#FantasySmutFridays: A Matter of Taste

#FantasySmutFridays: A Matter of Taste

I nibbled the end of my pen and gazed out the open window. A haze clung to the dewy grass. The world beyond my yard seemed out of focus. The crisp air coaxed goosebumps to rise on my bare thighs and I picked up my coffee cup, welcoming the warmth.

I doodled on the yellow legal pad as I sipped my morning muse trying to stitch together words and images to find a story. Something other people would like, something that might make them smile. I enjoyed the thought of readers peeking inside my brain and seeing the dirty nonsense that rolls through my head like ticker tape and recognizing a tawdry part of themselves. But nothing really excited me this morning.

My pen began to sputter ink and I scribbled it one last time in the hopes of revival but the well used tool had eked out its last line. I flipped it toward the trash can and heard it miss the mark and clatter to the floor. My feline army immediately went to investigate. They determined that there wasn’t a threat and then began their morning request for treats and food. I filled their bowls and gave both of them a scritch on the head before taking on a quest for a new pen.

I opened the first junk drawer and had to jiggle it a bit to settle the contents. I shoved through packs of crayons, Sharpies, spools of thread, a flashlight, batteries, junk mail, and the bits of life that don’t really fit anywhere but in this drawer. Finally, smooshed in the back of the drawer was another ink pen, but laying innocently next to it, was one of my leather collars. I pulled both things out of the drawer.

I loved this collar and remembered how it ended up downstairs. Sir had brought me downstairs for a saucer of milk. My leash was wound taut in his fist as he allowed me to raise and lower my head to lap up the drink. I spilled the creamy goodness on the floor and remembered the faint taste of floor polish as he made me clean my mess. That was a very good session and we ended up sweaty and tangled on the couch. Afterwards, he put up the leash and in my post-orgasmic stupor, I shoved the collar in the drawer before scampering up the stairs to plead my case for a round two.

I was alone this morning. I stuck my pen in my mouth as I fastened the collar around my throat. The bell merrily jingled as I shimmied my shoulders. I admired my reflection in the microwave door and decided that since the cats had morning treats then the Kitten needed a treat as well. I spat my pen towards my legal pad and pulled my saucer from the cupboard. It made my stomach twist in anticipation. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. I asked Alexa to play my theme song by Momus and began to wiggle dance to the loud music as I prepared my treat. I didn’t want the actual felines to put their noses in my drink so I set up on the kitchen island. I dragged over a chair so I could hop up on the counter.

I began to lap up the milk. Each flick of my tongue made a gush of delightful comfort trickle down my throat. My nipples grew pert beneath my thin white tank top and I lowered my shoulders to drink so that my tits would brush to cool granite. The carnal satisfaction of lapping and licking made warmth spread all over my body. I closed my eyes as I lapped to the rhythm of the happy music. This was way better than writing. My butt was bobbing. I am a Kitten. I am a Kitten. The familiar roaring ache of sexual need began to consume me. My tongue ravaged the innocent saucer until it was dry. The music abruptly stopped.

I startled and scrambled around. His deep voice rumbled across the room.

“Hi Kitten.”

Eye of the Beholder

Eye of the Beholder

His hand rests on the curve of my hip as we shuffle our way around the makeshift dance floor.  Couples cling to each other in the dim light, swaying to the swell of soft music. Muffled whispers of love flame passions and promises.  My companion’s face is inches from mine. However, I can tell he is detached from our connection. His eyes scan the room behind me looking for his next dancing partner.

I can’t blame him. I knew he didn’t fancy me when he asked me to dance.  I was conveniently standing by him when the music started, and I think he took pity on me.  I’m sure I look a fright. My wild nest of auburn curls doesn’t reflect the modern sleek style, and I’m sure my lipstick has faded.  A loose curl escapes from the pins, and I blow it out of my eyes. Our bodies move together, but he winces slightly as I step on his toe…again.  I’ve never been a graceful gazelle. I liken more to a giraffe really, but I do love to dance despite my awkwardness. The music ends, and my partner tips his hat and slips into the sea of olive drab.  

A crush of people head to the barkeep before the band strikes up the next song.  I fight for a beer and retreat to the edge of the bar. My time between the munitions factory and fire service duty leaves me few nights to dance and drink.  I watch the happy dancers for a moment and smile at the beginnings of possibilities. The beer feels good going down my throat, and my body relaxes as I toss back the rest.  


A rumbly voice makes me turn around, and a tiny flame briefly illuminates a handsome face.  The faint ember of his cigarette casts a welcoming glow.

“Hello, miss. Care to join me?”  

A man in an American uniform stands and pulls out a chair.  I notice he is just a touch taller than I am. A woman my height can be intimidating, but his sparkling blue eyes hint at admiration.  He has a disarmingly charming grin, and I decide to throw caution to the wind.

“Thank you, but only for a moment.”

“Doll, you ’ve just made me the happiest man in the room.  My name is John. Captain John Byrd… P-47 pilot in the 358th fighter group, at your service, Miss ah…?”

I chuckle at his waggling eyebrows, and he looks boyishly naughty as he tips his hat.

“A pleasure, Captain Byrd.  I’m Betty Jones. I haven’t seen you in the pub prior.  Are you passing through?”

“Lovely to meet you Miss Jones.  Thank you for keeping me company.  I’m stationed here until tomorrow and then I’m off to Southampton for maneuvers and after… well… the sky’s the limit.”

Over the next few hours, we talk about important things and of nonsense.  Our world shrinks to this tiny bar table, and I find myself falling for his charms save one peculiar habit.  He keeps a satchel at his feet and glances at it when I brush a stray curl off my forehead. I keep testing my theory, and the connection is intriguing.  

My attention isn’t on the bag for long. I feel his thigh press deliciously against mine under the table. Each time we shift, he moves closer.  The Captain’s thumb brushes the back of my hand when he reaches for another cigarette, and I bite my lip to suppress a sigh. He begins to tell me tales of his flying adventures, but the words in his story start to lose meaning as the shape of his mouth muddles my thoughts.  Those generous lips encourage dirty daydreams, and his close proximity makes me want to pop off every button on his uniform until my hands can caress his naked chest.

I glance at my watch and shake myself out of wanton reverie.  

“I hate to leave good company, but I must bid you good evening, Captain Byrd.”

As I slip on my gloves, John gathers his things in a hurry and slings the satchel over his shoulder.

“Call me John.  Say… let me walk you home?  Please, doll? I could use some fresh air and we were just getting to know each other.“

“Well, I suppose, John.  If you can behave yourself.”  I’m desperate to maintain the illusion of composure, but I don’t really care if there is talk about me leaving the pub with a Yank.  My heart leaps at his suggestion. I want more time with him.

The cool night air feels nice against my cheeks as we walk towards my place.  I scrape together enough to rent a little flat above the bakery. It’s not much but the heavenly scent of bread every morning makes it feel like home.  We can hear the faint sounds of a skirmish in the distance. John’s presence makes me feel safer.

“This war has me always scanning the horizon for trouble. To be ready for anything.  But you! Sweet Miss Betty. You make me remember life here in this moment. We are alive!  The night is beautiful! You are beautiful!” John grabs me by the waist and hugs me tightly.

I laugh at his boisterousness and give him a playful push. He tips to the side and his bloody bag bumps into my leg. I have a horrible thought. What if I’m inviting a spy or a strangler to my flat for the evening?

“John?  Pardon me asking, but what’s in the satchel?”

“This? It carries my pencils and sketchbook.  I like to play artist when I’m not being chased through the skies.  Say. Will you sit for me? My fingers have been itching to capture you in my sketchbook all night.  The light in the pub was rubbish otherwise my book would be full of your face.”

I blush and touch my hair.  My curls must look like a lion’s mane from the damp night air, but his words are lovely.  

“Please, allow me the privilege of drawing you, Miss Betty.”

“Me?”  I squeaked, “I hardly think… I don’t know.  I must be a bit squiffy. Alright, why the hell not? We

only have tonight. Mine is just there. Won’t you come up?”

“Sounds like a date, doll!”

We arrive at my flat, and I’m acutely aware of John’s eyes boring into my backside as I walk up the stairs in front of him.  I put a little extra swish into my step and suppress a smile for my brashness. I’ve only entertained gentleman callers at my place a few times and never anyone from the pub.  As I unlock the door, my mother’s warnings about not losing my head over a Yank rings in my ears. She would be mortified if I ended up like Ena Ryan. It’s a sorrowful shame, that Ena.  She was sent off to a home for wayward girls, and I may never see her again. I catch the scent of starch and spice as John leans over to open the door for me. His warmth surrounds me, and I could see how even a proper lady could forget her upbringing.

