Monday, December 31, 2012


Sunday, December 23, 2012



Thursday, December 13, 2012

Breaking My Neck For Some Cock

But you have to watch it to the end.... click here for the fun

Monday, December 10, 2012

What I've Learned from Erotica

The latest Mischief Books blog posting is up.... and here's an excerpt

Chrissie Bentley, contributor to The VisitorConfessionsSubmissionMy Secret LifeSex & The StrangerAt Your MercyShameful Thrills, ExposureImproper Conduct and Girls Girls Girls and Underworlds and Holiday Affairs
There’s a short novel in that question, but I think the most intriguing lesson has been how liberating it is, not in a sexual manner (although some people might say that too), but in terms of treating different situations as though they are an erotic scene, and just going full bore for what you want to get out of them.
I’ve also noticed that people who know I write are more likely to confide in me—and lose some of their general conversational filters, as well, which is something I explored in my. contribution to Confessions....

read the rest here

Sunday, December 9, 2012

The Weather Outside is Frightful

so let's all go on vacation...

Here's a book to read on the plane

Includes my story "Welcome To Spain"

Buy it now!

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Talking About The First Time

I think we all remember the first blowjob we ever gave. But do we remember why we gave it?

Friday, December 7, 2012

Curl up for the holidays with the Nympho Librarian

Eleven seething tales of scalding raunch set in that most sacred of sexual sanctuaries - the public library. After hours, off the cuff, behind the bookshelves or under the desk, The Nympho Librarian and Other Stories is the book that defies the Dewey Decimal System. It ought to be filed under Red Hot Erotica. But you'll keep it under 69.


“When I grow up,” I once told my journal, “I want to be a hooker.”

I was a slow starter in the sex stakes.  I realized very early on that a name like mine was worth its weight in gold when it came to attracting boys’ attention… that it was the nomenclatural equivalent of a pair of big tits.  But I also knew that I wasn’t interested in boys.  I wanted men and, quite frankly, I didn’t have a clue about how to get one.  I certainly wasn’t going to start walking up to strangers and introducing myself, although, in my fantasies, I did it all the time – “hi,” I’d say.  “I’m Jenny Swallows, and I do.”  And I was fairly certain that I would.  Swallow, that is.  But I didn’t know for sure because I’d never had the chance.

So, I decided to become a hooker.

Looking back, I hadn’t really thought it through.  How much would I charge?  How would I find clients?  And how would I weed out the icky guys, so that all my clients were the same handsome studs that gyrated through my imaginings?  I didn’t know, so I didn’t worry about it.  All that mattered to me was what happened once all that was taken care of…. And it went something like this.

He was usually tall, blonde and occasionally English.  A businessman in town for a few days, and he’d got my name from a friend.  We’d meet in the lobby of his hotel, a swish joint in Abilene, and he’d wine and dine me at the best restaurant in town.  Then a cab back to the hotel, an elevator up to his suite, and that’s where it would start, with me dropping to my knees before him, and resting my cheek against the erection that our earlier conversation… as I outlined everything he would get for his money… would have set in motion.   

He’d be torn between desire and embarrassment – what if the lift should stop, and someone should come in?  “Well,” I’d reply, as I unzipped his pants, “they’d see what a handsome prick you have.”  And it would be handsome, well-shaped and uncut, long and thick but not so fat that I wouldn’t be able to fit it in my mouth.  I remembered watching a porn film once, where the guy was so huge that the girl could barely get the tip in her mouth without dislocating her jaw.  I wanted to suck the whole thing.

“Not here,” he’d gasp.

“Well, where?” I’d reply, as I licked his shaft from balls to bell end, then ran my tongue around the crest.

“We’re almost at my floor.”

“I’m almost at the top,” I’d say, and I’d give his helmet a long, deep kiss.  But he was right, we were almost at his floor, so I’d zip him back up and then patiently wait while he found his door key and let us into his suite.  Candlelit, with champagne already on ice – you see, I told you I hadn’t thought any of this through properly.  But it was my dream, so there it was, champagne and candles and a pair of pants that vanished the moment we got into the bedroom, and now there was nothing to stop me.

I push him back on the bed, his legs hanging over the edge for me to kneel between, my elbows resting on his thighs as his cock rises unaided towards me.  I clutch it with two fingers, gently move it towards my mouth, and then I begin to suck.

And suck and suck and suck, until he is so close to coming that his entire body is in ecstatic spasm.  Then I pause and wait for the moment to pass, allow him to gain control once again.  And then I start once more.

I rarely wore a wrist watch, and there was no clock that I could see.  So I don’t know how long it lasts for.  But whatever he paid me, he’d get a minute for each dollar, and believe me, I wasn’t cheap.  A two hour blowjob?  Three hours?  Four?  I didn’t mind, and neither would he and when, at the end, I finally did let him come, it was like placing my mouth over the end of a hosepipe and then turning the water faucet on full.  Except it wouldn’t be water, it was honey and liquor and candy and joy, and every drop tasted better than the one before.

And he’s paying me?  Unbelievable!

I’d stay the night, or what was left of it regardless, and maybe we’d fuck or he’d eat me or whatever.  But I’d have got what I came for, and the rest was just a bonus.  Fuck, the cash was just a bonus.  But I’d never heard of hookers who gave it out for free, so I didn’t let it bother me.  Plus, it was better than working.

Or so I used to think.  Until I found a proper job....
Buy it now!

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Convenient, Elegant and Fun

We'll get the bad news out of the way first. The packaging looks good but it is flimsy flimsy flimsy... by the time my order had made its way through the mails, bumping against another toy in the same box, the pleasure kit's casing looked like a bag of cat treats going three rounds with a dog. All of which I mention only if you're thinking of giving this as a gift. Nothing says "oops" like a battered box.

Ah, but then we open it up and... 

Read more at Eden Fantasys

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Intimacy - You Can't Fake It

Bombarded by imagery of sex and death, politics and disaster, life - like the movies - sometimes feels like it's lost all grip on what matters. Some ruminations on the meaning of intimacy, seen through the lens of a forty-five year old subtitled Swedish movie.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Not Your Standard Fuck Flick

It's close to forty years now since movies like Deep ThroatBehind the Green Door and, best of all, The Opening of Misty Beethoven burst onto the scene with what American cinema regarded as an hitherto unimaginable combination - plot and porn! It was a brief flowering, one that nodded towards the tremendous advances taking place in European XXX cinema at the same time, but which was swiftly cut down again by any number of factors, ranging from increased legislation to the arrival of VHS, and onto the questionable insistence that audiences really didn't want plot. They wanted sex, and the more of it, the merrier.

That latter picture hasn't really changed too much, with the consequence that even the most carefully schemed out sex movie (and there's a lot of them around) is forced to double its running time by dragging every XXX scene out for fifteen, twenty minutes... at the end of which, almost without fail, you've completely forgotten what the actual story is. Thank goodness for fast forward buttons.

Throat: A Cautionary Tale might surprise you, then. 

Read more at Eden Fantasys

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Deliciously Inventive...

There are many ways of exerting control, and the best ones are those that really don't seem to demand any effort. Not on the part of the controller, at least.

That's the first lesson you learn from Kristina Lloyd's "No Sleep," as the narrator kneels awaiting her master's pleasure, watching his naked body silhouetted against the TV screen in a cheap hotel that she booked by the hour - and all he seems to care about is locating the remote control. Until the moment when he affects to notice her, then lackadaisically turns to write "free whore" on her chest. 

Read more at Eden Fantasys

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Things to Give Thanks For

with all those Kindles, Androids, Ipads and Nooks that will be piling into your stockings this year, here's a few suggestions to get your e-reading off to a good start....

all available NOW from Mischief Books

Friday, November 16, 2012

Keep Those Votes Cumming!

I was thrilled this morning to find Naughty Miranda ... that's me!!!!!... has entered the Top 5 most popular authors over at Erotic Stories!  Thanks to everyone who has voted for me over the years... and cheers to everyone who might in the future.

If you get the chance, please drop by.  It's the best erotic stories on the web by a long way, with over 6,500 authors contributing stories and verse, and updated every day.  So look around, read what you like... and if you get the chance, take a look at Naughty Miranda.



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

My favorite erotic movies

Chrissie Bentley, contributor to The VisitorConfessionsSubmissionMy Secret LifeSex & The StrangerAt Your MercyShameful Thrills, ExposureImproper Conduct and Girls Girls Girls and Underworlds
In the XXX world, The Sexorcist, which was one of those post-Exorcist knock-offs that came out in the early 1970s, and basically revolves around Lily Lamarr giving sloppy blowjobs to every guy she meets, the Devil included; and more politely, Inserts, a mainstream Hollywood movie with Richard Dreyfuss and Jessica Harper. I also adore the lesbian cat scene at the end of disc one of 8th Day, and most recently, the French movie Q, with Deborah Revy, which completely blew me away.

Read more at Mischief Books

See more on my Pinterest page

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Saturday, November 3, 2012

There Are Worse Things To Perfect

Three things made this book stand out for me. The cover, which matches a welcome understatement (compared with most books on this topic) with a sense of humor that matches the writing. The writing, which delivers every tip with a twinkle in the eye. And the brightly colored lay-out, which remembers the one thing that, again, a lot of the books on the subject forget. This is not rocket science, and it's meant to be fun. And until some brave and enterprising publisher gets round to the How To... blowjob pop-up book, well this may not quite be the most fun you can have with your mouth closed, but it's certainly a great conversation piece.

And how do I know this? Because I just had one such conversation. 

Read more at Eden Fantasys

Monday, October 29, 2012

Even Better Than 50 Shades!

Miss America's first review is in at Barnes & Noble...

Posted October 29, 2012

 Love it!!

Excellent writing by the author. Even better than 50 Shades... 
Definately recommend it.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Isn't That You On The Screen?

You can find anything on the Internet. Including, apparently, footage of your friends having sex.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Interview with Madame X... Beyond The Dungeon

Immortalized in fiction, fetishized in art, and lionized in some of the internet’s most fascinating corners, we probably think we know everything about the life of a Dominatrix. In which case, we are in for a few surprises. 

Note: I've chosen to present this strictly in the words of the interviewee, removing my own questions and prompts.

Sunday, October 14, 2012





It lay propped against a table, a sheet of almost opaque plastic, stretched between two pairs of poles, one set long and vertical, the other, short and horizontal.  As I approached, a figure lay it on the floor and pulled back one sheet of plastic… no, latex.  A second sheet lay beneath it.

A voice commanded, “Get in.”

Gingerly, I stepped onto the sheet, then lay down at an angle, my head poking out of the turned-back corner.  Someone kicked me in the side.  “Get in properly.”  Feeling the first flush of panic begin to flutter in my chest, I obeyed.  What was this thing?

I lay down “properly,” my face beneath the latex layer.  Somebody shifted my arms and legs, spreading them until I lay in an exaggerated X.  Hands then pulled the top layer tight and secured it.  

“Does she know where the breathing tube is?” I heard someone ask.  

“I hope so,” somebody else said.  “She’ll be needing it.”

I felt with my lips, shifting my head slightly; my nose, then my mouth, met a plastic nozzle; I clasped it greedily between my lips.  However it worked… later, I saw a black plastic tube leading away from the mouthpiece… it brought me air.  And, as I’d been warned, just in time.  A high-pitched whine kicked up, followed by the indescribable sensation of all the air being sucked from the sack.  I was being vacuum-sealed in a latex bag.

I could hear everything and, as the latex formed itself tightly over my body and face, see everything.  I could even feel everything; I realized that, when a hand slapped down onto my thigh, then lingered long enough to draw its fingertips up my leg towards my groin.  But I could not move a muscle; even breathing was an effort, although I was in no danger of suffocation.  I just hoped that my body wasn’t nursing some long-hidden latex allergy.

I lay there, my eyes alone moving, following the figures as they drifted around me.  Somebody knelt and pressed fingers to my lips; somebody else was stroking something hard against my pussy.  

I resolved to remain calm.  True, I was trussed up like a turkey.  But if I couldn’t touch them, it meant that they couldn’t touch me, not really. And that meant there could be no penetration, not so long as I was protected by that membrane-thin latex barrier.

I don’t know how long I lay like that.  Periodically, somebody would pass, glance down at me, maybe run a hand along my body.  One pair of fingers tweaked my left nipple viciously; another spent an inordinate amount of time pushing ineffectually at my pussy.  It appeared that this contraption was as novel to them as it was to me, and I wondered if that was the point of the exercise… a demonstration of some new invention by the friendly neighborhood scientists.

Penelope appeared.  At first I didn’t recognize her; I’d never seen her, after all, from my latest perspective, spread-eagled on the floor while she stood directly above my head, affording me an unrestricted view straight up her skirt, to the shaven pussy that crowned her thighs.

She crouched slowly, her fingers between her thighs, spreading her pussy lips wide.  I watched as she started to masturbate herself with one hand; then, as she replaced her fingers with a vibrator.  She did not enter herself, merely played the humming toy around her lips, letting it dip occasionally to brush against my mouth.  It felt like an electric toothbrush.

Suddenly she spoke, as though she’d just noticed me for the first time.  “I told my Masters about you,” she chirped happily.  “They said I should show you what I like doing.  They were amazed when I told them that you didn’t know how to… you know.”