Tag: submission

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Serious Moonlight #2: The Razor Thin Edge

On sale at Amazon now.

“He said, “I am so close to cumming, love. So close to the edge. A hair’s breadth away. A split second between me cumming and me not cumming. One or the other. Such a thin line. If you were to blow on my cock I would cum here and now, spurting all over your pretty lips. Just the feel of your breath is all it would take.”

He stood motionless, struggling to maintain control. Don’t cum. Don’t cum. Don’t cum. He rode the hot edge of his orgasm, consumed by the now of it. This moment. Then this moment. Then this moment. Pearls on a string.”

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from Sexhair

  • Sexhair

The waitress came back to take their orders. Her eyes took in the woman’s hair a second time, and she took less care in hiding her smile. He told the waitress they needed more time.

“Sexhair,” he said, after the waitress left.

“Huh?”

“The waitress. She was checking out your sexhair.”

“I have sexhair?” Her expression was a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

“Yeah, it’s all disheveled, like you just got out of bed.”

“I did just get out of bed.”

“It doesn’t just look like it’s been slept on. It looks like it’s been pulled out of shape. Grabbed in a fist. It’s sort of, like, dented on one side.”

“She knows?” asked the woman.

“That we’ve been fucking?”

“She knows. I could see it in her smile.”

The woman’s hands shot up to attempt to fix her hair, though she gave up soon after she started, recognizing the task as hopeless. A loopy grin fell across her face, seeing the lust gather in his eyes.

“Do I look slutty?” she asked.

“You look hot.”

“Is that the same as slutty?”

“It’s not dissimilar,” he said, his grin spreading.

from J G Cain’s Sexhair

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Serious Moonlight shines this month!


The Serious Moonlight project will start on Friday, February 15th, the day after Valentine’s Day, and publish a new erotic story every Friday for a full year.  52 weeks, 52 stories.

Serious Moonlight is a series of flash erotica pieces, along with the occasional erotic short story, that tell the story of a man and a woman who are witty, curious, creative, sexually adventurous and deeply in love.  Each story can be read as a stand-alone, but the series of stories, taken together, tells a narrative as well.

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Serious Moonlight on Amazon

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from Art

6c2bbe2894a53795b7a930fcb718120bHe wondered if anyone else noticed.

The dark leather strip, tied with a knot, and secured with a simple silver clasp in the shape of a crescent moon, wrapped around her wrist like a snake offering up an apple. She wore it with elegance, at the table of an equally elegant restaurant, surrounded by maybe thirty people.

The sight made him want to slide the leather from her arm, tie her wrists behind her chair with the strip and fuck her, right there at the table. The choice of bracelet roared her desire to be tied up and fucked.

How could anyone not notice?

The implications seemed so hot, so clearly stated, like the time they’d gone out to a club with her wearing a choker sporting a subtle ring at its center, just below the lovely hollow of her throat. That night, in his mind, the choker told the world she was his, collared and owned by him, paraded around at his will, readied to sate his desires. They wondered how many at the club had deciphered the message of the choker. One out of fifty? One out of ten? That both of them knew with certainty someone would get the message added to the sizzling sexual tension of the evening.

from Art, by J G Cain

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from Bound

19494395523_3463f2d0b3_b“The lights were off, but the shades were open. A thin crescent moon lingered below the window, flinging a small fistful of grey moonlight through the glass, throwing pewter shadows across the generic hotel room set pieces: desk, two chairs and table, television, dresser, bed. The limited amount of light threw the features of the room into muddy black and white, but for the striking exception of the red leather collar she wore around her neck, the chain link of the leash glinting mischievously in the dim light.

She knelt before him, head bowed, her hair spilling forward. Her wrists crossed unseen behind her back. A small flower adorned the side of her head, tucked behind her ear. In addition to the collar and the leash, she wore black fishnets, petite silver earrings, a long strand of pearls. Nothing else. The room was dark enough so it seemed she wasn’t so much kneeling on the carpet, but planted in it, the fishnet transformed by light and shadow into root-like shapes, tendrils reaching up her legs. He could not see her pussy, as it too was shrouded in shadow, but he could smell it, keenly.

He followed the flow of her body with his eyes, moving up her legs to the silhouette of her hips, heady curves flaring out, then coursing in toward her waist before skirting out again. He felt more than saw the yearning in her breasts, waiting for his touch, nipples hard, skin flushed. His gaze lingered on the white slope of her shoulders, the regal line of her neck, the fragile grace of her collarbones like the wings of birds.

He approached her, stood over her. He touched his index finger to her chin, lifted her head, until she met his eyes.”

– from Bound, by J G Cain