Sunday Snog 256: Truce of Trust (#polyamory #menage #bdsm)

Happy Sunday to everyone! Per tradition, I have another kiss excerpt for you today. This one’s a luscious bit from my polyamory story Truce of Trust.

When you’re done reading my snog (and you’ve recovered your senses!), head to Victoria’s Sunday Snog Central for more sexy lip locks.

Blurb

How can a woman choose between her husband and her Master?

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

~~~~

“I’m home!” Leah’s voice rang through the silent house. No one answered, but she noticed the screened doors to the deck were open to the balmy September breeze. Someone must be around.

She parked her overnight bag near the door, dumped her briefcase onto a chair and headed down to the basement. Daniel was probably in his studio; he wouldn’t have heard her.

Two doors faced her at the foot of the stairs. Leah cracked open the one on the right, peeking inside. She didn’t want to distract her husband if he was in the throes of a creative fervour.

Daniel hunched over the synthesiser, his eyes closed, while his nimble fingers danced across the keys. Headphones nestled in his lush, black curls, sealing him away in his magic world of sound. He had the face of a Renaissance poet, elegant features harmoniously arranged—finely drawn cheekbones, strong nose, arched brows, sensual lips. His buccaneer moustache offset the androgyny of his countenance, giving him the air of a rake, and indeed, he could dream up some extravagant mischief when he chose. Now, though, he was focused inward, listening to the melodies in his head.

Love clutched at Leah’s chest, as it always did when she beheld his beauty. She ached to touch him. She imagined herself standing behind him, resting her palms lightly on his shoulders, feeling the shift and surge of his muscles as he played. She wanted to brush that stray curl away from his pale forehead, to run her tongue down the side of his neck and along his collarbone where it disappeared under his Led Zeppelin T-shirt. She would reach around to his chest, circling his sensitive nipples as her own tightened and throbbed, challenging him to ignore her caresses if he could.

Instead, she simply watched him, marvelling at his grace. She was about to shut the door and leave him in peace when his green eyes snapped open.

“Leah!” He tossed the earphones onto a pile of sheet music beside him. “Why didn’t you say something?” In an instant, he was in front of her, cradling her against his chest. “God, I missed you.”

He swept her into a kiss whose intensity confirmed his words. His mouth locked onto hers, his lips soft but his tongue brazen. He tasted of coffee and tobacco, his two vices while he was working. His passion melted her, as it always did. Her legs turned to rubber. Hot juices pooled between her thighs.

His swelling erection prodded her, through his jeans and the fabric of her dressy trousers. He reached between their bodies and unzipped her. His long fingers slipped into the opening, wriggled under the elastic of her panties and came to rest nestled in her bush. He moved his fingertips in gentle circles across her pubis in an intimate, teasing massage.

“Did you miss me?” he murmured, close to her ear. Leah tilted her pelvis, working without success to bring her hungry clit into contact with his roving fingers.

“Of course,” she replied, cupping his bulk in her palm to seize the offensive. It was true. In the middle of the afternoon’s editorial meeting, she’d had a sudden, highly distracting vision of Daniel lying naked on their bed, stroking his cock. Mr. Jamison, seeing her flush, had inquired sharply whether she was feverish. She had to excuse herself to go splash some cold water on her face.

Did Daniel actually jack himself off while she was at work? She ran her thumb over his denim-covered hardness and was rewarded by his shudder of pleasure. His potency still astonished her, after ten years of marriage. He was the only multi-orgasmic man she’d ever known. He might well have relieved his tension during the afternoon and still be stone-hard as he was now. “But you didn’t wait for me, did you?”

His finger slipped between her swollen lips and brushed the tip of her clit. She gasped, circles of pleasure rippling out through her body from that hidden centre. He was driving her crazy.

“Do you mind?” He bent to her lips again, this kiss more yielding, almost a supplication.

Leah lost herself in his arms. She parted her thighs, silently begging him for satisfaction. Inside the tight confines of her panties and trousers, Daniel’s skilful fingers worked their magic. Sensation built upon sensation, every touch a new thrill as he stroked, kneaded, and pinched her flesh. A climax coiled in her pelvis, tighter with every moment, the delicious ache making her jerk and writhe on the fingers that impaled her.

“I never get off without thinking of you,” he whispered in her ear. At the same time, he plunged his hand deep into her cleft. His words and his fingers together sent her spinning off the edge. The knot of tension suddenly unravelled, sending tendrils of pleasure whipping through her. She jerked and shuddered as delight exploded in her sex then expanded to include her whole being.

Leah would have slumped to her knees if Daniel’s hand had not still been embedded in her crotch. He wiggled his fingers, waking echoes of her cataclysm. When he was sure she could stand, he pulled his hand out of her damp garments. Grinning, he licked each of his fingers with a flourish.

“You’re outrageous.” Leah sank into a convenient chair, still a bit shaky.

“You inspire me.” Daniel unzipped his jeans. “See what I mean?”

Sunday Snog #169: Truce of Trust

My snog today comes from my ménage tale Truce of Trust. This story actually has its roots in my own experience. At one point in my life I was involved with two very different lovers, each of whom wanted me for himself. Ultimately, I did make a choice—but I’ve always fantasized about another solution where I didn’t have to.

Not that the men in this story really resemble my two lovers. Well, maybe a bit...

When you’re done with my Sunday kiss, head over to Victoria’s for more lusty lip locks.

