Jenny Swallows

THE LAST FEW DAYS OF THE NEW YEAR SALE

2012-01-28T15:39:00.000-08:00

From now till January 31, (almost) all my Kindle and Nook e-book editions are available for $2.99.

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES
Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

The sex is hot, but the librarians are hotter, as authors Chrissie Bentley and Jenny Swallows reveal the lip-smacking truth about what goes on behind (and on top of, and around as well) the bookshelves.

Includes the tales THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN, SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY, COUSIN TOM’S FIRST BLOWJOB, CUM BREATH, THE LIBRARIAN’S CHRISTMAS STOCKING, THE STUDENT BODY, STICKY FINGERS, MY CIVIC DUTY, WATCHING THE CLOCK, THOROUGHLY MODEM MISS and CHECKING OUT.

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Roadhead - Torrid Tales of Sex in the Front Seat by Chrissie Bentley

It’s an adult fantasy that’s built upon a youthful reality. I don’t know about you, but almost all of my earliest significant sexual experiences took place in a moving vehicle of some description, from the first hard cock I ever touched to the first (more or less) that I ever sucked, from the first time I orgasmed to someone else’s touch, to the first time I felt that touch to begin with.

It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It’s just... where else were we expected to go? It’s why the western world is still littered with Lovers’ Lanes, and long after the drive-ins rolled up their screens, we all have friends who lost their innocence to the splash and slash of an all night creature feature. Our parents used the car to get from A to B. We used it to learn the birds and the bees.

That is the world that this collection of short stories takes us back to, those wonderful years when parents or room mates or whoever held a curfew, and bed rooms and back rooms and bathrooms and all were out of the question for more than a cuddle.

So we took to the highway, the wide open road, with the wind in our hair and Bruce on FM, and I still say a silent prayer of thanks to the speed cop who seemed happy to believe that I was simply resting my head in my boyfriend’s lap, and who didn’t even ask him to move the jacket I’d been resting under. He’d probably seen it all before anyway and hey - he was young once as well.

Not that every story here takes place in the front seat. We begin on a Greyhound, and take a bus too, and we even get diverted to a motorcycle sidecar. What they all have in common, though, are youth and exuberance and, most of all, escape. Escape from reality, escape from authority and, most of all, escape from inexperience and ignorance.

Travel broadens the mind, they say. The travelers here have very broad minds.

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THE FIRST TIME & 59 OTHER MAGIC MINUTES is a breathtaking compendium comprising no less than SIXTY sexsational verses, tracing her sexual journey from inquiring teen to amorous adult, from backstreet assignations to the sanctity of marriage - and beyond.

Poetry will never seem the same again.
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THREE NUNS AND A MOTORCYCLE
A lipsmacking collection of short stories and book excerpts, including highlights from all of my novels and novellas, plus previously unpublished adventures for Ambrose Horne and Cousin Tom, and much more.
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COUSIN TOM'S MOTORBIKE AND OTHER STORIES
Seven hot new erotic adventures with the Rocky Mountains' raunchiest couple. Follow Cousin Rose and Cousin Tom as they hump and bump their way through Monroe CO - includes the stories "Cousin Tom's First Motorbike," "Cousin Tom's Revenge," "Cousin Tom Slips Behind," "Cousin Tom & The Sisters of Mercy," and more!
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WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION
Everybody says you should never mix business with pleasure. But my vacation had already been squeezed in between a couple of work assignments, and I was a single girl in a foreign country. What did I expect might happen?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation is a non-stop whirl of sight-seeing and sex, historic England seen from angles that the tourist guides never mention. And you wouldn't believe my holiday snaps!

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SOHO BY SPOTLIGHT

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In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

Stag movies and blue films were viewed by men, written by men, directed by men and filmed by men. If they hadn’t needed actresses to play a part on camera, they would probably have been made by men as well.

And then a woman came along, and changed that world completely.

This is her story.

DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE contains six full-length, red hot tales of lust, love and the most explosive oral sex imaginable. That’s around fifty pages of sucking, blowing and, of course, swallowing. Because good girls don’t spit.

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The Clit-erion Collection - Ghost Town (1996)

2012-01-27T02:44:00.000-08:00

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
Considering that the American movie industry was more or less built around the mythos of the Wild West, it is surprising how few porn movies look westwards for inspiration - and how fewer still have emerged with their dignity even half as erect as the cocks on display. We think fondly of such Seventies fare as Ramrodder and A Dirty Western, fine examples of the genre's early need to portray sex as rape and little more, and Jamie Gillis' Showdown" was as twisted as any of his post-Misty Beethoven standards. Yet even the current parody boom has yet to look in westward direction... so before you all float off in a This Ain’t Gunsmoke-shaped reverie, or start imagining A Fistful Of Titties, spare a thought for Ghost Town, a 1996 Lori Michaels effort that at least tried to catch a cowpoke-shaped wave.

The plot itself is threadbare but captivating; Michaels and her geeky boyfriend (a painfully over-acting Bobby Vitale) are driving through the desert when the radiator blows. They ease the car into a deserted huddle of semi-derelict buildings, and Michaels is just kicking off the first of the bad-tempered rants that are her main contribution to the dialogue when an old timer emerges from one of the shacks, to warn them they need to get out of Dodge.

Of course they ignore him, instead bedding down for the night in one of the buildings... and that’s when things start to happen.

Okay, this is not a great movie. The costuming is fine, the sets are good, the sex is powerful. But the scenes simply drift without any real forethought and writer/director Toni English clearly had more fun fashioning the old timer’s lines than she did any other aspect of the movie. Indeed, the old guy doesn’t simply emerge as the movie’s most memorable character, he also has lines and timing that would put any established comedians to shame - which is a strange recommendation for a porn film, but it’s one that’s worth following up on regardless.

Peter North, billed as one of the movie’s stars, is little more than a vignette player, shoehorned into the action to tempt Michaels into staying in town, but not exactly offering one of his most virtuoso performances, and the other name players... Sahara Sands, Melissa Hill, Christi Lake... are under-used too, showgirls who put on a period show, but only really shine when they are converting Michaels from a bad-tempered stranded motorist into the star of a lesbian munch-fest.

And yet... there is something strangely lovable about this movie. Michaels, in one of her first starring roles, is always watchable, and her scene with North allows her to pull some very hot tricks out of the box. But more than that, Ghost Town appeals not for what it turned out to be, but for what it could have been. Like I said, the sets are great, and the action that takes place around the action, with the hoary old cowboys drinking and cussing and gambling, is a constant reminder of what a movie like this should be built upon.

So you forgive its faults for exactly the same reasons as you forgive those of the legion mainstream cowboy clunkers that turn up on late night television. Because it’s not just the American movie industry that was built on westerns. Modern America was as well, and like it or not, the tumbleweed, stetsons and six-shooting sheriffs are a part of our DNA. And Ghost Town is a red-blooded part of that.

The Neighborhood Slut

2012-01-25T02:40:00.000-08:00

THE NEIGHBORHOOD SLUT
Be honest, girls, you’ve always wanted to be her, haven’t you?

I just sucked your boyfriend's cock
Well, he said you never did it
Every time that he got fresh
You'd just start to fidget
And then make weak excuses
It was time that you went home
And leave the poor guy sitting there
Alone with his fat bone

So I waited late one evening
Till I knew that you'd gone home
Then I sat down on his stoop
And called his mobile phone
He answered, so I asked him
If he could come out to play
You know he could have just said no
But I knew what he'd say

He came downstairs, unlocked the door
I pulled him to one side
Kissed him one time on the mouth
Then let my left hand slide
Down his chest, down to the cock
The cock you've never touched
To stroke and coax that burning flesh
The flesh you've never sucked

Then I knelt and put him in my mouth
I swallowed him so deep
I felt his knees grow weak, I felt
Him swaying on his feet
As I rammed my mouth down his full length
Touched his stomach with my face
And clutched hard at his hips and butt
While he fucked me, and his pace

Grew faster, harder, and I felt
His cock continue growing
I barely had him two minutes
Before he started blowing
I felt it splash on tongues and gum
My spit smeared it so thick
To bring new flavor, slick and sweet
To the full length of his prick

I swallowed hard and still he came
It dribbled down my chin
I held him firm against me
So that every drop stayed in
I suckled as he softened
I drank down that thick river
I caressed his balls with finger tips
I held him as he shivered

So I sucked off your boyfriend
And I'd do it all again
If you don't want it, you only have
Your stupid self to blame
Except next time, because I know
There's no way that you'd do it
I'll have him lick my pussy too
After he has screwed it

from The First Time & 59 Other Magical Minutes - an anthology of verse by Jenny Swallows
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Uncut and scrumptious

2012-01-24T06:45:00.000-08:00

from What I Did On My Summer Vacation
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Charles Dickens was frowning from his painted perch above the fireplace. Little Nell was gazing down with wide, frightened eyes from an antique print on one wall; sundry souls from “Pickwick Papers” were scampering around in their frames on the other. And I was lying on a four-poster bed, in a four star English hotel, holding the first uncut penis I had ever seen.

I hadn’t noticed it at first… the fact that it was uncut, that is. After all, we’d already made love once that afternoon, and it didn’t feel any different to any other cock I’d had inside me. And when Martin stepped… or, should that be leaped… out of his trousers once we got up to my room, his erection was so full that I really didn’t feel the need to study it.

It was only as he moved up my body, his face glistening with pussy juice and my heart still hammering from the orgasm he sent shimmering through my body; only as I reached between his legs to pull him up further; as I smiled at his galloping return to semi-stiffness, that I noticed… what? A little extra “give” in the way it felt? A little more pliability to its thickness? Or the thin flap of skin that clung stubbornly to the fat purple helmet, a network of tiny veins dark against its opaque sheen?

I held him in one hand, gently massaging his shaft, while I wondered how to phrase my next question. In the end, the silence and stillness just felt embarrassing. “Okay, I’m sorry, but… is it meant to do that?”

Martin glanced down with a little more panic in his eyes than he realized. “Do what?”

“Um, I’ve never seen…” I indicated the bridge of skin. “What is it?”

“My foreskin?” He sounded confused for a moment. And then… “Is that true about American guys, then? That they’re all circumcised?”

“Well, I don’t know about all of them, but most, I think….”

“Not over here, luv. We like to keep our men intact. After all, you never know when you’re going to wake up in a blackberry bush.”

Eh? I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that (I figured it out later… don’t bother asking). “But does it stay like that?” Again I touched the curious flap, and then let out a little “oh” as it slowly retracted onto his shaft. “Just gets a bit sticky, I guess,” he concluded, and I stroked some more, watching in fascination as a thick wave of skin coiled up with my fist, to tap the rim of his helmet.

I looked up at him; he was watching me curiously. “It’s alright, isn’t it? You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ve just never seen one before”: and then, to shatter the growing awareness that I was treating him like a laboratory specimen, I leaned my head forward and let my mouth slip over his helmet. He sighed and I felt an inexplicable sense of relief. Well, at least that’s the same.

His foreskin continued to fascinate me. His prick was thick, his helmet thicker. But when I rolled that extra layer of skin up over it, it became thicker still, so that my lips strained to engulf it. The taste changed, too; sharp and salty when I pulled his skin back, markedly less so as I drew it forward. I loved the contrast, loved the sensation of the flesh folding back against my lips, then rudely bumping them on its way forward… back and forth, back and forth….

The Deep Throat Librarian

2012-01-23T01:46:00.000-08:00

THE DEEP THROAT LIBRARIAN

The ping of new e-mail pulled me away from my spreadsheet, and I glanced across the office to where Terry was sitting. He had his back to me, but obviously he’d had enough of second quarter budget projections too. I opened the mail - “a present for you” - and clicked to download the attachment. I turned back to my work while my Iphone did its duty, then gasped when I turned back to look.

It was a cock.

I looked again at Terry; still facing away, so I hit reply and a smiley face. “Thank you! I love presents.”

I looked back at the photo. Even on that tiny screen it was an impressive specimen, semi hard and angled down, but clearly more than a handful. Or a mouthful come to that. I wondered whose it was; in all the years I’ve known Terry, he has never struck me as the kind of guy who’d have pictures of his own penis stored away on his phone - but, there again, how would I know? And if it wasn’t his, then where did he get it? He wasn’t the sort of guy who Googled “semi soft cock photos,” either.

Ping.

Another, and I opened it quickly, just glancing at the message as I waited for the pic. A frontal shot this time, to show off the girth. A well-rounded shaft, a thick meaty head, and again just on the verge of a full scale erection which... and I don’t know hoe he knew this, either... is exactly the way I like them. To start with, anyway.

My fingers were poised over the keypad. Another thank you seemed redundant, and “nice’ just felt silly. But I couldn’t think of anything witty to write, so I repeated the smiley, hit “send” and then waited.

Ping.

No attachment this time, just a question. “Do you want to go get a bite?”

OMG yes. Suddenly it didn’t seem such a bad idea, agreeing to work on MLK day, getting a jump on the next few week’s schedule while not having to deal with the usual interruptions. No ringing phones, no gabbing co-workers, no unforeseen crises exploding out of nowhere. No members of the public asking dumb questions. Just me and Terry - and two photos of his cock.

I put my computer to sleep, grabbed my purse and crossed the library, to where Terry stood waiting by the security door. “Starbucks or...” he named the little sandwich bar that nestled beside the bus station; it was a longer walk but what the hell, it’s not as if anyone would be timing our break. I fell in step beside him, and waited...

... for him to make a move.

... to say a word.

... to make any sound at all.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Thanks for my present.”

“I thought you’d like it.” He laughed and his hand touched my arm for a moment; he withdrew it, so I threaded my arm through his. “It was lovely.” And then, a short silence later, “maybe we should hit Starbucks. Grab some pastries and coffee, then back to the library. Enjoy the silence while we can.”

So there we were, the place to ourselves, coffee and pastries spread out beneath the “no refreshments” sign, and this thing just hanging unspoken between us, and my mind in absolute turmoil now. All manner of unanswered questions were flying, including the one that was really holding me back. What if he’d sent them by mistake? What if he’d meant to send me something else entirely, a photo of a kitten perhaps, or a blogpost that had made him smile, and clicked the wrong image instead? And what if he didn’t realize he’d done that?

Or, even worse... what if he did?

I opened my purse and took out my phone, checked for fresh messages then punched up my photographs. I loved the way it hung so straight - curves and angles are fine, of course, but there’s something so neat about symmetrical cocks. His balls were well shaped as well, not hanging too low or looking too loose, just tight and... stop this now!

I looked up and he was watching me. “Anything good?”

“I think so. Come here, tell me what you think of this?”

He rose, crossed the rug and settled on the arm of my chair. His arm rested across the top, brushing my shoulders and neck. “Yeah, about that....” His voice seemed uncertain. At last, a reaction!

I was right, sort of. The first one was a mistake, which he only realized when he got my reply. The second one - well, that was in response to my reply, and there would have been a third one but “I lost my nerve.” He laughed and I smiled up at him.

“Well, let’s see it, then.”

He pulled his own phone out his pocket, punched a few buttons, and then handed it to me. Same cock for sure, but... oh my, what a difference a few moments make. Standing out now, standing proud, and what I’d thought was a handful was now two at least, with a thickness to match as well. I hit the arrow key, scrolled forward through the gallery. Longer still, harder yet... thicker too. I could feel my mouth watering, and my pussy too, and the arm on my shoulders had drifted a little, a hand on my arm, a soft, gentle squeeze.

Half a dozen photographs, and each one a little different. The first spot of pre-cum reflecting the flash. The veins growing thicker, the balls getting tighter. It has never failed to amaze me, how many little changes a cock goes through even when it’s already erect. I reached the last one, and passed the phone back.

“When did you take them?”

“One night when I was drunk. Well, watching porn and drunk.”

“Why didn’t you take any more?”

He laughed. “Why do you think?” and I giggled. “Shame. That was the one I most wanted to see.” A good cumshot photograph can keep me smiling for days. And then, “maybe we should take one now.”

The hand squeezed my arm, harder than I was expecting. I took that as a yes, and i took his phone as well. He’d missed the moment once, I was not going to let that happen again.

He glanced around. “Right here?”

“Why not? It’s not as if anyone’s going to come walking in.” The window blinds were tightly closed, and I’d switched off the security cameras when we came in this morning. I rose from my seat, kissed him hard on the mouth, then nudged him to sit there himself. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”

I didn’t unbuckle him right away. I wanted to, more than anything else. But I also wanted to draw out the moment, to run my hands across his body, under his jacket and shirt to his flesh, buttonholes stretching as I teased his nipples, then undoing them all as I bared his chest.

Lightly haired, tightly muscled. I licked his skin, nipping at hairs, circled one nipple with the tip of my tongue, then dragged the wet flat across that little bud. He gasped as my breath cooled the dampness, and I continued to lap, tasting his chest, his abdomen, down... down... and now I undid him because I could see it was time, his pants tight and tented and my wrist brushed the tip. Terry groaned, the tent pole twitched and I leaned into to close my mouth over him, through the fabric of his light gray slacks.

I wished I’d thought to wear lipstick this morning; that would be a mark to savor, and an interesting one for him to explain away as well. The old song flashed through my mind... “lipstick on your pants crotch, told a tale on you-oo.” I filed it away for future mischief, and continued to nuzzle the end of his cock, my hand bunching the fabric of his pants at the base until his dick rose tightly shrouded and I closed my mouth around it.

The photos didn’t lie. He was huge. Thick. Fat. I released him, and now I jerked down his pants, grasped at bare flesh, stretching it back. His helmet thrust skywards and my tongue teased behind it, wondering why in a world that has either abbreviated or created fresh slang for every possible piece of genitalia, the frenulum remains untouched and unloved. “I want to suck your frenulum.” Yeah, that sounds really sexy.

Terry let out a sibilant sigh and I shifted a little, raising his shaft up and sweeping it with long, lazy licks, my saliva soaking the skin as I slipped from base to tip, from side to side. Pause and my teeth would gently close, pressing against skin and tasting his skin as his cock strained even harder and I gnawed my way up, pushing my lips against the eye, suckling pre-cum as it pooled there.

He was too big to suck; I could work my mouth halfway down the crown, but not even a jaw that lives to give head could stretch to accommodate Terry’s whole cock. So I took what I was given, working my mouth on all it could take, slipping across his thick, soaking helmet and it slid back, almost liquid, in the warmth of my mouth. My hand was on his shaft, jerking him; the other dropped to unbutton my blouse. I eased one breast out from under my bra and, resting my jaw for a few precious moments, I traced his prick round my own rigid nipple.

Terry’s hand was on mine, guiding his cock head; he pressed and my nipple pushed back against him, and when he moved away a thin string of pre-cum still held us together. I moved down a little, my breast against his balls, and now he was holding me, guiding my nipple, tracing it round and round his sac as my mouth closed again on that glorious cock, stretched open... then bump... and I had him inside me.

It was so easy! He simply slipped in and kept on slipping, his saliva-greased cock like silk between my welcoming lips, my teeth scraping lightly on the shaft as it passed, and I felt the sweet tap of his cock in my throat; I raised myself slightly and inclined my neck, and there was no show of resistance until my nose grazed his abdomen.

My free hand traced his ball bag and pushed it to my lip, folding fresh flesh beneath it for a moment, as I breathed through my nose and held him there frozen, devouring his cock from end to deep end.

Slowly I released him, began paying out the meat, sliding my mouth up that fabulous shaft, till the crown bumped my teeth and I paused for a second. Then down again, then up again, faster and faster and his hands on my head, pushing me down even harder at last as he suddenly cried out

my head, as he suddenly cried out “oh fuck!”

And now I could suck him, now I face-fucked him - and as he started bucking, I so want his cum. I want him to shoot his whole load in my mouth, I want to drink him, to swallow him whole, to feel his thick juice as it blasts down my throat.

But I had a job to do, and I did it; as he cried out “I’m cumming,” I whipped my head back, the phone at the ready and I just started clicking, picture after picture as cum geysered from his cock, and I was jerking him faster till the spray at last slowed... and then I popped him back in my mouth, sucking the last of his cum from his cock, draining his balls as he softened inside me.

Then I handed him his camera as I buttoned up my blouse; pulled a tissue from my purse to mop mess off the furniture; and I hoped that the photographs were as good as they should be. Because if they’re not... I looked at the clock; it was 1.25.

Oh, that’s alright then. We have all afternoon if we need to do it again.

-------------------
and for more hot and horny library adventures, don't forget to pick up The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories.

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ROADHEAD - AVAILABLE NOW KINDLE AND NOOK

2012-01-21T03:54:00.000-08:00

AVAILABLE NOW
Roadhead - Torrid Tales of Sex in the Front Seat by Chrissie Bentley

It’s an adult fantasy that’s built upon a youthful reality. I don’t know about you, but almost all of my earliest significant sexual experiences took place in a moving vehicle of some description, from the first hard cock I ever touched to the first (more or less) that I ever sucked, from the first time I orgasmed to someone else’s touch, to the first time I felt that touch to begin with.

It wasn’t deliberate, and it certainly wasn’t planned. It’s just... where else were we expected to go? It’s why the western world is still littered with Lovers’ Lanes, and long after the drive-ins rolled up their screens, we all have friends who lost their innocence to the splash and slash of an all night creature feature. Our parents used the car to get from A to B. We used it to learn the birds and the bees.

That is the world that this collection of short stories takes us back to, those wonderful years when parents or room mates or whoever held a curfew, and bed rooms and back rooms and bathrooms and all were out of the question for more than a cuddle.

So we took to the highway, the wide open road, with the wind in our hair and Bruce on FM, and I still say a silent prayer of thanks to the speed cop who seemed happy to believe that I was simply resting my head in my boyfriend’s lap, and who didn’t even ask him to move the jacket I’d been resting under. He’d probably seen it all before anyway and hey - he was young once as well.

Not that every story here takes place in the front seat. We begin on a Greyhound, and take a bus too, and we even get diverted to a motorcycle sidecar. What they all have in common, though, are youth and exuberance and, most of all, escape. Escape from reality, escape from authority and, most of all, escape from inexperience and ignorance.

Travel broadens the mind, they say. The travelers here have very broad minds.

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READ A FREE EXCERPT: BRICKDUST

Brick dust.

It was in my hair, in my eyes, grinding into my cheek as I pressed the side of my face flatter against the old wall, and my fingers scrabbled and loosened more. Under my nails and into my flesh, livid red streaks of crumbling masonry, a century of downtown in my nose and in my mouth, licking the wall as I screamed, cried and pleaded, and behind me, my lover kept pounding away, his cock almost splitting me as it thumped at my gut, and my entire body was lurching with every fresh blow... oh-oh-oh-oh-oh....

His hands on my waist, tight, hold me steady, his legs against mine and I coiled one around him, securing my balance as I reached down and under, deep between my legs to the flames that we were feeding, grabbing balls that dripped hot with the juices I was streaming... I gripped hard and tugged them, and he fucked me even harder, pummeling me till I could not even catch a breath.

I was cumming, I knew that and so did he, because his hands were on my breasts, under my T-shirt and twisting my nipples; hot breath on my neck alternated soft bites with soft curses, a running commentary of incoherence crashing against my senses as every nerve end in my body converged in a spot deep in my gut... paused and then pulsed, an explosion of light and white heat as well, as his cock exploded at the same time as me.

My head twisted back to meet his mouth, and we screamed deep inside one another’s throats, as our bodies shook and shuddered together, milking our frames for the last drops of pleasure, the last squirt of fluid, the last moments of ecstasy. He stepped back and I felt my cunt scream in shocked, deprived protest, but a roar from the other side of the wall called for an encore, and we clung together and laughed.

A thumb gently grazed my cheek. “You’re covered in dust,” he half laughed as he wiped it, and I seized his hand, sticky with my cunt juice, and sucked my own flavor from his thick, ringless fingers. Then I traced my own hand through the crumble on the wall, and smeared the red smudges across his cheeks and chin, livid flashes to match the ones I wore, brick dust and thick lust and the stink of musk that rose from us both, to let the whole world know what we’d just been doing.

I laughed, and took his hand. “Shall we go catch the end of the show?”

-------------------------------------

About halfway up First, across the road from the Whatever-mart, and just down from what used to be Borders. It isn’t there any longer. Progress came along and tore it down in the noughties, replaced a solid stone building that had stood for a hundred years with an “iconic” pane of glass and steel that will probably collapse within a decade. It used to be a bank, back in the days when every small town had its own; then the bank went bust, or was bought out or whatever, but the upstairs levels were never the interesting part. It was the vault where things happened, a deeply buried, wood paneled hole that hosted a speakeasy in time for Prohibition, a jazz club during the Second World War, a disco in the seventies and a rock club thereafter. All, of course, called the Vault.

I loved that place. Even when the band was crap, which usually turned out to be the case, I’d be there every Friday and Saturday, and not only because I seriously had the hots for the guy who worked the door and checked our IDs and always seemed to brush my breast with the back of his hand when he passed back my card. And I’d go home that night and float away wondering what he’d do if one night I laid my hand on his, and held it there for a minute or two, so he could feel for himself how he made my heart pound, and... well, he could feel.

I was watching him now, as the opening band put away its gear, and a few bored looking roadie types unfolded the headliner’s back drop. He was talking with a red haired girl, and shining his torch on her driving license. She was getting pissy, too, I could see that from here, and the bitch in me smiled as he shook his head slowly and motioned for her to back out of the club. There’s under-age and there’s under-age, and I doubted whether Red was even eligible to drive, let alone drink and dance all night. Me, on the other hand... I had my brother’s old (1983 - eeeek!) Camero and I was old enough to vote. And that was good enough for me.

Talking of my car, though... shit, I left my cigarettes on the passenger seat. Thread my way back across the dance floor, smile back at the occasional slap on the ass from the guys who think that’s a smart thing to do, then back up to My Favorite Doorman. “Is it okay if I slip out for a moment?”

“The band’ll be on in a minute.”

“I’ll be quick.”

“As long as you have your ID when you get back.”

“Thanks.” And interesting. Seems like he enjoys this game as much as I do. I crossed the alley towards the patch of wasteland that doubled as a parking lot, skirted the metalheads who lurked by the trash cans, then jumped a little as a resounding crash announced the arrival of the band onstage. Thoughts of exchanging any words with my doorman went out of my mind - you can’t even hear yourself think in there once the music starts playing.

One of the metalheads was walking my way. “Who’s playing tonight?”

I told him and he sneered. “Wanna play with us?”

I shrugged. “My friends are waiting for me inside.”

“We’re waiting for you here.” I glanced over and two of his mates had drifted closer. I nodded to the taller of the pair. “Hi Darren.”

“Jen.”

“Your buddy here seems to think I want to play.”

“Well, do you?”

Darren and I had fooled around together a few times in the past, usually at those parties you wind up at where the pickings are so slim that it’s any port in a storm. That’s how I felt, anyway. He took things a little more seriously, but I think we had an understanding.

“What do you have in mind?”

He looked down at the ground. “I figured you kinda owe me,” he said, loud enough that I would hear, but softly enough that he could simply have been thinking aloud. I turned to face him. “Oh, you do, do you?” We’d played this game before as well, and sometimes I liked where it led. But the band had gone into their second song now, and I’d not dropped $25 on a ticket for the show just so I could spend the night fencing non-sequiters with Darren. Plus, I had a doorman to see - and speak of the devil....

The light in the club door blinked a little as a figure moved in to the entranceway, looking over towards us. I raised a hand and waved, and Darren looked over as well. He mumbled something and this time it was under his breath, although I have a good idea what it was (four letters, starts with S, rhymes with “glut” and isn’t complimentary); then one of his companions stepped towards me. “Sure she wants to play, Dar.” He reached for my arm and I squirmed away, as the figure in the doorway left its post and began moving... fast... towards us.

Darren shook his head; “forget it,” and the three of them bunched up again as they drifted back towards their trashcans. The doorman paused, looking towards me and then over to them, undecided who to go for first. Then he turned to them and the three did the smart thing, hurtling back up the alley in one stride, and vanishing into traffic that meandered down Second.

Now my hero stepped over to me.

“Everything okay”

“It is now.”

He asked what had happened, I... well, maybe I made it all sound a little more dramatic than it was, and I didn’t let on that I knew one of them either. “I’m okay. I just need to sit for a moment.” I stepped back to my car, unlocked it and slipped inside, then reached over and open the passenger side. “Could you stay for a moment?”

He could.

We sat in silence for a moment, me wondering just how far I should take my defenseless, shaken maiden act, and him... I don’t know, but I think he’d worked it out pretty quickly too, because the arm that went around my shoulders was definitely not simply a comforting one, and as he pulled me gently towards him and my head fell on his shoulder, he turned just enough to embrace my waist too. I raised my head a little, and kissed him.

Okay, you know the Camero, slick, smart and sporty, and blessed with a lot more front seat wriggle room than you’d expect a car that size to have. Provided, of course, your partner is not an ex-Marine with muscles that enter the room thirty seconds before he does. Not fat, not portly. Just... big. And as we kissed and he swung his body around to pin me against my seat, even with it tipped back as far as it would go, I could feel him fighting to wedge himself into the available space.

My hand traced his backbone to the dashboard; reaching around, his waist was so tight against me that his belt buckle was tattooing itself into my flesh. The top of his head pushed against the roof of the car. I broke the kiss, unwillingly but decisively. “Sit back.”

He released me and lowered himself into the passenger seat; and now I did the climbing, leaning over first to kiss him, then awkwardly to try and straddle him, my jeans caught in the gear stick, the cigarette lighter pressing into my hip. He laughed and I joined him. “I knew I should have held out for a bigger car,” I giggled. “A four by four, at least.”

His lips were on my breast through my t-shirt, teasing the nipple that shoved through the fabric; reaching down, I tugged up my top and his mouth widen, engulfing my tit, sucking me into his jaws. Sharp teeth nipped and I yelped; he did it again and I pushed myself forward, filling his mouth as he sucked me in, released me and devoured my other breast as my hands clawed at his buzzcut scalp, nails raking through the stubble to his thick neck.

My eyes had adjusted to the half light now, could make out the dark patterns of the tattoos that decorated his throat. Suddenly I needed to see how far down his torso they extended, and I struggled to pull up his own tee. He growled, released me, and did the job himself, filling that cramped interior with the warm scent of the evening’s perspiration, and I scooted back a little to lick at his flesh, tasting the soft tang as my tongue traced the patterns... too dark to clearly see that they were... that extended down his chest.

I reached a nipple and it was my turn to nip; he cuffed the back of my head with the flat of his hand, so I did it again, harder this time, and then tugged with my teeth, as hands explored down his chest, his abdomen, his waistline, his belt... I gripped the buckle and pulled, the leather spooling out between my fingers, and he was still for a moment, holding in his tummy as I battled with the button and thrust fingertips inside.

His cock was already waiting, its tip mere millimeters from his waist band, already hard, already hot. Squeezing, wriggling, my fingertips explored, teasing it in its confinement and its owner exhaled noisily. “Fuck.”

I giggled. “No room,” but my other hand was there now, easing down the zip, releasing him and gripping him in one smooth movement, feeling his thickness dwarfing my fist, and his heat almost scalding the palm of my hand. I shifted a little, pressing my pussy against his leg, feeling it flood in response to the touch and he felt that too, because one hand left my waist and slipped to my crotch, not really moving but a knuckle knocked regardless, just enough to let me know he was there, and enough to send my pulse racing skywards.

I twisted myself backwards and sideways, my ass bumping the gear stick again as I settled half back into my own seat, but my eyes focused firmly on the shadowed cock in my hand. The tattooist hadn’t reached that far, but the veins and ridges conjured patterns in my mind and I leaned in to tap its silhouette with my tongue. His breath released a whispered, soft sibillant “yeah,” and I tilted him back and started to lick, long sweeps that began in the hairs of his balls then traced slowly, patiently, up the underside of his cock.

He was growing harder, every long, lingering lick make him stronger and prouder and greedier. His cock bucked in my hand, muscular spasms that threatened to pull him out of my grip, so I tightened my fist at the base of his shaft and dealt butterfly flickers at the spot behind the crown,as his hands clutched my hair, twisting and tugging, a pain that I rode with rougher licks and nibbles; then, angling him forward I slipped over the tip.

My jaw seemed locked for a moment of madness, protesting - “you’ll never fit that thing in here.” But of course I could and I pushed through the sudden discomfort until the muscles relaxed with an almost audible sigh. He was too big to suck on, in any conventional sense, but my bobbing head knew that that didn’t matter. Slick with saliva and fast pooling pre-cum, his cock and my jaw were locked to one another and, with the pounding of the band the soundtrack to his groans, I matched my rhythm to the thump of the bass and his hips began grinding a back beat of their own. Even when he jolted suddenly forward and his arm or his elbow jabbed into the horn, splitting the night with a deafening blare, the beat didn’t quit and the rhythm didn’t falter.

He raised my head... “stop for a moment,” and I looked into his eyes, flashing and wide, while my tastebuds screamed out for the rest of their prize. “I want to fuck you... come on!”

His pants were buckled and he was out of the door before I’d even pulled my top back on. I scampered, half scrambling, across the parking lot behind him, back to the alley that reached up behind the club, where the music was loud enough to rattle the bins, and a fitful street light half flickered, half failed.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me close, kissed me roughly. His other hand was already tugging his belt and unleashing his cock, then he spun me around, with my face to the wall, my hands out in front to brace me as I bent. My jeans were round my knees and I pulled one foot out of their grasp, spread my legs and reached between them, gripped his prick and guided him into my hole.

My wetness sucked him, almost too tight, almost too big, but only for a moment... only for a thrust or two. Then I lost myself to his mad, manic thrusting, the full weight of his military-built body slamming into me, the full length of that glorious cock stretching and pushing me, deeper and deeper, till my face was pressed against the wall, against the crumbling red bricks of a bank that is no longer there, and I felt brick dust on my skin, brick dust in my mouth, old and sandy, gritty hard grains, and my tongue snaked out of my mouth as I cried out, licking the wall like I was licking his cock, tasting it... tasting him... and I knew when I came, that taste would stay with me forever.

Brick dust.

Buy it now for Kindle

But it now for Nook

Three Special Guys

2012-01-19T21:11:00.000-08:00

There’s a lot of dildos on the market right now; I know, because I seem to have a box full of the things, including a few I’ve never even used... gag gifts from friends made from chemical compounds that you wouldn’t feed to a landfill; ugly colors that looked better online; ugly shapes that you wouldn’t want to touch.

But for every few duds, there’s always a stud, and for every few winners there’s always a champion. And then there’s that select handful (and the best ones are at least that!) that ... well, they’re almost like old boyfriends, aren’t they, because you know every ridge and every bump too, but even more importantly, they know you too.

So here’s a few lines about three special guys... friends who step far beyond the customary parameters of a sex toy, and become a part of the furniture too.

I called my first dildo Chucky because
That was who he replaced
When Chucky was chucked
But I wanted to fuck
And he always found the right place

But he really was not much to look at, and
He tasted all rubber-y too
It was time to upgrade
From when Chuck was made
Cos I wanted one just like... you

I called my next dildo Randy because
That’s how he made me feel
That discrete suction cup
Kept him standing up
And all I had to do was kneel

He was a little too artificial though
He still did not feel quite true
It was time to upgrade
From when Randy was made
Cos I wanted one just like... you

I called my last dildo Lance because
That’s how deep inside he is going
And that taut VixSkin feel
Feels warm, nearly real
And when he spreads me, it’s just like he’s growing

Maybe he needs more attention than most
But it’s got to be worth it, you see
Cos he’s feeling just right
And he’s stretching me tight
And he’s not you... I’ve got one like me!

This posting sponsored by Eden Fantasys

A SOUTHERN FRIED LULLABYE

2012-01-18T03:41:00.000-08:00

Is this the hottest picture sequence I've seen all day? I don't know, but it sure makes me hungry...

Cornbread and cuttle fish
And sex under the table
Making hay and shouting “yay”
As much as I am able

Butterbeans and grits and greens
And humping cousin Jethro
Eat the meat
Off chicken feet
Can you fuck my ass? I guess so....

Possum pie and roadkill stew
And cum inside my tummy
That’s my song
It wasn’t long
But you must admit it’s yummy

(with apologies to the Carolina Chocolate Drops)

Look at the size of this thing!

2012-01-17T06:28:00.000-08:00

A surprise in my mailbox this morning, and I hope its owner doesn't mind me sharing but... OMG! The head alone looks like a quarter-pounder, and I want mine with hot sauce AND fries....

Take Me Out Tonight

2012-01-17T03:00:00.000-08:00

TAKE ME OUT TONIGHT
True confessions! I’ve been known to fall to my knees in the occasional alleyway, and I almost lost my virginity at an Iggy Pop concert, except we couldn’t get the angle right, so I jerked him off instead. There was about a thousand people there, so that was pretty public. I blew a boyfriend on a bus as well, but it was late, and there was no-one else around, plus I had his coat over me at the time.

Where are you going to take me tonight?
My lover, my partner, my friend
We could go to the movies or maybe a show
Or that new restaurant in the south end
Or you could…
Take me on the subway with the tourists and their languages
Take me in a Subway, fuck me hard across the sandwiches
Take me with abandon, with a band up on the stage
Take me in the monkey house with my ass against a cage

You could take me to sit with your mother
(we did kinda promise we would)
Or out to a bar with those people from sales
It would do your promotion hopes good
Or you could…
Take me at the racing track, take me in the grass
Take me at the shopping mall and fuck me up the ass
Take me at the theatre and upstage all the shows
Fuck my mouth till your cum cascades and pours out of my nose

You could take me out to visit friends
We could spend the evening dancing
We could head on down to Target
Get that plasma screen you’re wanting
Or you could…
Take me to the parking lot to the space reserved for cripples
Bare my breasts and shoot your load, and I’ll lick it off my nipples
You can take me any place you want, fuck any hole that suits you
Take me on mass transit, spread my cunt to the commuters

Take me at a Primary with the network cameras staring
Take me roughly, call some friends round, fuck me till I’m tearing
Take me at a baseball game, take me at the Dome
Do anything you like…
... except another night at home

I just got a review on Jane's Guide!!! Yay!!!!

2012-01-16T12:15:00.001-08:00

Thank you to Jane's Guide for a wonderful review!

"This blog shares original erotica, sex book/movie reviews, and movie clips from different tube sites. Jenny Swallows is co-author of The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories, as well as books of erotic poetry and more! If you are interested in her work, there are links to where to buy it on other sites. I found her XXX movie reviews to be a laugh riot (while also being pretty informative). Most of the time she seems to be drawn to the classics or modern day parody. I think that my absolute favorite journal entries here involve discussion and screen caps from her sexual adventures on the computer game Second Life. The only downside? Some of these porn tube videos create pop ups or start automatically. That said, she has a nice collection of clips of oral sex featuring uncut cocks (and that is a pretty nifty bonus). A neat and sexy blog! - Vamp"

I LOVE THIS SONG!

2012-01-15T19:24:00.000-08:00

Not sure how I missed this...

2012-01-14T22:19:00.000-08:00

But I did. Better late than never, though... A hilarious posting from a wonderful blog. thank you!

and a pic of actress/singer/model Yumi Sugimoto, just because....

The Clit-erion Collection - Librarians (2011)

2012-01-14T07:57:00.000-08:00

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time

It was inevitable I'd pick this one up eventually. For a start, there really aren't many things hotter than having sex in the library... but you already know that if you've read my own collection of horny humping library hijinks the Nympho Librarian and Other Stories, which isn't the book of the film, but it could be.

But also because I've yet to see a Joanna Angel production that hasn't left me reaching for the towels. And this one's no exception.

Librarians focuses in on what the blurb claims is just another average day at the Clitty City Library, although I'll be honest and wonder just how average it is, being held up at gunpoint by a dude (James Deen) who you've just told cannot borrow a book because he already has 200 other overdue tomes?

No matter. The local SWAT team soon descend, headed up by Kimberley Kane, and a tense stand off ensues... with a lot of stand up as well. Deen is a genuine rarity among gun-toting criminals in that his cock is definitely bigger than his weapon, but the librarians ... Joanna Angel, Asphyxia Noir, Draven Star and Kleio Valentine ... certainly aren't cowed by it.

Neither are the library's other patrons, as Danny Wilde and Mick Blue both slip the girls a few tips (and shafts and roots) and Skin Angel shows why she is so wonderfully-named, so while you could probably grumble that the plot has got somewhat lost amidst all the fucking and sucking, I doubt you'll be stopping to complain.

Especially once Kane joins in the fun, in a final scene that milks the guys for everything they've got and definitely leaves the girls looking dewey.

A two hour movie offers little in the way of extras. But the set is phenomenal, the scripting is fine and the action is more or less non-stop. Plus, there's one scene that, personally, I've been replaying in mind from the moment I saw it, so much so that I'm kinda glad I don't have to go into work this weekend. Between Angel's Librarians and my own recent confessions, I don't think I could even look my co-workers in the eye....

The Clit-erion Collection - Lust Combo (1970)

2012-01-12T03:34:00.000-08:00

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
Some movies recommend themselves for their title, some for their artwork, some for their cast. And some because it is impossible to resist a film that proclaims itself to be "an expose of the record business... filmed on actual locations in and around Memphis and Nashville."

Jenny Gets On Top is such a movie. indeed, it might well be the only one that fits that particular criteria, but boy, does it do it well. Directed by Carl R Carter, maestro behind such b-movie delights as Trucker's Girl and Barbie's Hospital Affair (forget the film, you can get off on the titles!), Jenny gets On Top would appear to be another in that short run of end-of-innocence era flicks that played on the general public's fascination with groupies. But Groupie did that gig so well that anything else in the genre just got overlooked. Including the lovely Jenny.

The whole affair, for what it's worth, appears basic. Look it up on IMDB and it appears that the lovely Jenny was originally known by the distinctly less alluring name of Lust Combo - which sounds like something you'd buy from Gangstermart, looking rudely out-of-place on the Value Pack aisle. IMDB certainly shrugs it off very brusquely; "A three piece rock band called "The Three Easy Pieces" drives into Tennessee to play a gig. After the show, they meet up with three women and pair off for three one-nighters. In the morning, the band leaves."

In between times, though, the charms of Cheri Parks, Linda LaLane and Renee Dupree (Eileen, Cindy and the oddly named Chlorine), none of whom seem to have made any other movies whatsoever, are on ample display in a film whose nudity quotient was certainly justified as much by the fact that such sights were now legal, as any demands of the plot and script, while the talents of the Three Easy Pieces don't appear to have set the world afire either.

But do not let all that put you off. The band are as studalicious as a any movie rocker circa 1969 could be, and don't they know it! Motoring to their roadhouse gig, all three band members... Vince, Jim, and Mike... daydream of the dream girls who might be awaiting them after the show, and why not? They're young, they're hot, they're on the way to the top... and life doesn't get much better than this. So they scoop up the two horny housewives who took in the show while their hubbies were away, add a sexy Creole cutie to the menu for the night, and then it's back to their oddly luxurious hotel room for the heart of the movie. A game of spin the bottle, of course!

Seventies softcore is often scorned for really not delivering that much of anything. But there are moments when both cast and camera seem to have forgotten the rules of the road, especially once Vince and the blonde vixen Eileen start picking up steam. Something Weird video, which seems to be the sole repository of the magnificent Lust Combo, also makes a virtue of saucy Cindy's tits... "a joy to behold" is the precise term they use. In fact, the only question that really demands to be answered is... who the fuck is Jenny?

Good question.

Because this is where it gets interesting. It seems that IMDB - and, therefore, every other website that purports to know what it's talking about, but actually takes its info from that same single source - got it wrong! Big surprise? Maybe. Either way, the real Jenny Gets On Top is even more obscure than Lust Combo, was made a couple of years later, has a completely different cast and plot....

And it has nothing at all to do with Lust Combo. NOTHING!!!!!

In this movie, Jenny is indeed the name of the movie's star, a blonde country beauty named Jenny Palmer, who strums her guitar, sings her songs, and has no compunction whatsoever about fucking her way, of course, to the top. Oh, and I saw it mentioned on an internet thread discussing the erotic fascination of armpit hair... apparently there is a very arousing glimpse somewhere within. And that is all I've been able to discover about a movie which might be truly appalling... or it might be a lost classic begging for rediscovery.

Either way, I want it!

Badly Subtitled Porn

2012-01-10T03:44:00.000-08:00

"Do me the blowjobs!"

The Clit-erion Collection - Spiderman XXX (2011)

2012-01-08T01:52:00.000-08:00

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
One seriously iconic scene just became... iconic-er.

Remember in the first Spiderman movie, the moment where everyone’s favorite webslinger lowers himself from a fire escape to kiss the heroine on the lips?

Imagine if he’d continued lowering himself.

Axel Braun did.

Spiderman XXX: A Porn Parody is not the first comic book reimagining to hit the screens with a great sticky splodge, but it might be the best so far. Less indebted to the comic book than it is the more recent movies, the casting is spot-on, with even the mainstream comic forums remarking on the improvements this crew offers on the mainstream stars. So, Xander Corvus plays a seriously well-hung Spidey, Capri Anderson simmers as long-time love interest Mary Jane, Ash Hollywood is a spot-on (but sadly under-used... in every sense of the word) Gwen Stacey... but it’s the supporting characters who will get the Spiderfan’s blood pumping, as Aunt May, J Jonah Jameson and even Doctor Octopus take turns to appear, and please tell me that nobody out there has ever fantasized seeing that trio doing the dirty on film?

It’s okay, we don’t (although the comic book accompanying the DVD does include one nothing-left-to-the-imagination scene with May and Uncle Ben). What we do get, though, is a fabulously realized threesome between Flash (Seth Dickens), MJ and Gwen; the Black Widow fucking Spiderman’s brains out, before giving him head (instead, one presumes, of biting his off); and some genuinely sizzling action from Electro (Dick Delaware), as he grinds out his passions on a suitably slutty prostitute, and then zaps her with a lethal dose of electric cum.

Yes, the special effects here are both stunning and well-utilized, both in the sex scenes and the action sequences - of which there are sufficient for Braun to have included a non-sex version of the same film in the bonus features.

The story, suitably, is straightforward enough. J Jonah is still waging his war against the costumed menace who he believes is behind the city’s entire crime wave; mild-mannered Peter Parker is the photographer whose exclusive shots allow JJ to illustrate his arachnophobic tirades. Just another normal day at the Daily Globe... until crime boss the King Pin hires Electro to undertake a special job - and all hell breaks loose around them. New York is plunged into a city-wide blackout, Spidey is recruited by the Avengers; the SHIELD warehouse is burgled and something top secret is stolen; and Doc Ock is looking for a room to rent. Oh, and there’s lso time for Robbie Robertson and Betty Brant to have some meaningful discussions about sexual harassment in the corridor outside the newspaper office.

The scene that your mind will keep rewinding to, though, comes after Spiderman has saved Peter Parker’s girl from three marauding thugs, and she rewards him with a kiss that just goes deeper and deeper. A BJ from MJ... did JJ get the pics?

I can’t wait for the sequel!

$2.99 KINDLE AND NOOK SALE

2012-01-07T06:35:00.000-08:00

From now till January 31, (almost) all my Kindle and Nook e-book editions are available for $2.99.

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES
Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

KINDLE EDITION buy it now just $2.99

NOOK EDITION buy it now

THE FIRST TIME & 59 OTHER MAGIC MINUTES is a breathtaking compendium comprising no less than SIXTY sexsational verses, tracing her sexual journey from inquiring teen to amorous adult, from backstreet assignations to the sanctity of marriage - and beyond.

