Thursday, 22 May 2014

Book Releases are Like Buses by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Hi everyone,

In England, we have a phrase – “xyz are like buses.” What we mean by this is that you can be waiting ages and ages for a bus, then several come along at the same time. We apply this phrase to pretty much anything—partners, jobs, book releases... you get the idea ;)

Well, this phrase certainly seems fitting just now. I don’t write full-time, but I do write as much as I humanly (and sometimes inhumanly) can, and because I write for a variety of different publishers, books that are accepted go through the publishing process at different speeds. This means that books I’ve written weeks or even months apart can end up coming out at around the same time—hence my comment about book releases being like buses. June is going to be INSANE!

On 1st June, my m/f erotic romance novella, Calendar Men: Mr June – The Other Brother will be released by Decadent Publishing. The Calendar Men series is a multi-author collection, with one sexy novella releasing each month. They’re all set around the central theme of a calendar, and my story takes place in New York, so I had to do an awful lot of research, which was fun! There’s more info on my website: and I’d love it if you’d add the book to your Goodreads shelves, too:

On 18th June, my f/f erotic romance novella, Sweet Spot, is coming from Ellora’s Cave. It’s book two of the Raw Talent sports romance series penned by myself and fellow Babe Lily Harlem. It’s also part of Ellora’s Cave’s Hot Pink series, which has several f/f novellas coming out in June. So if you enjoy sports romance, I hope you’ll check out Sweet Spot. There’s more info and pre-order links on my website: and you can add it to Goodreads, too:

And last, but certainly not least, I have a m/f novella coming from Tirgearr Publishing on the 27th June. It’s called One Night in Paris and is part of their upcoming City Nights series. As you may have guessed, it’s set in my favourite city, Paris (which, coincidentally, I'm in at the time this post goes live - I'm writing this the week before!), and it’s an erotic romance. I had lots of fun writing this one, and although I’ve been to Paris before, it was a good excuse to refresh my memory on Google Street View ;) There's more info at my website: and you can add it to your Goodreads shelves here:

I have a feeling I’m going to need another holiday by the time June is over ;) Keep an eye on my social networks as I'm running blog tours for all three books and am going to be giving away some awesome prizes. I'm not sure what yet, but I'll make sure they're awesome!

Happy Reading!

Lucy x


Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 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, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at:

Tuesday, 20 May 2014

New Release from Tabitha


I'm out and about today to shout about my new release of Taking Flight – my erotic novel... it has been translated into US English and been re-released for your reading delights :D

It doesn't matter how well you think you know the English language and how educated you might be in colloquialisms, there's always something that trips you up or causes a giggle or two between writer and editor. One of the words I've been championing is frig. As in, 'to frig oneself into a frenzy of ecstasy'. But my American publisher was having none of it! We couldn't think of a word quite like it – apart from fingering (Lexie Bay loves that word, dontcha Lex?!). But somehow... it just isn't quite the same. I'd love to hear your alternatives! A word I was very pleased indeed to have in this book is ass. While I like to read the word arse – writing it leaves me a little squeamish. I feel like I've been a little too much of a dirty girl when I write arse – but ass, well, anything can happen and I feel pure as the driven snow. Strange... what words make you squirm? Good or bad ;)

Here's one of my favourite bits of the book where my leading couple stumble upon some saucy goings on in the forest...

Between two trees, a naked woman was tied spread-eagle. Lash marks were visible over her back and thighs. Her long hair tumbled about her shoulders as she let her head fall back. A scruffy-looking man wearing only woodcutter’s breeches stood slightly to the side of her, wielding a switch of what looked to Deborah to be red hazel. As they watched, the man sliced the switch through the air and whipped the woman soundly on the buttocks. She let out a throaty groan and Deborah went to spring forward to demand what was going on. No sooner had she twitched the first muscle than Marcus pounced on top of her, flattening her to the ground and holding her mouth closed. She breathed angrily though her nose as they continued watching the scene of torture.
“Shh,” Marcus growled into her ear. “Just watch.”
It was all she could do, pinned to the forest floor with her face aimed at the show. She was bewildered and all her instincts wanted to free the poor woman who was being so savagely beaten.
Struggling, she tried to wriggle out of Marcus’s grip, but he held her fast and whispered again, “I mean it, watch…”
She relaxed her body, knowing the battle would be lost anyway, and stared. The woman was swaying in what must have been agony on the ropes which bit into her wrists and ankles. The weight of Marcus on her back stifled Deborah’s breath. The whip lashed the woman once more. When the cry came, Deborah was shocked to feel Marcus pressing his pelvis into her behind. He was obviously enjoying the scene and his cock began to stir and harden, pressing into her flesh. Deborah didn’t know what to feel and was suddenly furious as he stared to slowly hump her bottom through their joint layers of clothing.
She was about to scream out and throw him off when she saw the tied woman look around to her captor. Her eyes were sparkling and the most dazzling smile crossed her face. He let the cane fall to his side for a moment and leaned in to kiss her, long and sensuously, while his free hand reached down between her legs and began to massage her pussy and ass. The woman responded by pressing her hips backward, exposing as much of her sex to his advances as she could while tied to a tree.
Marcus’s cock stiffened further as the man began to finger the woman slowly with two thick digits. Deborah saw that the inner thighs of the woman were slick with desire, and she started to feel the wet tingling in her own pussy.
Marcus still had his hands over her mouth and started to massage her lips with his middle finger, forcing it in between her teeth, mimicking the pussy play on show for them. Deborah began to suckle him, letting him probe her mouth and pulse in and out of it like he was fucking her there. Her nipples puckered and peaked within her clothing. As if he felt it happen, Marcus’s other hand rode up under her top, into her bra, and pulled a breast out, exposing it to the earthy forest floor. Her whole body flooded with sensation as he tweaked her nipple and fingered her mouth while humping her to the sight of the two people performing below. She opened her legs and Marcus sank into the space between, riding her ass while she ground her mound into the dirt. He released her nipple and snaked his way down to her desperate pudenda. He cupped the bony nub, letting it rest on the fleshy heel of his hand while his fingers hooked into her dampening knickers through her skirt. She humped and wriggled until her skirt hitched up over her hips. Marcus helped it along. He pulled her knickers to the side and slid his fingers in and out in time with the attentions on her mouth.
All the while they watched the man and woman. Laying down his crop, the man ducked under her arm and stood to face her. He looked at her intensely before falling to his knees in front of her, devouring her pussy in long, slurping kisses...

Watch the trailer!

Taking Flight by Tabitha Rayne
The prequel to 
A Clockwork Butterfly
Genre(s): Futuristic Erotic Romance
Digital ISBN: 9781940744216
Length: Novel
Publication Date: May 19, 2014
Price: $4.99
Lovers on the run in search of a bond that transcends all else.
Dr. Deborah Regan is a scientist working on a cure to the poison that's killing the male population and destroying the natural world. But when she makes a breakthrough in her research, it becomes clear that the authorities have no intention of finding a cure, and now that she's getting closer to an answer, she's a threat to them—a threat they need to deal with quickly.
Deborah and her partner, Marcus, flee to the forest where they meet another couple on the run. Birch and Hazel show them how to survive in the wild and teach them the theory of ultimate unity. They believe that by finding sexual nirvana at the point of intense orgasm, they will break through the barriers of physicality and become one.
It soon becomes apparent that Deborah has an aptitude for falling into this trance-like state, and she manages to bring Marcus on her journey. Their spirits can indeed join together at the meeting point, suspended in time and space while they climax.
When Birch and Hazel become jealous of the young couple's ease at reaching ultimate unity—something they've unsuccessfully tried to do for years—they betray Deborah and Marcus to the authorities. As they are separated, Marcus begs Deborah to continue to search for the ultimate sexual unity, because he's convinced that no matter where they are, this connection will allow them to meet again on a spiritual plane.
Will this metaphysical union be enough for a couple so deeply in love?
Content Warning: This book contains apocalyptic peril and graphic sexual content, including m/f and f/f sexual interaction, along with BSDM
Note: This book has been previously published.

Hope you fancy a read! 

Monday, 19 May 2014

Sh!'s Lovely Manager & ETO Award Nominee, Renee Denyer, Talks About Erotica

Firstly, may I take this opportunity to congratulate Brit Babes KD Grace, Kay Jaybee and Lucy Felthouse on their ETO Awards 2014 nominations! Team Sh! were absolutely buzzin’ to see no less than three of our favourite authors on the shortlist – though it makes voting so much harder; we’d really like to see each of the afore-mentioned Brit Babes romp home a gong each!

I was delighted when the Brit Babes not only invited me over to their blog, but also gave me free rein. I knew what I wanted to write about – what the Brit Babes themselves do best - erotica!

The erotica genre absolutely exploded after the bestselling 50 Shades trilogy hit the shops (I purchased my copies in Sainsbury’s – fancy that!), and we saw an upswing in sales of both erotic books aimed at women, and the products mentioned in these books. And when I say ‘we’ – I should explain that I work at Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, the UK’s best sex shop for women.

Sh! is a place that encourages exploration and play, and what we offer is so much more than just a shop in which to buy sex toys – Sh! is a safe space for women (and their lovers) to  browse, shop and receive honest advice. We even offer cups of tea whilst you do your shopping!

