Lexi Sylver www.lexisylver.com

One of our favorite authors has a new website.  Please visit Lexi Sylver’s new site for more erotica shorts.

Ashley Blade “Underground”

About the Author:

As a single mom working as a car sales person, Amanda manages her time between her passion for books, writing and her family. When she is not surfing the web or writing, you can find her rooting her daughter toward certain victory in a soccer match or curled up with her better half and a good book.

“Underground”

By Ashley Blade

He led me through a seedy underground world that I never knew about. I was only twenty one at the time and I was still naive about the world around me, or should I say under me. The year is 2025 and Los Angeles as we knew it, no longer exist.

We were in New Hollywood, two miles underground, the Metrolinc that served the city for so long had been long abandoned, the stations were conformed into stores and restaurants, the tracks had be dug up and mini condo’s had taken their place. After the earthquake of 2010 the land above us had been corroded with raw sewage, methane gas and sea water. The official death toll was always changing, even today. At last count the total was almost three million. My own parents died that day, and I never forgave the fact that I was almost twenty five hundred miles away.

He stopped in front of one of the stores and I looked up. A bright red light filled my eyes, and I could see two people dancing. At least I thought that’s what they were doing. Their bodies were twined together; her leg was up around his waist

Ashley Davidson “Too Bad”

“Too Bad”

By Ashley Davidson

IT WAS KNOWN FAR AND WIDE

FROM PLACE TO PLACE

TOWN TO CITY

STATE TO COUNTRY

ALL OVER THE WORLD… BUT HOW?

THE GIRL WHO KILLED SO MANY

HOW SHE DID  AND WHY?

SOME SAID SHE JUST LOST IT ONE DAY

OTHERS SAID SHE WAS BORN W/IT

BUT TRUTH BEHIND ALL THE LIES AND BULLSHIT IS THIS

SHE WAS A FALLEN ANGEL A DEMON CHILD SENT TO WATCH AND WAIT FOR THE TIME TO COME.

IT WAS SAID TO BE 2012 AND IT NOW 2007 WAS SHE IT? THE ANTI-CHRIST?

SHE HAD THE MARK ON NOT ONE PART BUT BOTH OF IT, RIGHT HAND AND LEFT ON FOREHEAD.

SHE TURNED PEOPLES HEARTS COLD AND MEN INSIDE OUT

SHE WAS HEARTLESS, CRUEL, COLD AND CUNNING

SMART AND TRUE TO HER WORD SHE WAS INDEED THE CHILD OF THE DEVIL…

THE BIBLE WAS RIGHT… BUT NOT ALL THE WAY.

SHE COULD WALK INTO HOLY PLACES BUT SICK SHE GOT… UNTIL SHE FOUND HERSELF.

DEATH SHE SPREAD TO THE PPL AND LANDS

PLAGUE SHE BROUGHT,SICKNESS,AND DEATH.

SHE WAS ALL IN BEAUTY BUT SO PURE OF EVIL

A DEMON DURING DAY A SUCCUBUSS AT NIGHT

WICKED AND FOUL WHEN I HEARD I CRIED… I HAD LOVED HER.

I WENT TO THE CHURCH IN SEARCH OD ANSWERS ALL I GOT WAS “KILL THAT WENCH!”

I BURIED MY HEAD IN MY HANDS AND CRIED…

IT WAS ALL SO UNREAL WHY HER?

THE ONE I LOVED AND NOW I HAD TO SLAY!

THIS WAS TOO MUCH  I FELT MY STOMACH TURN OVER AND OFF I WENT INTO THE HOLY WATER.

ONCE EMPTY I LOOKED UP 2 A SIGHT I THOUGHT I NEVER SEE… IT WAS HER

SHE STOOD IN ALL HER GLORY, BLACK HEAD TO TOE, WINGS AND SWORD AT SIDE.

Kathleen Hoyer “I Put A Spell On You”

“I Put a Spell on You…”

by Kathleen Hoyer

Prologue

“The urge towards love pushed to its limit, is an urge towards death”- Marquis de Sade

The candles flicker uncertainly in the light breeze that snakes its way through the open bathroom window. Three candles are set on the floor in the formation of a triangle; at the tip of the triangle is a black candle for binding, at the left corner a red candle for love, and at the right corner a purple candle for devotion. Carved into each candle are his and her initials. At the center of the candles is a shallow dish filled with water. Kyle kneels, surveying her work thus far. The candles are the only source of illumination, casting flickering shadows across her face, giving it a mask-like appearance. A derisive snort of laughter escapes her and she rubs her hands down her face.

“I can’t believe I am doing this. 28 years old and casting a love spell to make Jack want to be with me.”

She sighs and thinks, desperate times call for desperate measures. I have to have Jack.

