Sunday Snog #134: A Breed Apart

Today I've got a kiss from my taboo erotica story, A Breed Apart. In this Gothic tale of decadence and temptation, a ruined governess travels to the isolated mansion to instruct the angelic child of a dazzlingly beautiful couple. Little by little, the shockingly lascivious Peter and Rachel entangle poor Joan in their erotic snares. As a fallen woman she has little to lose – until they reveal their terrible secret.

This story was written expressly for the Coming Together: Tabooty  imprint. Tabooty is an ebook line of single titles featuring taboo relationships, inspired by Amazon.com's blocking of certain titles due to the nature of their sexual relationships. The Tabooty line features erotic fiction considered taboo by current social standards. This includes not only incest but unusual fetishes and/or sex with clergy. Regardless of the taboo, all material involves: (a) consensual relationships and (b) participants of legal age.

All proceeds from the sale of Coming Together: Tabooty titles benefit the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom Foundation.

After you've recovered from my excerpt, slide on over to Victoria's for more Sunday kisses! 

Lost in my fantasy, edging ever closer to my crisis, I did not notice the lull in their salacious symphony. Only when the door opened, revealing my gasping, half-clad form to Rachel's amused eyes, did I realize that my own vocalizations had given me away.

"Joan," she murmured. Shame leaped up to consume me. I snatched my hand from my cunny, miserably aware that my woman-scent hung in the air like the exhalation of a beach at low tide. "Come in, darling. We've been expecting you."

She grasped my wrist and drew me into their chamber. I was too stupefied by embarrassment to resist. Her skin was pure satin on my bare arm, the most delicious sensation I'd ever experienced. It was some moments before I realized that she was completely and gloriously naked.

"I - I - I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I didn't mean...um - please excuse - the door...."

"Hush," she said, enforcing her command by pressing her lips to mine.

Lightning arced down my spine. Thunder beat in my ears. I would have collapsed had she not crushed me to her pillowy breasts. Her ripe mouth tasted of strawberries and rain. Her tongue wriggled between my lips like the Biblical serpent, tempting me with new knowledge. A part of me watched, horrified, as I allowed her to deepen the kiss, screaming warnings when I circled her trim waist and stroked the silken firmness of her swelling buttocks.

I refused to listen. When she slipped her hand inside my wrap and pinched my nipple, I moaned into her mouth and ground my pubis against hers. She laughed like a naughty child. Taking my hand once more, she guided it to the soft curls that shielded her sex. It was like touching myself. I burrowed into that damp nest, seeking the hot, hard bead of flesh I knew I'd find there. She gasped, sucking my breath into her lungs, as new liquid gushed around my probing fingers.

Every caress I lavished on her slick quim I felt myself. I knew exactly how to touch her, how to wring those lovely moans from her plump lips. I could measure her excitement by my own. I knew she was mere breaths away from her spend, because I was also.

Her slender body tensed. She clenched and shuddered around my hand, drenching me in her fluids. The wave of her climax caught me up and swept me into my own whirlpool of pleasure. Swirling, thrashing, dizzy with delight, I clutched her sweet, warm flesh as pure sensation threatened to drown me.

Soft warmth cocooned me as I returned to my senses after my tumultuous crisis. Rachel cradled me against her exquisite bosom, crooning a wordless melody in my ear. I drifted, amazed that I was still standing. My lust simmered. She combed her fingers through my tangled locks and called me beautiful.

A rigid bulk suddenly pressed itself into the seam between my buttocks. "We knew you were the right choice, Joan." Behind my back, Peter chuckled as he eased off my robe and tossed it away. Hardness conquered softness. My banked desire flared anew.

REVIEW: Playing Dead

PLAYING DEAD by Robert Buckley

Coming Together Tabooty Series, 2012

If you've read any of Robert Buckley's erotic fiction, you'll know that he's a dedicated proponent of the sexual creed, “Anything goes – as long as it's consensual”. That philosophy is stretched to the limit in Mr. Buckley's amusing and arousing Tabooty tale, Playing Dead.

Mike Garner's a former investigative journalist who loses his job when a sleazeball media mogul buys his rag. To make ends meet, Mike signs on with his former colleague Zeke (who quit the paper day the change of ownership was announced) working as a driver for Zeke's limo service. Zeke's business is booming. He provides discreet, customized transportation to individuals with unusual sexual desires, taking them to safe locations where they can indulge their fantasies. Mike ends up carting around adult infants, furries, rubber duckies, “schoolgirls” headed for an encounter with their “headmasters”, willing cuckolds, Druids – pretty much every kink imaginable. His tolerance nearly snaps, though, on the night he and Zeke are called to drive a refrigerated hearse full of what appear to be dead bodies.

I don't want to spoil the fun by revealing how the plot works out, though I guess I can share the fact that the evil tycoon and his female sidekick get what they deserve and Mike discovers that even the oddest fetishes can be a turn on under the right conditions.

Playing Dead is plenty sexy, but the real payoff in this story is Mr. Buckley's brilliant dialogue and arch social commentary. If you're familiar with his work, you know you can expect a wry laugh or two along with the bonking. If not – well, you're in for a treat.

All proceeds from the Tabooty series benefit the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, an organization that works for acceptance of alternative sexual lifestyles such as BDSM and polyamory. It's difficult to imagine a more appropriate beneficiary for Playing Dead.

I Like It Like That!

By Gia Blue

Yeah, baby... Come on, you know you’re shaking it with me, right?

No? *sniffle* Fine.

But, if you’ve read my stuff, I DO like it like that. I like it naughty and taboo and especially...for charity. Yeah, didn’t think I’d say that, did you?

I admit, I love writing sexual scenarios that can make some people cringe and others squirm in their seats. When I first heard about Coming Together, I knew I had to join their ranks. If they’d have me. ;)

Luckily, Alessia Brio saw through my writing mistakes to the genius that is Gia Blue. She also has a wonderful editor, Will Belegon.

And ABOVE all of that, they donate the proceeds from Tabooty works to the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, an organization that fights for our rights to get freaky in the bedroom and retain our privacy in addition to educating law enforcement officials about the communities they represent.

Plus, Amazon totally kicked incest topics to the curb and this line is a quiet “Pft!” at them.

But the focus is on the charity guys! Go protecting our rights to tie each other up and spank her ‘til her bottom’s red! Or him. Because manlove is totally hot.

*ahem*

But in all seriousness, Coming Together has done amazing work, has attracted fabulous authors and donated thousands of dollars to various charities over the years. From the ACLU to the Woodhull Freedom Foundation, the authors and Coming Together have donated more than just money, they’ve donated their blood, sweat and tears for their various causes. And ink...can’t forget the ink.

So, in hopes that you’ll support *my* cause, here’s a brief excerpt from my short story Tabooty: Bad for Daddy.

**********************

"Come on, Jake. Let me audition at least, and then you can decide. I promise I'm good. Really, really good."

"I can't watch one of my daugh-"

"But I'm not." I cut him off and hop onto the stage. I'm not taking no for an answer. "Turn on the music and you'll see. I swear."

I bust out with my signature "I swear" just for him. I'd "sworn" about everything when I'd lived with him and Betty. Only, Betty never believed me. Jake always did.

He sighs heavy and I've got him. Boo-yeah. He glares at me, but moves to the wall with the sound system controls, flips a switch and a sensuous beat fills the room. It's not what I'd perform to if I was on stage, but strippers are also dancers and I need to learn how to adapt.

I listen for a moment before I move. I've got to mix in stripping off clothes with the pole, a flick and tug of cloth, a seductive smile, sliding the cotton from my shoulders to reveal my tiny bikini top beneath. It barely constrains my breasts, flesh spilling from the sides. I cup my tits for a brief moment and then swing around the metal, show off my assets. On every turn I make eye contact, lick my lips, wink…something to entice him.

I slow and then stop to peel off another layer, tiny skirt disappearing, leaving me in nothing but a thong and the top. Down to the basics, I focus on my dancing, lean against the pole and touch myself, my breasts, between my thighs.

My gaze is still on him, on his cloth encased legs spread wide as he slumps in his chair, on the way his t-shirt clings to his muscled chest and the rapid rise and fall as his rate of breathing increases. Yeah, he's affected.

I spin and my top is next, strings snapping, and my tits are covered by my hands alone. I knead and toy with them, nibble my lower lip and I don't have to fake the pleasure I feel.

God, I've had a crush on Jake for forever. My first tingle of arousal at thirteen was to the thought of him. What I'm feeling now is way beyond a tingle. My pussy aches and tightens, grows heavy and I know I'm soaking the bit of cloth between my thighs. Prepping me for being fucked.

Then again, I've never been fucked, so I'm just guessing. Yeah, virgin, stripper, whore.

I reveal my breasts, watch him lick his lips, and I continue my visual foreplay, dance and gyrate, tempt and tease. The music moves me, tugs and pulls my body this way and that.

I moan, hands wandering over my heated skin, touching those delicate, pleasure-inducing places. I want so damn bad.

I put a hand between my legs, stroke my folds, pretend I'm masturbating…thing is, I really am. I'm really teasing my clit beneath my thong, toying with the nub while I pinch my nipple and bring my arousal higher.

More and more I'm giving myself, lost in the dance and Jake's gaze.

"That's enough."

I open my eyes, surprised, and a little pissed, that my orgasm was snatched from me. Damn it. I pull my hands from their playgrounds and work hard not to glare at him.

"I can't hir—"

"I didn't show you my lap dance." I'm determined. At worst, I don't get hired. But at least I'll get to touch him as an adult, feel him at least once and get him the fuck out of my system.

"Holly…"

"Just one dance, Daddy," I drop my voice to a purr. "And then I'll go."

**********************

Oh, by the way - I'm giving away a $25 gift certificate to All Romance Ebooks to one person who comments. You can buy a lot of dirty books with that amount - and support a lot of good causes! (Don't forget to include your email address in your comment!)

BIO: Gia Blue writes smut because she's been cursed with an unbelievably dirty mind. Every erotic thought has her putting pen to paper and then releasing the stories to all of the naughty people in the world. A self-proclaimed whore, nympho and ex-stripper now that she's traded her pole for a Mac. She's embarked on an important mission to convert everyone who reads her books into jolly, one-handed readers. She'd shake your hand, but it looks like you're busy.

For two FREE short stories, join Gia's mailing list! http://giablue.com/freemailinglist/