Category Archives: Blog

Kay Jaybee Gives Us a Sexy Peek into The Circus

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My guest today is the BDSM Queen herself, Kay Jaybee, here to talk to us about her nasty story, ‘The Circus,’ from Sweetmeats Press’s yummy anthology, Immoral Views. Welcome Kay. Tell us more!

For as long as I can remember, I have always hated the circus. To me there is something terribly unnerving about it. All those false smiles and fake tans. From childhood, I recall the air within the Big Top arena as stifled and tense- as if one was always waiting for something bad to happen as you sat on little fold down wooden seats, the putrid smell of stale popcorn and candy floss hanging in the air.

For me, I guess the word ‘sinister’ sums things up when it comes to the circus- especially the clowns (I still have nightmares about clowns, and as yet cannot bring myself to write about them- maybe one day).

Given this dislike, it might surprise you that I have written a story called The Circus- until you realise that this is a tale about power and control. About the enjoyment of watching how power can be used, abused, and ultimately enjoyed, by those with particular voyeuristic, restraint, and punishment fantasies…

I mentioned how much I dislike clowns- yet they are not the ones who should be most feared within the circus environment- that role belongs to the Ringmaster. I have always thought there was mileage in a story about a Ringmaster. After all he (or she) is the ultimate power within the Big Top. What the Ringmaster dictates is the law- and must be obeyed.

So what would happen, I began to muse (after Kojo Black of Sweetmeats Press first asked me to write him a hard hitting voyeurism story for his latest anthology, Immoral Views), if there was a very special type of circus. A circus where those with sufficient funds could pay to enjoy their BDSM peccadilloes- where most of the audience could get their voyeuristic kicks- and a few could experience the touch of the Ringmasters whip, and the acrobatics of his assistants for real…

The line is blurred between spectator and performer in a theatre of pleasure and pain. Can Carrie survive the trails that await her on the circus’s stage at the hands of the Ringmaster and his two acrobatic assistants? Either way it is going to the road to erotic success is going to smart a bit…

Carrie really hasn’t had time to think about where she is, or why she has allowed herself to attend the derelict theatre where the Circus is held, before the action begins.  As she sits nervously in the audience, she has only just got her mind around the fact that her boyfriend, Scott, not only knows about The Circus, but has sent her there alone; when the Ringmaster declares that her ticket number has been pulled from the lottery which decides who will be the subject of the evenings show…

Cracking his whip against the end of the bed, the Ringmaster bought the room to order.

“Everyone in this room knows the type of punishing entertainment we issue here.  Everyone is here by choice.  There is, however, a safety word.  If our guests utter the word ‘Circus’, they will be removed from the room with no questions asked.  Otherwise, those chosen to take part in tonight’s performance are here to be used for our enjoyment, and maybe, if they’re lucky, their own.

“Before the show can truly begin however, we need to find our prime players.  One man and one woman will be selected from amongst you, using the numbers on your ticket stubs.”

A mass of shuffling hands retrieved tickets from pockets and cleavages, as every member of the audience reread the numbers they had memorised anyway.

“First we will allocate the female guest star.  Ladies, brace yourselves….”

The compère paused, adopting the annoying style of a television quiz show host about to announce the winner of some second rate talent show.

“Number 23!”

Echoes of relief and disappointed ricocheted around the room, but no one moved.  No one approached the stage.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

Still no one moved, and Carrie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing that whoever had been picked would hurry up.  She knew it wasn’t her.  She was safe with her number 24 ticket tucked in the top of her right boot.  With a sense of relief she relaxed her shoulder muscles a little.

A hasty consultation began between the Ringmaster and his assistants, who nodded their agreement to whatever he was suggesting.

“It seems that the holder of ticket 23 has failed to show up this evening.  Therefore I will ask the next consecutive ticket holder to join me on the stage.  Number 24, please step this way!”

Carrie thought she was going to be sick.  Her stomach felt like a tumble dryer on full spin.  She hadn’t escaped.  She was going to be on the stage.  She was the subject of the evening. 

“Number 24, don’t be coy, up you come!”  The Ringmaster was stepping towards her, reaching out his long slim arm to hoist Carrie up onto the stage.

Before she could consider how he knew she was number 24, Carrie found herself levered up via the backside, arms, and palms of her neighbours until she was standing next to the Ringmaster.

“A beautiful specimen, I’m sure you’ll agree, Ladies and Gentlemen…” the compère went on, shouting above the approving comments of the crowd, “…in a truly gorgeous outfit.”

The very end of his whip began to trail across the top of Carrie’s breasts, making her shiver further.

“However, I think a change of attire would make things even more interesting..

*****

 Anyone familiar with my work will know that I enjoy writing S&M stories with plenty of ouch and sting, along with doses of tenderness and soft kisses- but tenderness at The Circus has to be earned!

Why not have a read of The Circus to find out if Carrie can please the seated voyeurs enough to win the right to her own satisfaction, as well as that of the male volunteer who has been chosen to appear alongside her on stage…Enjoy! xx

Bio

Kay Jaybee is the author of the erotic e-novella Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Driver (OC Press, 2011) The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2011), and the e-anthologies Yes Ma’am (Xcite, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). She also wrote the sexy anthology The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2008), which features the adventures of a writer, forever in the pursuit of tales of sexual adventure.

As well as being a regular contributor to www.OystersandChocolate.com , Kay has a number of stories published by Cleis Press (Best of the Best Women’s Erotica 2; Lips Like Sugar; Lust; Best Women’s Erotica 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2012; Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Lesbian Romance, 2009, Sweet Love, Smooth, Gotta Have It, Sweet Confessions), Black Lace (Sex and Music, Sexy Little Numbers), Xcite Books (Ultimate Sin, Seriously Sexy Stocking Filler, Boy Fun, Sex at Work, Threesomes. Best of Both, Power Play), Xcite e-books (Cocktales: All Night Long, Kingmaker, Three For All, Flogging the Scarlet), Mammoth Books (The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica), Penguin (Oysters and Chocolate; Erotic Stories of Every Flavor), Seal (Oysters and Chocolate; Nice Girls; Naughty Sex) Sweetmeats Press (Immoral Views) and Forum and Foreplay Magazines.

 

Ghosts, Witches, Magic, and a Big Blisse Kiss

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I’m very happy to be participating in the Big Blisse Kiss for Valentines Day with a big kiss and a big giveaway, which I’ll tell you all about after the big kiss.  The hardest part of participating in the Big Blisse Kiss was choosing only one kiss. Since my novel, Body Temperature and Rising, has just been released in print and the huge celebration with the  More Bag Reading Slam and Launch Party will be happening the 24th and 25th at the London Sh! Stores, the kiss had to be a yummy paranormal one from said novel.

In Body Temperature and Rising, Our lovely heroine, Marie Warren, has the power to enflesh ghosts so they can enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, not a power she had much use for in her previous career in the banking industry; not a power she even knew she had. However, it’s not without its fringe benefits.

A Kiss from Body Temperature and Rising

‘Tell me what I have to do with any of this,’ Marie said. ‘How is this mess my fault?’

For a long moment no one responded. Everyone looked a bit embarrassed including Anderson, but Tara didn’t budge. Still holding Marie’s gaze, Tara spoke. ‘Anderson, show her.’

The ghost shifted in his seat. The colour in his face darkened and the clench of the muscles along his exquisite jaw looked granite hard. When he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled. ‘Tara, my darling, perhaps this is not the ideal way to –’

‘Do it,’ Tara cut him off with a sudden raise of her hand and a swish of the wide silk of her sleeve that snapped almost like a sail in the wind. The tension in the room rose another notch. Sky and Fiori shot each other a surreptitious glance that even Marie could tell was not one of comfort and ease.

Anderson’s spine stiffened. All emotion disappeared from his face, but his voice was suddenly icy. ‘Very well, as you wish, Madame. ’He bowed his head briefly in acquiescence, than lifted his dark eyes to Marie. His gaze softened as did his voice. ‘My dear Marie, I am truly sorry for what I am about to do.’ Then instantly he was gone, vanished into thin air.

The startled gasp that pushed its way past her lips was followed by another tight sting and tug low in her belly. ‘What happened,’ Marie asked when she regained her equilibrium, ‘Why did you send him away?’

Tara sat back in her chair and rested both hands against the arms. She looked suddenly regal. ‘I’ve not sent him anywhere. He hasn’t moved.’ She nodded to the sofa where Anderson had been sitting next to Marie.

Before she could think about the implications, she reached out her hand to the space where he had been. There was a collective gasp among the witches, herself and Anderson as her fingers touched the marble cold of his arm that instantly began to warm beneath her touch. Anderson’s heavy intake of breath vibrated through her hand and up her own arm, then down in her belly where the fireworks were, and suddenly he was there again. His eyelids fluttered and his lips parted, and everything in her wanted him with an ache that was almost unbearable.

She cried out and pulled her hand back, not from fear, not from surprise, but from the embarrassment at just how close she was to coming, and just how badly she wanted to. And as surely as he was sitting there again, she knew by his own deep-chested groan that he was riding the edge with her, that his need was as great as her own.

Tara nodded to Anderson, who then leaned forward toward Marie. ‘With your permission, my love.’

It felt like it was supposed to happen. It felt like nothing else could possibly happen. With lips parted, he took her mouth. There was little more than a feather’s flick of his tongue and a brush of his breath against her lips. His hand cupped her cheek, then moved along her nape to the back of her neck cradling her close to his breath, his delicious warm, superfluous breath.

And she came, trembling and grasping and pulling him to her, whispering his name into his mouth, oblivious to the three witches watching. And as she returned his kiss with her own, she heard his grunt, felt him convulse and tremble against her, sharing in her lust and her release, and suddenly she wasn’t embarrassed at all. Suddenly she felt freer than she could remember ever feeling before. It was exhilarating, wild, totally mad, and she never wanted the feeling to end.

But it did end, and it ended with an icy flash of the man snapping Fiori’s neck in the cave. They both felt it, she could tell by the shudder down Anderson’s spine followed immediately by the protective way he tightened his embrace around her as though he were steadying her.

Then she was shoving and pushing her way up from the sofa babbling hysterically about wanting to know what was going on and wanting to know right now. The business woman in her stood back and shook her head disgustedly while the rest of her dissolved into a puddle of hysteria until Tara took her face between her hands and said calmly. ‘Stop it. If you want the truth then behave like you can handle it.’

Want more kisses?

I’m giving away a WHOLE novel full! Leave a comment to win a PDF of your choice of my novels, The Initiation of Ms Holly, or The Pet Shop. Both novels are very well supplied with hot, steamy, delectable kisses, and a whole lot more.

Want even MORE kisses? And lots more cool giveaways? Don’t miss out on all of the other fabulous posts from the other Blisse Kissers participating in the Big Blisse Kiss. You’ll find lots more yumminess on the Blisse Kiss Site

Kris Andersson Talks Techno-Passion

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I think we should always thank Hollywood legend Hedy Lamarr, not only for being one of the great beauties of the 20th century but also for being the unlikely genius who came up with the idea that led to the invention of the mobile phone.

For without that communications breakthrough, Acts of Passion, one of my personal favourite stories, could never have developed.

It’s only thanks to the idea of texting – and sexting – that the steamy saga of a young actor’s pursuit of a middle aged man took hold and grew.

In an age of letter writing and even the traditional telephone, the single act that launches the story could never have taken place and the subsequent steamy saga of lust and deception would have been lost.

Here’s just a taste of what makes 21st century mobile technology so important to Acts of Passion:

…It was around a fortnight later when I was at dinner with friends, that the phone vibrated and that strange message came up on screen: “You look good with a pint and your eyes say a lot.”

If I’d ignored it, I might have saved myself the trouble of what was to come but instead I texted back: “Thanks for that. It was a pleasure meeting you too.”

That really should have been the end of it. I had made no particular response to the implied come on; there was no suggestion that I was being anything more than polite with a relative stranger.

But a fortnight later I was awoken at around 1am by the sound of the phone vibrating – another text: “I have a hard-on and don’t know what to do.”

I was sleepy and at first confused but then I decided he was joking and sent back what I thought was a similarly lighthearted message: “Why don’t you have a wank?”

“I don’t know how. Will you tell me what to do?”

“You just grab your cock and rub.”

The phone was silent for a few minutes before it vibrated again and the next message came through: “There’s a bit of liquid dribbling out of my bell end. Is this normal?”

I should have stopped right there but I was excited enough by the game to reply: “It’s called pre-cum. Keep rubbing up and down.”

Then came the final text of the night: “OH FUCKING HELL!!!!!!!!!…

*****

If that’s the sort of fun you can have with a simple text message – and trust me, you really can enjoy yourself that much – just imagine the erotic potential of the world of Skype!

There’s no sexting in While the Wife’s Away, my debut trio of short stories, but there is sex in a scenic lift and voyeurism via CCTV…

It was around ten that evening that the intercom sounded and Sir Gordon said he needed to see me.

It may have been late but this was the time he did most of his paperwork so I went to see what important business matter couldn’t wait till tomorrow.

As I entered, he was sitting on the sofa, dressed in his customary silk pyjamas and dressing gown, watching television.

But it was what he was watching, or just finishing watching, that stopped me in my tracks, for I could see myself on the screen, slumped naked on the arm of the tatty sofa in Terry’s shed as the gardener pulled up his trousers and turned so he was looking into the lens of a secret camera, pausing to smile and wink just as I had seen him do at the end of his session with the eager Irene that afternoon.

“He’s quite a guy our Terry isn’t he?” said Sir Gordon, taking a sip from a glass of whisky and then replacing the glass on the table beside the couch where he was sitting, completely undisturbed by the fact that I now knew my employer was a voyeur.

“He’s not my type really – we only ever did it the once just to establish who gives the orders – but he’s good for putting on a show for an old man like me and, as I can see you know, he always delivers…

The technology adds a nice 21st century twists to the stories but ultimately it’s the sex that counts and the variety and range of erotic the situations the characters find themselves in.

*****

My readers will know that what I like most is big hairy men who like to fuck and be fucked – anywhere and any time!

Even in the 21st century, the technology is just an aid to the storytelling – and who needs a mobile phone once you have two men sweating, shafting and sharing their spunk?

Blurb:

While the Wife’s Away is a collection of three gay short stories from well-known erotic author Kris Andersson.

While the Wife’s Away: When the boss suggests an evening meeting at his home and makes it quite clear that his wife is away for the night, you can guarantee that there will be more than statistics and spread sheets on the agenda – and by the end of the night a new sort of business partnership has been created.

Masters and Servants: It’s hard losing your job – and even harder looking for something new. But just how far will one man go to impress the boss? From steamy encounters in the office to passion in a scenic lift and shower room to lust in the potting shed, this is one job search that proves especially stimulating!

The Sin of Father Anthony: When a new priest arrives in town, one lapsed Catholic decides it’s time to start attending Mass again – but he has more than absolution on his mind as he uses his girlfriend to get closer to the true object of his desire and give him a night he’ll never forget. From lusty housekeepers and choir mistresses to a hairy trucker with a taste for stockings and suspenders, this is a story packed with sexual thrills for a young man on a personal mission to satisfy his gay passion.

Buy Links: 

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble

Bio:
Kris Andersson is an award-winning writer – and occasional actor – who specialises in gay erotica. His work has been described as both pacy and steamy. His current titles include While The Wife’s Away – a collection of three stories, Acts of Passion, and A Special Gift.  A fourth title is expected to be published very soon and will take Kris in a very different direction, a gay love story set against the horrors of the First World War and its aftermath.

