Switch: Second Chances (continued)

[This is the third excerpt from Switch. If you haven’t been following along, I recommend reading the earlier segments: In Which We Meet Olivia and Say Goodbye to Paul and Second Chances.]

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Paul still looked a little uncertain, but he didn’t think about it too long. He started pulling off his shirt, perhaps a little too eagerly, as he got himself stuck with his arms bound up in it behind his back. For a moment I thought of keeping him there, like that, and I had a brief frisson of excitement race through me, from a point between my breasts right down between my legs. The moment passed, however, and I just giggled a bit, turning away and climbing up onto the bed. I reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the handcuffs.

Paul’s eyes fairly goggled when he saw them, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Um, what’s up with those?”

I grinned over my shoulder at him as I threaded them through the slats in the headboard.

“An idea I had. Come on.”

He seemed really uncertain about it all, as I put first one wrist in a cuff, snapping it closed, and then my other. When that second one clicked into place, it passed quickly through my mind, What the hell am I doing? I didn’t let that stop me, however. Facing him again over my shoulder, my upturned ass in the air as I kneeled on the bed, resting my elbows on the pillows, I smiled, not at all as sure of myself as I tried to sound.

“I want you to spank me.”

Poor Paul. Now he really had that deer in headlights look, his shirt hanging from one wrist, his fly unzipped, standing there in shock.

“Spank you?”

“Yes, that’s right, I want you to spank me. I told you I wanted to try something different. Come on, it’ll be fun. Anyway, it’s an experiment.”

“I don’t know, Olivia. I mean, what if I hurt you? Are you sure about this?”

I heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Paul, get your ass up here on this bed, and spank me!”

His eyes grew even wider, if that were possible, but he finally got himself fully untangled from his shirt, kicked off his shoes and, still wearing his half-unzipped pants, climbed up onto the bed behind me. I wiggled my bare derriere at him and giggled again, although inside my heart was pounding something fierce and I could feel the heat of a blush spreading across my face and chest. I tugged on the cuffs experimentally, and yes, they held, very securely.

He put a hand on one of my butt-cheeks, and I liked that, so I wiggled again to encourage him.

“What are the handcuffs for? And when did you get those? Did you have those before?”

“I just got them, and I don’t know, it’s just an idea I had. I thought it’d be fun. Now come on, get busy!”

He lifted his hand, hovered over me with it for a moment, then sort of softly whacked me.

“Harder!”

He smacked me again, very slightly harder this time, but still very tentative.

“Did that hurt? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Paul, I’m not a baby, and you barely tapped me. It’s supposed to sting a little, isn’t it? It’s a spanking. Come on, spank me harder.”

“Can’t we just make love like normal?”

I sighed. So far, this experiment was a bust.

“Paul, please, can we just try it?”

He hit me one more time, no harder than before. Nothing. I was not aroused. I wasn’t turned on. This wasn’t working for me.

“I’m sorry, Olivia, I just don’t know. I don’t think this is right.”

He climbed off the bed and stood there, looking at me. Obviously it wasn’t working for him, either. He zipped up his fly, stepped into his shoes, and picked up his shirt.

“I don’t think I can do this, Olivia. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

I stared open-mouthed at him in shock.

“Go? Now?”

“Yeah. Maybe you were right the other night at dinner. I mean about us not being right for each other. Anyway, see you around, perhaps, ok?”

And with that, he walked out of the room.

“Paul!”

I heard the front door shut behind him as he left the apartment.

“Paul, dammit!”

I rattled the cuffs. I looked over at the nightstand, at the closed top drawer. The drawer I’d gotten them from. The drawer where the key sat.

Now what the hell was I going to do?

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Revitalizing

Lake 22 Trail

Some of you may recall that I have been struggling with a hurt knee throughout the spring and summer. Today I got back in that saddle and went for my first actual hike since doing the damage, and the knee came through fine! I’m still doing physical therapy, and I’m not all the way healed yet — I have to be careful when I walk, think about foot placement, and be conscious of how the muscles in my leg are pulling in different directions — but this is a huge step forward for me.

Today’s trail is a very popular one in the Pacific Northwest, and had long been on my radar, but for whatever reason I had never actually hiked it before. Lake 22 supposedly gets its name from 19th-century railroad maps, which listed each creek numerically. While the others went on to receive proper names, the numbers for “Creek 22” and its source lake simply stuck. The trail isn’t very long, at 5-1/2 miles round-trip, but that was perfect for me as a knee tester. It climbs fairly steadily through a beautiful forest, with simply dozens of waterfalls along the way, some of which are quite large. Some sections of the trail are extremely well-maintained, as you can see in the photo above, while others were fairly rough, with fallen boulders to scramble over, and some water on the trail.

Regardless, the view at the top makes everything worthwhile.

Lake 22Thanks for following along on this admittedly off-topic post, but hey, it’s my blog, and I’ll post what I want to, right? 🙂

 

New Erotic Story: Condolences

I simply have to share this wonderful story by my new friend, Rachel Woe. “Condolences” doesn’t start like your typical romance — actually, Rachel says she would classify it as “New Adult Erotic Romance” — with the entire story set at a wake (or vigil) for the heroine’s recently deceased grandfather. In this sombre setting, and in the midst of family politics and squabbling, Lauren finds herself confronted by Oakley, her nemesis from childhood when he bullied her relentlessly. He’s all grown up now, though, but Lauren can’t quite forgive or forget. Has he changed? Has Lauren?

“Condolences” has some of the best characterization and emotional pull I’ve seen in a short story in quite some time. At roughly 5000 words, it’s a perfect bedtime snack that will have you waking hungry for more come morning. And guess what? Rachel has more on offer after you’ve whetted your appetite here.

So, follow the reblog — or the direct link to the story at http://rachelwoe.com/condolences/ — and please direct your comments and likes Rachel’s way if you agree with me that she is one hell of a writer.

Rachel Woe

Funeral Home Wet T-Shirt Contest “Funeral Home wet t shirt contest” is copyright © 2007 Ashi Fachler and made available under an Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic License*.

Happy Hump Day! (It’s still technically Wednesday, EST)

There is a new story titled, “Condolences” available for your scrutiny and reading pleasure on the Free Erotic Stories page. It’s a quickie—less than 6K words—about a resentful young woman who encounters her childhood-bully-turned-one-night-stand at the vigil of her recently deceased grandfather.

That probably sounds like the least erotic thing ever written, but I’m a big proponent of taking seemingly unsexy situations and events (i.e. real life stuff) and injecting them with sexual tension and a dash of “We really shouldn’t, but…”

If you want specifics, I would classify “Condolences” as a New Adult Erotic Romance story, though the Happy-For-Now ending is somewhat tenuous.

You’ll just have to read it to find out why that is.


Let me know what you…

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Partners and Crime (part 3)

[This is the third segment in a continuing erotic short story. If you’re just coming across this story for the first time, you might wish to go back and read part one and part two first. You can also find the entire story listed under Categories… Short Stories in the sidebar to the right on the main page. If you’ve been following Eileen’s tale so far, well, things get decidedly… ahem… steamier in this installment. Therefore, it is not intended for readers under the age of 18. Not that you couldn’t see this coming from the earlier segments, I hope. 😉 ]

The shower door shut behind me and I pushed Travers against the tiled wall. He’d said only one word since the cuffs went around his wrists, but his face told me all I really needed to know. Again I claimed his mouth, crushing his lips beneath my own, taking what I needed from him. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his uniform shirt, acting with a will of their own, and then I pushed it off his shoulders, leaving it bunched around his wrists behind him.

The vest, though. This presented a little more challenge. Undaunted, I ripped at the velcro straps, freeing the front section from the rear, and pushed the heavy ballistic material up, but with Travers’ height I couldn’t quite get it over his head. He ducked to aid me, but I worried about dropping it on him and breaking his neck.

