Blog Tour: Day 3 with Chris Kuhn and The Muse Unlocked

We hope you’ve enjoyed Chris Kuhn‘s blog tour stop as much as we have, and wanted to thank her for the fun quotes, brand new poem, and never-before shared scene from her book, The Muse Unlocked, which we’re sharing with you *drum roll please* right now! But wait! Before you scroll down to read this yummy (and we’re not talking about the wine) scene, Chris has a few words to share about this bonus excerpt. Take it away, Chris!

For those who have read THE MUSE UNLOCKED, you may recall a reference to this event in a later chapter from the book. However, the scene itself does not appear in the novel and has never been shared. That is, until now… I hope that readers will enjoy another small glimpse into these characters’ lives.

And for those who have not yet read the book, never fear. There is nothing here that will spoil a later introduction to the book for you but you’ll get a chance to meet screenwriter/author Cate Mullen and film and TV actor Oliver Sand in this slice-of-life scene that you will, I hope, enjoy, as well.

– Chris Kuhn, author of THE MUSE UNLOCKED  

________________________

Oliver stretched out on the chaise lounge and flipped through a pamphlet as Cate stepped outside to join him, drying her hands with a towel, and then turning to two filled wine glasses to carry them out to the patio. “What are you reading?” she looked at him quizzically as she handed him a glass.

He sat up in the chaise, smiling as he took the glass from her hand, “Thanks. Just a little something I found in the pantry.” He took a sip and cocked his head to one side. “Mmm. This is good. Merlot?”

Cate sipped her wine slowly, peering at him over the glass and smiling to herself. “Close. You’re getting better at identifying them. This is actually what’s known as a vintner’s blend – cabernet merlot. But nice job.” She nestled into the Adirondack chair, tucking her feet under her body. “So you still haven’t said? What is that you’re reading?”

Oliver laid the pamphlet on his lap and sighed loudly. “When were you going to tell me, Cate? Were you really going to keep this bit of information from me?” he stared down at the screenwriter, offering up a stern look that couldn’t completely mask the playful smirk beneath it. “Did you really think I wasn’t going to find out?”

Cate lifted herself away from the chair, shaking her head and chuckling. “What the hell are you talking about? Did I pour you one too many drinks tonight?”

Oliver swung his legs over to one side on the chaise and pointed to the pamphlet. “This, Cate. I found this in the pantry along with a cleverly concealed piece of equipment that I think somebody was trying to keep hidden from visitors. But I being the inquisitive and clever guest that I am found it,” he said proudly, his smirk completing the cycle and transforming into his signature beaming smile. He held up the pamphlet now for Cate to see. “Pasta, Cate? You like to make…pasta?” What started as a low, slowly building snicker escalated into outright laughter that Cate found completely endearing and sexy as hell.

Cate leaned forward and snatched the flimsy product manual out of his hands and joined him in the chuckles. “Yes, you caught me. I have a pasta maker. I received it as a gift one year. But I don’t use it. It’s far easier to go down to the store and buy it.

“But it’s much better fresh,” Oliver shot her a scolding look laced with a grin.

“And you know this because you’re a world renowned pasta chef, right?” Cate dipped her head down to sip her drink, smiling as her lips hit the rim of the glass.

“Well,” Oliver paused and shrugged his shoulders then lifted his lean but muscular frame off of the chair, stretching as he did. Cate couldn’t help noticing his exquisitely carved abs sneaking out under the tight-fitting black T-shirt as he raised his arms. “It just so happens I am an excellent pasta chef. I’ve made it many times. But not with some crazy machine.”

Cate looked up at him, sipped her drink once more then set it beside her on the end table. She rose up to meet him or at least stand next to him since he had six inches in height on her. “Are you telling me that you, Mr. Movie-Star-on-the-Rise, rather than hop on your motorcycle and head down to the grocery store like everyone else and pick up a ninety-five cent box of pasta, you are at home in your apartment kitchen sweating over the stove making pasta from scratch?”

“Well, I don’t get that sweaty but yes, I do make it myself. And it’s really not all that hard. You don’t need much. Do you have eggs, Cate?”

Cate looked at the handsome actor who had once again managed to surprise her. “Huh?” she said distractedly. “Oh, eggs? Yes.”

“Do you have unbleached flour?”

“I think so.”

“That and some salt, and we’ve got everything we need. In fact,” he moved in closer to Cate, pulling her body against his and circling her waist with his arms. “I’m going to show you exactly” he kissed next to her right ear “how to” then kissed her left ear “do it” and punctuated the playful pronouncement with a kiss on top of her nose. “Right now.” He leaned down to kiss her on the mouth, and Cate could feel her entire body turn to mush as he lingered on her lips.

When he finally pulled back smiling at her but keeping her in the grasp of his firm arms, she stumbled a bit to respond. “Um, right– right now?”

“Yes,” he nodded confidently and enveloping her hand in his, guiding her back into the screenwriter’s kitchen. He pulled down items from cabinets and out of the refrigerator – each ingredient measured out and poured into smaller bowls, a big mixing bowl here, a whisk there – and before Cate knew what was happening, the two were standing beside each other at her butcher’s block in the center of her kitchen in what could only appear to others peeking in as a cooking demo set-up. She wondered when Martha Stewart would walk through the door.

“Okay, Cate. Are you ready?”

Cate looked around for her glass of wine, chuckling to herself. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” She finally spotted it on the counter and happily took one final swig before returning to her post beside her handsome instructor. “Okay, teach. Fire up the lesson. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

As he walked her through each step of the pasta-making process, Cate found herself entranced with the man beside her, both patient and playful, yet serious about each step and keeping his doting student interested and entertained. Each time, they’d finish the next step in the process, he’d lean down to kiss her on the lips while caressing her bottom with his flour-covered fingers. She was pretty certain by now her ass must look like a powdered donut. Oh, Oliver. You don’t have to worry about me staying interested. You just have to show up and breathe, and already you’ve got my full attention.

