Chloe Thurlow's Blog, page 11

Reading Makes You Happier, More Intelligent & SEXIER

Reading makes you happier and when you are happier you feel sexier.

It may come as a surprise, but reading and orgasm have a lot in common – aside from the fact that to do it we often lay spread out in bed, a good book and a good roll between the sheets leaves you satisfied and eager for more.

As Oscar Wilde said: “If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.”

Oscar was smart. If he’d lived in the age of television he would have been one of those people who believed TV was for appearing on, not for watching. Research shows the tube blights brain cells and softens the synapses. If the grey matter is not stimulated, it is harder to enjoy life’s small pleasures: walking in the countryside, smelling the scent of a fresh flower, morning sex with the early sun slipping through the window, sundown sex with the tide lapping at your feet, reading

When you read a novel, you leave your ego outside the covers of the book and enter the minds of the characters. As they confront problems and make choices, you will constantly be judging those choices. You will decide who is a good person and who is a phoney, a cheat, a liar. By following the lives of others through the pages of a book, you are constantly growing, learning and developing without even realising it.

Reading is Brain Food

Reading of any kind is good for the brain. However, psychologists David Comer Kidd and Emanuele Castano at New York’s New School for Social Research discovered in a research programme that literary fiction enhances empathy, emotional intelligence and intuition; good books help readers to understand the difficulties of others and to view their own problems with greater clarity. The results were published in Science under the heading: Reading Literary Fiction Improves Theory of Mind.

Research at the UK’s Sussex University has shown that reading reduces stress; less stress equals better sleep, better sleep makes you healthier, happier and more alive. ‘Losing yourself in a book is the ultimate relaxation,’ said neuropsychologist Dr David Lewis, who led the research. ‘This is particularly poignant in uncertain economic times when we are all craving a certain amount of escapism.’

The heading on this blog – Reading Makes You Happier, More Intelligent & SEXIER – doesn’t come from studying research results. It comes from my own experience. If I am depressed, disappointed or angry, I read a book and my entire mood changes. For me, reading is morel liberating than music. Reading relieves stress, improves sleep, keeps you healthy and inspires the brain, the combination making you feel happier and happiness is in itself sexy.

Now I have a question: Can you remember the quote by Oscar Wilde?

If you can’t, go back and read the blog again. When you read something twice it stays in the mind – sometimes forever. And that’s sexy.

Now read a good book – The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Kundera); Zorba the Greek (Kazantzakis), The Glass Bead Game (Hesse), The Outsider (Camus), The Grapes of Wrath (Steinbeck). If you fancy something erotic, try A Spy in the House of Love (Anaïs Nin) or, if I may be so bold, my new novel Katie in Love.

Katie in Love is available everywhere, book or download – CLICK HERE

The post Reading Makes You Happier, More Intelligent & SEXIER appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

The American Gangster – Sex, Money and Power – Jay Robert Baer Guest Blog

The Obsession with the American Gangster

Our love affair with the American gangster has been around for more than a century. From John Dillinger to Al Capone, Benjamin (Bugsy) Siegel and John Gotti, known as the Last Godfather, they came into our lives as men who dared to do what everyone else wanted to do but were too afraid. Their total disregard for the law became a turn-on and thus began our admiration for the American gangster.

The American gangster became familiar to us in the cinema. Portrayed by Edward G Robinson, James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart, and, later, by Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro, these great actors brought these bad guys to life. They showed us upfront and personal what it was like to be one of these fearless men.

The American gangster or bad boy has everything anyone would ever want, money, power and, of course, women. They did what they wanted, whenever, and to whomever they wanted to do it to, and never asked permission for anything.

In the hit movie, Goodfellas Ray Liotta plays the infamous gangster Henry Hill. Liotta narrates the film and in one scene he explains, “We took whatever we wanted and if anyone ever complained they got hit so hard they never complained again.”

Violence was a way of life and, for many, another turn-on. Didn’t you ever want to slug someone and didn’t? The gangster did, anytime he felt it was necessary and never looked back. Let’s take a look at one aspect of the American gangster.

First You Get the Money – Then the Sex

In the movie, Scarface, Tony says to his sidekick, Manny. “In this country first you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the women.” That’s how it worked a hundred years ago and that’s how it works today. If you wanted to be surrounded by young, beautiful women, you have to have the cash and the American gangster had plenty of it.

The women who sought out these bad boys didn’t want a relationship or romance, they wanted the night life, the lavish dinners, hotel suites, jewels, travel and the biggest thrill, being seen with these powerful men. When you walked into a club on the arm of a known American gangster, you were somebody in a room full of nobodies. They made women feel alive, sexy and gave them a power that they could never experience without them.

Sex, being the ultimate power, is one of the things gangsters used their muscle and money to achieve. The women back in the Capone’s era were referred to as molls or gun molls. They were the companions of professional criminals and many of them were call girls or prostitutes. Mae Capone, Al’s wife, was a gun moll; so, too was Evelyn Frechette, girlfriend of John Dilliner, and Bonnie Parker, the notorious girlfriend of Clyde Barrow. There are many more, too many to mention.

Men like Al Capone knew he could have any woman he wanted just for the asking and the women knew if they didn’t please these men, they would cast them aside like an old shoe and find someone else in a split second. Sex was a big part of their lives, most gangsters carried on numerous affairs; while the wife stayed home and took care of the house and kids, they were out with their lover. It was a way of life.

As depicted in Goodfellas, Friday night was for the girlfriends. Henry Hills paid for furnished apartments for his lovers. He wasn’t looking for someone to talk to or share his innermost thoughts with, he was looking for sex, a release from the stressful life he lived day in and day out.

Stories have circulated that during the Capone era they would have orgies in Capone’s hotel suites that lasted for days. After the orgies were over, their drunken, naked bodies filled the beds and lined the floors along with dozens of empty booze bottles, cans and trash. The stench of stale smoke lingered and cigarette butts and ash filled the ashtrays and spilled onto the tables and counter tops.

Many of the women who worked for Capone were prostitutes. In 1910, a special commission reported that five thousand full-time prostitutes and ten thousand part-timers worked the city. Combined, according to the figures, they were responsible for more than 27 million sex acts a year. Al Capone’s promiscuity  led him to develop syphilis which, years later, tragically ended his life.

Benjamin (Bugsy) Siegel, the ultimate womanizer, playboy and sex addict, was also married and had numerous sexual companions who fancied the life of the silver screen. Bugsy admired models, actors and showgirls. He was so obsessed with women that at times it got in the way of doing business, which enraged his partner Meyer Lansky, who did not approve of his lifestyle.

Virginia Hill, a stunning, sexy starlet, caught Siegel’s attention when they met in California. She became his most steady mistress. Legend has it they fought as much as they made love, but this did not stop Siegel from womanizing. Other gossip said that they were secretly married in Mexico, but Siegel never divorced his wife Esta.

Virginia was the last woman to see Siegel alive. While relaxing in his home, sitting on a sofa, he was shot several times and killed, most likely on the orders of Lansky, his long-time friend and business partner. Lansky and the syndicate that backed the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas thought Siegel had over-spent by millions constructing the building. Years later, Virginia Hill committed suicide.

John Gotti was known as the Dapper Don because of his exquisite attire, Brioni suits and grooming. However, his story of affairs and promiscuity was different from the rest. Gotti never cheated on his wife, Victoria, and was probably the one American gangster who stayed loyal.

There you have it, the life and death of the bad boys. Money, power and sex filled their lives only to, sooner than later, end it. Was it worth it? The answer may be buried forever.

By Jay Robert Baer @ www.screenwriting.com

Photo Robert de Niro and Ray Liotta in Goodfellas.

The post The American Gangster – Sex, Money and Power – Jay Robert Baer Guest Blog appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Making Right Choices is the Key to Happiness

We live in the world created by our own choices. Those choices can have a minor, profound, even a life-changing effect on our lives.

The summer I left school, I got a job as an intern in a real estate office. One day, I found myself driving a man to view a house surrounded by orchards in the Kent countryside. That morning, I had dressed in black heels, a cream silk blouse and a dark suit with a tight skirt.

The skirt rose up my thighs as I was driving, making my cheeks bloom pink in embarrassment. I was damp inside the suit, which was too heavy for the summer, and I snapped the heel off my shoe on the crazy-paving path leading to the house.

The choices I had made that morning left me feeling hot, silly and immature. Those choices had another, more significant effect, which I will come to later.

Generally, choosing what you are going to wear only effects ourselves. But each day, we make choices that effect others: are we going to break the speed limit driving, endangering lives; leave a broken refrigerator in the street when nobody’s looking; speak loudly on our iPhone while on the bus or in the doctor’s waiting room? Are we going to give a dollar to the beggar or cross the street?

We become the person we are by making choices. Every time we reach a crossroad and go left rather than right, the person who sets out one way becomes different from that other person – our shadow, perhaps – who chose to go the other. We will cross different frontiers, meet different barriers to overcome, enjoy and recoil from completely different experiences.

As we move along each new path, on the way we meet different people who will affect us and encourage us in different ways to that person we would have become had we chosen to go in the opposite direction. We are imbued with certain qualities and characteristics, but destiny is not a map we are obliged to follow. We become who we are and achieve what we are capable of through the choices we make.

Choices for Today

Albert Camus (one of my favourite writers) said: Life is a sum of all your choices, and adds: So, what are you doing today?

The suit and silk blouse I wore that day to the real estate office wasn’t chosen by me. It was inspired by Maggie Gyllenhaal from the movie Secretary, which had just reached the cinema in Canterbury. I was waiting for the results of my pre-university exams and desperate at eighteen, after years at an all-girl’s boarding school, to be free to make my own choices.

Secretary (directed by Steven Shainberg, based on a short story by Mary Gaitskill) explores the relationship between Lee Holloway, a submissive, emotionally-awkward secretary (Maggie Gyllenhaal) and E. Edward Grey, her dominant boss, (James Spader).

With scenes of spanking and BDSM that are erotic but subtle, I identified so completely with the secretary, I chose in my first job to dress as she dressed and, like her, I allowed myself to be dominated by the man I drove that day into the Kent countryside to view a house – which he never bought.

I set out on a path without regret and the experience allowed me to write about that day in my novel Katie in Love with an authenticity that brings the sequence to life. Did I carry on down the road Lee Holloway was on in Secretary? No, I began to think for myself, reached the crossroad and chose another path.

As Lao-tzu put it: If you do not change direction you may end up where you are heading.

‘… beautifully written literary jewel with likeable characters and a plot that held me transfixed to the pages.

Katie Boyd, troubled by modern times and modern love, finds she is falling for the volunteer doctor Tom Bridge and fights the feeling through a winter of reflection on her past, the state of the world and the future with its varying potentials until she arrives at the crossroads where she must make a choice that will have long lasting consequences. Gripping, entertaining, sensual, totally brilliant, Chloe Thurlow is a writer to watch.’

5**** Review by President Brown CLICK FOR AMAZON

The post Making Right Choices is the Key to Happiness appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Masturbation Keeps You Healthy, Wealthy & Wise

Masturbation Guest Blog by Jason Roberts

In the TV show Seinfeld, there is an episode titled “The Contest.” The contest is all about who can refrain from masturbation the longest. One of Jerry’s lines is: ‘We have to do it. It’s part of our lifestyle.’

Seinfeld is correct. It is part of our lifestyle, a man’s lifestyle. According to Men’s Health magazine, 95% of men masturbate. Pleasuring yourself is not only stimulating and enjoyable, it is also healthy. Did you know that men who masturbate more than five times a week are three times less likely to have prostate cancer?

In fact, you are doing yourself a huge favor bringing on your own orgasm. Masturbation helps you sleep better, it relieves stress, helps to keep your blood pressure normal and your heart in good shape. Your re-productive organs and brain chemistry are also positively affected by masturbation. Masturbation enhances your immune system, plus, think about it, masturbation is safe sex. I never heard of anyone getting an STD by touching themselves.

Masturbation Fantasy Fest

Stroking yourself also works wonders on your brain cells. Masturbation allows you to be with any woman, or any number of women, you want. Whomever you can imagine, in whatever position, at whatever time and in whatever place, your are the master of your own sensual destiny. Your every desire and fantasy is in your own hands.

How about that sexy, large breasted, blonde secretary who works down  the hall. How many times do you pass her desk every day and wonder what it would be like to rip off her clothes, throw the junk off her desk and lay her right there? I know you have wondered what her breasts, lips and vagina tastes like. Masturbation lets you be with her any time you want.

Guys, don’t you have a neighbor who is totally gorgeous? Someone you can’t get out of your mind? Don’t you get hard just watching her slip into her car or take out the trash? Maybe she has long, shiny, flowing red hair, lips like Angelina Jolie, and a butt so tight all you can’t stop thinking about grabbing it and making her yours. The problem is, that little red head is married to the Hulk, and if you even look at her the wrong way he may snap your neck.

It doesn’t have to be like that. Just step into the shower, adjust the temperature to warm, let the waters soothe your aching mind and body, lather up and be with the woman you want.

More Masturbation Benefits

I’m sure you knew this, guys, but just in case: masturbating before you have sex helps you last longer because you won’t be ready to shoot so fast. It’s like taking Viagra, only natural. You can be assured of staying rock hard, pleasuring your woman and all the time feeling like a stud.

Not only that, some women get turned on watching a man masturbate. It will make them want to please you even more, and all you will have to do is guide her along. Get out the moisturiser and show her what you want. A nice, slow hand job can work wonders and bring you to an exhilarating orgasm.

Another problem many single men face is the time and money it takes to get yourself into a sexual situation. You have to meet someone, take her out a few times and, hopefully, by the fourth or fifth date, you get lucky. Or maybe not so lucky if she doesn’t know what the hell she is doing.

We have all been there. Forget it. Take care of business yourself, save time and lots of cash – it’s wise and, it may not make you wealthy, but it won’t drain your pockets either.  One more thing, you don’t need any of the reasons above to masturbate. If you just feel like doing it, go ahead and give yourself the gratification you deserve.

Now read the female perspective in Chloe’s Female Masturbation the Only Cure for Insomnia

The post Masturbation Keeps You Healthy, Wealthy & Wise appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Threesomes – Erotic Heights of a Ménage à Trois

Threesomes are decadent. Threesomes are sexy. Threesomes allow you to explore the deep wells and dusty corners of your own erotic self.

What happens if you meet two guys, you fancy them both and they fancy you? Are you going to sleep with one and break the other’s heart? No. You are going to break the rules, cross the barriers, push back the boundaries and triple up.

Onesomes are onanism, seeds shed in the void. Twosomes are a romantic table à deux, a love fantasy, even reproduction. Threesomes are a chance to transgress and transgression is at the heart of the erotic.

That old roué Georges Bataille tells us ‘Eroticism is assenting to life up to the point of death.’ Then, being French, Georges styled threesomes a ménage à trois – a phrase that sounds like the essence of sex as ticky-tacky sounds sticky and pins and needles make you feel itchy-scratchy.

A ménage à trois (household of three) traditionally describes a married couple who invite a third party to put some élan in their dreary aimer la vie – their love life. In French literature and la nouvelle vague, a man is usually drawn into the triangle to make love to a disgruntled wife while her husband gets his kicks twirling moustache and playing the voyeur (with a copy of Camus’s The Myth of Sisyphus on the bedside table).

The great crusade of internet porn in the temples of erotica frequently provides one girl and two guys (habitually clone-like, muscles emblazoned with Celtic rings, shaved from scalp to genitals) entering her every pubescent orifice two at a time. In our age of Enlightenment, all-male and all-female liaison are born on the wings of ménage à trois.

Legendary Threesomes

History is packed with fabled threesomes: Sir William Hamilton, his wife Emma and Lord Nelson, a tryst that lasted from 1799 until the admiral’s death in 1805; Aldous Huxley (author of Brave New World), his wife Maria and Mary Hutchinson; Emma Jung, who allowed her psychoanalyst husband Carl in 1913 to bring his a young patient, Toni Wolff, into the marital bed.

For European Royalty, threesomes are virtually de rigueur. As Princess Diana told Martin Bashir in the Panorama Interview in November 1995, ‘Well, there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded.’

The most romantic of all threesomes takes Mary Godwin at the age of sixteen in 1813 between the sheets with Claire Clairmont, the daughter of Lord Byron, and Mary’s lover, Percy Bysshe Shelley, with whom she had eloped and would eventually marry. Was it that existential blend of love and lust as a nineteenth century teenager that inspired Mary Shelley to reach through the cloying mists of the predictable to write the masterpiece Frankenstein?

Movie Threesomes

There was a great deal of latino promise with Woody Allen’s  Vicky Cristina Barcelona, but Woody’s erotic eye must have caught a mosquito bite on set in Spain where his hunky artist Juan Antonio, played by hunky Javier Bardem, takes naïve Americans Rebecca Hall (Vicky) and Scarlett Johansson (Cristina) for a dirty weekend à trois. Before they decide who is going to put what into whom, they are interrupted by Juan Antonio’s psychopathic ex-wife, Maria Elena, played by a show-stealing Penelope Cruz, whose lip-smacking screen-wide kiss with Cristina at least had the tang of hot chilli peppers on a warm Mediterranean night.

I was reminded of Vicky Cristina Barcelona having just seen the far better ménage movie El sexo de los ángeles – Angels of Sex. Wannabe photographer Carla (the stunning Astrid Bergès-Frisbey) and art-student Bruno (Álvaro Cervantes) are in love. Then, free-spirit karate teacher Rai (Llorenç González) enters their idyll and (here’s the twist) Bruno fancies him like mad. Now, how are they going to work it out? Director Xavier Villaverde with writer Ana Maroto got out the calculator, they added 2 +1 and filmed a threesome.

“Chloe Thurlow is a gifted writer who has created in Katie in Love an extraordinary blend of romance and erotica in a literary, persuasive style that held me gripped from the beginning to the very last page. Ms Thurlow invites us so deep into the mind of Katie, we can see the synapses and cells at work – and in Tom, the new love in her life, we find a man who puts, not just Katie’s life in balance, but in many respects the whole world. Excellent. I cannot recommend this novel enough.” Arthur Nazaretin on Amazon –

CLICK CLICK for your copy of KATIE IN LOVE

The post Threesomes – Erotic Heights of a Ménage à Trois appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Female Masturbation the Only Cure for Insomnia

Female masturbation isn’t only good for your health and happiness, you sleep better with that sticky feeling between your legs and the sultry whiff of perfume rising from under the bedsheets.

Female masturbation helps girls feel more confident, secure and happy to be exactly who they are. Whatever you have read about female masturbation in the past, press the delete button and begin with a new mindset.

Here’s an irony: with little practise, it is easier to orgasm on your own than with a partner. And the girl who learns how to bring herself off will orgasm more easily when she shares her bed with him or her – or them, for that matter.

Here’s a fact: jizzing with a partner or alone provides the same benefits to health and well-being – an upsurge in the antibody immunoglobulin, an immune-booster; a spike in the ‘cuddle drug’ hormone oxytocin, a natural pain killer; and the release of dehydroepiandrosterone, the hormone trigger that keeps skin healthy, improves immunity and is believed to encourage longevity. If you are healthy and happy, you live longer.

It has long been known that men who masturbate regularly are less likely to suffer prostate cancer. Now, new studies show that female masturbation relieves urinary tract infections, and the fluids that oil the cervix when you scream your way through the big O help to prevent cervical infections.

Stressed at the end of a long hard day? Sleep distant. Lines burrowing into your brow? Run a hot bath with plenty of bubbles (candles, too, splash out for heaven’s sake!) and enjoy the private pleasures available at your fingertips.

