Welcome Isabella Johns, steamy hot erotic romance!

     Help me welcome Isabella Johns to our Boudoir. Fluff the pillows and get comfy for some hot inside info from this sexy author herself.

Why I'm Writing the 'My Hot' Series

     Okay, let’s be honest, marriage can sometimes be a mixed bag…and so can dating…and so can being alone.

     You know the heat in a marriage is disappearing when getting him to vacuum just one time is hotter than his perfunctory kisses.
     You know dating has become a grind when you make up new life history details just to keep things interesting.
     And you know being alone with the vibrator is getting old when you have trouble going all the way because your mind wanders to who got eliminated during the last episode of Dancing with the Stars.

     Perhaps like me you find yourself staring at every hot fireman, policeman, tennis pro, personal trainer, lifeguard, handsome stranger…and wondering what if?
     What if somehow he was interested in me and we had a chance to start a mind blowing bonfire, sparks everywhere, body coming alive again?
     I catch myself ogling and wondering far too often, with desire and need that continue to grow as my thoughts take on more intensity, lust, kink, and downright dirtiness. I’m sure that if I don’t get the real thing soon I’m going to burst. My salvation? Putting hands to the keypad (at least it keeps my fingers occupied).
     I wanted to take a classic female fantasy and put that together with a very real female protagonist and make it happen so sweetly it’s as if you are there in bed with them.
     So I hope MY HOT FIREMAN and MY HOT MENAGE give you some enjoyable variations on my theme (and the many stories to come in the MY HOT… series add even more titillating variety). I’ll be most pleased if it inspires in you, as it has for me, a little joyous relief, a splendid break from the carpooling, food shopping, dinner planning, commuting, annoying boss, boring partner, and demanding children.
     I’ll be most thrilled if these trysts, this steamy encounters, these vulnerable expressions of pure intimacy—that are so vivid in my mind, in my heart, and a few choice other places—seem as deliciously real and true for you.

WE DESERVE IT!

     If you’re single, perhaps these stories will give you some motivation to go out and make it happen just the way you want.
     If you’re dating, perhaps a naked read aloud with your beau can start some sparks (and hopefully he’ll pick up a few hot tricks from Fireman Paul or Art).
     If you’re married (like me), reading my stories is ABSOLUTELY NOT cheating! Our minds are our own, completely.
     Enjoy.

Excerpt of My Hot Menage:

The fact was not lost that this private, secluded, tropical spot soon gifted me with the illusion of our bodies floating on water.

Nor that I was with my slender rock star and the muscular captain, two artists of lovemaking, so tightly entwined in our circle that everyone’s thighs touched.

The captain kissed me first.  His thick short tongue was completely unfamiliar, which titillated me greatly, the newness of it, the exotic flavor.  There was a rustle of bodies, soon all of us were naked, and I was laid gently onto my back, the captain resting over me as he continued to kiss me with his forceful lips.  Instinctively, my hands went behind him, my fingers following the distinct firm lines of his compact curves, reviving the vision of how intently I had watched his back muscles ripple when he fucked.

Was even our intrusion this past Sunday part of Art’s master plan?

The captain’s body seemed especially bulky and massive after the long slenderness of Art.  I brought a hand around and touched a powerful, erect nipple.  His muscular breast, the full hardness of it dwarfing my palm, had far more volume and curve than both my breasts put together.

I didn’t dwell on this, perhaps because the captain—his mouth still at mine—slid his body off to my left side and Art pressed his full length against my right.  The captain nibbled along my neck, which allowed my first deep kiss of the night with Art.  He had never verbally declared his love, but what we shared was so full of tender feeling it was surely as if his mouth and tongue communicated this precise emotion.  I touched his face with gratitude.

When we had approached our spot I had wondered, with both anticipation and anxiety, what he had in mind for this special day.  At this moment, perhaps because of the marijuana, I managed to will myself to stop thinking, to fall short of a full evaluation of whether something like this would work.  It was Art’s voice in my head mouthing, “Easy.”

It was.  The feeling of two mouths, two tongues, four hands exploring my body while I was lost in the haze of an earthy high was truly spiritual.  I closed my eyes and allowed them to touch, lick, and kiss me everywhere.  There was a strong temptation to reciprocate, to touch a nipple, to kiss a neck, caress a cock, but what they did was so passionate and overwhelming that I could only lie back and experience.

The captain was the first one at my pussy, his thick tongue spreading me in a new way.  He didn’t have the patience of Art, but the muscular strength of his approach was quite gratifying.  Art positioned himself over me, facing toward my feet.  He lowered his cock and balls onto my face, smothering me with his stiff shaft, soft sack, and curly pubic hair.  The feel of him rubbing all over my features, marking me with his delicious scent, presenting me the prize of his hardness—while another man ate out my pussy—aroused me into a moist fever, my moans vibrating on Art’s full length.

The captain probed deep inside me with his tongue, his finger playing with my clit, another teasing my ass.  Art rose up enough so that my mouth instinctively opened and his cock was able to slide easily down my throat.

Truly penetrated, in multiple ways, possessed.  Both men intent on pleasing me.

I was relaxed, but not without inhibition.  The focus on me always brought on some tension of expectation.  I was used to not coming around Art.  No more tears.  We could even joke about it.  And for this I was grateful.

But what about the captain and his expectations?

Some unseen signal seemed to pass from Art to the captain and they suddenly reversed positions.  Art’s delicate tongue explored my pussy, while the sweet thickness of the captain’s cock probed my mouth.

Art remained patient, but the captain picked up his pace.  The expectation of feeling him explode semen down my throat certainly enhanced my buzz.  But he wasn’t coming.  He, too, was focused on me and how aroused I must be to have this new cock in my mouth.

“Relax, baby girl,” he whispered, “and full pleasure will be yours.”

The captain seemed determined to fulfill his expectations with his vigorous penetration of my mouth, and I tightened my lips to create some fluid resistance that inspired a groan of approval.  Art tried to remain steady, but increased his tongue tempo to match the rhythm of the captain’s sway.  I wanted to get lost in these feelings, and I almost did, but the tightness in my chest was still there.

Art pulled out first, clearly sensing my anxiety, then touched the captain on his shoulder, who responded by removing his cock from my mouth.

Words shaped at my lips, some sort of mumbling that threatened to fashion itself into a sorrowful explanation or apology, but they didn’t have time to fully form.  To my great astonishment, Art slid up from my body and kissed the captain hard on the mouth.

I could only gasp.

 

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