Can't Help Myself

They were both in front of me on all fours.  "I can't believe you didn't text me!" I said putting my foot on Brian's back and swatting his naked ass with my crop while Jason watched.  "What are you looking at?"  I swatted him across the forearm hard enough to make him wince.

The Stranger

I had seen him the night before; sitting in the hotel lobby and reading a paper.  He was in his mid-thirties, with dark hair, a pressed, long sleeve button up, dress pants, and expensive shoes.  I imagined he was a banker, except his skin was tan from long days in the sun.  We were checking into the hotel, Brad and I, and while Brad talked to the man behind the counter, I couldn’t help myself. 

Max and Katie Put on a Show

Max and Katie Put on a Show

This story is the follow up to Max and Katie Meet Tom; which, if you haven’t read, you probably should as it is the introduction to Max and Katie.

I originally wasn’t sure if I would go back to Max and Katie – they have both featured in other stories some in the first collection (Max, Katie, and Amelie) and some on their own.  They have become my go to cast because each of them is so different. 

Katie and Max are at it again...

Do to the number of requests I received for another Max and Katie story, I started working on the next chapter in their sordid adventures.  This one picks up exactly where the last one left off - Max just finished off Katie with her nine inch vibrator named Tom.

Sex In The Shower

My hands were pressed against the glass as the water splashed over my skin.  I could feel his cock behind me, his fingers spreading my

The Hotel

The three of us were sitting at the hotel bar talking.  I don't even remember how it started.  She was driving up into Canada, we were staying on the island.  All three of us were pretty hammered.  Thomas, my fiance, kept looking down at her cleavage which was impossible not to look down at.  She had perfect tits, I mean, even I couldn't blame him.  They were big and round, and the bra she had on, had them standing up and bubbling over her blouse.  She even caught me staring at them a couple times, smiled, and threw a glance at my chest.

We were both in our twenties, she was a little younger, but we were both in good shape, and I could tell she wasn't opposed to the idea of a woman's face buried between her legs, a woman's tongue swirling around her clit; especially when there was the possibility of a hard cock somewhere near by.

We were the only three left there at the bar when the bartender swung by, topped us off, and said he would be closing in a few minutes.  My boyfriend looked at me and I could tell he wanted to ask me something.  He had the mischievous grin on his face that he wears when he is trying to tell me that he is perfect drunk; the kind of drunk that is going to fuck me for forty-five minutes with a cock so hard it could cut glass and is going to give me double digit orgasms while he pumps away like a machine.  I looked over at her, finishing her last drink, and noticed a little air of disappointment.  I felt bad that she was alone, that she would be all alone in her big room while I was getting my brains fucked out.

"Come with us," I heard myself say before I realized it.  "Come back to our room."

My fiance's smile widened while she looked at me like she was unsure of what I had just said.  I felt the liquor swirl in my head and reached out to touch her arm.  "Come on, this will be fun.  He's perfect drunk,"  I said and slipped my arm around his arm, "and he can wear us both out."  I glanced up at Thomas and winked.  "How about it?"

Her eyes went over my body and then over Thomas' and she smiled.

Five minutes later, all three of us were barging into our hotel room.  We barely cleared the door before Thomas wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body against his as he kissed her.  It was such a turn on watching her body react.  I slipped my top off and then pulled down her skirt revealing a little g-string.

She stepped out of the fabric while her tongue tangled with Thomas and his big hand squeezed her breast.  I watched them kiss and felt the juices between my own legs.

Friday, Last Day For a Freebie

To generate a little buzz and, hopefully, get a little feedback, I am offering a coupon today (07/20/12) for my latest erotic short story - Working Under Ms. Stevenson over at Smashwords.

Brain Scribble

#brainscribbles  We are fresh from the beach and the sand is still sticking to our feet.  I put you in the chair in our bedroom and tell you to stay, like I would a rowdy puppy that I am training.

You grin, that devilish little grin that makes me warm all over.  I step back, far enough way that you can see all of me but can't reach me.  I want to strip for you, slowly take this little piece of cloth off and watch your eyes devour me; but I want to do it slow, I want to turn you on, watch you get all excited as I slowly unwrap myself - first my breasts, then...  Go ahead and grab the camera, you are probably going to want to remember this.

Untitled Project

Well, I have gone and done it.  I have started my first romance novella which I hope to write into a series.  It's a serious break from my normal scribbles and,

Working Under Ms. Stevenson

Working Under Ms. Stevenson

This story is one of the longest pieces of erotica I have ever written.  Clocking in at 9,990, this tale follows Amelie, a reoccurring character, as she starts a temporary assignment with a law firm.  It was interesting to actually write about Amelie in the third person, to take an objective look at
her rather than the first person view like her other stories.  With this style and approach, I was able to flesh her out and learn, not only what she has been doing, but how she thinks in a situation.    

Her boss in the story, Ms. Stevenson, is a partner at the law firm that is currently responsible for the largest case in the firm's history.  Although the story only briefly touches on the case itself, we learn that it involves a pharmaceutical company and the federal government, we know the case is tearing Ms. Stevenson's life apart and turning into one difficult person to deal with.  Everyone who meets Amelie on the first day wishes her luck.  

The story starts on Amelie's first day of the a two week assignment.  During that day, the story starts to hint at couple of different angles.  Not only do we get to hear about how Amelie handled her last boss when he was a little touchy-feely, but we learn that Ms. Stevenson is a dominant.  She demands complete obedience, and this evolves into the stories overall arc.  

On day two, we learn that there is chemistry between the two and that is also Amelie's  and Ms. Stevenson's first lesbian experience, which is always fun to write.

Amelie, kneeling on the floor with the paper in her hand, stared up at her boss.  She was still a little stunned by what was happening, but she liked it.  She liked the idea that Ms. Stevenson was getting turned on by her obedience.  She thought of all the men she had seduced, all the men she had pushed to the very edges of their limitations before giving them release, but this was somehow better, more sensual, more exciting.
It was the one thing on her list.  She had never been with another woman.  Her heart was racing.  She wondered what they would do, how Ms. Stevenson would handle her, what she would demand her to do.
Jane stared down at her and watched a little grin of recognition trace itself across her lips.  She was excited and scared at the same time.  She wanted the little assistant kneeling on the floor in the middle of her office more than she had ever wanted anyone.  She wanted to live all of the fantasies she had the night before.  It felt almost wrong, ordering the young woman to fulfill her sexual desires, but she didn’t care, she craved it, she needed it.  She blinked and tried to remain as composed as possible.  It was important to maintain control.
“What else?”  Amelie asked.  “What else do you want me to do?”
“Come here,” Jane said.

It is my first venture into light fetish, the master and servant, side of a sexual situation.  I was intrigued by the psychology behind the servant and the master relationship, especially between two characters that seemed to be exploring and trying to understand it as well.  

As always, click the posts title to check out the story and feel free to find me on Google+, Twitter, or email.

Because I love you...here is another little tidbit.

Amelie stood facing Ms. Stevenson.  She pulled the elastic on her panties away from her skin and slowly shimmied out of the lace until it fell to her ankles and she kicked it away.  The room was cold but her skin was on fire.  She could feel herself getting wetter with every direction Ms. Stevenson gave.  If she had been at home, alone, she would have already buried three fingers in herself and fucked her hips against them until she went over the edge; but here, the delicious pressure just kept building.
“Are you wet?”
Jane’s question caught her by surprise but she answered quickly.  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice was throaty and dry.
“Show me,” Jane said.
Amelie’s hand slipped between her legs and her breath caught in her throat just from the touch.  She closed her eyes and felt the orgasm get closer.  She laid her fingers on her muff and slowly pealed her lips open for Ms. Stevenson to see.

Control

What is it about control that is such a turn on? A blindfold, gives us control over expectation; a silk scarf, control over movement and touch. Why do we relish both sides? There seems to be just as much excitement on one side of the blindfold as there is on the other? Why?

I was working on a new story today and the issue presented itself. A character is faced with a person that has control over a situation. It was interesting to write because, in third person, I got to explore both sides of the scene; the controller and the person being controlled. Perhaps control isn't the right word. Perhaps it's a question of power and the relinquishment of control.

What is it about power that is so thrilling? That is so sensual and titillating? Why does it make us weak in the knees when a lover decides to order us to this or that?

"Come over here," she said looking up at her assistant.  "Stand right here." She pointed at a spot on the floor directly in front of her knees as Allison walked around her desk.  She waited until she reached the spot and then looked over the nervous girl.  "Now unbutton your blouse. I want to see your breasts," she said.
Allison slipped the top button through the hole and then started on the second as her eyes watched her boss silently stare.  She wasn't sure why she was obeying her, following her every command, only that she was and was going to continue to do so.

I would be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject.  I find the whole idea of authority and power interesting.

Erotica & Me (lately)

Peta Todd

So, as many of you know, I have been writing and publishing a lot of erotic short stories lately.  They are of the Hardcore Erotic sub-genre; a situation, some characters, and a very steamy sex scene - literary porn, if you will.

They don't have a great deal of back story; the characters are described in brief, the setting is like a sketch of an actual description, and the focus is on the naughty acts themselves.  I am in no way opposed to this sort of writing, I actually enjoy both reading and writing the sub-genre, but my latest story has gone a different way.

The latest piece I am working on (The Last Shot - working title) is a different species of story altogether, at least for me.  It seems to be building itself as it goes along rather than the other way around.  The protagonist is the narrator and it's a first person, past tense view over the story's arc.  As I sit down and write the story, it as if she keeps cramming detail and description into it, unhappy with the idea that her story be an abbreviated sexual romp between the sheets, or over a desk, or on the kitchen floor.  And I am just letting her go with it and watching the results, the evolution of the story with a certain amount of interest.

I was reading a book recently that talked about the difference between writing porn and writing really well put together erotica.  There's an obvious but subjective difference in the two.  Erotica seems, to me and this author at least, to be something that draws the reader along.  It's a full-fledged story with characters, back story, and a plot that may or may not end with short quick breathing and the exchange of bodily fluids.  And yet, it may achieve the same result as the the sub-genre in a more subtle, almost clever way.

After reading the book, I realized that I had never thought about erotica that way and that maybe this is what the new story is leaning toward.  Perhaps subconsciously, this new story is the direct result of that knowledge and my desire to explore it.

It is nothing if not a writing exercise.  I find myself asking all of the usual questions that a reader would ask of the character and the situation in any other genre and then click-clacking the answers through the description or inner-dialogue of the protagonist.  I suppose the point is, it's new and challenging and different and I am enjoying it immensely.  I can't wait to hear what everyone else thinks.

Sorry if this is not up the usual snuff of dirty little tidbits that the usual posts contain.  This one is just an update on the latest piece I have been working on.  I'm hashing out the experience.  Keep an eye out for it.  It should be completed soon, hopefully.  I guess I don't really know, because she just keeps going.

Katie's Long Holiday - An Erotic Tale

Katie's Long Holiday - An Erotic Tale

This story was one that had been in my head for a while.  It's Katie again, this time in first-person present tense, describing her stay with her friend Ann and Ann's father.  The story opens up with Ann's father creeping through the house, making his way downstairs, and trying not to wake his daughter or her friend the night after they arrive.  Katie is listening to him, already thoroughly infatuated, and thinking about her plan.

She doesn't wait long.  Before you know it, she's up and getting ready to head downstairs.

I get up and realize how excited I am. I stand in front of the mirror in my silk pajama top and look at myself. My hair doesn’t look too bad, it’s tousled but in a sexy kind of way. My breasts are pushing against the fabric; with it buttoned up you can only see the cleavage. I decide to unbutton all but one button. I look at the reflection and grin, perfect. I move around a bit, turn from side to side. Now they are more visible but not falling out. From either side you can see the gentle curves, the roundness and weight of them, but not the nipple. From the front you can see the inside of the curves, the pertness. I turn and look at myself over my shoulder. It’s a long pajama top, comes down to the top of my thighs. It’s my favorite thing to sleep in. If I sit down, it’s going to be a show. I pull it up a bit and look at the little boy shorts underwear I have on. It’s black lace and only covers half my ass cheeks. Satisfied with the overall look, I drop the top back down and head toward the bedroom door.

Katie's stories are always interesting that way.  They don't have a lot of back story.  Katie wants, she desires, she's devours the men she finds attractive.  It seems to be all she thinks about.  She's obsessed with older men, men in their fifties, strong men who take care of themselves.  I often wonder if we will ever find out what her life is all about.  So far, it's all just snippets and little pieces of stories - in this story we learn that she doesn't really talk to her family, that she's glad to be away at college.  So far, she seems to do one thing well and that is bring her and her chosen partner (she is always the pursuer, the temptress, never the pursued) to climax.

I move my hips in his grip and slide my muff along the length of his shaft. He moans. I lift my arms above my head, stretch my body and arch against him. He feels so good, his stiffness against me, his strong hands on my waist, his warm breath. I look at him and he is taking it all in, soaking in the view of my tender body. I grin and bite my lower lip as I slide off his legs and down to the floor. His eyes get wide. He looks like he can’t believe what’s about to happen, like it’s too good to be true. I flip my hair back over my head doing my best to look sexy, like a hot little vixen. I lick my lips and stare at it, the hot thick rod between his legs. I wrap my left hand around the base of it and point it at my face. I gently squeeze and tug on it until a little more of the clear liquid appears. I move my head toward it and watch him hold his breath in anticipation. I open my mouth, look up at him and grin before I lick the tip of his cock. He tastes salty. I lick him again, this time I running my tongue along his girth. I start at the base, above where my fingers are wrapped around him, and drag my tongue to the top. He moans and thrusts his hips. It feels so good to watch him enjoy it. I do it again before opening my mouth and slipping him between my lips. 

