Sweet Love

by Violet Blue

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  CLEARING THE AIR

  JUMP OR FALL?

  FIVE SENSES

  HER TURN

  STORMING THE CASTLE

  (S)PAN(K)CAKES

  CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN

  PLAYING ROUGH

  SEARCHING FOR HER

  A WEEK AND A WHIP

  A LITTLE PUSH

  DISHPAN HANDS

  MY TURN

  DO YOU SEE WHAT I FEEL?

  BETTER BENT THAN BROKEN

  SAFE

  BACHELOR’S DESSERT

  EXTREME DOGGING

  A GUY SHE’S NEVER MET

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  Copyright Page

  For BLM

  INTRODUCTION:

  SAYING YES

  When you’re in love, or at the very least about to fall in love, precariously perched over the heart’s precipice, it seems that every question becomes a lover’s question. What to wear? Should I…? How do I answer? Questions, and their answers, become charged no matter how innocent. He will see me again. She will see my socks. He will feel my mood. She will smell the perfume I choose, oh, so very closely. All my decisions are to be seen in the reflection of another’s eyes.

  It’s exciting, thrilling, and life shared by two is indeed a thing worth having. It’s also fun to share the experiences of reading and fantasizing. The first book I put together with couples in mind was Sweet Life: Erotic Fantasies for Couples, and its success attested to the existence of many couples who yearned for the sweet life and enjoyed the ideas and inspiration the book had to offer.

  It’s one thing to read a story to someone. It’s another thing entirely to try one out. I’ve always aimed for my anthologies to be erudite literary erotica, as unforgettable as top-shelf character-driven fiction, but also suggesting fantasies so perfect they might be enacted in real life. But I hadn’t yet found a person to do the thing I’d made obvious all along to myself and past lovers: to try it at home.

  Until I was assembling this book.

  Saying yes to your sexual fantasies, when you finally find yourself in that place, with an excited and willing play partner, is the most exciting thing you can do. You can trust me on this, as I now have experience taken directly from the pages of this book. You might say it has been road tested.

  My ardent hope is that this book provides sexual inspiration and compels you to recognize love and sex in the complex characters as much as in your own life. The stories I’ve chosen are explicit, well thought out, cleverly crafted, and arousing as hell.

  Trust me. I tried it at home.

  Which story, I’ll let you guess. But I’ll tell you: the sexual experience I took from these pages and applied to my own romance, with all its trust and adventure, was like shining a light into two hearts and having it come back from the depths of a pool clear, bright, shining and true.

  These stories illustrate why we’re compelled to take the characters’ sexual fantasies and make them our own. In the prolific Thomas Roche’s “Clearing the Air,” a woman finds herself in the position many of us do when faced with a sexy, slightly intimidating ex-girlfriend of our current beau: to be friends, or not? When she decides to “clear the air” between them, we learn new ways to refine our current lover’s impressions of the one who came before. Renowned and compelling author Janine Ashbless takes us backstage in a daredevil act where the layered characters draw us in and make us hold our breaths as we anticipate what will happen if they “Jump or Fall” into their greatest sexual fantasies, and possibly love.

  Accomplished novelist N. T. Morley opens our eyes to the possibilities of blindfolds and sexual fantasies as birthday presents in “Five Senses,” a mesmerizing story about a woman in charge, a man with restricted senses and an evening out of his control, but entirely focused on pleasing his five senses. Accomplished erotic writer D. L. King takes the notion of “Her Turn” and turns it on its head when a sexy, slightly jaded peep show- booth worker gets home to her boyfriend and takes “her turn” while watching him in the shower.

  Andrea Dale’s “Storming the Castle,” while lighthearted, does not disappoint for explicit sex, public risk and sexual fantasy, and pure storytelling. Kristina Wright delights and erotically delivers in her story “(S)pan(k)cakes”: not just pancakes and a spanking, but a wonderful read that’s a story fit for two—and a recipe to make your own, as the theme dictates.

