Late Bloomer

Late Bloomer

Late Bloomer, by Alison Tyler, originally appeared in Caught Looking. This sexy story features a character who eavesdrops and watches for most of the story and exposes herself only after the story actually ends. 



Excerpt:
Without a thought to what might happen if I got caught, I moved away from the wall, slid silently out of my bedroom, and padded quietly down the hall. As I’d expected, the door to Joe’s room was open. Only a sliver, but enough.

I walked toward the open doorway as softly as I could, but I probably needn’t have bothered. They were busy, consumed by their own actions. They didn’t notice when I made my way right outside his bedroom door, positioning myself so that I could see Nina, ass upwards, and Joe, spanking her hard.

The fact that the door was ajar wasn’t too surprising. Nina was always a proud exhibitionist. At parties, she made sure to be seen kissing the cutest guy center stage, letting him put his hand up her top or down her skirt, closing her eyes as she became the pure definition of ecstasy. She didn’t think being on display made her look like a slut—she thought it made her look wanted. In demand. 

Once, when we were on a double-date together at a drive-in, she actually made love in the back seat with her lucky man of the moment. I held my breath as I stared at the screen through the front window, not seeing the movie at all, captivated instead by the sultry noises coming from the back seat. First the wet sounds of Nina delivering a world-class blow job, slurping sounds punctuated by the moans of her man. Then the undeniable noises of her slipping on his lap and pumping her body until she reached her own personal Nirvana. My date stared straight forward, too, realizing from the start that he was going nowhere with me. Not that he would have wanted to. I was in head-to-toe black, hair in my face, as always. Nina was in a sunburst sundress, low in the back, low in the front.

 There was nothing Nina ever found too revealing.



Good, I thought as I watched Joe’s hand make sweet contact with her sublime ass. Spank her harder. Spank her for me.



By Alison Tyler
Photo Riendo

After Hours

After Hours

"After Hours," by Dante Davidson, originally appeared in the collection Taboo. In her review, Greta Christina wrote:

"After Hours" by Dante Davidson...describes a medical scene between a doctor and a nurse, a gynecological exam with a sexual edge that gradually crosses the line from nasty, forbidden thoughts to nasty, forbidden deeds. Davidson does a remarkable job of conveying how the doctor feels, the line he walks between detached professionalism and intense arousal and invasion.... And Davidson doesn't just get you inside the doctor's head -- he gets you inside the nurse's as well, conveying not just the man's excitement but his awareness of the woman's as well."

Excerpt:
She didn’t know that I was watching her, which made the experience all the more powerful. She thought I was waiting, appropriately, outside in the hall for her to prepare herself. But with the door cracked slightly, I had the perfect view as she took off her bra and placed the underwire contraption with the rest of her clothes. With a gentle motion, she removed her pantyhose, then slid her silky white panties down her lean thighs and then dropped both of these items on top of the skirt and blouse. She stared at the pile of clothing, hesitated a moment, then tucked the panties and bra between the skirt and blouse.

How quaint, I thought to myself. She doesn’t want me to see her panties. Or maybe she doesn’t want me to see what most likely was a very wet spot at the center of them.


By Dante Davidson
Photo: Riendo

James Dean, $1000 Bucks, and a Long Summer Night

James Dean, $1000 Bucks, and a Long Summer Night

This three-way story originally appeared in the collection Taboo. This is an excerpt of the review by Greta Christina:

"James Dean, One Thousand Bucks, and a Long Summer Night" by Emilie Paris starts out as a fairly standard (albeit unusually well-rendered) fantasy about a couple picking up a street hustler for a voyeuristic three-way. But as the story unfolds, the wife changes her mind about what she wants -- and takes charge of the scene, directing it into an area she and her husband hadn't anticipated or even agreed on.

The moment when the wife takes control and shifts the fantasy from the standard "man watching his wife fuck another man" to the rather less commonly-seen "newly dominant wife watching her straight husband get fucked by another man" is a moment that's both unnerving and fiercely exciting.

The story gets across the essence of what makes taboos hot -- not simply breaking society's rules and boundaries, but breaking your own, with the excitement of genuinely unfamiliar territory that might actually change your life while it's getting you off.


Excerpt:
For the first time of the evening, I got the gratification that I was onto something, because Arthur said, “But, you know, Charlie. Not without a condom—”

I could have laughed. Was that all he was worried about? The solution was inches away. I reached for the box of condoms in the top drawer of my nightstand and I handed one over to Dean. He put it on like a pro, of course. Then I motioned for Arthur, and my hired hand and I watched my husband undress, slowly, half-scared, kicking out of his shoes and slacks and casual shirt, then standing, unsure, at the foot of the bed.

“You know men, don’t you?” I asked the boy.

“Yeah—”

“So help him out.”

Dean reached for my husband and spread him on the mattress, and he started to rub Arthur’s shoulders and his back, making my man sigh and moan. And then he motioned for me to hand over the lube, and I did, getting closer, close enough to watch this paid-by-the-night prostitute grease up my husband’s asshole with a healthy supply of lube.

“Charlie—” Arthur moaned, and I knew what he was going to say somehow.

