Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 47
December 23, 2016
December 21, 2016
Winter Solstice
Roman Bratkowski: Winter Landscape, 'Emptiness' (1901)Shortest day of the year; longest night.If you've made it this far then things will get brighter from now on, I promise ... :-)
December 19, 2016
Blue Monday: Lily Harlem guests
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's guest is the best-selling Lily Harlem - take it away, Lily :-)
On this weekend, Polly and Lucan work the kinks into their relationship.
When Polly is caught in a compromising position with a toy and a hardcore video, she doesn’t think her husband will ever go near her again. She feels twisted, nothing like the sweet wife he married. Little does she know, she’s awakened a monster by prodding Lucan’s sexual beast and making him sit up and take notice.
Finally.
But what about Lucan’s needs? He’s been so busy at work that things have gotten out of his grip to the point he can’t even remember his fantasies.
During a weekend of passion and turmoil, heat and pleasure, they vow to never drift apart again. Neither can imagine just how far they’ll go to please the other, or how well matched their particular variety of kinks are.
With a flick of a switch she checked the battery. All was good and it seemed the device was as keen to start as she was.
She grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter moisturiser and sat with her legs astride the laptop. She then propped herself back on cushions with her knees bent. It was her preferred way to enjoy the show.
The laptop was waiting to go and she quickly and efficiently scrawled through her growing collection of porn favorites. This morning she’d planned on watching Daisy Does It Outside, but as the day had gone on she’d started to think about Butt Babes. She hadn’t watched it all the way through yet and was keen to see how the female lead took it up the ass.
She drew up the porn movie and clicked start. They were well thought out, these short films. Enough of a build up and introduction of characters for her to rub and play with herself, and get her juices flowing. Then, as the on-screen clothes started to fall off, she took hold of her vibrator and slid the smooth hard end over her clit.
She liked to tease herself, imagine it was a man’s fingers—Lucan’s fingers, flicking then retreating—building up the want and the need. It was so much sexier than a swift well-placed rub that hit the spot but lost its appeal because of its predictability.
“Oh yes, Troy, take me now, just do it,” the blonde bombshell gasped on the screen. “Fuck my ass. Put your big cock in my ass now.” She pulled her butt cheeks apart, showing off her puckered hole.
Polly slid her vibrator into her pussy, its way eased with moisturiser and her arousal. She could barely breathe, barely blink, as it stretched her tight muscles. God, she loved her vibrator.
She panted and curled forward, her attention glued on the screen as her body accepted the vibrator’s length. It felt so good as it invaded her, claimed her.
Damn, how did it feel for the woman in the movie? She was bent over, a large male hand skimming over her right buttock and, just in shot, a huge erect cock primed ready for entry. Her anus was breached by the man’s finger, pushing in knuckle deep.
The woman moaned, so did Polly as she flicked on the rabbit. It whirred and then swirled within her, massaging her intimate flesh. She held the little vibrating ears just out of reach of her clitoris, it wasn’t time for that yet.
She clenched her belly and her legs shook slightly. This was the scene she’d got to last time she’d played, but then the alarm on her iPhone had gone off, telling her it was time to pack up before Lucan came home.
Now, though, she could keep on watching, and watch she did. The smooth domed head of the on-screen cock was now butting up against the woman’s hole. He was still stroking her ass cheeks, though as he pushed in, that first tiny bit, he brought a hard slap down on her right buttock. She bucked forward. He gripped her hips.
Instantly a red handprint bloomed on her pale skin. “I’m gonna fuck your ass now, Cassandra,” the man said with a heavy, husky American accent. “You reckon you can take it?” He paused for a moment, then, “Now keep still, you know you want this.”
“Yes, yes, fuck my ass, fuck it now.”
He eased in some more, his cockhead stretching her ring of muscle.
She cried out. He groaned. The camera zoomed in so every tiny detail was captured for the viewer.
Polly was mesmerised, she was so turned on. God, did she really want that? To be slapped and butt fucked?
She guessed she did.
But right now the need for an orgasm was growing. She’d come once now, to take the edge of it, and then perhaps go online and order a butt plug. Something cock shaped so it would be realistic. She could take another day off to wait in and…
She bit on her bottom lip. The little rabbit ears were wicked and doing their job.
As the big on-screen cock set on a slow plunge into the porn star’s ass, Polly allowed her orgasm to build. It was so satisfying to know that she’d definitely come. That it wouldn’t be an unfulfilled promise. An event that never materialised. When she was in control, when she held the tools, she’d come as fast or slow, as hard or as softly as she wanted.
And right now she wanted it hard. Just like the woman on screen was getting it.
The cock had gone from view, her hole stretched around the girth. She was groaning as if she’d been transported to heaven.
Polly pulled the vibrator almost out then plunged it back in. Setting up the same fast rhythm as the man was, imagining his cock was inside her, fucking her, making her come. He wasn’t the sort to hide under the duvet, find one position and stick to it for life. This guy was a go-getter. A well-hung man of pleasure.
“Oh yes, yes…” Polly gasped. She was coming, it was there. A fountain of bliss waiting to overspill. The soft squelching sounds of the vibrator working her pussy filtered up to her ears. They mixed with the heavy masculine moans coming from her laptop.
The man struck the woman again, further pinking her buttocks.
Polly curled her toes, held her breath, and slammed the vibrator in and out of her pussy. Taking it much harder than Lucan would ever give it to her, much deeper too, and with an animalistic need for satisfaction.
She felt wanton, alive, like a woman in the prime of her sexual life.
She came—it was fast and furious and sent shockwaves through her pussy and to all of the nerve endings around her body. She stared at the screen, at the close up of the woman fingering her pussy as her ass was fucked. It was so sexy, so hot, so utterly spellbinding. Fantasies and longings rolled through Polly’s mind. She wanted to be that actress. To be taken like that, fucked and spanked.
On and on she came, extending her bliss until the spasms began to fade.
She blew out a breath, feeling dizzy, and allowed her legs to flop open, the vibrator lodged high and still buzzing.
Fumbling, she switched it off, then shut the laptop. She’d need a few minutes to recover, that had been intense. Everything she’d hoped it would be.
“Polly?”
A lump of lead landed in her belly.
That one word.
That voice.
Lucan?
She looked up, and managed to focus on the doorway.
Lucan stood there, blue tie clenched in his hand, top button of his white shirt undone. He was staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth hung slack.
He didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Buy X-Rated here
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award winning, bestselling author of erotic romance. After giving up a busy career in nursing she now spends her time enjoying her rescued pets and penning steamy stories. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride, Evernight, All Romance eBooks and Stormy Night Publications. She also self-publishes novels that range from emotionally charged erotic romance, to steamy ménage a trois.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, in whichever pairing or genre, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy so make sure you hang on tight for the ride! Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook.
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Newsletter Subscription
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Facebook
Today's guest is the best-selling Lily Harlem - take it away, Lily :-)
"Hi Janine, thank you for inviting me to take part in Blue Monday, it’s great to be here. I’ve brought with me a steamy excerpt from X-Rated which is my hot new novella just out from All Romance eBooks. The idea for this story came from a tale I heard about a woman caught masturbating when her boyfriend turned up unexpectedly. Not really the end of the world in her case, luckily, but it made me think about the repercussions that moment could have on a couple who are not connecting in the bedroom. Would it be the straw that broke the camels back, or could it be just the thing to save it?"
On this weekend, Polly and Lucan work the kinks into their relationship.
When Polly is caught in a compromising position with a toy and a hardcore video, she doesn’t think her husband will ever go near her again. She feels twisted, nothing like the sweet wife he married. Little does she know, she’s awakened a monster by prodding Lucan’s sexual beast and making him sit up and take notice.
Finally.
But what about Lucan’s needs? He’s been so busy at work that things have gotten out of his grip to the point he can’t even remember his fantasies.
During a weekend of passion and turmoil, heat and pleasure, they vow to never drift apart again. Neither can imagine just how far they’ll go to please the other, or how well matched their particular variety of kinks are.
With a flick of a switch she checked the battery. All was good and it seemed the device was as keen to start as she was.
She grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter moisturiser and sat with her legs astride the laptop. She then propped herself back on cushions with her knees bent. It was her preferred way to enjoy the show.
The laptop was waiting to go and she quickly and efficiently scrawled through her growing collection of porn favorites. This morning she’d planned on watching Daisy Does It Outside, but as the day had gone on she’d started to think about Butt Babes. She hadn’t watched it all the way through yet and was keen to see how the female lead took it up the ass.
