Tag Archives: blog hop

Smut Restrained in the Wild or in the Dungeon

I’ve got multiple reasons for being excited about participating in the Smut Restrained Blog Hop today. First off, I adore Victoria and Kev Blisse, and I’m always happy to participate in an event they sponsor. Second, my very naughty, very al fresco m/m novella, Toys for Boys, which was first published in the Brit Boys with Toys Box Set, is now available for pre-order, and I’m elated to be able to share with you a little restraint al fresco. And third, the fantastic cover for Toys for Boys is the work of the very talented Kev Blisse.



What’s Smut Restrained all about? 

If you’re in the Manchester area on the 28th, join The lovely Smut Folks on Saturday 28th January from 1pm -5pm at Miss T’s Dungeon in Stockport.

There will be demonstrations with rope and chains, sexy readings and lots of time to get hands on with the restraints and toys of your choice – bring your own gear or borrow some once you arrive, it’s up to you.
There’s be an experienced rigger on hand to give advice and answers your rope questions. There’ll also be other experienced doms and subs eager to answer any kinky questions you have.

The world famous erotic tombola will also be a highlight of the day with some spectacular prizes to be won from some truly fabulous companies.  Definitely worth having a go at just £1 for 3 tickets.

There will be lots of time to play in any way you like using all the facilities of Miss T’s well kitted out dungeon as well as time to socialise too.


Pick up your tickets here:


Tickets cost £5.80 with fee in advance or £10 on the door but please let me know if you’re planning to turn up on the day – I don’t want to have to turn anyone away if we get full!


Join the facebook event here:




Toys for Boys Blurb:

Alpha nerd Will Charles teams up with Caridoc ‘Doc’ Jones in a coast to coast walk across England reviewing outdoor gift suggestions for the Christmas edition of Toys for Boys—an online magazine dedicated to the latest gadgets to tickle a man’s fancy. Will is recording their adventures with the latest smart phone technology. Doc is reviewing the latest outdoor gear. The two quickly discover the great outdoors provides even better toys for boys, toys best shared al fresco, toys that, in spite of Will’s great camera work, will never be reviewed in Toys for Boys.


Warning: Adult Content: 

Toys For Boys — Low Tech & High Tech Goes Wild – Excerpt:


Toys For BoysThe second day they walked in sunshine. It was another fourteen and a half mile trek, in addition to what they’d not been able to finish the day before. Will seemed no worse for wear. Doc had to admit he was beginning to enjoy the man’s company—not just because of his nice arse or their little exchange this morning, but because he was a good walker. Like Doc, he was comfortable with his own silence, silence which was companionable in the long, indulgent stretches of it they shared on the trail. The man’s pace was good, he never lagged and he never complained. He used his toy effectively and way more subtly than most tourists with cell phones—not counting this morning’s little indiscretion, that is. They’d taken to using the personal pronoun for the smart phone, myBrain, urBrain, even occasionally ourBrain.

At the top of Loft Beck the two looked out across Fleetwith to the ruined tramway track, which led down to Honister Slate mine. He watched Will shooting a video of Buttermere and Crummock Water stretched out in the lazy autumn sun, reflecting the sapphire Lakeland sky like giant mirrors. “The panoramic beauty is quintessential Lakeland,” Will spoke into the device in a low, conversational voice, but made no attempt to hide his excitement. He was saying something about Moses Trod and the old whisky smuggling route.

It pleased Doc way out of proportion that the man had clearly done his homework concerning the places they walked. As Doc joined him near the ruined barbed wire fence, Will turned the camera on him and said something about Doc’s abilities in the outdoors that he couldn’t quite catch, but the smile the bloke offered suggested it was either complimentary or playful. Doc didn’t mind either; in fact, he kind of liked having the device turned on him, being the centre of Will’s attention—as long as he wasn’t naked with his cock in his hand.

They stopped for an indulgent ice cream at the slate mine’s visitor centre before they made the trek down Honister Pass, along the Derwent River and on into the Rosthwaite area, where they set up camp along the river behind a willow thicket that gave them some privacy. It was Doc’s favourite place to camp along the Derwent, but he hadn’t chosen it without ulterior motives, and surely Will had to suspect something when they set up two tents, but used one just for stashing the gear.

Once camp was set up, they shared a pleasant cup of tea, discussing the events of the day. They’d made up the lost mileage and arrived in record time. With the map spread between them and urBrain in hand they spent a pleasant half an hour going over tomorrow’s

dramatic walk to Patterdale, anticipating good weather. When Will went off to the river to get water for dinner and washing up, Doc made his move. He pulled out his Vitronox and cut a slender willow branch about the size and flexibility of a good riding crop.

By the time Will returned with water, he was paring the last of the twigs and leaves, except for the two at the very tip. He had plans for those. Will paused only briefly to take in the situation, then set down the water and came to stand in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what’s going on, Nerd Boy.” He folded his knife and stuck it back in his pocket, then stood and gave the willow switch a good brisk snap against his hand. “I told you this morning it wasn’t over.”

“Are you serious?” Will eyed the switch, then shot Doc an uncertain glance. “You can’t be serious.”

“Couldn’t be more so.” Before the bloke could protest further, Doc caught both his wrists up in a length of lightweight rope he carried with him for emergencies. With the switch in one hand and the length of rope in the other, he led Will—who was either too surprised, or too intrigued to protest—to a young oak and secured his arms so that he was leaning forward embracing the trunk, arse nicely presented.

“You’re not seriously going to…” Will’s voice trailed off into a breathless gasp as Doc gave him a proper pat-down until he found the urBrain in the front pocket, close to a growing stiffy. Oh, this was going to be good.

“Now, let’s see if I’ve been paying attention to your little demos on how to work this thing. Ah yes, here we go. Camera on.” Will had given him the pass code with the idea that he could give a better review if he could see how easy the phone was for a non-techie person to operate. “I’d give this little baby an A-plus for being user friendly,” Doc said. “And it’s important to have a user friendly camera in a place where the views are so spectacular. Now then,” he focussed the urBrain on his handiwork, “you won’t be needing these.” With one hand, he gave the thin walking shorts a hard yank down over Will’s hips and was treated to a gasp of surprise that resulted in a clench and release of the well-muscled arse.

“You fucker,” Will half hissed, half chuckled as Doc manoeuvred the shorts off over the man’s walking boots and kneed his legs apart to offer the best view and easy access, all the while videoing with the other hand, switch gripped under his arm.

“Not yet, I’m not, but I’m hoping. First,” he brought the tip of the switch in between Will’s legs so that the two remaining leaves tickled and stroked his balls. The man jerked, sucked air between his teeth, and his cock surged. “First, we have some unfinished business.” Then he brought the switch up with a sharp snap against those exposed engorged balls.

“Bloody hell!” came the response. Will’s whole body jerked and tensed, but especially his expanding cock.

Doc shoved the camera in his pocket, and moved in. He grabbed the bloke by the hair, pulling his head up to give him a thorough but brutal tongue kiss, to which Will fucking Charles responded by moaning into his mouth, his tongue making for a right nice welcome. Then he gave a harsh grunt and flinched at the sharp thwack of the switch across his bare left buttock, his mouth round with surprise, his pupils dilated with something else. “The more you talk, the more welts your arse gets, and possibly your balls too. So what’s it gonna be, William? Keep quiet and take your punishment so we can get to the good parts?” He gave the man’s cock a hard squeeze. “Or get extra stripes and go to bed frustrated? Besides,” he added, caressing the very fine balls, “I can tell you’re not opposed to a little pain. Now shut up and hold still. I’m anxious to test urBrain.”

Will nodded his agreement and glanced over his shoulder to watch.

Doc pulled out the phone and began to record as the next stripe came down nice and red and raised against the other pristine arse-cheek. “I’m not the photographer you are, my lad, but this is going to be a work of art, if I do say so myself. Your little toy is making my little toy a whole lot more fun to play with. Who knew high tech and low tech could be so… compatible?” He laid three more welts in fast succession across the tense arse, recording its grip and release, grip and release around the mouth-watering O displayed so invitingly at the centre.

“The device has a great microphone, too.” He leaned in again and bit Will’s neck. “All the better to hear you with,” he said, taking in the enticing mish-mash of sounds coming from deep in the man’s thick chest, any one of which might be pain or pleasure. He was surprised to hear that his own soundtrack, laid down next to Will’s, was equally ambiguous and, while he wasn’t experiencing any real pain, there was a good deal of… strain against the fly of his walking shorts, and his balls felt as heavy as river rock.

He shoved the switch back under his arm and went to work on his fly, zooming in for a close-up of Will’s clenching anus pillowed between buttocks latticed with nice red welts. “William, William, William, it’s a good thing you’re walking tomorrow rather than sitting on your wounded bum.”

In response, Will raised up on his toes and lifted his hips, presenting himself like a mare in heat and, fuck, if Doc didn’t feel like a stud ready for service and needing to unload. He gave the displayed balls two light snaps with the switch and then dropped it onto the ground.

The Ruby Glow: Inviting Everyone to Sit Down for the Self Love is in the Air Blog Hop!

Tabitha's Self love is in the Air Hop



It’s May! That means it’s Masturbation Month, and this Merry Month of May is even more special because it also means that it’s time for the Self Love is in the Air blog hop with prizes, fun and tales of self love by some of your favourite writers. the Self Love is in the Air blog hop is not only celebrating the personal touch, as it were, but even more importantly, celebrating Brit Babes’ very own Tabitha Rayne’s wonderful new invention, the Ruby Glow sit-down sex toy, now sold by Rocks On and nominated for 2016 ETO Awards Most Innovative New Sex Toy!



And it’s no wonder the Ruby Glow is up for an ETO award. Just read what the Rocks Off website says about the Ruby ETO_AWARDS_2016_NOMINEEGlow:

“A saddle style non-penetrative toy, designed to stimulate your whole vulva. The Ruby Glow has a ribbed clitoral stimulator and vibrating vaginal/perineal mound which sit snugly in place anchored by your pubic bone. Dual vibrations are controlled by buttons at the front for easy access, putting you in control of your orgasm. Made from firm yet velvety silicone, Ruby Glow can be used through clothing but is skin safe to enable full contact if desired. The Ruby Glow has many unique contours making it also ideal for using against your body as a traditional clitoral stimulator or massager. Let the potent sensual rhythms of Ruby Glow be your guide as you feel your body respond and move to its powerful dual heartbeats, seductively taking you to your ultimate hands free orgasm.”




I’ve been privileged to be one of the testers for the Ruby Glow, and I have to say it’s right up my alley, since I have a little bit of a fetish for hands-off getting off. I’m especially fond of secret self pleasure in the back of busses that are, well perhaps not the best maintained. In fact, I had the total hands off secret wank in the back of the bus in mind when I wrote my poem, The Dodgy Bus for Ashley Lister’s fabulous Coming Together In Verse anthology, which was long-listed for the Saboteur Award. Now with Tabitha’s fabulous Ruby Glow causing people all over the UK to sit down and take notice, I can’t help but feel that I’m the not the only one who liked to sit down on the job. Enjoy!



And don’t forget to comment for a chance to win your own Ruby Glowbritbabes_badge_1

Just follow this link to find all the other lovely folk taking part-

http://tabitharayne.com/2016/05/self-love-air-blog-hop / and you could win some incredible prizes- including a Ruby Glow by Rocks Off and paperback copies of Sexy Just Walked Into Town by Brit Babes, Chemical S[ex] edited by Oleander Plume and A Clockwork Butterfly by Tabitha herself – and most exciting of all- some of Tabitha’s beautiful artwork is up for grabs.



AND!!! I’d like to add a copy of my travel novella, Migrations , which opens with a filthy self love scene, to the pot. Just leave a comment for a chance to win.



Coming together in verse Ashley-ListerCTIV2-200x300The Dodgy Bus

I always ride the dodgy bus no matter my destination.

Though the windows rattle and the floorboards shake,

I ride without hesitation.


Ignoring the stench of the oil and grease, I ride with enthusiasm,

Cuz it’s only on the dodgy bus I get the best orgasm.


Once onboard, I head for the back, as always is my habit,

Where the seats vibrate and shiver and shake like a really Rampant Rabbit.


My man-spread’s quite unladylike, but I open my legs real wide,

Ignoring the stares and the dirty looks. I’m only along for the ride.


While others get quite anxious, their stops anticipating,

No one ever guesses I’m just here masturbating.


The lack of good shocks makes my tits shake, the vibrations, they tickle my clit.12340460-urban-sketch-sign-with-image-bus-stop-and-man

I’m an expert at finding the sweet spot on the naugahyde seat where I sit.


I don’t care if it’s cheap or it’s pricy, don’t mind if it costs a good sum.

Though I may not get where I’m going, I always have a good cum.




Don’t forget to catch up with all the other blog hop blogs while you’re at it!

Snog by the Sea Blog Hop! Snogging in Lyme Regis


It’s time for the Snog by the Sea blog hop! Leave it to Team Blisse to start the fun early. Clearly we’re not the only ones who can hardly wait for Smut by the Sea next Saturday. And what better way to prepare for the big event than some seriously sizzling snogging! And of course, what’s a blog hop without great prizes!

Welcome to our Snogfest which runs from the 6th-9th June.

Please check out all the links below and comment to win our fab prizes!

If you live in the UK you can win 2 All-Day Tickets for Smut by the Sea – Scarborough’s only smutty get together for Erotica Authors and Readers. Taking Place at Scarborough Library on the 14th June 2014.

If you are not in the UK you can win a mystery ebook bundle with ebooks from some of the top names in erotica.

Want more Snogs by the Sea? Join us for Smut by the Sea!

On the 14th of June 2014 at the Scarborough Library, we’ll be hosting Smut by the Sea. It’ll be a fab day full of smutty fun with writing workshops, reading slams, a buffet lunch, mini marketplace and erotic Tombola and a whole host of erotic authors to meet. You don’t want to miss it!

Find out more and get your tickets at Smut by the Sea.Snob by sea imagesfg-fits-mascot

Use the promo code “snogbythesea” to save 20% on tickets

I’d sweetening the snogalicious pot with a free copy of my sexy road trip novella, Migrations. All you have to do for a chance to win is leave a comment.

In the meantime, here is a sexy seaside summer snog from my short story, Skin, which is in the fabulous Smut By the Sea Anthology, Volume 1. Enjoy!



When the mysterious Celia follows Tess home in a rain storm, the sexy encounter that follows is totally unexpected, and yet somehow, Celia is strangely familiar.

Excerpt SKIN:

(Caution: This Excerpt is VERY Adult Only)

‘Women smell of the sea as men never can,’ she breathed against my face. ‘I love that about women. With women I’m always close to the sea.’ Then she kissed me with just a touch of tongue, just as she wriggled a finger in between my labia and we both moaned into each other’s mouths. ‘You’re so creamy wet.’ She pressed her pussy against my hip. ‘Do I make you that way?’

‘Oh God yes,’ I breathed, pulling her closer, taking her mouth as though I would eat her up.

‘Then let me taste you. I want to taste you, please.’

smut by the sea-vol1-coverIn a wave of water that splashed out over the top of the tub, I pushed my way out until I was seated on the edge with my back pressed hard against the tiles of the wall. She sat between my open thighs. There was no preamble, no teasing. She just began with the point of her tongue pressed up against my perineum, then licked and nibbled and sucked her way upward until her lips pursed tightly around my clit. By that time I could no longer hold still. I curled my fingers into her wet hair and bore down, feeling like all of my weight was now concentrated at the apex of my pussy where she licked and suckled, none too neatly. My juices glistened on her face and ran down her chin mixed with her saliva. ‘You’re almost there, aren’t you?’ She whispered against my clit. ‘I can feel your orgasm gathering, pressing, waiting to happen all right here.’ Then she nipped my distended clit and shoved two fingers up hard into my gape and I exploded, jerking and spasming. I would have slipped back into the tub, but she held me fast with her strong arms, held me open wide and watched me come.

