Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 45
February 5, 2017
Life goals
I have actually written this story...
February 3, 2017
A year in my wood
In December 2015 we bought a wood. I tried to take a photo every month at the same spot - I seem to have lost some of them, but this might give you an idea of the seasonal changes:
February
March
May
June
August
September
November
December
January
February
March
May
June
August
September
November
December
JanuaryFebruary 1, 2017
Blogalogalog
William Blake: The Great Red Dragon and the Woman clothed in Sun (1805-1810)Hah - that picture rather reminds me of the cover for In Bonds of the Earth ;-)I have had to put aside my WIP on Book 3 for the moment, as I'm prepping a load of blog-posts for the In Bonds blog tours. Posts of my choice, author interviews, character interviews, excerpts...
Promo is no writer's favourite bit of the job, but some of this work is proving interesting and useful for the final volume. Character interviews get my inside my protagonists' heads, author interviews put forward questions that make me consider my process more deeply, and post subjects ("So, how are the angels in your novel different to everyone else's?") help me be more conscious of my themes.
It's going to feel so weird when it's all over and I move on to another series! Wot, no more angels?! Surely not!
Same artist: The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed With the SunJanuary 30, 2017
Blue Monday
Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!
In my ongoing efforts to save the Northern Hemisphere from the winter blues, I'm posting an excerpt from my truly reprehensible short story Scorched, which appears in the heat-themed anthology Playing with Fire
Emerald has been cheating on her boyfriend Max with their roomie Greg...
“Let’s see them.”
Obediently she drew up her skirt to expose stocking tops and the triangle of silky material. He smiled. “Like that. You buy them for me?”
Emerald nodded.
“But Max will get a kick out of them too, I bet.”
“Mm.” That was the thing about this purchase, she thought: she’d be getting double value.
“You know I can hear you two at night? The walls in this place are pretty thin.” He savored the way she blushed. “Not that you’re exactly quiet. But I hear every thump of the headboard, every little groan and squeal.” He caressed the towel-covered knot of his cock, and the bulge twitched visibly. “Drove me nuts for a year, doll.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was husky.
“I can even hear the sound he makes when he slaps your fat ass.”
Emerald’s eyes widened: Greg’s brutal crudity was one of the things that made him so different from Max. He was shamelessly honest and it was one of the things that made her hot. He liked the fact that she had a big ass, and he told her so. He liked the fact she was a slut, and the more he treated her like one the more she acted that way. “Does it annoy you, hearing us?” she asked.
He smirked. “I just grin and join in for the ride, doll.”
“Oh.”
“Now show me that big bum of yours.”
Turning, Emerald pulled up the back of her skirt. She heard the intake of his breath.
“Fuck, yes,” he said in awe as she wiggled her backside. “I want that.” He stood, the better to run his hands over her ass-cheeks and down the barely clothed split between them. The elastic was taut across her asshole, the gusset stretched tight over pussy lips that already felt swollen. Greg’s fingers crudely but very accurately found the sinkhole of her cunt through the cloth.
“You won’t be able to take these back to the shop, doll. They’re already wet.” Every poke of his fingertips on the sodden cloth exacerbated that situation and Emerald whimpered. There was the sound of a towel hitting the carpet. “You ready for some of this?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Emerald saw the cock she was getting to know so well: heavy, dusky, with a bit of a lean to the right, it stood proudly despite the scrotum beneath that seemed to be trying to drag it down by sheer virtue of its weight. That was the thing about Greg: his dick was good but his balls were something else, and they produced prodigious quantities of come. Emerald was sure they were to blame for the swiftness with which he recovered and was ready for more. Was she ready? “Oh yes.”
“Then get down and ask nicely.”
Falling to her knees, she shimmied out of her dress and faced the object of her desire, wetting her lips. It swayed a little and Greg stroked it up and down.
“Please,” she said sincerely.
“Not good enough, doll.”
“Please, sir…” Leaning forward, she delicately tongued those big balls in their velvet pouch.
“Better.” His glans was glistening.
“I want it so much.” She kissed his bollocks and licked her way up his shaft.
