I am always excited to see a new anthology from Violet
Blue. Each new collection brings readers some great
reads. I have yet to be disappointed with any of the
past books. BEST WOMEN'S EROTICA 2015 edited by Violet
Blue I another great collection of stories. The authors
have created so many different worlds in these short
stories. You will be hard pressed to not find a good read
among them. You can find stories full of Doms and subs,
men and women, gay and straight and so much more. I
enjoyed visiting each and every new place and characters.
The adventures that I found in these stories all made for
some hot reads. I love finding new voices in the books
from Violet Blue and was excited to find some in this
collection as well.
These stories are fast paced reads that grab your
attention right from the start and do not let go until
the end. Some stories stood out more than others but as a
whole this book is a good read. Each one is a good story
with intriguing characters. Some of these stories are
sweet and some are extra hot reads. I found a nice
variety in this anthology. When you are looking for a
nice hot and short story this is the book to pick up.
There is bound to be a story for every reader to enjoy in
this collection. I enjoyed all the different characters
and how some of them grew and took a hold of their lives.
I was taken through subway rides, internet chats,
elevator rides and so many more adventures with these
stories. Many had me thinking about what more could
happen in these characters lives. They make a grab for
what they want and get so much more.
BEST WOMEN'S EROTICA 2015 is full of some good stories
that kept me glued to my seat enjoying all of the
wonderful worlds that the authors have created.
Women and desire are the focus of this lust-filled
literary
exploration. Violet Blue has her finger on the pulse of
sex
and culture today and is an in-demand sexpert sought
after
by the likes of Dan Savage, Forbes Magazine, Oprah
Winfrey
and everyone in between. There is no more in tune with
what
women want and, especially, what female readers want.
Love,
romance, and risk run rampant in this volume, expertly
curated by Violet Blue, and she leaves no holds barred in
stories that will steam up your reading glasses. From
first
time encounters to break-up sex, couples rekindling their
spark and long-time partners engaging in game-changing
experimentation, Best Women's Erotica 2015 guarantees the
best erotica for women of the year (if not the decade).
Excerpt
I didn’t know if Ron had made it to town yet, but I could
feel his eyes on me anyway, uncovering the sexiest
version of me.
I spent the first day in Burlington wandering around,
shopping for clothes or camping gear or whatever was
being sold in stores with nice, unobstructed windows. My
movements became languid, unhurried and artful. I lost my
fear of taking up space. Getting a jacket down from a
rack wasn’t just about reaching for a coat hanger and
shrugging cloth away. Instead, I discovered the sensual
joy of letting my purse slip down my leg to rest atop my
upturned foot, pressing my breasts forward as I worked my
shoulders back to free myself of my current denim, then
stretching my bared arms wide as I spread out new leather
and breathed in its scent.
All day long, I imagined the click-click-click camera
sound effect that gets played in movies when someone
photographs a character from afar, and accompanied it
with visions of a telephoto lens and Ron at the other
side, manipulating the focus with one big hand and timing
his exhales so as not to jog the device.
My voyeur and I had never met in person, but he was the
one who came to mind whenever someone asked if I had a
boyfriend. Our arrangement had lasted five years by then.
Every couple of months I traveled for a weekend to a town
I didn’t know and gave
Ron hints about where I’d be. He always sent me the
pictures afterward, and it made me feel like a celebrity
to sit down at my kitchen table at home and deal out the
glossy eight-by-ten prints he’d made of me, some in color
and some in black-and-white. He usually caught some shots
of me getting undressed before bed, sliding my panties
down my thighs, but others he grabbed while I was out
doing seemingly ordinary things, crowning me with
unexpected sexiness. The pictures were erotic but
generally not explicit, and more than once I’d caught
myself wondering how my pussy would appear under his
lens.
I knew that paparazzi often make celebrities miserable,
but Ron and I inhabited a soft-focus fantasy version of
that life, not the real thing, and god it made me hot.
Ron was at least a friend, but it was also easy to
fantasize that I was a little in love with him. The
longer we played the game, the more I felt it changing
me, and even when I knew Ron wasn’t there to see, I often
caught myself standing with a certain thrust of the hip
or idly sliding the hem of my dress a few dangerous
inches upward.
By the time the Burlington trip rolled around, I was
looking for a way to take things up a notch with Ron. As
I tried on clothes and flirted with Ron’s possibly
present camera, I decided to skip the usual text messages
we shared during our weekend vacations and make his
paparazzi role feel more authentic.
