My First Tattoo

Lower back, done on Saturday 24th November 2007.
Tattoo artist was Theresa Gordon-Wade, who is really nice as well as being a great tattooist.

And they called it Puppet Love

Yes, this (the one on the right, I should point out) was my first crush - aged about 6 I should think. A hairy blue monster. Sweet natured, innocent and a bit exasperated by life.

Sesame Street is an awesome programme: educational, witty, humane and fun. I grew up on it because most English-language TV in Hong Kong was imported from America at the time I lived there . And I still love Grover.

Funny-Shaped Balls

This is Augustin Pichot, rugby player and captain of Argentina's national side. He converted me to watching rugby.

Veraine

This is actually a photo of Gerard Butler playing Attila in the eponymous TV mini-series. Bad series. But it came out sometime after "Divine Torment" was published and when I saw the cover of the DVD I went "Bloody hell! - that's Veraine!"

Which is the whole reason I have this enormous crush on a relatively obscure Scottish actor. Well, he's not so obscure now.

To be 100% Veraine he'd have to have greying hair of course, and black eyes not grey (Veraine's north-Indian-ish). Still, he's 90% right: my ultimate sexual hero.

There's a clip on the extras of the Dracula 2001 DVD showing GB reading for the title role while still wearing the Attila long hair and eyeliner. It's probably the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Secondary brain (the one in my knickers) kicks in and overrides primary one. I have no interest in vampires, but I'd let that one kill me stone dead.

Pat Rafter, Wet.

Lust Bites T-Shirt

Divine Torment back in print this week

Divine Torment is back in print from 8th August (UK - it's October for US readers I think). Hooray!

It has a snazzy new cover (left). Okay, so it's a bit cheesy... Like brie. And neither cover model looks anything like my heroes. But at least it says "This is a fantasy novel, dudes!" - unlike the godawful 1st edition cover (below). Oh man is the new one an improvement!

My favourite is still the Japanese cover (bottom), which has actually been drawn to order by someone who's read the book. They've got the reddish hair and the armour (although they've exaggerated how kinky the latter is).

Still, the main thing is it's back on sale. And it's mine. And I love it!

Read an excerpt on Lust Bites, on the last Friday of this month - and maybe win a free copy.

Horny Boyz!

Extract: 'The Dragon's Bride'

'The Dragon's Bride' appears in Cruel Enchantment, my short story collection.


‘Tell me,’ said Oromon; 'are you considered attractive by the standards of your people?'

Sheldi looked down at herself, at the firm curves so generous that they were almost a joke. Noblewomen of the city aspired to be tiny and fragile. She remembered the barbed ‘She has the physique of a dancing girl, not of a lady!’ hissed deliberately just within her hearing, a lifetime away. ‘Actually, I’m thought to be too tall,’ she told the dragon.

‘Not now,’ said Oromon, bringing his head in close to her. His hot breath whistled around her feet. Suddenly his tongue – forked like a snake’s and pale blue – slid from between the mesh of his teeth and flickered up the line of her stomach. Sheldi gasped and put out her hand without thinking onto the scaled ridge between his nostrils. It was warm.

‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

‘Smelling you,’ he replied. ‘Kneel down: you will be more stable. It’s necessary,’ he added as she obeyed helplessly: ‘My people have excellent hearing and vision, but a poor sense of smell. And the scent of your kind is not very like that of my own. But close enough. Ahh.’

His tongue brushed across her breasts, moving in and out of his mouth, tracing a path across her shivering skin from throat to belly, exploring under her arms and across her lips. Sheldi shut her eyes and submitted, yielding to the dry, delicate touch. When it slid between her parted thighs she made no sound, though her eyes flew open. She felt the tip of the tongue questing in the moist folds of her flesh and realised with silent shock how adroit a forked tongue could be at parting and spreading that flesh.

‘Open your legs,’ breathed Oromon, withdrawing for a moment, and when she complied her returned to probe deeper. And she was wet, she suddenly knew: soaking wet. His tongue was drawing slick trails of moisture down from her vagina across her thighs and she could smell herself. She flushed with shame. The dragon-tongue slipped into the hot passage of her sex, flexed there and withdrew – and Sheldi bit down on a tiny moan.

‘Not entirely unpleasant, then,’ Oromon chuckled; then when she refused to reply he stabbed again with a teasing caress that jerked a cry from her lips and left her shaking.

‘Oh please,’ she whispered.

Lust Man Standing

I love this picture. I could smile at it for hours.

The TV programme it comes from is Last Man Standing and the contestant is Rajko Radovic.

I wrote some stuff about my sad warrior obsession in my sparkly new Myspace Blog, if you're interested.

Brendan Fraser

Saving my lovely Brendan Fraser sidebar picture for future generations....

I got it from http://www.provocateuse.com/ by the way. One of my favourite sites on the Web. Visit it today!

How long do you think he can hold his breath for?

Grrrrl Power

Blogger was playing me about when we did a GirlCrush Wednesday over at Lust Bites, so I couldn't post any pictures. So very belatedly, here's a selection of the women I fancy. You may just spot a theme.


Claudia Black in Pitch Black - but I loved her best as Aeryn Sun in Farscape.

Michelle Rodriguez in Resident Evil.

Milla Jovovich, also in Resident Evil. What a hardchick-fest that film is!

And Angelina Jolie, of course. If there is a God, that's what She looks like.

"Wildwood" excerpt

‘Taste it,’ he ordered, showing his teeth. ‘Taste it and tell me you’re not ready for me.’ He touched my lips. I licked my own sharp juices from his fingers, reluctantly at first, then thoroughly. My cheeks were aflame with shame. ‘I think that’s the answer I’ve been waiting for.’ Still watching me with that appraising glint, Michael removed his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. Then he sat down on the sofa, at the far end from Jenny, and patted his thigh. ‘Come on,’ he said softly.

Eyes downcast I came to him and sat in his lap. Every step was a surrender. I knew he could feel my trembling, the last vestiges of my inner struggle. He traced his fingers across the silk on my back and bum. His legs were hard slabs of muscle beneath mine. He kissed my cheek but when I turned my mouth to his, my lips already parted and yearning, he withheld his kiss, his smile lazily triumphant.

My dressing gown wouldn’t stay together over my bare legs.

Without fuss and without force he took my wrists round to the small of my back and held them there, crossed over. He only used one of his hands to pin me, and I could have broken the grip easily, but the very fact that he had to put so little physical effort into mastering me was a glaring demonstration of my submission. The posture thrust my breasts out a little. With his free hand Michael played with the open edge of my garment, the line where silk and skin met. Then he glanced over at Jenny. Uncoiling from her perch on the far arm, she came down the sofa toward us. I could see know that her slick, plastic-looking dress was made of pond-weed, the kind that lies in sheets under the surface. With her nails she slit it down the front and discarded it, revealing a palely green body beneath, slight except for the swell of her rounded breasts. Her nipples were large and, like her nails, black; they seem to stare at me. I looked away, unable to meet their unblinking gaze.

‘You’re mine,’ said Michael in my ear. ‘I’m going to let her play with you, because that’s my pleasure, but you belong to me. Your body knows that already, doesn’t it?’

I whimpered under my breath. I had no idea whether he was staking his claim or simply enjoying the game, but he was right about my body; it was wholehearted in its treacherous collaboration. As Michael drew back one side of my gown to expose my right breast my nipple stood proud to meet him, not so large or dark as Jenny’s but hard anyway, a sweet brown nut.
‘Well. Somebody’s feeling … perky.’ He took it between thumb and finger, twisting it gently, enough to make me quiver. ‘I get so carried away in admiring your arse, Avril, that I forget how much you love having your juicy little tits touched. You’d do almost anything to have me do this.’ He pinched me softly and I cried out in pleasure and humiliation, causing him to smile. ‘Oh, that’s good, is it?’

‘Yes,’ I said in the smallest of voices.

‘You want more?’ He used his nails on my skin and I heaved against him. He kept playing as Jenny crawled up over me, and he traced the whorls of my ear with his tongue, his breath hot. His touch was nearly enough to distract me from her green, inhuman eyes. She made a low, musical, almost birdlike sound in her throat as she leaned in to kiss me. Then Michael withdrew the tip of his tongue from my ear and turned to her. ‘No,’ he said in a voice like lead.

A sneer flickered over Jenny’s face, but she lowered her head obediently to my breasts. She stroked one hand down my breastbone, easing the other panel of silk aside, tugging the knot of the belt loose so that I was bared all the way down to my pubic triangle. Then she returned her attention to my breasts, stroking the sensitive inner surfaces until I shut my eyes, my skin singing. Her fingers were cold. Her mouth was too, inside and out, as it closed around my left nipple. I gasped out loud.

‘Oh yes,’ said Michael. ‘You are particularly sensitive there, aren’t you?’ His own excitement was more than evident, pushing up against me through his trousers. ‘Isn’t she good?’

She was incredible. Her tongue was cold, and she used it to stir my nerve-endings to tingling frenzy. She licked and she lapped and she suckled and she nibbled. I looked down at her only once and saw that there was sand in her hair, a fine drift of golden mica glittering in the natural parting lines. Then I had to shut my eyes gain as the tide of sensation dragged me under and I gave way to the tormenting pleasure of her lips, arching my back to push more of my breasts into her delicious mouth. Michael abandoned that territory to his ally and slipped his hand between my thighs instead. I writhed and let my legs part, unresisting as he explored me thoroughly.

‘Oh Avril, your pot is quite full, isn’t it? Full of your warm fuck honey. You are a wicked girl, getting so turned on. You know I’m a bad, bad man but you’re sat in my lap wriggling like a whore and you’re letting a strange girl suck your beautiful tits. You’re in slut heaven, you wicked girl.’

From the other side Jenny’s slim hand joined his between my thighs, slipping inside me. His hand was warm, hers was not; the contrast of sensations nearly turned me inside out. His imprisoned erection ground up against me. His other hand tightened on my wrists until the fingers bit into my flesh.

‘You’re so turned on you’re about to come,’ he whispered. ‘I haven’t even got my cock in you, and you’re coming already.’

And I was.

‘Yes,’ he murmured as I writhed upon him: ‘that’s it. That’s it.’

© Janine Ashbless 2007

Not A Dry Seat in The House

Gerard Butler! With no clothes on!



Yes, it's "300" the movie - Proof that there is a god. A god of gay military porn possibly, but certainly a deity of some description.



There are twenty things wrong with this film. It's borderline racist. It's quasi-fascist (but not in a Nazi way). It equates physical beauty with moral perfection. David Wenham does a really weird Long John Silver accent. It's not violent enough (Seriously!). The Leonidas/Gorgo sex scene should have been ooh, about ten minutes longer. Worst of all, unlike "Gates of Fire" the novel, which is deeply moving in its depiction of men facing certain death with the utmost courage - and it's only moving and only courage because they like all people do fear death - in 300 the Spartans are having such a good time getting themselves killed that it doesn't seem tragic or even much like sacrifice.



But it's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.



Favourite sequence