Tag Archives: dick

Shameless self-promotion

29 Mar

I have a new collection of short stories called Payback, which is now available in various places.

Let me know if you like it.

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Twitterotica – A #wankwednesday story: The importance of fuck-me shoes

9 Mar

They are the highest heels I’ve ever bought. In the mirror, I could see my feet point down, almost vertically, so it’s impossible to tell where my calf ends and my foot begins. My toes are squashed into the end. They are hideously uncomfortable.

And yet, they make me feel as if I’m floating, as though mere contact with the ground is no longer a problem I need to deal with. I am an angel, a heavenly figure in black — no fallen angel, either. There will be no falling today. My sheer dress clings to me in the right places. My make-up is better than I’ve ever managed it before. My nails are smudge-free and my hair remains unfrizzed. All that is down to the shoes.

The smut continues through here

Story: The Maharani of Carriage O

7 Mar

After five months in India, you start to understand some of the rhythms of the railways–slow and incessant, and more enjoyable than you expect. Rather like tantric sex, or so Marc says, anyway. He likes to take the slow route. I’m more of a Ferrari girl. If you don’t get there quickly, you might never arrive.

This particular train was the overnight sleeper from Mumbai to Goa. After five months of temples, bazaars and trekking, I needed a change of pace: some relaxing beach time, a few massages, sunbathing, maybe a little bit of shopping in the market. Marc wanted to go to a full moon party, stay up all night, take something illegal, and then meditate his way down.

The trains have only one pace. Getting on one is not as easy as you’d think. First, you need to find the right platform, but the signs are in Hindi. There are always porters to tell you, but honestly, why would I lug a backpack for two miles along a main road only to hand it to some guy in a red shirt who will just try to get two hundred rupees off me for carrying it upside down over a bridge? Okay, so it’s heavy. It’s lined with chicken wire, in case someone tries to slash it and get my stuff, and I’ve got my Mac makeup and a travel hair-dryer just in case I end up at some ambassador’s party or something, eating Ferrero Rocher and champagne, and flirting with the MI6 guy. There would always be one. Hopefully a Daniel Craig lookalike.

More smut through here

Do you want me to suck your lance, baby?

24 Feb

Over at Erotica for All, Tiffany Reisz has made a passionate plea for writers to take the euphemism out of fuck talk, or ‘erotica’ as we like to circumlocutarily denominate it.

As she says:

In my writing, I tend to err on the side of the standard–it’s a cock, it’s a penis, or it’s implied. When I write, “he pushed inside her,” readers are pretty sure I’m not talking about a man penetrating a women with a matchbox car, a tube of chapstick, or a cell phone. I’ve seen other writers use flowery euphemisms for the penis during sex scenes– “lance,” “sword,” “manhood.” Manhood is a particularly odd one for me. I’ve never had a penis in my womanhood so why would I have a manhood in my vagina. And the sword metaphors freak me out a little. Sword? Lance? Really?

And that’s the truth of it. The only synonym for cock that I can swallow is dick, and cock just has that percussive sound to it that makes my stomach tingle. Dick has its place, but for me it’s second best to cock. Weapon is too aggressive. I mean, even with rough sex it’s not a weapon. And lance… I mean, have those people ever seen a lance? Or, if they’ve seen a lance, have they ever seen a penis? Or a cock for that matter.

More rude thoughts through here