Chloe Thurlow's Blog, page 2

The Sense of Love Can Be Found Through All The Five Senses

Making sense of love when love makes no sense needs the five senses working together like a team of archaeologists digging deep into the soul.

What is love? I knew the answer once. Then forgot it again. Then I wrote the novel Katie in Love and it all came back to me.

When love comes it is overwhelming, a tidal wave washing over your heart. When love leaves your heart is a dry, empty, a desert island without vegetation, a void with a hole through the centre. They say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It isn’t true. Love is fleeting. Hate is eternal. After love there is kindness. After hatred there is emptiness. Making sense of love is like doing a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces are blank.

Taste of Love

Love tastes of lemon and ricotta, almond milk with a pinch of salt, Chinese food on far away beaches, pollen to the honey bee. Love tastes of oxytocin, serotonin and melatonin, that blend of seminal chemicals that make you high and, conversely, aids sleep. Love tastes of cherries picked from the tree in August, ice cold cava at three on a scorching afternoon, the air at daybreak after dancing on tables till dawn.

When you are in love you lose your appetite. Love is the gas that fuels an empty tank. When you fall in love, your taste buds modify, adapt, open like a flower. A single tablet of chocolate has the erotic tang of some alien fruit. Love touches the palate like crystal water from the Holy Grail, a hint of paradise. Love tastes of the future. It is positive, optimistic, the elixir of life.

Sight of Love

Love is the sight of your lover’s face in the crowd, his picture in old photograph albums, his legs moving as he dances to Bruce Springsteen, the video on your iPhone when he gives a speech at a friend’s wedding.

You make sense of love seeing your reflection in the mirror making love, when you see your face by chance in a shop window and realise you are smiling. Love is the sight of old friends and new land after a long journey at sea. Love is a spectacular landscape, the rising sun and setting sun, the full moon low in the sky, the stars on the clearest night.

Sound of Love

Love sounds like your name being called by your lover. Love sounds like naked skin slapping naked skin, the telephone ringing with the call you were waiting for. Lovers love the sound of silence after making love, the sound of butterfly breath on your neck as you snuggle, the tree branch tapping the window pane, the traffic in the cold distance while you lay wrapped in erogenous warmth.

Love sounds like Eric Clapton’s guitar, Bach’s organ, Mozart’s imagination, the cool wind blowing on hot days, Pink Floyd driving fast on an empty road. Love sounds like an echo from somewhere deep inside. Love is the sound of fury, the sound of one hand clapping, the sound of Om. You make sense of love when you hear a baby’s heartbeat.

Smell of Love

Loves smells of the rain, the sea on sunny days, red nail varnish when you are wearing a red dress. Love smells of sweat after sex, the muggy air beneath the bedsheets, the scent of flowers your lover sends when he’s far away. Love smells of warm male jizz with its hint of secrets and mystery.

You make sense of love when you smell the fragrance of old trees deep in the forest, the cologne of the city streets where you walked with your lover, the perfume of morning bedsheets.

Touch of Love

You understand the sense of love when your lover’s hand touches your breast. You appreciate the sense of love when your lover’s tongue reached your eager clitoris. You know the sense of love when your lover’s cock fills the sense-laden walls of your throat.

Love is the touch of the sun’s hot rays and the moon’s cold light, the feel of wet grass and warm sand beneath your feet. Love is the touch of the cool free air when you fly in a hot air balloon. The sense of love touches your heart when you fall in love and the sense of love is a broken bird that cannot fly when your heart is broken.

Katie in Love is on offer at Amazon

“…a passionate journal of one young woman’s resistance to all that is conventional and her growing confidence as she embraces the joy of love,” Elizabeth Woodham, Amazon.co.uk

“They just don’t write books like this anymore. Thurlow spins a tale like she’s travelled to us from a classier time to bring fine literature to the masses,” India Reid, Amazon.com

 

The post The Sense of Love Can Be Found Through All The Five Senses appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

Running Barefoot is Good for Your Health – and Sexy Too

Who is this Girl?

Girls running barefoot is an image that appeals to the caveman instincts woven through the spirals of our DNA. Like all animals, when the female bolts, the male follows. Of course, running barefoot is not only a question of girls fleeing, but girls enticing the male to give chase. Escaping is fun. Getting caught is divine.

Girls running is sexy. I’m not sure why. Girls running barefoot on the sand or wet grass is sensual, feminine. Look at any couple on the beach and you’ll see he always keeps his shoes on. She takes hers off. Women are more attuned to their surroundings, nature, the heartbeat of the earth. Who is that girl pictured right? She is you, she is me, she is every woman. She stares with eyes fixed on the future and feet planted in the present. She is an earth child, fecund, resolute, robust.

Running barefoot as a metaphor for freedom. We run, not to escape, so much as to arrive somewhere new. The faster you run, the nearer the the future comes. The only permanence is change. Running barefoot reminds us of this.

We were born to run. Barefoot running was the only way to run for thousands of years. When we lost our connection to the earth, we began to build our buildings higher as if God was in the sky, not walking among us on Earth. If architecture is the signature of our humanity, we have clogged the world with words and covered the maps with symbols. 

Running Barefoot isn the Garden

We had a large garden with a high wall at home where I grew up in Kent. Running barefoot on the grass with daddy chasing me is a memory I cherish. On hot days, I would run naked around the flower beds and he would spray me with the hose. Such a small thing can bring so much joy.

I remember that last time when I was six or seven. Mother came out of the back door through the greenhouse with her prize orchids carrying a large bath towel and a determined expression. As I ran with daddy and the spray of water behind me, Mother scooped me up into the towel.

‘That’s quite enough of that,’ she said.

I am not sure if she was talking to me or my father. But he never chased me through the garden again. I realised that day that I had a bond with him that I would never have with her. That beyond being mother and daughter, we were in competition. As females we were and would always be rivals for his attention. 

In some ways, I have been running barefoot away from things ever since, that garden in Kent, boyfriends, careers, secrets. I stamp around the street of Barcelona well shod as I go from assignment to teaching assignment. But when weekend comes I go south to Sitges or north to one of the Costa Brava towns so I can run barefoot on the sand and remember my cave girl instincts.

The way to stay  happy and healthy in the New Year is to try new things. How many of the “30 Things To Do Before 30” have you done?

30 Things To Do Before 30

 

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Interesting Times Are What We Create Not What We Live In

Interesting times R Us. Interesting times are now.

When we look back, we often remember events as interesting, even if they were boring at the time. The truth is, we don’t live in interesting times, but come to view them as interesting on reflection.

Anaïs Nin

When I was at university, my tutor consistently gave my essays harsh criticism. After the New Year break, he invited me out to dinner at a French restaurant with a wood burning fire on the edge of the River Cam. We drank too much. We talked about Camus, existentialism and the erotic novels of Anaïs Nin, whom I would one day try to emulate. I ended up that night in my tutor’s chambers in my tutor’s black iron bed.

Before I started university, I worked the long hot summer as an estate agent within the sound of the cathedral bells in Canterbury. I was so keen to get the commission from a sale, when I took a photographer to see a big old country house, it took little persuasion for me  to strip from my clothes and dance naked in the August sunlight. We went to bed, of course, and I had my first orgasm.

It was these two events that led me in my early twenties to haunt the champagne bars of Soho. Often I went home with strangers. It was always curious, exciting, full of surprises. At times sex with a stranger was romantic, exotic, beautiful. At others, it was brutal, violent, dangerous. Bullies with psychological problems called me a ‘little whore’ and sent me home with bruises to remember them by. Grist to the mill of the would be erotic writer. It was a period I had to go through and, looking back, they were interesting times.

Interesting Times Curse

Saying: May you live in interesting times is said to be a Chinese curse. But there is no evidence of this being recorded by the Chinese sages. Interesting Times is a novel in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, and also the title of an autobiography by Eric Hobsbawm.

We will look back on 2016 and say they were interesting times because the old mould of politics appears to have been broken into a million pieces. We enter 2017 with a non-politician, Donald Trump, in the White House, and Britain having become an island again, as it always wanted to be, thanks to Brexit.

Having broken up with Tom, the great love of me life, my 2016 ended up being tiempos interesantes living in Spain, studying Spanish and meeting Ramon, almost ten years younger than me. Young lovers come and go, but it’s the coming more than the going that makes it all worthwhile. They have energy, vigour, constant erections and provide a girl with interesting times.

