Saturday, March 31, 2012

The Clit-erion Collection: Girl Pirates 2 (2006)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
You might not believe it, but Girl Pirates 2 isn’t simply a great movie. It’s also two great ideas fighting to get out of the same couple of hours worth of DVD time, and both of them doing a terrific job of it, too.

The first great idea, of course, is the pirates. Ever since Johnny Depp established swashbuckling as the single hottest pursuit in 21st century mainstream cinema, and Jesse Jane et al confirmed that for the XXX crowd, it’s been hard to go wrong with some high seas hijinks, and director Bridgette Kerkove knows it. Expect seven seas swimming with sumptuous costuming, a lexicon packed with period dialogue, and - of course - enough cum to float a flotilla of galleons.

But the second great idea might be even better. Anybody with an eye for the prehistory of porn will immediately see where Kerkove’s heart lies, spooling back to the days before color and sound and opening each of Girl Pirates 2’s five sex scenes with a black and white vignette, complete with old time caption cards. Each dissolves into full color after an introductory few minutes, but those minutes are significant because they set the scene perfectly. Plus, they allow the players to save their breath for the action.


Thursday, March 29, 2012


Let's face it: they're new, they're unfamiliar, they ring your bell and light your fire, but it's crazy to even consider doing it with them. Problem is, you can’t stop thinking about doing it with them. And, anyway, who needs to know? There might never be a second chance, and you only live once…

A train commuter trapped between two hot passengers discovers fantasy can become reality, in public...

Emma cruises the aisles of a supermarket for a service that comes free to those with more passion than restraint...

When Natalie danced naked by the light of the moon, she had no idea she was not alone...


read more in French!

Valerie Grey
Rose de Fer
Aishling Morgan
Ashley Hind
Justine Elyot
Terri Pray
Kat Black
Elizabeth Coldwell
Charlotte Stein
and Chrissie Bentley... and here's a tiny excerpt from HERE THERE BE DRAGONS

“Hey Chrissie. Have you ever had a threesome?”

I’ll say one thing for my friend Lisa. She always knows how to catch your attention.

“No, I can’t say I have,” I started to say, but she was already chatting on. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot just lately. I think it’s something to do with the aging process.”

I eyed her curiously. “It’s not just because you can’t keep your legs shut, then?”

“Seriously. Think about it, when you’re young, everything’s a brand new experience. But as you get older… haven’t you noticed how your options just start drying up? You and Dave, for example. You’ve been together however long, a year or whatever, and I bet half the things you were doing when you first met have been completely forgotten about.”

“Okay… you do have a point, there.”

“Right. And why is that? Because you know one another so well, you know what each other likes, and you’ve just settled into a routine where that’s all you do. There’s no time for play anymore, no room for experiment. You just get in, get out and get on with your lives. And I’m not putting that down, because Pete and I were exactly the same.”

“But that’s not why you broke up.”

“I didn’t say it was. What I am saying is, I’ve been thinking about how exciting sex was when we were younger, and how I miss that thrill of discovery now that we’re not. Young. Which got me thinking about things that I’ve never done… and that got me thinking about threesomes.”

I smiled. “Well, you got there in the end. So you should go for it, then.”

“Oh, I’m going to. I was just wondering – who should we pick for our partner? It can’t be anyone we know, or who we’re likely to see…” I interrupted her. “Hey, what’s all this ‘we’ business? When you said a threesome, I thought you meant you and two guys. Or, at least, some other couple.”

“God, no. What happens if I hate it? At least if you’re there…”

“I can take over?”

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of, you wouldn’t be insulted if I don’t want to…” her voice trailed off and, for the first time in this entire conversation, it dawned on me that she was actually being serious about this. The question I now had to answer was, was I?

Tuesday, March 27, 2012


Extraordinary and secret desires drive the characters in these explicit and daring stories of sensual punishment, kinky power games, and fetish play.

Penny loses at cards and her forfeit is to become the slave of Edmund and his friends for a day...

When Jessie can’t pay her bill in a restaurant, the owner devises a unique payment plan...

Annabel’s reputation as an ice maiden only thaws when a daring barman dares to light her fuse...


Primula Bond
Kat Black
Penny Birch
Rachel Kramer Bussel
Elizabeth Coldwell
Sommer Marsden
Valerie Grey
Heather Towne
Courtney James
and Chrissie Bentley... and here's an excerpt from my contribution to the collection, the strange things that happen WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT

Without appearing (I hoped) to be staring, I snuck another look over at him. I’d put him around my age, so sort-of-somewhere mid-thirties. His hair peeked dark from beneath his hat, his boots were clean though they’d not been cleaned. He might be wearing a tie. Hard to tell; his chin kept his neckline in shadow. But he didn’t loom too shabby, and he certainly didn’t look the type who’d be groping strange women on a Rocky Mountain train ride. Oh, and other thing. I’d swear he was sitting a little bit closer than the last time I looked, as though every time we went through a tunnel, he’d inch himself just a little bit closer.

A knuckle grazed my panties, grazed my pussy through the cloth, and I fought back the yelp by biting down on my lip. Lost in thought, I’d lost my bearings, and the next tunnel had crept up even stealthier than he did. I cursed myself quietly; I’d resolved not to make a sound, and so far I’d more or less kept that up. But I’d also resolved not to move, yet my legs had still parted as his hand slipped between them; welcoming, maybe, curious, yes. I wanted to know how far this would go. I wanted to know how far I could go.

The knuckle lingered, light enough that I could almost shut my mind to its presence, firm enough that it would be able to feel the wetness and warmth that was embracing my pussy. I held my breath, not trusting myself to exhale as I waited to see what he would do next, and I was concentrating so hard on one thing that I didn’t even notice something else. That his hand had moved away, he had moved away, and we were back into daylight with me sat there frozen, a tooth still pinning my bottom lip down and my legs still parted wide.

And he was maybe a little bit closer.

I wondered if I should speak? Nothing incriminating, nothing accusing, just a few friendly words to pass the time. But I couldn’t trust my voice to stay steady, and didn’t believe I could keep my words light. Besides, I didn’t want to break the spell, that heart stopping moment when the hunter sights prey, because I hadn’t yet decided who was who.

I looked out of the window at the landscape flashing by, placing it on the map that my memory sketched out. One of the big ones was coming up, one of the tunnels that drove straight through a peak, with a halt in the middle for the maintenance crews. A boyfriend and I once got off the train there, intending to explore the heart of the mountain. We wound up scaring ourselves silly with every ghost story that we’d ever heard, and didn’t move from the platform until the next train arrived, eight long, cold and miserable hours later.

Saturday, March 24, 2012


click here for part one

How far would you go for a story?

To a spit and sawdust bar in the middle of nowhere.

To a booth in the corner with a dozen bikers watching me.

To my knees before an Angel who looked to be their leader.

To Heaven.

He stood and gripped my hair, a thick length in each hand which he twisted roughly around his fists, pulling my face forward. I could smell him through the fabric of his jeans, thick and sweet with just a hint of sour sweat and my hand obediently moved to his belt buckle, unclasping the rebel flag and tugging. A movement beneath the fabric as his cock celebrated the first hint of freedom, and I unbuttoned the denim, then tugged down the zip.

A laugh behind me. “Feed her, Al!”

Al laughed. “She’ll feed herself. Won’t you, Harley?”

It wasn’t my name but I fixed his eyes with mine and smiled. “Oh yeah.”

He sprang out, already hard, and for a moment I simply gazed on him, thick and handsome, the head curving elegantly down to the shaft, the tip already slick. Beside him, the girl with whom he’d been making out looked at me with undisguised hatred and my eye fell to her booted feet, prepared for the kick that I knew was on her mind. And then Al tugged again on my hair, hard, and my face was against his cock, my lips pressed and pressing as I opened my mouth and sucked at the shaft.

I angled him with one hand and, holding him loosely, started to lick, long sweeps around and across his shaft, tasting the scent that hung in my nostrils, raising him with my hand to suck on his balls, and feeling that familiar thrill as he let out a low moan of pleasure.

He wore a cock ring, beautiful and clear, patently designed for more than his own fun. The tip of my tongue traced its shape as my finger stole to the tiny button and pressed it. I could feel the vibrations the length of his cock and my pussy flooded at the thought of taking him inside me.

Then a sudden flash of pain as he twisted one fist and the hair that he held in it strained at the roots. My eyes met his... what do you want?... but I knew. Raising myself slightly on my haunches, I touched the tip of his cock to my lips, and started drawing him in.

His left hand was still twisting, pulling my hair, ripping at it and my head began to bob, faster and faster as he twisted harder and harder; then his other hand jerked and I stopped for a moment. He whispered, “you’re learning,” and the girl beside him laughed. “Yeah, ride that bitch,” and I understood. Left hand, accelerate; right hand, brake. My hair was handlebars, my mouth was the engine, and now I knew why he had started calling me Harley. Because he intended riding me like one.

My fingers grasped his cock just a little above the ring, that lovely little nubby, a buffer for my mouth as I fed him in. His cock was average, at least in my experience, six or maybe seven inches (I envy those girls who can measure in their mind), and not so thick that my jaw strained.

Where Al excelled was in its strength; deep in my mouth I could feel his cock straining against my upper teeth, fighting against the grip of my fist, delving deeper, and then pushing in hard as strange hands grabbed both of my wrists from behind and held them behind me, in a grip that wouldn’t quit. Oh fuck.

Other hands held the back of my head.

Double fuck.

The girl slipped down beside me and, for a moment, I thought she wanted to share the cock. But no, fingers were at my lips, stretching my mouth wider, pulling uncomfortably as her man drove in deeper - and paused. I froze too, and then the left fist jerked and I would have cried out if my mouth wasn’t crammed with cock and fingers.

I was rocking back and forth, my head blurring as I fucked his cock with my mouth and he started fucking me back, faster and faster as one fist twisted tighter in my hair, then slowing as the other came into play. Accelerate, brake; accelerate, brake.

He was good, pushing deep but no so deep that he choked me, pulling up short of my gag reflex, gliding over my lips and teeth, breathing hard as his hips ground his pleasure, controlling my every movement with his fists. The cock ring hummed against my front teeth, sending unfamiliar sensations through my body as he rode his bike ever harder and harder. Accelerate, brake; accelerate, brake.

The girl’s fingers were gone; I didn’t even notice until I felt her hands on my breasts, roughly squeezing through my t-shirt, twisting the already swollen nipples and then delving beneath the thin fabric, rolling it up to bare my tits to the room full of now leering bikers. I moved slightly to allow her more access, and my rhythm must have shifted slightly for the first in my hair twisted harder than ever... accelerate! Accelerate!

There was something on my breasts, something strange but so sensational. A massager. A kiss. A mechanical kiss. A pleasure kiss. I couldn’t see, but I could hear it, buzzing gently and then louder as a switch was flicked and the sensations intensified. I strained myself forward, my nipples crying out for touch, but the girl knew what she was doing, teasing me, torturing me, reducing my body to jello as her man fucked my head to pulp.

A thought crossed my mind. Apparently they chose their sex toys with the same care that they lavished on their motorbikes.

How long could I keep this up for? How long had it been going on for? I opened my eyes, unaware that I’d ever even closed them, and saw Vic, the guy who brought me here watching. Beside him, another girl was almost casually jerking him off and I guessed they weren’t the only couple getting off on the scene playing out before them.

There’s that moment when you know he’s going to cum, that split second where everything gets harder and hotter and I wouldn’t want to swear to it but the flavor changes too, the flavor of his cock becomes one you want to taste forever and, if you’re good, and he’s good too, then you can... well, not forever but long enough to enjoy it before everything goes off, and my eyes met his as his face broke into a grin and he knew we were there.

He gave it more gas, and I reared up, a wild wheelie. My hair felt like it was burning but I didn’t care. My hands broke the grip that held them and I grabbed Al’s legs, wrapped around his knees, pulling him forward as I topped back, and he knew exactly what I wanted, pinning me back in one sweet fluid moment, with his cock still plunging in and out my mouth as his fists released my hair and slammed down on either side of my head. His legs spread on either side of my torso and it was seamless, the way he slipped and I slid and we merged, the ultimate silver dream machine, every gear and piston slick and streamlined and when he came....