I take off my coat and tell him to make himself at home while I freshen up.  I hurry to my powder room and touch up my red lipstick and try to tame my wild hair.  There’s no hope for it. I sigh and rush back to John. When I return, he is sitting at my tiny kitchen table with his hat on his knee.  He’s bent over fiddling with some colored pencils from his bag but turns when he hears me enter.

“Hello, gorgeous.  Come a little closer; I promise I don’t bite.”  I laugh and wave him off while I busy myself preparing refreshments.

 “I’m putting the kettle on.  Would you prefer coffee? I think I might have coffee somewhere.”  I clang around the kitchen and stand on my tiptoes to look on my top pantry shelf.  

“Freeze, Betty.  Stay right like that.  Please. Don’t move. It’s perfect.”  

John’s voice startles me but I comply, acutely aware that my garters are peeking out from beneath my skirt.  My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I glance over my shoulder to see him with his sketchbook spread open on the table.  His eyes move hungrily over my body as his hand skitters across the page. The sound of graphite on paper cuts the silence in the room.  

He wets his lips and furrows his brow as he studies my body.  His gaze skates over the curve of my round bottom, and I blush.  He takes in my stockinged legs and a dreamy smile dances across his lips.  I hope my seams are straight. He crosses and uncrosses his legs as he concentrates. His pencil moves feverishly across the page.   Finally, our eyes meet. I become acutely aware of the damp heat radiating from my cunt as I feel his hunger.

My nose itches and I instinctively move to scratch it.  The alarm that flashes over my face makes him chuckle.

“You can move now, doll.  I’ve got you.”

I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was holding and nervously glance at him again before busying myself with the drinks.

“I’m out of coffee so you will just have to muddle through.”Absorbed in his drawing, he doesn’t answer.  The cups rattle as I place them on the table with trembling hands. I hurry to fetch the kettle, hoping he doesn’t notice his effect on me.

“John? Sugar or milk?”

“Hmm?  Oh yes.  Thank you, doll. Golly, you are a knockout.”

“May I see?”

He flips his sketch pad around with a flourish, and it’s me.  It’s very definitely me, but I look different. My lips seem fuller. My legs longer.  The drawing is alluring in a way that I would never associate with myself.

“I’m no Gainsborough, but I know beauty when I see it.  Miss Betty, I could draw you every day for the rest of my life.”

I am flummoxed. John puts his sketchbook down and slides his hand under my chin. Our lips meet in silent agreement. His kiss erases the world, and I no longer care about Ena Ryan or idle gossip.  This man, this moment, is what I need more than anything right now. He eases out of his coat and loosens his tie. I decide to be bold. My hands flutter to the buttons on my blouse and I stand in front of him, undoing them one by one.  His hands twitch toward his drawing supplies.

I know what he wants, and I hold still while he captures me again.  

He finishes and flips the page.  Afraid my bravery will leave me, I lean for a kiss and return to undressing.

“Are you sure?” John asks in a whisper.  “I’ve never drawn like this. I’ve never felt like this.  You are a dream come true. Be my girl, Betty? Please? I can’t imagine a world where I don’t have you under my arm.”

I let my blouse fall down from my shoulders and I ease out of my skirt. Pages fill and spill all over my floor as we give in to the magic of the muse.  Our kisses become longer between sketches and soon we are tangled up on the small mattress in the corner of my room. Scant clothing separates us as we push the boundaries of decency.

His hands move to my garters.  He looks to me for approval, and I lift my leg to assist his endeavor.  He unfastens each clasp and begins to roll down my stocking. His lips followed his hands down my thighs to my toes.  He lingers at my ankle and nibbles playfully. I wiggle my toes to tease at his scratchy chin, and he snags one in his mouth and sucks until we both start laughing.

Slowly and gently, he removes my underthings while his eyes search mine for anything amiss. He cradles my breasts in his hands and coaxes a moan from deep within me as his tongue traces each nipple.  My hips buck against him and he nudges a thigh between mine to give relief. He shifts and settles his weight on top of me. A gentle hand brushes my hair from my face as I smile. His eyes widen when he realizes my inexperience.  I erase his hesitation with an eager kiss and soon the pleasure of our union tips us both into ecstasy.

The sun peeks through my curtains, and the scent of baking fills my flat. I know the war will soon creep back into our lives, and John will leave.  But for this moment, I’m in my flyboy’s arms, and all is well.


“He’s been at for hours, Sir.  I’ve never seen a man so possessed.”

Sweat glistens on Captain Byrd’s brow as he puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece.  He saved her lips for last. Each kiss of his brush on the hull of the plane feels like a love letter to his sweetheart.  His heart swells with longing as he brings her to life with a final stroke of crimson. His Betty looks like an angel standing on tiptoe reaching towards his cockpit.  The moment he fell in love was now emblazoned on his plane for all to see. Her smile radiates protection and reminds him of the reason he needs to come home safely.


Club Dark Fortune

Club Dark Fortune


Hushed whispers between the other female executives told me to join this club.  They promised it would push me outside of my comfort zone and give me the adventure I craved.  I rolled my eyes at their dramatics but completed the application.  The passcode arrived a month later.

I hurried to the non-descript front door and punched in the numbers sent to me on a keypad.  The door clicked open, and I was alone in a small lobby. I looked around for a clerk of some kind.  I knew that my appointment was for this evening and I wasn’t late.  I walked over to a small table pushed against a wall.  A little blue sign in a bowl of fortune cookies was the only indication that people were welcome in the otherwise dark and foreboding room.

The sign read:  Choose one.   Read more




Good Kitten

Each sting on my skin tethered me to this world keeping the black void just out of reach.  Heat flooded my ass as his voice cut into my flickering consciousness.

“Twenty more. Count for me, kitten.  Twenty more.  Ready?”

I felt my head bob in agreement as if an invisible puppetmaster released the tension on my neck.

“Are you sure, kitten?”

Twenty.  I could do twenty.  Air filled my lungs. I allowed my body to relax, and I closed my eyes.  I didn’t have to think.  I simply had to feel.

“Yes.  Ready.”

The whoosh of the belt came quickly and I yelped, “One.”

I breathed numbers in the off beats as he found his mark. My body took each stroke and absorbed the sting as my yelps increased in volume.

“Eight.  Nine. Ten…ughn!”

My voice wobbled, and he paused.  I felt his hand rub circles on my ass as he allowed me a brief intermission.  Errant fingers trace the wetness of my slit, and I mewled in wanting as felt his hard cock bump against the back of my thigh.  Owned. The word flashed through my mind as I let go of the last piece of human thought before becoming his pet. The sting of the belt began again.   Soon the spoken numbers jumbled into guttural mewing and his voice began to replace mine.  Twenty.   The belt clattered to the floor, he wrapped my trembling body in his embrace and tipped my head back for a kiss.  My inner fire swelled into animal wanting.  He pulled me back into position by my leash, and the restriction of the collar made me pant for a good breath. He grinned at me like a wolf baring his teeth to the rabbit.  When he was satisfied with my posture, he stroked my back while easing the pressure on my throat. I purred and arched low so that I was open to him.  Thick fingers filled my ache then he allowed me to lick my wetness with dainty tongue flicks.


“Mmmmm there’s my kitten.”

I felt him kneel on the bed behind me.

He grabbed my tender ass and dug his fingers into the crimson flesh before sinking balls deep into me.  The pain blinded me, but the forceful strokes of his cock in my kitty cunt made me yowl for more.  He pumped me hard until my thighs were slick.  The headboard banged against the wall in rhythm, and our wedding photo was knocked askew.  He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back.  I yowled as my body spasmed in waves of orgasm forcing me to buck wildly against his cock.  I felt him swell and flood my pussy as he howled in the release.  He pulsed and twitched inside me.  His body went slack and fell next to me.  He roughly pulled me to him, and I felt his heart pound against my back.

“Good kitten,” he whispered before giving the ribbon holding my mask in place a tug.  I watched the lacy silhouette of a kitten float to the floor through sleepy eyes as I curled against my love.






