Semiramis

Semiramis by Eliseo Tuderte Fattorini (1830-1887)

Have you heard of the legendary warrior queen Semiramis? No?
She used to be a very rich subject for artists, but she's sort of vanished from popular culture now.
 

Pierre Bellet: Semiramida (1892)

Demetre Chiparus (1886-1947): Semiramis

She's based on the historical figure of Shammuramat, who ruled the Assyrian Empire as regent for her son, in the 9th century BCE.

Semiramis depicted in De Claris Mulieribus (15th Century)

However, Semiramis the mythical/artistic figure is larger than life in every way! There are many (conflicting) legends about her; she was the daughter of the water-goddess Atargatis, was abandoned at birth and fed by doves until adopted by a shepherd (in standard heroic style).

Semiramis by Cesare Saccaggi (1868-1934)

As an adult she married a nobleman called Omnes, but conducted herself during a siege so impressively that the Assyrian King Ninus demanded her for himself. Omnes committed suicide, and Semiramis entered the royal harem - somewhat resentfully, the evidence suggests. When she bore a son, Ninias, Ninus offered her any boon and she said "Make me the ruler of the empire for one day." He foolishly agreed - whereupon she ordered the guards to kill him, and seized power in the name of her son.

So Semiramis became de-facto ruler of the Assyrian Empire, which is about as big a game of thrones as you can win. She rebuilt Babylon and created the famous Hanging Gardens.

Degas: Semiramis building Babylon (1861)

 She was no hands-off ruler either; she was famous for leading her troops in battle, whether putting down rebellions or conquering new territories such as Libya, Africa and India. The most common depiction of her in art is when she receives the Call to War in the middle of her morning toilette: she seizes her sword, drops the crown and vows not to do up her hair until she is victorious.

Semiramis Called to War (1637) by Jacques Stella

Semiramis accumulated a lot of scurrulous legends too, because powerful women are inevitably objects of discomfort and gossip. She is said to have invented the practice of castrating boys to make eunuch slaves. She is said to have taken a new lover every night and had them executed in the morning to make sure they didn't get ambitious.

She is said to have had incestuous relations with her son, the prince Ninius!

She got the hots for an Armenian king called Arar the Beautiful, and demanded that he shag her. When he refused, she went to war. He died on the battlefield and she had his body brought back to her palace for ... private contemplation. Then she told his people that the gods had brought him back to life, so no hard feelings, right?

Semiramis staring at the corpse of Ara the Beautiful, Vardges Sureniants 1860-1921

She lived to a ripe old age and never lost a battle, but upon returning from conquering the armies of the Indus (her cunning tactics having included fake elephants), she was murdered by her own son, the only man she thought she could trust ... because children are ungrateful shits.

Augusto Valli: Semiramis dying on Nino's tomb (1893)

Semiramis is mentioned in Shakespeare, in Dante's Inferno (circle of Lust, naturally), and is the subject of a play by Voltaire and several operas, including one by Rossini.

Semiramide, Act 1

And she's been the subject of some torrid movies!

Oh ... she may still be with us. It upsets some among the paranoid religious right that Lady Liberty is officially based on depictions of Semiramis.

Go Semiramis!

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from my BDSM short Teppanyaki, which appeared in Anything for You: erotica for kinky couples:

Wendy and Ade are hosting a dinner party for some new friends...

---

As I lead the way back into the dining room, my heart lifts with pride at the picture presented. Wendy has ceased fighting the cuffs and is sat up very straight with her feet tucked beneath the chair, trying to look as demure as it's possible to do with wrists tied. Her face is averted self-consciously, her lips parted and shiny.
   
Perfect.
   
“Maria, Jason, this is Wendy. She's feeling a bit shy at the moment, I'm afraid. Wendy, say hello.”
   
“Hello,” she whispers. “How lovely to meet you.”
   
I know how difficult she must be finding this. How impossible it must be for her, in that hot swamp of her embarrassment, to find the right social chit-chat. So I make things easy for her: “Wendy, you're to be silent now. Open your legs.”
   
She eases her thighs apart. I could explode with pride. Jason is standing with his hands in his pockets, a big grin plastered all over his face. Maria goes forward and stoops, kissing her on the cheek.
   
“What a lovely outfit, Wendy,” she murmurs. “Ade has told us so much about you.”
   
I take our guests through to the kitchen to pour the first drinks and open the rice steamer and explain how teppanyaki works, but only one tiny part of my mind is on the small-talk or the cooking. My hard-on is verging on the distressing. This is the first time I've allowed anyone else to admire Wendy so intimately and my physical reaction surprises even me.
  
We return to the dining table; Maria insists on helping me carry the food through. Before dinner begins I push Wendy's skirt up her thighs to reveal the plump lace-covered mound of her sex, and hook a finger under her panty elastic. The kitchen scissors shear through the fabric without effort, and I drop the ruined underwear beneath the table. Her pussy is, of course, perfectly shaven—anything less would be too untidy for Wendy—and as I pat it softly she twists and whimpers. I hear Jason chuckle and make some remark to his wife in a low voice.
   
Hooking a foot round the leg of Wendy's chair, I drag it closer to the table so she is within reach as I sit.
   
Dinner begins. Teppanyaki is a sociable, interactive way to eat. Lumps are plucked from the block of butter and dropped on the hot griddle, slicking the black metal plate. Then food is laid on with chopsticks to cook as we wait, each piece needing only a few minutes to fry, and replaced as soon as it's plucked by fresh morsels: steak slices and tuna and chicken, asparagus spears and mushrooms, crisp mange-tout pea-pods and—defying tradition—white strips of halloumi cheese that brown without melting. The smell of hot butter and griddled meat is enticing. We dip the cooked food in tiny individual bowls of soya sauce stirred with hot green wasabi paste, and my lips tingle. We talk, inconsequentially, ignoring Wendy and her predicament but each of us glancing at her often.
   
Of course Wendy can't feed herself. She is dependent on me to cook her food for her and offer it to her lips with my chopsticks. She seems a little reluctant to eat, preoccupied with her own woe, but she takes each piece obediently. It's not easy to be neat either. The first time a drop of melted butter falls from an pea pod onto the white lawn of her dress, Maria pipes up; “Oh—you don't want to get oil on that, Ade. It'll never come out!”
   
I nod, standing, and go over behind Wendy. She realises what I'm doing and the cuffs rattle as she jerks her arms, trying to stop me before she remembers that she has no chance. Shock dances in her eyes. “Please!” she squeals as I start on the little buttons over her jiggling breasts.
    
I grip her jaw, pulling her head back. She stares up in terror, her hazel eyes so dilated that they’re almost black. “What did I tell you, Wendy? You're to be quiet.” And, magically, she goes still in my grasp, trembling a little but no longer fighting me. I undo her blouse buttons without any fuss, revealing a magenta bra that matches the panties I've already destroyed and the creamy slopes of her generous cleavage. Scooping her breasts from the lacy cups, I bare her to our guests.
  
“Wow!” says Jason, a cup of saké frozen halfway to his lips.
   
“Your wife has beautiful tits,” Maria agrees, awestruck. As she should be. Wendy's breasts are magnificent. I take her nipples between finger and thumb of each hand and pull them out, encouraging the flesh to swell and harden.
   
“I'm thinking of having them pierced,” I confide, as Wendy moans low in her throat.
   
“You should,” says Jason. “You thought of having a chain strung between them?”
  
I smile darkly. I've thought of lots of things. With my open hands I slap her tits to make them bounce, one after the other. Jason shakes his head, grinning, and Maria mimes an “Ow!” and flashes her eyes. But Wendy only quivers.
   
Back to dinner, and from now on I make sure that the food I offer my wife is well soused in the hot butter. It drips generously upon her tits, dribbling down to grease her erect nipples. It's a little painful, of course, but Wendy is well used to that. She only jerks and moans a little with each splash, and her discipline in the face of suffering makes my blood race. What I really want is to see her self-control—that same self-control I enjoined upon her—crumble. But I get the most response when I take a stem of asparagus, brilliant green and glistening with warm butter, test its heat against my wrist and then inveigle it into the split of her plump sex before plucking it out again and inserting it, piquant with new sauce, into her mouth. Then she writhes with shame.
   
Despite all my culinary efforts, no one's mind is on the food now. When I follow up the asparagus by dabbing my fingertip in the wasabi and soya mix and painting it delicately over Wendy's clit, Jason sits back and adjusts the bulge at his crotch, his eyes bright and hard. “Oh, that's cruel,” he says appreciatively.
   
Wendy's breath hisses between her clenched teeth as the burn starts. I take a thoughtful sip of my saké as she presses her thighs together, trying to relieve the sensation. There's a dew of sweat at the cusp of her throat and I want to taste it. Soon she's rubbing her thighs against each other, her tits quivering in a breath-taking manner as she wriggles.
    “
Is that hot, honey?” I ask.
   
Wendy doesn't speak, but she nods rapidly.
   
“Oh please, Ade,” says Maria suddenly. “Please let me lick it off her.”

---

Buy Anything for You at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK 
Google Play

A Feeling Sorry For Myself post

Marianne Stokes-Preindlsberger: The Young Girl and Death (1900)

I haven't been able to lie down to sleep for a week because I have asthma, and going horizontal makes my lungs stop working. So this pic tickles my fancy :-)

It does look like the Angel of Death is saying, "Nah, don't get up - I just dropped in to see how you were doing." And she is all: "Come on, let's go FFS!"

And God said: LET THERE BE PAPERBACKS

Look what arrived in the post today!!!

Out March 2017!!!

(All enquiries re. review copies to Sinful Press)

Top Sex Blogger, omg

I had a special birthday gift this year! - I was listed among the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of the Year by Molly's Daily Kiss (click through for the full list). This is after making the 2015 list too!

I'm a bit surprised because I hardly count this as a sex-blog - I think of it as a writing blog with some sex. And art. And silly stuff. But THANK YOU Molly!

Blue Monday: Ashe Barker guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from the short story The Audition, by Ashe Barker. It's one of eleven SF/erotica tales in Love and Lust in Space, edited by Jennifer Denys

They say your screams can’t be heard in space… Unless you have a partner or two! Eleven authors take you on a trip where any pairings are acceptable, locations vary from spaceships to strange and futuristic worlds, and interesting and exciting objects can be used in sex play.

If randy astronauts, virtual reality lovers, sex in near-death situations, a commitment-phobe human woman and her alien lover, and reproduction in space experiments don’t do anything for you, you are clearly not human!

So try the stories in the alien worlds half of the anthology instead. Here you’ll find alien Doms, a mysterious gladiator saving a stricken princess, sex performers, a paid assassin on the run, an illegal sonic dilda’tor and a pleasure booth. Space has never been so exciting!

Love & Lust in Space is edited by Jennifer Denys and features stories by H K Carlton, Dee Maselle, Ian D Smith, Rose Wulf, Jordan Monroe, Ashe Barker, Morgan King, Dylan McEwan, Ella Grey, Jennifer Denys and Beverly Langland.

---

The Audition:

“Turn around and bend over the bed. Your upper body will rest on the mattress and you will arch your back to raise your bottom for us. You will part your thighs to display your cunt to the best of your ability, but at various times one of us may pull your bottom cheeks apart or open your pussy lips to allow another a better view. We will penetrate both your pussy and your anus, though we will use a lubricant, if required, to ensure your comfort. No one will speak to you during this process, and we will not answer any questions, so if there is anything you need to ask me this is your final opportunity.”

Lucy had started to sob. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

A hand cupped her chin. Lucy assumed it was Thane. “I know you hate what is about to happen to you, but if submission is within your psyche, however latent the desire, it will surface in the next few minutes. Already your nipples are swollen and hard, and I wouldn’t mind betting your pussy is moist, is it not, Lucy?”

She shook her head and tried to back away from him. “No, no... I...”

“We shall see. If that’s all, please bend over the bed and once I tell you we are satisfied with your position you will remain still. Remember the cane, Lucy. You really don’t want us to have to resort to such measures, do you?”

“N-no...”

“Then let’s not go there. The bed. Now.”

With a despairing sob, Lucy turned and stepped forward until the edge of the mattress nudged her upper thighs. She bent at the waist and turned her face so her cheek rested on the cool, padded surface. Then she shuffled her feet until they were about eighteen inches apart.

“More, Lucy. We require you to spread your legs much wider than that, please.”

Lucy complied, accepting the inevitability of this degradation. She was helpless, could only accept what was happening to her, and hoped these aliens were telling the truth that she would not be harmed. She screwed up her eyes behind the soft fabric and yearned for the monotonous drudgery of her previous life.

“Arch your back. Yes, that’s good. Now maintain that posture until I instruct you to move. Nod if you understand.”

Lucy bobbed her head once, and gritted her teeth.

The hands that touched her first were cool, and oddly gentle. They caressed her pussy lips before pushing back the delicate folds which concealed her clit. Lucy gasped and tensed as a finger flicked the tip of the sensitive nubbin, then slid along her slit to her entrance. She groaned as it eased inside her.

The digit buried within her cunt remained still as other hands parted her arse cheeks to expose her anus. She concentrated on not wriggling when cool lube dribbled over her tightly puckered hole but couldn’t contain the soft whimper as a finger was worked inside. Whichever male it was stopped, waited for a few seconds, then resumed his questing.

Sensation overwhelmed Lucy. None of the men hurt her, their fingers were gentle as they caressed her sensitive folds or stroked her inner spaces. As she lay motionless and biting on her lower lip a second finger slid inside her pussy alongside the first, then both curled to press on a spot, which seemed to be located right behind her clit. The fingertips applied a firm pressure within which caused her sensitive bud to swell against the relentless stroking and tugging from the outside. Lucy’s pussy contracted hard, the convulsions rolling through her body as the heady stimulation swept away her senses. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to shy away from the intensity of sensation, but the memory of the sound made by that cane held her in place as surely as if she were bound to the bed.

The mattress shifted continuously on either side of her as men sat, then stood, moving about to gain the access they required. The finger was withdrawn from her arse to be replaced by another, then a second.

The sounds of her arousal were unmistakable, her wetness creating the slick contact, which drove her to the brink of orgasm again and again.

---

Buy Love and Lust in Space at:

Sexy Little Pages
Amazon (ebook)
iTunes (ebook)
Amazon (paperback)


USA Today best selling author Ashe Barker is multi-published and regularly hits the Amazon best seller lists in erotic romance, BDSM and historical. She has been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. Ashe still loves reading, the hotter the better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure - research. 

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Facebook
Goodreads
Ashe's Website

Seaside frolics

Franz von Stuck: Faun und Nixe (1918)

When I was 49...

That's it, I've officially Brexited my Forties. It's the Big One!
Since every year I take a look back at what I've managed for the first time since my last birthday, here's how I kept things fresh when I was 49:

For the Very First Time:

• I bought an exercise DVD. (I nearly killed myself for about 3 weeks, then gave up)
• I obtained a PAC code to move my phone number: TECH-WIZARD AWARD TO ME!
• I scaled a climbing wall:

"Okay, that was fun, never again"

• I visited Brittany and the standing stones of Carnac

Merlin's Tomb. For sure.

• I fell in love with the amazing Machines de l'Ile 
• I visited Sicily and the Tombs of the Capuchins and walked on an active volcano - in a blizzard!
• I played Sardines and used a Ouija board, thus completing my 1920s credentials
• I got my car stranded in the snow (and was rescued by a guy in a Land Rover and a kilt!!!)