He raised himself up. I gasped with surprise at the sudden void in my mouth, then cried out with glee as his cum showered down, slapping hot against my bare tits, up to my chin, my cheek, my lips, thick ribbons of jizz that sprayed and flayed my skin with their heat. Then I reached up and grabbed him, jerking the last of his cum from his cock and sucking it out as well, pulling him into my mouth and gorging.

He softened slowly but I continued to suck, draining him and draining myself as well, knowing that the orgasm that had shaken me as I swallowed him was unlike any I had ever experienced. And I lay there on the wooden floor as he shifted his weight and lay beside me, my eyes fixed on the ceiling fan as it whirred above us, my ears noting as the sound of the room went back to normal, then there was a rustle to my left and someone handed him a newspaper. Open to a certain page. Open to my occasional column in the local rag.

Al read my name aloud from the page, then laughed.

“So, girlie. How far would you go for a story?”

I sat up, toying with the insignia pinned to his leather jacket. “Answer my questions, and maybe I’ll show you.”

He laughed. “Ask away.”


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Available now - my first audio book appearance. Well read by William LeGrande and available here: AUDIO BOOK


includes HOW MANY TIMES IS THE FIRST TIME by Chrissie Bentley

Top erotica authors are collected here to explore a whole range of scenarios and situations in which guys get up to no good with each other.

“You don't know how many times I've dreamed of this,” I whispered, holding him close to me. “You don't know how many times I've dreamed of a lot of things,” he smiled, his breath and then his tongue warm on one of my nipples. I stroked his hair as he closed his lips around it, then let out a small groan as he shifted slightly, and began tracing down my stomach.

He moved slowly, almost distractedly. Light kisses, soft bites, gentle nuzzles. I felt his tongue flick inside my belly button, then move sideways and linger gently on my side. His body, too, was in barely perceptible motion, shifting his weight, maneuvering around. Turning my head, I could see his prick swaying, a sheen of pre-cum catching the light from the bedside lamp. I wondered what it would taste like, but resisted the temptation. I wanted to see what he was planning, first.

Marty’s mouth was lower now, kissing my stomach, just inches away from my granite-aching cock. He showed no sign of being interested in that, though; one moment he was close enough that a simple twitch would have touched his tongue, the next he was softly biting the top of my leg. Then, as his hand gently cupped my balls, he stopped and looked up at me with an expression of unfathomable innocence. “You're probably going to think I'm an absolute idiot, but - what do I do now?”

“Nothing... you're doing fine,” I whispered, but he didn't move. “No, I mean...” his hand slipped onto my shaft. “I've never...” Again his voice trailed away, and I suddenly understood. “Whatever you want... whatever you think will feel good - for both of us.” I racked my brain for the right words. How do you explain to someone how to suck your cock? “You put it in your mouth and....” No. I tried to play it cool. “Kiss me again like you were doing, but this time don't cover so much ground”

“Like this?” His lips grazed my the base of my shaft, lingered for a moment, then retreated. “Yeah, but a little harder, and a little longer.”

“Like this?” Again I felt his lips there, exactly as I said; a little harder and a little longer. “That's it. Now keep doing that for a moment. See what I taste like, use your tongue a little.” Obediently - that's the only word for it - he began sliding his mouth gently around, occasionally touching the top of my sac, but always stopping just short of the head of my cock.

I was rock hard by now, but his hand kept my cock pressed firmly to my belly, as his tongue began to roam more freely. “Let it go, touch the tip,” I breathed, half-conscious of just how absurd those words sounded, but scarcely caring as his lips finally closed over the end. “That's wonderful,” I sighed. “Don't stop.”

“You're not going to...”

“Cum? No, not yet. I'll let you know.” Much as I would have loved to, I didn't think Marty would appreciate a mouthful of spunk this early in his apprenticeship. But, no sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I almost lost it altogether, as his lips sunk over the tip, over the head, and half my cock disappeared inside his mouth. He held me there for a moment, withdrew and then sunk down again. From the back of his throat, I heard him moan, then gasped with amazement as he licked me again, his tongue sweeping across the top of my cock, then pausing to twirl a little, as though it was trying to burrow inside the hole, and winkle out more of the pre-cum that was now begin to flow so freely. “You like that?” His voice was dancing. “I'm glad. Because I can't believe how delicious you are!”

His head dipped as he took half... more than half of me into his mouth, and then his movements grew more frenzied, fuck-sucking my cock as hard as he could, pausing for a breath, tossing a loose strand of hair from his face, and then taking me deeper every time. Again his cock was right in front of me, so close I could almost taste it, and so wet with his own clear juices that I could have drunk from it. It was too late to stop myself; I reached out and grasped his ass, dragged him over my face and pulled his hardness into my mouth, sucking hard even as I forced my throat to relax around him

My nose grazed his ball bag, and he gave a little groan. But nothing was going to distract his from his new-found pleasure, nothing at all. He slipped off my face with a whispered “you'll get your turn in a moment. But I want to see what you really taste like.”

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Clit-erion Collection: The Four (2012)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
Remind me, please, should I ever become a movie star (something I have no intention of doing, by the way), never to agree to appear in the accompanying Behind The Scenes documentary.

Because having just invested 200 minutes in Michael Ninn’s The Four, luxuriatingly in positively the most sumptuous, scrumptious XXX movie I have ever seen, I then put on the “making of” disc, and all those warm fuzzy feelings flew straight out of the window. Especially knowing that four years of delays and disappointment having held it back from its original 2008 release date. Now that could have been a great story. Instead....

It’s not that you hate to see an actor admit that he has not yet learned his lines, and simply grimace at the (omg, this dude is so patronizing) interviewer’s demand for an impromptu chunk of dialogue. It’s not that you squirm when one of the principle actresses admits she doesn’t yet know how to pronounce her character’s name. It’s not even that you actually feel embarrassed for the interviewer’s sad attempts to ingratiate himself with one of the other actresses, talking to her like Your Dad’s Creepy Friend asking what class is your favorite at school. It’s just that the whole thing reduces a magical movie to a series of talking heads, out of context stunts and very, very little else. In the context of a four disc box set, this is a cum stain splashed across one quarter of the packaging. Eject!

