Monday, 25 August 2014

Special Guest - F. Leonora Solomon

It is my utter delight today to present for your reading pleasure, the erotic editor and writer, Ms F. Leonora Solomon.
Dive in!
I was tickled pink--a bubbly pink champagne--pink to be asked to guest post on The Brit Babes blog. Especially considering that I have seriously thought about moving to London for nurturing my erotica career. I will be in Paris in a few days, and I am hoping to be very inspired there to write new stories and blog posts.
What inspires me? Why erotica?
I skimmed all of my mother's books for the good bits, and uncovered dirty magazines before I was double-digits. My mother told me about sex when I was young without me asking, so I never thought it was taboo.
In high school, a teacher scornfully commented on my reading The Wolf and the Dove by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. Yes, I did find it sexy that Aislinn was chained to Wulgar's bed in that story! When I no longer had to hide what I was reading, I always sought books, movies and art with heavy sexual content. I ended up volunteering at a bookstore, because I found a long sought copy of an obscure (but not so good in the end) erotic novel.
What is the draw? Sex. The calmest, most logical person can be driven crazy by their libido. My favorite books are all tied together by elements of sexual obsession. I happen to like the dark side of things. Damage by Josephine Hart and Asylum by Patrick McGrath epitomize everything I love, both in books and movies.
from Damage
In editor mode, I like sexy stories with a bit of kink and a lot of emotion. When I write, I like to write what would be Polaroid candids if they were visual. My characters put everything on the line in that moment. I just wrote a flash fuck for Alison Tyler's blog. It was a moment, will I return to it at some point? I don't know. The two characters are on the brink, but it does not necessarily have to be explored.
I don't think everything erotic has to be physical either. The same way nonsexual objects can be fetishized, the same way erotic experiences can be varied and not always what is expected. I submitted a piece that I felt was erotic, but was told it was not erotic enough. I do not think it is that cut and dry. What is erotic to you, might not do it for me and vice versa. But they are both still part of the broad sexual spectrum, and we know that that has infinite variety.

I find cities sexy, I have severe wanderlust. Food is pretty sexy too, I am a complete foodie. Art is sexy, I wander through museums like a gypsy. Knowledge is sexy, it opens doors and minds. I don't think sex is sexy...I think it is everything, so I seek it everywhere...



I can so identify with this post - I feel very joyful to share this sensual experience of life.
F. Leonora is just lovely and writes erotica while also editing for Ravenous Romance - I was very pleased to have one of my stories in her My First Threesome anthology - she is SO fab to work for so do submit to Ms Solomon (!) - visit her site here.

She is ALWAYS on Twitter and Tumblr and her chat and images she shares are fab - so come along to the F. Leonora party! :D

Avoir un temps merveilleux à Paris mon chéri - peut vous être vraiment inspiré!

x x x Tabitha x x x

Thursday, 21 August 2014

Coregasm - oh yeah!

Hello lovelies :D

Tabitha here.

Now, I'm not usually first to the picnic so you may already know all about this - those little gym
bunnies amongst you, most certainly will (otherwise, why?).

I'm talking about a term I discovered while doing very important research... VERY important I tell you ;)

So what is this word?

Coregasm.

Yup - a coregasm. It's not having an intimate jolly old time with the middle of an apple, oh no. A coregasm is that sweet sublime moment during physical activity completely unrelated to sex when, oops, out pops a climax.

I've heard of ladies climbing ropes and getting that funny special feeling 'down there' or whilst cantering along on their favourite steed, but I always thought that was down to friction on the lady parts.

Apparently, I have been wrong. I was beginning to wonder, that rope swing I put up in the garden is getting rather frayed and I still haven't had the magic moment.

No - dear orgasm hunters - the coregasm is found dwelling deep within your abdominal or 'core' muscles.

"For Goodness' sake Tabitha," I hear you squeal, "Tell me how you do it?"

Well... here goes... simply take part in some rigorous exercise which will work your deep lower abdominal muscles - including yoga, sit ups, work outs, jogging, jumping around on that big ball thing - some lucky souls come from simply walking - jeeeez, if I'd known! And our very own KD Grace is a self confessed Kettlercise addict - Ms Grace - would you care to expand on this 'addiction' of yours ;)

So - I am genuinely interested in whether any of you guys have experienced this phenomenon - while researching I even came across a man who ejaculated while doing pull ups!

