Friday, January 30, 2015

Girls on the Prowl by Brianna Summers

Lesbian/ Exhibition

Madison finds herself in a nightclub in an awkward position, forced to do something she'd never thought of before in order to make money and to kick start her career in acting. Even if it's not the role she was hoping for... she's going to give it all she's got anyway.

My Review:
While no sex actually appears in this story, it's still an incredibly hot short showing two girls getting frisky on the dance floor. Not only is Girls on the Prowl arousing because of its lesbian action, it's also arousing because of the exhibitionist elements and because this is a new experience for the characters. Brianna has come up with an interesting idea for a creative short, and she has delivered on that idea.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Spotlight: Revival by M. K. Gilher

It's complicated. My Italian-shoed stranger captures my mind and body yet only allows glimpses into the depth of the secrets he holds. He's a surgeon, he's a cage fighter, he's possibly a murderer. He's not a good boy. I feel as if I know him, yet I'm sure I don't. Dr. Jacade J. Jordan, my enigmatic sex
god on a stick.

Damn, she's delectable. My sweet Ivy. I want to eat her alive. But how can I possess her when she doesn't even know me? When the deception runs too deep? When I've killed for her and would do it again in a heartbeat? How can I watch her submit so perfectly when I am the one at her feet?

Enjoy the ride in the Windy City as Ivy and Jacade's timeless love story unfolds in the Return To Us Trilogy by M.K. Gilher.


M.K. Gilher has been so kind to offer to sponsor a giveaway!
The prizes include five e-copies of Revival! Fill out the rafflecopter form below to enter! No Rafflecopter = No Entry. If you are a winner and enjoy Revival, please leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Good luck!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

"Ivy, you and I are going to play a little game." His voice strips me down until I feel naked. I'll play any fucking game you want me to, just as long as you're playing with me.

Without thinking I blurt out, "What kind of game?" Once the words leave my mouth, I wish I could rewind to about five seconds earlier. The way he's standing and speaking to me, I know this is no time for questions. He's going to blast through all the barriers and forts I've erected to keep men like him out. This is a game I'm going to play because he's already decided it for me.

He chuckles, and for a moment, I see a playful boy peeking through. But he swiftly recovers and locks his stoic mask back into place.

His stern voice answers my blurted question. "A game in which you don't speak unless you're instructed to do so." He raises his eyebrows and wrinkles appear on his forehead.

Well, that shut me up.

"I'm impressed. You learn quickly."

He moves closer until he's standing directly in front of my desk with his arms still across his rippling chest. I peek up at him through my mascara-ridden eyelashes, attempting to gauge his feeling or mood. But, his blockade is secure. No emotions in or out.

"You're going to do everything I tell you to do for the next twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes." He pauses while I catch up.

A game? I can't even think when I'm around him. How am I supposed to play a game?

I'm elated Feminist Ivy called in sick today, but Slut Ivy has graciously picked up the slack and located a pen and paper, waiting to take notes on the rules of his game. Way to go, Slut Ivy.

"These are the rules. First, you don't speak unless I tell you to. Second, you do everything I say. No questions asked. No hesitating or arguing. No attitude." He's staring into the depths of my soul, searching for my reaction to his words.

Without thinking, like I always do, I open my mouth to speak. He stares at me with a look of disapproval and shakes his head back and forth. "No words, Ivy. Those are the rules." I snap my mouth shut.

I stare back at him, studying his facial features. Maybe I'll see a clue as to what kind of game he's playing right now. He shows me nothing.

Wow, he's good.

I have no idea what cards he's holding, except for the unsettling feeling he already has clinched my very own ace of hearts.

"You game, sweetheart?" His challenge glows in his dynamic eyes.

Fine, Jacade, I'll play your game with your rules. Ante up, big boy.

I glare back at him and nod. He's such a pompous asshole, but the reality is I'd play any dang game he wanted me to.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try to prepare myself for what is about to happen, but I instantly I realize I can't. I open my eyes and he has made his way around to my side of the desk. He reaches over and puts my desk phone on Do not disturb. Okay, well, his game must involve something that we can't be disturbed from.

Just the thought makes Slut Ivy drool, which falls and smears across all the important notes she just took. Dammit, Slut Ivy! We needed those.

He closes my laptop and moves it and the files off my desk. He's so close to me, I can smell his cologne and shiver as his pants brush across the bare skin of my arm. He's confident and contained right now. I, on the other hand, am a fucking hot mess.

To try to give my self-esteem a boost before his little game, I cling to how I felt getting dressed this morning. My purple pencil skirt and fitted, white, button-up blouse have always made me feel sexy and seductive. On a normal day, I'm neither of those words. But, somehow, pairing it with my six-inch purple shimmer heels is adding fuel to my  mojo.

He whispers in my ear. "There is one exception, Ivy. If at any point you need a time out, just say cashmere, and the game ends. No questions asked. Understand?"

I nod again. I understand, Jacade.

He straightens and stands right in front of me while I sit. Perfect angle to suck the head of his dick into my mouth, but I can't because I have to follow his rules to his stupid game. Too bad for you, Jacade, you just cock blocked yourself.

He turns and leans his ass on the edge of my desk. Lucky desk. He looks down at me and says in a commanding voice, "Stand up."

Without thinking, I'm on my feet. A little eager, Summers?

He grasps my hips and turns me around so I'm facing the wall a few feet away. I can feel the heat from his body, but he isn't touching me. He just stands behind me and my anxiety spikes. My heart is racing.

I feel his breath brush my ear. "Breathe, Ivy." Shit, he's right. I haven't taken a breath since before my wonderful elevator ride yesterday morning.

Inhale. Exhale.

His deep tone reverberates in my ears. "I'm going to blindfold you now. I'm not going to hurt you in any way. You must trust me. Nod if you agree."

I nod and feel a silky handkerchief cover my eyes. Meticulously, he ties the handkerchief behind my head. He tugs me to his body, and I know at any moment I'm going to collapse. Yet, I feel it deep down in my soul. Jacade would never let me fall.

I take in a deep breath and exhale. I have no idea what is coming next and it's driving me crazy.

He lowers his mouth to my right ear and whispers, "It's believed when people lose one of their senses, it heightens all others. That's why you're blindfolded."

He takes a breath. "I want your complete and utter trust." He pushes himself up against my backside, causing me to stumble forward somewhat. He grabs my hips to steady me. "By giving me your trust, Ivy, you're letting me always be there to catch you."

I'm breathing in rhythm with him as he moves toward my other ear and begins whispering again. "Since the very first time I ever laid eyes on you, I knew I had to have you. I wanted your body, your mind, and your soul to be ravished by me and only me."

My thong is wet and my breasts are swollen and heavy. That's when I hear a loud thud in my head and realize Slut Ivy has passed out and hit the floor.

About the Author:
I have always adored writing and won several poetry contests in high school. I was coasting along in my healthcare career in Chicago, when I had a dream I was resuscitated from near death by a mysterious physician. Jacade's enigmatic character sprouted from that dream. As I wrote, I made sure Ivy's character was laced with qualities of the everyday woman; beauty, intelligence, insecurities, and vulnerabilities. I truly hope you relish your time with Dr. Jordan and Ivy in the Return to Us Trilogy. I know I do every time I’m drawn into their lives.

Find M. K. Gilher online:
Website  Facebook  Twitter  Goodreads

Monday, January 26, 2015

Underneath the Gargoyle: Part Two

You have begged for it, and I've delivered it. PART TWO of my Underneath the Gargoyle series is now available!!

Available on Amazon Here
Kindle ♥ Paperback

Paranormal Erotica/Dubious Consent

Part Two of Christina Harding's Underneath the Gargoyle paranormal erotic series: What happens to Trisha in the catacombs?

Also in the Series
Underneath the Gargoyle: A Prologue
Underneath the Gargoyle: Part One
*You can subscribe to my mailing list for updates on my newest 

Advance Praise for Underneath the Gargoyle: Part Two
"Last time, Trisha had naughty adventures at her church, all watched by the cathedral's gargoyles. When they come to life, they ravish her and Trisha finds herself loving every minute of it. But when the gargoyles finished, they dragged her down into the catacombs.

The next day, Trisha's friend Olivia is worried about her friend. So she goes and sees her boyfriend Kyle. Together, the pair discover a mystery at the church and head down into the catacombs.

Trisha wakes up in the catacombs attended by a friendly cherub. She learns the truth of the cathedral while her body is enjoyed by the cherub. But the cherub is merely preparing her for the king of the catacombs, a monstrous gargoyle named Xaphan.

Part One left me wondering what happened to Trisha, and Christina answers. More hot, monster sex fills the pages as Trisha is claimed by first the cherub and then the king gargoyle. But it leaves you wondering what part 3 will hold. And I'm looking forward to it!" ~5★ review by Reed James on Amazon

"The first installment in this series is what got me started on reviewing with Christina, and my only complaint was that it ended much too abruptly. This was certainly one of those stories that cries out for a sequel, and Christina has finally delivered.

The story picks up right where we left off, with naughty Catholic schoolgirl Trisha carried off into the catacombs. Her boyfriend Kyle and best friend Olivia are searching for her, though it’s not clear she even wants to be rescued: A new series of stone creatures is keeping her very busy. What will they find when they finally locate her?

Go pick this one up, you won’t regret it." ~5★ review by Michael Dalton on Amazon

"I do love the update to your story." ~First Pass Editor

"Would it be improper of me to admit that I enjoyed this?" ~Second Pass Editor

Friday, January 23, 2015

Smoking Hot Panties by Inakat

Love can be a sweet dream or salty nightmare. Follow these three couples as they discover that what you don't know can hurt you.

Chelae and Kristen met on a humble. One's searching for love, and the other searching for herself. A storm of love is knocking at one of their doors, but is it from the partner she's with or will she take a leap of faith?

The Olivia's, at first glance seem like a wealthy couple that is sits on top of the world. The secret glue that keeps their marriage together is something that no one would dare to bring up at a Board Meeting.

Adonis was about to have a nervous breakdown, after years of going above and beyond to please his wife. When he accidentally discovers in a very painful way, the key to his wife's heart. Will he find the courage to open the door?

Curiously, Rayon went onto the balcony. The occupants in the room next to hers had left their balcony doors open. She could hear them clearly. She eased down to the edge closest to their room and listened. Rayon could overhear the woman, as if she was in the room with them.

“You fucking simpleton. You met that woman over at the Café' and you are going to pay dearly for it.” Mrs. Olivia screamed.

“But I” Mr. Olivia said.

“Shut the fuck up. You want a bitch to spank and curse you. You fucking pervert. You have exactly three seconds to take those damn clothes off. Lay your ass across the bed.”


“Say one more word and I will drag your ass through the messiest fucking divorce you have ever seen. I promise you I will use every bit of influence that I have to make your life a living hell.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Okay my ass.”

“I did it, now what are you going to do me.”

Rayon flinched when she heard the loud slap. Mr. Olivia yapped and then grunted. Several more hits rained down in rapid succession. Rayon giggled when the man at last cried out pleading with his wife to stop.

“Now I'm going to piss and when I come back guess what I'm using for tissue? Your tongue, that's what. I can't believe you spent a dollar on a common street walker. I've been married to you too long for you to be giving a penny to a whore. It never crossed your mind to tell me what you wanted huh? I bet you'll be more forthcoming after tonight, won't you?”

“Yes ma'am.”

She'd heard enough and Rayon went back inside her own room. She felt the heat grow between her thighs. As kinky as it was it still served to stir her sexual appetite.

She decided to wait another hour before she called the front desk and summon the porter. Instead she could entertain herself and eavesdrop on her twisted temporary neighbors. Rayon eased back on the balcony again just in time to hear Mrs. Olivia bark orders. 

“Get over here and clean me. That's all you're good for is a filthy little ass rag.” Mrs. Olivia said.

“Yes.” He said.

A few minutes passed before finally Rayon heard the woman moan. The sound of the woman as she had such an intense orgasm caused Rayon to inhale sharply. A prickle of envy ran through her body. She was certain that she would call the front desk and have the porter sent up right away.

Author Interview:
Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?
Yes, I used to keep daily journal to give voice to my most intimate and sometime pained moods, even from early childhood. 

What inspired you to become a writer?
One day I discovered, my private thoughts had been violated. I sat down to review some of what I written, which I rarely did. To my surprise almost every week, I had written that becoming a writer was still on my do list! Therefore, I did it. I had always loved Maya Angelou, Donald Goins, serial killer books, fashion magazines, etc. I had been inspired, but it was actually a backstabbing moment of treachery, by people I trusted. that spurred me to go forward. My thoughts were already out there. I felt compelled, to reclaim my right, to share my thoughts with whom I chose to. 

What made you want to write erotica?
I am very comfortable with sexuality. I have always preferred to read a steamy story to heartache, tragedy, or drama. 

Is there a genre you could never write? Which and why?
Pure Romance books, I don't read them and I don't write them. They seem unrealistic to me. The knight in shining armor, damsel in distress, and then happily ever after is a joke to me. I prefer to be entertained with a sense of “Yeah that could happen”.

What does your writing area look like?
Honestly, it is never neat. I sit at the desk or dining table, pull out pens, pictures, and spread notes everywhere. The coffee pot is always within arms reach, along with nuts, cheese, fruit, or chocolates. Then there is my Pomeranian at my feet along with several pairs of heels. Sometimes, coffee is replaced, with the occasional glass of wine or a Margarita on the weekends. 

Do you write under a pen name?
Yes, I do, for now. 

Will you have a new book coming out soon? Can you tell us about it?
I recently released Big Body Base, and Urban life story. It has a little erotica but mainly, it an urban book about family life struggles and unexpected successes'. It is set in Detroit, MI in the 1990's, during the height of the crack cocaine epidemic. The main character is Thomas Base. You can meet him and learn more about the story here:

How did you come up with your title?
Smoking Hot Panties is the kind of title I would look for as a reader of adult literature. After, I designed the cover, the name just sort of came to me. 

What was the best writing advice that someone has ever given to you?
My mom- “Having a job is what you do to make money, having a career is making money at what you love to do. Know the difference.”

Anything you want to say to your readers?
Thank you so very much for your kind words, Twitter love, Facebook likes and shares, emails and everything that you do for me to know that you're there. I have some of the most amazing fans!

About the Author:
Inakat (aka Katina) is an Author, Poet, & Spoken Word Recorded Artist. She also creates mature themed art both by hand and digitally. She employs a combination of words and media as a way of contributing, expanding, and exploring the arts with a focus on Eroticism. Inakat's purpose is to embrace the struggles and triumphs of womanhood from various angles. She is the founder and CEO of Inakat Publishing.

My Review:
Much of the action in this book actually happens as back-story, and its timeline follows several twists. Also, Smoking Hot Panties needs editing. However, the premise shows potential, especially towards the end.

Connect with Inakat: Twitter  LinkedIN  Facebook  Google+

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Spotlight: Sin at Sea by Emma Nicols

When Alysin surprised her boyfriend at work with dinner, the surprise was on her. Since he was going at it with his secretary on the conference table, she packed a bag and called her BFF. Jolie and Alysin have been traveling the country, working as digital nomads for ten years, ever since graduation. Taking this as a sign it was time for a new move, they decide to take a cruise, regroup, and make a plan. Then she meets Mr. Bedroom Eyes. Following her lead, they pretend to be married so she can rid herself of the guy who started hitting on her before the boat left the dock. Though it’s supposed to be a momentary arrangement, he asks her to take it one step farther. Then another and another. The cruise promises to be memorable in every way that matters. Along the way, Alysin learns she won't have to fake an orgasm if she's with someone who knows what to do, that not all men suck but the best ones suck really well, and that sometimes what starts out as something pretend can fast become something completely real. Will the woman who lives life with no regrets, regret that she made that stupid rule about not exchanging names and contact info?

Maybe this time I was on my own. Then I saw him. He had those classic good looks, pretty without looking feminine; a strong jaw, beautiful deep blue eyes, and rich brown hair that was thick and begged to be touched. Why couldn’t that guy have pulled out my chair?

Standing, I smoothly stepped in front of him. “Babe, did you not see me? I was right here. Did you get my Coke?” I could see he was mildly shocked. No problem. I could fix that. In a few seconds he was going to be majorly shocked. In fact, I planned to render him speechless...and malleable. I stood on my tiptoes and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. As I imagined, I was offered a hungrier look. That’s when I made my move. Slowly, I matched my lips to his and then shifted so I was angled and we were kissing...really really kissing. Thankfully, he played along. Seconds later he had played right into my hand. Wow wow wow.