The Four, for anyone who has missed the upfront palaver, is Ninn’s long-delayed but so-worth-the-wait imagining of a sequel to The 300, mainstream Hollywood’s 2007 reimagining of the Battle of Thermopylae, three hundred Spartans following King Leonidas in a doomed quest to destroy the invading Persian King Xerxes. All three hundred were slaughtered, but what about the wives they left behind? Four, led by Leonidas’ widow Queen Gorgo (played here by Brea Bennett), strike a deal with the Gods. Give us the strength of 300 men each. And we will finish our dead menfolk’s job.

If you’ve seen The 300, you will recognize the same techniques here, with the framing voice over continuing on. The fight scenes are just as proficient, and the lighting and costuming might even be better - pulling off a first for an adult movie, Ninn tapped mainstream studios and staffers for talent, including the stunt teams who pull off some of the more spectacular moves. Indeed, so stunning are these sequences that the sex scenes (of which there are plenty) almost let the side down a little, as the cast... and maybe they can’t even help themselves anymore, so many adult films have they made... lapse into the same old dialogue that every movie uses, and the same old routine of positions as well.

Which is not to say you’ll be forwarding through them. Renne Perez serves up a blowjob for the ages just past the halfway mark, while absolutely any scene featuring Xerxes High Priestess (Jennifer Dark) will reduce you to some form of jello as she curls and coils that so hot Euro accent around everything that she touches. Marco Banderas, as Xerxes, is alternately terrifying, awesome and volcano-hot, Jana Jordan, as the Oracle, pulls off a fantastic lesbian scene with Amber Rayne (plus she has a Texan accent to die for), and there’s another blazing blowjob bestowed by Salamis (Cassidey), on a night so chill you can see the steam rising.

I dunno, though. You just wonder if a Spartan Queen and her three chosen warrior nympho might have something slightly more classical-sounding than “oh my god, yes yes yes, fuck that pussy ohhhhhh.” Especially when the rest of the dialogue is so beautifully poised around the action, scenery and scheming, and even the computer animation (which aroused so much hostility when the first trailers appeared four years ago), looks good enough to eat.

But that’s a grumble for another day, and perhaps a different context. The Four, at long last, is here, and it looks as good as it should. Just don’t ask yourself what went on behind the scenes. It really doesn’t matter.

Monday, March 19, 2012


The first erotica collection of it's kind: explicit sexual fantasies exploring the risks and thrills of showing it all. Written by the best erotica writers around.

How much of sex is participation and how much is exhibition and voyeurism?

Is being adored and worshipped enough for her? Can intimate insights and being teased to distraction be as thrilling as the chase for him?

These no-holes-barred erotica stories part the curtains and take an opportunist peek into the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it world of tantalising private shows that you won’t find in any strip-club.


Janine Ashbless
Sommer Marsden
Charlotte Stein
Lisette Ashton
David Hawthorne
Rachel Kramer Bussel
Elizabeth Coldwell
Morwenna Drake
Heather Towne
and Chrissie Bentley... and here's a tiny excerpt from a little tale that I called Revenge....

I picked up a cue, stroked my fingers down the shaft. "So, Billy boy, fancy having your ass whupped tonight?"

"Yeah, right." I could feel his little ferrety eyes boring into my cleavage, and I braced my back just a little, to give him a better view.

"Come on. One frame, and I'll tell you what. Winner takes all." I raised one leg, put my foot on the edge of the table. "And I mean all," I smiled, and felt all five pairs of eyes staring into my crotch.

"Go on, Bill, you can take her," one of his cronies smirked. "And then you can take her again. Come on, she's offering it to you on a plate."

Bill was stupid, but he wasn't dumb. "Yeah, but I don't trust her. She's up to something."

"You reckon? Or maybe you're just chicken." I picked up a ball from the table, balanced it on my palm, then traced a fingertip lightly across it.

"Chicken? Around you? Fuck off, Witch Bitch. I just don't trust you, that's all."

"Yeah, you might turn him into a frog or something." That was Butch.

"I might turn you back into a human being if you don't watch yourself," I snapped back, and there was a laugh from the others, despite themselves. "So Bill, are you game? I'll even let you break."

Bill still looked doubtful, but things had gone too far for him to back out. His pride depended upon it. "Okay. But you heard her, guys. Winner takes all. And I warn you, Witch Bitch, I don't go lightly on anyone."

"I wouldn't expect you to, champ," I cooed. "But I'll warn you. Neither do I."

I'll say one thing for Bill. He's not a bad pool player. Unfortunately for him, neither am I. Three years hanging with completely the wrong sort of guy (or so my folks used to complain, when I came home with hickies all over my neck) teaches you a lot of tricks, and playing pool is one of them. So bang-bang-bang and the game was over before Bill
was even warmed up.

I stood silently, still stroking my cue; Bill just glowered, while his disciples watched him uncertainly. The guy's an asshole, and he has an asshole's temper. But tonight he simply shrugged. "Luck. The balls lined up for you. You probably put a hex on them or something." It's funny, he ripped seven shades of shit out of me for being a witch, but
he certainly didn't have any problem believing it.

"Maybe I did," I smiled. "But tell you what. We'll play again, and this time, no tricks, no hexes. You up for it?"

Again he looked uncertain; again it was the nudging and nods of his crowd that made him back down. "Okay. But someone, get me a drink first." "Get me one, too," I snapped. "Pernod and ice, not too much ice."

"She even drinks like a fucking witch," I heard Butch growl. "What the fuck's Pernod?" My God, where do these people come from?

This game went much the same as the last, except this time, Bill barely got started. You know what it's like when every shot you take is the right one, and you've got the ball ricocheting off the cushions, knocking everything down that it's meant to? Even I was surprised how easy it was, and the look on Bill's face was just priceless.

"Okay, so winner takes all, right?" I leaned the cue against the table, walked around to where Bill was standing. It was funny, but his crowd all stepped away as I approached, lining up against the wall like they were scared I was going to eat them or something. Which, had they only known, was sort of what I had in mind. But first, I was going to have my fun.

"Okay, all of you, into the Ladies."

"Fuck you."

"Not if you don't go into the Ladies, you won't!"

"You're shitting us, right?" Bill had a bit of his old swagger back, although I could see he was still unsure of himself. But I smiled and turned the corner, down the corridor to the bathroom. Behind me, I could hear the others following me.

Friday, March 16, 2012

The Clit-erion Collection: The Passions of Carol (1975)

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

What do you mean, it’s the beginning of spring? In a corner of our hearts, it is always Christmas - or, at least, it had better be. Otherwise there’s a triptych of night terrors just waiting in the darkness, to show what will become of us if we don’t celebrate the season, all year round.

Or so said Charles Dickens, and so says Shaun Costello, director of what remains, thirty-seven years after it was made, the greatest XXX Christmas movie of them all, an adaptation of the old scribe’s A Christmas Carol that is as faithful as it ought to be, and as hot as you would hope.

Mary Stuart is Carol Scrooge, the hardbitten publisher of a low rent flesh mag called Biva. Hardbitten and hopelessly unsentimental as well. When her lay-out guy Bob Hatchet (an adorable Jamie Gillis), protests that he should not have to work late on Christmas Eve, she threatens to dismiss him. When her house cleaner makes the same request, she too finds the axe hanging over her. Even the Elvis impersonator who stops by the office to drop off some photographs finds himself forced to perform for his rapacious would-be employer, although a lengthy threesome with Scrooge and her receptionist probably wasn’t too demanding for him, even on this most hallowed of days.

Ah, but then Scrooge goes to bed that night, and things take a turn for the terrifying. A former partner, Lance Marley (Marc Stevens), rises from his grave to warn Carol of her upcoming visitors, and oh my God, the make-up department excelled themselves here. Cobwebbed and off color, bedecked in chains and rolling his eyes, Marley cares for just one thing - the redemption of Scrooge’s soul. Oh, and getting a decent blowjob. Apparently nobody in Heaven knows how to do them properly.

And who are these visitors who will shatter Scrooge’s sleep? The Ghost of Christmas Past, who transports Scrooge back to a childhood holiday, as she coerced two of her friends into having sex with her. The Ghost of Christmas Present, who shows her a scene of red hot tender passion between Bob Hatchet and his wife Tiny Kim (Kim Pope). And the Ghost of Christmas Future, who reveals the horrors that await an unrepentant Scrooge - turning cheap tricks in a shoddy motel room for whichever lowlife has the necessary bucks.

With dialogue lifted wholesale from the original story, and a soundtrack that may or may not have asked permission to excerpt great swathes of Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells (but does so anyway), exquisite sets and some genuinely strong performances from its cast, The Passions of Carol emerged into the world exactly thirty-seven years ago this month - an odd time for a Christmas movie to open, and one that was rewarded with no reward at all. Director Costello, writing in the booklet that accompanies the movie’s most recent DVD release, recalls opening at two theaters. One, a traditional porn venue, returned a “disappointing” box office; the other, a mainstream venue, was “downright disastrous.”

And that was it. The Passions of Carol slipped back beneath the waves, a favorite of a handful of cult movie enthusiasts (Cinema Sewer raves about it, and I’ve watched it most Christmases since I discovered it about five years ago), but forgotten until...

Until Distribpix took the tired old tapes and brought them back to life with a stunning restoration, a part of their newly launched Platinum Elite Series (Blonde Ambition and Maraschino Cherry, of recent review, have similar editions), complete with an often hilarious audio commentary from Costello, and a bonus featurette, The Deuce, looking back on how Times Square used to be before fast food, megastores and trendy parking lots slung the area’s traditional clientele out on their asses. (Although there is a certain wry amusement to be had from knowing you can now buy your hot creamy coffee from the same place where hot cream of a very different sort once flowed so copiously.)

So no, it’s not Christmas and many of you reading this might not celebrate it anyway. It doesn’t matter. The Passions of Carol might not slot effortlessly into the pantheon of true festive traditions, the Grinch and Heatmiser, Santa Claus the Movie and It’s A Wonderful Life.

But when I want to be warmed by something more than chestnuts, and the yule log has blurred through too much eggnog... I don’t even have to reach into my stocking. The Passions of Carol are already in the DVD player.

Thursday, March 15, 2012


What makes sex dangerous?

What makes your heart pound and your breath shorten?

Is the fear of shame the most powerful part of the experience?

These stories of women behaving badly show that what really counts is the twist on where you do it, who you do it with, what you do, and who might find out!

It girl Juliette attends a card game, and learns her virtue is at stake...

When fine art tutor Caro agrees to pose nude for her students, she never anticipated her disrobing would be so revealing...

At a desert auction, total ownership of Toni is the star attraction...


Janine Ashbless
Rachel Kramer Bussel
Elizabeth Coldwell
Ashley Hind
Primula Bond
Jennie Treverton
Valerie Grey
Penny Birch
and Chrissie Bentley... and here's a tiny excerpt from LOVE BITES

But there were good times as well… such as the first time he ever went down on me. I was absolutely astonished. Of course I knew all about it – like most healthy 17-year-old girls, I’d already read my fair share of articles, and even seen a few dirty movies, hijacked from my girlfriends’ brothers when they were off doing boy-things. But I was certain that those were the only places where guys actually did things like that and, as Lawrence’s tongue traced its way down my belly and thighs, as I realized with amazement that he was closer towards my pussy, I don’t know what shocked me the most - that it was actually happening to me, or that it was happening in such a normal room, in a normal house, in an excruciatingly normal town.

On the street outside, I heard a car drive past. Could the people inside have even dreamed what was occurring just 20 feet and a few walls away from them… could they have ever dreamed that I was lying there with my legs spread, and a tongue teasing around my cunt lips? And would they have believed it if they could?

He brushed my clitoris, and I almost screamed as I felt that nerve-jangling flicking for the first time, and every tiny movement of his lips and tongue sent a new spasm of ecstasy rushing through me. Desperate not to let the moment pass, I asked… begged… Lawrence to bite me there. Harder… please harder. Pleeeeeease.

He bit.

It hurt like hell, and I knew it would continue hurting for days to come; but that was the point. For as long as I could feel the stinging, I’d be able to remember that MY quim had been in HIS mouth, for a few voluptuous moments before he kissed his way back up my belly, then slid his cock inside me.

The memory flashed away, to be replaced by another one. Months passed; and we were fucking regularly, but his teeth remained a hard, sharp focal point of our love-making, long after I lost the need to feel them. In fact, it was getting to the point where I was actually dreading him licking me, because there was very little licking even taking place. Boys get blow-jobs; I was getting bite-jobs, and my pussy was sore and bruised from his attentions.

