Smutathon: for Rape Crisis Centres and the anti-censorship fightback!

The author, preparing for his twelve hour writing ordeal. Smut!

Smutathon is tomorrow!

It’s to raise money for two damn fine charities: Rape Crisis, and Backlash, which provides legal assistance for people being monitored under there UK’s demented censorship laws. 

As a non-Brit I’m supporting Backlash because the UK censorship laws are a thinly veiled pre-text for the government to filter their citizen’s access to the internet. That doesn’t just affect the UK (where about half this blog’s readership comes from) It affects all of us, as our governments will be watching the UK experiment. If they get away with it, then other governments will end internet freedom as well. 

So, as my contribution, I’m going to write for 12 hours on Saturday, pumping out as much sexual material as I can, of the kind many governments won’t like. =

What I’d like you lovely, lively people to do, please is go here, and support Smutathon, with your donation.

Do it now! For freedom! And for, you know, erotic Art. 


Sinful Sunday: Winning by losing


The wave had nearly crashed and toppled, carrying her with it in a swirling fall of white foam. She opened her mouth and yowled in celebration and terror. She was going to come, and it was too big, and she was too high to fall. 

Her Master’s voice. Far away at first, then shockingly close. “Time’s up! Stop!” 

She said, “Ooohhh.” The effort to control herself, to stop that orgasm in its tracks – she couldn’t have managed that, once. But she fought for and won control. For her Master. 

Her Master picked up the hairbrush. I’ll give you two minutes, then you can try again, darling. But … the next two minutes are going to hurt you.” She felt him press the hairbrush against her left cheek. So flat it was, and so hard. 

She braced herself.

Smutathon! For sexual freedom (including the right to say No!)

Smutathon – 1 July 2017! – is coming closer all the time! 

Smutathon is where a bunch of erotic writers around the globe get together, and type their keyboards out, creating lots of wicked but well-written smut. 

You sponsor us, so we know we have your wind behind our sails. The money goes to two absolutely essential charities,  Backlash UK – which provides pro-bono legal advice and campaigns for legal sexual freedom for consenting adults – and Rape Crisis England and Wales.

I’ve been thinking of what I’ll write.

I was going to finish the novel, but the closing pages of the book, as planned, contain no sex whatsoever. So instead I’m going to start a story I’ve been meaning to tell for a couple of years, about an incident in a bids club, late one night. Though that’d take more than 5,000 words, which is my target. So maybe I’ll think of a new, concentratedly sexy story, that fits 5,000 words like a glove. Drop in on 1 July to find out!

But you don’t have to wait to 1 July to visit to pledge or donate! Do it now! (Please.)

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 33

“Come here.” I rushed to him, and I couldn’t stop. He caught me and folded his arms round me. I lifted my head up and he kissed me. I kissed him. He had a strong face, with the stubble coming through. His breath smelled of mint. It felt so good. How long we stayed like that I don’t know, but then he stepped back just a little. He started to undo the buttons on my shirt. I just look at him, longing, while he undressed me, took off my tie, and then the shirt. I was naked, except for my shoes and socks, and my bra.  


I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here


Sponsor me! For Smutathon! For Rape Crisis and Internet Freedom!

The Smutathon Writathon is on 1 July! So – please – get your donating fingers limbered up.

Smutathon is a group of erotica authors, sex bloggers, sex educators and friends who have decided to raise some money for organisations we believe in.

On 1 July, we’re going to have a joint, international session, each writer writing for a solid 12 hours, producing the best steamy writing they possibly can. We’ll share some of our writing on our blogs as we go, and we may even publish an e-book anthology at the end.

We’re splitting the money equally between two amazing organisations:

1) Backlash

For internet freedom, and freedom for kinksters to write and produce images!

Backlash campaigns for sexual freedom for consenting adults and provides legal support for sexual minorities who are unfairly targeted by outdated and nonsensical “obscenity” laws. Among other things, they have been responsible for getting the ridiculous ‘tiger porn case’ (look it up) struck down, and for campaigning to get amendments added to the Digital Economy Bill to make it less harmful to consenting adults engaging in safe and victimless fringe sexual practices.

2) Rape Crisis England & Wales
Rape Crisis is a feminist organisation that exists to promote the needs and rights of women and girls who have experienced sexual violence, to improve services to them and to work towards the elimination of sexual violence. Rape Crisis Centres are women-led and offer a range of support, advocacy, counselling and information, and also have separate services for male survivors.

Please support us in helping these two brilliant causes. Sexual freedom for consenting adults and freedom from sexual violence are human rights.

To donate, go here

Sinful Sunday: Away from the light

Everything had been impact and flurried movement and cries while her Master spanked her. He’d used the hairbrush, because he liked the uncontrolled way she responded when the brush landed. But he’d put the brush down at last, when all she knew was sex and pain and heat. Now there was peace, of a kind. 

Her Master had said she had two minutes to come, or she’d get the hairbrush again. This time he would go a little harder. 

She could feel the sun on her left thigh, but she squirmed out of the light. Her fingers worked, her arm under her tummy, fingertips wet with her own arousal. Her body tensed, and she lost awareness of time, and space: she couldn’t have said where she was.

She pushed forward, her body riding her own fingers onward. Would she come before her time was up? She didn’t know. Or care. Only that sweetness, in her skin and in her cunt, driving her on, burrowing into that quiet and soothing dark.  



E[lust] 95: Hothouse flowers

Elust 95 Header
Photo courtesy of A to Sub Bee

Welcome to Elust 95

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #96 Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Size Matters

Driven to Distraction

Under the Sea

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

My London Bridge

A Kind Touch

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Organised Orgasms


Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

The Story of O (4) – Tears
Emotions and negotiations
Jeans genie

Erotic Fiction

Displayed & Defeated
Hangover Hunger
Broken to Be.
A Tarot Reading
Maddie’s virginity (last hours)

Erotic Non-Fiction

Spanking Miss S
Greedy Girls
Meet “Richard”



Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

When you know “I’m in love”

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Cocks ‘n’ cunts



Elust 88

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 32

I lay over the headmaster’s lap [said Maddie]. My bottom was still sore, really sore, from my spanking, and yet I was blissed out. I’d come twice while he stroked my cunt. He’d had his fingers inside me! I kept telling myself that, over and over, because it was such a strange thing, and so wonderful. It meant he’d wanted me as much as I wanted him. He’d looked after my pleasure. No one had ever done that for me before. I was his.


I’m going to have to cut here, though. This has been published and my publishers don’t want free competition from me. You can read it here

Triumph and the fountains of Rome!

I’m keeping to four posts a week, at the moment. I looked back a couple of years, back in this blog, and found I was doing seven posts a week.

They tended to be shorter, because I’d write something, get carried away as I always do, and it would turn out longer than I’d expected. So I’d chop it into two or three parts, and run them on three successive days. 

But now I’m writing a novel, and I’m keeping at it because I want to finish it soon. There are five parts, and the final part is expected to be relatively short. I’m on Part 5 now, and I can smell the finish line. I feel triumphant!

I’d like to do more discussion pieces, think pieces, for this blog.

But at the moment I can’t think of anything but Rome and a rich Scots girl, who paints but seems only able to sell her art to men who fancy her, and how she breaks through to a wider audience. I can’t afford to do any thinking except about how to make that sexier and funnier.

I just wrote a scene (for Part 4) in which the hero fetches his beautiful but mildly drunk girlfriend out of Trevi Fountain. It adds absolutely nothing to the plot, I think, but it belongs in the book just the same. 

In honour of that scene, here are some photos of girls in Roman fountains.

The top two are from a news story that said Romans were “outraged” to  find pretty underdressed girls in a fountain. Bullshit, I have to say. Possibly a couple of lemon-sucking Romans somewhere went all crinkly-mouthed about it, but Romans in general are overwhelmingly pro-pretty girl.They even seem to like underdressed, wet girls. Go figure.

Don’t let the Murdoch press (or Dacre press in this instance) tell you otherwise. In fact, don’t let them tell you anything. 

Here’s one I prepared earlier.