“Let me help you,” he whispered. He must have seen the doubt in my eyes. He half turned, presenting his locked wrists to me.

I looked him in the eye. We were already so far beyond the pale of acceptable behavior in the Department. Indecision nagged at me.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I muttered to myself. Travers is your partner, Eileen. Do you want to get fired? I pulled the key and with a metallic click freed his wrists.

If he heard me, he gave no sign. Freed from the cuffs, he quickly pulled the vest up over his head, hanging it with his undershirt and uniform blouse in one smooth motion from a towel hook. I hadn’t actually seen him without a shirt on before, and for a moment or two I lost myself in his smooth pecs and rippling abs. I could only hope my openmouthed surprise and naked desire wasn’t too obvious. I barely registered as he quickly relieved me of my own top, and then the sharp rip as he pulled the velcro straps on my ballistic vest brought me back to my senses.

“Wait,” I said, as my vest joined his, side by side on the hooks.

“Not yet,” I breathed as he lifted my arms and my sports bra went with the vest and uniform.

“I don’t think…” as he turned me to face the wall and pressed himself tightly up behind me,  his hands on my hips and his lips nuzzling against my neck.

“Don’t think, McConnell.” His breath was hot against my ear, and again that spicy aroma wafted over me.

Heat shot through my core, racing from his lips against my earlobe to his hands at my waist, and pooling low between my legs.

“Eileen,” I said. “Call me Eileen.”

I squirmed, needing some relief, and felt his clear arousal pressed against my backside. My worries melted in the heat of my need, and I pressed my cheek against the cool tile of the shower while his fingers undid my belt. I relished the smooth ceramic against my breasts, flattening my nipples, while my uniform trousers fell around my ankles.

“Black lace,” he said quietly, his fingertips sliding around the waistline of my panties. “I should have known there was a sensuous woman under that tough, professional exterior.”

I turned around in his arms, putting my back against the wall, laying my palms against the firm muscles of his chest and pushing. I took a deep breath, opening my mouth to speak, to object to his comment, and that’s when I realized he had completely divested himself of all his clothing. Whatever I had meant to say, it was gone. I couldn’t help myself; I looked down between us.

If his desire had been obvious before, it was almost painfully evident now. I struggled to imagine skin stretching so tight and wondered how he withstood it. His erection angled up and a little bit away from his body, slightly curved and pointed right at my belly, quivering gently from his deep breathing. A small drop of moisture glistened on the tip, and I could not help myself. I reached down and curled my fingers about the head, gently sliding my thumb through the smooth silky slickness.

Travers leaned his head back and groaned, closing his eyes. His entire body went rigid, and I swear, he got even harder in my hand, though I couldn’t see how that was possible. His large hands slid up my waist to grip me under my armpits, cupping the sides of my breasts with the heels of his palms. He moved his thumbs to my nipples, already pebble hard, sending jolts of sensation arcing through my body. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Get a grip, Eileen, I told myself. You’re losing control of the situation.

I reached up with my free hand and gripped the back of Travers’ head. The short spikiness of his close-cropped hair was almost electric against my palm. All of my senses seemed to be on hyperdrive, threatening to overwhelm me, yet still I pulled down on his head and brought his face to my breast.

Travers sucked my nipple between his teeth and laved it with his tongue. I moaned aloud, and that’s when the door to the locker room opened and Waters and Clark walked in.

The shower stall door was shut, but it would be immediately obvious someone was in here. Did they hear my moan? Would they look under the stall door and see four legs instead of two? No, why would they do that? But they might easily see Travers over the top of the door; he was a tall guy.

I reached beside me and turned on the water, drenching us both instantly. Of course the water was frigidly cold and my skin prickled with goosebumps, but that was the least of my worries. I put both hands on top of Travers’ head and pushed him down to his knees. He started to yelp when the water hit him, so I pulled his face in tight against me, muffling his mouth against my lace panties.

