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She takes good care of her body, and her body usually takes good care of her. But when she got sweet, shy, little Lori all alone in the steamy-hot shower room after a strenuous game, it was her acting, not her athletic abilities, she put to good, sexy, seductive use.

Patricia Highsmith

She lives in Seattle where she drinks too much coffee and prefers fantasy to reality. Olivia may be reached by writing olivialondonstories gmail. Her imagination substitutes for a somewhat dreary existence in the middle of nowhere home to a particularly harsh climate. Inspiration comes from everywhere, everything, and everybody she meets or sees or visualizes, but mostly from her mind very often early in the morning when she first wakes up. Jill lifted her shirt over her head and revealed two luscious orbs neatly packed into a push-up bra.

Their tongues kneaded together, gliding and probing until Rona reached behind Jill and unclasped that black, lacy impediment to desire. Jill gasped with delight as Rona cupped each breast before tilting the areoles to her lips and tasting of their splendour. Rona had recently dated a smarmy fellow who liked bushy women. But good things only come to those who wait, so Rona was determined to make Jill squirm. Rona could hold out no longer. She plunged her tongue into the greatest of elixirs, petals of flesh opening like a flower in bloom. Supine on the counterpane of her full-sized bed, Jill surrendered completely as if this were the moment she had waited for all her life.

Rona gave and gave with tongue and fingers moving in tandem, until the spell of hypnotic rhythm broke with a solid round of finger-fucking. Fuck me with those fingers! See All Customer Reviews. I had reluctantly in some ways given my virginity away a couple of years earlier and had subsequently slept with him a few times before we broke up.

I then went with another guy of my age for a few months having sex occasionally before being pulled by this older guy of thirty two a few weeks ago. We had been having sex regularly since then, mainly at his flat, but a few times in his car. I found that very exciting. He had taught me a lot. Him caressing and stroking me there had been new to me in my sexual experience. New, but amazingly exciting for it felt very naughty, almost taboo. As I felt his cock between my legs the head of it finding my lips, his hand snaked round me and he squeezed my double D cup boobs.

I grunted at the sensation.

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That was part arousal, but also part revulsion. As the sexual arousal overcame the partial revulsion I felt only one word came into my mind. Despite not going to uni. I was employed initially in the advertising department partly selling advertising space, but also helping out on the exhibitions and the other events the paper ran.

It was and I was nineteen. Lighting a Marlboro red she went on. It was good advice and I made a vow to not let any of the guys at work get too close to me and certainly, I promised myself, none would fuck me. After I had been there for about six months and was getting on well I had managed, just about to keep that vow, well the second part. Still no one had fucked me, but I had to admit that a couple had kissed and groped me and one of the senior sub-editirs had got my tits out of my bra in his locked office after a client party.

Career-wise, things were progressing very well. I was writing copy for a few small, mainly print ads and was acting as deputy copywriter on a large whisky account. It was challenging, but exciting. I went on my first big event after I had been at the paper for nine months or so. It was the British launch of a new car by Honda.

We were sponsoring a number of events involved with the launch as well as doing a major feature for the Scottish editions of the paper. That was going to be a four-page pull out with loads of photos so we had several teams from the paper at the event. We were staying just outside Perth on a hunting and fishing complex that had a number of lodges scattered around a central reception, bar and restaurant. Each cabin was quite luxurious some being one bedroomed and others two or three. We had just about finished and were having a sort of wrap party in the bar of the complex on the last night of shooting even though I, as the junior and a couple of others were staying on for most of the next day to tidy things up.

The rest of the crew and agency people were leaving early the next day to get back to London. As we were in Scotland in October it was cold so I was wearing black tights. With an early start for most people, it was a rather lack-lustre party for they just wanted to get to bed and set off home. Before that, though, we all had dinner together and I found myself next to Marcia. She was the director, a very powerful person on a shoot. She was also known to be one of the best in London and was quite famous in the ad and newspaper industries at the time. She was in her mid-thirties at least.

Very slim, and just about my height with an almost boy like figure she had jet black hair cut in a short bob around her chin line and very dark, large, mysteriously probing eyes. She was very powerful and authoritative around the shoot hurling as much abuse at the senior art directors as she did at the cameramen when they screwed things up. She was surprisingly easy to talk with, although I found myself a little in awe of her and the fact that such a senior person in the industry was bothering with a young, bird like me.

We all drank quite a lot and everyone was laughing, particularly at her witty and rather sacrilegious views on the ad industry. She told me about her production company and how that had enabled her to have a house in Hampstead and an apartment in Marbella, to drive a Porsche and to have a boat. Hence, when her attention became a bit closer than with straight woman I was a little scared, but also hugely flattered. After all she was an older, experienced woman, a luminary in the ad industry and a very striking and, I suppose, sexy woman.

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Other than some brief fumblings with other girls at parties, there was nothing in my experience to call upon, I had no idea how to handle her or what to do. When she turned her head, which accentuated her long, slender neck, and looked at me she held my gaze probably longer than was needed.


