Today my guest is the multi-talented and rarest of creatures on this blog, a genuine a male author who writes beautiful heterosexual erotic-romance--David Russell!
David is also an accomplished musician and I'm really excited to have him as our guest.
Yahoo has been a hell demon lately and would not allow me to retrieve some of David's blog materials for his newest book "An Ecstatic Rendezvous" from Extasy Publishing.
Luckily David has resent a lovely excerpt of "An Ecstatic Rendezvous" please watch Amazon and Exasty Books for Buy-links. Did I mention David is also a poet?
here's the excerpt: An Ecstatic Rendezvous...
Her aura, spiced by her exquisite scent, so full and strong, was really driving me wild, my breath heating, my juices simmering. The whole scenario was quite overwhelming. The moment for the grand ceremony had come. I took her by the hand and lifted her to stand facing me. “We’ll have a romantic undress,” I said.
“The prelude for our symphony,” she said.
“As an impassioned Mozartian—and I assume you are, too—I just love well-orchestrated sonatas of love! I’ve been yearning for someone with your finesse, dreaming about it for ages!”
I had chosen non-laced shoes to avoid any possibility of fumbling, my jacket and socks were no trouble, and I placed all the garments aside of the main action area to be. Then, Sandra skilfully thumbed my buttons and peeled off my shirt and vest, feeling the muscles of my torso and my arms as she did so. I stood before her, proud in my tight black bikini briefs.
Her face lit up. “Oh, darling, you’ve got such a wonderful physique, I’m so proud of my catch!”
“I’ll do the same for you, so for the next stage of revelation, let me take your blouse off first.”
It was off-the-shoulder, flimsily, casually and alluringly worn. The motion of my quivering thumbs echoed the firmness. The three pearl buttons undid with ease to make a gracious parting. Then, my hands went under its top, and eased it off to reveal her glorious firm sun-tanned shoulders and her willowy back.
“Okay, part two. Now, I’ll undo your skirt.” I peeled the zip along very slowly with my left, feeling her hips as I did and edged it down, with my hands smoothing her bottom and then squeezing her firm thighs. Sandra gave a knowing smile and a giggle.
“Is that nice?” This was the next delicious stage of revelation, to see the full shape of her legs. I love elastic-topped stockings—so much more alluring without suspenders. I touched their tops and felt her firm flesh beneath them. Her thighs and calves had an absolute sensual iridescence.
“Now, off with them, darling. I want to see your lovely legs as they really are.” The stockings looked so delicate, I didn’t want to risk laddering them. Sandra had to do that with her faultless firm but delicate hands. Supremely at ease with her aura, she lowered them with tender, loving care. Now, with matching caresses, we felt each other’s thighs and calves.
“It’s great that we’ve kept up our fitness routines in anticipation of the big day,” she said. “You don’t drink beer either, do you? I really appreciate that.”
Her silky white briefs gleamed with promise—their own special luminosity—it felt a ballerina’s pirouetting, but frozen motionless.
As the tactile sensations built up, my breath was heavy with suspense, laden with the weight of long-repressed desire, at last so blissfully released.
“Now, darling, remember all your favourite scenes on film and video. You’re going to re-enact all your star idols’ peak moments when you desperately ached to be there in the middle of the action. Now, we’re going to be our own celebrities and super-directors, bringing all those lovely visions beaming into real life. This scene is going to make the perfect fusion of the boudoir and the beach. We’re going to enter the deep embrace of the ocean of love. Our fantasy beach, our fantasy sea, is beckoning us. Let’s put on our bathing costumes now. I’m a turn-on in briefs, and you are in that gorgeous underwear, so let’s go on to the next pieces of costumery.”
It's the trick or treat season and I have a treat for you. I have another one of David's books "Self's Blossom" to share today. An added treat is I'll send an ecopy of Self's Blossom to a lucky commenter who leaves me an email address.
Self's Blossom by David Russell
This is about a young woman's self-discovery. Selene is a 'success story', having become a top journalist, while retaining her dazzling looks. However, in the past she has had unhappy relationships, and feels she has missed out on hedonistic fun. This she obtains, firstly with a young stranger on a beach, and finally with enigmatic Hudson: tryst is preceded by cultural tourism, and careful sizing up of minds. Afterwards Selene returns to her 'I stand on my own' attitude.
While she is on holiday, her mind is free to ramble, often into Selene's chequered past. Flashback blurs into the present, past-rooted interior monologue into direct observation. The dialogue is sparse. Selene is a cautious, premeditative type, in whom thought, reflection and analysis outweigh direct action.
Selene’s subtle, monitoring mind coolly observes and controls all the events. Maybe she is super-confident, or perhaps has a deep, underlying insecurity. She is many things to many readers.
Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.
At first she lay in the tide's path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss –then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.
"Self's Blossom" available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Selfs-Blossom-ebook/dp/B003XREYGI/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1382075156&sr=1-1&keywords=David+Russell+Self%27s+Blossom
B. 1940; live in London UK. Have been writing for many decades. My first publication was a poetry collection called Exacting Modality of the World Web. I produced a work of speculative fiction, High Wired On in 1985. I started trying to write literary erotica in the mid-80s. I have some short stories in this genre in addition to Self’s Blossom. I am also a singer-guitarist-songwriter. My main albums are Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate. I have many tracks on YouTube.
Best David! Thank you for being our guest today. I apologize about the mix up.