wall. He placed her hands flat against the cool marble and leaned over her back. “Don’t let go.”

The soft silk of her dress whispered up and over her hips. She was bare, exposed, and she loved it. James pressed his cock into her pussy, filling her again. She gasped. He’d never taken like this—never in such a brazen position. Without warning he slapped her on the ass. Amelia flinched and whimpered.

“Do it again.”

The round globe received another stinging slap from his hand. She groaned and pushed against him. James drove deep, picking up speed with each delicious plunge. Reaching around and under, he massaged her swollen clit. She spread her legs to grant better access and pressed into his hand. Amelia clawed at the marble wall as the tension in her coiled. James growled, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

 “Oh, yes. Oh, Amelia. I can’t,” James grunted, “I can’t stop.”

Bracing herself against the wall with one hand, Amelia tugged at her nipple with her other. Lord Elton’s fingers worked her nub, spreading her lips and stroking her slick folds. She convulsed as he drove into her and carried her over the edge. Her body hovered, shuddering before exploding into a million wonderful pieces.

James thrust one final time and buried his entire length in her. Holding her ass tight against him, he came. Her body thrummed at the feel of his pleasure pouring into her. As his muscles relaxed, he draped his body over hers and kissed her naked shoulders.

“That was bloody amazing,” he said.

She laughed and rubbed against him. He sighed, slowly straightening and helping her stand. Turning in his arms, she smiled at him. “Damn bloody amazing, Lord Elton. I’m just glad nobody discovered us here.”

He captured her mouth and swept his tongue inside. She pressed against him as he fondled the sensitive buds of her breasts. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled her neck. “I would have told them to get their own damn alcove.”

She laughed again. How wonderful it was to have her handsome secret lover—always ready to pleasure her and burn away the monotony of marriage. They dressed and shared one final passionate kiss.

As Amelia patted her hair and slipped from the dark niche, a coy smile tugged at her lips. This had been the best May Day Spring Ball yet.

vBoone Bruxv

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Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux

If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic Volume I, Everything Erotic Volume II, Everything Erotic Volume III, Everything Erotic Volume IV and Everything Erotic Volume VI anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic Volumes I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95. 

The Girl Who Cried Wolf ~ Part 1

Content Advisory: Hot Sex, Oral Sex, Brief glimpse at menage and mass orgy.

The heady bouquet of hyacinth and roses surrounded Wolfgang with calming scents. His Sounds of Nature CD whispered around the flower shop, blending with the Zen fountain gently spilling its stream of water from one copper lily pad to the next. The Flower Emporium had become his sanctuary, a calming place that tamed his animal nature.

Slipping the last sprig of Baby’s Breath into a white vase, he stepped back to eye his creation. He cocked his head. Something marred the arrangement's organic lines. Pinching the gossamer material between his thumb and index finger, he straightened the baby-blue bow.

“Perfect.”

How could somebody like him create something so beautiful and delicate? He embodied everything these flowers were not, dark, brooding, and deadly when he wanted to be. It had only been within the last six months he’d gained control over the wolf lurking inside him and found some semblance of peace with his business and his new love, Bo Peep.

The soft tinkle of bells jingled as the front door of the shop swung open. Wolfgang glanced up and silently groaned. Great, the Swinefeld boys. That’s all he needed today. He still had a lot to do before the Muffet wedding tomorrow. Setting aside the finished centerpiece, Wolfgang smiled. Exude friendliness—invite friendship. He chanted his therapist’s mantra and smiled.

 “Morning boys.”

“Morning Wolfgang,” the men said in unison.

The three short, round brothers moved as one, jostling each other as they bellied up to the counter, its edge hitting them at chest level. Wolfgang leaned down on his elbows as not to intimidate them. This was all part of his therapy, not being intimidating—not giving people the impression he could rip out their throats if he got the urge.

“What can I do for you guys? Is it your mother’s birthday already?”

Three heads shook simultaneously. “No,” Jimmy said. “We’re here to buy flowers for our future wives.”

Wolfgang raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? And who are the lucky ladies?”

“Don’t know yet,” said Dean. “But one must pounce on opportunity when it presents itself.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Wolf. “Know what I mean?”

“Sorry, no,” Wolfgang said.

“The Pixie Plant,” Link chimed in.

Wolf narrowed his gaze as a feeling of unease slid across his skin. That’s where Bo worked. “What about the Pixie Plant?”

The boys glanced at each other. “Why the explosion, of course,” they said in unison.

“What explosion?” His voice ricocheted through the shop. The Swinefelds jumped back, their eyes going wide.

“I-i-it exploded this morning,” Jimmy ventured. “Nobody was hurt, but all that Frisky Fairy Dust has caused quite a stir.”