By the time the two had mixed, whisked, blended, rubbed, patted, kneaded, folded, balled, sliced and flattened each inch of dough before them, his black shirt was covered in white-speckles of flour, front and back. And Cate was doused in every possible way, both on the surface of her flour-covered blouse and jeans as well as down below in her Oliver-arousing, soaked panties, stimulated by each fondle and show of affection the actor integrated into the cooking lesson. Yes, by the end of Pasta 101, Cate found herself more twisted and wound up than the spirals the two had just painstakingly made. She looked down at the floor beneath them as he finished placing the last set of flour-covered utensils in the sink to begin rinsing them.

“Have you looked down lately?” she laughed out loud after discovering the tile floor beneath them was as covered with flour as the two pasta-making lovebirds.

Oliver stopped his work at the sink to glance at the floor. “Oh wow, Cate. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for us to make such a mess of your kitchen. Where’s your broom? I’ll clean up.” He started to head for the closet and she stepped before him reaching out to grab his arms.

“Don’t.” He stopped in his tracks before her and looked down into her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Oliver. I’m not. I only noticed it. But I really think there’s a much bigger problem at hand.” Her face turned more serious.

He moved in closer to her, a look of concern sweeping across his face. “What, Cate? What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

Her serious look softened. “Just look at you. You are a mess. And I am a mess, too,” her face transformed into a shy smile, tinged with a bit of rose in her cheeks. She reached for the bottom of his T-shirt tucked into his jeans and began pulling it out and upward to remove it. “You can’t stay wearing these messy things. You’ll trail flour throughout my house.” She shot him now a broader, more confident smile as he raised his arms and removed his shirt enthusiastically in response, returning her beaming smile yet remaining quiet the entire time. Occasionally, he would let out a soft chuckle as he watched the woman before him muster up the courage to unbuckle his pants and kneel before him to slide his jeans down to the floor, for which he cooperated eagerly, stepping out of them once they reached the ground. After peeling each layer of clothing off of his lover, Oliver gently picked up Cate in his arms and delivered the two of them to the bathroom for a shower. Kitchen clean-up could wait.

Where to find this book:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Muse-Unlocked-Series/dp/1489557962/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385145120&sr=8-1&keywords=the+muse+unlocked

Blog Tour: Day 2 with Chris Kuhn and The Muse Unlocked

We hope you’ve enjoyed the brand new poem Chris Kuhn shared with us earlier this week as part of her Blog Tour. If you haven’t had the chance to read it yet, be sure to check it out. It’s from the perspective of Oliver; a view we’re dying to see more of.

Today, we’re sharing a short passage from The Muse Unlocked. Just a little something to get you in the mood for the never-before-seen scene that Chris will be sharing exclusively with us on Friday. Grab a glass of your favourite Merlot and enjoy!

The Farm by Shawn Mohr

If you follow the popular blog Literotica, you may have seen a couple of Shawn Mohr‘s erotic shorts published there recently. In his short The Diner, we’re introduced to Irma, a lonely waitress who feels trapped in both her life and job, and Robert, a mysterious man who enters Irma’s life bringing with him the escape she longs for.

We quickly fell in love with his characters, and as other readers have expressed, we too were eager to know what happens next in the tale of Irma and Robert. Shawn has delivered with his follow up, The Farm. Even better – he’s shared this exclusive, never before seen short with So The Story Goes and now we get to share it with you! *Note: This story is NSFW

The Farm

Robert smiled quietly as they cruised into the sunset. He kept his strong right arm around Irma’s slender, naked shoulders as they sped across the arid plain. The night chased them as they went, lulling Irma to a soft and sweet sleep. She’d never known the kind of peaceful security she found at Robert’s touch. She dreamed only of his scent as he stole her away from the mundane existence of the diner.

There was only one place Robert had left to go, though it brought no surety to his mind. He’d been adrift for some time now, leaving him ambivalent about returning to his family home. No one lived on the farm any more, not since his mother had passed in ‘44. At least the emptiness would leave him with no one to judge him and his circumstances. He tightened his grip on Irma’s sleeping shoulders, kissing the top of her head gently. He’d seen her need to escape, and had greatly enjoyed playing her liberator. But the truth was that he’d need someone to get him through things, a place to put his insecurities and fears in knots, and in so doing, gain command over himself once again.

As he pulled into the long dirt driveway, he eased a blanket around Irma. Parking the car near the house’s front porch, he slipped away from her sleeping form. He quickly found the old breaker box and energized the circuits of the house with a loud electronic clunk. Irma stirred, but did not wake at the sound. He slipped into the house, turning on the lights between the hallway and the master bedroom. Several of the wall sconces failed to illuminate, but the path was well-enough lit for him to confidently bring Irma upstairs. He crept back to the car, and gently picked up her enwrapped form. She never woke as he brought her to the comfortable mattress and laid her down. Robert stripped down naked and slid his warm body next to Irma’s. They both slept deeply and well, protected by the night.

Irma woke to radiant streams of golden sunlight filtering in through the dust-caked glass of the farmhouse. She smiled to herself at the quaint arrangement of porcelain figures on the old fashioned dresser, laying there for minutes, just gazing out at the room, processing the madness and elation yesterday had brought to her life. She considered the oddness of her calm, her ready acceptance of Robert’s every utterance without question. It was so natural and easy; it was unlike any relationship she’d ever experienced. Somehow she knew things would alright, as long as she did as he told her.

Irma rolled over and sighed at Robert’s absence. His side of the bed was rumpled, and as she grabbed his pillow, she could smell him through the age of the sheets. She gathered every ounce of him to her nostrils, and luxuriated in the memory of his touch. Her sex grew hot as she breathed him into her. She was filled with a hollow need inside her. It ached so sweetly, but she resisted the urge to touch herself. That throb was for Robert and Robert alone now. She wanted his absence to hurt, her need to be incessant, and the satisfaction to be his when at last he claimed her.

Irma took her time unfolding herself from the sheets. She was reluctant to leave that moment, but knew it was time for her to acclimate herself to the place she’d been brought. Rising nude from the bed, she found her glasses on the nightstand, and slipped them on and granting her a good look at the room for the first time. The green wallpaper was fading to a greyish tint, and the paint on the trim was peeling away. Though it was fairly clean, the space was clearly in disuse and in need of work. Doors to a walk-in closet were thrown open to show a black, empty cavern. A faint scent of mothballs wafted out from the closet and mixed with the hint of musk which defined the room. Irma found a hairbrush on the dresser along with a handheld mirror. She took these and sat on the edge of the bed, working out her hair into a neat cascade over her shoulders to cover her breasts. She inspected herself and nodded in approval. Looking around the room, Irma realized there was nothing else for her to do but explore the house. She swallowed the hint of indignity at traipsing naked through a stranger’s home, and stepped into the hallway.

The walls were covered with a blue-striped wallpaper. It had retained more colour than the sun-exposed bedroom, but peeled away at the edges in an unflattering curl. There were dozens of photographs on the walls and the service furniture. All of them were old, and some practically ancient. Images of men in military uniforms and austere women surveyed her naked body. Their eyes followed her down the hall as the photographs took her backward in time. She recognized the uniforms of the young men on aircraft carriers from WWII, and even the infantry garb from WWI. The Spanish-American War, the Indian Campaigns, and even the Civil War, each of America’s violent excursions were represented in this hall. Robert’s family had bled for their country, and they were clearly proud of it.

Irma came to a door at the end of the hall, a worn nameplate identifying it as Cheyenne’s room. Irma pushed the door open to reveal a small four-poster bed with frilly dressing. She slipped inside to investigate, hopeful that there may be something she could put on within. It was a peach-coloured splash of hyper femininity, not at all Irma’s practical cup of tea, but she smiled at the naivety and innocence of the young woman who must have lived here. There were framed pictures on the dresser. A woman about 17 years old was in each frame, accompanied by friends in one shot, an older woman embracing her in another, and a young man in the last. Irma picked this picture up and examined it. The easy smile and obvious charisma belonged to a younger version of Robert. Gone was the greying at his temples, and there was no haunt in his eyes when the picture was taken. Scrawled at the bottom of the picture in a woman’s hand was “Brother and I”. They looked happy and confident and so full of life. Irma had to wonder what had transformed that family into a worn and empty house in the middle of nowhere.

She set the picture down again and walked over to the closet, easing the door open with a slight creak. It was pitch black within, but Irma could make out the pull-chain of a light. She reached out and yanked on it, feeling its disuse offer her some resistance. There was a buzz preceding the flicker of the light coming to life. She blinked against the sudden luminescence, the closet’s contents resolving before her. She drew a deep breath of gratitude to find it still appointed with the young woman’s dresses. Irma raked the hangers across the dowel, looking over the selection. Some of the items had been ruined by moths or decomposition. These she took down and placed in a pile at the foot of the bed. She was left with little to choose from, but found a loosely knit dress well-suited to the coming heat of the day. She frowned at it as she looked it over. It would be a little bit small on her, but Irma needed to wear something, and it would come close enough. She stepped into the dress and pulled it up. It clung to the curve of her hips as she did, accentuating the bounce of her pert ass. She slipped her arms into the short sleeves and slowly pulled the buttons closed over her stomach and chest. The top two buttons were too tight against her full breasts, so she folded the ends over, trying to showcase the line of her cleavage in a show for Robert’s approval. With the thought of Robert, her nipples swelled against the knit. The toothy yarn raked them gently, giving her a delicious sense of anticipation. She wanted to feel Robert’s rough touch and skilled knots on her skin again. Irma’s pussy dripped a lone bead of lust down her thigh. She tore a rag from one of the rotted garments, and tidied herself quickly before scooping the ruined things up, and heading downstairs.

The vestibule and living room which presented themselves downstairs were, if anything, even more neglected than the bedrooms had been. A coat of dust covered most everything, and the musky smell of rot was much more prominent. Despite the signs of age, the space communicated an earthiness, a rightness, which Irma found oddly refreshing. It comforted her to find signs of tradition and survival in the face of all that was new in her world. The scent of brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen, putting a smile on her face. Robert must have gotten it ready for her and gone off to attend some errands. She went into the kitchen and saw he’d left a clean china cup out on a saucer, a fresh pack of cigarettes waiting beside it. She gratefully poured the steaming black liquid from the stainless steel pot, and snapped up the cigarettes. She took both out to the screened in porch at the back of the house.

Irma set the coffee down on the sill of the screen and opened up the cigarettes. She gazed out at the unkempt fields of the farm as she tapped the package against her palm and drew one out. Lighting it, she stared pensively at the landscape that had formed the man to whom she was dedicated. She imagined the shape of his life here, doing chores and surviving the taunts of his sister, the call of his mother from this very porch as dinner was laid out for the evening. It was no more exciting than the diner she’d just escaped from, but somehow it was more tactile, more real. That solidity was attractive. Irma puffed the cigarette and sipped on the coffee, watching the morning grow close to noon.

The trail of dust kicked up behind the battered old Ford Model AA truck as Robert rolled back into the driveway to the house. He always woke up early when he was home. Years of helping to run the farm had just trained him to be up before the sun. He’d left Irma resting peacefully, made them some coffee which would keep hot in the electric kettle, and gone to inspect the barn. The place was a mess, and the crop duster it contained was even worse. He’d tidied things up some and made a list of parts for the plane, then headed out to the airfield to see what he could salvage. The parts had cost him $20. They’d need to work for him. He didn’t want to draw questions by having to sell things just yet. His situation was still delicate.

He saw Irma on the porch as he rolled up, and smiled to himself at the way she’d made herself at home. He’d wondered what she’d do about her nudity and coming downstairs, finding that he’d left. He was touched that she appeared confident in his return. Robert prefered a submissive who could be left on their own without turning into an emotional wreck. There were a lot of things which needed his attention and energy. Sometimes Irma would just have to deal with being ignored. As he parked the truck, Robert was struck by the gratification he had at seeing Irma as his. It implied something beyond the next few days or weeks, which had been as far into the future as he’d dare look for a long time now. He dug out the parts he’d purchased from the bed of the truck, and looked over at Irma. She smiled warmly and waved. Robert found he could only nod in response. He headed into the barn to get to work.