‘There’s nothing quite as beautiful as watching a woman’s cunt when she’s coming,’ she said. I could feel her hot breath against my trembling pout as she spoke. ‘The skin around it is dark and glistening bright and stretched so tight from desire, and it ripples and flows like the sea is just beneath the surface.’ She gave the swell of me a gentle stroke. ‘Have you ever watched a woman come?’

‘I’ve never looked,’ I said when I could finally get enough breath to speak.

‘What? And you, an artist? Come on. You have to see what happens.’ She hopped from the tub and grabbed the towel drying herself as she headed into the lounge, grabbing her wine glass as an afterthought. ‘Where do you draw?’ She called over her shoulder.

As quickly as I could, I wrapped myself in one of the big towels drying as I went, following her wet footprints across the wood floor into the lounge which I had turned into a make-shift studio.

When I caught up with her, she had shed her towel and thrown a clean cotton drop cloth across the leather sofa. ‘This is perfect. This is a wonderful place to be creative.’ She nodded out the large picture window to the panorama of sea and cloud and storm. ‘And it’s a great place to masturbate. I bet you masturbate here, don’t you?’ She asked.

I blushed hard and nodded. ‘Sometimes I do.’

‘Masturbation and creativity go hand in hand,’ she said. Then she nodded to my pad and charcoal tossed carelessly across the coffee table and she settled onto the sofa in a reclining position. ‘How do you want me?’

Wrapped tightly in the towel, I awkwardly took up the pad and charcoal and moved a chair to sit near the sofa waiting expectantly.
She giggled. ‘You’re not a secretary waiting to take dictation. You’re an artist here to do a study on womanly pleasure. I’m your subject. You have to tell me what to do.’ She giggled again, and the sound was almost playful, childlike. ‘Are you blushing, Tess? You are, aren’t you? Oh darling, you have to relax IMG00403-20120929-1751and enjoy your pussy, enjoy all of your lovely skin. Look at you, all wrapped up in a towel like you’re trying to hide something, something you should never hide.’

She took a large sip of wine then motioned me to her.

Cautiously I put down the pad and came closer.

With one hand she shoved the towel off my breasts and onto the floor. As I yelped my protest, she pulled me down on top of her, took my face in her hands and with an open mouth kiss drizzled the body temperature red wine into my mouth. I startled, but she held me and trickled a little more, pushing it forward with thrusts of her tongue almost like she was fucking my mouth with it, drizzling wine cum between pursed lips. My pussy gushed with empathy as I suckled the rest from her, one hand cupped behind her head, the other splayed over one of her perfect breasts, stroking an impossibly erect nipple.

At last she pulled away and smiled up at me. ‘Now, I’m going to play with my pussy and make myself come.’ She held my gaze. ‘I’ll do whatever you want me to from any position you’d like to draw. All you have to do is say.’

I dropped onto the floor next to the sofa, and she draped one leg so that her foot rested on the coffee table and I was settled in between her thighs at eye level with her cunt. I fumbled for the pad and charcoal, nearly ripping the paper as I shuffled for a blank page.

‘Okay,’ I breathed, nearly dropping the charcoal. ‘I want to see.’

Her slender hand lay cupped protectively over her vulva, hiding everything from her clit all the way down

to where her bottom settled onto the couch. It took me a breathless second to realize that she was gently, carefully palming herself, pressing the flat of her hand against her slit, then shifting and rubbing her sex against it. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned softly pressing upward into her hand.

I couldn’t help myself. Even as I drew furiously and quickly trying to capture every nuance of her pleasure, I dropped a kiss high onto her thigh, smelling the sea on her, smelling the tide pool rising beneath her palm.

‘I want to see,’ I whispered. ‘I want to see your pussy. I want to watch you touch yourself.’ My face burned like fire as I said it, but, oh God, it was so true. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my whole life.

She slipped her hand up slowly, parting the engorged butterfly wings of her labia. Then she dipped her middle finger, at first, and then her index finger next to it, into the milky thick moisture of her arousal, which seeped down over her perineum and onto the drop cloth beneath. She raised herself on one elbow and looked down the flat of her belly at her fingers splaying and shoving into her vulva. ‘I’m already almost there.’ Her words were breathless and her abdomen rose and fell with her growing need for oxygen. ‘I could have almost come just eating your pussy, touching your beautiful pillowy breasts.’ She raked her thumb against the hard knot of her clit, and she jerked beneath her touch and bit her lip with a sob of pleasure. ‘Oh so close. So very close. But I like to make it last, don’t you?’

IMG00405-20120930-1303I nodded dumbly, the sight of her touching herself in such an intimate way had shut down the speech centre of my brain.

‘My nipples ache,’ she said. ‘My tits always feel so heavy and swollen when I’m about to come.’ With the hand not busy fingering her cunt, she tugged at her nipples and kneaded her breasts until I feared she would hurt them. Beneath me, I sat on the uncomfortable heap of the towel I had shed, which was just as well because I would have made a wet spot on the floor from my own flood. I managed to wriggle and move until it was wadded so that it rubbed and stroked up between my own folds and raked at my clit as I shifted, closer to the push and thrust of pleasuring going on between Celia’s legs.