Janine Ashbless Tells the Story Behind Red Grow the Roses

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It’s my pleasure to welcome the amazing Janine Ashbless to my site today to share with us the story behind her sizzling, intense new vampire novel, Red Grow the Roses. Welcome, Janine. Do tell!

Hi KD – how great is it to be here on your blog!

You asked me for the story-behind-the-story of Red Grow the Roses, my new vampire-erotica novel. So here goes…

I wrote Red Grow the Roses because I was asked to. I was working for Black Lace at the time, and I was just happily starting on a new book of short stories, when the editor mentioned to me that he wanted only one paranormal title for 2010, that it “has to be vamps,” and did I want to write it?

My first thought, to be honest, was, “Me? You’ve got the wrong person!” I had written one vampire short for BL, but I’m actually on record telling the world I didn’t like vampires (This was in the days before True Blood, you have to remember. I’m now a huge fan of True Blood. I am not a huge fan of Twilight):

“Vampires do nothing for me. I mean – I am happy with them as predators, or as vehicles for introducing dominance and/or a little necrophilia to an erotic story; it’s when the author wants to use them as characters that my eyes glaze over. Why? It’s epitomised by a montage scene in Interview with a Vampire where the years pass over New Orleans. In these centuries human beings with their pitiful short lives have created beautiful art and architecture, established complex societies and communities, turned swampland into a thriving city. What have the vampires, with their eternal youth and their physical superiority and their accumulated experience, achieved? Well, they’ve killed some people and drunk absinthe. And one of them plays the piano a bit. Boring, boring bastards.” (From the Lust Bites blog)

But I said “Yes”. And then I sat down and thought about how I could do it. How to get a handle on vampire characters. How to write this from the heart and the head and the groin.

• I didn’t want to do a Laurell K Hamilton rehash.

• I didn’t want to write “human-girl-falls-for-immortal-vampire-Dom-and-gets-turned”. That’s been done too often before. (And, it turns out, after.)

• In Bram Stoker’s Dracula, there’s a real sense of spiritual horror about the vampire. He’s genuinely uncanny and disturbing. He’s dead. He’s cut off not just from human society, but from the grace of God. He has charisma, but the prospect of being turned by him is terrible. How could I recapture that sense of disquiet, for a readership that no longer automatically believes in God, and thinks that being immortal and super-powered sounds pretty cool, really?

• What I really wanted to write was short stories. I think erotica (though not romance) works best, for me, in short story form. That way you can have variety of characters and situations and kinks. And the poor reader doesn’t have to read the book at one sitting, and end up with wrist-cramp, just to get to the next bit of plot.

So, I thought, I’d write a book of short stories. Each would stand alone. Each would have a different protagonist and a different writing style. Each would feature a vampire, and together they’d add up to a single overarching storyline. They’d almost all be written from the point of view of the human beings whose lives are touched (and sometimes wrecked) by something both horrific and seductive. And I’d make it really bad to become a vampire, because yes they’re powerful and immortal – but as they get older, not only do they become more magical, but they lose their minds and their resemblance to humanity. The oldest vampire in RGtR is nearly incorporeal; she drifts about in mirror glass and other reflective surfaces, and is more like a predatory ghost than anything else.

How to tie the different stories together? Well, I’d do what I’d wanted for many years and structure it around the enigmatic folk song Green Grow the Rushes. That song creeps me out even before I start imagining what it references. You know the one:

I’ll sing you Ten-O,
Green grow the rushes-O!
What is your Ten-O?
Ten for the Ten Commandments:
Nine for the Nine Bright Shiners:
Eight for the April Rainers:
Seven for the Seven Stars in the Sky:
Six for the Six Proud Walkers:
Five for the Symbols at your Door:
Four for the Gospel Makers:
Three, Three the Rivals:
Two, Two the Lily-White Boys, clothed all in green-O.
One is One and all alone
And ever more shall be so.