Irma suppressed her desire to run out to Robert as she saw him heading toward the barn. She knew by intuition that when he desired her, he would come for her. She lit another cigarette and let her mind drift through the hypnotic patterns of sunlight as it passed through the leaves of the ancient oak tree on the back lot. The dappled leaves and shifting shadows helped her ward off the questions threatening to pop her fantasy world with hard practicality. She wanted only to trust in Robert and know that everything else would be alright. They could take on tomorrow’s problems when the day came. The cherry of her smoke singed her fingers as she absently let it burn down. She dropped it to the worn 2 x 4 floorboards and stubbed it out. Her stomach rumbled at the same time; certain practicalities would not be dismissed by simple desire. Irma headed back into the kitchen, seeing what she might make them for lunch.

She found a loaf of bread in the cupboard, and some baloney in the icebox. It would be a simple affair, but Irma was eager for the opportunity to do something for Robert. Her heart raced at the thought of his approval as she assembled a trio of sandwiches, slicing them into halves and arraying them on a plate. Just yesterday she had begged the universe for release from her indentured reality. She laughed to herself how in less than a day, her entire life had melted into the desire to make this man she barely knew content. Odd as it was, she’d never felt so happy, so naturally in her place as she was with Robert. He was all she wanted now, and she’d take every chance she could to thank him for taking her.

Picking up the plate, she once again became aware of the need building inside her. She fed that hot ache with a memory of Robert’s cock. She’d make sure her pussy was laced with wet desire as she met him. Her clit swelled as she went down the steps of the porch and across the yard, stepping one foot in front of the other as she crossed the sparse lawn. The motion not only gave a seductive sway to her hips, but had her thighs cross one another to tease her engorged clitoris. Just thinking of Robert brought a sexual response faster and stronger than Irma would have thought possible. She could hear the sounds of Robert’s labour within the barn as she approached the door.

Irma was surprised to see the airplane inside, and to find Robert buried in the guts of the thing. His shirt was hung on a nail by the door. His well-muscled back gleamed with his sweat, and grease stained his arms in streaks up to the shoulders. Irma held the doorjamb and bit her lip against the tide of desire which wracked her body. Filled with helpless need, she straddled the entryway and groaned as the solid frame pressed against her sex. Robert was engrossed by his work, muscles straining against a rusted bolt. She rolled her hips as she watched his strain, the veins rising to pump more power into his physique. She could feel the stain of her lust spreading on the dress, flushing with embarrassment at her treatment of Robert’s sister’s things but unable to stop herself. Her breath started coming faster as Robert’s leveraged elbow shook with effort. Just before Irma could find climax, there was a loud ping as the bolt snapped from Robert’s wrench. The sudden shift of leverage sent Robert stumbling into the engine block. “Goddamn!” he bellowed as pain blossomed within his colliding hip. Irma’s desire collapsed into concern, and she rushed into the barn. She set the plate quickly down on a nearby crate, “Robert! Are you okay?” she cried in alarm.

He turned to her, rubbing the point of impact gingerly. He gave her a chagrined smile, “Got my pride more than anything, darlin’. You bringing me something?”

His smile was enough to right her world in an instant. She slowly came close to him, reaching out with hesitant hands, uncertain of what she was allowed to do. Her fingers eased into his hairy chest, already matted with sweat and grime. She inhaled his scent, her eyes closing in ecstasy, “I brought some lunch, but I’d bring you anything you want, Sir.” she purred. Her head rolled slightly back, exposing her neck to him. She felt his rumbling laugh through her fingers, which sent a tremor through her body.

He squeezed her hand gently, then pulled it from her chest, “Lunch sounds good.” he said as he eased back from her touch and ducked under the machinery. “This fucking this is being a pain in the ass!” He winged his torque wrench off the frame with a sickly gong. It did nothing to alleviate his frustration.

“Robert! You’re not going to help yourself out like that.” Irma chastised him.

He turned to look at her, a look of quizzical displeasure on his face. “Excuse me? Did you really just try to tell me what to do?”

Irma swallowed hard, “I’m sorry, Sir.” She spat out quickly, lowering her eyes and flushing with genuine shame. “I only mean that if you need to hit something. . .” she trailed off and turned around, hiking the dress over her hips to expose her ass to him.

Robert belted out a deep laugh and came close to her, “You’re walking a very thin line, Missy.” he said with a mix of playfulness and menace. His body was just short of hers as he slid a filthy hand around her throat. Irma groaned and pushed her hips back, finding the growing hardness in Robert’s filthy trousers. She could feel the grime transferring to her skin as she ground her ass into his cock. He growled into her ear as he spoke, “but you do walk it well.”

Irma pressed her throat into Robert’s palm, pushing her trachea into sweet constriction against his strength, “Please, sir.” She begged him. She wanted him to pour his frustration into her. Her mind reeled at her desire to receive violence from him. She was scared to give the desire more voice than a bare whisper.

“Please what, slut?” Robert’s growl vibrated through her body which forced Irma to gasp with a tiny orgasm. She loved how the word sounded coming from his lips.

“H-hurt me, please.” she rasped.

He moaned with satisfaction. Robert loved her eagerness, her need to take every sort of treatment he would give her, and her inability to keep that need secret. Spinning her around by her throat, he pushed her up against a support beam, holding her there, watching her face contort as she pulled shallow breaths through his grip. He could smell her desire building. He kissed her hard and deep on the mouth, finding her tongue a desperate partner to his in her mouth. Breaking the kiss he commanded her, “Take the dress off.” He released her and walked across the barn to a coil of rope.

Irma pulled the knit dress over her head and inside-out. The hair of her pussy lips was already matted with lust, her thighs glistening wet with desire. She turned to Robert as he approached her, the bite of the hemp rope in his white knuckled grip. His eyes burned and his lips curled into a predatory smile. He grabbed her by the throat again and kissed her hard on the mouth. His tongue was a hot invasion, which she sucked greedily. She groaned and pressed into his kiss, her body growing warm with need.