I discovered tea with whiskey in it, possibly the greatest medicinal breakthrough of our time:

It's the only thing keeping me alive right now

• I started using a chainsaw again, after a break of several years :-) 

• I gave a workshop at Smut By the Sea 2016
• I watched a movie on IMAX (yes, seriously)
• I shot an airsoft gun
• I finally got to see Newgrange in Ireland:

• I voluntarily held both a chihuahua and a baby (but not at the same time). I was quite taken by the chihuahua, tbh.
• I visited the John Rylands Library in Manchester for a witchcraft and demonology exhibition
• I went to the once-in-a-lifetime Hieronymus Bosch 500 Exhibition in the Netherlands
• I discovered on the same weekend that the wrong sort of smoke makes me paranoid - and I don't mean a bit edgy: I mean "Oh my god I'm having a psychotic break, what if this never stops?!"- rpt ad nauseum for several hours paranoid. Not nice at all.
• I was contacted by a film-maker interested in adapting one of my books!

What am I looking forward to as I turn 50? The publication of In Bonds of the Earth and The Prison of the Angels, of course! And, most of all, getting rid of this damn cold...

Kitchen sink drama

No, it's not some particularly ineffective attempt at drowning myself...

I'm trying out my whizzy new snorkelling mask for size!

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from Hare Coursing, one of three very short stories I have in 69.

“Don’t you think Erik’s hot?”
   
She lifted a brow. “He’s not bad, I suppose.”

“What about me?”

Both the men flanking her were as lean and fit as hounds, and they’d been flirting with her for half an hour now. She’d once seen a pair of dogs chasing a hare like that: one at each shoulder. “You’re okay too.”

“Which one of us do you want to disappoint, then?”

“Maybe,” she said chirpily, “I want to disappoint you both.”

“Oh ... I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Are you wanting us to fight over you?” Erik’s grin suggested he was not in a fighting mood. His fingertips had been on the small of her back for the last ten minutes, stroking her gently through her party dress. She hadn’t objected.

“Now that’s an idea.”

“Winner takes all?” Brandon’s voice dropped to a sexy growl. He ran the back of his finger over her cheek and she flushed.

“You’d like to see two guys fight for the right to fuck you?”

“Oh,” she protested, not quite happy with Erik’s choice of words but finding the discomfort compelling.

“Stripped down, maybe? D’you want to watch us wrestle? That’s pretty kinky of you.”

“I’d win, of course,” Brandon pointed out.

“Feck off,” laughed Erik. “Don’t listen to him. I’d kick his butt.”

“But it’d be a pity to waste so much energy, wouldn’t it? When there are so much better ways to spend it.”

“Make love, not war, eh?”

“You guys are bad!” She squirmed happily.

“I mean, think of the possibilities. Two men. That’s two mouths kissing you, love. Four hands, touching you all over. Two big solid cocks for you to ride as long as you liked.”

She shivered. 

Brandon leaned in and kissed her cheek, softly. “Two men sucking your breasts at once,” he whispered.

“A hand on your hot button,” Erik murmured in her other ear, tickling her with his warm breath. “Another up your sweet wet pussy. Two others on your ass, stroking you in all the right places.”

“Oh!” she said, her body full of heat and confusion. With a man at either side and the wall of a flowerbed behind her rump, it was impossible to turn away.

“D’you like the sound of that?” Brandon asked. The lift of his hand drew her attention down to where her nipple had pebbled against the thin cloth of her dress. “It looks like you like it.” One finger circled the stiff point delicately, sending tingles of pleasure through her flesh. She stared, mesmerised – and then Erik turned her face toward him and kissed her, just as softly, his tongue brushing against hers in time to the other man’s caress of her tit.

No matter how the hare had zigzagged from side to side, there was always a hound there.

“Um,” she gasped, pulling back after a long moment. “We shouldn’t.”

“You’re right. You might drop your glass. Here – let me take that.” Erik slipped it from her unresisting fingers and planted it in the earth behind her. His body leaned in against hers as he moved, and she felt the hard jut of his erection. She knew she should be protesting. But Brandon still had her right nipple, flicking it, and she couldn’t think past that thrill of sensation.

“Please,” she said incoherently, turning to that man – and then it was his turn to kiss her. His mouth was smoky with rolling tobacco, his tongue warm and slow. She felt Erik cup her left breast too and a moan rose from the depths of her being.

“There,” Brandon said when he had finished kissing away her words and her breath. “Now, you did like that.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “But...”

“But...?”

“I feel bad.”