If you would like to read more, as always, just click on the title of this post and it will bounce you over to my Amazon page.  Please feel free to leave your comments here, or there, or on Twitter (gabrielleprevot), or Google+ (gaprevot@gmail.com).  Thanks!

Max and Katie Meet Tom

Max and Katie Meet Tom

As most of you probably know, Max and Katie are two of my favorite characters.  They are college roommates in my little fantasy world and they show up in more than a couple stories.  They are young, pretty, and sexually adventurous - all qualities that make them fun to write.  In this one I used a 3rd person narrator because I wanted the reader to get the entire scene, see it from all angles, and watch both girls take each other apart.

This is Katie's first time with a dildo, Tom who actually belongs to Max.  And it's Max's first time with another woman.  It's a pretty hot story, there isn't much setup; it just jumps right into the action.  I thought a lot about my first experience with another woman, the way it felt to be kissed and touched; the way it felt like I was breaking some forbidden law of nature even though I knew I wasn't.  It's different the way a woman touches another woman, very different from the way a man does.  I tried to capture that difference in the story.  Here's a little tidbit somewhere around the middle of the story.

Max watched as Katie’s body started to react to the multi-directional gyrations deep inside her love canal.  She turned him up a click and held on as Tom worked his magic in her wet darkness.  She thought back on all the times she had spread her legs for him.  The times she would sit and slide him into her doggie style while he gyrated, burrowing into her, finding that spot that put lightning behind her eyes and made her muscles quiver.  She held on as Katie fucked herself gently and remembered how big it felt the first time, the way it stretched her dripping hole, filled her tighter than any man had ever done.

Like I said, the story doesn't really cut any corners, it's an in your face erotic sex story that leaves both characters (and hopefully the reader) breathing hard and sweating.  If you are interested in reading it, just click on the link at the top of the post.  Feel free to post comments on Amazon, drop me an email, Tweet me, or find me on Facebook - all the usual ways.  I am anxious to hear what you think.

  

Hunting

Hunting

Amelie is one of the characters that I really enjoy writing.  She's a woman who enjoys the hunt for her evening's entertainment.  The story opens with her in a restaurant where she is eating alone.  She is observant, has been watching the eyes of the men in the room since she came through the door.  She knows what they are thinking and tells the reader as much.

The man, sitting two tables over, facing the front, memorized every inch of me as soon as I cleared the doorway. It was a bottom to top look. His face gave it all away and I could tell he appreciated what he saw when we finally made eye contact. He is in his fifties but fit, gray hair, blue eyes, and you can tell he has always been a charmer. He is wealthy from years of working in an office. He has bought his wife a number of pretty things which, usually means, he has had multiple dalliances over their years of marriage, none satisfying, just mere distractions. He is rougher with them, the secretary from the office or the bartender at his favorite watering hole. He is passionate with them, uses his strength when he fucks them wherever he can find room and time, the secretary across his desk, the bartender in the back room. He is no longer this way with his wife. He is instead, when they do make love, tender and careful. He doesn’t know why. If he were in the wild, I might take him home, just to teach him a lesson.

I love the way she thinks throughout the story.  Amelie knows as much about herself as she does the men around her.  She understands the power she had over men, the way that her body stirs them, but she also knows the end result of their fantasies, the reality of the situation that supersedes what they are imagining.

She is careful, observant, and strong.  She knows what she wants and how to deal with anything that gets in her way.  She addresses her prey from the very beginning as if she is writing the story to him, the man she will meet later, who is sitting at a bar that she will visit after dinner.

Like I said, she is one of my favorite characters but not just because of the way she thinks or talks but also because of the way she handles herself in the bedroom.  She is playful and teasing.  Foreplay is one of her favorite games and she relishes the way it makes her feel.

I climb up halfway between your legs and kiss your neck, lick the sheen of sweat that has risen there. My nipples drag along your chest sending shivers through me. You sigh as I kiss my way down your chest. I stare up at you as I plant each kiss. I stop on each nipple and let my tongue graze the little bit of flesh and they stiffen. I twist my fingers in your chest hair and tug playfully. You watch me and quietly chuckle. I look down and see my new toy. I put my hands high on your thighs and kiss down around your belly button. Your breathing speeds up; I can almost hear your heart banging against your chest. I spread your legs a little wider and slip off the couch onto my knees in front of you.