Shutting off my phone, I picked up a bottle of red wine
on the way back to my cabin in the woods outside of town
and, once there, did my best impression of believing
myself to be absolutely alone. Out on the back porch with
a citronella candle and a book, I sipped a glass and
pondered my next move.
The wine heated my skin, and I pulled off my light denim
jacket, then kicked off my shoes, and finally used my big
toes to peel away my socks. I flexed and pointed my bare
feet, admiring my new pedicure and the shapeliness of my
arches. Ron had proven partial to unexpected aspects of
my anatomy, awakening me to the erotic potential of the
curve of my earlobe and the profile of my naked calves. I
ran a finger down my leg, my nerves awakening to the
beautiful lines that Ron had revealed.
I allowed my hand to travel, and it seemed as if I was
discovering myself for the first time. Knees. Thighs.
Hips. Ribs.
Ron had photographed me topless a few times, and my pussy
pulsed at the memory of the grainy black-and-white shots.
They had made me feel like a foreign film star from a
bygone era. My breasts had seemed so abundant, my nipples
expressive, my unconcerned features impossibly sensual.
I wanted to bare myself right there on the porch,
sunbathing with the casual entitlement of the rich and
famous. After all that time, though, I wasn’t sure
exactly what Ron liked. Would he enjoy seeing me display
myself deliberately, or would he read the act as
tasteless and too obvious?
I toyed with my shirt as I considered, and with every
breath I became more aware of my cunt. I pressed my
thighs together for the pleasure of the tension, and gave
in to a rhythmic set of squeezes.
The shivers running through my pelvis were just the sort
of open secret I had enjoyed while downtown thinking of
Ron. My hand hovered between the hem of my shirt and the
waistline of my pants, but it didn’t stray anywhere
overtly sexual. I was sure, however, that my face
betrayed what I was feeling. I could imagine the way a
picture of me might look. Lips swollen with desire,
eyelids half-lowered to partially conceal gathering
sexual heat, nostrils flared, head flung back to an angle
that revealed the length of my neck.
I adjusted the angle of my head to match my vision and
closed my fingers around the top button of my fly.
Instead of stripping on the porch, I teased myself and
possibly Ron. A subtle tug on the button made the
reinforced denim of my fly rub my clit through my
panties. I yanked a little harder, until my outer labia
parted around the cloth.
Reaching up to scratch the back of my neck, I pulled my
bra strap along the way and closed my eyes to absorb the
sensation of my breasts shifting and my nipples sliding
along the insides of the silky cups that held them.
My hips rolled up of their own accord. I’d gotten myself
almost hot enough to come. If Ron was watching, maybe he
was wondering if I was going to actually touch myself. I
wanted to, but a better idea interrupted my fingers
before they could travel to my clit. A naughtier one.
With the speed of decision, I sat up and examined the
wineglass.
I hadn’t made much progress with its contents, and I was
certainly sober enough to drive. I kicked aside my jacket
and socks, opting instead to go out with more skin
showing and wearing a sexy pair of heels I grabbed out of
my luggage.
I preferred friends with benefits as sex partners, or at
the very least online hookups with a decent amount of
email and text messages first. Meeting a stranger cold
was trickier—there was always the question of whether I
would see anyone I liked, or if I’d say the right things.
Maybe I should have worried about safety, but the idea of
Ron watching made me feel as if I wasn’t doing this
alone.
Swinging into the bar, I felt like a character in a
movie. Gravel crunched beneath my pumps, my hips swayed
and I turned heads as I swept into the room and headed
for the bartender. I ordered a whiskey shot, not because
I normally drink hard liquor but because the person I was
pretending to be would.
In seconds, men buzzed around me. Maybe it would have
happened regardless of what I’d been feeling—Ron’s
pictures had been forcing me to recognize my own
loveliness—but I believed the men were attracted to the
sexiness oozing out of me, the show that I was still
putting on for Ron.
Having my pick of men made me feel decadent, as if I’d
gone shopping at a high-end store. I wanted someone
interestingly photogenic. Not the generic Adonis common
to underwear commercials, but the sort of person whose
looks might be ugly and might be beautiful.
It didn’t take long to spot him. The man bore acne scars
on his cheeks and the uneasy squint of someone only
recently acquainted with contact lenses. But there was
also a grace to his hands and a poetic something about
his lips. He was dressed as if he’d just gotten off work
at a bank, but he’d stretched his earlobes around large,
black, wooden discs. His skin looked warm and golden.
I glanced toward him more than once, and the shape of his
face seemed to change at each new angle. In profile, his
high, sharp cheekbones stood out. Straight on, I noticed
roundness at his jaw that softened his appearance.
