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Fellow
writer and critique group friend, Daryl Devore, releases a sexy new book today.
Congratulations!
Isn’t that cover HOT?
Capri has returned from the sex toy convention with
some new purchases. The voice that followed her home has some erotic playtime
in mind.
Excerpt:
I rippled my fingers across my nipple, which
traitorously responded. So did my lower parts. They tingled. The bustier was
much tighter than I would have hooked it. My breasts were forced into a
way-out-there position. My body liked the restraint. I tickled myself again. My
nipple grew firm. Playing with both, I squeezed and pulled until they stood
erect and pinky-proud.
“They’re beautiful. Continue,” the voice
urged.
To the flesh on my breast, my fingers were like ice
cubes. My areolas contracted. My nipples stiffened. My next touch changed to
sandpaper—rough and scratchy. Tingles shivered through my body. Hot, cold, rough,
soft—each new sensation was a surprise.
Sweat trickled down my neck. Pressure built deep
inside. My hand turned palm up, and the vibrating nipple clamp fell into it.
It took me a moment to figure out what to do. No,
Thall didn’t send the instructions along, and I hadn’t had a chance to read
them yet. My bad.
Unclasping it, I encased my nipple then hit the tiny
switch. A squeal escaped me as a tiny electric pulse shot through my aroused
dusky tip. The other clamp floated in front of me. I secured it onto my left
nipple and held my breath.
Snap.
Snap.

A surge of lust rushed through my body then centered
in my crotch.
Snap.

Snap.
Snap.

The electric pulses were titillating—pun intended—and
random, and I found myself waiting for the next. They didn’t fire together. Nor
did they go off in even patterns. I lay back wallowing in the random sensations
they delighted in me. I wanted this to last for hours. A small thought nudge
me. How long do tiny cell batteries last?

The arousal gel poured itself over my upper thighs as
strong fingertips raked the insides, forcing my legs apart.
Arousing was so the wrong term for the lubricant. Fire
would be a more apt description. I’ve been cooler after a tough hour of hot
yoga class.
Sweat rolled in streams from me, yet all I did was
rest on silk pillows having my nipples erotically zapped. I pulled my knees up
and let them fall. I was fully exposed, and horny as hell. I wanted to be
fucked. Needed to be fucked.
The bottle of warming gel flipped pouring liquid heat
down my crotch. My glass penis hung, head down, aimed between my legs.
“Do you want it?”
I groaned.
“Do you want it inside you—mercilessly driving
you to a screaming orgasm?”
Do
the Fates understand the term – duh!

A hand separated my vulva and began long glides up the
insides of my labia. I sighed and sunk to the edge of bliss.
Snap.

Snap.
Snap.

Damn! Forgot about the nipple clamps.
The long fondles turned to tiny flicks tickling my
labia and inner thighs.
I squirmed and wiggled. Fire danced over my body.
“Touch me!”
“Where?” His voice brushed past me ear.
“My clit.”
Every sensation stopped. I think my heart did too. I
didn’t breathe.
Time-stopping, scorching strokes on the smallest part
of my body. My fingers dug into the pillows as I experienced the most
mind-fucking sensation ever and released an intense scream of joy.
“Ohhhh!”
“Again?” His voice was soft and tinted with
humor.
“Yes!” It was more of a snarl than a polite
response.
I waited. The nipple clamp zapped me. I squealed. His
petting dragged across my clitoris with molasses speed. My heart raced, my
breaths were shallow pants as I arched my hips up and spread my legs as wide as
I could. “Touch me again. Please.”

Total bitch in heat, and I didn’t give a damn.


********

HOT stuff! I need to turn the ceiling fans on.
For
more of Capri’s Fate, click on the links below.
Please feel free to post your steamy HOT scene! And don’t forget your website links.

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