A Very Cougar Christmas
Copyright
© 2008 Winterheart

The rain was relentless. Not that Vincent cared. He had no reason to go out in it. However, the scene outside his window was damned dreary and depressing. The condo complex he lived in was landscaped to be all woodsy with twisting streams and paths that included little bridges. The huge plate glass window of his spare bedroom/office looked out over the bridge that led to his building. His condo and his neighbor’s shared a path to their combined front deck. On the backside of their building were two identical condos, but they were out of sight and another path led to them.

The rain had been coming down in sheets all day. Now, at three in the afternoon it was almost as dark as night. Still, Vince could see that the complex’s streams were swollen and rushing beneath the bridges, the pathways flooded and muddy. He felt bad for those residents who had to lug something home in this weather. The garages were all pretty far from the condos themselves. It would be easy to slip in the mud and water and drop whatever you were carrying.

As if his thoughts had conjured up a victim, his neighbor came slip-sliding into view. She wore a traditional business type tan raincoat with the hood pulled up to cover her head. Instantly, Vince’s eyes went to her feet, because usually she wore ridiculously high heeled shoes. Today, however, she wore bright red rubber boots that reached her knees. The heels were clutched in her hand along with what looked like a small gift bag. When she stumbled over the bridge, clumsy in the big boots, he saw that the bag wasn’t a holiday bag, but a birthday bag, which was odd since it was Christmas Eve.
(more…)

Special Delivery By Tilly Greene
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Tilly Greene

Without a doubt, today was quickly shaping up to be the worst day of her life and it wasn’t over yet.

Susie Porter knew exactly why the train wreck of a day was happening and there was no one to blame but herself. Well, actually it was her curiosity’s fault and the cause of her current problem. If she hadn’t received the package last Saturday, if she hadn’t opened it even though she didn’t order it, if she hadn’t set it up simply to see what it would look like, if she hadn’t been tempted to try it out, she wouldn’t have to ruin a perfectly safe and satisfying flirtation only relationship as she was going to have to do.

If this, if that, if whatever, it was too late for anymore ifs. Her embarrassment level was high and it was about to get even worse.

Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on the seat and tried again to lift herself off the pink blow up chair, only she couldn’t shift an inch. It didn’t matter she was slick with sweat, her body wasn’t budging from its pleasure-filled location.

The pink chair with a fairly substantial dildo standing from the center of the seat had control of her and that was it. Three hours ago she submitted to its call, stripped down to nothing and gingerly sat down, filling her slit with the wicked plastic prick. Excitement had made her wet and ready to enjoy this new toy, but exhaustive play left her legs quivering and her pussy muscles clenching its trapped faux prick.
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The Whip and the Chair
By Winterheart ©2008
ESN ID 14412-080901-612570-85

Nick Diamond had been painting Ione Alexander for a week before he noticed that there was something different about her. She stood on the dais in his studio, completely nude and totally still. Her face was turned away from him, her long auburn hair spilling over one creamy shoulder and down her back to her waist. He’d been so into his work for the past few days that he had never noticed that she never needed a break.

He paused in mid-brush stroke, as the thought occurred to him. He tilted his dark head to one side, staring at her. She was so still she didn’t even look like she was breathing. He tapped the rounded wooden end of the paintbrush against his full bottom lip. That was very odd.

He set the brush down and stepped away from the canvas. “I’m going to the kitchen. I need a drink,” he told her, keeping his voice normal as his eyes watched her every move. Well, if she’d had a move, that is.

He reached the kitchen doorway, looking back at her once more. Finally, she moved. Her hair rippled as her head turned, and her smoky eyes met his.

“Are you okay, Nick?” Her voice was low, and slightly concerned. “You never drink while you’re working.”
(more…)

Under the Moon

by

Helen Hardt

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2008 Helen Hardt

From the heavy shadows of the dense evergreen woods, Julian watched the young woman impale herself on the thick pink phallus. Veiled in the light of the full moon, her skin glowed like fiery opals. Her rosy breasts, full and swollen, bounced as her movements became more rapid.

Beautiful. Her mahogany hair fell in waves around her milky white shoulders, her body covered in a silky sheen of moisture. Her emerald eyes pierced the darkness. God, yes. Absolutely beautiful.

Her crimson lips parted, and, “Ah!” Her voice, but a seductive whisper, carried across the night air to Julian’s ears. The blood flowed through her veins in a heady whoosh. He silently thanked God for his acute senses of sight and hearing. (more…)

Wicked Construction
by:
Robyn Michaels
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Robyn Michaels

Wicked Diary was the topic of conversation at every table in Sensations, the small bistro where Lauren and Josie were enjoying their weekly luncheon. The store that was the subject of so much discussion was located across the parking lot. It had opened a few days earlier and foot traffic was still fairly light. It wasn’t immediately obvious from the exterior of the building that the shop sold sex toys. The front window was nearly opaque with only the store’s name stenciled in lovely indigo gothic letters. The door was made of the same opaque glass with the name etched into it. The brick façade was just like the rest of the strip mall surrounding it. It was all very classy and discreet. While everyone in town might be curious about the store with such a delightfully naughty name, they were extremely cautious about being seen entering the new shop. The small town gossips would have a field day with those individuals brave enough to set foot inside.

“Can you believe that one of those stores opened in Eatonville?” Josie took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich but continued speaking before Lauren had a chance to respond. “I mean, it’s not like they can expect that much business in this little backwater ‘burb after all. Get real. The people in this town are so behind the times, I’d be surprised if most knew what kind of store Wicked Diary really is.”

“I don’t know. We might be surprised at who decides to shop there.” Lauren carefully kept her gaze centered on the bowl of steaming vegetable soup she was stirring, refusing to look at her friend in case she noticed the desires Lauren was hiding. The store with its naughty wares was definitely tempting Lauren to take a walk on the wild side.
(more…)

The Were & The Chair

By Winterheart

All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2008 Winterheart.com
ESN: 36412-080506-281258-70

The box was ordinary brown cardboard. The shipping labels were the kind one would normally find on a package. The return address was a company called “Plain Brown Wrapper.” The name made Weylyn instantly suspicious. Anything with a name as innocuous as that, was not what it seemed.

Weylyn shook the box. It made a whooshing sound as the contents slid around inside. He grimaced, as he realized he wasn’t going to know what was inside the box unless he opened it. Taking out a pocket knife, he slit the packing tape carefully, preoccupied with trying to figure out which of the people he had fucked recently had sent him a present. He was confident enough in his abilities as a lover to know that he hadn’t left anyone angry and unsatisfied, so there was no way that this wasn’t a gift.

He put away the pocket knife and peeled back the flaps of cardboard. Lifting out the crinkled brown packing paper, he found a flat cellophane package. The contents were bright neon pink plastic. Weylyn frowned. Pink wasn’t exactly his color, and he couldn’t imagine anyone buying him a pink anything. Upon closer inspection, he decided that it looked like a raft for the pool.

Weylyn pulled the package out and ripped open the cellophane, taking out the hunk of pink plastic. His sensitive werewolf nose crinkled as a strong scent assailed him. Whew! Whatever it was, it stunk to high heaven. Petroleum based products always reeked and his nose was more sensitive than most. Whoever had sent him the gift either hadn’t realized how delicate his nose was, hadn’t really thought about how stinky plastic was, or didn’t care.

(more…)

Favorite Chair
By: Jet Mykles
©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“There you are!”

Patrick looked up from the toolbox, distracted from his search for his favorite socket wrench. There, in the open front of his workshop stood Linnie, his insane next-door neighbor. Okay, maybe she wasn’t insane, but she was one of those people who wasn’t far from it. She sure was pretty to look at, though, especially when, as currently, she was wearing tight little cut-off shorts and one of those stretchy, shiny tank tops in vivid orange. The tank hugged her gorgeous little breasts just perfectly and the cheerleader legs extending from those shorts had starred in more than one of his late night fantasies.

Tossing back her loose wealth of nearly crimson curls, she hurried toward him, her flip-flops slapping on the cement floor. Her little hands reached out to grab his arm, heedless of the sawdust that coated the hair on his arm. “I need your help.” Her big green eyes were wide with concern.

Unthinking, he grabbed her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She tugged his arm. “Come with me.”

He hurried after her, so caught up that he barely paused to enjoy the sway of her rounded ass as she led him through the break in the hedges between their houses and into her side door. Evidently, no one else was home, which wasn’t odd for a Saturday afternoon. Her sister, with whom she lived, worked down near the beach and frequently didn’t get home until after sundown on the weekends.

“Linnie, what’s wrong?” he asked as she hurried through the kitchen to the hall and the green carpeted stairs that led up to the bedrooms. Although he’d been in the house many times, he hadn’t ventured into the upper regions of the house for many years. Not since they were kids. That had been no man’s land since he’d hit puberty, a rule laid down by Linnie and Debbie’s father.
(more…)

Love Thy Neighbor
Monica Kaye
Copyright © 2008, Monica Kaye, All Rights Reserved

“What the fuck?!?”

Yolie Wilson stop short as she entered her apartment. Her briefcase clattered to the ground as it slipped from her suddenly lifeless fingers as her eyes were riveted to the large pink plastic chair that had somehow taken residence in her home.

She strode over to the massive pink obscenity that sat smack dab in the middle of her neat, impeccably decorated living room. The bright neon color stood out like…well, the big pink cock that stood up at least eight inches from the center of the pink plastic monstrosity. The sight was made even more obscene by the giant pink bow that encircled the head of the fake dick.

Who in the world would send her such a thing? Even before the question was finished, she knew the answer.

Chandra. It had to be. Her cousin delighted in finding ever more inventive ways to embarrass Yolie with each passing birthday. It seemed that for Yolie’s thirtieth birthday, Chandra had decided to go all out.

Yolie snatched at the card dangling from the gaily wrapped penis, careful not to actually make contact with it.

Sure enough, the card read, “Everyone should get laid on their thirtieth birthday. You’re no exception. Love, Chandra.”

“Love Chandra, my ass,” Yolie bit out as she marched over to the phone and punched in her cousin’s number. Her toe beat a rapid staccato on her gleaming hardwood floor as the phone rang. And rang. And rang. The coward wasn’t picking up so she listened with barely restrained impatience as her cousin’s disgustingly cheerful voice filled her ear.

“Hi, you’ve reached Chandra. I’m not available right now. I’m either away from my phone or under some really hot guy. But leave a message and I’ll call you back. Oh, and if this is Yolie, I hope you liked my gift.” Beep.
(more…)

The Bet

Copyright © 2008 Michelle Hasker
www.michellehasker.com

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Kara looked up at her best friend in shock. She didn’t care if her jaw gaped like the proverbial fish out of water. “This is ridiculous! It’s insane!”

“You lost the bet, and now you have to put up or shut up.”

Kara stared down at the box. It looked innocent enough in the white and pink packaging. Innocent until you looked at the picture and realized there was a dildo sticking straight up out of the center of it.

“I am soooooo not using this!”

“A deal’s a deal.” Nicole crossed her arms. “It was okay for me to have to do it if I’d lost?”

Kara fumbled for the right words and then gave up. “I’ve never used a dildo before in my life! You use them nightly. You can’t expect me to actually use this…this…thing.”

“Oh you will use it all right! And with the witness of my choice!” Nicole’s anger startled Kara.
(more…)

Tropical Heat
By
Michelle M Pillow
www.michellepillow.com
© Copyright Michelle M Pillow, 2005-2008

Website – www.michellepillow.com
Blog – www.michellepillow.com/blog
Newsletter – http://www.michellepillow.com/newsletter/?p=subscribe
Free Story – www.ravenhappyhour.com
Radio Show – http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ravenradio
Myspace- http://www.myspace.com/michellepillow

Warning:
This story is intended for those over 18 years of age. It contains explicit sexual content.

Tropical Heat

Annabelle hated the sunshine of the tropical paradise. She hated the white of the sand, the blue of the ocean, the tan of the flesh on her tour guide. Okay, the tour guide’s flesh didn’t exactly fall into the hate category, but the way he’d been treating her since she and her friends stepped on the boat, did.
This vacation was supposed to be a dream come true. Isn’t that what everyone said about the tropics? Instead, she got a moody tour guide and a best friend who was already drunk and passed out with some local she’d met on the dock. At least, Annabelle liked to think Cheryl was passed out. The man she met was practically a teenager. Cheryl was forty-five. Not, that Annabelle had anything against the age difference. It just seemed that younger men had nothing to offer.
Glancing over at Christian, Mr Tour Guide Extraordinaire, she frowned. It would seem the older guys didn’t have much to offer either. Too bad his cute looks went along with his grumpy personality. The man really shouldn’t be in the tourist industry. Besides, he was the one who offered the trip to them. It wasn’t like they sought him out.
Annabelle crossed her arms over her chest, disappointed that her new bikini was being wasted on Mr Sour Face. He’d barely given her a second glance.
(more…)

PRETTY ON PINK

INDIA MASTERS
© 2008 India Masters, All Rights Reserved

Carli Shepard greeted her attorney with a watery smile. Obligatory pleasant greeting completed, he ushered her into the conference room where she took a seat across the table from her soon to be ex-husband, David. With a perfunctory nod, she settled into her chair for the final negotiations that would end their brief five-year marriage.