In order to live in interesting times, one has to be interesting. To be interesting, one has to be interested in new things, new people, expanding your horizons, reading more, learning more, travelling to new places. As 2017 looms, my plan, virtually a resolution, is to visit India. I have never been, but imagine it will be stimulating, motivating, eye-opening, and when I look back I am sure I will say, ah yes, 2017, I was living in interesting times.

Have a Happy New Year. Be yourself and try to be happy. But most important be brave and be yourself.

GIRL TRADE has be re-released –  revised, updated, hot as the Sahara and about two bucks as a download. 

“Chloe Thurlow is the Anais Nin of our times,’ Katie Dylan on Amazon. Just CLICK.

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Male Desires and All The Men I Have Slept With

Male desires come in every shape, just like their penises, more shades than the rainbow, more mysterious than you can imagine. More mysterious than you can imagine.

Ramon – bless him – would wake with an erection and I gulped down a mouthful of protein before starting my hectic day. At night, after he had come, he would stay hard and fall asleep inside me as he softened. There is nothing like the male desires of a younger lover.

Male desires are often brutal. Their caveman genes demand obedience, domination, a heavy hand. I remember the stranger I met in a champagne bar in Soho where I often went with Lizzie, sometimes alone. He held my wrist all the way back to my flat as if I were a bird that might take wing and fly through the taxi window.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, the moment I closed the door and I did. ‘Have you been a naughty girl?’

‘Yes,’ I replied in all honesty.

‘Then come here.’

I stretched over his knee and he gave my ass a good tanning, warming all the coils and spirals about my bottom until lines of fire stretched through me and I was wet with lust long before penetration, a casual disappointment.

Male Desires & DNA

There were others who were truly brutal. They call you a slag and a slut. They hit you and take you by force, their male desires fed by their own failings and lack of self-worth. It’s always a danger going home with strangers met randomly in bars and on dance floors, but it shakes you from the luke warm bath of our quotidian existence. A life without danger is a life that has never been lived. I had a boyfriend once who jumped with a parachute into the Amazon jungle and took twenty days to walk out. He was a considerate lover. 

Not all male desires are brutal. They can be timid, unrealised, misunderstood. They love women without knowing what a woman wants and what a woman wants is to feel their weight on top of them. They want to be filled to the rim and drilled deep as if in your core is an undiscovered seam of gold.

I remember the man who never took off his socks. The matador I met in Andalusia who dressed in his suit of lights and teased me, swirling and turning with his flesh-coloured cape as we chased about the hotel room. There was one who snored and one who got out of bed immediately to wash my salt-sea smell from his genitals. I recall the man whose cock was too big and another whose cock was so small it felt like a feather tickling my insides and I had to force away the laughter bubbling up inside me.

Male desires are a mystery to women, an enigma. They are complex, pumped up with ego, and often turn liquid. They lick, they dribble, they come over your face, they piss on you. There is some renegade gene, some kink in the DNA, that makes men both worship and want to destroy beauty. It was always the most beautiful girl in the tribe chosen for sacrifice, a virgin, the fantasy of every elder who knows he will never have her. Better to send her to the flames than watching some young stud take the prize.

Male desires grow romantic after ejaculation and they want to marry you. They want to know when you lost your virginity. They want to know how many men you have slept with. They want you to be as pure as the driven snow when you appear on their arm and a skilled courtesan between their bedsheets. 

Men may imagine they are the hunters but they are only one half of the matrix and women like magnets are hunting to connect. Men thrive on male delusions and women flourish on male desires.

Katie in Love is FREE on Kindle Unlimited – WOW!

“An erotic novel that touches on a range of social and philosophical issues. Sex scenes are notoriously difficult to get right, and it’s equally difficult to avoid tedious repetition if you’re writing a succession of them. Thurlow does both and manages to integrate them in an absorbing story.” 5***** JWM – Amazon 

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Why Regular Blowjobs Fight Depression and You Sleep Better

Regular blowjobs are the crucial ray of sunshine a girl needs to brighten the long cold night of winter. Blowjobs are healthy and life-affirming. And research shows that regular blowjobs fight depression far better than champagne highs and all those little two-tone pills that come in bottles .

