Wednesday, July 11, 2012



The day was passing me by. I watched the sun go down last night and meander up this morning in silent defiance. The world spins, selfish moments pass, even if we wish for them not to. Last night was spent writing seductive tales starring the men of my every fantasy. Their heat warmed me as my pen, celebrating dominatrix prose, guided them in a not so gentle way to please.

I had been contemplating my own release for a few hours, sensual thoughts were doing flawless pirouettes in my mind. My fingers slowly commenced circling my most private and sweetest spots as a way for me to jump start an otherwise droll 24 hours alone. My motions were choreographed to the sound of my own breathing and staggered blissful sighs. The house was completely still, it was almost as if it had taken a cue from me, wrapped in a quiet moment of ecstasy, lingering closer and closer to the edge, until the doorbell rang.


I remembered at that moment about the delivery I had to sign for, I could not miss this courier. I quickly jetted out of bed, grabbing a thin, pink robe for cover.

"Just a minute please."

I held the two sides of the robe together loosely, my nipples clearly enjoying the sliding of satin against them. One hand wriggled through my hair, haphazardly trying to pull myself together for the courier. I was wishing he had been just a few moments later and I could have lingered within myself. But as I saw him, I was glad this was the moment he had chosen to arrive. Tall and dark with the lightest of blue eyes always served as a direct trigger to my arousal. I could tell by his expression that he was enjoying my scantily clad presence.

"I, uh, just need a signature here please."

His voice was deep and tentative as he wielded the electronic clipboard. I knew letting go of my robe to sign would offer him a view of me that should be held private from a stranger, but I wouldn't let this stop me from letting go today.

He was delivering sneak preview copies of the erotic novel I had just gotten published.

He smiled as I took the delivery and he took me all in.

"Wait please, I have something for you, it's my first novel." I said, allowing the wind to let my robe dance free.

I quickly ripped the package open to retrieve a book and handed it to him with full eye contact. He took it and smiled as he turned to walk away, not yet pulling it from the protective sleeve.

"I'll see you tomorrow about this same time then." I called out with a giggle.

He looked confused for a moment. I saw him pull the sleeve off my book and look down at the title.  He glanced back just as I closed the door purposefully behind me to finish my prior engagement with myself.

The first issue of "Rock Candy Mornings" was now in the hands of my future lover.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

The shower

Heat was coloring the air with droplets of grey as I searched for a spot to hold on to. The jets of the shower head tickle my shoulders at first as I rake my fingers through my hair and think of the last time I tasted you.

I imagine the heat trailing down the small of my back to be your wanting breaths. You outline the tattoo on my side with your tongue and look up at me as if it was the first time you had savored me.

Your memory fades as I bring the shower head down to focus a pulsing dance of water on a spot once neglected. My legs struggle to support my pleasure and the quivering of flooding orgasms. Even as I turn the heat higher, I still feel the warmth of my own release. One hand grasps the massager as the other pushes on the cold tile for balance.

I turn the water off and sit on the edge of the tub to catch my breath.

You enter my mind again like the rush from a collapsing dam.

...But the tears fall gently...

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

Monday, December 6, 2010

Flasher story: Private Dancer

This is certainly not the direction I would have pictured my life racing impetuously toward. I guess my mom's "sickness" as she called it, jaded me a bit. I would watch her get ready for hours, transfixed by the layers of make-up that helped her become someone else. She needed attention, sensuality and mostly to be wanted, deeply wanted, I got that. Dad was always gone on "business trips", even then, I knew what that meant. Mom accepted this as her life and he ruled it for now, but she started twisting herself into another world, one that she did the dominating in.

I was the oldest, just barely in my teens when she started to confide in me, I assumed she couldn't do that with anyone else without being judged. She would share details of the men she "escorted" saying that she was nothing but professional with them, I saw her when she would stumble in, I knew this was not always true.

When she was drunk, she gave me details of steamy late night encounters and I took unabridged notes. The power she harnessed intrigued me. The regulars would buy her bobbles and shiny bits, they also became friends and confidants for her, I met a few of them that she felt could be trusted around me.

One in particular had less than honorable intentions, but I was craving this, I needed to see what passioned secrets could overtake me, his hazel eyes and dark hair only sealed the deal. I met him behind our luxury apartment in a skirt much too tight for my age. He drove up in a black stretch Limo, its dark lines were sexy and strong, as he opened the door, his cologne seduced me.

I stepped into a moment with him that defines me to this day, I was my mother's child now.

I didn't feel embarrassed touching him through his pleated dress slacks, in fact the opposite overtook me, he would call my name, he would wonder where I had gained such skill at this young age.

I heard the partition wall slowly edge down, he started to voice direction to the driver.

"Circle the downtown park", his authoritative voice advised.

"Leave the window down" I whispered, looking right into the eyes of a willing voyeur.

My gentleman looked startled at my request, but did not disagree to the action. He was aware that this would be my game, I would handle the details. Taking him in my hands, feeling the heat in my mouth, the sweet taste on his tip, instantly whet my every desire. He begged me to stop, but I would prove too powerful a force, he let go in my mouth, I would drink in this moment. Him pulsing deeply in my mouth, made my hands wander under my skirt to slowly start my own seduction. Hearing the driver engage in his own fantasy, while peering over the window, elevated the erotic nature even more.

"Taste me now"

He threw me up on the bench seat caressing my legs all the way down while opening them to partake in me. My moans of pleasure sang out as the windows steamed up with our heat, he bit softly and sucked my clit feverishly. He rode my body up to kiss and undress me completely. I felt him again, hard and strong, I wanted him now, I would have him.

The driver groaned and shut the window for his own moment, I giggled at thought of pleasing him without touch.

My seduced man was beautiful, he was staring at me as if I was a prize to be won. His hands were a flurry of activity and I sucked each finger slowly when his hand grazed my cheek. A forceful thrust blew my mind with ecstasy and he kept each a bit stronger than the last until I gripped his ass and held him tightly in place. His bonus release sent me over the top and I clawed the seat to hold on while the waves surged through me.

"What the fuck,,, where in the hell have you been all my life?" he said with a tensed giggle.

Today I stand in control of my sexuality, a highly compensated dancer of the finest caliber, only professional when I WANT to be. Some would be shocked at the unorthodox guidance given by a scorned mother, but I think she saw the same longing in my eyes, the same need for sexual control. She would never want for anything in her 80 years, neither would I do without the finest of possessions. I hold my head high in the path that I have chosen to lead, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Every night I kiss a locket that holds an image of my beautiful mother, I close my eyes and thank her for every dance life offers me.

I'm a flasher!!!!!!


Come play with us!!

Link up HERE

Friday, November 26, 2010


I was whispering in your ear, I was telling you that I thought it was unnecessary that you shower this very instance. But you were not concerned with me.

You had melded into a fine business man, suits and ties, matching socks and a huge sense of monetary accomplishment.

Our years of struggling through college had brought us here, to the land of excess, a neighborhood of shallow personalities and luxury sedans. Even I had one now, you took away my El Camino as a surprise, putting a Jag in the shadow it used to occupy. I tried to show my appreciation, but I cried in the shower that night. You loved me. You loved me so much that you must have never really listened to the way I talked about that car, us ALWAYS having THAT car. But still, I remained hopeful for us, hopeful possessions or stature would not change what we had.

Your attention was wavering. I would get on my hands and knees to please you every night if you would have had it, and when I did, I got nothing in return. One time, if I remember correctly, you moved my head over to watch the game seconds after you released yourself on my bared chest.

I wandered to the bedroom and started to pleasure myself...


...and I cursed your name with every pulsing release.

I missed digging through the couch cushions, pulling out every pocket in every coat and finally diving under the mats of that Chevy looking for enough change to make a midnight run to Taco Hell.

Do you remember when the cans in our pantry did not have to line up perfectly? Now you scream at me about the fucking towels not matching. Is that even a subject that SHOULD cause an argument?

But it did, with you in control.

You said I started taking too long in the grocery store, you called and berated me as I stood in the corn aisle one night. When I got home, you pointed out that I had bought the wrong corn and threw the can at me.

"Were you with someone that caused this lapse of intelligence, or are you just THAT stupid?", you quarried.


Tonight I whispered to you, please don't shower yet, let me taste you,,, NOW!

You had been working in the yard because our lawn boy was out of town, far be it from you not to look perfectly in control. Your hands were dirty, sweat caressing your face, I was longing for that man, the one who was impetuous, to be back with me. I had hoped for your once calloused and strong hand to graze my ribcage and push me to the cold tile floor, forcing yourself inside me to the sounds of my pleasured gasps and frantic hands grasping your ass when you moved away to take a breath.

Instead, you push me to the door, laughing at my failed advances. I was a whore because I wanted it dirty, after all, we weren't teenagers anymore.

"Let's shower together then"


But, I agree with you now, so be it, take your shower.

I won't be there when you get out.

I will be with someone that DOES cause lapses of my intelligence,,,

over and over again.....

It is the smartest thing I could have EVER done.