  In Emilie Paris’s “Clothes Make the Man,” the saying may be true, but panties make the leading lady squirm a little more when she’s over her boyfriend’s knee—and a surprise awaits a man who’s come to expect a demure girl in Louboutins. Kat Black’s shadowy and exciting entry, “Playing Rough,” was difficult not to share before publication and leaves no detail of a very intense fantasy out: let’s just say that parking garages might just enter your fantasy world in a surprising new way, as they have on this side of the editor’s desk.

  Kay Jaybee’s “Searching for Her” distills the spirit of this book in a succinct tale of fantasies desired, abandoned and then at last discovered in a café—a kinky sexual adventure retold for our reading delight. “A Week and a Whip” is Allison Wonderland’s entry into our lives, in which a woman seeks the help of girlfriends in understanding where her marriage went dry, with a solution as exciting as the title implies.

  Felix D’Angelo is a regular in my anthologies and in my reading, and in “A Little Push” he does not disappoint. Here, we’re pushed right into the action from word one, with a torrid anal sex encounter and a girl who wants more and gets it, with much happiness for her surprised boyfriend. It’s also dripping with his trademark humor. When Jan Darby’s female protagonist tires of her boyfriend’s shortcomings (sexual and otherwise) in “Dishpan Hands,” their relationship comes back to life in a way you likely won’t expect: the “upper hand” indeed. And speaking of turnabouts, in Jude Mason’s “My Turn,” a woman’s dominant mate decides he wants to experience what she does, and she more than rises to the occasion.

  One of the names to watch for in erotica is Teresa Noelle Roberts, and she proves her mettle in the lyrical and very unusual story “Do You See What I Feel?” In it, a woman is bound in silky ropes and with her sweetheart’s aid, is surrendered to a sightless dominant. “Better Bent Than Broken,” by skillful Amanda Fox, playfully describes the range of a woman’s response when discovery of her lover’s secret porn stash reveals his longtime fantasy, one she isn’t entirely comfortable with. But once she thinks about it and figures out how to make it hot and real for her husband, she relishes taking control, strapping it on, and driving him all the way home into orgasmic bliss for two.

  How far can a fantasy go into the corners of our minds? As far as gets us off when we love and trust our partners, as revealed in the well-told story, “Safe,” by Vanessa Vaughn. Here a woman experiences the night of her life—after thinking she’d bedded down at home alone, safe in her bed. Supremely skilled author Alison Tyler gives us an unforgettable serving of “Bachelor’s Dessert,” in which a woman gets distracted on her way home to her husband, giving in to a dirty, hard-edged sexual fantasy that has nothing and everything to do with him.

  Filthy, hot and no holds barred is how I’d describe new author Dylan Reed’s sublime piece of fiction, “Extreme Dogging.” If you know what dogging is—public sex in cars, in view of strangers—then you have an inkling of how the story begins, but you’ll never guess how it ends, with more than just a couple and a uniform thrown in for good measure. But it’s the complex, very realistic and super-hot, “A Guy She’s Never Met,” by another favorite writer of mine, Zach Addams, that caps the tension and sweet release of the anthology. I
n it, a couple takes her number-one fantasy—him watching her have sex with a stranger—and gives it a modern twist, an unforgettable edge, and enough erotic inspiration to last the night (and beyond).

  Take my advice. If you ever get a chance to try out your number-one fantasies—and I assure you, there will be more than one—in real life, say yes. It’s well worth it. May this book, its adventurous authors, and the daring and satisfied characters, be your guiding inspiration.

  You’ll never get what you want unless you ask. And you’ll never find satisfaction until you say, “Yes, I want it”—to yourselves, and to each other.

  Violet Blue

  San Francisco

  CLEARING THE AIR

  Thomas Roche

  Audrey lay in bed nude and contemplated the problem at hand. It was serious, and getting seriouser. If she kept stewing, there’d be tension, and that just wouldn’t be good hospitality. Audrey had been raised in the Midwest, where the host-houseguest relationship was considered as sacred as it was to the Greeks; eat your host’s children or kidnap his wife, or, as a host, murder houseguests in their sleep, and you were pretty much screwed.