If you feel able - please let me know, I still haven't found my special exercise but I would dearly love to - any hints gratefully received and tried - I may even report back ;)

Be anonymous if you're shy :D

Love from Tabitha - future gym addict x x x

Ps - I'm having a sex chat at my blog if you fancy commenting there too...

Monday, 18 August 2014

M.K. Elliott- The Seduction of a Series

Hello everyone!! It's Kay Jaybee here! Today I'm delighted to be able to introduce you to Marissa Elliott, a great friend of the Brit Babes, and a fantastic writer.

Over to you Marissa...



The Seduction of a Series
M.K. Elliott

I love reading series books, and I love writing them as well. Falling in love with characters is part of the joy of both reading and writing, so being able to immerse yourself in a storyline where you don’t have to leave the characters for a very long time is an absolute joy.
Series books and serials are everywhere at the moment—from Sylvia Day’s ‘Crossfire’ books to Hugh Howey’s ‘Wool’. No matter what the genre, series books are hot stuff

If you’re a writer, series books also have the advantage of selling well. If you’ve got a series, it gives you more options as far as promotion goes—you can offer the first book in the series as either free or at a reduced price. If you put time or money into advertising one of the books in the series, it’s inevitably going to have a knock on effect onto the other books. Once you’ve hooked the reader into that series, they’re almost guaranteed to go on and read the rest of the books.
I’ve recently completed my first series of five books (The Serenity Series), written in my fantasy name, Marissa Farrar, and the first book in my new series (The Spirit Shifters—yes, I like the alliteration of the letter ‘S’!) will be out next month. I’ve used free prequel short stories which lead onto my novels and novellas as a way to hook in readers (‘One Bite’ is the free short story for my vampire novella, ‘Deadly Beauty’), and I’ve even linked relatively unrelated anthologies together by using a series name (my ‘Some Love it...’ series, starting with ‘Some Love it Hot’.)

My latest erotic project, ‘Model, Wanted,’ is a serial. The first part is already out, and I intend to publish the rest in 10k chunks, assuming this is where each part finds its natural break. Read to the end of this blog if you want to check out a seriously steamy excerpt of the first part!

So I guess you could say I’m a bit of a series whore! Hopefully, with this amount of series books under my belt, I’ve learnt a few things about writing them. Here are five things to consider when writing a series:

1.)    Make sure each book ends with a satisfying finish. Yes, it’s fine to leave certain questions unanswered, but there must be a beginning, middle and an end, just like any standalone novel.

2.)    A story arch needs to be considered for the whole series, not just for each book. When you’re planning, consider what you want to achieve by the time the whole series is finished.

3.)    Secondary characters make great primary characters. If a secondary character has a fascinating back story, this can be used to chase their story into the next book by having them as the lead character.

4.)    Watch out for ‘rules’ you set yourself which make it difficult for continuation in later books.

5.)    Make each book bigger and better than the previous book—up the stakes, kill off more characters, write hotter sex!

So what about you? Do you love to read series books, or even write them? What are your favourites, and, if you’re a writer, do you have any tips as to what makes a good series?

 
 
Model, Wanted: Part One - M.K. Elliott
Blurb
Eric Rutherford is a photographer with aspirations. At the top of his game, he creates images for five star hotels and portraits for wealthy families.
But Eric has a dream. He longs to create erotic art. He has an eye for a woman’s beauty, but he doesn’t just want to photograph a woman naked, he also wants to tie her up, and down. He wants to bind rope across her breasts, tight enough that the rope leaves an imprint on her skin. He wants to have her on her knees, with her hands handcuffed to her ankles. He wants to whip her rounded pale bottom with a leather flogger, and then photograph the red stripes.
So his search for his perfect model begins and when an advert brings the beautiful, blonde Anya into his apartment, his one fear is that she’ll say no.
Follow erotic photographer, Eric, and model, Anya’s sexy exploits as they push the boundaries of not only their art, but their relationship. How far will they go to fulfill their sexual and artistic desires?
                                              
Please note: This book has a word count of approximately 11,000, or 36 pages of a paperback. It contains explicit scenes not intended for anyone below the age of 18.Eric and Anya’s story will be published as a serial, with a new addition to be released every couple of months at only $0.99!

Excerpt
Back in his apartment, Eric waited for Anya with his nerves on edge. Not only did he have a hundred things he wanted to ask her, he also had something prepared which he hoped she’d want to do.

She walked into his apartment and headed straight to his studio area, not mentioning what had happened earlier. He couldn’t let it go so easily.

“What were you doing at the university today, Anya?”

She turned to him with her innocent smile. “Perhaps I was following you.”

“Really? How did you know where I’d be?”

She shrugged. “I saw a poster in the hall. I’m a student at the college.”

“Is that right?” He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. She was such an enigma. He couldn’t tell when she was being serious.

“Am I not allowed to speak to you outside of this apartment?”

“Yes, of course you can.” She always managed to trip him up. “I just …” Want to know more about you.

He couldn’t say it, not allow her into his life as any more than a subject of his art.

“Good.” She smiled. “So, what do you have planned for me today?”

From his box of tricks, he lifted a length of hemp rope. Her eyes widened, but she nodded and began to undress.

This was his time now. He would take control of her, harness her to his own will.

He bound the rope around her body, first around the narrowest part of her waist, knotting it at her navel. Then he brought one end up, between her breasts and across, to loop over her shoulder and down her slender back, down to her waist. He repeated the motion with the other end of the rope, tying it tight so the ridges dug into her soft, delicate skin. The result was that the rope tightened around each breast individually, squeezing them toward him. Her nipples were rock-hard, crinkled peaks, and he longed to touch them, graze his palm across the hardened nubs. But he did not.

“It’s not hurting you?” he asked.

Her lips were slack, her breathing shallow, but she shook her head. “It’s fine.”

He’d finally managed to affect her, he could tell.

Eric stepped back and lifted his camera, moving around her to snap shots of her bound breasts, stomach, and shoulders. Already, he could see the red marks of the rope and the thought of removing the rope to photograph those marks made him dizzy with anticipation.

But he wasn’t finished yet. He picked up another length. “Can you handle more?” he asked.

“Yes, oh, yes.”

Gently, he reached down and nudged her naked thighs apart. Again, he started with a loop around her waist, knotted, instead, at the base of her spine. This time he headed downward, pulling the rope between her thighs so it pressed between the crack of her buttocks. He looped it back over the length of rope at her navel and pulled tight, the coarse rope pressing between the delicate lips of her cunt, right against her clitoris.

Anya gasped and then exhaled a small, shuddery breath.

“Is this okay?” he asked her again, not wanting to hurt her, but still wanting to take their art to the edge.

She nodded frantically, “Oh, yes.”

Eric continued to wrap the rope around her body, framing her buttocks, encasing her thighs.

“Lie back,” he instructed. “Spread your legs.”

She did as she was told.

Such perfect contrast, the coarse material against the delicate lips of her pussy. The contact against her clit sending the blood rushing to her most sensitive area. The inner lips almost purple with stimulation. He took a number of shots.

“Turn over.”

She rolled onto her stomach.

“Lift your ass in the air.”

Every movement would be creating more friction against her clit. He saw her arousal in the wetness on her pussy lips when she lifted her ass for him, heard it in the moan she tried to stifle against the wooden floor. The rope hid the perfect star of her anus and, for that, he experienced a momentary dip of disappointment, though it didn’t last long. He knew what his next project would be—to capture her sweet ass. Perhaps she would even allow him to penetrate her with something? He had a slim, silver butt plug that would look stunning as it slipped into that tight little hole, the light glinting off the metal.

Oh, fuck. The idea caused more blood to rush to his cock, his balls tightening, his dick throbbing. Or perhaps his cock would look better in her ass, swelling the spot at her lower back as he held himself deep.

He had to stop now.

“Okay,” he forced himself to say. “I think we’ve done enough for today. You did beautifully.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You’re not going to leave me like this?”

How did she mean, still tied up or ultimately unsatisfied?

“No, of course not.”

He got to his knees beside her, carefully undoing the knots around her middle. With tenderness, he unraveled the rope, revealing the red marks he knew would be imprinted into her skin. The rope fell in a pile beside her and she rolled her shoulders, about to move.

“Wait, just one minute.” He held a hand out, stilling her. “I can’t miss this.”

Eric grabbed his camera again, taking shots of the imprints on her skin, her shoulders, hips and thighs.

She turned her face to him, her eyes locking with his. “Are we done?”

“Yes.”

The air between them buzzed with tension. He wanted to kiss her, but he forced himself to step back, needing to keep control of himself. His life was about control, a strict regime which kept him on track. If he allowed himself to veer to far from it, he didn’t know if he’d find his way back again. Desperate to create perfection, he’d suffered from obsessive behavior about his work when he’d been younger, something that had plunged him into a depression, feeling like he’d never be able to achieve what his heart and soul desired. He’d work every hour, trying to obtain that perfect image, neglecting sleep and food, running himself into the ground.