“What!?” Rage raced through Wolf as he struggled for control. He curled his fingers into his palms to hide the elongating claws.

“Uh, did you have somebody special working there?” Link asked. “Maybe we saw them. We were there earlier.”

Wolf gritted his teeth and tried to keep the growl out of his voice. “Bo,” he panted, “Peep.”

“Oh yeah, we saw her,” Dean squealed. Jimmy thrust an elbow in his brother’s ribs. “Uh, what I meant to say was—yes—we saw her and she looked fine. More than fine. Great even.”

Jimmy pushed Dean aside and smiled but stared slightly above his head. “Uh yes, we saw Bo and she looked just fine. She’ll probably call you later today. I wouldn’t worry too much about her. Like we said, nobody was hurt.”

Something in the way the boys wouldn’t look him directly in the eye raised his hackles. Turning, he pulled open the cooler door and grabbed several bouquets from the tall black buckets. Cold water splattered his hands and shoes as he shoved the flowers into the arms of the men.

“Take these and leave.” Whatever happened at the plant, it couldn’t be good. He’d been under the influence of Frisky Dust before and knew its results. Images of Bo straddling some other guy raced through his mind. “Go...now.”

The Swinefelds stumbled toward the front of the store with their bundles. “How much?” Link gulped.

“Free. Go!” Wolf growled and licked his lips. His canines lengthened as the sudden craving for bacon swamped him. “Go!”

The three porkers shoved and elbowed each other through the door, their wide bodies wedging tightly in the opening. Wolfgang stalked toward them and gave Jimmy, or maybe it was Dean, a rough shove, dislodging the butterballs from his doorway. They tumbled backward, their flowers going one way as their bodies spilled the other.

Wolfgang didn’t stop to help. Cramming the key in the lock, he twisted it, and headed down the sidewalk. Blood pounded in his ears as his walk changed to a jog, and then into a run. He needed to get to Bo.

The animal clawed for release. Wolfgang gritted his teeth, holding the beast in check as he picked up speed. He would not transform. He would not morph, lose control, and possibly hurt somebody. His muscles strained to grow and his shirt tightened across his back as images of Bo jacked up on Frisky Fairy Dust fogged his mind, allowing anger to sneak under his barrier. His control slipped. The sound of ripping scraped against his ears as the shirt tore across his shoulders.

A growl clogged his throat but he kept it silenced. He struggled to find his well of calm the therapist had helped him build, but it eluded him. There was nothing to draw on. Sensing this, the beast beat against the fragile wall of Wolfgang’s prison, hammering to be free.

People jumped aside as he raced past them. Colors blurred then faded to shades of gray. His body hunched and he found himself running on all fours. Screams issued from a crowd he passed but he didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Compelled to get to Bo—he pushed on.

Flashing lights and noise assaulted his senses, but he barreled through the crush of emergency vehicles and rescue personnel. He stopped at the edge of the Pixie Processing Plant grounds, panting and scanning the grounds. Too much, too many people and…

The scent of sex wafted around him. He closed his eyes absorbing the raw energy and odors of the scene. A small section of his humanity slipped into place and his body made the subtle shift back to human form. Muscles still bulged and his heightened senses raged, but he could stand.

Rising on human legs, he sniffed the air. Bo was here. He lowered his head and searched the front lawn. Surely his vision played tricks on him. Naked bodies writhed everywhere, thrusting and fucking. Moans from the participants met his ears, taunting and teasing the animal he’d kept locked away since his attempt at a normal relationship with Bo. But this—the pulsing bodies and moist scent of musk pushed him over the edge.

Giving the wolf free reign, he tilted his head back and howled. Emergency crews backed away and for good reason. He was dangerous when he walked with the beast, only thoughts of Bo kept him from fully turning.

He stomped into the fray, stepping over undulating bodies. He could smell her. She was close. Three people lay on the ground before him. One man had his mouth buried in the pussy of a naked woman. Her legs spread wide as the man devoured her. Another man covered her face with his body, his ass thrusting toward her head. Wolfgang couldn’t see enough to identify her, only glimpse the long blonde curls spilling out from under the man she sucked.

Wolf roared and shoved the man aside. He cried out as he sailed through the air and landed on his back ten feet away. Just as quickly another half-naked woman climbed onto his lap and mounted his engorged cock, intent on finishing the job.

Wolfgang looked down at the blonde. It wasn’t Bo. The woman smiled and held out her arms to him, her mouth puffy and pink from sucking. His cock stirred, stiffening against his shredded pants. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, again sniffing the air. Stepping over the woman, he headed deeper into the mass of bodies. He glanced over his shoulder at the blonde, but she’d already forgotten him and now gave her full attention to the man teasing her pussy.