“That’s ’cos you’re a slut, Emerald,” he sighed pleasurably. He was so clean from the shower that he was almost tasteless until she sucked the faintly salty pre-come from the eye of his cock. Putting her hands on his hairy thighs, she lost herself in the art and the pleasure of giving him head. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, guiding her, unhurried. He pushed all the way to the back of her throat and when she took the length without gagging he nearly purred. “Emerald.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, knees splayed and ass thrust out, her mouth wrapped around his turgid cock.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He nodded over her shoulder.
Confused, it took a moment before she broke away and turned. There in the doorway, arms folded, stood Max with a face like stone.
“Shit!” squealed Emerald, clapping her hand over her mouth as if she could hide the fact it had just been pleasuring their flatmate’s cock. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!”
“Yeah,” said Max. “You look sorry.”
She tried to scramble to her feet but Greg’s hand tightened in her hair, shoving her back down: that was such a shock she went momentarily limp. “Oh no,” he said. “Time to face the music, Emerald.”
“You knew?” she shrieked.
“Of course he knew.” Max came into the room and hunkered down so as to be on eye level with her. “He told me what you two were planning today. He told me everything. What did you expect? He’s my mate, isn’t he?”
“But he started it!” It sounded childish even as she shouted the words, but she meant it. The furtive affair had begun one evening that summer when she and Greg had been lying out on the roof, in swimwear, listening to their MP3 players. Greg had, without warning and without a word, rolled over and put his hand square on her breast.
“Like you resisted,” replied Max.
Emerald gaped. She hadn’t resisted. She’d let Greg squeeze her tit and then pull down her bikini top to play with them both, his hand firm and slow. She hadn’t struggled or protested or even spoken, pinned to her towel by the sunlight and the glint on his opaque sunglasses, overwhelmed by his assurance. Her nipples had stiffened to his touch and her breasts had heaved to meet him. After ascertaining her response to his tweaking and pinching and kneading, he’d slid his hand down to her sex and explored that, sliding inside her bikini bottoms to find her hot wet softness, her yielding openness. And when she started to tremble and twitch he’d heaved himself on top of her and fucked her, not even bothering to remove her bikini. Then he’d rolled away and gone back to reading his Mac magazine, still without a word.
“It…it just happened. I don’t know how.” After that, it had only taken a possessive slap on her butt as she leaned over the sink to water the plants, or a confident tweak of her nipple as she met him in the corridor, to teach her that her whole body was tuned to his key. She’d waited home one morning, pleading that she had stomach cramps, and then as soon as Max went out to catch the bus she’d gone naked into Greg’s room to endure his triumphant smile and submit to his voracious appetite. He’d fucked her on every piece of furniture in the house by now. “It was his idea,” she wailed.
“It was your idea, Emerald.” Max’s eyes were like blue Arctic ice. “I saw the way you looked at him. I knew you wanted to fuck my best mate, no matter how much you denied it. So I told him to make a pass and see how you’d react. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Oh my god!” Realization came crashing in on her. “You’re out of your mind!”
“Really?”
“It’s been three months!” she gasped. “You knew all this time?”
He nodded. “I knew. I knew the first time, when you were all over me that evening, hot and gagging for it like you were in heat. Was it guilt, or are you just a horny little bitch? I knew every single time you fucked him, Emerald, because you were…so different. Pliant and eager. Like he’d greased you up for me. I knew all right.”
“Shit,” she whispered, seeing him in a totally new light, remembering the ferocious intensity of his lovemaking over these past months. She’d been too wrapped up in herself to question it. “Max, this is twisted…”
“
Twisted.” He smiled sourly. “Hey, you’re the one who decided one man wasn’t enough for your hot little cunt. Well now you’re going to put your money where your mouth is.”
“What d’you mean?”
Greg, who’d kept quiet so far, laughed. “You reckon you need two men to satisfy you, doll. Well, this is where we test that out once and for all.”
Buy Playing with Fire at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Google Play
In my ongoing efforts to save the Northern Hemisphere from the winter blues, I'm posting an excerpt from my truly reprehensible short story Scorched, which appears in the heat-themed anthology Playing with Fire
Emerald has been cheating on her boyfriend Max with their roomie Greg...“Let’s see them.”
Obediently she drew up her skirt to expose stocking tops and the triangle of silky material. He smiled. “Like that. You buy them for me?”
Emerald nodded.
“But Max will get a kick out of them too, I bet.”
“Mm.” That was the thing about this purchase, she thought: she’d be getting double value.
“You know I can hear you two at night? The walls in this place are pretty thin.” He savored the way she blushed. “Not that you’re exactly quiet. But I hear every thump of the headboard, every little groan and squeal.” He caressed the towel-covered knot of his cock, and the bulge twitched visibly. “Drove me nuts for a year, doll.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was husky.
“I can even hear the sound he makes when he slaps your fat ass.”
Emerald’s eyes widened: Greg’s brutal crudity was one of the things that made him so different from Max. He was shamelessly honest and it was one of the things that made her hot. He liked the fact that she had a big ass, and he told her so. He liked the fact she was a slut, and the more he treated her like one the more she acted that way. “Does it annoy you, hearing us?” she asked.
He smirked. “I just grin and join in for the ride, doll.”
“Oh.”
“Now show me that big bum of yours.”
Turning, Emerald pulled up the back of her skirt. She heard the intake of his breath.
“Fuck, yes,” he said in awe as she wiggled her backside. “I want that.” He stood, the better to run his hands over her ass-cheeks and down the barely clothed split between them. The elastic was taut across her asshole, the gusset stretched tight over pussy lips that already felt swollen. Greg’s fingers crudely but very accurately found the sinkhole of her cunt through the cloth.
“You won’t be able to take these back to the shop, doll. They’re already wet.” Every poke of his fingertips on the sodden cloth exacerbated that situation and Emerald whimpered. There was the sound of a towel hitting the carpet. “You ready for some of this?”
Glancing over her shoulder, Emerald saw the cock she was getting to know so well: heavy, dusky, with a bit of a lean to the right, it stood proudly despite the scrotum beneath that seemed to be trying to drag it down by sheer virtue of its weight. That was the thing about Greg: his dick was good but his balls were something else, and they produced prodigious quantities of come. Emerald was sure they were to blame for the swiftness with which he recovered and was ready for more. Was she ready? “Oh yes.”
“Then get down and ask nicely.”
Falling to her knees, she shimmied out of her dress and faced the object of her desire, wetting her lips. It swayed a little and Greg stroked it up and down.
“Please,” she said sincerely.
“Not good enough, doll.”
“Please, sir…” Leaning forward, she delicately tongued those big balls in their velvet pouch.
“Better.” His glans was glistening.
“I want it so much.” She kissed his bollocks and licked her way up his shaft.
“That’s ’cos you’re a slut, Emerald,” he sighed pleasurably. He was so clean from the shower that he was almost tasteless until she sucked the faintly salty pre-come from the eye of his cock. Putting her hands on his hairy thighs, she lost herself in the art and the pleasure of giving him head. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, guiding her, unhurried. He pushed all the way to the back of her throat and when she took the length without gagging he nearly purred. “Emerald.”
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, knees splayed and ass thrust out, her mouth wrapped around his turgid cock.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He nodded over her shoulder.
Confused, it took a moment before she broke away and turned. There in the doorway, arms folded, stood Max with a face like stone.
“Shit!” squealed Emerald, clapping her hand over her mouth as if she could hide the fact it had just been pleasuring their flatmate’s cock. “Oh shit! I’m sorry!”
“Yeah,” said Max. “You look sorry.”
She tried to scramble to her feet but Greg’s hand tightened in her hair, shoving her back down: that was such a shock she went momentarily limp. “Oh no,” he said. “Time to face the music, Emerald.”
“You knew?” she shrieked.
“Of course he knew.” Max came into the room and hunkered down so as to be on eye level with her. “He told me what you two were planning today. He told me everything. What did you expect? He’s my mate, isn’t he?”
“But he started it!” It sounded childish even as she shouted the words, but she meant it. The furtive affair had begun one evening that summer when she and Greg had been lying out on the roof, in swimwear, listening to their MP3 players. Greg had, without warning and without a word, rolled over and put his hand square on her breast.
“Like you resisted,” replied Max.
Emerald gaped. She hadn’t resisted. She’d let Greg squeeze her tit and then pull down her bikini top to play with them both, his hand firm and slow. She hadn’t struggled or protested or even spoken, pinned to her towel by the sunlight and the glint on his opaque sunglasses, overwhelmed by his assurance. Her nipples had stiffened to his touch and her breasts had heaved to meet him. After ascertaining her response to his tweaking and pinching and kneading, he’d slid his hand down to her sex and explored that, sliding inside her bikini bottoms to find her hot wet softness, her yielding openness. And when she started to tremble and twitch he’d heaved himself on top of her and fucked her, not even bothering to remove her bikini. Then he’d rolled away and gone back to reading his Mac magazine, still without a word.
“It…it just happened. I don’t know how.” After that, it had only taken a possessive slap on her butt as she leaned over the sink to water the plants, or a confident tweak of her nipple as she met him in the corridor, to teach her that her whole body was tuned to his key. She’d waited home one morning, pleading that she had stomach cramps, and then as soon as Max went out to catch the bus she’d gone naked into Greg’s room to endure his triumphant smile and submit to his voracious appetite. He’d fucked her on every piece of furniture in the house by now. “It was his idea,” she wailed.
“It was your idea, Emerald.” Max’s eyes were like blue Arctic ice. “I saw the way you looked at him. I knew you wanted to fuck my best mate, no matter how much you denied it. So I told him to make a pass and see how you’d react. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Oh my god!” Realization came crashing in on her. “You’re out of your mind!”
“Really?”
“It’s been three months!” she gasped. “You knew all this time?”
He nodded. “I knew. I knew the first time, when you were all over me that evening, hot and gagging for it like you were in heat. Was it guilt, or are you just a horny little bitch? I knew every single time you fucked him, Emerald, because you were…so different. Pliant and eager. Like he’d greased you up for me. I knew all right.”
“Shit,” she whispered, seeing him in a totally new light, remembering the ferocious intensity of his lovemaking over these past months. She’d been too wrapped up in herself to question it. “Max, this is twisted…”
“
Twisted.” He smiled sourly. “Hey, you’re the one who decided one man wasn’t enough for your hot little cunt. Well now you’re going to put your money where your mouth is.”
“What d’you mean?”
Greg, who’d kept quiet so far, laughed. “You reckon you need two men to satisfy you, doll. Well, this is where we test that out once and for all.”
Buy Playing with Fire at:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Google Play
January 29, 2017
January 27, 2017
Preview excerpt: In Bonds of the Earth
Time to share an excerpt from my forthcoming novel, In Bonds of the Earth (Book of the Watchers 2)!
It's not a Blue Monday so I'm keeping the really rude bits under wraps ... for the moment
It's not a Blue Monday so I'm keeping the really rude bits under wraps ... for the moment
January 25, 2017
"Was Ashbless able to pull this off?"
Some advance reviews are in for In Bonds of the Earth !
First off, a gifftastic post from Samantha MacLeod:
"A globe-trotting masterpiece. Ashbless’s landscapes are so evocative they may as well be characters. History and geography are beautifully woven into this passionate, sexy, and occasionally disturbing story."
(I particularly like the "occasionally disturbing" quote
January 23, 2017
Blue Monday: Carla Atherstone guests
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today I welcome first-time guest Carla Atherstone, with an excerpt from her short story Something New.
Wendy doesn’t even know what it is she’s looking for, until she meets Lana. Sexy and glamorous, Lana’s unlike any other woman Wendy’s ever known – especially when Wendy discovers a substantial surprise in her pants.
Lana’s hips swayed as she walked; she had full hips and a gorgeously round arse. She was wearing a green thong; the top of it was just visible above the waistband of her jeans.
She stepped into the lift and beckoned Wendy in after her. As soon as the doors closed they were kissing, but it seemed only a moment later that the lift pinged and they had to compose themselves as the doors slid open again.
Wendy followed Lana down the corridor to the door of her flat, glad there was no one else around. Her face was burning and the gusset of her panties felt moist. Lana smiled back at her as she unlocked the door of the flat and stepped inside.
The door shut behind Wendy. The flat was neat and pleasant; a kitchen and a breakfast bar, a living room with a thick white pile carpet and a patio balcony giving a great view of the city. She wondered what the bedroom was like.
“Wine?” said Lana as she went into the kitchen.
“Please.”
“White or red?”
“White, please.”
Wendy ran to the toilet and peed. When she cleaned herself with the tissues, she was astonished to find how wet she was. She touched herself and shivered with delight; it would hardly take any effort to bring herself off. But she didn’t; she was here to let Lana do that. She pulled up her trousers and flushed instead.
In the living room Lana offered her a glass of wine. “To us.”
“To us,” said Wendy, and their glasses clinked. She took a sip of wine, then put the glass down and kissed Lana again. Lana cupped and stroked Wendy’s breasts through the blouse; Wendy pushed up the halter-top to expose her partner’s pert breasts — Lana wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were a light brown, and quickly came erect as Wendy took first one, and then the other, in her mouth. Her skin was very smooth and soft, and tasted lightly of salt.
Lana pushed Wendy’s suit jacket off over her shoulders and began to unbutton her blouse. But Wendy was already sliding down to her knees, kissing Lana’s flat belly, her tongue toying with her navel and the little diamanté piercing there. She fumbled with the belt on Lana’s jeans, then the button and zipper, then pulled them down.
Lana slipped her tanned, slender feet out of her sandals, then stepped out of the jeans as they fell around her ankles. Every inch of her was smooth and tanned, unblemished, perfectly toned. She was naked now except for the green thong. Wendy reached up to stroke her belly and thighs, then hooked her thumbs into the thong and drew it down.
Lana’s cock, now limp, looked nothing like the thick truncheon Wendy had felt before. It was tiny, in fact, almost toy-like; a small pink thing curled shyly between Lana’s thighs, along with a pair of small, pink testicles. All were clean-shaven. Wendy reached out to cup Lana’s cock and balls, gently stroking the flaccid dick with her fingertips, kissing it gently, then running her tongue up and down its length. Lana gave a little gasp. Wendy lifted her cock; she kissed, then licked Lana’s balls, before taking them in her mouth to suck them.
Lana ran her fingers through Wendy’s hair. Wendy smiled, letting Lana’s testicles slip from her mouth before kissing her penis again. It was starting to thicken; Wendy ran her tongue around the tip several times, then took it in her mouth. Lana groaned and her hips began to move. Shucking off first her blouse and then her bra, Wendy began to suck her in earnest.
Lana’s cock was swelling in her mouth; it’s a grower, Wendy thought. Lana gripped her hair tighter. Wendy looked up. Lana was flushed, panting for breath, those green eyes drinking in every detail as Wendy unfastened her trousers, pulling them and her sodden panties down, kicking off her shoes as she struggled free.
Now completely naked, she took Lana back into her mouth. She looked up to see Lana’s head was thrown back. In the mirrored ceiling she could see her partner’s face: her eyes were screwed shut and she was biting her lip. Wendy smiled; it felt good to see Lana’s self-possession slip, to see lust taking her over as well.
Wendy took Lana’s cock from her mouth to study it. It bore no resemblance to the little pink thing she’d first seen; now it was the hard shaft that had pressed up against her in the alley once more. Bigger and thicker, if anything, and harder still. It jutted up proudly, veins standing out along its length; its round purple head bobbed in front of her face, still glistening from her mouth.
Lana looked down at her, breathing heavily, face flushed. Wendy smiled up at her and ran her tongue over the swollen cockhead, then began to kiss and lick and gently nibble at the head and shaft. Lana groaned, and Wendy smiled up at her again before pushing her head forward to take the full length of her cock in her mouth, then into her throat. Lana gasped and gripped her hair. Wendy sucked at her hard, squeezing her lover’s rounded hips and fondling her buttocks.
Lana’s grip on her head tightened. “Stop,” she breathed. Wendy looked up, and Lana withdrew from her mouth; a strand of pre-cum hung between Wendy’s lips and Lana’s cock. Lana reached down to cup Wendy’s breasts, stroking and fondling the soft warm flesh, rolling the nipples between thumbs and forefingers. She leant down and kissed Wendy again, her warm tongue probing deep into Wendy’s mouth. Then she whispered “Come on,” slipped her hand into Wendy’s, then led her out of the plush living room and through another door.
The flat’s bedroom was much bigger than Wendy had expected, decorated in soft pink and sporting a king-size bed with white satin sheets. She turned to face Lana, who pushed her back onto the bed and leant over her. She kissed Wendy again, then slid down, kissing and licking, sucking the soft flesh of Wendy’s breasts into her mouth, biting and nibbling gently at it with her white teeth. Then her mouth slid over Wendy’s stomach to the wet, trimmed bush between her legs. Wendy lay there, panting; every inch of her skin tingled with anticipation.
Buy Something New on
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
Kobo
Smashwords
Carla Atherstone is an enthusiastic newcomer to the world of erotica, but writing down the products of her filthily fertile imagination has rapidly become her second favourite pastime. Her third favourite is rambling among the hills, moors and woods around her home in the wilds of Lancashire; her first, of course – aided by her patient and understanding husband – is finding creative ways to pass those long winter nights. She has further stories coming from Deep Desires Press, and in Hot Chilli Erotica.
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Today I welcome first-time guest Carla Atherstone, with an excerpt from her short story Something New.
Wendy doesn’t even know what it is she’s looking for, until she meets Lana. Sexy and glamorous, Lana’s unlike any other woman Wendy’s ever known – especially when Wendy discovers a substantial surprise in her pants.
Lana’s hips swayed as she walked; she had full hips and a gorgeously round arse. She was wearing a green thong; the top of it was just visible above the waistband of her jeans.
She stepped into the lift and beckoned Wendy in after her. As soon as the doors closed they were kissing, but it seemed only a moment later that the lift pinged and they had to compose themselves as the doors slid open again.
Wendy followed Lana down the corridor to the door of her flat, glad there was no one else around. Her face was burning and the gusset of her panties felt moist. Lana smiled back at her as she unlocked the door of the flat and stepped inside.
The door shut behind Wendy. The flat was neat and pleasant; a kitchen and a breakfast bar, a living room with a thick white pile carpet and a patio balcony giving a great view of the city. She wondered what the bedroom was like.
“Wine?” said Lana as she went into the kitchen.
“Please.”
“White or red?”
“White, please.”
Wendy ran to the toilet and peed. When she cleaned herself with the tissues, she was astonished to find how wet she was. She touched herself and shivered with delight; it would hardly take any effort to bring herself off. But she didn’t; she was here to let Lana do that. She pulled up her trousers and flushed instead.
In the living room Lana offered her a glass of wine. “To us.”
“To us,” said Wendy, and their glasses clinked. She took a sip of wine, then put the glass down and kissed Lana again. Lana cupped and stroked Wendy’s breasts through the blouse; Wendy pushed up the halter-top to expose her partner’s pert breasts — Lana wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples were a light brown, and quickly came erect as Wendy took first one, and then the other, in her mouth. Her skin was very smooth and soft, and tasted lightly of salt.
Lana pushed Wendy’s suit jacket off over her shoulders and began to unbutton her blouse. But Wendy was already sliding down to her knees, kissing Lana’s flat belly, her tongue toying with her navel and the little diamanté piercing there. She fumbled with the belt on Lana’s jeans, then the button and zipper, then pulled them down.
Lana slipped her tanned, slender feet out of her sandals, then stepped out of the jeans as they fell around her ankles. Every inch of her was smooth and tanned, unblemished, perfectly toned. She was naked now except for the green thong. Wendy reached up to stroke her belly and thighs, then hooked her thumbs into the thong and drew it down.
Lana’s cock, now limp, looked nothing like the thick truncheon Wendy had felt before. It was tiny, in fact, almost toy-like; a small pink thing curled shyly between Lana’s thighs, along with a pair of small, pink testicles. All were clean-shaven. Wendy reached out to cup Lana’s cock and balls, gently stroking the flaccid dick with her fingertips, kissing it gently, then running her tongue up and down its length. Lana gave a little gasp. Wendy lifted her cock; she kissed, then licked Lana’s balls, before taking them in her mouth to suck them.
Lana ran her fingers through Wendy’s hair. Wendy smiled, letting Lana’s testicles slip from her mouth before kissing her penis again. It was starting to thicken; Wendy ran her tongue around the tip several times, then took it in her mouth. Lana groaned and her hips began to move. Shucking off first her blouse and then her bra, Wendy began to suck her in earnest.
Lana’s cock was swelling in her mouth; it’s a grower, Wendy thought. Lana gripped her hair tighter. Wendy looked up. Lana was flushed, panting for breath, those green eyes drinking in every detail as Wendy unfastened her trousers, pulling them and her sodden panties down, kicking off her shoes as she struggled free.
Now completely naked, she took Lana back into her mouth. She looked up to see Lana’s head was thrown back. In the mirrored ceiling she could see her partner’s face: her eyes were screwed shut and she was biting her lip. Wendy smiled; it felt good to see Lana’s self-possession slip, to see lust taking her over as well.
Wendy took Lana’s cock from her mouth to study it. It bore no resemblance to the little pink thing she’d first seen; now it was the hard shaft that had pressed up against her in the alley once more. Bigger and thicker, if anything, and harder still. It jutted up proudly, veins standing out along its length; its round purple head bobbed in front of her face, still glistening from her mouth.
Lana looked down at her, breathing heavily, face flushed. Wendy smiled up at her and ran her tongue over the swollen cockhead, then began to kiss and lick and gently nibble at the head and shaft. Lana groaned, and Wendy smiled up at her again before pushing her head forward to take the full length of her cock in her mouth, then into her throat. Lana gasped and gripped her hair. Wendy sucked at her hard, squeezing her lover’s rounded hips and fondling her buttocks.
Lana’s grip on her head tightened. “Stop,” she breathed. Wendy looked up, and Lana withdrew from her mouth; a strand of pre-cum hung between Wendy’s lips and Lana’s cock. Lana reached down to cup Wendy’s breasts, stroking and fondling the soft warm flesh, rolling the nipples between thumbs and forefingers. She leant down and kissed Wendy again, her warm tongue probing deep into Wendy’s mouth. Then she whispered “Come on,” slipped her hand into Wendy’s, then led her out of the plush living room and through another door.
The flat’s bedroom was much bigger than Wendy had expected, decorated in soft pink and sporting a king-size bed with white satin sheets. She turned to face Lana, who pushed her back onto the bed and leant over her. She kissed Wendy again, then slid down, kissing and licking, sucking the soft flesh of Wendy’s breasts into her mouth, biting and nibbling gently at it with her white teeth. Then her mouth slid over Wendy’s stomach to the wet, trimmed bush between her legs. Wendy lay there, panting; every inch of her skin tingled with anticipation.
Buy Something New on
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
Kobo
Smashwords
Carla Atherstone is an enthusiastic newcomer to the world of erotica, but writing down the products of her filthily fertile imagination has rapidly become her second favourite pastime. Her third favourite is rambling among the hills, moors and woods around her home in the wilds of Lancashire; her first, of course – aided by her patient and understanding husband – is finding creative ways to pass those long winter nights. She has further stories coming from Deep Desires Press, and in Hot Chilli Erotica.
Website
January 22, 2017
January 20, 2017
The Magic Wall
So I heard that song on the radio (EARWORM WARNING!) and it starts with the lines:
I'm going down to Florence, gonna wear a pretty dress
I'll sit atop the Magic Wall with the voices in my head.
I looked for the Magic Wall online and, lo and behold, this is it:
The Wichahpi Wall in Alabama is an extraordinary piece of outsider art, created over 30 years by a single guy called Tom Hendrix in memorial of his great-great-grandmother Te-lah-nay, a Yuchi Indian deported on the Trail of Tears back in the 1830s, when she was 14. She hated life on the reservation so much that she took off and walked the 700 miles home.
Each stone in the wall - 9 million lbs in total weight he estimates - represents one step of her extraordinary 5-year journey. Hendrix has included rocks from all over the world, including Antarctica, and even a meteorite.
The wall winds about and folds back on itself. In total it is 1.25 miles long, making it the longest unmortared stone wall in America, and reportedly the largest memorial in existence to a woman.
It's a piece of art I find incredibly moving.
It's also a fine example of our instinct to sacralize the landscape. I suspect we have an inbuilt tendency, many of us, to see the spiritual and the natural together. That way lies the slippery slope of pantheistic paganism, of course - so the monotheistic religions do their best to cut sacred spaces off from nature, enclosing worshippers in synagogues, mosques and churches with no exterior view. But nature creeps back into those faiths in the form of sacred wells, stones, mountains and caves. And folk spirituality is drawn to the landscape, its first home.
There are more photos of the Magic Wall here
And this is Tom Hendrix talking about his project:
