Yes, I’ve entered. Which story is mine? It’s under lock and key. I’ll never tell. You choose your favorite. Go here to Vote. Be sure and let me know which of the eleven stories was the one that turned your lock, baby.
As a writer, I often use visual images (writing aids) to help me when I create a story. I like to think of these visual images as muses. I wonder if all writers use visual images? I know Heidi Champa was inspired by a visual image of a God-like looking man when she wrote her story, This One, That One, for Alison Tyler’s Sexy contest and won.
I just learned my story, Board Shorts is being published by Ravenous Romance’s Men in Shorts anthology. The story is about surfing. I live in the midwest. Geographically speaking, Ohio isn’t located anywhere near a large enough body of water to create mighty enough waves any person with an ounce of pride would surf on. As a side note, I have been told there are some individuals that are bold enough to surf lake Erie during the winter months (Oh drears). But then again, there are people that snow ski here in Ohio as well. Ohio is as flat as a pancake.
My point. Oh, fuck, what’s my point? Oh yeah, I needed a visual muse to create my surfing story and hell, it worked. Robert Kelly Slater is pictured below. Yeah, he was my visual Board Shorts muse. Please stay tuned for more details and more of my stories coming to a theater, I mean a website or bookstore near you.
Surf’s up in Ohio -
I’ve been having one of those moody days for the past few days. If I were wearing a mood ring, the color would be black. I don’t have the flu, but my skin feels hot and prickly. I know this moodiness is mostly from the powerful surge of hormones running through my body right now; affectionatly referred to as, PMS. Yoga helps. Practice tonight.
I received a spirit lifting e-mail message from an erotica writer that lives far, far away, but we’ve started a friendship through blogging and e-mailing. She’s even sent me a gift in the mail recently. Anyway, she sent me a message last night and it really lifted my spirits. I thought I’d share it with all of you. If you’re also having one of those moody days, maybe after reading her message will help change your mood ring color from black to blue:
“Oh, I thought of you Saturday morning. I stopped amidst the craziness at a wonderful cafe I’d been told about. It’s a really cool artsy, funky place in the middle of a not-so-cool, conservative, not-so-funky city. Anyway, I ordered my usual triple cappuccino and looked up at the specials board — be still my heart! Huckleberry jam crepes! Took all the angst away with one bite. Heaven!”
Breathing a pleasant sigh of relief,
p.s. Here’s more good news: I just heard from Sommer and we’re going to have a booty call later…okay, okay, okay, so it’s conversation about booty. The day is looking up!
is just not my style. I’ve mentioned that I’ve been working on large project lately. I’m juggling a multitude of non-work related tasks, while taking on more work related projects. I’ve been busy. I think everyone I know can say that and mean it. There must be something in the air.
I do try and indulge in break time activities though. If I must be juggling multi-anything, I’d prefer it to be orgasms. Anyone else share my sentiments? Taking a little break helps me blow off steam. I figure, if I died today, and woke up in hell tomorrow, I would kick myself for not having one more piece of dark chocolate, or didn’t swallow my…fear and purchase that extra large dildo.
Life’s too short; indulgence and breaks are necessary. Now go grab yourself a multi-O and then get your ass back to work. CRACK! (THAT WAS MY WHIP).
As I searched for the perfect image to go with today’s blog title, I stumbled upon an interesting article titled, Behind Closed Doors. The story is here if you’d like to read it.
“Yeah. Hello? It’s me.” He whispered thrusting deeper into her ass.
“No. I mean I think someone else is in the room.” She murmured louder as she twisted her reddened, sweaty face around.
A slice of light echoed from under the closed closet door. They both saw the looming shadow standing there on the outside of the door.
They didn’t move; they were suspended in mid-fuck. It was silent except for the slow drip of sweat that fell from her brow and pooled on top of a shoe box top. Pounding hearts, full deep breaths, lust, need and too much wine filled the small, dark space.
“Fuck it. Just fuck me.” Her need surpassed her fear of getting caught, like someone passing the baton in a race.
He pulled his wet cock out and drove himself inside her again. She closed her eyes; turned her head back toward the wall, her fists grasped the plastic coated shelving and she began moving her hips up and down; meeting each penetrating rhythmic grind.
She felt her orgasm building as his cock shimmied against every splitting fiber deep within her. “Fuck me hard. I’m going to come…” she said huskily; feeling the release of orgasm move across her body.
She crawled on all fours and opened the door, cautiously. Her eyes came face to face with Miles Davis, the party host’s black cat.Do Not Disturb,
Like having chocolate with your peanut butter, orgasms with your multi, or Ravenous with your Romance. Stay tuned…this hot and sexy website is coming (cumming) soon….
1. Extremely hungry; voracious.
2. Rapacious; predatory.
3. Greedy for gratification: ravenous for power. See Synonyms for voracious.
1. A love affair.
2. Ardent emotional attachment or involvement between people; love.
3. A strong, sometimes short-lived attachment, fascination, or enthusiasm for something.
Wanting and needing both,
It appears I like it fast. Alison Tyler does great…contests. Here’s my entry for Auto Erotica. Cheers to anyone that went out and voted.
“Is that how you like it?” The words rolled from his perfect lips.
“I don’t know.” I answered.
The last thing I remember was the sound of the convertible’s back tires squealing as they sprang into life, trying to keep up with the hammering engine’s request. We moved faster and faster across the deserted open highway, the wind repetitively slapped my face. At first I was petrified and beads of cold sweat covered my body, like an insidious disease. I glanced over at him: The Adonis-looking jock until he became a blur.
Time has a way of standing still when you travel that fast.
Plastered up against my bucket seat, I couldn’t move. I could only feel the power of speed as it took possession of me: My nipples ached from the wind whipped beating of pleasure. My cunt clenched around the flowing juices as my clit vibrated along to the rhythmic hum of the engine’s force.
I felt my orgasm building behind the speed’s force, but speed teased me, taking me to the edge, but not letting me go. I didn’t think I could take it anymore, when speed finally loosened its grip and my body convulsed in orgasm. My wind-blown head shook from side to side as my fingers gripped tightly around the sides of the seat and my hips moved up and down against the seat buckle restraint.
“Yes. I like it fast.” I said as the car finally stopped.
No, Heidi, Kirsten and I are not flying off to Australia or New Zealand this week. I have however taken on a rather large writing project that feels like I’ve been down under though; tucked away inside to be more precise. If you see smoke, please know it’s only my brain wrestling with my fingers as I quickly type out the words.