A splooge-selfie releases the wonder-hormone dopamine, followed by those calming waves of oxytocin, the afterglow that puts diamonds in your eyes and combats insomnia – in fact some girls, not mentioning any names, can’t get to sleep any other way.

The bath was surely invented for female masturbation. A showerhead with a variety of settings can, on jet, nurse the clitoris to a state of wanton ecstasy. Try putting penis shower head into your Google search and look forward to some surprises. Female masturbation is hot business. Even Amazon are cashing in on the trend selling the amazing Libertine Urethral Faucet Plug.

Female Masturbation History

When the steam train was first put on rails, Victorian scientists calculated that if people went more than 30 miles per hour, their heads would explode. At that time, female masturbation was riddled with the same nonsense. Boys were told they would go blind playing with themselves and girls who got themselves off were sent to insane asylums where, ironically, they spent the rest of their lives washing bedsheets.

Sigmund Freud, the best known and surely the worst psychoanalyst ever, believed girls suffered penis envy while boys lived in fear of castration. He once described female masturbation as “infantile behaviour acceptable only for young girls.”

If the Victorians had taken the time to look back to the beginning of history, they would have discovered that in ancient Egypt the god Atum was believed to have created the universe by masturbating to ejaculation (look up at the Milky Way on a clear night), and the ebb and flow of the Nile was attributed to the frequency of Atum’s ejaculations. Egyptian Pharaohs in an act of devotion would masturbate ceremoniously into the Nile.

The ancient Greeks, those lovers of the bacchanal, considered both male and female masturbation a healthy substitute for other forms of sexual pleasure, as well as a safety valve against destructive sexual frustration. Greeks also dealt with female masturbation in both their art and literature.

The Romans were said to ‘prefer the left hand for masturbation.’ While the poet Martial considered masturbation an inferior form of sexual release only fit for slaves. He was a snob.

There is a clay figurine from the 4th century BC found on the island of Malta showing a woman dousing her digits and, going back to the earliest cave paintings on every continent, depictions of female masturbation make the timeless connection between human sexuality and nature’s abundance.

Tired and weary? Stressed and frustrated? Can’t sleep? Run a bath and have a night in with the girls.

Please share and please leave comments on your favourite female masturbation techniques.

The post Female Masturbation the Only Cure for Insomnia appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

What Does Sex Mean To Me?

Christian Schewanowsky Guest Blog

What does sex mean to you? And what does sex mean to me.

When I was a teenager it was all about lust. A seemingly endless lust for girls with nice round breasts and small hips, wearing virtually nothing. I collected pictures like many teenaged boys do.

I was still a virgin when I went to university, something that changed in my first year, a few weeks after I moved away from home. The girl was one year older than me. I was hooked by her smile and laughter (okay, and by her nice and big breasts which she tried to hide).

We were together for 14 months and lost no opportunity to have sex, mostly for long hours in our beds or on the couch. But we also used other places. It was wonderful sex, free, energetic, caring, without a purpose. We wanted to give love and receive love. We wanted to assure each other of the attractiveness of each other (without even considering it). We did not plan for a common future. It was pure joy and, for a short while, I thought I knew the answer to the questions: what does sex mean?

Then I had to move on. Sex became sparse, my life dominated by work. I had a few encounters, nothing really to speak of. I then had one longer relationship, with a slim, classy Spanish girl, but she was frigid. It was as joyful as sleeping with a stone. She did not react to touches, gentle kisses, licking, nibbling, soft sex, hard sex. I always came before her and she complained that I did not have enough patience. She left for her home country to make a career while I went traveling abroad. God bless her.

My wife followed. Sex was never at the center of our life. It happened, but other things seemed to be more important. We enjoyed sex as an element of being together, but rarely was it joyful, playful, enthusiastic, not even relaxed. It lacked fantasy. After the kids were born, we had less and less sex. Then, when the kids were still in elementary school, our sex life came to a complete stop and we never had sex again. I was a faithful husband for 15 years until I realized: I don’t love my wife anymore. I am in love with someone else, a colleague with whom I worked.

After this experience, I looked for opportunities to have sex outside my marriage. I am not ashamed of this. It did not take away anything from my wife, as there was nothing left to take away. She was so occupied with the home and children, she did not seem to miss sex or notice any change in me at all. We split up, a consequence of the lack of attention and appreciation we had for each other.

During my quest to find out what does sex mean, I learned a great deal – about women, fake orgasms, genuine lust and about myself. I learned that many women want to talk first before they follow a man to his bed. Women require genuine appreciation (so never fake it!); they want to be respected and admired before they will even consider having sex with a man they have just met.

After my years of marriage, I discovered this: many women see sex as a way to show their true devotion to this single man with whom they sleep. For them, sex is a matter of faith. No faith, no more sex. Ever. One detour – and it’s over. Because for most women, sex is the ultimate proof of togetherness, the final step to let down the drawbridge of protection. These women are often called ‘classy’, because they stick to those values. Which I appreciate.

So I asked myself: what does sex mean to me?

I learned over the years: sex is wonderful. It boosts your hormones, makes you feel great (even without orgasm), valued and honored. It makes you feel relaxed, comfortable, and protects you from worldly mischief. This is also true when you have sex with a caring professional who wants to give love, not only service.

When you have sex with a good friend, some qualities are added: it deepens your connection, unites you against the world outside, increases the trust in each other, makes you feel better. It is not always necessary to be in love, or to change your relationship from friendship to love, and having sex with a good friend lifts obligations from your shoulders, which makes sex more enjoyable.

Sure: if you love the person you have sex with it can be the ultimate thing to have sex. It can rip dark clouds open and let the sun stream in, brighten even the darkest day. Sex can make you melt together like amalgam, unable to distinguish who is who, where one body starts and the other ends. I have also had that. But this comes at the price of monogamy, at least for the majority of relationships. You need to find out if you are made for this. I am not so sure anymore about myself.

Having sex just for the fun of it is a truly moving experience. Kissing each other, stroking your partner, slowly undressing, feeling his hardness or her wetness in anticipation, then uniting slowly together. Enjoy the hunger before you join in common lust, and if you enjoy sex together, keep it up until it stops being a joy. Don’t stop early, and don’t extend it beyond what you both like. Find your rhythm, and ride the wave.

And if you see such an opportunity just by looking into the eyes of someone of the opposite sex, take it. And enjoy it as if there were no tomorrow. This is love for life, the true energy that keeps us all afloat. What does sex mean? This is what sex means.

Read Christian Schewanowsky’s ‘Follow Your Instincts & Find Yourself.’ Goldsmith.of.words@gmx.de

The post What Does Sex Mean To Me? appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Spanked For Being A Naughty Girl

Spanked! She liked that word. She wasn’t sure why. Naked! She liked that word, too. Like spanked, naked was so descriptive, so raw, so exposed.

A smile lifted the corners of her lips. Blocks of shadow like the carriages of a slowly moving train slid over the pale green walls. The sun gave the room’s far corners a golden glow. Greta could see her dress abandoned on the back of a chair and recalled how much care had gone into choosing it.

She was sticky, every nerve ending humming. It was as if something sleeping inside her had opened its eyes and was seeing the world for the first time. She ran her palms over her breasts, across her stomach, down to the gooey pool between her legs. She was a bubble of mercury that could take any shape, bow and bend to any position.

She arched her back and stretched her long legs. The years of tap and ballet classes had shaped and smoothed her limbs. She took a deep breath. She felt as if she had taken some marvellous drug that made you feel that you had become exactly what you were meant to be.

She glanced towards the windows. It was the beginning of June and through the half- opened curtains she could see wisps of white cloud on a pastel sky. She had slept like a baby and was fully awake. Every line and detail was clear, every object solid, the dresser with its carved gilt handles, the wardrobe, the leather belt coiled like a snake on the chair beside her dress.

Greta had been playing roles since she was little. That’s what actresses do. You get caught up in the character and your own personality slips through the cracks a bit at a time. Now, all the bits had reassembled. She was herself again.

She snuggled down in the enormous bed, the nub of the starched sheet scratchy against her nipples as she wriggled. She loved being naked in the pale green room with the scalloped ceiling embossed with fleur- de-lys, the light crisscrossing in prisms as it angled through the leaded windows.

It would be very easy to get used to this, she thought. Luxury. Comfort. Pampering. Richard brewing coffee. She could smell it floating down the hallway, merging with the sweet perfumes wafting up from down under.

Spanked For Masturbation

Her hands roamed over her body as if she were feeling the wrappings in a game of pass the parcel, over her hips and up to her breasts. I do declare. They have grown bigger overnight. Her fingertips traced circles around her dimpled pink aureoles and the pressure made her nipples sizzle and ping. Her ribcage was a musical instrument, a harp, perhaps, where practised hands could coax from her the dulcet tones you would hear in old churches rich with polished wood dappled by coins of sunlight.

She twiddled her toes, so far away and neglected at the foot of the bed, and decided that her ribcage wasn’t a harp at all. It is a keyboard where virtuosos will compose triumphant marches. Greta imagined young soldiers in their multitudes stamping by six abreast as she stood naked on a high podium  inspecting the parade.

When she was little and the summers were hot, Greta would run through the garden without anything on. Mother would be drawing in a pad, sketches for paintings she never completed. She would watch her from the shade of the plum tree and, sometimes, she would slip from her clothes and chase Greta through the sea of daisies that patterned the grass, two naked nymphs in a secret garden.

Greta would jump in the fish pond and her mother would slide into the slimy water laughing at her own foolishness. Her mother had studied art, she wanted to be a painter, but something held her back. Greta didn’t know why. When Greta decided at sixteen to go to drama school her father had his doubts, but Mother had seemed quietly pleased.

Greta was far away in that other world as her fingers vanished into the hollows below her ribs. They slid ponderously across her tummy to the silky forest of her pubic hair, lush as the grass in the garden at home. A naughty finger popped into her pussy like a dormouse popping out of a hole and had a quick look around. Mmm. Very pretty. All glossy and wet, a place for everything and everything in its place.