Despite the abundance of hipsters in Burlington, he was
clean shaven. He caught me looking, and the side of his
mouth curled up into a smile that would have been
arrogant if he hadn’t immediately ducked his head to
study his hands with more interest than they warranted.
I grinned to myself and carried my whiskey over to him,
getting a little thrill from the obvious disappointment
of the men I left behind to do so. His name was Jonas. I
talked to him for a while, mostly because I sensed that
he needed to be set at ease.
He was interested, though, and clearly looking for
company, so eventually I let my toe tease the side of his
calf. His eyes widened, and the wonder in his expression
gave me a rush of power. His coarse black hair tickled my
lips as I leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “I’m not
in town for long,” I told him, “but I’m here tonight…”
I didn’t have to say much else. Everyone wants to be
desired. I told him that I liked the way he smelled, and
then I admitted that I wanted to see him naked. I told
him that the moment I saw him, I wondered what his
fingers would feel like inside my pussy.
At that, he gripped my wrist. “Can I take you somewhere?
You can find out.”
I smiled and pressed my breast against his arm. “I’ve got
a cabin.”
He chatted nervously on the drive. I could tell he wasn’t
used to being picked up by a woman, and wasn’t used to
riding in the passenger seat. The wheels turning in his
head were practically visible. I knew he’d seize any
chance to take control of the way this night was going,
but as long as he let me get us to the spot I had in
mind, I was down for whatever he wanted.
My car bounced along the dirt road that led to my cabin.
Jonas cleared his throat. “Do you just…do this? Like,
often?”
I shot him a sideways look. I hoped he wasn’t the type of
man who needs a woman to pretend it’s been a while. “If I
do?”
He shrugged. “If you do, then I’ll assume you, um, know
what you’re doing.”
I felt my expression soften. I took one hand off the
steering wheel to touch his thigh. “I want us both to
have fun tonight. I’m not going to make you play guessing
games. I’ll tell you what I want to do, and you should do
the same for me.”
Jonas blinked, then grinned. “It’s too bad you’re not in
town for long. I think I could get used to you.”
I told him the truth. “Sometimes, it’s more fun this
way.” There was, after all, a reason that Ron had been my
most regular liaison for the past several years. I loved
the thrill of pursuit and the first blush of discovery.
Fighting over the covers—not so much.
I parked beside my cabin and pretended to stretch my
neck. Really, I was checking for any hint of Ron’s
presence. The trees around my little wooden structure
were dark and silent, but I thought I could feel him
there nonetheless.
Turning back to Jonas, I started us off with a long kiss,
leaning over the parking brake, stabilizing myself with
one hand on his thigh and the other on his chest. I took
control, my lips on the outside, my tongue pressing into
his mouth. When I pulled back, he was breathless, and I
rested my forehead against his to let him recover.
“Now you,” I whispered.
He came at me slowly, pressing a series of kisses along
my jaw, lingering at the corners of my lips. His fingers
brushed my cheek, the gesture romantic, and I inhaled the
clean spice of his aftershave as he took my mouth. I was
getting impatient, sliding my hands under his shirt, but
Jonas stopped me, catching my wrists and pushing my arms
back toward my sides. Being forced to slow down stoked my
desire more firmly. I had time to notice the way his
tongue stroked mine, the heat of his fingers, the
proximity of his teeth.
My thoughts went to Ron again. Could his lens capture my
body’s growing need? What would it reveal about the way
Jonas touched me?
My lover released my mouth, and I saw my own lust
reflected in his dark eyes. Under the light and shadow
coming off my cabin’s door light, Jonas was breathtaking,
the in-between quality that had attracted me at the bar
transforming him into a work of art.
“Let’s get out of the car,” he said.
“Do you need anything?” I asked, as I worked the key in
the front door. “A drink?”
“You know what I need,” he growled into my ear. Jonas
tugged me toward the bedroom, but I pulled him to the
back porch.
“I want to be outside,” I told him. My throat tightened,
and I revealed more than I’d intended. “I want to do it
where we could be seen.”
As soon as the words were out, I bit my lip, worried that
I’d put him off, but Jonas gripped my hand tightly and
led me to the edge of the porch. He settled my body
against the railing, facing the trees, and stepped in
close behind me to let me feel the hard length of his
cock. “You should have told me earlier, baby. I would
have done you in the parking lot behind the bar.”
He dipped his mouth to my neck while he eased my shirt
open.
“Would you have enjoyed that? Getting f**ked against the
trunk of your car?” He stuttered a little on the dirty
talk, but I liked that Jonas was warming up for me.