They’d met in college, both of them struggling to make ends meet while completing their senior year. Carli was clerking for Superior Court Judge, Allen Binder when David contracted with the county to set up a new computer network and design their web page. They’d hit if off immediately and before long were sharing his tiny one bedroom apartment in the east village.

She’d passed the bar her first time out and accepted a position with Collin, Wilkins, and Strand, specializing in entertainment law. She’d moved up quickly in the firm and expected to make partner any time. Of course, working toward partnership had meant sacrifices – long hours in negotiations, travel to the west coast, and parties with shallow, famous people who rarely remembered her name from one phone call to the next.

In the meantime, David’s career had taken off, too, and he soon opened his own networking and web design business. As his business expanded, he’d had to hire several new employees, including Amanda Price, a young, sexy graphic designer who specialized in animation and played around with designing video games. She was pretty, and blond; with a body that could stop traffic on any busy New York street.

She should have seen it coming, Carli told herself over and over again. The long hours she put in at the firm, the business trips, and David’s commitments to his career. Their sex life became predictable and hurried and eventually dwindled to an obligatory once a week just so they could say they did it. Was it any wonder he’d turned to Amanda Price with her blond hair and cheerleader’s body?

“Is Sunday all right with you?” David’s attorney asked her.

Carli looked up, embarrassed at being caught woolgathering. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere, what was that?”

David looked at his attorney and rolled his eyes, as if to say her behavior was typical. Which, if she were to be honest, it was. (more…)

A Naughty Secret Santa

Written By: Savannah Chase

Copyright 2007 Savannah Chase

Angel barely sat down at her desk and turned on her computer when a blue message light flickered on the bottom of her screen.

Hot2Trot: Good morning hot stuff…LOL

Hot2Trot was the screen name her friend Holly used whenever they talked on line. She was on the other side of the floor they both worked on.

ShyAngel: Good morning, you know I just sat down at my desk

Hot2Trot: I know that’s why I messaged you so quickly. I was going to call but I can’t.

Hot2Trot: You R never going to believe what I just saw.

ShyAngel:?

Hot2Trot: Erick almost tripped over his own feet in his office when you walked by.

ShyAngel: ?

Hot2Trot: The man was drooling over you, that’s why

ShyAngel: I don’t know what you saw, maybe his shoe was undone or something, but there is NO way it was because of me. No way

Hot2Trot: What? OMG, he was looking at you. The only other person around you at the moment was Dan, and I’m 100% sure he wasn’t drooling over Dan. The man has it for you. BAD!!!

Angel smiled to herself. Her friend had to be wrong, there was no way that he felt anything towards her except respect for an employee. She wasn’t his type.

Erick Craig was the type of man who was usually seen with supermodels on his arm. Not plain Jane bookworms like her.

ShyAngel: U r so wrong……

Hot2Trot: No way, I’m always right and you know it. Ok I got 2 go. I need to catch the coffee cart before it vanishes.

ShyAngel: Talk to you later, and no I’m not wrong

She clicked the little x on her screen to close off the window and continued putting her desk in order. The holiday season was always hectic around here and with Christmas Eve three days away it was going to get a lot crazier. Tons of things had to get done before some went off on their holiday vacation.

She still had to input half the employees hours and make sure to check that she hadn’t missed anything.

(more…)

Secret Santa: Naughty or Nice? Seasonal Wishes Series

© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved

I/R, Contemporary, BDSM elements.

Some material found in this story my considered objectionable to some readers. Adult Content, Adult Language and Light Bondage. The author acknowledges that all copyrights belong to their rightful owners.

Author Note: I am aware that in the beginning of this story I do say that Pepperton is an all girls academy and boys are included in one class, all will be explained in the next story. Please, be patient and understanding.

