Celebrate Difference – Be Yourself!

Differnet people all posing together, one in a wheelchair, one gay, others Goth or transgender

Difference. What does it matter?

I’ve been musing on this subject for a while now. Then Bisexuality Day came along to remind me just what a challenging word this is. We live life as though all is set in stone, and anything ‘outside the norm’ seems to provoke a lot of negative reactions from  people.

That’s always seemed alien to me. I love the different, the strange, the unusual. I think I was born that way, and grew up that way because I had parents who raised me to accept difference. We lived in an area of high immigration in the days when we needed people from other countries to come and work in our mills and factories. I played with Muslims, Sikhs and Caribbean children. They accepted us in their homes and we reciprocated. At school I had a friend who was a thalidomide victim. She had a stump for a hand. I never commented on it, and held ‘hands’ in the playground without acknowledging it. I knew it embarrassed her, and I didn’t see the point of bringing it up. In later life I had a polio victim friend. I’d known her a year when she asked my why I’d never mentioned her limp and clumsy footing on occasion. I replied it didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that we liked each other and were friends. She was thrilled and said she’d never met anyone who had resisted asking before.

I’ve never seen the need to reject, insult or judge anyone on the basis of their looks, health issues, sexual preference, sexual orientation or relationship arrangements. Who am I to tell someone else how to live?  Of course, there are completely unacceptable behaviors such as murder, pedophilia, rape. They are harming others, and no-one can or would want to condone that kind of behaviour.

I live by the credo ‘Do as you will and harm none.’ Harm none includes myself.

All that said, why are human beings so afraid of difference in each other? We divide and subdivide ourselves into little groups that war with other little groups. Why? I suppose it’s buried deep in the lizard brain to suspect anything we don’t understand and see that as a threat to our survival. We have to work at acceptance. Reason with ourselves. Think before making snap judgements. Remember that underneath that hoodie might be a nice young man who is cold and hungry. We spotted one hoodie getting all excited and concentrating hard on what he was doing at the edge of a roundabout. We watched suspiciously. It turned out all he was doing and getting excited about was photographing a rainbow. How cute is that? So what if someone is into kink or is gay or transgender? Or Black or yellow or whatever. What matters is the personality of the human inhabiting that body. What people do with their sex lives, personal taste and dress code is up to them. You might not like what they wear or do, but tolerance is needed. After all, they might not like what you wear or do, and you expect tolerance at the very least, if not acceptance from the world around you.

I thrive on those differences, use them in my work. And I’m here because I want to write and share some of the contents of my mind, which as you can see is pretty open. So I write. I have a fair whack of experience to draw on, and I think the contents of my mind might entertain people who enjoy BDSM, kinky sex, sex with more than one partner and lesbian sex and more. Who knows where my imagination will go next? I’m working on a new novella right now, and enjoying creating characters who are different. Who like to buck society’s constraints and find their own way to enjoy their kinks. Who have the bravery and strength of personality to be themselves.

Difference gives the opportunity to learn from each other. We can broaden our horizons, learn how different difficulties affect other people and learn solutions for problems we might not have understood previously. Speaking for myself and Fulani, our lives are richer for the people we have met and interacted with.

If I was to meet you, I’d accept you until you did something unacceptable, like treating me badly, abusing my trust or behaving badly to someone else. In other words, I’d be nice to you as long as you were nice to me. Celebrate difference, enjoy meeting interesting-because-they-are-different people, and have as much fun as you want in your sex lives.

I hope you come back to us, enjoy our stories, make use of the information we can gather for you here and enjoy being yourself, a unique individual who celebrates being different!

Whatever or whoever you are, you’re welcome here. Just be nice, please!

VelvetTripp xx

If you’re interested in stories that ARE different, that tickle your imagination in the sex arena, you might like the novellas Fulani and I wrote in Naked Delirium, an anthology of five stories out in illustrated paperback or on Kindle now. They’re tales of sex during altered states, all wildly different to each other and all, we hope you think, great reads. All of our other published work can be found here.

Fire Flogged!

Following Fulani’s post about our holiday, I’ve been asked what it feels like to be flogged by fire. I wonder how people guessed I might know the answer to that? It’s an interesting question. Of course, we take thorough precautions when playing with fire, and have an extinguisher ready, as well as lots of cold water to treat any burns with, a first aid kit and my own first aid trained Fulani. I have to strip, as clothes could cause serious burns if they caught alight. Don’t try this stuff if you don’t know what you’re doing, please. A recent domestic accidental burn has left me even more careful as the pain was ridiculously high and has left a nasty scar.
What does it feel like? Well, an ordinary flogger is quite thuddy and hard, but a fire flogger is surprisingly lightweight. When used correctly, it hits the skin very quickly, and for this reason, believe it or not, doesn’t hurt. It’s an interesting experience. You feel the flogger, and feel the heat, but it glances over the skin so fast that, although I have in the past been convinced that there would be marks or burns, fire flogging has never damaged my skin or even left a red mark. I am so confident I’ve recommended to friends to try it. One of those friends is in the pictures in the last post. He loved it! You feel a stingy glow and of course the excitement (biggest BDSM tool being the brain) work wonders. We have been known, after doing a demo, to disappear for a while on our own. Over to your imagination now!


Top Ten Toys for BDSM Play

Are you new to this stuff? Do you wonder what all these scary looking toys are about? If so, this is just for you. There are lots and lots of toys you can use during BDSM play. Here are a few of my favourites to help you get acquainted.

  1. Floggers. These vary in the width of each thong and they also vary by the texture of the materials they are constructed from. The best way to choose a flogger is to decide what kind of stimulation you want from it.


    Thin rubber or thin, stiff leather ones will sting if used with any force. Softer leather or suede ones will ‘thud’ more and are really useful to ‘warm up’ the skin. Most reputable sellers will indicate on their websites what type you are buying, and are nearly always willing to advise you if you are not sure which ones to go for. If you can make it to a BDSM fair, sellers will allow you to try them on your own skin to ensure you get what you want.

    Selection of floggers

    Selection of floggers

  2. Pinweels. Often known as the Wartenberg pinwheel, there are now a few variations around, including a plastic disposable one and a seven wheel one. These look vicious, but can be used very gently over the skin, even nipples, as long as the user does not apply too much pressure. In any event, they are a pretty safe toy that can provide a lot of fun teasing and waking up the subs’ skin.
    three wheeled pinwheel

    three wheeled pinwheel

    Historically these had a medical use, for testing skin/nerve sensitivity – though it’s pretty obvious why they’ve become bdsm favorites and are now widely available…

  3. Crops. These are very easily obtained from any riding shop, but check out the crop before you buy. They do vary in stiffness and width, and this will affect the sensation on the skin. The stiffer they are, and the smaller the tress or ‘tongue’ at the end, the more they are likely to sting!
  4. Canes. The thinner these are the more they will sting and the more chance they have of breaking the skin, so new doms beware and practise before doing any serious play with your partner. Thicker ones, again, will be more ‘thuddy’ but when delivered hard will make your sub howl. Once your sub is blindfolded, Fulani tells me it’s great fun scaring their sub by ‘swishing’ them in the air really hard, but not actually hitting them this hard. There’s another toy involved here…which is listed at the end of my top ten.
  5. Nipple clamps. These vary from the howlingly painful (which your sub may or may not appreciate) to fairly stimulating. Some are made like clothes pegs, with a spring to close them. Others screw up so are more adjustable. I would go for these if you’re unsure how much stimulation your sub’s nipples can take. The idea is to leave them on for a while (from a couple of minutes to about twenty in my case) but beware! The longer your sub has them on, the more noise they are likely to make when you remove them, as this allows a blood rush back into the nipples and this obviously can be quite painful. I like this, but if you are new, experiment to find out what you like!

    Screw type nipple clamp

    Screw type nipple clamp

  6. Paddles. These are flat, paddle like spanking toys that can sting quite a lot. They aren’t one of my favourite toys, but they may be one of yours. Again, they will vary in intensity depending on what they are made of and how wide the paddle is. Softer suede will be less intense than a wide, stiff leather one. Try before you buy or choose from item descriptions on the website you’re looking at. Studded ones are going to hurt more than flat ones!

    Selection of funky paddles

    Selection of funky paddles

  7. Restraints. From ankle and wrist straps to collars and rope, being retrained is part of many a BDSM play scene. Nice, broad, well fitting straps are best for comfort and long scenes. They will minimise the need to adjust during play, which can be a distraction! Rope should be used only if you know how to tie them correctly and you are aware of the Safety issues involved. Rope knots should never press on tendons or ligaments, and your sub should not end up with a huge knot pressing into their back when led down. See the earlier post we did showing the correct way to tie the wrist. We will be doing more bondage tutorials, so call back again for them. Collars should fit well. Your sub should never be left alone if the collar is tethered to anything. They are fun to attach a lead to when moving your sub around.

    Black/purple restraint set

    Set of restraints

  8. Gags. Not a toy for the beginner unless you have a particular fetish for them. I found it took me a while before being prepared to try them. You cannot speak with one in [Fulani adds: though you can make attractive and quite loud mewls and squawks!] so you do need another way to indicate should you need to be released for any reason. My Fulani gives me a small ball to drop, but we’ve also used hand signals in these play situations. You must be able to trust your dom to act immediately if you need to be released. [Fulani adds: our hand signals are similar to some scuba diving ones – finger and thumb in an ‘O’ for OK, a flutter of the hand for ‘this is borderline’ and a raised middle finger, ‘giving the bird’, for ‘red: I need this to stop NOW’].
  9. Vibrators. Well, I don’t think these will need much description, but they are sometimes overlooked and shouldn’t be. From your standard rabbit to more powerful vibrators intended for deep muscle massage can be pressed into BDSM play. Experiment, ensure your sub has a way for indicating when they’ve had enough and amass a nice collection of them.
  10. Last but not least, the best BDSM toy, and it’s free. Your brain is the best toy you have. Imagination can build intense anticipation, fear, excitement or whatever else you want out of a play session. Use email to tease each other before the play event. Talk to your sub once they are blindfolded (another useful accessory) and tell them what you’re going to do to them. Tease them with scary stories. It all depends on what you and your sub want out of a play session. I remember once turning up for a play session and Fulani quite innocently showing me his new chef’s kitchen knife. We had a meal then decided to play. When I felt cold metal on my skin and realised it was a knife I was truly scared (which is a turn on for me in this situation). My brain told me it was that huge, sharp new carving knife. We had a great session. Later, once the blindfold came off, I realised the scary huge knife was actually a little blunt one Fulani uses to tease subs! My brain had done the rest very well. Trust is vital when playing, and again something only you, your partner and your brains can develop. And that depends on communication. So talk lots, agree a safe word or way of letting your dom know you’ve had enough and talk again after a session, especially if either of you felt uncomfortable about anything.

As a little extra encouragement, stimulate that brain. Give it some ideas to cogitate. How about a story? There are free ones on here, but Fulani and I also write for a living. Go on, find new inspiration. Find more stories by Fulani and VelvetTripp here.

Have loads of fun, and play safe!



Pics used to illustrate this article are all taken by Velvet for our friends (they live round the corner) Freak Clubwear. You’ll find all these items for sale on their website and at the stall they run at various fetish fairs such as the monthly Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar.

Happy New Year – and have sexy fun with your resolutions!

This is what comes of idly surfing the internet. Various sources offer ideas for New Year resolutions.

The Times of India suggests:

1. Vow to devote ‘more time’ to the act.
2. Promise to ‘experiment’ – Fulani comments: the original suggests ‘you might just discover an all new moan zone in your partner’s body’. Well, yes. On the other hand, if you arrive home and your partner has all the power tools out, be suspicious.
3. Pledge to revisit your sensual side – Fulani comments: they mention perfumed body oils, scented candles, satin sheets, and silk scarves. Well, you can’t be using the cuffs, chains, whips and gags all the time – you should surprise your partner occasionally!
4. Vow to become a ‘touchy-feely’ couple
5. Speak up if you are not liking something – Fulani comments: remember ‘ouch’ is not a safeword.
6. Also speak-up if it is working for you
7. You’ll try to keep kids out of your bedroom – Fulani comments: remember the article was published in a country where overcrowding is a common problem!
8. At times even ‘no-mood’ sex will be welcomed
9. Vow to lose control and break the routine!
10. Go liberal with contraceptive methods – Fulani comments: remember this comes from a country where having children is often considered a good thing…

Ask Men suggests:

1. Be more spontaneous – Fulani comments: ‘Erm, be spontaneous – now! And make sure you’re properly prepared for your sponteneity!’
2. Try new positions
3. Try new locations
4. Talk more sex
5. Get kinkier

The FoxSexExpert at Fox News suggests 17 resolutions. OKay, we’ve cheated because these were for 2010. But 17 resolutions? Who has that many?

1. Let the spirit move you — sexually speaking.
2. Set up your own sex program.
3. Engage in all sorts of erotic talk.
4. Do something you would never do in the sack.
5. Have sex in every room. Fulani comments – we think they meant in your own house. But why not be creative?
6. Ask for what you want.
7. Have more sex.
8. Cultivate your sexual connection.
9. Become “sex positive.”
10. Learn a new trick.
11. Go on more dates.
12. Become “that” couple. Fulani comments – altermatively, become “that” threesome, or whatever combination moves you…
13. Take a sex workshop.
14. Move on.
15. Get in tune with your sexual self.
16. Fight for your sexual rights – or another’s. Fulani comments – seriously, though, sexual rights are still major issues in many parts of the world and there are still big human rights battles to be fought in many countries…
17. Enjoy your efforts!

Finally, Betty Confidential has only four resolutions but they’re good, practical, down-to-earth ones. Since we have a friend who works in a gay sexual health project, we think number 2 is particularly important for everyone…

1. Take Charge of Your Sexual Pleasure

2. Take Charge of Your Sexual Health

3. Take Charge of Your Relationships

4. After Your Mistakes, Do Something

Whatever sexy resolutions you make, have fun and enjoy 2011! And let us know what resolutions you made…


The Quasar Club (Part II) – erotic paranormal short story

For Part I of this story, look at the previous post…

Courtesy of Jon Wilson

Courtesy of Jon Wilson

Charlotte came to slowly, wondering for a moment where she was, trying to remember to breathe. One hand rested on brickwork, the other on the edge of a dumpster. Her legs were weak and she let herself sink to the concrete of the alley. She felt hollowed out. At some point, it had started to drizzle. Her hair and clothes were wet. Twenty yards away, car lights on the road winked in the water-streaked darkness. When she looked down, raindrops on her jacket sparked like tiny white and orange stars in the reflected light. When she looked up, a tall figure stood at the entrance to the alley, silhouetted against the car headlights. He seemed to wave, and shimmered into nothingness. She couldn’t be sure if he’d just turned the corner, or evaporated into thin air. Or if her perception of a figure was a trick of the light.

Making her legs co-operate, Charlotte made it back to her car. She sat in the driver’s seat, consciously breathing deeply the way she’d always had to after sex with Ben. One finger confirmed her thong was soaked through. And it encountered something else, something circular and metallic, pressed between the material and the folds of her skin. Incredulous, she took it from its hiding-place and held it for inspection. There was enough light for her to see exactly what it was. A small metal ring. The kind with a tiny ball on it, for a piercing. The kind that would be used for a Prince Albert. She put it in her purse.

When her heart stopped pounding, she laughed out loud. It came out as a mad cackle of incomprehension, but also relief. Whatever she’d just experienced —and she had no way to explain it to herself—it wasn’t her that had gone crazy. It was the universe.

