New – Hunting, Shooting, Racing

It’s been a while, huh? No new stuff published, no posts about anything much. Real life gets you like that sometimes, stuff happens you have to push plod or plough through. Since the middle of the year we’ve had bereavements, illnesses and chunks of very unerotic work all of which took priority over writing erotica.

Hunting Shooting cover small

Hunting Shooting Racing cover

That said, one new novella is now out. Hunting Shooting and Racing (or use this link for Amazon.co.uk) is based on the idea that in the recession (which many of us are still feeling, by the way, despite government figures saying the economy is picking up) a couple who manage a 50-acre or so site for paintballing and airsoft might try to pick up on a niche market for outdoor BDSM activities. It’s large, it’s private, and it has installations ranging from stockades to tumbledown barns and faux graveyards for those who like that kind of thing for their bdsm play and, of course, for sex. Plus a lot of trees people can be tied to. This opens up all kinds of possibilities, including ‘slave hunts’ and pony play…

Here’s the opening:

Breeze playing over my bare skin. Rope tight between my legs. Stumbling over the rough grass because I’m hooded, and he’s yanking on the rope he’s using as a leash. Wrists bound behind me. Feeling exposed and helpless. Anticipating the cruel fucking he’s going to give me.

Life doesn’t get much better than this.

He won’t be taking me far. The site is 58 acres, less than a mile on each side. But naked, hooded, hands tied behind my back and dragged on a leash it feels like we’re crossing an entire county. The length of the trek ramps up my sense of helplessness. And my wetness level. The rope between my legs is slick and slippery.

Sometimes we play hide-and-seek. I hide, Dylan seeks. This time I thought I’d found a good hiding spot. The Deep Cover section of the site slopes down to a shallow pond with a small island in the middle of it. I was on the island, under a cover of low branches and leaf litter.

He found me.

The deal was, if I could stay hidden until dusk, he’d be my slave until tomorrow morning. If he found me, I’d be his prisoner until then. It’s a grown-up version of hide-and-seek. An adult, triple- X-rated version.

I thought I was well hidden, but he found me. I’ll give him credit for that. I heard nothing. Nothing that couldn’t have been a bird in the trees or a vole on the waterline. Then his hand on my ankle, pulling me backwards. His knee on my spine. Hands forced halfway up my back and tied there.

“How …?” I wheezed.

“Easy. I’ve been noticing the places you looked at in the last couple of days. I saw the mud stirred up in the pond. After that it was just a case of being quiet and using my sixth sense.”

Fuck. Next time I’ll go to the Trench Warfare section and dig myself a foxhole.

Just so you know, Amazon.com currently lists it as ‘pricing information unavailable’. I’ll get Sweetmeats to sort than asap. But if you’re in the UK it will cost you £1.19 for 37 pages. I have no idea what the conversion factor is into pence per orgasm, but no doubt you can be guided by your own experience.

There will, incidentally, also be a story of mine in another Sweetmeats collection in the near future – a collection called Wander Lust themes on sex and travel, and in the case of my own contribution with a bit of a steampunk thing going on as well. And a mountweazel, if you know what one of those is (and no, it’s not a new type of sex toy…).

In case I’m not back on here before Halloween (or Samhain, if you’re that way inclined), remember the ‘Our Publications’ list includes several vampire, paranormal and other suitably Halloween-ish titles including Ridden (vodou bdsm), The Vampire Skye (vampire lesbian bdsm), The Vampire’s New Plaything (vampire bdsm), a short story in Xcite’s Spirit Lovers collection (paranormal bdsm), Velvet’s story ‘A Woman Possessed’ in the Sweetmeats Naked Delirium collection (her story is paranormal pagan bdsm, the others vary) and a bunch of other stuff. You may detect a bit of a theme going on there… The links are all to Amazon.com but the ‘Our Purchases’ page gives Amazon UK links and other sources as well.

Have fun and enjoy your erotica reading responsibly!

