Archive for the ‘Titillating Tuesday’ Category

Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: December 6th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments

Excerpt from Boudoir Stories — Chapter Two – The Party

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They hadn’t made love right away, but had driven out to the beach to watch the sunrise. Foreplay. They sat in the car and enjoyed the break of day together until normal breathing became almost unbearable, touching unstoppable. They chose the car over the white sand with cattails that blew softly in the breeze. It was just sex, she had reminded.

As Sabrina writhed and arched over the 6-speed gear shift, slid her lust across the taupe leather seats, Dawson groped like a lost boy. Dawn’s first light bore in through the windshield. Her breasts were hard as melons, probably fake but it made no difference to him. He squeezed them. Her panties, already down around her knees, left nothing for him to do but reach in, feel her readiness. And so was he. Unbuttoned, he sprang forth, quivered with desire, pushed to enter. A pile of condoms spilled from the dashboard onto the floor. Out of reach. Teasing. He made a move for them. She grabbed him, pulled him close. Demanding. He reached again but she stopped him, placed his outstretched hand on the soft of her inner thigh, pressed it into her wetness. Tongue in ear. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. But he knew it did.

Between licks he reached down, unwrapped one handed in one movement. Like riding a bike, he hadn’t forgotten how. Gingerly, he placed tube over tip, opened, spread, pushed. She was anxious, excited, forced its fit, urged rubber down hard as he dove into her. She was so ready. By the time they climaxed the sun was pouring heat through glass. Warm leather. Ecstasy. Afterward, she wanted to smoke. He didn’t. She stepped out into the salt tipped air and lit up, inhaled deeply. He watched her. Audrey Hepburn hair blew in the wind, wet lips curled around cool menthol, bared shoulder pressed against hot chrome. She looked away. Distant. Aloof.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

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Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: November 29th, 2016 by Madison Lake 1 Comment

Excerpt from Where Daffodils Grow Wild – Chapter One

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As Strauss played from the modern phonograph set up in the corner, a calm settled over the room. Proberta felt certain that Edith had guessed what she had been up to. As much as she feigned innocent, Proberta knew exactly what she was doing when leading the direction of their conversation to her volunteering to go into the forest. Now, she waited to see whether the wrath of Edith Hornbrook would be unleashed, and she would be nailed to the cross, or whether Edith would ignore the obvious and relent to Proberta’s scheme.

One thing she had on her side was that Edith was nosey. She would want to get news – any news – about her son, and she’d love to hear gossip and information about the others as well. As usual, Edith played it cool for a while, ordering more port from Randolph, discussing the choice of music being played, ringing for Tilly to bring her plum pudding, and so on.

The clock struck nine as the two women rose to retire to their respective bedrooms. Darkness had enveloped the acre surrounding the estate, and in the drawing room, only the soft yellow light from two small lamps, and the embers simmering from the fire, glowed.

“Good night, dear,” said Edith as Proberta placed her empty port glass on the side table, resigned. “And if you’re not too busy, tomorrow would be a good day for you to pick up my tinctures from that gypsy woman.” Edith paused. “Weather permitting, of course. I’ll send Tilly first thing in the morning to send word you are coming. That should give time for her to gather my medicines together. I’ll have payment in a velvet coin purse ready. Ask Tilly to give it to you before you set off.”

Proberta tried not to show her excitement, but a grin overtaking her dour look could not be avoided.

“Oh, I’m so glad you have decided to let me fetch your tinctures, Madam. They are so important for your health and well being. If…”

“Oh enough of your swooning over me. You got what you wanted, now go to bed. I’ll not see or hear from you until you return in the morrow, and with news. I want lots and lots of news.” She huffed. “Good night, Proberta”.

Once the ornery Edith had gone, Proberta nearly ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t care that the old bag had revealed her plan, or that she had snapped at her. The fact was, she was going on an adventure, and she was going to see Henley and all the others. She slipped into the white lace gown that Tilly had laid out for her, and climbed into crisp, freshly laundered sheets. However did Tilly find the time? she wondered. Giddy with excitement, Proberta let her hands slip under the downy quilt to settle on her soft thighs. Soon they found their way over to caress the short fuzzy hair that surrounded her private parts. The warmth between her legs was irresistible, and before she knew it, Proberta was lost in a world of sensual pleasure filled with erotic visions that caused a hot flush to course through her veins. Her back arched as her fingers gently probed deep into her moist cavern. She didn’t remember the climax as she slipped into a dream so sweet it seemed to be one long, delicious orgasm.