“Help me, please,” I breathed into his ear.

“Anything for you, sexy.” He sealed his vow with a kiss on my cheek that totally did not suck. He looked over at my intruder. “Who’s this guy?” he asked, jerking his thumb in the guy’s direction.

“I have no idea. I’m sure he was just keeping the seat warm for you, though.” I smiled at him and frowned over at the guy who was keeping me from my meal.

“Uh, yeah, I was just leaving,” the man mumbled. Then he stood up as he muttered apologies and soon walked away. The new guy sat down. I stared over at him while trying to read the situation. For all I knew, I had simply traded one douche for another. Historically speaking, it wouldn’t shock me.

“Hey, don’t mind me. I just ended up getting drawn into your little charade. Hope you don’t mind if I enjoy my meal while we keep up appearances?” He smiled.

“Nope. We’re good,” I replied although I was admittedly wary.

While I was smiling at him, I had little to say. There was so much going on in my mind...and thanks to Jolie, having an orgasm wasn’t part of it. The longer he sat, not making a move, the more interesting he became. Maybe I wasn’t desperate for sex, but I wasn’t going to turn down the possibility of some amazing guilt-free sex with a hot guy for anything. Only I wasn’t sure how to gain his attention. My smile hadn’t worked. The kiss hadn’t accomplished anything. What was it going to take to get a man like this to be interested in spending a few meaningless days on a cruise with me? Guess I’d simply have to try the direct approach.
“Are you married?” I asked, confident if that didn’t break the ice, nothing would.

“No,” he said, cocking his head.

I leaned in. “Really? Because you look like the marrying kind.” I took another bite of my potato salad while I studied his reaction.

Throwing his head back to laugh, he said, “I run too fast. No one can catch me, let alone keep up.” He punctuated his sentence with a wink.

Clearly I was going to have to be the one to get the conversation started. “Thank you for saving me. I’m here with my friend. She is napping right now. I’m not used to having to fend off guys anymore,” I admitted as I kept on eating. Isn’t it nice when you don’t want anything serious from someone and you can just be yourself? That was the freedom I felt around Mr. Bedroom Eyes.

He smiled and I saw he started to extend his hand. I had the feeling he was about to introduce himself, so I stopped him. “Listen, you can tell me your name, but I’m just going to forget it. I’m lousy with names.”

“Okay, so we’re not exchanging names? Is there anything you would like to exchange?” He smirked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. How about bodily fluids?” I smiled and stared at him with a suggestive

look.He...choked on his Coke. When he finally stopped coughing, I was about finished eating. I don’t let much come between my food and me even if I don’t look like it.

“Sorry, I’m not used to women being so direct,” he said with a smile as he wiped his face.

“I don’t play,” I said honestly. Then I stood. I am known for my exits. As I turned, giving him full view of what I considered my best feature, I shot over my shoulder, “Think about it.” Then I walked away. Always...and I mean always leave them wanting more. I didn’t have to look back to know he was staring at me. Let him stare. With my head up and shoulders back, I headed to the elevator.

About the Author:
What made her decide to be an erotica author?


How else was she going to parlay her two favorite past times into a career?

Emma is single and loving it. Like her first character, Alysin, Sin for short, she doesn't believe in settling or in settling down. She loves to indulge in her passions whenever the mood strikes and enjoys keeping all of life's cliche moments spicy.

Known for her sense of humor, Emma surrounds herself with friends whose antics often become the source of book fodder. Her ideal situation would be to explore the Caribbean while writing. She pursues that dream daily.

Connect with Emma Online:

Friday, January 16, 2015

The Realtor by Ann John

Consensual Heterosexual

For Long Island real estate agent Callie Taylor, closing the deal in these difficult economic times was getting much harder to do. With younger agents and a dwindling market, Callie knew that she needed to close on a high dollar house soon if she was going to survive. She thought that opportunity had come when she met Ryan Stephens, very handsome buyer who made her a very lucrative offer. The only question that remains now is how far will Callie go to earn her commission?

My Review:
Short, sweet, and well-written; while it should have been obvious I was pleasantly surprised with how The Realtor progressed. This is as much an erotic story as it is a story of self-discovery. Callie discovers a new side of her sexuality and takes her readers along for the ride. This short managed to turn me on even though it has less taboo than I usually prefer because it was constructed so masterfully. I think this is one that could appeal to a large audience.

Find The Realtor on Amazon  Smashwords
Connect with Ann John: Twitter ♥ Facebook

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Lust in Japan by Daniel Black

culture clash/interracial

Michael's Synopsis:
These three stories are united in theme: A young American man goes to Japan and finds a Japanese woman in need of his attentions. The first involves a college student on a summer abroad who finds his host family to be unusually hospitable; in the second, the protagonist rescues a young woman from subway perverts; in the third, an American English teacher takes in a widowed woman and her daughter who have been left homeless by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami.

Michale's Review:
The detail in these stories makes it clear they are in some sense autobiographical. The author clearly spent time in Japan under similar circumstances, and I found them enjoyable that for that reason alone. The sex is well told, and there is some depth to each story, though none are that long. I liked the first story, in which the host father takes the narrator through a variety of establishments in Japan’s sex industry, to be the most interesting. If you’re looking for some short pieces with a different setting than most other erotica, these should fit the bill.

When I was younger, I lived for several years in Japan. During that time I had the pleasure of meeting some of the sexiest women on God’s green earth.

One of my finest hours was just before Christmas one year. I was headed from Tokyo to Yokohama, and there were several different trains to take to get there. Still being a bit of a novice at deciphering the train schedules, I decided on the Keihin-Tohuko line, which departed from Tokyo station and went to Yokohama directly. Little did I know that it was also the busiest train to take, no matter what time of day. I had naively thought that leaving for Yokohama at around 9:30pm would help me avoid the crowds, but I was dead wrong. I couldn’t get to Tokyo station, but caught it a few stops down, thinking it would be okay. As the train pulled into the station, I noticed the cars were already packed full of people, and it didn’t look like I was getting on this train. As soon as the doors opened however, the crowd around me surged forward and I was carried into the train in a human tidal wave. As more and more people crammed into the train, I got pushed further and further away from the doors, into the corner at the end of the car.

It was then that I noticed a stunningly beautiful girl standing close to me, wearing the uniform of some department store. I think it said SOGO, but I was too busy admiring the beautiful girl standing close to me to be sure. I did however notice that the nametag said Noriko. I could see her squirming and fidgeting, as if something was happening, but I couldn’t see what. I edged closer, and saw that one of the infamous ‘chikans’ (perverts) had his hand up her skirt and was feeling her up. She had been standing facing off to my side, so she didn’t notice me right away, but when she did, a look of alarm crossed her face. Here she was, standing next to a giant gaijin (foreigner) on a packed train, while she was getting groped by a pervert next to her.

She looked pleadingly at me for help and I thought to myself, what should I do? Should I live up to the stereotype and rescue her, or simply join in and grab a piece of the action? It had always been a fantasy of mine to push up against a hot lady on the train and grope her, and here was the perfect opportunity.

Being the coward I am, I stood still and watched her be assaulted. I knew that these guys traveled in packs and was worried there would be several of his buddies nearby. It was mesmerizing, soon her blouse was open and her left breast was hanging out. He leaned down and began sucking on it, slurping quite loudly. No one seemed to notice or care. Finally, I summoned up some courage, but I didn’t use it to help her, instead I pushed my hand up her skirt and shoved a finger into her pussy. She was very wet and began moaning softly. I fingered her, thrusting in and out, and alternately rubbing her clit. I stuck a second finger in and forced them both into her, and she began moaning louder and louder. The ‘chikan’, meanwhile was more than happy with her breasts.

I pulled my fingers out of her snatch and unzipped my fly. I grabbed Noriko’s hand and shoved it into my pants. I began rubbing her hand up and down my shaft. After a bit, she moved her hand by herself, and I pushed my fingers into her pussy again. As they went in, she moaned loudly and a lady nearby looked right at us. I glared at her and she looked away. Noriko began cumming all over my fingers. After she finished, I pulled them out and then shoved one of my sticky cum-covered fingers into her ass. Noriko’s eyes flared wide and she nearly screamed, but quickly stifled it into a whimper. At first it was difficult, but I kept sticking my finger into her pussy for extra juice and then I slowly and deliberately began shoving it in and out of her asshole.

