Saturday, May 23, 2015

LIFE ON THE ROAD: ROUGHING IT WITH FAMLY AND FIRENDS






Gill tiptoed to the edge of the tent.  He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.  Louie lay on his back snoring louder with each breath.  Vernon lay curled up in wolf form on top of his sleeping bag.  Back in the last corner, Phil lay burrowed somewhere inside his sleeping bag.  Camping and the great outdoors. . .enough to make a squirrel. . .

“Horny,” he muttered, leaning down to unzip the tent flap.  His gonads could wait until the trip home for any sexual relief.  Chloe, Miss Ellie, Gladys, and Bettina slept in the other close-by tent.  In between the two tents sat Rachel and Tyburn’s tent like they chaperoned the group.  The kids bunked with the women in the largest tent of the three.  

Gill made his way out of the tent, savoring the quiet.  Louie’s snoring masked the other sounds of the night that most of them took for granted.  Strange animals and an unfamiliar section of the mountain might have left them sleepless until Vernon morphed and howled loud enough to stop the crickets from chirping.  Gill snorted as he made his way to the pine tree closest to the tents.  He unzipped his shorts and squatted.  Letting nature takes its course he wondered if they’d get back to town any time soon.

Driving back from their week long trip to the nude beach, a stalled weather front blocked access to the main highway back to town.  Three nights in a hotel had set nerves on edge.  Games and books kept civility going until the fourth day.  The hotel’s proprietor suggested they try the campgrounds two miles up the road.  Hastily procured camping gear from the local thrift store and here they were.  And here they’d likely be for several days more since the rain and flooding washed out two of the back roads they might have used.  

Gill stood up and fastened his shorts.  As he walked back to the tent, he hummed the tune Vernon and Louie were penning.  An anthem for the Peak sung to the melody of When the Saints Go Marching In.  Music rolled through the camp each night thanks to the banjo, harmonica, bongos, and guitar they picked up at the thrift store too.  Roughing it was okay.  They ate, slept, and made do with what they had.  Home had its allure and would be wonderful when they returned them.  For now, things were pretty good the way they were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Our group finds themselves on the trip that doesn't stop.  I'm wondering what lyrics this group came up with.  As soon as Pris reveals them to me, I'll share.  What adventures await the gang next you ask?  Not sure.  Maybe we get them back at the Peak for the festival and sharing their penned anthem for the town.

Enjoy the holiday weekend and start of summer.  Keep safe, dry, and sane.  Remember to share a few good books with your loves and spice.  I know I will!