Poetry will never seem the same again.
KINDLE EDITION buy it here
NOOK EDITION buy it here

THREE NUNS AND A MOTORCYCLE
A lipsmacking collection of short stories and book excerpts, including highlights from all of my novels and novellas, plus previously unpublished adventures for Ambrose Horne and Cousin Tom, and much more.
KINDLE EDITION - buy here

NOOK EDITION buy it here

COUSIN TOM'S MOTORBIKE AND OTHER STORIES
Seven hot new erotic adventures with the Rocky Mountains' raunchiest couple. Follow Cousin Rose and Cousin Tom as they hump and bump their way through Monroe CO - includes the stories "Cousin Tom's First Motorbike," "Cousin Tom's Revenge," "Cousin Tom Slips Behind," "Cousin Tom & The Sisters of Mercy," and more!
KINDLE EDITION buy here

NOOK EDITION buy here

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION
Everybody says you should never mix business with pleasure. But my vacation had already been squeezed in between a couple of work assignments, and I was a single girl in a foreign country. What did I expect might happen?

What I Did On My Summer Vacation is a non-stop whirl of sight-seeing and sex, historic England seen from angles that the tourist guides never mention. And you wouldn't believe my holiday snaps!

KINDLE EDITION buy here

NOOK EDITION buy here

SOHO BY SPOTLIGHT

KINDLE EDITION buy here

NOOK EDITION buy here
In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

Stag movies and blue films were viewed by men, written by men, directed by men and filmed by men. If they hadn’t needed actresses to play a part on camera, they would probably have been made by men as well.

And then a woman came along, and changed that world completely.

This is her story.

DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE contains six full-length, red hot tales of lust, love and the most explosive oral sex imaginable. That’s around fifty pages of sucking, blowing and, of course, swallowing. Because good girls don’t spit.

KINDLE EDITION buy here

NOOK EDITION buy here

Bukkake Cake - Buk-cake?

2012-01-06T03:46:00.000-08:00

The Clit-erion Collection - Scooby-Doo: A XXX Parody (2011)

2012-01-05T01:07:00.000-08:00

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time

It doesn’t matter how much you love TV Land. You do not need to see Shaggy get his cock sucked. By Velma. While Daphne watches. While Fred fucks her ass. While Scooby...

Yeah, where’s Scooby?

That is the mystery that powers director Eddie Powell’s Scooby-Doo: A XXX Parody, as Shaggy awakens after a lusty Halloween party to discover his best friend is missing. He tries to recall the last time he saw him... at the party. With drugs and drink. And boobs and vaginas. And a cute blonde fairy who rode him cowgirl two weeks to Christmas. Or words to that effect.

Zoinks!

The gang’s all here and they’re looking good. Arguably the biggest adult star in the world right now (catch her in Eden if you can), Bree Olson makes a truly delicious Daphne, recapturing the original‘s angelic ditziness in ever more hilarious ways. This week, she’s trying to get pregnant, and she will swallow whatever method Fred (Michael Vegas) feeds her. Literally. Bobbi Starr as Velma, meanwhile, retains the cartoon character’s spoilsport feistiness, right up until she orgasms and sometimes even beyond. Solo in the bathroom while she listens to Shaggy reciting his adventures, you can only wish she'd brought some sex toys in to play with, and then you realize that she doesn't need them. Not this time.

And then there’s Shaggy (Chad Alva), who has captured the voice and stubble so well that it really is faintly disturbing to watch a childhood hero getting down and dirty with more or less any hole he can.

Jinkies!

Scooby is missing, so it’s back to the creepy old mansion when Shaggy last saw him, there to encounter an evil ghoul (Evan Stone) safeguarding a bathtub full of cash. Of course. A chase scene straight out of the original show ultimately ensues, but not before Velma and Shaggy trade juices in their hidey hole, and... well, you remember how we always thought Velma was a lesbian? Turns out she swings both ways, and so does Daphne. Which is just as well, because how else can two defenseless girls distract the demon until the guys are able to deal with him?

The titular dog, mercifully, does not take part in any of the action; in fact, we don’t even hear his trademark scooby-doobie-doo until this marvelous movie is almost done. By which time, of course, everyone else has had more than their share of scooby-snacks, and Daphne delivers the best line of the entire film. Sitting dripping with both boys’ jizz, she looks up at Fred with gorgeous brown eyes and tells him, “I’m covered in so much cum, I must get pregnant now, right?”

And Fred, who knows a good thing when he’s fucked one, simply smiles. Because if it doesn’t work this time, they can always try again next week.

Despite the inclusion of a second disc, there's not much in the way of bonus features. A cumshot recap is fun if you really want to dispense with the plot; there's a bonus Bree Olson sex scene, behind the scenes and blooper sequences, and a special 30 minute party version that slices out (most of) the sex but remains surprisingly entertaining regardless. And after all this, you probably won't be snuggling back down with TVLand any time soon.

This posting was sponsored by Eden Fantasys

under the bedclothes with her

2012-01-04T03:02:00.000-08:00

I doubt whether his parents were ever as oblivious as we liked to think. I know they were rarely as sound asleep as Chuck used to say they were, and more than once I'd swear I heard voices from their room as we crept ever so quietly up the stairs and tumbled into his bedroom... And naturally, his bed. Once we were there, though... And especially once we were under the covers, or I was under them at least, I really didn't give a damn who knew. Because I got what I wanted, and so did Chuck. In fact, sometimes I think we both got more than we expected. like the first time he....

Well, let this movie tell the rest of that story....

The Nympho gets Nooked - the Librarian Strikes Again

2012-01-03T12:37:00.000-08:00

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES!
now available for Kindle, Nook and in print

Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

BUY IT NOW from Kindle just $2.99

BUY IT NOW print edition

BUY IT NOW Nook just $2.99

Resolutions

2012-01-02T02:59:00.000-08:00

According to something I read on Twitter recently...

The average cock is 5.75 inches. That means you have to suck 11,020 cocks to suck 1 mile of dick.

My new year's resolution, therefore.... is to get more exercise.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T03:44:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

2011-12-30T00:12:00.000-08:00

I found and loved this on my friend Three Spelling Mistakes' never less than fun fun blog.

But the real reason I was there was... to find THIS. Proof that not all censorship is performed by the humorless.

Very funny censored porn brought to you by PornHub

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

Another Amazon review for the Nympho Librarian

2011-12-29T05:37:00.000-08:00

I should probably just send you direct to the page but... what the hell. Another great review!

5.0 out of 5 stars Loved it..., December 28, 2011
By Jan Prins - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories (Kindle Edition)
There are a few reasons I will thank the gods for the internet tonight. One of them would be for allowing me to find the writings of a certain Chrissie Bentley.

Today I finished reading the Nympho Librarian and Other Stories. And in all honesty, I'll have to say it has been a while since I found erotic writing that is so thoroughly enjoyable as this compilation of short stories.

Chrissie Bentley obviously knows how to titilate without being overtly sleazy about it. (Make no mistake, this is by no means your granny's romance stories, unless your granny has got some wicked good taste)

And for most of the time spent reading this, you have this feel good vibe coming from this book, with a few "What the hell?" moments in there as well.

If you want a good read, and some excellent eroticism to boot, then give this a chance.

Thank You Red Region!

2011-12-28T03:47:00.000-08:00

Thank you!

Voted "one of the 45 sexist blogs of 2011" by Red Region Inferno

The Nympho Librarian & Other Stories

2011-12-26T03:17:00.000-08:00

THE NYMPHO LIBRARIAN AND OTHER STORIES!

Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

BUY IT NOW from Kindle just $2.99

BUY IT NOW print edition

BUY IT NOW Nook just $2.99

and one more for luck!

2011-12-25T05:50:00.000-08:00

Jingle bells, everyone!

Cumming hard for the holidays

2011-12-24T03:40:00.000-08:00

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... oh, chocolates or something. I gave him a blowjob.

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On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... chocolates and a bottle of wine. I gave him a blowjob

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On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... chocolates, wine and a novel I'd wanted. I gave him a blowjob

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On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... chocolates, wine, paperback and a DVD. I gave him a blowjob

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On the fifth day of Christmas... blah blah blah. I gave him a blowjob

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Who says the spirit of Christmas is dead?

WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL THEM... HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

All I want for Christmas is a mouthful of cum...

2011-12-23T05:35:00.000-08:00

Hot cum! Delicious.

You can't miss it... and neither does she! That little look of triumph is a true Kodak moment!

NOW AVAILABLE FOR NOOK BOOKS

2011-12-22T05:53:00.001-08:00

Great news for Nook book readers....

The First Time & 59 Other Magic Minutes, the first collection of my erotic verse, is now available for Nook readers from Barnes & Noble, price 2.99

And still available - Kindle edition; print edition

Driving home for the holidays

2011-12-22T03:53:00.000-08:00

handjob in the car by a huge titted redhead
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Hands in pants!

2011-12-21T03:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I like... to just sit back and watch

Thanks to Hands In Pants for letting me!

My Lollipop Tastes of Cock

2011-12-20T01:13:00.000-08:00

Great idea, wrong flavor.

"NORTH HOLLYWOOD, Calif.—Adult novelty manufacturer Doc Johnson has just released their highly anticipated line of Good Head Suckers, a variety of four flavored oral sex enhancing lollipops."

I was so excited when I first saw these... and then I read the small print.

Oral sex enhancing?

No! We want oral sex flavored!

The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories

2011-12-19T03:19:00.000-08:00

Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!

BUY IT NOW from Kindle just $2.99

BUY IT NOW print edition

EXCERPT
THE LIBRARIAN'S CHRISTMAS STOCKING

Firm fingers pulled my pussy apart although it needed very little encouragement. I was wet even before his tongue lapped the pink, could feel the panties he’d dragged down sopping against my stockinged foot, and the tight fawn skirt bunched against my back and that, too, felt moist. Ridiculously, I hoped it had not stained, then feeling ridiculous, I stifled a cry out as his tongue pushed inside my folds.

He twirled it around, then looked up at me. “You like that.” It was a statement, not a question, and my hand fell to the back of his head, gentle pressure the only answer he needed. But he resisted and his eyes flashed in the harsh fluorescents that buzzed above us.

I was standing on one foot, the other braced against a bookshelf, my foot inching a far volume backwards. 891.7 - Russian literature. Not a section of the library that received many visitors, especially this close to Christmas, but the occasional voice from the far end of the room reminded me that we were not yet closed for business, and here I was with a stranger on his knees and his mouth... his mouth... he licked again and I bit my lip to keep from moaning, which was not the response he expected. Because now his tongue was flat against me as his fingers pulled me wider, long sweeps that stopped short just a wriggle from my clitoris, so that’s what I did. I wriggled a little but he was faster, rocking back on his heels and blowing instead, a sharp rush of warm air that collided with my liquid lust, and I turned my head to bite the arm that clung for support to the top of the shelf. 817 - American literature, satire and humor.

One finger inside me, then two and his mouth again, circling my clit, teasing it, teasing me. He broke again. “I like your hair like that.” It hung loose below my shoulders. “It makes you look abandoned.”

Abandoned. I could only imagine what else I looked like, my glasses pushed up to my forehead so they wouldn’t bump his face when we kissed, my blouse half unbuttoned and one bra cup twisted down and around, when his fingers grazed my nipples and his teeth bit sharp around them. My skirt round my waist, my panties on the ground and a guy two-thirds my age, with two-thirds of his hand sunk deep inside me, licking out the fantasy that he’d texted me this morning.

all i wnt 4 xmas is 2 lick a lbrns cunt

==================================

A true story? Perhaps. But I'll say one thing - I had no idea that librarians were the stuff of male fantasies until I actually started to work as one. And to prove this is not just some twisted Jenny fantasy, brought on by too many eggnogs behind the biology shelves, here's a fascinating paper on librarian imagery in the media, followed by a catalog of 70s librarian porn novels, as compiled by blogger memetician.

Bang the Librarian Hard.
Campus Lust.
Chained, Whipped Librarians
Eager Beaver Librarian.
Eager to Spread Librarian.
Eager Young Librarian.
First Rear Entry.
Helpful Head Librarian.
Horny Balling Librarian.
Horny Hot Librarian.
Horny Licking Librarian.
Horny Peeping Librarian
Hot Bed Librarian.
Hot, Licked Librarian.
Hot Loving Librarian.
Hot Mouth Librarian.
Hot Pants Librarian.
Hot to Trot Librarian.
The Hottest Librarian
In Heat Librarian
Lash the Librarian!
A Librarian Enslaved.
The Librarian Gets Hot.
Librarian in Bondage.
Librarian in Chains.
The Librarian Licks Big Ones
The Librarian Loves It
The Librarian Loves to Lick.
The Librarian Slave.
The Librarian With the Hots.
The Librarian's Boys.
The Librarian's Hot Fun.
The Librarian's Hot Lips.
The Librarian's Hot Urges.
A Librarian's Training.
Licking the Librarian.
Line Up for the Librarian.
Naughty Voyeur Librarian.
Nympho Librarian.
The Oral Librarian.
Overeager Librarian.
Raped and Roped Librarian.
Sally - Sexy Librarian.
Sex Behind the Stacks.
Three-way with the Librarian.
What a Librarian!

Love and Lust - A Sex Journal, by Susie Bright

2011-12-17T03:56:00.000-08:00

Filling in one of those year-end “best book I’ve read” surveys, I found myself in a peculiar position - knowing exactly what my favorite book is, but never having actually read, or even seen, a complete copy. And by “complete,” I mean with every page filled with words (and illustrations), and every word meaning the world to its author.

Susie Bright’s Love and Lust: A Sex Journal is one of the gifts that appeared for my birthday this year, and it’s been by my bedside ever since. A lot of it has been filled in as well, with the random thoughts and memories that a journal invites. But I really don’t care about my copy. I want to read yours. And yours. And yours. And you over there/ Yours, too.

Sexual confessions are fascinating, but all the more so when they’re written without any thought for some future audience. Because who, aside from the occasional megalomaniacal “man (or woman) of letters,” would ever keep a diary with the intent of it some day being published? And even they would probably draw the line at going to town with this one.

Have you ever had sex with a person you didn’t know at all - a stranger?

What’s the fantasy that would be most likely to arouse you [when you’re not]?

What’s a sexual secret you’ve never shared with anyone?

The format is simple; every page or thereabouts is headed with a question. And the rest of the page is blank, for you to fill in as you wish.

What kind of sex do you think you’ll never like very much?

What’s the sexiest thing to eat or drink before bed?

Okay, I’ve read all the reviews of this book on Amazon, and very insightful they are too, discussing all the ways this book might open your mind to the true sexual being that lives beneath your exterior. How you will reveal hidden depths and uncover secret fantasies. All of which is very honorable, and I’m sure you’re all itching to make such discoveries about yourself. And others.

Do you know anything about the sexual history of any of your family members?

For me, though, this book’s allure would be what you might discover about total strangers, were you to get your hands on their private versions of the book. I don’t know how many copies this book sold... right now, it’s Amazon ranking is 721,118, for what that’s worth. But, just so we have a number to play with, let’s say there’s around eight thousand copies out there, of which three-quarters were started and around half that were completed. That would mean there’s three thousand editions of this book sitting out there, and every single one of them is different.

Imagine that! Three thousand completely unique, handwritten stories, and every word in them tells a truth that the author never dreamed would be read by someone else. Well, almost every word.

Write three sexual confessions about yourself. Make two of them true and one of them a lie.

It’s a voyeur’s utopia, a pervert’s paradise, and quite possibly the greatest erotic treasure trove in existence today. The greatest, and the most unobtainable, because even if the author of every edition was a blogger, whose life is lived so lividly on me-me-me.com (updated daily, so my stalkers don’t feel lonely), still there will be secrets that only they know. And which would only be shared here.

Are there any sex words you won’t say?

What was the most embarrassing, stupid moment in your early sex life?

The journal is not perfect. More than a handful of questions could have been lifted from a women’s magazine quiz page, and a few of them would be more suited to one of those bumper books of word games and brain teasers that gather dust in the drug store. I neither know nor care what my favorite sexual quotations might be... or does “fuck, you’re a dirty girl!” count?

But there’s no rule that says you have to take the questions literally, so long as you take your answers to heart, because nobody’s going to see what you wrote unless you ever choose to let them.

So, in the spirit of full disclosure, nine questions from the diary are scattered through this posting. And I will now give you the answers. In no particular order, of course....

