Finding me on iTunes

You probably already know this: iTunes isn't always as straightforward to search as you might think - but there's a way of finding stuff via the previews shown on ordinary internet browsers.

Everything I've written that is available on any particular country store will show up on

https://itunes.apple.com/gb/artist/fulani/id382422525?mt=11 - in the UK store

https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/fulani/id382422525?mt=11 - in the US store

And if you're looking for other countries, you can amend these URLs by changing the 'GB' or 'US' to whatever country code iTunes uses for the relevant country site - FR for France, DE for Germany, NL for The Netherlands, AU for Australia, NZ for New Zealand and so on. This assumes that iTunes has a store for the particular country you're interested in (otherwise it launches iTunes and defaults to the US store, I think).

Well, it was a discovery for me anyway. And not everything is available in every store, as I've found out. But at least I've learned something new today.

Random weird stuff

I came across a site, The End of Being, a while back that specialises in finding eclectic, obscure and 'difficult' material and presenting it almost like a museum of strangeness.

Then I got immersed in other things and didn't check it for a while. But here are some recent weirdnesses that are food for thought, for different reasons:

- Aleister Crowley (yes, the occultist) reciting a poem 'The Pentagram' - originally recorded circa 1910 on a wax cylinder.

- a discussion of a French novel from 1665, which was republished in translation 1901: “La Vie des Dames Galantes” (The Lives Of The Gallant Ladies). The gallant ladies apparently were subjected to, and enjoyed, a range of corporal punishments.

- some inspirational stuff from painter and video artist Almagul Menlibayeva, born in Kazakhstan and now resident in Berlin, blurring cultural boundaries in her video works that are described as a kind of cross-cultural 'punk shamanism'.

So now you know what I've been entertaining myself with these last few days.

A Steampunk's Guide to Sex

This dropped through the letterbox about 10 days ago. I was expecting it since I was one of the people who'd helped fund it through Kickstarter (and, yes, it got hugely more funding that it needed for the print run).

It's modest in size - 7x5 inches - but carries more entertainment per square inch that almost any other book I can think of.

For those who don't know, steampunk is an outgrowth of goth that revolves around a somewhat updated Victorian sense of style, heavy with science and engineering, and a thoroughly modest and somewhat anarchist approach to life. Its icons include brass goggles and airships. Its music is Abney Park and Vernian Process. Its literary doyens are people like Neil Gaiman. And its visual fantasies are probably supplied by people like Alam Moore, through his graphic novels (a term he's now moved away from) and the films based on them, like A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. More of Alan Moore later.

This collection is anarchic, in the best possible meaning of that term. Reading it makes you feel you're in the company of maverick scientist-buccaneers, taken back in time to tour the underbelly of a late 19th-century metropolis. A metropolis that you know, somehow, contains all the elements that have become the bad features of today's society and yet remains hugely engaging.

What you get is five chapters: Propriety Under Siege, The Illustration of Vice, On the Labor of Sex, Sex Most Perverse and Joyous, and The Art of Love. But each chapter isn't a complete narrative: it comprises five or six shorter pieces, mostly but not exclusively written by Professor Calamity, Alan Moore and Luna Celeste.

Alan Moore, writer, artist, magician and many other things besides, coincidentally popped up on my radar recently for quite other reasons. He was the originator of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, V for Vendetta and Watchmen, all graphic novels which have since become major films - which he had no input into or influence over because the rights were held by the publishers. The white mask used by many anarchist protesters, the Occupy movement, Anonymous, LulzSec and others originates from his original V for Vendetta.

The book doesn't shy away from uncomfortable truths about Victorian sex (and indeed contemporary sex) such as sexually-transmitted diseases. It argues that many of the things we think we know about the Victorian era (and indeed about our own society) are in fact myths. It teaches you how to make your own flogger. It tells you how to behave should you find yourself in the presence of sado-masochistic sexual play. It does a lot more, does it with great style and is always engaging.

Oh, and tintypes. The book reproduces tintype images, contemporary pictures made using an original Victorian photographic process. 

If this is a book you'd like to own, you can buy it from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, direct from the publishers Combustion Books, and probably other places.

If this recommendation doesn't convince you you should own this book, or if you're just curious to find out more before producing money from your wallet, out of your corset or wherever you happen to keep it, the original Kickstarter funding pitch video is still available even though the book's now out, and if you prefer you can see it on BoingBoing or Steampunk Magazine instead.

Sizzling blog posts!

It's just been drawn to my attention that:

(a) Renaissance Sizzler editions have a blog
(b) Since I have a book published with them, I'd contributed to it (I'd forgotten: a year is a long time in this game) and
(c) I contributed to it three times.

See all three posts on sizzler-editions.blogspot.co.uk. The link should take you to a page with all three of my blogs. No, I don't know why it's a UK URL either, because the company's based in Berkeley. But then this blog shows up as .com or .co.uk depending on where you're viewing it from, so maybe that's the answer.

One post's an announcement of my story collection Hanging Around. One's a Q&A about me, my writing and suchlike. And one's a short story I wrote after the collection was published, as an exploration of what might have happened to the central character - who's in most of the stories - after the point the collection ended.

If you check out the blog as a whole you'll find many people there who are far more famous and well-respected than me. Recent blogs have been variously by, or about, people like M Christian, Lisabet Sarai, Sascha Illyvich and Billierosie.

And if, by the way, those blog posts interest you and you want to buy a copy of Hanging Around and Other Captivating Erotica, what you'll find is a collection of 12 short stories that mostly follow Mariska's erotic exploits in the city where she works as a barista but is looking for a life less ordinary. She finds it through some of the coffee bar customers, who are part of the city's bohemian underbelly. Her journey of self-discovery takes her from being an extra in an indie zombie film, to artist's model, and eventually to fetish performer and diarist of the city's fetish and bdsm subculture. Themes include straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, bondage, bdsm - and art.

The 'buy links' are: Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk; Barnes and Noble (Nook edition); AdultEbookShop, Fictionwise and direct from Renaissance Sizzler.

Brainy Erotica 2012

If you're not aware of Terrance Aldon Shaw, you should be. He's both an erotica writer and a prolific reviewer on his Big Brain Erotica blog. And, yes, he was one of the people who put a very complementary review of my Museum of Deviant Desires on Amazon - even though I don't know him and have never met him (in relation to which, there's another blog post coming about the strangeness going on with Amazon reviews).

Anyway... He's just published his Big Brain Erotica Best of 2012, and I'm pleased to say my Museum of Deviant Desires made the grade.

His other choices were from Shanna Germain, Elizabeta Brooke, James Wood, Adam Penenberg, Andre San Thomas, Smart Smut and Big Ed Magnusson - so I feel I'm in great company there, and probably the junior of the pack.