Celia missed nothing. ‘God it makes me hot to think of you rubbing your wet cunt against that towel. Your clit must be the size of a great pearl in a succulent oyster, and you must be so slippery.’

I didn’t respond. I kept drawing like a crazy woman, all the while my hips were rocking back and forth against the towel and Celia’s fingers were dancing and thrusting up inside her pussy, first two then three, deep into the grip and squelch of her creamy wet spot. And I drew and watched and held my breath, anticipating her orgasm, anticipating my own orgasm that I didn’t figure could be too far behind.

She writhed and arched and ground against the drop cloth offering me flashes of her back hole and the rounded clench of her buttocks, offering me the bounce and sway of her cupcake breasts, offering me grunts and whimpers and little animal sounds that I couldn’t capture on paper, but wished I could. At some point I realized not all of those sounds were coming from Celia. And the smell. It was as though I had opened the windows and the scent of the sea had washed in over us, but it was a female sea awash with the earthy wet smell of ripe, needy womanhood.

She looked like she might shatter into pieces as she drew nearer and nearer her orgasm. Her movements and thrusts became tight and stiff, and every muscle in her body was tensed. My own body was more than empathetic. I had found a rhythm on the towel, a rhythm that matched Celia’s. My gaze was so tightly focused on her cunt that my eyes burned like fire from not blinking, and yet I watched.

And then it happened. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasped. ‘I have to come, Tess. I have to come now.’

She arched up off the sofa and roared like a lioness. Her pussy drenched her hand and her buttocks clenched and released around her tight back-hole then she collapsed onto the sofa. ‘Look,’ she gasped. ‘Look now, watch my orgasm.’

And sure enough it was as though an earth quake were happening just below the surface of her vulva. All the tiny muscles trembled and quaked and gripped. Her cunt hole spasmed and relaxed and spasmed again and again, pushing out its little rivulet of girly juices.

I tossed aside the drawing pad and pulled her to me, hands cupped beneath her bottom. I pulled her to me until I could lick and slurp and relish the taste of her. I used the advantage of my extra weight to hold her as she squirmed against me, making incoherent sounds as I nibbled at her clit and tugged at her labia with my lips. Then she spasmed again so violently that she tumbled onto the floor and I engulfed her. I slid up her body, kissing her beautiful breasts, nursing on her nipples, nipping the tender nape of her neck. I longed to explore every centimetre of her delicate strength. I ached to lick and touch and taste every inch of her translucent soft skin. I longed to drown myself in her female sea. As I slid up her body, her hand found its way between my legs and tweaked my clit and I came, rubbing my body against hers, wrapping myself around her kissing, tasting, fondling, caressing.

I don’t know what time it was when I threw together a fry-up between kisses and gropes and giggles in the kitchen. I’d never cooked naked before. I would have been embarrassed to do anything beyond bathe naked up until now, but Celia made me feel at home in my own skin. She touched me everywhere. No part of me was too embarrassing or too secret for her to love. We fed each other bacon and egg and chocolate éclairs I’d bought from one of the bakeries on Broad Street. We bathed again and made love again, this time in my bed.

It was long toward morning when I woke to find her missing. I grabbed for the robe, then changed my
mind and went looking for her naked. I found her in the lounge sitting on the floor looking through my sketch pads. ‘You know the sea,’ she said when I settled next to her, dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. ‘You feel it inside you like I do. I can tell.’ When she looked up at me there were tears in her eyes. ‘That’s
what drew me to you. That’s what I love about you. Most people don’t feel it that
way, and even if they did, they could never make anyone else feel it that way.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘You move me, Tess. You move me deeply.’ She kissed me and when she pulled 271away I looked down at the charcoal she had been admiring. It was the last drawing I’d done of the little harbor seal before the storm broke and we went our separate ways.             ‘I draw a lot of seals,’ I said. ‘They fascinate me, and they seem to be comfortable around me. I don’t know why. Sadly there aren’t a lot around here anymore, so it was a special treat to find this one, who let me draw her for two days.’

‘It’s lonely for them here now,’ she whispered. ‘This one surly appreciated your company.’ Then she lay the open pad aside and came into my arms, feeling tiny and delicate in my embrace.



Smut for Good Fun in the Sun Blog Hop for RNLI Lifeboats: Have Some Fun, Do Some Good!

SMut for Goodsfg-fits-cbh-facebook

It’s that time again! Time for another Smut for Good Blog Hop! This time it’s all about Fun in the Sun, and with the days getting longer and the temperatures rising, who isn’t thinking about enjoying a little al fresco friskiness? All you have to do is follow the links below to join in the fun with chances to win prizes galore and make a difference in a positive way by helping raise money for RNLI Lifeboats.

Smut for Good: Fun In the Sun is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise money for RNLI Lifeboats as a part of Smut By the Sea. To find more fun in the sun and seek out further prizes, please visit http://smutforgood.co.uk , and if you can please visit the Smut for Good Fun in the Sun Just Giving page http://www.justgiving.com/funsun and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to support the RNLI http://rnli.org/ who help those not having fun in the sun!


I’m adding my only little prizey to the list. Leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of my outdoorsy, fun romp, Surrogates. And to titillate and inspire you, check out the naughty excerpt below.


DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.

Surrogates Excerpt:

surrogates‘I’ve always thought clearly,’ Francie said. ‘I’ve always been the one who lets logic rule, the level-headed one. That was before this happened.’ She glanced down at her watch, then stood and paced back and forth in front of the love seat. The sunlight rendered the skirt of her dress transparent, revealing the curve of her buttocks and the way the thong settled in between them against all the places he wanted to kiss and touch and make love to. It revealed the tiny V of lace covering her soft tight curls, nestling protectively above the part of her he wanted to open and spread and taste like sweet fruit.

He had just shifted to give his cock a little more space in the bind of his jeans when his cell phone beeped into the tight summer air, and they both jumped.

He yanked it from his pocket, and she came to his side. ‘Is it from Dan?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘He’s not coming.’

‘What do you mean, he’s not coming?’ Francie grabbed the phone away from him and read:

Must cancel. Have an emergency meeting. Will make it up to you.

She handed the phone back to Simon and sat rigid on the edge of the love seat. He could see her pulse hammering in her neck. He could see the rise and fall of her throat as she swallowed hard. But there were no tears.

‘I should go then,’ he said softly.

She didn’t reply, only sat there without looking at him.‘I can’t make it tomorrow. I’m in Guildford all day.’ He could smell her, like he could smell lavender in a garden at high summer long before he could see it. The smell of her sex he had memorised from the very first time he held her in his arms, but the rest of her scent had unfolded itself to him more slowly. The smell of outdoors was always on her, the smell of earth, the smell of clean female sweat. All of it, the whole of her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the cadence of her breath, the heat radiating from her body, all of those things, settled around him tight-fitting and raw. ‘I need to go,’ he said again, resting a hand on the curve of her shoulder.

‘No you don’t. You don’t need to go.’ She shrugged off his hand, popped up off the love seat and headed out the door of the summer house at a fast trot, leaving her garden shoes behind.

Still barefoot himself, he followed her across the warm grass out past the rose garden, down over the hill into the mini wilderness that would become the Renaissance garden, and down to the deep pool at the edge of the stream. She undid the tie at the side of her dress and shrugged it off without breaking pace, stepping out of her thong and giving it a toss before she moved into the calm deep of the water, then dived under. For the tiniest fraction of a second, he feared she might mean herself harm. But she surfaced before he could even get his T-shirt off. She floated with her head back and the tips of her nipples breaking the surface. ‘Well?’ she called out. ‘Are you coming or not? You can swim, can’t you?’

‘Of course I can swim.’ He stripped off and stepped into the bright glare of the water. He was already erect, and her watching him did nothing to ease the pressure. ‘You know what’ll happen if I catch you?’ he said, nodding down to his cock.

She swam towards him in an easy crawl stroke. ‘You’re assuming you’ll have to catch me,’ she said, and then she dove. It wasn’t until he felt a tug on his hips and her mouth tightening around his cock that he figured out what she was up to.

‘Jesus,’ he gasped as she cupped and gently squeezed his balls. His feet were just barely touching ground. She seemed to be slowly pulling him with the nips and tugs of her mouth deeper and deeper until he had to tread water to keep his head from going under, careful not to kick her as he did so. And still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie,’ he grunted. ‘Francie don’t stay down too long.’ But fuck, it felt so good, it felt so dangerously out of control as she sucked his cock then cupped his buttocks, then fingered his anus. Damn it! He wanted to bear down, he wanted to thrust, but the water held him in precarious weightlessness, and still she sucked and fondled. ‘Oh God, Francie! Good Christ, Francie please.’

One finger was buried knuckle-deep in his arsehole while the other hand kneaded his balls right on the border between pain and pleasure. And her mouth! Fuck, her mouth had him gripped and sucked in a tight wet paradise with her tongue flicking over the underside of his cock, and still she didn’t surface.

‘Francie… Francie enough!’ He grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her up. She surfaced enough to take a deep drag of air then she took his mouth, pulling him under in the process. And she held him there, her mouth on his, tongue darting, teeth nipping, gulping at him, and he gulped back even as his lungs cried out for oxygen. And just when he thought he’d have to manhandle her into shallow waters, she gave a powerful kick, moved into position, wrapped her legs around him, and his cock slipped into her tight grip just as his feet touched solid ground and the water broke over their heads. Oxygen raced back into starving lungs, taken in through their noses as they continued to eat and lap and nip at each other’s mouths. He took her face in his hands and pulled her away enough that he could look into her eyes. ‘Jesus, Francie, you scared me. I thought we were drowning.’

‘We are, Simon,’ she said, biting his lower lip then tightening her grip around his waist and matching his thrust. ‘We are drowning.’ He could tell by the tremors that began around his cock and shivered up her spine that she was coming. Her grip was far too tight and demanding for him not to follow suite.

They crawled to the grass at the edge of the stream, collapsed into each other’s arms and fell asleep. When he woke up, the sun was setting and she was gone. He went to her cottage and knocked, but her car was gone and the place was dark and silent. There was nothing to do but go home and hope that he hadn’t ruined everything. But then it was hardly his fault, was it? He really did try to practice some restraint. Somehow that didn’t make him feel any better.



Smut for Good Fund Raising Blog Hop Supporting Parkinson’s UK

Coming Together with Curves Charity blog hop

It’s always an honour to participate in a Smutters blog hop, and even more of an honour when its Coming Together with Curves for a good cause, and Parkinson’s Awareness week is a very good cause.