That naughty finger slid back the hood guarding her clitoris and the bud blossomed into a flower. Her eyes closed involuntarily, her knees moved into an arch and she didn’t hear Richard arriving with the coffee and warm croissants with that toasty smell that made her think of Paris.

Spanked and Bound

‘You bad girl. You started without me.’

Greta felt as if she’d been caught cheating in an exam at school. ‘Oh dear…’

‘And naughty girls have to be spanked.’

Greta wasn’t sure what to say, and did what a director named Jason Wise at the National once told her to do when in doubt and that’s say….ooo, yes please.

‘Ooo, yes please,’ she murmured.

Richard placed the tray on the dresser and in his expression as he opened the top drawer was the look of someone doing mental arithmetic. She watched with eyes growing bigger as he withdrew a blue silk scarf that kept growing longer and longer, an endless blue river of shiny fabric that he passed through his hands like a fisherman at sea, and she thought he was probably a magician in his spare time and could do all sorts of enchanting tricks. As he moved away, the scarf spiralled behind, skipping and dancing over the wooden floor.

He stood motionless beside the bed and she had a feeling that he had finished doing his sums. Their eyes met and remained locked as, in one swift movement, he pulled back the sheet, the linen cracking like a yacht sail as it gusted across the room. Greta had straightened her legs, her arms were at her side in a pose that in role playing she had been taught was contrite, obedient. Her mind was a blank sheet of paper waiting to be written on.

He slipped his hands under her back and thighs and rolled her over. She felt the soft touch of silk as he tied the scarf around her right wrist.

‘Have you been a naughty girl?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘And what happens to naughty girls?’

‘They are disciplined.’

‘And how are they disciplined?’

‘They have to be spanked.’

She knew the right lines. It was the sort of thing you do in improv. And she adored saying the word spanked.

As they were speaking, Richard had somehow moved the scarf under the bed and was tying her left wrist with a slip knot that grew tighter if she struggled. Not that she had any intention of struggling. She could roll about if she wanted, but only as far as her bonds would allow and it was such a relief to be lying there without having to think about anything at all. It was like being a pet pussy cat and she purred as he bent to kiss her shoulder blades.

Richard tied her left ankle with another pale blue scarf that he took from the drawer and she thought that was typical. Richard liked everything to be neat, coordinated. She studied his shapely bottom in boxer shorts as he bent to pass the scarf below the bed to tie her right ankle.

Her head was buried in the pillow. She felt Richard straddle her. The boxers had gone. She could feel his hard cock bouncing over her back. He ran his tongue up her spine. He kissed her neck and the spot tingled he was such a good kisser. Her mouth had fallen open and she was surprised to feel it being filled with what seemed to be a rubber ball about the size of a pingpong ball. Weird, but not unpleasant. The ball was attached to a strap and she could feel Richard dextrously buckling it up at the back of her head. She tried to speak and it came out as gobbledegook, like the sound of water draining from a bath, bubble, bubble, bobble, gobble.

Ohmygod, now what?

Greta realised that a stiff covering was being pulled over her head and it was dark and strange with the morning light suddenly extinguished. She had known Richard for…what, less than twelve hours, and here she was tied to his bed hooded and gagged and instead of being afraid she felt the blood beating in her nipples, a dewy dampness between her spread thighs.

Swish. Swish.

She heard the crack of his leather belt across her bottom before she felt the pain. And when she felt the pain, like a bee sting from a really big bee, it was too late to scream, not that she could have screamed, and anyway, another crack had followed the first and the air had fled from her lungs.

Click for “A Girl’s Adventure” on Amazon

5***** “A Girl’s Adventure is the sauciest, sexiest most erotic book you will ever read. Chloe Thurlow is an amazing writer, she brings her characters to life and, once you know them, she puts them through every kind of pleasure and pain until they come out the other end reborn and ready for the next adventure – as you will be once you read this book.” Katherine Nevitt, on Amazon

The post Spanked For Being A Naughty Girl appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Follow Your Instincts & You Find Yourself

Christian Schewanowsky Guest Blog

Whenever I read blogs about the closeness of a man and a woman, I question myself: is that really so? How and what would I feel if I did this or that?

As a man of 51, I have seen and experienced many things with women. My marriage and family life long behind, I have been looking around for the last 10 years, searching, exploring, discovering  I visited places where you can find what you are looking for. And I realised: every man is different in his needs and interests.

So, ladies, please keep this in mind: if you like a man, this is no guarantee that he likes you as well. The same is true in reverse.

When I started exploring the world of bodily pleasure again (after being a faithful husband for many years), I knew I liked nice big breasts; firm breasts that show hard nipples when a woman is excited. I like to suck and bite a little, and gently stroke the skin surrounding the nipples with my warm fingertips. I like to stand behind a woman, holding her breasts from behind, and massage them gently while my cock swells and touches her butt to show her I am willing to have sex later.