Again the beast roared, wanting to fuck, not kill. Too much sex—too many scents, it needed release. His body shuddered as he kept moving, concentrating on locating Bo by smell. The human part of him worried what he would do when he found her. The animal part knew exactly what he would do.

He stopped and narrowed his gaze. There she lay, naked except for a pair of hot pink panties. His eyes locked on her roving hand dipping under the edge of pink material to rub. His cock strained, needing to be where her hand teased. He couldn’t move, could only stare as he watched his girlfriend openly played with her pussy.

Bo’s back arched as she thrust her finger deep. Slipping her other hand into her panties, she massaged herself, probably her clit. A low keening twined its way from her lips to his ears. Wolfgang stepped closer, mesmerized by her hungry movements. She moaned and gyrated, bringing herself to orgasm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man crawling toward Bo. Wolfgang’s gaze snapped to the intruder. The man inched closer, stroking his dick and licking his lips. A roar tore from Wolf’s throat as he barreled toward the couple. The man’s eyes rounded as he fell back and crab walked away from him. Wolfgang crouched over Bo, covering her body and snarling. Several people stopped their thrusts and moans long enough to give him a cursory glance, but then resumed their activities.

“Wolfie,” cooed a voice from underneath him. Her hands drifted down his chest and rubbed his raging erection through the remains of his pants. “I was just thinking about you.”

He growled, leaning down to press his nosed to her neck. With short puffs, he sniffed. Pheromones poured from her and it took every ounce of strength he possessed not to mount her right here. His nose traveled lower, processing the scent of every person who had touched her. Nuzzling her legs, he hooked her panties with an elongated nail and pulled them partway down. He sniffed her pussy. She giggled and spread her thighs, threading her fingers through his hair to draw him closer.

He couldn’t help himself. He licked—she cooed—he nuzzled—she moaned. Turning his head, he rubbed his cheek against her as if marking her with his scent. He wanted his scent everywhere—wanted other males to know she belonged to him.

Rational thought kicked in. Humans didn’t mark their women with scent. Humans didn’t usually fuck their women on the front lawn of their workplace. He shuddered and pushed the feral desire to mount Bo aside. Not here—not in front of everybody. He wouldn’t disrespect her that way.

Pushing up, he stood, catching himself before he fell again as the dust began to take effect. His body battled between human and wolf, but it was a war his human side was quickly losing. Scooping up Bo, he tossed her over his shoulder and ran toward the forest. Close to his secluded cabin, he headed for the building, knowing  nobody would bother them there.

Her arousal filled his nostrils and her giggles rang in his ears. Boy, she was really jacked up, and the sensual tingle spreading through his balls told him the dust had started to work its magic on him. The trees blurred as he raced through the forest and within minutes he stood in front of his cabin. Not wasting time with his keys, he kicked the door open and stomped inside.

Stalking to the hug log bed, Wolfgang flipped Bo from his shoulder and threw her onto the thick down comforter. She stretched and smiled, sliding her limbs against the white material. She looked beautiful. Animal need poured through him, pushing every learned technique to restrain the beast right out the window.

He snagged the thin band of pink elastic with a newly emerged claw and ripped the panties from her body. She gasped, then smiled and glided a hand down her stomach to rub her clit. With aching slowness she dipped two fingers between her folds and pumped twice. Wolf stared, his cock tightened painfully against his pants. Bo dragged her hand free and held her fingers out to him.

“Want me?”

He growled and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a sitting position. His tongue slipped out to lick her finger. “I don’t think you can handle me.”

She stood and rubbed against him. “I can take anything you can dish out.”

A deep rumble emanated in his chest. “I’m not myself, Bo.”

“I can see that, but neither am I.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“A little pain can be fun sometimes,” she countered, giving her ass a smack.

She eased down his body and knelt in front of him. Unsnapping his jeans, she pulled down the zipper to free his cock. Warm, wet lips closed around the engorged head, licking and kissing him. He thrust into her mouth and felt her moan. He fought the impulse to grab her head and fuck her hot mouth until he came. The beast wanted his release, and in a rare moment of agreement, so did the human.

Snatching Bo from the floor, he tossed her face down on the bed. Her laughter floated up from the frothy duvet. He covered her body, pressing his shaft against her round ass.

“Oooo,” she moaned. “I like that.”

Wolf nudged her legs apart and pulled her onto her hands and knees. She wiggled her ass, rubbing against his thick cock.

“God, I want to fuck you. Bury my cock in your hot pussy and fuck you until I come.”

“What’s stopping you, Wolfie?” She looked over her shoulder and circled her ass again. “Do it.” He froze, afraid to believe she wanted it. Afraid to believe she didn’t. “Now!”

Her command broke his resistance. Spreading her lips, he positioned his cock against her pink flesh and drove it in. Shudders raced over him as tight velvet gripped his shaft. He drew out and thrust again.

“Yeah, Wolfie, fuck me."

Those four words released the beast. Hunching over Bo, he drove deep, pistoning against her ass. The smell from her Jasmine shampoo mingled with her sexual musk, driving him into a frenzy. Sweeping her arms out from under her, he pushed her face to the bed. Whimpers and a whispered ‘yes’ issued from Bo's full pink lips. He held her arms captive above her head with one hand and reach under their bodies to flick her engorged clit with his other. Draping his body along her back, he latched on to the back of her neck with his teeth and pinned her in place.

“Yeah—Wolf—yeah.” Her muffled words came out in short bursts, urging him on, begging for more.

Deeper and faster he thrust. She belonged to him. Bo was his woman and he’d kill anybody who touched her. His barriers dropped as the pulling sensation intensified, dragging him toward the edge. Bo lay spread wide, open to his touch and cock. He rode her—fucked her—marked her.

Heat rushed through him and he pushed one final time, and came, pouring himself into her. Through the dim haze of gray, he heard Bo cry out. His shaft pumped, emptying itself, giving her everything. As his euphoria abated, his more rational side slipped into place. What had he done?

His limbs were like rubber as he rolled off Bo and sat up. She didn’t move. God, what had he done? He turned her over and gasped at her swollen lips and blank stare.

“Did I hurt you?” He lifted her limp body into his arms.

“Uh huh.” A grin spread across her face. “You’re a real animal.” Her lids drifted closed again and her breathing deepened.

Shame and guilt assaulted him. He’d just destroyed six months of trust, sharing, and therapy. Everything he’d worked for was gone. Pulling Bo into a loose embrace, he cradled her as if she would break. Morning would come too soon and then he’d have to pay the piper.

If you liked Part One of The Girl Who Cried Wolf please return on April 13 to see what hoops Bo will jump through to bring out Wolfgang’s animal side.

Boone Brux

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Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux

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.

Gold Rush Dreams and Jaded Ladies

Content Advisory: Adult situations and prostitution.

Lottie went to the diggings.

With Lottie we must be just.

If she didn’t shovel tailings,

Where’d she get her dust?

On August 6, 1898 the rumored arrival of a ship loaded with over two tons of gold and sixty-eight newly wealthy miners spread like fire through the Seattle area. Within hours sensible men had quit their jobs, dedicated men had left their families, and fortune hunters had spent their last dime on supplies, all with the intention of journeying into the harsh beauty of the Yukon to grab their piece of the pot.



Chilkoot Pass



But men were not the only adventurous souls to set their sights on the golden dream. Women of every social station shed their mundane routines and joined the swarm of men on the treacherous trip up north and the deadly thirty-three mile trek over the Chilkoot Pass and into Dawson City.

Restricted by Victorian morality, the Klondike Gold Rush was just the excuse these daring and sometimes desperate women needed to leave a life of security or poverty, and embrace an unknown and exciting future. Any hardships they would face were well worth the trouble when the possibility of wealth and independence was the payoff.

But as so often happens, the glimmering promise of gold dimmed once the women realized there were no respectable jobs to be found. Though it was legal to file a claim under a woman’s name, it was still considered improper. Mining was backbreaking work and unless paired with a man, the chore often proved too difficult.

If a woman was lucky, she might find a job as a laundress for $5 a day plus room and board, or a housekeeper for $12 a week plus room an board. But with the skyrocketing cost of supplies and rent, it became impossible for these hardy females to buy a simple meal.

What’s a girl to do? Go home? Many had spent their last dollar on their arduous journey and arrived in Dawson City broke and hungry. Suicide? Sadly, this was too often the path chosen by the desperate. With the gender rate reaching ten-thousand men to eight-hundred women, the choice became obvious. Like the devil holding the answer to their survival, the brothels, dancehalls, and saloons became a haven for the girls and women who were so far from home.

With companionship in short supply and gold dust overflowing, many of these working girls embraced their life and learned how to work the system. Dance hall or commission girls earned approximately $40 a week plus, 25% commission on any drinks sold, 50% on dances, and $7.50 on a pint of champagne. One commission girl reported that on her best night she earned $750 simply by talking to a lonely miner.

“The poor ginks just gotta spend it. They’re scared they’ll die before they get it out of the ground.”

