H is for Hooray!

Ah, yes, here I am again.
Begging you to lend an ear.
Clearly, I can’t get away from the alphabet.
Darling, you might even say that I am obsessed with learning my letters.
Ever since I started the Naughty Stories from A to Z series, which features 26 stories in alphabetical order, I’ve used the ABCs as a guide.
From Naughty Stories, I moved onto the challenge of editing 26 books, with each story beginning with the appropriate letter of the alphabet.
Good writers rise to any dare.
Hey, they tease me, How are you going to deal with Q?
I don’t know, I stammer, blushing while thinking of a book of stories dedicated to Quarterbacks, or Queen, or, um, Queues.
(Jeremy would have something clever to insert here, I’m sure.)
Kiki and Kristina, stop twittering in the back!
Let me say my piece and get on with it.
Most of the time, the ABCs are my friends.
Now, that I’ve gotten through H and have moved onto IJKL, I’m nearly halfway there.
Oh, but I know you’re wondering what each letter will be.
P is for panties, punishment, paddling, perverts?
Quiet down, there’s no rush.
Right now, we’re focusing on the four just released (E is for Exotic, F is for Fetish, G is for Games, and H is for Hardcore).
So sit back, sip your cider (or something stronger, Sommer) and get ready for a taste.
Tease—I meant a tease.
Unfortunately, as the books are so short, I can’t give you much more than a sliver from each.
Very short, but oh so hot.
What’s that, Mat?
X-rated?
You bet, how could they be anything else when peppered with stories by Lust Biters Dayle Dermatis, Gwen Masters, Kristina Lloyd, Madelynne Ellis, Mathilde Madden, Shanna Germain, and Teresa Noelle Roberts.
Zippers slide down, and hands reach in, and oh, hell… go on, read the next sexy tidbits—you know you want to.

E is for Exotic, Native Tongue by Shanna Germain:

I fold my body down until I can nestle my own tongue against Margret’s bikini bottom. She’s still working her tongue against my clit, but I try to focus. I slide her tiny bikini to the side to allow me access. I tuck my finger inside her. She is wet already, smelling of sea salt and musk.

I slide two fingers inside her, loving the wet clutch of her, the way she moans into me. My thumb rubbing across her clit, I slide a third finger in. I fuck her like that, pushing so hard her tongue slides back and forth across my clit with the movement of her body. Through the wet fabric of her suit, her hard nipples rub my belly with the movement.

Margret arches her back. Her tongue becomes frantic across my clit, and then she gives up and sucks me, hard into her mouth. We don’t come together; she goes first, moaning as I dive into her with my fingers. It is this sound, the meaningless vibrations of her throat as she sucks my clit, that lets me follow her.

The place we bring each other to, there are no words for that.

No words at all.

F is for Fetish, Boot Camp by Kristina Lloyd:

So here I am on my hands and knees, gazing at five pairs of army boots, all in need of some love and attention. I’m so horny I can barely kneel. The detention block’s at the far end of the lawn, and every Tom, Dick and Harry in there has probably got binoculars on my butt. The guys, my guys, sit with their feet planted wide, pants tucked in or hitched up so I can see everything there is to see; every last eyelet and lolling tongue; every stitch, scuff and scratch; every line of dust and each grain of Iraqi sand lodged in the creases that are etched in the leather.

G is for Games, No Limits by Madelynne Ellis:

Colored plastic stuck to our palms, and feet, which squeaked and sighed with our every move. We were the final pair in a Twister death match, and I for one was going for broke.

“No limits, to what exactly?” I asked. How much strain my calf muscles could take in order to make this a victory for the girls?

The naughty look in his shocking blue eyes suggested not. I suspected he had something far more risqué in mind. So, possibly what he meant was that there were no limits to how big a spectacle he was prepared to make of us. Not that I was worried on that score. You don’t play Twister in a short skirt and fishnets without weighing up the consequences first. I knew exactly how much I had on display, and he couldn’t strip me naked with his eyes.

“Left hand, red.”

His palm slithered down my inner thigh, wakening hungry nerve endings, on route to its destination, the colored circle by my foot.

H is for Hardcore, Me, When I’m With You by Mathilde Madden:

“How much longer?”

I don't answer. But I do stop teasing and tell you to stand up. Your cock is so hard and needy. It makes me wince to see you move around with it jutting out in front of you.

Big hard cock, big hard man. You, standing over me as I lie on the bed, would almost make me feel weak and small if I didn't have such an incredible hold over you. If I hadn’t taken you to the edge five times already today. If you didn’t need to come so much right now that it's pulsing off you.

You're naked. You're so pretty when you're naked that all I really need to do is look at you. Strip you and have you stand there while I masturbate to the sight of you. Use you as porn.

***

So there you have it. Four slippery little excerpts from four sexy little books. And guess what? In honour of our 200th post (which I believe is this weekend) Cleis Press has graciously donated two full sets of the A-H books. So comment today for a chance to win 8 of your own ABC anthologies. And then you can spell cool words on your bookshelf, too.
XXX,
Alison