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Ooops!

Posted on: November 23rd, 2016 by Madison Lake 1 Comment

Where did the week go? How did I miss Monday and Tuesday? It’s already Wednesday. Gah!

I guess this is just one of the changes that is happening now that I’m working a ‘real’ job outside of my cozy writing space. My hours vary from 7 am to 5 pm to 1 pm to 10 pm (today), so it’s easy, at least for me, to lose track of time and what day it is. There. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it.

Everything is fine in the world of lingerie. The racks (no pun intended) are full of lacy, silky pretty things with a smattering of cotton and flannel for the more practical among us. There are also oodles of soft, furry robes to curl up in with a mug of cocoa or a glass of port, in front of a crackling fire. If you’re local, and you haven’t already, come in and see me sometime.

Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt from my first book, More Than Just Friends, chapter Compromising.

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“Damn you, Peter, let me past.” Joanie was getting annoyed but kept her anger in

check. She wanted to prod him along good-humoredly, to win his trust. Peter leaned

down and reached his mouth toward hers. She turned her head but it was too late. He

latched onto her mouth with his own and forced her up against the wall. Joanie tried to

wiggle free but he was too strong for her. A bitter taste, like poison, came through his

mouth to hers, making her reel with repulsion. Sweat rubbed against her cheeks and

dripped down her neck. She felt ill. Lately, all she had been doing was trying to escape

this man – this man she used to adore. What had happened – what was  happening

to him?

But soon, Joanie began to melt against Peter’s touch, just as she had always done. His

kiss became more urgent and she returned his ardent advances, opening her mouth to

freely allow his eager tongue to enter. She gave him access down her flannel pajama top

to find her hard nipple, then to cup and fondle her breast. It felt so good, she squirmed.

His other hand let go of the door jamb and inch by inch, scanned her body down to

find what he was looking for – the wet softness between her legs. Before he pulled the

elastic waistband away from her stomach to indulge in her sweet moistness, Joanie made

her move.

Like a bullet, she tore away from his now relaxed body, darted into the bathroom,

slammed the door and locked it. Leaning up against the closed door, she had only

seconds to breathe a sigh of relief before the pounding began. Next, she went to the sink

to wash her mouth, face and neckline, rubbing herself as if she were exorcising a demon

from her body. She didn’t have much time, she knew that, but with all the banging and

yelling going on, she felt certain someone would hear and come to her rescue.

Just as that thought came to mind, the racket stopped. She heard Peter rustling

around in the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and pulling items out of cupboards.

Then it got very quiet. Joanie barely moved, waiting, listening, to hear what Peter was

going to do next, but there was nothing. Just as she was beginning to think maybe he’d

gone, she heard metal against metal and realized he was jimmying the bathroom door.

The grating sound made her anxious. She backed away from the door and realized there

was no way out. The one tiny window opened scarcely enough to let out steam from the

hot shower, or to let fresh air in. Even if she could pry open the window wider, it was

four stories down to the ground, with no fire escape.

Her mind raced, trying to find some solution. There had to be a solution. Her phone

– where had she left her phone? At this point it was her only hope, but she had no idea

where it was. She couldn’t remember getting home last night, let alone where she had

left her purse or her phone. It made her think about future emergency situations, if she

even had a future. Joanie slumped down against the bathtub in momentary defeat. But

retracing her steps from the previous night in her head, Joanie thought she remembered

seeing her purse on the side table by the front door. If it was there, her iPhone would

certainly be in it. It was always in the little side pocket of her purse. Focusing now on

this new discovery, Joanie stood up and began to work on a new plan that would involve

accessing her phone to call for help. For a moment she felt a wave of relief, of hope. Then