She drew up the porn movie and clicked start. They were well thought out, these short films. Enough of a build up and introduction of characters for her to rub and play with herself, and get her juices flowing. Then, as the on-screen clothes started to fall off, she took hold of her vibrator and slid the smooth hard end over her clit.
She liked to tease herself, imagine it was a man’s fingers—Lucan’s fingers, flicking then retreating—building up the want and the need. It was so much sexier than a swift well-placed rub that hit the spot but lost its appeal because of its predictability.
“Oh yes, Troy, take me now, just do it,” the blonde bombshell gasped on the screen. “Fuck my ass. Put your big cock in my ass now.” She pulled her butt cheeks apart, showing off her puckered hole.
Polly slid her vibrator into her pussy, its way eased with moisturiser and her arousal. She could barely breathe, barely blink, as it stretched her tight muscles. God, she loved her vibrator.
She panted and curled forward, her attention glued on the screen as her body accepted the vibrator’s length. It felt so good as it invaded her, claimed her.
Damn, how did it feel for the woman in the movie? She was bent over, a large male hand skimming over her right buttock and, just in shot, a huge erect cock primed ready for entry. Her anus was breached by the man’s finger, pushing in knuckle deep.
The woman moaned, so did Polly as she flicked on the rabbit. It whirred and then swirled within her, massaging her intimate flesh. She held the little vibrating ears just out of reach of her clitoris, it wasn’t time for that yet.
She clenched her belly and her legs shook slightly. This was the scene she’d got to last time she’d played, but then the alarm on her iPhone had gone off, telling her it was time to pack up before Lucan came home.
Now, though, she could keep on watching, and watch she did. The smooth domed head of the on-screen cock was now butting up against the woman’s hole. He was still stroking her ass cheeks, though as he pushed in, that first tiny bit, he brought a hard slap down on her right buttock. She bucked forward. He gripped her hips.
Instantly a red handprint bloomed on her pale skin. “I’m gonna fuck your ass now, Cassandra,” the man said with a heavy, husky American accent. “You reckon you can take it?” He paused for a moment, then, “Now keep still, you know you want this.”
“Yes, yes, fuck my ass, fuck it now.”
He eased in some more, his cockhead stretching her ring of muscle.
She cried out. He groaned. The camera zoomed in so every tiny detail was captured for the viewer.
Polly was mesmerised, she was so turned on. God, did she really want that? To be slapped and butt fucked?
She guessed she did.
But right now the need for an orgasm was growing. She’d come once now, to take the edge of it, and then perhaps go online and order a butt plug. Something cock shaped so it would be realistic. She could take another day off to wait in and…
She bit on her bottom lip. The little rabbit ears were wicked and doing their job.
As the big on-screen cock set on a slow plunge into the porn star’s ass, Polly allowed her orgasm to build. It was so satisfying to know that she’d definitely come. That it wouldn’t be an unfulfilled promise. An event that never materialised. When she was in control, when she held the tools, she’d come as fast or slow, as hard or as softly as she wanted.
And right now she wanted it hard. Just like the woman on screen was getting it.
The cock had gone from view, her hole stretched around the girth. She was groaning as if she’d been transported to heaven.
Polly pulled the vibrator almost out then plunged it back in. Setting up the same fast rhythm as the man was, imagining his cock was inside her, fucking her, making her come. He wasn’t the sort to hide under the duvet, find one position and stick to it for life. This guy was a go-getter. A well-hung man of pleasure.
“Oh yes, yes…” Polly gasped. She was coming, it was there. A fountain of bliss waiting to overspill. The soft squelching sounds of the vibrator working her pussy filtered up to her ears. They mixed with the heavy masculine moans coming from her laptop.
The man struck the woman again, further pinking her buttocks.
Polly curled her toes, held her breath, and slammed the vibrator in and out of her pussy. Taking it much harder than Lucan would ever give it to her, much deeper too, and with an animalistic need for satisfaction.
She felt wanton, alive, like a woman in the prime of her sexual life.
She came—it was fast and furious and sent shockwaves through her pussy and to all of the nerve endings around her body. She stared at the screen, at the close up of the woman fingering her pussy as her ass was fucked. It was so sexy, so hot, so utterly spellbinding. Fantasies and longings rolled through Polly’s mind. She wanted to be that actress. To be taken like that, fucked and spanked.
On and on she came, extending her bliss until the spasms began to fade.
She blew out a breath, feeling dizzy, and allowed her legs to flop open, the vibrator lodged high and still buzzing.
Fumbling, she switched it off, then shut the laptop. She’d need a few minutes to recover, that had been intense. Everything she’d hoped it would be.
“Polly?”
A lump of lead landed in her belly.
That one word.
That voice.
Lucan?
She looked up, and managed to focus on the doorway.
Lucan stood there, blue tie clenched in his hand, top button of his white shirt undone. He was staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth hung slack.
He didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Buy X-Rated here
Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award winning, bestselling author of erotic romance. After giving up a busy career in nursing she now spends her time enjoying her rescued pets and penning steamy stories. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including, HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Pride, Evernight, All Romance eBooks and Stormy Night Publications. She also self-publishes novels that range from emotionally charged erotic romance, to steamy ménage a trois.
One thing you can be sure of, whatever book you pick up by Ms Harlem, in whichever pairing or genre, is it will be wildly romantic and down-and-dirty sexy so make sure you hang on tight for the ride! Subscribe to her newsletter to get a FREE ebook.
Website
Newsletter Subscription
Blog
December 18, 2016
December 16, 2016
The yummy taste of cock
I thought I'd try something new and different...
Cock soup is, in fact, vegetarian!
And yummy!
December 14, 2016
Semiramis
Semiramis by Eliseo Tuderte Fattorini (1830-1887)Have you heard of the legendary warrior queen Semiramis? No?
She used to be a very rich subject for artists, but she's sort of vanished from popular culture now.
Pierre Bellet: Semiramida (1892)
Demetre Chiparus (1886-1947): SemiramisShe's based on the historical figure of Shammuramat, who ruled the Assyrian Empire as regent for her son, in the 9th century BCE.
Semiramis depicted in De Claris Mulieribus (15th Century)However, Semiramis the mythical/artistic figure is larger than life in every way! There are many (conflicting) legends about her; she was the daughter of the water-goddess Atargatis, was abandoned at birth and fed by doves until adopted by a shepherd (in standard heroic style).
Semiramis by Cesare Saccaggi (1868-1934)As an adult she married a nobleman called Omnes, but conducted herself during a seige so impressively that the Assyrian King Ninus demanded her for himself. Omnes commited suicide, and Semiramis entered the royal harem - somewhat resentfully, the evidence suggests. When she bore a son, Ninias, Ninus offered her any boon and she said "Make me the ruler of the empire for one day." He foolishly agreed - whereupon she ordered the guards to kill him, and seized power in the name of her son.
So Semiramis became de-facto ruler of the Assyrian Empire, which is about as big a game of thrones as you can win. She rebuilt Babylon and created the famous Hanging Gardens.
Degas: Semiramis building Babylon (1861) She was no hands-off ruler either; she was famous for leading her troops in battle, whether putting down rebellions or conquering new territories such as Libya, Africa and India. The most common depiction of her in art is when she receives the Call to War in the middle of her morning toilette: she seizes her sword, drops the crown and vows not to do up her hair until she is victorious.
Semiramis Called to War (1637) by Jacques StellaSemiramis accumulated a lot of scurrulous legends too, because powerful women are inevitably objects of discomfort and gossip. She is said to have invented the practice of castrating boys to make eunuch slaves. She is said to have taken a new lover every night and had them executed in the morning to make sure they didn't get ambitious.
She is said to have had incestuous relations with her son, the prince Ninius!
She got the hots for an Armenian king called Alar the Beautiful, and demanded that he shag her. When he refused, she went to war. He died on the battlefield and she had his body brought back to her palace for ... private contemplation. Then she told his people that the gods had brought him back to life, so no hard feelings, right?
Semiramis staring at the corpse of Ara the Beautiful, Vardges Sureniants 1860-1921She lived to a ripe old age and never lost a battle, but upon returning from conquering the armies of the Indus (her cunning tactics having included fake elephants), she was murdered by her own son, the only man she thought she could trust ... because children are ungrateful shits.
Augusto Valli: Semiramis dying on Nino's tomb (1893)Semiramis is mentioned in Shakespeare, in Dante's Inferno (circle of Lust, naturally), in a play by Voltaire and several operas, including one by Rossini.
Semiramide, Act 1And she's been the subject of some torrid movies! 
