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A Snog for Sommer

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As you all know, Victoria and Kev Blisse love a bit of Smut for good over at Blisse towers –and really, who doesn’t?  And what is better than getting sexy and contributing to a good cause? Doing that and have it help out someone you know.

I’ve known and adored Sommer Marsden and her fabulously smutty stories since I first began writing erotica. Sommer  is a fantastically talented erotic romance author. Check out her blog, pick up a book or three. You won’t regret it!

HTTP://SOMMERMARSDEN.BLOGSPOT.CO.UK

Not only is she very talented she’s an all-round lovely lady. Anyone who’s had the pleasure to interact with her will tell you.

At the moment Sommer’s family are going through a really challenging time, her husband is fighting pancreatic cancer and it is putting a strain on then in many ways. What I’m hoping we can do with our Snog for Sommer is to help take a little of the financial strain off their shoulders.

So, how do you join in? Well, anyone is welcome to donate by following the link  http://smutforgood.co.uk/a-snog-for-sommer/ for details on how to donate and links to all the sexy, smutty snogs for Sommer.

Whatever you can manage will be gratefully received, thank you so very, very much!

 

And now here’s a sizzling snog from Grace Marshall’s novel, Identity Crisis. Enjoy!

 

Identity Crisis Blurb:

Book Two of the Executive Decision Trilogy (Click Here for Book One | Book Three)

PR rep extraordinaire, Kendra Davis, is elated when she gets the chance to work for her hero, reclusive, romance novelist, Tess Delaney. Her elation is short-lived when she discovers that Tess is none other than Garrett Thorne, the bad-boy brother of business tycoon and eco-warrior, Ellison Thorne, who is engaged to her best friend, Dee Henning. Kendra blames Garrett for the comedy of errors that nearly destroyed their relationship. Garrett doesn’t like Kendra either, but he’s desperate. His alter-ego, Tess has been nominated for the prestigious Golden Kiss Award. No one knows who Tess really is, and he needs Kendra to play Tess for the awards.

When Tess is stalked by a rabid fan, the two unite to protect her identity. With Kendra, the body and Garrett the soul of Tess Delaney, is there room in this strange ménage for romance? Can a woman who doesn’t exist understand their hearts even better than they do?

 

Identity Crisis Excerpt:

Once the limo pulled away from the curb, Garrett pried the award gently from her fingers, then hefted its weight. ‘I’d say the bastard was damn lucky he got the mousse in the crotch instead of the Rodin up side of the head.’

Kendra forced a pained laugh, in spite of herself, and he could tell her control was near the breaking point, but he didn’t care. He didn’t!
As the anger dissipated slightly from her face, she took a careful breath and said. ‘Garrett, you should have let me handle it. I’ve had to deal with gropers and droolers and all sorts, and I know what an asshole Blessing is. I was ready for him. Really I was. But you forced my hand. Damn it, you forced my hand.’ Her grip on the leather arm rest was white-knuckled, and Garrett was pretty sure it was in attempt to keep from punching him good. ‘You should have let me handle it. That’s my job, Garrett, that’s what you’re paying me for, and frankly I –’

IC new cover‘Shut up, Kendra.’ He risked life and limb by stopping her words with a hard kiss, followed in quick succession by several more. The wild and furious battle between her tongue and his came as a total surprise. When they both pulled away in a breathless gasp, he said, ‘I’m sorry. I fucked up. I couldn’t stand him touching you. If you hadn’t moussed him I might have done something that would have required my brother to bale me out of jail, and that would have completely ruined Tess’s evening.’

‘That wasn’t my plan, Garrett. The mousse wasn’t my plan, and now we can’t foresee the consequences of what I did.’

‘Kendra, you only did what every writer in that room and all the writers watching from home wanted to do. I can’t imagine the consequences of your actions being anything but good. You were stunning and amazing. And right now I want you so badly I can hardly stand it.’

For a second Kendra froze, her whole body tensing, her eyes locked on his. The only sound was their heavy breathing above the soft purr of the limo engine. Garrett was sure this was the point at which he got slapped again. He held his breath.

At last she found her voice. ‘That makes two of us,’ she whispered.

Before he had time to wonder if he’d heard her right, she scooted and wriggled her way onto his lap, scrunching the skirt of the dress, exposing the silken flesh of her thighs between stocking tops and a gold lace garter belt. He caught a flash of matching panties that were barely there. Then she straddled him, and the heat of her against the uncomfortable expansion in the front of his tux trousers was exquisite.

His mouth vied for position with the golden pendent in the soft swell of her cleavage. He nuzzled away the silken smoothness of the dress to get to the rounded hillocks of her breasts, far more silken than the dress, high and tight and crested with ripe fruit nipples that grew impossibly erect at his caressing. And when he took them into his mouth in turn, she gave a little gasp and shivered against him, curling her fingers in his hair.
Deftly she managed his belt and his fly and shoved up so that her knees supported her on the leather seat either side of his thighs. He wriggled his trousers and boxers down over his hips, releasing himself into the stroke and grip of her hand, which caused an involuntary groan that began low in his belly as he ground his ass against the seat beneath them.