The ‘chikan’ was still enthralled with her tits, so I figured, what the hell, I’m going for the gusto. My cock was getting really hard and I knew I was gonna cum soon. So I pulled my finger out of her asshole and lifted her skirt, and forced her to bend her knees and get a bit lower. I pulled my cock out of my pants and positioned it at the front of her pussy. Without any hesitation, I shoved it in to the hilt and she whimpered once again. I then began slowly fucking in and out of her tight, wet pussy. My cock was like a battering ram, pushing inside and stretching her exquisitely tight little hole. Minutes passed, and over the speakers a message said that a stop was coming up. I quickened my pace and began pumping even faster. Just before I blew my load, I pulled out and came all over her ass. Then I re-arranged my clothes and disappeared into the crowd.

She quickly pulled her skirt into some state of normalcy and when the train stopped, hurried to the exit and left. What I didn’t notice was that she had followed me. I made it out of the station and a hundred feet down the street when I heard a whistle and saw a pair of cops running across the street. I hesitated, not knowing where they were going and after the crossed, they veered right towards me and stopped a few feet from me.

They started yelling in Japanese at me, and I was able to figure out they wanted me to come with them. The lead cop began walking back to the station and the other cop took up position behind me, preventing any escape. Knowing what I had just done, my heart began pounding in my chest.

When we got back to the station, the young woman I had assaulted was sitting inside. I looked around and didn’t see the pervert who had started the whole thing.

A second after she saw me, she leapt off the chair and started hitting me. I stood there mute, not even defending myself, my shame was so overpowering. One of the officers pulled her off me and led her away, trying to calm her down.

The other officers began interrogating me, but with my poor Japanese skills, I could only pick up a word here or there. They pulled out a dictionary and began pointing to words like prison and rape and a number of other horrible words. The awful nature of the crime I had just perpetrated came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks, and I sat mute.

Another officer walked in and began talking to me in English, reading me the equivalent of Japan’s Miranda rights. Then he told me that because I was a foreigner, this would become national news and I would be made an example of. Needless to say, I was horrified. I sat there quivering, shaking really, and on the verge of a breakdown. All I could think of was my friends and family back home, thinking I was a rapist and how this would impact my mother, nevermind the shunning I would get from everyone I knew, assuming I ever got out of prison here in Japan.

Connect with Daniel: Twitter  Facebook

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Spotlight: Miami Steam by Chantal Verlaine

Miami Star reporter Rebecca Challenger desperately needs a big story on the serial killer terrorizing the city in order to get a promotion to features writer. Her main source, lead homicide detective Rick Gonzalez, despises reporters. As the pair spar over the story, they’re both jolted by a white-hot current of mutual attraction. They overcome their mistrust to start a promising love affair, but overheard gossip causes Rebecca to shy away. Baffled and hurt by Rebecca’s sudden rejection, Rick vows to forget her. That is, until the serial killer, enraged by Rebecca’s story about him, kidnaps her, and Rick must rescue the woman of his dreams. Can true love endure in the face of misunderstandings and a psychopath’s wiles?

Advance Praise:
"This fast-paced short read is full of suspense, action and steaming sexual tension that is sure to absorb and entertain you.", rated 4 Sassy Books

"Wow, this quickie read really packs a whallop! Plenty of steamy fun, romance and delightful suspense! Rebecca is just the sort of sassy gal I love to read and Rick is perfectly Alpha!! Sigh, I am in total lust on this one!!" ~LiteralHottiesReviews, 4-stars

Chantal has been so kind to offer to sponsor a giveaway!
The prize includes one e-copy of Miami Steam! Fill out the rafflecopter form below to enter! No rafflecopter = No Entry.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Chapter 1
Rebecca Challenger glanced at the clock on the wall and tapped her pen against your reporter’s notepad in a furious rhythm. Was the police chief ever going to finish his meeting? She been waiting forty minutes for this interview already, and although she felt like getting up and walking out, she couldn’t. She desperately needed this interview for her story, a profile of the “Night Knifer,” a serial stabber who had been terrorizing the city of Miami for the past nine months. Harry, her editor, slotted it for the Sunday front above the fold, right below the masthead “Miami Star,” the spot most coveted by reporters. Her story – and byline – would be prominently featured in the front window of newspaper coin boxes and would be the first thing readers would eye on the stacks of newspapers in convenience store racks. Still, she had to get the story first, and the chief was not being quite as cooperative as she had hoped.

Rebecca leaned her head against the wall and slid her eyelids shut so she wouldn’t keep staring at the clock. She’d been the Star’s cop reporter for the past year, and she desperately wanted to move to the features desk. However, the features editor wanted to see that Rebecca could write more than basic police stories. This profile of the murderer, who had stabbed seven men to death after they had patronized prostitutes, could be the clincher. Come on chief.

A rumble of deep voices approached the other side of the closed door. Her eyes flew open and she straightened her back. The doorknob clicked. She bolted to her feet, ready to pounce on the chief, with her pen and pad poised. She wasn’t going to let him shut her out. The door cracked open, but the conversation was still going. They were taking their sweet time. Rebecca rolled her eyes. The door swung open, but it did not give way to the portly, bulldog-jowled chief. The broad shoulders of Detective Rick Gonzalez filled the door frame. Rebecca’s heart halted as her green-eyed gaze sank into the deep pools of his eyes, a brown so dark they appeared black.

Rick. The sonofabitch was even more gorgeous than she remembered. His complexion was the color of dulce de leche and just as caramel smooth. His nose was a perfect aquiline that balanced a strong chin. He was sexy as hell.

About the Author:
Chantal Verlaine writes fiction in Los Angeles, which has many more good hair days than South Florida but she still misses Miami's tropical nights, bathtub-warm ocean and Cuban rocket-fuel coffee. Sigh.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Spotlight: Claimed by the Bad Boy by Anita Lawless

Bekka Olson’s ex-husband, Corey Varkov, unexpectedly walks back into her life one day, just as she’s trying to get over their failed marriage. He’s returned to make good on a promise he made long ago—to rekindle their passionate love, no matter what. Hard times and a meddling step-mother-in-law broke them apart, and now secrets threaten to ruin their second chance. The sexy Russian tattooist has no trouble seducing Bekka, but can he re-claim her heart for good?

Bekka carefully unwrapped the package that sat atop her glass display case. It was an H.P. Lovecraft original, and being a lifelong fan of horror she couldn’t help but smile wide as she gazed down upon the book. Damn, she thought, It’s nice to enjoy what you do for a living.

Bekka had rented the space for her rare used books/oddities/antiques store around two years ago, right after her divorce from Corey was finalized. The memory of their uncomfortable parting made her sigh as she ran a reverent hand over the book’s cover.

She thought back to their final day together, remembered Corey and Juanita begging her to reconsider leaving. But Bekka had learned one lesson living with her husband and his stepmother for two years: There was only room for one woman in a man’s life, at least, when it came to living under one roof.

After enduring two and a half years with the meddlesome but well meaning woman, Bekka had to admit defeat. It wasn’t that Juanita had meant to gobble up every spare moment of Corey’s time, or that she meant to horn in on their relationship. It just happened. And Bekka, powerless to stop it but desperately wishing she could, had to do some soul searching before she dropped the dreaded “D” word on Corey.

It had practically killed him. She would never forget the look of hollow sorrow in his eyes that day.

“Why the hell am I doing this to myself?” she muttered to a china Buddha smiling cheerily at her from where it sat in a tall, glass display case.

Glancing at the calendar by the door, Bekka came around front to flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

She looked down at the dusty motorcycle boots on the other side of the glass, wood-framed entrance. Her eyes followed them up to black jeans, and she swallowed as her fingers closed over the sign.

Two years. Bekka never thought she’d see him again, even though they lived only forty-five minutes apart.

But there he was, standing on the other side of the door, smiling in at her, wearing a black t-shirt and sunglasses. It gave him that enigmatic, slightly dangerous look she’d always loved about him.

Corey Varkov. Her ex-husband. Bekka stared and her hand trembled on the sign.

Corey pointed to the doorknob, smiled—showing his deep dimples—and raised his eyebrows.

Nodding her head, Bekka forced a smile through her shock, fumbled with the key in her hand, and let him in.

“What…” Her voice cracked and her throat dried. “What are you doing here?” She cursed her words for deserting her at the worst possible moment.

About Anita:
Anita Lawless writes erotica & bdsm romance from somewhere in an urban jungle. With C.J Sneere, she runs Wild & Lawless Writers.

Available at these Locations:
Amazon  Smashwords  All Romance Books  B&N  Kobo  Bookstrand

Connect with Anita:
Website  Facebook  Twitter

Friday, January 9, 2015

Norceuil's Garden by Edward Dutton

Queer Fiction and Erotica (Short Stories)

In the grand, erotic tradition of Georges Bataille, Anaïs Nin and the Marquis de Sade comes Edward Dutton's diverse collection of queer, sexy, postmodern tales ranging from coming-of-age stories to literary erotica to experimental prose. From the vampire-phobic graduate student of “The Vampire of Xanthos” to the world-weary, dirty old man of “Norceuil’s Garden” to the young prostitute-philosopher in “Hustler,” these narratives bristle with testosterone, angst and desire. Poised on the knife's edge between erotica and surrealist prose, these stories will leave you open-mouthed and gasping for more.

My Review:
In my mind this book has basically two sections. The latter half is essentially a series of journal entries. It is certainly not erotica, but rather a honest commentary on the gay experience. I suspect this section of Norceuil's Garden would resonate with many YA gay readers.

However, I have to admit I was partial to the former half, which read more like a traditional set of short stories. While it's clear from the writing style that each of these stories is told by the same author, I greatly enjoyed seeing Edward apply his cadence to a variety of premises. Each of these shorts has a common thread - a certain amount of dubious consent (which you all know I love in my erotica). As it progresses, this series becomes more hot and gritty with each subsequent installment. 

About the Author:
Edward Dutton is a Brit living in America. His work has been published in Chroma, Chelsea Station, Velvet Mafia, Best Gay Romance 2009 and Best Gay Bondage Erotica.

Find Norceuil's Garden at these Locations:

Connect with Edward Dutton:
Twitter  Blog

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Not Yet by Adrian Ward

Not Yet is Part One of Adrian Ward's Sean and Allie trilogy.

Married lust/Light BDSM

Michael's Synopsis:
Sean and Allie, husband and wife, are on a business trip and have sex.

Michael's Review:
If you thought I meant to dismiss this story with that thin synopsis, think again. Not Yet is one of those rare pieces of erotica, a rather short story that—despite going very light on the setting and characterization—still manages to pack in a ton of heat. There’s not much to say about this other than that the sex is well done and everything else is kept to a bare minimum. The writing is clean, efficient, and does its job with a minimum of fuss. Definitely worth the price of admission.

Author Interview:
Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?
No. I have always been an analytical type of person, so when I was growing up my pursuits tended more towards math and science. However, I always loved to read and to write; even if it was writing political essays or history research papers, there was always something I enjoyed about taking my thoughts and bringing them to life for someone else to read. So I probably should have clued in sooner, but I didn’t until the last year or so.

What made you want to write erotica?
I’m a very sexual person and not just within the realm of my own fantasies and turn ons. Human sexuality as a whole has long been fascinating to me, even the things that may not arouse me are still interesting to me. Combine that with having read lots of erotica and my desire to write, erotica was a natural fit. My writing allows me to explore that side of myself in ways I normally wouldn’t be able to.

Where do you get your ideas/inspiration for your writing?
I usually get them while driving, which is a fairly inconvenient time to want to write. But it also makes sense in a way. I’m usually so busy that my mind is going nonstop, but when I am driving, music playing in the background, I can just let my mind wander. And when my mind wanders it doesn’t take it too long to turn to sex. Most of the ideas start out as a general concept or a simple fantasy and build out from there when I get a chance to sit down and write.

Do you work with an outline, or just write?
A bit of both. For shorter stories, such as Sean and Allie’s stories, I will usually just sit down and write it.

I have also written a series of four novella length stories (20-30k words), with three more stories planned so far in the series. These I write in a more structured manner. I still don’t use true outlines, but I do plan ahead. I will start with coming up with the general plot of the story, a broad overview of a few sentences. Then I’ll break down the story into parts or scenes and give each one a brief description of what needs to happen in that scene. Over time, as I let the story build in my mind, I may add in new scenes, take out others, or add notes to a scene about something specific that needs to be included. Then when I have time to write, I pick a scene and write that one part -- just letting that scene flow as I write it. I’ve found that writing like this is very helpful since it’s not always easy to find time to write. So this way I can just do one or two scenes in a week if that’s all I have time for and keep making progress without feeling like there’s too much left to be done.

Do you write under a pen name?
Absolutely. As I said before, writing erotica is as much for me to explore my sexuality as it is to share my stories. As such, I prefer to keep clear boundaries between it and the rest of my life. Though I didn’t start out as Adrian Ward.

When I first started writing, I would share my stories on erotica websites using a basic username, not a true pen name. But after getting a lot of positive feedback and encouragement, I decided to begin publishing and went with a variant of John Smith. However, I quickly learned that there were a lot of people publishing under names like J. Smith and more specifically J. D. Smith. In fact there was already someone publishing erotica as J. D. Smith. So then I had to go through the process of changing my pen name on the few stories that I had published so far. Not all retailers are as quick to update though, so for a while some sites had my books listed under Adrian Ward, others listed the author as J. D. Smith, and others would list Adrian Ward as the author but didn’t update the book cover so it still showed J. D. Smith as the author. It was a pain but I’m glad I got it over with early on.

Your thoughts on receiving book reviews - the good and the bad - 
The most obvious good is getting your stories out there for more people to see, so that more people are interested in what you have written. But I also look forward to an honest review because it’s nice to know what someone thinks of your work. Reviews and stars on retailer websites are nice, but generally short on feedback. Reviews that go a bit more in depth help you understand more about how readers interpret your writing. I already know what the story should look like in my own imagination, but did my readers envision my characters the way I intended? Did the plot make sense? Along with getting a better idea of how your readers are interpreting your writing, I also think constructive criticism is important for growing and being a better writer.

As for the bad, I think all authors are worried about getting a bad review. But accepting the reality that not everyone will like what you write is part of publishing stories for the whole world to see. I think that’s especially true with erotica. Human sexuality is so varied and complex that what is an amazing, sexy story to one person may be boring or horrid to another. So beyond getting a bad review, I think what would be truly bad is a review that turns away readers who would actually enjoy what your story has to offer, even if the reviewer isn’t one of those people.

What is the hardest and easiest part about being an erotica writer?
For me, the hardest part is simply finding the time to write. As much as I enjoy writing, my life is pretty hectic. There are some weeks where I can work on writing, editing, or publishing everyday. And other weeks where I don’t get time for any of it. It can be frustrating, but its just the way things go sometimes.

The easiest part for me is coming up with ideas. I get ideas for stories faster than I can write them. Though part of that may stem from what is the hardest part for me. If I had more time to write, I may find that I have trouble coming up with good ideas to fill that time.

What is your favorite part of being an author?
I just enjoy exploring a story in my mind and then putting that story into words to share with other people. Even if my writing doesn’t go far at a professional level, just being able to share those stories with others will keep me writing.

Do you have a day job as well?
Yes, one that I happen to enjoy, fortunately enough. It is very analytical though, so it’s nice to have writing as a creative balance to my day job.

What is your favorite thing about being an Indie writer?
Control. I like being in full control of my stories, when and what I write, how and where they are published -- all of it. I can see how a publisher might make it easier to market your books as a new author, but from what I understand its still far from easy starting out even with the backing of a publisher. I think it’s great that self-publishing has really opened the world up for Indie authors.

Not Yet is Aavailable here: Website ♥ Smashwords ♥ Amazon ♥ B&N 
Connect with Adrian Ward: Twitter

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Guest Post by Raven Spencer

There’s no such thing as “turning the straight girl”
-- about a frequent theme in my writing.
Guest Post by Raven Spencer

I realized that while not all of them, a few of my stories have a certain theme in common: The character who’s unhappy in a straight relationship until she meets the woman who can really awaken her sexuality. Sometimes, she’s aware, like Beatrice in A Perfect Dream, sometimes she has no clue about her orientation until she actually meets that woman--like Lane in Truth or Dare.