Robert broke the kiss, pushing Irma back slightly. As she spun her arms from balance, Robert seized her wrists and quickly bound them together. The toothy rope clawed at her, sending thrills of pain through her skin. He threw the line around one of the barn’s massive trusses, and tied it off to the frame of the airplane. Robert pushed Irma by the hips backward, forcing her to bend into her bound wrists, pushing her firm ass into the air. Irma’s body was an inferno of sensation and desire. Robert’s greasy hands left brown-black streaks across her body. Her skin trickled sweat from every exposed pore, mixing the grime into a filthy lubricant melting across her. She spread her legs slightly and her clit throbbed hard, swelling and pulsating with desire.

Robert walked behind Irma, inspecting his prize. Her curves glistened in the slatted light of  the barn. Every inch of her was succulent clay which begged to be molded to his desire. His mind raced with a million ways to use Irma. He would take his fill of her, but knew his appetite would never be sated. His nostrils flared to draw more of her scent in, intoxicating him with raw, animalistic lust. She was a narcotic of femininity, wild sexuality which needed to be claimed, but could never be tamed. His cock strained against the wool of his trousers, and a dark stain was forming where his precum pushed from the head of his cock. He slowly undid his belt, making sure Irma could hear the click of the buckle. He laughed at her as he saw her spine shiver at the metallic ring of it. Pulling it through the loops on his waist, he cracked it against the fleshy curve of Irma’s ass. She cried out her pain, then purred sweetly at Robert.

Irma had never thought pain would feel so good. Her sex flowed freely as the sting filled her body. Her nipples grew hard at the impact, and a warm sensation pulsated through her whole body. “Again please!” She begged Robert, raising her ass to ask for it. She felt her cheeks separate, which she hoped offered Robert a better view of her asshole. The air ripped as the belt crashed again into Irma’s rump, the first in a series of savage blows. Irma’s eyes rolled back in her head and she felt a rush of endorphins sweep through her. Robert’s strength sent Irma’s mind floating out above her body. She was awash in a sea of Robert’s will and power. It filled and surrounded her, each new blow pushing her deeper. This was the place Robert had prepared for her, the space where she most profoundly sensed that she was his. She drooled and droned a low syllable. Her body shuddered, cumming over and over though her mind could barely note it.

Robert smiled as Irma tripped in her isolated world. He dropped his belt and ran his hands over her body. She was hot all over and slick with sweat. She may have shuffle as he playfully twisted a nipple, or changed her pitch as his finger found her clit, but Irma was deep in subspace. Robert decided to take full advantage. He grabbed another rope, wrapping turns around her thighs just above the knee. He pulled the lines out and ran them through the hayloft pulley. Slowly, he pulled Irma up. Her legs bent and spread, her back to the floor, as Robert lifted her into the air.

Robert walked back around, inspecting his work. The taut coiled lines were stunning against Irma’s skin. She was a dappled spectacle of grime and rope and lust. Robert could not restrain himself any longer. He took to his knees and licked up and down the furred slit of Irma’s inflamed cunt. He spread her lips gently and caressed the sides of her aching clit. Irma’s moan became more coherent as Robert’s tongue coaxed her back into her body. She rolled her hips against his face, grinding her clit against his tongue. “Fuck!” she screamed as she felt the fullness of sensation returning to her. “Sir! You eat my pussy so well! Oh, you spoil me Sir!”

Robert stood up, letting his pants fall to the earthen floor in the process. His cock was a raging lance, and they both needed him to sheath it inside her. He grabbed her ropes and pulled her open cunt down on his swollen dick. They both released a cry as he filled her completely. Robert took her hip with one hand and her throat with the other, and swung her cruelly through the air. Irma swayed and bounced helplessly as Robert’s cock drove in and out of her needful sex. She strained to breath against his grip, but drew precious little oxygen. Her whole body shook and pulsed, giving three savage throbs, and then she exploded with orgasm, losing a massive scream with a torrent of ejaculate. Robert thrust against her spasming cunt, and holding himself deep inside, shooting white-hot jets of jism deep insde Irma. They held their posture together, each softly shaking with the force of orgasm.

Robert reached out for a long knife nearby, still holding himself inside of Irma. He carefully slit the ropes around her thighs, letting her shift her weight to his hips. He freed her wrists and pulled her into him. They kissed slowly and deeply, Dominant and submissive lost in one another. Robert eased them both to the floor, their bodies picking up more dirt, but neither one concerned. They stayed locked together as their arms coiled around each other. Holding one another, they drifted into an exhausted sleep.

© 2013 Shawn Mohr

An Interview with Aoife Brennan

On Fridays we like to feature a little something extra from the writers we’ve featured earlier in the week. But today we’re especially excited because we’ve got a double feature – an interview AND exclusive excerpt from The Cougar Diaries Pt. 2
We can’t wait to see what this series has in store, but until then, we invite you to sit down with us and enjoy these treats from author Aoife Brennan.

So The Story Goes: Did you always want to be a writer or is this a newly discovered talent?

Aoife Brennan: I have always wanted to be a writer. Since I was very little, I would tell everyone I was going to be a writer when I grew up, but somehow I was just very busy with life. I think when I hit sixteen the world suddenly started spinning very fast and it didn’t let up. Then five years ago I went through a difficult divorce which resulted in bankruptcy for myself and the two children – a little unfairly since my ex managed to wipe his hands of our joint debt. Anyway, I had started a non fiction book on divorce and when everything fell apart, my non fiction book segued into a sex book. I had to do something to earn money and so I thought where there is muck there is brass! But the beauty of poverty is in its freedom; poverty and writing are very good bedfellows.

STSG: What attracted you to the genre of erotica?