“McConnell, you ok in there?”

Travers wrapped his arms around my legs, his broad hands gripping my ass, and nuzzled me through the black lace material. I struggled to maintain calm in my voice.

“Yeah… yes, fine, just, uh, dropped the soap.”

I heard a snicker, Waters I thought, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Careful, McConnell. You never know what might happen when you bend over to pick it up.”

Waters was always trying to one-up the guys on the squad with how crass she could be, and Clark took her cues from her partner. I looked down at Travers. He hooked his fingertips in the waist of my panties, which would have been sopping wet even if the shower wasn’t running. He seemed oblivious to all else, and I was rapidly losing control again.

“Ha, funny! Yeah, I’ll be careful, all right.”

I gripped the short hairs of Travers’ head tightly. I had a very good idea what would happen if I bent over.

<To be continued>

Coffee Romance

I’m considering an entry for Frisky Feminist‘s Erotic Romance Anthology Love in the Time of Coffee. I mean, I love erotic romance, and I love coffee, so what’s not to like here? Of course, some seriously good writers that I know of are also considering entries, so competition might be… ahem… stiff. But, one has to start somewhere!

It’s not clear if the deadline for submissions is October 1 or December 1, so on the assumption it’s the former, I (and maybe you, too?) have to decide quickly. As in, very soon.

Here’s a snippet from the blurb at friskyfeminist.com:

Got a story about that sexy barista who keeps putting hearts on your cup? What about the brooding person in the corner that you just know is writing love poetry you’re dying to read?

We want to read it!

This comes right on the heels of Sheri Savill tweeting about coffee porn, which just got us all steaming and frothing for more, so the time must be right! At least right to ponder it over a cup of coffee.

What do you think?

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Desert Moon…

Serena is always a source of inspiration to me, and here with “Desert Moon” once again she does not disappoint. I know quite a few of you follow her work already, but just in case you don’t, you should really give her poetry site, “MsTranquility,” a look. Serena writes from her heart, and you can sense her soul in her words.

Starshine

Credit: NASA, Jeff Hester, and Paul Scowen (Arizona State University)

Image Credit: NASA, Jeff Hester, and Paul Scowen (Arizona State University)

Brightness falling,
Ancient light of distant galaxies
Crashing relentlessly,
A catastrophe aeons to unfurl;
Worlds bathed in brilliance
Cast by a thousand suns
Racing to their doom;
Millions of years, billions,
A cosmic blink while
Crawling from the murk,
Lifting eyes to the heavens,
Civilizations rise, empires fall,
Whole species fade away;
Still the novae explode,
Spinning gas and dust into
The shadow of the nebula
So the lovers may park and kiss
And hold each other under
A clear, starry night.

10 Reasons to Not Start Blogging

As most of you know, I’m fairly new at this blogging thing. What do you think, is it just a passing fad? No, you’re right, it’s here to stay a while, isn’t it? Well, if you’re considering blogging, you might look over this list. If you’re already blogging, you might look over this list. Paul (not Alfred — he can explain it better than I can) perfectly captures the essence, in beautifully satirical style, of the new (or perhaps even old) blogger’s life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check my statistics. 😉

Mountain Light

Early morning rush to work
Through the city by the bay,
Gleaming arches, shining towers,
Azure skies light the way.

Yet farther off and over all,
Stone ramparts rising high,
Icy shoulders, majestic peak
Glowing gold against the sky.

Falling glaciers, crumbling cliffs,
Sheer walls stark against the blue,
Slopes of white are lit afire by
The coming dawn’s pearly hue.

Mighty mountain, gazing down,
In her shadow have we dwelt,
Heedless of her awful strength,
Beauty, terror, presence felt.

Yet one morning glance upon
Her mist enshrouded face,
City problems drop away,
Forget about the race.

A breathless pause, a moment’s rest,
A pause in time and traffic slow,
Great Tahoma, mighty mother,
Resplendent in her alpenglow.

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