People’s sexuality, their needs and fantasies are incredibly diverse once you look past the obvious. Some have fantasies they never act on and are perfectly happy that way. Some are bound by stereotypes and boundaries. Too many myths and the ever-present slut-shaming often keep women from sufficiently exploring their sexuality. Someone who knows themselves well and identifies as straight, might experiment, but they don’t change their sexual orientation.

Aforementioned stereotypes and myths blur the truth though, and so it’s not all that odd for some women to learn later in life what they need for a healthy and happy romantic and sex life. They don’t stop being straight. They have been bi or lesbians all their lives and are only discovering it at this point. It’s a joyous moment when the pieces fall into place--confusing and intimidating, maybe, but ultimately joyous.

Don’t forget we’re talking about fiction, erotica, good times.

I love to write these stories, because I love things finally working out for these women, in their lives, in the bedroom.

And it never fails to make me wonder: If all LGBT people in the world were safe to come out, if no one was derived from their path by prejudice or the threat of losing the love of family and friends, their jobs or their lives--how many would we really be?

My guess is, many more than the numbers that are floated by politicians and social scientists. Hopefully, sometime in the future, we know. Until then, I’ll guide as many fictional characters as possible onto that beautiful, sexy journey.

If you’d like to join them, check out:
More to come.

About the author:
Raven J. Spencer, lesbian, married, loves everything sensual and indulgent which led her to write erotic romance and fantasies. When she’s not writing, you can often find her on Pinterest in the pursuit of inspiration.

Social Media:

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Guest Post by Emma Styles

I would like to take a moment to welcome Emma Styles to this blog for a guest post! She is the author of First Tango in Paris which is available on Amazon here. You can also follow her on twitter here

Feature: “First Tango In Paris”
Guest Post by Emma Styles

From that very first eye opening evening I just knew Paris was going to be an inspirational turning point in my life. Until that moment I was a young stay at home Mum to two living a very suburban life in West London, coping with all the normal day to day stresses and strains of running a home and raising a small family. Of course this proved exciting and fulfilling in itself, however, that initial weekend opened my eyes to reveal something so different and so sexually gratifying, that after several late evening deliberations over a glass of wine with my husband, we both agreed entirely that it was something that we both wanted to explore further. I found that having my husband’s full approval, coupled with his desire to give me free rein to indulge and to fulfill even my wildest fantasies was exceptionally liberating and empowering.

After a period of throwing ourselves, or more to the point throwing myself head first in to the elegant yet completely riotous sexual freedom that Paris, it’s clubs and people had to offer, whether indulging as a couple or flying solo as a single woman, I began to structure both the family side of things with my new found hunger for wild, and on many occasions anonymous erotic encounters. I have discovered almost endless opportunities to turn any situation into a full blown sexual adventure, from a brief and teasing flash in a bar to a willing participant amongst a group of men in the afternoon clubs of Paris, which caters to the physical needs of a certain kind of confident and self-assured woman.

I very quickly became aware that the French in particular have a completely different outlook to most other cultures in the way they behave and express themselves sexually. In the vast majority of French society circles and in the many thriving chic and sophisticated Parisian “Clubs Privées” being a liberated woman who enthusiastically pursued and achieved her sexual desires is regarded with great respect and the utmost admiration.

Both my husband and myself find that the wide and diverse range of people who indulge in this hedonistic style of sexual gratification are some of the most interesting and intellectually inspiring people we’ve encountered. In fact many of our close friends followed in our footsteps and all say what a positive and emboldening experience it has been for them.

Simply having the knowledge that as well as the hugely rewarding family life at home, there was also a completely self-indulgent side of life, one that was there to be grasped with both hands and relished. I’ve found this in itself to be a huge thrill, both mentally and physically. It has certainly added a very positive “other” dimension to daily life.

I soon discovered that this sexual freedom that we had allowed each other to explore has simply strengthened our marriage. The level of trust that was already in place has only been enhanced further by the openness in which we approach and discuss all situations together, whether sexual or life in general. Almost from the very outset my husband adored me recounting my liaisons and outrageous shenanigans to him (no detail sparred), whether as a teaser over dinner - leading to our relentlessly exciting bedroom games, or wherever and whenever a situation presented itself. It simply keeps everything fresh and frisky.

My main reason to write “First Tango In Paris” was, as “erotic fiction” has recently become a hugely popular genre, I felt that it was all well and good reading about fictional characters in fictional situations, but thought that from my point of view it would be much more inspiring and liberating to read a wholly factual account from a person who has experienced it all in reality, in genuine and existing clubs and locations. Obviously, as with all things in life there are the disreputable places that are to be avoided, however, in my book I document many of the finer establishments where one can go to turn fantasy into reality in the blink of an eye (the majority of which are just a click away on the internet). Go explore your inner desires you’ll be surprised at just how elated and revitalized you’ll feel. For the ladies reading this I strongly recommend you get the man or men in your life to have a sneaky read, their reactions may just surprise you! (at the very least a trip to Paris should be on your wish list)

The following excerpt is one of that will give you a flavor of the book, and an insight into one of the numerous elegant but highly decadent situations I was party to!

Recently, my favoured pastime is when I’m alone at our place in Spain I venture the ten minute walk to the local nude/fun beach and get naked and just see what potential situations develop in the heat! I’m always happy when a young “senor” or two park themselves nearby. That when my exhibitionist streak really explodes!

Chapter Twenty-Five: You May Go To The Ball!

Finally, my much anticipated weekend trip had arrived, and after a lot of careful preparation and packing (still confused by the “Party Clothes statement in the Email), Paul dropped me at the Air France Terminal, where I duly collected my ticket and was escorted to their First Class Departure Lounge. I was welcomed with a glass of Bucks Fizz and offered a selection of mouth-watering canapés! You certainly got a massively different level of service in First Class, for a start back then, the Captain came and had a chat before “take off” and enquired if all was to your satisfaction…. I politely replied, “yes thank you” even though I felt like grabbing him and whisking him of somewhere quiet for some pre-flight fun!!

At CDG a member of Air France collected my luggage and escorted me to the First Class pick up area, where Bruno was waiting beside the car, after greeting me once again by doffing his cap and showing me into the rear of waiting of the Mercedes, he took my luggage from the member of staff and subtly tipped him, before stowing it in the boot and driving off towards Central Paris.

After helping myself to a glass of wine from the mini bar things started to become clearer when Bruno informed me, that we were first going shopping for my outfit for Saturday night, and that The “Général” had given him detailed instructions and I should just sit back and relax. A glass and a half later, we pulled up out side the “Dior” Flagship Boutique on Avenue Montaigne. Immediately, I was helped from the car by the uniformed doorman, and once inside, was handed over to a charming lady, whom it turned out, was a director of their couture division. I was shown swiftly to a private dressing room, with an elegant seating area, where she explained that she was tasked with recommending and presenting me with a variety of gowns and accessories, and to pick which ever one I liked the best, and then after any final adjustments, she would help me accessorize, with shoes, lingerie and anything else that took my fancy… I was speechless, as I imagined the dress alone would cost a small fortune. After a good two hours I was done, and after a small glass of Kir Royale, was informed all the purchases would be delivered the following morning at ten thirty, to the given address…At least she had an address, I was still clueless!

Back in the car Bruno informed me that I’d be staying at an apartment that Yves owned, and had just finished having it refurbished. It was a few minutes away, on fashionable Rue Marbeuf and that the “Général” would telephone me shortly once he was out of his meeting. I was to relax and unwind until then and to help myself to anything I wanted.

It was a beautiful apartment, very elegantly furnished in traditional French style, not a large as Thierry’s, but equally elegant and impressive…not too shabby for a spare apartment in the Centre of Paris!

Across the street from the apartment I could see a traditional Café/Bar, so I decided to relax with a coffee and a snifter of brandy whilst I waited for Yves call with “further instructions!”. It was very busy inside, and was a lovely warm retreat from the late afternoon Paris chill. Eventually my mobile buzzed and vibrated on the table, it was Yves, and after a brief conversation he told me to be ready at eight-thirty, as we were going out for dinner, he said casual/chic, nothing too outrageous.

He took me to a lovely little restaurant, discreetly tucked away in a small street near the “Bastille”. Over dinner we chatted away like we’d known each other forever, he divulged very little about his past, but, however, told me he’d married in his mid twenties but his wife had died suddenly six years previously, due to his work they’d never had children. He had lived and travelled to many places on behalf of his government and was now just keeping busy in an advisory capacity.

