Untapped: A Collection of Erotic Firsts
Julia Press Simmons: All Tied Up
" I saw NIP’s call for submission to an erotic anthology in Karen E Quinones Millers facebook group. I signed up for two reasons one; I’ve never written pure erotica and I liked the original concept. I wanted to push myself, and believe me it was a push! As soon as I saw the word bondage in the topics that NIP suggested, bondage stood out and the story started forming in my head. I’ve had one helluva ride writing it. The support and feedback NIP offers its authors is amazing. I am excited about this project and overjoyed to be a part of something so special.”
Darnell Jackson made a living out of making lonely women moan. He was 6’2 inches and 230 lbs of pure chocolate sexual energy, and in his world sex was king—it paid the bills and past the time. For a nominal fee Mr. Jackson would make all of your fantasies a reality. He prided himself on never getting emotionally involved with any of his clients no matter how good they were in the sack. Sex was business and business was booming, until he met Audrey Williams, a 45 year-old school teacher from South Carolina.
Audrey Williams had never been with a gigolo before, in fact, she’d never done anything out of the ordinary in her life. Audrey went to work and went home, day in and day out. She yearned for excitement but had no idea how to get it until she overheard two women talking about paying for sex on her way to work. Every freaky thing that Audrey ever dreamed of doing flashed through her head and her panties were soaked by the time she reached her train stop.
Audrey’s honest southern sweetness hid a hardcore kinky side that drove Darnell wild, and the simple statement, “I’d liked to be tied up,” led to an episode that neither one would forget.
Audrey wasn’t a nosey person; she prided herself on keeping her nose in her own business. However, when she overheard the woman sitting behind her on the train say, “Chile his dick was as hard and as thick as one of the legs on my coffee table,” her ears perked up on their own, her back stiffened as she sat up in the seat, and her head tilted a tad bit towards the lady with the potty mouth. Audrey had not had anything close to sex in 4 years and her body responded to the words, hard, thick, and dick like there was one right in front of her. She bit her bottom lip and waited for the woman to continue.
She was perfectly poised and ready to finish eavesdropping when the man sitting next to her started laughing into his cell phone. His voice was loud and his breath smelled like a sushi, onion, and ass cocktail. Audrey fantasized briefly about snatching the damn thing from him and tossing it out the door at the next stop. Thankfully, she didn’t have to take any drastic measures because the train went underground and ‘ass-breath’ powered his phone off and put it in his pocket. Audrey gave her full attention back to the conversation behind her.
“Girl, the sex was so good I gave him a bonus.”
“You didn’t. I can’t believe you would pay for sex.”
“Baby believe it, I paid a pretty penny and would pay twice as much in a heartbeat, because I hadn’t had good dick in a month of Sundays and I’m tired of fucking all of these limp dick bastards.”
“Okay, spill it. I want to know every nasty detail.”
I do too, Audrey thought, fighting the urge to turn in her seat and actively join in on the conversation.
“Well, first he gave me a rub down with warm oil, and he rubbed every part of me.”
“Chile, I was trembling and moaning before he even had a chance to take his clothes off.”
“Are you serious?”
“Girl, his fingers were hard and soft and everywhere at the same time. He stuck his finger inside of me and stroked my g-spot until I was hollering out in Swahili. I hadn’t been touched like that in years.”
I’ve never been touched like that, Audrey thought. Ever. She felt a moment of guilt for listening in on their conversation. Looking around at the other passengers, she realized that everyone was still in their own little worlds. They weren’t paying Audrey or the women behind her any attention at all. Thank goodness, Audrey thought. She sighed in relief. Her high yellow complexion always betrayed what she was feeling, and the talk was getting her hot. Her face was especially heating up, and she knew she was turning five different shades of red. She imagined how it would feel to have a complete stranger rub all over her naked body. Audrey smoothed her hair up into its bun, and adjusted her glasses just as the train stopped and a slew of new passengers boarded.
The ladies lowered their voices, and Audrey had to strain to hear them. Unfastening the top three pearl buttons of her cardigan, she leaned her head against the headrest and pretended to doze off so she could hear a little better.
“Girl, just when I thought I couldn’t take no more, he lifted me up and carried me to my bedroom. He put my ass on a pillow and powered that meat-log inside of me so fast and hard I thought people three blocks away could hear my screams. I had to have had about four orgasms. Girl, my legs felt like wet noodles. I gave him $100 tip.”
“Now I know you were buggin’. I can’t believe you gave him 100 bucks over his fee.”
“Bitch please! It was worth it and I would give it to him again in a heartbeat.”
Audrey agreed with the woman. Whatever the price, a tip seemed to be in order for that kind of pleasure. Audrey pressed her thighs together, hoping she could suppress the aching need that emerged between her thighs. Her nipples strained against her bra, and her pussy pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She opened her eyes and exhaled slowly. Her mind was abuzz with sexual fantasies she did not know she possessed. Her panties were soaked by the time she’d reached her stop. She stood up and looked over her shoulder at the women who were talking and then quickly looked away. She walked off of the train into the cool morning air and was grateful for the slight chill. Heaven knew she needed it.
Julia Press Simmons-- “I was born in the heart of North Philadelphia in the late seventies, and I've spun tales for as long as I can remember—big ol' fat tales from my imagination. I was twelve years old when I began to write them down. Four years later, a couple of months after the birth of my son, I recognized my gift for what is was. Deep in the bowels of postpartum depression I penned my first poem entitled “Suicide.” I poured all of my hurt into verse, and when I was done the pain was gone. Since then I’ve received awards for my poetry, and I’ve had plays staged in Tennessee and New York, but nothing can compare to the overwhelming joy of “Strawberry Mansion,” my very first novel. Words cannot express how grateful I am to everyone who has read it thus far, and for those who will read it in the future.
My sophomore novel, Begonia Brown: Raised in the unforgiving streets of North Philadelphia, Begonia Brown is undoubtedly a product of her environment, young, ruthless, and criminally minded. In Violet: Strawberry Mansion 3, the third and final installment of the series, Violet Brown is about to get a crash course in the penalties of the drug trade. Busted attempting to cross state lines with five kilos of Columbia’s finest, she finds herself facing a twenty-four year prison sentence, pregnant and alone. Find out what happens to Violet when the bars close on one of the most vicious correctional facilities in the state, and Begonia and her girls rip the city up to set things right. I hope you enjoy my books as much as I enjoyed writing them!”
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