Oh ... she may still be with us. It upsets some among the paranoid religious right that Lady Liberty is officially based on depictions of Semiramis.
Go Semiramis!
December 12, 2016
Blue Monday
Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's excerpt is from my BDSM short Teppanyaki, which appeared in Anything for You: erotica for kinky couples:
Wendy and Ade are hosting a dinner party for some new friends...
As I lead the way back into the dining room, my heart lifts with pride at the picture presented. Wendy has ceased fighting the cuffs and is sat up very straight with her feet tucked beneath the chair, trying to look as demure as it's possible to do with wrists tied. Her face is averted self-consciously, her lips parted and shiny.
Perfect.
“Maria, Jason, this is Wendy. She's feeling a bit shy at the moment, I'm afraid. Wendy, say hello.”
“Hello,” she whispers. “How lovely to meet you.”
I know how difficult she must be finding this. How impossible it must be for her, in that hot swamp of her embarrassment, to find the right social chit-chat. So I make things easy for her: “Wendy, you're to be silent now. Open your legs.”
She eases her thighs apart. I could explode with pride. Jason is standing with his hands in his pockets, a big grin plastered all over his face. Maria goes forward and stoops, kissing her on the cheek.
“What a lovely outfit, Wendy,” she murmurs. “Ade has told us so much about you.”
I take our guests through to the kitchen to pour the first drinks and open the rice steamer and explain how teppanyaki works, but only one tiny part of my mind is on the small-talk or the cooking. My hard-on is verging on the distressing. This is the first time I've allowed anyone else to admire Wendy so intimately and my physical reaction surprises even me.
We return to the dining table; Maria insists on helping me carry the food through. Before dinner begins I push Wendy's skirt up her thighs to reveal the plump lace-covered mound of her sex, and hook a finger under her panty elastic. The kitchen scissors shear through the fabric without effort, and I drop the ruined underwear beneath the table. Her pussy is, of course, perfectly shaven—anything less would be too untidy for Wendy—and as I pat it softly she twists and whimpers. I hear Jason chuckle and make some remark to his wife in a low voice.
Hooking a foot round the leg of Wendy's chair, I drag it closer to the table so she is within reach as I sit.
Dinner begins. Teppanyaki is a sociable, interactive way to eat. Lumps are plucked from the block of butter and dropped on the hot griddle, slicking the black metal plate. Then food is laid on with chopsticks to cook as we wait, each piece needing only a few minutes to fry, and replaced as soon as it's plucked by fresh morsels: steak slices and tuna and chicken, asparagus spears and mushrooms, crisp mange-tout pea-pods and—defying tradition—white strips of halloumi cheese that brown without melting. The smell of hot butter and griddled meat is enticing. We dip the cooked food in tiny individual bowls of soya sauce stirred with hot green wasabi paste, and my lips tingle. We talk, inconsequentially, ignoring Wendy and her predicament but each of us glancing at her often.
Of course Wendy can't feed herself. She is dependent on me to cook her food for her and offer it to her lips with my chopsticks. She seems a little reluctant to eat, preoccupied with her own woe, but she takes each piece obediently. It's not easy to be neat either. The first time a drop of melted butter falls from an pea pod onto the white lawn of her dress, Maria pipes up; “Oh—you don't want to get oil on that, Ade. It'll never come out!”
I nod, standing, and go over behind Wendy. She realises what I'm doing and the cuffs rattle as she jerks her arms, trying to stop me before she remembers that she has no chance. Shock dances in her eyes. “Please!” she squeals as I start on the little buttons over her jiggling breasts.
I grip her jaw, pulling her head back. She stares up in terror, her hazel eyes so dilated that they’re almost black. “What did I tell you, Wendy? You're to be quiet.” And, magically, she goes still in my grasp, trembling a little but no longer fighting me. I undo her blouse buttons without any fuss, revealing a magenta bra that matches the panties I've already destroyed and the creamy slopes of her generous cleavage. Scooping her breasts from the lacy cups, I bare her to our guests.
“Wow!” says Jason, a cup of saké frozen halfway to his lips.
“Your wife has beautiful tits,” Maria agrees, awestruck. As she should be. Wendy's breasts are magnificent. I take her nipples between finger and thumb of each hand and pull them out, encouraging the flesh to swell and harden.
