Friday, 15 June 2012


She ushered the Tinies to their
waiting parents, some of whom asked about her
weekend in Paris and she gushed about the
food and the sights but didn't mention the
Ivorian couple her husband had
found on the Net, how
dark their skin was against their
English pallor, how hot and wet and
spicy the woman's pussy was, how
thick and hard the man, how it felt amidst that
kaleidoscope of black and white, how
extraordinary it was to kiss her
sperm-scented mouth while
full of both husbands...

No, she kept those images to herself as she
waved them all off to rest before
another day of make-believe and

Thursday, 7 June 2012

Honestly, Ron.....

Honestly Ron, the trouble I went to! That
outfit you bought me? It made me look like a
two-bit whore and it took a fricken
HOUR to work out all the straps! Then,
despite being the main attraction, I had to
prepare all the snacks and drinks while you
farted around with the camera and the
lights (Jeez, wasn't it hot enough?), and
six guys show up! You said three! OK, so
one high-tailed it pronto, but that still left
five horny guys on
poor little me--have you any idea how
sore I am? OK, so I came like the
train I pulled but pardon me if I
walk funny for a week.....
And then we sit down to watch my
movie debut and your voice is
certainly loud and clear, directing the
poor sons-of-bitches, but sadly the pictures are

Honestly, Ron......

Tuesday, 5 June 2012


Let me mark you as your
clothes mark you: as your
corset cinches your waist, your
bra cups and cuts in; your
stockings weal your thighs, your
knickers your hips; as your
ear-rings nip your lobes, your
collar chafes your throat--let me
mark you and watch as the
marks slowly fade, then let me
mark you again.

Sunday, 3 June 2012


Amidst the mêlée of bodies on the bed
he could make out only a
hank of reddish hair
wrapped around a pumping fist, a
well-pedicured foot waving rhythmically
and an equally well-manicured hand
desperately clutching a
bull neck.

He tried to concentrate on filming—
focus, aperture (why are
dark bodies so difficult to light?)—
wondered if the guy underneath could
breathe, whether she could breathe with the
constricted moans coming from her
blocked throat—the increasingly
funky smell of sweat and arousal—but

his eye kept returning to those
sharp red nails on the
clenching hand, on one finger of which
glinted the ring he’d given her.