I’m smitten! She’s gorgeous!
Those irrepressible ladies of The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society have taken their topless reading soirees a step further. They found a (relatively) private spot in a NYC park and and took it all off.
Could New York City someday be forward-thinking enough to choose some area in some local park and officially designate it for nude sunbathing? We’d like to think so; we’d like to see that happen. But in the meantime we’re glad that opportunities like this one sometimes exist. It’s lovely to lie topless in the sun. Even more so if you can be topless all over.
Click on a picture for more. Nudity is nice!
Hat’s off—hell, everything off—to those bold, freedom-loving, breast-baring ladies of The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society for sponsoring a performance of Shakespeare’s The Tempest with a cast of 13, all nude.
How’d they get away with it, totally nude, in Central Park, on Manhattan, in New York City? Since it was an “artistic endeavor,” it was legal.
“Fully nude?” you ask. “I know it’s legal for women to go topless anywhere in New York a man can, but I didn’t think it was legal for either women or men to go fully nude in public?” Well, under most circumstances that’s so. But there’s an exception to the laws against what’s called “public exposure,” and one of them is if you are performing in an artistic performance. Such as a play. Such as The Tempest by William Shakespeare.
Click here for the full story (and more pix).
New in April: The Other Hole, and, yes, that other hole. Kay begged Cole to touch her “there.” But playing in that part of the woods has a price, he warned his new lover. “There’s a power shift. For the bottom, it’s humiliation, surrender, loss of control.” Though not sure she understood—and not caring—Kay eagerly submitted. When he took her, Cole commanded her to bark like a dog (and she did!). Then the tables turned: Cole agreed to let Kay take him, although it takes a trip to their local sex toy shop for the right gear. Cole thinks he knows about the power shift. But it’s different when a woman is in control. Word count: 6100 Price: $2.99 [ ]
E-Read Erotica Reviews: It is a refreshing and very dark and nasty look at why this unofficial orifice is what it is, what it means to a relationship, and why and how it should be used for maximum effect.
Or, according The Guardian (a U.K. newspaper that treats readers like adults when it comes to sex), 20,000 horny lesbians in the desert at the 26th annual Dinah, a spring break/golfing event that serves as an excuse for lesbians to do what comes naturally (20,000 lesbians in the desert: welcome to the Dinah, a world without men).
For five days in Palm Springs, California, there’s an alternate universe of gay women celebrating with pool parties, dancing and debauchery.
Debauchery, as in “nobody is here for the golf. No one is here for the DJs, comedians or YouTube stars performing either. They’re here for the girls. Butch, femme, old, young, gold stars, bi, black, white, hardcore, normcore – the Dinah attracts a diverse group. There’s a sense of liberation and a tacit understanding that what happens in Dinah stays in Dinah (unless it ends up on Facebook).
“…Random girls pulling you into their hotel rooms are also pretty standard. One year, there was a minor earthquake in Palm Springs. Debbie, a Dinah veteran who has attended every event since 1991, recalls that half the water splashed out of the pool. Most of the girls were too drunk to realize or care.
“The feeling of permissiveness is compounded by the desert scenery: it looks like there has been some sort of gaypocalypse, and all the straight men and women have died out.”
Public nudity? Duh. “…It’s also about scantily clad celebration. Maybe all the clothes got destroyed during the gaypocalypse, because nobody’s wearing much. Several opt for stickers or tape over their nipples instead of bikini tops…”
Yeah, sign me up, even though I don’t play golf (not that it matters).
E-Read Erotica Reviews: They are exactly what I would imagine two horny hikers to be like, ever chasing wood in the forest, using every spare moment for sex, and endlessly thinking with their more smaller, yet endlessly more lustful heads….The book ends with a remarkable and genre-breaking scene which not only highlights the differences between an all-male outing, and one where a woman makes things a bit more complex. Add some artful highlight scenes, genre-breaking scenes, and a bittersweet ending and we have a book that takes the concept of an action-only book to a new level of depth and meaning. I enjoyed this.
A two-week mountain hike becomes a two-way male lovefest when the weather conspires to trap a couple healthy, handsome and horny guys in a tent. It gets more complicated when two locals, wearing bib overalls and nothing else, wander into camp, leading to hot, heavy and fast gay four-way. Back in town and showered, the guys yearn for some female companionship to re-establish their hetero cred. Enter Ricki, a part-timer who specializes in welcoming horny hikers back from the wilds. [gay sex, escort, anal sex, M/M/F sex, three-way sex, prostitute, whore, orgy, outdoor sex, male masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral sex, fellatio, squirting, male sex in the woods, tent sex, MMMM four-way sex, motel sex, cornhole, blow job, waitress]
Word count: 8,200
erotica, female masturbation, Food for Thought Friday, Lemurians, Mt. Shasta, nude man, nude woman, nudism, nudity, oral sex, orgasms, outdoor nudity, outdoor sex, penis, public nudity, public sex, pussy, sex, sex positions
This week’s Food for Thought Friday question: Where is the riskiest/most adventurous place that you have had sex? Did you get caught?
We stepped out of the woods and walked toward the beach. As we emerged from the canopy into the full moonlight illuminating the shoreline of the lake, I gasped. Mt. Shasta floated above distant forests and hills beyond the lake, its peak and craggy summit shimmering in white. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight—a gorgeous, iconic mountain glorious in the light of a full moon.
After arriving at the campground that afternoon, we had made camp, gone for a brief swim, fixed dinner and began an exploration. The lake and beach were closed after dark, which was perfect. We ignored the signs, walked around the gate, and had it to ourselves. At least, it looked that way.
Now, on the beach, thunderstruck with the beauty of the scene, we did what any young and healthy couple would do. I pulled Tim into me, kissed him hard, and ground my hips as I gripped his ass with both hands.
“Look, a picnic table,” I said. We raced toward it, hand in hand.
I was out of my cutoffs and pulling my T-shirt off as Tim pushed down his jeans. Looking up and down the half-mile of lakefront, illuminated as if by streetlights by the powerful moon, I couldn’t quite believe we were the only people taking advantage of this magnificent scene. It was just so beautiful. Barely ten at night, the moon was already high in the sky. We could see our shadows as we struggled out of our clothes.
I stretched out on my back, nude, lengthwise on the wood table. “Kneel on the bench here,” I said. We had a femdom thing going on our two-week tour of Northern California. I gave the orders, Tim obeyed. His cock was rock hard, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I wanted him in me fast, ready to fire his load. I took the head of his cock in my mouth and suckled. My fingers kneaded his balls, tight against the base of his cock. My other hand went between my legs, spreading the juices as I masturbated. My horniness, and no doubt Tim’s, was in direct proportion to my fear of getting caught fucking on a public beach. On a picnic table. In the nude. In the shadow of Mt. fucking Shasta.
In less than a minute, my mouth filled with the saltiness of his precum. He popped out, and I opened my knees, presenting. Tim, now standing at the end of the picnic table, positioned between my legs.
“See anyone?” I asked. His head swiveled and he scanned around us as he ran his cockhead up and down my wet and swollen pussy lips, probing for my entrance. “Not a soul,” Tim said. “Nor a Lemurian.” An aside: The descendants of Lemuria are reputed to live deep inside the mountain. They’re seven feet tall, can disappear at will, and speak with slight British accents. We never saw any.
I guided him inside me—and gasped for the second time as Tim’s thick cock penetrated me. I was exquisitely primed—outdoors in the nude, bathed in moonlight, my lover between my legs, my pussy filled, an almost mystical view of Mt. Shasta. I wrapped my legs around Tim and raised up on my elbows to better take it all in. My tiny breasts shimmied in rhythm with Tim’s frantic thrusting.
Just as that glow at the base of my spine began to smolder—that would be orgasm number one—my paranoia spun out of control. What if someone comes up the beach? A family with kids? A fucking ranger? “Faster! Goddam it! Fill me up!” I snarled. The position wouldn’t let me reach Tim’s balls, so I pushed and kneaded my boobs, providing visual stimulation that invariably got him off faster.
I held Tim in a death grip between my legs. He plunged deeper, his cock got harder, and I knew he was close. Why so long? I looked around, still didn’t see anyone, and dropped my head back on the table. It was all animal sex now. And I’m noisy when I fuck. I whimper and groan and squeal. Tim, who had no doubt picked up on my paranoia, put his hand over my mouth. “Not so loud,” he hissed.
I don’t follow orders well. I bit him. He yelped and slapped me. Hard. The shock and the heat on my face pushed me over the edge. My orgasm broke—just as Tim came. My hips came off the table as he pounded me, emptying his balls deep inside my womb.
Tim’s lips found my lips, maybe slightly swelled from his slap, hard to tell. I was over my paranoia. This was our first fuck in days, and I knew this guy could go again. I had him scissored between my legs. He wasn’t going anywhere. I started to grind, my ass elevated off the table, my tongue buried in his mouth. I was fucking him whether he liked it or not.
It took a minute or two, but he responded and got harder. Now, he was thrusting. Now, I was his little fuck doll. My arms wrapped around his massive shoulders,he pulled me off the table—I’m barely a hundred pounds of certifiable sex maniac—then set my ass on the edge as he fucked me furiously. My ass was wet and slippery from cum and pussy juice, while his back was drenched in sweat. From the effort of fucking. Of fucking me. I ran my hands up and down his back, pushing his sweat around, shoulder to ass, as he pounded me into the table.
“C’mon, baby, you can do it,” I cooed in his ear. “Fill me the fuck up. Harder. You can do it! Shoot your load! Fuck me!”
Tim pulled me off the table, enveloping me in his arms, as he exploded, his roar muffled by my shoulder. He came faster the second time than the first. So did I. Our fuck frenzy had wiped away my paranoia. But not for long. Remembering where I was and the risks we were taking, I pushed Tim out of the way and looked around. No one. Just the two of us, a little the worse for wear, the glass-smooth lake, that insanely bright moon, and Mt. Shasta.
