Orgasmic! How was it for you?

Orgasmic—adjective—able to achieve orgasm or able to induce orgasm.

Orgasmic—something that makes you feel as good as or better than when you have an orgasm.


The point of no return!

The point of no return!

Above are two dictionary definitions of the word ‘orgasmic’ and I’m sure there are plenty more to be found… We all know what we mean when we say something’s orgasmic, don’t we? It’s fucking good! So good, we crave it, want it again, want more of it, sometimes can’t think of anything else. But what interests me as an erotica writer is:

Is your ‘orgasmic’ the same as my ‘orgasmic’?

By which I don’t mean do you find eating a certain brand of chocolate in the bath orgasmic, or a certain cocktail in a certain bar with a certain person orgasmic? We all have our own individual triggers that cause us to feel something is as good as or better than an orgasm. But what I wonder is whether it’s conjuring up the same tingling feelings inside you as it is inside me or him or her or them?

Do all orgasms feel the same?

The answer to that, at a very base level, is obviously no. Male and female orgasms are substantially different for the most obvious reasons. And we all experience orgasms of different intensities, set off by different activities focusing on different parts of our body. If you read descriptions written by women of what it feels like to orgasm, you might be forgiven for thinking you’re reading about a completely diverse series of experiences.

Where am I going with this?

As you know, I write erotica. This means I write, on a daily basis, explicit descriptions of individuals having sex. I write about sex of all types—vanilla and kinky, m/f, m/m, f/f, vaginal, anal, oral, masturbation—the list could go on, but I think I’ve given you the picture.

And that means, I end up describing an awful lot of orgasms. Orgasms that are by necessity based upon my own experience of sexual climax. That’s all I’ve got to go on because obviously I haven’t experienced (internally, at least!) anybody else’s climax.

I try to write most days but I don’t always manage it. But say I write five days a week, I might be describing, in detail, three or four orgasms a week—obviously some days I’m writing the scenes leading up to the sexual encounter and the orgasm won’t have happened yet, other days I might be penning a multiple! But let’s guesstimate three or four per week. (Yes, there will be plenty of you out there writing more sex than me but, look, it’s not a competition—I’m perfectly satisfied with three or four a week!)

About 200 orgasms a year. Described in detail.

In some cases, it’ll just be a physical description of one of my characters having an orgasm—if I’m not in their point of view, it’s easier to describe—literally, just what their body does as they come. But in point of view, the writer has to describe not only the physical sensations as they pass through the character’s body but also the feelings, thoughts, emotions or temporary absence of them as the person comes.

It’s somewhat easier for me, as a woman, to describe an orgasm from the female perspective. If I’m writing from a male point of view, my imagination has to work that much harder, while drawing more on men’s descriptions of how they feel when they come. I’ve written a few m/f stories from the male viewpoint and several m/m stories and a novella, and so far nobody’s called me out on my descriptions of male orgasm (wonders if any men have read them…).

But approximately 200—that’s a lot of climaxing to keep fresh and different. I try to do this without using clichés—crashing waves, fireworks exploding—and I try to do it without being repetitive. But truth be told, if you lined up my annual tally in a row next to each other you’d probably find both clichés and repetition. After all, 200 orgasms! How unique can they all be?

Here are a couple of examples. In the first one, it’s easy-her orgasm from his point of view, so just the purely physical. In the second one, we’re inside the character’s mind.

But a spanking wasn’t what Harry had in mind. As she lay gasping for breath on the bed, he gently spread her legs and crouched down behind her. The deep red folds of flesh between her legs glistened with her juices. He easily slipped two fingers inside her. She whimpered at his incursion, raising her hips so he could push deeper into her. Harry knelt up and, by reaching round to the front of her, he located her clit with his other hand. It was already swollen, a hard nub of flesh nestling in a velvet cocoon. Inside her, his fingers located the yielding softness of her G-spot. He flexed and pulsed against both her trigger points at once. In a few seconds her body went rigid, as a deep moan bubbled up from the back of her throat. She clenched around his fingers, her hips pressing forward to grind against his other hand. He tugged on her clit, dropping his head to kiss the welts on her back. She came again almost instantly, her body melting as she emitted a soft sigh.


A tug with her hand guided him in and then – deep inhale – she had what she needed: Colt’s fierce thrust stretching her open, pushing its way into her and sending a sharp-edged thrill from her cunt to her brain.

He started working in and out, backward and forward, and Bradie raised her legs to encircle his waist, pushing him in further by pressing his back down with her calves.  Colt moaned as his mouth found one of her breasts and when his teeth anchored on her nipple, Bradie matched his moan and arched her back underneath him.

Fast and deep was what Bradie needed and it was what Colt gave her.  It didn’t take long for both of them to reach the brink; slow, languorous love making would be for another time.  This was born out of need on both their parts; fierce, intense desire which had to be sated quickly.  With a shout, Colt came.  His mouth let go of her breast and he arched up high above her, pushing harder with his final thrust.  Inside, despite the condom, Bradie felt a hot surge at the end of his cock and the pulses along its shaft.  His climax brought her to her own nirvana and she allowed herself to be swept away by the sensation; powerful spasms radiated from her cunt throughout her body, making her cry out loud as she anchored her hands in Colt’s hair.

To a certain extent it’s describing the indescribable, the incomparable, the orgasmic…

Man, it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it!

(The first excerpt was taking from Alchemy xii – New Year’s Eve, out on December 31, and the second was from The Christmas Tattoo.)

How do you find books?

Not so long ago the answer was simple. You go into a bookshop, you look, you pick up something that looks interesting. Maybe you’d read a review in a magazine, or a friend had mentioned something they’d read, but still… it was a straightforward process.


Nowadays it’s a little more than just clicking through to Amazon or B&N, looking around and finding something you like the look of.

For one thing, these online bookstores aren’t so easy to browse. They stock everything. That, in itself, makes browsing far more difficult. Before, it was the store manager who dictated which books found shelf-space, and that was what dictated the selection of titles you might browse in order to find something.

Now everything has shelf-space.

It’s just that some books have more shelf-space than others. They have the eye-level shelves, the online equivalent of the end of aisle display or, if the author is really lucky or her publisher has paid a premium, the window display. They’re the ones that pop up in all those ‘You might also like this’ slots on booksellers’ sites.

Visibility is the buzzword now.

The traditional publishers can just buy their visibility, but also they’re seen as gatekeepers of some kind of quality control so they tend to be given more visibility from the outset.

Indie publishers have to fight harder; they’re the masters of metadata to ensure their books show up well in searches, and they endlessly try to work out how to play the Amazon algorithms to make a book just a little more visible.

Authors, whether they’re still playing the traditional publishing game or treading the indie route, spend more and more of their writing time on social media trying to keep their profile high.

We pay for space on mailing lists and popular blogs. We employ publicity teams to do the leg-work of sweet-talking bloggers and tweeters and Pinteresters and more. We have unpaid street teams generating an online buzz for new books from authors they love.

There’s tried and tested strategy behind all this (at least for some of us), but the ground is constantly shifting. A strategy that worked six months ago may not work now, or for this particular book in this particular sub-genre.

But no matter how thoroughly we research our approach, there’s still a big element of guesswork involved, even if it’s informed guesswork.

So how do you find books?

Are you signed up to mailing lists that will alert you to new titles by a favorite author or in a genre you like? Do you ever open those emails from Amazon that highlight books B, C and D because you bought book A? Do you click through Amazon’s ‘Also Bought’ and ‘Also Viewed’ selections? Do all those tweets about new titles ever make an impression, or are their authors just shouting into the void?

I’d love to know.

But then we all would, so that we could then start shouting at you from the street corner… I mean, making sure you’re aware of new titles that may interest you.

It’s a fine balance between brash and pushy selling and publishing into that void, but somewhere, I believe, there is a balance, one that works both for the readers looking for the next book or author to love and for all those authors who just want to be loved.

Enough with the Billionaires Already

Fun fact: there are literally more billionaire romances on Amazon than there are billionaires in the world.

I mean, I’m the last person to decry hyperbole in erotica, but come on now. Forbes maintains a list of all the world’s billionaires; in 2014, there were 1,645 of them. The odds that any of them are still looking for that one plucky secretary to show them true love (or even just mindblowing sex) are not great.

And yet that’s the catchphrase. It’s not “millionaire romance,” it’s not “wealth romance,” and it’s certainly not “seriously, you don’t even have to be that rich to take your secretary on shopping sprees and get a nice room at a hotel romance.” It’s “billionaire romance,” and don’t you ladies settle for anything less.

I’m ready for romance, erotica, romerotica, and any other subgenre you care to name to get over the billionaire thing. Like we don’t celebrate conspicuous consumption enough already in our culture? Now you’re not even supposed to get your panties wet for a guy that’s only pulling down a measly million or two.

Real-world billionaires. Feeling aroused yet?

Real-world billionaires. Feeling aroused yet?

Reel it in a notch, ladies and gents and authors of all stripes. I know it’s just a keyword, but seriously, a billion dollars is a lot of goddamn money. It’s beyond disposable income, and on into disposable governments.

Billionaire romance is typically characterized by male protagonists indulging in displays of casual wealth: fancy cars, luxurious suits; BDSM basements full of custom-made toys. It’s sexy ’cause he’s rich, right?

But that’s not what billionaires are into. People with a billion dollars or more to their name are long past the “snorting cocaine mixed with caviar off a hooker’s gold-plated thong” stage of their lives. That’s for little people. Billionaires are interested in things like leasing an entire continent’s mineral rights for the next four generations. If you’re not into that kind of shit, you don’t make a billion dollars. You settle for a few million, or even just hundreds of thousands, which is still more than most people make in their entire lifetime.

I’m all for people getting off to whatever gets them off. But seriously, the guy in the executive suite with a Mercedes or two? He’s not a billionaire. He works for one of like three dozen companies that a billionaire might own, indirectly, through convoluted tax write-off schemes of control. And you can still enjoy the fantasy of being spanked by him, even if he’s only making $450,000 a year.

The Naughty List

Please forgive me, I’ve been putting off writing this post because I’ve had a migraine headache. I keep thinking it will go away in time to write this, but my deadline has arrived and I still have a headache. Being on the computer makes it worse, so I am going to make this a quick plug post.

Have you guys signed up for The Naughty List yet?

You can sign up for erotica emails, romance emails, or like me- pick both. New releases and freebies delivered straight into your inbox. It’s an awesome service, one I not only subscribe to, but also advertise my books on.

Click to go to website.

Click to go to website.

While I’m shamelessly plugging things, Kitchen Capers is free through today, 10/28.

Free on Amazon

Free on Amazon

I also have a new bundle up, its a big ole thank you bundle to my readers.

Free in Unlimited, or $0.99.

Free in Unlimited, or $0.99.

And, my first longer shifter romance is up as well.

Free in Unlimited, or $0.99.

Free in Unlimited, or $0.99.

Check them out, but of all of them, check out The Naughty List! Ok, I’m crawling back into my migraine hole now. See you guys in two weeks!

Have Yourself An Erotic Halloween

I shouldn’t need to convince any of you of the relationship between horror and eroticism, these days Halloween is more about adults dressing up sexy than kids or even being scary. Not to say that the two can’t co-exist or play off one another. Gotta make them kids somehow!

For a long time in our culture, the thrill of fright and the excitement of being aroused have been mixed. The two have been the focus of countless movies over the years, helping get young and old frisky together in theatres and drive-throughs, or more recently on couches.

Before that, we’ve had books bringing them together for as long as we can remember. Dracula had more than it’s fair share of erotic undertones, but the story it was based on, Carmilla, was more blatantly fixated upon the lesbian attraction between its lead characters.

Theodora's Descent

Our first full horror novel!

The reasons for it are likely numerous. Without even needing to go into the horror of situations involving force, we have long lived in a society that’s repressed sexuality. Giving into sexual temptation no longer holds the ‘fright’ it once did, perhaps, but it still remains a topic that is seldom addressed with frank openness and more often with childish euphemism and snickering.

In recent times Halloween has become more and more about grown adults using costumes as an excuse to flagrantly display their sexuality. And while a gross disparity between the genders of course lingers, and lingers hard, it’s still what at least one columnist described as a day of sexual pride and liberation for people of the straight persuasion as well as the LGBT community.

The playfulness of the time, the ability to hide behind the costume, it all presents an opportunity for the sexually repressed to peek their head out–with mask on.

Between now and then, stay in the spirit of the season! Delve into some scary-flavoured erotica! We have some shorts out ourselves, including our most recent: about a young woman being chased by a pack of werewolves. Just screams naughty, right?



We’re In It Together

“You seem to have a habit of getting your Hero and Heroine together like this,” my OPIL (Occasional Partner in Lust) told me upon reading my latest finished story. I had to admit the accusation had some merit, though not overly much as it happened only a few times. But they came together in that manner because it made a better story – and that’s what we want, isn’t it, to put out the better story? (I’m sure to get an earful when that certain someone reads this post, but hey, this is my post, I’m writing it, and I’m operating under something called “Creative Licence”. Creative Licence is granted to storytellers allowing them to prevaricate at will. Quite useful, really. Take that, OPIL!)

So, how do people get together? My experience, first and second hand, shows them finding each other at work, in a course, volunteering at the same place, with interests in common. My OPIL and I got together through the Internet – with interests in common. I liked to write, my OPIL liked to read and liked my writing. A ‘fan letter’ followed. A couple of years later we got together – a kind of slow-motion “You’ve Got Mail”. But there was nothing dramatic about it. We weren’t unknowing competitors trying to shut each other down. So, it wouldn’t make a good story. Were I writing it, I’d change various aspects, creating more conflict. Were I living it again, I’d change a few different things, doing away with some of the conflict that did exist. The latter would make the poorer story, but the better life.

I once went out with someone I met in a foreign land whilst on vacation. We both were English-speaking, while around us the native-born spoke another language. That gave us something in common right there. We may never have become friends or dated had we met in an English-speaking country. However, there in the heart of Foreignville, we were “in it together”. Yes, we were two souls who could freely converse with each other in a place where communicating took a lot of effort on our part – and a lot of patience on the part of our victims, as we mangled their language. The romance did not survive the return to our own lives back home. That was partly due to distance, partly to other factors, but the biggest part of it was we were no longer “in it together”.

In one of the forums I’m a member of, another member reported finding a mistreated cat and taking it to the vet. Apart from the disgust I felt at even the idea of anyone so mistreating a cat, I just naturally thought: here’s a perfect way to get two people together. It could be the finder of the cat and the Vet, it could be the finder of the cat and its owner. They would be “in it together” on account of their love for cats, and this cat in particular.

That’s the writer in me coming out, using real life as inspiration for a story. But I won’t write that story. Why not? Because I already have. Scars. I discussed that book in a previous post last year (, but it can stand in this one as well, as that other time didn’t concern the meeting of characters.

In Scars, my characters get together because of the cat and because of the scars they share – damage done by life. They find that they are “in it together”, and that can form the basis of a long-term relationship.

Being “in it together” for just the sex doesn’t carry the same emotive weight, and one can see it as a reason to get together – lust – but not really one for staying together. The joy of sharing the same kink, however, changes things. Not enough, in my estimation, but it adds to any initial attraction.

Keeping your characters “in it together” allows them to grow in significant ways. However, once – like my vacation romance – the two find they are no longer “in it together”, the chances are that they will part. As writers, we just have to find new reasons or situations for them to share interest. As readers, we rely on our favourite authors to provide just that.

Right now, my cat and I are in it together. We both want something to eat. Let the refrigerator beware!

And that’s the view from the Deltonian dimension.

Live well,

Delta (who also writes as Echo Chambers)

* * *

Echo Chambers’ books

Delta’s Books

Hachette Authors Cry Censorship – Welcome to My World!

92583Hachette authors are crying “censorship!”

Ursula K. Le Guin has been quoted as saying, “We’re talking about censorship: deliberately making a book hard or impossible to get, ‘disappearing’ an author.”

Welcome to my world, Ms. Le Guin. Were you among the authors who, years ago when Amazon started banning erotica, slapping on the adult filter, making it generally difficult to find, who said, “Hey, listen, you whiners! Amazon is a corporation! Amazon can do what they want! It’s THEIR store! If they don’t want this filth on their site, then more power to them!” I hope you weren’t. Because that would make you an awful hypocrite right now.

And honestly, Ms. Le Guin, you haven’t seen anything yet. You have NO idea what Amazon can do to you and your book(s) to kill your sales. You’re only getting a tiny little taste of what’s possible. You should see what it’s like from over here, in the erotica red light district, where we’re stomped on daily, for no reason whatsoever. Our books our disappeared, our accounts are blocked and banned. Have you ever been making $30,000 a month on Amazon, only to see that dry up practically overnight? I know erotica authors this has happened to. Have you ever released a book, had it hit Amazon’s top 10, only to have it blocked, with no reason given other than it violates some vague Amazon guideline? I know erotica authors who have had to deal with that too.

Honestly, Ms. Le Guin, and all the rest of the Hachette authors, I get it. It royally sucks when Amazon decides to bring its jackboot down on your neck. I’ve been there, done that – have been doing it for the past five years, thank you very much. This is why I cried “censorship!” back then. This is why I tried to get other authors to rally around erotica authors and their books. But do you know what I got? Crickets. Either that, or I heard, “Stop whining, Amazon is a corporation and can do what they want! It isn’t censorship unless the government is doing it, so shut up!”