From somewhere she produced a condom even before he could get to the one stuffed in his pocket just in case. As she rolled it onto him, he pushed aside the crotch of her panties, and she whimpered at his touch, gripped at his fingers as he stroked her open and circled the swell of her with his thumb. Then with a shifting of her hips, she rose up into position and squatted onto him, settling down tight and wet and sweeter than anything.
For a second she sat very still atop him, fully impaled, her bright eyes burning into him in the scant light of the limo. Then her lips curled into a bow of a smile and she said. ‘Here’s to Tess Delaney, the winner of the Golden Kiss.’ And she began to shift and undulate against him as he thrust up to meet her like his life depended on it, like he’d never get another chance, like being inside her was the best thing ever, and at the moment, that was pretty much the truth. Kendra Davis riding him hard, surely this must be the end of the world, but he could happily live with that.

They strained and shifted and grasped bathed in the strobe of the passing night lights of Portland. The leather seat creaked in the hard friction of expensive clothing and exposed bare flesh, in the grip and release, thrust and stroke of need born of excitement and anger and some sort of wild animal magnetism. They came together, trembling and gasping and holding tight.

They barely had time to tuck and tidy before the limo arrived at his house. He didn’t ask if she wanted to come in. He wasn’t about to give her the chance to say no, and now that he’d been with her, he was sure one dose of Kendra Davis was nowhere near enough to cure what ailed him. To his relief, no manhandling was necessary. She followed him willingly up the porch steps, pausing to offer him a hug and a caress from behind while he unlocked.

As he opened the door and turned on the light in the foyer, she slid a hand under his jacket to caress his ass, which had the exact effect on his cock he figured she was aiming for. He turned and trapped her against the door capturing her mouth with his, cupping the rise and fall of her, delighting in the hard and soft of her. In mid-kiss, she reached behind her, unzipped her gown and let it slide down her body, almost slow motion, almost as though it intended to caress each inch of her bared flesh all the way to the floor.

She wore no bra, and it was perfect that she didn’t. It would have been such a shame to put any more clothing on those exquisite breasts than absolutely necessary. She stood before him in only the gold lace garter belt, stockings and panties and the gold fuck-me heels that made her legs look like they went on forever before they joined her body in the scant swaddling of gold and lace. Jesus, she was a sight to behold!
Still holding his gaze, she removed a gold clasp from her hair and it fell in a cascade of mussed copper around her shoulders.

He wound a soft fall of curls around his fingers and reeled her in until he could taste her breath, until he could possess her lips and her mouth and her breasts. While he traced the pathway along the well-muscled length of her spine, she shoved his jacket off his shoulders to puddle on the floor next to her dress, never missing a beat in the tango of their tongues. ‘I want to undress you, Garrett. I want to see you. All of you. So hold still.’

‘Christ you’re a bossy woman,’ he grumbled half-heartedly.

‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she said as she pushed his hands away from her breasts and deftly undid his bowtie. And he obeyed her. Kendra Davis exploring him, touching him, unwrapping him like he was her Christmas present made the weight already heavy in his groin feel nearly unbearable. And yet it felt way too intriguing for him not to hold on to as long as he could, to hold on to for her, until she wanted it all for herself, and he was sure that would be soon.

She undid his shirt and shoved it off, doing battle with his cuff links until together they managed to free his arms. Then she suckled and nibbled until his nipples were raw and achingly hard and outrageously sensitive to the air that felt cool against them once they were no longer kept warm by her mouth. But her mouth, led by the scrape and nip of her teeth and the laving of her hot tongue held his full attention as she nibbled and licked her way down his belly. She paused to probe his sensitive navel with her tongue before she undid his trousers, then squatted in front of him as she eased them down over his hips. He toed off his shoes and, there positioned in front of him, perched on suicide heels, legs open, her face only scant millimeters from his erection, she slid both trousers and boxers off one leg at a time. When at last he stepped free of his clothing, she tossed them aside with the rest of their party finery and cupped him and stroked him until he bit his lip and struggled to hold himself. Then she cupped his butt cheeks in her palms and pulled him to her, taking the heavy length of him into her mouth.

‘Jesus, Kendra!’ He sucked air between his teeth ‘I can’t stand that for very long.’

‘I bet you can stand it longer than you think,’ she breathed.

‘Fuck,’ he said, curling his fingers in her hair. ‘Is this some kind of challenge?’

‘Just an observation.’ Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and her cheeks were flushed as she pulled away and slipped off her panties from her squatting position. Then she lay back on the floor and motioned him to her.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket for the condom. This time, she made no attempt to help him, but only lie there watching him, shifting her hips, making sure he knew exactly what she wanted. It didn’t take him long. Then he stretched out on top of her, feeling the silk of her stockings Snog for Sommer fundraiserasnogforsommer-buttonrise along his ribs as she lifted her hips. He cupped her and shifted until there was contact, right where they needed it. They both moaned as he entered her thrusting, and she wrapped her legs around him, still wearing her shiny shoes, still wearing stockings and garter belt. And she was outrageously warm and wet and needy. She gripped him as though she would consume him, and he rode her as though he might never get another chance. A possibility all too likely, he figured, but he didn’t want to think about that now, not while they were together like this, not while they were reveling in Tess’s success and celebrating their own conquest of a difficult situation. He didn’t want to think about that now while there was time to be with Kendra Davis, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her nor would be likely to see her again. He expected nothing else. Just now. That would have to be enough. At least that’s what he told himself.

 

Follow this link to donate and to find links to all of the other snogs for Sommer:

http://smutforgood.co.uk/a-snog-for-sommer/

 

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!

http://smutforgood.co.uk

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.

SurrogatesBlurb:

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.

http://smutforgood.co.uk

 

 

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!

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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