Each line would get a relevant story. That’d make it a real challenge to write! And I’d call it “Red Grow the Roses.”

The whole concept came to me in a feverish rush. After that it was just a case of filling in the blanks (like: how many vampires, what would make each one stand out from the rest, what sexual themes did I want to cover?).

So that’s what it is. Eleven different short stories, with points of view ranging across male and female, innocent to knowing to bitter; written in first second or third person; each narrative shedding light upon the others. One is a fairy tale. One is a romance. One is hardcore female humiliation. One is brutal male-sub. One is all Victorian Gothic corporal punishment. One is themed entirely around the names of rose cultivars.

Black Lace stopped publishing just before I finished writing this book. It would have been too long and too offbeat for them anyway, I suspect! (I turned down another publisher later because I was told to cut out the backstory between sex scenes). But now Red Grow the Roses has found a home with new publisher Mischief – and hopefully on many a Kindle.

It’s my scary, bloody, dangerous pride-and-joy.

xxx
Janine Ashbless

Blurb:

Maybe you’ll be lucky. Maybe he’s not human. He’ll take you in his arms and you’ll feel his strength – a strength that makes it impossible to fight him. But you’ve already lost the will to resist, that moment he looked into your eyes and showed you all his hunger and his promise. You knew then. You knew that this is what you are for – what we are all for – with our warm beating hearts and our aching sexual needs.

We are for them.

There are six vampires in the city. Ageless, terrifyingly beautiful and always hungry – not just for blood but for the other pleasures the human body offers. Sadistic chanteuse Estelle; feckless Ben; Roisin, the mirror-ghost; Wakefield, haunted by his own damnation; Naylor, the most feral of them all.

And Reynauld is the Good Shepherd, the one who holds them all in check. But his grip on his own humanity is fading, and when Wakefield accidentally kills a woman and Naylor gets the blame, a power-struggle erupts between the city’s immortal undead.

Red Grow the Roses tells of bloodlust and sexual desire; for vampires the two are indistinguishable. These transgressive, startling stories draw the reader down the darkest and most seductive paths of pleasure – to where the monsters are waiting.

Excerpt:

‘Oh, Doug. Is that how you ended up in the Church?’

‘I thought that if anyone knew about these things, if anyone had the answers, it had to be them.’

Unable to comfort him, she leaned in and kissed his lips softly. She was surprised and gratified when he took her hand and guided it to his groin, back to his erect cock.

‘Cerri,’ he mumbled, kissing her deeper. His hard-on jumped under her fingers, giving no sign of flagging, no sign that he’d already emptied all chambers. Uneasiness stirred in the back of her mind even as she ached to pull him into her. He’d stayed stiff as a pole all the way through his story.

The nasty suspicion, once formed, grew to monstrous proportions. Pushing him back, Cerri bent for a closer look. And there it was: yes. On the underside of his cock, near the base: two dints in the flesh, one a little higher than the other. Puncture-marks. ‘Fuck,’ she said hoarsely: ‘You’ve been bitten.’

‘What? No, I -’

‘You’ve been bitten already.’ She stared into Doug’s uncomprehending eyes, her voice rising. ‘He’s already had a piece of you!’

‘But I haven’t – I don’t – When?’

‘This afternoon,’ said a silky voice behind them. ‘Funnily enough, I don’t usually feel hungry during the day, but you were just so fucking sweet and irresistible. And the look on your face…’ Cerri scrambled round and saw the speaker, the vampire Naylor: beautiful, glittering and jagged as razor-wire. He was nested in the angle of the landing ceiling, arms spread like a blasphemous crucifix, clinging to the plaster by a network of dark tendrils that emerged from his flesh like cobweb, melding him with the shadows. ‘Rather like that look now,’ he finished with a ghastly smirk.

She knew she hadn’t seen him until that moment. She knew they’d been through every room of the house and if he’d been there he couldn’t have remained hidden. Not if he were human, anyway. ‘You were in the house all the time,’ she said, feeling sick. ‘We didn’t seal you out. You were already here.’

