Tag Archives: erotic stories

The End. The Flap. The Interview.

Good morning, my freaky darling. My kinky miscreants.

I have some good news, and some bad news. The good news is, I’m doing an interview! With SJ! The bad news is, this’ll be the last blog post. The good news: There’ll be a new one! You see, the Just Adult Blog site is almost up and running, so we’ll be doing the blogging thing on that site instead. This will mean a whole new blog, a new name, new writers, new content. We’re doing this because the Just-Kinky site is almost ready to open again, and will have a new logo, just as the JE will have a new theme and logo. Not only this, but the story site will be taking new submissions and publishing them. We’re also currently half way through transferring all the old stories, and we’ll be finished with that at some point in the near future. So, really, this blog can’t do all of that justice, and thus the move over to the JAB site. And, remember, that for all these sites you only have to register one, and that one log in will work for all three sites.

Throughout my time on this blog I have worked hard to avoid doing one thing, something I view as quite heinous. I’ve attempted to avoid nepotism. I’ve strived to be as neutral as possible, and I think I’ve succeeded (apart from a time or two where it was suggested to me that I do a post that allows me to divulge my nepotistic side). This post, however, is very special, and I thought I’d give in and just embrace it. So this post is dedicated to my wonderful SJ, author of the blog SJ’s Journey. I was lucky enough to sit down with her for an interview, where we talk about her blog. So, without further ado, here it is, smilies and all.

JV: Okay, well, let me start with the first question (because it’d be wholly revolutionary to start with the second question). Are you wearing any panties?

SJ: Ha! At this precise moment? No, I’m not. First thing I did after walking home was change, and the panties were discarded with quite a gleeful flourish. It was hot, you know.
JV: *Checks* I’m afraid it feels quite hot, down there.

SJ: The weather, I mean. You know, summer.

JV: *Looks outside, at the overcast sky and wind-blown tree* Yes. Summer. Ahem. So, let’s start (for the second time) with a bit of history. How did you get into blogging?

SJ: Oh. Goodness that requires some remembering. Well, I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, and posting stories and poems to websites for … 7 years or so, I guess. A few years ago I was a regular visitor to an erotic blog written by a British fellow, and I used to correspond with him quite a lot and discuss his blog. That was when I had my first thoughts of trying my own blog, but I was far too much a scaredy cat to make it happen.
JV: So what changed?
SJ: Jules. She’s a bossy fuckin’ thing, isn’t she? The idea was always in the back of my mind, and after a while Jules brought it to the front again.
JV: Ah, yes. I’m reminded of another time she brought something else to the forefront.
SJ: *Raises eyebrow*
JV: Your tush picture.
SJ: Ah. Yes. I remember that.
JV: Hard not to. I remember her plugging your bum on the JK forum.
SJ: I remember that too. Damned position. Position? Damned television making me write position when I meant petition.

JV: Maybe you should turn over to a less subliminally suggestive TV channel.

SJ: No. 😀
JV: :P. [Back on the topic of blogging] My understanding is that you were hesitant to do it. Could you elaborate on your thoughts, feelings on the matter?
SJ: Fear of commitment. Starting a blog would mean being committed to producing a piece of writing to publish regularly. And not only something to publish, something GOOD to publish. Something interesting, thought-provoking, or erection inducing. Part of me worried that I might expose myself as a terrible writing fraud, with cliché ideas that dried up after a few weeks.
JV: You didn’t, though.
SJ: I didn’t. I still have the same fear though. Every time a post something new I fly into a mild panic about how it may be received and whether it’s good enough. I don’t want to post for the sake of it, or bombard people all the time with stuff they don’t care about. I don’t want to be that person. So I still worry that I may become boring to people, even though I try very hard not to!
JV: Trust me, you succeeded. Something you said intrigued me: ‘or bombard people all the time with stuff they don’t care about’. Surely the advantage of a blog is that you can write about what you care about, regardless of what your readers think?
SJ: Definitely. The first person you should write for is you, I firmly believe that. However, if you take that writing to a public forum, and ask people to read it, then you do need to consider them. Once you take it to that forum, you are in part writing for an audience. If it were solely for your own pleasure, your private journal would suffice, no? 🙂
JV: Indeed. Let’s talk about content. You do stories, poems, talk about your own personal life, and do toy reviews.
SJ: I do yes I do!
JV: What is it you enjoy writing (about) the most? Do you have preferences?
SJ: Well, the research leading up to toy reviews is especially enjoyable …
JV: I’ll bet. Actually, since I’m sometimes privy to the research, I can vouch for that.
SJ: *Blushes* I like when you help me research.

JV: As do I 😉 

SJ: But the writing that I enjoy the most, just for writing, I’d have to say stories.

JV Howzat?
SJ: Stories are something different. They take on a life of their own, and I find myself immersed within them as I write. There’s this wonderful air of mystery, because I don’t really know where they’re going, or who my characters will be. It’s exciting to find that out.
JV: Tell me about your current story.
SJ: Oh, I couldn’t possibly. It’s a secret. *Shifty eyes.*
JV: *Pouts*
SJ: *Kisses your pouting lips* Top secret. National security, you understand.
JV: Well, could you at least give me a brief summary of what has transpired in this series of stories so far? Explain – as much as you can – what it is?
SJ: The Confessions series?
JV: Yes.
SJ: It’s a series of short stories following the personal life of a young woman who prefers casual relationships over long term committed ones. She’s a busy woman, she hasn’t the time, energy or inclination to commit to a relationship, but she’s also a very sexual person and unwilling to ignore those needs.

There’s a mix of fiction, fantasy, and my own experiences within the stories and within the main character, which I am having a lot of fun with. I’m using her, and her way of living to explore sexuality in society- what’s acceptable and what’s not, why that differs for certain people in society and how our choices affect us. At the beginning, she’s not a very sympathetic character, but as I write more, we begin to see more than just her sexual practices, and understand her a little more. I hope. That’s the plan anyway. And, of course, it’s about hot steamy sex. ‘Cause I like the hot and steamy sex. Very much. Ummm. Have I bored you to sleep?

JV: 🙂 Nope. I’m here. Wide awake. Surfing eBay, but wide awake.
SJ: lol

JV: I want to discuss your sex toy reviews, because that’s a relatively new thing.
SJ: Mmm-hmmm.
JV: I was hoping for more than Mmm-hmmm.
SJ: *Giggle* Is it new? I can’t remember when I posted my first one.
JV: The first was Ina.
SJ: Ah, sweet Ina. She’s a keeper.
JV: She is indeed. How did you start? Maybe a better question would be why did you start?
SJ: I think I sort of fell into it. I was finally rebuilding my toy collection after an ex threw my stuff out in a fit of anger a long while before, and I was really very excited to be doing so. I always enjoyed toys, though I lamented the fact many of them were not very nice to look at, or seemed … tacky. So when I ordered Ina, one of the first building blocks in my new collection, I was thrilled. She was a toy that was special; sleek and beautiful with great features to boot. I wanted to shout it to the world, that I had discovered what sex toys for women should be. Also, I wanted to brag: Ha ha! Look what I have! Weeeeee!
JV: *Snorts* I may discard that long paragraph, in favour of that last bit. Just so you know.

SJ: Ha ha.
JV: What? It’s more you.
SJ: Guess so.
JV: And things just kind of snowballed. Ina good way.
SJ: *Snigger* Yes, they did. I started doing a review for every new thing I got. It was fun! And people seemed to be interested, because they not only got all the techy details but an idea of the more … personal side of a toy review. Plus, I had an excuse to have more orgasms. Woo!
JV: *Shakes head, smiling* And then you did some for EF [EdenFantasys], too.
SJ: Yes, and another company too. I danced all about the house singing (badly) about how wonderful I am.
JV: Go on.
SJ: Free toys. Did you hear me? Free. Toys. FREE FRICKING TOYS! They were going to give me a toy, for FREE and all I had to do was what I had been doing all along anyway, and throw in a few links to their site. And the toys were free. Make a note of that.
JV: *Makes a note*
SJ: Essentially they sent me a list of products, I selected three or so, and they would send me one of those three to write about.
JV: This is EF or the other site you’re talking about?
SJ: The other site. But then EF got in on the act too. I was a bit of a slut, whoring my blog out to any company willing to give me free toys.
JV: Well, who can blame you? They’re free toys, after all.
SJ: FREE! And all mine! Mine! Mwahahahahahahhah
JV: 😀
SJ: I enjoy doing the reviews, and it seems people enjoy reading them. I’ll do them until I bore of it … which I cannot see happening in the near future. I’m going to investigate buying my domain name, so I can be free to run my blog as I please.
JV: That’s a very good idea. Do you have much to tell about that, or is it more a case of vague unformed (as yet) ideas?
SJ: Let’s just say I am researching my options and considering what I can to do improve my blog. I am of course open to ideas.
JV: And open to other things, too?
SJ: Oh yes, yes indeed.
JV: Good. What about in the future? Are you looking forward to any toys coming your way?
SJ: Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes! Oh gee golly whiz hell yes!
JV: I think that means you’re excited.
SJ: On December 28th I placed an order as a Christmas present to me. By some miracle I had money left over at the end of my pay period, and so I promptly set about looking at ways to spend it. A few days earlier I had spotted a new toy by a company I had not heard of. I fell in love .. so much so I actually dreamt of it that night. I also spotted a second toy that looked quite marvellous, so I bookmarked them, because I first wanted to ask a certain someone’s opinion …
JV: Oh? Whose?
SJ: My imaginary friend Freddy.
JV: Ah, yes. Freddy. I’ve seen him about, hanging out with Charlie the imaginary ghost.
SJ: Anyhoozelbees, they are in transit and I am giddy with excitement. I am hopeful for them to be here tomorrow, but definitely by end of week. If not, I shall be complaining loudly.
JV: (Yay!) I’m looking forward to reading about them. And seeing you play with them. [Post-interview edit: the toys have arrived, so you can look forward to some colourful reviews, readers!] In your blog you talk about, well, you. Do you have a problem with sharing some aspects of your life? Be they the sexual bits, or the non-sexual personal bits?
SJ: When I started the blog I had every intention of being completely open and honest and writing everything I felt like. I was excited about the freedom anonymity gave me. But it hasn’t turned out like that. I’m not anonymous, not really. A lot of my readers are people I have chatted to online for a long time, and there are several of whom I know in ‘real life’. And to be quite honest, even if I had perfect anonymity, I think I would still hold back the more personal things. It’s not me to throw it all out there, to lay myself bare. There are pieces of me, little bits of my soul in my blog because they are in my writing and I cannot avoid that. but for the most part I guard it, much like in the outside world.
JV: I can understand that. Do you think you ever could let go? Let your guard down?
SJ: On my blog? A little at a time. When I post a poem, that tends to be very unguarded. I think I am more likely to reveal myself in stories and poems than in a blog post talking to my readers.
JV: Fascinating. Why are you unguarded in poems? What is it about them that gives you that chance? Or do you choose to be so in poems specifically?
SJ: Poetry is not a choice for me. I bottle things up, that’s how I was raised. We do not show emotion, SJ, and most certainly not in public. Keep it to yourself. My poetry is the result of bottling one too many things.
JV Go on.
SJ: Poetry is that moment when what I am feeling, or what I have refused to feel, takes over. It’s not a thought process, the way stories are. There’s no going back to re-write or edit, I don’t stop and re-read constantly. It flows from me … quite often it feels like it is ripped from me, if the emotion is particularly strong … and writing it releases me from the hold that feeling has on me. Does that make sense?
JV: It does. And thank you for speaking so openly about it.
SJ: Ahem. You’re welcome.

JV: What else, if you have anything planned, can we look forward to from your blog?

SJ: A ‘lift the flap’ edition! Not really. But I do love ‘lift the flap’ books, and the term could be amusingly dirty on my blog.
JV: *Rolls eyes*
SJ: Except computer screens, they no have the flaps, you see?
JV: Well, you can get an accessory for iPads that offer you a flap.
SJ: My blog is not an iPad. I’ve been pondering what I might try next on my blog, but to be quite honest I can’t stop thinking about that package [sitting on the bed, as I edit this, being a numpty, causing troubles with the adapter and chargers – but there’ll be a blog about that from SJ, soon], and the fun I shall have in opening it and reviewing the things inside! I do have some new stories coming up, too, and I am hopeful of perhaps getting a guest poster, just for fun. 🙂
JV: Oh? Do you have anyone in mind for this guest poster?
SJ: Perhaps I do.
JV: Can you tell me?
SJ: No! Is a secret.
JV: 😦 Is it someone I know?
SJ: 🙂 It may be.
JV: Gah! I want to know!
SJ: *Chuckles mischievously*
JV: You’re mean!
SJ: I know.
JV: Hmph.

And this concludes the interview. I’d like to thank my dear, lovely, sublime SJ for taking the time to answer my rather mundane questions with riveting answers.

That’s it, it’s over now. I hope you enjoyed the interview, and the blog as a whole.

This is JV – signing off.


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Filed under Author's Spotlight, Events, Final Thought, Juicy News, Latest Titbits, Saucy Gossip, Stop Press!

Super Breasts, Awimbawe!

It was with great reluctance that I awoke this morning. This was because I was having a very good dream. I was playing the role of a mad scientist – because, to be honest, I do already have half the qualifications – and I was undertaking an experiment. You may ask yourselves, my kinky readers, my fellowship of the cock ring, what experiment was it? Well, I’ll tell you. I was wandering about my desk in a large laboratory, in a large lab coat, and in the centre of my laboratory was a fine specimen of a woman, strapped down to a table, a la Frankenstein. Like Frankenstein, too, there was a big conductor on the dome of my building – which, I now realise, was a prefabricated shed – with wires connecting that to a nice, shiny wall mounted switch. There was a loud crackle of thunder and, cackling evilly, I flipped the switch, and stood back to watch my creation come to life. I watched, eagerly, as the table was flipped into a vertical position, and the woman slowly increased in size. It was quite a sight to behold. I was creating a super woman! But, more importantly, I was creating giant breasts! I wanted super breasts! But, alas, just as those delicious porcelain orbs increased beyond FFFF cups, my alarm went off, and I came (sadly not in that way) crashing back to reality.

Which, I quickly realised, wouldn’t be so bad. That would be because, my dear readers, I get to sit down and write this. Because this week it is about Story of the Month! Yes indeedy. While I may not get super breasts, I do at least have an excuse to read some erotica.

This month’s offering is by Sureflirt, and his story ‘A Quiet Night Out, I Thought!’. In this story, the main playboy goes out for a quiet drink with friends, as his wife is at the bedside of her sick mother. So, naturally, this story is about him going out and getting laid. Maybe not the best way to ingratiate a character to the reader! But, still, it’s a relatively minor thing. What I did like was the overall story. He goes out for a drink, as I’ve said, and on his way home he decides to pop into a casino for one last tipple, and while listening to the pianist, he notices two beautiful, bodacious babes walk in. Okay, that may be a stretch of the imagination. They were written as quite beautiful, but in an elegant kind of way that didn’t make me feel pervy for thinking about two made up women. I am sure that, with this small description, I know what you’re thinking, and the answer, sadly, is no. There is no threesome. The perve in me certainly feels that the ball was dropped, but to be honest it does add a level of realism to it. I have been lucky, in my short tenure on this planet, to have participated in a threesome or two, and the setting that was described in this short story did not tally up to my own experiences, so if it did go that way it may have jarred my absorption into the story enough for me to pan it.

