Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Celebrating Poetry - #NationalPoetryMonth #EroticPoetry

National Poetry Month banner

Did you know that April is National Poetry Month? Here it is, the last week of the month, and I haven’t done anything to celebrate!

So I thought I’d share a very old poem. It’s by no means my best work, but for some reason it has been running through my mind for the past few days. This was born of some real heartache. Like all good authors, though, I’ve taken the experience and used it in a novel. In Miranda’s Masks, my heroine is loved by a foreigner visiting her town, who all at once disappears from her life.

Also – I have been working on a FF short story based on one of my favorite poems, The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes. I’ve always loved the atmosphere of this piece, as well as the rhythm:

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.   
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.   
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   
And the highwayman came riding—
         Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

You can practically here the horse’s hooves beating against the cobblestones of the road.

Noyes’ poem is a tragic ballad. However, I intend to give my tale a happy ending. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile here’s my poem for you. If you want to read more of my verse, visit my free reading page on my website.

To Save My First Betrayer

By Lisabet Sarai

(Summer, 1975 - to DV)

you, too, I guess,
should be immortalized,
you with your foreign flairs,
your furry thighs,
and all your river-words
(your liquid lies)
that surged around me,
through me -

true, we
never mentioned
promises, no, never any -
many
sweaty, heavy velvet
dangled hours
were not so silent.

you in me,
such perfect style
and awkwardness in consort
grows to grace.
and how am I
to blotter out your face,
pieced out of the gloom
and hanging hair,
a hovered mask
of pleasure poised and rare
while down your words cascade
(a litany)
and shower
all my opening
like April?

every inch of English
I enjoyed,
every taste Italian,
every ride
upon your board, New Yorker
surfer boy...
too many
pigeonholes.
how could I ever know,
keep track of you,
believe that you would go?

(you at one gulp, too much for my innocent brain,
and meanwhile you had mind-washed me with rain.)

all in all, and always after this,
I think I'm learning what my problem is:
I look at things too simply, can't play chess;
I still think flesh is holy, more or less;
we fit so well, I thought that we would stick;
I want and give too fast, I melt too quick.

I replay all your loving, on and on -
my problem is, betrayer, that you're gone.





Sunday, April 21, 2019

Back List Blast: Valentine’s Visit - #menage #lgbtq #BackListBlast #giveaway


Today’s the last day of my Back List Blast. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I will be drawing the winners on Tuesday or Wednesday. Meanwhile, if you missed any days, you will find a full set of links to all the posts at the end of this one.

To finish in style, I’m featuring my most recent release, the latest in the Vegas Babes series: Valentine’s Visit: Four-way Friend Swap.

Jake and Fran and Ted and Annie celebrate Valentine’s Day—Vegas style!

When Jake and Fran are invited to Las Vegas spend Valentine’s weekend with Jake’s old friend Ted and his curvaceous ginger-haired wife, they’re not sure what to expect. The last time they saw Ted and Annie, at the Vegas couple’s pre-wedding stag party, the four of them had ended up in bed together. But maybe that was just a fluke. There’s only one way to find out.

Since their wedding, Annie and Ted have acquired some new kinks and a good deal more erotic experience. Annie has discovered she likes strap-ons and a bit of domination. Ted has been forced to recognize he’s into guys as well as women.

Will Annie’s double dildo scare Fran away? Will Jake balk at getting intimate with Ted? Only Cupid knows!

Excerpt

Fran told me you’ve got a new job,” Jake said, strolling over to the glass doors and gazed out at the glittering Strip. “This apartment’s pretty fancy, too. Great view!”

Life’s been good to us lately,” Annie said. “Anyway, we’re really delighted you could join us. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable.” She glanced around. “Don’t you have any luggage?”

The airline lost it,” Francesca replied with a pout. “How they managed that, on a non-stop flight, I have no idea. They think it’ll show up tomorrow.”

Well, never mind. We’re about the same size. You can borrow my clothes,” said Annie. And if things go the way I hope this weekend, you won’t need much in the way of clothing. Across the room, she caught Ted’s eye. He still looked nervous. Relax, love, she broadcast, blowing him a kiss. Relax and enjoy.

She turned her attention back to her guests. “Let’s sit on the balcony. Then you can really appreciate the view.”

Fran and Jake followed her through the sliding door. Ted brought up the rear. The condo faced east, away from the noise of Interstate 15. Now that the sun had set, the dry air was pleasantly cool. A light breeze off the desert stirred Annie’s curls.

The lights seemed much brighter and closer when they were outside. Franny hung on the rail, surveying the sparkling panorama. “Wow! There’s Caesar’s Palace! And Bellagio… And Jake, look, there’s the Desert Breeze!”

Famous as the venue for the fashionable Torelli-Williams wedding,” commented Jake, slipping his arm around his wife’s waist.

Can’t see the Holiday House, though,” countered Fran, leaning towards him for a quick kiss. “Site of the notorious O’Reilly-Thomas nuptials.”

Annie chuckled. “I’ll be out in a minute with wine and snacks. Unless you’d rather have beer.”

Beer for me, Annie-Belle,” Jake said.

Annie stiffened slightly. Nobody but Ted and her brother called her that.

Okay. Franny?”

Red wine, please.”

Me too,” said Ted. He still sounded odd. What was up with him?

When she returned with the refreshments five minutes later, the tension had thickened. Fran sat on the padded bench to the left of the door, still drinking in the view. Jake and Ted lounged in two chairs on the right, separated by a small table, carefully avoiding each other’s eyes. The only sound was the distant honk of cars on the Strip.

Annie set her tray down on the table and handed out drinks. Guess we’re all a bit nervous, she admitted to herself. We all know what we want. We’re just not sure how to start.

Ted and Jake eagerly helped themselves to canap├ęs, as if glad to have something to do with their hands. Meanwhile, Fran patted the empty spot beside her. “Sit with me, Annie.”

Cradling her wine glass, Annie settled down next to her friend. She sipped her wine. Now what?

Fran sidled closer, until their hips touched. “It’s so lovely here,” she murmured. “Thanks so much for inviting us.” She placed her palm above Annie’s knee, casually, almost as if the gesture were unconscious. The warmth of her touch easily penetrated the thin fabric of Annie’s skirt, making her shiver with arousal.

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Saturday, April 20, 2019

Back List Blast: Singapore Fling - #multicultural #eroticromance #BackListBlast #giveaway



Today’s Back List Blast feature is another volume in my Asian Adventures series. I’ve written quite a few multicultural stories. Singapore Fling is a bit unusual for me in that both main characters are non-Caucasian.

If you’re looking for an upbeat, funny, romantic tale, I recommend this book. Only $1.99!

And I know you must be bored with my reminders... but please leave a comment so you can win!

In the cleanest city in Asia, things can still get messy.

Thai entrepreneur Ploy Kaewkornwattanasakul has come to Singapore to close a deal. Ploy needs to convince tech whiz Jason Chow to license his ground-breaking innovation to her company on favorable terms. The future of her startup depends on her negotiating skill. When she meets Jason, though, she realizes she wants not just the invention, but the inventor, too.

Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and a bit of a rebel. He’s attracted to Ploy from the moment he sets eyes on her. However, he doesn’t dare respond to her advances, for fear she’ll discover his secret vice.

Ploy doesn’t understand why the sexy CEO has rejected her. She figures she’ll have to content herself with the cold comfort of a signed contract—unless the strength of Jason’s desire overwhelms his shame.

Excerpt

No sooner had Ploy pushed the dish away than a uniformed staff member rolled up next to her with a plastic bin of dirty utensils. It took no more than a few seconds for the employee to grab the bowl, balance it on top of a pile, wipe the table clean, and disappear.

Ploy glanced around the open space. Every table was full, most with multiple people, eating with single-minded determination. Clearly at the height of lunch hour, available tables were rare. Throughput was critical.

Probably she should vacate her table, but she didn’t like feeling pressured. Anyway, she’d just paid the equivalent of two hundred baht for a single bowl of not-very-exciting noodles. For that price, she could buy a full dinner in Bangkok. She had the right to sit here for a while.

She glanced around at the other customers in the busy, noisy hawker center, a mixture of shoppers and business people judging by their clothing. Most alternated between animated conversation and shoveling food into their mouths. Others sat glued to their phones, swiping away with one hand while manipulating chopsticks in the other. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry.

Three tables away, though, she noticed an anomaly: a solitary young man, reading a hard cover book. She couldn’t make out the title at that distance—it could have been in Chinese, for all she could tell—but whatever it was, it completely engrossed him. He was oblivious to the bustle around him, including the frequent accusatory looks he received from the cleaning staff.