AB: I had been meaning to write erotica for ages, but lack of confidence and also being a very respectable middle class woman made it harder too! When my world fell apart it delivered great freedom to me, both in my personal choices and in my ability to write. I was no longer shackled by the notions of respectability and could write anything I wanted. I also discovered as a newly divorced woman that I was attractive to the opposite sex, which first surprised me after my long marriage and then of course delighted me. I wondered if I could bottle that attraction and hence my decision to write erotica was confirmed.

STSG: Throughout the entire story, your main character always finds the courage to come out on top of some very trying and difficult situations. Did you set out to portray such a strong woman or did she simply begin to develop as you wrote?

AB: Sadly my own personal struggles would dwarf Aoife’s. It is but the tip of my own personal troubles that is relayed in my Diary. Of course, trouble doesn’t come in a single blow, it comes in increments so that before you know it, you are knee deep in problems, then thigh deep, then neck, lol but hopefully not above the head.

I learned one very important thing through dealing with my own problems was to a) keep positive and b) keep going in a forward motion. My mum would say: ‘Ever onwards and upwards, maybe sideways but never backwards.” Of course, I often did go backwards but I would never own it and somehow after a while my feet would turn again in the right direction and forward momentum occur. This is the secret to surviving, focusing on the positive and going forward. My situation is not uncommon in modern Ireland where the deep recession and newly available divorce has led to a lot of women left with the children and struggling to survive. I wanted to write the everywoman story. And as this is fiction i wanted to write a new ending, a gloriously happy one. I am doing an ‘Atonement” on my story and giving it to Aoife

STSG: You present many themes within your story that a lot of readers will be able to relate to; starting over, self discovery and losing love, just to name a few. What were some of the challenges you faced with when writing some of the more poignant moments?

AB: I actually found writing about the real life difficulties easy as I had faced pretty much all of them in one shape or another. The piece I baulked at was the first sex scene. I stopped writing for about three weeks as I figuratively girded my loins! Then one Saturday afternoon I took to the bed and started to write. Once I started I could not stop and emerged that night exhausted as if I had run a marathon – I think the task was essentially the same. Once done, I haven’t looked back since and I really enjoy writing those scenes now!

STSG: The strawberry scene – hilarious! We want to know: was this inspired by real life events?

AB: Strawberrygate is purely fictional. I was writing that scene in the back of the car as I waited for my kids to finish training. I started it as a very serious scene and was really getting into it, then from somewhere my wicked sense of humour arose and I thought, I wonder, I wonder. The notion so tickled my fancy i started laughing out loud – I only hope the other parents did not notice my insane guffaws in the back of the car – and so poor Steven met his fate. For those of you who have not read the book, I did an audio version of the scene. I have to warn you although, this audio snippet is not safe for work http://www.musicoflondon.com/

STSG: Strawberry gate – haha we love it!

Now, as an added bonus, below is an exclusive excerpt from The Cougar Diaries Pt 2. Enjoy!

Swinging (a scene from The Cougar Diaries Pt. 2)

“But how,” Trish wanted to know, “did you discover that they really were swingers? I mean, was there a code or something.” I thought for a moment before I replied. “No, but Chris had warned me so I was looking for signals. In the end, as we were finishing dinner, Carmel invited me outside to keep her company as she had a smoke. Afterwards she kissed me and everything else fell into place.”

Trish sat back in her chair. “Wow,” she said. “Mad,” she said. “Yes,” I said and I grinned.
The cigarette invitation was a planned one. Afterwards I could see that. Actually even at the time, I had an idea it might be. We’d had some wine during dinner and I was very relaxed. Relaxed as a newt, truth be told. I followed Carmel outside and she lit up. There was a small two man bench on the veranda and she motioned me to sit down, which I did. She sat next me and our legs touched. I could not move away without making some sort of statement. The cigarette smoke smelt nice in the fresh warm evening air. We talked and I can’t really remember what was said, but when she finished she threw the butt into the bushes at the side and put her hand on my thigh. She leant over towards me and kissed me. I was surprised but expectant and so I kissed her back. Her lips were so soft and gentle. I had never kissed a woman before and it thrilled me. Her little tongue snaked into my mouth and I sucked it gently. Her hand rubbed along my thigh and her other hand gently stroked my breast. In response my hands crept up her body and I felt the contours of a woman under my hands. It was utterly different and I was wet immediately. She just felt so soft; I had never experienced anything like it. My hand squeezed her right breast. Oh my god, that felt so good. I knew I wanted to suck it and tease her nipple. I was rubbing harder now and in my urgency undid buttons so I could feel her flesh. My hand first covered the bra and then slipped inside and found the tight hard nipple. I tweaked the nipple between my fingers while feeling the heaviness of her breast in my hand. We were kissing harder now, but still with sweet softness when we heard a cough. We parted, flushed and panting, to see the two men watching us, arms folded and smiling.
*As this story is still being written, edits may be made to this scene before the final draft.

Poetry Wednesday: saudade by B.L. Ronan

Today we have a very special treat for you. Our friend, B.L. Ronan, has graciously shared with us the cover of her new poetry collection, along with an excerpt from one of her poems. We hope you enjoy!

ladies and gentlemen:

i can hardly believe the day has finally arrived for me to share this milestone – my baby – with you. this beautiful cover was conceived by the exceptionally talented @justarandomscot and i have been so excited to share his creation with you.

so without further ado………my cover!!!!!

isn’t she beautiful! it is the epitome of my writing process. curled up in my bed (we need ambiance for such steamy scenes — hehe) with my notebook and pen, laptop at the ready, and coffee cup not far out of reach. this very space is where saudade was conceived.

it is hard to believe i wasn’t even composing eight months ago and after weeks of inspiration, tears, bloodshed, and elation i am about to present to you shards of my very soul. well…it is pretty inconceivable.

i had with great hesitation decided in february to push myself to this challenge of creating a compilation with nearly 50 new piece of work. i didn’t want it to be a mishmash of randomness nor did i want it to be a book of only one aspect of prose.

i remembered finding a picture of a tattoo on pinterest with the word saudade printed across the forearm. when i looked down at the explanation i felt an immediate connection and it stuck with me.

