The Sexiest Proposal Contest Winner!

We had an even bigger response to the Sexiest Proposal Writing Contest than we expected! The number of entries topped one hundred and far surpassed those for the Open Road Writing Contest.

The winner will receive a prize package filled with autographed books, promotional items, great music CDs for inspiration, a t-shirt or two, and an Amazon gift certicate, among other delightful things!

All entries were blinded and judged by us -- yours truly and my naughty husband. This was the one that made our hearts pound, made our bodies tingle, and made us smile with remembrances of our own proposal.

Congratulations, Tsera!

E Duos Unum
by Tsera Fey

A hundred candles burned throughout the bedroom, but the warm orange light could not penetrate the black velvet blindfold covering Heather's eyes. She could smell the mingled scents – vanilla, jasmine, rose, and a dozen others dancing in their heat to create one comforting, mystical scent. The heat of the small flames was unable
to fend off the sharp, cold air blowing in through the open window. It caused goose bumps to rise on her arms, chest, and flat belly, and the nipples atop her full breasts to swell and tighten.

Heather didn't remember how long she'd been tied to the bed, nor did she care. Logan had led her into the bedroom, ordered her to strip, and tied her efficiently to the bed's four posters with velvet rope. The blindfold had come next without a word or a touch.

She wriggled impatiently. Her arousal grew, but any attempt to mitigate it only made it fiercer. With her eyes closed and the only other sound being the whispered sigh of the wind, Heather could hear her racing heart thunder against her breast, echoing and rippling in the growing moisture between her spread legs.

"We're going to play a game." Logan's strong voice drove the cold back momentarily as a wave of warm desire washed through her. The steel of authority surprised her; his voice was usually light and ready to laugh. It made the knot of desire tighten deep in her belly. "I have a number of items here, and you have to guess what each one is by touch. Some will be easy, and some will be difficult."

She could feel Logan's piercing blue eyes on her. She could sense him next to the bed. The vitality of his lean, toned body was a beacon in her blindness. The dark, musky scent of his arousal lay stealthily beneath the candles'. She struggled against the bonds again, but this time in an attempt to diffuse some of the energy building in her.

She almost didn't notice the first object, so light was the touch. It seemed to coalesce from the wind, a whisper emerging from the silence to glide around the curve of her left breast and down the center of her stomach.

"A feather," she said quickly, excitement building.

"Very good," he said. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice and it thrilled her.

They had experimented with light bondage in the past, but nothing more than tying the other's hands to the headboard. She'd been turned on those few times by the feeling of helplessness and being under Logan's control. The tone of his voice reminded her of those nights. She craved those sensation now, tied spread-eagle to the bed in which they'd made love so many times.

While her mind wandered, a dagger of intense cold seemed to explode just above her slick cleft. She bucked and writhed against the overwhelming sensation, but Logan's hand was steady. The cold slipped tendrils down over her sensitive nether lips, tearing a scream from her throat.

"Ice!"

"Good," he said calmly as he helped her settle back down, though the ice remained. Heather's breath was ragged, coming in short gasps as the ice continued to melt on her hot flesh.

She must not have noticed Logan climb onto the bed. She could feel him looming above her and without warning, the warm, thick flesh of his cock was pressed against the freezing flames of her cleft. Before she could call out the name of this new object, it glided into her. The air rushed out of her lungs in a moan of pleasure and hunger. Logan filled her steadily until he could reach no deeper. The ice was gone, then it was in her mouth, quenching her parched lips.

Unmoving, Logan's member flexed deep inside her. Heather writhed on that glorious manhood, wanting, needing to feel it move within her. She thought she might go mad if she didn't feel friction between her pussy and Logan's cock, didn't feel the familiar sensation of his pulsing member so very deep in her core.

Heather felt the last object on her left nipple. It was small and hard. She gained a measure of control over herself as she concentrated on this new puzzle. It didn't feel cold or hot. It didn't cause pain, nor did it induce pleasure. It was a nondescript sensation spiraling slowly outward from her turgid nipple. She hadn't the slightest clue what it could be. The object continued its way down her left arm, danced a spiral on the inside of her elbow, and drifted lazily down her forearm. Heather was still at a loss.