And maybe,, if you are lucky,,

I'll share her with you...


...Probably not!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Flasher Story

November 22, 1940

Green Mills Jazz Lounge, New Orleans

The drinks I had tonight were a potent mix of the finest of spirits. The ice cubes in my glass, sparkled like diamonds and clinked together as I made a solitary toast, time after time, to me. You hadn't noticed my hand lingering around under the linen table cloth pleasuring myself, lost in the boredom of your lengthy monotoned prose. With each laugh shared in the company of your law firm partners and their cloned lady friends, I glared deep into your eyes knowing, you wouldn't have me for me, you wanted someone else. I would have to change this hunger, curb this passion, to fit into your regimented existence. Maybe as a bottled blonde with pin curled hair and ruby red lips uttering your praises, maybe then you could accept me. Truth is, every time I stepped into my custom 1940 Thunderbird and ran my fingers down the black paint and chromed lines, I knew why I stayed. I was a kept woman, crying out for passion, fulfilling your every sexual whim so that I could wear these gems and buy the things most only dreamt of. A quick blow job in the coat room assured me your benevolence for the night. Your penetrating stare as I shared a story not previously approved by you, cuts me right back down to size again.

I leave the table, feeling lost, but finding him to compensate your lack of care for my satisfaction. A brick alley wall scratches my skin as he dives himself deeper into me and caresses my breasts adoringly. He has no name, only a purpose, keeping me sane through another night that you thought you owned.

A sultry jazz plays in the background as I lick his lips and taste my own sweetness. The combination of his dance like movements and forceful delivery drives me over the edge. Blood runs down my back and stains the fine silk dress you bought for me, but the fur you gave me will hide that from your view. Afterwards, I lay in the ladies lounge, catching my breath, watching the smoke rings caress the ceiling, preparing to walk back to a table of transparent fools.

"Were you cold dear, why do you have your coat?" you questioned, when I returned to your side for the evening.

"Seems I'm always cold these days, love" I say, smiling at the irony.

His guests did not smell the undeniable sweetness of sex that lingered around me, and he thought it was his, just as he thinks I am.

Maybe he's the one who is being kept.

I am a FLASHER!!!

<span class=

Sunday, November 7, 2010


Crying Woman Pictures, Images and Photos

I stand in a darkened room, unclothed, feeling exposed, robe at my feet. All I hear is the humming of the heater and the stream of a hot shower behind me. The warmth of the air mixes with the moisture and softly falls down from the sky. I am angry at you, you had no right to let people do the things that they have done to you, keeping you captive. You had no business accepting less then the best and expecting to be treated as you have treated others. Your scars remind me of each painful cut, deeper than skin, wider than can ever be measured, still bleeding, refusing to clot. You coddle your heart, hiding it from the light it needs to survive, withholding the energy that might keep it beating strongly, now it weeps and labors to survive.

You question your right to still breathe.

Slowly the mirror fogs until the shape that fueled my anger is hidden.

All that is left is me, lost in the steam again, happy to be hidden once more.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

With help from Shakespeare (an experiment)

Romeo and Juliet Pictures, Images and Photos

Oh Juliet, with your soft words and as a vision of light from yonder window, a holder of

Saint-seducing gold, took your Romeo and taught him to touch with light finger tips and saddened eyes, his death quickened by his longing to partake of you and yours in turn follows a brief shedding of a regal gown and cloak.

A pair of star-crossed lovers.

Star-crossed as lovers yes, but you never released the fiery passion that would have made you both pick up and leave the shelter you called home and the ones you called family.

One fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

Spoiled in riches but not experience, you should have taken Romeo into the tunnel, on the edge of town to became wildly undone together.

For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt.

Your hands were to be bound by the strength of his youth and longing, silken hair tangled in the leaves and branches that also scratch deeply into your writhing back.

These violent delights have violent ends.

I should still today have record of the echos of passion heard that night and every other until you escaped the rules and regulations that bound your passion.
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Let there be found the tales of a couple that loved without restraint and took what primal acts they needed from each other without pause.

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

......if there is such a man,

for you and I are past our dancing days.

Do not be softened with delusions of love and petal soft touches.
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
I want to feel what lurks in the dark of your sexual imagination. I will feed my desires while catering to yours. Taste my longing in a lip that is bitten from a passioned kiss or rake of a nail on tender skin.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Don't be afraid to take what you want as I will give you all of what you need.

But this all still sounds too romantic and happily ever after for my taste this evening.

A greater power than we can contradict
Hath thwarted our intents.

What are you waiting for?

Come in and close the door.

These violent delights,,

will have the greatest ends.