“No fucking way,” I told him. “I’m not leaving.” That was the deal. Arthur had bought me a present, and his only stipulation was that he got to watch. Well, the same fucking rules applied for me, as well. But Arthur didn’t want to play by those rules anymore.

By: by Emilie Paris
Photo: Riendo

A Lesson In Seduction

"A Lesson In Seduction" appeared in the collection "Exposed." Set at the infamous Rainbow on Sunset Boulevard, in this rock and roll fantasy, Nick challenges Samantha to find her voice—to tell him in explicit detail exactly what she wants him to do to her. The perfect tale for any closet exhibitionist. (Or out-of-the-close exhibitionist!)

Excerpt:
This scenario tonight was classic Hollywood, with Nick’s roaming fingers running up and down my arm, and his hot breath against my neck as he continued to tell me how I was the one who was going to seduce him. His hand slid over my breasts and he squeezed each one gently, instantly making my nipples hard through the filmy material of my halter. This evening, I wore a skimpy petal pink top with my faded 501s, and I’d dusted blush between my breasts to deepen the valley and draw Nick’s attention there. My trick had worked. Nick palmed both of my breasts, and I moaned out loud, loving how firmly he touched me. The sound surprised me, and I sat up straight, but I knew that nobody was concerned about the fact that we were canoodling in the booth. Waitresses have seen worse at the Rainbow.

Much, much worse.

I must say here that this scenario wasn’t my style at all. Yes, I may have an extremely dirty mind. In fact, I might have already fucked Nick twelve-thousand times before, all in my head, with my legs spread, fingers, dildo, or shower massager playing over my clit. But I hadn’t told him that, and I didn’t think I could. He had other ideas on the subject entirely. He seemed to believe that I was some sort of she-cat, able to stalk her prey...with words if not actions.

“You tell me,” he said.



By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Not A Voyeur

"Not a Voyeur" originally appeared in the collection "Hide & Seek." Caitlyn insists to her husband Courtney that she is not a voyeur. But when the couple spies a duo fucking across the street, their own secret fetishes become exposed.


Excerpt:
“I’m not a voyeur,” I told my husband Courtney.

“I never said you were,” Courtney murmured from behind the Sports section of the newspaper.

“Really,” I insisted. “I’m not.”

“Why do you keep saying that, Caitlyn?” he asked, sounding part bemused, part annoyed.

“Because of them,” I told him, my voice low.

“Them, who?”

“Those people out there. Fucking.”

Courtney set down his paper. He looked at me with his great green eyes as I pointed out the window, at the apartment across the street, and at the people in the apartment who were screwing each other silly. Without a word, Courtney stood and came to my side, so that we were both pressed against our own window, looking out.
I heard him suck in his breath as he took in the vision.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Strangers

Strangers

"Strangers" originally appeared in the lesbian short-story collection called Blue Sky Sideways, published by Masquerade Books in 1996.


Excerpt:
I could fix you, I wanted to say. I could make you whole again.

How I wanted to slide one finger into the ringed loop at the zippered neck of her jacket. How I wanted to pull down that zipper and reveal her, knowing somehow that seeing the shell of her skin would wreck me, devour me, consume me. I knew it all—I could visualize how pale her skin would look against the black of her snowsuit, how pink her nipples would be. Wanting to see the chill of the air bring a blushing hue to her all over. Bizarre. Dangerous to have those feelings for a total stranger.

But we weren’t strangers for long.


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Counterpane

Counterpane

Counterpane features one hotel room and two couples—a m/f and a m/m. How these two couples interact (or don't) sets the scenario for a delicious and decadent romp!

Excerpt:
“Oh, baby. You’re so wet. Look how wet you get when I lick you here.”

Her cheeks burned as shame flooded through her. She couldn’t speak. Ry’s tongue between her cheeks turned up so many different emotions inside of her. Is that why she’d never let him do that before?

He licked her again, then moved back and pressed the ball of his thumb to her asshole. He didn’t push it in, he simply rested his thumb against her. She waited. He didn’t move. She waited another second. He was as still as she was. Finally, Lia couldn’t stand the tease. She was the one to push back, to thrust back, so that his thumb was inside of her and she was panting.

“You want it, don’t you, you little slut,” he said. She loved when he talked to her like that. His accent made her feel exceptionally dirty. She had no idea why.


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Planes, Trains and Banana-Seat Bicycles

Planes, Trains and Banana-Seat Bicycles originally appeared in the collection "The Mile-High Club."

“Planes, Trains and Banana-Seat Bicycles” doesn’t take to the skies, but there are planes involved. In (Alison Tyler’s) skillful hands, that’s all you’ll need to fly.
—Kathleen Bradean, Erotica Revealed

Alison Tyler flexes her prodigious erotic muscle in “Planes, Trains, and Banana Seat Bicycles. I can dig it.”
—SF Bay Guardian

Excerpt:
Adrien kissed his way down my body. He held onto my waist as he nuzzled the tender skin of my inner thighs, licked me right on the indents of my hips, those ticklish spots, before bringing his mouth to my pussy and suckling my clit. I couldn’t think for a minute, couldn’t worry about this vacation that I emphatically did not want to take.

