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Christmas Courier: Wrapped

One of my favourite of the many Christmas scenes I’ve written appears in my sexy novella, Not Her Type: Erotica Adventures with a Delivery Man.

I thought I’d share a little of it with you today…

christmas presents

The knock at her door made her jump, and Jenny physically had to restrain herself from running to see who the caller was. So what if it’s one o’clock? It’s Christmas Eve, he isn’t working, and he won’t come. It’ll be my next door neighbor with some mince pies or something. Her pulse thudded violently in her chest as Jenny moved to the door, convinced that the hope she couldn’t prevent from rising in her chest was about to leave her disappointed.

The silhouette through the glass panel in her front door was unmistakeable.

“I was just passing.” The shine in John’s deep brown eyes told her this was a blatant lie.

A wide smile crossed her face as Jenny let him in, “I thought you might be away for Christmas or something.”

“I thought you might be too.”

A feeling of awkwardness came over Jenny. Despite everything they had done together, there was nevertheless so much they didn’t know about each other. She felt almost shy as she spoke, “I was going to text, but I didn’t want to get in the way of your life or anything.”

“Same here. I thought you might be with family.” A large, rough hand raked through the back of her hair, easing out the knots, sending little currents of craving down Jenny’s neck and into her chest. Then, slipping a hand into hers, John steered Jenny toward the living room, swiftly banishing any uncertainty.

Gesturing to the middle of the floor, he said, “Last minute wrapping?”

“A few bits for the neighbour’s kids.” She could feel her pulse accelerating as he looked at her, “My family all live abroad, it’s just me in the UK.”

“That’s a big roll of paper for those little gifts.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the way he spoke or the look on his face that gave him away, but Jenny knew what was going to happen before he moved. In seconds, John had stripped her naked, and Jenny was being enveloped in large swathes of jolly, silver-star covered gift-wrap.

“Don’t move, and don’t speak, okay?”

Nodding, she tried not to laugh as John wrestled with the dispenser, before he cut off length after length of sticky tape, which he used to secure the paper tighter and tighter around her. Jenny’s arms became pinned to her sides, and her legs were clamped together as if she was some sort of bizarrely festive Egyptian mummy.

Stepping back to admire his work, John’s face creased with hunger, and Jenny’s urge to giggle dissolved. She could feel her breasts chafing against the smooth, figure hugging covering, and suddenly she realized how desperately she wanted them to be free so that John could hold them, suck them, hit them…do whatever he wanted with them.

John began hunting around the room for something. Jenny however, could only wonder how long it would be before she could suck his shaft, or feel him slide between her legs. She wanted to speak, to ask him to kiss her, but she’d promised not to talk, and didn’t want to distract him from whatever he was going to do next.

He stood so close to Jenny that his dark eyes tunnelled into hers. He peeled his clothes off at a speed that made the lightning disposal of Jenny’s garments seem positively drawn out.

Attempting to distract herself from the need to speak, Jenny traced her eyes over the line of his chest, the hairs so soft and inviting, his tattoos just begging for fresh examination, and his cock, hard and firm, pointed at Jenny accusingly, as if making its owner as horny as hell was a crime.

Shuffling her feet unsteadily on the carpet, she watched as he began to unwind the satin purple ribbon she’d spent ages draping around her Christmas tree. Her throat turned the texture of sandpaper as she comprehended the meaning behind the devious expression in John’s eyes. He brought the two-meter garland toward her.

Naked and emanating power, John began to wind the ribbon around her neck in a large bow. Picking up a pair of scissors from the floor, he cut off the remaining strip of fabric, “I started thinking about doing this last night. I even have some rolls of gift-wrap in the van. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw this lot waiting for me.”

Wide eyed, Jenny saw her film courier twist part of the ribbon around his arm, before approaching her. Again, she guessed what he was about to do, and she tensed as the first bind of the silky material went over her eyes and around the back of her neck, trapping her hair.

Mewling into the purple darkness, and deprived of the sight of his gorgeous body, Jenny felt John’s fingers fiddling with the knot behind her head. Then his hands came to her elbows. “You look incredible. Are you okay?”

She nodded awkwardly; glad he was holding her, afraid she would topple over at any moment.

“Good girl. You remembered not to talk,” John’s breath tickled her neck as he said, “You are, without doubt, the most tempting Christmas present I’ve ever seen.”

As he spoke, her breasts, already swollen with their need to be touched, became taut and hot, and pussy juice began to leak along her inner thighs.