The Museum of Deviant Desires, Shaw says, 'establishes fascinating new paradigms for the next generation of erotic fiction' and is 'a trenchant, self-effacing critique of contemporary erotic literature with its finger firmly on the g-spot of popular culture; a treat, not to be missed.'

And it's available from Smashwords, Barnes & Noble (for Nook users), Kobobooks and of course Amazon.com  and Amazon.co.uk.

The rising tide on which bdsm erotica will float?

Another stage in the book cycle. A lo-res pic off my aged mobile phone, taken in my local charity shop (or thrift shop, if you use American terminology). It's Fifty Shades Freed.

So now the third book in the trilogy has completed the cycle from niche to mainstream phenomenon, and into charity shops, maybe the prediction that it's the rising tide on which other bdsm erotica will float is coming true?

Museum: 5 paddles, 4 stings

I've just caught up with a review of my Museum of Deviant Desires, from BDSM Book Reviews. They liked it a lot. Comments included:

Fulani’s writing is nuanced but accessible and of great quality, and his grasp of both the submissive and dominant mindset is spot on and comes through in every story. There is BDSM content in every story ... Edgy, modern, industrial-flavored stories full of unlikely situations, grit, grease, and urban decay.  Some are very strange, some are very sexy, and all are quite memorable ... So: absolutely recommended if you are looking for something gritty, modern, playful, and strange.  

The reviewer calls me on one thing: the word 'trannies' in the title story. One character uses the term and another corrects him. Showing that the two principal characters have differing levels of sensitivity to gender identity descriptions was a quick way to help build the characters and has some relation to what follows, so if that's an issue for you, now you know.

Just to remind you, this is a collection of 11 short stories ranging from the lengthy down to flash fiction.

The book's currently languishing in the lower reaches of Amazon's rankings despite two five-star reviews there, so I'm guessing its problem is not too many people know about it yet. But now you do, so it should improve.

Museum is published by 1001 Nights Press and available at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com, and also on Smashwords. It's $2.99 or £1.92 (I think).

But if, instead of parting with actual money, you'd rather get something for free you could always try Ridden, which is a completely different type of erotic writing with a vodou twist (though still driven by BDSM), and which is free on Amazon until Sunday 18 November - here's the Amazon US link and UK link.

Finally, whether you buy Museum or go for the temporarily free Ridden, please remember the one thing any book needs is an honest review - whether on Amazon, Smashwords, your own blog or wherever - that others can read make a choice about whether they should buy the book too. 

Get Ridden for free!

It's true, you can get Ridden for free, for a limited time. Xcite sorted a free four-day promo on Amazon, 14-18 November. Erotic novella, bondage and BDSM, voodoo and paranormal, more details in previous blog posts.

Get it from Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk. And please leave a review on Amazon when you've read it!

While it's Part 1 of a trilogy - though each volume is self-standing and complete in itself - and Part 2 is mostly written while Part 3 is already plotted, I'm still open to suggestions about particular scenes you might like to see in the later volumes...

Ridden, now out

A week or so after my Corporate Slave novel came out, here's the new novella: Ridden, available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

It's a vodou-themed paranormal erotic novella with a lot of bdsm, and it draws on a fair amount of factual material as well. Among other things, vodou is a syncretic religion with a diaspora that means you can find practitioners/followers in almost every world city, by no means all of whom are from the original West African/Caribbean/Latin American/New Orleans areas where it emerged or became embedded in the culture. And it involves the practice of followers being possessed - or 'ridden' - by spirits, of in vodou terminology, lwa. Hence the title

Ridden is book 1 of a trilogy. It's complete in its own right, but books 2 and 3, out in the next few months, will extend the story somewhat.

It should appeal to anyone who's into bdsm erotica who likes paranormal themes - or who likes the idea of the 'paranormal' being treated with some degree of seriousness.

Not being a practitioner myself I have not done a travail to encourage anyone to read the book. It'll have to make its own way in the world, on its own merits. I hope you enjoy it.

If you want to read an extract, there's one on my Tumblr blog. And of course the first pages are visible on the Amazon 'look inside' function.

I'll also have some publicity-related news for it next week.

Only in Los Angeles?

Well, I don't know if he's the only one in Los Angeles, or even elsewhere, but if there's a porn industry I guess it stands to reason there's a legal practice that specialises in representing those in the adult industry. It's a kind of parallel example of another phenomenon I came across recently, Rule 34 ('if there is a social phenomenon, there will be a porn version of it'). Maybe Rule 34a states that 'if there is a social phenomenon there will be at least one lawyer who specialises in it'.

And there is, as I found out purely by accident via Twitter. Adultbizlaw.com aka Michael W Fattorosi of Woodland Hills, California.

Since I don't live in the US it's somewhat unlikely I'll ever need his services. He's represented a bunch of well-known production companies, performers and others including sex bloggers, and was most recently in the news for his opposition to the Low Angeles 'Measure B' in the election, which on the face of it simply required male adult film actors shooting in Los Angeles to wear condoms during on-screen vaginal or anal intercourse - but on closer reading required producers of adult films to obtain a public health permit from the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health, which would only be granted if the producers completed a training course on blood-borne pathogens, and apparently also (I haven't directly confirmed this myself) would have required every single piece of kit used in a BDSM scene to be disposed of after the shoot.

That's a bit extreme, but understandable, I thought to myself. And surely it's about protecting performers from HIV? But the more I dug at it, the more complex the arguments about HIV transmission became, the less obvious it was that it would do any good (especially since there is already a regime in place to prevent HIV) and the stranger the motivations behind the legislation seemed to be.

In any event, Measure B is now passed into law - with arguments raging about whether it passed only because most voters were uninformed about what the measure actually mandated and what its practical implications were. But since it only applies to unincorporated areas of Los Angeles county anyway (says Adultbizlaw) the likely impact is probably going to be tiny. A few adult businesses will probably relocate a mile or two down the road to where Measure B doesn't apply, and that will be that. If you want to read more about the measure yourself, there's an NBC report, and an initial assessment of the implications from Adultbizlaw itself.

Corporate Slave now more available

Because it's just appeared on Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Corporate-Slave-ebook/dp/B00A0VFJ32

See the posts below for an outline of the novel and an extract... 

> Edited 5 Nov to add: also now on Amazon UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Corporate-Slave-ebook/dp/B00A0VFJ32

Corporate Slave now available

It's out now, initially via Pink Flamingo's Erotic Book Network site. Here are links for the paperback ($12.75) and the ebook ($7).

More links will become available over the next 1-2 weeks - Amazon and others take a couple of days from upload to the file becoming available. I'll keep you posted.

By way of a reminder, this is bdsm erotica with sex, fetish, bondage and more bursting unrestrained from almost every page. Have a look at the previous blog post for details and a short extract.

