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Sunday, 23 February 2014

Sexy Sunday Snog!




Ooops - I'm a little late to the Sunday Snog party today but hey - isn't that fashionable?

Here's a sexy snippet from my story The Scribe which features in The Brit Babes new anthology - Sexy Just Walked into town - over 70,000 sexy words packed into a hot hot book - FREE for you! So if this little taster entices you - please go and download the full thing for FREE! See list at the end.

The Scribe

The door. I hear the door open. My thighs clamp shut in shame and I’m shuffling my skirt back down when he strolls into the room.
What’s going on here then?” He sounds like he’s being jokey but I’m so humiliated and ashamed at being caught that I can’t read his expression. I have a flashback to the same scene when I was small, only it had been my mother who’d walked in then.
What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she’d screamed in an explosion of fury and I’d stared at my stained skin and cried.
Nothing,” I stammer gathering my pens and brushes to my bosom and scramble to standing.
Come on.” He stoops low and I surrender back onto my heels. “Show me.”
He stares at me with those eyes. Those artist’s eyes that scrutinise, study, absorb and analyse. He knows my body intimately, inside and out. I’ve posed for him a hundred times and lain down for him a thousand.
He eases the pens from my grip and lays them on the floor. His fingertips are cold as he gathers my skirt and pulls it up to my resisting fists which are balled into my lap.
Please, let me see.”
I watch the curling ink come into view as I relax my hands. Hard black scribbles both adorn and sear my flesh.
What’s this?” he asks with curiosity, not anger and I feel I might tell him.
It’s mine.”
Your what?”
My arousal,” I say. He slides his palms onto my thighs, tugging the fabric up further and sighs. I tremble, thinking he’s going to chastise me for marking myself so viciously.
It’s beautiful,” he says and shuffles backwards so he’s on all fours staring at my work. He leans in and parts my knees, inhaling my dampening want. He reaches out and picks up one of my pens. A Rotring thick nib fountain pen. One of my favourites. “May I?” he asks tentatively and I am wide eyed at his request.
Of course,” I whisper, quivering. I lean back on my palms and spread my thighs wide. He is intense as he makes the first mark. A long sweeping scroll from knee to groin. I shudder as he stops short of my thickening pussy lips. I hold my breath and indulge in the sensation of the ink drying. That’s it. That’s the nirvana I’m after. It’s such a subtle tiny triumph; you have to be in a very special place to perceive it. It’s like being licked by a tiny angel. He does the same on the other leg, slower this time so it dries while he’s still applying it, raising goose bumps in its wake and shooting a nerve tentacle of pleasure to the peak of my clitoris. The rising carries on its journey and I fill my chest with breath to meet it at the tip of my nipple before it retreats back to my pussy. He’s on to a brush now. He swirls my Japanese sable bamboo onto the wet charcoal block, round and round until it’s good and swollen with moisture. He bids me to unfurl my knees and lie back like a Vitruvian man.
He paints the soles of my feet, between my toes then over the arch and ankles. My whole being is centred in the tip of the cool fibres as he continues, swirling and caressing every dip and curve of my body. My stomach flutters as he makes his way over first one knee then the other, writing, drawing. I feel letters being teased onto me, then shapes and waves. I am losing myself in this slow careful ecstasy. At last the brush swoops over my mons, intertwining with my own curling fibres. My pussy is slick with desire now and I wish he would dip into me. I open my legs as wide as I can and tense my buttocks, forcing my entrance high. He obliges and sinks his face onto me, inhaling and breathing me in. He parts my thighs further with his forearms while a finger from each hand opens my plump ripe lips. He waits for a second or two, just watching my pussy twitch and contract in anticipation. I reach down and grab his hair, pulling him onto me, my bud, my cunt. He flattens his tongue down the whole length of my sex and I groan as he expertly points and darts into me then back to my clit where he swirls and laps and paints all the patterns he has made on my legs. Just as my inner muscles begin to convulse in that tell tale peaking, he stops and lifts his face away.

You like to feel the ink drying, don’t you,” he says...

Get the book for FREE right now to read the rest and the other very saucy stories from the Brit Babes - and remember to check out the Sunday Snog for more action :D

Who are the babes? Here’s a list!

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Thank you! And enjoy x x x



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