His hand moved down from her breast, trailing over the shallow curve of her stomach, stroking in circles as it approached her pubic mound. “You feel fucking marvellous.”

“That’s not what I meant.” But her voice was uneven, and her hips tilted in response to his caress.

“Come on,” Erik murmured. “You must have thought about it. Two guys. Both focused on you, both trying to outdo each other - giving you everything you ever dreamed of. It must be a turn-on.”

“That’s just dirty,” she said, and whimpered as Brandon’s finger tickled the thin cotton shielding her swollen clit.

“Too fucking right, it’s dirty. Dirty is good. Dirty is his cock up your wet pussy while mine slips in and out between those amazing lips. Dirty is him licking you out from the front while I do it from the back. Dirty is both our cocks rubbing all over your beautiful tits. In fact it’s so dirty,” Brandon growled, butting softly up against her, his arm wrapped right round her waist, “that the thought of it is making both of us hard as rock. And I bet it’s making you wet.”

She arched her back, pushing her breast into Erik’s cupped hand. “I’m not wet.”

“No?”

“Shall we prove it?”

Brandon gathered her skirt with his fingers, lifting it until he could slip his hand in the front of her panties. “Oh you liar,” he admonished, grinning, finding her split swollen and slippery. “Dirty little liar.”

---

Buy 69 at
Amazon UK
GooglePlay

YEE-HAH

Since I'm all about the cowboys this week (I spent yesterday fighting the evil Earps in a Western/horror game too) ...

Go West

That awkward moment when you spot your characters wandering round in someone else's TV series...

I'm totally loving Westworld at the moment - it's high-concept speculative fiction, very violent, very twisty-turny, with lots of nudity (male and female), a fairly diverse cast and some strong female roles. It asks awkward existential and moral questions about humanity. Like the theme park it depicts, it's stuffed with clever detail that makes you feel pleased with yourself for working it out (which the writers actually point out through a character, the clever-meta-clogs).

It has a ton of cast eyecandy :-)

But I was both delighted and genuinely freaked-out when doppelgangers of my current characters Milja and Egan showed up and then went out on a quest together!

Elsie Hughes (Shannon Woodward) is a prickly, smart programmer of androids.

Ashley Stubbs (Luke Hemsworth) is the security chief with the muscles and the gun whose job it is to protect everyone.

I'm now way too invested in those characters and really hope they survive to have WILD, ON-SCREEN SEX together. Which sadly isn't looking too likely at the moment...

Eeek!

King for a day!

I took some time off yesterday to meet up with the lovely D L King, erotica writer and legendary editor, on her trip to the UK. We went round the utterly brilliant Harry Potter Studio Tour near London - that's the queen chesspiece from HP and the Philosopher's Stone behind us.

I've already blogged tour photos on a previous occasion, but you can see more of D L's pics on her Facebook page too :-)

Blue Monday: Samantha MacLeod guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's guest is my writing twin Samantha MacLeod (she loves Vikings and chainsaws too, what are the odds?) who, hot from the release of The Trickster's Lover, is back with the newly-published sequel, Honeymoon:

Mythology expert Caroline Capello agreed to marry Loki, the Norse god of fire and lies. She didn’t realize the most dangerous part of their marriage might be the honeymoon...

---

I felt Loki’s chest vibrate as he laughed. But he hesitated, watching me with an unusual intensity burning in his blue eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

He leaned so close I could feel the cool skin of his cheek pressed against mine. “Do you want to try something different?” he whispered. His breath on my neck made my skin prickle as his hands ran down my back.

Something different. I shivered. He’s a two-thousand-year old, shapeshifting, trickster god. 

That could literally mean anything.

“Sure,” I said. “Honeymoon, right?”

 His eyes danced, and then he kissed me, slowly and deeply, for a long time. My body tingled against his, shivering and trembling as his hands moved across my hips. I had no idea what he was doing, but his tongue and his lips were so distracting, I didn’t care.

He pulled away and I sighed, blinking, trying to focus. His face seemed different, somehow. Softer. He took my hand and moved it slowly to his chest—

I jumped. “What the—”

Loki tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. My hand cupped the warm skin of a perfect, round breast. His body moved against mine, softer. Curvier.

