Archive | August, 2012

Sorry, life got in the way of sex

27 Aug

so i leave you with this picture of waterpolo players…

 

better ball handling than football players

 

 

 

Hot Wheels: Handcuffed – Teaser

20 Aug

I loved the open road and not only for the tingling sensations between my legs provoked by the rumbling of Esmeralda’s 600 horse power engine beneath me. Esmeralda was my several ton vibrator and I rode her every day. She was my truck.

Today, I pushed her a little harder than normal. The surge of her engines sent ripples of pleasure rushing through me. I was cruising fast and resisted the urge to slide my hand into my pants to add a little bit of extra stimulus. Speeding over the highway in slick conditions, I couldn’t afford to get distracted. The pleasant hum of Esmeralda’s engine was enough for me now. Teasing me enough to keep me awake, but not completely distracted.

Joel’s knife lay beside me. I stroked the leather hilt, it was hard and smooth. I recalled the night we had met where he had greeted me with that Southern accent. His body wrapped me up each curve fitting with jigsaw precision. My hand slid between my legs as I remembered his hesitant surprise as I guided him to my other entrance. I pressed through my jeans. My concentration could handle it. He slid inside me with a gasp of surprise, squeezed by the virginal tightness of my behind. I hoped to corrupt him by taking him on his first foray into the forbidden, but he had remained his naïve self. He left me flowers before we left. I threw them out immediately, but I can’t even remember the last time someone had given me flowers.

My blood was pumping now, spreading the heat from between my legs to the tips of my limbs. The vibrations of Esmeralda’s engine never letting me quite come down. I unzipped my jean shorts. It couldn’t hurt to get a little more distracted. There was no one on the road. I slipped my fingers inside myself with a sigh of relief. I was slick and warm as thoughts of Joel and Esmeralda’s vibrations had been teasing me for miles. I moaned at the solid pressure of my fingers inside me. I trembled involuntarily as I curled my fingers to better reach my favorite spot.

I wanted more inside me, I wanted Joel inside me. I reached for his knife and covered the hilt with the juices on my hand before sliding the hilt between my legs. I rubbed it against me and when I felt it glide along the slippery edges of my lips, I forced the whole hilt in. I groaned in a throaty expression of pleasure. Each indentation on the hilt, meant for the fingers to grip it more comfortably, sent a shock of ecstasy up my spine. My hair stood on edge and my heart throbbed as the speed of hummingbird wings.

Never had I put anything like this inside me. A knife! What was I thinking? I looked down to see the blade sticking out between my legs. My head swam a little, tipsy from the cocktail of fear and pleasure.

Sirens and flashing lights made me tighten my grip around the hilt. In my rear view mirrors a police car shot out from behind a billboard advertisement and followed me. I checked my speedometer and cursed myself for being so stupid. I grabbed the blade delicately between my index finger and thumb and pulled it out slowly. Again the ribbed hilt gave me tiny little rhythmic shocks on the way out. I placed Joel’s knife in the glove compartment. I zipped up my jeans and pulled over. I looked at myself in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes still sparkled with desire. There was not enough time to come down. It didn’t help that I’ve had fantasies of sleeping with a cop ever since the first time I was handcuffed.

The cop knocked on the door.

‘Please step out of the vehicle, sir,’ he said.

His jaw dropped when he saw me step out of the truck and I had to contain a giggle. He was everything you expect from a traffic cop. He had a mustache that accentuated his perpetual frown and mirrored aviators hiding his eyes. Muscular forearms stuck out from under his short sleeved uniform. He stood tall and confident, a hand casually resting on his holster.

‘License and registration please,’ he said after he recovered his composure and shut his mouth.

‘One second let me get it from my glove compartment,’ I said. I climbed back up and reached for the glove compartment. I made sure to lean over and arch my back to give the officer a got look at my round ass. My jean shorts tightened between my legs, as I bent over to get my license and registration.

I handed the papers to the cop who examined them with a poker face, any expression hidden behind the mustache and sunglasses.

‘Do you know why I pulled you over?’ he asked finally.

‘I don’t know officer Miller,’ I said in my best impression of innocent. Innocent was hard to portray and I didn’t keep it up for long, ‘You were looking for something pink?’

Officer Miller’s composure broke and he burst out laughing.

‘No,’ he said removing his sunglasses and wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. ‘I pulled you over because you were speeding, Mrs. Creamer.’

‘Miss Creamer,’ I corrected him. ‘I’m not married.’

‘You were speeding, Miss Creamer,’ he confirmed. ‘Is there a reason you were speeding? In hurry to get somewhere?’

‘No hurry, I was just a little distracted,’ I said.

‘I hope you weren’t talking on your cell phone,’ he said.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ I assured him. ‘I was masturbating.’

Want more?

Sperm Essentials – 5 things to know about sperm

13 Aug

Not many people are indifferent to sperm. You either love it, or you hate it. But let’s face it, most of us are pretty ignorant about much else except how it tastes and that they are notorious for causing babies. Since I prefer the naked and nude, I think its time to expose sperm.

