On The Red Hills of Georgia

I got into writing erotica partly because I found myself telling more of the truth when I wrote in the genre--not just about sex, but about life. Topics I avoided in other writing (addiction, hopelessness, hopefulness, politics, abuse, gender issues, and many more) suddenly carried irresistible attraction. In the realm of the forbidden, nothing is sacred and everything is worth discussing. My pseudonym became a rallying cry for my psyche, braver than me, bolder, sexier, and smarter.

One of the biggest tests of this to date came with my story, "On the Red Hills of Georgia," which posted last week at Every Night Erotica. I've written about all kinds of things, but race always seemed too delicate, too dangerous, too easy to get wrong.

But like sex itself, if you're not willing to get it wrong, you're going to be boring for the rest of your life. And while this story has a serious subject and message, it's got lots of sex, too. Here's an excerpt:

Maureen shifted uncomfortably. She had hoped for a huge cock the night she’d met Kareem at a club. But she still wouldn’t have given her number to just anyone–or, at least, she didn’t think so.

Kareem pursed his lips and lay back down. “Baby, people like what they like. I don’t know if we can control that. Maybe when I see you’re an Asian girl, there’s a bunch of stuff I expect with that. Maybe you’re doing the same thing to me. But it’s been a year, and I think I see the person you are, too. You know?”

His words made sense, but what he’d made her discover inside herself had her burning with shame. She tried to find a comfortable position. She couldn’t bring herself to face him right now, or to hold him.

He sighed. “You think too much, Maureen.” He turned her toward him, running his hands up and down her spine, parting her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

The best part of Kareem’s body was actually his tongue, not his cock. On their first date, he’d put a cherry stem from her drink into his mouth. A moment later, he showed it to her on his tongue, tied in a perfect knot.

He slid down her body. Her cunt had already gotten wet at some point, and her juices trailed up his chest until he sank his face into her folds. He handled her easily, one hand gripping her ass and the other feeding fingers into her cunt–one, then two, then three. She clenched around his fingers while he traced his tongue in patterns over her clit with exquisite, teasing patience.

Eventually, she came hard enough to forget her worries.

Read the rest here.

Music Mondays: "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum

"Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now." -- Lady Antebellum

Sometimes duets really work, and Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now" is one of those times. Sure, the piano is sappy and drunk-dialing's not as sexy as one wishes it was. But the sweetness of these two voices together conjures up the fantasy of all that's past, and the hope that, just once more, you can get back in the bubble you had with some beloved person.

I listened to this song while I was writing "One More Time"--a story about one of those drunken nostalgia flings.

O Christmas Tree

What if you had a reason to avoid taking down the Christmas Tree? I enjoyed writing to holiday themes this year for Every Night Erotica, and for this post-Christmas story, I decided to play with objectification. Matthew, Connor, and Lucy have agreed to include an extreme bdsm game in their menage -- this year, Lucy gets to be the Christmas Tree. Matthew, in particular, doesn't want to give the game up:

As the holidays had progressed, her two lovers had found ever more extreme ways to decorate her. Nipple clamps were always a given, and blond Connor made sure to exquisitely tug the silver chain between them whenever he hung a row of white doves from it. Matthew liked to poke her with the Christmas lights while he wound them around her to see if he could make her move or yelp. When Lucy held still, he would tickle her with tinsel as he tied it around her wrists and draped it across her fingers. The two men would sit in the living room and admire the view for a bit while Lucy strained to maintain her position and hold still. After a little while, they would return to her, tweaking her nipples and feeling between her legs as they tied red and green rope into harnesses that lifted her breasts and helped support her limbs.

Read the rest here.

Red

My new story on Every Night Erotica -- Hailey's embarrassed to have sex while on her period, but after a long separation from her lover Steven, she can't resist him:

He lay on the bed next to her, but pushed her away gently when she tried to touch him. “You get naked, too.”

She tugged her shirt up over her head and unsnapped her bra. Her breasts always felt bigger at this time of the month, and more sensitive. She let the backs of her hands brush against her nipples, pressing a little to feel the ache of it. When she glanced up, Steven was watching her.

“Keep doing that,” he murmured.

She hammed it up, letting her tongue slide across her upper lip as she teased her nipples for him.
“Cute,” Steven said. “Take off the rest.”

Read the rest here.

The Advent Calendar

Advent is about anticipation, and that's the mood I was aiming for in "The Advent Calendar," which went up last night on Every Night Erotica. Here's an excerpt:

He didn’t have enough in the way of fingernails to do it easily, but he managed to open the windows for the 1st and 2nd. The first was a window to nothing identifiable–just a cream-colored square. The second, however, positioned close to the first, opened onto a view of a bright red fingernail. The fingernail slipped under a red satin bra strap, lifting it away from an otherwise bare shoulder.

Intrigued, Zack wrinkled his forehead. Day one must have shown a patch of bare skin. Where the hell did Eliza get this Advent calendar?

Read the rest of the story here.

Noise Complaints

I may have an unhealthy obsession with neighbors. My partner certainly knows--I whisper, "Hi, neighbors," after every time we fuck, a joke referring to how loud I usually get. And in my "to write" list, I have a huge bunch of ideas about neighbors and being overheard.

This story, which appeared a while back on Every Night Erotica, is the first of my neighbors stories to see the light of day.

Here's an excerpt:

Ginny had thought a gag would keep her quieter. Instead, it just makes it hard for her to use words. Behind her, Abram brings the crop down onto her ass with a crack. She knows it’s late, but she can’t help it. She screams into the leather bit gag. The horizontal bar stretches her mouth uncomfortably and digs into the corners of her lips. Each scream sends a new rush of drool dangling over her chin. But it also sends a flood of moisture to her cunt.

Despite the lingering sting from the crop, she pushes her ass back against Abram’s crotch, begging with her body since she can’t beg with her mouth. His jeans brush roughly against her naked flesh until he pushes her away and stuns her with another searing strike.

To read the rest, go here.

Playing Catch Up

I've got some catch up to play here, as I've fallen behind on posting story announcements and have sadly missed posting many sexy songs.

You'll see some updates over the next few days, packed with excerpts, links to a great new anthology, and, of course, some pointers to music to get you in the mood.

For writers out there, you may be interested to know that Every Night Erotica, where I frequently publish stories, is actively seeking submissions, including for holiday stories. If you're interested, you can submit here.

One More Time

I've got another story up at Every Night Erotica:

Grace drifted her hands under Neil’s clothes, finding smooth and yielding skin, sensitive spots that she knew, old scars she had to touch. “I need you.” She hoped he wouldn’t hear, but he did.

Above her, Neil paused, his face softening and wrinkling, looking older. He kissed her again, his tongue rejecting her this time even as it slipped between her lips. “You know we can’t,” he said. “It never works with us.”

But she knew this protest. She knew him. Grace shifted beneath him so he could feel her sex hot around his thigh. “I know,” she said, but her hands kept moving, her fingertips under his jeans toying with the waistband of his boxers. “You don’t have to stay,” she said. “We should forget about this.”

He glared at her and laughed, propping himself up on one arm so he could rub his face with the other. “You don’t mean that at all.”

Read the rest here.

Lunch Break

I've got a new story up on Every Night Erotica. "Lunch Break" is about how Dina can never resist Kate's advances at the office. Kate's a new addition to my recent streak of playful, sexy tormentors:

“Don’t tease,” Dina said, trying to summon a serious frown.

Kate nipped her thigh and pretended to swipe Dina’s clit with her tongue.

Dina still had her hands in Kate’s hair, but before she could do anything stern, Kate screwed her face into such a funny expression that Dina had to laugh.

The moment the laughter started, Kate was on her, her fingers teasing Dina’s belly, and her tongue slipping into the sensitive crease where Dina’s pelvis met her thigh. Now Dina couldn’t stop laughing, writhing desperately under Kate’s tickling touches.

“Oh my God!” she howled. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Kate said in her most mischievous tone. “Did you think I was going to do this?” She gave a long lick up Dina’s pussy, but now that touch tickled, too.

“I hate you,” Dina choked out through her uncontrollable laughter.

“Mmm,” Kate said serenely. “I bet you especially hate me when I do this.” She slid two fingers into Dina’s slippery cunt, twisting them expertly to brush the inside walls of Dina’s pussy in all the best cases. Dina groaned and flung her head back, spreading her legs wider.

“Oh, you don’t hate that,” Kate said. “I guess I’ll go back to what I was doing before.”

The tickling onslaught began again.

Read the rest here.

Slowly

My new story, "Slowly," is up on Every Night Erotica:

He pressed his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. His fingertips skimmed the lace surface of her bra, enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. With a groan of frustration, Lyla reached back to undo the bra herself, but Cam stopped her, his hands suddenly iron on her wrists.

“When we were at the restaurant,” he said, “did you tell me to eat my food faster?”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to enjoy you, just like the food we ate. When I chew, I like to do it slowly.”

Again, Cam’s strange, deliberate way sent arousal careening through Lyla’s body. She couldn’t help bucking her hips up against him, only stopping under the calm, heavy weight of his brown gaze. “I want you,” Lyla whispered finally.

“I know. I like that. It makes it more fun to tease you.”

Please check out the rest!

Begging

My story, "Begging," went up last night on Every Night Erotica:

“No,” Christine sobbed. “It’s– Karl, I need you.”

“Need me to do what?” He still sounded alarmed.

“I just need you. Inside me. It’s been so long.”

“Jesus. You’re crying.”

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid.” Shame filled Christine. Never in her wildest dreams had she pictured herself making a call like this, begging a man for sex.

Visit the site to read the rest of the story!

Forthcoming Story

I just got the word that my story, "Begging," will be up on Every Night Erotica on April 4. Please take a look if you've got the time, and be sure to keep up with their sexy stories in the meantime!