The pressure of his palm as he pushed it against her wrapped-up mound made Jenny stagger so much that John had to steady her with this free arm. Moaning as his fingers encased and probed her enclosed clit, Jenny’s liquid flowed freer, soaking the paper, turning the crackling sound it had initially made into a wet, squelchy rustle.

“What a hot, little bad girl you are.”

Jenny felt the layers of wrapping paper between her legs start to mulch as John kneaded and pinched her flesh. Then, with a grunt of frustration, he lifted her off her feet and laid her on the floor. An urgent hand came to her right breast, kneading her tit, creasing and crumpling the gift-wrap.

Abruptly John stopped, his weight lifted from her, and a sense of bereavement consumed her body. She had no idea how she managed not to plead for more.

The purple ribbon over her eyes became darker, and Jenny realized he must have turned the lights off. Then the chirpy Christmas tunes that had been playing in the background disappeared as the radio was clicked off. Silence filled the room. Uncertainty crept through Jenny’s mind, and a drizzle of perspiration trickled between the packaging and the back of her neck. Her ears strained to pick up a sound, but she couldn’t hear anything, not even her man’s breathing.

Time seemed to pass slowly as Jenny lay like a fallen statue, painfully aware of the friction of the saturated paper as it clung to her pussy. Every part of her body ached for a continuation of the attention it had been receiving. The ribbon against her eyes felt tighter than ever, but Jenny began to wish it was between her teeth, gagging as well as blinding her, for there was no way she could stay quiet for much longer. Clamping her jaw, Jenny was determined not to break the rules, but the more she thought, the more her resolve began to crack.

“John?”…

****

Well, I’d better let you go now- you are probably in a hurry to go and buy a few rolls of extra long gift wrap…

If you’d like to read about Jenny and John’s courier kink, or see what happened next on Christmas Eve, then you can buy Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man from-

Amazon UK-  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184 

Amazon.com- http://www.amazon.com/Not-Her-Type-Adventures-Delivery/dp/1484881184

****

Many Christmas and happy reading!

Kay xx

Kinking up Blissemas!

It’s that time again!! Blissemas has hit the blogosphere!! 

As ever, there are some fabulous prizes on offer, so make sure you check out every stop on this years Blissemas adventure for your chance to win some amazing goodies! (See bottom of page for more details)

Lady in red skirt undressing

There is something special about a Christmas story, be it smutty or otherwise, and I just love writing them. Hence, I decided to write my festive story collection, Christmas Kink. It was tricky wondering what seasonal happenings I could twist into a toe curlingly sexy tales. What could I possibly write about…how about a naughty fairy, a Christmas stable, cake mix, a little red dress, a great deal of tinsel, and….

Here’s a little taster from If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight…

…Standing silently in the bitter December night air, Freya felt her blood pump in time to the echo of a female orgasm that was whispering through the frost-covered trees. She didn’t want to ask Liam how he knew about this place.

Grasping her hand, Liam pulled Freya deeper into the woods, towards the background beat of howls. Weaving through a mix of pine, oak and ash trees, they scrambled halfway up a steep bank and stopped dead.

Freya stole a glance at her boyfriend’s face, and saw an expression etched with the basest desire she’d ever witnessed.

Now they were closer, the noise that had sounded like the muted cry of wolves felt more ethereal than animal as it sang through the treetops around them. Even though she’d seen nothing yet, Freya’s imagination had done an excellent job of filling in the blanks. She could easily visualise the images that went with the sound of a woman sighing, masculine grunting, and the overriding cacophony of groans, yelps and pleading coming from the other side of the bank. It was as if all the erotic want in the world was bubbling before them in an audible cauldron of lust.

Two nights ago, tied to Liam’s bed and having just enjoyed a thorough fucking, Freya had laughed when he’d informed her he had arranged a very special Christmas present for her. Liam claimed he’d secured her the chance to fulfil every filthy, sexy, dirty, and dangerous fantasy she’d ever had. Freya had thought he was just saying that to turn her on further. She hadn’t taken his claim seriously for a single moment. Until now…

Speaking hurriedly under his breath, Liam said, ‘Okay, so the sounds you can hear are coming from the members of The Quarter, and these are their rules. If you stay on the bank, no one will touch you. You can be a voyeur to your heart’s content, but if you go over the bank and walk amongst them, you are fair game.’

Freya frowned. ‘The Quarter?’

‘They are a specialist group that meet here once each season. This is their Christmas gathering.’

