Welcome to the Blak Rayne Blog, where I post articles, author interviews, book and movie reviews, as well as anything else that sparks my interest!



Thursday, October 23, 2014

New Release - The Jock - Blak Rayne #gay #erotic #romance #contemporary #sex #adult #fiction

The Jock - New Release for YSD!
By Blak Rayne

 ‘Time is evanescent. Memories are forever.’

Stuck in a traffic jam on the highway, in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave, Adrian Greene has more on his fevered mind than praying for rain and getting home. With little else to do, his thoughts stray to a better time in his life—his youth and an adventurous three years spent with his first boyfriend. If there’s one thing he longs for, it’s a chance to relive it all.


I avoided Tim for days afterwardthe cafeteriaanywhere I happened to see him, or hear his voice. Until we met up in science class and I had nowhere left to run. Mr. Gilchrist wouldn’t allow anyone to swap partners, even though I told him it was a life-or-death situation. He just glared, pointing to the back of the classroom. I edged along the wall, avoiding everyone’s prying stares and slumped into the chair next to Tim, dumping my notebook on the table.
“It’s been a while,” he murmured, below the teacher’s announcements.
I refused to answer him and took out my pen.
“Sooner or later you’ve got to speak to me.” Sitting erect, he flipped open the science book. “We’re partners and we’ve got a project to do.”
He placed the book between us, and his hand brushed mine. I flashed a timid grin at him and he smiled. Why did he have to be attractive and the sole object of my carnal desire?
We read the next chapter in the textbook and discussed what we’d do for the project. The time went quickly, and before the class ended, we were putting together the fragmented pieces of our friendship. We talked about our parents and music, and sports, not that I had any real interest, however we did avoid the “lump under my chip bag” topic.
The bell rang.
Tim shot to his feet and slipped me a piece of paper from his notebook. “Read it when you get home.”
“Huh?” I started to unfold it and he snatched it from my grasp.
“Didn’t you hear me? Not here, Adrian, okay?” He glanced about, lowering his voice. “Promise me.”
“Ah…okay.” I stuffed the paper in a rear pocket.
“See you tomorrow!”
And with that, he was gone like a bullet, the first out of the classroom. Guys didn’t write guys notes, not usually anyway, so naturally he’d piqued my curiosity. Floating from the room wearing a grin, I wove through the oncoming maze of students. Outside, my mother had parked along the curb, across the street in the shade of a maple tree. She waved and smiled.
“How was your day?” She started the car.
“Good!” I clicked the seat belt and then lifted my rump to get at the note. Apprehensive, though eager, I unfolded the lined piece of paper.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, just a note from a friend….” I read the first couple sentences and my cheeks flushed. Even though the majority of Timothy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was almost impossible to decipher, ‘fondle your balls’ came across pretty clear. 
She glanced at me. “It must be somethingyour face is red.”
Scrunching the paper, I laughed nervously. My groin ached with sexual arousal. “It sure is hot in here!”
“Is it?”
“Oh yeah, I’m boiling, Mom.” I fanned a hand in front of my face while stuffing the paper back into my pocket.
“Well, turn on the air-conditioning.”
Fiddling with the knobs, I asked, “Is dad home yet?”
“Tomorrow night, honey. Remember?”
“That’s right, ” I said cheerfully. “It’ll be nice to see him.”
“It will be.” She kept her hands at ten and two, never deviating. “You know, you should invite that boy over for dinner tomorrow night.”
She laughed, dithering a little over his name. “Tim, I think. You said he’s new to the school and doesn’t have a lot of friends yet.”
I thought about the letter and whether it would be a wise idea. “I don’t know if he’d want to.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Purchase Link: Smashwords

Purchase Link: Xin Xii.com

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Love Under Two Wranglers - Cara Covington #erotic #romance #contemporary #menage #mmf

Love Under Two Wranglers 
by Cara Covington


Holly discovers the difference between book boyfriends and real-life lovers when Alan Wilson and Duncan Moore aim for her. Alan and Duncan recognize Holly as theirs. Now they just have to convince the virginal librarian that they can live up to any fictional heroes.
As Holly learns to trust those smokin’ hot wranglers, she dares to explore her sensual side—the woman within longing to sample all the delights she loved to read about.
Alan and Duncan already know that Lusty is home, and once they get to know Holly they understand she’s the woman that’s always been destined to be theirs. They long to give her the happy-ever-after she’s dreamed of. Then their past comes back to bite them in the ass.
Years before, they helped uncover a conspiracy, in which racehorses were killed for profit. They didn’t take the threats against them seriously then, but they’re about to discover just how deadly a woman scorned can be.

