Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Cuckold Beach 1: Pink Bow, available now

Cuckold Beach 1: Pink Bow, available now.
On a sizzling stretch of California beach, devoted husbands are dedicated to satisfying their wives' deepest desires. They'll do whatever it takes to bring intimacy and ecstasy to the women they love...even if it means giving their wives to other men...while they watch.
***
Head to The Beach now.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Blow and Pop, the Balloon Fetish 101

Imagine you’re doing an internet search for balloons for a seven-year old’s birthday party. You type in best balloons for fun and find a shopping site called Balloon Party. Sounds good, so you click on the link. Up pops a picture of two women in bikinis. One is holding a medium size pink balloon between her breasts, the other, facing away from you, is seated on a huge clear balloon, looking back over her shoulder. Yes, you can see her flattened ass through the latex. Both women look like they are having the time of their lives. Instinctively you know, this isn’t quite the site you were looking for.
Nope, balloons aren’t just for kids. Yep, you’ve stumbled into and adult store. In this case, one that caters to balloon fetishists.

A person with a balloon fetish may be turned on by balloons being blown up, sat on, “played” with, or popped. Theories of sexual imprinting suggest that an early childhood experience, typically before age 14, sparks a person’s sexual interest which may later lead to the formation of kinks and fetishes. So, like other fetishes, the beginnings of this sexual interest are believed to form as the result of a childhood experience. One interesting difference with the balloon fetish is that an early childhood fear, in this case the sharp pop of a balloon exploding, may be the source of the fetish.

Characteristics of balloons that may be the source of the initial attraction are the bright colors and sense of fun--as they are often present at parties or other celebrations. The sensory qualities of the balloon are also intriguing: smooth texture and distinctive scent. Most notable though, the balloon’s almost magical ability to change from something very small to something very large.

Balloon fetishists can be divided into three groups
  • Non-poppers do not enjoy seeing or hearing balloons popped. These are the people who are most likely to have had a phobia of balloons.
  • Poppers love to see and hear balloons being popped and may also enjoy seeing the balloons being torturing or tested. These enthusiasts may even orgasm at the sight and sound of balloons popping. Strange Sex - BalloonFetish Guy 
  • Semi-poppers like to experiment with the limits of balloons and may in the transitioning non-popper to popper.

Like other fetishes, once you know about the existence of it you’ll start seeing it in popular culture. In the cult favorite film, The Girl From Starship Venus, the alien girl meets a fellow with a balloon fetish. The controversial horror film The Poughkeepsie Tapes also features a character with a balloon fetish.

This ‘n that about balloon fetishists:
  • Key search words for the internet: balloon fetish, looner, popper, and buster.
  • Typical looners are younger, 25-25.
  • A variation is the Bubblegum Balloon Fetish where the fetishist is turned on by watching another person blow up balloons or bubbles with bubblegum. This can be done as foreplay, blowing the bubblegum bubbles up against another’s body for example.
  • Looners do not find children with balloons sexually intriguing and may be appalled by pictures of children with balloons.
  • Looners enjoy balloons externally.
  • It is mostly an interest for men. Some accounts rate the difference as 1 to 30 another 1 in 100.
  • Related fetishes are body inflation, latex and PVC wear, and infantilism.

Discovery Channel's Forbidden: The Balloon Fetish offers a great overview. 
Does all this make you wonder what pretty girls playing with balloons looks like? Try Beauty girls balloons games. Another one, Balloon girls, is five and a half minutes of two sexy girls rubbing balloons on themselves while they perch on a bed. I hope they were well paid for the filming because this looks to be perhaps the five most boring minutes of their life.

Curious about what attraction to inflatables looks like in real life? Try watching I Love My Inflatable Animals | My Strange Addiction 

So, next time you’re at the party supply store and see and 27 year old guy buying six bags of balloons…maybe you want to ask him what he’s up to? Or, maybe not.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Want to Write Sexy? Week long online sex scene writing seminar


May 30-June 3, $35.00 

Would you like to:
  • Create satisfying sex scenes?
  • Examine how  the best sex scenes are structured?
  • Be sure to infuse your sex scenes with emotion?
  • Make sure your sex scenes move the story forward?

Are you:
  • Totally new to writing sex scenes?
  • Have some experience but looking for ways to punch your sexy writing up?
  • Searching for an opportunity to brush up your skills?

If you’re nodding yes to some or all of these questions, this online course may be for you. Taught by an erotic romance author and college writing professor, this course will be a combination of daily challenges, lessons, scene work-shopping, and instructor feedback.

Of course, all correspondence and submissions can remain anonymous.

Week long online sex scene writing seminar will be taught by me erotic romance author/college writing professor Isabelle Drake. 

To sign up, or get more information, email me @ isabelle@isabelledrake.com.
·    

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Best Friends Never, #1 in Cherry Grove series out now

Be careful who you keep secrets with, especially in picture-perfect Cherry Grove, a place where average isn’t good enough, and nothing is what it seems.

Lexi Welks wants two things—respect and a college acceptance letter that’ll get her out of too-good-to-be-true Cherry Grove. The problem is that the nasty, life-ruining secret she shares with Monica Sanders is about to go public. If their ugly truth comes out, her plans for college—not happening. And that’s only the beginning of her end.

Monica is the kind of student teachers adore—well-behaved, hard-working and always following the rules. She’s the kind of friend other girls follow—well-dressed, popular and always knowing the right thing to do. If only they knew the truth about her. The truth Lexi found out the hard way, after spending the past summer letting Monica talk her into doing things she knew could come back to ruin her.

Now it’s the first week of school and one of the seniors is missing. Lexi knows a thing or two about the circumstances of his disappearance, but she’s not talking. Neither is Monica. But wicked truths have a way of crawling to the surface and tearing through the most careful plans.
~~~
Buy it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, or direct from publisher Finch Books.
~~~
Want a taste? Here's an excerpt:

Blood red.

And death black.

Whoever picked out Cherry Grove High’s school colors was an idiot.

Either that or a serial killer.

The hideous color combination blurred across the gym floor, spinning in the cheerleaders’ skirts, bouncing in the pom squad pom-poms and slicing through the air in the quivering band banners. Except for the bizarre Goth meets Glee effect, the scene was flawless. Even the shouts echoing off the walls were just right.

Outside, beyond the gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows and careful flowerbeds, past the student parking lot dotted with Nissans, Volvos and European SUVs, early autumn trees shaded the tidy streets with the first brush of rust, orange and red leaves. It was Cherry Grove after all—anything less than perfection would be inconceivable.

The bleachers were jammed with students, some actually excited about the annual back-to-school pep assembly, the rest just screaming like mad, glad for the chance to be crazy on the first Friday afternoon of the new school year.

From her spot at the boosters table, Lexi Welks could see it all. The teachers huddled in the corner by the wrestling mats drinking Diet Pepsis and eating popcorn, the basketball players lined up under the net, shoving each other, wanting to be the one standing closest to the podium, and the mini-mob of freshmen trying to squeeze themselves into the tiny niche that led to the empty space behind the bleachers. Apart from the chaos stood the football team, arms folded over their Cherry Grove jerseys and looking like they’d rather be anywhere but where they were—right in the center of the attention.

“Here’s your baseball fundraiser auction sign-up sheet.”

Monica Sanders, coming up out of nowhere like a giant weed that not even the deadliest dose of Roundup could get rid of. One of the wicked plants from Little Shop of Horrors.

Only this plant had a nonstop figure wrapped up in a come-screw-me black turtleneck. Half the guys in the school wanted a piece of her. The rest wanted her ACT scores.

Lexi?

Up until a week ago, she and Monica had been friends. And now Lexi was paying the price for what had seemed like fun at the time.

Monica looked over Lexi’s shoulder, waved at basketball center Eric Watson, then came back with a careful smile, showing off her bleached teeth as she slid into an empty chair. “Not that the sign-up is going to do you any good. You know, with next year.”

Lexi took the sheet, dropping it onto the table as though she wasn’t the least bit concerned. Which, of course, was a huge lie. Because getting the right names on that single sheet of paper would change her whole life.

“Can I have your attention? Students?” Dr. Guerra, the superintendent, tapped on the microphone, sending out a series of heart-thumping thuds.

It worked—even the cheerleaders shut up, dropping to the floor to sit cross-legged like a row of overgrown preschoolers. “We need a moment before we get started with the pep assembly. Could everyone please welcome Officer Davenport from the Cherry Grove Police Station?”

“Where else would he be from?” one of the newspaper nerds muttered. “7-Eleven?”

The cop slid behind the mic, adjusting his navy blue uniform tie while he waited for the losers in the back rows to catch on to the idea that he had something other than the D.A.R.E. essay winners to announce. Once the room fell silent, he started talking about Jon Eagle, the kid who’d gone missing a couple of days before. Each word out of his mouth made the knots in Lexi’s stomach pull tighter as images of that night skittered through her mind.

“We’ve been checking leads and retracing Jon’s steps. We’re in constant contact with his family—they’ll be informed as we uncover substantial information.” He flattened his square palm across his jacket lapel, pausing dramatically as he looked out at the faces. “We know how distressing this is for you all, for all of us. For those of you who’d like someone to talk with, your lead counselor, Mrs. Howell, has added appointments before and after school. She’s assured me and all your parents that she’ll do anything she can to help you through this difficult time.”

Monica took out her pretty pink leather-bound planner and wrote down the officer’s name. Then she waited, pen poised, for anything else noteworthy.

“Please keep in mind,” he continued, “that we have no evidence of foul play at this time. There is no reason to believe that anyone else is in danger.” He went on to add that the detective in charge thought that Jon had been in touch with kids who, for some reason, were choosing not to tell anyone. 

“If that’s the case, we urge you to come forward at this time.” Contact information flashed from the huge ceiling-mounted projector onto the wall behind the podium. Lexi barely held in her roll of nausea as Monica jotted down the counselor hours, the hotline phone number and email address with one hand, all the while texting with her other.

But that was Monica Sanders. Smart. Capable. Efficient. And a real self-serving jerk. Too bad it had taken Lexi three months to figure it out.

“Thank you for your attention.” Dr. Guerra was back at the mic, struggling to say something press and parent friendly. “If we all work together, we might… Maybe we’ll… Jon might…” Thank God she finally gave up, because while two band geeks in the front row were snapping pics, some of the yearbook girls over by the art teacher were starting to cry. A cloud of awkward silence filled the gym, everyone’s face tense. Everyone’s except Monica’s. She was dumping her stuff back into her bag and getting to her feet, all while looking as fresh and fantastic as ever.

“Taylor told me to ask you if you had questions about the sign-up,” she said as she pushed the chair back. This time she wasn’t even bothering to hold on to that flawless, fake smile.

“You mean like why are you even bothering with yours?” Lexi tapped her own sheet with her finger. “Because all the names that matter are going right here.”

Monica practically snorted as she spun on her heels, swinging away without a reply.

Lexi watched the girl’s model-perfect ass until she ducked through the red and black cluster of drumline kids clogging the double doors at the end of the gym.
Once she was sure the girl was gone for good she picked up the sheet, staring at the empty rows and imagining the names she needed scrawled across those blank lines. Planning how she’d get them there. And fighting back the fear of what Monica would do when she did.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Torn fishnet stockings and sex in cages. Or: How I got started writing erotic zombie horror

Write about zombies? Not me. Write about zombies who feed off sex? Well, that’s more likely. Add in a horror element--now I’m all in.

January of 2011 I was about halfway through my MFA in Creative Writing. We were given a writing prompt that, we were told, was designed to push us “out of our comfort” zone. The assignment: read a tabloid newspaper, like The Weekly World News, long time supporter of Bat Boy, or the National Enquirer, currently keeping readers up to date on the happenings with Matilda, the Cat from Another Planet, then write a scene based on one of the features. Being the good student that I was, I dug right in to the assignment.

The two articles that inspired me most were Zombie Barbies! by Frank Lake of the Weekly World News and A Very Zombie Holiday also by Frank Lake. Since I was soon to be on my way to Boston, I was also inspired by a very real blizzard wrapping its way around the East coast.

Before I move on to the rest of my account of how I started to write erotic zombie horror, I should mention that prior to beginning my MFA program I had already publisher about ten novels, fifteen novellas, and twelve short stories. Give or take a few in each category. All of them were written to make readers happy, many were romances of all heat levels, and nearly all were “commercial.” And, to be honest, pretty much all of the stories were written with the end goal of selling them. Like, for money. I mention this last part about the money because in the literary community writers are often paid with contributor copies or not at all. So, I entered my MFA program with the mindset that the work I produced should be, could be, saleable. Enter this assignment.

Even before my fingers typed the first word, I was already planning to write not only one scene, but a whole story that my readers would be excited about reading. In the winter of 2011, I was writing all erotica and erotic romance. So, the story had to have sex. Problem: sex scenes with yucky rotting zombies would not be…pretty. Or alluring. Solution: attractive zombies. Logical solution: zombies that live off sex. Even better solution logical solution: zombies that live off sex with human captives. That’s right, as long as they have enough sex with their human captives, they stay attractive. Bonus to the improved solution: sex scenes will be necessary and part of the storyline.

The current East Coast blizzard intrigued me because it had shut down entire cities, halted travel. That sort of thing doesn’t, or rather didn’t, happen very often. What if zombies roamed an entire frozen city? A city held hostage to a fierce winter storm? One thing that came to my mind, zombies don’t feel the cold. That’s creepy. I took that idea and went with it. Soon, my tribe of sex zombies had extraordinary strength, from all that sex no doubt, and the ability to climb ice coated buildings. The last thing I needed was a zombie. An sexy, aggressive sex-hungry zombie. My inspiration? Zombie Barbie. Once my imagination was done with her, she was built like an Amazon goddess, wearing a mini-skirt, torn fishnets, and heavy black boots. Simply put. Mattie is a badass who takes what, and who she wants. Her victim? A tabloid newspaper writer named Hayden.

Servant of the Undead breaks some of the “rules.” For one thing, the point of view character is male. Hayden’s capture and subsequent servicing, read: giving her the sex she craves, of Mattie is the main storyline. The other thing, he is the captive, not her. So, to see what readers think of this role-reversal, I decided to post the novel on Wattpad. I post a new part every Friday. Each part is about 1000 words long and features a video.

The fishnet videos, like the story itself, are an “accidental” creation. I did not set out to use myself to promote Servant. But after looking for images that suited my story and uncompromising zombie Mattie, I came up empty. My solution to this dilemma: put on my own leather mini, torn fishnets, and boots, then go out into my backyard and make my own pics and videos. I imagine I looked a tad eccentric wandering around my backyard, climbing on my woodpile and such, dressed that way and with a hoodie, undone hair and no makeup, but hey–I’m a writer. The neighbors know I’m weird. 


You can check out Servant of the Undead on Wattpad, let me know what you think about that role reversal, then come back every Friday for the next part of the story. Want to be sure you don’t miss any? Add the Servant to your Wattpad Reading List.