I shivered and shook my head, managing a laugh through my
arousal. “I want the risk, but I don’t want to have to
hurry.”
“Oh. You want to stay out here all night.”
Leaning my head back against Jonas’s chest, I smiled for
Ron. “All night. What do you want?”
“I want to put my fingers inside you.”
Jonas lifted my breasts out of my bra, and I undid my
pants so he could get his wish. Kicking off my heels and
stepping out of my jeans, I guided one of his hands to my
pussy.
The day had been warm, but the night air was cool on my
bare legs. I thought of that camera click as Jonas cupped
my cunt in his palm, and then began to probe my labia
through my panties.
I was wet enough to moisten the fabric as it slid between
my lips. Jonas sucked air in through his teeth as he
slipped a finger under the elastic and found his way to
my entrance. “You’re dripping.”
“I know.” I couldn’t stop thinking about how I looked
from the woods. Arching my back to give him better access
to my pussy, I bent forward so that my breasts spilled
over the porch railing. My hair fell across my face, and
I imagined the sense of mystery that could bring to a
picture, my expression hidden except for the outer curve
of my smile.
Jonas pushed my panties down to my knees. He traced a
circle around my entrance with one fingertip, and my
knees quivered. I liked that he took his time playing in
the folds rather than just plunging in. A second finger
joined the first, teasing me open, stretching me
experimentally. With his other hand, he toyed with my
clit, manipulating the hood, brushing lightly over the
exposed bundle of nerves, rubbing the sides of the shaft.
“How do my fingers feel?”
“Amazing.”
“Was it just my fingers you wanted?” He bumped his
erection against my ass, and I grinned over my shoulder
and pretended to consider.
“You’ve got a good point,” I said finally. “I think I
might like your tongue as well.”
Jonas chuckled. “Greedy.”
But he got to his knees.
I turned around and drew his head to my crotch. If I’d
had a camera, I’d have been taking pictures myself. I
adored his shapes and lines. His cheekbones seemed alien
in the half-light, and moisture glittered on the tip of
his tongue when he pressed it toward me. He didn’t have
enough hair to grip, so I petted the back of his head
once and then tucked my hands behind me so as not to
obstruct my view.
His tongue felt good, don’t get me wrong. Jonas had an
excellent sense of pacing. He was patient and precise.
What was really getting me off, however, was thinking
about the shots Ron could be taking. Would he like it
from behind, where it might not even be clear that I was
getting head? I could imagine the sexy subtlety in the
angle of my spine, the way my fingers knotted together,
the bend of my neck as I looked down at Jonas. Or would
Ron prefer a side angle, one that showed Jonas’s lips
against my mound and the panties that had slipped farther
down my legs to curl around my ankles? What angles could
he capture with that miracle camera of his? Was it
possible for him to get under the porch and take shots
upward through the slats? Could he manage a picture of my
pussy oozing juices onto Jonas’s chin? Could he capture
the spread of my legs?
I threw my head back and came against Jonas’s mouth,
dreaming all the while of Ron photographing my cunt in
extreme close-up. Its spasms of pleasure felt all the
more emphatic and intoxicating as I envisioned them in
black-and-white, printed on high-quality matte paper.
Jonas slipped a finger inside me as I came, and it
deepened my pleasure to clench around him. “You’ve got
quite a grip,” he murmured after I wound down.
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ll feel it more if you put in
something bigger.”
“So I get to use that condom in my wallet after all.”
“Very much so. And maybe even a few of the condoms in
mine. If you’re actually up for staying out here all
night.”
“You’re going to have to drag me off this porch in the
morning.”
I bent over to kiss him, taking a moment to lick around
his lips and taste my own juices. “What’s your favorite
position?”
“I want you to ride me.”
I grinned. I could already see it. Breasts bouncing, arms
flailing, thighs flexing. Animalistic lust on my face.
His cock kissing my outer lips and then pushing its way
through and inside as I lowered myself onto him. I
shivered at the thought of how all that would look.
Nudging Jonas with a toe, I peeled away the rest of my
clothes. “Get naked for me,” I told him. As I tossed my
bra aside, my brain went click-click-click, and then I
imagined the noise again as he unzipped his fly to reveal
a proud cock, gorgeous and veiny and already weeping with
need.
The rest of the night, that sound was never far from my
mind. Click-click-click as I took him deep. Click-click-
click as I gripped his shoulders for balance and sweated.
Click-click-click as we changed positions and I settled
onto my hands and knees. Click-click-click as I suckled
his softened cock through a moment of peace.
