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Take Your Partner

Take Your Partner Lovehoney erotic anthology ♦ Hey, remember that time I got published? Oops, I did it again!

Yup, another of my stories has been officially published, this time by the wonderful emporium of sexy that is Lovehoney. They ran a competition back in May asking for erotica on any theme and I knew I had to enter. For a start, simply by entering each writer got 2,000 Oh! Points and I’m slowly inching my way towards buying something very exciting with those.

The prize of £100 to spend at Lovehoney was also tempting, but probably the biggest draws were the prestige of publishing a story through Lovehoney and the element of fierce competition. And competition was indeed fierce! Only ten winners were drawn from over 250 entries. Yikes.

And I won! But not only that, my story “Take Your Partner” has become the title story of the entire anthology! Wow!

Yes, Take Your Partner and Other Stories is now available to buy!

I was so chuffed to be included and I’m even more so to be the lead and title story for the book. It’s beyond words to be able to look at the cover and say to myself, “That’s me, that is.” Here’s what the blurb has to say about my story:

“Tango is the dance of love, and when our newly single heroine finds herself dancing with the boyish Georgie at her weekly class, she definitely feels some strong emotions.”

So, no zombies this time, I went for something a little more accessible. In fact, it was actually a hard one to dream up! Not because the subject matter and style was tough, like in “Last Man on Earth” for Hungry for Love, but because I could write about anything if I wanted. Boy, do I hate a blank, white page, whether figurative or literal.

In the end I decided I wanted to write something with a bit of genderplay, a boyish girl, some masculine energy, because that gets me hot. And I wanted to write something sex toy positive because this is Lovehoney we’re talking about and also sex toys are amazing. I didn’t end up using the original inspiration for this story, a certain vibrator with a cha-cha rhythm, but I’m so glad nonetheless that it was there to spark the idea. And provide energy-boosting orgasms.

In any case, Lovehoney will be doing an official release of this story some time in the New Year, but until then why not beat the crowd? ♦

Stories in Take Your Partner and Other Stories

Take Your Partner by Blacksilk
Delice de Chocolat by Viva Jones
I Promise to… Please by Lily Harlem
In Control by Hope Willowbrook
I Don’t Do This by G C Carmine
Paris by Moonlight by Justine Elyot
I Promise to… Surrender by Lily Harlem
The Princess and the G-Spot by Neneh Gordon
I Promise to… Perform by Lily Harlem
Robot with Green Eyes by L A Meadows

Stories Behind Stories With Stories

♦ Just a short update for now with some erotic fiction bits and bobs. As I’ve mentioned, I’m now a published author thanks to a little anthology called Hungry for Love. I’m over halfway through all the stories myself (been reading a little each day on my commute) and I’ve got to say that there’s some absolute crackers. All sexy, all smart, and some entirely unexpected takes on what zombie erotica might mean. It’s great stuff.

As part of her promotion of the book on her blog, Editor Sommer Marsden has been running a really cool little series of posts featuring  the “story behind the story” of many of the zombtastic tales in the book. Each blog post is by a different author from Hungry for Love giving their unique insight on the whys and wherefores of their story. Some have explained what idea or mood they wanted to get across in their story, others have discussed the film or music references woven into their tales, some the real life events that directly inspired them.

If you’re at all interested in the stories behind the stories in the book or even just “the secret lives of stories” in general, I highly suggest you check out Sommer’s blog. All of the Story Behind the Story posts until now are there in the most current couple of pages. They’re a really great peek behind the veil.

In my Story Behind the Story, I’ve talked about my two main reasons for being desperate to write for Hungry for Love, the difficulties I had in finding the right story hook, the effort I made to stand out from the crowd (Did it work? Let me know!) and one of the main inspirations for my story. If you want to know what tale inspired my story and you want to pick up another great read in the process, you should definitely take a look. The work that inspired my train of ideas is an amazing story that will move you.

Speaking of picking up great reads, I’ve heard this week of a great way to get hold of some new erotic fiction. If you find erotica a bit of a pleasure that you often neglect spending money on, never fear. Bondara have solved that problem by adding free books to the free gifts you can get when you spend £29.99 or more with them. Skimming over Fifty Shades of Grey, there’s some books in the list that I’ve heard really great things about such as Portia Da Costa’s  In Too Deep, Sylvia Day’s Bared to You and Sophie Morgan’s Diary of a Submissive. Even as a fan of (and now writer of) erotic fiction, I often find it hard to keep up with new releases, so this seems like a great way to get hold of some!

Plus, with gift vouchers and gift boxes now also a Thing that Bondara does, that’s Christmas for kinksters pretty much sorted. Nice.

If you’re still gagging for free books after that, don’t forget that I’m still looking for one or two erotic fiction reviewers to review free digital copies of the aforementionedly awesome Hungry for Love. Just think, with the Story Behind the Story posts, you’ll have some great insights to go alongside your thoughts.

And if the promise of a free zombie book, some free mainstream erotic “hot-reads” or learning more more about the craft of writing sexy stories doesn’t interest you… well, I give up! ♦

Hungry for Love

♦ I’m a published author of erotica, woohoo!

So, I briefly mentioned back in July that I was planning ideas for a story to submit to a zombie-themed erotic anthology. You may even remember, if you follow me on Twitter, some flailing about how the story was going and it generally taking up my free evenings and blog time.

Well, it was most definitely worth it.

I’ll admit it, Last Man on Earth was a hard story to write, pushing my newly-established fiction boundaries in more than one way, but I got it done and sent it in. Now, a few months down the line and in time for Hallowe’en, my zombie story and several others are available and I’m being published for the first time both in eBook and print. The feeling is hard to beat.

Yes, Coming Together’s Hungry for Love, edited by Sommer Marsden, is out now!

If you’ve enjoyed some of the erotic fiction I’ve written for the blog before, you might want to check out my first published piece! If you’re a fan of zombies (whether erotically or not) and zombie apocalypses, you’ll certainly want to get hold of the anthology! And if the sheer quantity and quality of zombies and fucking (but not necessarily zombie-fucking) doesn’t quite grab you, how about the charitable aspect? All proceeds go to the American Diabetes Association.

Brits, you can pick up Hungry for Love on Amazon UK in eBook here and paperback here. For everyone else, the Amazon US links are here for the eBook and here for the paperback. If you’re wanting it from another vendor, there’s more listed here.

Furthermore, if you’re a reviewer of erotic fiction and you haven’t yet been sent a copy of Hungry for Love, just let me know. I have a couple of reviewer digital copies that I’m looking to send out in return for an honest and well-written review.

Oh, and if any of you has any questions or comments about my story Last Man on Earth, whether you’ve read it or not, I’d love to hear from you. Just drop me an email, send me a Tweet or post a comment below! ♦

Stories in Hungry for Love

Little Deaths (Cora Zane)
My Name is Brighton (Alana Noel Voth)
Dead in the Water (Lynn Townsend)
Head Full of Zombie (Alison Tyler)
Zombie Apocalypse: First Responder (Kissa Starling)
You Look Better Dead (Jeffrey L. Shipley)
Zombie Goddess (Sadey Quinn)
Dark Hunger (Erzabet Bishop)
Love Never Dies (t’Sade)
Meat (Bobby Diabolus)
Annie Morgan (Armand Rosamilia)
Queer Zombie Disco (Kirsty Logan)
The Tenderest Meat (Elise Hepner)
Last Man on Earth (Blacksilk)
Zombie Factory (Kiki Howell)
Screen Siren (Annabeth Leong)
You Make a Dead Man Come (Sommer Marsden)

Aural Sex

♦ I’ve got a bit of a complicated relationship with the idea of performing anything I’ve written aloud. I used to be very good at elocution and Bible reading (how times have changed) when I was a child, but since then it’s been a bit downhill. I’m deeply aware that my accent is probably far more suited to auctioning traactorrrrrs than making anyone hard or wet and I’m also terrified. I get embarrassed and nervous-giggly at the idea of reading something I’ve written (that’s the key) aloud.

Heck, I even get nervous-giggly and embarrassed hearing something I’ve written read aloud. But, as I’ve learned, that one is in a good way.

Or it is when the delectable PlumptiousPea is involved.

If you haven’t heard of this lovely lady, your ears probably hate you. She has one of the sexiest voices there is. Your ears deserve her, so I suggest you go check her out. In fact, I may well have some suggestions… ;)

One of the first recordings Pea released on her SoundCloud was of perhaps my favourite poem I’ve yet written: Make Me. I think this poem speaks to directly to my cunt and heart more than any other I’ve written, so it was absolutely wonderful to hear it recorded so well and so sexily. PlumptiousPea’s breathy voice really brings it alive and I highly suggest you check out her recording here.

When she then asked to record perhaps my favourite story I’ve yet written, The Swinging Tree, resistance was futile. I knew she’d do a wonderful job and I was so excited and wriggly to think about hearing it spoken aloud. And she nailed it! She treated my little baby so well. Sexy, subtle and intimate. It was uploaded recently and if you haven’t had a chance to check it out part one is here and part two is here. She’s just getting confident with longer recordings, so be sure to lend your support.

I can’t possibly thank Pea enough for making these wonderful, sensual, decadent, sexy recordings of my little snippets of erotica, but I hope that sharing them with you all has gone some way towards that thanks. I love them and I think anyone who enjoys my erotica (or indeed anyone who enjoys aural sex) will love them too. They make me wriggly and happy and shy-in-a-good-way and proud as all get-out. Squee!

Anyway, I guess this post is just to say thanks to PlumptiousPea and to you to say: “Hey, look how fucking cool this thing is that happened! I’m so chuffed, check it out!”

So, yeah… check it out! ♦

Author Q&A for FELT TIPS

♦ As some of you may know and as I’ve mentioned on my Erotic Fiction and Poetry page, I recently successfully submitted a short erotic story to an anthology called FELT TIPS! Edited by the fantastic Tiffany Reisz, FELT TIPS is a charity anthology for a couple of great causes and is themed around one of my favourite things in the world: stationery.

Yup, stationery-based erotica. If you’re anything like me, there’s no way you’ll miss out on reading it now. I’m in love with clean, blank notebooks and 500 shades of colouring pencils and chunky markers and wooden rulers and too many pens to know what to do with!

The anthology is due to be published on the 12th of December this year. Make a note! My story, Of Silver, Sin and School Desks is fifth in the anthology line-up and will be particularly exciting to anyone with a bit of a teacher-fetish out there.

I am absolutely thrilled to be included and wish it could be published right now! In the mean time, the lovely Jenny Lyn, one of my fellow writers for FELT TIPS, has started a series of Q&As with us FELT TIPS contributors. I highly suggest you check them out if you’re interested in the anthology, because it’ll give you some great sneak peaks into the stories and the authors themselves.

My interview went up this Thursday and you can read it here. Do check it out for some insight into my writing routine, my background as a writer (though you might know what part already),  my turn-ons and turn-offs, my inspirations and, of course, my FELT TIPS story and some juicy clues as to what’s in it! ♦

The Swinging Tree

I wrote this story for the Erotic Meet competition A Pleasure Shared. The idea was to take a fantasy or pleasurable moment supplied by another member and turn it into a erotic creative piece. I chose MissPlayer’s inspiration, which was “outdoors intimacy – a little more specific, bare toes, barely touching damp soil, arms raised and restrained…” I didn’t win, but I still really love this story. What do you think?

♦ The first drop of rain hit just as the familiar shape of the swinging tree came into sight, but by the time we had reached it, we were half-soaked through. We laughed as we ran in under the branches of the tree and gasped surprised breaths into air made oppressive by the recent heatwave. The day had started out as we remembered them: baking sun, still air and a heavy feeling that, had we but realised, should have warned us of the rainstorm to come.

You hefted the rucksack from your back and I turned from your brown-eyed gaze to look at the tree before me, filled with a sense of comfort to be back under its branches. As children we had learned to jump up and grab the one branch low enough to reach, swinging from it for as long as we could manage.

Now we were older, the swinging tree’s same perfect branch was within tiptoe reach and I marvelled at how I had ever managed to jump so high so young.

You sighed and I turned to see you pulling off your sodden top. I smiled at your rain-slick torso, remembering how it felt when I first stroked the firmness of your chest. I saw flashes of skin, flusters of nervousness, our first faltering fuck. That summer had been particularly glorious.

“You’ll catch your death of cold in those clothes,” you chided, playfully.
“Yes, mother.” I replied and you swatted at my thigh.

We were sheltered from the worst of the rain and from prying eyes and I relished the thought of being naked again with you. It had been too long since my last visit. My canvas shoes were the first to go and my socks along with them. My feet felt free of burden now and I relished in feeling the damp soil between my toes and in knowing how black my soles would become. I watched you somewhat cautiously as we stripped, but your smiles and skin soon put me at ease.

The only thing not too badly drenched were my little white knickers, so that’s all I had on by the time I leant back under the limb of the swinging tree. You hadn’t changed one jot over the years and wore no underwear. That much was clear as your erection stood proud and clear in front of me.

You had a dopey sort of look on your face as you approached me, one I’ve always loved. You put an arm around my neck and pressed your hardness into my front, pushing my back against the damp bark. All I could hear was our shallow breaths and the rushing patter of droplets as the rainstorm broke around us.

Your tongue found mine as the first thunderclap rolled. The weight of the air lifted and the oppressive pressure of that stifling day broke in an instant as I opened myself to you.

“Close your eyes,” you said and I did so willingly, my pussy knotting at the memories those words evoked. I’d always trusted you a little more easily than perhaps I should, but you’d never betrayed me.

I heard the zip of the rucksack and the rustle of rummaging over the rain. When you returned I felt the tip of your cock press against me as you lifted my arms gently above my head. You pulled me up onto tiptoe and guided my hands to the branch of the swinging tree. The feel of rope pilfered from the tent slipping around my wrists was, I admit, not the biggest surprise. I remembered a whole weekend of us poring over illustrations of knots and positions and harnesses and how we had muddled our way through several silly mistakes before you perfected the art.

And perfected it you had. “You can open your eyes now,” you said and I did. I was firmly trussed, arms raised above my head and body at almost full stretch, teetering on tiptoe. That wasn’t to last.

“Let me swing your legs up,” you told me.
“Why?” I replied.
“For old time’s sake.”

I raised an eyebrow, but agreed all the same. The branch was still firm and slightly supple and wobbled a little as I swung my lower body up and into your arms. I trusted it no less than I trusted you, having seen it stand our attentions over many years.

You lifted me by the rump, taking care not to slip on my damp skin. Soon my ankles were locked around the sturdy branch and not long after you had secured those too. My knickers felt decidedly more damp then they had been a moment ago, but I was sure I hadn’t felt the splash of any of the raindrops finding their way through canopy there.

You waited by my behind, naked as a babe, goosebumps peppering your flesh even in this still-hot air, your cock now only semi-erect. I wondered what you were waiting for.

Thunder rolled through the afternoon again and only a split-second afterwards I felt the sting of your hand on the slick skin of my bottom. I yelped but did not shudder with shock, aware that my position was precarious.

Thankfully, the storm was not close enough to be in danger of a lightning strike and the only thing I had to fear was your resounding smacks, each one coming in tandem with the booms of thunder, the pauses filled with a soothing rub from your palm or a salacious tease of my pussy lips.

“We’ll get you warmed up yet,” you teased.

You kept to your word and soon my ass felt on fire from your ministrations and my knickers were soaked through with my own pleasure. The air smelt wonderfully of pussy juice and petrichor.

Each spank made my flesh sing and my cunt twitch, each one was seared into my memory. You were unforgiving and I was unending in what I could take. The branch of the swinging tree wavered and shook, but did not give. I wavered and shook, but did not give.

When you grew tired of spanking me you loosened the rope from my ankles and lowered me by the legs, leaving me once again on tiptoe. My limbs were sore from taking my weight and my bottom ached in the most welcome, wanton way.

“Thank you,” I said and you smiled. You kissed me passionately and I wished I had my hands free to hold your face.

With my body stretched like this and my toes barely touching the moist earth beneath my feet, I was at the perfect height for you to slip your once-again stiff cock past my pathetically see-through panties and into my opening. You fucked me roughly against the bark of our old childhood haunt and I gasped and giggled in the fresh, new air as the sudden rainstorm began to wane around us.

As I bounced on your cock in the security of your restraints and the shelter of our intimacy, I relished the dying sound of the rain and the crescendo of our orgasm together. We’d likely have to turn back so as not to catch cold in our wet things, but for now the sanctuary of the swinging tree was all we needed to fuck and be fucked, to love and be loved and to revel in every moment of it. ♦

A Read to Remember

♦ I found you nestled in the attic, half-walled-in by piles of books and a few old trunks, like a contented Rapunzel in her tower. Like her, your long braid of hair was your beauty, but certainly not your only charm, and now it lay shimmering in the light of an old lamp perched precariously nearby. You were curled into one of our many fluffy blankets that you had brought up the little ladder to the top of the house. In weather like this, you were barely ever seen without one, no matter the actual temperature inside. They comforted you in the dreariness of the bleak midwinter. The soft, fluffy fur laid warm kisses on your skin and I think you liked to fancy yourself wrapped in a pelt, the honoured daughter of a noble barbarian tribe.

I wondered what land you had lost yourself in now, what faraway scenes filled your head. You hadn’t noticed me come up. Your eyes were fixed to the page, your lips slightly parted and your face radiant with a familiar tranquillity. You were transfixed.

I didn’t want to disturb you. It would be like waking you from some glorious dream, a six o’ clock alarm blaring into fantasy land with a cruel message to return to the real world.

Only, I had to get closer. You were magnetic. I love you and I love the trill of your laughter, the feel of your body undulating as we fuck, the sway of your hips when you dance… But this was like candid photography, a glimpse into the private you that even I don’t always clearly see. A you deconstructed.

You turned the page delicately and the movement of your arm pulled the blanket from your neck a little, exposing the start of a collarbone and a hint of smooth skin.


I moved a little closer, the better to see you, my dear, but in the dim attic I caught my foot on some frippery and sent it rolling, clanking a metre or two.

The spell was broken, but you cast another with your smile as you saw me standing there like a lemon. You could so easily have been cross, but you beckoned me close, the blanket falling fully from your bare shoulder as you did.

I too smiled as, in the glow of the old lamp, I saw the spatter of freckles on your shoulder peeking out from under the braid of your burnished hair.

You made space beside you in the blanket-bower and threw your barbarian pelt around my shoulders like a cape, drawing me into your world and pulling me close. You put the book down reverently on a nearby trunk and turned to me, taking my hands in your own.

“Kiss me,” you said and your word was law.

Your lips tasted of honeyed tea and your skin was cool as I brought my hand to your neck. Your braid brushed the back of my hand and your fingers stroked sigils at my temples.

When we moved apart my eyes flickered not to yours, but rapidly around your haphazard book-fort. You raised an eyebrow.

Just enough room, I thought.

I took the blanket from our shoulders and spread it on the floorboards. I tucked a stray curl of hair behind your ear. I kissed you firmly on the forehead, took you by the shoulders and lay you back on the now-covered floor.

You smiled another beatific smile, this one with a hint of something less saintly, and drew me to your hips. My pelvis pressed into yours and I placed one hand on either side of your shoulders to prop myself up. Just the position was a match to my kindling; desire spelt out in flames that wrote themselves onto my skin, that scorched me to action.

I put a hand behind your braided head and pulled you upwards into a kiss. I transferred my heat to your mouth, my ache to your body, sent it scurrying down nerves and pathways into the reaches of your body.

I woke you with a kiss.

As my hand had flown to your head, now yours flew to mine. You took me, but not roughly, by the hair and in a deft movement flipped our positions, sending me to the floor and you over me in an exact and graceful reversal. We were still locked together at the hip, but now your legs straddled mine and you rose above me like a caryatid. You cupped your breasts and caressed them; you rolled your hips, grinding at my pelvis, pressing your sex against mine, only thin layers of fabric separating us.

I watched, enraptured, as you squeezed your pert breasts, your nipples hard under your lace-hemmed pyjama vest. In the dim attic room, your breath misted and caught the low light of the lamp. Your eyes were closed as your fingers pinched at your nipples through your top. Your hips continued to roll as I took them in my hands. My fingers crept under the trim of your top, but not for long as, now warmed a little by your fervour, you stripped it off in one move.

I sighed at the look of you and your eyes opened, fixing me in their sights before you darted forth at your target. You peppered my neck with kisses and pulled my top awkwardly from my torso. The rest of our clothes followed, one by one, until we were both naked in the cool air, surrounded by paperbacks and paraphernalia.

You sunk claws into the flesh of my flanks and rode me again, the slick, soft lips of your downy pussy sliding over my unsubtle erection. I stroked my way up the curve of your stomach, taking my time with your body even as you began to drive me mad with your teasing. Your thighs and hips fully explored, I made my way to your breasts, plucking at your nipples and grasping at the soft undersides. You gasped and quickened your pace, your eyes taking on a lost look as they did when you were reading. But you were lost in the here and now, rather than before in some faraway fantasy. You were lost in the euphoria of flesh upon flesh, your juices and my pre-cum mingling, creating a musk in the air that smelt like all our past lusts together combined.

You pushed your clitoris against the head of my cock as you rode me. Your breath grew heavy as you masturbated yourself on my body, my hands tweaking your nipples and my tongue deeply wishing for your taste. I watched as you shuddered to orgasm, your groans sounding too big for your seemingly delicate body to have made.

“God, I love you, ” I spat out.

Watching you come on top of me was now too much for me to take without burying myself inside you. I needed to feel your pussy around me. I needed, frankly, to fuck.

Luckily, in our time together we’ve come to know what each other wants fairly well and you knew I’d be aching to be within you now. You dipped a finger in your wetness, leant forward and curled your fingertip into my mouth, leaving the indescribable taste of you on my tongue as you kissed me on the forehead and turned to face my feet.

You leant forward on all fours and presented your flawless and slightly freckled behind to me, your plump pussy lips poking out from beneath a sculpted pair of cheeks. You lowered yourself gently, but smoothly, towards my straining erection and stopped just as the tip touched your sex. After a few agonising seconds, you continued your descent and I wrapped my hand around the base of my shaft to keep it steady. I felt the push of my fleshy head against your entrance and the slight resistance of your pussy, even as wet as it was.

Soon the head of my cock slipped inside you, the tight, warm walls of your pussy hugging it tightly. You lowered further and I pushed my hips upwards to meet you, both of us desperate for the feeling of satisfaction it would bring. I wanted my whole length inside you. I wanted to fill you up. I wanted you to bounce on my shaft until I exploded. I wanted to give my pleasure to you, to press it firmly into your hands to do with as you wished. I wanted to give myself, wholly.

You began to move up and down on top of me, my cock sliding in and out of your wet sex, my breath ragged. As you moved your braid swung rhythmically over your back, a metronome for our pleasure. I enjoyed the show before me as much as I enjoyed the feelings coming in waves down my cock. Your back was arched beautifully, forming little ripples at the small of your back. Your hair was shining with a golden tint. Your curves rippled with each movement.

My fingers curled into the blanket beneath me as my shoulders strained and my neck tensed and the build-up of glorious feelings in my cock became too, too much. I was engulfed in my orgasm and you cried out as hot liquid pulsed out into you. When I re-awoke in myself I felt my own juices start to slide from your pussy and pool around the base of my shaft.

You pulled yourself from me and crawled up beside me, pulling the edges of the blanket over us as you snuggled into my chest. I wondered briefly how long we had like this before the lure of the books piled all about us drew you away into a wonderland again.

I decided I didn’t care. We were here now, nestled and panting in our own wonderland that smelt like sweat and felt like bliss. I looked into your eyes and we lost ourselves together there, for a time. ♦

King of Hearts

♦ Her heavy breath brushed the lobe of my ear as she leant in to kiss my neck. She smelt faintly of men’s deodorant and alcohol. Her lips brushed my skin teasingly before she nipped at me, catching me off-guard, her teeth finding purchase. She released me and grinned; I stifled a giggle. Her eyes were full of sparks and japes half-remembered.