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Dinner broke up and a number of us went to the very small bar. She stood at the bar and bought everyone drinks edging a little closer to me as people picked theirs up. When the serving was finished she stood half in front of me leaning back against the bar her body shielding my legs from the others view. Everyone was talking and laughing and having a roaring time when I felt something on my knee. I looked down and saw her hand moving away.

Another accident or an overt gesture, I wondered still not being sure? It happened again a few minutes later and then a third time. What she was doing was seemingly accidentally just letting her hand fall down so that if we wanted it could be seen as an inadvertent gesture. A mistake I suppose. However, what I felt was becoming clear was that they were not mistakes. Especially when on the fourth time the back of her hand ran all the way up my leg from the knee to the hem of the skirt.

Still, though, she was acting if nothing was happening, turning from chatting to me stuck in the corner and other members of the crew across the bar separating what she was doing to me from them. Still, though, there was nothing too overt and I realised that she was still making sure that there was a way out without her losing face for now she had both her hands wrapped around her brandy glass and was asking me about my job as if nothing at all was happening.

Then as a group of the crew burst into loud laughter at probably some really filthy joke she turned to look at them so that her back was towards me. I watched her hand once more slip down and behind her. This time it did not brush my nylon covered leg. This time it was not a quick or surreptitious movement. No this time I watched as the perfectly manicured, white, square cut nails stretched over the fleshy part of my leg just above my knee and I saw the fingers encircle it. They lingered there squeezing gently. There was no way that this could be anything other than a very obvious caress; a suggestive gesture and an invitation to me.

I was excited and flattered at her attention. I was, though, slightly alarmed and concerned. I was well outside my comfort zone and area of familiarity. It was beyond the messing around with girls, the limited sex with boys and the fling with the older guy that my short sex life had experienced. It was also with someone who it was rumoured could be lesbian, even though she was married and had children. Recently, I had become alarmed at the way I felt with men, the odd combination of feelings I had when I held, or had a cock in me.

The blend of excitement and revulsion, of desire and guilt and of curiosity and fear. The stronger feelings I was recently experiencing when I looked at women and saw a little too much leg or breasts. So yes I was mixed up and so unsure about just what I wanted from sex.

I was also a little confused by the drink and the party atmosphere. Confused for sure, but also very excited and I have to admit aroused. My heart was beating and my mind was racing as I simply stared at that hand and those tempting, suggestive fingers on my leg. I could move and I guess no face would be lost. Or I could, perhaps, place my hand on hers showing that I was interested, maybe press my leg more firmly or even touch her back to show that I was receptive to her. In the end I took the line of least resistance. I did nothing.


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I did nothing to encourage or deter her. I in fact put the ball firmly back in her court, or so I thought. Marcia was, though, clearly too experienced to be put off or discouraged by such a simple gesture. No, obviously she had been here before. She knew what to do. She must have recognised something in me, some signs or signals. I had no idea that I had transmitted any indication of either, being bi, interested in her or being available. She immediately recognised the signal I was transmitting about events now being back in her court.


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And she was able, ready and so eager to return it right back in mine. After a moment or two instead of just removing her hand she slid it up my legs briefly letting her fingers go under the hem of my skirt and giving the inside of my thigh a little squeeze. There was absolutely no way that could be a mistake and that gesture could be nothing but a come on, a request, an asking for something from me. Turning she stared right into my eyes and with a look of relief, pleasure and assurance on her face she smiled and raised her thin eyebrows.

I did nothing, but smiled back. I think it was then that she felt she had got me. I had no clear idea on what I was feeling or what I wanted. I had only rarely recently wondered what another girl or woman looked like naked and I had never had a strong urge to go beyond the brief kisses and cuddles that young women exchange. Yet here I was sitting on a bar stool as a much older woman made an overtly lesbian gesture towards me. I suppose by sitting there as her fingertips ran along the hem of my skirt I was accepting her invitation. But what was the invitation for, I wondered in my slightly tipsy state?

The party started breaking up shortly after that and following the usual rather exaggerated kisses and hugs. I should have left with the others from the newspaper, but something stopped me. There were only four or five of the film unit left with Marcia and me. The others were sitting round the fire in easy chairs with Marcia standing with them.

They were finishing a bottle of the local single malt. I was still where I had been all evening in the corner by the bar. I had remained sitting on the stool and forgetfully I had not pulled my skirt down so it was now almost up to my crutch. Fortunately, in some ways, tights provide a woman with security and to an extent, protection. It seems far more reasonable to show most of your legs when in tights than with bare legs or when wearing stockings. Vivacia K. Ahwen lives in a small New England town, where stars shine bright, winters rage fierce, and tales loom tall. Jenny Angell spent three years working as a high-priced call girl in Boston, Massachusetts.