I developed many phantasies based on this: undressing a nurse, a hotel maid, a waitress. Certainly a woman wearing any kind of uniform. And doing so, I realised: my phantasy is just as important as what my hands and my skin experience.

Follow Your Instincts & Desires

When I strolled the streets and visited the bars of the world, watching women, I smiled at them and studied their reaction to my smile. The professionals – I don’t like the word whores, because it downgrades some wonderful women who choose to sell their bodies out of sheer lust for sex; these women always smiled back seductively, often asking to be invited for a drink as the first step to a later pickup.

Many of them have wonderful smiles that touched me deep inside. But I realized, too, that their smiles can become tiresome when you get used to them, which is not a good thing, because a smile should be reserved for the ones we like.

Then I realised that there were women, not many, whom I can touch with my smile, my open smile that says: I love the world, I love my life, and I love you as the person you are right now. And they smiled back, suddenly opening their souls, which made my heart race and release the hormones in my body. And so I learned: I need smiles from a woman to get hooked.

Other insights followed, which I might write about later. But please keep in mind that there are many things one needs in order to get excited. For me, it is the ‘shape’ of the one I would like to spend the night with, the fantasies (lots of) I want to share, and it is the smile that shows me she is open for a heavenly experience.

And these things are different for all of us. So my recommendation certainly is: follow your instincts, not books.

Christian Schewanowsky Goldsmith.of.words@gmx.de

The post Follow Your Instincts & You Find Yourself appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Why Bare Legs Protest is Just the Beginning

We all know bare breasts make men go a little gaga. Now we learn, bare legs can drive them to murder.

It was a warm evening in June and two girls slipped into their short skirts and low-heeled shoes. Both hairdressers working in the same salon, the girls styled each other’s hair, put on make-up, then walked into town.

When they reached the market, the men haggling over the goods saw the girls with their bare legs and started shouting abuse. Women joined in, screaming: whores, she-devils, temptresses. They became hysterical. Some men grabbed the girls and dragged them to the centre of the market. Someone produced a length of rope.

‘Lynch them, lynch them,’ the mob cried.

As the nooses were knotted, the police arrived in the nick of time and made two arrests. No, not the ringleaders, they arrested the two girls with bare legs for ‘violating public decency.’

The incident took place on 6 June, in Inezgane, in the south of Morocco, where the law does not define a dress code, and the president of the Moroccan Association of Human Rights, Abdelaziz Sellami, told Morocco World News, that the arrest of the two girls was ‘a flagrant transgression of individual freedoms.’

Human rights organisations have collected 20,000 signatures in support of the girls, who are waiting to find out whether the Minister of Justice intends to proceed with the charges. The girls are optimistic. The Minister must adore women. He has two wives.

Arab Women Against Islamists

The incident comes a few weeks after Jennifer Lopez learned that she is being sued by an ‘educational group’ for ‘tarnishing women’s honour’ at the Mawazine International Music Festival in Morocco, which was televised and seen by millions with J.Lo in a skimpy costume wiggling her famous backside.

While Morocco debates bare legs and bottoms, it must decide where it stands, in present times or with one foot in the Middle Ages. The same applies to Lebanon where, in September 2014, three defiant girls took to the street topless and burnt an IS (Islamic State) flag, their torsos painted in slogans such as: Arab Women Against Islamists.

Bare Legs and Body Paint

Women’s Right to Choose

In Tunisia, a young woman named Amina published photos of herself semi-naked on the internet. Her subsequent struggle against the authorities was supported by Femen, a radical feminist group founded in Ukraine in 2008 and now based in Paris.

Femen’s international “topless jihad” had support across Europe, with bare breasted girls demonstrating outside the Ahmadiyya-Moschee in Berlin; in Stockholm; at the Brussels Mosque; in Kiev; at the Tunisian Consulate in Milan, and in Paris, both outside the Tunisian Embassy and the Great Mosque.

In Spain, Femen activists have targeted banks in protest over the world debt crisis and invaded Parliament topless to show their anger over the country’s right-wing Popular Party’s draconian changes to the abortion laws.

Bare Breasts in the Spanish Parliament

While J.Lo was making sexy moves in Morocco, Scout Willis, daughter of Hollywood stars Bruce and Demi Moore, paraded topless through the streets of New York in June to protest Instagram taking down her account for showing a rosy nipple that offended other users. ‘No woman should be made to feel ashamed of her body,’ Scout told reporters.

Which is both true and underlines the point made by the two girls with bare legs (see main picture) who took to the streets of Inezgane, a modern town near Agadir. The fact that they barely survived death at the hands of the mob sits at the heart of the clash between traditional Islam and western notions of personal freedom – and, it has to be said, a freedom when it comes to women that is always in danger of being eroded.

The confrontation also serves as a reminder that it is the young, and more often than not, the women, who lead the protest against conformist and reactionary forces, not with Kalashnikovs and roadside bombs, but bare breasts, styled hair, bare legs, and enormous courage that deserves the support of women everywhere.

Please share, it’s important – 

The post Why Bare Legs Protest is Just the Beginning appeared first on Erotic romance writer Chloe Thurlow.