Drenched: It’ll Make You Wet!




I love my job for so many reasons – but one of the really great ones is that I get to sit and read erotica all day long and it’s work. I’m not slacking, I’m actually working hard. Turning the pages as fast as I can to reach the really dirty bits… After all, somebody’s got to do it.

And this week, I’ve had the exquisite pleasure of reading Drenched, a new anthology of wild and wet erotica from Sweetmeats Press, compiled by Kojo Black. I’d heard of Sweetmeats Press quite some time ago and I knew that they produced illustrated erotica, but this was the first time I’d actually read any of their output. And, boy, will I be reading some more!

Drenched isn’t illustrated but the five water-themed stories are completely capable of conjuring up a series of delectable images in your mind – from Janine Ashbless’s seductive “Melusine” to Justine Elyot’s adventurous “Naiad”, from Primula Bond’s riotous “Pool Party” to Lisette Ashton’s wicked executive in “Hard to Swallow” and Vina Green’s vicar’s-wife-with-a-secret in “A Divine Solution”. The quality of the writing is excellent throughout and, although sticking to the central theme, there is plenty of variety in the stories Black presents. Droughts are foiled, office politics are played and parties explode with a bang and all through it, the erotic power of water runs with an insistent throbbing that sweeps you from one story to the next. But be careful of the undercurrent – you could be in danger of being sucked under!

I have to say that my favorite story was Justine Elyot’s “Naiad”, so here’s an excerpt from it:

I arrived in the shade of the lime tree and sat down, shivering a little. It wasn’t cold, but the shade gave me a tiny sensation of chill, goose-pimpling my skin. Or perhaps that was nerves. I wrapped my arms around my knees and hugged them against my breasts, squashing my stiff nipples. They were beginning to ache from being so swollen for so long. He had touched them, pressed them, they were his now.

What would it be like to be his, in reality? To live here in his lakeside house, subject to his will? I drifted into a fantasy life, imagining us sitting in a boat at sunset while he fed me strawberries, talking about what he would do to me when he got me home to bed. I’d like to hear him talk like that, hear him say those words.

He’d keep me in a shallow pool, chained to the side because naiads were notoriously slippery creatures who could not be trusted. He’d unchain me when he wanted to take me out of my element and use me. He’d use me a lot …

I was shaken out of my increasingly lurid imaginings by his voice, making me jump.

“I thought I told you to lie down.”

It was light, pleasantly-spoken, but I knew at once that I should do as he said. Only somebody completely deaf to nuance could have failed the recognize the steel beneath the smile.

He was carrying things. Not just condoms. A cool box of the kind you’d use for a picnic, and a watering can. How strange.

But I didn’t question it. I straightened my spine down among the daisies and felt the cool tickle of the grass between my thighs. Above me, the sun glinted and hid through a tangle of branch and leaf. I could fall asleep like this, if only it weren’t for the face, looking down at me from a height, sweeping my prostrate form with hungry but pitiless eyes.

“How do you feel, Naiad?” he asked.

He had put down his burden and tightened the belt of his silk robe around him. He hadn’t offered one of those to me. I could do with one. The breeze was becoming more evident, especially around my nipples.

“I feel vulnerable,” I said, pressing my thighs together and curling my toes.

“Vulnerable, yes, good. But are you comfortable?”

“I think so.”

“Not too dry? Poor little naiad is used to the water, isn’t she?”

“I suppose so.” The residual drops from the jacuzzi had all slid off my skin now.

He knelt down by my side and passed his hands over my upper torso, rubbing and stroking over my breasts and collarbone and down over my stomach.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, bending to kiss my navel. “Very dry. This must not be comfortable for you?”

“It’s …”

But before I could continue, I let out a sharp cry.

He had reached into his picnic box and brought something out, which he placed square on my belly. It was a goddamn ice cube!

“Oh my god, that’s freezing!”

I tried to turn so it would slide off, but he tutted and held it in place with the tip of a finger.

“No, no, no,” he said. “This is good for you.”

I wriggled and shivered and whimpered while he sent the cube on a little journey, leaving cold wet tracks across my skin. He let it glide between my breasts, then climb their slopes, circling—but never quite coming into contact with—my nipples, until the damn thing melted.

I was gasping with the cold, but he showed mercy by kissing all the places the cube had chilled, warming them back up with his fulsome lips and tongue.