The people that she met during that time inspired her to write about the experience. Angell is now happily married and lives in New England, where she continues to write. Janine Ashbless is a multi-published author of erotica and erotic romance. Her first collection of erotic fairy, fantasy and paranormal stories, Cruel Enchantment , was published in by Black Lace. Red Grow the Roses is her sixth novel. Janine loves goatee beards, ancient ruins, minotaurs, trees, mummies, having her cake and eating it, holidaying in countries with really bad public sewerage, and any movie or TV series featuring men in very few clothes beating hell out of each other.

She lives in England. Lisette Ashton is the author of more than two dozen full length erotic fiction titles that have covered subjects from contemporary romance to erotic vampire stories and explorations of the works of the Marquis de Sade. Ashton lives in the north of England and, when not writing fiction, teaches creative writing.

His Dominant! Next came Sweet as Sin, which is a kinky Black Widow novel. Monica Belle is the pseudonym of an Oxford University graduate who has long been delighting readers of erotica with her cheeky, witty prose and appealing settings. She has produced a dozen full length novels in a decade, including some of the bestsellers in the genre, along with a plentiful supply of short stories.

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Her settings are enticingly familiar but include the occasional touch of the paranormal. Kat Black is the author of prize-winning, pulse-pounding, adult fiction. Born and raised in Australia, Kat was labelled a daydreamer from a young age — but never quite understood why that was considered to be a bad thing. At eighteen she donned her backpack in typical Aussie fashion and set out to see the world. She got as far as London her very first port of call before running into a six-foot-one, solid British obstacle that stopped her in her tracks.

Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life. Xcite Books have recently published her collection of short stories Random Acts of Lust. She also offers a critique service for aspiring erotic and romantic writers through Writers Workshop. Born in a small town in Western Australia, Luke Bradbury was brought up to enjoy the simple things in life and the outdoors. He decided to come to London after the death of his father. His many hobbies include Australian Rules Football, swimming, soccer and generally staying in good shape.

He now lives back in Australia. Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not. For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame. Until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. At Her Feet will be published by Mischief in March A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home.

In , Cleland was arrested for obscenity, yet denied responsibility for the novel. The book was officially withdrawn, and not officially published again for a hundred years. However, it continued to sell well and was published in pirate editions. Her right-brain persona longs to be an iconoclast and artist. Flora Dain grew up on both sides of the Atlantic.

At school it messed up her handwriting but made life interesting. Now, after marriage and two children, she finds life messy and writing interesting! She firmly believes the erotic power of female fantasy is often overlooked and widely misunderstood. Okay, maybe it is. Kimberly Dean is an award-winning author of over twenty books of romance and erotica. Her work has been sold around the world and translated into French, German, and Japanese. She enjoys the freedom and creativity allowed in writing erotic romance, especially with all the interesting cross-genres that have been exploding on the scene.

When not writing, she enjoys movies, sports, traveling, music, and sunshine. Captain Charles Devereaux is a pseudonym, and is thought most likely to be that of Major Crommelin Henry Ricketts, who retired from the 5th cavalry Madras Staff in after 21 years' service. Delilah Devlin is an award-winning author of erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing edgy stories with complex characters. His quirky, sensuous short stories have appeared in over fifty anthologies, including recent volumes in the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica series.

Madelynne Ellis is a multi-published British author of erotic romance. Her novels and short stories have been published by a variety of houses both in the UK and US, and have been translated into German, Spanish and Norwegian. She is best known for her Regency novels for pioneering British erotica publisher Black Lace, but also enjoys writing contemporary and paranormal settings.

Madelynne lives in the UK with her partner of 20 years, their two adorable children and a chocoholic rabbit. When not writing she enjoys live role-playing, solving puzzles and hanging out online. Justine Elyot is the author of the bestselling erotic novels On Demand and The Business of Pleasure , as well as enough short stories to fill several anthologies. Full blow-by-blow details of her goings-on can be found at her website. Rose de Fer sees the sensual in the strange and loves the view from the edge. Lust Ever After, her first novella, is a kinky re-imagining of Bride of Frankenstein and is published by Mischief.

Rose lives in England with her husband, who feeds her wine and raw meat and keeps the chains tight when the moon is full. Lana Fox became a sex writer because she couldn't shut up about the subject. Her erotica has been published by Cleis, Harlequin, and Go Deeper Press - in fact, she is co-founder of the latter. Her characters, who have lots of super-hot sex, transform by becoming their true sexual selves. Lana's ardent belief in the importance of sexuality led her to become a teacher of erotic writing, an online sex columnist for Boston Magazine, and a sexuality blogger all over the place.

Her nonfiction self-help book on learning to love your sexual self is represented by the Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency. And as you'll see, she's a kinky devil. Izzy French has been writing erotic short fiction for the last 8 years, splitting her time between writing and taking care of the kids and husband too, when he deserves it…. Izzy loves exploring the darker side of her imagination in her writing, and injecting humour too. Izzy has had stories published in numerous anthologies for Black Lace and Xcite, in Scarlet magazine and online.