Scientists at New York State University compared the sex lives of nearly 300 women and showed that semen contains a mind-altering drug that makes you feel happier, helps you sleep better and is generally good for your health. I am shocked the scientists didn’t already know that. Regular blowjobs have been a regular part of my diet since the summer I left the convent in Kent and was seduced by an older man with a camera. I love the tang, that salty mozzarella with a squeeze of lemon aftertaste that clings to the insides of your teeth until you awake in the morning with sex on your taste buds and a desire for more.

Semen is an anti-toxin health drink with a twist of cortisol, a chemical that increases affection; oxytocin, a mood relish; melatonin, for sweet-dreaming sleep, and the antidepressant serotonin to combat the blues. There’s other good stuff in the stuff as well, but if giving head gives you all that, it would be downright greedy to ask for more.

The study, published in the Archives of Sexual Behaviors, also reported something else I had already become aware of: sex without condoms makes women feel happier than those who use them and those who have taken the pledge and don’t have sex at all. I should add, to be careful with unprotected sex and, if in doubt, give him a BJ.

Regular Blowjobs Lost

I broke up recently with Ramon, my young Spanish lover. It is the regular blowjobs I miss most. We always had sex before going to sleep at night and he always woke with an erection, providing my daily dose of the good stuff before I went off to teach English. As you do in the early days of new love, sometimes when we were in a bar we’d slip off to the loo together to have a quickie up against the wall. This isn’t only sexy, it has a healthy dash of daring and indecency about it. Do your girlfriends notice when you come back to the table? Oh, yes, sure they do. And if they have any sense, they’ll pop off with their lover and do the same. 

One thing the new survey didn’t say and I would like to add this important point for them: regular blowjobs are the elixir of life. Giving head and receiving head isn’t only healthy, it is rejuvenating. The more semen you swallow the younger you feel and the younger you feel the younger you become. As Katie remarks in my novel Katie in Love – “The best way to get over one man is to go down on another.”

So very true. There is nothing more feminine than giving a stranger a blowjob, some guy with his masterpiece jutting from his Levi’s, you balanced on your heels in a dark alley with the fizz of red neon humming in the dank sky. It makes me wet just tapping out the words. Regular blowjobs are life. Everything else is just waiting.

Life and love with Ramon. Read on:

Better Sex With A Younger Man

 

 

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One Night Only Hits The Spot – Bad Girls Do It Well

One night only. It’s a phrase the girls threw out nonchalantly when I was at school and it now sounds so dated. That’s why I love it.

Going with someone for one night only is a teenage thing – at least it was when I was a teen, and reviving it makes you feel young again. I needed it.

I broke up with Ramon, my beautiful younger man. It was inevitable. All good things must pass. I shed my tears. I bought a new pair of shoes and went to a party down the coast in Sitges where the entire basement was a photographer’s studio turned into a disco with flashing green lights that made the dancers look like ghosts as they weaved and bobbed and swayed to the music, sort of flamenco rock, not that good but danceable.

The ghost imitating my movements made me wonder at first if I was seeing my own shadow. But the lights flashed across his face and I recognised the photographer who owned the house and had invited me. His wife was a model, quite well known. She was in Paris. I was alone. He was rather good looking. Perfect for one night only.

We drank cava – so much better than champagne, you must try it – and wandered up the curving staircase to the floor above which had struck me as strange for a photographer when I first arrived. There were no photographs. No paintings. Just some rust-coloured sculptures of birds that seemed to be flying out of the wall. It was stagey, sexy, vaguely surreal.

One Night Only Silence

I must say I love it when there is no need to speak. We climbed another flight of stairs to a large bedroom with a circular bed and black sheets – just as old-fashioned as a one night only fling, I thought.

It was cool outside. Warm in the bedroom with its view across a long garden with a narrow pool, the lights around the side making the water the same brilliant shade of blue as his eyes. I have always had a weakness for dark hair and blue eyes. 

We kissed. It was functional, unemotional. It was what I needed. I adore the feel of a man taking the bottom of my shirt and easing it over my head, struggling with the hooks at the back of my bra, searching for the zip to remove my skirt. They work with patient impatience. It’s a sort of foreplay being stripped down to your panties, hopping from foot to foot as you  take them off. I was born naked and always feel relieved to get back to that state.