"Aren't you going to guess?" She could hear the amusement in Logan's voice.

"I... I don't know," she babbled as Logan opened the hand that had been gripping the velvet rope tightly since they'd begun. He began to move within her. The trail continued onto her open hand, drawing a spiral on her palm.

"Please," she whimpered, trying to grind her hips down onto his probing member.

The object disappeared. A heartbeat later, something was being put on the ring finger of her left hand.

"A ring?" Confusion and elation swirled in her stomach. She barely noticed that Logan had begun thrusting repeatedly into her hot, slippery cleft. He was stretching, reaching above her. The velvet rope came loose from her left hand. A moment later the blindfold was gone.

Heather looked at the object on her ring finger and tears welled in her eyes. Sitting atop a gold band, three diamonds caught the orange light of the candles and refracted them into a million rainbows.

"Logan..." she breathed. Her arms and legs were free now. She looked up into the pools of his smiling blue eyes and thought her heart might burst. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him into her embrace, into her body.

"Yes!" she cried in ecstasy as she and Logan became one.

Though having been writing erotica for several years, Tsera has just recently gone public. A busy schedule doesn't provide nearly enough free time for this aspiring eroticist's over-active imagination, however. Writing erotica provides an escape from the stresses of every day life, a way to unwind, and a way to safely explore those hidden corners of the soul.

Visit Tsera's Blog: Under the Crimson Moon

Nature Shots

Here are some shots, as promised. We drove up through Land Between the Lakes. The wildlife was really out and about...we spotted so many more than this, but wild animals usually don't hold still for a good picture.

We just love LBL. Isn't it lovely?

My, My...How Things Change!

Today, the nominations for the 41st Annual CMA Awards were announced.

In years past, this was a true event for me. It was something I anticipated for weeks. Some years, I held CMA Nominations parties. There were a few years when I was there in the studio, hearing the nominations live. There was one year when I sat at home, on the edge of my seat, unable to go because I was pregnant with my daughter and on bedrest. (That didn't stop me from jumping up and down with excitement, mind you.)

This year? I probably won't even vote.

I'm not sure my husband voted. We talked about it briefly, but to be honest, I don't think he sent in an initial ballot. I do know that I hadn't given the CMA Awards much thought until he reminded me of the fact that they were happening. He told me on Monday morning. Today, I almost forgot, and tuned in just as the nominations were starting in New York.

As I watched, I thought back to how much it used to mean, and how much things had changed. It's not that I don't care -- I certainly do! -- and it's not that the country music industry is any less important to me now. In fact, we are both probably more entrenched in the industry than we have ever been.

So what's my problem?

My priorities have changed. My focus has shifted. As I watched the nominations this year from my quiet office with piles of work awaiting my attention, I remembered the Priority Questions.

Have you ever noticed that once you do something over and over and over, it becomes part of your routine, an automatic thing in your day-to-day life? You start to live by it and then you forget you are doing it. It becomes natural as breathing.

The Priority Questions were shared with me many years ago. They were so simple, and worked so well, that I began to apply them to everything. As I did, my life began to change. I got a handle on situations I thought were out of control. My life slowed down, became easier, less stressful. It wasn't that my life had changed -- the way I handled my life was what had changed.

The Priority Questions:

Will this matter...
In a day?
In a week?
In a month?
In a year?
In five years?

I took any situation that was causing me stress -- everything from paying the mortgage to dealing with discipline for my kids to handling the nosy and annoying teller at the bank. I took a deep breath and asked myself those questions, in the order listed.

The teller at the bank pisses me off? Really? Fine. Will it matter in a day? No?

Just like that, I let it go. I smiled and put up with her bullshit, knowing that when I turned around and walked out, it wouldn't be a problem. I could seethe about it and whine and bitch and yell filthy names at her in the car on my way home, showing my passive-agressiveness to great advantage in my rearview mirror, but it wouldn't make one bit of difference. And it didn't matter anyway.

