I don’t know about you, but for this past fortnight has just flown by! I hope you aren’t too full of tasty treats to miss out on my last offering of the series.
Today I’m sharing a complete story with you from my very first solo book, The Collector. A collection of 21 stories, each very different, it was designed to be a menu for those who wanted to sample new elements of the erotica genre. Enjoy!
The Collector sits silently alone, engrossed in her tales of lust, submission and dominance. Has she already engraved your erotic exploits on her salacious list?
She may look like she is scribbling randomly in her notebook, but she is secretly listening to, and recording, the overheard fantasies and indiscretions of others.
Forever hungry for stories, when The Collector’s sources run dry, her appetite for tales of instruction and voyeurism drives her to do some research of her own before sharing her provocative experiments on paper.
It is time for the world’s raunchiest chronicler to come to light.
Here’s an extract from The Collector to whet your appetite…
Some years ago, when I was still respectable, I went to university. Whilst I was there, I made the best friends I’ve ever had, one of whom is still heavily embroiled in student life. Over the past ten years Jack has worked his way from one degree to another, determined to put off entering the “real world” for as long as possible.
Recently we had one of our regular coffee trips together, to catch up on all the gossip. One look at Jack, a broad smile plastered across his face, his deep blue eyes twinkling as he sipped his coffee, and I knew he had a story to tell. Being one of my greatest supporters, he was more than willing to help me note down his adventure.
The general din from the concert behind me had reached such a level of confusion that hand signals were now the only possible means of communication. As I slowly inched closer to the bar I began to wonder how on earth I’d get our drinks back through the heaving mass of people.
Thankful that I wasn’t claustrophobic, I slowly shuffled along with the crowd. I could still move my arms but, otherwise I was almost totally immobilised. For some unseen reason we had all come to a complete full stop. Being above average height gave me the advantage of spotting potential “sliding into gaps” opportunities, but eventually I had to accept that I was going nowhere fast, and was destined to remain thirsty for sometime.
I looked around at my temporary colleagues. Apart from hair colour, and a stab at gender, I couldn’t really tell you much about the people who were standing so close to me that we knew what the sides of each others legs felt like.
My mind started to wander. A thirty or so deep crowd of people, all piling in one direction – what were they all thinking? How many pockets had been picked? How many people were accidentally on purpose feeling up the person in front of them?
I began to imagine how I’d react if a strange pair of hands started to stroke my arse as I stood there, unable to move, my protests going unheard. My hands began to itch as I turned my attention to the person directly in front of me. Female, above average height, red hair in tidy bunches, short skirt; older than eighteen I guessed, perhaps younger than twenty five.
I was so close to her that as I looked down I had an excellent view of the top of her head. My crotch was already lightly rubbing against her flimsy skirted rear, and the urge to put my hands over her shoulders and slide them down onto her breasts (which my imagination had decided would be both full and firm), was overwhelming.
I still can’t believe I did it. What if she’d screamed? I’d have been arrested for sure, if anyone should have had heard her.
I would like to be able to say I’d been tentative and gentle; testing the water. But I was straight on, squeezing her tits hard (which were actually small, but beautifully tight). I felt her body stiffen as her attempts to instantly turn around were inhibited by the general crush. I tensed, expecting a slap across my kneading digits. It didn’t come. Instead her body shuffled within its confined space, her own hands slipping behind her and flipping up her short skirt to reveal a pair of neat pale buttocks encased in creamy lace knickers, which she pushed against my hard confined dick.
I must confess to a moments panic then. What if we were spotted? Her intentions were obviously as impure as my own. I took a deep breath to calm myself; there was no way any extra pushing could be viewed as odd. For all I knew the entire crowd could have been at it. The only person who may have been more suspicious than the rest was the guy behind me. As I pulled back slightly from this amazing girl, I could feel his cock was also hard. Or was I simply imagining it?
Wriggling one hand down between her arse and my denims,’ I undid my flies and freed my cock. She must have known what I was doing as she instantly pressed back harder, standing on her toes to feel my length better against her buttocks.
I eased the delicate lace knickers to one side and rubbed myself against her rounded flesh. Her hands snaked around behind her and she grabbed my tip with expert fingers. I tried to suppress a groan, but failed, and anxiously looked around at the still oblivious crowd, as her fingers grasped the end of my shaft.
I have no idea how I kept such an impassive expression on my face. A total stranger was wanking me against her bum, and my head was full of the picture we must be creating. What’s more, each time she forced me back fractionally I brushed against the anonymous guy behind me. I swear he was getting harder all the time and I longed to be able to include him in our secret sex.
I guess I became reckless then, because as she smoothed my dick I began to push back harder. All the time I was waiting to be found out, waiting for a cry of protest. None came.
Grateful of her perfect height, I slipped a hand down as far as I could, feeling between her legs, fingering her slippery wetness. Perhaps she was wearing high heels, I couldn’t tell.
I knew I couldn’t hang on much longer. Sandwiched between this horny girl and a hard man, I thought I’d explode with the thought of the situation alone. Knocking her hand away, I notched my shaft against her and pushed into her dampness. Biting my tongue to conceal the noise rising in my throat, I eased into her; each time making sure the guy behind knew exactly what was happening. I longed for him to put a hand around me, to feel for himself how well my cock fitted inside this willing woman. He didn’t, but the idea of it was the final straw in this delicious situation, and I quickly filled her with my come.
As I pulled out (not easy in the limited space), I could just see the first trickle of my liquid as it began to run down her legs, before she daintily pulled her knickers back into place and recovered herself with the little green skirt.
The crowd had hardly moved. I don’t suppose the whole thing had taken more than five minutes, but it sure made waiting for that pint a whole lot more interesting.
I hadn’t really thought about the people to the side of us; I am still not sure whether they knew what had happened or not; if they did, no one said anything.
When I finally did reach the bar, the girl had long since been lost in the crush ahead of me, but a friendly voice from behind offered to buy me a drink, and quietly thanked me for making his wait in the queue so enjoyable.
The Collector can be purchased as an ebook or in paperback from all good retailers including-
So here we are then- at the end of this years tasters. I hope you have enjoyed delving into the erotic past of myself and my literary friends. It’s been great fun sharing all the tasters with- look out for Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters again next year!!!