Freya said nothing as she glanced towards Liam’s crotch. His erection was trying to break out of his trousers. She thought fast. If they walked three paces up the side of the bank, they’d be able to view the bacchanal activities below. If they took another three paces further down the other side, then they’d have no choice but to join in.

The shine to Liam’s eyes told Freya that if she decided not to step down into the oval area, which had once been a small hillfort, then he’d fall on her there and then. An option which Freya knew would be good—more than good—but the mews of simmering arousal coming from below were taunting her; enticing her onwards, and driving her further up the bank, pulling Liam after her.

With her heart hammering, excited apprehension gripped Freya as she stood on the very top of the grassy slope…”

***

You can find out what happens next, and enjoy the five other kinky festive capers in Christmas Kink by buying it from –

 

DON’T FORGET BLISSEMAS HAS AN INCREDIBLE SET OF PRIZES- all you need to do is visit- and comment on- every blog stop between 1st Dec and 24th Dec

 

Merry Christmas

Kay xx

A Little Liquorice: The Collector

I think it’s true to say I get my ideas and inspiration from anywhere and everywhere. In the case of The Collector, my very first solo work, the initial idea came to me while sat in the departures lounge of Heathrow airport awaiting a flight to Aberdeen. One of my oldest friends had just phoned me to tell me about an article in The Observer newspaper all about erotic writers. He was adamant the time was right for me to branch out from short stories and to try a book all of my own.

The Collector 2016

Blurb

Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of coffee shops, restaurants and bus trips, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels across Great Britain.

The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.

Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard—and then wrote down?

***

I admit the idea of writing a novel about one set of characters was rather daunting in those early days of my erotica career, and as I sat in the airport that day, watching people rush around, I began to think about what stories they would all have to tell if I was brave enough to ask them…

Then I began to listen to what people were talking about on the chairs around me. I watched how people behaved, and then I started to write it all down… The Collector was born.

holding pen

I kept right on listening and observing- everywhere- even in the local sweetshop…

Here’s little snippet for you- Do you like liquorice?

Sweets

‘Perhaps I should explain that we work in a sweet shop. We sell the old fashioned kind of sweets in jars; lemon sherbets, kola-kubes, cherry lips, dolly mixtures, alongside all the new stuff and posh boxes of chocolates.

It all happened quite quickly I guess. It was obvious from the moment I took the job that we wanted each other, but initially we held back. Work isn’t the best place after all, especially if there are only two members of staff. Anyway, as I said, it was sort of inevitable really.

So, last Thursday evening, there I was, starkers on the bed, watching at my boss who was naked, commanding, and utterly gorgeous.

I was not tied to the bed, but I wish I had been. He’d ordered me to stay still, but it was unbelievably difficult to obey as my body desperately wanted to move towards him.

My arms were folded with my hands sat beneath my head, and my legs were pushed up so that my knees pointed into the air. It was as if I was about to undergo some unpleasant medical intrusion. He’d placed a soft silk cushion under my arse to give him, as he put it, “Better visual.”

He flashed a little bag in front of my eyes, but made sure I couldn’t actually see what it contained. I frowned at his long delicate fingers, unsure of what was coming next. He just smiled.

I tried to concentrate on what he was holding, but the heat surging through my breasts from the whipping they had just received was taking most of my attention. My nipples burnt and longed for a cooling tongue to kiss them better. I had to push my head back harder into my hands to prevent myself from moving them and rubbing myself off.

At last he showed me the packet. It was a Dib-Dab; a packet of loose sherbet with a cherry flavoured lolly conveniently included. When I was a kid I loved to suck all the sherbet off the sticky lolly.

I flinched as he ripped it open. There was something about the way he was looking at me that confirmed that the agony he’d previously inflicted was simply the first course, and that seconds’ was coming up. I longed to scream out ‘Just get on with it!’, but the ball gag which he’d lodged in my mouth prevented the luxury of speech, so I just had to content myself with biting down hard onto the black rubber intrusion.

My thighs felt slick with my own juices. I tried hard not to think about the picture I must have presented. As I’ve said, I wasn’t bound, but I was gagged, and my breasts were pressed through a tight black harness, pushing them up and exposing them as an easy target for the short riding crop I had discovered he kept in the corner of his bedroom.

He pulled the lolly out of the packet and put it in his mouth. As he sucked I could feel my nipples tremble. That was what they needed. I felt unbelievably jealous of a bloody sweet!