Those links again: eroticbooknetwork.com/corporate-slave.html for the paperback, eroticbooknetwork.com/corporate-slave-ebook.html for the ebook.

Corporate Slave, coming Friday 2nd November

I know, I've been quiet on here lately. I haven't, personally, been quiet. I've been pretty manic, getting stuff done. But that's meant the blogging has had to slide a little.

However, I can now reveal that my new novel Corporate Slave will be out this Friday, 2nd November. This is a full-length novel, 80,000 or so words, and you should be in no doubt that it's copper-plated, hard-hitting BDSM all the way through - because the key character, Cassie, ends up a prisoner-slave in a dystopian future where the state had been hollowed out by a series of multinational corporations, and she gets thoroughly used in a variety of private prisons.

That's not where the novel starts, though. She's a sales assistant in a convenience store:

The counter pinged down to zero, the door opened and Marnie slipped from behind it. Naked, of course, and carrying her G-string and top loosely in one hand. She was statuesque, fit from working out and doing weights, with cropped blonde hair and distinctive tattoos—a smiling sun on her left shoulder, an old-school set of entwined roses around her right thigh, and a suggestive, curvy female form in the small of her back, but with a death’s head skull instead of a face. Cassie had never even dared ask if it had any particular significance for her. Marnie was the longest-serving of all the girls at the store, and there was a running joke that her fourth tattoo, a small square of dots midway between her navel and pussy,  was actually her security QR code. If she ever forgot her staff entry pass she could just flash her belly to the camera to open the door. Her mere presence could almost intimidate punters into buying stuff, and those who weren’t intimidated bought it anyway because they liked the tattoos.

She nodded at Cassie, a wry professional greeting.

“You’ve got yourself marked up. They’ll like that.”

Cassie looked down. The bruises from the cuffs were plainly visible. And she could work with that, include it in her act. That was another trick of the trade. Marks from rope or chain, or a spanking or a whipping, even a scar from a cut, were all things a lot of the punters liked to see. Little Annie, who worked the night shift, had done a lot of self-harming as a kid. She was nothing to look at physically, almost boyish, but had those thin white scars on her legs, belly, arms. They went wild for her.

It was a sick society.

“Good experience, or not?” Marnie asked. It was a sensible enough question: being cuffed was a common enough part of almost anyone’s sex play these days.

Cassie shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.” She didn’t want to explain the circumstances, the deal, the blow-by-blowjob of it. She changed the subject instead.

“Lorne?” It was worth asking.

Marnie shrugged, a gesture that in her made all kinds of muscles bulge and twitch expressively. “We don’t know. Word is, she got arrested. No one seems to know what for, though.”

Cassie shuddered. Getting arrested wasn’t like the old days, time in a cell and then the judge giving you probation. She’d heard what happened if you got arrested.

It was a sick, dangerous world out there.

The counter above the door gave a shrill buzz.

She was on. Stepped through the door into the plexiglass cubicle, picked up the beat of the piped music, began to dance.

That was business at the 121^st Street Convenience and Liquor Store. 

You can read some more on the novel and the blurb for the plot over at my other blog, Deliciously Deviant. And look for the novel initially on Pink Flamingo's Eroticbooknetwork website, and thereafter you'll see it rolled out to Amazon and all the other usual online sources. Plus, it will be available as paperback.

A couple of old books

Yeah - not mine, though, except in the sense I re-found them on my bookshelves recently.

Chastisement Across the Ages: A Scientific Survey, by Gervas D'Olbert, 1956. Covers chastisement of and by famous men, and in education, religion, the family, social life, politics and war.

The Whip and the Rod, by Prof. R G van Yelyr, 1941. Subtitled 'An account of corporal punishment among all nations and for all purposes'. Apparently intended to argue against its use, even though the rather detailed and enthusiastic descriptions might suggest otherwise! I've just learned it was reissued in 2002 so you can get it from Amazon in the UK, at least.

More on both the Chastisement book and The Whip and the Rod book at my Tumblr blog (links open in new pages).  

The Museum of Deviant Desires: special offer

For one week, i.e. until Weds 17 October, my story collection The Museum of Deviant Desires is available at the lower price of $0.99 in the US (plus any applicable local taxes etc. which may put the price up a little) or £0.77 in the UK. Buy it from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk before we remember to put the price up again!

What you'll be buying is a novella-length collection of 11 short stories ranging across men’s adventure magazines with their sleazy sexploitation and politically incorrect pictures of tortured women; sex and bondage in an abandoned building and a burned-out car wreck; sex, photography, and the internet, the technosexuality of vacuum cleaners, and what characters in bdsm stories think about the painful pleasures the author inflicts on them. The title story explores the late-night weirdness of sex, perversion, and fetish at a music festival.

The review on Amazon.com describes it as: "sexy and cerebral; breezy, thought-provoking, laugh-out-loud funny and utterly addictive … establishes fascinating new paradigms for the next generation of erotic fiction … a trenchant critique of contemporary erotic literature with its finger firmly on the g-spot of popular culture; a tasty treat, not to be missed."

It's published by 1001 Nights Press, which has been busy building a reputation for publishing mostly shorter collections and stories in various niches of erotica.

Four letters that spell magic?

This post is prompted by another one, from Behind the Chintz Curtain, a blog about erotic matters that I was helpfully pointed to the other day by Justine Elyot via Twitter.

The post makes the point that while the success of Fifty Shades of Grey has shown there clearly is a much larger market for erotica than had previously been imagined – even despite the boost erotica received from the rise of ebooks – its readers, most of them almost certainly female, aren’t happy about ‘vulgar’ terms for female genitalia and prefer slightly euphenistic terms. In particular, while ‘pussy’ is generally acceptable, ‘cunt’ is off-putting.

This has been recognised by the more popular publishers of erotica ever since they discovered there was a female market for it. When I first started writing for Xcite Books, for example, I was sent a house style sheet that specifically stated they didn’t use that word – my memory says the word itself wasn’t even spelled in full in the style sheet, but rendered as ‘c**t’.

But this does raise a question in my mind – why has the word acquired such negative connotations?

I’ve lately been reading Henry Hitchings’ The Language Wars: A History of Proper English. And he discusses swearwords at some length. He cites George Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London: ‘The whole business of swearing, especially English swearing, is mysterious. Of its very nature swearing is as irrational as magic – indeed it is a species of magic.’ It’s a naming of things that are secret or forbidden, and it carries a shock value – until it becomes so commonplace it becomes something more like a pause in speech.

Until the 1960s, the word was ‘banned’ in England, in the sense that its appearance in a print publication was likely to result in prosecution for obscenity – though it was (and remains) common in speech as a swearword and an insult.