I wondered if he could tell that I was ready for him now … more than ready. My clit felt ready to burst with need for his attention and I didn’t need any ice cube to get me wet down there. Could he scent it? Something told me that he could.

But it didn’t mean he was going to go easy on me.

Another bullet of ice materialized on my nipple, making me arch my spine and howl. He was amused by this, holding my poor throbbing bud between finger and thumb and keeping the ice cube where he wanted it. He kept it there, not moving, just until my nipple went beyond pain and into numbness, then he transferred it to the other. The expression of satisfaction on his face told me how he enjoyed watching me writhe. I didn’t find it frightening. I found it intensely arousing. He was using me the way he wanted and I was willing to comply, even if it did mean purple nipples.

“I know it’s cold,” he whispered. “But you’ll warm it up, won’t you? Because you aren’t cold. You’re on fire.”

He put his free hand between my thighs and rubbed the juicy swollen clit he found there. Yes, there was his proof. I couldn’t deny what I was, what I craved.

The ice shrunk and disappeared, its existence only evidenced by the rivulets trickling down my breasts into the furrow between them.

Eberhardt put his face there and lapped up the crystal droplets, then flicked the tip of his tongue over my recovering nipples. The warmth buzzed them back into painful life. I wriggled my bottom into the buttercups as he opened his lips and sucked.

He alternated between nipples, dipping lazy fingers between my pussy lips and into my cunt at the same time. I was so close to coming from the double stimulation of being fingered and sucked simultaneously that I began to squirm. Instantly, he stopped what he was doing and smiled down at me. The sun had gone in. The leaves rustled against a stronger breath of wind.

“Oh,” was all I could whisper.7743750_s

“Not yet,” he teased. “Naiads are very sensual little creatures, aren’t they? I had no idea. I think more ice …”

“Oh no,” I moaned, but he was quick and deft and before I could clamp my legs together he was holding a cube to my clit. I kicked my legs against the acuteness of the sensation, but he rubbed slowly, up and down, then in slow circles, using his free hand to stroke and brush and pinch my nipples. I cried out and he popped a finger in my mouth, silencing me, making me suck on it. Now all I could do was hump my bottom up and down in a useless quest to free myself from my freezing invader.

Buy it here:


Amazon UK

Barnes & Nobel

Sweetmeats Press

Best Sex on the Net – Elust 61

elust header
Photo courtesy of Maria opens up

Welcome to Elust #61 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #62? Start with the rules, come back September1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Bloggers, please
I Touch Myself
Stunt Porn / People Porn

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Is sex unsexy? A ‘His & Hers’ post
Van Gogh, an erotic author and a selfie…


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

His Desires

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!


Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Anorgasmia in women
One Week On
Safe Craigslist Hookups
Online Dating: How to Talk to People
Stealth Sex Toys-Stash Management
Last Longer In Bed For Men Naturally

Erotic Non-Fiction

Spicing Up Sex Life
Gasp, Shake, Thank You
Again and Again
Fapping to My Photos and Stories
Did you miss me?
Desire….What happens when you can’t succumb?
Off Balance
On the Sofa
The Solace of My Body
Self Given
Orgasms & Ice Cream
Skid Marks

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Jacky au royaume des filles
What makes a sex writer?
Dubrovnik whore as metaphor 4 Balkan politics
Am I Pretty or Ugly?

Erotic Fiction

Lonely observations
Fucking and Being Fucked
The Churning Black, Part 4
A Return to Purpose
Bang on Target!
My Night With Lilith

Writing About Writing

Words That Shouldn’t Be In Erotica
Transhumanist Erotica: Jacked In


Just One Look

Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

The Hotness Of Cockteasing A Guy In Chastity
My eyes are over here
Submissive Men 101 Facts
Emotional Masochism
The time I made him make me safeword


Frame Game – A Lusty Limerick


Diana J Torres- Vagaculation Workshop

ELust Site Badge

Lost in The Big Book of Submission!



Looking for some super spicy reading as you soak up the last of the summer sun? Then can I suggest The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales, edited by sexy story supremo Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press? Page after sizzling page of slinky subs and hot doms, pushing each other’s buttons and playing power games… Just be careful you don’t overheat!