Truce of Trust Blurb

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

The house was dark and quiet. She wondered where Daniel was.

She worried about the two of them, alone by themselves. She knew they wouldn’t physically harm each other, of course. That wasn’t either of their styles. Would they continue to argue, when she was not around to be influenced? Would they simply hunker down and ignore each other?

She couldn’t afford the luxury of concern right now. They were adults. They could do as they pleased.

She threw her bag in the back seat of the Corolla, climbed into the front, and paused for a moment. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

“Leah.”

Daniel’s face was at the open car window, mottled with shadows. She smelled alcohol and sweat. He reached for her arm. She let his hand rest on her bare skin for a few moments before gently extricating herself from his grasp.

“Let me go, Daniel.”

“Please, Leah, don’t leave. I’m sorry that I let him get to me. I should know his tactics by now.” His speech was slightly slurred. “I should think with my brain, not with my cock.”

“I have to get away for a while.”

“Let me come with you, then. We could go down to that B&B in Newport, the one on the cliff. The one with the champagne...”

Leah couldn’t help but smile, remembering that naughty, romantic evening. “No, Daniel. I need a rest. From both of you.”

“You’re not going to meet him somewhere, are you?” His suspicion cut her to the quick.

“No, of course not. Don’t you trust me?”

“Well, yes, but...” There was quaver in his voice. Great, now she had made both her lovers cry.

“I’ll be back as soon as I figure things out. Meanwhile, maybe you and Greg should think about the future. The present arrangements don’t seem to be working very well.”

Her desperation must have been audible. Daniel sounded frightened. “You’re not leaving us permanently, are you?” Her desperation must have been audible. Daniel sounded frightened.

“I don’t think so. I don’t know, Daniel, I don’t know anything. I don’t know what to do, about you, about us, about any of it.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then he opened the car door and took her in his arms. “Kiss me goodbye, at least,” he murmured. It was a languid, endless kiss that turned her body weightless. She was floating on some cloud, laced with lightning.

When he released her, she almost pulled him back into another embrace. An ironic smile shaped his handsome mouth. “Have a good time,” he said. “And don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.”

He watched in the driveway as she pulled away, his lithe, loose-limbed figure painted red by the tail lights. The lonely image glowed in her mind as she headed north.

Seasons of the Heart

I grew up in New England, where the march of the seasons more or less demands your attention. The exquisite stillness of a landscape smothered in snow - the tender green tracery of new leaves on skeleton branches – balmy endless twilights, full of the succulent aroma of the neighbor's barbecue and the cries of kids playing ball in the street – achingly blue October skies arching over flame-hued hills – the changing weather and moods of the northeastern US have imprinted my soul.

My stories are often set in New England, and almost always in a particular season. In Almost Home, my heroine and heroes are snowed in together in a rural Massachusetts farmhouse after a record-breaking blizzard. Truce of Trust unfolds at high summer on the glorious rocky coast of Maine. Necessary Madness, set in the gritty industrial city of Worcester, Mass, begins in the bleak chill of November but warms toward the holidays. Mastering Maya unfolds in Boston, a bit earlier in the autumn. And my romantic erotica novel Incognito takes place in late Spring, in one of my favorite places in the world, the historic district of Beacon Hill.

I choose the season, like the setting, to mirror the tone of my tales. Incognito traces the emotional and sexual awakening of a woman scarred by an early betrayal. It makes sense that the events in the novel should take place during May – the “lusty month” according to Rogers and Hammerstein – a month of growing heat, ripe with possibility.

Hence it seemed appropriate to share a snippet of that book here in my post for the Spring Fling Blog Hop. The excerpt below is PG, but I hope it captures a bit of my heroine Miranda's vernal restlessness.

For my hop prize, I'm giving away an autographed print copy of Incognito. plus a bonus print book. Just post a comment below, including your email. Tell me which season is your favorite, and why. I'll randomly draw the name of one commenter on the 25^th of March.

Meanwhile, use the Rafflecopter link below to be eligible for our amazing array of grand prizes:

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You can enter at each blog you visit. The more times you enter, the greater your chances of winning! For a full list of links to participating blogs, go to:

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Incognito by Lisabet Sarai

Blurb 

Shy and serious by day — insatiable by night.

Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.

During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.

 
Excerpt

Miranda felt delightfully free as she strolled down Charles Street, enjoying the afternoon. It was only May, but already the trees were in full leaf, dappling the brick sidewalks with patterns of shadow. Girls passed her in tank tops and shorts, legs and arms bare and already burnished with sun. She felt warm in her long-sleeved pullover and overalls.

She loved this district, with its historic buildings and narrow lanes. Most of the townhouses dated from the middle of the previous century. They offered a delightful jumble of architectural detail; wrought-iron balconies, fanlight transoms, stained glass, mullioned windows, Corinthian columns. Many of the brick-fronted buildings were draped with ivy. Some were traversed by aged trunks as thick as her wrist, twining around doors up to the many-chimneyed roofs. The tall windows offered glimpses of chandeliers, Oriental carpets, Siamese cats, and bookshelves that stretched floor to ceiling.

In Beacon Hill, gas lamps lined all the streets, burning day and night. Her own apartment looked out on a private alley, flanked by ivy-hung brick walls and lit by gas lights. Miranda appreciated the irony of her living in an environment that dated from the same period as her research. Perhaps, she sometimes thought playfully, I had a previous life as a Victorian matron.

Most of Beacon Hill was entirely residential, but Charles Street was lined with shops and cafés. There were many vendors of books and antiquities; Miranda loved to rummage through the crowded, chaotic shops, savouring the atmosphere of the past, although she rarely made a purchase.

She entered one of these places now, a dim, comfortable space half below street level. She had to duck her head as she entered. A silvery bell tinkled to announce her arrival.

The proprietor, an energetic, fussy old man with wire spectacles, knew her by sight. “Hello, hello,” he said as he emerged from a back room. “Can I help you find anything today?”

Miranda smiled. “No, thank you. I’m just browsing at the moment.”

“Well, if I can be of any assistance, just let me know.”

Miranda wandered happily through the shop. It was much larger than it first appeared, with several rooms stretching backward into the building. The front room, near the street, was crowded with furniture of obsolete categories, armoires, commodes, carved dressing tables surmounted by triple mirrors. There were other rooms with porcelain, jewellery, cutlery, iron fittings, tarnished brass. Finally, Miranda found herself in the book room.

Books were piled everywhere, in boxes, on shelves, in pillars that reached up from the middle of the floor. Although most were in English, Miranda noticed volumes in French, Russian, and Arabic. The room was veiled in dust, but Miranda did not mind. She loved the rich smell of the leather bindings, the tarnished gold embossing, the fragile texture of the old paper.

Rummaging through a box of miscellaneous tomes, she made her find. It was a leather-bound diary, about the size of a modern paperback book. There was a brass lock, crusted with verdigris, but it was broken. The leather strap that had sealed the diary shut now flapped about ineffectually.

The paper was wonderful, thick and ivory-toned. Miranda rifled through the heavy pages, which turned lazily under her fingers. She found no sign that the diary had ever been used.

Miranda wondered about the age of the volume. She held it to her nose, smelled oiled leather but no mildew. The cover was plain, save for a manufacturer’s imprint too small for her to read in the dim shop.

She wanted it, suddenly, knew that she had to have it no matter what the cost. She made her way back to the front of the shop, where the proprietor sat behind his desk.

“How much are you asking for this?” she asked, trying to sound offhand.

The little man took the diary and turned it over and over in his hands. “A hundred dollars,” he finally said.

Miranda knew she would pay that, if she had to, but something made her object. “A hundred? That’s outrageous! There’s no text, so it has no historical value.”

The shop owner pursed his lips firmly. “It dates from the eighteen-eighties,” he said. “This is a real antique.”

“The lock is broken,” Miranda insisted. “And corroded. I’ll give you fifty dollars.”

The watery blue eyes behind the wire frames looked at her fixedly. She stared back, unfazed. Finally, he shrugged. “All right, fifty dollars. It has been in my collection for years; it is about time that I got rid of it.”

Miranda felt inordinately pleased with herself as she took her prize back to her apartment.

She put the diary on her bedstand and sat down at her desk, determined to work. She felt somehow uncomfortable returning to the text from A Maid’s Tale, so instead she started reviewing and organising her notes on other manuscripts. For several hours, she doggedly tried to make progress, but her thoughts were scattered.

Heathcliff sat on the corner of her desk as he often did when was working, his owl-like eyes unblinking as he watched her shuffle papers and scribble notations. Normally he didn’t distract her, but now she found his curiosity and intensity unsettling.

Restless, she prowled around the apartment. Dusk was falling. Her senses felt stretched, amplified. She could hear a dog bark half a block away, smell the garlic being fried by her Vietnamese neighbours upstairs. She threw open the window to the alley and leaned out, breathing the soft, fragrant spring air. Spring fever, she thought, but she knew this was a fever of another kind.

Finally, she gave in, picked up the card she had found in the raincoat, and dialled the number. She held her breath while the line rang once, twice, three times. She was about to put down the receiver, almost with a sense of relief, when the line was picked up.

It was a recorded message, a melodious, controlled female voice. “Welcome to the Fantasy Factory, where you can build adventures from your dreams. We offer an exciting, safe environment where adults can explore, and fulfil, their fantasies.” Miranda listened, learned that Wednesdays were fetish nights, Fridays for couples only, Saturdays and Sundays open to all. She noted the address, in an industrial area on the fringes of the city, then hung up. She was breathing heavily.

Almost as if she were sleepwalking, she drifted into Lucy’s room, and opened her closet.

****

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Sunday Snog #107: Truce of Trust

Happy Sunday!

My snog today is from my M/F/M BDSM polyamory novella Truce of Trust. I haven't posted anything from this book in a while, but recently I gave away a copy as a prize, and I was reminded of how much I love this story.

When you've recovered from my excerpt, head over to Blisse Kiss Central for lots more delicious kisses.

How can a woman choose between her husband and her Master?

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

Leah stood before the door to Greg’s room, her palms wet and her heart slamming against her ribs. It was always this way—the almost sick feeling of excitement that she associated with him.

He opened the door before she could knock. His hearing was amazingly acute, like all his senses.

“Ah, you’re back, little one.” Six foot four and solid as a tank, Greg towered over her. Everything about him screamed power—the corded biceps straining against his shirt, the tree-trunk thighs, those velvet-brown eyes that pierced her soul, catching every nuance of emotion. His soft, rich voice mesmerised her. She had the urge to kneel at his feet, but before she could act on the impulse, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them.