saudade does not have an english equivalent and there are many interpretations for its meaning. however, the most poignant and beautiful one was shared by my portuguese speaking beauty, a.

feeling of incompleteness…due to the absence of someone or something…or the absence of a set of particular and desirable experiences and pleasures once lived. – Scott Edward Anderson

writing saved me, healed me, brought me strength through love, friendship, and once again gave me purpose. this collection is an amalgamation of all these complex facets that were elated, heart wrenching, hopeful, hopeless, and my salvation.

i am so excited for you to walk this journey with me and connect with my words. but until they are available to hold, touch, and consume…..

on tuesday, may 14, 2013

……you can have a sneak peek of what lies in wait behind this gorgeous cover here and at the links below.

hope you enjoy.

xxx b

……excerpt from until you.

each day

each day

my heart feels less bruised

my soul more firmly stitched

and slightly joyful.

with you,

my smile comes with ease –

i laugh

though it is rusty from disuse.

i can remember the sun’s kiss,

the wind’s caress,

and what it means

to hope

dream

wish.

© 2013 b.l. ronan

b.l. ronan

chase boehner

literati literature lovers

corey chance

Bonus Excerpt: Oceans Of Desire by Cameron Lincoln

Earlier this week we featured the erotic work of Cameron Lincoln. If you enjoy his stories as much as we do, then you will love this! Today is the official release of Oceans Of Desire, the last installment in Cameron’s Holiday Heat trilogy. To celebrate its release, we have a bonus excerpt to share with you. If you have yet to read the previous two books in this trilogy, we highly recommend picking up your copies for a weekend full of steamy reading. Enjoy!

Suzie rose from the crystalline azure waters and breathed again, tossing her brunette hair from her face and wrangling it behind her ears as she stalked onto the scorching sands towards her lounger and her reclining partner.  Rob already had her camera in his hands poised for a snap.  She struck a classic beach pin-up pose, one hand on a buttock and the other making a shocked gesture across an open mouth.

Rob took the photo with a grin.  “Very classy.”

He went to put it back on the table through which their parasol pole was lanced, fumbled it and dropped it into the sand.

Suzie picked it up swiftly and dusted it down, blowing tiny flecks from the display screen.  “Careful.”

“You need a case for that, it’ll get damaged.  And you want to keep the photos on there safe,” he added with a knowing smile.

She blushed a little.  “Behave.”  The camera still held certain images that had been taken in the heat of the moment during a drive around the island earlier in the week.  She had thought about deleting them but had not yet convinced herself to do so; that they were there offered a reminder of who she was here with and why.  It would keep her focussed on the physical intimacy she had shared with Rob, and not that which she had shared with his friend with whom they had come away.

Don’t think about it.  That was yesterday, and it’s not going to happen again.

She lay her curvy frame face-down on the lounger, immediately recalling being in this position earlier, having Kevin’s robust hands working lotion into her skin, soothing her thighs, his fingers brushing against her…

No…

Rob was watching her, and it stung her that she had kept such a secret as a tryst with his friend from him, especially since she had looked him in the eyes and lied about it not two moments after it had occurred.  He was a good guy, one of the last, it seemed, and she felt guilty to her core that she had betrayed him.

“What is it?” she said.

“Nothing, just looking,” he said with a smile, and she felt that guilty knife stab and twist a little deeper.  She blew him a playful kiss and turned her head away to hide her expression before it betrayed her.

In doing so, she didn’t see his own look as he stared absently at the back of her head and trailing down her winsome shape and off out to the sea.

Rob had his own guilt to contend with, his own surreptitious tryst with their friend Donna to be ashamed of, and it churned inside him like an initially delicious meal that had begun to disagree.

He returned to his sunbathing, and later they swam together, ate lunch in a quiet taverna and dawdled home, stopping long enough in a small gift shop where Rob paid for a new camera pouch of her choosing; a multicoloured case with a cartoon dog emblazoned on it.  On their walk back he took a photo of them both at arms’ length, all cheesy grins and eyes squinting in the sunlight, and dropped the case back in his pocket.

As they came up the dusty trail towards the small, squat apartment block, they could hear the shouting from Kevin and Donna’s apartment.

Both of their stomach’s lurched for the same reason, and the thoughts occurred simultaneously:

They’ve told.

The truth had come out.  It wasn’t the only explanation but it was the one they both instantly assumed to be the case.  Kev had told Donna about his swift tryst with Suzie; Donna had no doubt revealed her encounters with Rob.

Both of them shared a look, each holding their secret within the confines of their own heads but assuming that this perhaps would be the last brief spell of being able to do so.

“That sounds ugly,” Suzie said carefully.  Rob nodded.  With icy fear gripping them they ascended the stairs to their apartment, hearing Kev’s thunderous voice and Donna’s enraged ripostes.  They were desperate to know the nature of their argument.

“You think you can just get everything you fucking want, you’re a selfish bitch!” he screamed.

“I’m selfish? I’m selfish?”came her exasperated cry.  “You must be joking.  I’ve done nothing but make sacrifices the last few years.  You think because you’ve known me a few months that you know everything about me?”

“Oh, look at me, I’m so complicated and clever, going into business for myself.”

“You think that’s nothing?  Of course you do, because everything you’ve ever had has been given to you.  You’ve got a body and a thick skull and you don’t give a toss who you go through to get what you want.  You have the gall to call me selfish?  Everything you do is for yourself.  Everything.  At work, with your friends, in bed.”

There was a pause, as if that had truly hit a nerve, but Kevin just laughed coldly, as if the concept was ludicrous.  “Yeah, right, like you’ve ever complained.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” Donna spat back.  “Then this is me complaining.  Formerly.  I’d put it in writing if I didn’t think you’d struggle.”

Despite the raging going on behind the closed door, Rob and Suzie relaxed a little; they weren’t arguing about the fact that both had been sexually unfaithful, it was just a row, the kind that can happen anywhere.  Perhaps it had started with the revelation of their infidelities, but Rob imagined Kev would have kicked their apartment door in by now in the search for the man who had intruded on his turf.