Until Next Week,

Solara

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Finding His Sex Pet


Quickening howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh time is passing like a speeding bullet. So, here's the next flash scene from my space fantasy WIP that was featured on April 7, and was titled: His Sex Pet
To repeat as an intro...
This idea for an erotic romance sprang at me one night during that twilight time before sleep. Anyway, here's a rough-draft opening to my space fantasy story, starring Sabrah and Commander Droz. Their story could easily be connected to Talbot's Peak since Dante's Interspecies Pleasure Club is known throughout the galaxy.

~~~~~~

Finding His Sex Pet

Curbing his raw impatience, and silently cursing the enlarged, throbbing state of his cock, Commander Droz strode through the pavilion's open-air entrance. Resplendent in outward appearance, the slave-commerce structure resembled a potentate's harem quarters – many which were still on the surface of the planetworld, Ovvabia. Although, in current times, the palatial buildings were entertainment centers featuring the artistic talents of women. 

Droz's long quick stride carried him to the red ecstasy room, one of the center cubicles in the humanoid female section. Wispy trails of an exotic incense, meant to heighten carnal need, caused his nose to twitch. He snarled under his breath as his breeding shaft lengthened again. 

The very instant he'd been in communication range, Droz had contacted the infamous sex slave vendor, arranging for details and images of the available women. Hoping against hope that the first female he'd chosen would suit him, he paused to briefly perform a standard greeting to the spindly, gray-green skinned negotiator. 

Returning the gesture, the man immediately motioned for Droz to enter. Already the woman's sweet-musk fragrance tormented, and to his mind, begged for the plunder of his cock. 

Desperate for relief, Droz entered the chamber, an over-lavish affair, and forced himself to halt. Even as his inner, mating-crazed panther leaped, he rooted his boot-clad feet to the slick stone floor, staring.  He drank in the sexually beautiful picture before him. 

Now carnal torture took over. Supine and wrist-bound on a bed of soft large pillows, the female did not look up.  He knew it was because she refused to acknowledge his presence.  As Droz understood it, she'd been unwillingly sold by her family to pay a debt. 

The soul-lost fools, he contemptuously thought. Yet, if she took his cock well enough, the female would have a good home with him. 

Attired in semi-transparent swathes of silky cloth, her generous curves, her small circle of a waist more than pleased his eye. As the images had depicted accurately, her fiery red tresses flowed around her reminding him of the gentle ebb and flow of sea waves.  

A perfect contrast for the bright flaming color of her hair, her creamy, gold-flecked skin was also sensually pleasing, and far more lovely than the holo-images had been able to recreate. It mattered not that the female wasn't a shifter breed. In truth, Droz prefered his sex pet to remain naked flesh. 

Thus, he could stroke and fondle her at will. 

Her eyes, he wanted to see her eyes -- the color, the expression within their depths. Droz unrooted his feet and slowly approached. When her gaze still refused his, he bent at the waist, and lightly touched beneath her chin. 

With insistence, yet keeping his handling of her gentle, Droz raised her face to his.  His heart instantly jumped, as if he'd been startled as cat, and sprang upward  to escape an enemy.  In his homeworld jungles, enemies to his kind were numerous and brutally fierce. 

Her face, the unique loveliness, hypnotized him. Then her eyes captured him. Defiant, yet resigned to her fate, she gazed at him full on. 

Droz couldn't help but notice the deep well of sadness within the female's eyes. At the same time, the two aquamarine glistening pools entranced him with their beauty. 

Using one of his para-abilities, Droz searched her soul. The woman was a rich tapestry of experience. Wherever she'd come from -- her homeworld had not been divulged -- her life had not been simple nor protected. 

Even as he studied her, her scent altered, becoming more deliciously complex. Her gaze flared, then blazed splendidly with sudden anger. 

Droz let the corners of his mouth tilt upward in a smile. "Spirit is to be prized in a sex pet." He spoke in a language he'd been informed she understood. 

"Sex pet," she spat at him. "I am no one's pet." 

"You are now, my pretty one." After a split second pause, he added, "Unless the fit of my cock cannot be accomplished." 

She blanched white, the flames in her eyes swiftly lessening. 

Without another word, or another thought, Droz gripped her shoulders hauling her upward. Every inch of him turned stone hard with sheer, ferocious lust at the feel of her. Momentarily, the shiver and shake of her bountiful breasts transfixed him. 

He trapped the back of her neck with one hand, and in one motion bent her over  the smooth granite stand to be used for acts of sex. Hardly aware of his actions, Droz swept away the silken fabric so her ass was bared to him. 

In a breeding haze, he loosed his cock, never removing his gaze from her pale gorgeous rump. He inserted one finger testing her wetness. Good, the female liked his handling of her whether she admitted it or not.
Droz plunged his crown inside her ripe red sex.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday, May 18, 2015