Morning After

Morning After



The morning light woke Katy with cozy warmth.  She stretched her long bare legs as her eyes focused.  Staring at her was a poster on the ceiling of a half-clad woman draped on a motorcycle. Nice. She glanced around the rest of the apartment and noted mismatched worn furniture, stacks of pizza boxes in the corner and a pair of muddy boots by the door.  She cursed and realized that once again she did not end up in her own apartment after a night on the town. This was definitely a bachelor residence complete with black leather furniture and a huge ass flat screen TV filling the wall across from the bed.   She tried to suppress a laugh, but the giggle escaped causing the sleeping mountain of a man beside her to stir. He threw a beefy arm over her bare midriff and pulled her closer. He was indeed her type with broad shoulders, calloused hands, and chiseled features.  She was sure he was a trucker, construction worker, or firefighter of some sort.

“Hey you,” Katy murmured into his ear as she desperately tried to remember his name, “I need to get going.”  The man stirred again and slid his hand up to her breast. Katy savored the zing she felt in her pussy as his rough hand connected to her pert nipple.  

She squeezed her thighs together to quiet the beginning of yearning and momentarily allowed herself a small sigh of pleasure.  Her gentle noise made him open his eyes, and he snuggled his thick dick against her bare bottom. Her body buzzed with wanting. She closed her eyes and sunk back into his embrace.  Her first appointment was in the late afternoon, but she liked her one night stands fast and forgettable. She could barely remember meeting this man last night, but her body reminded her that she greatly enjoyed his touch.  

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered.  Katy turned to kiss him but wrinkled her nose at the scent of his beer tainted morning breath.  That got her moving. She gave him a quick peck and unwound herself from his body although the feel of a stirring cock was very tempting.  

This part of the morning-after always jogged her memory of the previous evening’s events. It was like a treasure hunt. Katy thought for a moment about what was wearing last night.  Her little red dress was easy to spot and she picked it up from the floor near the bathroom. She remembered that the reason that they ended up at his place was that she needed to pee and he lived above the bar.  The three jumbo margaritas from the night before made her memory fuzzy, but the night was slowly coming back to her.  She remembered his laugh. He had a rich and glorious laugh that filled Katy with warmth. She loved a good sense of humor and ending up in his bed was a good indication that she enjoyed the company of that man who watching her with hungry eyes. Their eyes met and he smiled.

She went back to work on searching for her stuff.  Her stockings were draped over a ceiling fan that was spinning lazily in the living area.  She vaguely remembered slingshotting them up there as they were rolling around on the couch to see if they could fly.  She was such a dork.

“Ummm, do you know where my bra is?” Katy called to the man in bed.  He grinned and gestured towards the refrigerator. She opened the fridge and noted that the gallon of milk was sporting her favorite red lacy bra. She knew that she probably thought that was very funny to dress the milk in the middle of foreplay, but now it just made her nipples harden as she hastily clasped the thoroughly chilled garment to her body.

The man on the bed burst out laughing.  “That was definitely a new one for me,” he called, “You put on one hell of a puppet show.”  Katy felt her face redden. She was extremely playful, but her partners often didn’t know what to do with her antics.  She was so glad that he was laughing and suddenly remembered where she put her panties.

She opened the freezer and saw a peep of red.  Luxurious silk and lace, frozen solid. Katy’s shoulders slumped.  Yep. She was a super dork.

His lips were inches from her ear as he chuckled, “I told you that was a bad idea.  You lost our game and the price was frozen underwear. We were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors.  You ALWAYS did scissors so it was pretty easy to win. Please come back to bed?”

His arm reached around her to close the freezer door.  Her body responded immediately with warmth and wetness. Her fingers gripped the counter tightly to prevent herself from sinking back against his chest and begging for his touch.   

Katy loved men.  She loved sex without connection or a relationship.  She liked being free to do as she pleased and only went to bed with a man when she couldn’t satisfy herself alone.  She was usually gone before her man-candy even woke up, but the latest conquest was difficult to leave.

He kissed her neck lightly and this made her sigh.  The lure of his deliciousness broke her resolve and she allowed herself to be led towards the bed.

She dropped her things on the floor as his hands circled her waist to pull her on top of him.  He grinned at her while tracing a finger over the lips. She nipped his thumb and he slid his hand under her hair to pull her in for a kiss.  Their lips met softly. Katy recoiled.

“Gah!  We need to brush our teeth!  Your breath smells like an old sock! Come on,”  Katy commanded. She sprang off her surprised lover and headed to the bathroom.  She snagged some toothpaste from the sink and put it on her finger. She gargled and spat in his sink as his face appeared in the mirror behind her.  She plucked his toothbrush from the cup and added toothpaste.

