Pearl_oyster (1) 2Image: Manfred Heyde 

I apologise. Profusely, profoundly, whole-heartedly. For I am about to inflict upon you one of the worst things imaginable: appalling erotica. Intentionally appalling erotica.

Yes, you read that correctly. And it’s all thanks (?!) to my Resist the Erotic Euphemism (A.K.A. Don’t Let Me Plunge Your Coffee Bean) post and some tantalising response tweets from Curvaceous Dee and Lunabelle.

Our collective mission: to write the most cringe-worthy erotica imaginable using horrible sexual euphemisms. You thought my stick figures were bad? Phtt! Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Take #1 …

He parted her milky drumsticks, dipping his head to inhale the musky Febreze drifting from her down there area.

“Quite the lady of the night, aren’t you?” he whispered, his lips a mere breath from her jam tart. “Tell me, do you always let random billionaires you meet on the 5:10 from Waterloo navigate your love canal?”

“I don’t-”

He laughed, cutting off her would-be protest and touched a mini truncheon to the shell of her fiery fuschia pearl. “Yeah, right.” 

Dipping his head, he touched his oral sword to her flamingo orchid and ran it between the pouting petals, savouring the sticky milk of magnesia pooling between them. Dysoned her swollen love button into his hungry mouth. “By the time I’ve finished giving your front bottom a good night-sticking …”

She pressed herself against his lips in a way that would get her banned from Blogger.

“…you’re going to be nothing more than my pretty little pork sword scabbard …”

She groaned in protest.

“… my tarnished little love custard connoisseur.”

“I don’t … I don’t think-”

“You don’t need to think.” He inserted a substantial hand sausage into her va-jay-jay, felt it contract greedily. “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is dancing the Macarena on my beef bayonet.” She shivered. “Taking my rod of velvet-coated steel wherever I tell you to.” 

Slowly, deliberately, he eased his hand pencil from her body, trailing the marscapone-covered tip downwards until it came to rest against her not-exactly-easy-to-get-into cinnabar cavern. “Open wide,” he muttered, plunging her coffee bean, watching with fascination as the protesting rubber band slowly gave way and her chocolate starfish flared outwards to accommodate the thickness of his knuckle-boner.

A guttural groan rolled from her throat, caressing his ears.

“Feel like a tea party at the Savoy?”

“Seven lords and a crumpet it smarts, you cad!”

“Does it just?” He dropped his head, working her Volvo with his cherry smackers even as he began to slide his finger gently – ever so gently – in and out of her reluctant back door.

“Oh, schnitzel!”

She flexed her baby canon, her body stiffening as the water wings of her tradesman’s entrance deflated around him.

“That’s the spirit,” he growled.

“Please! It’s too much!”

He didn’t cease and desist. Paused only to whisper against her salmon hydrangea how outstandingly good she tasted – to admire her lightly precipitating body as he finally released her to slather a viscous, water-based pharmaceutical product on his violet-hued spongy stem.

“Good girls,” he crooned, pressing her pins back, savouring her groan of ticked-off acceptance as he notched his fireman’s helmet against her cafatiere, “take what they’re given.”

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Photo courtesy of Rebels Notes

Welcome to Elust #67 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #68? Start with the rules, come back March 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

For our UK readers, we would like to make a special request that you take a moment and fill out this petition to repeal the new censorship laws.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Yes, Squirting is Real (And it’s not pee.)

These men make me SO angry

Still Kinky After All These Years


~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

When It Rains
You want me to read what?


~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
Due to technical difficulties there is no Readers Choice selection this month

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Ah, the erotic euphemism. Or, more candidly, using pretty language to make fucking sound less like … fucking. Now, I am all for figurative prose but, when it comes to writing about body parts, I’m firmly in the tell-it-like-it-is camp.


These are all amazing words and if you’re an erotica or erotic romance author, I heartily believe that you should be best friends with them and inviting them around for supper on a regular basis. Not only are they loaded with meaning and intent but they have the ability to conjure up the sort of imagery in your readers’ heads that’s at least got some chance of turning them on and making them want to slip their hands down their pants. If you tell me the hero of your story is fucking his heroine’s arse (or ass) I know exactly what he is doing and the accompanying mental picture is pretty quick to appear in my head. If, however, you tell me you tell me he’s exploring the heroine’s obsidian cavern, I have to stop and double-check that I am not reading Caving Basics or Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.

Last week, I tweeted about a euphemism (see above screenshot) I came across in a recent BDSM erotica release. Now, I’m not going to name the book in question but, suffice to say, when I encountered it on the page, it was like taking a brick to the forehead. It was the first time I’d ever heard an anus described in such a way and, let me tell you, the mental picture it conjured (read on for that) was about as far from sexy as you could get. And then I happened to listen to Molly’s latest KissCast with Jade A. Waters and discover that the two of them had also been chatting about erotic metaphors that they, personally, have found to have set their respective sets of teeth on edge. Ah, I thought. The stick figures are a-calling.

So, behold. Jane’s quick ‘n’ dirty guide to euphemisms that I respectfully suggest you NEVER EVER use in your saucy stories. Unless you’re John Cleeland. Then you get a free pass.



There’s serving arse for breakfast and there’s serving arse for breakfast.

Coffee Bean


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Image: Art Deco Nude, Stanislaus Walery (1863-1935)


This week’s prompt is: trust.
What does trust mean to you? How important is it in your daily life? How does it influence your relationships, whether with family, colleagues or that special someone in your life? Talk to us about trust…


“Do you trust me to kiss you?”

I nod.

He presses his mouth to mine, catches my lower lip between his sharp, white teeth.

“Do you trust me to worship you?”

I nod.

He catches my nipple between his fingers, twists until I cry out, my voice higher and hoarser than any angel’s.

“Do you trust me to pleasure you?”

I nod.

He teases the soft, wet flesh between my legs, his touch both light and cruel, never quite enough, until I am an aurora, a black hole, a nimbus. Continue reading


A positive review from someone you greatly admire? That’s pretty much the holy grail.

When it comes to my writing, I always appreciate constructive feedback, be it good, bad, or downright ugly. It’s what motivates me to be better, to push myself, to grow my style. But those moments … Those moments when someone you’d give anything to write like says something nice about your work?

Enter the lovely and talented Malin James.

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