Bingo -- she was no longer a problem. I was happier and could spend my energy on things that did matter.

Seems simple? It is. That's the point. You have no idea how much energy you throw away on things that don't matter until you actually call yourself on it. Thus, the priority questions. They put into perspective what you never really think about.

Apply it to anything. Those vicious rumors your friend oh-so-casually mentioned she heard at lunch the other day. The fact that your car is on the fritz. The chronic lateness of your business associate for your lunch dates.

Will it matter in a day? Maybe. Will it matter in a week? Probably not.

Once you have a firm handle on how much it really matters, then you can live your life appropriately. For me it was always my children who came at the top of the list...of course. Will meeting that dealine matter in five years? It just might. Will taking ten minutes out of my rush to that deadline to color a page in a book with my son make a difference in five years? Oh, yes. Definitely.

The editor won't remember that I stayed up all night to finish the deadline. In fact, she might never know. But will my son remember the moment I walked away from the computer, focused on him, and colored that picture of Bugs Bunny? He might, and he might not -- but what if he does? Which matters more?

Today I watched the CMA nominations on television. I watched while writing this blog, in fact. There were moments when I was thrilled by hearing certain names. There was a point where I picked up the phone and called a friend to say congratulations.

Then the nominations were over, and I turned back to finish this blog. Soon I'm going to get back to work, juggling finishing a manuscript, a short story and a column between doing dishes, finishing that load of laundry, and making lunch in time for my husband to have something hot to eat when he walks in the door.

It's not that those nominations don't matter anymore. It's just that they fall in a different place in my life now. My priorities have shifted.

Apply the Priority Questions to your own life. Write down the situations and rank them on paper if you have to, so you can see what is going on in your head. Do it over and over, it becomes like clockwork, and you'll be a much happier person. Trust me.

Now that I'm done being philosophical, I have to go. I have to finish writing this story about a woman who chains a man to a wall, pulls out a riding crop and gives him what he doesn't even know he really wants.

-wicked grin-

More Feeding the Fetishes...

As promised, Tracy Lawrence!

Here are pictures from the second #1 party for "Find Out Who Your Friends Are," held at BMI in Nashville. (Hey, the man knows how to party...)

Older Men Get Me Going

I have a thing for older men. It's no secret -- my friends delight in sending me pictures of men with just enough gray in their hair and sexy laugh lines around their mouths. They know it makes my day...well, spicier.



Ooh, look...a picture of an older man. Indiana Jones, at that! How in the world did that get in there?

Older men are sexy as hell for sooooo many reasons, but the one that ranks at the top of my list would have to be sexual. These fellas know the ropes, ladies. They've been around the block once or twice, and they know how to satisfy the woman who is fortunate enough to get between their sheets.



Oh, my. Another one!

In my Learning Curve column at For the Girls this month, I'm talking about older men. Older men like this one, perhaps...



Wait a minute. Stop right there. We need more of that...



Ummmm...

Where was I?

Ah, yes. The older man. The appeal of older men has to start somewhere, and for me, it was with that high school music teacher...he was forty-four and I was barely legal...

I watched the motion of his hands and the way he swayed on the bench with the music. I studied the lines around his mouth, the stubble on his jaw, the gray in his hair. For some reason, the gray kept my attention, and I was staring at his head when he finally stopped playing that piano, opened his blue eyes, and looked at me.

I don’t remember the conversation we had. I know it was entirely above-board and kosher, until the moment he rose from the bench. The dress slacks fit him just right, and the suit jacket had long since been discarded over the back of a chair, the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows, the tie loosened enough to show me the sprinkling of salt-and-pepper hair on his chest.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” I said, and I remember well the way he smiled...

Oh, my. Do I ever.

I've got a lot more to say about the older man at For the Girls. Won't you go over there and enjoy a bit of eloquent gushing over fine specimens like this...



Ah, hell. Excuse me, I must go -- I'll head back to my writing while you head over to For the Girls, okay? Those men have me in the mood to write some smut.

