Sunday, 26 September 2010

The hours before dawn

I creep to bed in the early hours, the next chapter finally written. I undress quietly in the bathroom, move silently to open the bedroom door. The bedside light is on but you’re asleep already, wearing a ‘sleep mask’ – by any other name, a blindfold. The room is warm and somehow, somewhen, you’ve kicked off the duvet. I admire your body; not the conventional beauty of rounded breasts and shapely thighs, but the flaws and scars of a life lived against the odds.

Gently, softly, I pad around the bed and settle feather-like on my side, the left-hand side, stretch out an inch away from you. I feel the heat from your body. You stir, one buttock brushing gently against my… That slight contact, unconscious, unexpected, suddenly excites me. Then you roll onto your back, kicking out your legs, pushing them against mine.

I remember you in this position, legs wide, waiting for me. That time you were tied down, wrists and ankles roped to the corners of the bed. Are you dreaming of this now?

Slowly, stealthily I change position. I hold myself above you, on my elbows, your even breaths washing my face. Don’t you feel me pressing against you, massaging your labia wider to accept me?

You grind your teeth and mumble something. Have I woken you?

No, I think not, though you thrust back at me. And moan with quiet inarticulate dreaming.

Little by little, in time with your breathing, I steal your sex. Thief in the night, silently plundering your body for my gratification. I wonder if, maybe, at the end you wake suddenly to find your body glowing with pleasure, luminous in the darkness behind the sleep-mask.

I stay posed, statue-still, muscles locked, feeling the tremble in your belly and thighs until you sigh and shift your hips to curl up under me.


I wake early, in blackness. Remove the sleep-mask to see a single shaft of light squeeze through the curtains and take flight across the bed. I lay still, remembering my dream. Listening to you breathe easily beside me. Watching the light roll across your thighs, because in the heat of the night we have somehow kicked the duvet away.

Your erection is: endearing, impressive, delicious. At one time I’d have said alarming. Are you dreaming of me, or of some complicated scenario like the one we played out last week?

I’m feeling wicked. I curl up against the sheets, closer to you. So close my hair falls over your belly. You stir and stretch as if it tickles. Your erection wobbles from side to side, lithe like a snake sensing the air with its tongue.

I lick my lips and take it in my mouth. It tastes sweet. It tastes of me.

I lick me off you, gratified at the swell of your response and the little shudder of your hips. You push up, questing, looking for sweeter, tighter, more enveloping pressure. I apply it with my lips and tongue, hear you gasp sleepless in your sleep. And with careful, deliberate moves I spin and twist onto you, astride your hips, giving myself to you and taking from you at the same time.

I arch my spine flex my thighs moving on your shaft letting it find its way letting it flower inside me. That’s good that’s deep I feel I feel you fill me up the sex swells in me intumescent and hot like a volcanic…

… eruption.

Afterwards I lean forwards, nipples brushing your chest my hair on your shoulder and you stir sleepily put your hand on my thigh as if to reassure me.

And I steal away to the morning, to shower and coffee and office, thinking smugly about that private moment and leaving you to wonder if it was a dream.

Saturday, 25 September 2010

Vampire's New Plaything

It's been one of those weeks in which things have happened that, from a writer's point of view, are so improbable that if you made them up you'd think 'I couldn't possibly use that, it's too off-the-wall'. Since I know they have happened, though, I may well use them in a story at a later date. Because I'm like that. They probably won't be erotica, but you never know...

Meanwhile my story 'The Vampire's New Plaything' is out as an e-book, pdf or Kindle (epub) format, on Xcite (or, for the North American market, A tad under 6000 words for 99p or $1.49 and there's even a special 3 for the price of 2 offer running at the moment. Vampire theme (obviously) and a nice cosy read for the long nights running up to Halloween, or Samhain, or however else you might like to style the end of October.

Sunday, 19 September 2010


The people at Xcite have been busy behind the scenes. Not only have they revamped the website to give more North American coverage, they've also done a deal with Amazon to put their publications - including, of course, my stories and the collections I've contributed to - on Kindle. Previously they'd only been available in PDF format, so this means they're more widely accessible.

Tuesday, 14 September 2010

Sexual psychology visual test

Consider this a psychological test. Kind of a sexual Rorschach test?

You'll either see rude images in these pictures - or not.

They were taken in a stately home garden during a recent trip.

Apart from that - busy writing. Stuff moving along.

Thursday, 2 September 2010

Drumming up erotica

I know it's not a particularly erotic pic, but I was just playing with my djembe in the back garden and caught this on my mobile phone... The reason it's vaguely relevant is that I've just caught up with the fact a short story of mine, 'Drumming', made it into August's Erotic Review magazine - issue 112, the Holiday Issue.

Now that ER has moved to online-only, they've dispensed with minor details such as sending out proofs so there's no advance warning they're actually going to use a piece now! Not that I care, I'm just happy to see it's in there.

To be perfectly honest there were a couple of details I might have tidied up, but that's just my OCD nature - I doubt anyone else would even notice them, and if it ever gets to be included in an anthology I'll deal with them at that point.

The piece was somewhat inspired by a few drumming workshops/pagan camps I've done over a period of a couple of years - which is of course not to say that the story represents anything that actually happened there. No, of course not. Not to me, anyway. I swore I would deny everything.

Meanwhile, quite apart from banging my own drum, I notice there's a story by Clemence Sebag called 'Choo Fetish' - and it's as a good a piece of experimental literary erotica as I've ever seen. I know I get my subscription for free as a contributor, but I'd say that one piece alone is worth the full subscription price, paid in actual money.