she saw the door handle slowly turn, and she froze.

~~~~~

Uh oh! What’s going to happen next? Find out by buying and reading the book, here http://www.madisonlakepages.com/books/more-than-just-friends.

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Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: November 15th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments

Excerpt from the chapter Arousal in Willow Wisp, book three of a series

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Proberta and Brawn didn’t find their aging affected their sexual appetites. If anything, things between the sheets—or other places—got better as time passed. They grew to know each other’s bodies well and rather than get bored, they discovered new sweet spots and found different ways to find pleasure with each other. Just as they had done in the early days when Proberta stayed as a guest in Brawn’s hut, they’d sneak off to the woods to make soft, sensual love among the mossy beds of the forest floor. Other times, when they knew no one was around, Brawn would press his wife up against the kitchen counter, his burly arms holding her fast. He’d lift her skirts, lower her pantaloons and eagerly thrust inside her warm and waiting opening. Both enjoyed gentle lovemaking as much as the heightened arousal from rough and tumble sex, and knew they would continue till their dying days.

It was one of these balmy afternoons when, after an intensely passionate roll in the hay, a knock came at the door. Brawn went to answer, hoping to get rid of whoever was there so he and his wife could continue with their lusty frolicking. There stood a tall, handsome young man with a muscular jawline, large blue eyes and a very blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail. He was dressed like a gentleman; tweed jacket and neckerchief, tall brown leather boots, woolen knickers, but his handshake was strong and firm, his palms and knuckles calloused from heavy work. It left Brawn wondering who in the world this fellow could be.

“Hello good chap. What are you doing in these parts, and what is it I can do for you?”

“Greetings to you, good Sir. You are Brawn from the forest glen, are you not?”

“That is right. I am that man. And how is it you know me?”

“I do not know you, Sir. But you have an excellent reputation in these parts. I am from the north and have come looking for work. The bartender at the local pub was kind enough to give me your name and send me here.”

Brawn looked the lad over and thought about what he said. It was true, he knew his reputation was solid in the community, but he was a little surprised that Docket would give away his personal information, in particular where he lived, to a stranger, regardless his station in life.

“Excuse me for prying, but you don’t seem the type cut out for woodsman’s work dressed in your high class clothes and all.” With this the young man laughed.

“I clean up well, Sir.” He winked. “Besides, one must look presentable when seeking work, no matter what kind of work one is after.” This time Brawn laughed too. He opened the door and welcomed the young man inside.

“Name’s Heath. Jeremiah Heath.” Jeremiah took a seat at the table and after putting the kettle on to boil for tea, Brawn sat across from him. “Excuse me for saying so, but I have never seen a man boil water for tea before. It’s quite different where I come from. The woman does those tasks.”

“Actually, I believe it’s quite different in this small community than in most places. We are our own people here.” Brawn paused and rubbed his scruffy chin with his calloused fingers. “Don’t get me wrong. We’re educated and mannered and love our family more than anything else, but I guess you’d say we have our own set of rules on how to live, that’s all.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard all about you folks. Why else do you think I sought you out?”

At this point Proberta came out of the bedroom, fastening her apron around her small waist.

“I thought I heard a commotion. Who’s this come calling and waking up our afternoon?” Her face glowed with the pinch of recent passion—rosy cheeks and a wide smile.

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Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: November 8th, 2016 by Madison Lake No Comments

Excerpt from the new anthology SkinOnSkin, available on Amazon. This is one of my submissions/additions to the anthology. I will post the work of other poets over the course of time. 

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NIGHT PRAYER

Fingers slide over

the strand

that adorns her collarbone,

pearl one, pearl two,

a rosary prayer. She doesn’t believe,

yet knows what to do. His snores

reverberate the hollow

room, the un-slept side

of the conjugal bed

bereft of desire. Her desire 

whispers under lace,

under garment, under

downy fur

fingered through

quickened breath. His slumber

stifles her cries;

agonized joy

released to a void

devoid of love. Her eyes

close around a tangle of dreams.

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Please visit Amazon to find SkinOnSkin. It’s an amazing representation of erotic poetry from poets around the world. A must for your collection.

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