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.”

Friday, October 12, 2012

Making a meal of it

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Sweet danger....

Taboo is always a tricky subject to define. What I might consider a genuine no-go area might strike you as the most natural thing in the world, and any book that flags itself with the promise ;f "forbidden desire" is essentially going to be walking a tightrope with a blindfold on. And maybe a ballgag as well.

That said, I trust Violet Blue to talk that walk with a little more finesse than most, and so it transpires. Not every story in Sweet Danger is going to leave you wide-eyed and breathless at the feats framed within, and I must confess that the opening tale, Donna George Storey's "Picture Perfect" left me ice cold, not because I didn't enjoy it, but because I cannot see how shaving can even be considered a taboo any longer. To judge from most movies, picture spreads and stories, it's the girls who don't who are the real revolutionaries. Maybe we should start a club?

read the rest at Eden Fantasys

Monday, October 8, 2012

Lemuria - A Fairy Tale

Lemuria was hungry.  Her whole body lit up with sensation. Her neck prickled, the fine downy hair on her shoulders and back was erect, vibrating beneath the sun's touch, her small breasts ached and the tiny nubs of her nipples pushed hard against the thin fabric of her dress, caressing themselves endlessly against the material's soft touch, whilst her lower stomach tingled as a never ending drumbeat of sensation played within her and between her legs and an unstoppable, endless flow of moisture was seeping from her, sliding down her legs, leaving her thighs soaking, shiny, and aromatic. 

The scent felt thick in her nostrils, reminded her of bodies that had danced until their skin had glowed and small droplets of moisture had formed. She tasted it with a curious finger, thick and sticky like honey but with a warm, salty flavour. She'd tried to clean herself with her hand, but every time she wiped the liquid away, a spasm shook her body and fresh juices seeped down to replace what she'd removed and as much as she licked off one finger, there was enough left to coat two more. 

Suckling happily at her fingers, Lemuria, barely notice the thinning of the trees as she approached the forest edge, and she passed down amongst the thick long stems of the meadow grasses. Butterflies fluttered about her, bees zipped past on important business, crickets and grasshoppers chirruped out greetings but Lemuria was unaware of anything beyond the steadily building crescendo of her own bodily needs. 

If she was wet before, she was drenched now; where her fingers had once merely tasted pleasant now they seemed coated in nectar; where once her skin had been happily caressed by the breeze now it burned at its touch. Now her breasts throbbed and her nipples were a thousand pinpricks of delight. And between her legs ... oh most majestic Titania ... between her legs was an inferno, a fiery fantasy, every step a tumult of throbbing, quivering, aching, and spasming pleasure; every step leaving her breathless beneath the baking midday sun. 

Quite how she got to the stream she did not know. The journey from forest to waters edge was a blur, but she had never been more pleased to see water in her whole life. Fortunately, the stream had a little sand beach and Lemuria fell to her knees, formed a cup with her hands and sated her thirst with the clean fresh water. 

Kneeling, hands clasped helpless in front of her, droplets of water trickling down her face, droplets of come streaking her thighs, Lemuria never saw him until he was stood over her, till his reflections sat beside hers in the ever-changing mirror of the water's surface, till his hand was in her hair turning her towards him. 

He was magnificent. A little bigger than herself and certainly broader, his fair skin bronzed, his arms and legs muscled, his hands strong, making her shrink back a little in fear. She looked up at his face, tried to read his intentions, but it was indecipherable, though rather pleasant to gaze upon. 

She was transfixed. Kneeling on all fours before him she found herself unable to move, found herself lost in his blue eyes, found herself with gaping mouth awaiting him. 

Something came between them. Something grew out from between his legs. Something long and thick and smooth, gradually yet steadily expanded out until it hung in mid-air before Lemuria's face. Hung their demanding recognition, demanding attention, demanding that she ... what should she do? 

She could see that the shiny, bulbous end seemed to be coated in moisture and that there was a thin slit with fine dew trickling down the head to form a pearlescent droplet on the underside of her Sprite's protuberance. With the taste for her own moisture still fresh in her mouth, Lemuria couldn't help but wonder whether this new liquid would  be so delightfully flavoured. Without a second thought she began to extend her tongue. Her heart thumped noisily inside her chest at the excitement, the danger, the tension. She was quite helpless knelt like this and had no idea how he would react but that single droplet looked so tempting, so tasty, so in need of a hungry little mouth to savour it. 

There Lemuria knelt, hands and knees covered in dust, her tongue poised no more than hair's breadth beneath his dewy moisture. She shut her eyes, held herself steady and slowly started to glide her tongue upwards. Upwards till she felt the droplet collect amongst her saliva, upwards so that she might feel his skin, upwards so that she could slide her tongue over his shiny end collecting more moisture along the way, upwards so that she could press her tongue into his tiny slit and lap at the liquid held within, upwards till she passed over the top of his stiff shaft and her tongue hovered once again in mid-air.  Her Sprite moaned; a long exhalation of breath squeezed out between quivering lips. 

He tasted ... Lemuria's mind searched frantically for the answer. He tasted as she tasted; yet more so or may be less. It was the same yet different; where she tasted of the air, the trees, acorns and forest, he tasted of grass and earth and water and him; and Lemuria loved it. 

She flicked her tongue out again, found his end, and ran herself across it, lapping at his flesh, soaking him, her saliva mingling with his heady scent. It was fabulous, it was wonderful; it was not enough.  She needed to wrap her tongue around him, hold him along His length, slide her silken skin over him, dribble over him till he was as soaked as the hot slit between her legs, and squeeze him so that she could feel the stiff muscle at his core, then slowly but surely feed him into her warm wet mouth. 

Gradually, she wrapped her tongue round him; willing it to extend until it coiled like a snake around his branch.  Lemuria slid it slowly back and forth till she had embraced it all.  Beneath her ever moving tongue she could feel him growing; pushing hard against her constraining coils, expanding ever outwards as if it was filling with something. 

Lemuria's body shook as a spasm flooded out from between her legs.  Whatever it was making his 'thing' expand she wanted it and she wanted it now. Squeezing with her tongue she dived her head forward, opened her mouth as wide as nature would allow and tried to get her distended lips over his bulbous head. It was a struggle, but with a little effort she soon had succeeded in sucking at least his head inside her. 

She'd been hoping to suck on him, to use her mouth to strip him of all his fabulous flavouring and drink down his delicious droplets; what she hadn't realised was that his shaft would get bigger and bigger and bigger, her jaw aching as his cock expands ever outwards filling her needy mouth till is stuffed to overflowing, whilst her soaking pussy cries tears of come, desperate for the Sprite's cock's fulsome attention. 

And then he came. The Sprite came and nothing in her life had prepared her for this moment. 

Lemuria's mouth was stretched beyond endurance, stuffed with her Sprite's pulsating hot flesh, thick globules of come shooting down her yawning throat, coating her oesophagus and bubbling back up to her cock filled mouth.  She tried to swallow, tried to take it all down, tried to feast on her Sprite's delectable thick semen but there was too much. The ache; the delectable shuddering ache between her legs; not so much an ache anymore but endless spasms pushing wave upon wave of sensation through her soaked and dribbling nether regions.  If only he'd fill her there.  If only he'd take his tumescent pulsating thing, position it behind her upturned rear and ram it deep into the centre of her pleasure. 

Maybe it was the bucking of her hips that grabbed his attention or perhaps the gasping redness of her face that inspired him.  Maybe he simply could read Lemuria's mind for with one swift movement he pulled himself free of her clutching lips.  Hungrily Lemuria gulped in air, her head swimming dizzily. Hot sticky liquid splashed across her face, nestled in her hair, splattered against her fluttering wings as her Sprite coated her with his pleasure.  Lemuria lashed her tongue across her cheeks determined not to waste a single drop of his sweet essence. 

