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