I blogged about this once before on another blog but today I am once again struck by how social media seems to make some people immune from the "filter" we use when we speak to people face to face. Or maybe some of the people I see on Twitter don't have that filter even face to face. There's no way of knowing with people I've neve rmet in person.

Today a prominent review blog reviewed an independently-published book and gave it a fairly scathing review. There were a lot of details about the story included in the review. I will admit this would not be the type of book I would read. Apparently it was never touted to be a "romance" but rather historical fiction and apparently included some scenes of rape including repeated rape of a child that would definitely turn some readers off, me included.

But the Twitter chatter immediately began vilifying the author for writing this stuff. There were comments about not just hating the book but hating the author. And yet some of these same people have also commented that they are not the books they write. Authors of erotic romance have often had to deal with perceptions and assumptions about who they are because of what they write, and have often spoken out about this in social media. But yet they do the same thing to someone else because of something that person has written.

If someone chooses to write about subjects many people find abhorrent, does that mean he or she is a bad person?  There are very likely are people offended by what I've written. And they may have made assumptions about me because of that. I don't have to read about things I find abhorrent. But should I tell people they can't write those things? Should I make assumptions about who that person is because of what they've written? I don't want people doing that to me...

Thought I'd post one more picture from my vacation. That's me and my kids, our first morning in Santa Barbara, sitting at the end of Stearns Wharf. We could hear the sea lions barking out on the buoy. They made us laugh.

Yes this blog is a day late but I spent all day Monday travelling and had no internet access. Now I'm home from my wonderful vacation in California. But that wonderful vacation meant I got no writing done whatsoever last week.

But that's not entirely true, because as you know from reading this weekly blog, writing isn't just about writing. Huh? I mean, there's the editing and the researching and the planning, and also the business of writing. And I did do all of those other things last week. I got another round of edits on my next Ellora's Cave release, Taming Tara, and I did work on those during my vacation when we had some quiet time back at the hotel. I also did some research - I went to the historical museum and the library to do research for the historical romance I have "in progress". I did some other research on a book that is in the planning stages by travelling to the Santa Ynez Valley and really, all my time in Santa Barbara, Montecito and Ventura could count as research because I set nearly all my books there, or in fictional California towns just like them. I did a little planning work and I also kept up with the "business of writing" with emails and Twitter and blogging. So it's not like I wasn't doing ANYTHING over the last week :-)

I've been pretty distracted from my writing over the last month or so, as you'll know from reading my blog, and I got some good news last week that I think will help with that. I'm really hoping that I can get my head back into writing and not thinking about the "business" of writing and start being really productive again. Wish me luck!

I am really slacking lately! Another week where I've read one book and I haven't even finished it! And I'm a fast reader. Clearly I've been spending too much time partying and promoting on the web! It has been a busy week with a new release out and several on-line events and I did manage to get some writing done but the reading has fallen short.

Anyhoo - I'm reading Iron by PG Forte. This is an amazing story. Historicals aren't my first choice except for a few sexy authors I enjoy but this one is so beautiful. It's set in Ireland in the late 1800's, and I love anything Irish. I love all the Irish words and the way the characters talk and the huge conflict that has been set up between Aislinn and Gavin. Gavin is a blacksmith and iron is poisonous to Fae. Gavin also has to deal with an oath sworn to his late wife on her deathbead. I'm feeling bewitched - ensorcelled! - by this story!

I’m so happy to report that this week I read a book by a favorite author that didn’t disappoint – love the one you’re with by Emily Giffin. Oh my goodness. This book brought me to tears at the end, and resonated with me for so many reasons. The suspense of wondering what Ellen would do kept me turning the pages, and Ellen’s inner conflicts between attraction, love, passion, comfort, fidelity, and morality had a knot in my stomach as I read. I also love a story that leaves some questions unanswered and keeps me thinking about it long after I've finished reading.

Ellen asks if there are always shades of grey when it comes to matters of the heart, and I say – YES! There is no black and white, right or wrong, good or bad when it comes to love. There are always nuances and layers and shades. That’s why I love writing about love.

Another reason this book spoke to me is because I’ve lived a part of that story. I’ve had that intense relationship and then found a quieter, peaceful love. I’ve had the questions about passion, about highs and lows or easy contentment, questions about “settling”. I’ve wondered about the fork in the road. Like Ellen, I’ve wondered what life would be like if the path had been different, and also like Ellen, I felt I didn’t have the choice at the time. Unlike Ellen, I’ve never been tested to actually have to make that choice, although I’ve dreamed it and imagined it and…I’ve written about it.

This story is so similar in themes to my next release, Worth Waiting For, which is another reason it resonated with me so deeply. Have you ever wondered what would happen if the one you loved passionately, the “one who got away” returned to you? How you would feel? How you would react? If you had the chance to make a choice – what would you choose?

Ainslie in my book has a chance to make that choice and hers turns out differently than Ellen’s in Emily Giffin’s book, although the situation is a little different as well.

Here are a few lines from love the one you’re with:

“But maybe that’s what is all comes down to. Love, not as a surge of passion, but as a choice to commit to something, someone, no matter what obstacles or temptations stand in the way. And maybe making that choice, again and again, day in and day out, year after year, says more about love than never having a choice to make at all.” And -
“Love is the sum of our choices, the strength of our commitments, the ties that bind us together.”

What do you think - is love a surge of passion or choice we make?

Luckily I'm able to post this - last night we had a power failure due to heavy rains/sleet. The lights had been flickering all day and then the whole neighbourhood went black. Had to light a few candles for a while but happily it was short.


This week I read The Bikini Diaries by Lacey Alexander. Once again she has written a great story of a good girl who goes bad. She's a bad bunny. (I like that!) I love the journey of self-discovery in this story and the insights shared. I'm sure we've all felt that insecurity when faced with a gorgeous, confident woman - imagined her life is perfect, and wished we could be her. Or be like her. And maybe we can - because it's all about how we see ourselves - having confidence in ourselves and having the courage to step "out of the box".

And...if the setting for this story is based on a real resort - I so want to go there!

I also read Maverick by Lora Leigh. This story was okay. As usual, very hot, but somehow I didn't connect with the characters in this story as much as others.

The big excitement this week isn't WHAT I read, it's what I read it ON - I bought an e-reader! I got the Sony 505. I really like it. It took a bit to get used to the slight time delay between when you push the button and when the next page comes up but I've gotten into a reading rhythm now. I love the bookmark feature because I always turn down the corner of a page to mark something I particularly like - a word, a phrase, a metaphor. I'm going on a trip in June so it will be especially great not to have to lug a backpack full of books around with me. And last night I took it into the bathtub with me, safely zipped up in a Ziploc bag!

So what am I reading right now on my Sony 505 - Rough, Raw and Ready by Lorelei James. I love this story!

I finished Lori Foster's My Man Michael. It was kind of cute. I liked the role reversal theme and how her somewhat-sexist hero deals with it. And gotta love how she can get a 25-year-old virgin into the story! I did predict the outcome but I won't put a spoiler here for those who haven't read it yet!

Finished "Only Pleasure" by Lora Leigh. Another very hot story.

Started "My Man Michael" by Lori Foster. Her heroine is from the 23rd century. I'm not usually into time travel stories but I love Lori Foster and I'm intrigued about what's going to happen. Will keep reading.

Also just started "The Lifestyle" by Terry Gould. This book is about “what it means to be part of a fast-growing subculture of consenting, mainstream adults who are changing the rules of sexual behaviour for pair-bonded humans.” Okay, married swingers. Research only, folks.

And - I'm not going to name the title or author of the book I read over the weekend because I am TOTALLY FREAKED OUT! I started reading this book, and there were so many similarities between it and a book I wrote about four months ago I could not believe it! There is no way this author knew anything about my story and no way I could have known anything about hers, so it's kind of freaky. As I got further into the book the similarities lessened. Her main conflict was completely different than mine, and the characters are different, too, so in the end the stories are not the same. But wow! Here I think I'm coming up with something new and fresh and different and someone else has the very same idea. But as one fellow writer pointed out, every story will be told in a different way, with a different voice, so no two stories will ever be exactly the same.

Fellow writers, has that ever happened to you?

Chloe gasped. The gleam in Tyler’s eyes sent a shiver of excitement and fear running through her. She tightened her hands on the arms of her chair as he advanced towards her.
“Tyler...”
He stopped in front of her, legs spread, arms crossed across his chest. Baggy cargo pants hung low on his lean hips and a snug olive green t-shirt stretched across his wide chest and revealed his thick biceps.
He smiled at her, damn his gorgeous smile, then bent forward and brushed a kiss across her startled mouth. Her lips parted involuntarily and her eyes widened.
“Tyler no...” she protested, scooting her chair back from him.
“Come on Chloe,” he coaxed. “Let’s finish what you started.”
Chloe’s heartbeat kicked up a notch.
“No, no,” she said frantically. “I didn’t mean to start anything! I was just proving a point.”
He followed her backward movements until her chair hit the wall. He put his hands over hers on the armrests, trapping her there with his big body.
Dark eyes hot and glittering, he leaned closer.
“Okay, you proved your point. I didn’t really have a broken heart. See...” he grinned and patted his chest. “I’m fine. You were right.” His voice deepened and his smile turned sexy. “Come on, Chloe.”
She shook her head nervously, licking her lips.
“But...”
He leaned closer yet and she could see every long eyelash around his eyes, the whiskers shadowing his lean cheeks. His citrusy, spicy scent made her dizzy.
“You proved something else, Chloe,” he said softly, his breath warm on her mouth.
“Wh...what?”
“You proved you want me.” He brushed his mouth over hers again.
Oh Lord, she was melting. Again. Helplessly, foolishly melting into a puddle of lust.
She wriggled her hands out from under his, his left hand still bandaged, and pushed on his big chest. He was like a cliff, hard and immovable.
“I do not. It was just an act to get you to realize you were okay.”
He shook his head and his lips drifted across her cheek, nuzzled her ear under her long hair. She closed her eyes briefly against the onslaught of sensations. Sparks and shivers ran down her body from his lips to her womb. Helplessly, her nipples tightened and she felt herself go wet. No! Her body was betraying her. Again.
“Sweetheart, that was no act.”
“Yes! Yes, it was!” She turned her head to the side to avoid his seeking mouth. He slid his mouth down the side of her neck and his tongue came out to lick her gently. “You taste so sweet.”
Oh God. More shivers increased the aching low in her belly. Her body trembled and she fought to control it. She pushed again on his hard chest to no avail.
“Chloe,” he murmured. “You can’t fake that. You were so wet you creamed all over my jeans.”
Her heart literally stopped.
She couldn’t get air into her lungs and her mind went completely blank. She could not think of two words to string together to refute him. Mortification scorched her cheeks.
“You were hot for me,” he continued, continuing to nibble and taste her. “Admit it, Chloe.”
His ego and arrogance finally gave her strength to push harder and she slid out of the chair and under his arms, jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Your ego is beyond belief, Tyler,” she said, trying to sound cool, knowing her voice still trembled.
He straightened up and looked at her. Oh, he was so, so beautiful.
She held up a hand. “Stop! We cannot do this. Have you lost your mind?”
His eyes shadowed slightly.
“Maybe I did have a...physical reaction...” she stumbled on the words. “But I was only doing that for one reason. One! Seriously, Tyler!”
She pushed her hair off her face with hands that still shook.
His eyes narrowed.
“Did you go out with whatshisname that night?” he asked tightly, out of the blue.
She stared, then nodded. “His name is Michael, for the hundredth time. We went to a party one of his clients was having at the Biltmore.”
“Did you sleep with him that night?”
Once again she was dumfounded. “That is none of your business,” she said with as much frigid disdain as she could muster.
He scowled.
“Apologize for that, Tyler.”
They stared at each other, the air in the room hot and charged with electricity.
“You can fire me if you want,” she added, tossing her hair and straightening her back.
He still stared at her, then shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to fire you, Chloe.”
She held his gaze with difficulty, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and take everything he offered.
“I’m sorry,” he finally growled, rubbing a hand over his face, then through his hair. It stuck up appealingly in all different directions, glossy and black.
“Let’s just get things straight here.” She took a deep breath. “We do not have a personal relationship. I apologize for what I did, too. It was a totally unacceptable way to deal with a problem. It won’t happen again. It meant nothing.”
He was watching her as she talked, his eyes shadowed, almost hurt...she shook her head.
“We need to work together, so let’s just pretend that never happened,” she said firmly.
“I don’t think I can.”

Insatiable Part 8

Well I’m going to start something new on my blog – every Wednesday I’ll post what I’m reading. This kind of happened because I had to redesign my website, which is a good news/bad news kind of story. The good news is I have so many books out (or coming out) that I didn’t have room for them all on one page of my cheap...uh, I mean fiscally prudent website. So I had to lose the page where I talk about what I’m reading, which was hard to keep updated anyway.

Because I’m always reading something. I don’t plan to do a review of every book I read, but I’ll tell you what I just read, or am reading, and make some comments.

Just to get caught up – my most recent reads are:
Love Walked In – by Marisa de los Santos
Belong to Me – by Marisa de los Santos
The Four Man Plan by Cindy Lu
Tribute – by Nora Roberts

Reading now: Only Pleasure by Lora Leigh.

So…Marisa de los Santos. Her writing is beautiful. Her story is seamless. Since I’ve been writing I’m able to predict story lines with finger-snapping regularity. Not this time. In Belong to Me, she totally smacked me in the side of the head. When I went back, the clues were all there…but so subtle and seamless I didn’t see them. I LOVE that. I ADMIRE that. So much that I am now paralyzed by inferiority. There is no possible way I can ever write anything so good, so why bother even trying? (Which is why I don’t play golf. There’s no way I’ll ever hit that ball 150 yards straight, so why bother even trying? Oops. I hear my mother’s voice about my piano playing – no wait, that’s my voice, talking to my daughter about her piano playing – “ practice makes perfect”. Aaaaagh. )

Tribute – it’s Nora. She tells a great story. I loved it. I loved the house. I loved the hero – so untraditional – the woman is the one who wields tools and builds houses, the man can’t even pick up a tool without hurting someone. He’s a geek but he’s still strong and masculine- love it.

Only Pleasure – Lora! What’s with the headhopping???? Maybe I never noticed this before. But I still love you.

My TBR pile – okay these days with digital books it’s not so much a pile, although I do have several Harlequin Blaze books waiting to be read, thanks to editorial assistant Laura Barth at Harlequin, who rewarded me for a good deed with free books! Thanks Laura!

I’ve been downloading free Valentine’s reads from Harlequin and Samhain and the Romance Divas. The only one I’ve actually read so far is OWNED by Nara Malone at the Romance Divas . Okay, I confess, it’s because she’s my critique partner. This story is amazing. I couldn’t even critique it because it’s way beyond my level. (Another incident of being paralyzed by inferiority.) She has been experimenting with flash fiction and put together this creative, innovative, evocative story that will blow your mind. Check it out!

image: http://www.lancethomsonphotographic.com/

Tyler threw open the bathroom door then slammed it shut behind him. He turned on the shower and stepped into it fully clothed, the cold water a shocking jolt to his overheated body. He flattened both palms on the tiled wall and leaned there, arm muscles rigid. The icy water ran over his back, drenching his clothing, turning it to a frigid weight on his body. He sucked in deep breaths through gritted teeth.
He could not believe what had just happened. He loved flirting with Chloe and touching her, but he didn’t think about her that way. She had a boyfriend, for Chrissake, and he needed her too much to scare her away with sexual advances. Although she’d instigated it.
He slammed a palm against the wall and closed his eyes. Jesus, he should fire her ass for doing that. After a few more deep breaths, though, he knew he couldn’t.
As his scattered thoughts came together, jelling in the brisk downpour, he contemplated her little act. She’d said it was an act - but how could she have faked that kind of reaction? She’d been hot, desperate – wet. You couldn’t fake that. And there was no denying his own red hot reaction. He groaned again.
Shivers quaked his body. He reached over and cranked the tap off, stripped off his wet clothes and left them lying in the shower, then strode naked from the bathroom to his bedroom. If Chloe saw him – oh well.
He dragged on a pair of black pants and a white T-shirt and returned to the living room, every muscle tense, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. Chloe handed him a cup of coffee. Oh yeah. Coffee. He took it from her without a word and gulped it. Strong and black, just how he liked it. She knew how he liked it. Jesus. He drank again, the coffee scalding his tongue.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m so furious I’d like to turn you over my lap and spank your ass.”
“Promises, promises.”
A jolt of heat speared through him at her words and he stared at her.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, picking up her purse. “I’ll drive.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, she pulled up out front and stopped. “Aren’t you coming in?”
She shook her head. “I have a date tonight.” What! Hot fury spiked inside him again. He gripped the door handle so tightly his fingers hurt. She was all primed and hot, thanks to him, and she was going out with someone else? Probably whatshisname...Michael. Unbelievable! ”Relax, Tyler.” She put a hand on his upper arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slammed out of the car and stalked into the restaurant.

* * *

When Michael picked her up that evening, Chloe still felt edgy and hot. Her pelvic area still had a full achiness and her inner muscles clenched every time she thought back to sitting on Tyler’s lap.
This would be the night. She and Michael were going to have sex. It would take that edge off and let her get back to her normal serene self.
One of Michael’s clients hosted the elegant cocktail party at the Biltmore. Whenever Chloe mentioned to other guests what she did for a living, people wanted to hear about Tyler.
“He is so sexy!” one woman gushed. “Those eyes are incredible! I saw him on TV the other night.”
Chloe smiled, feeling Michael tense beside her. When the couple moved off, Chloe sipped her drink and looked at Michael, his lips pressed together, brows drawn down.
She sighed. “What is it, Michael?”
He gave his head a slight shake and his forehead smoothed. “Nothing at all,” he said. “Let’s go talk to Jim and Barbara. I need to set up a golf game with him.”
She let him lead her through the crowd, smiling and greeting people. As he chatted with Jim she excused herself to find the ladies’ room. On her way back, she paused in the hallway outside the party and slipped her cell phone out of her bag.
“Good evening, Insatiable,” Lola purred. “Hi, it’s Chloe.” She paused. “Is everything okay there?”
“Everything is great!” Lola gave a big sigh. “Tyler is here and he’s on fire tonight!”
“Did Oprah show up?” “Yes! It’s so exciting! She’s here now. She wanted to meet him and he came out and talked to her, and he’s cooking for her right now. You know him; it’s got to be perfect.”
Chloe sighed and her tense muscles relaxed. “Okay, good. Just wanted to make sure he was there and doing okay.”
“You did it again,” Lola said. “What would we do without you, Chloe?”
Chloe smiled just as Michael appeared in the hall. He frowned at seeing her on the phone.
“Gotta go,” she said to Lola. “Bye.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Lola. At the restaurant.” She snapped the tiny phone closed and tucked it in her bag. “Just making sure everything is okay there.”
“Christ, Chloe, can’t you leave that place for an hour?” She gazed at him, not really surprised at his sharp tone.
“Is it a problem if I check in at work?”
“You’re always checking in. You practically live there. And when you’re not there, you can’t stop talking about him...it.”
It was Tyler. She’d always sensed it.
“You sound...jealous.”
“Oh for God’s sake! I am not jealous,” he snapped. “Sometimes I would like your undivided attention. I want you, Chloe. Why are you holding back on me?”
She stared at him. She’d known this was coming.
“I’d like to go home now,” she said quietly.
He didn’t move.
“Chloe...I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you. Let’s go back to your place and talk.”
She nodded and he went to get her wrap. She’d planned to sleep with Michael tonight. But that was before what had happened that afternoon with Tyler.
At her place, she let Michael follow her in, her stomach tight, her mind a whirl of crazy thoughts. She hated having all these...feelings. Feelings just got you in trouble.
She dropped her wrap and bag on the small table in the entrance of her small house. Then she turned to Michael, stepped closer to him and wound her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers for a kiss, pressing her body against his long, lean length.
His arms went around her, his mouth opened on hers, hot and demanding, and he kissed her back.
She wanted to respond. She wanted to feel the same thrilling excitement she’d experienced that afternoon on Tyler’s lap. She wanted to burn up, melt down...but it wasn’t happening.
She felt nothing.
After a moment, Michael lifted his head. He looked at her. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Are you really mad at me?”
She shook her head and stepped back, out of his arms.
“I’m sorry, Michael. This isn’t going to work.”
“Okay, you’re not ready. I’ll wait. I’m patient.”
She shook her head again, slowly. “It’s never going to work. I’m sorry.”
He stared at her, his face tight. “You know he’ll never want you.”
“It’s not like that!”
But he turned and slammed out of her front door.
Lord, what had she done? She’d only wanted to show Tyler what an ass he was and get him back to his restaurant to avoid a disaster. Now everything was turned upside down. Her calm and organized life was a storm of emotion and the turbulence inside her terrified her.

INSATIABLE Part 6

I recently learned of an important literary award, the “Bad Sex in Fiction Award", established by Britain’s Literary Review. The award aims to “draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it.”

Last year’s winner, Iain Hollingshead, author of “Twenty Something” won with his description of “a commotion of grunts and squeaks, flashing unconnected images and explosions of a million little particles.” His description of “bulging trousers” apparently put him over the top.

The runner-up was Tim Willcocks’ medieval action novel, “The Religion,” for a scene in which characters grapple passionately in a forge “across the cold steel face of the anvil.” “In the pit of his stomach a cauldron boiled and some seething and nameless brew rose up through his spine and filled his brain with the Devil’s Fire,” Willcocks writes.

Other finalists included Mitchell’s 1980s coming-of-age story, “Black Swan Green,” for a passage in which one character’s breasts are compared to “a pair of Danishes” and another’s to “two Space Hoppers.”

Mark Haddon, the best-selling author of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time,” was shortlisted for his description of rapture in his latest novel, “A Spot of Bother”: “Images went off in her head like little fireworks. The smell of coconut. Brass firedogs.”
Curious, I researched past winners and found these truly memorable scenes:

Villages by John Updike:
"A flock of crows, six or eight, raucously rasping at one another, thrashed into the top of an oak on the edge of the square of sky. The heavenly invasion made his heart race; he looked down at his prick, silently begging it not to be distracted; his mind fought skidding into crows and woods, babies and Phyllis, and his prick stared back at him with its one eye clouded by a single drop of pure seminal yearning. He felt suspended at the top of an arc. Faye leaned back on the blanket, arranging her legs in an M of receptivity, and he knelt between them like the most abject and craven supplicant who ever exposed his bare ass to the eagle eyes of a bunch of crows.
Faye took him in hand. He slipped in. He became an adulterer. He went for the last inch. She grunted, at her own revelation. His was that her cunt did not feel like Phyllis's. Smoother, somehow simpler, its wetness less thick, less of a sauce, more of a glaze. It was soon over. He could not help himself, he was so excited, proud, and nervous. When he was done, he opened his eyes, and saw this stranger's face an inch from his, seemingly asleep, the closed eyelids showing a thin pulse, her long lips curved self-lullingly."

“Less of a sauce, more of a glaze….?” Wow.

And how about Winkler by Giles Coren:
"And he came hard in her mouth and his dick jumped around and rattled on her teeth and he blacked out and she took his dick out of her mouth and lifted herself from his face and whipped the pillow away and he gasped and glugged at the air, and he came again so hard that his dick wrenched out of her hand and a shot of it hit him straight in the eye and stung like nothing he'd ever had in there, and he yelled with the pain, but the yell could have been anything, and as she grabbed at his dick, which was leaping around like a shower dropped in an empty bath, she scratched his back deeply with the nails of both hands and he shot three more times, in thick stripes on her chest. Like Zorro."

Gotta love that one – leaping around like a shower dropped in an empty bath”. Now there’s an image. How about a garden hose with the water turned on full blast? Or a fire hose? And love the Zorro reference - I’m picturing it in my mind.

Now this one is amazing:
Fan Tan by Marlon Brando and Donald Cammell (William Heinemann)
"In a moment Annie was on his side, Madame Lai was like a plant growing over him, and her little fist (holding the biggest black pearl) was up his asshole planting the pearl in the most appreciated place.
"Oh, Lord," he cried out. "I'm a-comin'!"
She could not answer. It is the one drawback of fellatio as conscientious as hers that it eliminates the chance for small talk and poetry alike. But nothing is exactly perfect in this life, and for Annie Doultry the delicate but firm pressure on his rear parts was in perfect harmony with the eruption of his cock. He came and he came - we are dealing with a hero here. At one point his lover backed away to inspect the unaltered gush of it, like a plumber saying to a customer, "Don't blame me. This water supply will stop when the dam's empty."
The bed creaked and its old springs twanged as he levered into action with his hungry stomach and his big slippery mouth. Annie was at work again. With a practiced flick of the wrist designed for heavier work, he eased the cheongsam's slit wider to expose the entire butterball thigh. Without perceptible movement, her legs were now definitely farther apart, and their musculature was unresistant and frothy, as if they were no longer bearing her weight. In a sense, she seemed to float upon the musty air like an arrangement of balloons. Evidently the dexterous licking of the inside of her left knee was contributing to her support, as it would soon to her downfall.
When it came, it was a float rather than a fall. Annie's left hand was completely occupied, each finger playing a separate tune upon the delicate complexities of her pussy, so it must have been the right one that slid under her ass and elevated her and floated her onto the bed - or more precisely, onto Annie, onto his broad stomach, the sturdy muscles beneath expressly relaxed to provide the comfort of a mattress of familiar Celtic flesh. An unintelligible muttering sound came from Yummee as she subsided on top of him. It could have been a prayer to one of her goddesses, or a threat. ..."

First of all I can’t even figure out how many people are in this scene, nor what they are doing. The “butterball thigh” completely threw me off, as did the plumber/customer analogy and the “frothy musculature". And yes, there is little opportunity for small talk (or poetry) during fellatio, gosh darn it.

Apparently there is still time to be considered for this year’s award…