Men Moaning…

Lovely post!

“I love when a male lover moans in bed.”

A Piece of Pleasure

il_570xN.721909859_leuqMusic to my ears.

I love when a male lover moans in bed. It is one of the most erotic sounds  for me to hear.  When he allows himself to vocalize his pleasure in moans and groans and grunts and breathing… It turns me on even more. It’s like riding the same wave-length of pleasure that I instantly tap into and feed off of.

I’m a screamer, and am as vocal as the pleasure comes. All growls and sighs and moans but  being able to open myself and express that pleasure was something I had to work on releasing as I got older. Masturbation in my youth was something I was  told not to do and to hide if I did. (There was a lot of time spent in dark closets or behind locked bathroom doors.)  So to hide the  pleasure we muffled it, behind lips or pillows or just by sheer…

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Light and Shade

Light and shade

Light and shade

Early hours. The Lovers Hotel.

I would say there was silence. But there wasn’t. Not quite.

My breathing. The pulse of blood in the side of my head.

The whirr of the night. The electricity in a cable in a wall. Something you could only hear when you thought there was complete silence.

But this can’t be silence. The air rushes out of my lungs, like a hot breeze through the trees.

I couldn’t hold my breath any long.

The creak of a floorboard. I knew you were there but that soft sound confirms it.

I try not to tense up.

I am on all fours. I move my body to where I know there is the tiniest shaft of light.

It falls on me, on my back and buttocks, like warm sunshine. I bask in its glow.

I can hear you now. Your clothes. Your belt. Your hands on your skin.

I open my thighs.

The bed sinks. My head lifts.

You fall on me and we crumple into the shadow, our bodies hot and shining in the black and white of the room.

Pictures that inspired an erotic character

Much of my writing is inspired by images. Especially when I am letting my fantasies run riot about the characters I create.

I went searching for my passionate, experienced prostitute, Ana, who dominates the men who arrive at her backstreet brothel in Portugal in ‘The Naked Spy’…

Gina Lollobrigida

Gina Lollobrigida

She became a mix of classic actresses and beautiful models…

Kelly Brook checks herself out in the mirror

Kelly Brook checks herself out in the mirror

…and I wondered about her clothes, her body movements…

Burlesque dancer

Burlesque dancer

…her underclothes…

1940s corset

1940s corset

Her ways of continually renewing her attractiveness to an endless stream of men…

Ana: gorgeous, intelligent and strong

Ana: gorgeous, intelligent and strong

And, all the while, she is spying on the German agents who thrive in the steamy city of Lisbon…

Going undercover

Going undercover

…and feeding all the information back to her British spy master.

Dressing for work

Dressing for work

Ana stars in ‘The Naked Spy’:

The Naked Spy

The Naked Spy

Ass worship

Worship this

Worship this

‘Ass worship,’ the Urban Dictionary explains helpfully, ‘is worship of the female ass.’

Getting an airing

Getting an airing

To guide you through the weekend I’ve adorned the altar with various presentations of the ass of Japanese actress Bunko Kanazawa.

Round, smooth, perfect. Agree?

Round, smooth, perfect. Agree?

Worship away!

Hanging around in knickers and socks.

Hanging around in knickers and socks.

And then tell me whether your connection is something more than spiritual.






Oh, the housework never ends!

Oh, the housework never ends!

The housewife sitting on the washing machine to get all heated up during the spin-cycle is an old joke which raises a few sniggers.

But it contains a truth about our ability to find stimulation and eroticism in all kinds of household objects.

Some of these are electrical, some obvious, some edible but many – at first glance – would seem to have no sexual currency at all. This last group is often the most interesting.

We each find an erotic charge where we want to.

Close your eyes, squeeze your thighs together and take an imaginary trip around the average house.

Over there is the comfortable arm of a soft chair; there, a coffee table at which one might squat, legs astride.

A fruit bowl is filled with colour, tender skin holding in a flood of juice.

In the bedroom, the crisp sheets are turned down and out peek two soft, plump pillows.

althea lynn2

There is a line of clothes in the closet, all kinds of materials for touch to sense, a feast of colour for the eye. There are soft shoes spilling out onto the floor, all shapes and sizes, heels and flat; used and new; shiny, shiny, knee-length boots of leather; dress shoes with toes pinched tight. Kinky boots, one and all.

Look at the corner of the bed, just right for riding, or how about the smoothly-turned bedpost?

A big rough teddy bear sits in the corner, its stubby arms ready to be held flat, its belly stuffed and plumped.

Two mirrors reflect back at each other. A figure between them could see his or her reflection bouncing back and forth into infinity.

From the bathroom comes the slow, steady drip of water from the shower-head, curved, cupped like a hand.

The sun drenches a wicker chair in the suburban conservatory.

In the garage, a gym and games room bursts with tactile, humpable objects. An exercise bench cries out for inner thighs. Exercise balls await to be straddled.

The baize of a pool table tingles and crackles under fingertips.

There, hung on a hook on the wall, is a riding saddle and a thin, black whip.

The Polish film-maker Walerian Borowczyk saw the things we surround ourselves with as anything but neutral.

In his four-story film, Contes Immoraux (Immoral Tales, 1974), he creates a shockingly erotic segment featuring actress Charlotte Alexandra.


Charlotte stars as a girl whose dedication to God reveals itself as a burning lust when she is unjustly banished to her room.

And there Borowczyk’s fetishism and eye for the erotic in everything becomes almost stifling.

As she touches items like religious objects and Victoriana in the closed room, the objects are vested with a sexual charge. Their touch seems to awaken her.

Charlotte kisses a small wooden idol and touches the faces in the picture on the wall. Then she finds a book containing pornographic sketches.

Believing that the Holy Spirit delivered the naughty book to her, she undresses and caresses a cucumber, which she slides between her thighs.


The scene is filmed in silence, except only for the noises of the sheets crackling against her skin, her growing gasps and the cucumber entering her. (I drew heavily on this scene when depicting Lady Gemma’s sexual awakening in ‘Pantsdown Abbey’.)


In another of his films, Behind Convent Walls (1977), a nun finds a large timber chip from a woodcutter’s block and carves it into a dildo, while another sister enjoys the eroticism of her violin (and why not?).

Away from this pretence of art, punter-led resources like Yahoo groups give some insight into all our sense of the object-erotic.

If you look hard enough you can find videos too, which show women masturbating by riding pillows and – in one case – a large, stuffed gorilla wearing a strap-on.

Cuddly toys, indeed.

Lucky Gorilla