“Open.”  His eyes widened but he complied and allowed her to brush his teeth.  She liked men who could follow orders and perhaps this mystery man would be worth seeing again on a real date.  She waited for him to spit and then sat on the bathroom counter. He eased himself between her legs and bent to kiss her.

Katy moaned as he deepened their kiss. She wiggled her hips until her body was balanced against his on the edge of the counter.    He pulled back to look in her eyes for consent, and she nodded while wrapping her legs around his hips. She helped his cock ease into her pussy.  

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered.

“We’ll work on that,” Katy replied as she began to buck against his body.

#SmutMarathon: Round Six

#SmutMarathon: Round Six

I made it through another round in the Smut Marathon!! Our last assignment tasked us to use the words “fortune cookie” in our work.  I liked the idea that a slip of paper could be catalyst for a sexy time romp. I definitely didn’t want to do anything involving a restaurant, and I tried to brainstorm other places you might find a cookie.  

My first thought was baking them. I made fortune cookies for my boyfriend in college out of a Martha Stewart magazine and I put slips of paper in that were naughty. The cookies ended up tasting horrible and we ate ice cream instead. It was a fun night but when I wrote the scene it seemed rather vanilla.  I wanted to write something wicked. Read more

SmutMarathon: Round Two! Yay!

SmutMarathon: Round Two! Yay!


I am a kitten who loves to write, but am often  too embarrassed to share it with others.  I signed up for the #SmutMarathon because I wanted to stretch myself and try to be a little braver in my writing.  I was gobsmacked to see that some of the jurors in Round Two liked my work and awarded me.  I jumped and twirled for an hour after reading the results.  It was a good feeling, and the feedback gave more more confidence as a writer.

I greatly enjoyed all of the pieces in this round.  I printed the micro fiction stories out and cut them up so I could see them as individual works.  My plan was to give feedback on each one, but life got in the way and I was only able to write about a few to post on the blog.  Tonight, I was gathering up the slips of papers where I had written notes, and I wanted to share a few more of my thoughts about the entries.   

38) Scenic Route

The entry by Cousin Pons was a snapshot of a story and it made me laugh out loud.  The miscommunication between partners was very clear and you could feel the exasperation in the woman’s voice.  It’s just so funny!

‘Have you ever considered,’ she said, pausing to wipe a globule of his cum from her lips.

‘What’s that honey?’

‘That I prefer the ache of sex that is a long, slow run rather than a sprint.’

‘Have you been reading those trashy magazines again?’

‘Just so husband dear. I know you work hard. You come home all sweaty and you want to screw and cum in my face. That’s natural. But just reflect for a moment and think, wouldn’t it be fine and dandy to take the scenic route now and again. A little sightseeing before you shoot your fucking load.’

‘You want me to get the station wagon out?’

20) The Epiphany

Violet wrote an  exceptionally erotic scene that had a lovely rhythm.  The imagery was beautifully written and I could see the two characters sharing this moment.  This would be a great beginning to a very naughty story, and it kept playing in my mind.  

The night air was cool as she pulled him by the hand from the throbbing nightclub and into the dim alley, her back immediately against the wall, his hand under her skirt, sinking into her silky wetness. It was always this way with them; too much whisky, never enough time. She pushed him to his knees and he looked up and saw her, silhouetted beneath the starry midnight sky, hands twisting in his hair, pulling his face to her succulent cunt. She was the Milky Way, he a speck of sand in awe of her. He realized in that moment that he didn’t just want this disposable lust. He wanted so much more.

39) Produce Seduction

And finally, I made notes on a  very funny grocery store scene that made me stop reading and just laugh in my bed.  Humor is very attractive especially when talking about sex and this entry by Charlton Tod was excellent.  I could envision two lonely people at the grocery store making eyes at each other over subtly suggestive foods. There was a grocery near my college campus that was a well known pick up spot, and this snippet of a story brought back fond memories of cruising for dudes with some of my old roommates.  

Mary gaped at Come-N-Save’s hothouse cucumbers, still sheathed in thin plastic (seamed for her pleasure). It had been too long since she had a proper salad. As she placed it in her basket, she noticed a gentleman approach checkout with a box of cherry pie. Mary couldn’t help but giggle as she spotted ‘Hot and Ready’ on the side of the container, and wondered if he was in need of a proper dessert. His eyes glanced around just enough to notice the way Mary stared at him, and suggestively caressed the vegetable. With a crack of a smile, Mary mustered the courage to ask about his dinner plans. A night of eating out was just what she needed.

The SmutMarathon has been a fantastic learning experience for me.  My favorite thing so far is discovering the work of a slew of new authors, and this has opened up a larger erotica writing world for me.  I have submitted my Round Three entry, and once again I nervously wait for the reveal of the next round.  I hope mine stacks up.   I can’t wait to see what the gloriously dirty minds in this contest come up with to meet our latest challenge.




Round Three: #SmutMarathon

Round Three: #SmutMarathon

Dezi #SmutMarathon:  Character Sketch

We were challenged in this round to create a character sketch of a flawed individual, and the parameters for the writing were left up to the author.  I tumbled many possible options around in my head before I began writing. My mind lined up a crew of sultry seductresses and domly gentlemen, and I pitched them in a mental volcano one by one.  I wrote several sketches and soon realized that I was writing for the jury and not myself. I have always been a teacher pleaser and have put aside my own creativity in favor of earning a good grade.  During the first two rounds of competition, I made note of what the jury enjoys and I felt like I could write a solid entry that would earn points. Read more

The Spoils of War #EuphOff

The Spoils of War #EuphOff

Writing is one of my greatest joys, and I stumbled across this wonderfully naughty contest on Twitter.  I couldn’t resist. The Other Livvy tasked the writing world with creating a bad erotica piece full of cliche and naughty groan worthy phrases.  There was a 500 word limit, and I had to include the phrase “semi-moist treat stick.”  Please enjoy my steamy hot story about a beautiful VaIkyrie and a mortal soldier.  I hope it inspires laughs and wiggles in your pants!  (It helps if you read it out loud in your sexiest voice.)


The Spoils of War

The Valkyrie, Herja, dragged her latest hero into the light to prepare his body for the trip to Valhalla. He was a young soldier who fought fiercely and died protecting a child from an errant spear.  He deserved the honor of living in the hall of Odin.

Herja began stripping his armor.  A spark between them made her draw away from his body.  She had prepared hundreds of warriors for Valhalla and never felt a fire fill her body from an initial touch.  Her loins twitched in longing and a wet heat slicked her thighs. She sighed, pushed this thought out of her head, and continued her work.  She peeled off his tunic like a theater curtain parting and admired the show of raw masculinity she revealed. Her healing hand ran over his broad chest erasing the battle wounds.  She thought about spreading a picnic blanket over his ripped pectoral muscles and having a light snack amongst the musk scented curls of his manliness.

She brushed his dark hair from his forehead and enjoyed the soft tendrils slipping through her fingers like satin ribbons.  His lips were pale with death but still looked like supple fruits waiting to be picked. She noticed a stain of blood on his upper thigh.  Herja needed his body fully healed before they could make the trip to the afterlife. She eased his pants down and noted the thick sleeping meat-lion that lulled between his thighs.  She touched it lightly, shivered with pleasure, and then erased the puncture wound on his leg. He was ready for the journey.

His eyes were closed in death, and she bent to offer her kiss of life.  Their lips met and his eyes fluttered open. Herja was startled. Electricity crackled between them.  She noticed that his flaccid love muscle twitched as he looked at her heaving lady-mounds sheathed in armor.  Herja kissed him again and the flame of passion consumed them like a tsunami wave. She wanted to make this mortal her own.  Herja snapped her fingers and the two were transported to her room in Valhalla.

Herja stood and removed her armor to reveal her womanly form.  Her porcelain skin shone, and he drank in her resplendent beauty.  She bent to lick a pearl of his emerging seed from the tip of his now turgid skin flute.  Herja couldn’t restrain herself any longer and opened her honey cave to swallow his now semi-moist treat stick.  A thunderous boom rang out from the heavens as she unleashed an unearthly moan. They pushed towards zenith. Herja felt her love button swell against his crotch as she ravaged his lips with kisses.  She envisioned riding pegasus across the sky as orgasm consumed her body. This triggered her partner to unleash a strand of gentleman’s pearls deep in her womb. She collapsed, spent, on top of her lover as he held her in euphoric bliss.  She would keep this fallen soldier. He would be her prize for all eternity.

via EuphOff 2018: The Semi-Moist Treat Stick Edition