I've been feeling really horny for dripping wet pussy lately. I can't explain it, I've just been overwhelmed by the need to suck on a pink, juicy clit and have its juices drip all over my face.
Tonight it was within my grasp. It was more or less offered to me on a silver platter. Or so I thought…
Just down the road from my flat is a really funky new florist, which I can't name for obvious reasons. It's only been open three months, but the owner has already made a name for herself. Not so much for the flowers she sells, but for the fact that she's a raging lesbian with a wandering eye. In fact, some of my friends who buy flowers from her will go as far as to say that she'd give you a beautiful tulip posy in exchange for a quick fingering out the back room. Their full of shit and exaggerating horrendously: it's £10 for a tulip bouquet and then she'll take you out back and finger you like a jackhammer.
Fuck me! I thought I liked it rough, but the woman in this story is a right kinky bitch. I've just come out of a long, hot bubble bath and I've read a rather dirty short story, taken from Black Lace's More Wicked Words: An Erotic Short Story Collection about a woman who becomes her lover's bitch for the evening. In fact, she becomes his dog. He shoves a 'pony tail' butt plug in her ass (much like the Doc Johnson Pony Play Butt Plug) and begins his series of mental, physical and sexual commands. If you like the idea of being dominated, you'll love this…
The following is excerpt is taken from an erotic short story called Bitch For An Evening written by Rowan Michaels and is featured in the Black Lace book More Wicked Words: An Erotic Short Story Collection.
'Bitch!' I heard. 'Come here and leave that damn tail alone!'
I blushed again, feeling like I had been caught doing something forbidden and hurried over to you once more. I noticed your pants had the button down and your hands were on your thighs…
I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, my laptop infront of me and writing to you about what a bad kitty I've just been. My little I Rub My Duckie seems to be looking over with a shameful but naughty grin from the side of my bath. And if it were real and actually witnessed what just happened, I imagine it would have good reason to grin.
It's been a while since I fucked a random stranger. I'm not a sex addict or even somewhere who loves to fuck strangers on a regular basis, but I appreciate the excruciatingly horny thrill of meeting someone for the first time then having my mouth wrapped around their cock a few minutes later. That is exactly what just happened. Except it was their mouth over my pussy.
Buying something expensive and decadent just because you want to experience the thrill of buying it even though you can't afford it is something we've all done at least once in our lives.
When I was in university I rinsed my student loan for £ 1,900 to spend on a summer ball gown, only to take it back the following week because I couldn't afford to spare that much cash and make it to the end of term without dying of malnutrition.
The reason I bought the dress in the first place – and the reason why so many people go on lavish shopping sprees when they can't afford them – is to experience the thrill of buying something utterly decadent and frivolous, but more importantly to experience that feeling of power that comes with having tons of money to spend.
Following on from the huge response on this site from the recent posting of an excerpt from Mathilde Madden's short story Wheels On Fire (published as part of Black Lace's Wicked Words 10 and developed into a beautiful and engaging novel called Equal Opportunities), who better than Mathilde to advise you on how to write your first erotic short story?
Whether you want to try your hand at writing a sexy short for your partner as a kinky present, or whether you have always fancied trying your hand as an erotic writer but have never known where to start, Mathilde's immense experience at writing erotic stories and novels will be a great asset in helping you begin your first story.
Read Mathilde's six steps to writing your first erotic short story below, then get writing!
I'm being totally honest when I say that I've got a drawer full of vibrators. From the massive to the mini, the battered to the beautiful, the powerful to the paltry (yes, even I have made some mistakes when it comes to buying the right vibe), there aren't many vibrators I haven't rubbed all over my clit. But I just couldn't get myself off this morning no matter which one I switched on.
I woke up early feeling really horny from a particularly sexy dream about Johnny Depp, and I knew that getting back to sleep wasn't an option unless I got myself off quick. Hell, I was so horny I was practically humping the fold of quilt trapped between my legs. Anyway, my vibes weren't doing it so I thought I'd try out my new toy, the Fukoku Massage Glove.
Balls to normal vibes, because this baby has got tiny vibrators in each fingertip and pumps out a buzz-tastic 45,000 vibrations per minute! Not only did it feel amazing when held against my pussy or when I used it to pull and flick my clit, but it also worked wonders on my already hard nipples and wet ass. I came in less than a minute after a really intense and juicy orgasm, which was so powerful that I had just enough time to pull my tiny microfibre panties on before crashing out.
By the time I woke up when my alarm actually went off I was still dripping wet, so I pulled my glove back on for another quickie before jumping in the shower…
If you've ever wanted to know how big Jay-Z's dick really is, or how crap some of the world's biggest rappers are in bed, read this article. I couldn't stop laughing!
If you have an iBuzz vibrator, get it out now, connect it to your iPod and let it pump away to your favourite dance song, because this wicked story about a horny girl called Jo at Reading festival will make you orgasm before the song is even over.
The following excerpt is taken from a short story called Strawberry Sunday, written by Maria Eppie and published as part of Black Lace Wicked Words 10.
I've just had a new shower fitted in my bathroom. The old shower was one of those useless plastic head things you have to fix onto the ends of both taps, and then you have to just sit there waiting for the slightest trickle of water to wash the bottle full of lather out of your hair. It wasn't much fun, hence the need for a new kick-ass shower.
By no stretch of the imagination have I got tons of money to spare, so one of those luxurious walk-in showers with double Monsoon showerheads wasn't an option. But I did get something similar, albeit with a glass shower door fixed on the side of the bath instead of a twin-door entrance and marble flooring.
When I was a young girl, probably about 15-years-old, I would take the showerhead off the wall and blast water onto my clit until I came. So you can imagine how much I was looking forward to trying this again, having lived so long with a showerhead that could just about blast away my leg-hair shavings, let alone blast my pussy to orgasm.
I had a double one-night stand last night. I don't usually go out on a Sunday night because I'm so wiped out from the rest of the weekend, but I decided at the last minute to go to my local pub with a few people from the flat downstairs.
Apart from a real chav who has moved in with them, they're a cool bunch of people and we often have late night drinking sessions in each other's flats after we've been out for the night. Anyway, one of the girls called Lianne (killer ass and tits) was promoted last week and we decided to extend her weekend celebrations and get some god-awful champagne (whatever they had) from our local.
I was topping up my booze levels from the previous night, and the night before that, so by 10pm I was well on my way to hammered-ville. There really is no excuse for what I did next, but I started flirting with a group of rugby lads who were sitting at the next table. They challenged us all to a game of Killer on the pool table, which involves drinking shots and shooting pool balls – impossible to do if you're already hammered.
One thing you should know about me is that my bravado gets the better of me when I've had a few drinks, so I threw down the gauntlet and said that if we beat them, they would have to be our slaves for the rest of the night. Of course I meant buying and fetching us more champagne and pork scratchings. Boys being boys, and rugby boys at that, they raised the bar. If they won, we'd have to be their sex slaves.
So we played. And we lost… by a country mile. Bollocks! I had no intention of following through on our promise and proceeded to tell them it was just a joke and that they weren't getting anything from us. But they weren't to be denied their prize, and when Lianne and the rest of the girls said they were up for it, I thought it rude to back out and let the side down.