Monday Filler


The flash scene well dried up in the wake of my self-published release of The Mountain Lion King last week (shameless plug), so here's the beginning of an M/M I'm fooling around with for an anthology featuring alphas behaving badly. In this case, there are two of them. Since they're both shapeshifters and this is a shapeshifter blog, I figured what the heck.

# # #

The smell of hot fresh blood got Declan up and moving again. He took a step and bit his lip against a whine of pain. He needed meat. Given his injuries, there was no guarantee when he'd be able to make a kill on his own. Right now even the chance of regaining human form was iffy.

Following the enticing lure of blood, the battered wolf staggered to the edge of the forest. Something must have made a kill in that field out there. Declan swept his fuzzy glare across the open meadow but couldn't see a goddamn thing.

Then a small head dominated by huge bright eyes and a hooked yellow beak popped up above the tips of the tall grass for a quick look-see. Declan froze. His muscles screamed at him and his demands they not shiver. Oh fuck, now that bite on his haunch was starting to bleed again.

After what seemed like centuries to Declan's aching muscles, the hawk dipped its head back below the grass. The shudders of the stalks hinted at violence within, a sharp beak and razor talons ripping something apart.

Saliva frothed with blood dripped from Declan's jaws. He needed that kill badly, far more than any stupid bird. He burst from the forest and charged toward where he'd seen the hawk's head appear.

Halfway there the bird itself suddenly erupted from the grass with a gutted rabbit in its claws. The rabbit's weight battled the hawk's efforts to bear it aloft. Declan zeroed in on the bloody prize and leaped. At the last second the hawk abandoned its catch and zoomed with empty claws into the air and safety.

Declan caught the rabbit in his jaws before it hit the ground. He gulped down still-warm flesh and felt renewed energy surge through his throbbing body. When only shreds were left on the bones, he took the chance and willed himself to shift.

His ripped and bitten flesh resisted his demand it rearrange. Declan gnashed his jaws against the agonizing protest put up by his abused skin and tissues. In the end his howl burst free, but it finished as a human scream. He fell to his knees and elbows and panted hard into the dirt.

Well, this was some improvement, at least. His limbs still shot blistering pain up and down his nerves when he moved, but the shift had sealed the worst of his wounds. Most of the bleeding had slowed to an annoying seep. Declan shoved himself upright and succeeded in gaining his feet on his second attempt. So far, so good.

Next up: find a place to hide. Get a good night's sleep. Find water, find more food. Meat would be best, berries and roots if he had to. Then march back onto clan territory and kill that bastard Seth. With his bare hands if necessary, though fangs would be so much more satisfying.

He turned toward the woods, straight into a fist that smashed into his chin. His battered body hit the ground with a jarring thud. The world, so briefly back in focus, started spinning again.

"Excuse me," a sharp voice said from above him, "but that was my dinner."

Saturday, May 16, 2015

THONGS REQUIRED?!







And the sign read “Thongs Required”.  Gill swallowed hard, looked over his shoulder to where Vernon McMahon, Louie, and several others from the Peak stood buck ass naked.  Even their wives and girlfriends sat back on the beach nude.  Who the hell had put up a sign bearing such?

“How do we comply with this?” Louie asked moving forward.  “I mean it’s a nude beach.  It’s not like we’re going to have those stuffed in a back pocket.”
Vernon clapped his hand over his mouth.  It didn’t do much good.  Gaffs of laughter spilled out.  Gill watched Phil walk up to the sign point at it and then boldly give it the finger.  The bird as some referred to the middle finger cheer many humans used as they drove down the highway of life. 

“Gentlemen,” Tyburn began as he reached the group.  “We’re heading to the bar for drinks and food, aren’t we?"

“We were.  Until that.”  Gill pointed at the sign five hundred yards from the bar.  The overhead sun blocked a clear view into the outdoor bar.  How many patrons complied with the posted requirement couldn’t be determined.  

Tyburn looked back to where Rachel stood shielding her eyes.    She motioned to him with a ‘come here’ wave.  He held up one finger.  Facing back to the group, he asked, “Where do we find those?”

Phil moved back even with the group, opening his mouth ready to speak when  a semi-clad woman walked past them and stopped within a few feet.  She leaned over, sat down the bag she carried and shimmed out of the thong bottom of her bathing suit.  Never mind she was topless.  She stood up, picked up the bag, after bunching her bathing suit bottom in her other hand, and took off trotting down the beach.

Gill didn’t bother to chastise the others standing next to him with their mouths hanging open.  No doubt his gaped in the wind with theirs.  Two men walked out, stopped approximately the same place the woman had.  Each wore swimwear.  Moments later they didn’t.  Their swimwear, gripped in their hand, flapped in the breeze as they strolled toward the shoreline and where their families probably lounged.  

“This is beginning to be a real undertaking,” Phil muttered.

Louie grinned, and pointed as two middle-aged couples walked up.  The men stopped short of the sign, shook out what appeared to be swimwear from the tote bags they carried.  The women with them did the same.  Each pulled the bottoms on.  Tyburn, Phil, Gill and Louie all groaned as they walked away.  The men’s covered fronts weren’t at issue nor were the women’s covered crotches.  Their backsides left plenty to continue catching the air.  

Vernon motioned the group to him.  “Look there’s a swim suit shop down the beach.  Let me procure what we need.”

The group agreed and handed him part of the money they had intended for buying lunch. 

Back out on the beach, Elly and Chloe gathered up the children.  “I thought the guys would be back with food by now,” Phil’s wife Gladys said.

“Me too,” Rachel chimed in.  “Tyburn gets antsy when his stomach growls.”

“I’ll check on them if you like,” Elly offered, pulling on her bathing suit bottom.

“I suspect we all need to go check on them,” Chloe stated putting on her bottom as well.   

Soon the four bottom clad women faced toward the area where the bar and shops marked the start of the beach.  “Bettina are you going with us?” Elly asked pausing near the second sun umbrella close to their belongings.

“Not in that heat and sun.  I’ll be charcoal in seconds.”  Bettina picked up the tube of sunscreen and lathered more on.  “I’ll stay with the kids.  They’re all conked out right now.”  Close to her lay the triplets and twins along with Phil’s kids, eyes shuts as their chests rose and fell indicating they slumbered.

The women made their way to the bar and strolled inside.  Three feet in and off to their right sat their men folk.  Clad as the sign required.  Four sets of male not quite bare arses sat at the bar.  Their towels hung over the bar stools as they perched very precariously on the cool metal stools.  Chloe pointed as she leaned close to the other women saying, “Gee lace and red do become them don’t you think?”

Elly nodded smiling, as did Rachel and Gladys.  The men each wore dark red lacy women’s thong panties.  Elly spoke as the women grouped around her.  “Vernon has a hard time judging sizes and letting a practical joke pass by.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Never a dull moment with our gang from the Peak.  Let's hope the joke doesn't back fire on Vernon.  Of course all of them did put their red lacy thong panties on.  I hope you enjoyed your giggle as much as I enjoyed mine writing this.  Who's to say that unisex panties don't have a future?

Enjoy the warm weather and stay safe.  Those sudden storms are deadly some times.  Remember to share a good book or two with your spice as you stay safe and warm.   I know I am.

Until Next Week,

Solara


Friday, May 15, 2015

Trust Me...



Penelope walked along the front of the room, her fingers slid, first, along the smooth wood of the massive cross, remembering a naked Burgess and the first time she tied him to it…

“So, let me get this sorted, you intend to tie me to this cross – naked – then whip me bum?” the look on his face was one of interest.

“No, my blue-haired penguino, I’m going to cuff you to the cross, with the softest leather cuffs.  Then I’m going to flog you first, and follow it up with a crop that will make your ass tingle in the nicest of ways.”

“No whip then?”

“Nope, you’re not yet ready for the bull whip.”

That was a good day.  She’d reddened his ass well with the short diamond-shaped crop, then kissed it all better before allowing Burgess to bring her to orgasm…orally.  A few days later, he’d returned the favor by bending her over the spanking bench and introducing his palm to her cheeks…

“What are we doing back here, Burgess? It’s too soon to have another go at your ass…”

“We’re not here for me Pen, this time, it’s your bum that’ll glow a rosy hue.”  He lifted an eyebrow and patted the bench, waiting for me to assume the position.

“And what makes you think your Domme will allow such a thing?”

“This is not a Dom speaking to her sub, Penelope.  This is two switches speaking to each other.” 
He’d surprised her that day, so early in their relationship, with his knowledge of her deepest secret.  She loved being a Domme, but for him, she longed to submit, as well. 

“Is everything the way you want it, Penelope?”

Surprised by the quiet question, Penelope turned to greet her friend.  “Yes, Dante, thank you.  Everything looks perfect for the gathering.”

“Very good.  And I think you’ll find, Edina is immensely skilled at her art.”

“Yes, there are whispers around town that she brings much success to her ‘customers’.  My hope is that she’ll open up and tell the other Doms of this town her true agenda.”

“Is that really necessary?”

Penelope looked over at Dante, “yes, it really is.  Dom’s and Domme’s support on another in this town and we want to support her too.  First though, she needs to be honest with us.”

“Agreed.  I’ll leave you to it then.”

As he turned to leave, Penelope fought her urge to demand answers, but one slipped out.  “Is he safe, Dante?  Really and truly safe?”

Without turning Dante said, “As safe as he can be, Penny, and he’ll be home soon.”

As he stepped from the room, Penelope sank to the base of the spanking bench and softly wept.  She believed Dante, for he’d never lied to her.  Burgess would return.  Until that time she would hold tight to the words he’d whispered in her ear as he’d laid her over the bench…

“Trust me with your secret, my sweet submissive, and we shall forever be one…”
~~~

Just a short bit from me today.  May you forever trust and be one with your love.

Serena

Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Mountain Lion King is now available!


It's here! Rebecca beat me to the punch by pre-reviewing yesterday, but I wrote this blog and, by Castiel, I'm going to post it. My first self-published Talbot's Peak novel, The Mountain Lion King, is now up at Smashwords and Amazon. It should be up on Barnes & Noble, Apple, and your favorite e-book outlet within a week or so.

Cougar shifter Rick Donnelly is happy living alone on his mountain and isn't looking for company. Then company literally falls into his lap, in the form of tiger-shifter Nilambari, who's fleeing from her arranged marriage to the vicious Ravi Ghan. Rick has no love for tigers, but for this terrified tigress he's willing to make an exception. Provided he can defend them both from Ravi, who's not about to let his bride-to-be go without a fight.

Regular readers will know this book began as a series of posts here on the blog. The original, now-rewritten opening can be found here. Plus, here's a new snippet to whet your appetite:

Excerpt

Rick stepped in from a night in the foyer and stopped dead. Now here was something you didn’t wake up to every day: a woman trying to wipe the dirt off cave walls. She’d already swept the floor. He could easily picture the bedchamber scrubbed to within an inch of its life, the bed neatly made. “You’re up early,” he said cautiously.

“You’re up late,” she countered. She continued to dust and straighten. “Would you like tea?”

“No tea.” He stared about. Son of a gun, it really did look better in here. But just the same … “You don’t need to do this. Really.”

“I do,” she said. “Really. Do you never clean in here?”

“It’s a cave. You can’t clean a cave.”

“You can make it cleaner. This also.” She reached into a pile she was building on a chair and held up one of his shirts. “This needs to be washed, and the others too, and my own clothes. The sheets should be changed as well. Is there a stream or pool where I might launder them?”

This, Rick thought, is what happens when you let a woman into a bachelor den. He expected to find curtains hanging, and his kitchen didn’t even have windows. Part of him was pleased and touched she’d go to so much trouble. The rest was just bemused.

“Okay, okay. We’ll go into town. They have a laundromat.” Wait. Did he have any change? Scat. Civilization got complicated after a while. That was one reason he had abandoned it. “Just stop sweeping, all right?”

Nilambari’s eyes lit up. She set the broom aside. “Can I visit with Mrs. McMahon? She’ll know what herbs can be harvested here, and what plants are edible. I need to learn this. I will also need a bath.”

“What for?”

She stared at him as if he’d gone insane. “Mrs. McMahon is a fine herbivorous woman. I can’t go before her with fresh blood in my scent. It would be rude.”

Rick made a face. A bath? Wasn’t that why cats had tongues? Anyway, Elly was married to a wolf. He doubted if she found Vern’s scent insulting. His eating habits, maybe.

Still … Rick reminded himself he was speaking to a young female. Their thought processes differed from normal creatures’. “I suppose I’ll need a bath too?”

Nilambari fixed that young female stare on him. Rick gave in. “Fine. No time like the present. The pond should do, now that the horses are gone. Let’s get this mess over with.”

Heat level: mild. Cover by Serena Shay. Nice, no?