There are many elements needed to produce a good story, erotic or otherwise. For me, the first and foremost element to start a story is the location. If I can’t picture where the action takes place clearly in my head then the words simply do not flow.
It is for this reason that every single story I’ve ever written, from the shortest piece of flash fiction, to my longest novel, have all been set in genuine locations. What happens in those chosen places may be entirely fictional (with the occasional exception!), but every background setting within a Kay Jaybee tale is 100% real.
On occasion, I have tried to invent places in which to gather people, and then take their clothes off (or not), but none of these stories have worked. I need to be able to feel the vibe of a location. For this reason, all but one of my stories has been stories has been set within the UK, as – although I travelled a fair bit as a student, my travels have been entirely Britain bound over the last 20 years.
I have been very fortunate in my ‘real’ life to it have, not only travelled extensively across the UK, but I’ve lived and worked all across the beautiful British Isles. If you’re a regular reader of my work it isn’t too hard to work out where I’ve lived.
My BDSM novels, The Voyeur and The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, along with my erotic romance, A Sticky Situation are all set in Oxfordshire, where I lived for three years from 2001. The sequel to The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, is set in Scotland, where I lived in the late 1990’s and from 2003-2006, and the third part of the trilogy, Knowing Her Place takes the lead character, Miss Jess Sanders, on a journey from Aberdeenshire in Scotland to London in England, stopping several times through Britain along the way!
Making Him Wait, is set in a Richmond street in London, where my best friend lived for some years, and Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man is set in the small semi-detached house, where I lived in Sheffield back in the year 2000!!
My very local locations can be even more specific than a geographical position. For example, the library van where my two lead characters in Not Her Type have a kinky encounter, is the very van that used to travel between the libraries when I worked for in Leicestershire between 1993 and 1998!
The park in which my leading lady talks a solo walk in the short story A Leading Conversation, (Quick Kink One), is the park a few metres from my own home, and the store cupboard that features in Break Time (The Collector) is the very cupboard in which I used to work as a stock supplier in Aberdeenshire back in 2003…
The temperature dropped as the door closed behind them. He hesitated for a moment before following them further into the club’s store. Seconds later he was being pulled across the dark room onto a huge pile of empty cardboard boxes which lay discarded in the far corner. He could feel his cock stirring beneath his jeans. So far they had not spoken. They hadn’t needed to.
The blonde was laughing. Her eyes laughed first, just ahead of her lips, which were moist with anticipation. The boxes crunched slightly as they were squashed beneath their combined weight. The thumping of the dance floor, only a corridor away, was almost drowned out by the ticking of the storeroom clock.
The girls, still anonymous, looked at each other, and with an unspoken signal they acted. Pulling off their t-shirts they revealed two sets of perfect tits. The red head’s rich mouth was nuzzling at her partners nipples before their guest had time to react to the wonderful, unbelievable, sight. Then she turned the blonde towards him. ‘She’s yours for the taking’ she smiled teasingly, ‘if you want her? You’ll have to decide quickly though, we only have a half hour break.’
He’d seen them watching him from the other side of the bar as they served his fellow clubbers. When they approached him, each taking a hand and guiding his slim frame towards what they called “a safe place,” he couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure whether he should resist or not, so he thought he’d see what happened next. Anyway, his mates were watching.
Somehow he couldn’t move. His brain was screaming at his body to work. To grab her, lick her neat breasts, and release her hips from her short black skirt, but he simply stood there, mesmerised.
The red head shrugged and, moving behind her friend, grasped her nipples between bronzed fingers. As her taught skin was expertly rubbed, the blonde’s head fell back onto her comrade’s shoulders, her eyes closed in pleasure.
‘She loves this. Why don’t you try it?’ Still he couldn’t move, but his eyes never left them. The red head, who was obviously relishing her currant dominance, started to kiss the blonde. Big, deep, probing kisses; first on the mouth, then down her neck, whilst her finger tips continued to brush the almond nipples.
It was the blonde’s yell that woke him up. As she came there, right in front of him, under the careful ministrations of another girl, he realised that this wasn’t just another fantasy. This was everything he wanted. It was real.
As if sensing that he’d come to a positive decision, the red head pulled a condom out of her mini-skirts pocket and threw it at him. He inclined his head, and posted it into his jeans pocket.
The blonde almost sagged with relief as he tore off his shirt, closely followed by her skirt. He pushed her back into the red head’s arms, spread her knicker free legs, and greedily lapped up the juice which ran down the inside of her thighs. Her arms reached up, and her fingers dug into his short dark hair to steady herself. His dick ached, but he wasn’t ready to take his jeans off. He couldn’t be sure how much control he’d have without there restraining presence.
Glancing up from his intense work around her clit, he could see she was very close, but he didn’t want to be the one to trigger her second orgasm. He was in charge now, and he wanted to watch.
Hope you enjoyed that!!!!
It is my practise of using real locations in my manuscripts, which has led me to develop the habit of greeting every new place I visit with a silent surveillance of erotic suitability. There can’t be a cafe, library, museum, shop, store cupboard, or indeed anywhere, that hasn’t been corrupted Kay-style in my mind, as my ever active imagination seeks out new stories in every place possible!
So be warned- don’t invite be to your place – unless you want your living room to turn up in a future Kay Jaybee number!