Sundae snacking

fingering wet silk
submissive white lace shivers
snow capped tart cherries

Falling shards of Memory

we fell,
like ripe plums the color of a bruised heart left to rot
in resentment
thirty years since
we tumbled
into lust with the hubris of youth stoked with weed
the only sentient beings ever to discover
parts fit perfectly
until we blew apart like a super heated nova
of jealousy and grade point averages
all around people swirl like bees
dancing in a hive
come and go hauling wobbly pieces of themselves
from gate to plane back to reality
shining livery adorned with emerald and ruby
jewels winking in the soft summer air
of remembrance and recognition
the lope and the bounce
mind recoils seeing the bodies and faces
of long lost friends
lined with life like a faded treasure map
of retired pirates
not unlike the expressions ignored daily
in the mirror of time
we embrace
her first the taut curves softened yet hands
provide tactile memory of bottom over knee
reddened flesh bouncing under brush
gentle social hug ignites fire kept banked
his body next wider somehow shorter but still tight
the quirked lip and sparkled eyes unchanged
like tissue paper boats
the intervening years dissolve to when we girls
compared marks and orgasms
slaves to his devious dominance
we chat
introduce my husband pulse racing his gaze both
knowing and concerned tinged with hurt
it was supposed to be simple
but meeting old flames threatened to undo me
so
I surrendered
after dinner explained to him who they were and
why after three decades the pull was still strong
they met and talked while we nattered about
our kids and menopause and gravity
summoned to their room
two strong men awaited
grim demanding explanations
we stammered
they laughed and slapped each others backs
then ordered us to our knees
online for years planned our submission
and discipline in secret
devious Doms are the worst
and the best
we sucked
hard cocks jutting from jeans
arms behind our backs
cuffed and swapped
groaning as our hair fisted
and mouths filled with thick cream
ass up as they flog me
my tongue buried in familiar pussy
the taste makes me cry for wasted years
they hug me
we fuck
in every combination that four can conjure
the steady roar of jets slowly fade as the world sleeps
decide to blow off the reunion
in favor of room service and debauched sex
of willing slaves
we grin

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Mosh pit equations

they were strangers, when next I saw them again,
DJ ripping disco night in shreds, punk/dupstep slices of audio porn, frenzied fingers entering willing orifices, each had retained me, unbeknownst to the other, teetering on the brink of divorce, dragged kicking and screaming over the Rubicon of fifty, years wasted in silent combat,
strangers asleep in the same bed, slick with secretions, dreaming of wasted opportunities passed over in guilt, no wonder religions banned dancing, bare asses flashed everywhere, skirts worn as belts, the sickly smell of sweat and vomit, subsumed by sexual heat and enlightenment achieved through X and trance bass tracks thrumming in pagan souls, if a club could bottle the air, Lauren would implode the economy with sales to baby boomers who used colored pills to reclaim youth,
watching the hole develop, even the Sufi whirled away, the thermonuclear passion glowed between them, the gut wrenching arousal pureed with hate and ennui, my clients fucked each other over in plain sight, lit by strobes, danger building, hardcore ravers jolted out of apathy and faux transcendence by the real thing, decades of saved ammo, fired off for my benefit, nothing more savage than domestic contempt fueled by alcohol and mob anonymity,
jaded as I was, even I almost fell for the drama, hands spanking exposed bottom, teeth nipping swollen lips, designer gashes ripped even further, junk erect, trying to shatter stasis of middle-age, varicose leg thrown over arthritic hip, penetrative consummation ringed by youth desperate to capture elusive high, a heartbeat away from overdose, the awareness of time stalking as the apex predator, none to escape the pitiless scythe, best turn your back and twerk for an upload, inhibitions exchanged for the inflated cover charge, the damned dancing into a future filled with heartache, broken promises and prescriptions,
strangers all, inside silicon shells, the only thing they owned, were their orgasms, splashed recklessly into the seething pool of pheromones, my camera flashed, files for the lawyers, if they ever decided to pull the trigger.

Something didn’t add up—I tipped the hatcheck girl—sticky soles wiped on only slightly less filthy curb
sirens wailed—the skyscrapers mostly dark—the miasma rising from the sewers swirling around off-duty taxis
I lit a smoke—exhaled—the life of a PI was fucking great—sarcasm at three am wasted on the confident rats

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Flashback Friday: “Honey Dew”

This week’s Flashback Friday, originally posted Oct 25th, 2009 for Oral Worship Day.

“Honey Dew”

red lips pout
glistening with slick dew
thighs flex
aimlessly she gasps
tongue lapping
inhaling her scent
unique
musky
passionate flows of nectar
coat my taste buds
swallowing her lust
pinned
her arms trapped by my weight
pausing to suck her clit
then
spanking
wet smacks
on wetter folds
red becomes redder
gasps become screams
wet becomes a torrent
I bend my head
to torment her some more
she cries
I smile
she’s mine

Tear me a new one

I bask in your respect
admire the flowers you buy
giggle at the itchy lace
and waxy chocolate once
a year in February
my heart thumps when
you load the dishwasher
or take the kids for pizza
so that I can bubble
and pretend still single
we fight about money
who doesn’t do that
however you’ve taught me
—and our daughters—
that our actual strength
is between our ears
—not our legs—
and feminism isn’t a
curse word or weapon
I know we’re tired
and weekly sex is fine
yet sometimes it’s
necessary for you…

…to grab my throat
call me slut, throw
me on the bed, pin
me down, take my
wrists in your strong
calloused palms and
molest my curves
when I struggle and
whine, flip me like
a pancake and spank
my ass until I cry,
not only in pain,
pleasure is too tame
for what I feel when
you fist my thong,
rip it clean off,
the scorching heat
in my cunt
—I said it—
cunt, weeping for
your thick cock, yes,
we make love, it’s
wonderful, but what
I want sometimes
is a good fucking,
hard, deep, fast,
make it hurt, treat
me with rough contempt
when you yank my
head back and use
me like your private
whore, not a beloved
wife…

…you don’t even
have to pay me, just
finish by reaming my
ass and spraying your
hot sperm on my back

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Flashback Friday: “Too soon, it’s over”

This week for Flashback Friday, a poem originally posted Sept, 26th 2009.

The sound of a spanking
is so delightful
crisp smacks
yelps and welts
harder, faster
slower, longer
the pain hurts
no matter the manner
it hurts
burns
stings
cries and sighs
yet after
when the spanking finally stops
the ache
the need for more
the need for more pain
is it all about the pain
what would be better
a hard, fast beating of five minutes
or a long, gentle spanking
for an hour
over a knee
purring
arching
begging for more
slowly building
the burn
while the timer
clicks away
in front of your pleading eyes
minute by minute
too fast
even for an hour
two would be better
three would be perfect
better yet
spank me forever
so I can feel
the ache
every
single
second
I
breathe
your
name
with
awe

autumnal spankings

the time for lovers poets claim is spring
flowers buds plucked
pollen laden stamens life bursts at the seams
but spankos know better in fall do bottoms blush
rosy red apples shiny cheeks all ablaze
rounded ripe pears tender flesh squeezed
fuzzy sweet peaches juices so licky-sticky
and of course pumpkins for Hallowe’en carving
deep creases so smooth
bend over in jeans
let your lover whack in the patch
for trick or treat this year
dress up with a smile and
let your wolf know this time
it won’t be the hood that’s bright red

Posted here on AC’s blog for the Halloween Writing Event

  • Corrupted

    Now available, "Corrupted", an anthology from Sexy Little Pages, including my short story, Ghosting Past Emily. Click the picture for ebookstore links.

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    Click the picture to purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    In Byron Cane's Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel