Courting Controversy With Lucy Felthouse

Hi,

I’m welcoming Lucy Felthouse to Supertocia today, to tell us about her latest flirtation with controversy…

Over to you, Lucy:

When I saw the call Ellora’s Cave put out for m/m pieces for their Boys Will Do Boys range, I knew I had to give it a go. I’d been wanting to write more gay stories, but as I’ve always got a queue of stuff to work on, I knew I needed to add something to that queue, then it would get written. And so I did. I already had an idea of what I wanted to write, too. Something different, something controversial. I certainly didn’t set out to write something that would offend, or disgust, more something that people could hopefully enjoy, empathise with and have that “penny dropping” moment when the twist in the tale is revealed.

So what’s controversial about Illicit Relations? Well, the characters, Terry and Justin are second cousins. Which, of course, isn’t illegal. But it would, naturally, still be problematic, I imagine, for them, their families and friends. Which, to me, just made it an even more interesting story to write. It gave me something really meaty to work with, the awkwardness, a rather large obstacle between the characters preventing them from getting together, lots of angst… what fun! I sound cruel, I know, but I promise you that I worked it out. Ellora’s Cave asked for an erotic romance, which generally implies a happily ever after or at the very least, a happy for now. And I’m not going to tell you which, and I’m certainly not going to tell you how or why, but this controversial story definitely has a positive ending. You’ll just have to read it and find out… it’s not quite as controversial as you think, promise.

Happy Reading,

Lucy x

*****

Excerpt:

Terry deliberately averted his gaze as Justin tugged off his T-shirt and dove into the pool. The last thing he needed was to see him topless. His libido was already in overdrive and he was having trouble not jumping Justin’s bones. In fact, the only thing that held him back was the fact that Justin was his second cousin. They hadn’t been brought up particularly closely, so it wasn’t as if he were lusting after someone he considered to be a brother, but still. They were related and it was weird. Or it would be weird if anything happened between them, which it wouldn’t, of course. It would be wrong and they both knew it.

Terry assumed that was the reason Justin was avoiding him, anyway. They got on well and there was an obvious spark between them, but nothing inappropriate had ever taken place. For the most part, they acted as cousins should. Every now and again, though, he’d catch Justin looking at him. Equally, Terry would drink his fill of his cousin when no one else was looking. Apparently it was getting increasingly difficult for Justin, too.

Right now, at the annual summer get together at Terry’s grandparents’ massive house in rural Warwickshire, the tension between them had never been higher.

What made the whole thing ten times worse was that neither of them had come out. So ending up together would be a double whammy for their families. He could see it now. Hey, everyone! I’m gay—and so is he. We’re together. Now as you were.

He didn’t know whether the reaction would be favorable or not.

He also knew that part of his frustration about the situation was because he hadn’t yet seen any point in coming out. His feelings for Justin ran deeper than he cared to admit, and for that reason he hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone—ever. Not a homosexual relationship, anyway. He’d had girlfriends back in the days when he hadn’t realized what his urges meant, but since then he’d been by himself and remained a virgin. He was surprised, actually, that no one in his family had asked whether he was gay. He could only assume that because he was so private generally, they thought he would only introduce them to someone when he felt it was absolutely right. That was his plan, in fact. To come out and introduce his partner at the same time. But until he got over this damn infatuation with Justin, he was never going to be any farther forward.

His thoughts ran on for several minutes until he was interrupted—and startled—by droplets of cold water falling onto his bare shoulder. He turned. Justin stood there, shaking his blond head and sending the droplets flying around. Apparently he wasn’t avoiding Terry anymore.

It was hot and he was wearing casual clothes, so Terry wasn’t bothered about getting wet, but for some reason, he snapped at Justin. “For fuck’s sake, do you have to do that here?”

Immediately Justin stopped and stared at him. They’d never had a cross word between them, not even when they were children. “Sorry, mate. I was just messing around. I didn’t think it would piss you off.”

His blue eyes were wide and Terry felt his irritation dissipating rapidly. He continued to rake his gaze down Justin’s half-naked form. His broad shoulders and wide chest, which was sprinkled with a handful of pale hairs. His toned stomach, the six-pack nicely defined but not too body-builderish. His arms were thickly muscled but suited his athletic frame. Deep-blue swimming trunks hid the area he most wanted to see but he relied on the glimpses he’d had over the years and his overripe imagination.

Thick thighs and calves and, unbelievably, nice feet—he didn’t generally like feet—finished off the package of perfection and Terry was suddenly extremely glad he had a book in his lap, because his cock was beginning to swell and press against the inside of his swimming shorts. He realized that a dip in the pool would be a pretty good antidote—the chilly water should take the heat from his cock. And if not, at least no one would be able to see the bulge unless they swam underwater.

It was stupid, really, trying to hide his erection from Justin. They both knew there was something between them, and he wanted to bury his hard cock inside Justin’s mouth or arse, not hide it beneath a fucking book.

He began to wonder whether they should just get together, and to hell with the consequences. It wasn’t illegal.

Justin sat down on the sun bed next to Terry and flashed him a smile. “Am I forgiven, then? I haven’t got your book wet, have I?” He reached out to grab the book, presumably to try to dry it, but Terry slammed his hand down quickly, catching Justin’s fingers beneath his in the process, not to mention giving his cock a bit of a smack.

“No,” he ground out, wondering how he’d managed to get even a single word to fall from his lips. As soon as their fingers had touched he’d felt a spark that had run straight up his arm and multiplied throughout his entire body. His ebbing erection had immediately jumped back to attention, lifting the book slightly. He hoped against all hope that Justin hadn’t noticed but he had no such luck.

The blond’s gaze dropped to their still-touching fingers and, presumably, to the book and the thing beneath it that had caused the movement. He stared for a few seconds that felt like hours, then looked back up at Terry’s face. He opened his mouth then closed it again. For the first time ever, it seemed Justin was speechless.

A huge splash and a series of laughs from the pool broke the spell between them. Justin snatched his hand back and raked it through his hair. He opened and closed his mouth again, but for the second time nothing came out. He let out a heavy sigh and stood up looking dazed. He appeared to have trouble putting one foot in front of the other, as though he were drunk or had just woken from a very deep sleep. Of course, only the two of them knew the real reason for Justin’s behavior.

Finally Justin got his limbs to cooperate, and he made his way across to the table that held food and drinks, sheltered from the bright sunlight by a large, green gazebo.

Terry watched him go, a tumult of emotions running through his brain. Disappointment, confusion, anger, lust…they all assaulted him, though admittedly the last was screaming the loudest, a fact certainly not helped by Justin’s damp and topless state.

Now a feeling of despair took hold of him. What the fuck was he going to do?

*****

Terry’s had a crush on his second cousin Justin for what seems like forever. He’s hidden it as well as possible, knowing that the other man is out of bounds, forbidden fruit. Second cousins getting together isn’t actually illegal, but for Justin the relationship is too close—he just can’t contemplate them being together.

But when some new information comes to light about Terry’s birth and his place in the family, the whole game changes. Suddenly the relationship isn’t so impossible, and things soon begin to get hot and heavy.

Available from: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/illicit-relations/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18741652-illicit-relations

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 19

This is an excerpt from Risk Rider and Dare Take the Con, a story by Annabeth Leong about two cosplayers (people who go to conventions dressed as comic book characters) whose genderqueer outfits inspire bullying from the crowd but the deepest pleasure in each other. It appeared in Coming Together: For Equality, an anti-bullying anthology edited by Beth Wylde which is raising money for Planting Peace – Equality House. 

Dare stopped the door before it closed. “Would you feel more comfortable if we propped it open? I know we just met. You don’t even know my real name.”

 Her cheeks heated. Lust and Risk Rider’s reflected boldness had led her to take some uncharacteristically reckless actions. She didn’t want to stop, though. Gently, she pulled Dare’s hand away from the door, allowing it to close. “What’s your real name?”

 “Louis Rios.”

 Jamie-Lyn introduced herself, then cut to the chase. “Why did you ask to come to my room?”

“You know why. We both felt it.”

 “We did,” she agreed. Gazing for a moment into his quick, mischievous eyes, Jamie-Lyn decided to take the plunge all the way. Today, with him, she didn’t want to pretend to be anything she wasn’t. Some of her friends back home might have thought it was ironic for her to feel this way while dressed as a comic book character, but the point had always been that when she dressed as Risk Rider, Jamie-Lyn was expressing her best and truest self. Her bravest self.

 She took Dare’s hand—Louis’s hand—and guided it to her crotch, wrapping it around her soft pack. “I’m not exactly traditional,” Jamie-Lyn said. “Do you mind?”

 “I like it.”

 The smile that spread over her face made Jamie-Lyn feel fierce, victorious, and hungry for more. She wrapped an arm around Louis in a grip meant to claim him and kissed him just the same way. She kissed him as a man would kiss, guiding the pace, teasing his mouth open with her tongue, her lips outside his lips, her jaw pressing his open wider, her hands making him submit to her.

 Dare gave a soft moan, its masculine yet submissive timbre sending a thrill through Jamie-Lyn to every place it counted. She kissed him harder, and walked them both toward her bed. Inside Risk Rider’s leathers, her body grew hard and needy and demanding. Jamie-Lyn manhandled Dare onto the bed, spread him out beneath her, and explored him with firm, groping hands.

 Finally, she came up for air. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. Louis’s lips remained parted, and his cheeks had flushed a lovely dark pink against his olive skin. Jamie-Lyn cupped the side of his face, rubbing her palm against the stubble that ran along his jaw. She ground her hips against him, rubbing her package against his upper thigh. “If I asked you to suck it, would you do that for me?” Her voice came out so gruff and raw that she barely recognized it.

So many times, it had taken her months of hinting and subtlety to get to this point with a man, and now she’d come out and asked for it within minutes of meeting Louis. Jamie-Lyn nearly took her own breath away with her audacity. Louis, too, seemed to be in awe. He nodded, mouth open in a soundless moan.

 Jamie-Lyn scrambled up to her knees beside him and fumbled with the fly of her leather pants, pulling out the head of her silicone dick so she could feed it to him. Louis kissed it, his lips plush and full. A trace of the powder she’d used on the soft pack stuck to him as he pulled away. She caught the back of his head and guided him back to her. He had to hold a sit-up position to suck her, but she liked seeing him make the effort.

 Louis whimpered and grabbed Jamie-Lyn’s ass. For all the submission of his attitude, he held her butt cheek with firm authority, cupping the curve of it in a way that made her deeply aware of her femininity even as she slipped her dick between his lips.

 He’d done this, or something like it, before. Louis knew just how to suck Jamie-Lyn’s dick so that he made the base of it press into her clit. He also made a good show out of it, pulling almost all the way off every time so she could experience the repeated pleasure of watching her silicone extension disappear down his throat. She sank her hands into his thick black hair and sped up the rhythm, her hips rocking as he brought her closer to orgasm.

 “Touch yourself,” Jamie-Lyn whispered through gritted teeth. “I want to see your cock.”

 Leather creaked as he groped himself. The teeth of his zipper released one by one. Jamie-Lyn twisted her head to look over her shoulder at Louis’s exposed dick. Flushed bright pink, weeping pre-cum, it seemed paradoxically delicate in the grasp of his slim fingers. She thought of her clit, hidden behind the soft pack. In her mind, dick and clit reversed, folded into each other, became a single pleasure center that they both shared.

 “Make yourself come,” she commanded.

 Coming Together: For Equality is available here:

 All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-comingtogetherforequality-1364546-362.html

 Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Coming-Together-Equality-Robert-Buckley-ebook/dp/B00H0JYYGK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386845604&sr=8-1&keywords=coming+together%3A+for+equality

 Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00H0JYYGK/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00H0JYYGK&linkCode=as2&tag=ctogether-20

 Coming Together – http://www.eroticanthology.com/forequality.htm

 Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/383231?ref=comingtogether

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 16

Today’s excerpt is from my story Her First Taste, which is included in the anthology Smut for Chocoholics. It’s my first foray into science fiction, and I can’t tell you how much fun it was to write.

By 3013, human beings have colonised space, with outposts on a myriad of earth-like planets in our own galaxy and beyond.  Minerals and precious metals have become commonplace now that man can plunder the universe – but one substance remains rare and valued. Chocolate is the new gold and cocoa beans the currency of choice for trading across the solar systems.  So valuable is the rich brown substance that few people alive in the 30^th century have ever tasted it – it would be, quite simply, the equivalent of eating diamonds. But for those who have, the taste is addictive.

Colonel Coco Murgatroyd’s spaceship has been captured by the fearsome space pirate, Titus Bonaparte, for her cargo of cocoa beans – and now he is determined to make her taste some forbidden pleasures…

Bonaparte had inched forward a little, moving closer to where Coco now stood with her back against the counter.  In an instant, he had the gun out of her hand and in his own huge fist.  A second later, it was flying across the kitchen on an arc that took it right to the other end of the room.

He towered above her with a menacing stare.

‘Now, back to where we were,’ he said through gritted teeth.

He reached across to one of the white china bowls that Bizet had left further along the counter.  Coco tried to push past him, to get away, but he easily held her still with his other hand.  And then, as the smell of fresh chocolate assaulted her nostrils, she felt a tremble pass through her, shattering her will to fight Bonaparte off.

He pushed her roughly back so she was lying on the steel counter and it took him only moments to divest her of her uniform.  A growl of appreciation rumbled in his throat as she lay on the cold metal wearing just her black lace bra and panties.

Fear melded with excitement deep within Coco, making her shiver, but when she stared up into the pirate’s piercing blue eyes above her, all she could think about was kissing him.  A needy whimper escaped her lips, even as she silently cursed her body for being a traitor.  Titus ran a warm hand smoothly along the length of her torso as if he was calming a frightened animal and, indeed, it had just that effect on her.  She stopped trembling and lay silently waiting for what he would do next.

But if her body had become pliant, her mind was anything but.  Deep behind her half-closed eyes, Coco was trying to hatch a plan.  Sex was the only weapon she had left and she was an expert.  Let him think he was seducing her as, technically, he was; but once his guard was down she would make her move.  They were in the best equipped kitchen on the ship and that meant the sharpest knives.  Inside her mind, she replayed the layout of the room, trying to remember where she might have seen a knife block.

Bonaparte’s hand stroked her cheek.

‘You are incredibly beautiful, Colonel Murgatroyd,’ he murmured softly.  ‘What would it take for you to leave the Command Fleet and become mine?’

‘It’ll never happen,’ hissed Coco.  ‘Even in your dreams.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

Bonaparte grabbed her wrists and in one easy move had them pinned down above her head.  Coco’s eyes snapped open as his mouth met hers and she was nearly dazzled by the sharp icy blue of his eyes.  His tongue forced her lips apart and then she felt something hard and dry being pushed into her mouth.  Her saliva flowed and the hard object yielded up its taste and its smell…  Oh my god.  Coco would have gasped but the pirate’s tongue stopped any noise escaping and he worked the soft disc of chocolate across her tongue.  The smell, the taste, it was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced.  It reminded her strongly of sex but had a flavour all of its own and as it liquefied on her tongue she had to swallow, carrying it deeper still, allowing the overpowering aroma to flood her nasal passages.

Bonaparte raised his mouth from hers.

‘You like?’

His voice had a rasp to it and with his free hand he pushed down the cup on one side of her bra to release her breast.  Rough fingers chafed her nipple making it pucker and stand proud.

Coco lay still, simply looking up at him.  She felt limp and weak but at the same time powerfully sexually charged.   Swallowing the last of the chocolate in her mouth, she bit her lower lip with a moan.  Titus freed her other breast and his mouth alighted on it softly, his tongue sweeping circles round her nipple until it too stood erect and straining.  Coco sighed, still overwhelmed by the sensation in her mouth.

‘More,’ she whispered, grasping a handful of his shaggy blond hair to pull his face up to hers.

‘Close your eyes,’ he said.

She did and then he left her for a moment on the counter, alone.  But all thought of escaping him had evaporated and she lay waiting, longing to renew the flavour that still lingered in her mouth.  Suddenly he was back and she sensed his presence kneeling above her.  Then her lips were forced open and her mouth flooded by the taste of chocolate and the touch of cock.  An enormous cock judging by the size of the head.  Slathered in soft molten chocolate that was even now dribbling down her chin, down the back of her throat, subsuming all conscious thought and drowning her in sensation.

She lifted a hand to grip the base of the shaft and found that her fingers didn’t even meet around it, while with her other hand she felt for the proportionate weight of the attached balls.  Above her, Titus Bonaparte grunted and then he slowly flexed his hips to push his way further into her.  Back; then in again.  He slowly mouth fucked her as her eager tongue licked the irresistible coating away to reveal his splendid manhood.

Pinching her nipples, Titus finally withdrew with a flourish and pushed her back on the counter.

‘Open your legs.’

Arching her back and bending her knees, Coco spread her thighs wide, ready to take all that he could give her.  The taste of chocolate was still strong in her mouth but the dull ache of longing in her clit needed immediate attention.  Probing fingers spread her lips and she hardly dared breathe as she waited to feel the push of his enormous cock.  But instead a sensation of warmth came from above and tricked down, coating her mound and her clit in a velvety caress.   She opened her eyes to see Titus kneeling above her, pouring molten chocolate from a thick white china jug, his eyes sparkling and his tongue poking out between his lips.

‘Sex without chocolate isn’t sex at all,’ he said, grinning down at her.

And it was easy to believe him.

Available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 3

Today’s excerpt is from a new menage-themed novel, Her Boss and His Client, that will come out 2014.

Nathan bent closer, so close I could feel his breath on my forehead, my cheek, my chin, my throat.  I gasped but as I moved my head forwards, he inched back, teasing me still, making me wait for what I needed so desperately.

‘Please, let me kiss you.’ 

My voice sounded breathy in my ears but he only answered with another question.

‘Can I blindfold you?’

He didn’t wait for my response.  Like a conjurer he suddenly held a silk scarf in his hands and then placed the soft fabric across my face and tied deftly at the back of my head.  I bridled against it in a moment’s panic and put my hand up to pull it away.  But Nathan caught my wrist.

‘Shhhhh, it’s okay,’ he whispered in my ear.  ‘Nothing bad will happen.  Only good, only things you want.’

His hand stroked my cheek and the panic subsided a little.

‘Why the blindfold?  I want to see you.’

‘But I need you to feel me.  To smell me.  To taste me.  We use our eyes too much, Dana.  Making love needs to draw upon our other senses.’

He trailed his tongue down my neck and across to my clavicle.  My breath hitched and as I drew in air I became aware of his musky, male scent.  I slumped forward against him as my legs turned to water and in one sweeping move he lifted me into his arms.

‘Okay, yes, I surrender,’ I said, letting my head fall against his chest.  ‘Do with me what you will.’

I felt myself being carried upstairs and then along a straight landing or corridor.  A door swung open with a creek and then fell shut behind us and then, although I could feel we were still moving, Nathan’s footsteps made no noise upon the floor.

He put me down gently and I found myself lying on a soft, warm surface, a little firm for a bed.  I felt around with my hands. If it was a bed, it was huge; I couldn’t feel an edge in any direction.  The room was silent.

‘Nathan?’ I said, suddenly nervous again.

‘I’m here,’ he said, and the smile in his voice reassured me.

But then his actions did anything but.  With a sudden flurry of move and a metallic clicking noise, he had cuffed one of my wrists to something secure somewhere above my head.  I thrashed my other arm but he had the advantage of sight and a moment later that wrist was cuffed too.

‘Nathan,’ I said, ‘I don’t like this.  Please let me go.’

‘Dana, you gave yourself to me.’

‘You said you wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘Have I?’

He stroked my forehead and then I felt his lips on my neck again.

‘No,’ I whimpered, fear and desire colliding within me.

Slowly and gently his hand reached underneath me and found its way to the zipper of my dress.  He pulled it down and then equally slowly I felt him peeling my dress away, as if he were unwrapping a present.  He uncuffed each arm in turn to release my arms from the garment, then recuffed them.  I lay still, just slightly raising my hips to allow him to slide the dress down and away; I heard the soft rustle as the slip of fabric landed somewhere down beyond my feet.  At the same time, there was a sharp intake of breath.

‘God, you’re beautiful, Dana.  I pictured you like this in my mind but, Jesus, I didn’t come close.’

I sensed the weight of his body straddling me, even though he hardly touched me.  Then his hands came to rest along my forearms and for the first time I felt his lips on mine.  I lifted my head to receive his kiss and his tongue pushed gently into my mouth, rubbing itself against my tongue, exploring with leisured insistence.  He tasted good, a little sweet with the memory of the alcohol we’d drunk earlier.

My whole body responded, my tongue hungrily invading his mouth as I writhed beneath him.  His hands slid down my arms and softly skimmed the lacy bra against which my breasts now strained.  He hooked a finger into one of the delicate cups and yanked the material down to free its occupant.  As he did the same on the other side, his mouth pulled away from mine and then I felt his tongue, followed swiftly by his teeth, on my nipple.  He pulled and cajoled and nipped, and under his ministrations my hips strained up against his thighs and then pushed down hard against the mattress.  He caught my other nipple with his finger and thumb, making me gasp as he twisted it hard, and the fact that both breasts were still confined by the pushed down bra made it feel even sexier.

But then suddenly he vanished, his mouth and his fingers absent, his weight lifting from the bed.

‘Nathan?’ I said.

Absolute silence.  Absolute darkness.  I was breathing heavily and I needed to be touched.  Deep inside the dull ache of longing had become more akin to a sharp pain.  I strained against the restraints at my wrists.  If Nathan had gone, I needed to be able to touch myself.

‘Behave, my darling, or you’ll have to wait longer.’

He sounded a long way off, on the other side of the room; a very large room.

I tried to stay still, pushing my thighs together in attempt to salve the pain and need between my legs.  But immediately Nathan’s hands were on my ankles and my legs were gently separated.  I felt him slip something round my ankle and then I heard the metallic jangle of a buckle being pulled tight; my leg was immobile.  The same treatment for the other leg and there I was, pinned down and vulnerable, in just my panties and my pushed-aside bra.

I whimpered.  I wanted to feel his touch, firmly, and I shivered in anticipation, not knowing where to expect it.

But Nathan made me wait.  I don’t know how long I lay there captive.  And all I could think about was him.  My mouth watered, my cunt grew wet and warm, me breathing fast and nervous.  My hips started writhing of their own volition and I felt on the verge of tears, ready to cry with frustration if I didn’t feel his hand on me soon.

Momentarily something brushed against my ribs and I yelped, my breath hard and fast as I fought against my restraints.  But then nothing.  Perhaps I had imagined it.

‘Nathan?  Are you here?’

‘I’m here,’ he whispered right in my ear, making me jump.  ‘Are you ready for me?’

‘More than ready.’  I could hardly speak.

He kissed me again, long and hard on the mouth.  And then he let his tongue wander, down the side of my neck, across my shoulders and onto my breasts.  As it brushed my nipple, I let out a low groan; it was as if my skin caught fire under his touch.  A hand slid down my belly and crept inside the top of my panties, making my hips buck and my back arch.  My whole body had become hyper-responsive, making me moan and cry out, so brutal was my need for satisfaction.

As I writhed and wriggled, he quickly ripped away my panties and I thrust my hips forwards to meet his hand.  But they met nothing and once again the room was quiet.

‘Please, Nathan.’  I’d never heard myself beg before.  ‘Please.’

‘What do you want?’

I felt his breath like a soft caress on my inner thigh.

‘I want to come.  I want you to make me come.’

Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Multiple Orgasms

Rachel Kramer Bussel’s The Big Book of Orgasms is phenomenal. Not simply because it’s one of the best ever collections of highly-charged erotic short stories, but also because of the amazing buzz that’s surrounding it, building up in waves just like one of the innumerable orgasms contained between its covers.

Actually, though I say innumerable, that’s not strictly true: I’ve counted them! So, if you haven’t been tempted yet by the hyperbole to sneak a peek inside, let me blast you with the stats:

• The Big Book of Orgasms has 242 pages.
• 69 authors contributed stories.
• 109 orgasms are described in full glory.
• There are 46 heterosexual couplings, five ff encounters, six mm encounters, one three-way and one four-way.
• 11 stories feature female self-love and one story of male masturbation.
• There are approximately eight episodes involving bondage and a spanking story.
• Eight vibrators and three dildos take on starring roles.
• Two stories feature wax play and one includes water sports.
• And I counted three incidents of anal in the book.
• Oral sex? 10 times at least…

Get the picture?

However, if there are any pedants out there who want to check my numbers, please feel free! I’ll be the first to admit that some of these might not be exact. Because even though I’d already read the book from cover to cover, when it came to doing the count, some of the stories so distracted me that I couldn’t remember if I’d written down their vital statistics or not.

And there’s the rub… you’d think that with all that sex, there wouldn’t be room for much else in this book. But despite every story being only a few pages long and crammed with bedroom (kitchen, living room, outdoor, in cars and everywhere else) action , there’s a wealth of fully-formed plots, well-rounded and developed characters, great description and sparkling dialogue.

How the hell does it all fit into 242 pages? Well, it’s kind of snug in there!

So well done, Miss Kramer Bussel and the other 68. This is a truly fabulous book.

Buy The Big Book of Orgasms from:

Amazon

Kindle ebook edition

Bn.com

Nook ebook edition

Powell’s

Books-a-Million

IndieBound (find your nearest local independent bookstore)

iBooks

Google Play

Cleis Press

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 2

Today’s excerpt is from my current release, The Crimson Bond, the story of a passionate vampire love triangle.

Willow was looking down into a large, square room, lit by a row of tall candles along one side. The walls were painted black and the floor red, but what caught her attention was not the array of chains, cuffs and other restraining tools she saw attached to the walls, but the fact that one particular set of restraints was in use.

With her hands cuffed high above her head, Elouise was bound to a tall, wooden pillar in the center of the room. She was naked except for a blindfold and an intricate network of rough twine rope biting her soft, white flesh, forming a lattice pattern stretching from her chest to below her hips. Her breasts were bound so tightly that the dark areolas seemed ready to burst, and the strands of rope cut deep and hard down to her pussy.

Willow gasped.

Elouise’s body writhed against the column and her mouth opened as a young man stepped into view. He had short, blond hair and was wearing tight, black trousers with no top. Willow could only see his back, but it was sinewy and lithe, and his arms were well muscled. In one hand he held a short, black-and-red leather flogger.

He turned Elouise roughly so she was now suspended facing the column. The same pattern of crisscrossed ropes ran down her back. However, on this side of her, it was her buttocks that were squeezed tight by the ropes, which left the two prominent, white orbs protruding from the bindings.

And Willow quickly understood why these parts of Elouise’s body had been left so accessible. The boy stepped back, drawing his arm back at the same time. Then he struck, across both of Elouise’s buttocks, and Willow heard the thwack of the leather on her skin, followed immediately by a sharp cry from her lips. He did it again. And again. And on and on, as Elouise writhed against the post and wrestled her bonds, crying out and whimpering with each successive slap.

Willow could hardly bear to watch but wouldn’t tear her eyes away. The boy worked up a sheen of sweat across his muscled shoulders, his skin flushing pink either from exertion or arousal. A sound made him turn around and she saw from the bulge in his trousers it was indeed arousal. She was also able to see his face for the first time. It was the face of an angel. Angular, chiseled, and perfectly symmetrical, with flashing, dark, sapphire eyes. But his lips curled cruelly and she couldn‘t detect an ounce of sympathy in his expression. He spoke to someone, though Willow couldn’t hear what he said. Then he turned back and went about his business with renewed vigor.

Willow tore her eyes away and moved so she was sitting with her back against the wall, next to the window. So this was Elouise’s punishment for making her a vampire. To be flogged, mercilessly, by this heartless young vampire, for she was sure he must be one. Willow wondered what to do—evidently the boy was not alone as he beat Elouise. He’d spoken with someone else. So it meant she’d have to tackle at least two people if she stormed in for a rescue. It meant, though she hated how she watched mesmerized, there was nothing for her to do until this particular round of punishment was deemed over.

A low scream tailing off to a whimper caught her attention. She went back to the window. Elouise was still attached to the post, but there was a pile of ropes and a knife lying at her feet. However, Willow could see very little of her. Her view was obscured now by a male figure, Etienne, she quickly realized, who was standing pressed up close against her. His hips were grinding backward and forward, and as the two conjoined bodies swung to one side, Willow saw clearly that Etienne’s engorged cock was sliding in and out between Elouise’s buttocks, which were now slick with some form of lubrication.

As Elouise’s cries rang in her ears, Willow felt an instinctive response blossoming inside her. A flood of warmth in her pussy, saliva in her mouth and her own hips moving in time with the two vampires.

Etienne’s hands grasped Elouise’s hips as he used his strong thumbs to spread her buttocks wider. Elouise’s hips pushed back to meet each of Etienne’s thrusts and her initial cries of pain had now become yelps of pleasure. Willow watched and as she did, she hardly noticed her own hand pressing softly against the crotch of her jeans. Her nipples bloomed and grazed against the rough fabric of her top, making her catch her breath.

Etienne ploughed harder and harder into Elouise and Willow watched as he threw his head back with a great roar. Elouise reached her climax at the same moment with a long howl and Willow flung herself flat on the ground. She couldn’t afford to be seen and she wasn’t fully in control. Her hand found its way inside her trousers, down inside her panties and, moments later, she, too, came to a silent climax, her teeth clamping hard on her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth.

 

You’ll find The Crimson Bond at Secret Cravings, Amazon US, Amazon UK, All Romance and Smashwords.

Superotica Advent Calendar – Day 1

Starting today, and every day until 24th December, the Superotica Advent Calendar will be bringing you super-hot images and steamy excerpts from some of my forthcoming titles, works in progress and releases from the past year – plus some guest spots from friends. Come back every day to enjoy this super sexy Christmas build-up…

Day 1

This is an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo work, the beginnings of a sexspionage novel called Honeytrap – fresh from the challenge, unedited and raw – for your eyes only! Christie has been recruited for honeytrap operations and starts her training to become a femme fatale..

It wasn’t how Christie had pictured herself on her first day at work. Giving her boss a blow job on demand.

Jack shrugged.

‘This is how we do it.’

This time his voice had an edge to it that made Christie straighten up in her chair. He stared at her unblinking. Slowly she got up from her chair and took a step towards him.

‘So right now, just like this? No foreplay?’

‘It’s not a fucking date, Christie.’

Jack was starting to sound annoyed, so Christie took a deep breath and went across to him. Once she was standing directly in front of his chair, he took his hand away from his groin and let his legs fall apart to make room for her. Christie dropped onto her knees. Whatever it was between her and Jack that had felt so right in that hotel room in Cambridge, it now felt completely wrong, in the cold light of day, in this weird quasi-hotel room in London. She rested her hands gently on his thighs but her mouth was dry and she looked away. Then she took a deep breath and there it was, the intoxicating smell of Jack Masters, that heady mix of sweat and cologne — and it made her heart hammer in her chest. Jack stroked her hair.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ he whispered.

And then she felt a slight pressure from his hand at the back of her head. Something inside her snapped at that moment, the sensation of being pushed. She shook her head violently to get rid of his hand. Okay. He could have what he wanted but it had to be on her terms. She was back in control of herself. In a flash her hands moved from his thighs up to the top of his suit trousers. She slipped her fingers under the waistband and Jack grunted with surprise, though as she yanked down his trousers he obligingly raised his hips. As the fabric pooled round his ankles, Christie could clearly see the bulge of a burgeoning erection in his white shorts. Time to slow things down a little.

She looked up at him and slowly ran a single finger around the top edge of his pants. His abs tightened as his blue eyes met hers—they were impassive but his lower lip visibly slackened and Christie could sense his breathing becoming a little faster. Using both hands, she slid his shorts down over his hips, impossibly slowly, letting her fingers skim the warm skin provocatively. His cock was now fully erect and caught up in the elastic waistband. He intervened with one hand to free it but now it was Christie’s show and she frowned up at him.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said with a smile and he placed both hands on the arms of the chair.

As his shorts slid down towards his ankles, Christie anchored his erection by wrapping one hand around the base of it. And so here she was, eye to eye, so to speak, with Jack Masters’ magnificent cock, every bit as perfect as she remembered it from Cambridge. Just the right side of large. Skin as soft as nubuck, rock hard underneath. Her breath caught and at that moment all thoughts of point scoring flew from her head.

With the lightest of touches, she let her hand run up and down the shaft. Jack’s head flopped back, eyes shut, and his hips pushed forward. The muscles deep inside Christie tightened as desire coursed through her. Her mouth was no longer dry and she could feel a sweat breaking out on her upper lip and between her shoulder blades. It seemed weird that she was still fully dressed with Jack half naked in front of her.

And at last she stretched out her tongue toward him. A tiny flick across the tip of his cock, followed by another and another. A slow march of tiny kisses, down one side and up the other. She gently held the base with one hand and rested her other hand on his hip to steady herself as she moved, oh so slowly, up and down between his well-muscled thighs. With each little kiss, Christie could feel a response in him, a movement in his hips, his back, his gut. His legs were braced against the floor even though she’d hardly started.

She let her tongue wind slowly up and down the length of his shaft, cradling his balls as they started to tighten and harden under her touch. She paid particular attention to the head, watching it darken, feeling a steady pulse in it with her tongue as she circled it, first slowly and then faster. She felt his hips roll as she lightly nipped the rim of skin that marked it out from the rest of his cock.

And then at last she took it into her mouth, shielding him from her teeth with her lips, just a little way at first but still enough to elicit a low moan. She could taste his pre-cum in her mouth, a little sweet, a little salty, and her guts roiled with longing. She literally ached to feel his touch in return. Sucking gently, she drew his cock further into her mouth, letting her saliva lubricate the trunk and slipping it slowly between her lips, varying the pressure as she pulled back and slid forward. She moved faster and sucked harder, drawing it out right to the very end and then sucking it ferociously as she pulled it back into her mouth. A little deeper each time. Her hand at the base gripping a little tighter, applying a harsher pressure.

Jack’s hips strained forward to meet her mouth and as she pulled back from him, she could see that the knuckles gripping the arm of the chair were white. His breathing was ragged. She purposefully slowed down, letting her tongue twirl and dance around the shaft as she drew it slowly in and out. She disengaged her lips and opened her mouth wide, blowing and sucking cool air across his heated skin.

Suddenly both his hands were on the side of her head, pushing her back.

‘Enough, Christie,’ he said, but his voice was dense with desire. ‘You’ve made your point.’

The Crimson Bond – Vampire Love and Blood Lust!

Hi,

So November has been something of a roller-coaster ride for me – not only did my first novella, The Christmas Tattoo, release at the beginning of the month, not only did I complete 50 thousand words in three weeks for NaNoWriMo, the intensity of which nearly blew my mind BUT NOW, here’s another new release hot on their heels!

If you saw my cover reveal a few weeks back, you’ll now this latest story, The Crimson Bond, is about vampires – a hot vampire love triangle in which no one is spared from a vampire bite or a vampire kiss…

Here’s the blurb:

Willow Jackson develops an unhealthy obsession Etienne Corbeau; little does she realise he’s a suave, sophisticated vampire.  After appearing in her dreams, Willow is astounded to find Etienne in her room for real and even more shocked when, in the throes of a passion she can’t resist, he sinks his teeth into her and drinks her blood. 

But Etienne is greedy and to save Willow’s life, his wife Elouise forces her to drink vampire blood.  From this moment Willow is herself a vampire, forming an unbreakable bond with Elouise which forces her to choose between the beautiful new vampire and her husband of two centuries. 

As Willow learns to tame her bloodlust and vampire sex carries her to new heights of physical pleasure, Elouise is snatched away from her.  The battle lines are drawn: now she and Etienne will fight for possession of the woman they both love…

And now here’s a little taster from the opening chapter – just enough to make your mouth water…

Even with the shutters thrown wide, there wasn’t enough of a breeze to dry the sweat off Willow Jackson’s skin as she lay writhing, naked and alone, on the huge double bed. But it wasn’t the heat keeping her awake. After all, she’d lived in Santa Fe for most of her nineteen years and it was still only spring. The mercury would rise far higher over the summer months.
It was an unhealthy obsession that was keeping Willow awake. An imaginary scenario played over and over in her mind. The heroine? Herself, naturally. The hero? Her creative writing tutor Etienne Corbeau, and it didn’t play out in the stuffy lecture hall where she spent Tuesday and Thursday mornings hanging on his every word. No, in her imagination they were in the woods. She would be standing with her back against the rough bark of a pine tree, feeling the scratch of it through the fine chiffon of her dress.   He would be walking toward her, tall and so sure of himself, pulling off his tie and discarding his shirt as he got closer. Revealing a sinewy, brown torso, lightly peppered with black hairs, making the breath catch in her throat, and lighting a fire between her legs. As he approached, his eyes would rake up and down her body. She would watch his chest heaving as his breath became ragged. Seconds later, they would come together in an urgent embrace.
But then, just as their mouths were about to fuse in a blistering kiss, just as she was about to surrender to his caress, the image would dissolve. Damn it. Always the same. She would be back in her bed, the sheets twisted around her legs and a sheen of sweat between her breasts. Frustrated and wanting him more than ever. She kicked the covers away and let a hand stray softly and slowly down her stomach toward the dull throbbing between her clammy thighs. But it was him she needed, not her own fingers.
She sat up sharply and dropped her head to her hands, elbows resting on bent up knees. Why was she torturing herself like this? She could never have him. He had to be at least ten years older than she was. She doubted whether he would give her a second glance if she was the sole women left on the planet. And he had a wife. Willow had seen them together more than once. The woman was stunningly beautiful and perfectly groomed, with expensive clothes that fit like a glove and never a hair out of place. So it was no surprise to see, in his wife’s presence, the suave and elegant Monsieur Corbeau had eyes for no one else. Another surge of longing swept over Willow as she remembered watching them getting into their car together at the end of school. A ravishing couple, evidently in love. Willow had noticed Etienne’s hand slide down the curve of his wife’s shapely rear as she’d climbed into the dark red Porsche, looking up at him with parted lips and an adoring glance.
Willow’s legs slackened and fell wide apart. She leaned back against the headboard and pressed her right palm hard against her downy mound of Venus. A sharp little moan escaped her mouth and she bit hard on her lower lip, hoping her roommate, Jordy, sleeping in the next room, hadn’t heard. In a moment her hand was slick with sweat and juice, her engorged clit pressing up hard against the base of her fingers. A tendril of toffee-colored hair fell across her face as she arched back in pleasure and her blue eyes closed as another image Etienne Corbeau flooded her mind. And her senses. If she couldn’t have him in real life, she would at least have him in her imagination.
This time the picture show didn’t stop and as she teased and twisted her nipples with one hand and explored the dark recess between her legs with the other. It was as if they were at last together.
“You want me, don’t you?” he whispered in her ear. She could virtually feel his hot breath on her neck.
She nodded, unable to speak, and in her mind she felt his body pressing tightly against hers.
“Then tell me,” he said. His voice sounded real in her ears.
“I want you,” she gasped. “I need you.”
“Use my name.”
She opened her eyes to be sure, but she was definitely alone in the room.
“Etienne, please come to me.” She was practically moaning for him.
The heat rose through her pussy as she ground her hips against the soft bed and she gently caught her aching clit between her finger and thumb. Sticky with her own musky juices, she softly rubbed it. She stopped momentarily to lick her fingers for a taste of herself, but then had to work harder and faster as the need inside her grew more urgent. Approaching the point of no return, she flung herself forward on the bed so she was lying on her stomach, her legs braced hard against the headboard. She pushed her hips upwards, peachy behind in the air, and thrust her fingers deep into her trembling vagina, still working her clit with the ball of her thumb. Finally, the longed-for release sent her body into an explosive spasm. The image of her would-be lover was driven from her mind as the primal sensation surged through her—and even as she muffled her cry in the crumpled sheets, the knowledge that Jordy would most certainly have heard it brought her back down to earth with a bump.
Still lying on her front, she slumped down, panting, and waited for the sensations coursing through her to subside. At least now she would sleep well, even if she was in for a ribbing in the morning. She pulled her fingers out of her vagina and rolled onto her back, sleepy and contented. Of course it would have been better with a real flesh-and-blood man. A man called Etienne Corbeau.

Available from Secret Cravings, Amazon US and Amazon UK.

A Slow Striptease… The Finale!

We’re here at last. We’ve reached the end of my Cleis cover reveal-athon. And like all good strippers, now’s the time I disappear behind a screen. Or in this case, a windbreak! Isn’t this the most fantastic cover – what a bundle of fun! Can’t Get Enough, edited by the inimitable Tenille Brown, will be out… Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I know. In the meantime, enjoy the beach!

So there you have it. Four amazing covers for four extraordinary anthologies, which I couldn’t be more proud to have stories in.

Something tells me 2014’s going to be a very busy year on Superotica!

Tamsin

xxx

A Slow Striptease… Part 3

Bit by bit, layer by layer, I’m showing you all I’ve got.  This amazing Alison Tyler anthology, Twisted – Bondage with an Edge, will be coming out early next year – and already it’s got me in a spin!

Oh! Have I shown you this already? Well, I think it’s worth a second view, don’t you?

Tamsin

xxx