“Something different,” Loki whispered.

“Okay,” I said, slowly.

I pulled back, but he pressed his lips against mine. Those, at least, felt the same. As we kissed, I ran my hand very lightly over the unfamiliar swell of his breast, and his nipple grew hard against my palm.

“Oh, very nice,” he whispered.

I shivered again, flushed with heat and desire. And then something felt very different; there was an unfamiliar pressure, and an ache, between my legs. I pulled away from his hungry lips and turned to his ear. “What did you do to me?” I whispered.

He smiled and wrapped his fingers around mine, pulling my hand from the curve of his breast and down the length of his new, female body. To the space between my legs.

I gasped. “Oh, fuck!”

He laughed against my neck. “What do you think?”

I looked down. There was a very long, very stiff cock erupting from my pubic hair. I could feel it; it was so hard it almost hurt. I swallowed. It felt strangely vulnerable to have my arousal be so obvious.

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“Oh, you know exactly what to do with it,” he whispered, his breath soft and warm against my skin. He stepped back and lay on the bed, his legs spread.

I blinked. “You’re a...a woman.”

Loki laughed again. I’ve never been attracted to a woman before, but watching the curves of Loki’s breasts, the swell of red hair between his legs, my new cock stiffened and throbbed. Oh, damn, I thought. Maybe I do know what to do with it. 

“Well,” he said, arching his hips, “don’t keep me waiting.”

I bit my lip and climbed on the bed. He wrapped his legs around mine and then reached between my legs. Electricity surged through my body as he touched me, making me gasp. It felt so good, so fast. My hips pushed against his, and he guided my cock into his pussy.

I moaned, low and deep in my throat, as his entire body embraced me. “You’re so warm,” I said. “And so—oh—” He started to move his hips against mine, and I completely lost my train of thought.

“Now, typically,” he said, his voice thick, “it’s considered gauche for the cock to come first.”

I moaned again, biting my lip and trying to slow down. My legs trembled, and I just wanted to thrust against him, to push deeper and deeper. “I—I don’t—” I gasped as he grabbed my thighs.

“Just breathe,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as the waves of pleasure crashed over me, making my entire body shake. I tried to slow my hips, to remember why I was trying to slow my hips, but Loki was moaning and thrusting against me, and I couldn’t think any more, I could only feel, feel his new body beneath me, feel the familiar burn of passion and arousal as his skin touched mine, as our bodies danced and flickered together—

Loki cried out, a primal, animal gasp of pleasure; his new body spasmed and tightened around me. And I lost control. My hips thrust faster and faster against his, my head tilted back, my eyes closed, his name ripped out of my lips. My orgasm came from somewhere deep inside my body, and it crashed through every muscle, drowning me.

I blinked as my mind attempted to recover from the oblivion of that orgasm. Loki’s smell surrounded me, his salt and woodsmoke. I took a deep, juttering breath and realized I’d collapsed on top of him. I opened my mouth to apologize and then gasped; I was still inside him, and so sensitive it almost hurt to pull apart.

“Oh. Wow,” I said, falling back against the pillows.

 Loki propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at me. “Not bad. For your first time.”

I laughed and shook my head as the room slowly came back into focus. “So that’s what it feels like.”

“That’s what it feel like,” he said, leaning to kiss my forehead. “What did you think?”

I closed my eyes and waited for my heartbeat to stop thundering in my ears before I responded. “Different,” I said, finally. “Intense. And, uh, fast.”

He laughed, bringing my fingers to his lips. “You get better at controlling it,” he said, kissing my fingertips gently.

My body shivered again, and I felt a low tightness spreading across my abdomen. I reached for his chest, cupping the curve of his breast.

He laughed, and his eyes sparkled. “Want to try it again?”

I shrugged, leaning to meet his lips. “Sure.”

---

Buy Honeymoon at 
Amazon US :: Amazon UK

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.

Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

Samantha MacLeod's website
Twitter
Facebook
Tumblr
Goodreads
Amazon author page