Would she be his downfall? he wondered. Or his savior?

****


M.K. Bio

 M.K. Elliott (a.k.a Marissa Farrar) is the author of eight novels, two novellas, and numerous short story collections. While traditionally published by small presses since 2009, she discovered she only started making enough money to live on when she started to self-publish her work. Since then, she has had a #1 best-selling erotica collection on Barnes & Noble, and her novels and short story collections have also been on the best-seller lists for their genres on Amazon.

When she’s not writing (which isn’t often!) she spends time with her young family in Devon. She’s come to term with the fact that her house will always be a bit of a mess. Since the money has started rolling in, her husband has finally stopped complaining about the amount of time she spends at her computer.

If you want to learn more about M.K. (Marissa) please visit her M.K. facebook page https://www.facebook.com/M.K.Elliotts.Erotica or her Marissa Farrar facebook page https://www.facebook.com/marissa.farrar.author as this is where she hangs out the most!

 ****
Thanks Marissa!!!! Love Kay and the BB's xxxx

 

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Short, Sweet, and Sexy


Hi folks, it’s Kay Jaybee here, and this month, with the nice new covers arriving for two of my mini anthologies, (Tied to the Kitchen Sink and Equipment), I’ve been thinking about the benefits of short stories.

 


I love reading novels. There is nothing like getting immersed in a nice long juicy saga, that keeps you hooked- making you want to do nothing but read all day. However, like so many other people, I simply don’t have the time to read as much as I’d like to, and am frequently grateful for the shorter tale.

There is a real sense of achievement when you finish reading a story. A feeling of completion which can be a long time coming if you’ve only got ten minutes a day in which to read. This is where novellas and short story collections come into their own. In this busy world of ours, there is a lot to be said for books you can dip in and out of with ease.

This, I believe, is particularly useful for books of the erotic genre. Let’s face it there are those special times when all you need is a short blast of kinky writing to set off your own imaginations...

 


It is for moments such as these that many of the Brit Babe’s short story collections (such as our joint anthology, Sexy Just Walked Into Town), and novellas that feature neat one mouthful at a time chapters, were written. They are there to pack instant punch. To light the blue touch paper and retire immediately. To tingle the places that other books take slightly too long to reach...

And on that note, I’ve leave you in peace with the short, sweet, and oh so sexy first chapter of my quick read novella NotHer Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (1001 Nights Press, 2nd ed 2013), enjoy...

 


Chapter 1

Tuesday - It Begins

What the hell am I doing? I’m a good girl; I just don’t do things like this.

A tiny fraction of Jenny’s conscience screamed at her. The remainder of her brain sent her hands on a thorough exploration of the densely haired chest that had unexpectedly appeared from beneath her companion’s polo-shirt. The fact that Jenny had never liked men with hairy chests seemed irrelevant.

Standing in front of her, diving a hand under Jenny’s top, John squeezed her left nipple hard, wonderfully hard, making her squeal with pain-tingling gratification. Removing her shirt at top speed, John freed her breasts from their confinement.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, Jenny’s fingers visited his trousers’ waistband, but in her haste she couldn’t get his belt undone. Rescuing her from her embarrassment with a smile, John mumbled something about it always being difficult to open and undid it himself. Jenny barely heard him as a neat pair of charcoal grey boxers appeared, swiftly followed by—Oh My God—the most beautiful dick she had seen in years, perhaps ever.

As she knelt before him, the voice in Jenny’s head continued its rant, reminding her that she hated giving blowjobs. Since her first experience as a college student, she had neither liked the taste of cock, nor the sensation of being gagged. Now however, working on instincts she never knew she had, Jenny took John deep within her throat. She felt his fingers drag urgently through her knotty, brown hair, raking her scalp as she greedily worked him around her mouth.

“Hell girl, have you any idea how often I’ve dreamt of you doing this?” John confessed. “Night after night I wank about you, about you holding me in your throat like this.”

Jenny was consumed with a perverse pride as she listened to John’s words—making her wonder if she should admit to the stolen moments she’d spent alone with a silver vibrator and her own filthy imaginings. Imaginings contrary to her normal fantasies; fantasies that often featured him.

His penis felt fantastic in her mouth, but the restless ache in Jenny’s pussy was becoming unbearable, and she pulled away, panting. The instant she let go of his shaft, John tugged her back to her feet and grasped her butt, kneading it in a way that would give her bruises for days to come, while kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Conveniently forgetting that she didn’t like the feel of stubble against her skin, Jenny relished the burn of his unshaven face grazing her, scraping her cheeks as their lips and teeth clashed together.

