I read over her two excerpts and all I can see, brace yourself to a warm feeling of sensuality. Her excerpts will leave goosebumps on your skin and all you say is more.
Here is one of her excerpts off of "Full Bush" by Jill Boyd.
I’m still knee deep in The 52 Seductions by Betty Herbert. It’s given me a lot of inspiration for topics for this blog, and I’m very thankful that Betty wrote this book.
But that’s not the jest of this post.
This post stems from a very slow realization that came during a certain paragraph in the book about waxing.
As I read of Betty’s mild horror at the notion of being arse in the air, spreading her own bum cheeks so the waxing lady can wax her anus, it started to dawn on me.
I should explain that in a few weeks, I will have the immense honor of participating in the Great Wall of Vagina project. For this, I will have my bits cast in plaster so that they can become a work of art (which they already are).
When I saw the call on the Erotic Meet website, I initially doubted that I’d want to take part. But I signed myself up. Completely forgetting that, in order to have my fanny cast, I would first have to…
Get myself waxed.
Which I have never done before.
And as the sheer horror of it crept up on me, I let out a squeak.
Were it not for me participating in such a wonderful project, I wouldn’t have dreamt of waxing my fanny. In fact, I’m quite fond of my hairy muff!
Only once have I deemed it necessary to shave it. And I didn’t even decide it then. It was for the perfectly legit reason of my operation. Otherwise, my muff has stayed hairy ever since I caught sight of my first pubic hair in 1999 (yes, I still remember the year, what of it) and thought it was a speck of dirt.
My mum tends to love to remind me of that fact. She watches as my face contorts in horror, as I relieve the perfectly intact memory of the moment. Lying in the bath, still able to look at my mound… the hair. The hair!
Sorry, that got a tad dramatic.
Truth is that I’m fond of how I look down there. Granted, I could use trimming. But I’ve never really got round to it. Am I just afraid of the pain, I wonder?
Science tells us that body hair is a part of the mystery of attraction. Something about the scent in your pubic area that attracts a mate. I like that idea.And as much as I am willing to go bald for the cause, I’ll be glad when my full bush gets reinstated.
Another excerpt by Jill Boyd really left me in suspension. I had to read her excerpt twice and I recommend you read it. She really keeps it erotic.
Con Una Crepa della Frusta
By Jill Boyd
The morning after.
Naked, in front of the mirror. I inspect my body, running my fingers over them. The red marks that are the only proof of last night’s debauched fucking. Fucking, flogging, whipping… we did all of it. I’m sure we did more, but in the end it all dissolved into one big blub of truly orgasmic ecstasy.
I remember exactly which welt came from where. Which mark happened when.
My thighs. His leather flogger. Wetness already streaming.
My arse. His hands. Fingerfucking me mercilessly in between strikes.
My wrists. His rope. Bound to the head of the bed.
Bruises on my breasts. The crop. Ah, yes, the crop. The terse leather. The sting of the strike.
I remember all of it.
Ecstasy in its purest form.
It’s now seven hours since I last fell into the throws of orgasm, and I can still feel my cunt throbbing. Fuck, I might even still be wet.
And I catch myself in the mirror. Smiling.
My badges of honor gleam on my skin, less red than seven hours ago. But still making themselves known. But I don’t care about the sting of them. The treacherous throbbing and the little spats of blood… no, that doesn’t matter.
What matters is that this is us. This is our pleasure, our ecstasy.
And, as I delicately rub the welt on my thigh, I smile again.
Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.
This is our love.