Superotica is the latest stop on The Big Book of Submission blog tour so now it’s my turn to tell you about my story in this pantechnicon of kinky delights. “The Lost Suitcase” is a little tale of everybody’s holiday nightmare-that moment when you discover that your suitcase has gone to Miami while you’ve arrived in Los Angeles. But the loss of this particular suitcase didn’t mean the owner had to go out and purchase a new toothbrush and swimsuit. This was the case with the toys in it-and given you know which book this is in, you’ll know what sort of toys I’m talking about!

Sometimes we’re all faced with the need to improvise and that’s what happens here. After a trip to Target, this enterprising Dom has restocked his arsenal (no pun intended!) and is ready for action!

TF1Here’s an excerpt:

“Bend over the bed.”

I knew the position he meant. I knelt beside the bed and leaned forward until my ass was bent over the edge.  I loved this moment-and I hated it.  He knew it and he made me wait until the anticipation of what might be coming next had me squirming.  I wanted it and I didn’t want it in equal measures.

A sharp shock of pain, a lingering after burn.

“There were so many things on the shelves at Target to choose from,” he said.  “I could have bought a leather belt.  Electric cables.  A table tennis paddle. A canoe paddle.  A wooden spoon.  A ruler.  Let me count the ways I could mark your skin.”

All the while he continued striking my ass, first one side, then the other, building up the intensity slowly.  It was his special skill.  I couldn’t begin to guess the object slapping hard and flat against my flesh and after a while I couldn’t even process his words.  I lost myself in the physical sensation, living and breathing only for the moment when he would transform the pain into pleasure with a slick of lube and the work of a finger or two.

Finally he tossed his implement aside, and I heard a metallic clash on the tiled floor.

“What?” I gasped.

“A skillet,” he said.  “They had it on special and we could do with a new one.”


Want to follow the rest of the tour? Here’s the schedule.

You can buy The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales at:


Amazon UK

Cleis Press

I’ll have what she’s having! Stories of O


I’m very excited today as my lovely friends at Cleis Press have given me the opportunity to join the Stories of O blog tour. Which means I have been, quite literally, one of the first people to lay hands on this fabulous new anthology edited by Alex Algren. Actually, I’ve just checked on Amazon and it’s already available – so you could have all read it before me. But for the sake of this post, I’ll pretend you haven’t!

So what can I tell you about this delectable little collection? Algren has gathered in orgasmic stories from six incredibly talented writers – Saskia Walker, Kristina Wright, A.D.R. Forte, Sinclair Sexsmith, Donna George Storey and Thomas S. Roche. And, boy, are they hot!

Here’s the blurb:

intimate young couple during foreplay in bedThink back to the first time you came so hard you cried out. The first time you surrendered fully and spiraled into euphoria, every inch of your body consumed by pleasure. You didn’t care who heard your gasping, open-mouthed cries of passion—all you could focus on was the ecstasy. That’s what you’ll find in this collection—tale after tale of characters lost in the bliss of orgasmic perfection your mind (and especially your body) won’t soon forget.

Warm up with Saskia Walker’s steamy “Communal,” a story about a college girl who seduces other students in shower stalls. Next, a couple discovers a devious use for their spatula while cooking breakfast in Kristina Wright’s “(S)pan(k)cakes.” In A. D. R. Forte’s “Endymion,” two models with statuesque bodies succumb to their mutual lust inside an artist’s studio. A woman uses Kegel exercises to send her lover into sexual nirvana in Donna George Storey’s “The Big O.” In “Not Without Permission” by Sinclair Sexsmith, a dom considers allowing her submissive to orgasm, but not before she’s had some fun with her strap-on first. And finally, in Thomas Roche’s “Butterfly’s Kiss,” an inexperienced dom visits an underground sex club and discovers a new bag of tricks.


Add to that the fact that you get a free pancake recipe with Kristina Wright’s “(S)pan(k)cakes” – and you should be satisfied in more ways than one! And that’s the point of these stories – orgasms are hunted down and rounded up using water jets, spatulas and strap-ons, in an artist’s studio, with a Sexercise prescription and in a down-and-dirty sex club where the suction is fierce! Which one was my favorite? In truth, I loved them all, from the sweet to the spicy – and so, I think, will you!

And to tempt you a little further? Cleis Press is running a special offer – send your digital receipt for Stories of O to them and they’ll send you a Cleis print book absolutely free. How can you resist?

Stories of O exclusive excerpt

from “Not Without Permission” by Sinclair Sexsmith


“All right, up,” I say, then tug on her elbow when it takes her a moment to register. She scrambles to her feet. I shove her, hard, quickly, to the bare patch of wall next to the closet and pin her there with my body, one hand on the side of her face to press her cheek into the plaster. I hold her there a second and we both breathe.