As she licked happily at her chin, she felt a spurt of liquid hitting her rounded arse cheeks, felt it trickling down to pool between her pinched waist in the small of her back.  He was behind her.  Did he know what she wanted?  Did he know what she needed?  Lemuria thrust her hips upwards and backwards offering him a home in her dripping pink centre. 

He thrust into her and she opened before him eager to feel his length within her, eager to have his cock spread her aching muscles, eager for his head to nestle in her stomach.  He thrust again driving her forward in the dirt, pushing her along on her hands and knees, unbalancing her so that she had to rest her sticky face in the dust to absorb him.  Her hair, streaked and glistening with his come fell over her face to halo her head.  Stable, Lemuria pushed back, meeting his next thrust with one of her own and was rewarded with the feeling of him sliding to her depths.  His muscled stomach pushed firmly into the soft flesh of her arse.  Lemuria moaned, lost in pleasure. 

She could feel him pulsing deep inside her; feel his spunk spurting forth to coat her from the inside; feel her own wetness surrounding and absorbing him, making him part of her.  She could feel his come cascading out of her dripping flesh to splash down and wet her knees.  His hands found her hips, and she relaxed in his grip, gave herself to him, became one with the hard burning flesh that filled her to her very core, that was pistoning into her, pummelling her, stretching her, caressing her, fucking her in an escalating frenzy of flesh, juices and pleasure. 

Lemuria's body tensed.  The muscles in her stomach gripped down firmly on her Sprite's intrusion, held him fixed, squeezed him, milked him, throbbed as if with a life of their own.  Then it started.  A tingling in her toes growing stronger and stronger till her feet were shaking uncontrollably, till vibrations spread up her aching calves to her quivering thighs.  Her stomach was jelly, her breasts wobbling beneath her shuddering shoulders, her neck tense and her dribbling mouth panting into the dust. 

She felt a slither of pleasure between her legs and her muscles contracted in reply.  A second, more intense, and another on top of that; more and more, faster and stronger, wave after wave of sensation building and growing till there was nothing but his stiff cock filling her wet pussy and everywhere white hot burning pleasure.  And then ... 
When she was found Lemuria was still lying face down in the dirt by the riverbank coated in dust and come.  Her skin was bruised and cut, her wings stuck to her back soaked through with semen, thick and aromatic juices dripped out of her pussy which still bucked and quivered in mid-air.  The faeries that found her carried Lemuria to the river and revived her in its sparkling waters. As they fussed around her, cleansing her skin and tending to her abrasions, Lemuria sat silently amongst them, her eyes half closed, her mind elsewhere and a beatific smile playing around her bruised and swollen lips. 


Sunday, October 7, 2012

Seven Little Letters

A word to make guys go weak at the knees... and some girls to go weak in the stomach. A look at the cultural and societal background to the power of seven little letters.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

We All Like A Quickie

The title tells you what to expect. Frenzy. Fast and furious. Very little set up, no time to waste on in-depth description. Just get down and with it, and then walk away.

Which may or may not be the best approach to writing erotica and, having finished Frenzy in a couple of evenings, I'm leaning towards the former. Editor Alison Tyler explains at the outset, "I want you to lose yourself in the sizzle of a single sentence." And occasionally the authors within pull it off. But too often, a promising scenario is over so quickly that the book could as easily have been titled "Premature Ejaculation," and you're left sitting there wondering... wow, was that it? To paraphrase Julius Caesar, "I saw, I conquered, I came in seconds." 

Read the rest at Eden Fantasys

Friday, October 5, 2012

she looks so...

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Watch that ash!!!!!

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Two Hobbies in One!

Monday, October 1, 2012

Once Upon A Steamy Time

Once upon a time, the sexual content of our favorite fairytales was the province only of learned academics, and a faint stirring of familiarity once we were old enough to have figured out what they may have been about. Nowadays, the bookshelf fairly groans with adult renderings of the classics but, of them all, Lustfully Ever After might well be the best. 

Read the rest at Eden Fantasys