Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 59
April 22, 2016
I'm breaking down societal gender-norms
I have man-flu and I am goddamn OWNING it. Thankfully Mr Ashbless is here to look after the dogs and go shopping.
Bring me more rum, I'm back off to bed.
April 20, 2016
The trouble with women writers...
Francesco Laurana (1430 – 1502); Eleanor of AragonI was asked by editor Lisa Jenkins to write a post on feminism for the Sinful Press blog - because they've just published erotica novel Show Me, Sir, which is all about the contentious intersection of feminism and BDSM.
I warned her my post was likely to be arsey and opinionated, but she let me go for it!
HERE
April 18, 2016
Where's Janine been?
I've been off on my travels again :-) - can you guess where?
I walked on an active volcano in a driving blizzard ... but I wasn't in Iceland.
I stood beneath some enormous banyan trees ... but I wasn't anywhere in Asia.
I saw the best-preserved Classical Greek temples still in existence ... but I wasn't in Greece.
I visited the most beautiful Norman cathedral in the world ... but I wasn't in France (or Britain).
Sorry, DurhamI saw Spanish watchtowers on every crag ... but I wasn't in Spain.
I witnessed a page from the Koran carved on the stones of a Catholic cathedral ... but I wasn't in the Middle East.
And I saw more dead bodies than I've ever seen in my life ... but I was nowhere near a war-zone:
I was in a country whose symbol is a Gorgon's head staring out from between three splayed legs.
Not at all Freudian then...
Have you guessed? I was in SICILY!
It's a land that has been occupied with extreme prejudice over the centuries, by so many nations, that it has decided the only fitting revenge is to kill everyone in the world through cake-induced cardiac arrest:
"Try a cannolo? The first hit is free."
And it was just beautiful!
We went on this tour, which I thoroughly recommend. If you get the chance, do go in April for the wildflowers (and blizzards) :-D
I walked on an active volcano in a driving blizzard ... but I wasn't in Iceland.
I stood beneath some enormous banyan trees ... but I wasn't anywhere in Asia.
I saw the best-preserved Classical Greek temples still in existence ... but I wasn't in Greece.
I visited the most beautiful Norman cathedral in the world ... but I wasn't in France (or Britain).
Sorry, DurhamI saw Spanish watchtowers on every crag ... but I wasn't in Spain.
I witnessed a page from the Koran carved on the stones of a Catholic cathedral ... but I wasn't in the Middle East.
And I saw more dead bodies than I've ever seen in my life ... but I was nowhere near a war-zone:
I was in a country whose symbol is a Gorgon's head staring out from between three splayed legs.
Not at all Freudian then...Have you guessed? I was in SICILY!
It's a land that has been occupied with extreme prejudice over the centuries, by so many nations, that it has decided the only fitting revenge is to kill everyone in the world through cake-induced cardiac arrest:
"Try a cannolo? The first hit is free."And it was just beautiful!
We went on this tour, which I thoroughly recommend. If you get the chance, do go in April for the wildflowers (and blizzards) :-D
April 8, 2016
Fly away
Henry Fuseli (1741-1825), The Night HagI'm going to be away from the blog for a while - back later in April!
Don't do anything I wouldn't do!
April 6, 2016
Calling on God
This angel statue is from the roof of St John's cathedral in Den Bosch (the Netherlands). When they needed a new statue they decided to go for a modern take - so they ended up with an angel wearing jeans and using a cellphone!
Yes, you can ring the angel. But he only speaks Dutch.There's temporary access to the roof for tourists at the moment, which allows people to see the amazing carvings on the flying buttresses in close-up - they're mostly C19th restorations of original medieval statues. 
Here are some of my favourites, pictured on Easter Sunday.
Mysterious hooded man
Ape with baby
Tambourine player (the only female figure on the roof)
Man with owl
Man riding a sphinx
Werewolf?
Wild man with net, sitting behind a demonApril 4, 2016
Blue Monday: Sonni de Soto guests
Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's guest is Sonni de Soto with an sneak preview from her soon-to-be-released novel Show Me, Sir.
Max Wells is a ball-busting, ass-kicking testament to female empowerment, who’s yet to meet the person who can push her down.
Until she meets a man she only knows as Sir.
Shamelessly deviant, Hayato knows exactly what Max thinks of Dominants like him. So ready to dismiss his lifestyle, she’s the type to assume she knows everything about it and him after one cursory glance from the outside in. But, looking at Max—at her intelligence and passion—he can see more in her than the misconceptions she’s deliberately blinding herself with.
And, determined, he plans to show her more.
Max and Hayato engage in a dance of wit, will, and seduction as they negotiate roles, rewrite rules, and learn the true meaning of empowerment.
But, just as their game heats up, it gets used against them. Seeking to punish them with their play, someone threatens to drag their private lives out into the public spotlight.
With high stakes and bitter scandal looming over their heads, Max and her Sir will have to work together to show that what the world thinks they are does not define who they are.
Her eyes shot up, meeting his savage gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He looked as wild ‒ as unbalanced and out of control ‒ as she felt.
Somehow, that settled her. Righted her, in a weird, irrational way.
“Touch yourself.” He tipped her head back down to stare at herself, exposed and spread wide, as his other hand cupped her free elbow encouragingly. “Show me how you like it. Show me how I should touch you. How I will touch you. Soon.”
Yes.
With a wicked smile, she felt ‒ saw ‒ her cunt clench with heated desire and heard his echoing groan while her arousal flowed from her body onto her fingers and thighs. She brought her other hand down, letting her fore and middle fingers slide between her inviting folds.
“Yes,” he said.
Gathering her wetness, she brushed her clit on a gasp. They both watched her stroke herself in intense silence, watched as soft, tentative brushes quickly turned into hard, twisting flicks while pleasure surged through her.
“Yes.” That one word was a compelling lull, urging her on. He reached in front of her, unsnapping the front clasp of the button-up teddy.
Max’s breath caught when her breasts spilled free, bouncing with every heaving pant.
“Touch them.” Both their eyes stared at her tight, rosy nipples. “Touch.”
Without thought, she lifted compliant fingers all but reflexively to fondle a flushed peak even while she kept rubbing against her needy nub. She groaned. “Oh Lord.”
“Fuck yourself.” His voice was hoarse and hushed, the coarse words a quiet plea that quelled her unease. “Slip those fingers deep inside that sweet, pretty pussy.”
She did, moaning while her perfectly manicured hand pushed inside.
Yes.
More.
She needed more.
“Yes,” he said, “move those fingers. Slide them in and out. Faster.”
Her core contracted, gripping her so tight, the nerves sparking all along her vaginal walls.
“Come, Max,” he coaxed. “Come for me.”
And, God help her, she did.
Her eyes widened, not willing to miss a second of it. Her body rushed toward a climax, her strokes becoming mad while she rubbed and pushed, pinched and tugged.
With an animalistic roar, she came, her body rioting with sensation. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Couldn’t stop her body from tensing tight. Her knees wobbled. With a choked pant, she caught herself, still tirelessly touching her clit as her climax took her. It took all she had to stay upright, propping her shaking weight up against the cool, fogging glass.
“Damn, Max,” she heard him murmur.
She blinked, trying to see past the haze, but saw nothing in the mirror over her shoulder.
Then a fierce shiver hit her when a familiar, reverent touch caressed her hip.
Her gaze dropped to him, crouched down at her side. His face was eye-level to her still undulating hips. His eyes watched her, entranced. “Goddamn.” His hand that idly brushed her curving side now gripped her thigh, urging her to part them further.
He removed her hand from her still convulsing sex and brought it to his mouth, sucking her fingers deep. He moaned as his tongue swept over the sweet, slick skin, cleaning her completely before releasing her.
“I want to taste you.” He met her eyes in the mirror, that hungry look now ravenous. “Really taste you.”
