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?”
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.
“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: