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For all of you who are thinking about buying one of my books, but wanted to get an idea of my style and skills first, as well as for those of you who just want to get your rocks off for free -- your time has come!

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TThe Big Performance

When a stage manager gets carried away reading erotic poetry in an empty theatre she imagines an audience is watching her and does something she’s only fantasised about. However someone really is watching her and before long the pair of them are putting on a really big performance!


EXCERPT

I closed my eyes then, imagined what it would be like to be on stage for real, in front of an audience full of people and saying “when you fucked me” over and over. My body was hot and tingling and I put my hand between my legs, running my thumb over the seam of my jeans, sending gentle pressure down to the hot and responsive spot underneath.

“When you touched me, When you fucked me, When you touched me, When you fucked me, fucked me, fucked me, fucked me.”

I was so turned on now. I loved the thought of sitting up here, stroking myself and saying dirty words with a whole theatre-full of people watching me, getting off on me getting myself off.

I pulled in my stomach and slid my fingers down inside the waistband of my jeans. I pushed the soft cotton of my panties aside and slipped my forefinger into the crease of my pussy.

I couldn’t believe how wet I was, the moisture had seeped all along my lips and wetted my finger as soon as I touched myself. I circled my finger a couple of times, then added a second finger.

I ran my fingers down between my lips, slumping down in the chair so my hips were thrust forward to give me easier access. I pictured myself naked, or in skimpy underwear sat, just like this, on stage with a busily silent auditorium.

I could hear my own breath harsh and ragged in the silence, filling the huge, empty space. My hand was working fast now, slipping and rubbing across my pussy as I panted for breath and muttered those two lines from the poem over and over.

The Reason Why...

I have set up this blog in order to promote my writing and to inform my 'fans' of new writing being published. I know this is a terribly dull first post, I promise I will try my best to remedy that.

I have been writing erotica for about two years now and, whilst I am hoping to eventually write some 'straight' novels, where sex is just an interesting side dish rather than the main course, I will probably always write erotica as well. I just enjoy it too much to stop. I love all sorts of different scenarios, setting them up so they're enticing and compelling and then carefully writing the sex scenes so that they lead the reader through the sexual act without launching them back into the real world through an incautious word or clumsy phrasing. I would simply love to be making some money from my writing. Not necessarily a living, because that might take the joy out of writing it, but a bit of extra money just to prove how much pleasure people get out of the work I've put into a piece - well - that would really mean something.

Please mark me as a favourite and come back to check my blog - I'll be having some work up for sale soon. In the meantime, here is a little excerpt to wet your whistle...

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We sat chatting for a while, getting deeper and deeper into the bottle of vodka. The discussion was getting pretty intimate now, talking about sex and fantasies. Compared to them I felt pretty inexperienced and my fantasies seemed pretty tame, so I kept quiet and just listened. Mark’s deep, educated vowels rolled around Louise’s sweet, husky tones, whilst both of them vocalised sexual ideas that made me flush with embarrassment and desire.

Mark noticed how quiet I was – how I swayed to the music and he grabbed hold of my hands to pull me up. He put his arms around me – holding me up as much as holding me to him – and started swaying with me, his cheek against mine.

Softly he began to repeat my own fantasies back to me. Things I had told him on the phone, late at night, my tongue loosened by arousal, were now fed back to me in soft, husky tones, his breath caressing my ear as his lips almost touched it.

I was so drunk that everything had a dreamlike quality about it, but I was vaguely aware that he was speaking just loud enough for Louise to hear and she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning forwards, her eyes fixed on me.

As I looked at her she got up – walking over to join us. Standing behind me she put her arms around my waist and leaned her cheek on my shoulder with her lips against my neck her body swaying with ours. Softly she added her own fantasies in my other ear, whispering against my neck the things she wanted to do to me. I was lulled into an erotic trance by the music, the movement, the alcohol and the whispering, the hypnotic whispering that swept through me like a chill.

I sighed when Louise’s hands slid under my top and stroked my stomach and, when she took hold of it and tugged it up I was compliant, allowing myself to be undressed. I could feel the slippery silk of her camisole top pressed against my naked back and the soft cotton of Mark’s t-shirt against my front.

Mark’s hands were stroking my hair and my upper back, whilst Louise’s stroked my belly and breasts. When her hands slipped downwards, under my waistband, I tensed for a moment but soon relaxed into the sleepy desire that overcame me and made me unable to resist her skillful fingers stroking and teasing me.

She seemed to be struggling to reach that most intimate part of me so, almost unconsciously, I pulled my stomach in so she could penetrate my clothing and finally touch me as I wanted her to. Realising it was impossible, I tried to reach down to undo my jeans, but Mark held my arms firmly around his neck, restraining me, as Louise slowly undid the buttons: each button a further step into arousal.

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The above is an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, For Love or Money, soon to be released on www.excessica.com