As it got later, I convinced Jonas to admit to more of
his secret desires. Click-click-click as I showed him how
I touch myself. Click-click-click as I probed his ass
with one gentle finger. Clickclick- click as he licked
the webbing between my toes.
When morning came, it was as if we’d spent a lifetime
together. I tugged him to his feet and slung my arm over
his back as we watched the sun spread delicate dawn
bruises over the sky. I pressed a kiss to Jonas’s cheek
and promised that I would text him if I ever came to
Burlington again, and I hoped he understood that I meant
it.
He embraced me, his fingers gripping my ass hard enough
to hurt, but then he did as I’d asked and let me go. He
remained silent as I drove him back to his car, but as he
stepped out, he nodded and gave me a soft smile. I
watched him until he drove away, and I thought there was
something different about his gait. I wondered if mine
had changed as well.
Then, I headed back for the cabin. I was tired from
everything I’d done with Jonas, but for me the morning
held more than falling action. My cell phone waited on
the kitchen table where I’d left it. My thighs clenched
as I anticipated finally finding out what Ron thought of
all this.
I prevented myself from running into the house. There was
no cool to my walk, though, and I fumbled the keys twice
trying to get in the front door. The phone seemed to take
forever to start up, and I tapped my foot impatiently as
it played music and displayed graphics and searched for a
network.
Ron’s first set of texts appeared. Hello, baby. You look
smoking in that leather jacket. And you know just where
to stand. Either that, or there’s no such thing as bad
lighting as far as you’re concerned. I bit my lip.
Normally, I would have answered that, flirting back. I
didn’t want to have hurt him with my silence.
Scrolling through, my evening replayed in phases. So
you’re not answering me this time? But I see that wicked
look in your eyes. This is how you want to play it?
Later: That boy has no idea what he’s getting into. He
really had been with me all night. It warmed my heart to
know I hadn’t invented my sense of our connection..
And after that, no texts at all for hours. Hopefully
because Ron’s fingers had been too busy with his camera.
At the very bottom of my phone’s log was Ron’s final
text, sent only a few minutes before. Fuck. I just about
lost my mind last night.
There was nothing else. Ron had to know I f**ked other
people. I’d never pretended to be celibate or exclusive.
This was, however, the first time I’d f**ked someone
during one of “our” weekends, and my heart pounded as I
hoped I hadn’t miscalculated. I’d wanted to take things
further with Ron, not drive him away.
I was barely able to look at my phone’s screen as I
texted my reply. You okay?
Ron must have been waiting. He answered in seconds. I
need to see you.
I still didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I
couldn’t take time to think. I stepped outside.
The trees rustled. A man’s shape appeared. After
everything we’d been through, I expected him to seem
familiar, but he didn’t. For a moment, we just stared at
each other, eye to eye for the first time, no camera lens
between us.
He was younger than I’d thought, and darker and slimmer.
If he’d been at the bar the night before, I would have
chosen him. I supposed that his taste for old-school
camera gear had made me imagine an older man, gone to
seed. The man before me was in his prime, however,
vitality radiating from his eyes, so full of artistry
that it seemed to have burst out of his body and
manifested on his skin in the form of vibrant tattoos.
“Show me your pussy,” he commanded.
My cunt thrummed as I stripped for him. His gaze hit my
skin with more intensity than a slap. I trembled.
Gripping my labia, I spread myself for him. Ron stepped
closer.
I didn’t know if he was going to touch me, or if he
wanted to f**k me now. I wasn’t sure if I wanted that to
happen. I liked him as a voyeur, and what we had was
working. I didn’t want it to change; I just wanted more
of it.
It was hard to breathe as he approached, closer and
closer, so much silence between us that I imagined I
could hear grass stalks bending under his black boots.
“Open it wider,” Ron whispered. “I want to see what you
look like freshly f**ked.”
I did as he ordered and couldn’t resist brushing a finger
over my clit, making myself shudder. There was a click-
click-click. I glanced up in surprise, and there was the
camera I’d been thinking of all night, as if straight out
of my imagination, and the noise of it was real, not just
in my head.
“Keep it up, baby,” Ron said. “Make that pussy quiver for
me.”
I gave a big exhale and leaned back against the cabin’s
outer wall. I put two hands on my cunt, one pressing
fingers inside and the other teasing my clit. Click-
click-click. Click-click-click. Ron and I stared each
other down, and I felt full of him, connected to him,
understood by him. There was no need to speak. He could
see everything I needed him to see.
Orgasm took me, and Ron was right there with me, his
focus close on my pussy, his camera saying click-click-
click.
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