Tag Archives: fiction

My Writing Process

I’ve been tagged in a meme-style thing that’s going around at the moment by SheBoppin. And it was really fun to do! I definitely enjoyed writing about writing, even if my writing at the moment is a bit different to how it might be normally.

I believe I’m supposed to tag people at the end to carry on the meme, but frankly I’ve no idea who hasn’t already done one and I’ve also always hated singling people out for stuff like this in case I leave someone out and upset them. So, if you’re reading this blog post and you haven’t done it yourself yet, consider yourself tagged!

Without further ado…

First Off: What am I working on?

I’m not! Or rather I’ve just finished something, so I’m actually between writing projects at the moment. The future, of course, holds more reviews, more Very Short Stories, more posts in general and more submissions to erotica anthologies. In fact, that’s what I’ve just finished. I’ve been a busy bee over the last week or so doing research, plotting, writing and self-editing for an anthology of historical erotica, specifically set in the 1920s.

It was hard! Not only has it been a little while since I’ve written erotic fiction of any real length but I’ve never done historical before. And I may never do so again! I very much enjoyed all my initial research (I’m quite a fan of the ’20s already, which helps), but I found myself researching a lot more during the actual story itself than I’d expected. At some points nearly every sentence required a Google search! Notably, I wasted at least half an hour trying to work out what 1920s department store changing rooms, if any, were like. Then I scrapped that bit entirely anyway. Yay.

In any case, the story’s been accepted, so watch this space for news on the anthology!

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Well, that depends which of “my work” we’re talking about. when it comes to reviews, I think I probably go into a little more detail than most, which leaves my reviews thorough but perhaps a little lengthy. I’d love to be snappier and punchier with them, like some of my favourite reviewers, but I just can’t bring myself to leave anything out, just in case someone finds it helpful. I also don’t sugar the pill. I’ve seen some reviewers reviewing products that I just can’t believe they’ve actually enjoyed. Sure, people are different, but I sometimes wonder if they’re just much less critical than me.

When it comes to general sex blogging, I think I’m still a rambly but it’s more because of a sort of conversational tone than any thoroughness. Clearly I just can’t shut up. I also like to spatter the blog with geeky references, but, hey, that’s just my life. Full of nerd.

As for erotica, I actually don’t feel I’m really qualified to answer! I’d love to know! And, heck, if you think you know any distinctive features of my erotica, I’d love to know what you think they are. I won’t bite. For some of my erotica, especially my flash fiction, I’ve noticed a bit of a tendency to try to evoke and use nostalgia. I like that and I hope it works well.

Why do I like what I do?

Again, it depends. I’m not actually sure why I like reviews except that I love sex toys, I love having Very Important Opinions and I think I don’t actually suck at reviewing, which is nice. Plus, I enjoy setting up the photos of the toys too.

For writing about my actual sex life, well… I’m not actually sure I do any more. Yeah. Awkward. It’s not that Crush and I don’t have good sex any more, we totally do (and we also have sex which is just “fine”, because that’s relationships), it’s just that I don’t really think I’m interested in blogging about it any more. And I have no idea why. It’s something I’ve not really come to any decision on yet, sort of hoping to avoid it, but it shouldn’t stop me writing the blog.

At “worst”, the focus will shift even more onto reviews, erotica and stuff about sex rather than me going on about me having sex. Because I’m not actually sure what the point of that is any more. I started the blog to be sexual when I felt “real life” wasn’t fit for that. These days, well, I’m a fucking adult, I can talk about sex all I like in real life and anyone who doesn’t like it can go to hell. Not so much need for a specific space for it any more.

As for erotica, well, I’ve always loved to write creatively. I wanted to be an author for quite a chunk of my childhood. And now, whilst I’m not making a living off it (or really trying to at the moment), I guess an author is what I am. Which… still feels a bit fraudulent to say, but, hey, Amazon agrees with me. Writing creatively about sex, incidentally, still absolutely grabs me. I think I might be channelling all my energy for writing erotically about sex into fiction rather than fact, perhaps.

How does my writing process work?

Reviews are easy. During periodic testing, I first jot down anything that leaps out at me about the toy. It all goes into a draft post as it comes out of my head. I rearrange that to suit the flow of a review and then see what else I can mention about the toy when I sit and think about it. I then look back at a previous review of mine and follow that same rough structure, using my notes and adding more details where necessary. Then it’s a quick proofread and post. Done.

For fiction, it’s harder. Er, panic? If the theme of the story needs research (like my latest ’20s one), I research. I think over hooks and ideas for what the plot could be or what my angle on the theme might be. I make notes of snippets or inspirations that appeal to me. I try to find a story that grabs me. I can usually feel whether or not I can make an idea work.

Once I’ve got an idea, I try to hash out a vague order of events or scenes and then I just start writing, beginning to end. Rainy Mood is essential, because silence cripples my creative thought process (but not my other ones). If I’m on a topic that suits music (jazz for the ’20s or tango for Take Your Partner), I can work with one non-intrusive instrumental piece on repeat. No new stimuli.