“Don’t we have a perfectly good bed?” Adrien murmured when he stopped for a breath.

I think I nodded. I might have moaned. All thoughts of air travel were replaced by the journey to orgasm as Adrien began to make those looping circles that I love best, love most of all when he has me bound so that I cannot fight. I have to give in. Who’d fight against pleasure like this? Not me. Not really. But being forced to take the endless rotations of his tongue, of his fingers, being fixed in place while he has his way with me, that nearly makes me see stars.

Which reminded me…

“Sasha says there aren’t any lights anywhere. Nothing but the moon and the stars.”

“Really?” Adrien asked, slipping back up my body to reach for something in our toy drawer. Quickly, he placed a blindfold over my eyes and fastened the strap under my smooth, flat-ironed hair. “With a blindfold on, doesn’t matter if there are lights or not.”

Cuffed

Cuffed features three tales of erotic bondage from Sommer Marsden, Alison Tyler, and Sophia Valenti.

From a reader review:

Alison Tyler begins this trilogy with an exquisite show-and-tell journey down the path of bad girl desires. She is descriptive and graphic in this tale of pretty v. plain, proving that there's more to a person than meets the eye, and that sexual satisfaction isn't always wrapped in the package you expect. It's a hot, nasty story.

Then the always inventive Sommer Marsden chimes in with a totally unexpected tale of an inventive former bad boy who get challenged by his wife. It's a story that I want to leave by the bedside table in hopes that my husband will learn a thing or two. And it makes me wonder how true to life some of Sommer's writing is. The sex is written steamy and sexy, and as always, hits the right (g) spot.

Rounding out this smut-fest is Sophia Valenti with a thigh tingling tale of a good cop gone naughty. It's imaginative and descriptive, with real characters who suck you right into the bedroom.


Adults Only, please. These stories sizzle!


Excerpt:
When the cowboy hit the head, I walked over to the corner booth. I didn’t have a plan, but I also didn’t have a choice. I felt magnetically pulled to this stranger’s side.
“You like the pretty boys?”
I shrugged at the stranger.
“He’s going to be all done in five minutes, and you know it. Preening peacock in his pristine hat. He’s going to want you to adore him, when he doesn’t deserve your attention. Not for a second.”
I looked at the crisp shirt, the old-fashioned watch, the scotch with ice.
Shop teacher? I didn’t think so.
“You don’t even like him. You’re too smart for a sleaze like that. But you know the other tarts in here want him. And that’s making you feel special.”
“What are you? A psychiatrist?”
He laughed. “What you need is a spanking.”
“Oh, you think so?” I asked in my best flippant tone. The cowboy thought I needed a margarita and a massage, after a good long soak in his hot tub under the stars. He’d made noises about kissing every inch of my body, about treating me like a princess, pampering me with his hands and his mouth. I hadn’t confessed that a soft touch did nothing but make me squirm.
“You need to be put over my knee and have that little dress lifted up to your waist. You need your ass turned as red as the slutty outfit you’re wearing.”


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

No Good Deed

"No Good Deed" originally appeared in the collection "Please, Sir."

One reader review says, "No Good Deed by Alison Tyler was a fun tale of a brat with a little enjoyable twist at the end."

Another states, "Alison Tyler’s *No Good Deed* is a mouth-wateringly hot punishment scenario."

Adults only. Spanking, handcuffs, BDSM.

Excerpt:
Only later in the night, when she’d been talking to another man by the bar, had Killian come up behind her.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Like they were a couple. Intrigued, she’d followed his lead, slid on her coat, let him take her by the wrist. She’d been his ever since.

He’d led her to the car, pressed her up against the hood, got his mouth right close to her ear and whispered, “You flirting?”

The hot sensation of guilt flooded through her. Had she been? Well, yeah. But she’d come to the party a single. Single people could flirt. She tried to explain this to Killian, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Finally, stammering, she’d said, “Yes, I was.”

“Honesty’s always the best policy with me, kid,” he said, nodding. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you a spanking.”


By Alison Tyler
Photo: riendo

The Lindy Shark

"The Lindy Shark" appeared in BWE 2002, The Mammoth Book of Erotica volume 2, and Exposed. In a review of BWE 02, Rachel Kramer Bussel wrote, "'The Lindy Shark'" by Alison Tyler also touch(es) on bitterness and anger, mixed with passion."

Felice Newman wrote, "Alison Tyler is a pioneer of a kind of erotica that's at once arousing and sophisticated."

Excerpt:
With a single tilt of his head, the man let her know that he’d picked her, and she waited for him to arrive at her side. The girls nearby twittered in hopes that he was coming for one of them.

“I’d let him into my nodbox,” one murmured.

A nodbox was a bedroom, and Clara agreed. She’d definitely let this man crease her sheets. But as the women giggled with delight, she wanted to tell them not to concern themselves with their nerves. The man didn’t have eyes for either one.

He was on his way to Clara.