Like most blog hops, there’s a giveaway involved. I’ll give away a free copy of my curvy short novella, Allotted Views to the winner. All you have to do is comment on the post. And if you want to make a difference, you’ll find a just giving link below where you can donate to help find a cure.

Below that, you’ll find a naughty, curvy excerpt for your reading pleasure.


Smut for Good: Curves Rule is a blog hop with prizes galore to raise funds for Parkinson’s UK as this is Parkinson’s Awareness week. To find more curves, and seek out further prizes please visit http://smutters.co.uk/smut-for-good and if you can take a minute to please visit the Smut for Good: Curves Rule Just Giving Page athttp://www.justgiving.com/curvesrule and donate whatever you can to help us reach our target of £100 to raise awareness of Parkinson’s and to support the charity Parkinson’s UK http://www.parkinsons.org.uk/ who help those with the disease learn to cope with the challenges, give out information and search for a cure.


Allotted Views Excerpt:

Warning: Adult Content & Veggie Porn!

allottedviewsLater, I was awakened by whispers. My heart went into overdrive with a rush of anticipation. I rose and walked on tiptoe to the window to peek out. Sure enough, there was Woo-Woo Man, but this time he wasn’t alone. The woman he was with, for lack of a more fitting term, was voluptuous. If he was woo-woo, she was woo-woo squared. She wore a dark gown with a tightly fitted bodice from which her very ample breasts mounded like large scoops of vanilla ice cream crowded into a small dish. The dress must have been corseted at the waist because it beautifully accentuated hourglass hips and buttocks that looked like they must be completely luscious for her to sit on or for anyone else to fondle. The long skirt swished with a silken hiss teasing its way between her thighs as she walked. There was a mountain of pale curly hair caught up on top of her head in a generous clipping of crystals and feathers. ‘Oh, it’s lovely, Jonathan.’ Her voice was a honey-comb-dipped contralto that I felt down low between my hipbones.

‘Then you’ll do it, My Lady?’ He took her hands in his, raised them reverently to his lips and kissed her pale knuckles. ‘You’ll bless it with me?’

‘Of course I will, Jonathan, darling, of course I will.’ She stood unmoving while Jonathan slid the white poet shirt he now wore off over his head and fumbled his way out of his cargo trousers. It was the way his cock rested unsubstantially drawn up against his balls that told me the man was nervous. But his spiky nipples told me he’d get over it.

With a melodramatic flutter of her long, heavy sleeves, My Lady lifted her arms into the air, and motioned Jonathan to do likewise. Then her voice got even lower as she earnestly entreated the blessing of the earth for the feeding of her children. That done, she held her arms out to each side, palms delicately cupped, facing upward, and nodded her consent, casting a demure glance down the pale valley between her breasts.

With fingers that were visibly shaking, Jonathan undid the tight cup of the bodice and My Lady’s bosom tumbled free just as she was saying something about all of us suckling at nature’s breasts. With one hand, fingers sparkling in sliver spirals of rings, she pulled him to her, first one tit and then the other. Each time he nursed and caressed and slurped her ripe strawberry nipples, she spoke a few words into the silent midnight air. And each time she gave him suck, his cock stretched and expanded and reached for her until it pressed its way into the dark satin folds of her skirt.

Then she stepped back slightly and offered him her hand. With his cock leading the way, he guided her to stand in the middle of the garden between the beans and the brassicas. There she squatted wide legged, and for a second I thought there would be more urea, but instead of peeing, she took a handful of soil, lifted it into the air in front of her and let it fall between her fingers. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but suddenly she stopped speaking, stood and motioned him to her again.

This time he undid the rest of the dress, and it fell around her ankles like a chrysalis being shed, brushing cabbage leaves and bean poles in its fullness. Then with him holding her hand, she stepped free of the dress standing tall and shimmering and completely naked in the muted touch of the sodium streetlight. She was Rubinesque in the most exquisite way. There were no protruding bones, no sharp edges, just soft pillowed curves that begged to be touched and nuzzled and fondled.

I had a lover once who’d made a fortune working in the city. One year, for my birthday, he took me to a very expensive hotel. I remember languishing on a bed mounded with satin pillows of every shape and size. I remember how after too much expensive fizz, he undressed me slowly and settled me into the middle of them all. I felt them against my cheek, hugging the sides of my breasts, sliding feather-soft over my nipples, shoving in between my legs as he removed my panties and arranged me like I was some kind of jewelry displayed on a bed of velvet. I relished their softness and resilience as he carefully positioned them beneath my hips until I gaped before him at the perfect angle for his explorations, at the perfect angle for his mounting. The contrast of his hard thrusts and pants over me and the lush, forgiving caress of the pillows beneath me was sensory overload that sent me into orgasmic bliss. Sadly the man wasn’t nearly as memorable as that delicious mound of pillows.

My Lady was like that. There was no part of her I wouldn’t have loved to pull to me and bury my face in. Almost unconsciously I found myself leaning forward toward her, nearly out the open window. She walked naked amid the ordered rows of tomatoes and carrots. She fondled the long leaves of the sweet corn, stroking them to her breasts, lifting them to her nose and inhaling their scent. She ran bare toes upward along the feathery greens of the carrots like a ballerina, each movement, each interaction making her more desirable, more exquisite in the shadowy light. And yet, Jonathan didn’t touch her, though his erection told me he wanted to badly enough. He simply followed her around with a proprietary step made comic by the bounce of his cock.

At last she turned to him and he nearly ploughed into her. ‘Jonathan, my darling, I offer myself to you for the blessing of this lovely garden.’

When he hesitated, she chuckled softly and ran a hand invitingly down the expansive curve of her hip. ‘Come now, darling, there’s no need to be shy. Our pleasure is a part of the magic.’ She turned her back to him and bent forward so that the lush pillows of her buttocks faced him, faced my window, and I grabbed at the buttons of my night shirt, clawing it free so that my own small breasts could take in the night breeze, so that my pussy rubbed unhindered against the chair I’d left in front of the window after Jonathan’s first worshipful wank – just in case.

17 aug 6IMG00557-20130817-1332‘Don’t be shy,’ she whispered. ‘Just for tonight, I am the goddess, you are my consort, and the great yoni that birthed all things into existence will be honoured by our offering. My pussy is yours until the magic is completed.’ Perhaps it was her sudden use of nasty language in a situation which up until now had seemed rather formal and reverent in spite of the chavish undertones of sneaking a fuck in the allotments after hours. But more than likely it was just the close proximity of her luscious bare arse cushioning said puss. Propriety gave way to lust. I held my breath, and my cunt trembled and clenched as he reached for her. He kneaded her arse cheeks in hard, probing caresses, which she seemed to like, if the little kitten sounds coming from her throat were any indication. She bent forward a little more and with one sparkling hand cupped a buttock and pulled herself open like ripe fruit ready to be eaten. The tight knot of her anus puckered and relaxed at the gust of his breath, though that’s only speculation on my part, but my own anus clenched in empathy at the nearness of his face to her lovely nether grip.

I expected him to shimmy his thick fingers down over her perineum to part the heavy folds of her labia, only now revealed as she bent still further to offer him a better view. But instead, he buried his face in her crevice, and she gave a tight little yelp of surprise as he began to eat his way along the sumptuous path to her cunny. I barely managed to stifle my own yelp at his face-first plunge, but I liked him so much better for doing exactly what I would have loved to do.

The sound of his oral explorations carried in the night time quiet even over the heavy breathing of all three of us. ‘You taste sweet,’ he said, ‘and you’re so slippery.’

‘Being around growing things arouses me so,’ she replied. ‘When I smell the earth all ripe and ready, when I see new buds bursting and spreading, I get all squirmy and juicy and I want to have sex on the ground under the moon. I want to rut like a wild animal, like our ancestors did, like we were intended.’

The view for me was exquisite as I stroked my own wetness, vaguely aware of the mess I was making on my chair, but not caring. My Lady’s clit was marble hard and nearly as big. I know that because Jonathan told her so, a revelation that made her wriggle her pale bottom back against his mouth and open her legs still further. I was sure my clit could have matched in size and tightness, as I tweaked it between my thumb and forefinger. Though I couldn’t see her cunny, I could see the clench and relax of his pucker, and when he moved just right I got the between-the-thighs view of his weighty balls and distended cock.

‘Fuck me, Jonathan,’ she hissed between her teeth. ‘I need you to fuck me. I need to come.’

And there’s the rub of it, I thought. In the end, it really is all about sex, and I would have gladly fucked either one of them, but I still wasn’t convinced it was the secret to a good veg patch.

Jonathan pulled his face away shining with her juices, and I swear I could smell pussy on the soft night breeze, pussy other than my own. When he pushed his penis up into her, I heard the slurp of her wetness. I figured the whimpers and grunts of need that followed didn’t really have too much to do with serving the goddess, but then what the hell did I know? What the hell did I care as long as we all came? And all three of us were so damn close that a feather of a breath would have sent us toppling over the edge.

Then My Lady gasped and began to keen, ‘oh my goddess, oh my goddess I’m coming! I’m coming!’ And she wasn’t quiet about it either, so in spite of his reverence for the woman, Jonathan shoved the hand that had been kneading great fists full of her swaying breasts against her mouth to silence her. She had just managed containment when he pulled out of her so quickly that she nearly lost her balance, then to her squeals of delight and praises of the goddess, he shot arched streams of semen onto the brassicas and beans, and I practically juddered myself off the chair when my own orgasm hit.

After they’d caught their breath, he helped My Lady back into her dress, all the while she spoke in hushed tones about the goddess’s blessing on Jonathan’s garden, and what a gift he had. I wondered if she was talking about his skills as a gardener or his skills as a lover. Neither seemed to be lacking as far as I could tell. Then, when they were both dressed, just before they left, she turned to him and gave his cock a stroke through his trousers. ‘Keep the ground fertile, Jonathan, keep the ground fertile.’

runner beansI could have kissed her for that had I not been watching uninvited, because the very next night, Jonathan took her at her word. He was back coming on the tomatoes and courgettes, and I came with him, a heavy dildo shoved up the juicy squelch- squelch of my pussy, one that I’d bought that morning at a shop I pass on the way to work. I bought it because I thought was shaped particularly like him. The added appendage was enough to give me several good orgasms while I watched him tug and stroke his own appendage, and even ride a long middle finger knuckle-deep into his anus. Three nights in a row, on the advice of My Lady, he wanked on his veg, and I wanked in sympathy, every night having multiples, every night drenching myself shamelessly, every night pushing my body over the edge into mindless trembling pleasure. My god, it was amazing!