Well guess what? Here it is, five years later, and Amazon is now turning the tables on traditionally published authors. They’re taking away all the fancy bells and whistles you’re used to getting because you publish with legacy. Trust me when I tell you that I’m tempted to just laugh in your face. Or to say, “I told you so!” But I know what that’s like. I know what it’s like to be beaten down time and again, with no recourse, no way to fight back. You can make all the petitions you like. You can even get Stephen King and James Patterson to appeal to the mass media. But you aren’t going to win.

How do I know? Because I’ve lived under Amazon’s regime and have been subject to their thug tactics a lot longer than you have.

The reality of this fight is that Hachette is going to have to adapt or die. And I’m afraid they’re heading for the latter. Instead of screaming at Amazon – which isn’t going to do you any good and is only going to make you hoarse – I am going to tell you, from a very long, arduous experience with Amazon’s stronghold on the market, that you’d better do the same, authors. Adapt or die. Erotic writers have had to do a LOT of adapting in the past five years, and I imagine we’ll have to do a lot more in the future. But that’s part of the business. We’re used to it. We know that Amazon is a retailer, they’re out to make money, and we’re simply a means to their end. And the fact is, we’re replaceable. And, Ms. Le Guin (and all the other Hachette authors) SO. ARE. YOU.

Don’t think for a minute that because you’ve sold X amount of books, Amazon cares about you. In the end, you’re expendable, and if you (or your publishing company) don’t want to sell books to Amazon on Amazon’s terms, well – there are plenty of authors lined up behind you who will. Books aren’t “special” simply because they’re books. And you aren’t special simply because you write them. Trust me when I tell you that there are plenty of talented people in the world who can write books. And many of them are leaner, hungrier and smarter than you are. Many of them have already begun self-publishing and making a name for themselves as the higher echeleon of legacy publishing crumbles.

So my advice to you, Hachette authors, coming from someone who has had Amazon’s hand around my throat more than once — is adapt or die. You can cry censorship all you like – I have, and will continue to do so. You can stomp your foot and say, “It’s not fair!” And you’re right, it isn’t. But life isn’t fair. That’s one of the first things we learn, right? Complaining about Amazon’s tactics, signing petitions, it’s all well and good, but it’s not going to change anything.

The fact remains that the face of publishing is changing. The writing is on the wall – and it’s about time you started reading it and paying attention to it, instead of trying to run from it.

Adapt or die, authors. Your mommy publisher isn’t going to do it for you.

Selena Kitt
Erotic Fiction You Won’t Forget
LATEST RELEASE: Highland Wolf Pact
180+ Amazon Reviews – 4.8 Stars!

Introducing Myself

sexygirl Hi everyone!  ((waves))

My name is Sienna Stapleton and as you all probably know I’m new here.  I just wanted to take a moment to thank M. Keep and the rest of the bloggers here for allowing me to join this wonderful little group.

Now a little about me.  Like I said, my name is Sienna Stapleton and I write BBW romance.  Yes, you heard me correctly, I write romance, not erotica.  So, why did I decide to join an erotica blog if I don’t write erotica?  Mostly because while I read romance I also sometimes read erotica.  So in my head it only made sense for me to join.

Besides, while I love to write about every day women finding their true love, I also enjoy throwing in a bit of spice.  There’s no better way to boost a woman’s self-esteem than to sandwich her between two sexy alpha males or have one ultra sexy dominant take control in the bedroom.

As a closet submissive I love adding a bit of kink to my stories.  Not all of them have BDSM in them, but many have some level of dominance and submission to them.  After all, big girls have fantasies too.

While I enjoy writing about BBW and their sexual fantasies, it’s also important to me to try and keep my stories steeped in a certain amount of reality. So you won’t find me writing about vampires or shifters.  There are plenty of great authors out there writing about shifters.  Celia Kyle comes to mind. InsteFBFWad, I want readers to identify with my stories, to be able to see themselves in the heroines and be able to live vicariously through her.

I’m thrilled to be here and you all will come to find out, I have plenty to say.  In the meantime, if you haven’t read any of my titles, please consider checking out Reckless Curves (book 1 in the Reckless Curves series). Rekindled.

It’s free.

If NASCAR isn’t your speed consider checking out my latest release If you do, let me know what you think and if you really like my work, please consider friending me on FB or following me on Twitter. I’ll see you in two weeks!

Erotic Roleplay in MMORPGs

If you know me, or have known me, for any bit of time, you should know that I love erotic roleplay in my MMORPGs. Not just that, but that’s what inspired my first bouts of real storytelling and seriously exploring a lot of the kinks that I have that I wasn’t sure I was actually into or not.

I’ve spoken with a lot of people recently who have confessed to me that they used to write erotic fanfiction as they were growing up as a way of dealing with and exploring their own sexuality and sexual desires at a time when it wasn’t something that you could talk about. When we’re a teenager, we just don’t have the language to express what we think would be sexy and what we don’t and why. It’s just all foreign concepts.

Young Nude Woman on Bed with ComputerAs I got older, and into my mid-twenties, I had a fairly good grasp of what I liked, and my husband still teases me that I have a very masculine interest in sex and sexuality. I’m not big on foreplay and teasing and romance, but I love hard, gruff, emotionally charged sex. Most of the things I know I like, I know because of erotic roleplay.

So now I’m back in the world of Guild Wars 2, and I’m still doing the same things I was doing when I was a teenager – exploring my boundaries and limits in a safe and open minded environment. Really, it’s so thrilling and exciting to be able to figure this stuff out with so little pressure, so few constraints.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to find some absolutely fantastic roleplayers in game, and I’ve always intended to keep an open mind. Your Kink may not be My Kink, but I’m going to try it out to make sure, in this completely safe way. I mean, that’s the only way to really figure out your own limits, though in the bygone years before the internet, there was a higher risk to this level of exploration.

So, sure, I’ll domme you. My chick will wear clothes and force your guy to beg for forgiveness, so utterly, beautifully naked. Or another character will plead for you to hurt her, to punish her. Another may want it rough, but treasure the soft kisses that follow. Or become a pet to another.

I’ll try it all out, get a feel for what works for me and what doesn’t, and I’ll keep doing it until I figure it out.

Some people think of erotic roleplay as nothing more than something to get turned on by, something quick and cheap and tawdry.

But for me, it’s almost a spiritual experience, one that teaches me things about myself that I’d never know otherwise. It’s opening up another person’s innermost private sanctum, revealing it to me before we part ways again, as if nothing ever happened. As if something so personal was never shared.

Isn’t that something amazing? That connection, that bonding, forged between people in such brief little snippets, allowing them into parts that otherwise would be closed off to the world, to even some of their closest and more treasured friends?

Erotic roleplay is crafting a story, working in sexuality into a world that tends to lack it in their desire to not be branded as a romance, or worse, erotica. Fantasy games and entertainment so often lack that spark that makes people whole, and erotic roleplay gives us a way to tease it out of our own characters, and at the same time experience something new and different.

Corrupted Hearts Our latest novel, Corrupted Hearts, started out originally as inspired by erotic roleplay in the expansive Dungeons and Dragons world. It grew into something so much more unique and interesting as it went along, following two winged beings as they struggled to find meaning and a reason to trust in their relationship. It’s a story that we’ve wanted to tell for so long, and it was just released earlier this week. You can get it now for only $1.

So, yea, I’m a big fan of erotic roleplay in MMORPGs, and in sexual exploration through literature and writing in general. If you are too, you might enjoy Darknest Fantasy Erotica, our website dedicated to fantasy erotica, especially in video games. As well, our penname J.M. Keep houses many intense and erotic shorts, set in Scifi or Fantasy Realms. Come see what we’ve figured out so far.

Seven Best Top Ten Wonders of Erotica…

Seven Best Top Ten Wonders of Erotica


In what I hope will become an occasional series, I have shamelessly pinched an idea that seems to increasingly popular on websites and in magazines these days.

The list. Masquerading as an article.

You see it everywhere – my favorite this, top ten that, best 50 ever… Some of them are hugely entertaining, others less so. But are they sexy? Maybe some are and some aren’t. After all my sexy ain’t the same as your sexy ain’t the same as his…

But now I’m hoping that this little erotica top-ten seven-wonders list that I’m about to compile will hit the sweet spot for at least a few of you. And if it goes well, then I’m going to badger a few of my fellow writers into doing their secret seven twisted ten top sexy stuff lists as well.

No rules – there’s going to be some real life stuff, some excerpts, some hanky panky. In fact, anything goes. It’s my list and I’m making it up as I go along.

So let’s kick off!


Favorite work of erotic art

This is actually too hard and could take up a whole list in its own right. In fact it does. The Huffington Post has beaten me to it and as I’m not sure whether my favorite image on this list is royalty free, I’m just going to give you the link to the whole list! All very tasty – but if I had to pick one, it would be between the Rokeby Venus and L’origine du monde. Yes, I know that’s two but I said at the start this one was too hard! (No pun intended, either time.) Actually, Friendship is pretty hot as well…


16711469_sBest ever erotic book-song tie in

This one was supposed to be best erotic book. But when I think of my favorite work of erotica, I always start singing… shiny, shiny… Yes, that tune will be stuck in your head all day thanks to The Velvet Underground and Leopold Ritter von Sacher-Masoch. (Actually, do you think he has something to do with Sacher Torte, too? Oh my God, that would be amazing!!!) Anyway, if you haven’t read it, you need to – Venus in Furs.


Sexiest city on the planet

Without a doubt, Paris. Nuff said. And here’s a little excerpt to prove my point (ha ha!):

From an unpublished story, Scaling the Heights:

Hundreds of feet above the city on the second level of the Eiffel Tower is one of Paris’s smartest restaurants, Le Jules Verne.  At night, the interior is hardly lit–its décor is the panoramic view of the capital, a carpet of tiny, brilliant lights stretching in every direction.  Sebastian ordered champagne and fed me oysters, while I squirmed in my seat, trying to get comfortable on an ass-full of angry welts.

“The most important rule for you to remember,” he murmured, popping an oyster into my mouth, “is that I now control when and where you come.”

His wicked smile caused a tightening of muscles I didn’t even know I had and as I shifted position, I could feel a slick of hot juices sticking me to my coat.  We were sitting side by side, facing the extraordinary view, but the pressure of one finger running up the outside of my thigh was doing more to play havoc with my breathing than the fabulous location.

“You have to earn every orgasm through good behavior.”

“But I…”

Underneath the table, his hand pushed the soft black fabric up my thigh. I leant back with my head against the banquette. I couldn’t fight the sensations he was stirring in me.  Fingers grazing the soft skin on the inside of my thigh.  My mouth drooped open, slack with longing. My eyes were closed.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”  There was menace in his voice that carried the threat of punishment.

I wanted to push his hand away because that might be the only way to prevent myself from coming right there in a busy restaurant.  But I couldn’t.  I was like a startled deer in the glare of the poacher’s headlamps. Sebastian had me presumably where he wanted me–wanting him, wanting this to never end.

I gasped at a sudden freezing sensation pushing up into the cleft between my legs, high up into my pussy.

“An ice cube?”

Sebastian laughed as I rifled under my serviette to retrieve it.

“You needed cooling down a little.”

I opened my mouth to speak but he put a finger up to seal my lips.

“You’ve got to earn it.  Don’t be a bad girl.”

Licking chocolate dacquoise off his fingers didn’t help either.

Outside the restaurant, the cool air felt like a salve and as we took in the view of the city from the second level of the tower, I wondered with some trepidation what the rest of the evening held in store.  I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be his sub after the previous night but at the same time, I couldn’t bear the thought of waving Sebastian goodbye. Through the fine fabric of the trench coat I felt his hand skimming my buttocks; my stomach flipped and I turned to face him so he could read the need in my face.

“Come,” he said.

He led me over to where the elevators departed for the top of the tower, another five hundred feet above us. After a couple of minutes, the lift doors opened in front of us and he ushered me into the small glass car.  A woman made a move to join us but Sebastian barred her way with his arm.

“Please take the next elevator,” he said.

She frowned but stepped back.  The doors slid shut and, with a sound of grinding gears, we started our slow ascent.

“Now we scale the heights,” said Sebastian, tugging at the belt of my coat. “I’ve got precisely one minute and forty seconds to make you come.”


Best view from the bed15315266_s

Am I talking about your lover’s ass as they wander by or the view out of your floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows? I can’t decide. How about your lover’s ass framed by the New York skyline or caught between the twin peaks of the Pitons on St Lucia? Or maybe it’s the Eiffel Tower…


Hotel sex – always better

And why is that? Perhaps it’s because you’ve come away with someone you hardly know but you’re desperately in lust with. Or maybe you’ve just fallen in love and you’re both hiding from the world. Then, after years together, a night of luxury, champagne and chocolates can rekindle the fires of your youth… A hotel room is undoubtedly a splendid place for red hot, never to be forgotten sexual encounters. With the added bonus that someone else has to make the bed in the morning!

And the best hotel for sex?

I can’t answer that as I haven’t tried them all yet!