Tim stood in front of me, panting, sweat trickling off his nose, his dick wilting. I took his meaty cock in my hand and milked the last of his semen, smearing it on his glans and shaft.
“Got any tissues?” I asked. Tim raised his head and looked at me. He was glassy-eyed, barely sentient. He shook his head.
Fuck. I’m not a woman who can hold a load of jism inside and release on demand. You know, quick scurry to the bathroom and plop in the toilet. In a few seconds Tim’s loads would be running down my legs. Not to mention my hands were wet with his sweat and jism and my juices.
I leaned back and spread my legs. “Clean me. Clean up your mess.”
To his credit, Tim obeyed without thinking. His lips and tongue lapped my engorged labia as he sucked up his splooge. Okay, sure, I had an ulterior motive. Three minutes later I came again, the soles of my feet on his shoulders, my sticky wet fingers running through his long blond hair, my hips bucking into his face.
Hand in hand, we walked back up the beach. Every few yards, we would turn and take in the grandeur of Mt. Shasta. We reached the gate, pulled on our clothes and returned to our campsite.
Go to F4TF for more crazy sex.
behind, breasts, erotica, female masturbation, Lesbians, lingerie, mutual masturbation, nude woman, nudism, oral sex, orgasms, outdoor nudity, outdoor sex, penis, pubic hair, public nudity, public sex, pussy, sex, sex positions, sex with strangers, slut, spanking, tit flash, vagina
E-Read Erotica Reviews: I love a writer who can go from zero-to-nasty in six seconds, in excruciating and luridly vivid detail. It is just filthy and open and sexy and close-up-camera porn and I love it. Unafraid. Downright nasty. Did I just read that? Hardcore textual sex. And then it goes back to sweet and normal in the next paragraph when the dirty deeds are done.
K.C. Cave crosses all her sexual boundaries in this collection of no-holds-barred erotic short stories and flash fiction—lesbian, MF, MMF, solo sex, bondage and boy-on-boy fun. She’s been told that mixing genres in erotic fiction is a no-no—readers are easily squicked when they come across a sexual flavor they don’t like. Really? Squicked by explicit erotica? If that’s true, you’ve been warned. But if you, like K.C., have an open mind (and body!) about all the shades and variations of explicit erotica, settle in and get ready to get titillated! [short fiction, flash fiction, LGBT, oral sex, anal sex, MF sex, male masturbation, bondage, lesbian, squirting, group sex, MMF three-way]
Mia entered the room, nude but for a shimmer bralette, nearly transparent with floral embroidery and unlined, wireless triangle cups that barely covered her small breasts. Her equally sheer V-string panty had matching floral embroidery on the front. And nothing in the back.
Stepping to the window, she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. “What a view!” She knew her ass looked fantastic and that, because of the room’s backlighting, her asshole and labia were prominently visible between her ass cheeks. She had rehearsed the move last night and still had the footage in her smartphone.
Mia turned and struck a pose. “Like?”
Mike and Randy gaped, their trousers bulging.
Not waiting for an answer, she dropped to her knees and fished Mike’s cock out of his trousers. “I find it’s best to just work through these awkward starts,” she said, looking up at him and stroking his shaft.
To Randy: “Take your clothes off and get on the bed.”
Mia sucked the head of Mikes cock as she unbuckled his trousers. Mike gripped her head as she coated and stringed the length of his member with saliva. Pushing his boxers down, she hefted his balls.
She pulled his cock out of her mouth with an audible pop. “Everything off,” she mouthed to Mike and sauntered to the bed, hips swaying. Randy was on his back, his cock pointing at the ceiling and pulsing with his heartbeat. Mia stretched out next to him, put her hands to his face and kissed him.
Her hand moved down his chest, over his belly and found his cock. She stroked him as she tangled her tongue with his.
Mike, now nude, sat on the bed, his dick wet and throbbing.
Mia had two cocks in her hands. “You’re both going to fuck me. But I’m going to have my fun first.” She rolled on her back. “Feed me your cock,” she said to Randy.
Over her face, legs spread wide, Randy lowered his cock to Mia’s hungry mouth. “You’re close to coming,” she said between slurps. “I can taste your pre-cum. Young guy, aren’t you? How old, Randy?”
“Twenty-two,” he gasped. Mia was massaging his balls, separating the glands with her fingertips.
“How many you think you got in you?”
“Three, maybe four.”
“How about you, Mike? How many times can you come in a night?”
“With you? A dozen.”
Word count: 11,500
Hat’s off (and bras!) to The Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society for their appearance in the U.S. paper of record, the New York Times, The Fight to Free the Nipple, an amazing video (well worth watching). Oddly, though, it’s listed under Fashion & Style. WTF? Why not, say, human rights?
Hey Did You Know I Write Books
Indie Publishing With A Personal Touch
Quality erotica for discerning readers...by the award-winning authors of “The Hazard Chronicles” and “The Promise Papers.”
Burn Bras, Not Books