And yet, for a word that attracts such strong feeings, it’s been around a long time. The Online Etymology Dictionary traces it to Middle English (cunte), notes its similarity to Old Norse (kunta) and to Latin (cunnus), with suggested links even further back into several Pre-Germanic and Proto-Indo-European roots – which would mean the word has been around in one form or another for well over five millenia. And the derivations are generally from words whose meanings include ‘wedge’, ‘hollow place’, ‘slit’, ‘concealed’ and possibly even ‘woman’. The first appearance of it in English was as part of a street name, Gropecuntlane, in Oxford in 1230 – presumed by later commentators to indicate a street where prostitutes worked.

Nonetheless it hasn’t been used in ‘polite society’ since about the 15th century and was considered obscene since the 17th. But it has well over 500 more or less fanciful synonyms, though most of them probaby wouldn’t work that well in contemporary erotic writing: examples include cookie, fancy bit, goatmilker, Itching Jenny, jelly-bag, penwiper, prick-skinner, seminary, and aphrodisaical tennis court. The dictionary entry cites some Dutch poetic slang – liefdesgrot (‘cave of love’) and vleesroos (‘flesh rose’) - that might, though, hold some attractions.

And there’s an alternative form, ‘cunny’, which seems to have appeared around 1622 and (i.e. when ‘cunt’ itself became impolite) and become common by 1720, but which has a different derivation, from ‘coney’, a common word for rabbit. It’s partly the similarity in the words, partly because it sounds like a familiar or diminutive form, and perhaps partly a punning association because the propensity of rabbits to breed has been well-known since ancient times.

All of which suggests that a good, earthy word in use since before English was even a proper language became ‘forbidden’ around 500 years ago, and obscene around 300 years ago. And it’s remained so until very recent times apart from its having been appropriated as a swearword because it had that obscene quality – though this perhaps also explains why many women don’t like it applied to their own bodies.

But that being the case, is there an argument now for reclaiming the word? For making it a robust part of the erotic vocabulary of English? It’s a fanciful thought, because ‘reclaiming’ a word tends to be the kind of thing that happens when words have distict social values and labels attached to them – for example the recent ‘slutwalks’ to protest the way the label of ‘slut’ is used disparagingly, and with serious consequences, against women. But I’d think there’s some possibility for the word to become more popular in future – because don’t a lot of women feel that the usages of 'polite society', far from protecting them, actively constrain them and discriminate against them? Don't many women actively embrace the idea that some part of their self-identity is about the mysterious, the taboo, the forbidden, and magic?

And that’s all connoted in this simple four-letter word and in its history.

The Naked Delirium fan!

It's been a while since I posted. I plead insanity, as in an insane (if self-imposed) workload of surfing the internet, playing Solitaire and making coffee - in between which I've been trying to write a(nother) novella, a story collection, some poetry (dodgy doggerel, really) and some sensible stuff about social policy.

But I'm also mindful that I promised a nicer pic of our author copies of Naked Delirium, and here it is, courtesy of Velvet Tripp; a fan of books. Yes, obvious pun, I know, but I'm known for being obvious.

Places you can buy the paperback edition of Naked Delirium include Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com; plus, apparently if you live near a branch of Waterstones you can pick it up off the shelves.

Places you can buy in kindle format are also at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com, and about 10 other ebook formats are available at Smashwords. But the Kindle and ebook formats don't have the nice Georgio Verona illustrations in them.

The book has five novellas, including one from me ('Smoking Hot') and one from my partner, Velvet Tripp. The collection theme is 'sex in altered states', which in my story is interpreted as the unanticipated side-effects of hypnosis to stop smoking (as in, your mind is in control and you don't have to sublimate your desires) and Velvet's story is about spirit possession taking place in the course of a pagan camp.

Plus the individual novellas from the collection are available separately, but if you want links just scroll back to find them a couple of posts ago.

Dodgy doggerel, I said. If that's your thing, you can see it on my Tumblr blog - but be warned, I sometimes write stories for a porn website, Achtungfetish, and if you want to see the doggerel you'll also be seeing some fairly explicit pics of the bdsm scene that inspired it. 'Nuff said? The story is, of course, on the Actungfetish site in the members' area.

Finally: stand by for announcements soon about a paranormal erotic novella I did for Xcite, and a full-length, full-on, hardcore erotic bdsm novel finished recently and out soon from Pink Flamingo.

More Naked Delirium

Arrived yesterday: 20 author copies (mine and Velvet's) of Naked Delirium - we are two of the five authors whose novellas are in the collection. Pic taken on my mobile. No doubt Velvet will get her Nikon out later and do a more artistic arrangement.

And then the question is, what do we do with them? Some will go to people we know will review them. We'll want to hang on to a couple. As to the rest - offer a free copy or two in a draw?

Suggestions?

Smoking Hot audio extract

Text-to-speech is a wonderful thing, though I've had to edit the text a little because 'Alex' doesn't pronounce some words particularly well and I had to use Garageband to tinker with the timings where I could (I could probably have played with Alex's intonation as well but there's a limit to how much time I was able to spend on it!).

But there's a 4 minute 23 second extract from 'Smoking Hot', my novella in the Naked Delirium collection, that you can hear over on my Tumblr blog.

And 'Smoking Hot' is available as an individual novella in about 10 different ebook formats over at Smashwords. The whole collection and other four novellas are all there individually as well - here's a link that lists them all.

Naked Delirium

I didn't know exactly when this was coming out - but it's out. Sweetmeats Press have released the Naked Delirium collection, five novellas with illustrations including my novella 'Smoking Hot'.

Currently it's available in print on Amazon, as a Kindle ebook, and in around 10 different ebook formats (some of which will include the illustrations and some won't) on Smashwords.

So here's the blurb for the collection:


The mind has the power to save us from depravity...or to drive us further to it! NAKED DELIRIUM delves deep into the human psyche to celebrate sex in altered states! Five twisted tales, lusciously illustrated by Giorgio Verona! Within these pages, we invite you explore the indecent expanse of the unfettered mind, and maybe get a little bit delirious yourself. Free your mind....and great sex will follow!

Individual novellas from the collection are also on Smashwords, and will probably be elsewhere soon - but here's a link to 'Smoking Hot' as an individual story.

I won't give you the whole set of synopses for all the stories (they're on Amazon and Smashwords anyway) save to say that the altered states tend to revolve around paranormal activity - except for 'Smoking Hot', in which hypnosis has helped Hannah kick a 40-a-day smoking habit. But hypnosis can release unconscious desires. As the story says:


The weirdness kicked in pretty quickly, right about the time she would, in her former habitual-smoker lifestyle, have reached for her next cigarette.

Hannah wasn’t innocent. She knew exactly why the weirdness was happening. Her subconscious had been processing ideas and leaving her with, apparently, self-confidence, clarity of purpose and intent, and better and more positive ways to lead her life.