As an avid and (very) enthusiastic reader of erotica, I spend a lot of time researching new titles and suggesting reads to customers who are new to it. During my many years at Sh!, I have found that women often find it easier to read erotica than to watch porn. Erotica plays out in your head; you can set the scene and edit out things you don’t enjoy. Porn is right there on the screen in front of you, complete with socks, hairy balls and pretend orgasms. It’s not for me. I much prefer anthologies like Best Women’s Erotica, where I can get my sexy fix, dipping in and out of carefully selected stories as and when the mood takes me. I’m a connoisseur – I know what I like, and more importantly what I don’t like.  In order for a book to receive a 5-star rating from me, it needs to fulfil the following criteria:

They say never chose a book by its cover… I’d like to dismiss this straight away – you need a sexy cover. Of course you need a sexy cover! It can be discreet and demurely titled like the Secret Library series by Xcite Books (especially if the only time you have to enjoy your book is during your daily commute), but really – a cover hinting at what lies inside is an aphrodisiac. I like it to grab my attention, draw me to it, and make me pick it up…

Have you felt Making Him Wait by Kay Jaybee?  It even feels sexy! Picking up a potential purchase and finding that it feels good to touch is seductive, to say the least!

Nothing beats the smell of a book hot off the press. Sizzling with newness and hot scenes, it’s difficult to ignore the scent of untouched. Sexy!

An exquisitely written sentence, cleverly punchy lines and a constant stream of filthy language – yep, it all floats
my boat!

I’m going to be bold and throw in a sexist comment here, and I absolutely own this one; erotica for women needs to be written by women. I have come across a fair number of stories supposedly written by women (read: men in pretend female persona) and the writing becomes clumsy and just not sexy. I find women write sex scenes more instinctively – the language flows and there is very little (if any) of “putting the big cock in her hole”.  I don’t know about you, but the only thing that does for me is making me frown at the page. (I’m frowning even as I’m writing this!)

Yes, sound. Hearing an author reading her own story in her own voice, as it was intended, is incredible sexy. We regularly have the Brit Babes over to the shop for evenings of erotic book readings, and each event is like foreplay in a public space. The room is usually so quiet that you could hear a pin drop (the quieter it is, the more the audience are enjoying the stories). I’ll never forget the first time I heard KD Grace read her story “Vegging” – I’m pretty sure I was blushing bright pink due to the hot flush it brought on! I hadn’t particularly considered the erotic potential of a veg plot before, but now I’m unable to past a carrot patch without thinking about what one could get up to in the midst of all the fresh produce! Now, if you are unable to join us for one of our aural evenings, I would recommend downloading a free audio book.  This, of course, has the added benefit of leaving your hands free for other things!

Reading is escapism – it offers time out from day to day life, and when coupled with one (or more!) of the amazing sex toys for women we sell here at Sh!, well..! It’s an (almost) guaranteed orgasm waiting to happen! To find vibrators and other sex toys that’ll complement and enhance you reading sessions, head over to our website to see our full range. They all come (ahem!) highly recommended…

Thank you for having me, Brit Babes ~ it’s been a pleasure! But before I go, may I just mention that Team Sh! are up for *two* ETO Awards and we’d be thrilled if you took a few minutes out of your day to vote for us. Us Sh! Girlz, we work hard, we play hard ~ and we do so like shiny, new awards!

Renee xx

Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium
57 Hoxton Square, London, N1 6PB
T: 020 7613 5458
Qype Business of the Year 2012 & Best Shopping Venue 2012
ETO Most Innovative Retailer 2011, 2012 & 2013
Time Out 100 Best Shops in London

Twitter: @Shwomenstore
Facebook: Sh! Hoxton

Friday, 16 May 2014

Special Guest - Vida Bailey

We want to welcome our lovely friend Vida Bailey to the Brit Babes blog today. Vida describes herself as an occasional smut write and an infrequent blogger and you can find her blog here and link up on Facebook here. Her writing is beautiful and thought provoking... and we suspect that today's post will definitely get you all talking, so feel free to comment below!

Hello, everyone, thank you for having me, in my capacity not so much as a Brit babe, but as a Neighbour babe, let’s say :)

So, I’m going to thrust an Opinion at you today, for my guest post. I was reading an anthology and came across a story that made me think. I’ve no doubt lots of people will disagree completely with my initial point of view, and given that my feeble brain hasn’t recorded who the author of said piece is, they might well be here or be reading – and I’m sure they’d have a perfectly reasoned defence against my criticism. If it even is that.

The story that got me thinking was about a woman who tells her husband a fantasy of picking someone up at a bar and having a threesome. Right at the outset, she jumps in with the narrative point that they’ve already agreed they’ll never let anyone else into their marriage, but what’s to stop them getting off on the fantasy?

What indeed?

And then I thought... but... it’s fantasy. What’s to stop people who enjoy threesome fantasies reading actual... threesome fantasies? Why the fictive safety net? Just because you read or write a fantasy about something doesn’t mean you’ve committed the act. Writing a scenario only states ‘I am turned on by this’ to the same degree that writing a scenario in which the character states ‘I am describing a scenario that I’m turned on by even though I would never do it’ does.

It’s similar to the increasingly popular stories about someone picking up a mysterious stranger and committing dirty, edgy sex acts, only to come, and come back to earth, and say, ‘That was wonderful, darling husband, let’s roleplay same time same place, we’re so lucky to have each other and an interesting sex-life’.  Really... if you’re turned on by a scene, would you not write the scene? Is no one having sex with strangers in bars anymore? Has it really become that risqué, or alienating, to have a one night stand? I was a braver teenager than I thought, it seems.

Ok, so that’s the whinging about other people’s stories section of the blog post over and done with, let me move on to the Point. I read the threesome fantasy story and felt myself getting a bit narky about it. And then I thought about how, in my own day to day fantasies, I find myself apologising for the fat, droopy state of myself to the object of my affections. I know – in my own fantasies. It’s not impressive. I thought, for god’s sake – if it’s your fantasy, you can look like anything you want to look like and stop worrying about things. Liberate yourself, for heaven’s sake.

And then I thought, no, even better, dear self, why not have a fantasy where it’s all good and you don’t feel like you have anything to apologise for. Wouldn’t that be far more evolved than picturing oneself as Xena Warrior Princess? (I don’t do that, I promise.) I wonder if this is the difference between Romance and Erotica? Romance is all about the every-day, and Chick-lit desires coming true – where women get to be accepted for who they are in a safe and happy way. Erotica might be more about a deeper self acceptance and the grit that comes with it. Or not. Feel free to argue that point. What I’m most interested in is the limitations we set ourselves within our own heads, where limits don’t really need to be relevant. We still cling to them. A lot of my friends in committed relationships have said that they can’t dream-cheat. It’s really frustrating to them. Imagine, you’re stroking dream-Johnny Depp’s leg, and at the crucial moment, you burst out, ‘No no, Johnny Depp, you must leave, for I am a married woman!’ And you wake up gnawing at the pillow and cursing your own superego.

I read an author question on Facebook why some people claim they won’t read stories about infidelity. The poster wondered why this is, and I have often wondered the same. I mean... I tend to avoid stories with pee (or god forbid, tickling, shudder), because those things just don’t do it for me (and in the case of the latter give me the screaming heebie-jeebies). But cheating... there’s so much behind that... seems a lot to throw out with the bathwater. However there were lots of illuminating responses to the question, few of which I could discount – so I’m sure people who write fantasies about fantasies have good reasons for doing so. Still – I think there’s something to be said for examining the limits we impose on our own fantasy life too, and perhaps expanding our horizons a little further.

Thanks for having me, Babes, and I hope you’ll all comment up a storm in response xxx

Thursday, 15 May 2014

Faking It!

I want to talk about faking it. NO! Not that kind of faking it! I want to talk about the writing kind of faking it. I’m pretty sure every writer does it. I’ll admit I do a good bit of it. I’m faking it now, can you tell? Okay, I’ve never kept it a secret that I’m a neurotic’s neurotic, so when I opened up my calendar two days ago and saw that I was the Brit Babe up to bat for today’s blog post, I panicked, I twitched a bit, I might have even slightly hyperventilated. Then I scrolled through all my old posts for inspiration. None came! I scrolled back through for something I could rewrite. Nothing worked! GAK! That meant I’d have to be original! Double GAK! My brain was tired, my back hurt, I was suffering from eyestrain, and I was hungry! The one thing I didn’t feel was original.

I thought about another garden porn post. I thought about another walking post. I thought about another BDSM at the gym post, especially after my last kettle bells class. Nope! Nothing! Nada! Quick and dirty, that’s what it’s all about, I told myself. Pull it off, I told myself, buck it up! I told myself, you can do it! You’ve done it before. You have a history of doing it, so just do it again! Instead I shambled into the kitchen and fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich, ignoring the ironing that I could do. Ironing sometimes inspires me, but it’s not a happy sort of inspiration … I ate my peanut butter sandwich and scrolled through more old posts and fragments. I checked Facebook and Twitter and my email. I checked them again and waited for something profound to flash before my eyes. Nothing did.

I made myself some more tea. I did a few stretches. I put another load of laundry in to wash. I scrolled some more. I went outside and fed the birds, then scrolled some more.

It hit me after I’d retitled my post four times and deleted multiple first paragraphs, that, more often that not, this is the real path to writing something amazing. A gazillion non-inspiring little things happen, distractions ebb and flow, multiple false starts happen and happen again. Everything feels jerky and restless, and like it’s all disconnected and belongs to someone else.