He explained the following evenings agenda, which comprised of arriving between seven-thirty to eight for pre dinner drinks and generally meeting old and making new acquaintances. Dinner would be served at eight-thirty and the entertainment would follow, which had for the last few years been a “Slave Auction”, which he said had proved very popular amongst, as he put it “the good and the great and the often bad” of French Society. He wouldn’t tell me anymore, except that he was sure I’d enjoy it! He also had arranged for me to be visited at the apartment by a hair and makeup lady at five the following day in preparation of Bruno collecting me at six forty-five sharp. He also said he’d bring his mask of choice, for me to wear for the evening.

After a very enjoyable meal he dropped me back at the apartment and told me to get a good rest, as “tomorrow” would be a long night! I rang Paul, who was as intrigued as I; he said he wished he could be a fly on the wall!

As promised, my outfit was delivered promptly, I marveled at these exquisite items for what felt like an eternity, before going out for a wander around the local area.

The excitement and anticipation of the forthcoming evening was making me very horny, and continued to throughout the day. Whilst I was out casually perusing the shops, I stopped off for a drink and in my state of arousal I discreetly exposed my pussy to a guy sitting at a table directly opposite me in the busy bar, I could tell it was driving him to distraction but as he was with his partner, he was powerless to respond…naughty I know! But having a quick climax in front of a helpless stranger was a huge turn on…a game that over the years I have played many times to some fantastic responses! More of these later.

After my makeover and help getting dressed it was soon time to leave, precisely on time Bruno buzzed me down to the waiting car, where Yves was waiting, with once more a red rose and glass of Champagne plus my mask for the evening. It was a beautiful genuine Venetian black & cream Harlequin shaped half Mask, just the feel of it made me warm and tingly.

We settled back and relaxed as the Chateau was about a thirty minute drive, I told him I’d been horny all day and this pleased him a great deal and I could sense he was really looking forward to my reaction to what lay ahead.

The driveway up to this massive old French house was at least a mile long, which eventually led to a semi circular dropping off point and a line of elegant limousines, all patiently waiting to deliver their high profile occupants. Yves explained this event was for the wives only, and that the mistresses would be compensated later, by way of extra Xmas gifts or an increase in their allowance! Only the French! I thought grinning to myself.

Eventually, after having my coat taken and Yves standing back and clasping his hands in admiration at the stunning Dior gown, whispering “you are simply divine my dear”, we were escorted through to a beautiful library room that was full of gorgeous antique furniture and stunning large works of art, it was like standing on a movies set, there were male and female waiters gliding discreetly everywhere, with ornate trays of Champagne and Canapé’s at the ready. There were some stunning evening gowns on show, and all the men were all dressed in tuxedos and many medals were being proudly worn.

 It seemed everyone knew Yves and were waiting their turn to greet him. I played along perfectly each time, as he introduced me as the “Daughter!” of an old British friend, whom he’d worked with in Hong Kong in the Seventies. Each time, he would subtly wink at me…. how I kept this elegant façade going, I’ll never know. Even with their Masks on, I could tell that many of the ladies were fifties upwards and were discreetly giving this “thirty” something the once over…. I could certainly feel a degree of envy from behind the masks.

Once all the guests had arrived I did a rough headcount and estimated there were around fifty or sixty couples present. After a while the large double wooden doors opened and a footman announced that, dinner would be served. Then with a commanding voice he commenced announcing couples by name, whom, when walked forward were escorted to their table. We were the last to be announced as Yves was on the “top table” with our host and hostess and two other distinguished couples (I thought I recognized one couples name…but basically I didn’t have a clue, as to how high up the social ladder they were…. but very near the top I suspected).

It was all very highbrow and elegant, with a classical string quartet playing in the corner of the large ballroom, but with a distinct under current of sexual tension.

Discreetly placed with each of the ladies place setting, was a small booklet, which was highlighting the male and female “slaves”, that were to be auctioned later during the evening! During dinner, apparently the ladies would make their choice and their husbands would do the bidding. Yves informed me that, as last year, there were five male and two female “lots”, so expected he the bidding to be fierce. If successful you would have forty-five minutes alone with your purchase in one of the prescribed private fun rooms on the first floor, after that they would be joining the guests in the large Arabian Nights themed room, decorated for the occasion. All very civilized! He told me that the males were hired for the oral skills, as well as their very impressive endowments and the ladies for their beauty and enthusiasm (and acting ability he told me with a smile!).

Thankfully, when the food was served everyone followed the hostess’s lead and removed their masks; it gave everyone a chance to have a good look at their fellow guests; smiles and little regal waves passed between the tables. It was all very surreal.

The food was out of this world, the main course being a whole baby roast suckling pig per table, with a selection of local grown vegetables, for dessert crepes were flambéed to spectacular effect. The fine wines and Champagnes had been flowing abundantly and things were starting to “buzz” in anticipation of the auction.

Yves asked me if we should make a bid on any of the “lots”, I said I’d leave that up to him, but I wouldn’t be adverse to it if he did.

After dinner wines and or spirits were served, and as the chandeliers dimmed the stage was lit, to rumblings of anticipation from this normally, I suspected, reserved congregation.

The first “slave” up for bidding, was a very tall and slim girl with jet black hair who was led on to the stage with a chain attached to her “slut collar”, she wore a long sheer gown with heels so high she towered over the auctioneer…. as Yves predicted bidding was rapid and she was eventually secured by a couple seated near to our table, accompanied by much merriment and polite applause. The winning bid was thirty thousand Francs!! I was bemused by the decadence of it!

The first male “slave” was finally sold to another couple for twenty five thousand Francs. He was led on, to much “oohing” and “aaahing” from the ladies, he was wearing a very skimpy loincloth, which left nothing to the imagination. All the “lots” were sold for between twenty and thirty five thousand Francs.

The final “slave” was led on to gasps from everyone, he was a very muscular, mixed race man with a beautiful smile and quite simply the largest penis I’d ever seen anywhere…. and I’d seen a few by now!…. His body was glistening with oil, Yves gave me a playful squeeze on my knee under the table and whispered “ I will buy him for you .… yes?”, I picked my jaw up off the floor and just discreetly nodded my interest.

We followed the bidding with interest, as many of the gentlemen had been firmly instructed by their wives to bid, astonishingly the bidding soon reached fifty thousand Francs, when it looked like he’d been sold, Yves, with a subtle tipping of his glass trumped the room, with a massive and mindboggling “one hundred thousand Francs”, the room was on its feet, clapping, whistling and shouting “Bravo Général Bravo”. All eyes were now focused on me…I was flushed with embarrassment and a large degree of apprehension at the unfolding events. People now started to mingle and some went off to the “smoking rooms”. Also all the ladies were in the powder rooms freshening up and reapplying their “Masks”, as was the etiquette that was strictly adhered to! Many of the ladies congratulated me on my prize and wished me a wonderful liaison! It all made a bit more sense, when Yves explained that all the money raised during the auction, plus the large contributions from all the other guests was donated to the Parisian equivalent of “The Army Widows Fund”.

After a short while, Yves told me my “slave” had been prepared and was waiting for me and that I should go and enjoy myself. He explained that he’d be watching, along with the host and hostess in an adjoining room, which had the viewing side of the two-way mirror that was in the boudoir… My emotions were already in turmoil, but now heightened with the added pressure of a small, but distinguished audience to play up to!

