I live to write. I have a wide variety of interests and at some point they'll all surface in my stories.I have removed a large number of stories from Lush in order to set up distribution of such works through publication channels for ebooks. Sorry Or not sorry. My active Erotica pen name is Lilith Lo. I also write as Sirin Love (for Romance Erotica).If you are a Lust Gold member you will have access to my fuller pieces in The Vault.Answers to Questions I'm often asked:*Yes, my avatar is me *I started writing because I became frustrated with a lack of erotica stories I wanted to read.*I continue to write because I get a thrill out of penning my sexually charged thoughts on paper and sharing them with others. *No, I'm not interested in real life relationships. (No webcam or cellphone)*Nothing puts me off or disgusts me, some things just interest me more than others. I favor hardcore and fetish elements the most when I read.
Every many is different - psychologically and physically. What works well for someone might not work well for someone else (so advice will vary as a result). Some guys don't like hard and fast blowjobs or deepthroat - others do. Some like gagging, others don't.So learn your guy's responses by experimenting with all different ways of using your tongue, lips, throat, hands. Encourage him to tell you what he likes and doesn't like.
I've tried it - but I didn't noticed a significant bump up in pleasure. It did make peeing afterward very difficult. So I'm not sure what's different about me and these other women, but I don't think it works for everyone.
WTF ginger ??? why ? The chemicals in the gingerroot act as a stimulant - sexually speaking.
I happen to like having a messy face ;) . . . and my tits. I love it when he comes on my tits.
What do women think of men who like or love to sniff women's worn panties? Honestly? I have an uncontrollable negative reaction to how it's referred to . . . some guys used the term 'soiled' for 'wet panties' when 'soiled' means dirty and not in a sex way . . . and any suggestion that her panties have been laying around, a bit wet, and then dried . . . and then he loves it up . . . is just gross. Like a stomach-upheaval response.So at best it just elicits no response in me - and at worst it turns me off and can even make me sick.Thus I tend to pass on the subject and it certainly won't find its way into any of my fiction.
Anyone who knows me knows that I love the amazing Toni Morrison. Every word she shares is a gift—until she called me a scavenger. The shame. Toni Morrison never uses anyone she knows when she writes. She admits to using some gestures and dialogue of her mother’s in certain places when writing The Bluest Eye . That's it though. She says that she has never done it since. An interviewer asked her, “Why is that?” Here is her response: I don’t do what many writers do. There is this feeling that artists have—photographers, more than other people, and writers—that they are acting like a succubus … this process of taking from something that’s alive and using it for one’s own purposes. You can do it with trees, butterflies, or human beings. Making a little life for oneself by scavenging other people’s lives is a big question, and it does have moral and ethical implications.In fiction, I feel the most intelligent, and the most free, and the most excited, when my characters are fully invented people. That’s part of the excitement. If they’re based on somebody else, in a funny way it’s an infringement of a copyright. That person owns his life, has a patent on it. It shouldn’t be available for fiction. There is obviously no end to the depth of her creativity. I bow down. I’m just working with what I have. I had to admit to myself that I’m a Succubus. I’m going to writer’s hell. I hope they have wine. I may be forever haunted by the people who recognize themselves in my stories, with no grounds to sue of course. When I say I’m writing fiction, it is fiction—based on…uhm… However, I take who I am and what I feel, what I wish I could forget and what I wish I remembered better, who I know and what they share, what I've seen and where I've gone . I mix it with my imagination, sometimes my laughter or sweat or tears, sometimes with my blood (I’m a writer, I can be dramatic if I want to). Then, I write you the story that forms itself at the tip of my fingers. Morals and ethics and writing... Are you going to writer’s hell with me or am I alone in this?<img src="/forum/images/emoticons/pourwine.gif" alt="Pour Wine"> I'm with her - even further away than her. I go out of my way to avoid using anything that reminds me of people I know or have met or have seen in movies and on TV. I can't stand the unaware filtering that happens, it bugs the crap out of me.Only a few times have i actually written about my husband - and that was sex straight from my sex life, not just character traits.
how many girls like to sit on the face of their man and grind on it ? Do you like to face him or to show your back ? Can you cum in this position ? It's one position I cannot get into - just not my cuppa.
I think it can. Obviously not always, but I wonder what the percentage is.Do you have any thoughts on this?I'm just curious. I've had all sorts of discussions with people on their interests and where they might come from. Some feel it comes from being abused themselves. But it's not always a way of "acting out" - nor does it even reach back to childhood for some people.For example: one person always had an interest in bondage and related elements, but when his partner (a female) in the past abused him, he became a dominant in the bedroom (only). That way he can still enjoy some elements of these things, but from a different vantage point. And of course he does not repeat the actions made against him, but tries to enjoy it in the way he should have been allowed to experience it.
Impact play does it for me. When the force is just right, and she squirms and grimaces from the pain just for an instant, and it increases her state of arousal. I get that specific rush that I crave, when I am able to take someone to that state. And, the lovely marks that are left to bloom. Lovely!And thanks for the term - somehow it escaped me.
I've had someone PM me to give constructive criticism on a story, but we've hit a bit of a snag with how he gets the story to me for me to read it in full. How do other people achieve this?I understand that only image files can be sent by PM. Do you exchange email addresses with the person who wants to share a story with you, or is there another way that people use?Information gratefully received. After over-extending myself, I now point people to Scribophile as a means of offering up Erotica to critique. It requires one to put a little bit of work-in before getting a piece put up for critique. It's an effort. I rely on it 100%.I used to just email content for edit and was pretty open with others on helping them improve and see Lush success - however, I came across a few who took advantage of my offer to help or who expected more than just 'helping' - like people wanting me to actually just fix the work and make it publishable (which I now charge for).
Chapter 1 I saw the advertisement in the classified section of the newspaper while I was riding the Metro. The page was folded at a strange angle, crumpled in the man's hand who sat oblivious to my prying eyes. It read: Wanted: adult wet nurse. It brought to mind things I hadn't thought of in years, long forgotten fantasies I used to entertain when I was far more inexperienced in life:...
Added 30 Jan 2016 | Category Fetish
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Anxious to get on the road again, Bambi bounced on the balls of her feet, her lips pursing to blow another bubble. Two, three inches around—and then it suddenly popped, sticking to her chin. Tamela stood there, a finger poised where the pink bubble had been. “Bus is full. Coach says we have to ride with the boys.” Bambi flicked her tongue, swiping the gum back into her mouth. “Sounds...
Added 05 Aug 2015 | Category Fetish
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Chapter 1 I stayed a few steps behind Mom as we trudged into Church. The wind had kicked up since we left the house and my ears had begun to burn, my knees had gone a bit numb quite some time ago. Twice she turned to gripe at me for going too slow but I ignored her—I was looking for Brian. Our parents married when I was only 10. Years later, much to my dismay, they divorced. Since...
Added 23 Jun 2015 | Category Taboo
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I make my way to the Carnack Building with two minutes to spare. With ten minutes between classes I cannot fathom how this is going to work. First days are always stressful, and when I finally find room 294 I’m sweating and breathless. I barge in, hair a mangled mess, clothes disheveled, and the entire class looks at me. Why can’t the door be in the back of the room, I think to myself as I...
Added 22 May 2013 | Category Quickie Sex
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Eight months. Seven days. Sixteen hours. It’s been so long since my wife last told me she loved me and then kissed me goodbye. How was I to know that one kiss would be the last kiss, the last caress? How many times would I think of her and seek her memory out in this way? “More coffee?” The waitress comes to stand in front of me, carafe in her hand. I consider that she...
Added 07 Jun 2014 | Category Straight Sex
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All he had to do was ask her to consent and she would be his . . . and she hated herself for it. Passion, affection—she shouldn’t crave such things. But yet, on her hands and knees, fingers raw from vigorous scrubbing, her body ached to be touched. She was aware of every movement he made, every breath he took, his eyes on her as she worked. “Viette?” Her heart stuttered at the sound of...
Added 11 Apr 2015 | Category Novels
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Something draws me to the photograph of him, It’s so wrong for me to look, But I do, Over and over again. There is something in the way he is poised, Casual, against the cushions of the sofa. Black jeans, White shirt. It’s the jacket, though, And the buckle on his belt, - Undone. The thrust of his hips, The way his arm reaches overhead, These are where my eye wanders, Over and...
Added 18 Apr 2013 | Category Love Poems
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The hillside was torched by a lick of flame. Angry fire burned wildly, devouring. Timbers cracked, the trees split, all was consumed. Heaven sent the rain, quenched the devil’s hand. Then the rain faded, leaving a man behind. He was cold, I gave him shelter. He was hungry, I gave him food. He was broken, I cured his wounds. Eyes dark, rich, and golden – like aged brass coins. Scattered...
Added 27 Jun 2013 | Category Love Poems
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In the madness that followed—the guards rushing in and out, the doctor being summoned—Viette slipped away. No one noticed her departure, not even her Keeper. She moved in a strange fog—almost floating as she went—her heart having darkened to a shade of night. On the way to Aust's room she followed the narrow servant passageways that wound through the castle. He’s not dead, she...
Added 15 Jun 2015 | Category Novels
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Chapter 30 Bringing Lord Aust to the Strategy Room had come to Leonin on a whim. It was with the purpose of testing a suspicion. For nearly a year Lord Aust had given Leonin a sizable bounty of unfulfilled promises and empty answers. And that couldn't continue to happen. The future of Whitmore hung in the balance. If progress was not made with the Eleventh Quarter then Whitmore...
Added 14 Jun 2015 | Category Novels
| Votes 4 | Avg Score 4.75
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Breanne lives a dull, single life working as an office clerk. That is until she sees a job listing in the newspaper as a Nature's Bounty Nurse. A phone call and an intimate doctor's appointment later, she's on her way to dedicating herself to a life of adult nursing for a wealthy Japanese...
On the first day of Latin Class Lara finds herself quickly entangled with her professor. A relationship blooms, spirals and spins with secret rendezvous under the cover of little white lies. It's his voice, his good looks, and that commanding presence that draws her in deeper.
What Lara doesn't...
Stripped of her nobility and taken as a war prize, Viette is determined to take control of her life at all costs even if it means dominating a King to do so. As a servant, however, she's in no such position . . . or is she?
King Leonin of Whitmore has his sights set on Viette for things beyond...
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