Amelie is featured in 3 published stories so far.  She is in the collection Max, Katie & Amelie, (The Hunter), she is the narrator in The Mirror, and the narrator's obsession in Opening Night.  All of the titles are available on Amazon just by clicking on the link at the top of the post.  She's a sultry little vixen and I can't wait to see what she does next.

The Mirror

The Mirror
This story is a little different than the usual fair I like to write.  It's a single scene, almost a flash fiction style of story.  It's a first person account of a woman who is getting ready for hot Friday night.  The woman is Amelie, a character that has always been one of my favorites.  She is the narrator, so it's a first person view of herself.  The story includes masturbation and sexual fantasy.  It's a pretty graphic story, hot and steamy.  I really enjoyed writing it.  If you would like to go check it out you can click on the title above to follow a link to it at Amazon.

Here's a teaser from the story.  Hope you enjoy it!  Feel free to post a comment and let me know what you think.

I love getting dressed.  I love it because it’s all backwards.  It’s preparation.  After a long work week, Friday night is my favorite.  I come home from work, shower, and then stand in front of my bedroom mirror wrapped in a towel.  My hair is still damp, the long curls scattered haphazardly around my face, sticking to my skin.  I look at myself.  My breasts smashed beneath the wrap of the towel, the flesh just bubbling over the top.  I twist a little, run my fingers along the place where the towel overlaps, the flap of fabric that starts at my breasts and runs down the length of me stopping just below my waist.  Amazing how a slit casts a shadow that invites the eye.  It almost forces you to imagine what the cloth is hiding.  I turn halfway, the towel is just short enough to see bottom of my ass, the two tight curves of the cheeks.  I turn in the mirror to the see myself in profile.  My long legs are exposed.  I run my eyes up from the ankles; I like the curves of my body.  My legs are toned and smooth.  I push my chest out and arch my back; my shape becomes a long line of curves, the seam’s edge holding all of my little secrets.
I tug it from the bottom, the towel, and let it come un-tucked at the top.  It opens and falls at the same time unwrapping me.  Even my eyes focus on my breasts, their round fullness bouncing into view, the playful shadow they cast above my belly as they hang.  The pink nipples grow erect as soon as the room’s air touches them.  No wonder the men at the office always try to stand at a certain angle when they approach my desk or turn their heads when I bend over.  Sometimes I drop things and, while I am bending at the waist, aimed at where they are standing, I glance up and catch them looking.  It’s a little thrilling to catch them, everyone likes a forbidden peek.

First Post!

So, this week, I decided to start publishing a few of the erotic, naughty little stories that have been laying around  in folders on my computer forever.  I read over them, cleaned them up (actually made them a little dirtier than before), and started the arduous task of putting them on Amazon and Smashwords.  It has been a learning experience.
I am so glad that so many of you have already downloaded my free short story, The Mirror, on Smashwords!  Super exciting to watch those numbers climb and read the reviews.  Over two hundred reads in two days!
So, I decided to make a little spot on the web for myself.  I may rearrange things, move them around a bit from time to time, but this is where I will be if anyone needs me.  Here is a link, a sample, and the cover art for a short story I published yesterday.  Hope you enjoy it!
http://amzn.to/NHVuME

I pushed the theatre door open and looked around.  There was no one in sight.  My heart fell a little.  To the right, the hall was empty all the way down, past three theatre alcoves to the snack back area and to the left was one more theatre on the same side as ours and then a dead end.  I looked right again, hoping against hope that I would see her, but there was nothing.  I took a few steps out into the empty hall and looked to the left.  A shoe slid out of the alcove to the theatre next to ours.  It was hers; I recognized the black straps of her high heel that crisscrossed her ankle.  I watched her leg continue to slide into view, the slender calf muscle, her knee, and then the milky skin of her thigh.  It continued to slide into view, more and more of her creamy thigh flesh.  My mind wondered at the fact that there was no skirt hem.  Such a tease!  I thought.  I turned and started walking her way.  She peeked past the edge of the wall, her eyes twinkling and a smile on her lips.Four steps later, I slipped into the little alcove.  I grabbed her wrists and lifted them above her head, pinning them to the wall as I pressed my body into her and kissed her lips.  Her mouth was hot and our tongues dashed out and tangled between our mouths.  She fought the grip on her wrists and pushed her breasts into my chest.  I held her there, kissing her, and then burying my face in her neck and hair.  She sighed and slid a long leg between mine, caressing my thigh with hers.