I unlocked the door to the room with the large brass key Yves had given me, and entered apprehensively, and there, spread-eagled and restrained to the large four poster bed was my prize. Lying there at my mercy was this gorgeous man, with the beginnings of the most enormous, gargantuan erection. I quickly realized that no words would be spoken, no small talk, just simple animal passion. I smiled and slowly and provocatively started to remove my gown, all the time fully aware of unseen eyes watching my every movement. By the time I’d carefully placed my gown over the large wingback chair in the corner. I saw with glee, that my undressing had given him the most colossal and pulsating erection, his body was completely hairless and very well toned. I wanted to prolong this moment of sheer expectation, we both so obviously felt. So, I started to gently stroke and play with my breasts, showing him my hard erect nipples, swiftly, my vaginal muscles started to rapidly flex and contract as I reached my first small orgasm. He moaned appreciatively as I discarded my small-embroidered silk panties and stood before him solely in a pair of silk hold-ups and my black patent heels, his beast of a penis flexed and twitched with appreciation of my body. I approached the foot of the bed, stood and stared at his body for a good minute, whilst suggestively licking my lips. I slowly crawled forward onto the bed running, slowly my tongue over each of his legs, making my way to his wondrous, muscular brown thighs, gently biting and licking them in turn, all the time with my eyes watching his huge abnormal penis throbbing angrily. I eventually couldn’t tease him any longer and began to slowly run my tongue up and over his swollen testicles, taking each one in turn into my mouth, he was quietly moaning, as I pleasured his engorged sac, I then paid rapt attention to his shaft, teasingly running my tongue up its entire length, whilst staring intently into his smoldering black eyes, until I reached its bulbous head, flicking at it like a lizard. Then with my eager, willing mouth took him in, slowly at first, allowing my mouth and lips to adjust to its size. Then inch by inch I took him to the back of my throat, as his hips started to buck rhythmically, he began to powerfully fuck my mouth, his sheer size was restricting my breathing…that coupled, with an explosive orgasm on my part, squirting my juices everywhere, I needed a breather. I knelt up and straddled his chest whilst gulping a few lung fulls of much needed oxygen. I opened my pussy wide with my fingers for him to see and started to play with my swollen clitoris as he watched intently. I brought myself to another series of powerful spurting climaxes, soaking his chest; the aroma of my juices and his body oil was completely intoxicating. He gestured with his eyes that he wanted to taste me, I moved forward and lowered my wet pussy onto his face, where his tongue immediately went to work skillfully on my lips, nibbling and sucking on my clitoris, occasionally probing my anus, much to my delight… his technique was both skilled and enthusiastic, I could sense he was fully enjoying my taste, and with my body starting to go into spasm, I powerfully gushed another orgasm into his very receptive mouth, he drank my juices keenly, we were both groaning with the intense pleasure that we were giving each other. It was now time to fuck this man, I slowly moved down his body until my vagina has hovering over his gargantuan, pumped erect cock…all the time hoping, Yves and his guests were enjoying the spectacle as much as I. With one hand I guided the huge head of his penis into my wet and open vagina, hesitantly at first whilst my opening gradually stretched to accommodate his monstrous girth, slowly I continued lowering myself, until I could take no more of him…god he was enormous. I settled for a moment to regain my composure, and then began slowly and rhythmically riding up and down his length, my vaginal muscles gripping him with such intensity, I felt as if my orgasms would go on and on. I increased the rigorousness of my movements over time, until he started to breathe heavily, groaning as my internal muscles worked his cock to the point of no return…. with a huge shudder I could feel his semen explode into the depths of vagina, filling me, as my muscles milked him ferociously until he was spent!! I collapsed exhausted and overflowing onto his chest. I lay there savouring the moment, until it was time to release him from his restraints (Velcro is wonderful thing!). I went into the en-suite to tidy myself up, cleansing myself on the wonderful cushioned bidet. My drained lover, with a smile helped me into my dress to resume the evening!

Yves was waiting for me when I exited the room, he was grinning from ear to ear, complimenting me on such a wondrously decadent exhibition, he informed me that the hostess was playing with herself throughout, and that her husband had given her permission to go and play with him herself, now that he’d been released from his “Slave status”, he was now free to party and entertain the various needy ladies! Before he did he thanked me and complimented me on my dexterity!

I gratefully accepted a large crystal tumbler of Jack Daniels on the rocks that Yves had commandeered for me, and took it to one of the elegant smoking rooms, for a much needed and well-deserved cigarette. The host joined us; he was very complimentary on my unreserved exhibitionistic behavior, as he said, that any English people he’d met were very reserved and cold… I explained to him that there was a small select group of us that had firmly cast off the old “British Reserve”, but you had to know where to look to find them!! This amused him greatly and he asked if I’d allow him to give me a tour around his private wine collection in the cellar, as he’d like to choose me bottle of something special, as a memento of the evening. Yves nodded his approval (I felt sure they’d discussed it already). After finishing my drink and another cigarette, he led me through the immense kitchen to a vaulted doorway, he tapped in a code and the door unlocked; we entered down a marble stairway into a vast cavernous cellar with floor to ceiling racks full of wine, as far as I could see…row after row! He gave me a brief tour and potted history of some of the vintages, when we reached the Champagne he selected a stunningly beautiful bottle of Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque Magnum 1990 Vintage Champagne as my gift. At the far end of the cellar was an elegant air-conditioned “tasting” lounge, where he suggested that we had a brandy and a cigarette, which I readily agreed to. We both removed our masks and I settled back into a sumptuous armchair, whilst he selected and poured a fine smooth Cognac, it was divine and I was savoured its rich oaky taste. He asked me, where I’d learned to achieve the intense orgasms he’d witnessed earlier, so I proceeded to recount in great detail the story of how Michael had turned my “tap” on several years ago, and that I could now control and achieve them at will in almost any situation. His face lit up, I could sense, he was enjoying my openness, as there was a very mischievous little sparkle in this elderly French aristocrats eyes! In his near perfect English he expressed his interest, that as we were alone and nobody could interrupt us, that it would be a great pleasure for him, if I would give him an intimate, personal demonstration of this rare skill. He said that he would be highly honoured, if I’d allow him to drink my juices as I climaxed. He quickly informed me that he’d got Yves blessing, however, the ultimate decision was mine. I admit I was massively aroused by the thought of this scenario and eagerly nodded in agreement. I asked him to help me out of my dress, which he carefully hung on a coat stand in the corner. I then instructed him to kneel in front of me and remove my rapidly dampening panties. I was once again naked, except for my heels and hold-ups. I lifted and placed one leg up on the arm of the chair and invited him to open me and closely inspect my pussy. I was rapidly juicing up with the whole scenario. I sensuously placed myself back in the armchair and lewdly opened my legs as wide as possible, letting them drape over its soft cushioned arms. He was transfixed, as I went to work with my fingers, opening my labia ever wider whilst tweaking my clitoris, I told him to lean in closer and see how my vaginal muscles flexed and gripped under my control. I invited him to lick my anus whilst I held myself open for him, he accepted his task with great relish and started to gently run his tongue around my precious bud in deft circles and probing it deeply inside, making my sphincter spasm and pucker uncontrollably. It was a very erotic scene looking down at this beautifully dressed gentleman feasting on my most private of places, it wasn’t long before I could feel myself building up to an intense climax, I verbally signaled my intentions, and as he knelt before me like a hungry child with his mouth wide open, I let go a powerful orgasm and squirted jet after jet of my hot sweet juices into his waiting mouth and over his ecstatic face. I just continued pulsing and squirting, drowning him in my juices.  Eventually I was a spent force and decadently told him, to lick me clean, whilst I enjoyed the rest of my Cognac…, which he did with boundless enthusiasm!

I rejoined Yves in the Library for a final drink, before Bruno was scheduled to pick us up, he told me many of the guests were enjoying themselves in the Arabian nights room, where the young, and now free slaves were entertaining various guests and generally ensuring the eroticism of the evening continued. Shortly, our ride arrived and we bade our farewells to our hosts, and with “my gift” in hand, slid into the rear of the waiting limousine.

After thanking Yves for such a wonderful and very eye opening evening, and giving him a gracious peck goodnight, I made my way up to the apartment, where after undressing, I collapsed into the large comfortable bed and drifted off into a long restful sleep.

As arranged, the following day Yves picked me up and we went for a long leisurely lunch before my evening flight back to Heathrow, to an excited Paul, who’d want to hear all about my exploits in minute detail. To be honest, I was really looking forward to the comforts of my own environment and just enjoy a few hours of “slobbing out” in sweat pants and t-shirt, after all the exertions of the previous couple of days had exhausted me. Followed by a long, slow soak in the bath and even slower lovemaking session with Paul…complete with commentary by myself for his delectation!

About Emma Styles:
My name is Emma Styles. I am a married mother of two. I currently live between Kew, West London and Southern Spain. I have just completed my first book “First Tango In Paris”, which is a true-life account of my sexual experiences and adventures since stumbling into the very elegant but incredibly decadent and hedonistic Parisian swinging scene. The book documents intimately and often graphically many of the more salacious and debauched encounters over a ten-year period, whilst also portraying how I juggled the more predictable side of family/working life with my quest for even greater sexual escapades.