What on earth had ever made her admit to these two men that she read romance? No way am I going to let them know what my favorite books are. Not happening. She really did like to read ménage—and although she’d never had a boyfriend, never made love, or never even danced the man-woman let alone man-woman-man tango, Holly knew beyond a doubt that telling them about her favorite books would be a serious mistake.
Leading them to the books she loved to read would be akin to offering….candy to a baby or…or….whiskey to a drunk or….herself, naked, vulnerable, a sacrificial virgin to their lustful, manly desires. She blinked, and before she could stop it, her mind pulled up a scene from one of her favorite novels, deftly putting herself and these two hot wranglers in the starring roles.
The fire in both their glances left her in no doubt as to what they would do to her. She would stand naked before them, trembling, uncertain, but unable to look away from the throbbing light of passion burning in their eyes—or the stiff erections pressing against the fronts of their tight, well-worn jeans. They spared a glance between them, and then their gazes raked her. Their smiles, masculine, feral, telegraphed their intent even as they each took one step toward her…
Holly pulled herself back to the present. She felt a tingling, a roller-coaster excitement swirling through her body. A sensation of dampness between her thighs made her heart beat hard and her blush deepen to the point that she felt searing heat on her cheeks.
This was no time to lose herself in one of the hottest passages from one of her favorite books, Virgin Surrender.
Author Bio and Links:
Morgan has been a writer since she was first able to pick up a pen. In the beginning it was a hobby, a way to create a world of her own, and who could resist the allure of that? Then as she grew and matured, life got in the way, as life often does.
She got married and had three children, and worked in the field of accounting, for that was the practical thing to do and the children did need to be fed. And all the time she was being practical, she would squirrel herself away on quiet Sunday afternoons, and write.
Most children are raised knowing the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule. Morgan’s children also learned the Paper Rule: thou shalt not throw out any paper that has thy mother’s words upon it.
Believing in tradition, Morgan ensured that her children’s children learned this rule, too.
Life threw Morgan a curve when, in 2002, she underwent emergency triple by-pass surgery. Second chances are to be cherished, and with the encouragement and support of her husband, Morgan decided to use hers to do what she’d always dreamed of doing: writing full time.
Morgan has always loved writing romance. It is the one genre that can incorporate every other genre within its pulsating heart. Romance showcases all that human kind can aspire to be. And, she admits, she’s a sucker for a happy ending. Morgan also publishes as Cara Covington.
Morgan’s favorite hobbies are reading, cooking, and traveling – though she would rather you didn’t mention that last one to her husband. She has too much fun teasing him about having become a “Traveling Fool” of late.
Morgan lives in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, with a mysterious cat that just showed up one day, a dog that still has no dignity, and her husband of  forty-two years, David.

Buying Links:  Amazon | Siren | Kobo | Barnes & Noble | iTunes as of 9/19/14, the book is only available at Siren but in a few weeks it will be live at the other sites.

Cara Covington’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaraCovington
Cara Covington’s Facebook Fan Page: Facebook.com
Cara Covington’s author page on Amazon: Amazon.com 

Monday, October 20, 2014

The Ravishing of Beauty - Jessica Satin #BDSM #sex #erotic #adult #fiction #ebooks #adult fiction #fairy tales