  In that vein, letting things remain tense in this situation would be unthinkable, especially in light of this whole nonmonogamy, polyamory, whosama-whatsit weird processy thing. Weren’t they supposed to talk everything through, ad infinitum, till the cows came home?

  Nonmonogamy was Connor’s idea, sure, but Audrey had gotten to like it. That was true even if neither of them had actually acted on it, and the promised threesome with a hot muscle stud had yet to materialize. She was as committed to this process as she was committed to Connor, and if there’s one thing a dozen books on open relationships had taught her, it was that letting small problems fester turned them into big ones.

  There was nothing to do but confront Kris. If nothing else, she needed to ensure that the next three days did not devolve into bitter innuendo and resentment, which at the moment they were sort of threatening to.

  What had Audrey been thinking? An ex-girlfriend in the guest bedroom? Madness. But this was the naughties, goddamn it, and houseguests were houseguests.

  Audrey stretched out in the slanted light coming through the venetian blinds; she could feel her body tingling all over, humming with anxiety and excitement. She rarely slept nude—and yet here she was, stripped and sprawled, horny as hell while still aching from the night before. She could feel the slick moisture between her legs, the hard press of her nipples against the soft cotton sheets. She could still feel Connor all wet deep inside of her, two of him, one face-to-face while he kissed her, the other from behind, her on her knees, facedown, ass up, legs spread and Connor pounding her, thumb in her butthole, hand in her hair, pulling hard as she squealed and came twice, not caring if Kris or the neighbors or the next county over heard her screaming obscenities, voice trembling with orgasm. She’d been much less concerned, at 2:10, whether Kris (or the neighbors) might hear her yowling “Please fuck me!” than she’d been, at 1:30, about whether they might hear her hissing “Don’t make this about intimacy!” in a tone as accusatory as her moments-later “Yeah, pull my hair!” was conciliatory.

  And here Audrey was, six hours later, naked, spread, wet, hard, panting, and still wanting more. She thought of her vibe in the top nightstand drawer—no, no time for that. She had to talk to Kris about what had happened last night.

  Audrey bounded nude out of bed and went groping after her nightclothes; in a moment, she had squirmed into soft cotton shorts and a tight cotton T-shirt. Outside in the hall, she took long, slow, deep breaths, thinking, Audrey, chill a bit—the girl’s done nothing wrong. She’s an ex, and Connor told you at the outset what good terms he was on with all his exes. Let’s keep it that way—don’t be the wife who fucked up all his friendships.

  So she did chill, creeping down the hall barefoot to the guest room, moving slowly and softly, and noting the door was ajar.

  She knocked softly, said, “Kris?” meekly.

  She pressed the door open, saw Kris’s bright eyes come open, sleep-dull in that pretty face, beneath a rumpled mass of curly blonde that Audrey would have killed for—no, knock that off.

  Connor was off at work, and would be till five; they had hours to kill, with those dumb girly plans for the Fine Arts Museum, shopping at Bonne Femme, lunch at La Méchante Salope, espresso afterward at Gusto Peccato, massages at Root Chakra and a trip to Audrey’s favorite fag-hag hair salon, Tease de la Tarte.

  If they didn’t clear the air right away, the whole day would be agony.

  “Hey, Kris, you awake yet?”

  Kris stretched under the covers and brightened.

  She squirmed up into a half-sit and said, “I am now.”

  She beckoned Audrey in, patting the side of the bed by way of suggesting she might sit down. Audrey did so, noting with some slight distress that Kris, either not expecting company or definitely expecting company, had left her vibrator on the nightstand. The device looked rather well used.

  Audrey, sensing that her discomfort had already been spotted, tried to act casual.

  “Oh, wow. One of those rechargeables. I’ve been thinking I want one.” She guffawed uncomfortably.

  “Well worth it,” said Kris, smiling casually. She reached out, grabbed the vibe from its charger, switched it on, and pressed it into Audrey’s hand with a wicked smile.