Her head buzzed, and her nipples were tickled by his chest hairs, and Jenny began to feel as if she were overdosing on desire. She badly wanted to slow everything down but, at the same time, she needed to go faster. She wasn’t far from climax, and the mere idea of their illicit situation was enough to send Jenny to the very edge of orgasm.

Recognizing how close she was, John shoved his customer’s knickers unceremoniously to her ankles. “I want to see you on your hands and knees,” he ordered.

Sinking against the carpet as instructed, Jenny’s breathing snagged as she heard the sharp rip of a condom packet being opened. Seconds later, Jenny found her courier’s thick cock sliding into her from behind. She was about to tell him how fantastically full she felt when John wiped all coherent thought from Jenny’s head by jamming his thumb up her arse.

Nuzzling his mouth against Jenny’s neck, John thrust against her, holding her hips as they frantically moved together. Trembling, Jenny’s knees began to buckle, and her elbows quaked. Seeing she was about to collapse to the floor, John eased out of her body, and flipped her onto her back, before plunging his dick inside her again. She clung onto his tattooed arms (ignoring her lifelong aversion to body art), relishing in the glorious warmth of her orgasm, as he shot his spunk into her naked body.

As soon as their breathing levels returned to normal, John knelt close to Jenny, teasing out the springy curls of her hair as he spoke, “I’m sorry Jen. I don’t like just walking out on you, but I have to go. I’m behind with my rounds.” Jenny watched her courier dress with lightning speed, leaving in a flurry of promises and assurances that he’d return the following week.

The living room seemed so large, so empty once John’s bulky frame had gone. Stunned and disheveled, Jenny stared at the space around her as delayed shock kicked in. How the hell had that happened?

It had been years since Jenny had had sex. Twelve years, in fact; if you discounted one brief and unsatisfactory encounter that occurred three years ago. That was four thousand, three hundred, and eighty days of a self-imposed embargo after one-too-many broken hearts. She had survived by surrounding herself with friends, reading hundreds of erotica books, and giving in to countless masturbation sessions. But now, out of nowhere, right in the middle of her lounge,  , when she should have been sitting at her little desk checking other peoples’ accounts, she’d been thoroughly and expertly fucked.

Standing perfectly motionless, and very aware of her pulse pounding against her chest in the eerie quiet, Jenny tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. How their usual coffee break, with each of them sitting on either side of her dining table, had developed into a semi-naked romp on the sofa.

John had been in her home for only thirty minutes, and twenty of those had been spent discussing the DVDs that he’d come to deliver, just as he did every Tuesday. Then, he’d said something about how much he enjoyed their weekly chats, how hers was the only home where he was received as a friend, and how he always felt strange leaving her without so much as a hug.

Thinking back, trying to make sense of it all, Jenny thought that perhaps she’d laughed nervously when he’d said that, and told him she’d liked their “putting the world to rights” time as well.

That was when he’d actually hugged her for real, and she’d looked up into his wide, dark brown eyes and, in all of her thirty-three years, she had never felt a twist of lust like the one she felt then. It had burnt into her like some sort of erotic radiation.

How did I not see that coming? How bloody naive have I become? Jenny wondered. Shit, I don’t even know if he’s single…It’s been so long since I had a quick fuck. Too long…Hell, now I want another one, and soon. Damn.

Running upstairs to her bedroom, Jenny stripped off her hastily donned clothes and stared critically into the full-length mirror. Do I look different? No, my arms are still a touch too flabby, my backside a little too big, and my skin too pale.

She felt different though. A bit like the girl she used to be, when she’d been a student. When she’d been braver.

As Jenny carried on staring at her reflection, she allowed her hands to trace the outline of her body, a body that was already infused with the heady aftershocks of being totally seen to. Flashbacks of her past assailed her. Things she’d consigned to the back of her mind and nailed up into a little box, never to be opened again—parts of her life that she had long since given up on.

Losing all concept of time as she stood there, naked, still able to feel the mark of his fingers on her flesh, Jenny shook her head, trying to dismiss the memories that her body’s unscheduled reawakening had brought to the surface. She wondered just how many customers John had seduced with those dangerous eyes. How many other sets of fingertips had tripped lightly over the Japanese-styled characters tattooed on his muscular arms?