After what felt like an eternity he pulled the damp lolly from between his lips and advanced towards me. There was no hanging about, he stuffed its red oval head into my cunt and pushed it until all but the very end of the stick had been swallowed up into my starving hole.

The width of the lolly felt amazing as it stretched me open. I could feel the air rushing in around the thin stick, making me feel empty but full at the same time. I began to shudder in response to the contradiction of sensation, but he slapped my breasts hard and I silently cried out into my rubber guardian.

‘You will not come yet.’ His voice was like gravel, and for a second I had to remind myself that I had wanted this too. He began to slide the lollypop up and down and I closed my eyes, trying for all I was worth not to climax. A task made even harder when he knelt and began to lick the mixture of pussy juice and sweet syrup from around my hole.

Sherbet

I was shaking, I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t going to take much to push me over the edge, even though it had been forbidden. Then he did it. He climbed astride me and sprinkled the sherbet from the Dib-Dab packet all over my tits. The cold sweetie dust tickled as it landed on my sweating skin. My hips twitched as I began to fight a losing battle with myself. As his mouth enclosed my right tit, licking up the sherbet, I groaned into silence as the sweet fizzed against his tongue and my chest. By the time he began to feast on my left side I was shaking and bucking so hard I’m surprised he wasn’t knocked off.

He took very little notice of the fact that I had disobeyed him until every single drop of the tingling dust had been consumed. Only then did his face become a picture of disgust and lust in glorious combination. I began to shiver, no longer with desire, but in response to the look in his eyes. He picked up a liquorice boot lace from the pile of supplies he’d lifted from the shop. Licking the end to dampen it a little he lashed my right nipple hard. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes as he stung me again and again.

Then, taking a handful of the laces, he began to coil them around my harnessed breasts. The black strings were cool against my hot flesh and felt heavy against my need to be sucked, caressed and kissed. The ever growing pyramids of sweets created a sticky barrier against the attention I craved. Soon only my two swollen nipples were visible, poking out from the encircled breasts…

****

You can find out what happens next by buying The Collector from-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

Happy reading,

Kay xx

A tasty taster from Wednesday on Thursday

It’s almost a year since I finished writing Wednesday on Thursday– I can’t believe how fast the time has gone. Today I thought I’d share a little from its coffee soaked, word obsessed, pages.

Blurb

There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.

Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the café stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.

The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.

It’s totally harmless…

…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.

After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.

Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.

A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…

***

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wednesday-Thursday-Kay-Jaybee-ebook/dp/B01N5SOMT0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1485329803&sr=8-1&keywords=Wednesday+on+Thursday+Kay+Jaybee

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5SOMT0?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

Extract from Wednesday on Thursday

… Wednesday had selected her clothes with more care than usual. She told herself she was wearing her best underwear because it gave her more confidence. It was absolutely not because she’d spent a largely sleepless night dreaming of the coffee guy’s expression as he ran his shrewd gaze over her jet black satin bra with matching knickers.

With one extra button open on her shirt, Wednesday left her flat, raking her hand restlessly through her long chestnut hair. She kept telling herself that he was just a bloke who got off on the power of making her feel sexy. That was perfectly all right by her, because he clearly had no intention of doing anything beyond titillating her imagination.

Wednesday had experienced her fair share of relationships during her twenty-nine years, but no-one had ever managed to arouse her with a single glance before.

‘For goodness sake, woman, you don’t even know his name!’ Even though she kept trying to talk sense into herself, the four hours until lunchtime couldn’t pass fast enough.

By the time her break finally arrived, Wednesday thought her heart was going to thud right through her chest with nervous tension. Walking into the café, she was more than usually aware of the sound of her heels clattering across the wooden floor.

Wednesday forced herself not to look for him, to just queue up for her latte and toasted sandwich as she always did. Even though she managed to prevent herself from obviously surveying the busy room, she covertly hunted for him nonetheless.

He wasn’t there. A sensation of disappointment gripped her. She felt stupid; humiliated even. But only briefly.

There was an envelope on her regular table.

Sitting down with her food and drink, Wednesday gaped at the cream coloured envelope. Her name was written in clear script across its front.

Wednesday took a soothing sip of her drink as she wondered if the coffee guy was hidden nearby. She had an uneasy feeling that, if he was secretly observing her, he’d be getting off on watching her reactions. Struggling to steady her erratic breathing, Wednesday was more than a little aware that her tits were doing their best to burst through their satin holster.

Exhaling slowly, she opened the envelope.

The words had an instant impact on her internal temperature gauge. Wednesday’s body began to alternate between flushing with heat and shivering with cold, as if she was getting a fever and a chill at the same time.

Dear Wednesday,

Forgive my rudeness for not having properly introduced myself before now.

My name is Lucas.

I will be blunt. I find you fascinating, and would like to make love to you. I would like to say my intentions are honourable, but they are not. They are lust-driven, and I feel it only fair you know that from the start.

If you are interested in knowing more, then please come to the address below once you have consumed your toasted sandwich. If you choose not to visit, then I will leave you in peace from this moment forward.

Whatever your decision, I would prevail upon you to keep this correspondence private.

Flat 1.

56 Chambers Way.

Regards,

L x

P.S. I apologise for the coffee incident. I trust I did not damage you. I will make the sincerity of my regret known to you should you decide to be my guest.

Wednesday didn’t finish her lunch.

Her legs had started taking her in the direction of Chambers Way without bothering to ask the rest of her if it was a good idea or not.

She knew the address.

The building, a private block of flats, was only two hundred metres from the office block where Wednesday had been employed as an administration clerk for the past two years.

Knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t find out what was within Flat 1, with her pulse racing, Wednesday hovered outside a dark green front door.

A door that led to Lucas and whatever he planned to do by way of an apology.

Without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, Wednesday knocked twice…

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

A Sticky Situation: a taste of erotic romance

A Sticky Situation is an erotic romance with a decidedly tasty edge…

Sticky Situation- New 2015

If there is a paving stone to trip over, or a drink to knock over, then Sally Briers will trip over it or spill it. Yet somehow Sally is the successful face of marketing for a major pharmaceutical company; much to the disbelief of her new boss, Cameron James.

Forced to work together on a week-long conference in an Oxford hotel, Sally is dreading spending so much time with arrogant new boy Cameron; whose presence somehow makes her even clumsier than usual.

Cameron on the other hand, just hopes that he’ll be able to stay professional, and keep his irrational desire to lick up all the accidently split food and drink that is permanently to be found down Sally’s temptingly curvy body, all to himself.

It could be a very long week- unless Cameron can find a way of making Sally slop so much of her after show champagne, that he has no choice but to march her off and relieve her of her sodden clothing… He is sure that, if he could find a way to stop Sally resenting him taking her previous bosses job, then they could enjoy no end of sticky situations together…

britbabes_kink_mildnsaucy_1

After the arrival of new boy, Cameron James, to Zelcon Pharmaceuticals, Sally takes and instant dislike to him- a dislike that is tainted further with distrust when she learns that he is to be her new boss. Cameron however, has serious sexual fantasy issues about his new assistant- but he just can’t see how someone so clumsy can be as good at her job as everyone says she is…

Not only was this the first proper erotic romance I’d ever written (no whips or chains!), but A Sticky Situation was my first foray into the word of food (and indeed drink) sex- and it was terrific fun to do!

marmalade

Initially inspired by me spilling a breakfast of marmalade on toast down my front in full view of an entire café full of people, I began to wonder how I could work my own regular foodie clumsiness into a sexy love story, and which foods I could play with!

I toyed with the idea of a variety of fruit juices running over naked bodies; ice cream deserts being smeared into interesting places, and even selectively dotted spots of marmite- however, on this occasion, these foodstuffs didn’t make the grade! Avoiding my usual BDSM moments in the interests of a softer romance, I nonetheless stayed faithful to my kinky story style with the help of champagne, ice, and even a vast helping of Chinese noodles…

…Resting Sally’s juddering frame against the bed, Cameron’s eyes fell on the carton of noodles. Taking up a single strand of the cold sticky string, he held it between finger and thumb, bringing the end against Sally’s hypersensitive nipples. It was high time he lived out one of the fantasies she had inspired…

Her eyes flew open as the tacky pasta began to circle her right tit, reminding Sally of the snake hidden away on his backside. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as she watched, mesmerised, as the elongated noodle began to hide her boob.

Picking up another noodle with quiet reverence, Cameron said, ‘I was going to tell you about my fantasy…’

***

noodles

If you’d like to read about Sally and Cameron’s adventures, then you can buy A Sticky Situation from all good book and e-retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.com/Sticky…/dp/B00L4N4JZE/ref=sr_1_13…

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sticky-Situation-Cariad-Singles-Book-ebook/dp/B00L4N4JZE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403706109&sr=8-1&keywords=A+Sticky+Situation+kay+jaybee 

***

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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