A real, printed book! Ploy was surprised to see anyone his age opting for dead trees as opposed to a touch screen.

There was nothing remarkable about the man himself. A bit taller than average for a Singaporean, slender but not skinny, he had typical Chinese features. He wore the dark pants and white shirt, sleeves rolled up, that was the common business uniform in the steamy climate. His slightly shaggy black hair fell into his eyes as he bent over the book. A pair of dark-framed glasses and a phone rested on the table next to him.

Something about his utter stillness drew her, though. Attracted her, in fact. She found his focused concentration exciting. This was a man with a powerful will, a person who had no difficulty ignoring what did not concern him. A bit of a rebel, too, given his willingness to flaunt social convention in this aggressively polite city. Like her, he wasn’t about to bow to the unreasonable demands of his inferiors.

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Friday, April 19, 2019

Back List Blast: Fourth World - #paranormal #erotica #giveaway #BackListBlast


Fourth World cover
 
For a change of pace, today I’m featuring my collection of dark paranormal erotica Fourth World. Most of my work has happy endings, but these stories are more ambiguous. They’re also among the most sexually intense things I’ve written.

Please take the time to comment. You could win a copy of this collection, and maybe the grand prize.

Fourth World: Erotic tales of monsters, myths and magic
Dark paranormal erotica – MM, MF, MFM

Enter the fourth world - a world of lust and shadows, where anything can happen.

Obsessive passion and dark ecstasy mark these seven stories of paranormal desire from eroticist Lisabet Sarai. An undead couple hunts for beauty and youth in the history-drenched streets of Prague. A sex addict meets his fate in the embrace of a seductive monster. An innocent writer offers her body and heart to a century-old ghost. A spiritual seeker succumbs to temptation in the arms of a fearsome and greedy goddess. A kinky, blood-drenched threesome unfolds in a luxurious Bangkok penthouse. These tales conjure the magic of sex, and its dangers. Expect to be unbearably aroused and occasionally terrified. Do not expect happily ever afters.

Excerpt (from “Renfield’s Lament”)

Master Carl?My eyes trained respectfully on his scuffed boots, I stand back to let him enter. The door swings shut behind him.

He fists my hair and forces me to my knees. My cock surges inside my pants.

Don't speak unless I ask you a question, boy. Understand?

Yesyes, Sir.I feel vaguely guilty bestowing that honorific on anyone but my true master. Keeping my gaze straight ahead, where an impressive lump distorts his worn dungarees, I catch a whiff of gasoline and old, sour sweat. His hand goes to his fly. I hold my breath, my heart slamming against my ribs.

So you want me to cut you? That's what you said, right?

That's right, Sir.

He peels the zipper down and hauls out his massive, uncut cock.Suck me first. If you do a good job, maybe I'll get out my knife.

I have no opportunity to reply. He mashes the head of his dick against my lips, pushes them apart, and drives his rod down my throat. When I sputter and choke around the rigid plug of flesh, he draws back a bit, letting me gulp air into my lungs. Then he rams back in, but this time, I'm ready. I suck at him like a kid with an ice cream soda, swirling my tongue over his bulb and tickling the ridge beneath.

He groans a bit. His blunt fingers clutch my shoulders to hold me still while he thrusts. He's found his rhythm now, a hard, fast plunge followed by a slower withdrawal. My lips cling to the sleek, steely bulk of him each time he retreats.

Despite the funky smell of his jeans, he tastes clean, a bit flowery, as if he used perfumed soap. I'm reminded of themmy real master and mistressand all at once I'm on the edge of coming. I tense, knowing that's not permitted and my abuser senses the change. He's a serious Dom, despite his tough demeanor, attuned to his submissive's reactions. His hesitation gives me the chance for a deep breath and the urge subsides a bit, though my cock still throbs every time he fills my mouth.

I let myself pretend that the cock I'm sucking belongs to my master. He's longer and more slender than Carl, but I don't doubt he'd be equally rough. Cruelty is a habit for him. Closing my eyes, I picture him looming over me, his raven curls tumbling over his brow, his lips stretched in a taut grimace of pleasure. I've never tasted him, never touched him, but I know his skin would be cool and silky. His cock would be hard as a marble tomb.

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