By
Delores Swallows (Guest Blogger)
Hi,
I’m Delores Swallows, and I now accept I’ll never drive a
Ferrari. I wrote a guest blog for Beyond Romance in July of last
year, and Lisabet has been kind enough to invite me back.
My
previous post was called ‘Smut with a Smile’ because I write
smut, and I smile when I read it back to myself in private. Just
joking. I do write smut, but I try to include some
humour within the stories to make the readers smile.
But
for this post, I thought I’d explain how I tried to make my latest
story a little darker. There is less humour, but still quite a bit of
smut. Like my other stories, this one also features voyeurism,
high-heels and a petite brunette.
In
previous stories I’ve found some plots allowed for a variety of
sexual scenarios without asking the reader to suspend their
disbelief. In Stranger than Fiction it was easy, because my
female MC was a figment of the imagination of a smut author.
In the story Web of Deceit, my female MC ventured into the murky world of cyber-sex in chatrooms. There she was able to flirt and describe her fantasies, and things were fine until she decided the fantasies weren’t enough. I think I over-indulged in the freedom that story gave me, because it’s probably the dirtiest story I’ve written to date. But I’m hoping to top that with my WIP J
In the story Web of Deceit, my female MC ventured into the murky world of cyber-sex in chatrooms. There she was able to flirt and describe her fantasies, and things were fine until she decided the fantasies weren’t enough. I think I over-indulged in the freedom that story gave me, because it’s probably the dirtiest story I’ve written to date. But I’m hoping to top that with my WIP J
My
latest release is called Midnight Mirror, and features (as you
can probably guess from the title) a mirror that does strange things
at midnight. It’s in the genre I’d call Paranormal-Erotic
Romance-Voyeurism, or in other words, it’s a PERV story
Okay,
I just made that acronym up, although I suspect many others will have
also used it in the past. It’s hard to find any pun that’s
original, nowadays…
As
it’s a paranormal story, this offered another opportunity for me to
vary the mood and feel of the sex scenes.
Since
I wanted it to have a dark, creepy atmosphere, I needed to find
something spooky to focus on. As a kid with an over-active
imagination, I was always wary of mirrors—half-expecting strange
things to appear in the glass (and I wasn’t referring to my spotty,
pre-pubescent face). Mirrors can be spooky for a whole host of
reasons.
It’s
a common occurrence in films for the person looking in the mirror to
see either something behind them, or their own reflection distorted
in some freakish way. I remember being really grossed-out by the
bathroom scene in ‘Poltergeist’, where the guy peels the face of
his reflection, the lumps of flesh landing in the sink.
So
when I decided to try my hand at writing a spooky story, involving a
mirror was one of my first thoughts. A mirror is also a good way of
getting the voyeuristic aspect into the plot, so how could I not use
one?
The
first house I ever bought was an old derelict terraced cottage. A
lady had lived there alone for many years, and after she’d died the
house had remained empty for about four years. Many of my friends
used to try and wind me up about it being haunted. I should admit up
front that although I accept ghost might exist, I’ve never seen
one. Nor have I ever experienced anything which can’t be explained
logically (and ‘alcohol’ is usually the logical explanation).
But
shortly after I’d moved into the house, I had a dream where I was
sitting in the lounge when the ghost of an old lady walked through
the room. She was wearing a raincoat and headscarf as if she’d just
come in from outside, but the thing that scared me enough to wake me
was that her eyes were repeatedly blinking at an impossible speed. I
don’t know why that freaked me out so much, but it did.
As
a result of that dream, rapid-blinking eyes also feature in the
story.
Here’s
the blurb, followed by an excerpt:
To
brighten her dreary flat, Natalie buys an old mirror, soon finding
that it isn’t what it seems. At the witching hour, her reflection
takes on a life of its own. Natalie finds herself physically sharing
the sex scenes taking place inside the glass.
Her
mirror is her hot little secret until the scenes on the other side
become disturbing, making her frightened to stay in her own home.
She
knows she needs to overcome the force behind the glass, but the only
thing she can think of is to use herself as bait…
x
x x
Returning
to the lounge to turn off the lamp, she glanced in the mirror on the
way. As she looked, the eyes of her reflection started to blink
repeatedly. Natalie stopped and stared, her own eyes not blinking at
all. The room became cold, and she saw her breath condensing in front
of her. Then the eyes in the mirror stopped blinking, and Natalie saw
her own eyes staring back at her.
But
it wasn’t Natalie in the mirror—or rather it wasn’t how she
should have looked.
Reflected-Natalie
had her face, but her hair was a deep auburn and cut shorter, the
ends curled out from her face. She had bright red lips and looked
like someone from an old movie. Her floral dress reached her knees
and was fitted at the waist. The room behind reflected-Natalie wasn’t
the living room of the flat. It was larger, with retro décor. It had
patterned wall-paper and a rug that didn’t reach the walls. The
floorboards showing around the rug were waxed to a shine. Framed oil
paintings hung from a picture rail which ran round the walls at head
height. Reflected-Natalie lifted her arm and straightened her hair,
whereas real-Natalie stood stock-still. Rather than looking in a
mirror, she seemed to be looking into a window from the past. The
large mirror was like a TV screen allowing her to see into another
world, but with no sound to accompany the show. All Natalie could
hear was her own breathing.
Reflected-Natalie
turned as the door on the opposite wall opened and a man in army
uniform entered the room. As she watched from her own flat, Natalie
knew this man was the husband of her reflected-self. He pulled off
his peaked cap, showing a disfigured face—his scars a result of a
fire. Somehow she knew the Wellington he’d been piloting was shot
down over Germany during a bombing campaign, and he’d been a
Prisoner-of-War for the last three years. Her reflected-self rushed
to his arms, and Natalie heard sobs of relief break from her own
throat.
Her
heart boomed in her chest as she watched the couple in the mirror
cling to each other, the woman kissing his scarred face, running her
hands gently over the part of his head where the hair would never
grow back.
Suddenly
they were tearing at each other’s clothes, and warmth flooded
between Natalie’s legs. The woman undid her husband’s uniform
jacket as his hands struggled with the buttons at the front of her
dress. They fumbled with clothes, still kissing. Natalie noticed the
woman crying and felt tears on her own cheeks. As the man’s shirt
was removed, the extent of the scarring on his upper body became
evident. His wife slowed her eagerness, gently running her fingers
over his red and wrinkled flesh.
Natalie
watched, and she shared the woman’s anger. How could anyone have
done this to such a beautiful body? The wife gently removed his shirt
and vest, then started to kiss each inch of his blemished torso.
The
husband undid enough of the buttons to allow her to slip the dress
back off her shoulders and slide it down her body. She wore a cream
longline bra and matching pantie girdle with built-in clips to hold
up her seamed stockings. She quickly unfastened her bra, and as
Natalie watched the husband bend to take a nipple into his mouth, she
felt her own nipple being sucked and nibbled. She felt a need deep
within her. The Natalie in the mirror hurriedly unclipped her
suspenders and the husband dropped to his knees, carefully rolling
the silk stockings down her legs. The girdle and panties were quickly
removed, leaving forties-version Natalie completely naked. Her
husband fumbled with his boot laces.
Natalie
watched the scene, her heart racing with expectation, a strange
impatience twisting her stomach. Finally his boots were removed and
his wife was undoing the buttons of his uniform trousers. As soon as
she pushed the trousers down his cock sprung free, sticking out hard
and proud. The only scars below his waist were on the backs of his
legs.
Natalie
held her breath as she watched her other self encourage the soldier
to lay flat on his back on the rug. The wife positioned herself above
him and held his erection at the opening of her sex. As she lowered
herself slowly down, Natalie experienced being entered, filled, and a
groan escaped her lips. Her muscles gripped involuntarily around the
phantom shape inside, and the lady in the mirror began to ride her
husband. Moving slowly up and down, the wife watched his face.
x
x x
At
first, the mirror—although a bit freaky—isn’t really a bad
thing. My MC has a couple of pleasant experiences, but then things
start to get not so pleasant. She has to overcome whatever it is, and
so obviously that means it’s time for her to put on her high-heels!
I’m
happy with the way the story turned out. It’s different from the
stuff I’ve written before (which sounds like I’m not happy with
the other stories, which isn’t true. Honest), but I did enjoy
writing it.
However,
there was the constant temptation to add bits of humour. Although
there are some lighter bits, I didn’t want to add something that
would break whatever mood I’d managed to create.
When
Natalie watches her reflected-selves having sex, she shares their
sensations and their orgasms. She also experiences the men coming as
an iciness inside her. One of the scenes she witnesses involves a
version of herself being double-penetrated during an m/f/m threesome,
and the urge to include the term ‘rectoplasm’ was almost
over-whelming. But I resisted, and the story is (hopefully) better
without it.
I
like to think it’s my first example of ‘Smut with a Shiver’.
If it sounds interesting, you can get a copy here (among other places):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/611333
If it sounds interesting, you can get a copy here (among other places):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/611333
My
current WIP is not paranormal in any way. I’m back to the real-life
shenanigans of a wife cuckolding her husband. There’s no rectoplasm
or ghost-riders, but there is voyeurism. And high-heels. And a petite
brunette.
Oh, and I'm giving away a copy of Stranger Than Fiction or Web of Deceit (your choice) to one person who leaves a comment. Don't forget to include your email address!
Oh, and I'm giving away a copy of Stranger Than Fiction or Web of Deceit (your choice) to one person who leaves a comment. Don't forget to include your email address!
About
Delores Swallows
Delores
Swallows has many dirty thoughts, and during his free time he writes
them down in the form of stories. Born and bred in the northwest of
England, he has a commoner’s accent and a bit of a crush on his
future queen (Kate, not Camilla!).
His
stories often feature petite brunettes, high-heeled shoes and
voyeurism. He claims he didn’t realise these were obsessions until
someone pointed out how often they appear in his work.
If
you would like to give feedback
on
his stories or contact him, you can do so via e-mail
deloresswallows@gmail.com
or twitter @deloresswallows
If
you would like to get a free story and updates on all new releases,
simply join the mailing list by writing to his e-mail address above.
The
admin at Facebook don’t like his pen name, but he does have a
profile under the name of Delores Jones, and that profile has a page
in the pen name: www.facebook.com.deloresswallows
Check
out his website for free short stories, blog and info on all his
current and upcoming stories: www.deloresswallows.com