I remembered what those eyes could lead to only too well.

I shifted in anticipation, my bare thighs cosied and comforted by the warmth of the bare duvet beneath us. She leant back onto her knees, exposing the worn-through holes in her jeans. Her delicate fingers probed under my buttocks, feeling for the hem of my too-flimsy dress.

I shifted again, this time to allow her to free the hem from my weight. Her brown eyes caught the light as she lifted my skirts, her irises seeming to shift colour like a cheap mood ring.

She pulled my skirts up my thighs slowly, letting the sheer fabric glide over my skin, her eyes staying locked to mine until the skirts reached their destination at my waist. Once they had, her eyes travelled down to fix on my shamefully bare and smooth crotch. I fancied I could almost hear the word ‘whore’ echo in her pretty blonde head, but who knows what she was really thinking?

I felt like a butterfly on a pin.

I pressed my thighs together, hiding as much of my naked slit as possible. The heat rose on my cheeks. I was enjoying this too much.

Her hands came to rest gently on my wrists, squeezing tight before quickly bringing my arms up above my head. She leant in, pressing my captured wrists into the wall above the bed, her left hand dropping to tangle in my hair as she kissed me full on the lips.

My tongue sought hers and I pressed forward into her, kissing back fiercely. My wrists tested her grasp a little but not too much. Deep down I knew that if I escaped her I would only leave myself wide open to being caught again. I didn’t want to be free of her; the fight wasn’t in me. Whatever hold she had on me physically was nothing when the mental hold she had on me was so much more. Like so many times before I was falling into submission before even really being pushed.

She leant back suddenly and, letting go of me for a moment, moved to straddle my legs. I could still feel her on my lips as I watched her. In one agonisingly slow move that in truth probably didn’t even last as long as our kiss, she pulled the tight grey vest from her body. Her beautifully round breasts quivered slightly from the movement, her nipples erect and inviting.

I took her by the waist, loving the feel of the soft skin there and enjoying the curve of her body under my palms. To me, her waist was sculpted more finely than a Rodin and squeezable beyond belief. I pulled myself forward into her body, my mouth fluttering kisses over her breasts like moth against a light bulb.

A sigh hissed out from her lips as I tasted the tip of her nipple, my tongue circling the bud slowly, tentatively, before taking it into my mouth. I sucked gently and removed one hand from her flank, running it up her body, taking the scenic route at her breast before coming to rest behind her neck.

She took that badly; a step too far, too impertinent. Her fingers tangled in my hair again, this time to pull back firmly as I lifted my mouth from her nipple. I gasped and went with the tug.

My neck now exposed, she drew a long, firm scratch down it and then under my collarbone, hooking her finger under the strap of my dress and pulling it from my shoulder. She did the same on the other side and my dress slipped down over my breasts under its own weight, exposing my chest.

She darted forward and bit me hard on the top of my breast, making me yelp in surprise. Her teeth pinched in and she sucked at the soft skin a little into the bargain. Desire fizzed and rolled in my cunt. I sighed heavily. She let go and her lips brushed over my nipple before she took another firm hold, this time on the round underside of my breast.

I wriggled, but made no move to stop her. I liked playing defiant now and then, liked to test the limits, but with her there was really no question as to who, no matter the outfit, wore the trousers. It didn’t come up in humdrum life. No sign of it showed in our ordinary friendship. But once in a while she’d decide to pull me into another world with her. A world where unspoken rules were made clear by look and touch and a knack for punishment on her part.

Here, in this world of sighs and ecstasy-as-flesh, she was king.

She spoke for the first time since we sipped drinks together at the party, since she’d taken my hand and led me giddily upstairs.

“Pass me my bag and then turn around and close your eyes. I want your hands on the headboard bar at all times. No peeking. You’re in enough trouble already….” She paused with a smile that would have fooled Red Riding Hood in a wink. I was not so naive.

“..and I’m going to enjoy showing you just how much.” ♦

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this since it’s my first attempt at girl on girl fiction. Don’t be shy to leave a comment! Story kindly beta read by the lovely Maddie, thanks!