The human tripod.
I honestly didn’t know what to do next!
Armpits
Drew Barrymore.
Cock.
I always come from anal, I have at least two blowjob dreams a month and I once masturbated with my mom’s vibrator.
Not that I can think of.
Regularly
More than they realize!

A Night at the Ace

2011-12-15T09:24:00.000-08:00

It’s one for the money.... The music was loud but the room was even louder, two hundred voices raised to make themselves heard and setting up a wall of sound that was almost physical, buffeting you the moment you squeezed through the front door. The air was thick too, with cigarette smoke and sweat, but something else too, the smell of the beach that was in everyone’s clothes, sea air and seagulls, cheap deck chairs and ice cream, pumped up adrenalin and the tang of spilled blood.

“Held him down and smashed his fucking face in.”

“Cracked him round the head with a piece of fucking driftwood.”

“He looked like he’d gone twenty rounds with Cassius Clay.”

“Fucking Mods.”

We’d been back from Brighton for less than an hour and already the legends were beginning to grow. By tomorrow, a handful of parka-clad pansies with bright bloodied noses would have become a slaughter of Somme-like proportions. But we bathed in our triumph regardless, and the victory party was just getting started.

Come on little baby, let's move it and a-groove it.... Vintage Cliff on the jukebox, and the first girls had already wriggled out of their shirts, to dance giggling and topless beneath unzipped leather jackets. A few guys followed suit and my hand brushed tight stomachs as I pushed through the crowd, to be brushed back by hands that did not know who I was, but didn’t especially care. My eyes were caught by liquid brown, the guy we called Buddy because that’s all he ever played, and he laughed as he lifted me up off my feet, till I popped like a cork above the heads of the crowd.

Laughing back, I wrapped my arms round his neck, my fingernails digging the hot flesh of his back, and he twirled me round a couple of times before depositing me back on the ground. I clung to him still and his hands cupped my breasts, still covered by the shirt that I’d slept in last night. I broke my own grip and pulled the fabric up; my nipples grazed his palms and he squeezed as he kissed me, his tongue driving in like his bike through that cafe, sending seniors screaming and flying out the door, but my tongue fought back, coiling round his as I pulled his head down to my height.

If you knew Peggy Sue.... My body fell back against whoever stood behind me, and other hands cradled me as Buddy pressed against me, kneading my ass through my tired, dirty Levis. I broke the kiss to breathe and Buddy bit my neck... the bastard, how did he know to do that then? My legs liquified and I scrabbled for balance, my hand hooked the buckle of his BSA belt and I tugged just enough to squeeze fingers inside.

Now it was his turn to groan as my nail grazed hot flesh, and I felt him suck his stomach in to give me more room to maneuver, fishing around inside his tight pants, seizing his cock as it hung halfway hard, and drawing it up to point at the sky. Then I flattened my palm and started to rub, feeling him swelling and growing beneath me. I matched my rhythm to the pounding of the jukebox... be-bop-a-lula, up down faster, my wrist against the helmet that spread against my pulsebeat, my middle finger at his balls, feeling great and fiery as Jerry Lee roared out. Goodness gracious....

Buddy bit my ear and I bit him back, clinging to the flesh of his neck, tattooing a lovebite into his throat and he pinched my nipples in response, as those other hands strayed between my legs to my cunt and started to rub through the seam of my jeans. I thought of the surf that crashed on the beach, and it felt like those same tides were flooding my crotch. Without thinking I ground my hips hard against those fingers and knowing that no-one would be letting me fall, I chanced reaching out with my other, free hand, returning the favor against coarse denim and fly.

My hands moved in unison, my cunt grinding greedy, sucking Buddy’s tongue till I thought my jaw was breaking, then turning as other lips fell on my face, and licking the skin that brushed unshaven against my cheek. Then a cry and a splash of thick burning wet as Buddy’s legs buckled and he came against my hand, his cum splashing up to the sleeve of my leather, and I pulled my arm out from the grip of his pants, smearing his orgasm across his bare stomach, then raising my hand to my mouth for a taste of what remained... the taste that sent me hurtling over the edge, and as I came the guy behind me seemed to melt into my grip and I was squeezing sodden denim over a pumping, pulsing bulge.

Buddy was still looking at me, grinning sharp teeth as he lit a cigarette... handed it to me then lit one for himself. Since my baby left me.... I reached up on tiptoe and kissed his lips softly, the tang of his cum still sharp on my own, and I set my eyes once again on the bar at the back. I had a long way to go before I got there, and a lot of hot bodies to push through till I reached it.

Tall and dark, tattooed and DA-ed, in grease-stained denims, a body half tumbled, half threw himself in my path, his hands on my shoulders to break his fake fall as his mouth opened wide to suck on my tit. My head twisted round to where I’d left Buddy, and that might have been his head I saw tipping backwards, as a slender beehived shape knelt at his feet. Good luck to her, I giggled, if he has any strength left. And I dropped to my knees as well, tearing at the trousers that were thrusting out at eye level.

I still wanted that drink.

The Best Advice I've Had All Year

2011-12-15T01:25:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my friend Eli....

"You are young and pretty - get drunk, go for it and think 'ewww' afterwards"

So last night, that's what I did.

Just because she's lovely

2011-12-13T04:40:00.001-08:00

I've not mentioned Faye Reagan for a few weeks, but having just emerged from a marathon viewing of Girlfriend DVDs, the best of which all seem to feature her in one stunning capacity or another, I thought I'd share another favorite pic. You'll find more, as usual, here, but in the meantime, here's an extra treat for anyone (me, me) who wants to see Faye Reagan sucking cock. She does it so well!

And for fans of the younger Ms Reagan, in her early-porn days as Faye Valentine, here's something else. My advice... fast forward through the opening chatter (the guy doing the interview sounds like one of the dudes from Ghost Hunters).

CD art of the Week

2011-12-13T04:38:00.000-08:00

My latest discovery and, therefore, musical obsession is Zazie, a French singer who has been around since the late 1990s-or-so, but who wins my heart with this cover design....

see and hear more here.

Jerking on the dancefloor

2011-12-12T03:48:00.000-08:00

It was one of those clubs where they make you check your bags at the door, and big red-lettered signs warn against taping, filming or smoking.

But they never said anything about the use of sex toys. Especially ones you weren't even expecting to find.

The music was so loud that you had to shout when you whispering, and the dance floor was so packed that you had no choice but to move with the rest of the crowd, a rhythmic swaying and surging that threatened to knock you lurching off balance even as the people packed against you made certain that you wouldn’t ever fall.

I closed my eyes and went with the flow, only dimly aware of all the points on my body where others were squashed against me – an elbow here, a shoulder there, a purse somewhere else, and I don’t know what it was about that pressure on my ass but I knew it wasn’t anything I’d have expected to find. I turned my head as much as I could and the guy standing behind me caught my eye and smiled, which was when I knew for sure what it was. He had a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe and the only thing stopping it from sliding up my ass were his jeans and mine.

I tried to wriggle away but I couldn’t; the crowd was simply too thick. And talking of thickness... I smiled to myself which is when I realized that a part of me really wasn’t trying too hard to get away. There’s something oddly arousing about having a complete stranger just a few millimeters of denim away from fucking you up the ass, arousing and forbidden and heart-in-mouth scary as well, like when you're sitting on the couch while your parents are visiting, knowing that your favorite remote control vibrator is still stuffed down the side... and the remote control itself is in full sight on the table.

And when a particularly hard surge separated us for a moment, I was shocked to find myself feeling disappointed. He was still behind me, I knew, but his body had changed its angle just enough that the wonderful pressure I’d been riding for so long was gone. And I missed it.

I wriggled my ass, hoping to make contact again. Nothing. Just the hardness of his hips… but at least I knew I was close. I shifted from one foot to the other, stepped a little to the left – ah, that’s better. He was still off target but an inch or two more – and then I felt him again, hard between my butt cheeks and I wondered what had changed to make him feel so much more “real”? Which was when I reached behind me with one hand and came into contact with flesh. Hard, hot flesh.

My mind somersaulted. I turned again, and he was still looking at me. Not a bad looking guy, either – probably no-one I’d have gone home with, or even looked at twice under normal circumstances. But the volume of the music, the heat of the crowd, the sudden unexpectedness of everything else ensured that these weren't normal circumstances, I curled my fingers around his cock, moved away slightly to give myself room, and began gently jerking him off to the rhythm, long hard tugs that pulled the breath from his body, short, fast twists that just seemed to make him harder.

My wrist was twisted but I didn’t care, and I'm fairly certain that whatever I was doing is not in the Handjob Handbook, either. The last time I browsed through my copy (last week, if you must know... ), I would have sworn there wasn't a grip that wasn't included, and I still recommend it as a Bible to anyone who thinks a quick flick of the wrist is all you need to master.

With one exception. I don't think anyone has put this position in a book. I don't even know if he was comfortable, his penis a pretzel that followed my fist no matter where the sway of the crowd sent it swinging. My grip was tight but the crush kept jogging me, and there was one point where my arm was bent at such at a sharp angle that I can only imagine what it felt like for him. But I think that was when his arm draped my shoulder and a hand slipped down to my boob, roughly massaging through my tee until one nipple felt like it was ready to be shot out of a cannon, and the other was screaming "hey, what about me?"

And me, I just kept on jerking him, pulling on that long, fat cock and trying to close my mind to all the other thoughts that were cascading through my mind, like dragging him out via the back fire exit and fucking him senseless in the alley outside; like pushing him into the ladies room and blowing him against the wash basins... like all these things that just weren't going to work because the club was too crowded, the pit was too packed and it's too late now because ... oh my! He's coming, a sudden flood that splashed hot on my fist, and I kept going, still tugging and rubbing, massaging him back to warm, sticky softness until his hand touched mine to let me know I should stop.

I wiped my hand dry on his jeans and turned my attention back to the concert, and the next time I looked around, he was gone.

I went home and wrote some notes in the margin of my Handjob Handbook.

This post was sponsored by EdenFantasys.com.

Don't Forget To Breathe

2011-12-11T06:20:00.000-08:00

DON'T FORGET TO BREATHE by Chrissie Bentley and Jenny Swallows
DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE launches an XXX-hilarating new series of e-books, available exclusively from Jennyswallows.blogspot.com. Each volume contains at least FIVE full-length, red hot tales of lust, love and the most explosive oral sex imaginable. That’s around fifty pages of sucking, blowing and, of course, swallowing. Because good girls don’t spit.

ONLY $2.99

NOW AVAILABLE FOR KINDLE

Flowing from the ever-fertile pens of Jenny Swallows and Chrissie Bentley, each volume is published in the popular PDF format, to be enjoyed either on your computer or an ebook reader. Your purchase will be with you within 24 hours (and usually much, much sooner), e-mailed directly to your specified address, a discreet and easy way to enjoy the very best in erotic writing.

Don’t Forget To Breathe volume one contains the following stories:

The Cocksucking Chronicles (or, Don’t Forget To Breathe!)… an all girls’ book club changes the subject, from the last novel they read to the first cock they sucked. With some surprising confessions!

An Evening’s Tale… a tale of bawdiness from the reign of Good Queen Bess. History refers to her as the Virgin Queen. But history only talks about one of her holes. She had another that was always full!

Three Nuns and a Motorcycle… two young lovers, three passing sisters, and an act of penance that the Archbishop would certainly not approve of.

Three Guys Walk Into a Bar… and one walks out with the girl of his dreams. A weekend in the mountains has never sounded so delicious.

Revenge… there’s a certain type of frat boy who will never take no for an answer. But does he always get what he expected? Butch gets a blowjob he’ll remember forever.

Welcome To Spain… a few days in the sun with an old friend, a video camera and a favorite record to soundtrack all the action.

DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME... IN THE CAR IS MUCH MORE FUN

2011-12-07T08:31:00.000-08:00

It wasn’t quite our first date. We’d already spent a few evenings dancing round the local beer and burger bars, and there was that night out in the city where something might have happened if it hadn’t been so late. So no, not our first date. But it was definitely the first one where I knew in advance that it was time to have some fun, and as I dressed in the time before he picked me up, I made sure that it would be as easy to undress if I needed to.

Mark was, as a friend pointed out, quite a catch. Good job, good looks, good taste. Tall enough that I could listen to his heart when we danced close, and when he met me from work one night and a colleague remarked what a big car he had, it was fun to reply with a knowing pause. “Yeah, he has a very big... car.” I’d felt that while we were dancing, too, straining to get out of the garage, its engine roaring and the oil already boiling. I like a big... car.

I sat on the bed and opened the drawer, the one where I keep my motor maintenance tools. A packet of condoms, because you never know. A cock ring (unused, haha) because... again, you never know. And a tube of Good Head because, whatever else happened, I had made up my mind that that would.

The first time I encountered an oral sex potion, it struck me as one of the world’s most redundant inventions, a sex toy for people who just didn't want to play. I like (strike that... I love) my cock raw. I like it real. I want to taste the sweat and the flesh and the thrill. The idea of wrapping my mouth round a strawberry shortcake and expecting to get off on that was - well, think about it. You may want to orgasm every time you go to Dairy Queen, but I’d rather save some things for later. Plus, there’s a lot of things I look for when I’m giving a blowjob, but a sugar high is not on the list.

And then I worked out that it’s really not for me, is it? The flavor is just a bonus (or not) and the real thrill lies in the tingle and torment that the potion pours onto him. And so I shopped around discretely, and tried them all out curiously, and I’m sure glad that AmEx don’t itemize every purchase. Because my bill sometimes reads like a candy store. And I dread to think what the garbage man thinks....

Anyway, I tried a lot and tested more (guys sometimes come prepared as well), but finally settled on this one. Doc Johnson's Good Head. Cinnamon flavor. There’s a passion fruit flavor as well, but we’re getting back into the realms of food tasting there. Cinnamon, on the other hand, dances just close enough to the right earthy taste, with enough of a tang to accentuate his, and just a hint of exotica to keep your mind focussed. And I don’t know how long a tube is supposed to last, but I’m onto my third. Yeah, it’s that good. I weighed the tube in my hand and figured it was good for a little while longer, then dropped it into my purse. Okay, I’m ready.

So was Mark. A thirty minute drive, a homely Italian restaurant, and then onto the dancefloor where he held me so close that it felt like he was fucking me through four layers of clothing. He knew it, too, his eyes holding mine every time that I opened them, and his hand pressing gently into the small of my back, in that spot that always makes me gasp “yeah.” I was impressed. Most guys aren’t even aware of that one. Then out into a completely unforecast rain-that-comes-sideways for a run across a mall-sized parking lot to where he’d left the car. And we sat in there steaming for a few laughing minutes, as he apologized for not having an umbrella or a towel, and I berated Chevrolet for not including a clothing-sized heater among the car’s basic features. It seemed to have everything else.

Mark leaned over and kissed me, and a proper kiss tonight, not the tentative peck or the softly probing tongue tip that had wrapped up our other evenings, and I kissed back, my hands bunching tightly on his shoulders, then breaking away as I wrung out a handful of rain water. “Wow, we really did get soaked through,” I laughed, and then a little more seriously, “we probably should get out of the wettest.”

He laughed. The image of us driving naked back to town probably hit us both at the same time, but he wriggled out of his jacket as I removed mine, then seeing him pause to watch what I did next, I scooted my ass off the seat a few inches, and unbuttoned my skirt, laying it flat across my lap but relieved to no longer be sitting in a puddle. Well, not a rain puddle, anyway.

He still looked uncertain, but even in the dark I could see his pants were sopping, dark patches of damp that reached up to his knees. “I won’t watch,” I giggled and I turned to face the side window, as he sighed and I heard him begin to wriggle, unclasping his belt, popping the fly button, then squirming to tug wet cloth from his flesh.

A truck turned into the parking lot, the lights bright in my eyes and I instinctively turned towards an interior that suddenly was bathed in light, with Mark frozen in mid rearrangement of his briefs. They’d hoisted themselves down with his pants and right now, he was wrestling to pull them back up. But even once he’d succeeded, and though the moment barely lasted more than maybe ten seconds, one sight was seared into my mind. He was magnificent.