                                                                                                                                          Diamond Tooth Gertie Lovejoy

Prostitutes earned $3 to every dollar earned by the dancehall girls. The clever strumpet used her own scale to weigh the gold dust she received in trade for her companionship. The standard four ounces of gold, or $64, for fifteen minutes often measured out more to the tune of eight ounce by the time she finished weighing the miner’s payment.

“A Dawson City girl did not need good looks. She needed stamina, a cold, calculating eye, and utter ruthlessness.”

Cy Martin

Not everybody like the bawdy women and their practices, but most accepted them as a necessary evil. Several of the showgirls in Dawson garnered quite a name for themselves and lived the life of their dreams.



Klondike Kate



Klondike Kate, or Kathleen Rockwell as friends and family in Spokane, Washington knew her, grew up as a rebellious teenager, preferring an independent spirit over social rules and learning.

It’s rumored when Kate was denied entrance into Canada on her way to Alaska, she donned boys clothing and hopped onboard a boat heading to the Yukon. Once in Dawson City, Kate found her niche’ and became a local celebrity by performing her famed Flame Dance. With elegant and graceful moves, Kate managed to keep two-hundred yards of chiffon airborne for the duration of her dance. In her first year in the Klondike, Kate earned thirty-thousand dollars and secured a place for herself among the citizens of Dawson City.

Diamond Tooth Gertie Lovejoy headlined at the Palace Grand Theater during her stint in Dawson. Though she ended up marrying a respectable lawyer who had been her client, polite society never accepted Gertie as one of them. Perhaps the diamond jammed between her front teeth had something to do with the social snub.

Not far behind the sinner travels the saint. Church-going women soon arrived on the scene, rolled up their sleeves, and tried to help out or cast out the soiled doves. But the roots of prostitution and the need of the miners had burrowed too deep to eradicate the practice completely. The Reformists were somewhat successful in relocating the red-light district to the edge of town and building a tall green fence around the area. However, their efforts could never fully purge the city of sin.

“Of all the predatory, gold digging, disease-eaten, crooked female devils this side of Hell, the worst were in the Klondike in the early days.”

                                                                                                        E.C. Trewlawney-Ansell

Six prostitutes in Dawson City

As the discovery of gold in Fairbanks drew more miners, the prostitutes followed, as did the Reformists. Thomas Marquam, a brilliant criminal attorney quickly made a name for himself by defending the prostitutes, gamblers, and bar owners in the area. He also became the editor of the Fairbanks Times and was later elected as the mayor.

After the death of his wife, Marquam sought solace in the red-light district and namely in the arms of Ray Alderman. His affair with the prostitute was well known throughout Fairbanks but didn’t cause him problems until Fairbanks became the focus of a visit from the president of the United States, Warren G. Harding.

A delegation of irate matrons confronted Marquam and demanded he end the tawdry relationship with that woman. They argued his association with her would make the citizens of Fairbanks a laughing stock. Taking their dispute to heart, Marquam asked Ray Alderman to be his wife and she accepted. Much to the meddling harpies’ consternation, Ms. Alderman not only became the first lady of Fairbanks, but also the first lady in the reception party for President Warren G. Hardy. One must wonder if Thomas Marquam thought, “Take that you old battleaxes.”

Though landing a husband was like shooting fish in a barrel, many of the women decided they liked the independent life prostitution afforded them. Gussie Lamore, a nineteen year old prostitute, turned down a miner by the name of Bill Gates who offered to pay her her weight in gold if she married him.

She replied, “Independence is a good deal too.”

Miss Violet Raymond was the undisputed belle of the camp. Once the reining queen of burlesque in Juneau, the owner of The Gold Hill Hotel paid an enormous amount for her to move to Dawson City and perform.

“Her admirers numbered by the score,” reported gold king, Antone Stander, Violet’s future husband. To woo her away from the limelight, Stander bought every diamond in the camp and presented them to Miss Violet in a necklace that hung nearly to her knees. He also gifted her with $20,000 in gold dust, a lard bucket full of odd-shaped gold nuggets, and offered her $1000 a month allowance if she married him.

“I make good money—but not that good,” replied Violet.

They were married a short time later.

Klondike Kate is the only good-time girl to receive any recognition for her part in the Yukon Gold Rush. In 1931, wearing the $1500 Parisian dress she wore during her glory days in Dawson City, Kate was honored by over a thousand aging pioneers.

Many of the Gold Rush sirens and wealthy prospectors found joy in each others arms for short span of time, but few were able to keep the flames of passion burning once they left the wild atmosphere of the mining camps. Greed and suspicion replaced all-consuming passion and the very gold that brought the lovers together, soon tore them apart. Divorce, swindles, gambling, and even murder litter the pages of history for these unfortunate gold rush marriages.