When I’ve finally finished (I get quicker the further in I go), I get Crush to read over it for typos and inconsistencies. Then I send it to a beta-reader (or two) who is usually the divine and intensely skilled Lady Pandorah. If she likes it, I know it’s not crap. I work on any feedback or clarifications needed and then send it off!

Eroticon 2014 – Saturday, Part 2

♦ After a busy morning, lunch was quickly eaten with friends old and new, tweets were duly caught up on and retweeted and then it was on to the afternoon. Much as I think the speakers are fantastic, there was no way I was going to the talk about sex and spirituality. As an atheist and as someone who tries to be rational, spirituality of any kind is just not something that applies to me. Even the closest I’ve got to writing about a sexual and spiritual experience was definitely not a spiritual experience.

Instead I headed over to the Photography workshop, which was being run by Molly after the original speaker had come up against urgent family problems. I have to say, I was very impressed by Molly’s ability to pull a very good session out of thin air!  Of course, when you know that much about your topic I suppose all you have to do is tell people it, but if you’d told me it had been planned all along, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

We got to see the impressive Lightroom program at work (I’m really going to have to get it), we learnt that essential self-photography items like tripods and triggers needn’t be expensive and I learnt perhaps my most valuable technical tip of the weekend: don’t upload photos bigger than 900 x 600 to WordPress and just use the WordPress photo percentages to resize them. Photos that big aren’t needed (for screen use, anyway) and using that method can make your site very slow indeed. It was sort of obvious once DomSigns said it, but it’d never occurred to me before and I do that all the time. Looks like I’m going to be going back through all my photos to resize them properly (and add watermarks) soon!

At the end of the session, Molly mentioned her photo idea of getting a bunch of attendees in a row, back to the camera and bare-arsed. The room figured now was as good a time as any to do it! I so, so, so nearly joined in, but nervousness just won out. It was a tough decision, on the one hand it would be an awesome, bond-forming and empowering thing to be part of and I’d get a great picture with me in for my efforts. On the other hand, I was shy and nervous and I felt it was a rare occasion that my arse looks good on camera. I didn’t want to hate the shot. Getting my bum out in a room full of people seemed scary but also thrilling, but there were so many people already volunteering and I took so long deciding that I chickened out despite geting myself 95% of the way to going “Fuck it!” and joining in.

It was probably a good decision, though, as I’d have had to have spent ages awkwardly easing up my tights way after everyone else had already re-robed and plus the final picture shows a lot more possibly-identifying clothes, body shape and back of head than I’d really be comfy with. Next year, though, if the opportunity arises, fuck it, I’m in. Someone make me if necessary.

The next session was a big toss up: do I indulge my tinkerer side and go for tech talk or my creative side and go for tension and conflict in erotica? Well, in the end I’d been to plenty of techy ones in previous years and conflict in writing is really something I’d like to get a better handle on, so I headed to Mirren Baxter and Judith Watts‘s Building tension: conflict and consent in erotic fiction.

I’m so glad I did, as it turned out to be my favourite session of the whole weekend. At first it was a little hard to see where the speakers were going. We were asked to list all of the reasons we could think of that someone, whether from this reality or another, might have sex. Here’s what we as a group got (click to embiggen):

Eroticon Conflict and Consent Reasons 1Eroticon Conflict and Consent Reasons 2

I managed almost twenty myself and felt like I’d pretty much exhausted the options, so it was amazing to see another 30 or so ideas pop out of other people’s heads.

The bulk of erotica, we were told, tends to unfortunately focus on only the first two of these reasons: love and lust. How boring! Here’s where the session started to turn, for me, revolutionary and yet so simple. Pick something else. Anything else! Any of these other reasons to have sex is much more interesting than love or lust in terms of narrative and any of these other reasons comes prepacked with conflict, whether it’s against the self, another character, society or nature. Just try it and you’ll agree. This is the wonderful method I learned for this session: pick a reason for a character to have sex, ask yourself “What type of conflict can arise from that reason? What stands in this character’s way?”. Boom, instant conflict, instant tension, instant narrative.

And that is what I absolutely loved about the session. So simple, but so inspiring, such a new way of looking at how to create a narrative. And so creative. That room was abuzz with energy, you could tell. I was so impressed that I went straight down to the Eroticon bookstore and picked up their Mirren and Judith’s book Get Started in Writing Erotic Fiction (also available for Kindle), because frankly if the rest of the book has even anything like that in it, it’ll be worth it.

Finally for the day, we headed in to watch A Place of Power – the exquisite grace of deep surrender, a demonstration of ecstatic BDSM by London Faerie and his partner Marti. I won’t go into too much as my clarity of detail fades the further from it I get and as I feel you really had to be there for it to have the same meaning. Faerie and Marti, though, are captivating, both as individuals and as couples. And their play together was beautiful to watch. Although I understood the significance of the head-shaving, it didn’t really resonate with me and left me a little cold, but the rest of the session certainly connected. I find myself jealous of their wonderful skill and connection in BDSM! The majority of the session was breathtaking, beautiful and even made me a little shy in places. I dearly wished I’d got a chance to talk to them after the day ended, but they were rightly very popular and I was feeling a little too nervous to approach. Next time!