I leaned across and kissed him again, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his tummy, and I felt his cock strain towards it as he shifted in his seat in that way that guys instinctively do when fresh flesh gets that close. Another flash as a car came into the lot, and I saw his eyes flicker, first down and then outside. “Maybe we should move to a less populated area?” he asked, and as I kissed him again, I let my hand slip, a few inches down but not quite all the way. “Yes, let’s.”

I sat back in my chair as he buckled his seat belt, reached into my purse as he ran the wiper blades for a moment, clearing the windshield of puddles and glare. I fumbled, but I’ve done this before; flick the top off with one finger, then squeeze with my fist; replace the lid with a thumb, then raised his hand to my mouth as he finally put the car in gear and eased his car gently out of the parking space. His big... car.

I held him now and my tongue danced with flavor, and we were moving so slowly as we headed out of the mall, out onto a slip road that ran down the side. And my fingers followed his driving, circling then straightening out, and as he looked around for somewhere to park, I opened my mouth and garaged him.

His foot hit the pedal as the good old, good tasting Good Head hit his nerve endings, and he cried out a “fuck!” as I started to suck. And I don’t know where he ended up parking one car, but I’ll say one thing. When he finally unloaded the other one... the big one... well, I never dreamed it had so much trunk space.

This post was sponsored by EdenFantasys.com.

I bet they sell the greatest lollipops!

2011-12-05T19:53:00.000-08:00

the worlds's first penis museum!!!!!!!!

Well stacked!

2011-12-05T09:48:00.000-08:00

DO NOT DISTURB

2011-12-04T12:40:00.000-08:00

The hotel bar was more or less exactly as I expected it to be, The usual gaggle of businessmen, brokers and touristy types, their general uniformity broken only by the occasional girl who might have been a hooker, but was as likely somebody’s mistress, tarted up for a night of naughty passion with some guy she only suspected might be married. I ordered a drink and a salad and took a seat by the window, wondering what a lone woman in a strange city was supposed to do when she didn’t know a soul.

I pulled out my book, and was glad that the front cover didn’t really give too much away, at least to anyone passing by. Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Do Not Disturb doesn’t completely hide its light beneath a bushel, the subtitle “Hotel Sex Stories,” is clear enough if you look. But two bare legs on a bed could be anything in these days when book covers have so little to do with their contents, and when I opened the book, my fingers covered the words. I know, because I checked.

Hotel erotica is a peculiar beast. Bussel’s introduction sets the stage, by telling us all the options that could be open, and hinting at a few of the ones that will be taking place. But the first and third stories once the book gets underway Amanda Earl’s breathtaking “Welcome To The Aphrodisiac Hotel” and Stan Kent’s “From Russia With Lust” don’t really go in the expected directions, as they concentrate more on the voyeur than the vice girl in us all; Earl’s heroine watching and willing a couple to hook up; Kent standing at his window, masturbating while he watches another couple fuck. And there’s more in “Mirror Mirror” too, although Andrea Dale’s darlings aren’t the strangers in a strange town, meeting for the first time in a tangle of unfamiliar limbs. Because that’s what hotels are really all about, and that’s why I bought this book with me. When in Rome, after all....

I turn back to my paperback, the first I pulled from the teetering pile of erotic books that live by my bed, and leaf back to a story I’ve already read. Author Tess Danesi at “The Royalton.” A high class call girl on her latest assignation. I gazed across at the woman who had just entered the bar, and was standing in the doorway, her eyes uncertainly searching the room. She is dressed in the same way that Danesi writes, not outwardly of course because it’s too public for that, But “lace topped thigh highs and delicate lacy undergarments” would suit her to a tee and maybe she catches the light in my eyes, or maybe she just doesn’t want to share any of the other half vacant tables. A few lonely-looking salesman types, a couple with a rambunctious baby... she looks around and makes her choice.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

I shook my head. “Please….”

She was stunning. Taller than me, with reddish hair that cascaded to her shoulders, perfect features, perfect figure. Her top was tight enough to show off the swell of her breasts, her pants framed legs that went on forever. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted any other woman; wanted her like the two women in the book wanted one another, Elizabeth and Maxie in a cheap hotel, one newly married and convinced she is frigid, one older and gay with a psych degree. “Heart Shaped Holes” by Madlyn March, I wondered if my companion had one of those? And what it would taker to fill it?

Her name was Lisa. We talked, we laughed, we got on well. We took a walk through downtown, we stopped at a liquor store and picked up some wine, and then back at the hotel, we agreed to take our party up to her room. And with my heart in my mouth, I kissed Lisa for the first time as we sat dialing channels on the hotel TV, feeling just like... I flicked through the chapters in the book in my mind. The housewife on the sequestered jury showing off her sex toys to a fellow captive? No, not her. Teresa fantasizing tropical grottoes in a snow-swept Massachusetts motel room? Not her, either.

I closed my eyes and wrote my own story, Jenny in a hotel bar being swept to paradise by a girl she’d never met and maybe that was the most exciting part of it all. In all the stories I’d read and grown wet to, there was always that one point where you just know that something’s going to happen. A word, a gesture, a glance, a something. Like in “Tightly Tucked,” when the cleaner comes along and catches Elian alone with a boner. You just know she’s going to want it, even before you know that he wants her. That wasn’t what was happening here. Neither of us had said, or even hinted, at anything more than a drink and conversation, but the wine we’d been sinking since we got here knew otherwise. It just seemed the right thing to do.

Lisa kissed me back; the remote control was forgotten and her hands were on my breasts, first through my blouse and then in between the buttons. She moved swiftly but gently – my attempts to caress her felt clumsy by comparison, and she knew it. “Lay still,” she whispered. “Let me….”

I obeyed. Off came my blouse and the skimpy bra I’d been wearing, and her mouth was playing magically across my flesh, licking my nipples until I thought they would burst, and then sucking them hard, till my back arched and my pussy screamed for a taste of the same treatment. She knew it, too, and a hand sank between my legs, gently stroking me through my sodden panties, until suddenly she had whipped them off and two fingers slipped effortlessly inside me.

Lisa’s mouth was on my abdomen, my tummy, my waist. She was taking her time, and every minute stretched out into hours of exquisite tease and tension, until at last her face was between my legs, breathing me in and purring as I bucked my hips towards her, crying out with impatience and lust.

“I lifted my ass and thrust against her mouth... she sucked and licked and nibbled my pussy like she’d been doing it all her life. Maybe she had.” A line from Kristina White’s “The Other Woman,” and when I read it on the plane home, when tonight was all just a memory, I knew exactly what she meant when she wrote that. “This was real and hot and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything in my life.”

I reached out too, to touch her where she was touching me, to feel her and taste her and drink her in…. She moved away quickly, but I moved even faster.

My hand clasped her pussy – and something else. A strap-on. She was wearing a strap-on. My mind jolted for a moment, wondering when she’d put it on. Or had she been wearing it all evening? And did it even matter? My right hand held her face to my cunt, my left hand felt her toy’s length and thickness, and wrestled with her pants to free it from its cage.

She was still struggling to get away, but with less and less conviction as her buttons finally parted and I pulled her towards my mouth, breathed in and… it wasn’t a strap-on. It was a cock, a long, hard, beautiful and very real cock. As real as the bare breasts that she’d revealed when she undressed me, and which she’d let me suck on just a few moments earlier, as real as the orgasm that was building up inside me. I pulled her into my mouth and sucked.

I gripped her length, guess-timating how much of it I could comfortably fit in as she started to move, and now she was fucking my face, the thick meaty helmet thrusting inside me, her movements matching my own as I moved closer and closer to my climax – and then I released her shaft and slapped both hands to her ass, pushing her deep inside my mouth as my entire body shook to my final explosion, and she came as well, a flood of cum that poured down my throat, so hard and fast that I barely even felt it, but so thick that I tasted it backing up in my mouth, for me to swallow more luxuriously as her pounding slowed down and our bodies calmed.

The book was forgotten, my mind drained of its contents because it was drained of everything. The threesome that got me so hot on the plane, and the short trip to Memphis that sucked me so deeply into author Gwen Masters’ plot that I actually had to put the book down and remind myself that I was only going to Dallas. All the stories were forgotten because I was living them now, and who cares about plot when you reach the denouement? “My body felt like liquid fire,” Masters declared and that’s not a feeling you get every day. “I exploded... with a cascade of color behind my eyelids.” Yes! That’s it exactly.

And afterwards… Lisa tried to explain, but I hushed her. I didn’t care. Later, I wished I had asked more questions; later, I wished we'd swapped cell numbers of e-mails or something, wished I'd handed her my copy of Do Not Disturb for to scribble her info on the fly leaf, in the knowledge that she could disturb me whenever she wanted. And I still regret that we didn't.

But one thing is for sure. I love this book, and I love the things it reminds me of. Lisa is still one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. And she owned one of the most beautiful cocks.

THIS AIN’T THE OFFICIAL PORN PARODY XXX ENCYCLOPEDIA (YES IT IS)

2011-12-01T13:24:00.001-08:00

THIS AIN’T THE OFFICIAL PORN PARODY XXX ENCYCLOPEDIA (YES IT IS)
by Dave Thompson and Chrissie Bentley

Coming in 2012

We are seeking adult movie fans to contribute to an exciting new book on the world of adult parody movies.

We are looking for short (250 word average) reviews of your favorite (or otherwise) XXX parody movies - visit amazon.com and check out their user-supplied reviews for the format. There is no limit to the number of submissions by any writer. There will be no payment for these reviews, but all published contributors will receive a copy of the final book.

THIS AIN’T THE OFFICIAL PORN PARODY XXX ENCYCLOPEDIA (YES IT IS), by authors Chrissie Bentley and Dave Thompson, is the first authoritative guide to this new world of Triple X cinematic sensation, a fully illustrated encyclopedia that weeds the great from the grisly, then draws out no less than 50 parodies for the full behind-the- scenes treatment, including interviews with the cast and makers, and side-by-side comparisons with the original program/movie.

Both writers are well-known in the field, Thompson as the author of Black & White & Blue, a study of the erotic film industry in its vintage infancy; Bentley as one of America’s leading erotic short storytellers, whose work has appeared in such titles as Best Women’s Erotica 2011, X-Cite Books’ Cocktails series and many more.

The book will be irreverent, fun, entertaining and rude. But it will also be authoritative, educational and eye opening, with a widespread appeal to both the erotic and the mainstream movie fan. Its visual content, utilizing material from both the parody and the original movie/program will ensure a vibrant and exciting presentation, while chapters of interest beyond the individual movies will include the views and opinions of an estimated fifty adult and non-adult film stars and makers, past and present.

These will include genre-specific fields such as the history of the XXX parody; problems faced (and solved) in creating a spoof; crossing over to the mainstream viewer; and more general topics such as censorship and piracy.

please e-mail submissions, and other inquiries to: Chrissie Bentley, bentleybook (at) yahoo (dot) com

Deadline March 31 2012

Well, you didn't think guys went there to wash, did you?

2011-11-30T00:51:00.000-08:00

see more Failblog After Dark

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-11-29T02:39:00.000-08:00

Black Friday Balling

2011-11-25T05:49:00.000-08:00

TOP FLOOR… GARDEN FURNISHINGS, SPORTING EQUIPMENT
I saw her when I stepped out through the elevator doors
She stood there looking radiant, just like Drew Barrymore
Really hot and sexy in a downhome sort of way
The girl next door you wish would come for something more than play
I couldn’t help my staring as she glided down the aisle
I wondered what it might take to turn on her brightest smile
I wondered what she looks like when she’s really having fun?
I wondered what she looks like when she’s about to come

FOURTH FLOOR – KITCHEN WARE, BATHROOM ACCESSORIES
I saw her look at toasters, and idly scan the pots
I paused to take my jacket off, I’ve never felt so hot
I felt confused; I didn’t ever act like this round chicks
I tried it out at college, but I’ve always preferred pricks
But I felt my puss get moister every time she looked my way
My panties growing damper as I wondered what I’d say
I wondered if she’d ever guess she was having this effect?
I wondered what she tasted like when she was soaking wet?

THIRD FLOOR – BEDDING AND BEDROOM FURNITURE
I saw her look at mattresses; I felt like I should shout
“Hey wait for me!”; the two of us could give it some work out!
The lighting in this display room illuminates her splendor
Her backlit dress was transluscent, her legs looked long and slender
I wondered what they’d feel like, pressed against my crack
I wondered what they’d feel like, wrapped around my back
I wondered what they’d taste like as I licked up from her feet
I longed to feel her silky thighs pressed against my cheeks

SECOND FLOOR – LADIES KNITWEAR AND FASHION
I saw her as the escalator swept me to the bottom
She was standing by a looking glass, trying a hot top on
I wanted to rush over, “you look so great in it!”
I watched her as she straightened it; my God, she has great tits
I wondered what they’d feel like cradled in my palms
Her nipples firm against my flesh, as she writhed in my arms
I’d shower her with kisses as she whispered “now you’re mine”
And pushed her crotch against me and began to slowly grind

FIRST FLOOR – PERFUMERY AND ACCESSORIES
I saw her in the purses aisle, where there isn’t that much room
I felt my legs grow weaker as I breathed in her perfume
I could barely speak; “excuse me,” I whispered as I passed
My heart was pounding loudly as my hand brushed her firm ass
I didn’t think she’d notice as I paused and briefly lingered
Let my pores breathe in her beauty through my gently questing fingers
Then she turned around to look at me as she felt me touch her coat
She turned around and smiled at me as they softly, softly stroked

BASEMENT LEVEL – LADIES LINGERIE
I saw her in the changing room with a pile of bras and panties
She beckoned me, said “do you think that this pair are too scanty?”
I went to speak and then she lunged, a hard kiss on the lips
Pulled me inside the changing room, her hands tight on my hips
Her tongue devoured my mouth, while her hand explored my breasts
Then she dropped down to her knees and she sucked out all my breath
My panties down in one swift move, her tongue upon my clit
I couldn’t last! I came so fast! And she lapped up all of it

I’m on my back, I lick her crack – oh God, I see a camera!
She laughed “it’s just security, watching while I bang ya
“It’s the day after Thanksgiving, let’s give the boys a treat”
I smiled and waved up at the lens, then began to gently eat
This goddess of the shopping mall, this Queen of Sears and Penny’s
This screaming, squirting Princess who’s now gasping my name! “Jenny!”
Her cries subside, she kisses me, then smiles and softly says
“I love the sales, let’s meet next year? Same time and same place”

This Black Friday all I want is...

2011-11-25T04:05:00.000-08:00

BEDTIME!

and let us all give thanks for....

2011-11-24T15:47:00.001-08:00

For the little pleasures.........

for anticipation....

for sensations

and for temptations.....

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE!!!!!!!

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-11-22T02:38:00.000-08:00

Heads up on Going Down

2011-11-20T13:44:00.000-08:00

It's not published for another six months, but I have a new story, "Do You Speak French?", by Chrissie Bentley, appearing in Rachel Kramer Bussel's latest anthology, Going Down... so here's a head's up and a chance to place an advance order at Amazon.

Publication Date: May 15, 2012
When you look back on the best sex you ever had, oral sex will be a part of the picture. Rachel Kramer Bussell, editor of the award-winning oral sex collections Tasting Him and Tasting Her is back with more lip-smackingly superb oral sex erotica for ALL with Going Down. The primal sense of taking in the essence, taste, smell and sexy up-closeness of a lover is a powerful aphrodisiac that affects one physically, mentally and emotionally. Once you have your lover in your mouth, the heat of desire, passion, and lust focus before your eyes and tie your arousal directly to them. These fictive fellatio stories, sizzling sixty-ninings, and talented tonguings will give readers lots of new ideas to try at home. In , lovers both give, receive and explore the many ways oral sex can be an act of love, tenderness, devotion or pure sexual act that lets readers revel in the emotion and sensuality of it all. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy this sexy read of explicit stories to get you hot and bothered with more than a mouthful. Giving head never read so good until now!

Advance orders here

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-11-15T02:37:00.000-08:00

Overheard...

2011-11-14T06:06:00.000-08:00

Overheard by a friend in the supermarket check-out, where the prices are high and the girls are... uninformed?

"There's no way that a fifteen year-old boy could make sperm that could get a girl pregnant."