Interview with Amanda Brooks

Amanda Brooks has led an interesting life. She started out as a stripper during college, working major clubs from Dallas to Las Vegas, but eventually her curiosity about escorting led to placing an ad on an online site. A career as an escort was born! After a few years of enjoying herself and pleasing her clients, Amanda retired from escorting and set about writing her first book: The Internet Escort's Handbook.

Read on for more on this fabulous woman:


Tell us about your first time as an escort. Were you nervous, scared, hesitant? How did it compare to the first time you stepped in front of a crowd on a stripper pole? Which was easier?

My first time onstage was horrible, nerve-wracking and excruciating. Not because I was wearing a thong (my very first song was fully-clothed, the second song was topless) but because I didn’t know how to dance and all my practice in my heels at home on carpet was very different from trying to dance in them on a wooden stage. And then I had to try and collect tips onstage, followed by attempts to sell dances once offstage. Although I came to love the stage dancing (and became very good at it), my table-dance-selling skills were always poor. I hated that part of it.

My first official client as an escort made me nervous. I’d screened him with my mentor’s help but I had no idea what to expect. He was a nice man; enthusiastic and full of empty promises (like taking me on a boating trip). But other than his need to assure me he’d come back, he was a great guy. No issues at all. Having stripped for 4 years, the conversation was ridiculously easy, especially since I didn’t have to yell to be heard.

The sexual part was a little awkward, mostly because I wasn’t having much sex in my personal life. I wasn’t worried about making him a repeat client; I just wanted to get through the appointment in one mental piece. Instead, I got a high in knowing I’d made my first client happy and was well-paid for work that came naturally to me. My stripping career ended that hour (I’d kept my locker at the club just in case this escort thing didn’t work out).

Can you tell me about one of your best experiences as an escort?

One of my best experiences...other than meeting my current boyfriend? (It was a wonderful dinner appointment, absolutely perfect.) There are many great experiences I had, in all sorts of ways. There were terrific sexual experiences that I still treasure and wonderful personal connections with clients. I got to enjoy some social benefits, like eating in top restaurants and spending time in the best hotels. I met some amazing men. And a favorite client gave me a fantasy send-off the night I retired, ending with a kiss at midnight. Can’t get better than that!

Were you surprised by any of your escort experiences?

I don’t know that any of my experiences surprised me because I wanted and expected to have good experiences. I was surprised that my boundaries created real taboos for the first time in my life. That was a fun surprise.

And on the flip-side, is there a horror story you would be willing to share?

Other than getting shorted on payment, I can’t say I have any real horror stories. One story that could’ve ended badly was a visit from a young New York man (I normally didn’t see men under 30 for a reason) who accidentally set one of my hand towels on fire in my incall. He smelled it on his way out the door, which was good because I didn’t smell it at all. He had been a bit of a jerk in person and in bed, so this was just a capper. I was happy to see him go – after he put out the fire.

I like how you are so clear about the business. You take the time to make sure all the pitfalls are out in the open, and you counsel those who might be interested to be sure they can handle this profession. Were there any misconceptions you fell for when you were first starting out? What do you feel is the biggest mistake most escorts make?

I was lucky enough to have a mentor who honestly answered all my pesky questions. One misconception I had was in judging my popularity. In strip clubs I was an average dancer, appearance-wise, and most nights were 90-99% rejection. I was not expecting the warm and eager welcome I got as an escort. Not that I’m complaining.

I also discovered that – generally speaking -- the more a man has to pay for your company, the more he respects you. This is not information passed around in the “real” world and I think it’s high time women realized that if they valued themselves, they would get more of what they want from relationships with men, whether they want a paid or unpaid relationship.

A popular misconception among other escorts seems to be the belief only (male) discussion-board posters/reviewers know how escorts should run their business. I’m working very hard, especially in book #2, to get escorts to break free of this stranglehold. I compare it to me telling Bill Gates how to run Microsoft just because I constantly use Windows programs. An escort needs to run her business as her own individual situation dictates, not what hobbyists (who may never even see her) think she needs to do to make money.