He pressed her body against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head. He needed only one huge hand to hold her fast. With the other, he unbuttoned her blouse. He peeled her bra away, revealing her brazenly rigid nipples. He pinched one of the protruding nubs, hard enough to make her yelp. Moisture gushed into her already sodden panties. He bent to lave away the pain with his hot mouth. Blessed relief flowed through her, only to be shattered by his teeth closing down on her flesh.

“I can smell you,” Greg crooned. “I could smell you coming down the hall. My little slut, come home to her master.”

“Yes, sir.” Some fragment of Leah’s consciousness cringed at Greg’s corny lines, yet they never failed to arouse her.

“But why are you wearing pants? You know that I want you to always be accessible.”

“Sorry, but I had a meeting…”

“No excuses. Take them off, now. Before I tear them off.” He released her wrists. Leah unfastened the waistband, pushed the trousers to her ankles and kicked them into a corner.

“Panties, too. I would think that you’d know better, by now.”

Greg’s voice was gruff, but he was smiling despite himself. His smile grew broader as she bared her sex to his fierce gaze.

“Turn around. Lean forward and put your hands against the wall. Spread your thighs.”

Her heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt. She could scarcely breathe, she was so aroused. She leaned into the wall, glad for the support, and arched her back, presenting her bare buttocks as he had taught her to do.

Her naked skin registered every motion, every shift in the air. She knew he was watching her, admiring her as yet unmarked flesh, making her wait. She sensed his own excitement, held in check. She felt the weight of his will, bearing down on her.

Would he spank her? Give her a taste of the crop? Most of his toys were stored in his dungeon, but she didn’t doubt that he kept one or two implements of punishment here in his bedroom, just in case.

Would he unsheathe his oversized cock and fuck her?

Her mind whirled, every vision lewder than the last. Without a word from him, without a touch, her lust rose to the boiling point. Her juices overflowed, dribbling down the insides of her thighs. She blushed, knowing he would not miss this detail.

One thick finger swept through her drenched folds. It lingered for the briefest instant on her aching clit.

Leah cried out, trembling on the edge of orgasm from this single touch.

“You’re amazingly wet, slut. But then you always are, when I’m around.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me what you want. Should I whip you? Tie you up? Shall I bugger that tight ass of yours?”

“Whatever you wish, master.”

“But what do you want?” Greg knew that the shame of admitting her kinky desires only fanned the flames of Leah’s arousal. In the past, he’d made her beg him to do terrible, obscene things to her. Then he had satisfied her desires. At this moment, though, her only wish was to please him. How could she explain that?

But then he saw. He understood. He brushed aside the red-gold locks trailing down her back and then planted a kiss at the base of her neck. Leah shivered at the wet caress. Fresh moisture swelled in her sex. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmured, licking his way down her spine, reaching around front to cradle her breasts and massage her nipples. “Really mine. My own little slave, to use and abuse.” His tongue found its way into the crack between her butt cheeks and circled her sphincter. “To fondle and to fuck.”

Leah arched back, opening herself to his mouth and his hands. Her whole body vibrated with pleasure.

He pulled back, leaving her poised on the brink of the precipice.

“Well, what I want, slave, is for you to come. Come for me, Leah. Now."

*****

You can buy Truce of Trust from Totally Bound, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or All Romance Ebooks.

Back List Blast: Truce of Trust

Truce of Trust by Lisabet Sarai

M/F/M BDSM ménage erotic romance

How can a woman choose between her husband and her Master?

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them? 

Excerpt

The three of them sat out on the deck, finishing off the second bottle of wine and enjoying the residual warmth of early September. The air still smelled of summer, ripe raspberries and sun-browned grass. In the woods that edged of the yard, night birds called. A crescent moon rose over the tree tops. The strains of Bach’s "Musical Offering" filtered through the screen from inside, mingling with the bird song.

At least Daniel and Greg share the same taste in music, thought Leah dreamily. She leaned back in her chair, finally relaxed. She glanced over at her husband. His eyes were closed. He was lost in the glorious melody. As though he felt her scrutiny, he turned to her, his handsome face luminous with joy.

Greg was watching her, a gentle half smile on his full lips, with no hint of his usual mockery. Leah smiled back, grateful that he was acting like such a gentleman.

I'm incredibly lucky, she thought. Most women search all their lives for one true lover. I have two. Perhaps I should feel guilty, knowing that they have agreed to our ménage in order to please me. But all I feel is gratitude.

Hope and relief washed through her. Maybe this would work after all. They just had to adapt, to get used to living together. To give up some of their individual selfishness for the sake of group harmony. She'd been selfish herself, expecting them to suppress their natural jealousies and insecurities just to please her. She needed to be more understanding. It had to be difficult for them, sharing her. Both men were so dear to her - she needed to work harder to show them.

Greg stirred in his chair. "It's late, and I've got to work tomorrow. Finish your wine, Leah, and come to bed."

Daniel looked up abruptly. "Wait a minute. Tonight's my night."

"No, it's not. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she's with me. In case you've forgotten, this is Friday."

"That's not fair. She was away last night at her seminar. So she and I should be together tonight as compensation."

"Sorry, old man." (Daniel was three years older than Greg, who liked to rub that in.) "You know that's not how the system works."

"Well, perhaps we need to consider changing the system. Somehow it always seems to work out that Leah is away from the house on my nights."