This has now become my second All-Time Favorite contraceptive misconception, but of course it still has a long way to go to catch one that, apparently, originated in the 1960s, with the widespread advent of luminous watch dials.

Break the glass and place the watch alongside his testicles. The radiation will kill the sperm.

"So, what time did you get pregnant, Marcie?"

Last Night

2011-11-10T08:25:00.000-08:00

Last night I carried my anger home from work with me, I wore my mood like a shroud daring all to approach.
Last night my purple nails jarred my eyes, sharp reminders of my temper burning deep inside.
Last night I tended to my body; stripped my nails and soaked my skin.
Last night I emerged cleansed and shaved, body moisturised and soft to the touch.
Last night I sank into bed and wished my anger had been as easy to remove as the polish on my nails.
Last night he found me curled up in the duvet. He pulled me close and attempted to stroke away the pain.
Last night I was not in the mood.
Last night, I wanted to be left to embrace my darkness.
Last night he persisted.
Last night he snaked His tongue along my firmly set lips daring me to respond.
Last night he ran His fingers across my skin searching for my heart and soul.
Last night I melted beneath his tender caress and His loving eyes.
Last night my lips parted and I pushed out my tongue to entwine with his.
Last night his fingers stroked between my ribs pulling the blackness out of me.
Last night he seduced me with gentle words as fingers explored my flesh.
Last night my body betrayed me.
Last night my clitoris ached for his touch.
Last night his fingers wandered quietly across my stomach leaving quivering flesh in their wake.
Last night my pussy reached out to greet him while I tried to hold onto my anger.
Last night my trembling thighs parted beneath his touch.
Last night a spider's web of moisture stood guard protecting my throbbing need.
Last night he breached it with His fingers and fed my parted mouth with nectar of my own making.
Last night my soaking wet lips parted unbidden to reveal my liquid pink core.
Last night he buried His head between my wide spread thighs and sated his thirst.
Last night I was lost the instant His tongue slid between my lips.
Last night he attempted to drink me dry but soon everything was soaked.
Last night every caress of his tongue had me spiralling further out of control.
Last night the darkness of the day exploded into a thousand shards of light as orgasm after orgasm shattered my mind.
Last night every breath was a caress and every caress was unendurable pleasure.
Last night his tongue drove me to exhaustion.
Last night he filled my pussy with His fingers, sucking and fucking me beyond all reason.
Last night he inserted a finger into my arse leaving me filled front and back.
Last night I pleaded for the pleasure to end until I ran out of air.
Last night he was mine. I owned him.

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-11-08T02:36:00.000-08:00

If Nothing Else... it's funny!

2011-11-06T03:56:00.000-08:00

Just one of those peculiar little scenes that you find... and watch... and wonder, what the fuck?

The Life of a Librarian

2011-11-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

Public masturbator #1: At 2:59 p.m. Sept. 30 in the 34000 block of 1st Way South, police were dispatched to reports of a man masturbating at the Federal Way Public Library. According to the report, the man was viewing pornography on a library computer and masturbating while doing so. The suspect was detained by police without incident.

The question is... what the FUCK was he THINKING???????????????????

There's a reason why many library systems block certain content from private computers, and this is one of them. Because, unlike the accompanying picture, it is NEVER the hot guy with the cute smile and smoldering looks who whips out his tackle and chokes the chicken. It's more likely to be one like this.

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-11-02T02:35:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!!!!!!!

2011-10-31T03:35:00.000-07:00

More Mary

2011-10-30T03:44:00.000-07:00

No words... just a stunning image. Mary Millington

Another Familiar Feeling

2011-10-28T01:51:00.000-07:00

In Flight Entertainment

2011-10-27T11:45:00.000-07:00

Around one-third of the way through The Mile High Club, editor Rachel Kramer Bussel’s anthology of “plane sex stories,:” one of the characters snarls the following into her journal.

"Sex on planes is stupid. These people think they’re so cool for joining ‘the Mile High Club’... they’re just dumb conformists who want to do it because they read about it in a magazine...."

Neither is she far wrong. So many of today’s sexual highs and fantasies attain that status because they have become shorthand badges for some form of social oneupmanship that they are no more or less meaningless than those bumper stickers proclaiming your offspring to be an honor student. Yes, very nice. Now please, fuck off.

The characters in The Mike High Club are not, for the most part, dumb comformists. Rather, the nineteen stories that comprise the collection go out of their way to avoid conforming to any of the expectations that are normally associated with high altitude humping. Or with erotic books in general. There’s the female flight instructor who arranges a mid-air gay fling between her two most promising pupils (Vanessa Vaughn’s “Bermuda Triangle”). There’s the movie fan who encounters her slash starlet idol in a midflight ladies room (Sommer Marsden’s “The Scream Queen”) and another locked lavatory liaison between man and fruit in Craig J Sorensen’s “Top Banana.” And, best of all, there is the compulsive aerial masturbator who taunts temptation in Donna George Storey’s “Nasty Little Habit,” a tale that is both the most unusual in the book, and the most archetypal.

Think of the Mile High Club and what is the first image that comes to mind? A furtive coupling in a cramped bathroom, hands on the sink and one foot on the bowl, while you both hope the turbulence doesn’t pitch you pants-less through the loosely locked door. And yes, The Mile High Club does, as we’ve already seen, have its fair share of smallest room smooches. But if we imagine editor Bussel asked her contributors to avoid the standard cliches of the theme, then she simply opened the door for her authors to concoct a new one. Or, as Elizabeth Coldwell puts it in “Game In The Sky,” “joining the Mile High Club in the toilets is a little predictable.... So I thought we’d play a little game instead.” And full marks for the ingenious deployment of some unexpected sex toys.

Yet....

Without casting a single aspersion on the quality of the storytelling - which, with just a handful of exceptions, is excellent - how many heroines do we really need to meet, all wriggling in their airplane seat while a friend, relative, stranger or crew member expertly manipulates them to an aerial orgasm?

The set ups are entertaining, and the pays off work as well... the opening tale, Bill K’Tte’pi’s “34B,” packs a twist of an ending that your mind will keep returning to long after you’ve finished the book. But - and this is the question that haunts this book - does masturbation really count as sex, even if it is being done with a stranger? And, if it does, that means every guy who has ever jerked off in the restroom after one glimpse too many of the stewardess’s suspender belt is automatically a member of the Mile High Club.

Which, in turn, takes us back to the jaundiced journaling with which we opened this review, and which ironically kicks off the most stultifyingly hidebound tale in the entire anthology, Matt Conklin’s “Wild Child.” If hackneyed macho fantasies were converted to bonus air miles, this story would be flying for centuries. As it is, it runs into terminal turbulence from the moment its protagonist opens his mouth, and we can only be thankful that editor Bussell then regains the controls and we complete the rest of the journey with just a couple more air pockets to watch for.

There are exceptions (and I'll leave you to seek them out for yourselves) and there are surprises (ditto). And if we were reviewing an actual airline, I'd have to admit that the seats are generally comfortable, and there’s plenty of leg room for when you want to spread them wide. The flight crew are obliging, and some are downright delightful. But though the drinks are dispensed with charm and generosity, the menu is ultimately a let down. They promised red meat and a delicious fish course, but all they ultimately delivered was finger food.

And, although you get to your destination with a warm glow in your tummy, and a handful of memories to hang onto when you’re horny, the real prize is still just out of your reach. Because this is not a book about joining the Mile High Club. It’s a book about not having read the right magazines.

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-10-26T02:34:00.000-07:00

In Praise of Uncut Cocks

2011-10-25T06:11:00.000-07:00

WATCH IT HERE

WATCH IT HERE

As kinks go, I doubt that it even registers a "one" on the Richter scale (or whatever it is that such things are measured on). In fact, throughout most of the western world, it's probably not even considered strange. But in the USA, where most males are circumcised at birth, a girl who actually prefers uncut cocks is more or less as rare (or at least a "statistical anomaly") as a guy who possesses one.

Yet still I was surprised, when conducting one of my regular swings through various video sites, to discover just how few posters seem to share my fascination - or how few straight ones, anyway. Googling sundry combinations of "uncut cock" produces a lot of hits, of course. But the vast majority turn up in gay or, failing that, she-male sites, with the simple sight of a pretty girl playing peek-a-boo with a nice thick rollneck sweater confined to barely a comparative handful of hits.

So, a question....

Am I truly alone in my funny little fetish? To judge by some of the responses in an online debate I joined a couple of years ago, I might be.... Again, at least on this side of the Atlantic.

Or have I stumbled upon what might well be the last Undiscovered Fetish of the Internet Age?

As usual, you are invited to swamp my inbox with links to other films, which I'll add to the tiny collection we already have, and while you think about that, here's some recollections of my own moment of extra-fun-bit discovery (as retold and slightly revised in What I Did On My Summer Vacation)....

It was only as he moved up my body, his face glistening with pussy juice and my heart still hammering from the orgasm he sent shimmering through me, only as I reached between his legs to pull him up further, as I smiled at his galloping return to semi-stiffness, did I notice a difference. A little extra “give” in the way it felt. On the other hand, it could have been the thin flap of skin clinging stubbornly to the fat purple helmet, a network of tiny veins dark against its opaque sheen.

I held him in one hand, gently massaging his shaft, while I wondered how to phrase my next question. In the end, the silence and stillness felt embarrassing. “Okay, I’m sorry, but… is it meant to do that?”

Martin glanced down with a little more panic in his eyes than he realized. “Do what?”

“Um, I’ve never seen…” I indicated the bridge of skin. “What is it?”

“My foreskin?” He sounded confused for a moment. And then, “Is it true about American guys, then? They’re all circumcised?”

“Well, I don’t know about all of them, but most, are I think.”

“Not over here, luv. We like to keep our men intact. After all, you never know when you’re going to wake up in a blackberry bush.”

Eh? I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. (I figured it out later… don’t bother asking). “But does it stay like that?”

Again, I touched the curious flap, and then let out a little “oh” as it slowly retracted onto his shaft.

“Just gets a bit sticky, I guess,” he concluded, and I stroked some more, watching in fascination as a thick wave of skin coiled up with my fist, to tap the rim of his helmet.

I looked up at him, he was watching me curiously. “It’s alright, isn’t it? You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ve just never seen one before.” Then, to shatter the growing awareness of the fact I was treating him like a laboratory specimen, I leaned my head forward and let my mouth slip over his helmet. He sighed and an inexplicable sense of relief washed over me. Well, at least that’s the same.

His foreskin continued to fascinate me. His prick was thick, his helmet thicker. However, when I rolled the extra layer of skin up over it, it became thicker still, my lips strained to engulf it. The taste changed, too; sharp and salty when I pulled his skin back, markedly less so as I drew it forward. I loved the contrast, loved the sensation of the flesh folding back against my lips, and then rudely bumping them on its way forward…back and forth, back and forth..

oh, and this is wonderful....

A Familiar Feeling

2011-10-24T01:49:00.000-07:00

Adventures in Second Life continued

2011-10-22T05:50:00.000-07:00

WOULD YOU BUY A USED LOLLIPOP FROM THIS GIRL?

Googling Myself VI

2011-10-20T03:22:00.000-07:00

Another round of gratuitous self-googling, and this is what I found.

A video with one of the most unsexy titles ever conceived.

Seriously, would you even want to watch a movie called Jennifer Swallows Old Guy's Sperm? Well, click on it if you would.

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-10-18T02:33:00.000-07:00

Adventures in SL (and ELSEWHERE!) - Teeth

2011-10-16T03:03:00.000-07:00

Following up on a recent posting....

Bound and blindfolded, he thought she was defenseless.

But she had one last surprise in store....

[2011/09/16 18:17] JW: cock blood and cum... all at the same time
[2011/09/16 18:18] DL: yummy
[2011/09/16 18:19] JW: just say the word.. lol!
[2011/09/16 18:19] DL: i will dream about now
[2011/09/16 18:20] JW: peeling the flesh off your cock with my fangs... sucking out your soul with your cum...
[2011/09/16 18:20] DL: roooaaarrrr
[2011/09/16 18:21] JW: and then feeding from you every night... sometimes blood, sometimes... mmmm... I want a tongue made out of tiny sharp hooks... licking someone's body and peeling the skin off at the same time.. that would be delciious
[2011/09/16 18:32] DL: congratulation, now i am horny and need to sleep with that ideas
[2011/09/16 18:32] JW: start at the face... work my way slowly down the body
[2011/09/16 18:33] DL: ii bet you talking about male victims
[2011/09/16 18:33] JW: actually... I was talking about you...
[2011/09/16 18:33] DL: damn... you hate me....
[2011/09/16 18:33] JW: no, quite the contrary!
[2011/09/16 18:33] JW: you would love it!
[2011/09/16 18:34] DL: i wish i had not show you my cock... now you will destroy it... why ever
[2011/09/16 18:34] JW: oh, but I'd destroy it so beautifully
[2011/09/16 18:35] DL: do you often plan cock tortoures?
[2011/09/16 18:35] JW: well, I don't think of them as tortures
[2011/09/16 18:36] DL: how do you call?
[2011/09/16 18:36] JW: they are love making, of course
[2011/09/16 18:37] JW: to take a cock inside my mouth... deep... and devour it completely... slowly, luxuriously...
[2011/09/16 18:37] DL: yesss, thats love!!!!!!!
[2011/09/16 18:38] JW: told you so

Just because it's a cliche

2011-10-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

That doesn't mean it's not true...

Cum-cast on my tits

2011-10-14T03:51:00.000-07:00

The cable companies have been extolling the virtues of HD TV for so long now that the more gullible among us might almost believe that the claims are... well, they're probably true, but are they actually desirable? Razor burn is ugly at the best of times, but being able to see every scrape and pimple really doesn't seem something I want to find in my porn.

Now, if only they could invent a more tactile approach....

Taken from an old Zara Whites video whose title completely eludes me right now (so if you know it, please jog my memory), this is the scene that, when I first saw it at college, ensured I got the giggles every time I saw a big screen TV. The giggles and, perhaps, a peculiar sense of yearning. You don't get much more High Definition than this, and it could show 3D a trick or two too. Invent a television like this, and I wouldn't even wait for it to come down in price....

So, Zara, a remote control, and a truly magical televisual experience. Enjoy.... Because you'll never look at your flat screen the same way again.

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-10-12T02:32:00.000-07:00

Googling Myself V

2011-10-10T03:18:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been googling my own name again, and it it was impossible to resist clicking on this one.

Gorgeous Jenny Swallows Some Dick.

And she does!

Yet another quiz - are you a slut?

2011-10-07T03:11:00.000-07:00

The questions aren't bad... but the results leave me a little perturbed

ARE YOU A SLUT (FOR GIRLS)

You Scored as virgin
Young and cute and never even seen a guys penis.

virgin 90%
Slut 90%
good girl 80%
Kinky 70%
Whore 70%
Sex toy 60%
Party girl 30%
Bi-curious 20%
Rate this quiz

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-10-04T02:30:00.000-07:00

Googling Myself IV

2011-10-02T03:13:00.000-07:00

Since I started this little series, the most frequent question I have been asked is... "is that really you in that video?"

Regular readers, friends, and anybody who takes the time to read my little preamble about Googling my own name to see what else shows up, will know the answer to that one already. But for those who are going to watch my latest discovery, the answer is "no."

I am not "mature" - well, not as mature as this lady. And I am not a red head.

But don't let that spoil the fun!

"Mature Redhead Jenny Swallows Sack Load Of Cum

"Athletic redhead milf Jenny looks classy and distinguished as she strips out of her outfit and shows her pert boobies to the camera - but soon the whore in her comes out as she greedily falls on her muscle stud partner's firm cock, showing off her years of cocksucking experience. She bends over the couch to give easy access to both her holes and he teases both entrances with tongue and fingers. Begging for his dick, she raises her ass up further in the air and her man plunges his rod into both her pussy and ass, giving her the hard fucking she's been craving for so long. She eagerly sucks out a ballsack full of cum down into her throat."

Drenched and Delicious

2011-09-30T13:24:00.000-07:00

And that's all I need to say. Get on over to see the Drenched One and you'll not only find the first posting of that pic, but you'll also discover one of the greatest odes to the joys of cock sucking that I have ever come across. Or cum, come to that....