His clothes slipped away and we shot into the circular bed with its black silk cover like two arrows hitting a bullseye. I had never grown tired of sex with Ramon, my young lover. He was energetic, passionate, pure as a fresh glass of water. The first time we met he was reading Homage to Catalonia in Spanish. Everything was adorable. He will stay on any mind and his smell on my skin for a long time.

And yet, and yet there is nothing like one night only with someone new, a fresh body with all its mysteries and delights.

After hurrying through the hooks and zips that bound me, he scissored up quickly between my legs and we raced to an early climax. Not perfect, but there were are. I was back in the one night only world of casual sex with casual partners. You take it as it comes.

We dressed and ambled back down the two flights of stairs to the basement. Everyone was dancing to Jamiroquai singing Bad Girls. Live fast, die young. Bad girls do it well. I had no idea what that meant exactly, but the lyrics to dance music hardly matter. 

I danced until I dropped and dreamed that night in my empty bed of Ramon. We were on a long beach and he was walking away from me, slowly, slowly, vanishing into the distance. I have a new life now and I intend to enjoy it.

There are deals this week on Girl Trade. It’s virtually FREE.

“Girl Trade is a stunningly riveting book. The heroine, a bored London girl who has discarded her boyfriend, goes on holiday to La Gomera, one of the Canary Islands, where she learns to discard all inhibitions as she is initiated into a much greater self-awareness and sense of reality through a string of brilliantly-described and at times quite brutal sexual encounters. Breath taking.” Alan Hardy, Amazon.co.uk

You can find Girl Trade at your local Amazon

 

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Eight Small European Towns Perfect for a Romantic Getaway

For a romantic getaway, European cities may be beautiful, but European towns are even more charming. Some of them offer a harmonious mix of architecture and natural landscapes while others impress you with their old castles and spirit of history and romance.

If you’ve visited most of the major European destinations, you will be charmed by those small hidden places off the beaten track. Here is a list of small towns in Europe prepared by the Ukrainian dating Site Jump4love.com you will fall in love with at first sight.

Hallstatt, Austria

Located near a spectacular mountain lake, Hallstatt is an idyllic village that attracts tourists from all over the world. The Chinese tourists were so impressed by the beauty of this town that they made an exact copy of it in China. Among the attractions in Hallstatt are the 15th century church, the Market Square, and a nearby salt mine.

Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic

The medieval core of the town complemented with Renaissance architecture will take you on a trip through the centuries. The main attraction of the old town is the Český Krumlov Castle with its numerous spectacular buildings. Take a walk down the old streets and look at the houses . You’ll notice that most buildings are decorated with frescos. If you’re an art lover, then visiting the Egon Schiele Art Centrum is a must.

Bruges, Belgium

If you’ve been looking for a cozy town to wander about, Bruges is just what you need. Due to its compact size, you can explore the entire city on foot. Narrow streets, beautiful architecture, and a network of canals make it an ideal destination for a romantic getaway and a day trip you’ll never forget.

Kotor, Montenegro

There are a lot of places to be explored by tourists in Eastern Europe. One of them is the Montenegrin city of Kotor. It is old town is surrounded by the fortress walls and you can get there through one of the three gates. You can also enjoy the views of the city from the top of the walls. The surrounding scenery resembles Norwegian fjords: mountains, emerald water, canyons, and cruise liners.

Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina

Most of those people who travel to the city of Mostar go there to see its main attraction – the 16th-century Ottoman bridge. There is also a pretty mosque from the top of which you get a stunning view of the Old Bridge. Just a forty  kilometres from Mostar is the stunning Kravice Waterfalls.

Goreme, Turkey

Goreme is located in the Cappadocia region famous for its natural rock formations nicknamed “fairy chimneys”. The town, or rather a village, is an example of how man and nature harmoniously co-exist. Locals still live in the rock houses. Carved and sculpted naturally by erosion, the landscape is one-of-a-kind. Apart from rock dwellings, there are rock restaurants where you can have a romantic dinner.

Reine, Norway

This Norwegian fishing village is a paradise for those who want to escape from the hustle and bustle and spend a few days close to nature. Reine is located on one of the islands in the Lofoten archipelago. Keen travelers are not scared of its remote location andthousands of tourists come here annually to enjoy the pectacular landscape and view the northern lights.

Positano, Italy

Positano offers everything for the romantic getaway. This cliffside town is one of the most beautiful towns of the Italian Amalfi Coast. Positano is a colorful cascade of streets and buildings facing the sea. Numerous stairs lead you up and down this truly picturesque paradise. Relax on the beaches, go on a ferry trip to Capri to see the Blue Grotto, and taste all kinds of local food. John Steinbeck described Positano as “a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone”.

More information at Jump4love.

 

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Sex Addict Cure Will Never Be Found – and who wants to?

Sex addict. I said this to myself as I gazed into the mirror. Then I said it again. Sex addict.

It is a dependence I have tried to fight – not always that hard – since I was eighteen and stripped naked for a photographer three times my age and had my first orgasm with long shadows chasing across the room and a movie camera filming the event.

I was an instant sex addict, an eager sex addict. I went through a shameful if blissful period of sex with strangers randomly met in bars, in elevators, once on the London Underground when I allowed an unknown man to slide his hands into my knickers and his fingers into my sex. He made me sopping wet between Sloane Square and Blackfriars before stepping out of the carriage licking his fingers at Monument.

It is generally thought that a sex addict suffers the disorder because they are never satisfied. This is a misconception. A myth. The sex addict is an athlete, orgasm the objective, sex your training regime. The relentless quest for sex is life on the highwire. Everything else is a safety net. Life without sex becomes a treadmill that takes you laboriously through one thing after another – waking, working, walking, eating, sleeping, buying shoes – forever waiting for the next gut-wrenching, heart-stopping moment of orgasmic climax.

Sex Addict Prism

For me there is nothing more feminine than being on my knees giving head or down on my knees taking a new man into one of my moist openings. We are animals born to breed. Sex is our birth right.

Being a sex addict makes it hard on relationships, as Michael Douglas discovered when he admitted his addiction, upsetting his wife Catherine Zeta-Jones. But, sadly, or happily, depending on your point of view, it is one addiction that has no cure.

A sex addict sees everything through the prism of sex. A stranger across the room is instantly judged, measured, weighed up. Will he – or she – be good in the sack? Does that twinkle in his eye say he is looking back across the room and measuring you up for a potential pas de dieux between the sheets? Like the drug addict craving their next fix, the sex addict waits breathlessly for their next orgasm, that moment when the body melts and the soul becomes one with the universe.

Sex isn’t the forbidden fruit, it is the forbidden happiness we don’t allow ourselves to enjoy. As Bella says in The Secret Life of Girls: People take sex far too seriously. It’s only sex.

 The Secret Life of Girls is available at all the Amazons for almost nothing.

“I am never disappointed when I read a Chloe Thurlow book. More than the story for me, it is the way Thurlow links sentences and words and images together that astound me. She creates vignettes and scenes that are literally alive with literary genius. I mean this sincerely. I find her to be one of the best contemporary writers of our day. And a champion for the sexual freedom of women at its best and most gritty.” RB O’Brien, Amazon.

CLICK FOR YOUR AMAZON

 

 

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Lolita Crossed with Holly Golightly

Lolita Has Nothing on Bella

Amazon 5***** Review

While I am am not an avid reader of erotica, I have yet to find an erotic writer anywhere near as good as Chloe Thurlow. Most erotic literature is smarmy, breathless sentimentality, overlaid with unrealistic notions of sexuality. This is not the case with The Secret Life of Girls!

I am a reader of good literature, the kind with deep complex meaning, great dialogue, and complete characters! This is my third book by this writer and I got the distinct feeling that her main character, Bella, is very much the author herself. Bella is funny, witty, amusing, naive, gorgeous and outrageous. Everyone loves her, her friends, the men she meets during her sexual awakening and now me, the reader.

Think of Lolita crossed with Holly Golighly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s and you have Bella – Isabella di Millo.

Bella lives a privileged life at an elite convent school on the English coast among other rich and beautiful girls. They have to put up with the strict nuns, but come the weekend, Bella cuts an impressive figure in her scanty clothes among the town boys, who all lust after her.

Lolita Calamity

Life is fun, fun, fun. Then, calamity strikes. The country mansion, left to Bella in her father’s will is not hers after all. It belongs to the greedy scheming lawyer, Mr Daviditz. Her new stepfather. Her mother, a powerful figure in Bella’s life, is envious of her daughter and delights in informing her that any dreams she may have had are not likely to come true.