She was still exactly the same person: but then again, she wasn’t. She’d become someone new and different, someone with a more self-confident, clearer, positive intent.

An intent to do the things her subconscious had kept bottled up for, well, quite a few years.

Oh yeah - I don't know about the others, but I happen to know Velvet Tripp's novella 'A Woman Possessed' has some very hot menage and bdsm in it (I was fortunate enough to be able to read it pre-publication) and my own story has the usual touch of bdsm and bondage you'd expect in one of my stories. In other words, rather a lot.

Happy reading... and as an afterthought, I'll leave you with one of the illustrations by Giorgio Verona (I think taken from the novella 'Gilinda and the wicked Witch' by Vanessa de Sade).

Metallic red dress

I haven't posted an actual story here for some time. So here's a thousand words or so of free erotica, my take on the daddy porn that's been popular over the last year or so. And if you want to know more about the Electra Complex, Wikipedia is a good starting point.

***

Lllaaaaashhhlp! That’s Baby, pressing her tongue hard against my cock and running it slowly up the length, from root to tip. She’ s in her favourite position, kneeling on the floor between my legs. She can stay like that for hours if I let her, toying with my cock in her mouth like it’s a lollipop.

Baby’s wearing pigtails and high heels.

‘Pleeeeease, Daddy,’ she says. ‘Please buy me a dress. We have them in the shop. They’re really nice. Really short. You’ll like me in it. Just think of me bent over, showing you my pussy when it rides up at the back. Just think of my hard tits outlined under that material. Think of your cock sliding in and out of me.’

‘You know the rule, Baby. No clothes in the house.’

Her face brightens. ‘Do you want to take me out? To a fetish club? Maybe show me off to your friends? Then you could give me that date-rape drug like you did last time…’

Yeah. Amazing how well a phial of sugared water works when Baby’s had a couple of drinks. When she’s in the mood she’s very suggestible.

I change the subject.

‘Why don’t you tell me what happened at the shop today?’ Baby works at a women’s clothing store, an independent place that specialises in clubwear, dancewear, lapdance and poledance and stripper clothing. It’s popular. Economic recessions always make that kind of stuff popular with couples for a night in; with men who want their women to act out fantasies; with women who fancy their chances of making a buck out of their sexuality.  

She pouts. Puts one hand around the base of my cock, uses the palm of the other to massage the helmet. Looks up at me. ‘Nothing much. Well, just the one thing.’

She fits my cock back in her mouth. Teasing. I use the pigtails to lift her head again.

‘Tell.’

‘Promise you won’t punish me, Daddy?’

Like fuck. That’s her standard line when she wants to be punished. I reach out to the coffee table. I always leave a set of handcuffs there, for just these times. She does the Oww Daddy you don’t need to cuff me stuff, and the expressive wriggle of her shoulder blades. But she also does the hip wriggle that means she’s liking it.

I use those pigtails to pull her head back, arching her neck.

‘Tell.’

‘Yes, Daddy. I was in the shop on my own for a lot of the afternoon. A guy came in, a really fit guy like he works out a lot. Wanted to buy a dress for his girlfriend. The dress I want, it’s the same style he picked. It’s a nice one in metallic red, thigh length, slit sides, open back so it covers your shoulder blades but not your spine. It’s a stretchy one-size-fits-all, but he wasn’t sure how it would look on his girlfriend. Said I was the same size as her and wanted me to model it. So I did. It felt really clingy and sexy when I wore it. I opened the curtain to the changing booth and showed him, and he wanted me to turn around to see the back. Then he suddenly put his hand on the back of my neck, pushed my face into the wall and I felt his fingers on my pussy. Because I wasn’t wearing any underwear because you never let me wear any, Daddy.’

I know where this is going. It’s a cuckold story, the kind she always tells when she wants a spanking. And there’s a tiny, tiny chance it might even be true.

‘So I’m pressed up again the wall and his fingers are inside me and I open my legs a bit, and then he puts his thing inside me. And I’m really really wet, and he’s pushing and I’m arching my spine and he’s saying these words in my ear. He told me I’m a fuckslut. Am I a fuckslut, Daddy? Should I have let him do that to me?’

‘Yes, Baby, you’re a fuckslut. But you’ve missed out one detail.’

‘You mean the bit out his spunk dribbling down my leg when he’d finished?’

‘No. The bit about whether he actually bought the dress.’

‘Oh yeah. Three of them, in red, blue and gold.’

‘In that case you’re a good shop assistant, but since you’ve been teasing me I’m definitely going to punish you.’

She goes into the Please Daddy I only did what you told me to routine, and the I’m a very good girl really routine. She knows how to manipulate me. One of these days I’ll just tie her and leave her in the garden shed overnight, to prove I can’t be manipulated. But not right now. Right now I’m going to hurt her, and the only question is which of the canes, out of the dozen or so in the earthenware pot in the corner, I’m going to choose. I make her kneel on the coffee table – I bought it because it’s sturdy enough to take her weight – and because her hands are cuffed behind her back, she had to support herself on knees and the side of her face, with her ass in the air.

Thin whippy cane. Twenty-four strokes. She knows she daren’t move. At the end of it, her thighs are trembling and tears are streaking her face. Please, Daddy, I can’t take any more. Please fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me in the ass if you want. Please, I’ll be your very good Baby. I’ll do anything you say.

Yes, she will. And her pussy is glistening wet. Fuckable. So I fuck it.

Afterwards I take her off the table, let her curl up shaking and shivering in my lap and lick her own juices off my cock while I stroke her hair.

Eventually she says ‘I didn’t come.’

‘I saw you coming. I heard you coming hard from the cane, even before I fucked you.’

‘No, I mean I didn’t come when the guy fucked me in the shop.’

‘So you are a good girl, because you followed the rule. You’re only allowed to come when Daddy fucks you.’

She sighs contentedly.

Biographical note: Baby is thirty-six and a divorced mother of two. That makes her two years older than me, her Daddy. Her kids are away with her ex-husband for the weekend, which is why she’s with me. She had a privileged upbringing, no abuse and no daddy issues. On the other hand, since her divorce - maybe before it as well, and maybe it was the cause of the divorce - she’s into sexual exploration and she knows her psychology. The first man in a girl’s life, the one she tries to impress and tease and inflame, is her father. This phenomenon has a name: the Electra Complex. It's a particular fascination of Baby's.

I wait until the following Wednesday. By then she’s back in the shop, being a mother and a breadwinner. And around two in the afternoon I walk into the shop.

‘I’m interested in buying a dress,’ I say. ‘Maybe one of these metallic red ones.’

‘You know they’re one size fits all?’

‘Yeah, so they fall differently depending on who’s wearing them.’

‘Would you like me to model one?’ Sounding innocent, like she’d do it for anyone.

In the changing booth, I grab her neck and pin her facing the wall.

It’s a very short dress. When she arches her back it rises up to display her pussy.

I growl in her ear, telling her she’s a fuckslut. Feel her hips wriggle impatiently.

Twenty minutes later I buy her the dress, on condition she uses her staff discount. But she still won't be allowed to wear it at home. I have a fetish club in mind for the weekend. I'll show her off to my friends.

The 'Museum' video

Shameless self-promotion: short (4 min) video of Fulani reading from the 'Museum of Deviant Desires' collection: view it on the Fulanismut Tumblr blog.

The segment - which is the beginning of a longer story - goes like this:

Any big music festival, there’s the surreal, sleazy, sexy all-night area. The weird block. Like this one. Jake and Dee, both dressed for sweaty fun and looking for the strange, the weird, the wicked, and the shockingly obscene. Picking their way along the makeshift mud street, thankful they remembered their walking boots. Crowd’s out in force, out looking for fantasies, for inexplicable strangeness to tell each other later when they’re sober. Bodies rubbing up against each other, slipping, sliding, suggestive.
Jake and Dee hang onto each other, looking at the freak parade. There are “trannies,” as Jake calls them, and Dee admonishes him and points out the current term is “T-girls.”

Jake asks how she knows that and she tells him: the guy who runs the plumbing supplies company she works at keeps his ballgowns in his office. Also mixed into the crowd there are muddy plushies, rubber-clad dominatrixes, fairies, anime cosplay characters, and a bunch of people who look like they just came out of a LARPwarp.

It’s not sex. Not quite. But almost. Jake’s glad he’s not drunk, Dee’s glad she didn’t do that acid tab. Feels like acid anyway, just walking in the crowd.

And here’s a place, The Museum of Deviant Desires. Interactive Exhibits To Satisfy and Delight All Tastes in Perversity, it says underneath. Lots of people hanging around, because a couple of cute women wearing not much apart from body paint are hanging from a kind of trapeze structure over the door, just beyond the reach of drunk and stoned hands. Well, maybe they’re women. Hard to tell. If they are, they’re wearing strap-ons. If they’re not, they’re transsexual and massively erect. What they are, beyond any doubt, though, is very gymnastic and very sexual.

Flashing lights around the entrance, music pulsing through it from the back of the venue. The music’s tribal and primitive and electronic, with a lot of sub-bass matched with vocals that could come straight from a magic ritual. Maybe they do. Maybe that’s what’s actually happening, inside.

Jake notices Dee’s skinny T-shirt is damp with sweat, her nipples engorged. He notices his cock is engorged. He holds her arm, her biceps, a little more tightly.

“This one? This looks good.”

She laughs and nods, the mingled noises of the crowd and the music making real conversation impossible. They push through the gaggle of people, his grip on her arm turning to handholding, and make it to the entrance. He turns to her and she smiles; he kisses her, turns to walk down the short corridor, is confronted with two curtains. One says “Museum” and the other “Enter At Your Own Risk.” Jake plunges through the Museum curtain.

And he gets an instant hit of darkness and depravity. Because he’s standing in a passageway with big glass windows, like the windows of giant fish tanks. No fish, though. The first window has a woman behind it, naked, kneeling on hands and knees. In fact there are straps on her wrists and forearms, calves and ankles, holding her in that position. She has a ball gag in her mouth and she’s looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Behind her is a rod connected to a set of mechanical gears and eccentric cams, run from a giant electric motor. The end of the rod is connected to a dildo buried in her cunt.
In front of the whole display is a big red button the size of a dinner plate, sign above it says push the button.

He pushes the button.

Secret Circus extract on Tumblr

A short extract from The Secret Circus of Pain and Degradation, plus a Wordle that kind of gets the plot across visually. Have a look at my Tumblr.

Tumblr experiment 1

It's an audio file. Done primarily to see if I could edit it in Garageband and get it uploaded. Pay attention to the description in the Tumblr post! Regard it as an experiment...

Now also on Tumblr

I've been expanding self-promo opportunities - maybe - by setting up Tumblr account.

Not much there at the moment, I'm experimenting with it, but I'll let you know when there's stuff worth checking out at fulanismut.tumblr.com.

Ingenious!

There should be an award for the most ingenious website of the day. Here's one I found via a discussion thread on Goodreads: homemade-sex-toys.com.

You may be amused (I was) by their quiz: 'Sex toy or baby toy?' which asks you to identify a number of pretty strange items (and the answers show them in their packaging).

Also, their 'Build you own sex doll' page is weird yet amusing. There is a problem with these dolls, though - when they posed two dolls together, 'they were so hot for each other, their chemistry literally got out of control and some of their parts started melting. The problem: Cyberskin and some types of rubber are not compatible – when they come into contact, both materials start breaking down into an oily substance.' I had a sudden vision of what might happen to a roomful of these things, all posed together....

Fifty Shades lessons

I learned some stuff last night.

Channel 4 (in the UK) aired a documentary about Fifty Shades of Grey. As far as I can see, if you missed it, you missed it - it doesn't seem to appear on the 4OD catchup website, or at least not yet.

Among the posturing from some commentators and the slightly jokey treatment of bdsm, some interesting stuff emerged about the whole erotica ‘industry’ and how writers can get noticed.

I won't try to summarise the whole thing. But here’s a range of key points for those of us who write erotica. I shall be trying to act on them sometime soon...

- Put at least some material out for free. But put it in a place where lots of people will read it. That often doesn’t mean your own blog, but a forum.

- Self-pubbing is no bad thing. Up until a year or two ago mainstream publishers maintained the fiction that self-publishing was beneath contempt, and those who self-pubbed wouldn’t get looked at by publishing houses. Now they’re trawling self-pubbed material to see what they can license and republish.

- A boundary has been pushed through. ‘Transgressive’ material, certainly bdsm and probably now other topics, are fine for the mainstream. Big publishers have caught up with the idea that people’s fantasies are not censored and often not politically correct. In the UK, allegedly, some 37% of the population admit to having tried bondage sex (I don’t know the source of this figure but it doesn’t surprise me; I’d suspect, though, it’s mainly a younger demographic). And incidentally, since FSOG came out, publishers have seen a massive increase in submissions of bdsm-themed work.

- Unfortunately for the rest of us, one blockbuster novel tends to sweep the board on Amazon Kindle and leave everyone else selling hardly anything for a couple of months.

And finally - it’s not a lesson for authors, particularly, but Ann Summers had to get a Fifty Shades management team together to find ways to meet the demand for sex toys that resulted from the book’s publication. Overall sales are up hugely (I think they said 'doubled'), some branches have experienced larger sales increases than that, and some items (nipple clamps for example) have had huge increases in demand. So the publication of the book has, actually, grabbed people’s attention to the point that they’re trying out the ideas and buying stuff in order to do so. And maybe that means there's an increased demand for books on how to do bdsm?

50 shades of Duke Nukem

On Youtube: Jon St. John was convinced by Team Four Star to read a few lines from,"50 Shades of Gray," in his Duke Nukem voice. For the segment they chose, it almost works as a piece of gay erotica.

See it here.

Now with added tweets

In our determination to build our social networking skills and stuff, Velvet and I have now (actually via my joint blog with Velvet, Deliciously Deviant) set ourselves up with a Twitter account. So I'll be using that account to post tweets about this blog, about Deliciously Deviant, and general random stuff that interests me.

Please note: that's Twitter, the social network and not Twatter, the antisocial network. I may be antisocial much of the time but not in the scatological way you tend see on there...

Voodoo bondage women?

'I've just finished a novella that makes a lot of reference to voodoo - or, since it's based around specific beliefs about the supernatural, it might be better to say vodou. And it has a lot of bondage and bdsm in it.

So I was looking at stock websites for a potential cover image, and instead I came across theendofbeing.com, which bills itself as an 'esoteric guide to difficult and unusual art, music, film, people and ideas'. Yeah, that's my kind of thing.

And the reason I found this is because one of the difficult and unusual things it lists is Tortura 1&2 - a two-volume collection of LPs, which it describes in the following terms:

'This is a unique set of LPs from 1965 put out by Bondage Records. Nothing more than the sounds of whipping and moaning, crying, laughing and shrieking. No music, no story. Just the simple sounds of your happy go lucky, everyday BDSM scenester.'

I had no idea these things even existed. But if you go to the blog entry on Tortura, you can listen to all the tracks.

Another little gem on the site, incidentally: if you've never come across Anais Nin you should have done, because she's one of the major figures in the development of women-centred erotica (among her other achievements). And there's a video of her taken, I guess, sometime in the 1960s talking about destructive and constructive uses of anger. Since I last looked, a couple of years ago, bits of Nin on video seem to have emerged on Youtube but this was something I hadn't come across before.

Tolerance, freedom and nudity

Just caught something about Stephen Gough on the BBC website. Stephen Gough, aka the 'Naked Rambler', came to public notice in 2003 when he attempted to walk naked (well, with walking boots and a rucksack) from Land's End to John O'Groats in the UK. The reason was apparently something to do with things happening in his personal life. Since then he's spent more than six years in prison for repeated 'breaches of the peace'. And he's just been re-arrested in Fife for a 'breach of the peace', a few days after being released from prison for public nudity.
This whole episode raises a bunch of questions in my mind about attitudes to public nudity and why we seriously want, as a society, to police it in the way we do.
There's an interview with him, and with his lawyer, on the BBC website. In it, Gough makes a serious point about tolerance and freedom. It's far from being a comprehensive argument, but then he only gets about 60 seconds. I think it's a point of view that can be applied in all kinds of circumstances, from international politics to interpersonal relationships. I've tidied up the hesitations, false starts, ummms and aaahs, and what he says is this:

The point is that underneath it all, we believe, in this country, in tolerance and freedom. And you can't have freedom unless you've got tolerance [...] It isn't tolerance if you can accept something easily. You've got to open your mind further. And through tolerating things that you have difficulty with, you find, actually, that your mind becomes more open and actually you become more free too. So it's a two way process.

Hear the whole interview (it's only 4 minutes 16 seconds) on the BBC website. If it interests you, there's also a news item on the arrest that includes trackbacks to previous news items about him.

While writing the above I remembered something I once read, though can't lay my hands on the book at the moment. In 1935, the Prison Commission decided to open a new 'Borstal' for young offenders, North Sea Camp, near Boston, Lincolnshire, UK. The population of the new institution was taken from around the system and gathered at the existing institution at Stafford. Staff and inmates then marched from Stafford to the new site, staying overnight in local community centres, farmer's fields, etc., led by one W W Llewellin as the new institution's governor. My memory of what I read says Llewellin had inherited early-20th century views on the benefits of exercise and fresh air, and that every morning on the march, all staff and inmates - all, of course, male - were expected to run around the campsite, naked, as part of a health and fitness regime. And no one thought that was exceptional or unusual. I stand to be corrected on this and I know early 20-century morals on nudity were complex, to say the least. But if I'm right, how and why have attitudes changed so much in the course of just a couple of generations?

Library porn

I'm currently writing a bdsm scene set, not in a library (I may do that later in the novella) but in a bookshop. That said, in the context of library porn you may be interested in:

- Bookshelf porn (a page Velvet found on Stumbeupon)

- 'Checking Out' by Avi Steinberg, in the Paris Review (a thinkpiece about sex, libraries and librarians)

Each in their own way contributed something to the ambience of what I'm writing. Though as a teaser I'll just add that the lead-in to the scene is the heroine of the piece looking for guides, studies or histories relating to voodoo (or vodou, or voudun, depending on your preference for spelling). I guess the novella will be out later in the year.

Naked Delirium

Out soon (expected mid-August) from Sweetmeats Press. Note the 'explicit content' advisory.

An illustrated anthology of sex in altered states. Five novellas, by Fulani, Kristina Wright, Sommer Marsden, Vanessa de Sade and Velvet Tripp.

Velvet, incidentally, is my partner and an author in her own right, so you get 'his and hers' stories in Naked Delirium.That's only happened once before (Xcite's Lust Bites collection, available direct from the publisher or on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk).

Oh yeah - notice that last line on the cover? It's an illustrated collection, though I think only if you get the print version.

More details and trailers sometime soon.

Freudian slip?

You know that moment when you're writing a story and the main protagonist is talking about a time when she went to a hotel with someone she met in a bar? And she's describing what happened:

"It was a cheap hotel, the kind where you can book a room by the hour. And when we got to the room he said he wanted to type me up. I let him type me to the bed."

That wasn't quite the scenario in my head, but that was the way it came out when I wrote it... And maybe that is what I meant and I should go with it and take the story from there, about how he tortured her, leaving nasty little exclamation marks on her body before splitting her infinitive before finally bringing her to an orgasm that was so good it had been pluperfect.

Transference

Pic on the left is a street shot, taken outside the local court in one of the areas where smokers tend to congregate. It sparked off an idea, and the idea is below. It's deliberately urban and grunge and the main character is pretty dysfunctional and has poor impulse control. Especially around sex.

There was a condom, incidentally, just like the story describes. It's just out of this shot near the toe of the topmost shoe.

See what you think. Do you like it? Do you want more?

***

They won’t let you smoke on the steps of the courthouse. You have to go to the back of the building, where there’s a little grass area. If you want to smoke a last spliff before your case so you don’t get caught with weed on you, you go a bit further, down an alley next to where the prison vans come and go.

So that’s where I go. Rest my butt on a low red-brick wall, kick off my ballet pumps and spark up.

I get about a minute with my own dark thoughts before a guy turns up. I know instantly what the score is. He’s wearing a suit and tie, which means he’s a defendant.

“Which court are you in?” I make it sound like I’m in the same position. Because I am.

“Court three.” He swallows, looks uncomfortable. “Pleading not guilty, though.” Pulls a pack of ciggies out of his pocket, offers one to me.

“I’ll have one for later, but you can try this if you want.” I hold out the spliff. “It’s resin, so it doesn’t smell as much.” He takes a drag, passes it back.

“They got the wrong guy, then, like they always do?” But I’m smiling, mocking just a little but open to being told I’m wrong.

“Yeah. Came out of a club, there was this big ugly guy laying into some dude half his size because he’d looked at the guy’s girlfriend. I thought it was out of order, because the club bouncers were just looking the other way. So I just tried to stop him, got knocked out and then the cops arrested me instead of him.”

Well, what do I know? Could have happened that way.

“Yeah, I’m pleading not guilty too. But I think they got too much evidence.”

Well, I did trash my boyfriend’s car. Smashed every window, slit every tyre, and it wasn’t enough and it felt good so I did the cars parked next to it as well. Taking speed probably didn’t help.

He deserved it, though. I went to his place and he was there fucking this bitch who’d been hanging around with his mates. And his excuse was “She likes anal and you don’t.”

That last bit I didn’t mention, though, talking with him.

He looks me up and down. Hoop earrings, red jacket, over a tight white T-shirt top, black power skirt – the kind that’s a wide elastic bandage, you can wear it with the top at the waist to the hem is just above the knee, like I will in court, or with the top just under the bust so the hem is miniskirt length like I’m doing now.

“Well, you look cute,” he says. “And if you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t be cheating on you.” That’s his idea of a compliment, I guess, because he doesn’t know me.

“Yeah, well. I doubt you’ll get the chance to cheat on me. I reckon if they find me guilty this time they’ll give me custodial.”

That makes him pay attention.

“I’ve got a history.” That’s all the explanation I’m going to give.

“Does that scare you?”

“Only the bit about not getting any sex.”

“What about all those lesbian prison movies?”

“Yeah, well. If that’s all can get, that’s what I’ll have to do.”

He’s got a stump on thinking about it. I guess he’s got a mental image of watching me with another woman. Or maybe it’s just me telling it like it is.

But then I think about it. I get off the wall, plant my ass against it, legs braced wide.

“If that’s all I’ll be able to get, I should have a memory to keep me warm.”

So right then, right there, bend over, reach out, unzip him and flick his cock out of that nice-looking suit.

See, that’s me not doing well on impulse control.

It’s not exactly a strength of mine.

I’m looking into his eyes and he says “You can’t do that here!”

“Why fucking not? What are they going to do, send us to jail?”

He laughs. And then he moans, because I’ve got one hand round his balls and I’m squeezing them gently, with my forefinger pushing the sweet spot just behind the balls where the pumped-up vein is a hard bulge. Plus, I’m brilliant at deepthroating. You don’t have to take my word for it, there’s a dozen guys will back me up on that. And that’s not counting the ones whose names I can’t remember and the ones I don’t know cos I was blindfolded at the time…

Taste: insipid and clean, like he’s recently showered. No nice man-smells. But he’s a handy and mouthy not-too-small not-too-big size, fits my throat nice and slippery.

Only problem is he’s going to spurt soon.

Condom in my clutch bag. I may not be good at impulse control but I do remember the condom thing. Tiny G-string that moves aside like it’s just a single thread of cotton. I’m glad I made than choice this morning, even though I only made it to avoid a panty-line with this skirt.

And then my skirt’s round my hips, my legs are wrapped around his hips, I’ve got my back up against the wall and most of my weight is bearing down on his cock. Which drives it deep.

“Don’t you dare,” I say breathlessly, “come quickly and leave me hanging on.” Because I know what’s in his mind. All the worry about being in court, and then the sudden shock of a random blowjob and fuck from a complete stranger. I’m not just fucking him, I’m fucking with his head and that’s going to be on a hair trigger.

I’m wrapped around this guy and looking right into his eyes. Grey eyes. Big pupils. I see that’s flickering behind those eyes, see into his brain, see the orgasm switch snap closed in a shower of sparks, right inside there. Feel the jacked-up pumping of his veins, pressed right against the inside of me. Feel the smack of his pelvic bone against mine. Feel him as he comes and it’s almost too early for me but then I’m with him, mouthing Gah! Gah! Gah! and then the blast comes up from clit and slit to spine and brain, and I’m already on a one-way trip to shameless raging fucking ecstasy.

When I’m finally able to see straight, think straight, and straighten my legs, he lets me down and I have to cling onto the ground because my legs won’t support my weight.

He pulls off the condom, flicks it into a corner. Takes the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket again and this time I accept his offer.

When I look round I hear applause. Couple of guys there in hoodies and tracksuit bottoms. I don’t know if they’re defendants, or just hanging out and maybe waiting for a friend.

I’d smile and curtsey but I’d probably fall over.

“I gotta go. My brief will be waiting for me.”

“Yeah.” Cough. Spit. That’s the thing about deepthroating. It encourages your throat to produce a wad of mucous. Then by the time I was coming, with the moans and all, I was almost gargling it.

Once my leg muscles have stopped trembling, I stand up, adjust my G-string, pull the skirt down to above-the-knee respectability. It’s dirty from the wall. Can’t be helped.

I finish the ciggie and go off to meet my destiny. The guys who were watching me snigger, because I still can’t walk straight.

It’s only later I realise I forgot my shoes and I’ve lost an earring.

Here’s the strangeness. I get a not guilty. Maybe it’s the fact I look like shit, only one earring, and sound dippy and ADHD. Maybe it’s because the figure on the CCTV, wearing camo and a balaclava, smacking the cars with a hammer, doesn’t look or move like me. The girl I see on the video was wired on speed. Even I have to look twice, and I remember doing that stuff.

And the guy I fucked – I ask around when I leave, because frankly I’m so weirded out I could go another quick and hard round with him. But he got a guilty and a custodial.

I don’t get to play with the lesbians and he gets to be some tough dude’s bitch.

Makes me think. I have all the what ifs going round in my head. What if the sex transferred the guilt from me to him, the innocence from him to me? What if I stole his innocence from him? Or contaminated him with my fucked-up head-shit?

His name’s on the court hearing list. I write it down. If I can keep the paper for more than a day or two I might mail him. Might even visit him in jail. I’ll light a candle for him, anyway.

In the meantime, I’m single and very fucking available. I adjust the power-skirt up to miniskirt length and I’m going shoeless in search of a victory lay.