Her body gave a delicious, lurching jerk, thinking about his mouth, his tongue, his teeth upon her vulva. The thought of this man ‒ this powerful, enigmatic man ‒ on his knees before her, giving her pleasure, made her heat all over again.
Without allowing all her niggling principles or warning reservations a voice, wanting to not think for once, but to feel… just feel, she bit her lip and nodded.
Max fought the urge to giggle when his cloudlessly brilliant eyes widened and flared, as if he hadn’t expected her to agree. As if he’d expected a fight.
Her teeth worried her lip. Should she fight? She knew logically ‒ ideologically ‒ she shouldn’t be allowing him to do this. Sex of any kind with this man would be a power game. One she wasn’t sure she should play. But, when he shifted himself around her to settle between her thighs, she wondered why.
Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this? Why couldn’t she allow herself to stop fighting for once?
“
Tell me you want this.” He gripped her hips, his fingers clinging and digging into her lush form. “I want the words from you, Max.”
She blinked at him, knowing what the lawyer in him was asking for. Consent. Undeniable agreement.
She wiggled in his unrelenting grip, feeling her undeniable longing. He licked his thin lips, the pointed tip of his tongue moving, dark and slow, across his mouth. Her own tongue followed suit, moistening her dry skin.
“Say it.”
She swallowed hard. “I want you to.”
“To what?”
Informed, complete consent. She looked down into his eyes, seeing that he didn’t think her capable of it. Didn’t think that the proper, sophisticated picture she projected could do dirty.
He thought he was so smart.
Meeting his daring glare with one of her own, she said, “I want you to taste me.” Her voice was clear with her own obvious goad. “I want your lips on my clit and your tongue in my cunt. I want you to make me come harder than I ever have in my life.” She cocked her head when the corners of his thin lips trembled with laughing shock. “Think you can do that?” She looked down her nose at him. “Sir.”
He chuckled, the sound rich and low, and tightened his grip on her hips. His hands slid lower over her behind and down her thighs, pulling them further apart, making room for himself between them. With a dangerous grin, he simply said, “Watch."
Show Me, Sir is out on the 10th April from Sinful Press and available for pre-order now:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Sonni de Soto is an Asian kinkster of color, who loves and lives the lifestyle when she can. Her work involves The Taming School and Show Me, Sir, as well as stories in Between the Shores: Erotica With Consent and The First Annual Geeky Kink Anthology.
Like any good nerd, she loves learning new and interesting things about science, art, culture, and, of course, sex and love. She’s always thrilled to hear from readers; you can get in touch with Sonni de Soto at her website
Today's guest is Sonni de Soto with an sneak preview from her soon-to-be-released novel Show Me, Sir.
Max Wells is a ball-busting, ass-kicking testament to female empowerment, who’s yet to meet the person who can push her down.
Until she meets a man she only knows as Sir.
Shamelessly deviant, Hayato knows exactly what Max thinks of Dominants like him. So ready to dismiss his lifestyle, she’s the type to assume she knows everything about it and him after one cursory glance from the outside in. But, looking at Max—at her intelligence and passion—he can see more in her than the misconceptions she’s deliberately blinding herself with.
And, determined, he plans to show her more.
Max and Hayato engage in a dance of wit, will, and seduction as they negotiate roles, rewrite rules, and learn the true meaning of empowerment.
But, just as their game heats up, it gets used against them. Seeking to punish them with their play, someone threatens to drag their private lives out into the public spotlight.
With high stakes and bitter scandal looming over their heads, Max and her Sir will have to work together to show that what the world thinks they are does not define who they are.
Her eyes shot up, meeting his savage gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He looked as wild ‒ as unbalanced and out of control ‒ as she felt.
Somehow, that settled her. Righted her, in a weird, irrational way.
“Touch yourself.” He tipped her head back down to stare at herself, exposed and spread wide, as his other hand cupped her free elbow encouragingly. “Show me how you like it. Show me how I should touch you. How I will touch you. Soon.”
Yes.
With a wicked smile, she felt ‒ saw ‒ her cunt clench with heated desire and heard his echoing groan while her arousal flowed from her body onto her fingers and thighs. She brought her other hand down, letting her fore and middle fingers slide between her inviting folds.
“Yes,” he said.
Gathering her wetness, she brushed her clit on a gasp. They both watched her stroke herself in intense silence, watched as soft, tentative brushes quickly turned into hard, twisting flicks while pleasure surged through her.
“Yes.” That one word was a compelling lull, urging her on. He reached in front of her, unsnapping the front clasp of the button-up teddy.
Max’s breath caught when her breasts spilled free, bouncing with every heaving pant.
“Touch them.” Both their eyes stared at her tight, rosy nipples. “Touch.”
Without thought, she lifted compliant fingers all but reflexively to fondle a flushed peak even while she kept rubbing against her needy nub. She groaned. “Oh Lord.”
“Fuck yourself.” His voice was hoarse and hushed, the coarse words a quiet plea that quelled her unease. “Slip those fingers deep inside that sweet, pretty pussy.”
She did, moaning while her perfectly manicured hand pushed inside.
Yes.
More.
She needed more.
“Yes,” he said, “move those fingers. Slide them in and out. Faster.”
Her core contracted, gripping her so tight, the nerves sparking all along her vaginal walls.
“Come, Max,” he coaxed. “Come for me.”
And, God help her, she did.
Her eyes widened, not willing to miss a second of it. Her body rushed toward a climax, her strokes becoming mad while she rubbed and pushed, pinched and tugged.
With an animalistic roar, she came, her body rioting with sensation. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Couldn’t stop her body from tensing tight. Her knees wobbled. With a choked pant, she caught herself, still tirelessly touching her clit as her climax took her. It took all she had to stay upright, propping her shaking weight up against the cool, fogging glass.
“Damn, Max,” she heard him murmur.
She blinked, trying to see past the haze, but saw nothing in the mirror over her shoulder.
Then a fierce shiver hit her when a familiar, reverent touch caressed her hip.
Her gaze dropped to him, crouched down at her side. His face was eye-level to her still undulating hips. His eyes watched her, entranced. “Goddamn.” His hand that idly brushed her curving side now gripped her thigh, urging her to part them further.
He removed her hand from her still convulsing sex and brought it to his mouth, sucking her fingers deep. He moaned as his tongue swept over the sweet, slick skin, cleaning her completely before releasing her.
“I want to taste you.” He met her eyes in the mirror, that hungry look now ravenous. “Really taste you.”
Her body gave a delicious, lurching jerk, thinking about his mouth, his tongue, his teeth upon her vulva. The thought of this man ‒ this powerful, enigmatic man ‒ on his knees before her, giving her pleasure, made her heat all over again.
Without allowing all her niggling principles or warning reservations a voice, wanting to not think for once, but to feel… just feel, she bit her lip and nodded.
Max fought the urge to giggle when his cloudlessly brilliant eyes widened and flared, as if he hadn’t expected her to agree. As if he’d expected a fight.
Her teeth worried her lip. Should she fight? She knew logically ‒ ideologically ‒ she shouldn’t be allowing him to do this. Sex of any kind with this man would be a power game. One she wasn’t sure she should play. But, when he shifted himself around her to settle between her thighs, she wondered why.
Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this? Why couldn’t she allow herself to stop fighting for once?
“
Tell me you want this.” He gripped her hips, his fingers clinging and digging into her lush form. “I want the words from you, Max.”
She blinked at him, knowing what the lawyer in him was asking for. Consent. Undeniable agreement.
She wiggled in his unrelenting grip, feeling her undeniable longing. He licked his thin lips, the pointed tip of his tongue moving, dark and slow, across his mouth. Her own tongue followed suit, moistening her dry skin.
“Say it.”
She swallowed hard. “I want you to.”
“To what?”
Informed, complete consent. She looked down into his eyes, seeing that he didn’t think her capable of it. Didn’t think that the proper, sophisticated picture she projected could do dirty.
He thought he was so smart.
Meeting his daring glare with one of her own, she said, “I want you to taste me.” Her voice was clear with her own obvious goad. “I want your lips on my clit and your tongue in my cunt. I want you to make me come harder than I ever have in my life.” She cocked her head when the corners of his thin lips trembled with laughing shock. “Think you can do that?” She looked down her nose at him. “Sir.”
He chuckled, the sound rich and low, and tightened his grip on her hips. His hands slid lower over her behind and down her thighs, pulling them further apart, making room for himself between them. With a dangerous grin, he simply said, “Watch."
Show Me, Sir is out on the 10th April from Sinful Press and available for pre-order now:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Sonni de Soto is an Asian kinkster of color, who loves and lives the lifestyle when she can. Her work involves The Taming School and Show Me, Sir, as well as stories in Between the Shores: Erotica With Consent and The First Annual Geeky Kink Anthology.
Like any good nerd, she loves learning new and interesting things about science, art, culture, and, of course, sex and love. She’s always thrilled to hear from readers; you can get in touch with Sonni de Soto at her website
April 3, 2016
Happy Man
This is my absolute fave song currently :-)
Here's some footage of Seasick Steve and Paloma Faith singing it together, though the sound quality isn't as good.
April 1, 2016
Toyz for the Girlz
I built an IKEA shelf unit...
To put in my new shed...
To keep all my lovely new toys in :-)
Sadly I have let Stihl down and did not buy a skimpy negligee suitable for powertool usage.
Sorry.
To put in my new shed...
To keep all my lovely new toys in :-)
Sadly I have let Stihl down and did not buy a skimpy negligee suitable for powertool usage.
Sorry.
March 30, 2016
Amsterdamned
I spent Easter weekend in the Netherlands, with pretty much the exact pathetic results you'd expect from a middle-aged writer trying too hard...
"Whoa shit! - get me out of here RIGHT NOW guys, I'm going to faint..." But in fact we were not there for the, ahem, peculiar delights of Amsterdam...
Canals. Goddamn it, we love canals.... No: we were there to meet this gentleman:
It's the 500th anniversary of Hieronymus Bosch's death , and a unique exhibition has been arranged by the Noordbrabants Museum in Den Bosch. Painting scattered in galleries all over the world have been brought back to his birthplace for this one extraordinary occasion.
The Wayfarer, from the outer shutters of The Haywain triptychBosch is a painter famous for his surreal and inexplicable depictions of Paradise (both heavenly and earthly)
Just WTF is that in the middle of the Garden of Eden?
World's. Best. Party.
No, really?And for his horrific pictures of Hell:
And the demons therein:
In fact some of them have escaped the gallery and run amuck in the surrounding streets and canals...
It's riding "a goose". Right...He was also, it turns out, totally obsessed with owls.
I'll have what he's on...
March 28, 2016
Blue Monday
Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!
Today's excerpt is from my short story Forsaking All Others, which appeared in With This Ring, I Thee Bed - an anthology of wedding-themed erotica.
“It feels strange, don’t you think? To be married?”
“Actually I don’t feel that much different.” Roy put his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “We’re still us, and I still fancy you even if you are my Mrs.” His grip tightened. “You look hot, Deb, you know.”
“But we are going to be different, aren’t we?” I was trying to grasp my nebulous feeling of unease without raising my voice above a murmur. “I mean, we’ll have to be a bit more grown up now.”
“You can buy me slippers for Christmas.”
I gave him a poke with one finger. “I mean ... you know. We’ll have to stop messing around. Like, playing with Calvin and Sylvia.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well. We’ll have responsibilities. It can’t go on forever. You know that.”
Roy frowned a little. “Actually I was imagining us still at it when we need Viagra and Zimmer frames. And maybe, you know, a nurse to help us get into position...”
“Oh be serious!”
“It’s my wedding,” he said mildly. “The only thing I intended to feel serious about today was the I Do.”
“Not the Forsaking All Others?”
He shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “I sort of saw that as Forsaking All Those Except the Ones My Wife Gives Me Permission For.”
At that moment one of my aunties came up to talk to us, and the conversation ended abruptly.
We went upstairs to our suite where my wedding dress and veil lay out on the bed as I’d left them, but a big pile of fluffy white towels and a couple of bottles of champagne had made an appearance. Roy took me in his arms, just as he had done so many times that day. But this time it was different. This time he kissed me slow and deep, the way that always gets to me, breaking down my barriers. This time he wrapped his fingers in my hair and tugged my head back, and the almost-threat of his grasp sent a spark of arousal right down my spine and through my belly to ignite a glow at my clit. This time his cock started to get hard. His other hand pressed me to him, squeezing my ass, and I writhed my hips.
When we broke I was breathless and already warm.
“Want to go to bed?” he asked.
“Hmm.” I nipped at his lower lip. “I believe I do.”
“You can come out now,” he called over my shoulder. That was when Sylvia and Calvin came out of the bathroom, grinning. She was holding her own camera.
This is where the second photograph album starts.
Snap: I’m kneeling, out of my dress but back in my veil. It hangs down over my face and torso, so sheer that it doesn’t hide those big breasts of mine cradled in their beautiful lace La Senza bra, or my wide-eyed expression as I gaze out at the camera. The two men either side of me are faceless and fully dressed, only their midsections visible in this print. Each has one hand on my shoulder pushing me down to my knees and another hand tight round one of my wrists, holding it up. My fingers are curled helplessly, my lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come.
Snap: Head-and-shoulders shot. My veil is flipped back now. I’m kneeling between two sets of bare male flanks and two cocks, erect and angled toward an apex, like swords held at a salute for when the bride exits the church. I’ve got one cock in each hand and my head is turned toward Roy’s – you can tell it’s him because of the dark pubic thatch and the hairier thighs - and my lips are wrapped round his bell-end, sucking hard.
They’re amazing pictures, the textures of flesh and fabric rendered so finely that even just looking you can almost feel them beneath your fingertips.
Snap: Closer yet: the two cocks are almost touching over my head. Champagne foam escaping from a newly-opened bottle oozes and slops down their flushed shafts and drips into my open, eager mouth waiting below.
Snap: I’m topless and pantyless now, leaning back against a male torso, breasts upthrust. Champagne is being poured down my torso from the bottle tilted over my tits; it gushes in runnels off my erect nipples, sluicing over my belly to run into the shaven split below. You can see bubbles freckling my skin. Calvin’s sandy head is between my thighs and he’s lapping champagne and sex juices from between my spread pussy lips. He said it was the “best fucking cocktail” he’d ever tasted. God, we got champagne everywhere. On the towels, on the carpet, on the coverlet ... Everywhere.
Snap: My back to the camera, the veil hanging down to my ass-cleft, my spine a shadowy sinuous line under the transparent fabric. I’m sitting astride Roy’s lap as he perches on the edge of the bed. With one hand he’s holding my wrists cruelly together at the small of my back, and with the other he’s twisting my head sideways so I can suck Calvin’s cock as he stands beside us.
Snap: Just my spread thighs, poised over the smooth column of Calvin's cock as if I’m about to impale myself upon it. My thighs are glistening with moisture and my sex lips visibly unfurled.
“Can you take it?” Roy whispered in my ear as he held me.
Snap. Yes, I could. All the way.
Buy With this Ring, I Thee Bed at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK :: Googleplay
Today's excerpt is from my short story Forsaking All Others, which appeared in With This Ring, I Thee Bed - an anthology of wedding-themed erotica.
“It feels strange, don’t you think? To be married?”
“Actually I don’t feel that much different.” Roy put his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “We’re still us, and I still fancy you even if you are my Mrs.” His grip tightened. “You look hot, Deb, you know.”
“But we are going to be different, aren’t we?” I was trying to grasp my nebulous feeling of unease without raising my voice above a murmur. “I mean, we’ll have to be a bit more grown up now.”
“You can buy me slippers for Christmas.”