Pulling her mobile from her handbag, she called the office. They stayed open until eight, someone would still be there.

Ringtone. Debbie picked up.

“Debbie? It’s Charlie … I’m still at the old bar. He was fine, no need to worry. He’ll let us know … I got caught in a shower locking up, I’m wet through … I’ll go straight home and dry off … OK, see you tomorrow.”

At home, Charlie stripped and showered, sat in her bathrobe in the middle of the living room floor. For a long time she was lost in thought. Then the thought that burned in her brain went to nova. She dug in the back of her wardrobe. Leather trousers, skimpy leather waistcoat. Still there, glove-tight and sexy as ever. Nothing underneath. She liked the feel of the leather against her skin. The boots were under the bed but she’d have to practice walking in them again. On her way downstairs she passed the bathroom again. Ben’s Chinese neck-thong was still there on the windowsill. She picked it up and put it on.

In the living room again, she opened cupboards and pulled out the laptop, leads, headphones. All of it still there, waiting patiently for her all these months. She plugged it into her stereo. It wasn’t like a club sound system but it was all she had. The question in her mind was whether, after so much time away from DJing, she still had what it took. Could she or couldn’t she get into a groove?

She’d need some new music. Eventually. The half-dozen external drives in the cupboard held perhaps ten thousand tracks…

Friday night, dressed to kill, it was apparent Charlie was in the wrong place. Fluidity had undergone a refurb. The décor was bland, the music was bland, the clubbers were boring, the bar staff too overworked to talk. She remembered one of the door staff, he remembered her.

“Nah, your crowd doesn’t come here now. The club was bought up by a conglomerate that figured the location was being regenerated. Then they put in their standard designs. Leather, PVC and duck egg blue carpets—doesn’t quite go together, does it? But there’s a new place just opened up that does your kind of stuff. It has a name like, like…”

“Some kind of star?” It was a shot in the dark.

“Yeah, sort of. The Quasar Club.” He explained where it was. She thanked him and walked to the other side of the town centre. The side that wasn’t being regenerated, and wouldn’t be for a few years yet.

The Quasar Club was up grimy stairs. Black painted walls, scuffed wood flooring, comfortable but faded. The kind of place where the unexpected could happen. It was crowded, and she spotted a couple of trannies in the mix. Always a good sign, because they usually had discerning taste.

And the unexpected did happen. She was leaning against the bar waiting to be served and one of the bar staff spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.
“Hello you! Wondered where you’d gone. You disappeared after…”

“I did. But now I’m back.” She fingered the Chinese coin, wondering what kind of supernatural connection was being made here.

She stood to one side, sipping her drink, watching the crowd, listening critically to the music. Not the same choices she’d make, but close enough. She smiled when she realized her hips had been moving to the beat. Something deep and primal in her brain had just come out of hibernation.

“Are you OK?”

The words were shouted into her ear. Charlie turned to find the barman next to her, a stack of empty glasses cradled in his hands. She nodded.

“You’ve got that faraway look.”

“Just remembering what it was like, working the decks.”

Actually the barman wasn’t bad-looking. About as tall as she was in her boots, with shoulder-length hair and a lopsided smile. Not fat, not thin, muscles in all the right places. Probably a good muscle in his trousers as well. An open, friendly face, the kind it was easy to talk to.

“I remember your sets. I used to go to Fluidity. I’ll talk to the manager.”

The next time she saw him was around four in the morning, when the place was beginning to empty out. Where had the time gone? It was as though she’d been standing there in a trance all that while.

“The man, he say yes. If you’re interested, he can fit you into a late slot next week. Don’t give up the day job, though. If you have a day job?”

Charlie laughed, remembering the words she’d heard. You can be a star, nothing can stop you. And you’ll meet someone new. It’s your destiny. He’s your destiny.

“There’s an afterparty at mine, if you like,” he said.

“I’d like very much. Thank you.”

When they left half an hour later, it was hand in hand. Charlie thought she saw someone walk out of the doors just before them. As they reached the street she looked around. A tall figure stood about ten yards away. There were streetlights all along the road, but he was in his own patch of shadow that obscured his features, made them grainy like an old black-and-white movie. He looked for all the world like Ben. As she watched, he raised a hand in greeting, or perhaps valediction, and faded into the night like a TV picture that had suddenly turned pixilated.

“Did you see him…?”

“See who?” he asked her. “No, there’s no one here. And we’ll have to go round the corner to get a taxi.”

Charlie had a sudden realization. “You do know you haven’t even told me your name?”

“Oh, sorry. Desmond. Call me Des.”

“Or Destiny?” Des Tiny, she thought, breaking it down into syllables. Except he wasn’t tiny. The way his jeans were filled proved that.

His turn to laugh. “Maybe that’s what tonight is. Destiny. Mine and yours.”

She suspected her date with this well-built and well-hung Destiny would develop into something interesting. She also knew what the soundtrack would be while they were doing something interesting: Nine Inch Nails, “Closer.”

It wasn’t until the following week that Charlie remembered the PA ring. She wondered idly if it was the right size and gauge to have it put in her own flesh. Wondered if she had the nerve do get it done, decided she had. A nipple, or maybe somewhere even more private. She hadn’t removed the Chinese coin from around her neck, but the ring would be an even more intimate reminder of Ben.

Yet when she checked her purse, it wasn’t there. She never found it again.


If you liked this story, both Fulani and Velvet Tripp have other (and stronger/more explicit) paranormal stories published with Xcite – see the ‘Stories Available Now’ page for details of their stories in the Xcite ‘Spirit Lovers’ and ‘Lust Bites’ collections.


The pic used in this post is a detail from a photo taken by a friend of ours, Jon Wilson. His website isn’t online at the moment but if you like his pic and are interested in buying prints of his work we can put you in touch with him. Use the contact form on our ‘About’ page.

The Quasar Club (part I) – new paranormal erotic story

Pic courtesy of Jon Wilson

Pic courtesy of Jon Wilson

Charlie looked around and said a bad word under her breath, quietly enough that her client wouldn’t hear. She knew she shouldn’t have taken on this viewing. It was in the wrong part of town. She had too much painful history here.

The client didn’t notice. He was some hotshot investor looking to make a fast buck on the back of the recession. He was young, maybe too young to shave properly, yet balding. He had an oily and overbearing manner, and he stalked through the property as if he already owned it. It wasn’t the building he wanted, anyway; it was the parcel of land.

The property was previously a bar-restaurant, now offered for sale by the brewery with potential for redevelopment. Ground floor: entrance lobby, bar area, kitchen, main room, games room, men’s and women’s rest rooms. First floor: function room, two offices. Second floor: bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. Basement: cellarage. Outside: off-road parking, patio area, boiler room, store. Location: fronting a main road in a commercial area due for regeneration, within walking distance of the town centre. Suitable for development as commercial units.

It was those redevelopment permissions that had drawn Hotshot’s attention. It was the property backing onto the car park that had made Charlie swear. She was standing no more than twenty yards from where Beautiful Ben had died.

It was bad form to cry in front of a client. She breathed deeply, put on a professional mask, answered Hotshot’s questions as best she could. Fortunately he didn’t make much more than a token pass at her, one she could fend off by blanking him, just pretending not to hear.

Beautiful Ben. A statuesque, long-haired and slim-hipped god of the darkness, and of the decks. He’d been a lifetime ago. Literally.

Three years previously, Charlie had been making a name for herself as a DJ. An unusual occupation for a woman, certainly, but no one had ever told her women didn’t do that kind of thing. She’d always been the nerdy girl, the one who dismissed the current boybands as trash and bored her friends with discs she’d found in obscure record stores. When it came to DJing, she’d just gone ahead and done it. Built a whole persona and look around it, and then made a success of it.

She’d been a goddess of the night. Black hair, black leather, six-inch heels and a magical touch that kept the energy running and people dancing all night. It had been a rough-and-tumble, full throttle world and she’d enjoyed every minute of it. Splendidly aloof above the dancefloor, headphones around her neck and the bassline thumping in her chest, she knew every man in the club wanted her. She could have a rough tumble with anyone she picked, and she was extremely picky.

Charlie’s regular gig had been a residency at Fluidity, the club she was looking at from the old bar’s car park. Benedict had come in, at first as a visiting DJ and later with his own slot, immediately before her usual 2am stint.

It hadn’t been a quick fling. Not like the other men she’d hooked up with before he’d come along. It had been a slow burn. They ended up talking obscure tracks, tech stuff – she’d been the first at the club to DJ straight off her laptop. They got a competitive thing going, a three-and-three where she’d play three tracks, he’d play three, and between them they’d keep Fluidity on the boil, steaming hot.

Famously, she’d once found him in the DJ booth with a skinny blonde on her knees, her lips wrapped around his cock. Equally famously, she’d grabbed a microphone and added the characteristic glup glup sound of oral sex into the mix. She knew he slept with other women; he knew she slept with other men. It was a working relationship for a month before it was a friendship. It was a friendship before it was a sexual bond. They were legend, king and queen of the dance, even before they ever got into bed together. Though the first time they had sex was nowhere near a bed.

The club had finished at four. On a whim they’d turned down an invitation to an afterparty at someone’s house. Instead she’d driven them, an hour and a half out of town, to rolling hills and a crag looking out over the sunrise. She’d wanted to feel the wind and the openness of it. It was there that she decided she not only couldn’t keep her hands off him, but wanted to feel him inside her. It was there she discovered for the first time that he had a Prince Albert piercing. It was a novelty for her, and very moreish. Afterwards they’d found some roadside mom-and-pop café, had coffee with hash browns and bacon. They’d looked hugely out of place, black leather and tribal hair among the lumberjack shirts, and been amused at the way the locals seemed to think they were exotic creatures from another planet. Which, in a way, they were.

And then eight months after they’d met, a couple of months into their being an item, it all came crashing down around her. Her car was being serviced, they’d shared a taxi back from the club. A drunk, drugged kid had tried to run a set of lights at sixty and slammed his hot hatch into them. It was stolen, he’d already lost his license. She’d spent three days in a coma, waking up to the news that her Beautiful Ben had been DOA at the hospital.

She walked away from the club scene. Started a new life. Nine to five, with the real estate agents. Kept herself to herself, didn’t answer the phone, cried in the evenings. She was still surrounded by little things that reminded her of Beautiful Ben. The thin leather thong with the Chinese coin he used to wear around his neck. He’d forgotten to put it back on after showering at her flat, and it was still on the bathroom window ledge. The wax on the living room carpet, where they’d made love in a circle of candles and one had dripped. She’d never cleaned it up.

Hotshot said something about letting her know what he decided. He climbed into his Merc and disappeared into the river of light that was the evening rush hour traffic. At this time of year dusk came early. And Charlie finally let herself give in to her private grief. Wiping tears from her face, she approached Fluidity. From this direction there were the remains of a low brick wall, then the side access that ran to the club’s stage door. She stepped over the brickwork, stood in the shadows beside a row of dumpsters.

A breath of wind came out of nowhere, tousling her hair. It was like a fond greeting. She tossed her head, looked around in surprise. Cars passed twenty yards away, on the main road. But there was no one around her.

“Hello, lover. I’ve been waiting for you here, hoping you’d show.”

Charlie jumped in surprise, then froze in fear. There was no one around and yet the voice was clear and low. She knew exactly whose it was. Maybe this was the moment she’d been most dreading. The moment when the voice in her head became real and she knew her sanity had departed.

The sense of pressure, something like a hand, trailing down her arm. “You’re wearing a business suit? What’s that about? You didn’t… Oh, you did. You gave up on your music.”

Arms enfolded her. Arms Charlie couldn’t see. She would have staggered, backed away, but they held her tight. Not in a bad way. Like a hug. Like a hug where fingers lightly pinched her nipples, making them pert and hard the way Ben used to. Her lips parted in a half-gasp. Despite everything, despite doubting her own senses and reason, the feeling was hot.

The way it always had been with Ben.

A soft chuckle sounded in her ear. “Gotcha. You always liked that, didn’t you!”

The hands moved, roaming up and down Charlie’s body. Impossibly, they felt like they were under her clothes, on her skin. It was intense enough, scary enough, that she had to reach out for support. Her hand found a rough edge of brickwork and she clung to it like a drunk holding on to a bottle. When she closed her eyes, she could see Ben’s face. Long and thin, a ring in his nose, crinkles around the eyes and permanent creases from smiling.

“I’ve waited a long time. But I think you have too. Grief, anger, despair— it’s time to move on, girl. You can’t live life in the shadows, you’re too good for that.”

The hands were on her thighs now, stroking gently with fingernails the way he used to do it. The way she somehow wanted it… Whatever was happening to her, she couldn’t deny it was making her moist and needy. It was real, more real than any fantasy or vibrator she’d ever had.

Charlie bit her lip, trying not to cry out. Who knew whether people were walking by on the street?

She planted her feet that little bit further apart, feeling the tight fabric of the work skirt against her thighs and even then the fingers were somehow inside it, running over her ass, low in her belly. She felt the twitch and flutter of excitement there, the moment Ben would feel too and then he’d…

He’d gently part the folds of her labia, using his tongue, exposing her, making her impossibly wet and greedy. And only then would he begin to fill her sodden cleft and its demands. She was wearing a black lace-trimmed thong—but the way her pussy reacted to the stimulus, she might as well have been wearing nothing at all. It felt like an actual, physical cock entering her, filling her up, hot, yet with the metallic coolness of his PA ring. It felt like the moment on a roller coaster ride when the train starts to move, and there’s no way to stop it or get off.

“This is for old times’ sake. Then I should let you go. You should let me go, too.”

Ben had been six foot three. With body parts all in proportion to his height. Even in her trademark six-inch clubbing heels, he’d had four inches on her. In bed, he’d had ten inches in her. And right now it felt like twenty of those ten inches were moving inside her, as if his cock was occupying the whole of her body, as if each stroke was lifting her up on tiptoe and taking her whole body weight. The sensation was old and familiar, but new and thrilling. It was strange in a literally out-of-this-world way, yet exciting and comforting. It was…

It was overpowering. Charlie just stopped thinking and stayed in the moment, grinding her hips against an unseen body. Nothing else mattered now. Everything was instinct, the tornado whirling inside her body, sucking up pleasure and concentrating it to a tiny spark-like point…

…that burst into a whirling constellation of tiny hot suns up and down her body, along her arms and legs, in her head, a direct connection from pussy to brain that blocked out everything except the vision, behind closed eyelids, of Ben’s face, his smile, and the feral effort of the fuck.

The brain-pussy connection built like noise, a bass beat shaking her and taking her higher until she was the tornado, the whirling sun, the wild animal, the beat itself. She opened her mouth and let out a wild howl. Ready or not, she was going to come.

At that moment the voice in her hear told her, “Remember, you’re a star. You can be a star, nothing can stop you. And you’ll meet someone new. It’s your destiny. He’s your destiny. And I wish you well.”

Part II published tomorrow (29 December).


The pic used in this post was supplied by a friend of ours, Jon Wilson. His website isn’t online at the moment but if you like his pic and are interested in buying prints of his work we can put you in touch with him. Use the contact form on our ‘About’ page.


If you like this story, both Fulani and Velvet Tripp have other (and stronger/more explicit) paranormal stories published with Xcite, including –

  • ‘The Incubus Candle’, by Fulani, in Spirit Lovers collection. Xcite Books
  • ‘Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know’, by Fulani and ‘Tooth Fairy’, by Velvet Tripp, in Lust Bites collection. Xcite Books
  • See the ‘Stories Available Now’ page for details of other stories including Fulani’s novel, The Secret Circus of Pain and Degradation.