One of the things that scared me away from escorting was the near-certainty that I would get personally involved with clients and then have to deal with the emotional fallout. Is this something that happens often? How do you avoid it?

It depends on how you define “personally involved.” An escort should never get involved in clients’ lives. Once the paid time is over, it’s over until the next appointment.

A common misconception is that the only way to do this work is to turn off all emotion. An emotionally-dead escort won’t be popular and will cause emotional problems in herself. It’s quite natural to feel connections with and emotions for clients – it’s a human relationship, after all.

I found myself falling in love with a number of my clients – during our time together. Once our time was over, I went about my life and they went about theirs. Obviously I was not seriously considering starting a relationship with them, but it was fun to allow myself to get swept away for short periods of time. I always regained my perspective.

There were clients who would ask me out. I would be nice while letting them know it wasn’t going to happen. I used the fallback excuse that dating clients is not a good idea (which it isn’t). That was acceptable to them, although I occasionally lost a client after I turned him down. I feel that being straightforward with my clients and not playing emotional games with them prevented the problem with romantic stalkers that some escorts have.

Escorts who have extended appointments with their clients understand that emotions will run high and that’s part of their appeal. They’ve learned how to deflect potential trouble and keep their client relationships in its proper place in their life. Fantasy relationships don’t have to be a negative in anyone’s life, quite the opposite – they can be incredibly rejuvenating. It does take a certain amount of self-awareness and emotional stability, though.

It seems escorting is more about intimacy than it is about sex. You’ve talked a great deal about what the clients enjoy – but what do you find most escorts name as their most enjoyable part of the job?

Depends on the escort. I’ve discovered since retirement how much I miss the constant social interaction with new people. I think a lot of escorts enjoy the same thing. Others love the ego boost they get from being adored. Some openly enjoy the opportunity to travel and live an adventurous life. Some look forward to favorite clients with whom they’ve built a small relationship. Some escorts have had clients for years (long before the Internet boom). One cannot be intimate with another person for a long time without developing genuine feelings and a real relationship. Some probably enjoy the sexual variety the most.

And, for those escorts who depend on escort work for a full-time income, the money is very nice. Of course it is. A healthy income allows for a lot of freedom, independence and control of one’s life.

As an erotica writer, I’m very fortunate to have people around me who are supportive of what I do. That wasn’t always the case. Did you find there were people in your life who were more accepting of your work as a stripper than your work as an escort, or vice versa? How did your profession affect your personal relationships?

I lost one stripper friend who did not feel I was making a healthy decision to start escort work. But then, she thrived as a stripper. I don’t know that she would’ve thrived as an escort. I did not thrive as a stripper but I did as an escort.

Of everyone that I’ve told, I’ve certainly fielded a lot more questions about my escort work than my stripping. I can’t say that one has been accepted more readily than the other. In my experience, those who accept me as a person accept my sex work history equally well.

Escort work affected me very positively. I was much less stressed and I had a better income, all of which made me happier. Even my mother thought I seemed happier as an escort. And I only spent time with people who accepted all of me, which meant the quality of my friends went up.

Boyfriend issues are more severe with escort work than with stripping. There’s no good way of navigating those waters. It has to be done on an individual basis and I still haven’t figured out all the right answers. Having firm boundaries helps, as does the feeling of independence.

Obviously, your new gig as a writer is working! Can you see yourself ever going back into escort work?

If my life situation changed drastically, escort work would be an option, though not my only one. I have nothing against it but I’d like to try and see what I can do with my books first. Going back would be too much like giving up! And I’m stubborn. Not that I feel there’s any shame in escort work, I just don’t want to fall back on it feeling defeated or that I failed in my new career.

What’s next for you?

After I complete this series (book #2’s manuscript is mostly done, then I have #3 and #4), I will want to take a break. I promised an updated compilation volume but right now I don’t even want to think about it. There are other books I’ve thought of and would like to research, but again, the energy is not there right now. Depending on the success of my series, I could either keep on pumping out books, or go on extended tour, or start in a whole new direction and just let these sell as backlist items. I don’t know. I’m too much in the middle of it all to clearly see the end.

To read more about Amanda, visit her Website.

To read more about her book, Click Here.

Review: The Internet Escort's Handbook

When in my early twenties, I seriously considered becoming an escort. It seemed like my ideal job -- lots of time with all sorts of different men, lots of sex, and getting paid well to make men happy! What's not to love?

Now that I've read The Internet Escort's Handbook by the smart, strong and undeniably sexy Amanda Brooks, I'm envious of those lucky women who can make a career out of escorting. I'm also glad I didn't try it -- I would have let my emotions get in the way of good business sense, and that's no way to make a living!

Amanda covers everything in this book. She starts by telling a bit of her story, and then launches into the pros and cons of escorting. I like how thorough she is here -- she asks very pointed questions about the reader's intentions and expectations, and by the time you are finished with the second section of the book, you certainly know whether or not you can handle the demands of being an escort. If you don't know, well...you should probably look for another job.

She doesn't sugar-coat the emotional difficulties that can come about if you venture into escorting for all the wrong reasons. She addresses the myths about escorting, talks about the basics of the business, and details the physical risks, including how to protect yourself from STDs.

She discusses the emotional ramifications of escorting, not only for the client, but for the escort as well. One very clear lesson in the book is this: "You are not selling your body; you are selling blocks of your time." It was interesting to learn that while a lot of clients do expect sex, just as many of them simply want some attention. Being a good listener is extremely important to being a good escort. It takes a hell of a lot more than a good body and blow-your-mind sexual techniques to keep those clients coming back for more.

The best part about this book is that it's only the beginning. This is Book One: The Foundation. This book covers the mental, emotional and physical considerations. Other books are set to follow, where Amanda will eventually cover the entire spectrum of information about escorting.

If you're thinking about escorting, don't make any decisions until you read this thorough, helpful and informative book.

To learn more: The Internet Escort's Handbook.

And to learn even more, come back tomorrow -- Amanda drops in for an interview!

"The Right Thing"

My latest story, "The Right Thing," is now at Ruthie's Club! Here's a tease:

I walked into the side door, the one marked Hospital Personnel Only. Robert followed me, even though I tried my best to slam the door in his face. I marched into the first unoccupied room I could find, and Robert was right behind me, making little noises that sounded suspiciously like whimpering, as though he wasn’t sure what to say but had to make some noise to show that he was trying to come up with something.

I rounded on him as soon as the door was closed. The fluorescent glow from the hallway fell through the small window in the door, leaving just enough light to see the mixture of emotions on Robert’s face. I got right up against him, toe-to-toe, and made him look me in the eye.

“What are you following me for, Robert? Huh? You want to get a promise out of me that I won’t run down to the cafeteria and announce your little indiscretions, don’t you?”

Even in the dim light, the ruddy flush on Robert’s face was unmistakable.

“Look, I know you’re mad. I know that’s my fault.”

“Mad ain’t the half of it, weasel.”

“Weasel?”

“Hell, I might not run down to the cafeteria. I might announce it on the intercom.”

Robert shook his head, his eyes wide as saucers. “You will not!”

“I don’t answer to you,” I said, punctuating each word with my anger. “Understand? You will have to wonder if I’m going to tell her. You will wonder for the rest of your life.”

“You can’t do that,” he said stupidly, looking at me like I had grown another head.

“You can’t stop me,” I growled.

Robert moved toward me. He meant to grab my arm, to shake some sense into me, to hold me steady in one place so he could tell me the way things were. I saw it coming and beat him to the punch, so to speak -- I reached out and slapped him. The sting of it traveled through my palm and all the way down my arm, a lightning bolt of pain. Robert’s head rocked to the side, and he looked back at me in amazement.

In the sudden silence following the slap, a tinny, disinterested voice boomed from above us. It called my name, and asked me to dial two-five-one.

Then he reached for me. Despite all my tough talk, I let out a little squeal that was half fear, half rage. Did Robert actually grow a set of balls? And if he did, God forbid and holy shit, what was I going to do?