“Let’s face it,” she spoke sternly to her reflection, “that was just a one-off. Next week he’ll just want a quick coffee as usual.” Doing her best to pull herself together, Jenny unhooked her wrap from the back of her bedroom door. Heading to the shower, her wits were a tattered mass of contradictions—the elation she felt from the astounding sex was at odds with the very clear proclamation that was niggling at the back of her head. Jenny honey, he just isn’t your type. He isn’t even close!

Happy Reading!!
Kay  xx

Monday, 11 August 2014

Special Guest - Oleander Plume

It is my utter pleasure and delight to welcome a darling of the Twitter world, the awesome rock chick, Ms Oleander Plume is in the Brit Babe's house! Take it away Oli...

First of all, I want to give a big old thank you hug to all the Brit Babes for giving this crazy American the honor of being a guest blogger today. (I wore my Union Jack knickers while I wrote this, just for extra flair.)

Starting from a very young age, I've always wanted to be British.

I think my obsession started in the sixth grade, when I became addicted to watching reruns of Monty Python and Dr. Who on PBS. The humor, the characters, the delicious British accents - oh, I had it bad. I started using phrases like "Bloody hell!" and "What say we have a spot of tea?" This vexed my mother to no end, which only added to the appeal. By the time I reached the age of 12, I could mimic an almost perfect English accent.

Flash forward to the age of 14. I was languishing in eighth grade study hall, minding my own business, when a "friend" decided it would be fun to tell me I was adopted. I thought she was kidding, until I confronted my mother a few days later, and she tearfully confessed that it was true, I had been adopted at birth. Honestly, the revelation didn't really shock me all that much since I had always been the proverbial square peg. Not only that, I didn't even remotely resemble anyone in my family.

It took awhile for the news to sink in, but once my brain properly wrapped itself around the concept, the fantasies began. I was adopted! Holy crap, I could be related to anyone! I could even be, gasp, BRITISH!!! My mind reeled with the possibilities of who my parental units could be. For some reason, I fixated on a father figure. After days of careful pondering, my 14 year old mind came up with only one possibility.

Mick Jagger.

Yes, Mick Jagger, lead singer of the Stones. And why not? He was pasty, I was pasty. He had pouty lips, I had pouty lips. He was in a famous rock band, I liked to listen to rock music. Plus, he was a male bimbo who slept around a lot. Bam, rock star daddy. Besides spending hours perfecting my accent, I started writing letters to the aging rock god.

"Dear Mr. Jagger,

Sorry to barge in on your life, but I think that I might be your biological daughter..."

"Dear Mick,

Are you my daddy?"

"Hey Pops,

You might want to start building a nice trust fund for me."

Of course, the letters were never finished, or mailed. As I got older, the fantasy of having a rock star father fell by the wayside. But my British obsession did not. I had become so proficient at the accent, I could actually trick people into believing I really was from "across the pond."

Case in point: I was sixteen, and my friend Joy's cousin was staying with her family for the summer. His name was Sean, he had big brown eyes, longish hair, and, thanks to Joy, the notion that I was from England. We met, we hit it off, and I spent the next two weeks faking an accent. Keeping up the charade was exhausting, so I finally fessed up. Sean didn't take it well. Apparently, an American Oleander was far less interesting than a British Oleander, so that budding romance came to a screeching halt.

Even now as an adult, I still fake an accent from time to time, mainly to amuse my kids, and occasionally to throw off a telemarketer. My obsession with the UK faded into more of a fondness, until about a year ago.

Being adopted meant I had no clue about my ethnic background. Of course, due to my pale skin and slightly auburn hair, I knew that most likely I wasn't Asian, or African, or Egyptian. Then something amazing happened. I received a DNA test kit as a gift. All I had to do was spit in a tube, send it back to the lab, and in 6 - 8 weeks, I would know my heritage.

After what seemed like an eternity, my results finally arrived. According to the lab, I was 97% "Northern European." With quivering fingers I quickly pulled up a map on Google. And there it was, like an old friend. England. The UK. The Mother Land. (Okay, Sweden, Finland and a few other countries were part of the map, too, but who cares?)

British. I was finally British. Bloody hell and all that. By the way, I'm saving up for a trip to your lovely country. I want to gaze upon Big Ben. I want to visit Stonehenge. I want to ride a double decker bus. I want to get arrested by a Bobby. But most of all, I want to pay a visit to a certain man.

Mick Jagger, I've got a DNA test with your name on it, so be ready.