“Ready?” I ask, at her ear again. She nods. “Hands on the wall.”

She reaches as I unbuckle my belt and whip it from the loops of my jeans. She tries to say, “Oh, God,” but it comes out as a whimper through the gag. I can hear the syllables, the vowels.

I let my arm be loose, let the leather be soft and supple as I warm up her ass and thighs and back. She gets supple too, her body relaxing and releasing already, muscles easing up their tight grip on her bones. She leans into the wall for support.

I get a little harder and see a thin line of drool start to fall from her mouth and chin. She tries to wipe it with her shoulder but keeps forgetting about it when my belt reconnects and snaps her into the sensation. She breathes deep. I widen my stance. Her back is striped with lines, her ass and thighs red and splotchy. I take a few full-winged swings with my legs spread, back spiraling, pulling up as I feel my cock’s extra weight pulling down between my legs. She gasps as it hits, once, then a pause, then twice, then again as I wind up and throw. She collapses a little into the wall on the third and I know she’s almost done. I press my body against her sensitive backside and she gasps, arches her spine like a cat, lolls her head back on her neck to rest against me.

She leaves her hands on the wall, never moving them. She must really want to come tonight.


Buy Stories of O at:


Amazon UK

Cleis Press

Ahoy! She Speaks! Rose Caraway interviews Tamsin Flowers


Great news! Yesterday afternoon I was a virgin. Now I’m not!!! (And you know, don’t you, I’m not talking about sex!) In fact, the particular cherry I popped yesterday was being interviewed. The gorgeous Sexy Librarian Rose Caraway, and I spent an hour together, separated only by the Atlantic Ocean and an entire continent, having some frisky, frolicsome chatter about zombies, erotica, slapping noises, dentists and “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” – my latest story in her new anthology from Cleis PressThe Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica.  And not only did I get interviewed, I got my very own card in Rose’s special Library of Erotica filing system! (See above.)

Want to hear what we both had to say? Head right over to The Sexy Librarian Podcast to hear it in full.

And I’ll be bringing you an excerpt from “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” very soon!




Infographic: How to Write a Novel!


Today I just wanted to post my infographic How to Write a Novel. I used this a couple of weeks back in my column for One Handed Writers and, as I felt so pleased with myself for having mastered a new skill*, I wanted to share it here as well. But if you’ve seen it already, you get a hall pass and you can come back later…

So, here it is – and I hope you find it a little informative!



*It wasn’t hard, really, but for someone as technically challenged as I am it represented a triumph-over-the-machine moment!



Bang on Target! An exclusive preview of Honeytrap…


Here’s a little sample from the current work in progress, Honeytrap. What’s it all about? One word – sexspionage! Christie Russell joins the Honeytrap division, on a mission to seduce and destroy enemies of the state. But only if she can survive training with the incorrigible Jack Masters first!

Join them at the shooting range, where Jack’s teaching Christie how to fire a gun…


Jack pressed the button again and the target trundled back down to the far end of the range.

‘Stand back and watch,’ he said.

Christie did as she was bid and Jack picked up a far bigger handgun than the one she was using and assumed the position. He squinted for a second and then let of five shots in quick succession. Christie felt the report of the gunfire echo through the range and thud through her chest. Jack put the gun down almost immediately and took of his ear guards.

‘That’s how you do it,’ he said.

Christie pressed the button to bring the target in. There was one hole, just to the left of centre of the target’s chest, right through its heart.

‘One out of five,’ she said.

‘Five out of five,’ said Jack. ‘Bang on target.’


‘Every fortnight for fifteen years. Yes, seriously.’

Christie picked up her gun again.

‘Breathe slowly,’ said Jack. ‘Bring your heart rate down so your pulse doesn’t make you tremor.’

Christie stood for a moment at the rail with her gun hand hanging loose by her side. She relaxed her shoulders, softened her knees, and paused between breaths. When she felt perfectly still, she raised her arms and lined the gun up once more with the target. She remained still and quiet again, letting her body settle. Breathe in. Breathe out.

She smelled Jack close to her before she felt his arms come from behind to steady hers. His chin came over her shoulder and his face almost pressed up against hers as he aligned himself as much as possible to check her aim.

‘A bit higher,’ he said.

Christie struggled to keep her breathing slow and deep. The muscles of her arms locked as she wrestled her concentration back to the target.


It was almost a whisper, brushing against her ear like a breath. She loosed two rounds in quick succession and stopped.

‘Better,’ he said.

He slid one of his arms forward along hers and took the gun from her hand, putting it down on the flat, narrow top of the railing in front of them. Christie took a deep breath, revelling in the familiar scent, and felt his breath, warm and moist, on her neck. She didn’t care that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. As soon as she was close to this man she was overcome with desire, intoxicated by the smell of him, drawn to the heat of his body.

‘Put your hands on the rail,’ he said, so close to her ear that she could feel the movement of his lips.24435530_s

‘Yes, sir.’ She leaned forward, placing her hands on the rail to support her weight.

Jack’s hands dropped to her waist and she felt the warmth of his chest against her back. He kissed the side of her neck and Christie felt a tightening low within her. Her legs turned to water and all she could think about was Jack’s hands moving up inside her shirt. But he kept them still where they were, quietly moving his lips up to the junction of her jawbone and her throat. Christie moaned and arched her neck back. She wanted to turn her head and kiss him properly but something inside told her not to.

In a blur of movement Jack’s arm was across her throat, constricting her windpipe and crushing her against his chest. She raised her hands to try and pull his arm away but he was too strong for her.

‘Jack!’ she blurted out through gritted teeth.

He pushed her away and stepped back. She turned to look at him, gasping for breath, all her muscles clenched tight with anger.

‘By the time I’ve finished training you, Christie, something like that will never happen,’ he said. ‘Now, take another shot.’

With her breathing still ragged, Christie picked up the gun again. She tried to lock her arms in the firing position but her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes to centre herself but her heart was racing. The air was drenched with the smell of Jack.


Two more shots rang out but the paper target didn’t flinch.

‘That’s how you’ll feel when you need to take a shot in the field,’ said Jack. ‘It’ll be too fast. You’ll be frightened. If you don’t pull the trigger, you’ll take a bullet. Reload and do it again.’

And again. And again. Jack made her shoot at her paper assailant until the muscles in her arms were burning, her eyes could hardly see straight and her ears were ringing with the sound of shot after shot, despite the ear protectors. Finally, she fumbled badly as she reloaded and dropped the gun. It skittered under the rail and out onto the range.


She slumped against the guard rail to catch her breath and then bent down to reach underneath it.

‘Leave it, Christie. Never go past the rail.’

He caught hold of her upper arm and pulled her up, toward him. Exhausted, she couldn’t quite get her balance and leaned in against his chest.

‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to pull away. But he held her steady.

‘For what?’

Jack’s eyes…so blue.

‘For not being the girl you thought I was.’

She tried to turn her head but his gaze held her still.

‘Christie, I didn’t take you on for the girl I thought—know—you are. I took you on for the girl I can make you into. But you’ve got to stop fighting me every step of the way. You’ve got to make up your mind if this is what you want.’

‘It’s what I want, Jack.’

Christie didn’t even have to think about it. Then his lips were on hers and her tongue came out to meet his just as quickly as he pushed it against her mouth. His skin was hot under her fingers as she pulled up his polo shirt to caress his back and he moaned as they stumbled together against the rail.

‘There are only so many times a man can stop himself,’ he murmured against her cheek.

‘Then don’t,’ said Christie. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and slipped her hands down the back of his jeans. His hips ground into hers, pushing his erect cock against her stomach.

‘Turn round and bend over the rail,’ he said.

Blood roaring in her ears, breath rasping in her throat, Christie draped herself over the guard rail. Jack stood behind her and slowly pushed her short skirt up her thighs and then over the curve of her arse. His hands caressed her buttocks, making her whimper as he slid her briefs down in the opposite direction.

‘God, your arse is a heartbreaker,’ he murmured.

Christie laughed but the sound of his flies unzipping slammed her right back into the moment. Fingers worked their way into her with ease—she was already wet. Damn it, she’d been wet when they got in the car to drive over here and Jack had done nothing since to make her dry up. With one hand he continued to finger her, while his other hand found its way up inside her blouse. He pushed her bra roughly up, over her breasts, and then caught one of them in his hand, pinching her nipple. Feeling the naked skin of his cock pressing against her thigh, Christie pushed her hips back against him so he would know what she wanted. As if he didn’t already…