I had a massive spike in podcast traffic at the end of April, but I don’t know where it came from, and it’s driving me crazy. Did someone mention me on their own podcast? If you’re a new listener, please let me know where you heard about me!

Ok, enough of the ego trip. Enjoy the podcast.

How did I even start blogging? I call this blog my revenge fuck. It started as a rebellion against one person. No, not one of the ex-boyfriends I’ve written about, but an editor. One of my friends asked me to proofread a piece she wrote for an anthology about true sex stories. I was blown away by the concept, and I wanted in. Even though it was past the submission deadline, my friend talked the editor into letting me submit a piece, as long as I could get it in by the end of the weekend. I wrote my ass off for three days and sent it in.

Then I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Then I was rejected. The editor was more interested in big names to promote book sales, I later found out. (I’m not quite as naïve about the publishing industry now, I realize that’s just how things work.)

“What the fuck?” I thought. It was one of the best things I’d ever written, I knew it. So I broke that one big long story into a bunch of smaller stories, picked a pen name, bought a domain name and I published it myself, starting with a very short story called “Mister slaps me a second time.”

And here we are, three years later. I never would have imagined. I’ve published several books on my own, I recently wrote a new book for Fleshbot Fiction (shameless plugs, because, hey, if you don’t tell people what you’re doing, they won’t know!) And the podcast, my god, that’s gone farther than I ever would have imagined. I feel like the queen of my own little perverted empire.

I wanted to share a comment I got recently from Marascha Black, who listens to my podcast. It’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever received and it reminded me that what I write is more than stroking my own ego.

You’re a self-made success with quality work and more to come. Very few people can start a podcast, build and maintain a following and garner a book deal. All the sexual life lessons/people that you’ve experienced and committed to print and podcast in life helps so many people in owning their sexuality fearlessly. It’s made you stronger. In these times (wherein a majority of society still rewards women that apologize to no one in pursuit of pleasure by slut-shaming at the stake) you are a one woman middle-finger salute to that bullshit.

 

Thank you all for a wonderful three years, I couldn’t have done any of this without any of you.

First, the regular podcast episode: “A Little Fantasy.” Grab it on iTunes or here on Libsyn.

Next up, a steamy excerpt from my new book “My Girlfriend Jake,” an all-new fiction piece published by Fleshbot Fiction. Listen on iTunes or Libsyn.

Enjoy!

We rock back and forth awkwardly for a few moments finding our common rhythm. We adjust knees and elbows, and suddenly we’ve found it, we all move as one. You fuck me on the same stroke that he penetrates you. We settle in and go deeper.

I stuff my fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick and suck them. The sweat rolls off your neck, dripping down onto my breasts, every thrust from him echoes through you. You close your eyes, drowning in the moment.

My eyes lock with this stranger over your shoulder, we share a moment, sharing your body. Our rhythms change, we’re fucking each other now through you. We keep our gaze steady, your body is only an instrument of our pleasure. Do you even notice? Are you so completely lost in all this sensation, his cock buried in your ass, your cock slamming into my pussy?

We move as one enormous fucking beast, the bed creaks and groans against our weight. We pause, untangle, shift. Now you come at me from behind, I’m on my belly. My fingers press against my clit, you lay against my back, each of us only focused on what’s in front of us. You bite my neck, sinking your teeth in as he rams you, his hands clenched firmly on your hips, guiding you into me, guiding himself into you.

Your cock swells, filling me, your thrusts powered by his momentum. My fingers are frantic, I try to keep up. I feel your head raise up from against my shoulder, he’s grabbed a handful of your hair, now it’s the tipping point. All this energy courses through you, you’re coming, he’s coming, I’m coming and we all cry out and shudder and thrust. You’ll turn your head and kiss him deeply, not just for you, but for me too.

Edward sits down in front of a comically small easel, made of sturdy yellow and blue plastic. He tears off the top sheet of paper and arranges several colors of magic markers in front of him. For a long moment, he stares at me. Just when the feeling is getting uncomfortable, he picks up a black marker and furiously begins to sketch. The marker goes dry, he picks up the green one instead.

Within moments, with just a few well placed lines, he’s replicated me in multi-color: the bump on my nose, the loose hair falling from my ponytail. I look beautiful, and it surprises me. I’ve never seen myself through someone else’s eyes before.

“No one’s ever drawn me before,” I say, carefully taking the sketch.

“That’s a shame ,” he says, “You’ve got a wonderful face.”

The next time he asks to sketch me, we’re at his house, in bed. We’re still breathless from fucking, the languid autumn sun streams through the windows across the rumpled sheets. He leaps from the bed, still naked, and hauls in an easel and a tin box filled with charcoals. This time the easel is wooden and paint-splattered. I watch as he sets it up, arranges his things precisely. I fake a pin-up girl pose, and he frowns slightly. He stands over me, and arranges my arms, my legs, rolling me on my side, not facing him, but the wall.

Even though I can’t see him, I feel the weight of his intense gaze upon me. His practiced eye lingers on the curve of my hip, the turn of my ankle. I’m completely exposed and completely invisible all at once.

The room is silent except for the scratching of the charcoal on the paper. His dog walks click click click down the hallway and it sounds like thunder in the concentrated quiet.

Edward takes his time with this sketch. He stands, walks around the bed, crouches down now and again, and wordlessly goes back to his drawing. A breeze flutters the curtains, it feels good on my sticky, sweaty skin. Carefully, I try to stretch my leg a little, but he makes a little disapproving noise, I stop moving.

I’m getting bored. A dozen little itchy spots spring up. I have to blow my nose. I want a drink of water. I want him to come fuck me again. I don’t dare break his concentration though. There will be plenty of time for that in the months to come, when he’ll say I distract him too much, that he can’t work while I’m around.

Finally, he says he’s done. I stretch out fully, soothing my cramped muscles. I stand up, walk around to his side of the easel. He wraps his arm around me, his charcoal dusted hand resting on my hip, leaving little smudgy black trails.

It’s gorgeous, sexy, a work of adoration. All my peaks and valleys, light and shadow, every essence trapped then released on paper. I realize that this is will be a different kind of love, far apart from college boys and their cheap gas station bouquets.

Immediately he hangs the sketch over his bed. He’ll look at it every night before he falls asleep, every morning when he wakes up. I’m always there, he’ll tell me, watching over him. We’ll make love under that sketch, we’ll fuck and we’ll fight, so many things will play out in that little room in the time to come.

One day, years from now, I’ll come over, after we’ve been broken up longer than we were ever together, I’ll ask what happened to it, and he’ll tell me he couldn’t bear to look at it any more, and threw it away.

On a much happier note: I’ve been working hard on a contribution to a brand new project that just launched: Fleshbot Fiction. Just handed in my manuscript, I think it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written. When it goes live, I’ll announce it.

I’ll be back next week with new material, and I’ll be recording new podcasts soon.

So, I recorded new podcast last week, and I’ve been waiting for it to hit iTunes before I announced it…but apparently iTunes is having massive, widespread uploading issues right now. I don’t know when it will be fixed, but it’s not just me, apparently, it’s affecting tons of other podcasts.

Fortunately, you can listen to the latest episode right here if you don’t feel like waiting: http://daisydanger.libsyn.com/this-is-one-of-those-paramount-moments

Or you can subscribe to the podcast on iTunes (if you don’t already) and wait for it to show up there. Enjoy!

He kisses my forehead, says he’ll get the water all warmed up for me. He gets up, I close my eyes and nearly doze off. Soon I hear the water running, the soothing sound tempts me, so after a few minutes, I get up to join him.

I push the shower curtain aside, ready to step in. Nick stands under the water, dark damp curls cling to the back of his neck. The steam is scented with lavender, he’s been using my soap.

Nick steps aside to let me under the hot stream. The spray hits between my shoulder blades and I let out a deep sigh. It trickles down my back, my hips, and converges in a stream between my legs. Nick kneels in the tub, catching the stream in his mouth. He grins up at me and I pat his head.

“Silly,” I say with a lazy smile. I’m still floating high above the clouds in delicious subspace. I feel light, as if I could drift away any moment.

Nick soaps up a washcloth and carefully washes my body in big slow circles. I lift my arms and turn around, letting him clean me off. As I rinse off, he lightly nibbles the back of my neck. I shiver with pleasure.

“Don’t” I say, “You’ll get me going again.” Nick doesn’t say anything, he only bites harder. I gasp as he reaches around a squeezes my breast. His hard cock rests up against my ass.  A fresh, hot surge races through my body, re-awakening my cunt. I lean back against his wet naked body. Nick wraps his arms around me, one hand reaching up to my throat, the other between my legs.

He parts my thighs and slides his fingers into my pussy. I wince, I’m raw and sore from our previous night’s activities. My cunt feels swollen and tender against his hand. I teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure as his fingers glide in and out of me.

Nick’s hand tightens around my throat, my knees go weak. I reach behind me and grab his cock, running my hand up and down the its length. Nick pushes me to my knees and guides my head to his cock. The hot water sprays the top of my head, trails down my face, onto his dick and into my mouth.

As he fucks my face, I trace one finger up his leg, graze it across his balls. He shudders with pleasure as I lightly scrape him with my fingernail. I stay there for a moment as my mouth slides back and forth across his cock.

I take Nick all the way in, deep-throating. As I do, I slip one finger up into his ass. Surprised, he grabs my hair to anchor himself. His stance widens, giving me more access to his nether regions.  I fuck him in unison, my finger pushing all the way in as my mouth takes him whole.

Nick’s hips thrust back and forth, as if he’s undecided where the most pleasure lay. He plunges to meet my finger one moment, then drives forward to meet my mouth. I suck at his cock greedily, I add a second finger in his ass. Nick lets out a low moan.

His cock stiffens another degree, filling my mouth. I can barely fit him all in. His ass is warm and open, I think longingly of the strap-on in the bedroom. I decide my fingers will have to do. I insert a third. Nick leans forward, steadying himself against the wall with one arm.

He fucks my mouth in a frenzy now, pulling away, letting me suck hard at the tip, then slamming his cock into my throat. I fuck him equally as hard with my fingers, widening them slightly, then plunging them into his ass again and again.

The warm water from the shower splashes over the both of us as we rock back and forth. I finger fuck him faster, I suck harder on his cock. He releases my hair, needing to support himself with both his arms now. His thighs begin to quiver, his body trembles.

I slide in a fourth finger and Nick loses all control. With a cry, he spasms, my mouth suddenly overflowing with his hot come. He pushes back from me, his cock pulls away from my mouth, I draw my fingers from him.

I stand and he kisses me hard, licking his own come from the corners of my mouth. After a moment, I turn towards the shower spray, rinsing my face. As I let the water wash over me, I feel a few of his fingers searching out my own ass.

I smile to myself, lean against the wall and spread my legs as his fingers enter me.

(Daisy’s note: This is a fictional story that originally appeared as an audio guest post on Sonic Erotica.)