Welcome to BRB, everyone! My guest today is a talented lady with a flare for penning the erotic. Thank you for stopping by, Jessica! Let's get the party started. What genre do your currently write? And, is there a genre you'd like to write, but haven't tried yet?
I write fairy tale erotica, but have also written mythological erotica. I’m working on some nursery tale erotica and something with Santa too. So many opportunities for being naughty . . .
Many authors use a nom de plume, and they may use one opposite to their own sex. Do you think an author's sex or sexual orientation should dictate what genre they write?
I think an author should embrace whichever genre they want to write, regardless of their sex (or how their sex appears to their audience if they choose a nom de plume opposite to their own sex). It can be hard to break through gender barriers, but the more examples we have of genderfuck the better!
Some authors have issues with character development, writer's block, plot summary etc. What is the biggest challenge you face when writing? How do you overcome the problem?
Although the response has overall been very positive, there’s been some negative feedback on my most popular story, The Ravishing of Beauty. It’s is a dark retelling of Beauty and the Beast with non-stop sex scenes. There’s monster sex, anal, dub con, and a lot of blood play. Not everyone’s taste, as you can imagine.
It can be tough to block out the negative feedback and forge ahead as my kinky, non-mainstream sex-loving self. I know this sounds silly, but I’ve been listening to Eminem’s songs that are about being controversial, badass, and persevering through the sometimes sucky early stages of an artist’s career. “Without Me,” “Not Afriad,” and “Won’t Back Down” are especially motivational.
What has been the single most successful marketing tool you've used to date?
Doing a free giveaway of The Ravishing of Beauty over Labor Day weekend. My total sales in September were eight times what they were in August.
If you had to live as one of your characters, which one would it be, and why?
Snow White in Snow White and the Seven Huntsmen (which won the Bad Girl’s Bible erotica contest and you can read it for free here, http://bgberotica.com/snow-white-seven-huntsmen/). Snow gets seven hot huntsmen all to herself and lots of hot spanking.
While writing, have you ever drawn from personal experience, and why?
I have drawn some elements of the sex scenes I write from personal experience. It’s much easier to write about what having your pussy eaten out well feels like if you have experienced it! I use my imagination too, of course. In fairy tales, all is fantasy.
Just for fun–
What is your favourite colour?
Lolita pink
Which do you prefer: a little left to the imagination or explicit?
Explicit all the way. I want to inhabit the skin of the lovers as I read and feel every tingle brush against my skin as it brushes theirs.
When you first met your partner/spouse/lover what drew you to him or her first?
His nickname is Harry Potter. What is more endearing than someone who earns the nickname of a hot, famous wizard?
If you could spend the day with any famous author, who would it be? And, why?
The Marquis de Sade. I know he’s dead, but if he were alive, I think he would be such a fabulously, shamelessly dirty creep. He’s one of the great Kings of Taboo. 
If you could indulge free of any consequences, what would be your ultimate sexual fantasy?
A gang bang. Me and multiple hot men desperate to service me, fill all my holes, and give me multiple orgasms until they cum all over my body.

Website Link: http://www.amazon.com

The Ravishing of Beauty


Belle's choice to become the Beast's prisoner changes her in ways she never imagined. 

After her Beast transforms back into his human form, they eagerly explore each other’s bodies. He can caress every inch of her and probe his tongue deep between her lips. She can feel the warm bulge of his muscles and run her fingers through his red-gold hair, but it’s not enough. Their sexual affair began long before he was human, and Belle can’t help remembering what it was like to be with her Beast. She learned to love him through all the blood and sacrifice it required. Belle and her Prince must learn to find new ways to express their desires. 

Content Warning: This story was written to unlock your darkest fantasies and innermost desires. It is not for the faint of heart and is not your mother's erotica. All of the sexual descriptions found in this book are very explicit in nature. For readers 18+ only!