‘Uhuh. I’ve been here since last night. Not as clever as you think, are you girly?’ He slithered down from his impossible perch and landing on the carpet lightly, the shadow-tendrils hissing as they dissolved. Doug scrambled to his feet, yanking up his trousers and holding them with one hand. The other one sketched a cross in the air.

‘In Jesus’ name -’

‘Didn’t work last time, won’t work this. You’ve too many doubts, little God-botherer. Plus,’ he added acidly, ‘I think the fact you’ve just hosed your scuzz all over your witch girlfriend’s tits might count against you. Pretty impressive, by the way – the spunk-show, I mean. And,’ he admitted with a long hard glance at Cerri, ‘the tits. I’d like to bite them off.’

‘Don’t you touch her!’ Doug barked. Cerri came up behind him and put her hand on the small of his back.

‘You should go, Naylor. You’ll only be making trouble for yourself.’

He tilted his head, an odd smile dancing in his eyes. ‘I should be angry with you, witch-bitch. You get in my way. You’ve gone and spoiled my dinner.’ His eyes, green as poison, narrowed as they flicked back to Doug. ‘But you know what? I’m not angry. You two just went and told me a lovely story. The most interesting story I’ve heard in years. And that’s why I’m going to play Mr Nice.’

Buy links:

http://www.amazon.com/Red-Grow-the-Roses-ebook/dp/B006PW46O8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328179252&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Red-Grow-the-Roses-ebook/dp/B006PW46O8/ref=sr_1_10?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328098712&sr=1-10

Personal links:

www.janineashbless.blogspot.com

www.janineashbless.com

Molly’s Daily Kiss: A Celebration of All the Good Bits

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KD: It’s my pleasure to welcome top sex blogger, Molly Moore, to A Hopeful Romantic today. Welcome Molly! Your fabulous blog, Molly’s Daily Kiss, was awarded the sexiest blog of 2011, and after spending some time wandering around your site, I can certainly see why. How did it all begin? Why did it all begin?

MM: I have always enjoyed writing but never really felt like I had found a genre that I felt comfortable writing in until I discovered erotica. I had always read erotic novels but it wasn’t until I started to discover its existence online that I realised I didn’t have to write a novel to get read and so I started writing short stories and publishing them on a couple of different sites. They were fairly well received but the whole process of publishing them on other sites felt fairly disjointed to me. I wanted to own my work a bit more, have a say in where and how it was published and identify it, without any doubts, as being my own. On top of this I also felt that I just didn’t write enough. I was a great one for starting pieces and never finishing them and so the idea of a blog that would demand regular input from me seemed an obvious one.

When I started it, just over 2 years ago I had absolutely no idea that it would grow to what it has become today in both the number of visitors and in its content but my style of a mixture of images and words that complement each other and a strong auto-biographical content to my work seems to be a style that works for me and that appeals to a lot of people. I currently have, on average, 1100 hits on my blog per day, a pretty impressive figure I am told considering the age of my site.

KD: Why do you think your blog attracts so many visitors?

MM: As I just said I think it is the combination of my words and pictures that work together to create an honest and raw story. For a long time I thought that the main readers to my blog were men coming to perve but looking at my analytics I have learnt that that is not the case and that most of my readers are in fact woman.

KD: I was particularly fascinated by the part of your blog known as The Pussy Pride Project. Could you tell us how it came to be and why you think it’s such a popular part of your blog?

MM: The Pussy Pride Project came about after I discovered The Great Wall of Vagina by Jamie McCarthy. I spent a long time reading about what had inspired his work and found I really identified with his sadness at discovering that so many woman viewed their fannies in such a negative light and found the thought that an increasing number of woman, especially young woman, were resorting to surgery to change the external appearance of their genitalia deeply disturbing. I realised that within the sex blogging community many woman were maybe more open about these issues and thoughts than in society as a whole and so if I provided them with an outlet to share their intimate experiences about their fannies with not only their readers but my readers and everyone else’s readers who linked into the project it would build a blogging version of The Great Wall of Vagina.

When I started the project I had absolutely no idea if anyone would join in or not but before I knew it links started to appear on the page and then the thank you’s from women whom I had never met but who read my blog started to appear in my inbox; often heart wrenching tales of women’s experiences with their pussies and how reading my work or seeing my pictures and looking through the Pussy Pride Project had made them realise that they were as ‘normal’ or as beautifully individual as the next girl made me realise that the Pussy Pride Project was a massive success. It is of course an ongoing project and over the last few months I have been so busy that it has not received the attention it should but I hope that will change soon. I have a few promises of some guest posts that look to be pretty special and also some plans of my own to hopefully extent the project beyond what it is now and maybe one day even try to publish it as a book in its own right.

KD: Why do you think women have such a struggle accepting their bodies, but most especially their fannies?

MM: This is something I have pondered a great deal, why woman and not men too? I have come to the conclusion that it is not exclusive to woman by a long chalk just that woman seem to be more open about admitting it, whereas men tend to cover it up with bravado and humour. Also society as a whole seems to be much more accepting of the naked female body than the naked male body and so woman are exposed to images of the ‘perfect’ female body much more that men are. Everywhere you turn you can see her; in newspapers, magazines, billboards, TV, films that woman who we are all meant to resemble. She is a myth, beauty is not that woman, beauty is about the people we are and the connection we make with one another. Yes there is physical beauty but it is when we focus on this alone that we create whole generations of woman who are overly self-conscious about their bodies.

As for fannies, well to be honest the opposite is the case because unlike the female body as a whole which we are served a daily diet of the only fannies most woman get to see are those that they encounter when looking at porn which often portrays fannies as neat, tidy, shaved, tight, almost childlike in appearance. What woman need, hence the Pussy Pride Project on my blog, is to see lots more fannies of all different, shapes, sizes, colours, patterns, hair styles, ages etc to help them to learn that there really is no such thing as the perfect fanny apart from the one between YOUR thighs. That is perfect, perfect for you.

KD: One thing writers are always having to do is write a short biography for ourselves. What would be the most important things you would want the world to know about Molly?

MM: I really hate writing those things. How can you explain a person in a ‘short biography’ and even begin to do them justice. There are so many parts to me; female, wife, lover, mother, submissive, slut, photographer, writer, friend, owned…. the list is endless. I really am at a loss to choose just one but I guess if really pushed I think I would have to go with… Woman.

KD: How has having a blog where so many women, and men, feel safe to share some of the most intimate parts of their lives affected you?

MM: To be honest it has been humbling and eye opening and most of all I have made some amazing friends and contacts that I treasure dearly. Having complete strangers trusting you with their inner most thoughts, feeling and experiences has made me realise just how cruel humans can be to one another but also that we have an amazing power to heal, forgive and grow from the experiences in our lives.

KD: Do you have any plans for Molly’s Daily Kiss for 2012?

MM: Oh my, so very many of them. I have just launched 2 sub domains on my site; Sinful Sunday, a weekly erotic photography meme and The 365 Project, which is a place for me to explore my non erotic photography.

At the moment I am also building a 3rd sub-domain that will house a project called Anonymous. I have increasingly been asked by other friends, writers and sex bloggers to post anonymous pieces that they wish to share with the world but don’t want to post on their own blogs and so have decided to create a space dedicated just to this.

On top of all this I want to make sure that I keep on writing regularly myself, finish the 30 Days of Kink Project and maybe write my own version based on the topic of submission.

KD: What about Molly’s goals for 2012?

MM: My biggest goal for 2012 is to write a novel or a novella, depending on length, with the aim to self publish. I have had so many calls from people to do that it is starting to seem rude not too give them what they are asking for. So if anyone out there has the power to make more hours in the day, so I can fit all this in, then please do get in touch immediately.

KD: Thank you, Molly! It’s been a complete pleasure to have you on my site!