-F

eFestival of Words update

Remember the eFestival of Words last month? Fulani’s Museum of Deviant Desires story collection, published by 1001 Nights Press, didn’t win the Best of Indepdendent eBook Awards ‘Best Erotica’ category (the winner was Inky by J.B. Hartnett, and congratulations to the author and publisher).

museum new image

But Museum of Deviant Desires was the runner up in the Best Erotica category. As far as we know it’s the first time we’ve had any kind of writing award, even as a runner-up, since Fulani won a competition in a local writer’s club when he was about 14. So it is kind of gratifying.

If you haven’t read The Museum of Deviant Desires it’s available from several places, including Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk. Currently selling at a dollar and some cents in the US and 77 pence in the UK, which is a tiny amount considering how much (cough) ‘research’ was needed to write it. Plus it’s been reviewed as a ‘braingasm’ and the ‘next generation of erotic fiction’.

Finally – thank you to the faithful band of voters who voted for the book!

Freebie, until 30 September!

32763 Xcite, who published it, tell me that ‘First Day at Work’ has been chosen to be a free iTunes offer for September, ending on the 30th September.

The picture (left) is a clickable link but here is another link to the iTunes download.

‘First Day at Work’ is a short story (about 6000 words, 17 pages on a Kindle reader) concerning someone who takes a new job and discovers the warehouse stocks a wide selection of sex toys. She then discovers the people working in the warehouse have some rather intimate relationships that involve those sex toys, and more. You can guess what happens next…

It’s a fairly early example of my writing, but if you like it you can check out the ‘Our Publications’ page above to see more recent stories, novellas and novels.

The story may or may not attract an Amazon price match (it hasn’t so far). But you can check it out for yourself at Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk.

 

On the list

We haven’t disappeared. There’s a thing called ‘real life’ that sometimes happens, and it means we don’t get a chance to keep up the blog. In our case the last few months have been a combination of work (i.e. writing projects that weren’t very erotic but  paid the bills), and visiting ill people in the wider family.

2014finalistHowever, last week we had an email asking if we knew Fulani has a bdsm story collection in the finalists’ list for the 2014 eFestival of Words Best of Independent eBook Awards. And no, we didn’t. Just because you’re nominated for an award doesn’t mean you get told about it.

museum new image‘Best Erotica’ category includes a nomination for The Museum of Deviant Desires, by Fulani (1001 Nights Press).

The eFestival of Words awards have categories ranging from children’s books to crime and self-help to science fiction/fantasy – and for erotica. See the full nominations list (lots of categories) on the eFestival of Words website.

Voting is now live, with the winner announced on 24 August. In order to vote you have to register with the website, but it’s free.

Meanwhile if you haven’t read The Museum of Deviant Desires it’s  available from several places, including Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

We haven’t been very busy on the erotica front recently, but forthcoming attractions will include a steampunk erotic story in a soon-to-be-published Sweetmeats Press collection.

Have fun – and vote!

Phone Sex

I read it in a magazine a while back. Survey reckoned sixty per cent of all women have had a phone conversation with someone during sex. Doesn’t mean sixty per cent of women do it every time, or that the women who do it have phone conversations for sixty per cent of the time they’re having sex. But Jessica’s way up there in percentage terms.
When her phone plays a bleepy version of some club dance anthem, Jessica scrabbles on the bedside table for it.
‘Hi!’ Voice pitched a little lower than normal, husky and breathless. There’s a reason for that. She’s feeling hot, wild and sheet-biting eager.
‘He did what? Ohhh…’ The Ohhh is because we’re having a doggy style moment and I’ve shifted position very slightly in a way that makes a big difference to depth of penetration.
I guess that she’s talking to Sharon. They’ve had several conversations recently about Sharon’s husband, who seems to have spent a lot of evenings working late, and weekends playing golf. Except the golf club, when Sharon phoned them, had no record of him being on the course and he wasn’t in the clubhouse.
It doesn’t matter to me who Jessica’s talking to. As long as it’s not her husband. And I’ve reached the point where my own need to climax is building in urgency. I’m pretty sure the sound of my thighs slapping against her ass cheeks will be audible over the phone.
As are her gasps, evidently. I can’t hear what Sharon’s saying, but after Jessica’s quiet moan, I get Sharon’s squeal even through the pinhead-sized speaker on the phone.
Jessica breathes heavily, chuckles, grunts into the phone.
‘I’m in a motel…’
The room’s bland. Brown carpet, magnolia walls, a long shelf with a TV, telephone and kettle none of which we need. A bed that’s quite sturdy and doesn’t rattle or creak, which we do need.
Her dress, a blue button-through in light fabric, is on the floor by the TV. She didn’t bother with underwear. I’d only have ripped it off her and she knows it. My trainers are on opposite corners of the room and my jeans, jacket and shirt are draped over the single tub-shaped armchair. I didn’t bother with socks or boxers. She’d only have ripped the boxers off me. And sex while wearing socks is definitely a style faux pas. She, on the other hand, is still wearing neon-blue heels that dig into my calves when she writhes, but definitely aren’t a faux pas.
She also has a gold anklet that winks in a thin shaft of sunlight that stabs through the closed curtains. Very eighties, but on her delicate ankle it’s utterly charming.
She wanted me to buy it for her a while back, wears it every time we meet up. Takes it off again when she goes back home. Calls it her slave anklet.
‘No!’ she shrieks, amused. ‘I’m with uhhhh, uhhhh…’
She hasn’t forgotten my name. It’s just that I’ve used my left hand to reach under her belly and pressed the nail of my middle finger into her clit. And I take the ‘No’ to be her answer to a question about who she’s with. As in No, she’s not with her husband.
And no, I don’t know who he is. All I can say is he’s some kind of corporate executive who spends a lot of time away from home and leaves Jessica terminally bored. I’m the cure for her boredom.
‘You’re joking!’
I’m not interested. There’s pressure in my balls, and the pump-and-pulse feeling that runs from the base of big vein on the underside of my dick all the way up to its head.
‘Are you serious?’ She sounds incredulous.
Jessica snakes a hand under her body – the hand holding the phone. I’m moving more deliberately, slow and long, building my own climax, but she’s twisting and pushing against me in a way that makes it difficult. And there’s a ker-klik of the photo app on her phone.
I slap her ass. The fleshy smack is followed by a high-pitched ringing echo from the walls, and then her gasp that isn’t just shock but excitement.
Yes, she likes it. It’s the thing that turns up the dial on her sexual amplifier to max.
‘You really want me to?’
Jessica withdraws her hand. Fingers flicker across the phone’s screen. She’s just sent Sharon a pic of my balls and my cock pushing into her.
She arches her back, which increases the friction for both of us. Starts to moan more urgently, mutters ‘Yes, yes’ either to me or to Sharon, I don’t exactly know, and then ‘Fuck, oh fuck!’ which I guess is her beginning to come.
I reach forward and grab Jessica’s hair, an unruly blonde mass that trails halfway down her spine. Pull back on it, forcing her head up. It’s a big trigger for her, in a good way. It triggers her orgasm.
And the room is flooded with Jessica’s breathless howl of coming, my grunt and growl of ejaculation, and a quieter tinny shriek that comes from her phone.

‘Was she…?’
We’re both lying on the bed, limbs entangled. Post-coital.
Jessica nods. ‘Once she figured what we were doing, she started playing with herself. Then, when she had the pic I sent, and the audio of us, she brought herself off. You made two of us come at the same time.’
‘So what’s the deal with her husband?’
Jessica shrugs. ‘I dunno.’
She stops holding out on me when I take a nipple between my teeth. But only after I’ve taken her back to the point when she’s not quite sure if my bite is pleasure or pain.
‘Word is, he’s exploring his sexuality. Sharon’s tracked a credit card payment to a billing name that turns out to be a professional dominant.’
‘So is she doing more about it than talking with you?’
Jessica grins at me.
‘Not as such. Not yet. But it’s on her to-do list.’
I wonder about the idea of an affair as something you’d put on a to-do list. The kind of thing you’d do on principle and slot into your schedule as a lifestyle choice. I can imagine there are people like that. I can imagine Sharon’s one of them, scheduling what is essentially a revenge fuck.
Her phone rings again. It’s a long conversation and I zone out for a while.
Jessica nudges me awake.
‘Sharon says, would you be up for it if I left my phone camera on next time?’
‘Why?’
She smirks. ‘Because I can run streaming video to her.’
‘She wants to watch us fuck?’
There’s more conversation before she turns to me and says ‘It’s the next best thing to having an affair. But consider it an audition for when she does want to have one.’
‘We’d better make it interesting, then…’

And we do. Apparently Sharon’s very excited by the fact I’ve booked a ninth-floor room in a good-quality hotel, tied Jessica up and made her stand at the window. And by the use of a riding crop mark her ass. And even more so by the industrial-strength massager I’ve brought with me to bring Jessica to a screaming forced orgasm. Sharon’s even decided to get herself an ankle bracelet like Jessica’s.

***

Yes, it’s been a while since we posted. That’s life – sometimes we have to buckle down and write stuff for paying readers rather than spend time on the blog.
The story is, incidentally, inspired by a real survey that was published in June this year. You can read news articles on it in the Huffington Post, The Guardian and probably elsewhere – though apparently while 62% of women will check their phones during sex, only 34% actually admitted to answering a phone call while in the throes of ecstasy.

The Bill Gates Condom Competition

Yes, it’s a real thing. Back in March 2013, Bill and Melinda Gates put up a $100,000 prize for an improved condom design as part of th Grand Challenges in Global Health programme. It’s one of the Grand Challenges Explorations Round 11 topics and here’s a link directly to its web page, if you think you have a great design.

The logic of it is ‘the lack of perceived incentive for consistent use’ – the benefits of not contracting STIs are offset by issues such as decrease in stimulation and the need to engage in awkward messing around with a small latex balloon just before sex (though there are answers to that such as incorporating into sex play…). The challenge is, therefore, to create a condom that could enhance pleasure and is easier to use.

One design that’s already won praise is the origami condom, which is already manufactured by a small company in California and is made of silicone rather than latex (with a one-way valve to stop semen leaking out).

However, one guy’s design for a condom applicator is likely to win only a niche following, probably mostly among dommes with male submissives who need a sharp reminder of their domme’s superiority. You can see the explanation of its use and the applicator in action on a video on Trendhunter – it’s tagged ‘Prophylactic projectiles‘, which may give you some idea of how it works.

Twerking and slutdrops

One of the things we try to do is keep an ear to the ground for new trends and terms that emerge in relation to sex. Nothing happens for a while and then we hear about two in the space of a couple of days. You probably already know this but…

‘Twerking’ just hit the headlines because Miley Cyrus twerked someone or other in her performance for the MTV Video Music Awards, and thus in front of a large TV audience. And it got a lot of complaints about unwarranted raunchiness, and ‘not in front of the children’ type comments. You can read more about all this at the BBC website. Part of the issue was to do with her wearing a flesh coloured costume that suggested nudity (though apart from the color it’s relatively conservative) but if you want to see the twerk, there’s a 39-second clip on Youtube where the twerk comes at 18 seconds in. It’s basically bending forward and waggling your ass, but for maximum effect a woman stands with her back to a guy and bends forward to grind her ass into his groin.

It doesn’t actually look like a very committed and positive twerk, just a hint of one. But if you really want to know the detail of how it’s done, there are instructional videos including this one on Youtube. We can see the attraction of it – but we’re just left wondering whether, since it’s billed as a ‘club dance move’, many people do it in clubs – and indeed whether if you went to a gay club you’d see guy-on-guy twerks. If anyone knows, we’d be interested to know.

And is the name just random, or is there any proper etymology there?

[Edited to add: on 28 August we discovered that twerking, along with terms such as 'omnishambles' and 'selfie', has made it into the online version of the Oxford English Dictionary. The term seems to have been around in hip-hop culture for around 20 years though only became visible in the cultural mainstream in the last year - which probably means it's been a known as a club dance move in your local nightclub for a bit longer than that. More on this from your all-seeing cultural authority, the BBC.]

Now for the slutdrop. This is a twerk (optional) followed by a squat, and if it’s done right – that is, with the woman standing in front of a man and facing away from him, the result is that most of her spine makes contact with his groin. It’s probably been around as a solo dance move for quite a few years (and maybe starting in places like strip clubs?) and there are some Youtube clips now that are a couple of years old. But in the UK it was popularised by a TV programme called ‘Geordie Shore’ . Here’s their explanation/demonstration.

And no, we’re far too staid to do this kind of thing ourselves. Though if anyone want to come over and give us a live demo…