The dialogue is brief, which I find a good thing. It’s rare to nigh never that I’ve come across good dialogue in erotica – as it sounds like something a porn actress would say, clunky and with the emotional depth and passion of a mannequin (not disrespecting all mannequins, you understand. I’ve personally had some of the most intense and in-depth conversations of my life with mannequins. They blow me out of the water, that’s for sure) – but speaking of blowing out, the absolute best bit is the description.

I’m a slut for good, descriptive sex scenes. But, alas, I’m trying very hard to not give everything away! I’ve already divulged too much by saying it’s not a threesome. What I will say is this: That for the scene, the interaction between the two women – seen ‘off-screen’ – and later the interaction between the brief couple has the appropriate depth during sex. And I, of course, mean he fills her full and good! But what I found to be quite humorous was the narrative during the event. It had a slight dispassionate, informative view to it. As if it were not the first person view, but third person commentator feel. I kept on imagining that the great naturalist broadcaster, David Attenborough, was reading this to me. Especially when the narrative says ‘I mounted her’. ‘And the triumphant lion’, says David, ‘mounted the young lioness, to fornicate rabidly, until he finishes and walks away to eat his lion cub. Just as this viewer whacks one out. And in the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight. Awimbawe, awimbawe, awimbawe.’

I think I may have said enough here. I hope I haven’t put you off your porn!

A Quiet Night Out, I Thought by Sureflirt can be found by looking under the rocks, under the bed, and eventually by laying down pieces of food underneath a hanging trap, and then by finally clicking on the link.

Hope you enjoyed your stay, and hope, too, that you enjoy the story!

This is JV signing off.

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Filed under Story Of The Week/Month

You Can’t Handle The Tush!

To be honest, I am having trouble writing this particular blog. Not because of the subject matter, which I adore. Not because of the writing, which is incredibly top-notch. Not because of some distaste of the writer, whom I love, but because of the simple fact that I’ve been banned from talking about me! Seriously, I think I may die half way through the attempt.

So it makes sense, to my mind, that I should start off with the basics, and then lead into the main attraction – because, when you see it, you most likely can’t help but be attracted. I can’t. Every time I see it, I can’t help but imagine one big bull’s-eye on it.

Yes, hello, everyone, my kinky readers, my smutty sidekicks, my princes of Maine and my kings of New England – wait, wrong film. What’s the quote I’m looking for? Ah, yes. ‘Bow chika bow wow’. You see, it is this month’s Blog of the Month that I detail to you today. Now, eagle-eyed readers (or simply readers with very strong glasses that make them look bug-eyed) may notice my disproportionate liking of this, compared to the others. Well, sort of yes, and sort of no, and sort of maybe. I very much enjoy each blog that I choose for here – for otherwise it would not be Blog of the Month, it is merely that I am biased today. So why am I doing this? Simply because this one was suggested to me by Jules. I, personally, wanted to avoid calls of nepotism. I change my number, and block calls, but somehow Nepotism still manages to get through.

What is this blog, I hear you call? It is SJ’s Journey…By SJ. Now here’s a run down of the site, before we get to the heart of the matter. Or, rather, the heart-shaped matter. First is the home, the listing of all the little (or big) blog posts, but we’ll get to that later. Next, you have the welcome. The very nice and thoughtful hello! enthusiastically waved at a computer screen. This is a singular area, which perfectly highlights her as a person. She’s, well, all over the place. Her words, not mine. In one moment, she could be talking about sex and vibrators and orgasms, and the next she could be talking about thieving elves and chocolate – and eating chocolate giving her orgasms. Not sure how that works. Maybe there’s a phallus-shaped chocolate bar? King size, baby! *Eyes up my princeling size*. She talks about whatever’s on her mind, but, as you can see, she is always brutally honest and upfront. 

Next, is her ‘This is me’ segment. Because that picture up at the top isn’t her. She’s in technicolour in real life, I assure you. This gives you a bit more detail about her – well, it should do, after all. It would hardly be fitting if it said ‘this is me’ and then detailed Johnny Depp. Though make no mistake, that is always a distinct possibility. Next is the Contact Me button. In which she states ‘I would love to hear from you. Your thoughts, opinions, reactions. Especially your reactions.’ Now, I don’t know what reactions she means, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean she wants a voice recording of you on point of climax – *gets silken whispers in my ear* oh, she does? Huh… Then there are two categories: ‘Erotic Stories’ and ‘Poetry’. I’m sure you can figure out what these are for. Though if you wanted confirmation yourself by reading them, I certainly could not blame you!

Now on to the heart of the matter. For frequent visitors to the site of Just-Kinky, you may already know the story, but if you’re not, then you may enjoy this: Several months ago, SJ and Jules were talking, not sure what about, I’m not psychic – or, you know, a stalker. But for some reason it went on to the subject of SJ’s tush. She loves tushies. She has a particularly fine one of her own, and she likes to see how many tushies she can get away with pinching at any given moment. Jules, in her greedy ways, wanted to see SJ’s arse, which she did. Then she wanted SJ to show it to the world, to which SJ snorted and said no one would want to see it. Jules, understandably, baulked at that, and said people would. In a joking manner, the irascible Aussie (for SJ is an Aussie. And irascible to boot) said that if she got a petition of 75, that she would show it on her blog, thinking that no one would sign it. But people did. 75 people signed it, and the result was a very delectable selection of photos of The Buttocks. Beautiful, isn’t it?