Daddy.


Dontcha just love her ?! Thank you Oleander, or should I say, Miss Jagger :D
Here's some lovely links - check out Oleander's blog for some of the hottest erotic short stories ever x x x
https://twitter.com/OleanderPlume
http://oleanderplume.blogspot.co.uk/




Thursday, 7 August 2014

Two's Company, Three's a Crowd!

Post by Lily Harlem


Well, excuse me but I just happen to like crowds! Actually I don't when it comes to everyday life. If I'm out shopping and get caught in a gust of people or I'm on the Tube being bustled along, I can feel quite panicked, more so since I've lived in the countryside and become used to having space around me. But when it comes to writing novels, and my characters falling in love and into bed, then yes, the more the merrier!

The first menage a trois book I read was Colter's Woman by Maya Banks. It's a fairly simple plot compared to some of the more complex novels I've read (and written) since. Three brothers who like to share one woman, and a woman - once over the initial shock of their desires - who has a great time!

It was the dynamics of the characters emotions that got me thinking and then spurred me onto write my first menage a trois novel, Shared. The plot idea came from a headline in the letting section of the local paper "Room to Let - Wanted Girl to Share." Me being me with my naughty mind started thinking what if two hot guys placed that advert, and like the brothers in Colter's Woman, really did want a girl to share in every sense of the word?

       



So Shared was born, and then Shared Too. The complexities of a polyamorous relationship was like a gift that kept on giving for me as an author, and although it's possible to leave off on a happy ever after, there is always going to be something to go back to with such an unconventional relationship.




So I've kept on writing my threesome stories and, I'm pleased to  say, readers have kept on reading them. It's something I really enjoy writing about. Making sure the men (because I usually go in the two guys and one girl route) are sufficiently different in their personalities and needs and the heroine is believable in how she handles and responds to her blokes.

I do know a threesome in real life. They live in the village and again it's two guys and a girl. Perhaps it's because I'm more open-minded than some people, (because of my writing and the erotica authors and readers I spend my days hanging out with online) that I didn't bat an eye when I saw them together at a BBQ - her holding his hand one minute and then sitting on the other's knee the next - but some of my friends were quite shocked by it - Mmm, maybe shocked is the wrong word, fascinated, enthralled, curious, it took up a good chunk of our 'wine and gossip time' at the local the next week!

Inquisitiveness is the reaction, I suppose, that makes menage a trois novels so popular. It's not a situation many women find themselves in, being loved and adored and satisfied by two men, so their lifestyle and choices are interesting to other women - I'm talking relationships here, not just a good old romp between the sheets.

Jealousy I think is one of the big hurdles for non-threesome type people to understand. "How can he not be jealous if the woman he loves is screwing another man?" Well, if he thinks it's hot to see them together he's going to have a great time, he might even join in  - a bit of double penetration always makes for a fun scene! Also if that's the plan, the agreement, and they all have reasons for this working for them individually as well as a group then it will be just fine.

The men might be into each other (this is the theme for my novels The Glass Knot and The Silk Tie - just out!). The men like each other too, they kiss, enjoy oral sex, fuck and she loves being part of the action. She likes to watch, get on top of them, beneath them, in-between them. Gorgeous naked guys who are into each other and getting down and dirty, are, let's face it, a seriously sexy thing to witness!


The men being into each other adds new twists to the story, to the way the characters interact and makes for a fabulous range of new sexual exploits. Of course they are all stories, but they could be real, these things could and do happen, but just not to the majority, so having novels to read about threesomes lets us all jump, vicariously, into bed with a couple of hot men even if it's just between the pages of a book!

    


Thanks for reading, do leave your thought on menage a trois in the comments below :-)

Lily x

Monday, 4 August 2014

The Origins and History of The Erotic Mind Show by Richard Wagner

I am delighted to be able to bring you a brilliant blog from my good friend, the totally amazing and unstoppable, Richard Wagner- aka Dr Dick!! Enjoy!! Kay xx

“Hello sex fans!”  I’ve been using this same greeting to open all my podcasts for the last seven-plus years.  It’s become part of my signature along with my farewell with closes each show; “Remember, sex is good and good sex is even better.  This “signature” is my sex-positive credo, which promotes the wholesomeness of sexuality with an emphasis on authenticity and the importance of informed consent, and it permeates all my programing.