Praying the north still held the key to happiness, many penniless Gold Rush veterans traveled back to Alaska in hopes of regaining their fortune. Few ever achieved the measure of success they’d previously experienced, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Like the thousands of men who journeyed into the unknown to find their fortunes, these spirited females of the Klondike fought and slaved for their part of the dream. Gold Rush history would not be nearly so colorful or interesting without these jaded ladies.

~Boone Brux~

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If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic - Volume I, Everything Erotic - Volume II, Everything Erotic - Volume III and Everything Erotic Volume IV anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic - Volume I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95.

Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux

Pumpkins Great Escape - Part 3

Content Advisory: m/f sex, oral sex

When we last left Peter, he’d received quite a surprise from the Sherwood Forest fairies, but still hadn’t captured his wayward wife, Pumpkin.

The trees thinned and Peter stepped out of the forest and into the late afternoon sun. He closed his eyes. The rays warmed his face and as he inhaled, the hazy effect of the pixie dust burned away. Clarity, sweet clarity—he’d never wanted anything so badly in all his life. He opened his eyes and smiled.

 

“The Ol’ King Cole Hotel and Casino—All you can eat buffet.”

The neon sign winked at him with the few remaining bulbs that worked, drawing him with the promise of food, a shower, and a bed. As if in reply his stomach rumbled. He patted his back pocket, instantly relieved by the bulge of his wallet. How he’d managed to hold onto his cash during today’s escapades was a mystery.

Exhaustion crept into his bones and propelled him across the two-lane road separating him from comfort and a full stomach. Loose gravel crunched under his feet as smells from the smorgasbord invaded his nostrils, making his mouth water.

Pumpkin skittered through his mind. Maybe she was here, but at this point, he didn’t think he could handle the sight of her getting jiggy with some leprechaun or worse, going round two with that bastard, Hansel. Peter shook his head against the imagery. Call him old fashioned, but he didn’t like the idea of his wife being the county come dumpster.

Darkness engulfed him as he entered the building through the casino. Bells and the thud of the slot machine wheels echoed around him as he blinked several times, trying to adjust to the low light. The place smelled of smoke, stale beer, and a mysterious blend of floral scents that didn’t exist in nature.

Lights from the Blazing Sevens machine lit the face of a little old lady hunched over her Max Bet button. She had tall, pink hair and an exceptionally long cigarette locked between two boney fingers. A bright blue drink the size of the Eiffel Tower rested next to her ashtray.

Peter skirted her stool and then started when she slammed the betting button down with surprising force.

“Come ooooon sevens! Mama needs to buy her poor dog a bone.”

The woman squinted and leaned so close her nose pressed against the glass of her slot machine. Peter tiptoed past her, not wanting to take any chances if Frisky Fairy Dust circulated through the ventilation system. Being jumped by a geriatric nympho was not Peter’s idea of a good time.

He entered the Royal Court Buffet, paid the man at the cash register, and headed for the entrees. Forget the salad bar, he needed man-food.

Settling into a table, he started at one side of his plate and shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth, barely allowing a breath between each bit.

A perky waitress with a bouncy blond ponytail made her rounds with a pitcher. “Would you like some water, sir?”

Peter shoved his glass across the table and swallowed a pasty lump of bread. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned to leave and then stopped. “Say, you didn’t happen to help out at that explosion over in Pixie Falls this morning, did you?”

To say he’d helped out was a stretch. “Uh, yeah, I was there.”

He took another bite in hopes of halting their chat. All he wanted was to eat in peace. If he ignored her, maybe she’d get the hint. Peter’s fork froze halfway to his mouth as the waitress leaned over the table and swept her finger across his shoulder.

She sniffed the sparkling white dust and her gaze slid to his. Before he could stop her, she stuck the tip of her finger in her mouth and sucked it clean.

Her pupils dilated and her nipples hardened, pressing against the thin white cotton of her blouse. Peter knew that look and he didn’t like it.

Sidling around the table, she perched her tight ass on the corner, blocking him from the view of the other patrons. Peter set his fork down and leaned back, his appetite now gone.

“What do you think about me and you taking a trip into the employees’ bathroom?” she cooed.

Picking up his hand, she placed it on her thigh, and slid it underneath her black skirt. The tips of his fingers met the flesh of her mound—no panties. For any other man this would have been equal to the mating call of a drunken prom date.

Extricating his fingers, he wiped his hand on a napkin, and stood. “Sorry ma’am, but I’m on duty.” He gave her a smile he didn’t feel. “But thanks for the offer.”

Her lips formed a pout. “Ah, come on. I promise it will be worth your while.”