She felt a rush of nervous excitement that started between her legs and flooded outward. It was rare for her to feel so self-conscious. She had a quality to her moves that came from within, a radiance on the floor that couldn’t be taught. This man had it, too. That’s what she’d been drawn to. Dancing could be a form of foreplay. But at most of these swing sessions, there simply wasn’t been anyone she wanted to take to bed.

As a new song began, Lilly Faye and her Fire-Spittin’ Fellas jumping into the groove, the man reached her side. He didn’t say a word, simply put one hand on her waist and steered her onto the floor. This time, she wouldn’t be passed onto someone new. She and her lindy shark would be partnered for the entire song. Knowing this, she took her time checking him out. Up close, he was even more attractive. Those dark liquid eyes, like a silent film star’s, were infinitely expressive. A deep, inky blue, they shined beneath the crystal chandelier. His hands were large, and firm, and they maneuvered her through the moves with expertise, but didn’t roam where they didn’t belong. That was a surprise. Often men took the opportunity to fondle a partner, something Clara generally found distasteful. Now, she realized, she wouldn’t have minded if his hands had wandered down a bit, if he’d tried a little stroking as they glided together.


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Edit Me

Edit Me

"Edit Me," which first appeared in "D Is for Dress-Up," is a story based on Alison Tyler's experience working on a Weekly Paper in Los Angeles. Tyler says, "Throughout the years, only one of my men was truly interested in fashion—consumed with putting on my clothes as opposed to taking them off. Hunter was my editor on the newspaper, my Pygmalion. He changed my entire sense of style, turning me from goth girl to girl Friday. He was why I had those pencil skirts and white blouses, why I wore my hair the way I did, wore my make-up in the style of his choosing. He is featured in 'Edit Me,' and there are certain items in my wardrobe that I can’t wear without getting wet from memories of him. Of the way he’d tilt his head and take in my whole look, before making some minor persnickety adjustment. It was as important to him what went on my body as what he ultimately took off."

Excerpt:
My panties, newly purchased, perfectly polka dot, were drenched. I squirmed, and he admonished me. “You flush so pretty. It’s lovely with your skin. But you shouldn’t squirm around as if you’re uncomfortable. You should soak it all in when a man tells you secrets. You should learn from what he says.”

Soak. That was a good word. That’s what I did.

“Now ask,” he’d say magnanimously, lifting his emerald green bottle of imported beer to his lips. “Ask whatever you want.”

He was fair in that way, always allowing me to quiz him after the lunchtime lessons. I tried to show him that I was learning, that I’d paid attention and memorized the facts. But I wasn’t used to drinking beer during the day, stolen sips from his bottle when the waiter wasn’t watching since I wasn’t old enough to order my own. My mind felt hazy around the edges, and all I could mumble was, “Did she like it?”

A headshake. A frown. I’d asked the wrong question, and I felt as bad as if he’d put me over his lap and spanked me. No, that’s a lie. Because that’s what I wished he would do. I hated to disappoint him. I wanted to make him proud. This was why I spent hours agonizing the leads in my sentences, the clothes in my closet.

“Did she come?” I asked.

That was better. More in-your-face, which he liked coming from me. I was so desperately quiet, so unusually naive. How’d I get like that? He simply couldn’t fathom. I was no L.A. woman. True. A transplanted San Francisco girl, I couldn’t begin to blend in a world of silicone and faux blondes. With my ebony eyes, cherry-lips and long dark curly hair, I didn’t fit in. Hunter liked that. He wanted me to blush less, but be comfortable more. Confidence, he said, was power.

“Of course, she came.”

And then, to show him that I was advancing, that I was finally catching on, I said in as husky a voice as I could manage, “I would have come, too.”


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The Super

The Super


"The Super" originally appeared in the collection Master/Slave. The short story features a too-short skirt, a game of fantasy/dress-up, and a fierce spanking.

Excerpt:
He hurried me through the door to the living room, then kicked the door closed and hauled me quickly to the sofa. I saw everything swirling around me. The chocolate leather of the sofa, the bare shiny wood of the floor. He sat down and looked at me, and I shifted uncomfortably before him. I knew better than to sit, knew better than to do anything but wait. Yet waiting was the worst. Waiting and wondering. And hoping.

Of course, hoping—

“Dressed like a naughty little school girl,” he hissed through his teeth. “Dressed in public like that,” he continued, shaking his head now, as if he couldn’t fucking believe it.

I looked down at my feet, head bowed, curls falling free now around my face, and all I could see were my polished loafers and his scuffed work boots, the dark denim blue of his Levis, the wood floor....

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked. “Anything to say in your defense?” and I shook my head no. Immediately, he was standing, his hand around my hair again, my face pulled fiercely back so that I was looking up into his gaze. The way he held my hair hurt now, and I clearly understood the message he was sending me.

“No, Sir—” I said, quickly, but not quickly enough. He had me bent over the side of the sofa in an instant, my skirt roughly pulled up to reveal the lilac rosettes adorning the tops of my garters, then yanked even higher to show my black satin panties. I heard the whisper-hiss of his belt as he pulled it free from the loops of his jeans, and then I felt the air—that crackle-shiver of moving air—before the leather connected with my upturned ass.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Some Like It Hot

Some Like It Hot

"Some Like It Hot" originally appeared in Playing With Fire. Marina St. Claire said, In "Alison Tyler's own 'Some Like It Hot' - She likes a good boy and a bad boy. Someone's gonna get burned."

Excerpt:
You get heat in the summer time. You get heat in front of a blazing fire. You get heat when the furnace breaks with the knob stuck in the ON position. And you get heat when the two boys you’re dating show up at the same time, and the same place.

Although not the type of inferno you might expect.

Because first there was Jarred, with his tousled good looks, and his full-lipped mouth—a Cupid’s mouth, a girl’s mouth. When we met, he gazed at me as if I’d answered every dream, every prayer, every fantasy he’d ever had. How could I turn down a look so sweet? How could I deny the request in his gray-blue eyes, the destiny he said that only I could fulfill?

And then there was Marlon, with his dark hair, and his black eyes, and the way he confessed the mind games he played on the girls he dated, making me think that I was different. Making me feel like a partner in crime. Marlon’s specialty was twisting and turning every subtle emotion until he got what he wanted. His looks didn’t hurt, either. Ever embracing the dark, he made a uniform out of black jeans, black jackets, black long-sleeved shirts still hot from the iron.

Some, as they say, like it hot.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

In A Handbasket

In A Handbasket

"In a Handbasket" was featured in BWE2010, edited by Violet Blue. Ashley Lister said, "Alison Tyler’s “In a Handbasket” is a witty tale of ostensibly mismatched lovers finally finding
each other."


“Why do you think we’re going to hell?” I asked innocently as we walked away.

“It might have something to do with your shirt,” Caleb said, kindly.

I looked down. I was wearing one of my favorite tees. I’d forgotten completely. The tight-fitting baby-doll white one with SINNER in bold red across my small breasts.

“But you’re not wearing a SINNER shirt,” I pointed out.

Caleb grinned at me. “Wouldn’t fit.”

"What fellowship hath light with darkness?" the preacher’s voice sailed after us.

“I was wondering when he’d get there,” Caleb sighed. I looked up at him, as I always was doing. Up and up and up. “You know, 2 Corinthians has got fuck all to do with interracial relationships. It’s about believers and non-believers.”

My eyes widened. “Which are you?” Religion had never come up with us before. We’d talked politics. We’d talked favorite TV shows from the 80s. And which band was better, Parliament or Three Dog Night. But religion? Not on our agenda, until he said the words:

“A believer.”

I swallowed hard, but then Caleb turned me around so that I could see our reflection in the window of Vagrants.

“You can’t be a lapsed Catholic without first being a practicing Catholic. I know my Scripture.”

“But you said—“

“Now, I’m a believer in what you and I could do together.”

“Do?” my heart hammered in my chest.

“You know…” his big hands tracing my shoulders, then down to my arms, so that his flesh touched mine. “What fellowship hath light with darkness?” he murmured in my ear. We looked good together. No doubt about it. And I was wet, at his touch and at his words.

Once again, I thought I understood. Not why we were going to hell, but why we were getting those looks. Because it was difficult to look at us and not imagine how we might fuck, how Caleb might toss me up in the air, or pin me against the wall, like a butterfly for his collection. From the expression on Caleb’s face, he seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.

“We could make it work,” he said, and his huge hands wandered over my chest, thumb tracing the letters. Slow on the S-I-N, making my nipples harden instantly.

By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Like A Girl

Like A Girl

When Ivy's dominant boyfriend Logan asks her to dress in drag, she does her best to be the boy he's always wanted. But somehow his assistant, Caleb, dressed in drag as a girl, manages to top her best efforts.

This dirty story originally appeared in the kinky collection Crossdressing.

Excerpt:
My breath caught. Each time Logan’s hand pumped my cock, he pressed the base of the toy back against my clit. And each time I felt that connection, I thought I would climax. He didn’t stop. He didn’t turn or say a word. He kept going, pausing only to add a bit more spit to his palm, so that I felt he was greasing me.

Caleb froze. I’m sure something flippant was on the tip of his tongue, but maybe he caught a look at Logan’s face, and that stopped him. He was able to shut the door behind him, and then he stood totally still, and I knew he was waiting for instructions.

“You’re going to come for me, boy?” Logan murmured, crooning to me, but teasing somehow. Taunting me for dressing like this in the first place. He’d told me to buy an outfit for Cal. He hadn’t told me to dress up myself.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then come.”

My knees would have buckled if Logan hadn’t used one hand to pin my shoulder against the wall, holding me in place easily as the shudders worked through me. The orgasm was almost frighteningly intense. Embarrassingly so, as I was being watched fiercely by the two men in my life. And then it was over, and Logan let me go, and I hiked up my jeans and sank down to the floor, letting the wall support me now.

“You even come like a girl,” Logan said as he poured himself a fresh drink.

I didn’t answer that. I didn’t have anything to say.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: riendo

Underneath

Underneath

This 2700-word short story originally appeared in Zane's lesbian collection Purple Panties. The piece focuses on panties, punishment, and the perfect type of penance.

Excerpt:
“I’m not walking naked down the hall,” I heard myself tell her, taking a stand. It was a test. Would she pass? Would I?

Doreen shook her head. “Here I am, trying to help out a poor girl in need, and all I’m getting is lip.”

She was towering over me in seconds, dragging me by the ear to the wooden bench in front of the showers. Then she sat down and hauled me over her lap and her hand came down in a series of supremely stinging slaps, blows that had me squirming and kicking from the start.

I’d been fantasizing about being spanked for longer than I could remember, but I’d had no idea of what the actual pain involved might be. The pain, and of course, the pleasure. Because both came together. I could hardly wrap my mind around the fact that this gorgeous woman whom I’d never even been formally introduced to was now heating my curvaceous hind end. But she was, talking darkly as she spanked me, “Bad girl needs a bit of a tune-up, I’d say. Lose some of that haughty attitude. Next time I’m going to send you out to cut your own switch,” and I almost came right then.

Doreen shoved me off her lap.

“Now,” she said, “I’d suggest you follow me to my room.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Girls Are A Nuisance

Girls Are A Nuisance


"Girls are a Nuisance," by Alison Tyler, lifts its title from a Raymond Chandler story called "Pearls Are a Nuisance." The short story originally appeared in 2001 in Noirotica 3, edited by the awesome Thomas S. Roche, and featuring stories by writers including M. Christian, Bill Brent, Michelle Tea, Thea Hillman, and Kate Bornstein. The characters first appeared in a novel Tyler wrote for Masquerade, called "Dial L for Loveless."

Excerpt:
“What are you going to do?” I asked. “Fuck me better?”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he sneered. “You talk to your mother with that mouth?”

“I sucked your cock with this mouth,” I reminded him, and he slapped me, hard enough to send me back onto the couch. Without changing his expression, he reached for me again and quick-stepped me to the torture wall. I was bound before I truly knew what was happening. Russell left me alone long enough to go back to the kitchen for scissors, and while I cussed him out, he cut my robe off. The faded blue plaid hung in tatters from my naked body…

“You’re still amazing,” he said, stepping back to appreciate me. “You’ve got the most gorgeous ass.”

I stayed quiet, listening as he rummaged through the stand of weapons. I heard the wood and bone clacking together, and then heard him grunt as he found what he was looking for. It was a bamboo cane. I knew the instant it connected with my skin. He hit me once, as a way of introduction, and then let a series of blows rain down on my ass and thighs. The power behind the strokes left me breathless.

Sandrine had been a capable dom. Russell was born with the hot wire of a sadist alive in his soul.

“Feel that?” he asked, stopping for a second to press his palm against my heated flesh. “Waking up yet?”

I didn’t respond. My mind was reeling.

Note: This 2400 word story contains BDSM, caning, and more kinky concepts. Adults only!


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Prego

Prego


Prego (a 2200-word story) originally appeared in the collection of oral sex stories, "Tasting Him." In this story, a jar of pasta sauce becomes an unwitting (although quite willing) partner in a couple's kitchen interlude.

***

Alison Tyler's “Prego” is one of my favorite, favorite stories - it just resonated with me and I think of it often too. Funny how a story can get under your skin like that, huh?
—Neve Black

My unquestioned favorite tale in this collection is Alison Tyler’s “Prego.” Although the protagonists are a long-established couple, it still manages to be outrageously spontaneous and intensely erotic… the lure of Jackson’s tomato-marinated cock is irresistible.
—Lisabet Sarai, Erotica Revealed, in a review of Tasting Him




By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The Art of Darkness

The Art Of Darkness

"The Art of Darkness" has appeared in the collection "Yes, Sir."

Lucrezia Magazine said: "Yes, Sir opens with Alison Tyler’s story The Art of Darkness. Her main character Greer, finally admits her fears to her Dom, Killian, and in his own kinky, dominant way pushes her to overcome them."

Excerpt:
When Killian had first suggested a blindfold, I’d balked. Worse than that, I’d safeworded, to his total shock. “Jasmine,” I’d said quickly.

“What did you say?”

“Jasmine.Jasmine.Jasmine.” The words were strung together in my haste.

“You do everything else, Greer,” he murmured, surprised at my instantaneous and—in his view—negative response. “You willingly wear the cuffs, the collar, the chastity belt. You bend over for my cock any time. Anywhere. Why won’t you wear a blindfold?”

I shrugged, unwilling to say, while he continued.

“That’s practically vanilla sex. Women who read Ladies’ Home Journal use blindfolds.”

I wondered where he got that last bit of information. He didn’t know any women who read Ladies’ Home Journal. But I understood his point. Blindfolds were almost comically acceptable now. I could have walked into any one of my friends’ apartments and found one tucked in a dresser drawer. Who wouldn’t wear a blindfold?

That was simple: me.

“You’ve let me drip wax on you, let me use anal beads the size of walnuts. We own a crop, a flogger, a studded paddle, and a cane. What’s up with a blindfold?”

I hadn’t wanted to admit the truth right away. What if he thought I was some sort of freak? But Killian simply wouldn’t let go of the concept.


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The 20-min Rule

The 20 Min Rule

An actress turned masseuse no longer believes the lies L.A. whispers on a daily basis. Until she runs into an avant-garde client who turns the table (the massage table, that is) around.

Previously published in Radclyffe's Road Games (Erotic Interludes).

Jeremy Edwards said: "I love your "20-Minute Rule"--so sweet and delicious!"


Excerpt:
To my great delight, she chattered throughout the entire massage. It was as if she’d never had a massage before, or as if she were simply getting a rubdown from a good friend. She didn’t seem to want to relax in the slightest, more concerned with helping me to do my job well. When I lifted her hand in mine, she raised her whole arm for me, and I had to tell her, “No, let me do the work. Let me position you,” and gently shake the limb until she let loose. And when I rubbed the palm of her hand, caressing and soothing, she tried to return the favor, her thumb pressing back into my own palm, sending a wash of heat cresting over me.

Maybe she was stressed, but my fingers didn’t feel it. There were no knots to discover in her back, no tight spots to slide away. Regardless, I gave her my best work, and she cooed and sighed in between discussion of her art and her travels, but as far as I could tell, she was as easygoing as a house cat whose sole job is to find the best sunbeam to sleep in.


By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Rubbernecking

Rubbernecking


Alison Tyler, with "Rubbernecking," shows off her talents as a writer by teasing the reader with a rubberotic display of discovery and exhibitionism. "Rubbernecking" is one of those cheeky stories that keeps the reader smiling until the last sentence. — Ashley Lister

Excerpt:
I enjoyed the lingerie, the pretty frilly items. I liked to look at the sex toys, the cuffs and blindfolds, gags, paddles, and masks. But the rubber items, those were the ones that stretched over my day, snapping through my mind when I least expected it. Anything, everything, could take me back to those windows.

The lemon-yellow dishwashing gloves resting innocently on the stainless steel sink in the break room would make me think of elbow-length black rubber gloves I’d seen pinned to a wall in that window. A ball of multicolored rubber bands residing lazily on a coworker’s desk would remind me of a red rubber ball gag strapped to the face of an unseeing mannequin. The burnt-licorice scent of tires as I walked through the parking garage would make me want to press my nose to the window shielding the displays and see if I could inhale the scent through that wall of glass. The visions built within me, until I could hardly each day wait to get back home, to my empty apartment, to my world of privacy.

Keys thrown onto the coffee table.

Pencil skirt discarded on the way down the hall.

A shoe here.

A shoe there.

A rabid rush to the center of the mattress, to the safety of my own fantasy world.

ADULTS ONLY! Fetish, erotica, sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and other kinky attributes come into play in this frisky piece.



By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The ESP Affair

The ESP Affair


DESCRIPTION: Connie Morris is an elementary school teacher with an unhappy marriage and a penchant for romance novels. When a nightly series of intense dream fantasies unexplainably implicate Connie in adultery, Connie's waking life begins to unravel. As mysterious precognitive visions and hallucinations plague her days, Connie is forced to question her own sanity. Ultimately, Connie discovers the potential of her own extraordinary psychic powers, hidden dormant inside her.

EXCERPT:
Connie sprawled naked on a tropical beach, her long-limbed body partially submerged in the warm, aqua water. Sunlight shone brilliantly on the hot golden sand, making the beach sparkle as if dusted with slivers of pure diamonds. Palm trees bent lazily in the summer breeze, their dark emerald fronds dipping in a silent dance.

He was with her. His strong arms surrounded her slender waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. She could feel his hard muscled body, demanding as it pressed against her own from behind. One of his hands trailed down her concave belly, his fingers tickling her skin. With finesse, he slid his hand between her supple thighs, then carefully ran his fingertips up and down. With each touch—and each thrust—he brought her closer to that tantalizing finish line, a magical place where they would both melt together into the passion of sizzling summer bliss.

Oh, yes, she had almost reached it.

“Connie—you done in there?”

If only Ron would shut up.


Note: ADULTS ONLY, please. Content is racy.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Skirting The Issue

Skirting The Issue


Skirting the Issue features a trio of dirty stories all based on a common theme: The Catholic Schoolgirl Skirt. Erotic writers Sophia Valenti, Sommer Marsden, and Alison Tyler have each contributed one naughty tale to the mini-anthology.

One reader says: "I love the whole thing!"

18 and over only, please. And beware: This collection includes spanking, anal sex, menage, girl-girl, bondage, voyeurism, and a whole lot of filthy fun.


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Stocking Up

Stocking Up


Stocking Up brings you three new stories by erotic writers Sophia Valenti, Sommer Marsden, and Alison Tyler. The 40 pp, 9000-word antho features:

Fishnet Frenzy by Sophia Valenti
Old-Fashioned by Sommer Marsden
Not for Sale by Alison Tyler

With stockings as the theme and naughty as the undertone, fans of this trio can't go wrong!

By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The Trade part 1

The Trade part 1


Jordan and Killian explore all of the naughty ways a happily married, but still fiercely monogamous couple, can play. They indulge in porn, spanking, bondage, fetish wear, and exhibitionism. They've tried almost everything. But there is one line Jordan won't cross. She doesn't want to play with another couple.

Well, that's not entirely true. In fact, that's a great big lie. In her fantasies, she finds the concept intriguing. The reality is what scares her.

Erotic Excerpt:

"What bothers you most?" Killian wants to know.
She turns pink but doesn't respond.
"Tell me," he insists, and when his thumb strokes the beat-in silver buckle of his well-worn leather belt, she knows she'd better come clean.

"What if I like it?"

***

Reader Review:

'The Trade' is a story that starts out simply with the promise of a new facet to the narrator's sex life. But instead of going forward, it wends its way back to the start of the relationship, using the present extremely hot action to lead us back into its origins.

What this story ends up being is one of self discovery, and a strong and positive validation of anyone's kink.

As a statement it's powerful and as a dirty story, it's delicious, giving just enough detail to let the reader's mind continue it on themselves. There is blushing and soul baring and ass baring and spanking aplenty. You even get enemas! Lucky you!

****

This 25 page, 6 K portion of The Trade is part one of a continuing serial. Adults Only! Alison Tyler is up to her dirty tricks again!


By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Casual Spank Day

Casual Spank Day

It's Casual Friday, and Caitlyn doesn't have a thing to wear. Logan helps her out of her funk with a Friday morning wake-up call that sets her ass—and her lust—aflame.

Erotic Excerpt: You'd think I'd know better. You'd think by now I could learn to keep my mouth shut. But if you did think that, then you don't really know me. Because I let slip in a snotty voice: "Who would have thought I'd get a spanking for not being able to dress casually?"

"You think that's why I'm spanking you?" He roughly pushed my scarlet nightgown to my hips and then smacked me through my silky knickers. "You're really something else, Cait."

His hand through my panties stung, but he wasn't hurting me enough to make me wary. "Then why?"

"Ah, baby. I love when you get all heated up like that. I don't know anyone else who could be so impudent while having her bottom spanked."

Adults only, please. And if hard, OTK spankings and bondage-sex are not your cup of kink, this isn't the uber-hot, 2,500-word story for you.



By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Gym Rat

Gym Rat

Gym Rat combines BDSM, a stern husband, a submissive wife, and an eager trainer with explosive results. Peek into the dirty world of Alison Tyler's mind in this spanktastic story! Story is 10 pp, approximately 2,200 words.

18 and over, please. Whipping. Anal Sex. And lots of fun.

By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

The Sky Is Falling

In this filthy little Fairy Tale by Alison Tyler, a couple engages in no-holds barred kink from the get-go:

“I’d pee on you,” I said, “if you were on fire.”

She raised her ginger-colored eyebrows.

“In fact, I’d pee on you even if you weren’t.”

That’s how we started. In a place where we were already so
far ahead of the rest of the “how to behave on a first date” guides, past the dinner and a movie and a kiss on the front stoop. Past the teasing glances and the will we or won’t we? two-step that even people in their thirties find themselves dancing to. What I’m saying is that we didn’t have to learn about each other’s kinks. We knew them on sight.

Beware: This Adults-Only story delves into bondage, dominance, spanking, enemas, sex play, anal sex, and all-around dirty good times. 13 pp. 2500+ words



By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Sass

Sass


Another five-alarm spanking story by Alison Tyler!

When Alicia's sassy mood pushes her husband too far, he takes matters into his own hand...

Erotic Excerpt:

Then his hand came down on my bare cheeks, over and over. A blur. A rush. Suddenly, I was less worried about what someone might say or do, and much more concerned with the pain he was inflicting on my poor naked ass.

Be warned: If blistering spanking scenes in public are not your cup of kink, please steer clear. Adults only. 2500 words, 12 pp.



By Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo

Banging Rebecca

Banging Rebecca



Banging Rebecca is a dirty rock and roll story about a girl, a band, and a wicked desire. The 21 pp novella is filled with the type of kink that Alison Tyler fans love best: bondage, spanking, exhibitionism, and hardcore s-e-x!

Adults Only! Alison Tyler will take you on a wild ride.

One reviewer says: 5 stars

In another life...I may have been a groupie.
I may have been one of the many women who gave birth to one of Bob Marley's children. I may have been one of those women who indulged in those bohemian, batik draped, mind bending sex sessions with Jimi Hendrix. Maybe I would have licked the purple off of Prince's boots or fell to my knees to worship the throbbing, thrusting, gyrating guitar of Lenny Kravitz. Either way, I don't think I would have come up with a scenario anywhere near as hot, dirty and downright debauched as Alison Tyler's Banging Rebecca.

Banging Rebecca has the hard, grittiness of a NYC bowery band; the seedy, eroticism of a Broadway peepshow. The setting for this story was Cali but it feels very Lower Eastside; or at least what the lower eastside used to be; back in the days when it was populated with punks and freaks and hundreds of sexy, slinky musicians. I loved this dark and dirty story. I hope there are more to come.




By: Alison Tyler
Photo: Riendo