 

5. Longevity

No, sperm cannot grant you immortality. Although, many theories point the humanities obsession with the sucking of bodily fluids has been translated into vampires. However, sperm itself might last longer than you expect. Inside a woman sperm can survive for up to 5 days. Latin-american tele-novelas have whole sub-plots based on this fact. That and also that your brother is probably adopted, so its OK to fall in love with him. Maybe wait for the conclusive evidence first…

 

4. Skin

So although sperm is not the key to eternal youth (Unless subjected to secret alchemical rituals known only to Madonna and that granny gymnast) it can make you look younger by eliminating wrinkles. The proteins in the sperm tighten the skin, plus the minerals contained in semen such as zinc and potassium are good for your skin anyway. It is the perfect facial. Next time save your money and skip the beauty parlor and just ask your lover for a treatment. It’s much more fun and way cheaper. Who can afford not to have sperm on their face in this economy?

 

3. Taste

Some people love it sweet, some salty, and a few love it spicy. The taste of sperm is customizable. What a man eats affects the taste of his sperm. So gentlemen, consider your diet. I’ve heard that pineapple juice results in an excellent flavor, but I encourage you to experiment.

 

2. Speed

If you think the Olympics swimmers are impressive you should have the utmost respect for the little swimmers as they can reach speeds up to 43 miles per hour at ejaculation. For those of you rolling your eyes thinking that is not impressive. That means an ejaculation on the street would violate the speed limit in residential areas. Although your ejaculation was caught on the traffic cam, the speeding ticket is probably the least of your worries.

 

the price of ignorance. 

 

1. Some sperm is female

Sperm is often seen as a symbol of masculinity, after all there is little more masculine than sperm. Turns out, sperm can be female as well.  Female sperm is slower but stronger and male sperm is faster but weaker. Sound familiar?

 

I hope you all leave today’s post slightly more informed and a little more aware of the little wonders. If you’re an expert on sperm, we’d all be happy to hear more about it! And by “all” I mean me.

6 Sexy Athletes – Olympic Edition

6 Aug

That’s right! Another goddamn list of sexy Olympic athletes! You think I did this one for you? I just wanted an excuse to look at scantly clad sporting machines. Now that I have adamantly postulated my thinly veiled excuse let’s get down to business. Also, I skipped Yelena Isinbaeva cause I would not stop staring at her pictures, I needed to make some progress with this post.

6. Rhys Howden

i’d like to get into his banana hammock… and cuddle.

This Australian water polo player can splash me anytime. He’s a defender that plays for the Brisbane Barracudas. Australia is far away from me, but I’m willing to travel the distance to get bit by one of these barracudas. But not in the water, I prefer to get wet in bed.

5. Sophie Polkamp

please never make the hockey stick longer.

I have a soft spot for women’s field hockey, all of them are amazing, and this is how they stand around on the field! She’s a defender, so it won’t be easy to score on her. Plus with my propensity for spanking, I’m happy to note that she has the necessary equipment and knows how to use it. Spank me Sophie.

4. Paride Saccoia

my inner nerd imagines him to have little wings on his ankles and a speedo made of scales

This entry is taking me longer to write, since I am typing one-handed. So I’ll keep it short. Hot. Italian. Water polo. Smooth. Hard. Wet.

3. John Orozco

finally that kama sutra book is going to get some use

Back to two-handed typing. I’ll wash them later. Who knows if what you read on the Internet is true, but this athlete is apparently gay. So… a loss for us ladies is a gain for the gay men. Plus he’s a gymnast and flexibility in men is completely underrated. Imagine all the ways he can wrap you up in those big strong arms. And if you were ever planning on joining the mile high club, flexibility is a huge advantage. I’m speaking from experience. That, and dysfunctional sense of smell.

2. Leyrin Franco

she’s aiming for my heart

Look at the intensity of her gaze. Deep hidden passions are exposed under her penetrating dark eyes. It may be some primitive hunter-gatherer in me, but there is something about a woman who can throw a javelin that just gets me wet. Not only that, this woman can run after her prey too, stalking it through the woods. Actually, I’m not sure how good a hunter she is. She’s also looks amazing, and that’s always important while hunting.

1. Hope Solo

a lovely suburban neighborhood.

There can be Solo uno. There can be only one, and it who else would it be but Hope Solo. With a name like a Star Wars character and eyes that are out of this world. Solo is my numero uno. I could get lost in the endless spinning galaxies and stars in her eyes. On top of that, she hard body that seems to be soft in all the right places. Cannot confirm since I have never touched her, but a girl can fantasize now can’t she. Also she waters her garden naked, just like me. Hot.

Medusa’s Lover – Free Erotica this Sunday, 5 August

1 Aug

It’s my birthday this Sunday. Rather than receive a gift myself, I’m going to give a gift.

Medusa’s Lover – My most recent sexy short story will be free this Sunday August 5th. Be sure to download your free copy.

lust is blind.

 

Just to whet your appetite here’s a little preview.

 

Medusa’s Lover

The mirror revealed a beautiful woman. My hair flowed in waves over my shoulders, it shone with a million tiny stars. My flawless skin coated the ample curves of my body. I hated it. Clothes served no purpose. No one that saw me survived. I let them die with a final glimpse of my untethered beauty and yet all that registered on their petrified faces was horror.

 

I clawed at my face, the pain searing my cheeks, but the gashes healed as fast as I created them. I screamed in frustration for the millionth time. It was no use.

 

The mirror was the only one in my palace I hadn’t ground into sand. One as lonely as myself needs some form of company, even if it is my odious own.

 

I walked through my palace resting my hands on the balustrade of my balcony. My eyes kept to the cracked and dusty floors. I avoided the horror etched on the stone statues that decorated my house. Their faces were forever imprinted in my mind. I did not need to look up to see them.

 

Heroes, all of them. Come to slay the monster. Me.

 

Only one of them had not come to slay me. His statue stood beside me.

 

He smiled at me, his eyes wide with surprise as his finger pulled aside his blindfold. I had turned away to admire the sunset and when I turned back he was turned to stone.

 

“You foolish boy,” I said. At least his face was not contorted in horror. His stone lips were shiny and worn from the kisses I would give him every night before I would go to sleep.

 

I wrapped by arms around him. My fingers scoured his body, lingering in the parts I used to love the most. His neck, the muscles of his back, but they were beginning to crumble at my touch. His solid frame had been reassuring when he was alive, but now I longed to touch soft flesh. Something alive.

 

The sea was visible from my balcony. In the valley beneath my palace I could see the city below. The sunset bathed it in an orange hue. Soon it would glow with the lights of their torches.

 

In the distance a figure approached my palace with determined steps. Even from this distance his sword shone through the mist that rose up from the valley. My heart raced with excitement. Another hero come to destroy me. I delighted at the prospect of my own destruction and the imminent end to my loneliness.

 

I observed him as he entered my expansive garden. The trees and flowers the only living thing I had touched in centuries. He edged his way under the imposing stone gate, sword drawn and muscles tensed. Sweat made his body glisten in the setting sun. He spun around, swinging his sword at the sound of rustling behind him. A small hedgehog that tried to scurry across the path froze in front of him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiled, but his crooked smile faded as he came ever nearer to my door.

 

I hurried down the stairs to hide behind the door. I didn’t want him to see me. I feared him not. On the contrary, I wished him to succeed.

 

The thick muscles of his bare legs tensed with each slow, deliberate step. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Like all those who came to slay me, he was a paragon of masculinity. A towering giant among men, with broad shoulders and limbs as thick as tree trunks. His sandaled footsteps fell on the floor as silently as a cat’s. It was difficult to tell where his golden skin started and where his breastplate ended. They flowed seamlessly into each other. He carried a golden Spartan shield.

 

“Don’t turn around,” I whispered. “If you do you can be sure it will be your death.”

 

He froze. A flesh statue, in the midst of a stone menagerie.

 

“I don’t want you to die,” I said. “I want to help you.”

 

“Are you going to lead me to the monster?” he asked.

 

“Lead you to the monster? I am the monster,” I said. My voice always put them off. They never expected a woman’s voice. They expected the shrill shrieks of a mindless beast with serpents instead of hair. I knew what they said about me in the village.

 

He shifted his shield slowly with the movements of a man cornered by an unpredictable and dangerous wild animal. He examined my golden reflection on his shield.

 

“But you’re just a woman,” he said. His posture relaxed.

 

“Don’t turn around,” I warned him. He stiffened again. “What did you expect?”

 

“Snakes for hair, demonic eyes, scaly skin, but not this,” he said.

 

“This?” I asked.

 

“You’re gorgeous. A rival to Athena herself,” he said.

 

I smiled. Athena’s jealousy was the very reason I suffered this horrid curse. I was happy to give my head to this man, “Listen to me carefully, hero. I do not want to hurt you. Are you listening?”

 

He nodded, shaking the plumes on his golden helmet.

 

“I’m going to walk and stand behind you. Watch me if you like in your shield. You can be sure it is not a trick. When I tell you I am ready, you will close your eyes and swing the blade round. Do you understand?” I asked.

 

Again, he nodded his understanding.

 

My bare feet glided the few steps left between us, leaving footsteps behind in the dust of crumbled statues. His muscles tensed as he watched my approach in his shield.

 

He was so alive. He smelled of fresh sweat and the grass he had crushed underfoot in the garden. Heat emanated from him. It had been so long since I had felt the heat of another living being. His broad chest heaved with each breath. His skin had little droplets of sweat. Did I even remember what skin felt like?

 

I reached to touch him. One last taste. Death would shortly follow.

 

More here.

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