Prologue

Every year at Pepperton All Girls Academy a tradition was performed. Although the Headmaster called it a joyous occasion, the staff called it Russian Roulette with a Santa’s Hat. Every year, the staff members picked a name out of the hat to take part in the Annual Secret Santa tradition. There was a better chance of picking an enemy’s name rather than a friend’s, and for some odd reason, everyone was saddled with giving the Headmaster a gift as well. When the beginning of December rolled around, everyone tried their best to be either out sick that day or too busy to attend the staff meeting during lunch time. But even those too sick or too busy always got a name whether they wanted it or not.

And then things changed. At the beginning of the school year, not only was the school saddled with a new Headmistress, but a few new staff members as well. It was like a science experiment gone horribly wrong. The Headmaster had not been dismissed; due to his long years in service the board felt he should stay on until the new Headmistress had the hang of things, which would be, as the board determined, at least two years. The Headmaster would take a pay cut, but still be employed. Although silently fuming, he was still happy to have a job. The entire staff watched the two like hawks, waiting for the Headmaster to blow a gasket or Headmistress Jessie McClean to go supernova on him. The two were civil but it was clear they did not like each other. There were bets going that they would be battling it out by the end of the year, and the pool was up to at least $1,000. People had even hoped that the Headmaster would forget the Secret Santa tradition, but alas no such luck. The highlight of the name drawing ceremony was that Jessie McClean would be there, and that made the meeting a must attend for everyone. The faculty watched the new Headmaster and Mistress through out the whole ceremony.

Jessie was a picture of dignity and refinement. Dressed in a cream colored silk blouse with a red silk jacket and matching pencil skirt hugged her ample curves, her legs were encased in shiny knee high black stiletto boots, her long black hair pulled back in a pony tail. Her dark brown eyes lined lightly in black, her full lips a deep berry stain, pearl jewelry and accents finished off her look of class and dignity. Mason Joseph looked like he was smiling as if his life depended on it, in a simple black suit jacket and pants with black oxfords and a black silk shirt. His black hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, giving him a salt and pepper look, his gray eyes taking in the number of staff entering the staff break room, continuing to smile like a loon.

But their story is not why we are here. Let’s look around the room, ah, I see our heroine of this story in the corner of the room, let’s look in on her shall we?

(more…)

© 2007 Zenobia Renquist

“Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!” the crowd in the room chanted.

Kay could barely hear it over her own mind screaming, SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Henry was a dead man.  He’d invited her to this mixed bachelor party with the promise that she’d have fun.  It was mixed because the couple was two guys.  Rather than having two parties, they had one big one.

Everything started off great-music, laughter, drinking, and fun-until Henry and Trent, the happy couple, opened their bachelor gifts.  One particular gift-a pink blow up chair in the shape of a hand with a thick, long dildo in the middle-had sparked a game of Dare or Consequences.  The person had to do the dare or face the consequences.

In Kay’s case, it was six of one and a half dozen of the other.  She had to either impale herself on the chair-that would be the dare-or go without clothes for the rest of the party-that would be the consequences and the party promised to last for another five hours.

There was no doubt in her mind that the people present would enforce the consequences of a failed dare.  Casey, one of Trent’s transsexual friends, sat in all her…his glory after refusing to do body shots from a female guest’s crotch-minus her underwear.

Casey didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable with his man-made D-cups and generous package on display for the world to see.  Kay knew she wasn’t that nonchalant.  She also knew she didn’t want to sit on a dildo for the viewing pleasure of her companions.  She’d just met some of these people a few hours ago.

Kay called over the shouted encouragement, “How long do I have to sit on it?”

She was actually entertaining it.  But, a little dildo action was better than nudity.  A little birdie told her the night would get wilder before it was over and she didn’t want to be naked when that happened.

“Just yank down your pants and sit on it,” Trent said. (more…)

 Perfect View
Written By: Savannah Chase
Copyright  Savannah Chase 2007, All Rights Reserved
 

It was Friday, and instead of getting ready to go out for the one and only date she’d had in months Hope was at home. Very much alone and dateless. The guy called her twenty minutes ago and cancelled. Reason given was that something came up.  What came up was in the form of another woman, she’d heard her giggle in the background from wherever he was calling from.

Passing by her balcony Hope caught sight of Sawyer standing at his window, he was glancing her way, she was sure of it. He was a guy who lived in the adjacent building. She’d crushed on him from the first time she’d laid eyes on the man as she was walking down the street. It wasn’t until a few days later that she found out that he lived across the street from her.
She’d never built up the nerve to talk to him; they’d only flirted as they passed each other by. A wink here, a coy smile there. Never words, just looks. Looks that spoke for themselves. The last time she saw him was a few days ago. She’d caught him watching her during an intimate moment.

It been so long since she’d had sex with a man, and there was only so much one could go before sexual frustration kicked in. She was very much past that point. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally.  When she caught him watching she didn’t give her discovery away. It was flattering and an even bigger turn on that he was looking at her. There was no embarrassment about the whole thing especially since it was him she was imagining as her body surrendered and screamed in pleasure. Sawyer was her deepest fantasy that she craved, but was afraid to have. Until she built up the courage to do anything about it all she had was herself and her treasure chest full of toys to keep her body satisfied.
Hope was getting ready to change back into her casual clothes when the door bell rang. All the effort she put in to looking extra special, and unfortunately there was nowhere to go. Looking out the peep hole she saw a delivery guy holding a package in one hand and clip board in the other.

“I have a delivery for Hope Denver” he said as she opened the door.
(more…)

By: Anne Douglas

(c) Anne Douglas 2007, All Rights Reserved

Whoever the hell was leaning on her doorbell was an evil, evil son of a bitch.

“All right, all right, I’m coming.” Karen whispered into the couch cushion that was stuck to her face. The words rung in her head like Sunday Church bells — Oh wait, that was just the doorbell.

Karen groaned as she tried to untangle herself from the couch. Someone had thrown the kitschy crochet square blanket that usually decorated the back of her couch over her at some point, and now it was wound around her bare legs, her toes were caught in the little holes making it twice as difficult to unravel herself. Her hangover, and inability to see anything with her eyes crunched tight against the dim light, made it even more difficult.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; sure the foul taste in her mouth had to be from what ever rodent had crawled into there and died while she’d been sleeping. Fucking hangover.

The damn doorbell was still buzzing. Was it just her imagination or was it getting louder? She jerked on the cover, finally getting it off her big toe, but her exaggerated, uncoordinated movement lost her the precarious hold she had on the edge of the couch, and she fell to the floor with a teeth jarring thump.

A low, husky voice that sounded as bad off as she felt, came from her left … at least she thought it was her left. “That sounded like it hurt. You okay hun?”

“Unh.” It wasn’t exactly verbalizing a yes, but she’d at least managed to make her grunt sound somewhat positive — that had to count for something, right?

(more…)

Marteeka Karland has generously contributed a sexy story that takes readers beyond the chair… 

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By:  Marteeka Karland

(c) 2007 Marteeka Karland, All Rights Reserved

            Spartans are trained to fear nothing. But this was beyond anything the warrior had ever been prepared for. Perhaps that last spirited drink hadn’t been a good idea.

The warrior, Arqus, looked around him. The noise was deafening, the smells sweaty and strong with liquor, and the people crushed in on him horribly. He’d never seen the like. They thrashed their bodies around and against each other in what he could only describe as controlled chaos.

It reminded him of sparing with his fellow warriors. They whirled and twirled and clashed against each other with force and grace till it was hard to tell if they fought… or danced.

They dressed funny. All in black from head to toe. Pale skin. Black kohl around their eyes, even coloring their lips and fingernails. Men and women alike. All fighting and dancing together, the females just as fiercely as the males. In some cases, they were even more aggressive.

The warrior smiled. This place was foreign to him, and many things were very strange, but it was more like his home than first met the eye. He was Spartan. He would adapt to his situation and conquer whomever he must to return home.

One particularly strange looking woman only a few steps away caught his eye. Dressed in the shortest skirt he’d ever seen of some shiny black material with the same type of material covering her breasts, her creamy skin beckoned to him. She was dressed so a man could undress her as he desired.

At least, that was his opinion until she punched a thin man in the jaw before kicking him in the privates. He doubled over in pain and the warrior couldn’t help wincing for the man.

“Just because I agreed to dance with you doesn’t mean I agreed to fuck you.” She had to yell to be heard above all the noise. When she whirled around, she slammed straight in to him. Her face smacked into his chest and she stumbled back. The warrior grabbed her arms to steady her. Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes growing larger by the second. “Oh. My. God.“

(more…)

Missing You By:

© 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved

I/R , Contemporary

Warning: Adult Content and Adult Language.

Chapter 1

Cassia Peters walked around the empty office picking up file folders left behind by the occupants of the desks, now abandoned. Most of the office workers were at a week long conference and she was left all alone. Jonathan had put her in charge while he was away to keep the office going, even if no one was there. Jonathan. Cassia sighed. She felt her body warm and tighten, her breasts became heavy and ached for his touch, her pussy clenched and moisture soaked her panties.

She brushed back a tendril of dark chocolate colored hair and blew out a breath.

It was almost the end of the day and soon she would be home. She would finally get to sate her horniness. She missed her husband, Jonathan dearly. He had only been gone two days and yet she felt alone and restless without him. She wandered into his office. She ran a hand across the worn dark brown leather of his executive chair. A memory of him working late and her returning to the office with his dinner surfaced in her mind. She clenched her thighs as she remembered the look he gave her as soon as she walked through the door.

“Lock the door,” he said softly.

Shutting the heavy wooden door, she walked across the thickly carpeted executive suite. Her breath increasing with every step, she placed the brown paper bag with his Philly Cheese Steak and fries on his desk.

“You hungry?” She asked, her voice a husky whisper.

His eyes roved over her body and licked his lips. He held out his hand and she made her way around the desk, sliding her hand into his. He pulled her forward and brushed his lips across her knuckles. She shivered.

He placed his hands on her hips and leaned his head forward. Placing light kisses on her cloth covered skin. Moving from her stomach to the valley between her breasts, she ran her hands through his short midnight black hair. The silky strands tickling her palms.

He paused, “I’m hungry but not for food. I’ve been hungry for you all day. God, you look sexy.” (more…)

Here’s my m/f smut contribution to the Diaries. I’d love to know what you think of Terry and Jason.

Oh – and I blame my personal SMUT Goddesses — Jet Mykles and Morgan Hawke…..

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(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson, All Rights Reserved

Terry groaned and collapsed back onto the luxurious bed, kicking off her strappy sandals. Free at last, free at last. She chuckled tiredly at her own attempt at humor. Now a single woman again, she was determined to make the most of it and the two week vacation with her life-long best friend, Jason.

Well, almost life-long anyway. They’d met in kindergarten and cemented their friendship when he’d dared her to jump off the moving playground swing. Her broken arm was proof of her inability to turn down a dare from Jason.

Her husband, make that ex-husband, never understood their closeness. From the first time the two men had met, the animosity had been tangible. Jason disapproved silently but her ex-husband complained at any opportunity. It didn’t matter how many times she tried to reassure him, he was convinced Jason was a threat to him.

Eventually, his inability to relax and stop trying to control Terry spelled the death of their short marriage. Hell, he wasn’t even good in bed, he was so uptight.

Terry closed her eyes for a moment, picturing Jason’s muscular body and wishing he had any interest in her as more than just a friend. She didn’t want to destroy their friendship by coming on to him but some days it was really difficult to bite her tongue … and to not bite his firm ass. But without some sign he was on the same page, it would be too much to risk.

To distract herself from images of Jason, she got up and went to investigate the large basket on the room’s desk. Already in the room when she checked in, she’d assumed it was a gift from the resort management. Instead the tag was in Jason’s heavily slanted scrawl. Happy Divorce.

(more…)

Here’s my contribution to the diaries.  Let me know what you think about Miranda and my Jamie. 

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© 2007 Celia Kyle ~ All Rights Reserved

Miranda inhaled a deep calming breath and exhaled slowly through her mouth as she sat on hold, waiting for a representative from Discreet Dildos, Inc.

Checking the status of her shipment online, she was surprised to see that her order had been delivered to her office earlier in the day.  The only problem she found with that was that she did not, in fact, have her order in her hands.  Someone in the office had her package with the chair tucked safely inside and, damn it, she wanted what she paid for.

As if the fact that it was missing wasn’t enough, she had no idea who signed for the package or when. 

Anyone, anyone, in the office could have it. 

They could have it and open it. 

They could have it, open it, and see that the bright pink blow-up chair with an attached eight inch dildo. 

They could have it, open it, see the pink blow-up chair that promised hours of orgasms to her sub Ethan, and read the shipping invoice with her name printed on it!

She had to find that package before somebody else did.  No ifs ands or buts about it.  Operation “Find the Pink Pony” was on.  (more…)