But wait, you may not know who I am.  My name is Richard Wagner, Ph.D., ACS. I've been working in the field of human sexuality for well over 30 years, predominately as a therapist.  During that time I've been involved in all sorts of sex education and sexual enrichment projects.  I am affectionately known as Dr Dick of http://www.drdicksexadvice.com/ and http://www.drdicksextoyreviews.com/

I've been writing a sex advice column for nearly 20 years.  During that time it has been syndicated on a number of sites.  Back in 2007, I decided to create my own site to give my column and weekly podcasts a home of their own.  

My podcasts started out as simple Q&A shows.  But after awhile that got kinda boring, at least it was for me.  So I decided I would depart from my usual question and answer format, from time to time, to do lively and informative interviews with interesting people from all over the world.

In 2008 I started a series of interviews with erotic artists, both literary and visual.  The series is titled:  The Erotic Mind. http://www.drdicksexadvice.com/category/the-erotic-mind/  I though it would be interesting to get a sense of what makes erotic artists tick, so to speak.

In 2009 I launched another podcast series called Sex EDGE-U-cation.  http://www.drdicksexadvice.com/category/sex-edge-u-cation/  This series takes a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative lifestyles.  We touch on topics both familiar and exotic.  I chat with prominent educators, practitioners, and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles.

Later that same year I began the SEX WISDOM series, http://www.drdicksexadvice.com/category/sex-wisdom/ which enabled me to introduce my international audience to some of the movers and shakers in the field of human sexuality.  In the course of this series I chat with researchers, educators, clinicians, pundits, and philosophers who are helping us take a fresh look at our sexual selves.

But, as I said, all of these interview format podcasts began with The Erotic Mind Show.  And do you know who my first guest was way back on September 8, 2008?  It was none other than Kay Jaybee, one of the original Brit Babes.

Here’s how it all began.  Some weeks before Kay and I inaugurated the show, I did an interview with two brilliant women, my good friends Samantha and Jordan, who used to run this kick-ass site called Oysters & Chocolate.  They opened my eyes to the burgeoning world of written erotica.  Our podcast received so much positive feedback that I realized my audience has a powerful hunger for all things erotic.




So I thought to myself; Ok, how can I help satisfy this craving?  That’s when I came up with the clever idea to interview noted erotic artists from all over the world.  In doing so, I figured we’d uncover something of the creative process involved in the specialized art form.  This series grew to include all kinds of artists working in several different media—words, film photography, illustration, paint, etc. 


Kay’s first book of erotica, The Collector, had just been published a month before our show premiered.  This came on the heels of seven previous publications featuring her work.  As we all know now, this was just the beginning.  Kay has become one of the brightest stars in the literary erotica firmament.




As I said, I have an international audience.  However, the largest audience, besides my US audience, is in the UK.  I suppose, there’s no surprise there, since I have welcomed as guests some of that most dazzling authors (and visual artists) from your side of the pond.

Through the series I have been able to introduce my audience to an array of brilliant talent.  I’ve had the pleasure of welcoming the cream of British smut — James Lear, Ashley Lister, KD Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Mike’s Bliss, Bootbrush, Stan Keetly, Alexander, and most recently, Stan Cole.

One of the most unique things about this show is that I invite my guest authors to read from their work.  I like this segment the best because I love to be read to.  And you know I love smut.  Thing is, if the person reading the smut to me has a sexy British accent, well, I absolutely go moist with pleasure.  And get this, the visual artists who join me for a chat bring along a slideshow of some of their work.  You won’t want to miss this.

I am so proud of the hours and hours of programing that, with the help of my guests, enrich, entertain, and educate us all.  I am honored to have this amazing connection with you, my UK audience, and it’s all Kay Jaybee’s fault!!

If you are hearing about The Erotic Mind show for the first time, and you’re smacking your head and asking yourself; “How did I miss this?”  Don’t worry, you can find all my podcasts in the Podcast Archive on my site.  http://www.drdicksexadvice.com/  There is a pull-down menu in the header labeled “Podcasts.”  Click on it and find all my shows, or navigate by choosing a category—Sex EDGE-U-cation, SEX WISDOM, or The Erotic Mind.  I have over 400 shows archived.  But say you want to listen to a particular author or artist.  No need to scroll through the lot (although that might be fun) use the search function in the sidebar of my site and type in the person’s name and PRESTO!

I hope you will stop in and visit me one of these days; we all have such a good time.  I can assure you that you won’t be disappointed.  Casual visitors become ardent fans and each new artist brings his/her fan base.  You’ll be marvellous pervy company you’re bound to discover something that will tickle you fancy.