"Please..." Leah stood, trying to intervene, but it was as though she wasn't there.

"I'm sorry, but that's not my problem. Anyway, you shouldn't be such a bad sport. After all, you had her to yourself for years."

Daniel snorted in exaggerated disgust. "To myself? Hardly! I couldn't make love to her without wondering if she was fantasising about you. I couldn't look at her without seeing the marks that you had left."

"Marks she asked for, don't forget."

"That's what you claim, at least." Daniel was sexually adventurous, but he had no interest in BDSM. Leah knew that he was truly perplexed by the power dynamics between her and Greg.

"Believe me, I can make her beg to be beaten," Greg said smugly. "Isn't that true, little one?"

Leah blushed fiercely, as embarrassed as she was angry. Of course, Daniel knew this about her, but still she didn't want to admit it out loud.

Both of them stared at her in mute accusation.

"Answer me, Leah." Greg put a hint of steel in his voice. Shivers of anticipation raced through her in response. Her deepest instinct was to obey him, but she resisted, silent and rebellious.

"Why do you put up with him?" Daniel donned his wounded boy expression, pouting under his moustache. "All he does is hurt you. He has no respect for you. I can give you all the love and tenderness that you need."

"You have no idea what she really needs," said Greg softly. His aim was true, as always. Daniel slumped in momentary defeat, then roused himself.

"If that's so, then why did she marry me?" he asked, playing his own trump card.

Leah had heard it all before, and suddenly, she couldn't take anymore. She turned her back on them and headed for her room, ignoring their voices calling after her.

Her overnight bag was still packed from her business trip. She pulled out the dirty things and threw in some clean underwear, jeans and jerseys. She was debating whether to bring a dress when her door opened. Stubbornly, she continued her packing.

Greg towered behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Where are you going, little one?"

"Away. Away from the two of you and your constant bickering."

"He started it, after all, with his claims about things being unfair." He bent to kiss her. She turned her head away, unwilling to be mastered, but he grasped her chin and pulled her mouth to his.

Leah didn’t want to surrender, but she couldn’t help it. She was dizzy with instantly kindled lust. He nipped at her lips, probed her with his tongue. He drank her in, consumed her. Between her thighs everything melted. The room began to smell funky, as though he already had her naked and open before him.

Without taking his mouth from her, he grabbed her nipple and twisted it, hard. Her body arched against his, the familiar pain quickly transformed to shimmering pleasure. He broke the kiss and looks down at her, shaking and helpless with desire.

"You're mine," he whispered. "You'll always be mine. You just keep him around because you're afraid to give yourself completely to me. Afraid of going too far. You don’t trust your own desires."

Leah had a vision of Daniel, his wine glass filled to the brim with vodka, filling page after page with angry, aching prose. There was a wrenching pain in her chest. They've grabbed my heart and they are rending it into bloody pieces, she thought.

This pain that had no sweet after-echoes. She tore herself from Greg's grasp.

"You're wrong." Her throat tightened into a sob. "I love him. It's different from the way we are, but it's just as real."

"If we were together, by ourselves, you'd forget him."

"NO!" His arrogance, sometimes so exciting, was nothing but frustrating to her now. "You don't understand. He's a part of me, just as you are."

He reached for her again. "I'd make you forget him, Leah. I'd beat him out of you." His voice was gentle, contrasting with the violence of his words. Underneath his bravado, she could feel his need.

Explore this unconventional romance - click here!

Beyond Menage

You want to know how it will be,
Me and him, or you and me.
You both stand there, long hair flowing
Eyes alive, your minds still growing
Saying to me
"What can we do now that we both love you?"
I love you too.
I don't really see,
Why can't we go on as three?

“Triad” by David Crosby
as sung by Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane
“Crown of Creation”, 1968

I've always loved that song, especially Grace Slick's rendition. Her husky contralto voice shimmers with sensuality as she invites her two lovers to consider the possibility of a three-way relationship. I recently read that the Byrds declined to record the song because they viewed its subject, a ménage  à trois, to be too controversial. In fact, the topic of this song is beyond ménage, which to me carries the implications of a one-time encounter. This is a song about polyamory – a long-term, committed, sexual and emotional relationship involving more than two people.

Polyamory appealed to me before I ever knew the word. I grew up in the late sixties and early seventies, the era of communes and free love. I read Stranger in a Strange Land in my teens and  recognized that Valentine Michael Smith and his “water brothers” had multi-way sexual relationships without jealousy. I found the notion both intensely exciting and inherently reasonable.

Society and the romance mythos both suggest that one can find a single individual who satisfies all one's needs: intellectual, emotional, and physical – one's “soul mate”.  This fantasy rarely proves true, many literary HEAs not withstanding. In fact, this ideal of exclusivity is responsible for the destruction of many relationships. One slip, one infidelity, is often enough to shatter a marriage. Suspicion, jealousy and possessiveness can do terrible damage even when there's no actual “other man” or “other woman”.  A polyamorous perspective recognizes that life may not be as neat as traditional romance – that you can truly love more than one person at the same time, and that in fact each relationship may provide different, but equally valuable, benefits and pleasures.

Although I've been married for over thirty years, I don't think that I am naturally monogamous. At one point in my life I was simultaneously (and openly) involved in serious relationships with three different men. I can honestly say that I loved them all. In the early years of our marriage, my husband and I actively pursued the notion of finding another woman or couple with whom we could bond emotionally as well as sexually. (We were not successful. I have a feeling that polyamory is not something you can create deliberately, that it has to evolve.) Even now, I am in close communication with several former lovers, though at this point (perhaps luckily) I live half a world away from them.

Polyamory may be reasonable, but in Western culture at least, it is anything but easy. We're conditioned to think in terms of possession, to use the terms “my” and “mine” in discussing our partners. Even more problematic is that fact that we've been brought up to believe that a person's capacities for love and for sexual attraction are finite. If my husband feels desire for another woman, does that decrease his desire for me?  If I take a lover, do I love my husband less? “Infidelity” may sometimes be triggered by dissatisfaction with one's current partner, but that's by no means always the case. A man can love both his wife and mistress, and be in agony because he feels forced to choose between them. 

The ultimate source of jealousy is self-doubt. You're worried that your partner's interest in a third person is in fact a sign of your inadequacy.  You're not sexy enough, smart enough, educated enough, whatever, to hold his or her interest. A successful polyamorous relationship requires all the people involved to trust not only each other, but themselves. Each one needs to feel worthy of love.

It's a tall order, and that's one reason, I think, that polyamorous relationships are relatively rare. (The other reason is societal disapproval.)

I've written a number of stories that deal with polyamory. In Truce of Trust, Leah shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Truce of Trust is the story of three people struggling to overcome their insecurities in order to build a life together.


Wild About That Thing shows a polyamorous relationship at an earlier stage. Ruby loves both Zeke and Rene, and they care for her enough to consider living together and sharing her favors. In the case of this fictional triad, it helps that both men are blues musicians. This bond makes it easier for them to accept the notion that neither of them will have exclusive access to the woman they both love.

Then there's my longish short story Goldberg Variations (included in my collection Body Electric), in which cellist and exotic free spirit Deirdre becomes the lover of both remaining brothers in the renowned Goldberg String Trio. Once again, the closeness between the two men in the story helps overcome the jealousy that might otherwise have torn the relationship apart.

If you're interested in the topic of polyamory, from a practical perspective, and you live in the New York City area, you might want to check out the following event, a class/discussion on the topic led by legendary erotic author M. Christian. (TES is the The Eulenspiegel Society, a BDSM support organization that's been around nearly forty years.)

POLYAMORY: HOW TO LOVE MANY AND WELL

DATE: Wednesday, September 26, 2012
TIME: 8:00PM  - 11:00PM
LOCATION: Joria Studios
260 West 36th St, 3rd Floor, between 7th and 8th Aves

CLASS DESCRIPTION: 

Sure, you've heard of it – and maybe been intrigued by it – but what is polyamory and how do you love more than one person and make it work? How can you deal with jealousy, time-management, emotional rough patches, and more, to enter into multiple sexual relationships? We'll learn to separate the myths from the realities of polyamory, how to
make tentative steps towards having more than one partner, and how to approach and deal with the problems of sharing yourself with others, and being involved with someone who, in turn, is involved with someone else.

Doors open at 7:30 pm - Meeting begins at 8 pm

COST: TES Members $4, Students with ID $4, Reciprocal Groups $6, Non-Members $10

FURTHER INFORMATON: TES (https://www.tes.org)

And if you're an author, you may be interested in Chris' other New York classes. He has a well-deserved reputation as an excellent teacher.

MAGIC WORDS: USING EROTIC WRITING TO EXPLORE YOUR HIDDEN SEXUALITY AND SPIRITUALITY 

DATE: Thursday, September 27, 2012
TIME: 6:30PM - 8:30PM
LOCATION:
SHAG ...a sexy shop
108 Roebling Street @ N. 6th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
347.721.3302
weloveshag@gmail.com


SEX SELLS: HOW TO WRITE AND SELL EROTICA 

DATE: Saturday, September 29, 2012
TIME:  1:00PM – 3:00PM
LOCATION:
The Lesbian, Gay,  Bisexual & Transgender Community Center
208 West 13th Street
New York, NY 10011
Website: www.gaycenter.org
Phone: 212-620-7310 

For more information, check http://www.mchristian.com

Sunday Snog: Truce of Trust

My snog this week is from my BDSM ménage, Truce of Trust.

Don't forget to visit the original home of the Sunday Snog. Victoria's snog this week is part of Blissemas. Every comment you leave enters you to win a Kindle or lots of other great prizes. And there's a Blissemas bonus waiting for you there, too!

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

Her overnight bag was still packed from her business trip. She pulled out the dirty things and threw in some clean underwear, jeans and jerseys. She was debating whether to bring a dress when her door opened. Stubbornly, she continued her packing.

Greg towered behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Where are you going, little one?”

“Away. Away from the two of you and your constant bickering.”

“He started it, after all, with his claims about things being unfair.” He bent to kiss her. She turned her head away, unwilling to be mastered, but he grasped her chin and pulled her mouth to his.

Leah didn’t want to surrender, but she couldn’t help it. She was dizzy with instantly kindled lust. He nipped at her lips, probed her with his tongue. He drank her in, consumed her. Between her thighs everything melted. The room began to smell funky, as though he already had her naked and open before him.

Without taking his mouth from her, he grabbed her nipple and twisted it, hard. Her body arched against his, the familiar pain quickly transformed to shimmering pleasure. He broke the kiss and looked down at her, shaking and helpless with desire.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “You’ll always be mine. You just keep him around because you’re afraid to give yourself completely to me. Afraid of going too far. You don’t trust your own desires.”