He grabbed the bottom of my scrub shirt and yanked it up. He grabbed my scrub pants and yanked them down. He shoved me to the side of the bed and pushed me down on it. It all happened in a matter of seconds. It took a few more seconds for the whole scenario to register.

Did he really think he could fuck me into submission?

I helped Robert yank his belt loose. His penis was harder than I had ever seen it. He came down on top of me and the bed made a squeak of protest. One of us hit the adjustment buttons, and the bed moved up a few inches with a smooth, mechanical hum. We both froze, united in sudden fear of who might have heard, and who might come through the door.

A nurse in whispering shoes laughed with someone in the hallway, oblivious to what was happening in the room just a couple of steps away. After a few moments, the voices became distant.

Robert moved his hips. I arched my back. He pushed into me -- not slid into me, because I wasn’t wet enough for that, I was pissed off, after all -- and that anger rose to the surface. I was good enough to fuck now that he was angry, but as soon as he shot his load it would be the same old saw about doing the right thing.

“You don’t seem so upstanding now, do you, Robert?”

He glared at me and pinched one of my nipples. Hard.

I grabbed at his shirt. I yanked at it. At first I thought it wouldn’t work, but then it did. The fabric made an ugly ripping sound and buttons scattered to the floor.

“Explain that to your wife,” I hissed.

***
I'm a tease, so that's all you get!

If you want more, visit Ruthie's Club. Adults only and subscription required...but it's well worth the money!

I'm a Romantic

I took Sage Vivant's Erotic Personality Quiz and discovered I'm a Romantic!

What is your Erotic Personality? Find out now..

* * *

Here's more:

The Romantic can think of nothing more erotic than being saved from peril. They are not necessarily helpless people, but the notion of being saved makes them feel desirable and sexy. The Romantic needs to feel sought-after and practically worshipped before sex can be on the agenda. They imagine partners who not only make passionate love to them soon after saving them, but they imagine those partners will know how to please them without any instruction whatsoever. Their lover’s sexual finesse inspires their own, heightening their capacity for sexual pleasure. The Romantic is especially fond of people who can read their minds and deliver the sexual excitement that they secretly desire.

Hey...I always did have a thing for Indiana Jones!

Sex, Religion and...

Politics
By Gwen Masters

(Flasher -- 299 words)

The cuffs were tight around her wrists and ankles. The strap was firm against her belly. She hung suspended, held by carefully placed ropes that didn’t chafe. She could have drifted in a cocoon of pleasure, so comfortable they were.

The whip stung the back of her thighs with no pauses, no mercy.

She began to count. By the time she reached forty, she had forgotten which number she was on and had to start counting again.

“This bitch won’t give,” said the trainer. He was one of the men who had sneered at her from the guardhouse when she was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the Impurity Compound. Four years after the American President had turned into Little Napoleon, he had ordered all sexually adventurous women to be imprisoned until they were cleansed of their impure thoughts.

The trainer had a sadistic streak -- he was the former Attorney General, after all -- and he had meted out every punishment that was sanctioned and a few that were not. Two months, and she hadn’t broken.

She began counting again.

Finally the trainer threw down the whip. He walked away. He would leave her there, like he had so many times before.

The other trainer stepped up behind her. He sank his cock into her with one long thrust. She started counting the strokes. Sex like this was not allowed any longer -- anyone who dared do the deed for anything other than procreation in an approved marital setting was breaking the law.

When he pressed his fingers to her clit, she came. She moaned quietly. He came inside her and then he was gone, nothing but a ghost who left wetness dripping out of her and onto the dirt floor below.

Those who want to fuck will always find a way.

I Like to Feed Your Fetishes.

By request for Anita, a long-time reader who also happens to be an Emerson Drive fan with a healthy Brad Mates fetish...

Hey, I'm all about feeding the fetishes!

A few shots from the "Moments" #1 Party and Press Conference, held last Tuesday at ASCAP in Nashville.




We're enjoying the hell out of our new digital camera, so watch for shots from the Tracy Lawerence party next week.