Lover’s Delight.

lovers delight

“She needed my penis more like it! It’s the only explanation. It certainly wasn’t about love, closeness, sharing or testing to see if I had been being unfaithful. It was about simple sexual gratification. She had an itch and I had the closest thing to her that’d scratch it. I’d never suggest such a thing to Sam of course. That’d make it sound cheap. She doesn’t like that. It’d never sit well with her to know that she’d fallen to such a primitive urge. She’s an intelligent, civilised Christian woman. All her decisions are made with purpose. Lust is evil and vile. It doesn’t exist with her.

Nevertheless, those legs parted for a reason. Civility, Christianity, intellect, lovemaking or family planning played no part in it. It must’ve been hard for her to rationalize what’d happened. The soreness must’ve reminded her all day long.”

(…more here.)

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Totally Hooked!

Noirotica? I’d never hear of it before either. Now I’m Totally hooked!

Dammit! I just can’t wait for his next novel to come out!

I hear Michael Forman is about to release a sequel to SEETHINGS and, if it’s anything like the original, it’s going to have me melting at the knees wanting more.

Neo + Noir + Erotica = Neo-Noirotica. Write that down!

Noir: The Noir genre came out of the fifties. Rather than following the investigation side in a murder mystery, Noir follows the victim/s and/or murderer/s instead. There’s a darker element always surrounding the protagonist/s. Think of a storm cloud hanging over your head as you’re reading it, or perhaps there’s a persistent shadow that’s not your own intermittently appearing in the corner of your eye. Something about it is deliciously annoying. That’s Noir.

Noir isn’t something we see too much of these days. The closest we get to it in a contemporary novel would be something like Shutter Island (also a movie). Technically, this book’s genre would be better classified as Neo-Noir. Similarly, Forman’s story is modern and should also carry the Neo prefix with it.

Erotica: Well, you know this baby. Someone’s getting some, let’s say, special attention… and it’s the reader getting some too! Yes, each writer has their own way of approaching sex. Forman’s way is, at first, well restrained. He’s sweetly gentle. As the book progresses however, more is revealed until the narrative reaches a point of no return. Crafting such an explosive ending and timing it with the orgasm was something Forman did exceptionally well. The murder in SEETHINGS had me gasping until the very last page. How could someone do that? I asked.

He writes that his new novel is about to be released. I can’t wait to read it. His writing style is alluring, teasing, disturbing… begging me to turn the next page and find out what next diabolical event was being hatched.

Have a look, it’s totally worth it! – Angelwanderer

Screenshot_2014-02-25-07-59-28Join the growing list of readers and enjoy the latest in my special style of noirotica. Use the form below and I’ll be in touch shortly with more juicy moments!

Lustfully yours, Ax

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Tease Torment

18fed345958de35ad5de464f670b14e8

I kissed her face, pulled her away from the wall further and then slammed her body against it even harder. I enjoyed the sensation of the hot air escaping from her mouth onto my face. I thrusted my groin into hers again and waited for the sounds of pleasure to rise. She groaned and beckoned for more. I wanted to slam her into that wall just to find out if she was even capable of saying stop. A crack even developed in the plasterboard. I remembered having to tell myself to settle down. I didn’t want to break my new toy. I don’t know how many times I pushed her against that wall but I do know she didn’t object to any of it.

And I never noticed when my other hand found her bottom. It’d become buried somewhere inside the cleft. I extracted it and placed it above her left breast. I unclenched my other and let go of her blouse, smoothing its creases across her chest. I placed my hand under the breast so that the fabric hugged its form tightly. I stared at it for a while, admiring it, especially the bit where the nipple altered the cloth’s shape ever so slightly. What a magnificent thing that nipple was, perfectly designed to attract a mate. A mate had certainly found it. One was making use of it. One was taking the time to appreciate its perfection.

She opened her eyes and looked down at me quivering. “What are you doing?”

‘Tormenting you.’

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She shuddered. “It’s working.”

She began to wriggle. I moved in closer and said to her softly, “Don’t move.”

“Why? Are you going to torment me like this all day?”

“Don’t speak either.”

(…more here.)

NEO-NOIR-EROTICA

“You heard me! Get your fucking head down!”NEO-NOIR-EROTICA

I push her head downwards. “Give me that thing!” I demanded, yanking a pillow out from underneath her face. Her head flops onto the mattress below. Beads of sweat fall from my chin and chest, landing on her back, forming a trickle that runs along the gutter of her spine and down to her neck. I push hard and her shoulder is driven against the post. She flinches as it digs in.

“Stop! Hang on! This hurts. Let me move to the side of it!”

She let’s go of the post and wriggles sideways, reaching out for the horizontal bar that forms part of the lower bed head. The bar is no more than fifteen centimetres above the mattress—perfect for squeezing a body part through. This gives me an idea.

“Slide back a bit.”

I pull her away from the bed head and she rises to accommodate. She glances over her a shoulder, shuffles backwards on her knees and then lowers herself, placing her elbows, hands and forehead onto the mattress. I move back and forth slowly, spying the gap, waiting for her to relax. Little catches at the end of each breath indicates that her body’s tuning to the rhythm of our movement again. It doesn’t take her long to make her move. She leans forward, turns her head sideways and lays her cheek against the soft sheet. Now is my chance. Using all the muscle and might of my body, I push forward, as hard as I can! She’s always liked it a bit rough.

She screams as her head slides forwards and instantly connects to underside of the bar. “Shit! That hurts Mitchell!”

I knew it would but your head was supposed to go through.

“There’s a bar here you know! Can’t you see it? Ouch! Back up a bit. My head is stuck under it.”

Really? Stuck? “Well stay there, don’t move!”

“I can’t. Back up. Ouch! Stop pushing for a moment so I can get my head out!

Get out? Not on your life! Your head was supposed to go through, not get wedged under it. “Down!” I yell, thrusting her forward again.

“Oww! Okay, okay, alright, underneath is what you want. I get it! Why didn’t you say so? You’ll have to push the mattress down first. I can’t get under by myself.”

She grabs hold of the bar and begins to wriggle her head from side to side, waiting for me to abandon her. “Oww! Well I won’t fit under it,” she says sarcastically. “Why don’t you come and stand on the mattress?”

You want me to help? I’ve already accommodated you many times. I take a hold of the top of the bed head with both hands and begin to extract myself, letting her believe I’ll assist. Instead of withdrawing entirely, I plough back into her at speed, using my body mass and the power in my legs and arms to shunt her forward again. She shouts as her head slowly slides forward, passing underneath the bar. She grips it, tries to push backwards—it’s useless. I can’t get her right through! The fit is so tight. Damn! I wanted the bar over her neck. She’s stuck!

The noise coming from under the bar is annoying. The wailing is reminiscent of the moment a man finds himself in when he’s confronted with an apprehensive virgin. He wants to push on but discomfort has her holding him back. It’s been a long time since Nina was a virgin and she’d be the first one to say that sex is not all bad once you get through it. She once said to me, “Mitchell, if a girl wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t find herself in that situation in the first place. Besides, it’ll happen one day, so it might as well be then. She’s ready but just doesn’t know it.”

She was absolutely right of course—and she’s has perfect insight. All virgins stopped being virgins at one point or another. The inevitable is inevitable. Nina’s sounding like a virgin, now, screaming, pleading for me to stop, believing that such a big thing won’t fit into such a small space. She needs reminding that the inevitable is inevitable. After all, she put herself in this situation. She’s ready. She just doesn’t know it.

“It’ll hurt just once dear,” I said calmly.

I pull out a little and then give her body one more shove from behind, watching her head scrape on the underside of the bar. “My ears! My ears Mitchell!”

I can hear the awkward sounds of her flesh compressing against the steel. I can see her right ear crumple backwards as it passes beneath it. “YEOOOW!!! NO MITCHELL NOOO!!!”

It’s like listening to a sixteen year old. She’s tensing up, hands flailing about the place grabbing at anything that’ll allow her to push back. She can’t find anything so her head slowly continues to creep forward, grinding against the steel, raking the skin backwards until her head finally pops out on the other side. The gap snaps shut as the mattress rises and clamps her neck against the bar.

“YOU FUCKING COCK-SUCKING FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”

Now that’s not what virgins usually say!

She rattles the bar and pushes against the wall on the other side and shouts again, “Have you gone totally fucking mad Mitchell? That fucking hurt! Jesus Christ! I told you it was hurting. Didn’t you hear me? Get me out of here! Shit man, I told you and you still did it! You’ve ripped my god damn ears off! What the hell is wrong with you?”

I couldn’t care less. I achieved what I wanted and so move back and forth in a steady rhythm again. “Don’t you do that! I said don’t do that!”

Or what?

“Get me out of here! And don’t do that! I said don’t do that! You son of a bitch! You stop that right now! You get me out of here! Shit, my ear’s bleeding!”

Bleeding? That’s no concern of mine. Blood is supposed to be part of the deal. You’re over the hardest bit. The rest is easy. We’re not stopping. It’s time to pick up the pace!

“I said don’t do that! You pig!”

Pig? Why do women always reach for pig when they’re upset with a man? Is pig supposed to be an insult? Why pig? She’s the one looking like one stuck on a spit!

Oh well, another thing I came to learn about virgins was that once they’re past the worst they’re a hell of a lot nicer to deal with.

“Listen to me! Dammit Mitchell! You stop that now!”

Or so I thought. She was supposed to turn that frown upside down and place her trust in experience. “Don’t worry sweetheart, this’ll all be sorted out very soon.”

Look at me, aren’t I the supportive one? Despite her abuse I’m still full of encouragement.

“Shit! I think my ear’s bleeding. I can’t tell. Can you look and see if I’m bleeding? Will you please stop moving? I don’t want you to do that!”

Blood? Who cares? It’s expected. It’s your first time. Can we please get back to the business at hand?

“I said stop doing that!”

She’s not giving in easily. I give her a deeper length of my rod and she moans. It was enough to silence her—only momentarily. “Aren’t you going to stop? Or don’t you care at all?”

Jesus Christ woman! What is it with you? There’s a sting and soreness but it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Hell, if history is anything to go by you’ll like this and probably ask for it again. Now get over it. I know I have. “It looks fine,” I reply.

“How can you tell if I’m bleeding from there?”

It’s true. I can’t see her head. The bit I’m dealing with has everything but one. What’s spoiling things now is all the bloody chatter from the other side of the bar. “Don’t worry, I think the problem will go away soon,”

#

It did and I have her high libido to thank. I knew she’d like it. She does what she always does and, at the moment she rises to climax, her arse bucks vigorously. She screams towards the end. She reminds me of a horse racing along the final straight at the Melbourne Cup—picks up speed, and gallops on down to the finishing line. As her breaths of ecstasy subside, a muffled voice on the other side of the bar asks, “Again?”

“Of course my dear.”

Now I have to work out another way to hurt her. I like breaking her and putting her back together together again.

(From the novel SEETHINGS )

Screenshot_2014-02-25-07-59-28Join the growing list of readers and enjoy the latest in my special style of noirotica. Use the form below and I’ll be in touch shortly with more juicy moments!

Lustfully yours, Ax

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