Aaaaaand! Then it happens! It begins in such a ridiculous way that it’s almost laughable. In fact when it happens I’m seldom actually expecting it to happen, and I’m certainly not expecting anything worthwhile to come of it. Maybe faking it isn’t quite the correct term. Maybe it’s just that I let go of my expectations and slip into ‘play’ mode. Words is words, after all, and what are they for if not to play with? And somewhere in the playing, cool things start happening, like building a Leg ‘go fortress or a sandcastle. Words are playful things when they need to be, things that will lead us somewhere we never really expected to be, somewhere that’s a long way from faking it and miles from where we started.

And that’s when they satisfy! They leave us breathless, and flush-faced and panting as our fingers stumble over the keyboard for more. We get stories that way. They often come to us when we’re faking it, and when we’re laughing at the absurdity of the process. And before we know it, we’re not faking it at all. The earth just moved and there might have even been fireworks. God, I love it when that happens!

But in the meantime, I have to remind myself, it’s okay to fake it. It’s okay to play with it and see what happens. It’s okay not to take myself too seriously. At least for this moment I’m having a short break from taking myself too seriously. I’m sure I’ll get back to it tomorrow, but if I can’t let my hair down with the Brit Babes and with the lovely folks who read our blog, then who can I let my hair down with? And if I can’t play with the words then what’s the point?

Just want to let you lovelies know that my alter-ego, Grace Marshall's AN EXECUTIVE DECISION is FREE on Amazon right now so go nab yourself a copy and enjoy some playful, sexy, romantic words. Here are the links!

Find K D and Grace Here:                                               

Wednesday, 14 May 2014


Oh lookie look! Giveaway of paperback copies of Sexy Just Walked Into Town - head on over to Goodreads and enter the contest! Gotta be in it to win it!

Monday, 12 May 2014

Special Guest - Exhibit A

Joining the Babes on our blog today is our wonderful special guest...... Exhibit A

You can find his blog here and follow him on twitter here..... but for now, sit back and enjoy his fab post!

When the Brit Babes invited me to write something for their blog, saying yes was not difficult. Eight lovely ladies and me, crammed together in a cosy corner of the internet for some serious sex chat? Sign me up right away! It was only as the big day approached that a nasty little question started to worm its way into my brain: what the fuck am I actually going to write about? I don’t have a book to plug, or a product to sell. I’m not even a published author! Let’s face it, my blog is mainly dirty pictures and I’m pretty sure the discerning readers over in this particular parish wouldn’t be interested in those.
Anyway, this morning I was thinking about erotica and the brilliant people who write it, and I decided that the best thing to do would be to tell you all a story. Once I’d made that decision, it pretty much wrote itself. I hope you enjoy it...


Like all the best stories, it starts with a kiss. This one took place on the front seat of a battered old Nissan Micra in the summer of 2009. I was 28 years old, and the woman kissing me outside my apartment that night was...not.

We’d met at a BBQ a few hours earlier. There were eight of us lounging around my best friend’s garden, all in our mid-to-late 20s. His fiancée had invited along a couple of her mates to even out the gender split, and Anna and I clicked right away. She was short and curvy, with a filthy glint in her eye; I beat her at Jenga, she beat me at Singstar, and after too many beers in the evening sunshine I jumped at her offer of a lift home.

She made her move as I opened the door to get out of the car. I felt myself being yanked back by the collar, and had just enough time to turn my face to meet her mouth with mine. It was a good kiss: soft at first, as we sussed each other out, then deep and passionate, with just the occasional tooth-bump to remind us that we hadn’t done this before. 

I invited Anna up to my flat that night, but she said no. Snogging on the front seat of her car was one thing. Jumping straight into bed with a man she’d been warned was trouble...well, that was quite another. We exchanged numbers though – it really was a good kiss – and half an hour after she left, I heard from her for the first time.

‘Thanks for a great night. Um, how old do you think I am?’

‘Dunno! Charlotte’s 25 – I guess you’re about the same?’

‘Ha, nice try. Flattery will get you everywhere. I’m 39...’


I learned three things that night, all of which have only got truer with time. Number one, I’m a terrible judge of age. Number two, a good skincare regime really can work wonders. And number three – the most important lesson of all – older women are AWESOME.

How awesome? Well, when Anna came to visit a few days later, I got my next set of clues. Zero inhibitions. Relentless stamina. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. A mouth so dirty that even I blushed at what came out of it. I didn’t so much walk her to the gate at the end of it all as I did stagger along beside her, a broken man: chewed up, wrung out, and aching from top to toe. I waved her off only after extracting a firm promise that she’d wait at least a week before coming back, and sat back down to rethink my entire worldview.

It’s not that I was ever consciously ageist, and I had previously dated women who were older than me – but older by three, four years, which at the time meant late 20s. A year shy of 40? That felt like a whole different generation. She was almost closer to my parents’ age than she was to mine; hell, she was a year away from having been born in the 60s!

Those were the thoughts that went through my head that afternoon, and one-by-one those were the thoughts that got replaced by the vivid mental images of what we’d just done together. Anna on her knees with her face stuffed into the pillow and my cock inside her, pushing back with perfect timing to meet each thrust. Anna wrapping her legs around my neck and ejaculating all over my fingers as I stroked her G-spot in the way she’d shown me. Anna holding my erection in one hand and slowly lowering herself down onto it, hair tossed back and a predatory, feline smirk on her face.

Over the next couple of years, more images stacked up alongside the ones of Anna. There was Anneke, the 38-year-old mother of three, who gave me the best blowjob of my life in a car park next to the river. Not long after that came Birgitte, the Danish university professor, who may have been 42 but had the energy of a woman half her age, and packed her teenage son off to his father’s for the night because “this is probably going to get loud.” At the office Christmas party it was twice-divorced Sally who dragged me into the hotel toilets and bent over with her hands braced against the cubicle door; her skirt was already hiked up as I fumbled with my belt, and we fucked in silence while our colleagues trooped in and out of the stall next to us.

These days, when I think about sex with older women, I don’t think of crow’s feet or stretch marks or cellulite, because while all three are often part of the package, they’re not what I notice at the time and they’re certainly not what I remember afterwards. Instead I think about their hunger. The older women I’ve been with haven’t just wanted to fuck me, they’ve wanted to devour every inch of my body.

Our lives get more complex as we age, and the things we worry about get more serious. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why older women often seem less sexually inhibited than their younger counterparts. Sex can function as a form of escapism: they get into the bedroom and any baggage they carry around with them – the body hang-ups, the stressful job, the mortgage, the ageing parents, the difficult ex-husband and the bratty kids – gets shoved to one side for as long it takes you to satisfy their sexual demands.

In return, you get the benefit of their experience. You get everything they’ve learned from all the other guys they’ve been with: the tips and the tricks and the flashy moves, sure, but also the insight it’s given them into their own bodies and their own sexuality. They don’t worry when things go wrong or when something’s not working. They can ask for what they want, and they can show you how they want it. There’s an ease about their manner which is not only incredibly sexy, but somehow deeply reassuring.

Why am I writing about this today? Well, erotica and erotic romance are genres dominated by female authors in their late 30s and 40s. It’s too simplistic to say that those women write great sex because they’re having great sex, but at the same time I don’t think it’s any coincidence that a lot of authors find their erotic voice after they hit 35.

Age brings with it a wealth of source material, and the maturity, confidence and wisdom to process and channel that into top-quality smut. It’s much easier to write freely about sex when your personal hang-ups about it have been gradually smoothed away by the passage of time. Happily, as art imitates life, so life imitates art: in general, the more erotica people write, the more that in turn enhances their own levels of sexual curiosity and adventure. It’s a virtuous circle (ok, not too virtuous...).

Maybe that’s why Anna and Anneke and Birgitte and Sally were all so amazing in bed: by day, they were youth workers, and university professors, and marketing managers, but perhaps by night they were all holed up in their studies, tapping away on their laptops. Either way, 32-year-old me is grateful to them for making this a story with a happy ending. They taught me a huge amount, and without them I’d have missed out on some of the best sex of my life.

It’s like I said before: older women are AWESOME.


Thank you so much for having me, Brit Babes, and keep up the good work! I really enjoyed meeting so many of you in person at Eroticon, so to be invited to blog here today was a singular honour.


Wednesday, 7 May 2014

Brit Babes on Goodreads

Please join five of the Brit Babes on the 14th and 15th of May on Goodreads. We are going to be chatting and giving away prizes and generally causing mayhem! If you want to party with us be sure to join the BDSM group (a few days in advance so you can be approved in time) and then come on over. Looking forward to seeing you there!

Monday, 5 May 2014

Special guest - Tamsin Flowers

Please give a very warm Brit Babes welcome to our special guest, Tamsin Flowers - Woot-woot! Take a look at the cover of her new book - ooooh - champagne and TWO gentlemen? Ahhhh... lovely ;)

I was so delighted when the Brit Babes invited me to come over and visit because they certainly number among some of my favourite writers and together they make an awesome team, flying the flag for British erotica. You go, girls!
Today, I’ve brought with me an excerpt from my latest release, Her Boss & His Client. I have to say I loved writing this story so much, not least because it’s set in the world of London advertising which gives it a kind of glossy glamour – but also because I can identify with my somewhat wayward lead character, Dana Lewis. When she starts a new job at a big agency, she vows to herself that she won’t get involved with her boss this time – because that was the very reason she had to leave her last job. But when she meets team leader Jack Brent on the first day, the sparks start to fly immediately and she finds herself powerless to resist. But things get worse when she has to make a presentation in front of Jack’s most important client, travel tycoon Nathan Drake. He’s hot in a whole different way to Jack. Faced with two delicious men that couldn’t be more different in the bedroom, what’s a girl to do? Especially, a naughty, greedy girl like Dana?
Here’s an excerpt from the first time Dana and Jack get together:

Jack seemed to sense my concerns and he got up from his chair and came across to where I was sitting. He stood in front of me, looking down with a serious expression on his face. Then he bent a little to take the wine glass from my hand and put it down on his desk.
‘Dana,’ he said, so quietly I almost had to strain to hear him. ‘You’re going to be fine here.’
He dropped to his knees and before I realised what was happening he’d cupped my face in his hands.
‘You’re going to be brilliant.’
He stared at me intensely again; those gold-flecked eyes only inches from my own.
‘We’re going to be brilliant together.’
I wasn’t quite sure what he meant but I know I moved my face forward a fraction of an inch. I didn’t mean to but he did the same. I could feel his warm, wine scented breath on my cheeks.
‘Oh, Dana,’ he whispered, shaking his head.
If I was reading his expression right, he was conflicted over what to do next. He still held my face in his hands, still held my eyes with his and I watched as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. My core muscles tightened with desire as a small sigh escaped my lips.
He put a finger on my lips and shook his head. His look said all that needed to be said and when he took the finger away he immediately replaced it with his lips, softly brushing my own.
That first kiss, always a heart-stopping moment, seared itself like a brand on my conscious and sub-conscious mind. His lips were soft but he plundered my mouth as if it were treasure for the taking. They moulded themselves to mine and then I felt the tip of his tongue slowly running along first my upper lip and then the lower. At the corner of my cupid’s bow, it breached the gap and as my mouth opened willingly to give him access, I heard a low groan emitting from deep within his throat. Then his tongue touched mine and greedily exploring the cavern of my mouth. He tasted of wine and he smelt of figs and sandalwood and myrrh.
I pushed back with my tongue to gain entrance to his mouth, barely able to sit still in the chair as my body struggled to get closer to his. His stubble ground against my chin and my cheeks, adding to the sensation in direct contrast to the softness of his tongue and the hard, smooth surfaces of his teeth. I wanted to kiss him forever, to never come up for air. I took a handful of chestnut hair at the back of his head to hold him steady as my mouth quite literally devoured him.
‘Dana...’ He pulled back from me. ‘We shouldn’t... we can’t be doing this. I barely know you.’
‘But you know you want me.’ My voice sounded different in my ears, thickened with desire, my breath coming in short gasps.
‘But we have to work together.’
He was right. I took a deep breath and looked into his liquid caramel eyes.
‘I’d better go,’ I managed to blurt out.
Jack stood up and moved back to be out of my way. I got up and straightened my skirt. I was so wet; I had been so ready for what had been about to happen. Having to stop felt like a kick in the guts. My legs turned to jelly and I had to steady myself by gripping the arm of the chair.
‘Are you alright, Dana?’
I wasn’t drunk, so I don’t know if that makes what happened next better or worse.
‘Jack, you started something. Now I need you to goddamn finish it.’
I could hardly believe the words which were coming out of my mouth and, by the look on his face, I don’t think Jack could either.
I took a step towards him and reached out with my hand. The bulge in his jeans was clear to see and when I touched it, I felt his cock twitch in response through the denim.
When our lips met again, the kiss was anything but gentle. Jack’s tongue pushed its way as far into my mouth as he could get it and it twisted with mine as our teeth clashed. At the same time his hands were pulling at the front of my blouse, ripping it open and wrenching it out from the top of my skirt. As he pushed up my bra to release my breasts, I stepped back so I could lean against his desk for support. His mouth pulled away from mine and trailed kisses down my throat as his hands kneaded my chest.
I gasped. I was so turned on and I needed to get him inside me fast. My hands were on his belt buckle but he pulled away.
‘Lie back,’ he commanded, sweeping papers, files and stationery off his desk and onto the floor.
I lay back on the cold, hard surface and felt Jack pushing up my skirt.
‘Stockings, Dana! You have no idea what they do to me.’ I could feel his warm breath on my belly as he said this and then, as he yanked off my panties, lower down.
‘Spread ‘em,’ he said, and I opened my legs as wide as I could, letting them hang over the edge of the desk.
So Jack Brent liked to be in charge, in control. I raised my hips to offer myself to him and felt his mouth take possession of my cunt. First, he kissed it gently, like he’d kissed my mouth; running his tongue up one side and down the other, tasting my juices, learning my shape. Then he pushed his tongue deep inside me, sweeping it around and around, scratching the tender area outside with his stubble, stretching inside to reach high up to my g-spot. I bent my knees and brought my feet up onto the edge of the desk, pushing my thighs still further apart as my hips reared upwards.
At the same time Jack’s hands were working magic on the tender buds of my breasts, pinching and squeezing my nipples till they burned. I writhed beneath his touch, groaning and gasping, as he pushed me closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.
‘Please...’ I moaned and he knew immediately what I wanted.

Buy links:

The lady herself...

Tamsin Flowers biography

Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, 'Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.' Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies, for publishers including Cleis Press, Xcite Books, House of Erotica and Go Deeper Press. She has now graduating to novellas and novels - for Xcite Books, Secret Cravings Publishing and Totally Bound - with the intention of penning her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin's Superotica or Tamsin Flowers.

Thursday, 1 May 2014

Love Hurts.....

Hi lovelies! Lexie Bay here and today is my day to fill up the awesomeness that is the Brit Babes blog with the stuff that fills up my head!

The thing is, as much as I love chatting to you all, my naughty alter ego Ruby Madsen has a new story coming out soon and so I’m going to hand over my space to her today and let her talk about the pleasure/pain dynamic of affairs of the heart and give you a little bit of background to her new story.

Thanks Lexie! It’s an honour to be here with the rest of the lovely Babes today and I’m really excited about my new story. I can’t give too much away because it’s not released yet but I've had some of my wicked words accepted for the new Smut for Chocoholics 2 anthology.

I adored the first anthology and I knew I wanted to sub something for this one. I’ve combined some of my favourite things within the story… a man in a suit, some ridiculously sexy underwear, a lot of yummy chocolate, a little domination and a big dose of kinky pain and I can’t wait for you to read it. I used a little bit of real life and a little bit of imagination when I wrote this one…… so anyone who knows me can have some fun working out which bits are real!

While I was writing my kinky little tale, it got me thinking that while I love a little pain in my sex life, I really don’t enjoy it at all in my love life. I don’t expect I’m alone in this but looking back on past relationships it would seem I can be a bit of a masochist when it comes to pain regardless of my opinion on it.

Let’s take a look at some examples. Raise your hand if you’ve ever done this. Stayed with someone you knew was just using you for sex because you couldn’t bear to be on your own. Even though deep down you’re yelling at yourself to get out because they don’t care about you, you’re so scared of not having anyone that you put up with someone who doesn’t really love you. You build a myth around them and make excuses to cover the cracks. Yep, I’ve been there on more than one occasion!

Or how many of you have put up with someone lying to you. You know they’re doing it because you find them out but maybe the sex is just so hot you pretend it doesn’t matter. Or maybe you can’t really believe that they would hurt you like that so you ignore the signs and carry on regardless.

What about the partner who always puts themselves first, or the one that cheats on you? How many of us stay in relationships that we know are going nowhere despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, despite the tears and despite how low they bring you.

I think there are a lot of people out there who are struggling on, their hearts breaking a little more each day hoping against hope that they’ll be proved wrong or that their partner will change.

I know I’ve done it, several times and I’m guessing that most of you have too. So why is it we can put our bodies through so much and it makes us happy but it only takes a little pain to break our hearts? What makes our butts strong but our hearts weak? And why does a partner who breaks your will make your knees weak but someone who breaks your heart is so hard to let go of?

Pain is a weird thing. Excuse me while I overshare but I really love someone who takes control of me in the bedroom and makes me scream. I like restraints, I like a spanking and I like to be told what to do and then made to do it. While this is happening, the thing that keeps me happy, the thing that makes it OK is the feeling of being safe and adored. And that’s the difference. When my partner is inflicting pain on my body I know that they’re doing it to turn me on. They know what I like and they want to make me happy. When someone inflicts pain on my heart it leaves me vulnerable and it makes me hurt deep inside.

Now, I’m a bad girl and I like a bit of drama in my life, but it seems to me that I’ve had too much heartache and not enough fun. So from now I’m going to concentrate on the kind of pain that makes me happy and I’m going to look for someone that will break me until I’m a screaming mess on the bed rather than someone who will leave me sobbing in a heap on the bedroom floor.

So, no more accepting bad relationships! Let’s all promise to look after our hearts and only accept pain that makes us warm inside and out……

Watch out for my story Eat Me, coming soon in More Smut for Chocoholics and I hope you all have a wonderful and wicked day.

Ruby xx

Ruby Madsen is the living embodiment of Lexie Bay’s dark side. She loves to explore the dangerous things in life, prefers the wilder side of romance and firmly believes that being naughty is more fun.

Ruby has a dirty laugh and she’s been told, an even dirtier mind. She’s a stocking wearing, chain smoking tease with a fondness for red lipstick and bad boys and she wishes she’d been born in the 1950s when men were men and women were pin ups.

Eat Me will be her second published story, but she’s working on some more and hopes to have her debut novel ready soon. You can expect lots of kinky games, raw emotions and not so much of the happily ever after, because sometimes life’s just mean and your heart gets broken. Although Ruby believes that there’s always something better around the corner.

You can get naughty with Ruby at: (coming soon)

Follow her on Twitter:  @rubymadsen