  “The only way to fly,” Kris said.

  Audrey’s face went hot in an instant; she looked down, flustered, as the vibe buzzed in her hand. Kris spotted her embarrassment, smiled and laughed, took the vibe away, put it back in its cradle. “Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you. I wasn’t expecting company. I would have put it back in my bag if—”

  “Listen, Kris,” Audrey blurted, her face still red; her embarrassment had spurred her into action. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you…. Connor and I had a bit of a fight last night, and—”

  Kris said, “Oh, really?” with a casual brightness that was not at all disingenuous but still made it clear that she’d heard it. Then she frowned and said, “I’m sorry, I’m a bad liar. I heard you fighting.”

  “I hope you didn’t hear—”

  “Didn’t hear what?” This time Kris’s poker face was much better, and Audrey was left wondering just how much she had heard. Audrey blushed deeper.

  “Anyway…see, um, I’m just going to say it. We’re trying out this new nonmonogamy thing.”

  “Connor mentioned.”

  Audrey caught herself gritting her teeth. She cleared her throat nervously, continued: “…So I’m probably a little oversensitive, but last night it, well…um…I’m not accusing, or anything, but it almost seemed, a little, I mean just a little, not really anything, but…um…should I let you, um, I didn’t realize, should I let you get dressed? I didn’t realize you were…um, should I let you get dressed or something?”

  “Huh?” Kris had edged farther up in bed, into more of a sitting position, and the sheets had come sliding away; she was nude. My god, thought Audrey, she has amazing fucking tits. “Oh, I’m sorry—San Francisco. You know how we are out there.” She covered up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you. Should I put something on?”

  “Not at all,” said Audrey, her eyes all but boring holes through Kris’s hands and the sheet—My god, were those real? “Let’s see,” she said, flustered. “I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.”

  “You think I was flirting with Connor,” said Kris. “You think I want to fuck him.”

  Audrey swallowed nervously.

  “Bingo,” she said grimly.

  “I totally understand,” said Kris. “I totally get why you’d be offended.” She grabbed Audrey’s hand and leaned forward again. Audrey’s senses perked as she waited for the covers to fall once more, but the rules of physics seemed held momentarily in abeyance. Kris looked Audrey in the eye and spoke with enormous gravity. “I would never do anything to hurt either of you. I’m just kind of a flirt�
�I don’t mean anything by it. I’m not after your man, Audrey. He’s yours. Connor and I had a great time together, but that’s over and it didn’t work out and I’m totally into chicks.”

  Audrey stared.

  “I’m sorry, did you say—”

  Kris blinked innocently.

  “Into chicks?”

  “Women.”

  “Right.”

  “You’re a lesbian.”

  “Bi. But—didn’t he tell you?”

  “No,” said Audrey, breathing a sigh of relief. “That makes—”

  She paused. She had been going to say something like, “That’s a relief,” but Jesus Christ, how fucking stupid would that have seemed?

  Kris said: “Makes you more comfortable?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t uncomfortable,” said Audrey, blushing, pulling her hands free and waving them madly, threatening to put an eye out.

  Kris grabbed them insistently and held Audrey’s hands firmly.

  “Look, Audrey, even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be after Connor at all. Now he’s found you, which is totally what should be. I think you’re a great couple. Am I still attracted to him? Um, yeah, hello! How could any sane woman not want him? I mean, especially once she knows, you know, what he’s like.” She made a salacious little gesture with her eyes that looked far more filthy than if she’d grabbed her crotch. Furthermore, with each word she saw fit to emphasize—never, totally, great, not, like—her fingers moved not on Audrey’s hand, which might have been affectionate, even sisterly, but rather on her wrist, kind of up her wrist, in a tingling suggestive caressing motion that made Audrey acutely aware that Kris was leaning closer.

  “What he’s like?”

  “Don’t play dumb,” said Kris. “I was here last night. I have ears, Audrey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen, but…it was a little hard to avoid.” She looked guilty. “I tried to respect your privacy. I went out to make microwave popcorn, but—”