Smut by the Sea Snog (#177) - and a contest!

For today’s Sunday Snog, I’ve got an impromptu bit of flash fiction inspired by my recent visit to Scarborough for the fabulous Smut by the Sea conference. One of the great things about an event like this is that you don’t have to hide. You can be your deviant self and nobody will bat an eyelash. Indeed, in my Victorian costume—long black velvet skirt, frilly high-necked blouse, a cameo at my throat and a rose in my hair—I was far less extreme than many of my esteemed colleagues. Where else could I read an explicit excerpt (from Rajasthani Moon) about anal training using graduated butt plugs and elicit polite applause?

The kiss below didn’t happen. Indeed, the characters don’t exist, except as bits and pieces of people I met at the event. But I hope I’ve captured the ambience, the sense of acceptance, freedom and yes, erotic possibility, I felt that day.

For more kisses, visit Sunday Snog Central and your hostess there, the lovely Victoria Blisse. 

* * * *

She dressed like a whore. She wrote like an angel. My cock still ached, a full fifteen minutes after she’d finished reading her excerpt, a searing vignette about an anonymous fuck under a railway bridge. I had to pee, though, and we only had a ten minute break before the burlesque performance. By contemplating the the long, slow train ride that awaited me at the day’s end, I managed to get my equipment to subside—until I got to the unisex loo and discovered her ahead of me in line.

You know how it is in bathroom queues. You’re too embarrassed to talk. You look at the dripping faucet, or out the window, or at your shoes. In this case, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her ample tits, so artfully exposed by her corset-style top. She’d pasted her name tag across the bare skin of her left breast. Asking to be ogled.

She noticed my focus of attention and flashed me a lascivious grin. Mortified, I dropped my gaze to her black patent-leather stiletto heels. They only contributed to my swollen discomfort. Shifting to her shapely, stocking-clad legs or the hemline of her leather miniskirt didn’t help either. Finally, I looked into her startlingly green eyes.

“Tom, isn’t it?” My name tag had gone missing early in the day; how did she know me? “I read your short story collection a couple of months ago. Brilliant!”

“Um—gee—ah, thanks.” We authors are so articulate. “I—um—your reading was amazing, Isabella.” The act of voicing her name drew my attention back to her annotated bosom. Damn. I swear those tits winked at me. “Amazing. I want you to know—I’m a huge fan of your work...”

“That’s so sweet.” She stepped closer. Her patchouli scent swirled around me. My cock screamed for release. “I’m always so pleased to learn that my writing has the desired effect.” Her plump hand, with rings on every finger, fluttered downward to settle on the lump in my groin.

I sucked in my breath. Was I going to have to walk around for the rest of the day with a wet patch on my jeans?

Then she leaned in to plant her purple-painted lips on mine. I tasted tea and peppermint. I smelled the ocean. Gulls swooped and reeled in my chest. Her tongue flickered into my mouth—oh my God, was it pierced?—as she pressed her pillowy breasts against my tee shirt and ground her leather-covered crotch against my straining cock. I’m screwed, I thought, but dizzy with lust, kissing the sultry, inspired Isabella Black, I really didn’t care.

The bolt on the loo door clicked. Bella stepped backward, swaying on those fuck-me heels, just as the current occupant emerged. I didn’t recognize her, a petite, matronly woman with wild curls wearing a Victorian outfit, but she looked startled to see us. Only later did I discover my cheeks were smeared with plum-colored lipstick.

Bella Black leaned against the wall, crossing one trim ankle over the other, and smiled like the devil. She ran one scarlet fingernail down along my distorted zipper. “You can go first, Tom,” she purred. “I think you need it more.”

* * * *

If you liked this snog, leave me a comment. I’ll add your name to my newsletter contest, going on at my post from yesterday, to win a $5 gift certificate. And you’re welcome to enter on yesterday’s page, too, for two chances to win.