The concrete floor of Belle’s cell was cold and rough beneath her feet. Prince Adam had thrown her in here, again. He often did before ravishing her.
She took solace in the hard, gray walls and thick iron bars that held her there. The chaotic thoughts of her overactive mind eased away. Her mind was consumed by an acute awareness of her shivering body covered only by a transparent white chemise.
Although her Prince had transformed back into his human form just a few months ago, they had begun their affair long before. Just the thought of his incredible power sent hot tendrils of adrenaline shooting up her abdomen.
She thought back to their first time. She was in the library, sitting on the floor with her back against one of the many bookshelves and reading e.e. cummings’ erotic poetry. The words flowed hotly through her body and her vagina throbbed every time she read the words hunger, feel, touch, spine, killing, ow, oh no, come, divine, bones, and most especially, monster. She kept reading until her body was so overcome with arousal that she couldn’t focus on the words anymore.
She slipped her hands between her skirt and pulled her underwear down to her knees. She was already so wet her fingers slid between her lips. The smell of books filled her lungs and she arched backwards, displacing books as she delved further into her fantasy of her Beast coming in and taking over her. 
When she came, torrents of pleasure flowed through her. A dark pool of cum and sweat marked the silk lining of her hot pink skirt. She felt perfectly relaxed. She opened her eyes and the library had a soft, hazy glow.
A shadow wavered from the corner of her eye. She looked toward it and saw the form of her Beast in the doorway. His large, bright blue eyes took her in. It was unclear how long he had been there, but she secretly hoped he had been there to witness it all.
She was always astounded by his appearance. He was nearly seven feet tall and appeared to be a mix of fearsome, beautiful creatures. His back was broad and curved like a bear, his paws large and clawed like a lion, his limbs strong and lean like a wolf. A pair of sharp teeth lay against his upper lip and deep brown, silky hair covered his body. Horns curved up over his ears. Despite his outward appearance, she sensed a brilliant humanity deep within him.
She also noticed his turgid cock bulging in his trousers. It was huge. Painfully big. 
The Beast stayed in the doorway, watching his Belle, his Beauty, stare back at him. Her mouth was slightly agape, her cheeks glowed, and she was shameless about her exposed, wet pussy. Her smell filled his massive lungs with scents of a flourishing rose garden draped in sweet cum and sweat. His cock throbbed painfully against his trousers, begging to be unleashed and into her, into her everywhere. Ramming up inside her until she was drained of everything.
They had barely interacted before. He was intimidated by her. He could hardly do more than invite her to dinner and sloppily eat his meal while she watched, sweetly coaxing him into remembering his manners. His monstrous form was his constant torment. He read “The Ugly Duckling” over and over, hoping one day he would be handsome again. He tried not to dwell on her being his only hope for returning to his human body. If he thought of it too much, it would ruin him.
Even worse, she was as devastatingly beautiful as he was horrifyingly ugly. Her eyes were doleful and deep chestnut brown, flecked with gold. Her chestnut hair ran in waves down the long curve of her spine. Her lips were plump and a deep, rosebud pink. He often imagined how they would look stretched around his cock.
She was his only hope for reversing his curse, but how could she ever learn to love him? Her personality was all that gave him confidence. She was kind and quiet most of the time, but he sensed something twisted inside her. Something she wasn’t fully in touch with yet. It was territory to be explored. 
 “Stand up,” he said. 

Purchase Link: http://www.amazon.com
Thanks for sharing the awesome excerpt, Jessica! All the best. Blak Rayne

Friday, October 17, 2014

In Praise of Real Sex (and Lingerie) - Jacqueline George #sex #adult #erotic #fiction #lingerie

In Praise of Real Sex (and Lingerie)
I like sex, and I like fantasy, but I don’t want to fantasise all the time. It’s all very well reading about sensitive but domineering men, with finely chiselled abs and dongs too fat to get your hand around but... At some point you have to put the book down and make love for real. With the real partner you love. Real sex in your real world.
If you want to do it well, the trick is to use the magic God gave you to blur the line between the day-to-day and fantasy land. It’s what I do in life, and it’s what I try to do in my books. Here is a story from Jacqueline and Another Sexy Year – enjoy!

“Aw, go on, honey. Dress up for me. You know how much I love it.”
There he goes again. I thought that would happen as soon as we got home early. I swear he could exist on hot dogs, beer, and me prancing around like a fading tart. He drives me nuts sometimes. As if I don’t have other things to do. I protest without much hope. “I’ve got stuff to do...”
“Nothing that won’t wait. Come on, be a good girl. I’ll make some nibbles for you.”
He is right, of course. There is nothing that can’t wait and if I stayed here instead of changing, it would be me making the nibbles. I just dislike being pushed into a corner.
“They’d better be good,” I say as I give up and make for the bedroom.
My frustration dissolves under a hot shower, and I start to plan. What have I got that I have not worn before? Or have not worn for a long time? There is plenty to choose from. That’s one thing I can’t fault him on. Most girls have more lingerie than they use, but my drawers are packed with provocative nothings. He just can’t pass a sexy shop without dragging me in and making me choose something. I think he gets as more of a buzz from his imagination on the way home than he does from seeing me dressed up. Jeez, I’m not as young as I was and no-one else would want to see a woman in her thirties running around dressed in next to nothing. I towel myself dry and go to my wardrobe.
All my lingerie seems to be black. He likes black. He says it is impossible to be naughty in white, and other colours are usually disappointing. I do have coloured ribbons and bows in red, gold, silver, but black is his colour of choice. I decide on stockings tonight. I am permitted tights to go out (only if they are sheer to the top and are worn without panties) but it is impossible to make love in tights, so they are not allowed at home. Tonight I do not feel like a basque and pull out a simple suspender belt with little red bows and rhinestones. It has a matching half-cup bra that I do not like. It shows most of my nipples which is fine, but my boobs want to overflow. Of course, he thinks it is wonderful and says it makes my boobs look like two honey melons on a tray. I put it on; it will not be uncomfortable for long.
What else? For the moment, I sit to comb out my hair and hook dangly gold earrings into my ears. I hang a cross around my neck because he likes the naughtiness of it, and start on my makeup. I have learnt to be blatant with makeup. I’m sure my mother would be disappointed in me if she ever saw me this way, but she is not sitting on our sofa waiting. He likes drama, and I do not hold back.
Panties? I think so, and fall back on a tiny thong that ties at each hip. He buys these by the dozen because they not only look good, but also because they turn in to a little patch of string and lace with a quick tug at their bows. I finish off with a wrap that would be a short bathrobe if it was not made of sheer lace. I am ready, and slip on a pair of heels. A twirl before the mirror, and I tap out into our front room. He is on the sofa, waiting.
“Where are my nibbles?”
He smiles and nods at the kitchen. He wants to watch and I pretend to be cross as I parade in front of him to the kitchen and come back with the tray. He has prepared crackers with pickles and ham, jalapeños and prawns. They look tasty as well as pretty. He is staring at my honey melons as I bend to put the tray on the coffee table. “And the wine...” he says.
I know he is staring at my butt through the lace as I go to the fridge. He likes it, and he especially likes it when I am in heels. I bring back a bottle of our favourite Mosel Reisling. He has the chance to stare again as I go back for the glasses.
I begin to sit beside him, but he stops me and draws me to stand in front of him, between his knees. With his hands on my hips, he looks up at me and says, “You are even more beautiful tonight.” He knows how to manipulate me. He unties the belt of my wrap and lets it fall open. He draws me closer to plant kisses all over my stomach and I am ready to melt. I bury my fingers in his hair. His hands are stroking my back as his kisses move up to my breasts. He pulls my breasts up from the bra to reach my nipples and I shiver as he teases them into hard points.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, sitting back. He is playing with my breasts, gently twisting and pulling my nipples. “Perhaps it is time to eat,” and his hands slip down to the bows of my thong. It falls to the floor and he leans forward to kiss me there. He slips his tongue between my lips and the shock makes me push him away. I am too sensitive.
“Come and sit down.” He pulls me to the sofa, but he is not going to sit beside me. Instead he settles on the floor, between my feet. As we nibble and sip our wine, he is leaning against my thigh, stroking the other from knee to stocking top. I am not lady-like. I am open for him to stare at and I feel his eyes on my pussy. As I eat, he sets his wineglass down and runs his fingertip up and down my lips, stroking and not probing, gently pulling me open and exploring my clit.
He forces me to the edge of the sofa and he bends to kiss and suck at me. I lie back and let the orgasm come.
He is smiling at me. “Was that good? What would you like now?”
Now it is my turn. “Lie on the floor.” I take a cushion to put behind his head, and unfasten his trousers. His cock - my cock - is hard on his stomach, and its blind eye is wet and slippery. I squat over his thighs, resting on my heels and with my pussy brushing his balls. “You like looking at me, don’t you?”
“You’re exciting,” he says, “Especially when you are all dressed up.”
“Hmm. You’d fuck anything in black stockings, wouldn’t you? I could dress a man up in stockings and I bet he wouldn’t be safe.”
To my surprise, he does not say anything. “Perhaps I should put you in stockings. Shave your legs and your balls, and make you wear stockings too. Would you like that?” Again he does not answer.
Have I touched something? I store the thought away for the future as I shuffle forward and squeeze him into me. I am perched over him, steadying myself with my fingers on his chest. “Now, fuck me long and slow, and don’t you dare come until I let you.”

Read more about Jacqueline and Another Sexy Year

Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland, on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden, and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com