Archive for the ‘Titillating Tuesday’ Category

The second of four short erotic fiction stories for Madison Lake’s Titillating Tuesdays.

Boudoir Story #2 – FREDERICO


Frederico was a vagabond. He was not homeless, nor poor, but he couldn’t stay in one place long enough to keep more than a six pack of Pacifico and left over Chinese take-out containers in the fridge, or hook up a telephone in the house he rented. Not long enough to leave a trail, just long enough to have some fun, make a little money, live till it was time to move on, and he never knew when that would be.
One of the things Frederico loved to do was dance. When he was six years old his mother had signed him up with the local boys soccer team, and later t-ball. After witnessing her son doing pirouettes in the middle of the field as balls whizzed past him, she pulled him out and enrolled him in ballet classes. He never looked back. Needless to say, Club 36, where he currently worked, was delighted to have such a classically trained dancer perform in their display window. Frederico was who the young, hip crowd watched as they waited patiently in the long line-up to get into the dark, seedy looking after-hours club. Around midnight he moved from the window to the stage, where he entertained the crowd with semi-erotic strip tease moves while the metal house band, who played at the club every weekend, blasted tunes up to the rafters. Pay was crap, but tips were good, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. The job paid the rent, kept him in great physical shape, while he did what he loved to do – dance. What more could anyone want in life?
Frederico had a best friend in Tucson, his current pit stop. Her name was Angela, but he called her Ange. Ange also danced at the club, and stripped from midnight to 2 am. Ange was tall, full figured, and very fit. Her best feature, she thought, was her butt – firm, round, and perky. Frederico had to agree, so most of the dances the two of them choreographed for her shows used her finest feature, and often included tassels, dangling balls and thongs. You get the picture.
Other than his handsome square-jawed face, thick dark hair, and steel blue eyes, Frederico’s best quality was his entire body, which included a gigantic penis. At first sight, Ange had been mortified, then curious, then in awe. She wanted to check it out, so they jumped in the sack and she tried it, the sack being a top-of-the-line Tempur-Pedic mattress in a frame on the floor. The floor was tongue and groove oak laminate that had pee stains from a dog the previous renters had probably kept indoors all day while they worked. To cover the stains, Frederico had thrown down a small, beige shag carpet he bought at Crate & Barrel. It served its purpose not only to cover the soiled wood, but to provide a soft cushion for Ange to kneel on.
Since the bedroom window was south facing, the room filled with afternoon light and Arizona warmth, even though the day was overcast. Ange didn’t bother to remove all of her clothes, but she did toss her t-shirt onto the nearby dresser, a white antique deco piece Frederico had picked up at an estate auction. He hadn’t meant to make a purchase when he walked through the door of ‘The Girls’ Estate Sales, especially one of home furnishings, but the gorgeous design was so unique he couldn’t resist. When he was ready to move on he would put whatever he had accumulated on Craigslist or eBay. Without fail, he’d make enough money for gas, food, and lodging to get him to his next destination.
Kneeling on the shag carpet from Crate & Barrel, Ange filled her mouth with Frederico’s enlarged member until it made her gag, but she didn’t stop, the enjoyment filled her more. Her large breasts bounced awkwardly as her mouth moved up and down the long shaft. Frederico lay on top of the bed on a feather duvet with his eyes closed. He had seen those same breasts bounce around when she danced on Friday and Saturday nights at Club 36, but this was different, if he had opened his eyes to notice. After she was finished, Ange had him enter her from on top. She climbed on the bed beside him, spread her legs and lifted them over her head, because she was a flexible girl. He entered slowly, filling her in that position too, his erect organ growing even more when inside her, or at least that’s what it felt like to her. It stretched her opening, then reached deep inside her so when her orgasm came, it was as if he had found a button and pushed it. Wham. Finally, she had him mount her from behind, and she arched up to meet his enormity.
Frederico enjoyed their sex, although he knew it wasn’t lovemaking. He did love Ange, he just did not love her. He had actually never really developed a strong enough attachment to anyone at any one place before he met Ange at the club in Tucson. For now it seemed to work for both of them, tumbleweeds that they were.

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The fans have spoken.

You enjoyed A Cloud of Hawthorne, and because of the wonderful feedback, I might just write a sequel. But you also said more sexy please. So what’s a writer to do?

Bring on more sexy!


One of four short stories of erotic fiction for Titillating Tuesdays.






The room was noisy, the lighting dim, just as Don had requested. At least that’s what she thought his name was. She really wasn’t sure. The seats at the bar were full, so Alicia slipped into one of the small tables in the corner by the window, near the upright piano. A grey haired, tuxedo clad man was playing Sexual Healing, by Marvin Gaye. No one seemed to pay much attention, but he played on, night after night.

After a few minutes, a voluptuous barmaid arrived. She was wearing a white, low cut chemise over a short black skirt, and when she bent over to place the small cocktail napkin on the table in preparation for Alicia’s drink, her full breasts spilled over the lace trim, almost exposing her nipples. Alicia wondered if they were real, because she didn’t know anybody with breasts like that. She herself, fit snugly into a 34C, and could easily wear a 34D, but liked the way she filled out the smaller size. It gave her cleavage. She liked cleavage. She expected her clients would too.

Alicia ordered a whiskey sour and sat back to wait, keeping an eye out for Don; dark hair, six three, well dressed. Sounded far too predictable to her. Months of job hunting and more rejections than she could count on two hands, had made her desperate. No one wanted to hire a woman over forty, that was for damn sure, and why would they? If she was going to make the monthly income she had become accustomed to before the divorce, she was going to have to find another way to do it besides a nine to fiver, and that’s exactly how she discovered Ruby Rose Escort Agency.

She took a sip of her drink, the sourness startling her taste buds until she got used to its fresh tartness. Admittedly, she was nervous. It was her first gig. Three weeks training in the social expectations of being a call-girl of the highest stature, as well as explicit instruction on the carnal duties involved. It was hands on. At first she had been surprised, even shocked, at the overtly open acts they were required to watch and then perform, but she decided if this was going to be her work she had to get with the program. This meant having sex with multiple partners at one time, graphic and thorough lessons in cunnilingus, fellatio, and anilingus, and of course, training in self defense. She found orgies to be a good method in preparing for field work because she could learn from so many different sexual types, and there were many, she discovered. It also helped her become free of all inhibitions. Much to her surprise, she learned to enjoy cunnilingus and fellatio more than any form of intercourse, especially if a third party was playing along.

Across the room, Alicia noticed a tall man pacing nonchalantly in front of the bar. He appeared disinterested, but nonetheless kept perusing the crowd. She wondered why his eyes avoided her table, but then, without warning, he made his way over to her and sat down, as if he knew he had the right table, the right woman.

“Alicia,” he said flatly, not asking. “You look nothing but everything like your description.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alicia replied, somewhat put off. Was he trying to outsmart her already? Even though she was working as a high-end escort, there were all kinds out there, she had been warned. She took a sip of her drink, hiding her nervousness behind a blur of liquor, and wondered if her first night was going to be her last.

“It’s supposed to mean that you don’t look like your description, you look much, much better.” He smiled, and she softened a bit, returning his smile. When her shoulders relaxed, her ample bosom protruded invitingly. He did not hide his pleasure, allowing his eyes to linger.

“What’ll it be, sir?” The server was standing before them, tray in hand. Don looked toward Alicia.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

They drank and talked for a while, and she thought it wasn’t really as bad as she thought it would be. Sort of like any first date, until he suddenly downed his drink, demanded the bill, and hurried them out of the bar toward the hotel lobby.

“Stay here,” he ordered, depositing her in front of a bank of elevators where a large vase of peonies sat poised on a pedestal. Alicia watched as Don walked over to the front desk, and she couldn’t help notice the concierge was more than friendly with him. It was as if they knew one another. Either money talked, or this was not the first time Don had purchased a room at this hotel.

In the elevator, Don did not speak. She wondered what had changed. Was it the drink? He’d only had one, unless he had arrived with a few under his belt. She decided to think no more about it. It was what it was. Keep your antenna up, eyes and ears open, but don’t read too much into anything, they had reminded her repeatedly. It’s a job. Personal safety is the only thing that matters. 

Don placed her hand on the hardness in his pants and pressed himself into her palm, which she now squeezed along with its throbbing. She did not look at him, but she sensed his eyes were closed. The only sound was the ding that signaled each passing floor on their way to the Penthouse. When the elevator doors opened, Alicia was hit with the fragrant scent of lilies. The foyer of the suite was sparse but elegant, with marble floors, and a vaulted ceiling where a dazzling crystal chandelier hung like teardrops. The only piece of furniture was a rectangular table set against the facing wall. It was carved out of birds eye maple, quite stunning, and held the vase of white lilies.

The foyer opened into a vast modern luxury apartment, complete with kitchen, bar, and a breathtaking view of the city, of which night lights glittered through the floor to ceiling windows. White leather furniture and tasteful art decorated the living room. A bottle of Moët & Chandon sat in a silver ice bucket, and beside it, a crystal bowl of chocolate dipped strawberries sat atop a table dressed in white linen. Ah, the cliche of all cliches, she thought with a wry smile. But I like it.

“Take off your clothes,” Don ordered, not looking at her. Of course she was taken aback, not only by his change of mood, but his defiance in not looking at her since they had left the lounge. But this was her job, no questions asked. She supposed she’d get used to it over time.

She began to disrobe, slowly, seductively. Although he was not looking at her, she was certain he was aware of every move she made, so she made each one count. She flung one black patent stiletto off her foot. It landed softly on the white plush carpet. Just as she was about to fling the second shoe, he turned to her. She froze.

“Go on, keep going.” His eyes were intent as he looked at her. She loosened the heel of the remaining shoe with the toes of her barefoot, but rather than kick it off, she dangled it by her toes like a carrot just out of reach. While she did this, she began to loosen her garters, fully aware she was exposing the nakedness underneath her hiked up mini skirt. His eyes remained riveted to the shoe, but she knew what he was seeing. Letting the shoe drop, Alicia unfurled her seamed stockings, pulling them off her smooth legs one at a time. Next she slipped a shoulder out of her low cut crepe blouse, then another. It slid down her torso, revealing a sexy, strapless demi-cup of black lace. She felt her large, hard nipples pressed against the lace. It felt good.

‘‘That’s enough,” he said. “Now go over to the couch.” He pointed toward the sofa as if she hadn’t seen it. “Lie down.” His requests were sharp, to the point. She didn’t mind. Actually, she liked the way he toyed with the intent of sex. It turned her on.

She did as was requested of her, walking past him with an alluring strut. Her eyes were on his, making sure he saw every bit of what he was getting. She was just about to lie down on the couch when she turned, and realized he had followed, and was now standing directly behind her. He had removed his jacket, and was loosening his tie, his gaze not leaving hers. She wondered why he was so changeable, first engaging, then distant, and now this, but she decided not to dwell on it.

“Allow me,” Alicia said, reaching up to pull his necktie from his collar before proceeding to unbutton his starched dress shirt. Don let her undress him, right down to removing his socks and shoes. Kneeling before him, his large, hard member at face level, Alicia began to kiss his penis lightly. It pulsed.

“What does Don like to play?” she asked, looking up at him, licking her lips. “Alicia likes fellatio.” She licked him. “Does Don like fellatio?”

Without a moment’s pause, he closed his eyes and thrust himself toward her open mouth. She rose slightly and came down on him, and as she did, his organ grew inside the warm wetness that wrapped around him. Rhythmically he began to thrust, at first slowly, then faster and faster, deeper and deeper. She pulled away, took a deep breath, and looked up at him, cradling his stiffness between her breasts.

“Give me more,” she begged out loud, meaning every word. “I want all of you.” She pushed her mouth onto him greedily, and he gave it to her again, and again until he came, hard and fast, igniting an orgasm in her like she’d never experienced before.

*  *  *  *  *



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Titillating Tuesday

Posted on: May 8th, 2012 by Madison Lake No Comments


The fans have spoken.

You enjoyed A Cloud of Hawthorne, and because of the wonderful feedback, I might just write a sequel. But you also said more sexy please. So what’s a writer to do?

Bring on more sexy!

Beginning later today, the first of a four part series of short erotica will be posted called Boudoir Stories. This should keep you going for at least four weeks on Titillating Tuesdays. And please, keep the feedback coming. It’s the only way you’ll get what you want.

Stay tuned darlings…

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When Liam arrived at the salon just before ten the next morning, Genevieve had already opened. The smell of freshly brewed coffee swept out from the back room to greet him. He smiled. He felt happier than he’d felt in a long time, even with all the drama going down at the club. He dropped his appointment book at the front desk and walked to the back of the salon. To his surprise, Fran was sitting in the last chair wrapped in foils and draped in a maroon robe. She looked up as he approached. 
      “Hey Irish, how’s it going?”  
Liam did not hide his surprise. 
      “Aren’t you a bit early, Franny? I thought we all agreed to meet at noon.” 
      Genevieve rounded the corner from the staff room, carrying a mixture of bleach for Fran’s hair. She looked so perky and radiant it took Liam’s breath away. He just stood there like a dummy until he was brought out of his stupor by the women’s laughter.
      “What’s with you, Irish? Fran said jovially. “Cat got your tongue?”

Then she continued. “I don’t think         Irish is too happy to see me today? Wonder what that’s about.” Genevieve smiled.

      “We just decided to touch up Fran’s color before our meeting, Irish. Is that okay?”
      “It’s a little late to ask permission, isn’t it?” He laughed, and the two women joined in, Fran’s cackle filling the morning stillness. “No worries ladies, I have plenty to do before the rest of the bunch arrive.”
      Liam disappeared into the staffroom but heard their giggles through the closed door. What is it with women when they get together? He thought, shaking his head. He was just glad to be alone, to gather his thoughts and get a handle on what was going on in his life. And what was  going on? He was suddenly in the throes of undermining one of the city’s most notorious low-life crooks, while at the same time, was falling for his employee, who was dating one of the salon’s clients. Meanwhile, it was business as usual at Snippets, where he had to ensure that through it all, his many customers remained happy. He wondered if things could be any more complicated, but then he remembered his past life and relaxed. This was a piece of cake.
      Still, he didn’t understand the fluttery feeling that had been rumbling around in the pit of his stomach every single day since he and G had connected in a special way. It was with him all the time, but was heightened when he was around her. What was he to do? Even with his first love, Simony Chiavary, he hadn’t felt the way he did now. Perhaps it was because of his and Simony’s youth and vagrancy at that time in their lives. 
      He had met Simony when he was twenty four, living the life of a street-wise thug, teetering on the edge. He was a bad boy, with a reputation that carried a lot of respect back in those days, respect earned by carrying out certain requests by those higher up the food chain, otherwise called misdemeanors. Simony had liked that about him. She didn’t know it at the time, but she was looking for someone cleverer than her, or her father, someone she could feel that common bond with. What she didn’t realize was that Liam was getting tired of being ‘in the business’. Between the street life and prison he’d seen too many things, had done too many things. Since he was a lad of twelve he’d been making his own way, and had hooked up with the only people who gave him a sense of family – street gangs. 
     From there he moved up to working with the big time thugs who ran the streets, and by the time he was eighteen, he was expected to up-the-ante from petty crime to jobs that carried some weight. As the money increased, so did his desire, and before long he’d served his first of two sentences in the Pen, the first for petty theft, the second for robbery. Even to this day he wasn’t sure what happened to make him shift, but one day he simply made the decision to move on. He had turned a corner in his life and there was no going back. This shift was happening right around the time he had met Simony, which, he thought in retrospect, was probably why it didn’t work – couldn’t work. 
      Simony wasn’t any trouble. In fact, she was extremely intelligent, and wanted more out of life just like he did. Her wants and needs were fed to her by the same hand that had fed his, however, Simony had chosen to work that system not just for her survival, but for her strength and benefit. Liam knew she had been taught to go out and do better for herself, and that was what she did. When there was something she wanted, she found a way to get it. What Liam didn’t realize at the time was that she was looking out for number one. He was just a pawn in her plan, their falling in love a mere, and unexpected glitch. That aside, they had fun together, and despite the circumstances, it had been love.
      Liam sat down on a stool, lost in the memories of days gone by. It had been a long time since he’d let his mind take him back to those days. He had left them behind so long ago it seemed, and would just as soon pretend they didn’t happen. But, he thought, whatever this was, stirring between him and G, he knew he would have to look his past demons in the eye to reveal the truth – the whole truth – to her. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
      Liam was jolted back to reality when the door opened and in walked Miguel.
      “Hey, man. I didn’t know you were here.” Miguel seemed uncomfortable. “G asked me to grab her some toner, said it was on the middle shelf on the right.”
      Liam rose, reached around and took down a purple bottle labeled Toner Tonic. Miguel thanked him but didn’t let his eyes stay on Liam’s for long. When he was gone, Liam took a coffee mug from one of the hooks, poured himself a cup of now strong Colombian coffee, and sat back down to wait. Fran, G and Miguel were already there. That just left Mitch and Della. From what she had told him on the phone that morning, it had taken several hours last evening, and several more that morning, for Della to reorganize things at the club. Staff had to be rescheduled to come in later than their usual two o’clock check in time, and deliveries had to be cancelled or changed to another date or time. She had told everyone some electrical work was being done, so the place was off limits until early evening. The six of them were expected to congregate at the salon around noon, where they’d have a short meeting to go over their plans before heading to the club. Any last minute changes or adjustments could be made then. 

          * * * * *

Liam, Genevieve, Miguel, Fran, Mitch, and Della arrived at The Lady around two o’clock, ready to set up their trap for Dom and his goons to walk into later that night. They accessed the club through an entrance in the back alleyway, walked past a string of dressing room doors, and entered through the the backstage doors. It was dark. Since she knew the layout best, Della went first, feeling her way to the main light panel beside the bar. All of a sudden there was a loud crash. 
      “Shit!” Cried Della. “What the hell was that?” The group heard her shuffling around. 
      “Della, what’s going on?” Asked Liam, concerned. He made his way forward, but he too  stumbled on something that was lying across the floor. Able to right himself, and trying to maintain his balance, he crawled over to where he thought the light panel was. He reached it at the same time Della did. They flipped the switches and the place lit up, enlightening them to what had happened. Chairs were toppled over, tables were turned, bottles of booze were broken and strewn across the bar, leaving shards of glass and sticky liquid everywhere. If the place smelled like a bar before, now there was no question about it.
The stage sets were scattered across the stage, and across the partly drawn curtain MiTch’s WHorE HoUsE was emblazoned in orange metallic spray paint. Strobe lights were shattered on the floor, costumes were ripped and randomly tossed around the room. Nothing was left untouched. The place was trashed.

…stay tuned…Chapter 15 will be posted next Tuesday, October 25th…

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