Leah had a vision of Daniel, his wine glass filled to the brim with vodka, filling page after page with angry, aching prose. There was a wrenching pain in her chest. They’ve grabbed my heart and they are rending it into bloody pieces.

This pain had no sweet after-echoes. She tore herself from Greg’s grasp.

“You’re wrong.” Her throat tightened into a sob. “I love him. It’s different from the way we are, but it’s just as real.”

“If we were together, by ourselves, you’d forget him.”

“No!” His arrogance, sometimes so exciting, was nothing but frustrating to her now. “You don’t understand. He’s a part of me, just as you are.”

He reached for her again. “I’d make you forget him, Leah. I’d beat him out of you.” His voice was gentle, contrasting with the violence of his words. Underneath his bravado, she could feel his need.

Truce of Trust: Excerpt

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

****

The three of them sat out on the deck, finishing off the second bottle of wine and enjoying the residual warmth of early September. The air still smelled of summer, ripe raspberries and sun-browned grass. In the woods that edged of the yard, night birds called. A crescent moon rose over the tree tops. The strains of Bach's "Musical Offering" filtered through the screen from inside, mingling with the bird song.

At least Daniel and Greg shared the same taste in music, thought Leah dreamily. She leaned back in her chair, finally relaxed. She glanced over at her husband. His eyes were closed. He was lost in the glorious melody. As though he felt her scrutiny, he turned to her, his handsome face luminous with joy.

Greg was watching her, a gentle half smile on his full lips, with no hint of his usual mockery. Leah smiled back, grateful that he was acting like such a gentleman.

I'm incredibly lucky, she thought. Most women search all their lives for one true lover. I have two. Perhaps I should feel guilty, knowing that they have agreed to our ménage in order to please me. But all I feel is gratitude.

Hope and relief washed through her. Maybe this would work after all. They just had to adapt, to get used to living together. To give up some of their individual selfishness for the sake of group harmony. She'd been selfish herself, expecting them to suppress their natural jealousies and insecurities just to please her. She needed to be more understanding. It had to be difficult for them, sharing her. Both men were so dear to her - she needed to work harder to show them.

Greg stirred in his chair. "It's late, and I've got to work tomorrow. Finish your wine, Leah, and come to bed."

Daniel looked up abruptly. "Wait a minute. Tonight's my night."

"No, it's not. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she's with me. In case you've forgotten, this is Friday."

"That's not fair. She was away last night at her seminar. So she and I should be together tonight as compensation."

"Sorry, old man." (Daniel was three years older than Greg, who liked to rub that in.) "You know that's not how the system works."

"Well, perhaps we need to consider changing the system. Somehow it always seems to work out that Leah is away from the house on my nights."

"Please..." Leah stood, trying to intervene, but it was as though she wasn't there.

"I'm sorry, but that's not my problem. Anyway, you shouldn't be such a bad sport. After all, you had her to yourself for years."

Daniel snorted in exaggerated disgust. "To myself? Hardly! I couldn't make love to her without wondering if she was fantasising about you. I couldn't look at her without seeing the marks that you had left."

"Marks she asked for, don't forget."

"That's what you claim, at least." Daniel was sexually adventurous, but he had no interest in BDSM. Leah knew that he was truly perplexed by the power dynamics between her and Greg.

"Believe me, I can make her beg to be beaten," Greg said smugly. "Isn't that true, little one?"

Leah blushed fiercely, as embarrassed as she was angry. Of course, Daniel knew this about her, but still she didn't want to admit it out loud.

Both of them stared at her in mute accusation.

"Answer me, Leah." Greg put a hint of steel in his voice. Shivers of anticipation raced through her in response. Her deepest instinct was to obey him, but she resisted, silent and rebellious.

"Why do you put up with him?" Daniel donned his wounded boy expression, pouting under his moustache. "All he does is hurt you. He has no respect for you. I can give you all the love and tenderness that you need."

"You have no idea what she really needs," said Greg softly. His aim was true, as always. Daniel slumped in momentary defeat, then roused himself.

"If that's so, then why did she marry me?" he asked, playing his own trump card.

Leah had heard it all before, and suddenly, she couldn't take anymore. She turned her back on them and headed for her room, ignoring their voices calling after her.

Her overnight bag was still packed from her business trip. She pulled out the dirty things and threw in some clean underwear, jeans and jerseys. She was debating whether to bring a dress when her door opened. Stubbornly, she continued her packing.

Greg towered behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Where are you going, little one?"

"Away. Away from the two of you and your constant bickering."

"He started it, after all, with his claims about things being unfair." He bent to kiss her. She turned her head away, unwilling to be mastered, but he grasped her chin and pulled her mouth to his.

Leah didn't want to surrender, but she couldn't help it. She was dizzy with instantly kindled lust. He nipped at her lips, probed her with his tongue. He drank her in, consumed her. Between her thighs everything melted. The room began to smell funky, as though he already had her naked and open before him.

Without taking his mouth from her, he grabbed her nipple and twisted it, hard. Her body arched against his, the familiar pain quickly transformed to shimmering pleasure. He broke the kiss and looks down at her, shaking and helpless with desire.

"You're mine," he whispered. "You'll always be mine. You just keep him around because you're afraid to give yourself completely to me. Afraid of going too far. You don't trust your own desires."