I suppose I could have asked him to change his tactics, but, like I said, I was young, and worried that if I asked him to stop, he might get angry, and never touch me again. One night, however, was different; one night, he treated me to a true eating-out: Warm, wet and rhythmic, with all the smooth, loving gentleness, and sense-shattering expertise that that entails. And, when I came - for the first time in his face – he clenched my ass and held me tight to his face, so that my frenzied gyrations smeared juice all over him. And, when it was over, and I lay back in absolute bliss, he raised herself and looked me in the eyes. Then he whispered, “you’re delicious.” All I could reply, as I lay in total shock, was “so are you.”

The following week, he dumped me.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012


They're here! The first bunch of books in the new Mischief line of erotic e-books, and I can't tell you how stoked I am to have stories upcoming in five of them!

Alongside a jaw dropping selection of other great authors and stories, you'll find me in each of the following... with more to come
At Your Mercy
Sex and the Stranger
Shameful Thrills

And over the next few days, here and at Constantly Chrissie, I'll be digging deep into each of the volumes, offering up a free extract from my story and introducing you to the other authors in the series.

Oh, and just to make a good day even greater, here's the Mischief launch in the eyes of the Wall Street Journal!

The Clit-erion Collection - Maraschino Cherry (1978)

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

I doubt many people will argue when I say The Opening of Misty Beethoven rises so far above the remainder of 1970s (and beyond) XXX fare that any movie that even glances in its direction will automatically attract some attention, by force of association alone. Certainly that is the case with Maraschino Cherry, a glorious reunion for director Radley Metzger and co-stars Gloria Leonard and Constance Money, and once again built around the conceit of teaching the tricks of the sexy trade to a young ingenue. In this case, the country girl younger sister of the Madame of a high class New York brothel.

Leonard is Maraschino, Jenny Baxter is sister Penny, sent up from the sticks by her parents to discover whether big sis really is the successful model she claims to be - or if, as the parents reckon, she’s just a very successful whore. And they’re hoping for the latter, because the homestead is deep in the late 70s recession, but there’s one commodity that always sells, even when times are hard. Because cocks are always hard as well.

That is the set up, and a handful of linking scenes make sure your eye stays on the ball. But the heart of the movie is a series of vignettes revolving around a day in the life of Maraschino and her staff - strange fetishes, peculiar urges, odd demands.... There is a slave in the basement, CJ Laing, and her scenes are absolutely fabulous - in fact one, involving out-stretched arms, two glasses of whiskey and a dildo up the ass, is drop dead delirious. Constance Money is as delectable as ever, although her screen time (comprising out-takes from Misty Beethoven) is short; Wade Nichols and Eric Edwards, on the other hand, are anything but short, and then there’s Susan McBain, who keeps up the best running gag in the entire movie, with her portrayal of a clock. Yes, a clock.

And it’s that which personally, raises this movie so high in my estimation; looking at the full “Henry Paris” catalog of director Metzger, I was never a fan of Barbara Broadcast, no matter how much I enjoy the restaurant scene, while The Afternoons of Pamela Mann was so-so at best. Maraschino Cherry, while leagues below either Misty Beethoven or Naked Came A Stranger, is nevertheless one of those movies that constantly surprises, and the newly remastered print that is on the shelves now is a delight, even without the second disc of bonus material that accompanies it.

And that’s all I have time for because... well, two glasses of whiskey, two out-stretched arms... I’m going to be busy for the next few hours....

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Amateur Photography

Back in my college days… a boyfriend had just bought a camcorder and we were messing around with it. Well, one thing led to another…..

I never smile when you take my photo
Because my lips are in a perfect “O”
I can’t say cheese when you click the shutter
‘Cos your cock’s in deep as it will go
But my skin’s a-glow and my eyes are laughing
And if I bob my head back till there’s only half in
You won’t care that I’m out of focus
You don’t mind that my hairline’s out of frame
You’ll just shoot off all your pictures
And then you ask me if we can do it again?

I don’t have any lines when you make your movies
Because my mouth’s so full that I can’t talk
I never have to care if you catch my best angle
It all looks good when you’re sucking pork
Plus the camera loves me when I’m busy working
Though the film gets blurred when my left hand’s jerking
And when you cry “cut!” I know what’s coming
And the camera lens carefully catches it all
I laugh as I watch your cum go spurting
Then I bob back to suck the rest from your balls

I on’t have any problem when you start uploading
Because I love knowing people are watching me go
I spend hours on the website where you’re posting our passion
It gets me so hot just watching me blow
Then I study the angles and I check all the lights
And make sure that my gulping was caught by the mike
Then you put down your cameras
As I nuzzle your glans
Because this time, I promise,
You’ll need both of your hands

Thursday, March 8, 2012

The Clit-erion Collection - Blonde Ambition (1981)

Building the ultimate porn library, one great flick at a time
One of my favorite features of the Internet is the way it will blithely recommend one product to me on the strength of my purchasing, or showing an interest in another. So, I buy a Pink Floyd CD for the bf, and suddenly all Amazon want to do is bombard me with multitudinous variations on The Dark Side Of The Moon. I will Google my name, and discover that I can find Jenny Swallows at e-Bay. And I go to IMDB to check some details on a movie I just watched, and discover that people who liked Blonde Ambition (1981) also liked Blonde Ambition (2007). And maybe they do. But something tells me that the only thing the two really have in common is... oh, see if you can guess.

First things first. The successor to the Amero brothers’ Every Inch A Lady, Blonde Ambition (1981) dates from the very tail end of the XXX industry’s attempts to make movies that could conceivably “cross over” into something approaching the mainstream, albeit without much hope of that ever happening.

Originally to be titled White Tie and Tails, Blonde Ambition is similar in style and format to that string of stylish farces turned out of the UK at the end of the 1970s, led off by Mary Millington’s Come Play With Me - which, coincidentally, also features Blonde Ambition’s guiding beauty, British-born Suzy Mandel. Blonde Ambition is, therefore, very much a light-hearted family-comedy, into which a succession of XXX scenes have been inserted , primarily because they can be. It might be a stray remark or an off-the-cuff gesture, it might even be a long cock sticking through a hole in the fence... whatever, it’s incentive enough for Suzy (or at least, a convincing double - which we’ll get to shortly) and co-star Dory Devon to send the temperature soaring.

But wait, there’s a plot! A good one, too, as the Kane Sisters, Sugar and Candy (Mandel and Devon), the world’s worst burlesque act, find themselves catapulted out of a dead-end bar job in Coyote Fang, Montana, into the glitz of New York City. Into which are thrust a misunderstanding over a priceless broach, a dowager that could have stepped out of Downton Abbey (the equally priceless Molly Malone), a lot of Eric Edwards, a little Jamie Gillis, a Village People-meets-Gone With The Wind dance sequence, and an hysterical scene in a militant gay bar as the girls try and pass themselves off as a drag act.

A few interesting asides featured in the accompanying booklet include Mandel’s iron-clad refusal to perform any sexual acts whatsoever, simulated oral included. Inserts got around that, and very well too - the double disc deluxe edition that remasters Blonde Ambition from the 35mm print includes both the hard- and softcore versions of the movie, and do so skillfully enough that you cannot spot the joins. I found it interesting, too, that there’s little more than a minute’s worth of running time to choose between the two. Compare that to the multi-hour features of today, which can be trimmed down to sit-com-with-commercials length for the “clean” bonus feature. And which are usually rubbish!

I’m not going to push this as a lost treasure or forgotten gem. But it is a lot of fun, the cast are clearly having a whale of a time, the sex steams and the jokes are good. There’s also a neat homage to Behind The Green Door, but I’ll leave you to find that for yourselves.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012


The elevator doors were still opening as I punched Mark’s number into my mobile.

“She said yes. Elaine said yes.”

On the other end of the line, I could sense his dismay. “So you’re going ahead with it?”

“You bet I’m going ahead with it.” And feeling like one of those characters in a story, who trots out the back story so the reader is up to speed from the start, I blurted on. “Those idiots have been terrorizing the town for six months. All I want to do is get in there, find out who they are, what they want, and if there’s anything we can do to get them out of here.” Then, knowing from the last month’s worth of arguing what Mark was going to come back with, “besides, it’s not as though we’re not talking about a chapter of Hell’s Angels. It’s just a bunch of middle-aged men with big motorbikes. How tough are they going to be, really?”

Mark simply sighed. “I guess you’re going to find out.” He hung up.

How far would you go for a story?

Back in college, studying journalism, I lost count of the number of times I was asked that question. And of how many times I answered it with the same six words. As far as I need to. I was only thinking in terms of the law, then, though, or maybe a hint of deception, and that was as far as I’d ever needed to go. As local newspapers go, I guess I landed a fairly sweet deal – not quite inner city, but not the suburbs, either. So I’d pursue politicians who looked like they might have something to hide, and I chased down a cop who was a little too free with his favors. And if the law of the land got a little dented in the process, then maybe it should pay a little more attention to truth and honesty than it does.

Tonight, though… tonight, I’d gone further than I’d ever imagined. First to that store in the mall where they sell the kind of clothes that I’d only looked at before, because the cut of the cloth and the slice of the slits really didn't fit in with the places I hung out. Maybe I did get a super-sluttish thrill as I looked at myself in the mirror, all teetering heels and too short skirt, a top that ended where my ribcage began, and my tits squeezing tight against their synthetic jail. Oh, and a pair of leggings to die for. But I suppressed it with a professional shrug. I was doing it for the story. The story has to come first.

Then to the newsstand, to at least get a working knowledge of what owning a motorbike was all about. Before he stopped picking up my calls, Mark told me there’s a lot more to it than being able to read the brand name on the side, and he was right. A couple of hours with some Harley mags filled my head with so many figures that I gained a whole new respect for the people who read them. Because it felt like a foreign language to me. Biker-ese, I smiled to myself, and I knew I’d never master it all. But at least I was conversant, and that’s all that mattered.

And then last night, down to Dino’s for Ribs’n’Things Thursday, to get the lay of the land and catch a few eyes, so when I returned tonight there would at least be a few friendly faces for me to hang out with. First in one of the booths where the whole gang had taken up residence; then up in the pool room, where the wagers ran from nickels to bike keys… and then…

How far would you go for a story?

As far as I need to go

Yeah, and if I keep on telling myself that, maybe I won’t gag on the fattest cock I’ve ever seen, being jammed down my throat by a guy whose presence I'd barely even acknowledged.

We’re in the rest room. The ladies’ rest room. I’d excused myself for a pee, an excuse to get down with some note taking, when there was a knock on the door, and a voice, “will you be long?”

“Just finishing.” I tucked my notepad back in my purse, flushed and washed my hands, then opened the door to find Lars standing there, blocking my exit, and undoing his belt.

“Thought you and me should have some quality time together,” he slurred. And then, as if he worried that I might not understand what he meant, “thought you and me should get to know each other.”

He’d finished fiddling down there; I glanced down quickly and his jeans were pulled wide open, and a semi-hard cock lay on a platform of grubby underwear.

“You did, did you?” I smiled brightly back at him. “And what do you think Pete…” – the guy I’d been sitting with – “… would think about that?”

“He’s already gone. Took off right after you did. So I figured that means you’re anyone’s now.”

Shit. I’d been relying on Pete, not only because he seemed to have the loosest tongue of them all, but also because he appeared to have the highest set of morals.

My eyes darted around Lars’ bulk, wondering if maybe I could squeeze past and run. He caught them and his already massive frame seemed to grow even bigger. “You’re not thinking of running out on me, are you?”

“You kidding?” Okay, I’d tried cowardice, now it was time for some bluster. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a line for the ladies. This could take some time.” Then I fell to my knees, took his cock in one hand and, eyes closed, I popped him into my mouth.

I don’t know what I was expecting. I’m not one of those girls you read about who creams her jeans at the thought of sucking cock – if I’m going to do it, it’s rarely a premeditated decision; it happens in the heat of a particular moment, because I know my partner likes it, or because I need to do something special for him. Certainly the idea of cold-bloodedly kneeling on a bathroom floor and sucking a stranger’s cock for any reason had never crossed my mind, and even as I drew his thickness into my mouth, a part of me couldn’t believe that I was doing it.