Of course, there are other posts. Very good posts, for SJ is one of our best writers, at the JK, and her style of sensuality and humour make every post a joy to read, so I feel quite guilty for pin-pointing just one, whereas I could just close my eyes and select one at random, and I know it’d be good. But you’ve no need to take my word for it, go look for yourself! And now is a particularly good time to start reading, for she is a connoisseur of sex toys, and she has a habit of leaving reviews, interwoven with very personal stories of her interactions with them – and at this very moment? Well, she has just ordered a couple…

That’s it for this week, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Here, my friends, is the link to her sexy little blog.


Filed under Blog Of The Month

I Wandered, Pondered, As Lonely As A Cow.

Morning, my frisky little readers! Let me tell you about a little event, a story of childhood hijinx. I was maybe eighteen, or nineteen? Doesn’t matter, I’m making it up. I went out with some friends, looking for this new nightclub. The problem was, we chose to have a few drinks at the pub beforehand, and our designated driver, and the only person who knew where this club was, had drunk too much. Too much! He had passed out on the pool table just as I was about to make my winning shot. Okay, maybe I’m not remembering that bit so well. No time in my life have I ever had a winning shot, but I was quite drunk at the time so I’m claiming my skill level increases per unit in my bloodstream.

We elected to walk, mainly because we couldn’t find the keys (we found them later stategically placed in someone’s rear, I’m not saying whose, but it might have been me). We searched all over the small town, until we came to this odd looking barn, which gave us hope, if only because it meant a nice place to sleep. But it gave us hope because this club was a converted barn, and we saw lights emanating from it. Being quite late, those lights dazzled us, blinded our thought process so that, instead of a wet and wild party, music making your whole body vibrate and body parts swinging out at unnatural angles in simulation of dancing. But we didn’t see a mass of bodies clung together, where you can cop a feel without anyone knowing it was you, no, what we saw, well, we wouldn’t actually be able to figure out what we saw for quite a while, and even longer before we believed it, but a farmer, and his cow, getting carnal. I’m sorry to bring that up, but I want you to know the pain I felt when, several weeks later, I sat down to have some breakfast, when it suddenly became clear to me. And do you know how I figured it out? Because, as I was sitting down, I poured some milk on to my cereal, and the milk was from that very same farm. To this day I have never drunk milk.

But I digress. For obvious reasons, we ran. Had to, even though we couldn’t quite figure out why, but we ran, long and hard, even though we were being chased by a farmer with his dungarees halfway down over his ankles while being lowed at by either a very grateful cow – or a very disappointed one, if the farmer was a selfish lover. On and on we ran, until we came to a fence. Most of us elected to jump over the fence, but that wasn’t good enough for Jim. Good old Jim, he knew that I was quite short, and knew that my knee wasn’t quite heeled from a knock, so this gentlemen, this god of a man helped me. He helped me by ramming himself headfirst into the fence, yelling, ‘where the hell did that fence come from?’ but I’m sure he always knew the fence was there, and yelled it for comical effect. His heroic charge left a gaping hole that I nimbly jumped through, but now Jim was in trouble. He had landed in a very large pool of water. Which would be fine, except for one problem. Jim couldn’t swim.

Jim was my friend, still would be if he hadn’t died in a tragic fishing boat accident. He was playing poker one night, losing quite a lot, when he suddenly found that he had two kings, with two Jacks, with another  two on the table. He laid down all he had, even the fishing boat he had inherited from his dad. He laid them down, confident of his victory. He went in to collect his winning chips, including his boat slip, when this mastermind of a poker player, let’s call him Javvee, put down his own cards. He had a straight flush. Jim was livid. He stormed out, intent on destroying the boat, denying the winner his prize. He took a cricket bat to it, swinging as hard as he could, forgetting that it was a fiber glass hull and would be impervious to his humerous yet ineffectual hits. But he went on regardless, swinging and cursing, until one misplaced swing hit the mooring line, freeing the boat, and his swing was misjudged, overbalancing him. He fell into the water, but that didn’t kill him right away so I ran him over with my new boat. Honestly, how rude is it to damage someone else’s boat? I just got that thing!

So, heedless of the dangers, regardless that it was night and I could barely see a thing, his splashing and yelling were enough to guide me. I dived in head first to help my friend. Piercing the water with my svelt diver’s body, I was surprised to be stopped by a devestating blow to the head. I was in trouble, I was underwater, disorientated, air blown out of my lungs from the terrible hit, I thought I was going to die. For a split second I wondered what had happened. Had Jim hit me with a flailing limb? I didn’t know, but my attention was diverted to the fact that my feet had found the bottom, and I kicked up with all my strength, and in less than a second I had breeched the surface, exhaling first to get rid of the water and air in my lungs, then breathing in gratefully. My feet found purchase and I stood, and in my daze it took my a while that I was standing on the bed of the mere, and that the water didn’t even reach my nipples. I stared at Jim, anger seething through my veins, egged on by the throbbing pain in my head. He flailed about heedless, until he finally sunk beneathed the surface, only to return, standing at his full height, a look of puzzlement and abashed embarrassment marring his features. My lips worked themselves, trying to bring voice to the myriad of words that I wanted to say to him, but all I could make out was the angry hiss of, ‘you cunt.’

I exited the lake to a chorus of guffaws and we made our way down the road, very much lost now. That was, until we found a country lane. We kissed the asfalt in gratitude, kissed the roadsign saying ‘Bacca’s Place’, and so happy were we that we jumped up and down and, picking a random direction, ran as fast as we could, knowing this was our way to freedom. It wasn’t. It was, however, a dead end. Feeling lost and dejected, we dived through a gap in a bush, no longer caring where it took us, and for an hour we wandered around in a field, with no idea where we were or where we were going, until we saw a clearing up ahead. And beyond that, another road! We were saved! Again! Eagerly, we ran to it, kissing the asfalt again and kissing the roadsign that said ‘Bacca’s Place’, completely forgetting that it was the exact same sign, the exact same place we had come out of earlier, and picked a random direction, the opposite of the one we took last time, and within five minutes we had found civilization. Or rather, we found a barn, and in it, was a very lonely looking cow.

So you may be asking yourself what this blog entry is about. Well, I’ll tell you, and not just because I’m 1200 words in and still haven’t gotten round to it. Another thread, one severely underused in my opinion! What are you working on now?

 I am always curious to know what other writters are currently working on so here is the thread!! What are you presently working on? Share!!!

Says Woman, the author of the thread, commanding us imperially to share with equal measures of impatience and excuberance that is her hallmark.

One of the latest offerings is from Lucy in the sky:

Now I’ll either start with the second part of ‘Fairy Tales & Single Tails’, the silly/supernatural adventures of Roxy the two-legged sexual revolution, a story a bit like Alice in Wonderland but with less rabbits and more (divine) cocks.
Or I finally start with an idea about a boarding school I’m pondering for a long time now.
Whatever it will be, it’s gonna be full cheeky chicks, wet cunts and red bottoms. And love. That too.

Oh my, yes. I’ve always liked boarding school! I remember, once, when I went to a sports event at a boarding school. They had hired cheerleaders for before the match, to go around asking people to buy raffle tickets for some charity or other, but I wasn’t really paying attention. For I was walking around the gift shop with my sister, looking up scarfs for Christmas, when two blonde bombshells walk up to us, all lithe and cheeky grinned, mini skirts that were short enough to be belts. Don’t get me wrong, I approve of such clothing. Not very smart for a November morning, but still. They had very nice legs. Yes, I was able to stop myself from staring. I check them out before they come close enough to spot my eyeing them up, that way I avoid such awkward moments. ‘Would you like to buy tickets for the half time raffle? It’s for a good cause.’ one asked of us kindly, flashing a wide grin and batting their eyelashes. My hand was already in my pocket, not touching myself up! but getting my change out, agreeing, it was for a good cause, after all, on the cusp of saying something incredibly witty that would inevitably end up with them removing those belt skirts of their, when my sister said in a tremulous voice, ‘erm, yeah but we need to get some change off our daddy.’ I’ll stop there. What was this we, she was on about? I had change! It was in my hand! And what was with the ‘daddy’? She’s nearly thirty! But I figured it out. She did it on purpose! The cheerleaders admitted defeat and bounced, literally bounced, away, and when I tore my eyes away from their juicy derriers, I looked at my sister, who was grinning evilly. She did it to deny me my prey! That was harsh. Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.

But I digress yet again. The thread in question, over at Just-Kinky, asks its members to post little tidbits of their next story, but sadly it is entirely underused. So I urge you, my kinky readers, to get posting! I’m horny, damnit, and want to read!

But for now, I leave you with one more link, to a woman who has all manner of kinky thoughts going on in her head, and it coincides with the topic of this blog, too. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you SJ’s Sneak Preview. It certainly got me hot under the collar. So naturally I had to strip!

Toodaloo, y’all kinky ones!


Filed under Latest Titbits

In The Spirit of Christmas Giving…Write A Dirty Poem!

Okay, so it doesn’t have to be dirty. Hello, good morning, or good evening or good night, for all of you around the world. Of course, you don’t need me to tell you how time works. You can just look out the window! I’d look out my window, but it’s not the best example of a clean window. I tried cleaning it, but it’s an uphill battle, and several months into the job I just gave up and started calling it a stain glass window. But we’re not here to talk about my bad cleaning habits! We’re here to talk about Christmas!

Specifically, what Just-Kinky is doing for Christmas, and even more specifically, what its members will be doing for Christmas! Because, my kinky cosmopolitan drinkers, JK is running a competition, to determine whose story will be the Best Christmas Story or Poem of 2010. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t have to be erotic in any way, shape or form, although it would be nice for it to be dirty, we are quite kinky, you know, just imagine what A Christmas Carol would have been like had the three ghosts of Christmas were there not to teach Scrooge the meaning and spirit of Christmas, but to hop into bed with him and teach him the meaning of a foursome. Well, if you want things to go bump in the night, you would want to do it properly, with gusto and elbow grease. At least I hope it’s elbow grease. Where was I? Ah, yes. Of course it doesn’t have to be naughty or erotic in any way, but neither does it not-not have to be erotic. It can be as kinky as you want! In fact, make sure it’s kinky! Have Scrooge get buggered in the night! Have Santa come down the chimney and, while he’s putting presents under the tree,only to find the milk and cookies are being brought in by an even better treat-a lonely, buxom house wife with a twinkle in her eye and a hint of a mischievous smile flashing across her lips. Deciding this would be in the spirit of Christmas giving, Santa gives her another present in the form of a shapely, well bearded man and, nine months later, the lonely, buxom house wife gets another present-Santa Junior. Ah. Maybe next year the lonely, buxom house wife should ask for a condom, instead!

Perhaps it would be best if I moved on and told you about the other things before I turn this blog into something worthy of entry into the competition. Poems. Yes, something I am absolutely useless at, so something perfect for me to talk about with a great degree of authority! Winter Wonderland poems. Now, I have no idea what that means, so I’ll let someone else do the talking, channel them, all psychic like, through me, so that they write with my fingers, in control of my hands. I wonder if my other person controlled hands would be so kind as to explore parts of me, and not just my keyboard? (At which point, one hand raises itself from the keyboard and promptly slaps me upside the head)

Never mind, then. Hello, this is Jules being channelled into JV’s hands. After washing them for five minutes, I am now sat here at this typewriter (a typewriter with a wireless internet connection), here to tell you about these here poems. Yes, I write with a Texan accent. Just imagine Jesse James reciting Shakespeare, or saying;

‘Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?

Maybe later.

Shall I compare thee to spring’s awakening,

the bloom bursting forth sending sweet scents and colour into the world?

Maybe later.

Shall I compare thee to the hooker on the street corner?

Wait, you are the hooker? Oops.

That poem is copyrighted to Jules, and any who attempt to copy it and pretend it to be your own, shall get a thorough spanking. Moving on. These poems, written like any other ordinary poem, but it’s Christmas themed, hence Winter Wonderland! It’s like that old song we learnt growing up…

JV’s chestnuts roasting on an open fire,

Jack Frost nipping at your tits,

Yule log rammed, up your buttocks, by a choir,

And people dressed up like dominatrix Eskimos.

What, did no one else sing that growing up?

Ah. My hands are my own, and they run up and down my skin with years of experience behind them. Should you not want to craft a finely worded prose or put pen to paper to give life to a story about little elves making themselves a sexbot in Santa’s workshop, then fear not, for entries to the competition are not made solely in the rhyming verse of poetry or the sultry words of stories, but Romantic letters, or dedications. A romantic letter, but to what? Christmas? Your spouse? Your spouse at Christmas? Did you wrap them up in wrapping paper, put a bow on them, to be opened at midnight of the 25th? I find your flair for the dramatic and spirit admirable, although you might not want to forget about air holes. Unless you like having sex with a corpse. (See munting for details and advice on how best to do it). Have you ever wanted to write a love letter to your spouse, but never known what to say? Tell them how much they mean to you. Write it down, share memories of times gone by, memories of happy occasions. Write it down, and send it to the JK. Because we want sex and plenty of it! Sex, romance and all the magic of the holidays, all themed around Christmas! Because that is the time of year where we men show our lovers how much we love them, by having a quick fumble up against the dinner table as the little kiddies play with their new toys. I think you’ve figured out that I’m not all that great at writing love letters! I’ll leave it in your very capable hands.

Alternatively, you could write a dedication. A way to express how much you love them, preferably in bullet point form, listing examples of how amazing they are (you don’t have to take me seriously on that part), or, again alternatively, write a little dedication to your favourite blogger, who may or may not be saucy, and a man. Just throwing that out there (you do have to take me seriously on that part! It’s lonely here, being shackled to this typewriter). Think of a Christmas moment with your lover, it could be anything from snuggling up on the couch with an open fire crackling in the background, and you’re not sure if it’s that, your spouse, or the warm feeling of contentment inside keeping you warm. Know that feeling? Lucky sod! It could be that this is your first proper Christmas together, and you want to say how much they mean to you and, while you’re at it, garner kudos for having the best Christmas story/poem/letter/dedication of 2010. Just for bragging rights.

Want to hear more about this competition? It’s really quite simple. First, while you don’t have to be a member, it would be nice for you to sign up, and that’s free and easy. If you want to have your story looked over by an editor of the site, just drop it in here and someone will get a hold of you.  Once you have ironed out all the editing, then, you simply go to Story Submissions, write it there or copy and paste it from somewhere. No, it does not accept post it notes, you have to copy and paste from computer files. The competition is already open (Ready! Set! GO! Go start writing! What are you waiting for? Go go go!), you can go there any time within the next month, until the 5th December when it closes. Your entry will not be posted immediately, but rather on the 6th December, where it will be found in our new Holidays Category. At which point the members will vote and rate comment on their favourite entry (I say vote, really it’s just Jules going ‘eeny meeny miny moe’). The top three, two runners-up and the winner, will be announced on the 2nd of January, so plenty of time to read lots and lots of sex inspired Christmas stories! I think I may not be the only one ‘enjoying’ them! And don’t worry, if you have many stories or different entries you want to publish, then go right ahead! You’re encouraged to enter in as many forms as you like, how many times you like! Really, we’re just greedy people looking for as many erotic stories as possible, so feed our habit!

In the words of our illustrious leader: Let The Fun Begin And Get Writing!

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Because Self Promotion Is In This Season

This week, I have the pleasure to discuss a story by a dear friend of mine, Woman. Seriously, that’s her screen-name. I know, not very  imaginative, but at least it’s anatomically correct, as I hope she is, too. Now, she goes by many names; Woman, China, Middle Kink (because she lives in China), Amazon Woman (because she’s freakishly tall-honest, when she walks up to you, you think there’s a lunar eclipse, then realise it’s her…at least, that’s what she claims… I’ve seen no proof of this), Ms funny Pants. Actually, I don’t know why they call her that. I’ve seen her pants. They’re not at all funny. Can’t tell a joke for all the tea in China.

Today, I write to you all about the First Week of November’s Story of the Week, “Self Discovery“, Just-Kinky.com. Now, I should point out, because Woman has been haranguing me for completely missing the point when I wrote the review for it, that Self Discovery was an older woman telling the story to her journal to be left behind for someone to read. Which is technically true, although I didn’t get that at the time, it felt like a blog, by an older Woman (I’ve promised not to say how much older – I’ve already got one stiletto up my tush for just asking), and blogs can be read by younger people. Luckily I’ll be proving a little taster at the end, just for you!

Story Of The Week is a little extra of the site, where our reviewers write a little something for The Inside Story. It just so happens that my review is of Self Discovery, so I’m going to be very self aggrandizing now and show you that one, too! Woman may be a very good writer, a very experienced writer, but this is her first lesbian story, so, naturally; I promised to be overly critical and cruel, but, alas, I simply could not do it. As she is incapable of writing a short story to save her life, with even her version of a wham-bam stories being over 10 pages long, you’d best settle in for the long haul, but I promise you it’s so well worth it.

So, who wants porn? Who wants lesbian porn? Who wants lesbian porn right now?! Are you watching it, reading it, thinking about it? I am. Is it bad that I’m getting turned on by my own blog? I haven’t even written anything overtly sexual yet. Go read! Go read now! Now, I’m being shameless in my linking, or rather, Woman is being rather shameless in her linking, because every minute she finds a new link, invariably of her work (shameless self promotion, terrible. If you want to hear more on self promotion and my thoughts on the subject, please visit my website...), but I would indeed be remiss if I didn’t include this blog, as it tells you some of the back story, the behind the scenes. Unfortunately, it doesn’t provide all of the behind the scenes, she doesn’t provide pretty pictures, but it does include an excerpt from the story, one of the best parts (Or so I’ve been told). Just think, this story almost wouldn’t have made it because it was almost lost in a move. And then we’d have no story. No blog. No hours of being annoyed by Woman…oh, how I wish it had been lost, now!

To end this blog on ahigh note, I decided to sing you a little something:

Oh, my old man’s a dustman,
He wears a dustman’s cap,
He peeked in through the keyhole,
And rogerfied the cat.

Okay, I’ll stop. Instead, how about I put up that little snippet I promised you? Here it is!

I just wanted sex. I wanted a release. I wanted no attachments. I just wanted a mindless fuck a few times a day to take the edge off, to deal with the stress. What was so bad with that?


My mind snapped back to visions of her lips on my body. Her body arching filling my mouth more with her pussy. Her softness. The way her body responded to mine. The way that my body responded to hers.

I didn’t want complications in my life. But Anna Quinn… now she… was a complication.

With my mind now drifting to the memory of earlier that day in the change room, my body again awoke with a vengeance.

Remembering her soft hands as they ran over my naked shoulders adjusting the straps of the bikini I was trying on, her finger as it slid up over the low bow tie of the bottoms. And most especially remembering the way my body responded to hers and how wet I had gotten at the touch of a woman. A woman.

My hands roamed my body as I remembered her lips as Anna whispered in my ear about how amazing my hard nipples looked in the mirror, her lips on my ear lobe and my body melting into hers with her hands circled my naked waist and sliding them down over my electric blue lycra covered mound. Her teeth nibbling upon my ear lobe, sighing when she spoke to me about wanting to know if I was waxed, shaved, trimmed or had a bush. Her hot moist breath over my ear, her hands toying with those bows on the bottoms; where just one tug would have them falling from my body and have my naked pussy on display for in the mirror. I’d be standing there in just a bikini top with hard nipples poking. I so wanted to be naked at that moment.

Without a warning, her lips had found my neck, I felt her teeth upon my flesh. With each nibble she took of my neck, goose flesh spread further over my body and I melted all the more into Anna. I couldn’t help myself.

My hands while I lay there in my bed, were pinching and twisting my nipples, and I could feel my pussy tighten and my juices leak from my hole towards my ass. Moving my hands to push my breasts together, my knees bent and spread wide, my pussy lips I could feel them part while my hips squirmed.

My mind whirling with the memory of earlier today, my body with its pent up frustration of being played with in the change room with no release and the current John Doe flavour being a dick… my body was on fire. I needed to cum. I wanted to cum. Hard.


Do you want to, now, too? I know I do. I think maybe now is a good time to leave this blog, leave you to it, and, well, you can guess!

Click here to read Self Discovery the whole story from start to finish.  Curl up with a glass of wine, your favourite sock or your favourite toy. Read it to your friends tonight!

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