Leah had a vision of Daniel, his wine glass filled to the brim with vodka, filling page after page with angry, aching prose. There was a wrenching pain in her chest. They've grabbed my heart and they are rending it into bloody pieces, she thought.

This pain that had no sweet after-echoes. She tore herself from Greg's grasp.

"You're wrong." Her throat tightened into a sob. "I love him. It's different from the way we are, but it's just as real."

"If we were together, by ourselves, you'd forget him."

"NO!" His arrogance, sometimes so exciting, was nothing but frustrating to her now. "You don't understand. He's a part of me, just as you are."

He reached for her again. "I'd make you forget him, Leah. I'd beat him out of you." His voice was gentle, contrasting with the violence of his words. Underneath his bravado, she feel his need.

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Truce of Trust - An Excerpt

Here's an excerpt from Truce of Trust, a M/F/M ménage erotic romance with a bit of BDSM thrown in. The books is available from Total-E-Bound

Blurb

Some women might think Leah's existence heavenly. She shares her home with two sexy men who both adore her. Ten years married to lusty, artistic Daniel, she still enjoys the discipline and release offered by Greg. But her lovers' jealousy and possessiveness have made Leah's life a hell. Unable to bear the continuous conflict, she flees to an idyllic seaside resort to ponder her future. Gradually she realises that she cannot live without either of her lovers. If the two men can't settle their differences, though, then how can she bear to live with them?

Excerpt -- PG

Greg stirred in his chair. "It's late, and I've got to work tomorrow. Finish your wine, Leah, and come to bed."

Daniel looked up abruptly. "Wait a minute. Tonight's my night."

"No, it's not. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she's with me. In case you've forgotten, this is Friday."

"That's not fair. She was away last night at her seminar. So she and I should be together tonight as compensation."

"Sorry, old man." (Daniel was three years older than Greg, who liked to rub that in.) "You know that's not how the system works."

"Well, perhaps we need to consider changing the system. Somehow it always seems to work out that Leah is away from the house on my nights."

"Please..." Leah stood, trying to intervene, but it was as though she wasn't there.

"I'm sorry, but that's not my problem. Anyway, you shouldn't be such a bad sport. After all, you had her to yourself for years."

Daniel snorted in exaggerated disgust. "To myself? Hardly! I couldn't make love to her without wondering if she was fantasising about you. I couldn't look at her without seeing the marks that you had left."

"Marks she asked for, don't forget."

"That's what you claim, at least." Daniel was sexually adventurous, but he had no interest in BDSM. Leah knew that he was truly perplexed by the power dynamics between her and Greg.

"Believe me, I can make her beg to be beaten," Greg said smugly. "Isn't that true, little one?"

Leah blushed fiercely, as embarrassed as she was angry. Of course, Daniel knew this about her, but still she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Both of them stared at her in mute accusation.

"Answer me, Leah." Greg put a hint of steel in his voice. Shivers of anticipation raced through her in response. Her deepest instinct was to obey him, but she resisted, silent and rebellious.

"Why do you put up with him?" Daniel donned his wounded boy expression, pouting under his moustache. "All he does is hurt you. He has no respect for you. I can give you all the love and tenderness that you need."

"You have no idea what she really needs," said Greg softly. His aim was true, as always. Daniel slumped in momentary defeat, then roused himself.

"If that's so, then why did she marry me?" he asked, playing his own trump card.

Leah had heard it all before, and suddenly, she couldn’t take anymore. She turned her back on them and headed for her room, ignoring their voices calling after her.

Her overnight bag was still packed from her business trip. She pulled out the dirty things and threw in some clean underwear, jeans and jerseys. She was debating whether to bring a dress when her door opened. Stubbornly, she continued her packing.

Greg towered behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Where are you going, little one?"

"Away. Away from the two of you and your constant bickering."

"He started it, after all, with his claims about things being unfair." He bent to kiss her. She turned her head away, unwilling to be mastered, but he grasped her chin and pulled her mouth to his.

Leah didn't want to surrender, but she couldn't help it. She was dizzy with instantly kindled lust. He nipped at her lips, probed her with his tongue. He drank her in, consumed her. Between her thighs everything melted. The room began to smell funky, as though he already had her naked and open before him.

Without taking his mouth from her, he grabbed her nipple and twisted it, hard. Her body arched against his, the familiar pain quickly transformed to shimmering pleasure. He broke the kiss and looks down at her, shaking and helpless with desire.

"You're mine," he whispered. "You'll always be mine. You just keep him around because you're afraid to give yourself completely to me. Afraid of going too far. You don’t trust your own desires."

Leah had a vision of Daniel, his wine glass filled to the brim with vodka, filling page after page with angry, aching prose. There was a wrenching pain in her chest. They've grabbed my heart and they are rending it into bloody pieces, she thought.

This pain that had no sweet after-echoes. She tore herself from Greg's grasp.

"You're wrong." Her throat tightened into a sob. "I love him. It's different from the way we are, but it's just as real."

"If we were together, by ourselves, you'd forget him."

"No!" His arrogance, sometimes so exciting, was nothing but frustrating to her now. "You don't understand. He's a part of me, just as you are."

He reached for her again. "I'd make you forget him, Leah. I'd beat him out of you." His voice was gentle, contrasting with the violence of his words. Underneath his bravado, she feel his need.