Until then, sex for Bella has been just a bit of fun – “People take sex far too seriously.” Now, it is the power of her sexuality that she uses to trap Mr Daviditz in a compromising situation – captured on video tape, and the force of her personality that drives her into the world of pop music where she intends to make her fortune and force Mr Daviditz to sell back her family home.

This is a real novel with real characters, the sex, while very sensuous, arises through the plot and the writer brings you to a satisfying conclusion – although not entirely satisfying in as much as you hate to leave Bella and want to know what’s going to happen to her in the next phase of her life.

Chloe Thurlow writes prose with real poetry and has produced a character in Bella di Millo who will stay in my memory – probably forever. Perhaps a SERIES Ms. Thurlow? Thank you for a GREAT read!

5***** Review by Mac on Amazon.com

 

The Secret Life of Girls is a fictionalized memoir of Bella, an 18-year old girl at finishing school on the English coast. When her father dies, her mother remarries a man who secretly buys the manor house left in trust to Bella to pay off her father’s debts. The betrayal cuts Bella to the core – the house is a part of her. She has nothing left – except she is beautiful, bold and unafraid to use sex to get revenge – as well as for her own pleasure.  

CLICK for your Amazon 

 

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Tasting Semen is the Taste of Life Unique & Unforgettable

Tasting semen for the first time is like eating fruit from an unknown planet. It is the cocktail of love, the essence of passion, your initiation into the mystery of fellatio.

My first time tasting semen overwhelmed me like a revelation. The back of my throat felt as if it had been splashed with snake oil, weird, lingering, unfathomable; not unpleasant. I swallowed it down like a drug I knew, somehow I knew, was good for me.

Suddenly, everything that was cloudy became clear. My chemical makeup, my individuality, had been incomplete. Now, I was the me I was supposed to be.

Male jism is the glue that holds everything together. It binds and stains. It sticks to your teeth. It stays on your taste buds like caviar, like durian, like bird’s nest soup. Tasting semen is like drinking from the begging bowl of the Buddha; like devouring the flesh of an extinct animal.

Semen is the life force, the seeds of our own awakening, a reminder of our eternal past. Tasting semen is a girl’s right of passage. We study and struggle, achieve and suffer. But, the horrible truth is we are only here to procreate and giving head is a small pleasure in the vast sea of absurdity that is existence.

Tasting Semen Début

I remember tasting semen the first time in the garden with a boy named Simon, his shorts down around his ankles while I knelt between his spread legs like a serving maid at the altar of the male phallus, tall and proud and pink and inviting.

Just as a fish in the sea knows how to swim, I knew what to do. It is a reflex, an instinct. I spontaneously licked every part of his cock as if my tongue were a memory machine that would hold this shape inside me forever. There was music in my head. I moved up and down, finding rhythm. I wanted to bite him, chew him up, swallow him down. It was like a mediation. Your mind empties of all thoughts. You live in the present, in the moment.

I heard the milling of his breath, the quickening beat of his heart. He put his hand on the back of my head: Swallow don’t spit, he said, as if it were a prayer or a mantra, not that it would have occurred to me to do anything else. He grew tense and his sperm bathing my throat was warm and fruity, a hint of the sea, a hint of mystery.

Tasting Semen Obsessive

Tasting semen this way, in the garden, with the sun on my back, the trees moving like dancers, was like a button had been pushed on a console and my life’s mission was suddenly clear.

Some girls are born to give head and, once tasting semen becomes addictive, you get high from the rush of oxytocin, serotonin and melatonin, a blend of chemicals that gives you more energy and, conversely, aids sleep – a blessing for the insomniac.

Semen is good for your health. It contains protein and studies show that the sticky stuff improves memory, mental alertness, lessens pain, slows aging and, with its soupçon of zinc, is an antioxidant that keeps the body system clean. So do cloves and prunes, but so what!

One more thing, it’s nice to share. When he jizzes fully into your mouth, hold it there and let it slip from your mouth to his mouth when you kiss.

How do give a great blow job? It’s like tennis and chess and aerobics and cooking bouillabaisse. Practise makes perfect.

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