Sherri Kirbis “Snowy Homecoming”

About the Author:

I am currently a resident of Reno, NV; well that is until I hit my next gypsy streak and feel the need to take off again to parts unknown. I have lived in several different states and love to take off in the wind. Currently I am a full time freelance data editor and soon to be student. Working from home allows me both the freedom to travel on whim and to be able to write when the moment strikes! I’m an avid reader and like to write on many different genres, anything from erotica to paranormal romance; unless of course I’m blogging about whatever my current rant is at the moment! So far I am unpublished but I hope that is something that will be changing in the near future. You can find my other writings at: www.myspace.com/issydabrat.

“Snowy Homecoming”

by Sherri Kirbis

He opened the door to Moira’s suite slowly, the heady scent of her still lingering on the air. Stepping into the room Damien glanced around making sure all was set for her return. The wood polished until it gleamed from the light of the fire. A tray of chocolates, bread chunks, and fruits placed in the center of the table of the sitting section, or as she preferred to call it, her personal library. Rich red chaises placed under the windows with thick white blankets tossed casually across the back. Even now he could see her draped there. Just through the thought of her he could feel the hint of her skin playing along the tips of his fingers.  Walking further into the next room he let his eyes wander over the large bed. Wood here shone with richness and light flickered in the large four posts. New emerald green bedding had been put in place, Egyptian cotton to slide silkily against heated skin. A large vase was full of white Calla Lilies, her favorite flower. The bath off of the room done in muted shades of reds and greens, a perfect setting for her delicate skin. Her red hair flaming against her alabaster skin while emerald greens eyes flared with life. White candles of all sizes had been placed throughout the rooms, to add to their soft tones. One thing that they had always agreed upon was candles, so much better than harsh electric lights.

Shaking his head in disbelief as he left the rooms, they were cleaned and had new bedding in place yet the ghost of her scent still lingered on the air. Perhaps just a trick of the mind since he knew her scent so well, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla mingled in a way that you could almost taste it on your tongue. A smirk teased the corners of his mouth; it was also why he consistently told her she smelled good enough to eat. Being pleased on the state of her quarters he headed down to the front sitting room to watch for her.

Lexi Sylver “Any Vixen Sunday: Morgan’s First Taste”

I’m very proud to have Ms. Sylver’s work on this site.  She is very talented and has already made a name for herself as an erotica writer.  Hold on to your seats!

lexislyver.wordpress.com/

Any Vixen Sunday:

Morgan’s First Taste

By Lexi Sylver

Ah, Sundays… my only day of rest.  I’ve just been to an early brunch with Jack, hashing out our predictions for the Giants/Eagles football game tonight.  I love watching divisional rivals battle for glory on the field, brutally attempting to crush each other’s bones to vie for the coveted brown ball.  The adrenaline, the way it stimulates me, overwhelming my attention… football is one of the ultimate aphrodisiacs for me.

I part ways with Jack, promising to make it back to his place in time for the afternoon game between the Colts and Patriots, hurrying to pick up my dry cleaning and some groceries before the game.  The supermarket is packed, and it is all I can do to avoid ramming into the dazed little old white-haired ladies slowly pushing their carts and squinting up close at each and every label on the shelves.  I finally squirm my way to the beer fridge and retract a cold case of Heineken, wedging it onto the bottom shelf of the grocery cart, when someone shoves into me from behind.

I reel on impulse, my first instinct kicking in, the ire and frustration at their breaking point.  Turning on my heel, I glower at the perpetrator of my personal space… and stop myself from lashing out.  In front of me stands a stunning brunette, wearing white shorts and a turquoise tank top.

“Morgan?” the blue-eyed apparition inquires, smiling.

The fog clears in my brain and I realize it’s Naomi, my next door neighbor from back home, whom I haven’t seen in almost five years.  I can’t believe I don’t recognize her immediately, since we did grow up together.  The last time I saw her was the night before I left for college.  We were up on her roof outside her bedroom window, looking up at the stars and sharing some whiskey we’d pilfered from her brother’s secret stash.  Emboldened by alcohol, I’d kissed her, trying to satisfy the burning curiosity of what it would be like to feel another girl’s lips on mine– a beautiful girl, at that.  She’d kissed me back,

Samantha Carman “Scarlet”

Scarlet

by Samantha Carman

The last thing Scarlet remembered was drinking a thick honey colored liquid from a silver goblet. She woke with stiff limbs, a killer headache, and chains around her ankles and wrists. “What the fuck is going on?” She yelled. Somehow I always manage to get myself into these situations. “Damn Fairies, you can never trust them”. She looked around the prison she was now stuck in. It looked like some kind of cave, dark and cold. There was a torch lit somewhere beyond her cell. “How nice of them, the bastards” she muttered under her breath. She paced around her cell trying to find a way out. Footsteps came from down the hall getting louder and closer. Startled, Scarlet put on her best helpless face and waited for her captors to come. Two hooded men appeared and unlocked the doors that kept her prisoner. “Who are you?” she demanded. There was no response. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, I said who the fuck are you.” Still no answer, they silently led her from the cell and down a long dimly lit corridor. They quickly stopped in front of a huge wooden door covered in ancient markings. The shorter man moved forward and opened the door; the other man shoved her through knocking her to the floor. Being bound by her chains she was unable to stand herself up, she looked around. She now lay sprawling on a cool marble floor flanked by two large pillars. Down a few steps the marble continued and surrounded a small pool, the night sky stretched out above her. The air was warm on her skin and filled with the scent of night blooming flowers. A movement in the distance caught her eye and she turned. Her breath caught in her lungs, she couldn’t believe what she saw. There he was in all his glory, the man who had haunted her dreams for weeks and left her starving for his touch.

Raveyn “Roxy and Bill”

About Raveyn:

I am a 41 year old, single mother of 3, a son, almost 20, and two daughters 14 and almost 18.  I’ve written poetry for years and was recently challenged by a friend to write an erotic short story, which ended up here.  I am not done writing by a long shot, but right now my life is a bit chaotic so it may be a little sporadic.  Reading has always been a favorite past time for me, and the more I read, the more I realize that I can do it too.

“Roxy and Bill”

by Raveyn

Roxy sighed as a tear slid silently down her cheek.  She knew that it would be over if she told him, but honesty and being up front with people had always been so important to her.  How could she live with herself if she didn’t tell him?  Not telling him would be lying by omission, and she was determined not to lie.

With tears falling freely down her face, she slowly dialed his number.  When he answered, she choked up so much she didn’t think she would get the words out, “I have to tell you something.”  His reply was, “I think I already know, but what is it?”

“I’ve tried so hard to keep this on the level that we agreed on, ‘friends with benefits’, and I’ve truly been alright with it, until now.  I’ve developed feelings for you and I can’t deny them any longer.  I’ve tried.  And I know that by telling you this, you will want to end it.”  By this time, her eyes were so full of tears she could barely see.

“You’re right,” he responded, “you knew what this was from the beginning, sex and fun, with no strings.”

Michael Lewis “Sex Demon”

Michael L Lewis born Feb, 26 1974 raised in the beautiful Blueridge mountains of Southern West Virginia. Having grown up on cattle farms in the wide open country of Tazewell Va, he is no stranger to hard work and perseverance. Loves horseback riding, hunting and fishing. A father of five wonderful children and is currently enrolled in the Childrens Institute having the childrens Author ‘Shirley Raye Redmond’ as his tutor. Recently has a poetry book ‘Death Awaits The Resurection’ published on Lulu.com and is also working on a Western Horror Novel as well as short stories for magazine articles.

“Sex Demon”

Michael Lewis

A young girl once summoned me, a young witch to be exact. She was no more than sweet nineteen at the time. She sat within her protective circle surrounded by lit candles chanting her evocation to arouse me from the cruelest of all hells. I did ablige her, and came unto the young witch with every intention of ripping her limb from limb. I entered the circle which by the way was built to keep me from leaving it before her will was done.

C.T. Rono “Tin Ship” Erotica #3

Finally, the last installment of the erotica trilogy.  Yes.  This is to be my final erotica tale…however, certain writers have agreed to have their work featured on this blog so you will get to continue to read erotica .  Just keep checking.  Many of you have asked me to write some more stories and not to end it with the mere three so I’ll think about writing a short one when I get the time.  So yes, I may contribute in the future.

“Tin Ship” is supposed to be a little space opera novella…thus the chapters.  Let me know what you think of this last one and thank you for all your comments and support.

Celis

“Tin Ship”

I woke up dizzy.

My coffin was devoid of light.  In panic, I kicked the sides of my metallic prison and punched at its unbending lid.  I screamed until my parched throat hurt.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Alva,” I told myself, licking at my bloody knuckles.  “You’re getting out of this mess.  You always do.”

It was then that I noticed my nakedness.  Not a stitch of clothing protected me from the cold box.  When suddenly the ground around me tilted to the left and took a dive, I knew that I was on a ship.  The ear blockage I always experience in space bothered my ears so I swallowed repeatedly until the pressure disappeared.  My heart stopped.

I was to be delivered to Romell Tremby like mere cargo.  With renewed effort I screamed until I nearly lost my voice.  Despite the fact that my father sold me to settle a debt, there was no way I was going to be Tremby’s auction sensation.  In my opinion the overfed Tuvela kingpin was the most disgusting and evil thug on the Exene moon.