The Continuing Adventures of the Sexsational She HulXXX

2011-09-30T01:48:00.000-07:00

THE STORY SO FAR....

Transformed into a RAMPAGING GREEN GODDESS by an UNIDENTIFIED ASS FULL OF RADIOACTIVE CUM, lawyer Jenital Warters SWEARS A SOLEMN OATH to FIGHT CRIME where ever she may find it...

...but the rest of the time she spends having sex.

Oh, the life of a superhero is so damned hard.

NOW READ ON....

WISE-CRACKIN' COCK-SUCKIN' HIP-SWAYIN' YAY-SAYIN' PUSSY LICKIN' HOT KICKIN' CUM-SQUIRTIN' CRIME-FIGHTIN'... THE SEXSATIONAL SHE HULXXX IS GETTING IT ON WITH THE WASP.

Unfortunately, she just squashed her so... we fast forward a week...

With one mighty leap SHE HULXXX reaches her destination, the BLACK, BITTER, TENSED-TIGHT, BLUE BALLED HEART of Noo Yawk... THE CITY THAT NEVER PUTS OUT ON A FIRST DATE...

...where a GRUESOME sight awaits her arrival

Thinking fast, and KNOWING that the MILDEST TOUCH might send him hurtling over the edge to oblivion, SHE HULXXX does the only thing she can hope... hope beyond hope... might save the tortured youth.

She recites some EROTIC POETRY....

With ASTONISHING RESULTS!

Leopard Man TWITCHES... he GASPS... he CRIES OUT HER NAME...

and then he cums like there's NO TOMORROW

Even SHE HULXXX is stunned to silence as he drenches her with his PENT UP MAN JUICE!

Only as he finally SHUDDERS TO A STANDSTILL and the copious shower begins to let up does she finally speak... a trademark wisecrack to mark another triumph.

DON'T MISS THE NEXT EXCITING INSTALLMENT... SHE HULXXX AND THE ASSHOLE OF DESIRE

Vintage Clap Poster of the Week

2011-09-28T02:26:00.000-07:00

The Man of Your Dreams

2011-09-27T18:37:00.001-07:00

Thanks, Seph!

Curved Air - Backstreet Luv

2011-09-25T08:45:00.000-07:00

It's older than dirt, but this might well be one of my favorite songs ever.

And every woman reading this will understand why.

xxx

Further Adventures in Second Life... the Sexsational She Hulxxx

2011-09-25T03:47:00.000-07:00

THE STORY SO FAR....

Cowboy librarian JENITAL WARTERS was just another pretty girl with an itch to scratch when she got in line at the SUPERHERORGY sex convention.

And when she slipped into a back room with a bunch of horny comic book crime fighters, that's all she wanted to do... scratch that itch.

Instead she wound up with SO MUCH MORE... and she never did discover who did it.

Was it GLACIERMAN'S KID SISTER - so hot she melts herself twice a week?

Was it LOOSE BRAIN, the suave multi-millionaire feared throughout GOT'EM CITY as the dark knight TWATMAN???

Was it the coarse NORSE DEITY known simply as TH'WHORE?

Was it that horny Dalek with the DP obsession?

Was it the MULTI-PRICKED half man/half cephalopod DOCTOR OCTOCOCK?

Was it mild-mannered WEED WICHARDS, the india-rubber marvel who called himself MISTER CUM-TASTIC?

Was it PERVY PEPPER, the HIGH SCHOOL NERD who the world refers to as SPIKE-HER (DRINK) MAN?

OR WAS IT THE EMERALD MAN MOUNTAIN KNOWN TO A TREMBLING UNIVERSE AS THE SO-SUCKABLE BULK?

But one of them... one of them left her with the ASS FULL of HYPER-RADIATED HOT GAMMA GREEN CUM which TRANSFORMED her from a PETITE PRETTY MOUSE-FRAU with CUTE CURVES and a precious POUT...

...into an EIGHT FOOT GIANTESS with TITS THE SIZE OF TEXAS

and an INSATIABLE APPETITE FOR COCK AND PUSSY

Jenital Warters is THE SEXSATIONAL SHE HULXXX

Next time - SHE HULXXX SWALLOWS A LOAD

In Praise of Being Peeped

2011-09-24T01:03:00.000-07:00

It’s not so much a matter of getting caught looking, is it? It’s more to do with positioning yourself so you’re not only looking, but you are seen to be as well. That is the true nature of voyeurism, and of exhibitionism too - or, at least, that is the nature as it is depicted in Caught Looking, an anthology of twenty tales pieced together by Alison Tyler and Rachel Kramer Bussel that ranks among my own favorite reads this fall.

Because it is fall, isn’t, and I don’t care what the calendar says about the season not starting officially till... oh it's now, isn’t it? The days seem shorter than they ever ought to be, the skies are grayer, the clouds are heavier; what better weather could there be for locking yourself away in the evening with a pile of erotic books, opening the curtains on the apartment across the alleyway and wondering who might be gazing back at you - and what they might be thinking as they watch?

That is the premise behind more than one of the stories here, and the best of them is probably the first, Thomas S Roche’s “Curtain Call.” Drew, his hard-frigging, porn-loving, drape-opening heroine, is a genuinely likable lady, and if her story ends with a predictable squelch, we still have a lot of fun getting there.

Likewise the singularly named Radclyffe’s “A Flash Of Gold,” a lesbian martial arts (!!!) school epic that takes its momentum from a string of captured glimpses, while the action takes place firmly in the foreground.

In fact, there seems to be an unwritten law at work throughout this collection, that even the most imaginative and arousing story (a category that most of them fall into) should close with ... not a feelgood cliche, exactly, but with a simple denouement that leaves the reader without too much to wonder about once the page has turned.

There again, this is a tricky theme to pull off successfully, without delving into the minds of either stalkers or creepoids - as Tara Alton’s “Walled Lake Girl” discovers as she finds herself becoming both of those things in her quest to capture the hunk in a neighboring apartment. And sometimes, the theme does seem to have been shoehorned into another story entirely, as with the barely mentioned voyeur who is glimpsed in Debra Hyde’s “Tight Spots."

For stories such as these to work, even the most passive onlooker must be seen (or at least sensed) to contribute something to the action, even when it’s nothing more than the steamy sense of shame that his or her very presence arouses.

Shanna Germain’s “Down On Your Knees” fails for similar reasons (the story itself is great, if a little too chic-litty for some tastes), but Saskia Walker’s “A Room With A View” makes up for all such disappointments by virtue of actually eschewing all the rules that I just outlined. Or does it? The true voyeur is not necessarily watching the same things that we are; and the true exhibitionist is not always the center of attention. Moments when the sex toy in your hand is not necessarily the toy that you're having sex with.

It’s the search for those moments that makes Caught Looking such a joy, and the memories of your own such experiences that will keep you warm as the nights draw in further still, and soon it’ll be too cold to even drive your car around at night, let alone park it some place to make out with someone special, and wonder if tonight’s the night when you’ll be caught in the act? Sophie Mouette’s “Busted” has an hilarious variation on that theme, incidentally.

So I’ll be slipping away now, out of sight and out of mind, and you’ll be kicking back on that couch of yours, Caught Looking in one hand and the other going elsewhere, and I promise I won’t peep. Promisey promisey prom.

You do believe me, don’t you?

Adultworld... friends no longer?

2011-09-23T03:51:00.000-07:00

Wondering whether anybody has heard anything about Adultworldfriends... the Facebook of Fucking that launched long enough ago to seem like it was going to stick around forever, but which seems to have vanished (or at least moved and left no forwarding address) within the last two weeks or so?

Sad to see it go (if it has gone) - there was a fun crowd of people on there, once you got past the inevitable front row of sad guys begging a date off anyone who even looked female, and some of the best home photo galleries on the entire net. Wish I'd saved more of them than I did but, like so many other gone-but-not-forgotten Internet sites, who was to know that one day it would be no more?

Anyway, for anyone who missed out on the fun, this is what it was all about.... and for the rest of us... where shall we go next?

And talking of disappearances... has anybody seen or heard from Drenched and Delicious in the two days since she posted "Dear God"? Because that site, too, appears to have disappeared....

What is happening here?

It is supposed to be fun...

2011-09-21T20:59:00.000-07:00

I intended writing another in my ongoing series of Clit-erion Collection movie reviews tonight but, for whatever reason, the mood I was in simply wasn't conducive with the earnest bumpkins and grumpings that were taking place on the screen. And when I say earnest, I mean the kind of performance that leaves you wondering whether you've been getting it wrong all these years, and sex really is meant to be enacted only between people who look (and sound, and even act) as though they either have a mouthful of sour fruit OR, they are on the verge of making a momentous discovery in the realms of world hunger or the end of all war...

And they could not crack a smile, or even relax their frown for a moment.

Truly, I have met REM fans who look to be having more fun than some of these people, and then I wonder... Omg, what would they lok like if they WEREN'T getting paid to have sex with someone who really isn't that bad looking?

That ended any pretense I had of getting some writing done, so I turned instead to the heady realms of amateur net flicks - and I promptly ran into this, one of the most delightfully fun and, as a consequence, ultra hot three minutes I have seen since... Well, since the last one.

Whoever you are,, anonymous girl and unseen partner, thank you! You reminded me what I love about sex films.

Another early morning quiz... what's your kinky turn-on?

2011-09-20T03:48:00.000-07:00

Apparently.... this is me. (Actually, there's no "apparently" about it... at last, a quiz that got it right!)

You Scored as Biting
When it comes to being kinky, your biggest turn on is biting. You love the ectasy of teeth sinking into your flesh, and are probably willing to return the favor. Sex just isn't sex without using your teeth.

Biting 58%
Whips 58%
Blind Folds 58%
Chains/Handcuffs 50%
Bondage 42%
Blood 25%

now see how you do.... take the quiz here

Just a reminder - the sale is still on

2011-09-19T06:17:00.001-07:00

From now till September 30, all my Kindle e-book editions are available for $2.99

THE FIRST TIME AND 59 OTHER....
KINDLE EDITION buy here

THREE NUNS AND A MOTORCYCLE
KINDLE EDITION - buy here

BELOW BLUE LONDON
KINDLE EDITION - buy here

COUSIN TOM'S MOTORBIKE AND OTHER STORIES
KINDLE EDITION buy here

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION
KINDLE EDITION buy here

Googling Myself III

2011-09-18T03:10:00.000-07:00

Once more around the wastes of Google land, seeking myself in strange and unusual places. Jenny swallows lots of cum is the promise, and she does.

Joan Crawford's XXX secret

2011-09-15T06:14:00.001-07:00

Reading Dave Thompson's Black and White and Blue history of porn movies, I was intrigued by the chapter detailing the porno careers of various soon-to-be superstars, most of which have been ferocious denied by either the stars or their estates. The Marilyn Monroe ones that occasionally surface, and lead the mainstream media a merry dance, were long ago disproven.

But Joan Crawford?

Apparently she made a string of pornos when she was first struggling to break into Hollywood, and she didn't do a very good job of silencing the people who saw them, Thompson quotes actor Ted Jordan, as he recalled discussing Crawford’s past with the young (and then-unknown) Marilyn Monroe, in the late 1940s. “Hell," Monroe told him. "I didn’t fuck six guys in a stag movie like she did….”

There's a handful of titles associated with Crawford's appetite for fame... "The Plumber" and "The Casting Couch" among them... and Crawford worked furiously to disassociate herself from them, even calling upon her studio's legal department in one battle. But now it seems that the denials were not as cast iron as we thought, and Crawford's supporters hoped! Because here they (possibly) come....

Googling Myself II

2011-09-13T03:03:00.000-07:00

Continuing my trawl round the web, seeking my namesakes in whichever corners they may be lurking, I came across this. or, should I say, they came across her.

Although it's not quite the cosmetics commercial of my dreams, I bet the shower afterwards felt good....

Jenny swallows cum

MISS THE START, MISS THE END

2011-09-07T21:49:00.000-07:00

But the middle could go on forever... An antidote to whichever anodyne modern porn flick you watched last, this clip has almost everything you could ask for... Including the very real possibility that they will both have a giggling fit. Watch it here!

This one on the other hand, is another for our occasional series of "the things they say.". Or, more accurately, the noises they make.

Hrrrrrrrrmmmmmm... Hrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmm.....

Googling Myself

2011-09-02T03:45:00.000-07:00

"Have you been Googling yourself again?"

"Yeah, but just quickly before I went to sleep."

And this is what I found, although it's got nothing to do with me. I do love it, though!

Stop by and browse.

"Jenny Swallows, or Jenny the Skateboarding Finch, is the sworn enemy of Robat.

"I should've said this in Robat's bio, but he hates eggs and anything that happens to produce eggs. Jenny Swallows is quite popular for producing eggs because she's often a surrogate mother to those creatures that can't lay eggs. (poor mammals ;n
She's a hero to some, yep.

"Robat wants to kill her, the eggs she makes, and anything else that makes eggs.
yep even Platypuses.

"Did I mention Jenny is never seen without her skateboard? That's sort of important"

excerpt from SOHO BY SPOTLIGHT - SEX ORGY

2011-08-30T03:19:00.000-07:00

OUT NOW!

SOHO BY SPOTLIGHT by CHRISSIE BENTLEY (aka JENNY SWALLOWS)

BUY IT HERE (Kindle)

BUY IT HERE (print)

FREE EXCERPTS AT Jenny Swallows and Dark Side Clubhouse

In London in the 1960s, pornography was a man’s world.

Pornography - stag films and blue movies - were viewed by men, written by men, directed by men and filmed by men. If they hadn’t needed actresses to play a part on camera, it would probably have been made by men as well.

And then a woman came along, and changed that world completely.

This is her story.

EXCERPT
While Sharon stripped like she did it every day (which, I discovered afterwards, she did), Tina might have been getting ready for an unwanted shower. Down to her underwear, I gasped at just how lovely she looked, and the smile she returned did perk her up a little. But she remained edgy, and a film that I had intended as the vehicle to showcase my superstar, with Sharon merely a bit part in the background, rapidly emerged the other way round.

Another problem? Even though I told her it wasn’t necessary, Tina was now under the impression that she had to keep manipulating her own breasts when the camera was on her, and she rarely looked happy as she did so.

There was just one Tina moment that I wish I could bottle. Lying back with her legs high in the air, while Nick fucked her slow and hard, her hand slipped down between her legs and began to masturbate. And even then, my “director’s eye” caught Sharon effortlessly upstaging her without even intending to, eyes closed and mouth wide, as Kevin carried her off to ecstasy.

for more reading, downloads, pictures and more, please visit the Vintage Erotica Forum

An English accent

2011-08-28T03:07:00.000-07:00

Sexy girlfriend giving hot blowjob brought to you by RedTube - Home of free porn videos

"you're so fuckin' 'ot!". Classy!!

Doctor Who is back

2011-08-26T03:03:00.000-07:00

Abducted by the Daleks is not the greatest movie ever made... but come on! Daleks and naked girls! What more could you want?

the ultra-luscious Jo Grant. As I was saying, naked girls and Daleks...

Amy Pond. When good ideas go very very bad.

Doctor Who is back.

Saturday night, BBC America.

There was a time, a couple of years ago, when those words would have kept me happy for days... if not weeks. (Ignore this if
you don't watch Britain's once-greatest televisual export). Now I just sigh despondently as an unnecessarily convoluted plot promises to grow even more bafflingly obtuse, and amuse myself with the wise words of my friend Dave... "Matt Smith is a Toblerone-headed cunt."

To which I add, "and Amy Pond would look better with a face full of jizz."

Which is slightly misleading, because lots of women look better with a face full of jizz. But I'm sure you know what I mean.

Anyway, in honor of the fact that I have enough old Doctor Who DVDs that I could blot out the entire rest of the new season with the classics (although I know I won't), here's a few pics to remind us of the *real* reasons why we love the show.

And here are some more. Wow, is that the best Doctor Who website on the planet?

(OMG, there's a volume one as well?)

Special September Sale Offer - all KIndle titles just 2.99

2011-08-24T16:12:00.000-07:00