But another part was wondering why I’d waited so long to try. Lars wasn’t going to last long, I could tell that from his movements, and from the way his cock was swelling in my mouth, growing hotter and harder as his balls tensed and… for a moment, I wondered if I should try and slow him down, but only for a moment because that’s all the time I had before he came with a cry that must have been heard throughout the building, and I braced myself for the flood of fluid – that never came.

There was cum, but … what? Maybe a tablespoon full? Not enough to think about, that’s for sure, so I held it in my mouth while I sucked on his softening cock and, as I released him, I let his emission go as well, then wiped my mouth as lasciviously as I could, and gave him a breathy “wow.” The door to the bathroom was still wide open, and I could see a few of his friends watching us. But I stood up and kissed Lars’ bearded cheek, then squeezed past his bulk and went back to my table. Fuck, I needed a drink and, when Lars made his own way back to the booth, so did he. He didn’t say a word to me, though; didn’t even try and catch my eye, just kept his head down all evening, and sinking his brews. Was he the weak link I’d been hoping to find? Because if he was, then I’d just found his weakest point.

I don’t know if I’d describe it as a new respect, but when I turned up at Dino’s the following evening, there was definitely a sense that I’d earned something last night. I made my way to the same booth I’d occupied last night, and instead of the surly boots that reluctantly shifted to let me pass by their owners, they moved like lightning out of my path. And the guy whose jacket lay on my seat? He snatched it up before I even made to sit down.

I took out a cigarette, wondering how far this newfound chivalry might stretch… not that far, obviously. I lit it myself, then signaled to the waitress to bring me a drink. A few seats away, Lars was deep in conversation with a few other men, and didn’t even seem aware that I’d entered.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I’d already come to the conclusion that “steady” girlfriends were not a commodity this crowd were familiar with – that the biker babes who ran with them, and there were three or four, seemed to be passed around between whoever needed their company. Thanks, Pete, for that little nugget. At the same time, though, I was hoping there’d be at least a hint of acknowledgement of what happened last night.

Pete wasn’t here either, so I smiled at the guy who’d swept his jacket off my seat and asked which of the bikes outside was his. He told me; I nodded. “You like it?” I did.
“Come on, then.”

Now this I could handle. I said earlier that I didn’t know much about bikes. That’s true. But I grew up around them anyway, my three brothers had Harleys (at least until one of them crashed and almost wound up dead in a ditch), and I’d spent most of my childhood on one pillion or another. Maybe if they’d run with a gang, I’d have found other things to do as well, but that’s another fantasy.

Vic kicked her into life; held out his hand to haul me on board behind him, then grunted happily as I wrapped my arms round his waist – and we were away.

She was loud, she was fast, and Vic handled her well. I squealed the first time we took a sharp corner, convinced that my shoulders were just inches off the road, and I felt his frame shudder as he laughed at me. I clung on a little tighter, loving the feel of his bare arms against mine, the strength of his back as my breasts pressed against it. I wondered if he could feel how hard my nipples were – he was wearing an even skimpier top than I was, and as his shoulder-length hair flashed back into my face, I realized how wet my pussy was too.

If you've never ridden pillion, you should. Think of the best sex toy you've ever got off to, then add the hottest guy you've ever had inside. Then think of them again and again and again, because a bike just doesn't quit, not even when it stops. We halted and my insides were still in absolute turmoil, ecstatic turmoil, don't-ever-stop turmoil. But I blinked my eyes an cleared my head, then looked around, wondering how anybody ever thought this was a good place for a diner, out in the absolute middle of nowhere, with nothing but flat prairie for miles around. A broken-down pick-up sat outside, its natural color indistinguishable from the rust that coated it. But as we rounded the building, a real, old fifties style chrome creation, half a dozen gleaming motorbikes were gathered round the railings, and Vic slipped in alongside them with a throaty purr.

“Thought you’d like to meet some real riders,” he said. “They’ll probably be more your speed, as well.”

I wasn’t thinking about speed, though. I was thinking about what I’d done with Lars last night... and what it would be like to times that by... half a dozen bikes, half a dozen bikers, add Vic and maybe a passenger or three. I had a feeling I was going to be busy tonight.

How far would you go for a story?

All the way.


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This posting was sponsored by EdenFantasys

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The Last Days of the Sale

Last few weeks... (almost) all my Kindle and Nook e-book editions remain available for $2.99, and don't forget to check out the print editions too if that's what you prefer.

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.


KINDLE EDITION buy it now just $2.99

NOOK EDITION buy it now
PRINT EDITION - $7.99 buy it 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.

Buy it now for Kindle

But it now for Nook

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
PRINT EDITION $10.99 buy it now

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.

NOOK EDITION buy it here
PRINT EDITION $10.99 buy it now

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!

PRINT EDITION $9.99 buy it now

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!


PRINT EDITION $9.99 buy it now



PRINT EDITION $14.99 buy it now
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.



Monday, March 5, 2012

The Third Date Rule


The First Date
You’re cute, you’re sweet
Let’s take that as read
You ask me for an evening out
You didn’t mention bed
You picked me up and talked to me
We had a lovely meal
You pecked me on the cheek goodnight
Didn’t try to cop a feel
The Second Date
You dressed yourself as nicely
As you did for the first
You let me see you at your best
(Let me wonder what’s your worst)
Took my hand when we were running
To catch the late late metro
Then let go when we caught it
It was me who didn’t let you
Walked me to my front door
Kissed me on the lips
I had to snuggle right up close
To even feel your hips
Wrapped my arms around you
Cloaked your tongue with mine
I almost asked if you’d stay the night
But changed my mind. Next time.
The Third Date
The one where we ask the questions
That we’ve not cared about before
Like old boyfriends – shit, I’ve lost count!
I tell you three or four
The one where we get cozy
No matter where we are
Your arm round me in the restaurant
Your lips on mine in the bar
Your leg wrapped round mine for the cab ride home
My breasts safely cupped in your hands
Our lips superglued in an evening-long kiss
And mine on the bulge in your pants
Back at my flat, you look round the walls
See the diploma with my name upon it
“Are you really called that?” You ask with a smile
I say “yes”
And then I act upon it.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Jennys and Kitty get married

In Second Life, nobody can hear you fall off your poseball

Jennys Willful and Sophiekittycat - March 3 2011

above pic by Luna Nettle


above pics by Merry Felwitch