Speaking of next time, do “tune in” then to hear a little about Saturday night and a lot about Sunday’s great sessions! ♦

Micro-Fiction #1 – The Resistance

♦ Whilst I don’t have all the time in the world, sadly, to write normal fiction at the moment, I think I can still find time here and there to write a little micro-fiction themed around sex, love and all the other things this blog is for. I’m hoping to capture something strong in just a few words, ideally a dozen or fewer.

I’d love to know what impression this gives you. What’s the story here? 

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“But I love you.”

Trust in Me by AbstractNeko

Finessing Sex – Eroticon 2013

♦ In my last post, I wrote about the Eroticon 2013 poetry workshop run by Ashley Lister and showed you the poems I wrote in a panic during the session. Now there’s more where that came from, but from a different, equally fabulous session: KD Grace‘s Finessing Sex creative writing workshop.

Creative writing 5: Finessing Sex : KD Grace

It was described thusly…

“KD Grace will take writers beyond the slang of the old ‘in and out’ and beyond the biology of coitus to the other levels where sex takes place and will show how well-written sex shapes the story and the characters. The session will involve some writing and some brainstorming and hopefully a whole lot of finessing what we all want to write right. Though the session is designed to help newbies break through to a deeper level of writing sex, it will also help anyone writing sex in fiction do the same.”

KD Grace, a wonderful speaker, furnished us all with a handout and began her presentation on how to make our writing zing, along with some incredibly helpful advice, before getting to the part that made me gulp nervously: actually writing.

Five Minutes: Invent your characters

Using the tips she’d given us, we were to spend five minutes thinking of some characters to work with. I struggled here, indecisively bouncing back and forth between ideas.

At first I considered “cheating” and using the often-helpful method of basing characters off real people. I considered fictionalising my current girl-crush Red. Then I wrote, a step further away from that, of “the girl in the coffee shop with the not-quite-covered-up tatts and the pierced nose” and “the shy student with a thesis to finish and a need to blow off steam”.

Then, a love triangle of characters I’d written for multi-author fantasy story back in my teens popped unbidden into my head. Fuck, where on Earth had they come from? That was never designed to have erotic content, although I’m fairly sure that sex was going to come up as a plot point. But they suddenly SO wanted to be written. I’m now seriously wondering if there’s something I can do with them in future.

By this point, my five minutes was nearly up and I’d decided that those characters needed far too much housekeeping and gentle treatment in my head. So I brushed them aside and hurriedly decided to hang everything on a story hook I’d thought of a few months earlier: a girl who fetishes ancient/old objects. A kink for the past. Rushing like mad before the timer, I invented a quick secondary character: her shy boyfriend, not understanding her kink but eager to please and deeply in love.

Ten Minutes: Write your sex scene

Then, characters still jostling for space in my head and still battling indecision, a longer, harder challenge. Start writing a sex scene in medias res and don’t stop until ten minutes are up. Don’t be too picky, don’t self-edit, just write like the wind.

This is what I came up with…

The door creaked far more than I’d have liked as it closed; the little draft-excluding brush on the bottom – the kind you only get in public buildings like this one – kicked up fine dust from the marble floor. We waited, fixed on these little details while the danger of being discovered passed.

But no-one came.

Hurriedly, he took my hand and led me over to the main exhibit of this room: a fossilised tree trunk calcified millions of years ago. I reached out to touch it reverently, almost feeling an aura around it as I drew near. It was cool to the touch and smooth like onyx.

“Come on,” he hissed. “We don’t have long.”

I turned and hopped up backwards onto the trunk’s broad top, feeling the millennia-old relic on my bare thighs.

I wasn’t wearing panties. And he knew it.

Gingerly he placed a hand on either of my knees and splayed them outwards. I wriggled and eased my skirt up as he did so. The glacier mint sharpness of the trunk made my…

And that’s as far as I got. I noticed that even though I thought I’d started in the middle of the action, I was nowhere near. Very little sex happened in my sex scene, which quite surprised me.

On the whole I can’t say that I’m pleased with it, but I’m pleased with the idea of it. I certainly don’t hate it. I’d never publish it, of course, but there’s some promise, I think. And that’s the idea. KD told us that the important thing is to write, that you’ve got to have something on the page to work with before you can edit anything, improve anything, play with anything.

Write shit down, sort it out later.

It was very refreshing, because I’m perhaps guilty of being a little too precious about the words I actually put down on “paper”. It’s got to be as close to right as I can get it first time. But it can’t be and it never will be and being forced to deal with that was a wonderful exercise.

Will you be seeing this story again? Yes, I hope so. It needs a lot of thought put into the characters and the plot, but the hook is there and there are some bare bones to work with. And, if nothing else, I’ve proved I can do something with it.

Now all I need to do is to find more instances where I have a pen, paper, five minutes and enough brain energy to think with and I’m sorted.

Don’t forget, you can share the results of your ten minute writing exercise over on Irregular Voice with Mia More. ♦

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

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!