Sex on the sand

Probably not to be recommended – too gritty. But it works in fiction…

From Beach Heat:

‘I’ve got cold beer in the trunk of my car,’ he said.  ‘Shall we go get some?’

Ten minutes later we were climbing a rise of bleached wooden steps that led up into the dunes, him with a cool box and me carrying a faded tartan blanket that had also been in his car.  He seemed to know where he was going and even when the gravelled pathway petered out, he wound up and down and round the grassy, sandy knolls as if with sense of purpose.  Mostly the dunes were deserted, but we came across a couple of families with picnics laid out in sunny hollows that were sheltered from the wind, and then a pair of guys who’d obviously come there seeking out privacy.

I followed him silently and soon the only sounds were the matching slip-slaps of our flip flops hitting our heels as we walked and the call of gulls wheeling overhead.  Then, in a deep, secluded hollow between three high dunes, he stopped and looked around.

‘Our palace,’ he said, pushing the cool box into the sand in a small area that was shaded by dune grass.

I took a deep breath and smiled.  All I could see was golden sand, billowing green grass and a sky that was as blue as Scott’s eyes.

‘It’s perfect.’

I unfurled the blanket in the bottom of the hollow and heard Scott popping the cap off a couple of bottles behind me.  As I turned to face him, he passed me one and the touch of his hand against mine was an electric current.

‘Come on,’ he said, dropping down to sit on the blanket and we clinked our bottles together as I sat down next to him.

The beer was icy cold, delicious; slipping down my throat.  The sun above so bright that I had to close my eyes.  I leant back on elbows and let my head fall back, just feeling the sun on my hot skin as the beer went from cold to a warm buzz deep inside me.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Scott whispered in my ear.

Then there was a shock of cold on my belly.  I gasped and opened my eyes.  Scott was resting the base of his beer bottle on my stomach, laughing at my reaction.

‘Wait,’ I said.

I lay right back till my stomach was flat and then carefully poured beer from my own bottle into the indentation of my belly button.  I shivered with the cold but Scott understood immediately what I wanted him to do.  As his lips touched my skin and I felt his tongue dipping into the hollow, another shiver ran through me, of quite a different kind.  And as he lapped up the beer, muscles deep inside me contracted, letting me know their demands that would have to be met.

Scott’s hand snaked round my back and, with a deft one-handed move that left me in no doubt of his prowess, he had my bikini top undone.  His mouth was cold against the heat of my nipples and they immediately stood out proud in response to his tongue as he circled first one and then the other.  My back arched as my breasts pushed forward to meet his mouth and a flutter of delight shot through me as I felt one of his hands come to rest low on my stomach.  Then he took a sip of beer and brought his mouth to mine.  His tongue pushed between my lips with a flood of cold liquid, the most exquisite combination.  As I swallowed the beer he explored my mouth with his tongue and my body with his hands.  He tasted amazing.  In turn my tongue hungrily pushed back into his mouth, passing over his smooth cold teeth, wrapping itself against his tongue in a moment of glorious, sexy intimacy.


Sexiest voice. There’s no contest.



Sex on wheelsSmut City

Ever done it on a train?

From Underground Encounter, my story in Smut in the City.

As the train pulled out of the station, the boy’s eyes locked mine in a lingering gaze.  I ran my tongue around the edge of my lips; those brown eyes were making me hungry.  I’d found my target and from the way he was looking at me, I had a feeling that maybe things would work out.  If he didn’t try and get out at the next stop…

His eyes slid down to the V-shape made by the collar of my coat, to the tiny crack of cleavage it showed.  Self-consciously I put a hand to my neck, pulling at one side of the collar as I scratched an imaginary itch on my shoulder.  His stare was unremitting, his eyes two limpid brown pools that were starting to play havoc with my breathing.  I slowly looked away but my heart carried on pounding, almost loud enough for me to hear, and it was more than I could do to avert my eyes for long.  His wide mouth, even unsmiling, drew my gaze back to his face.

Suddenly he leant forward with his elbows on his knees.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.

His breath smelt pleasantly of alcohol and as I spoke I could see his tongue was stained dark from drinking red wine.

I leant forwards too, letting my coat fall open.  His eyes dropped down to my breasts, sculpted to perfection in a black lace bustier Tina had leant me.

I put a finger across my lips.


He nodded and swooped across to sit in the seat next to mine.  Our eyes locked and I could feel sexual tension thickening the air between us.


No, please don’t tell us you’ve done it on the back of a horse!

No, I haven’t. But one of my characters has! Tragically, however, I’ve run out space…