I gave him a poke with one finger. “I mean ... you know. We’ll have to stop messing around. Like, playing with Calvin and Sylvia.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well. We’ll have responsibilities. It can’t go on forever. You know that.”
Roy frowned a little. “Actually I was imagining us still at it when we need Viagra and Zimmer frames. And maybe, you know, a nurse to help us get into position...”
“Oh be serious!”
“It’s my wedding,” he said mildly. “The only thing I intended to feel serious about today was the I Do.”
“Not the Forsaking All Others?”
He shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “I sort of saw that as Forsaking All Those Except the Ones My Wife Gives Me Permission For.”
At that moment one of my aunties came up to talk to us, and the conversation ended abruptly.
We went upstairs to our suite where my wedding dress and veil lay out on the bed as I’d left them, but a big pile of fluffy white towels and a couple of bottles of champagne had made an appearance. Roy took me in his arms, just as he had done so many times that day. But this time it was different. This time he kissed me slow and deep, the way that always gets to me, breaking down my barriers. This time he wrapped his fingers in my hair and tugged my head back, and the almost-threat of his grasp sent a spark of arousal right down my spine and through my belly to ignite a glow at my clit. This time his cock started to get hard. His other hand pressed me to him, squeezing my ass, and I writhed my hips.
When we broke I was breathless and already warm.
“Want to go to bed?” he asked.
“Hmm.” I nipped at his lower lip. “I believe I do.”
“You can come out now,” he called over my shoulder. That was when Sylvia and Calvin came out of the bathroom, grinning. She was holding her own camera.
This is where the second photograph album starts.
Snap: I’m kneeling, out of my dress but back in my veil. It hangs down over my face and torso, so sheer that it doesn’t hide those big breasts of mine cradled in their beautiful lace La Senza bra, or my wide-eyed expression as I gaze out at the camera. The two men either side of me are faceless and fully dressed, only their midsections visible in this print. Each has one hand on my shoulder pushing me down to my knees and another hand tight round one of my wrists, holding it up. My fingers are curled helplessly, my lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come.
Snap: Head-and-shoulders shot. My veil is flipped back now. I’m kneeling between two sets of bare male flanks and two cocks, erect and angled toward an apex, like swords held at a salute for when the bride exits the church. I’ve got one cock in each hand and my head is turned toward Roy’s – you can tell it’s him because of the dark pubic thatch and the hairier thighs - and my lips are wrapped round his bell-end, sucking hard.
They’re amazing pictures, the textures of flesh and fabric rendered so finely that even just looking you can almost feel them beneath your fingertips.
Snap: Closer yet: the two cocks are almost touching over my head. Champagne foam escaping from a newly-opened bottle oozes and slops down their flushed shafts and drips into my open, eager mouth waiting below.
Snap: I’m topless and pantyless now, leaning back against a male torso, breasts upthrust. Champagne is being poured down my torso from the bottle tilted over my tits; it gushes in runnels off my erect nipples, sluicing over my belly to run into the shaven split below. You can see bubbles freckling my skin. Calvin’s sandy head is between my thighs and he’s lapping champagne and sex juices from between my spread pussy lips. He said it was the “best fucking cocktail” he’d ever tasted. God, we got champagne everywhere. On the towels, on the carpet, on the coverlet ... Everywhere.
Snap: My back to the camera, the veil hanging down to my ass-cleft, my spine a shadowy sinuous line under the transparent fabric. I’m sitting astride Roy’s lap as he perches on the edge of the bed. With one hand he’s holding my wrists cruelly together at the small of my back, and with the other he’s twisting my head sideways so I can suck Calvin’s cock as he stands beside us.
Snap: Just my spread thighs, poised over the smooth column of Calvin's cock as if I’m about to impale myself upon it. My thighs are glistening with moisture and my sex lips visibly unfurled.
“Can you take it?” Roy whispered in my ear as he held me.
Snap. Yes, I could. All the way.
Buy With this Ring, I Thee Bed at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK :: Googleplay