“I'm thinking of having them pierced,” I confide, as Wendy moans low in her throat.
“You should,” says Jason. “You thought of having a chain strung between them?”
I smile darkly. I've thought of lots of things. With my open hands I slap her tits to make them bounce, one after the other. Jason shakes his head, grinning, and Maria mimes an “Ow!” and flashes her eyes. But Wendy only quivers.
Back to dinner, and from now on I make sure that the food I offer my wife is well soused in the hot butter. It drips generously upon her tits, dribbling down to grease her erect nipples. It's a little painful, of course, but Wendy is well used to that. She only jerks and moans a little with each splash, and her discipline in the face of suffering makes my blood race. What I really want is to see her self-control—that same self-control I enjoined upon her—crumble. But I get the most response when I take a stem of asparagus, brilliant green and glistening with warm butter, test its heat against my wrist and then inveigle it into the split of her plump sex before plucking it out again and inserting it, piquant with new sauce, into her mouth. Then she writhes with shame.
Despite all my culinary efforts, no one's mind is on the food now. When I follow up the asparagus by dabbing my fingertip in the wasabi and soya mix and painting it delicately over Wendy's clit, Jason sits back and adjusts the bulge at his crotch, his eyes bright and hard. “Oh, that's cruel,” he says appreciatively.
Wendy's breath hisses between her clenched teeth as the burn starts. I take a thoughtful sip of my saké as she presses her thighs together, trying to relieve the sensation. There's a dew of sweat at the cusp of her throat and I want to taste it. Soon she's rubbing her thighs against each other, her tits quivering in a breath-taking manner as she wriggles.
“
Is that hot, honey?” I ask.
Wendy doesn't speak, but she nods rapidly.
“Oh please, Ade,” says Maria suddenly. “Please let me lick it off her.”
Buy Anything for You at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Google Play
Today's excerpt is from my BDSM short Teppanyaki, which appeared in Anything for You: erotica for kinky couples:
Wendy and Ade are hosting a dinner party for some new friends...
As I lead the way back into the dining room, my heart lifts with pride at the picture presented. Wendy has ceased fighting the cuffs and is sat up very straight with her feet tucked beneath the chair, trying to look as demure as it's possible to do with wrists tied. Her face is averted self-consciously, her lips parted and shiny.
Perfect.
“Maria, Jason, this is Wendy. She's feeling a bit shy at the moment, I'm afraid. Wendy, say hello.”
“Hello,” she whispers. “How lovely to meet you.”
I know how difficult she must be finding this. How impossible it must be for her, in that hot swamp of her embarrassment, to find the right social chit-chat. So I make things easy for her: “Wendy, you're to be silent now. Open your legs.”
She eases her thighs apart. I could explode with pride. Jason is standing with his hands in his pockets, a big grin plastered all over his face. Maria goes forward and stoops, kissing her on the cheek.
“What a lovely outfit, Wendy,” she murmurs. “Ade has told us so much about you.”
I take our guests through to the kitchen to pour the first drinks and open the rice steamer and explain how teppanyaki works, but only one tiny part of my mind is on the small-talk or the cooking. My hard-on is verging on the distressing. This is the first time I've allowed anyone else to admire Wendy so intimately and my physical reaction surprises even me.
We return to the dining table; Maria insists on helping me carry the food through. Before dinner begins I push Wendy's skirt up her thighs to reveal the plump lace-covered mound of her sex, and hook a finger under her panty elastic. The kitchen scissors shear through the fabric without effort, and I drop the ruined underwear beneath the table. Her pussy is, of course, perfectly shaven—anything less would be too untidy for Wendy—and as I pat it softly she twists and whimpers. I hear Jason chuckle and make some remark to his wife in a low voice.
Hooking a foot round the leg of Wendy's chair, I drag it closer to the table so she is within reach as I sit.
Dinner begins. Teppanyaki is a sociable, interactive way to eat. Lumps are plucked from the block of butter and dropped on the hot griddle, slicking the black metal plate. Then food is laid on with chopsticks to cook as we wait, each piece needing only a few minutes to fry, and replaced as soon as it's plucked by fresh morsels: steak slices and tuna and chicken, asparagus spears and mushrooms, crisp mange-tout pea-pods and—defying tradition—white strips of halloumi cheese that brown without melting. The smell of hot butter and griddled meat is enticing. We dip the cooked food in tiny individual bowls of soya sauce stirred with hot green wasabi paste, and my lips tingle. We talk, inconsequentially, ignoring Wendy and her predicament but each of us glancing at her often.
