S.O.S. Sex on Saturday

Erotica for the baby boomer generation.

She wrapped her legs around her husband’s hips and pulled his hand to her clit.

The Middlethorpe Chronicles is available from these retailers:

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Omnilit

S.O.S. Sex on Saturday

I've got a surprise for you today! Here's a bit from a short story just back from final edits. I've never written anything like this before. Might not again. It doesn't seem to fit in any genre, so I'm calling it Middle Age Erotica.

I'm breaking my own rules. You get an entire paragraph today!

 The Middlethorpe Chronicles

Cover Art Pending

At last, Mrs. Middlethorpe, in her prim and proper suit, sat back on her heels and surveyed her man. Mr. Middlethorpe was bound to the chair at his ankles and wrists. His stark white shirt was open down the front. His cock bobbed against the blue silk tie. His black wool trousers were pooled on the floor between his bound ankles, belt and all. Mr. Middlethorpe had slid down in the chair so his buttocks clung to the edge. His knees were spread wide. His balls hung heavy between his thighs.

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Sugar Walls by Mysti Holiday

When Emilie is dumped by her boyfriend, best friend Jack Voss offers a shoulder and a place to live--the other side of his duplex. He’s always there, fixing her problems, her car, her sink. Emilie doesn’t know what she’d do without him, or with the feelings she’s having for him. His shoulder doesn’t just offer comfort anymore; his touch is a turn-on. Their shared wall is the only thing keeping them from sharing a bedroom—and fanning the flames might risk breaking something that Jack can’t fix.

Excerpt - 

A glance back down at the man who was driving her crazy nearly made her moan. He shifted, his ass moved and his thighs flexed as he crawled forward a few inches. The denim of his worn jeans hugged him as tightly as Em dreamed of doing and, before she had time to think about it, she took a step Forward, hands outstretched to snatch hold of the prize. She stopped herself just in time and tucked her hands behind her back to keep from doing something stupid.

“So, Jack?” Her voice was tight with desire and discomfort.

“Hmm?” He peeked at her over one shoulder, a smile in those midnight blue eyes, then quickly returned his attention to the pipe.

“Almost done?” She hoped so, because at this rate, she’d come just from thinking about him.

“Nearly there. Leak’s almost plugged.”

I’ve got a leak you can plug. Her panties soaked with more cream than any one woman should have when she envisioned him plunging into her, filling her pussy with his hard cock. Heat rushed up her neck, and her heart pounded so loudly, surely he could hear it. Dear God. She tried to picture herself in a cold shower to kill some of the heat but cursed again when he joined her there in her mind and slid soapy hands over her damp skin, across her breasts, and down her—

“There.” His voice jolted her out of the hot daydream, and she jumped an inch off the floor. He backed out from the cupboard and turned to smile at her. “All fixed.”

About the Author - 

Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a very busy SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies.  Most people know she writes, but not what she writes about:  sexy men and the wanton women who love them.

She's married to a wonderful man who happily sacrifices himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of interesting and unusual situations in which to place her characters.  But most of all, she's a sucker for a happy ending.

Buy Sugar Walls Here 

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New Release - Making It on Broadway

I'm pleased to announce the release of my wicked little short story, Making It on Broadway.

This one is guaranteed to thaw you out on a winter's day!

Blurb - 

Haylee Daniels has landed a role in a Broadway musical about a down on her luck dancer who'll do anything for another chance at Broadway stardom. The only problem is, Haylee has never danced a day in her life.

Thankfully, she has Chase Nolton, her leading man, and Broadway's premier choreographer, Carmine Romero to teach her all she needs to know. When Carmine suggests she dance nude in order to better understand a dancer's body, Haylee fears she may be as desperate for Broadway stardom as her character.

This is a highly erotic short story about three people who find love and make it on Broadway.

Excerpt - 

“Strip.”

            Haylee looked up from studying the studio’s polished hardwood floor to the wall of mirrors in front of her. Two hard masculine faces reflected over her slumped shoulders. Frustration carved deep lines around their eyes. She avoided looking at her own reflection, knowing she’d find the same lines on her own visage. The lines had been there for two weeks, ever since she began working with Carmine Romero, Broadway’s premier choreographer – now her dance instructor. Why had she ever thought she could do this? She could act. She could sing, but dance? No. That had never been one of her talents.

            “What?”

            “Take your clothes off.” Chase Nolton, her leading man, and Carmine’s partner in these torture sessions grinned. “That’s what the word usually means.”

            “I know what it means. I just don’t understand why, or how it applies in this instance.”

            Carmine came to stand between her and the mirror. He was older than Haylee by a few years, not enough to matter, but his expertise as a choreographer was renowned. He rarely took on individual students, especially ones with zero dance experience. She was lucky to be working with him, and she knew it. “Look, Haylee. We’ve been at this for two weeks. You still move like a Barbie doll.”

            Haylee bristled at the insult. “I’m not a dancer.”

            “I get that, but Madeline is, and that’s who you have to be on stage. The opening number takes place in the strip club where she’s working to pay the bills. She’s broke and desperate, and she thinks she has nothing left to offer but her body.”

            “But she never takes all her clothes off,” Haylee pointed out.

            “No, she doesn’t, but she’s stripped bare, none-the-less. So that’s where we’re going to begin, by stripping you bare. From now on, you’ll dance nude.” Haylee shook her head. “Think about it. Madeline has nothing left but her body. No money. No career. No pride. She’s willing to do anything for that one last chance to be a star, including give her body to a man she hardly knows if he’ll give her a part. She’s a dancer. She understands her body, how it moves, how it feels, how to make it do what she wants. You have to be Madeline. You have to learn these things about your body in order to portray her. I think this is the only way we’re going to get to that point, by removing everything you’re hiding behind.”

            Haylee stood statue still, cataloguing Carmine’s face. He was right about Madeline. Even though she was never totally nude on stage, she was exposed. Her every insecurity was on display. In that way, she was truly naked.

            “I don’t see how taking my clothes off will make me a better dancer.”

            “It will allow you to learn how to use your body, how to make it move the way Madeline would make hers move. Without clothing to hide behind, you’ll be more aware of your body, like a dancer is all the time. Chase and I will show you how to use your body to seduce the audience into believing you’re a dancer, believing you are Madeline.”

            Haylee looked around the basement room. Two small windows at street level had been painted over to prevent prying eyes. Other than that, there was only the one door. If they locked it so no one could come in, could she do it?
            “Take your shirt off, Haylee,” Carmine coaxed. “You have a bra on, correct?”

            “Yes.” She bit her lower lip. Her bra covered more than her swimsuit top. What harm would there be in taking her shirt off? “Just my shirt?”

            “For now,” Carmine said with a shrug. “Then we shall see.”

            She tugged the oversized T-shirt over her head and tossed it into the corner where her tote bag and water bottle sat. The room was cold; a necessity when they were moving around the room learning dance steps, but just standing there, the cool air raised goose flesh across her exposed skin.

            Carmine moved to stand behind her. He put his hands around her ribcage, something he’d done dozens of times in the last two weeks, but there had always been fabric between them. This was different. Heat seared her where he touched. “Lovely, but I think the shorts need to go too.” Haylee hesitated. “Take them off, Madeline.”

            Calling her by her characters’ name did something to her. Suddenly, she wasn’t Haylee anymore. She was Madeline, a stripper. “Madeline uses her body. She knows she looks good. She knows men want her.” Carmine’s breath brushed against her ear as he spoke. His hands skimmed her exposed flesh, warming her, heating her blood. “Take them off, Madeline.”

            Haylee slid her thumbs beneath the stretchy waistband and pushed. Carmine’s hand was there to take the garment as she stepped out of them, leaving her in her bra and panties. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She’d worn less on camera. The bikinis she wore for the pool scenes on her Hollywood Sit-com were smaller than what she had on now, but somehow she felt more exposed than she had then.

            Behind her, Chase Nolton stood, looking her over with appreciative eyes. Carmine’s voice snapped her back to the task at hand. “Much better.” His hands covered her hips. Big, heated hands molded her curves. “Move, Madeline.” He guided her movements with gentle pressure from his hands. “More. Close your eyes and see Madeline on stage. She wants to impress the man who can give her another chance at a career in the theatre. If he wants her body, he’ll give her that chance.”

            Haylee stumbled as Carmine pulled her hard against him.

“Here. Feel it, Madeline. Feel my body move, move with it.” Haylee concentrated on the movements of Carmine’s body, mimicked the roll and sway of his hips. “There. That’s it,” he crooned over her shoulder. “You see him, sitting there, watching you, wanting you? You need him. Not his body – his influence. He can do things for you, and all it will cost you is your body. Nothing more. You can give him that, let him lie with you, let him fuck you, without giving him anything else.”

Haylee moved her hips in concert with Carmine’s. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was dancing, even though her feet hadn’t moved and inch. Maybe she could do this after all.

“Give him what he wants, Madeline. Make promises with your body. Promise him he can taste your breasts.”

Her eyes flew open as fingers flicked the front clasp of her bra, setting her breasts free. Chase Nolton stood before her, bare-chested, wearing a knowing grin. She lost Carmine’s rhythm as she stared into Chase’s eyes. Desire, barely banked, lurked behind those indigo irises.

Her heart skipped a beat. Is this what Madeline felt when men watched her dance? Powerful? Desired? Is this how she stripped for a living?

“Madeline,” Carmine whispered near her ear. His hands tightened on her hips, forcing her back into the rhythm of the dance. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You want this man, this influential man to want you. You’ll do anything – let him do anything if he’ll put you back on stage. If he’ll give you a chance to dance. So close your eyes and dance, Madeline.”

It's available exclusively on Amazon. 

Read a longer excerpt Here.

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