Peter pulled a fiver out of his wallet and tossed it on the table. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

Without a backwards glance, he left the restaurant and headed for the hotel’s reception desk. A young man waited behind the counter. Well, at least Peter thought he was a young man. The guy wore more lip gloss and mascara than most women.

“Good evening, sir. May I help you?”

Peter eyed the man’s nametag. “Yes Jack, I’d like a room.”

“Absolutely.” Jack’s nimble fingers flew across the keyboard. “How many nights?”

“Just one.”

Tap-tap-tap “Name?”

“Peter Vine.”

The receptionist’s fingers hovered in mid tap. “Oh,” he said, his glossed lips forming a perfect circle.

“Is there a problem?” Peter held his breath. What now?

“Oh no, no problem—it’s just…” Jack scanned the lobby as if looking for somebody. Then dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, “Your wife has already secured a room.”

Peter leaned into the counter. “My wife?”

The young man followed suit and leaned in too. “Yes. She told me to give you a key if you arrived.” Long, manicured nails slid a black key-card toward Peter.

“My wife—she’s here—in this hotel?”

“Yes, room 305.”

Peter picked up the card and looked at it. How did she know he’d come? And what was waiting for him inside the room. “Did she seem—normal?”

Jack straightened and smiled. “She seemed perfectly fine.”

“Was she dressed?”

“Dressed sir?”

“Wearing clothes. Was my wife covered or showing her girly bits to the world?”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted and disappeared under his straight-cut bangs. “She was dressed, Mr. Vine, perfectly respectable.”

Peter sighed and then scowled. “How did she pay for the room?”

A flush crept up the young man’s neck. “The room was complementary, sir.”

Peter leaned into the desk again and glared. “Why?”

“Why what?” Jack swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing like a cork in the water.

“Why was the room comped?” Peter’s voice rose at the thought of his wife servicing yet another man. “Did she trade a bang for a bed?”

Jack’s eyes rounded, his hand pressing against his chest as if he’d been struck. “What? No! How could you even suggest such thing?”

“Listen, after the day I’ve had, I could suggest just about anything.” Peter eyed the front desk clerk. Hmm, he did seem genuinely disgusted by Peter’s accusation. “Sorry man” Peter said. “But I need to know how she got the room?”

With a huff, Jack opened a drawer near his stomach and pulled out a little gold bag.

“Dust?” Peter asked.

“Ssshhh,” Jack hissed. “We bartered. A deluxe suite for her and a little bag of magic for me.” Before Peter could snatch the pouch, Jack dropped it and slammed the drawer. “It’s a fair trade.”

Peter shook his head. “Be careful with that stuff or you may end up doing something you’ll regret.”

“Not possible,” the desk clerk chirped. “Now, room 305 is up the elevator to the third floor, turn right, and down the hall to the very end.”

The elevator’s trek dragged upward. What waited for Peter inside the room? Was Pumpkin alone or would there be a crowd to contend with? He slid the key into the lock and when the light blinked green, he pushed against the door.

At first glance, Peter saw the room was empty. With quick steps he passed through the bedroom—nobody. Only one room left. He smelled the bubbles before he saw his wife. Pumpkin lounged neck deep in a huge tub surrounded by foam, low lights, and a bottle of merlot. Thank God, she was alone.

“Hi honey,” she said. “How was your day?”

Peter stepped into the room and walked to the edge of the tub. Sitting, he scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew.

“Let me see. How was my day? Well, I thought my wife had been blown up, but was relieved then horrified to find her very much alive with three men draped across her like plastic wrap. I chased her across two counties, was violated by a horde of fairies, felt up by a troll, and don’t even ask about the randy satyr I ran into about an hour ago.”

Pumpkin arched a delicate eyebrow. “Sounds like you had a hard day.” Leaning forward, she poured a second glass of wine.

Peter watched her auburn curls float in the water and the pink tips of her nipples bob just below the surface. His cock stirred at the sight of his wife’s naked breasts—breasts he had seen a thousand times but only now looked so enticing.

She handed him the wine. “Why don’t you join me?” Scooting back, she made room for him in the bath.

The events of the day evaporated as Peter stripped down and stepped into the steaming tub. Hot water rushed over his sensitive skin and washed away his aches and exhaustion.

“Ahhh, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

He sipped his wine and gazed across the water at Pumpkin. She was beautiful and suddenly he didn’t want to know who had touched her, didn’t want to imagine another man’s hands on her.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered

Pumpkin smiled. “So do you.” Setting her wine on the edge of the tub, her expression turned serious. “I love you, Peter. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know you do, and I love you.”

Those were the only words they needed to exchange. Standing, Peter held out his hand and drew her up from the water. She looked like a goddess with her rounded hips, full breast, and desire-filled expression. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, soft like velvet—warm like sunshine—sweet like honey.

He nibbled and teased her lower lip, silently asking for entry. And when she opened to him, his tongue found hers, stroking and mating inside her mouth.

His shaft throbbed and pulsed against his stomach as he crushed her soft curves to his body. He couldn’t get enough—he’d never get enough of the woman he loved. His hand palmed her plump breast, kneading her nipples between his thumb and index finger, coaxing and teasing the nub to life. The moan issuing from Pumpkin’s mouth into his was all the encouragement he needed.

Scooping her up, he stepped from the tub and strode into the bedroom. His body covered hers as he lowered Pumpkin to the bed. Why hadn’t it always been like this? Too busy—work—not enough hours in the day? Well, never again if he had his way.

He settled his thighs between Pumpkin’s and kissed her eyelids, cheeks, chin, and neck. Slipping downward, he kissed her shoulders, chest, and lingered at her breast. Tonguing her nipple, he laved each tight bud with hot, moist attention.

She groaned and arched her back, asking for more. Continuing his quest, Peter nipped and licked each rib and every inch of skin until his mouth came to rest above the triangle of auburn curls between her legs.

Her womanly scent called to him, asking Peter to taste the sweet nectar locked inside. Pumpkin’s knees fell outward, spreading her lips for his eyes and mouth.

He drew his tongue along the vertical folds of her soft, pink skin, stopping just shy of the protruding nub. With a quick, delicate motion, he flicked her bud, drawing a moan of pleasure and a press of her mound against his mouth.

Pumpkin’s long fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer to her glistening pussy. “Lick it.”

He licked, but only once.

“Lick it again,” she rasped.

He did, just once, and stopped. He liked his wife begging for his attention. He like being told what to do. One of her hands tightened in his hair as the other plucked and pulled on her nipple.

“Lick my pussy and don’t stop until I scream.”

Peter’s cock thickened against the satin sheets. Reaching down he cupped his balls and gently squeezed. Yeah, that’s what he needed. Running his hand up his shaft, he palmed the head of his dick and massaged. No amount of fairy dust could match the feel of Pumpkin’s wet pussy on his tongue and the joy her cries of ecstasy brought.

He spread her lips with his free hand and pushed his tongue into her canal. Plunging and dipping repeatedly, slipping out to suck and savor her hardened clit, and tease the delicate skin between her nub and hole.

Pumpkin’s body rocked against his mouth. She pressed and gyrated, bounced and rubbed. Pulling him tight to her, she rode his mouth until her cry of release filled the room and her nectar coated his tongue.

“Damn that was hot,” Peter said as he raised his head from between her legs.

Pumpkin smiled and untangled her fingers from his hair. “Yeah, and now it’s your turn.” Rolling to her stomach, she rose on all fours, and offered him her ass and snatch.

Without hesitation, Peter moved behind her. Hot, slick, and tight, that’s what he needed right now. Lining up his cock, he plunged into her tight sheath. Wet muscles gripped and pulled, as he slowly pumped, withdrawing to the tip before slamming back in her.

Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the steady stroke of his cock. Faster and faster he pounded, needing to find his release. He opened his eyes, his gaze and caress following the smooth curves of Pumpkin’s back and the plump globes of her ass.

Licking his thumb, he teased the pink, puckered skin. She groaned. The sight of her tits bouncing with each stoke of his cock drove Peter to the edge. Faster, hotter, wilder, until all he could do was hammer her pussy with driving blows. The base of his cock tingled as the spiraling sensation shot up his shaft and exploded with staggering intensity.

Peter’s body shuddered and quaked as Pumpkin’s pussy milked every drop of come from his rod. Unable to stay upright, he draped his body across her back and they slowly sank to the bed, together.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, Peter’s eyelids fluttered closed. “I love you, Pumpkin,” he murmured. “But if I ever have to chase you again, I’m going to handcuff you to the bed and leave you there.”

Pumpkin’s soft laughter vibrated against his hands. “Is that a threat?”

“No, a promise.”

“Then I’d better never runaway.” She paused. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t still handcuff me to the bed.”

With a slap on her ass, Peter drifted off to sleep, knowing his wife would never escape again.

~Boone Brux~

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If you missed any of our previous posts and would like to catch up, you can purchase Everything Erotic - Volume I, Everything Erotic - Volume II, Everything Erotic - Volume III and Everything Erotic Volume IV anthologies as ebooks for only $2.99 each! Want it in print? Everything Erotic - Volume I-III is now available in paperback for $12.95.

Copyright © 2011 Boone Brux

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.