Of course Wendy can't feed herself. She is dependent on me to cook her food for her and offer it to her lips with my chopsticks. She seems a little reluctant to eat, preoccupied with her own woe, but she takes each piece obediently. It's not easy to be neat either. The first time a drop of melted butter falls from an pea pod onto the white lawn of her dress, Maria pipes up; “Oh—you don't want to get oil on that, Ade. It'll never come out!”
I nod, standing, and go over behind Wendy. She realises what I'm doing and the cuffs rattle as she jerks her arms, trying to stop me before she remembers that she has no chance. Shock dances in her eyes. “Please!” she squeals as I start on the little buttons over her jiggling breasts.
I grip her jaw, pulling her head back. She stares up in terror, her hazel eyes so dilated that they’re almost black. “What did I tell you, Wendy? You're to be quiet.” And, magically, she goes still in my grasp, trembling a little but no longer fighting me. I undo her blouse buttons without any fuss, revealing a magenta bra that matches the panties I've already destroyed and the creamy slopes of her generous cleavage. Scooping her breasts from the lacy cups, I bare her to our guests.
“Wow!” says Jason, a cup of saké frozen halfway to his lips.
“Your wife has beautiful tits,” Maria agrees, awestruck. As she should be. Wendy's breasts are magnificent. I take her nipples between finger and thumb of each hand and pull them out, encouraging the flesh to swell and harden.
“I'm thinking of having them pierced,” I confide, as Wendy moans low in her throat.
“You should,” says Jason. “You thought of having a chain strung between them?”
I smile darkly. I've thought of lots of things. With my open hands I slap her tits to make them bounce, one after the other. Jason shakes his head, grinning, and Maria mimes an “Ow!” and flashes her eyes. But Wendy only quivers.
Back to dinner, and from now on I make sure that the food I offer my wife is well soused in the hot butter. It drips generously upon her tits, dribbling down to grease her erect nipples. It's a little painful, of course, but Wendy is well used to that. She only jerks and moans a little with each splash, and her discipline in the face of suffering makes my blood race. What I really want is to see her self-control—that same self-control I enjoined upon her—crumble. But I get the most response when I take a stem of asparagus, brilliant green and glistening with warm butter, test its heat against my wrist and then inveigle it into the split of her plump sex before plucking it out again and inserting it, piquant with new sauce, into her mouth. Then she writhes with shame.
Despite all my culinary efforts, no one's mind is on the food now. When I follow up the asparagus by dabbing my fingertip in the wasabi and soya mix and painting it delicately over Wendy's clit, Jason sits back and adjusts the bulge at his crotch, his eyes bright and hard. “Oh, that's cruel,” he says appreciatively.
Wendy's breath hisses between her clenched teeth as the burn starts. I take a thoughtful sip of my saké as she presses her thighs together, trying to relieve the sensation. There's a dew of sweat at the cusp of her throat and I want to taste it. Soon she's rubbing her thighs against each other, her tits quivering in a breath-taking manner as she wriggles.
“
Is that hot, honey?” I ask.
Wendy doesn't speak, but she nods rapidly.
“Oh please, Ade,” says Maria suddenly. “Please let me lick it off her.”
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December 11, 2016
A Feeling Sorry For Myself post
Marianne Stokes-Preindlsberger: The Young Girl and Death (1900)I haven't been able to lie down to sleep for a week because I have asthma, and going horizontal makes my lungs stop working. So this pic tickles my fancy :-)It does look like the Angel of Death is saying, "Nah, don't get up - I just dropped in to see how you were doing." And she is all: "Come on, let's go FFS!"
December 9, 2016
And God said: LET THERE BE PAPERBACKS
Look what arrived in the post today!!!
Out March 2018!!!
(All enquiries re. review copies to Sinful Press)
December 7, 2016
Top Sex Blogger, omg
I had a special birthday gift this year! - I was listed among the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of the Year by Molly's Daily Kiss (click through for the full list). This is after making the 2015 list too!
I'm a bit surprised because I hardly count this as a sex-blog - I think of it as a writing blog with some sex. And art. And silly stuff. But THANK YOU Molly!