They entered their own apartment and closed the door, muffling the dispute by putting it between two walls.  Suzie put on some music, cranking up the speakers to drown the last of the sound out.   They looked at each other awkwardly; neither could think of anything to say and were still on edge, waiting for the trouble in the other room to spill over into theirs.  Suzie busied herself reorganising the items on her bedside table while Rob went to the kitchenette and rinsed cups and plates that were already clean.

After a little while longer they heard the slam of a door and determined footsteps padding away: Kevin’s.  Suzie turned the music down.

“I’ll go and see if she’s okay.”

Rob waited in their doorway while Suzie tentatively knocked on their friend’s door.  When it opened he saw that Donna’s cheeks were flushed in anger, but she had not been crying; she was too resilient for that.

“Can I come in?” Suzie asked.

Donna indicated it was okay and Rob retreated, not wanting to be present while Donna was in such a state of heightened emotions, in case certain looks were shared, certain words spoken aloud.  He went to the walkway to see if Kevin was still visible, but he had stormed away so quickly he was already out of sight.

He took off down the stairs to look for him.

Rob found Kevin within two minutes, sitting in a tiny taverna near to their favourite pool bar.  He was the only patron, sitting on a creaking stool and gulping down beer from a frosted glass.

Rob gently patted his workmate on the back, fearing the worst, expecting Kev to turn and punch his teeth out.  When no such reaction came, Rob realised Kevin still didn’t know what had occurred between he and Donna.  He simply nodded to the stool beside him.  Rob ordered a beer for both of them.  He fished out his wallet and the brightly coloured camera case.

Kev clocked it with a smirk.  “That’s very you.”

“Ha ha,” Rob said weakly as he returned the camera to his pocket and paid for their drinks.  He took a mouthful and asked tentatively:  “What was all that about?”

“She’s just being a bitch for the sake of it.  She’s a right pain in the backside.”

“It’s a nice backside.”

“It’s alright.  It’s not worth all the fuss.”

“Women,” Rob said, hating the generalisation; knowing Kev as he did, there was no way that he was blameless in the dispute.

“You said it,” Kev agreed absently.  Rob watched him, wondering what he was thinking.  He’d never discussed his emotions or divulged his private thoughts.  Everything he did was with a macho front, but Rob knew there had to be something going on beneath the surface.  Kevin played the big man well, but there were cracks, quieter moments like this one that revealed something more beneath.  Did he ever show this side to the women he shared a bed with?  Had Donna seen it?

No, of course she hasn’t.  That’s why she likes you.

Rob’s phone vibrated in his shorts pocket and he checked the message.

“The girls think it’s a good idea to have a night to themselves.”

“Yeah, that’s typical of Donna, that is.  Getting her own way.”

“Buddy, that’s a great idea,” Rob said persuasively.  “You’ll both get to cool off, the girls will get to know each other better – ”

“Yeah, she’ll be poisoning Suzie against me all night.”

“What do you care?  Let them bitch, let her get it out of her system.  You can do the same to her and no-one will be any the wiser.  Plus, we’ll get to hang out, have a good drink.”  Rob knew to dangle the carrot of feminine wiles.  “We’ll even get to take in some of the local girls without worry of getting slapped by our ladies!  What do you say?”

Kev drained his beer and started on the second.  It took less than a moment to mull over the idea.

“Yeah.  Why not.”

Where to find this book
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Oceans-Of-Desire-Holiday-ebook/dp/B00CJ0BGW0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366992258&sr=8-1&keywords=oceans+of+desire+cameron+lincoln
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/310196

Bonus Excerpt: Keeping Kara by Chase Boehner

Earlier this week we featured the erotic work of Chase Boehner. If you want to read more of Chase’s steamy writing, then have we got a treat for you! We were thrilled when he gave us a bonus excerpt from his latest release, Keeping Kara, to share with you.  The book was released a few days ago, and if you haven’t read it yet, we’ve got to ask – what are you waiting for?! As always, Chase delivers the heat with this one and it has quickly found a place on our list of favourites. We hope you enjoy this bonus excerpt of Keeping Kara as much as we enjoyed the book:

Knuckles rapped on my door and I jumped. Sam was here. Time to get this thing started! I shook a little on the walk over. I was nervous as hell and my hands were like live wires jerking at the end of my goose pimpled arms. I hugged myself, willed my nerves to settle down, and then slowly lowered my arms down my sides. Finally, with every sense I had screeching at me, I reached out and flung my apartment door open.

Sam and Logan stood there together and were staring directly at me. I just stared back at them, incredulous. Why were they here together? This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to have time to slowly draw Sam into my plan and then have him help me convince Logan.

My heart felt like it was seizing as I ogled the men, stalling for time to collect my emotions. They looked like the right kind of sin. No suit for Sam today; just a black silk shirt that clung to his muscles and a pair of Italian jeans that cost more than my rent. Logan had on a plaid shirt, open halfway down his curly- haired chest. His jeans were old and worn, and a familiar bulge formed a thick outline in his crotch.

“Fuck!” I said.

“What’s the matter, Kara?” Sam asked evenly.

“Not what you expected?” finished Logan.

“Fuck!” I repeated.

“Do you have anything that needs shutting off?” Sam asked, looking past my agape mouth and into my apartment.

“Answer him, Kara.” Logan’s deep green eyes pierced me, demanding an answer.

“Just ummm…some…candles… you know, here and there.” Absently I pointed behind me, not able to look away from him.

“I’ll lock up here, Logan.” Sam pushed past me. “Get her into your truck and I’ll meet you down there.”

“What’s going on?” I said. Somehow I had lost control of this night, but I found it hard to care in their company.

“We’re going to give you what you asked us here to give you. But you’re going to get it our way, not yours.”

“But Logan, I had a plan and…”

“And now we’re moving on.”

Where to find this book:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Keeping-Kara-ebook/dp/B00C80BRPM/ref=la_B009YAPA1Q_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1365779536&sr=1-1
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/303305