I don’t often get organised enough to participate in Sunday Snog, but this Sunday is a special treat for me all the way around, and very deserving of a Sunday Snog. It’s special because of the release of a wonderful new anthololgy called Smut By the Sea, edited by two of my favourite people as well as two very talented authors, Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse. And the gorgeous cover art is done by the lovely Fuschia Ayling, who has illustrated the beginning of my novel, Body Temperature and Rising, and very kindly shared some of her work on this blog.
I feel very honoured to have my sexy lesbian story, Skin, included in amongst stories by some of my very favourite writes, all with a seaside theme. My story, Skin, is about an artist’s encouter with a mysterious woman in the middle of a storm. It’s set in Lyme Regis. WARNING: this Sunday snog is definitely not for the faint of heart, but for the lusty libido, it’s just the ticket. Enjoy!
‘You must be freezing too,’ Celia said. ‘I saw you drawing the harbor seal on the beach when the storm hit.’ She scooted down to one end of the tub. ‘Come on. There’s plenty of room.’
Before I could ask how she’d seen me when I was sure I was alone, she grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt with wet hands and worried it off over my head, pulling me forward enough in the process that while I was temporarily blinded by my own top, she reached behind me and unhooked my bra. My much larger, much heavier tits spilled forward into her hands as she slid the bra off, brushing her thumbs against my nipples in the process. ‘There, that’s better, isn’t it? Let’s get all those wet and clammy clothes away from you lovely skin. Now stand up.’
I did as she said, and she went to work on my walking trousers, then she slid her hands inside, hooked fingers into the elastic of my knickers and tugged both down. ‘Now step out of them. That’s right. Mmm you smell delicious. You smell like the sea. Somehow I knew that you would.’
As I lifted my leg to step out of the trousers and knickers now pooled around my ankles, Celia did not look away. I could feel her gaze on what nestled beneath my own tight curls. I normally would have been shy. I normally would have tried to preserve my modesty, but I wanted her to see my pussy. I wanted her to see what I looked like down there. She made room for me, and I stepped into the warm sudsy water. Then we maneuvered for space and she, being much smaller than I, scooted closer, lifting her thighs over mine.
That done she leaned up until she was practically in my lap and brushed a kiss against my lips. ‘Please, let me wash you. You have such beautiful skin.’ She ran a finger along my collar bone and then brushed her palm over my left breast and I sucked in a tight breath. ‘You’re so soft and round and full. You look like a woman is supposed to look. I could never look like you.’ Before I could tell her how beautiful I thought she was and how I admired her body, she took the sponge and drizzled warm water across my breasts. ‘Please tell me it’s alright.’
All I could do was whimper and nod, as the sponge moved down my sternum and under and around each of my heavy breasts in turn. Then she took up the soap. I sat hypnotized and wet in ways that had nothing to do with the bath as she lathered and cupped and kneaded my breasts until they looked like they were covered with a soapy white shirt. Then she pushed me back, until I lay with my head resting on the edge of the big tub, and she straddled me. Her soft curls brushed mine, as she drizzled water over my breasts and down my belly. She sponged me in soft caressing motions, moving ever lower onto my tummy until I could no longer resist shifting and rocking my hips, grinding my arse into the unforgiving bottom of the tub. She was practically lying on top of me as she let go of the sponge and cupped my pubis with the palm of her hand.
‘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.’
Buy Smut By the Sea here: