Tag Archives: Immoral Views

Smutter Advent Calendar Yummy Treat

If you’re participating in the daily fun and excitement on the Smutter Advent Calendar, then you know on day 18, that would be today, all you have to do to claim your copy of  my novella, Allotted Views, is pop a comment onto this post along with your email address, before noon on the 19th of December and I’ll send you a PDF of Allotted Views as a very naughty Advent treat.

Blurb for Allotted Views:

(From the Immoral Views Anthology by Sweetmeats Press)

When the mysterious ‘Woo Woo Man,’ JONATHAN takes on the thin strip of bramble-infested ground in the Blue Bell Street Allotments, veg gardener extraordinaire, ROSE, whose bedroom window overlooks his ‘small holding,’ wonders what idiot would take on such a project. When she ‘accidentally’ sees him chanting a bit of woo-woo and having a midnight wank under a full moon in his newly rotovated plot, she suspects his methods aren’t found in any RHS manual.

As watching his late night garden antics becomes more for voyeuristic pleasure than for sussing out sound horticultural practices, and as Jonathan’s garden grows more exquisite with every wank, Rose begins to wonder if there just might be something to a little sex woo-woo in the garden. But can she learn Jonathan’s secret without him learning hers, or will she be forced to come clean?


I appreciate a good garden way more than most, and I completely understand wanting to get onto the patch as early as possible – especially when it’s that time of year, when there’s so much to do and enthusiasm is running high. But it was midnight, for fuck sake! I had work in the morning. This was not neighbourly behaviour.

I was seriously considering giving him a piece of my mind or throwing something at him. But then he took off his shirt. He just slipped it right off over his head like it was something completely normal to do in the allotments in the middle of the night. The light from the streetlamp that shown across the alley behind my house lent just enough to the ambient moonlight that I could see his nipples bead to hard knots in the slight chill.

I like nipples. I like them a lot. I don’t care which sex they belong to, when they tighten and strain beneath a shirt, I get wet. I can’t help it. I can’t keep myself from imagining what’s causing those lovely, tense mini-erections – even if it’s nothing more than too much air conditioning in the frozen food isle at Sainsbury. Nipples are such a lovely reminder that we’re not nearly as in control of our biological functions as we think we are. And when someone is brazen enough to bare their nipples like roseate pebbles turned over in perfectly smooth tilth, well I’m completely in awe. And this man’s points were pink and stiff and yummy above rippled areole that made me want to touch, made me want to tweak and stroke and tongue, made me wish I had my binoculars handy.

It quickly became evident that it wasn’t the late night chill stiffening the man’s nips, at least not entirely. Before my eyes, he stepped out of a pair of ratty Birkenstocks and slid baggy cargo trousers off over his straight hips and the pillowed swell of his bottom. He kicked them carelessly to one side. Apparently the occasion had called for commando, and I didn’t have to endure more disrobing before I was treated to the full-on.

Celebrating Summer Sex Al Fresco

In honour of the summer we almost had here in Britain, I’m going to dedicate my next few blog entries to filthy fun al fresco, K D style. Most of you know me well enough to know the kind of things I like to do in the heat of the summer, and the kind of things that inspire me to write all manner of naughtiness.

Likewise, most of you who know me will recall that my husband and I just got an allotment this year after three long years on the waiting list. Now that the hard work is beginning to pay off and we’re indulging ourselves with runner beans and sweet corn and courgettes and cauliflowers, I thought a little garden porn might be the perfect way to kick off this little celebration of outdoor smut. And why not go straight to the spot, with a little allotment garden porn, from my Sweetmeat Press story, Allotted Views. Who knows, after reading this, you might find you want to put your name on the waiting list for an allotment. Enjoy!

Allotted Views Blurb

When the mysterious ‘Woo Woo Man,’ JONATHAN takes on the thin strip of bramble-infested ground in the Blue Bell Street Allotments, veg gardener extraordinaire, ROSE, whose bedroom window overlooks his ‘small holding,’ wonders what idiot would take on such a project. When she ‘accidentally’ sees him chanting a bit of woo-woo and having a midnight wank under a full moon in his newly rotovated plot, she suspects his methods aren’t found in any RHS manual.

As watching his late night garden antics becomes more for voyeuristic pleasure than for sussing out sound horticultural practices, and as Jonathan’s garden grows more exquisite with every wank, Rose begins to wonder if there just might be something to a little sex woo-woo in the garden. But can she learn Jonathan’s secret without him learning hers, or will she be forced to come clean?

Allotted Views Excerpt

That night I went to bed wondering if I should maybe take up wanking in my own garden. I’m always happy to try the latest horticultural techniques, and often with surprising results, but I must have been really tired to even consider the masturbation method as a valid way of upping garden productivity.

Later, 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.

‘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.

Allotted Views can be purchased as a stand-alone novella or in the illustrated Immoral Views anthology.

Buy Allotted Views Here

Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble


Lucy Felthouse Caught in the Act

Kojo Black from Sweetmeats Press asking me to write a story for an anthology seems like such a long time ago now. Flattered that he’d asked me, and even more so when I found out who my fellow bookmates were going to be, I then started to panic. The theme was voyeurism – so broad, and therefore a ton of scope. My brain flailed about madly trying to come up with something. And then, finally, my poor abused grey matter came up with the goods.

I’d write about dogging. Of course, never having been dogging, I knew there’d be a lot of research to do, but I was up to the challenge. My laptop keys were bashed, and Google and its deliciously dirty results were exploited. Before long, I knew everything I could ever need to know about dogging – including where my local meeting places were. Let’s just say that I’ll never look at that car park in the same way ever again. 😉

The next challenge was making sure my story would extend beyond my usual 2 – 4k short story range. Kojo wanted something between 7 – 12k, if I remember rightly. Since then, I’ve penned much longer works and am clawing my way towards novel length works, but at the time, I was terrified. I needn’t have worried. It meant that I could create a lot more build up to the climactic scene, which, consequently meant I could tease and torment the fuck out of my lead character. Poor Dave. He never knew what hit him. I turned a perfectly respectable Police Constable into a voyeuristic slave to kinky sex.

And he loves every minute 😉

Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from my story, Caught in the Act, to whet your appetite:


Police Constable David Beckett is just a normal guy, living a quiet life. His only excitement comes from his job – and even that’s not exactly been a barrel of laughs just lately. That is until his colleagues burst into the office one morning, full of tales from the night shift. Tales that cause Dave’s curiosity to get the better of him. Some idle surfing on the Internet opens up a whole world that Dave never knew existed – and he’s fascinated. After watching an amateur video, things escalate quickly and Dave finds himself drawn into a kinky lifestyle that could cost him his reputation – and his job.


When the door banged open and a group of his colleagues piled into the room, Police Constable David Beckett jumped, almost spilling his coffee onto his computer keyboard. He’d been enjoying a nice, peaceful game of Solitaire before beginning his shift and now they’d screwed his concentration, not to mention his high score. He closed down the game resignedly and wryly observed his workmates as they got whatever was riling them out of their system.

They were jostling and nudging one another, and there was some serious eyebrow wiggling going on. PC Beckett, Dave to his friends, could only guess that one of the guys had a new girlfriend and was being teased about it. Heaven knows, he’d been on the receiving end of such ribbing more than once, which is why he now kept his – currently non-existent – love life as private as he possibly could. Of course, that didn’t put a complete end to the teasing, as he now had to put up with the occasional joke about his sexuality.

Whatever it was they were talking about, it had gotten the guys seriously excited. As they drew closer to his end of the open plan office, Dave began to pick up snippets of the conversation. It didn’t help him to work out what was going on. In fact, it was like they were speaking a different language. He frowned, wondering if there’d been a TV show on last night that he’d missed and they’d all watched. He wasn’t much of a TV buff and was always the last to catch on to shows everyone else was glued to. But of course they’d all been on a night shift last night, so it couldn’t be that. Dave waited. He knew he’d find out soon enough.

As some of the boys began to move towards Dave’s end of the office, it was like they’d only just realised he was there. Instead of shouting the customary greetings across the room and settling down at their own workstations, several of the PCs congregated at Dave’s desk. They were still wearing stupid grins and Dave was, by now, was getting fed up of being the last one in on the joke.

“So,” Dave said, eager now to find out what all the excitement was about, “what’s going on?”

“Mate!” said Tim, “You wouldn’t believe what you missed last night on shift!”

Sharing stories wasn’t uncommon within the office, particularly if they were funny ones. But in their line of work, there wasn’t much that was classed as unbelievable any more, so Dave knew it was going to be something of note. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Tim continued, obviously desperate to impart the news. “We got a call sayin’ that there was some drug dealing goin’ on in a car park. It sounded pretty big, so we did a raid. Only, when we got there, it wasn’t quite what we expected.”

Tim glanced at the other two guys with him, Jamie and Chris, and the three of them burst into hearty guffaws. Dave looked around the room, and a couple of other officers who must have also been there were peering over at them out of the corner of their eyes, with smirks on their faces.

“Well!” he said, getting annoyed now, “What is it? What happened?”

“Fucking hell,” said Jamie, “keep your hair on, mate. You’ll think it’s funny, too, honest. We’re just sorry you missed it. Go on, Tim, get on with it.”

Pulling himself together, Tim looked back at Dave, his eyes still crinkled with mirth. “Sorry, buddy. Anyway, as I was sayin’, we gets to this car park at the back of the country park, you know the one” – Dave nodded his acquiescence – “and drive in. We’re going in pretty stealthy as we don’t want anyone disappearing off into the bushes so when we pull up, they’re still gettin’ on with what they were doin’.”

He paused for breath, and Dave waited, knowing this couldn’t possibly be the end of the story.

“Naturally, we was a bit confused as to why they hadn’t spotted us yet. Normally they’re a bit more alert, aren’t they?” The question rhetorical, Tim continued, “So we got out of the cars and got closer, thinkin’ surely someone has heard or seen us by now. Personally, I wondered if they were all so out of their trees that they had no idea what was goin’ on. By the time we got on top of ‘em, though, we saw what the problem was.”
Dave raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t take long.

“They weren’t drug dealers, mate!” he said, clapping Dave heavily on the shoulder, almost making him headbutt his computer screen. “They were doggers!”

Want more? Check out the buy links for Immoral Views and Caught in the Act.

Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, House of Erotica, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Rebecca Bond Shares the Story Behind Painted Pussycat

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been featuring a different one of the fabulous writers from the stunning Sweetmeats Press anthology, Immoral Views, and this week’s very talented author is the yummy Rebecca Bond, whose sexy story, Painted Pussycat has a lot more than just ink on the page. Welcome, Rebecca!

Mr Black of Sweetmeats fame is a fascinating chap, full of mystery and intrigue, and when I was first introduced to him by a fellow author I didn’t know what to think as he politely introduced himself before asking me to contribute to a new anthology he was producing. I’m still very new to this game so obviously I blushed from ear to ear and accepted his offer (if I remember rightly, I purchasing a rather nifty little Sh! bullet at that very moment – probably the main cause of my blushes).

So, the theme was set. Voyeurism. Oooooo, tough one for this little miss. I had an idea that had been rattling around my brain for a while, a story based solely on one woman’s love for tattoos, and so this theme finally allowed the idea to jump from my head and out onto the page. I was also thinking of the challenge for the artist who had been drafted in to illustrate Immoral Views; how on earth would he interpret my tattoo-laced words into imagery? *cue sadistic laugh*

The art of inking is something I’ve long been fascinated with. I had my first tattoo when I was only eighteen. Yes, I was a bit tipsy (Dutch courage for the pain, but also not recommended for going under the needle as it increases the bleed!) and if I remember rightly I was skiving off college for the occasion, but from the very moment I was pushed into the artist’s chair, I felt a strange sense of peace. As the needle began to pierce the skin of my back I felt the tension and stress seep from my body and that for me was enough.

What better feeling than one ultimate stress reliever coupled with another – inking and sex! I’m a fan of both so it’s an utter no-brainer – mash them up and what do you get? Well, my friends, you get Painted Pussycat; the story of one young woman’s journey through inking, from the very first prick of the needle, to the full bodied back piece applied whilst suspended on high upon a St Andrews cross on the stage in the concealed theatre in the back of Ink Majestic. May I introduce you to the young Poppy, the innocent Rexxie Belle…?


“I’ve seen the way you look at them, Poppy,” she said, her voice husky. “I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

I looked up at her, dazed and confused, not understanding what she meant. She took my hand and led me through the salon and to a curtained doorway at the rear of the shop. I followed warily, but eager to please. We walked down a long corridor to another room. Her office.

Glancing around, I absorbed the decor – the plush furniture, soft and velvet, the bright coloured cushions that dappled the chairs, the art on the walls, abstract designs and intriguing photography hung in ornate frames. Her desk was in the centre. Dark mahogany. Smooth. Shiny.

“Why do you come here?”

I met her gaze.

“I don’t know.”

She smirked at me and came closer, circling my body like a panther stalking its prey.

“Yes you do. Admit it, Poppy, you come here because it makes you feel good.”

I nodded, what else could I do? She was right after all, I did go there because it made me feel good. It made me feel so fuckin’ good, so fuckin’ alive, so fuckin’. . .horny. She went to her desk, opening a drawer and taking out a tattoo gun. I watched, mouth agape, as she lined up the equipment. She plugged in the gun and looked up at me, a smirk on her face and a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Sit,” she said again, tapping the top of the desk with her left hand.

Gripped by fear, I shook my head. No way was I going to let Carrie loose on my skin with that needle. I didn’t even want a tattoo. Or did I? I eyed her cautiously, but soon gave in and jumped onto the desk. She pushed me gently onto my back, her fingers toying with the hem of my plain white tee before pulling it up to expose my torso.

“It’s okay, Poppy. It’s just a little tattoo, nothing to worry about.” She was delighting in this, in the power the ink had over me.

My skin prickled as she brushed her fingertips over me, goose-bumps dappling my flesh.

“Just relax.”

I closed my eyes as the sound of the gun filled the room, the buzz hitting my senses with startling intensity. My loins sizzled in anticipation of the first prick of the needle. Nervous excitement coursed through my veins and as Carrie prepped my exposed flesh I felt myself falling under her spell.

“You ready?” She asked as I stared up at her through hooded lids.


God, it was amazing! As soon as the needle of the gun pierced my flesh I was under, hypnotised by the way it scratched my skin. I didn’t know what she was drawing onto me and I didn’t care. All I cared about in that moment was the throbbing between my thighs. It felt so good and as Carrie lifted the gun from my skin and announced that she was finished, I was begging for more.

“Oh no, pussycat, not yet,” she purred against my ear.

Putting the gun down, she pulled off her gloves and reached for the button of my jeans. She popped it open and tugged the black denim over my hips and down my legs. I looked at her, a smile on my face. I felt lazy and languid, letting her petite hand cup my mound and her warmth seep through the fabric of my panties. Another revelation. I clearly wasn’t averse to same sex relations.

It felt so right, the way she stroked my pussy through my panties, teasing me with gentle slaps to my cunt. I was mewing for her, bucking my hips up towards her hand, begging for more of her tantalising touch.

“You’re so wet, pussycat,” she said. “This is from the ink. The tattoo is a powerful thing and should never, ever be taken lightly.”

I looked at her and nodded, “it’s beautiful. I want more.”

Her hand was gone in an instant. As were my panties. She pushed my ankles until my feet were flat on the desk and my legs were parted wide. God! It felt so good the first time she touched me like that, her tongue snaking out from between parted lips and licking the length of my slit.

I cried out in unexpected pleasure as she lapped at my cunt, like the cat that had finally got the cream. Her cute, red lips latched onto my clit and lavished the swollen bead with attention. It was better than anything I had experienced. Whether it was due to the adrenaline racing through my veins from the tattoo or because I was finally being touched by another I do not know, but the orgasm that raged through my body was far superior to anything I had ever experienced at the hands of myself.

I glanced down and met her eyes, watching as she continued to feast on my sex, writhing as she nipped and nibbled her way along one plump pussy lip and then the other. She slid a finger inside my warmth and I came again, climaxing as I had never done before.

Carrie stood, smiling as she gazed down at me.

“Here,” she said, “take my hand.”

I grabbed her hand and let her pull me from the desk. I followed her over to the full length mirror that stood in the corner of her office. She touched my skin where the tattoo now existed and whispered in my ear, “beautiful, pussycat.”

“Pussycat?” I asked as she said what appeared to be my new nickname again.

Her nails grazed across my hip and my pulse raced.

“Yes, a perfect nickname for the new pet of Ink Majestic, don’t you think?”

“I. . .er. . .I don’t understand.”

“Poppy, darling, I saw the potential in you as soon as you walked through our door. The way you watched your friend get her tattoo, I recognised it instantly.”

I still didn’t understand. “Recognised what?”

Carrie giggled and kissed my neck lightly, “that you are the one we’ve been waiting for. You, darling Poppy, are The Art Project.”

I gulped. I had no idea what she was talking about, but the name alone terrified me. Her hand smoothed its way down my torso and back to my pussy, cupping me before slipping a finger through my folds.

“You’re so wet. Yes, I think you will fit in at The House just fine.”


Buy Links:

Painted Pussycat for Kindle

Immoral Views for Kindle or Print

About Rebecca Bond
Bewitched by the vibrancy of city life, Rebecca Bond currently resides in London with her fiancé, The Boy. Originally from the sleepy English fenlands, she uses a combination of urban and rural inspiration to carve stories steeped in fantasy. Often found spinning her biro of an eve, Rebecca transforms the day’s grind into scribblings of mystique.
Only a year into ‘public’ writing, Rebecca’s debut publications appear in the anthologies, Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth (ed. Lucy Felthouse) and Immoral Views (Sweetmeats Press). She also has short stories in a variety of erotic sub-genres published by Ravenous Romance, Noble Romance, Oysters and Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Erotica for All and Every Night Erotica.
Further information about Rebecca’s latest releases can be found at www.missrebeccabond.co.uk
Find Rebecca at:

Lexie Bay Shares the Story Behind Inside Looking Out

It’s my pleasure to welcome a quietly rising star in the world of erotica, the fabulous and sexy, Lexie Bay. I have the pleasure of being in between the covers of Sweetmeats Press’s hot voyeuristic anthology, Immoral Views with Lexie, and she’s agreed to stop by and tell us the story behind her sizzling story, Inside Looking Out. Welcome, Lexie!

When Kojo asked me to write a story with a voyeuristic theme I already had a short story that I’d been thinking about expanding on and that’s how Inside Looking Out was born. I love the thought that a chance encounter, a bizarre set of circumstances could somehow colour all of your future sexual experiences.

My main character Izzy catches her sister’s boyfriend in a compromising position and the experience never leaves her. She finds herself chasing the buzz that she felt watching him through all of her sexual encounters and this meant I could put her into all kinds of voyeuristic situations and explore how each one pushed her closer to finding out what she really wanted.

For a long time I’ve been fascinated by the concept of organised sex parties and orgies so I based the main part of the story inside one. Izzy arrives there hoping to find some answers and to push her boundaries even further and the story keeps coming back to her experience there.

I based my characters on people I either know or knew previously. The character of Liam is an amalgamation of people that I used to know. The kind of guys who are obsessed with their car and their sports clothes; with who has the noisiest exhaust or the biggest wheels. Liam is mainly interested in having a cute girl on his arm and getting a lot of sex and he’s happy to do whatever Izzy wants to keep her interested. The place that he takes her was a place that everyone talked about when we were younger. There were always cars parked there late at night and we were fascinated by it.

Chris and Dan are based on a couple of guys I know who are mates. I thought it would be hot to make them mates with benefits so I popped them into a threesome with Izzy and had a lot of fun with them! I know that one of them has read the story and he didn’t seem too upset so I guess it must have worked OK.

I wanted to take Izzy on a journey of discovery and give her the happy ending she deserved but she has a lot of fun along the way before she realises what she was looking for!


“Come Isabella”, he smiled, “I have some people I know you will love to meet.” She followed him over to where there were several booths centred around large circular beds. On each bed couples and groups were playing while others watched. There was champagne on ice and her host handed her a chilled flute. She sipped it gratefully, letting the ice cold liquid slip down her throat, feeling the bubbles on her tongue as she looked around the room. Her hand flew to her heart as she thought she saw Caleb watching her from the corner of the bar. Izzy looked again, unable to breathe. Was it him? It couldn’t be but he was so similar it made her shiver. She sighed. Even the thought of him still had the power to make her feel like her insides had melted. He had coloured every sexual experience she’d had from that first time she’d watched him. It had become a pattern between them that year. Every party she hid in her car and every party he came to her. He was always with a different girl but it ended the same way. A glance, a wink and he was gone.

It hadn’t ended until Katy had caught him red handed at her birthday party. It had been a terrible row and Caleb had never returned to the house. Shortly after that Izzy had left for England, her father proudly sending her off to Oxford University to study English, his dreams of his daughter becoming a successful journalist still intact.

As Victor introduced her to the people at the table Izzy let her thoughts drift to the first boyfriend she’d had in England, the delectably and filthy Liam. Her sexy “bit of rough” as the Brits would say. All she’d cared about was that he reminded her of Caleb.

Buy Links:

Immoral Views Links:  

Amazon UK (paperback)

Inside Looking Out links:


About Lexie Bay

Lexie started writing to immerse herself in a fantasy world where women are adored and men fall at their feet.  Then she realised that sometimes men do that so you can stomp all over them in your sexy stiletto boots and since then she’s been creating stories that stay true to her original romantic dream while exploring the erotic, the kinky and the downright filthy.  She finally found the courage to unleash them onto the world and now writes about anything that emerges from the murky depths of her imagination, whenever she gets the opportunity.

Lexie lives with her husband and two daughters in a house by the sea on the south coast of England, and spends her days working as an accounts manager.  She loves chocolate, theme parks, BBQs on the beach and cosy winter Sundays and her dream is to write full time.

You can find her stories in Uniform Behaviour and Seducing The Myth edited by Lucy Felthouse as well as in Immoral Views published by Kojo Black at Sweetmeats Press

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