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It was her innocence that brought him to his knees. It might have seemed that he was a powerful man, in control, but her softness, naivety, and openness were far more powerful than his seemingly worldly savoir faire. Was it a cruel twist of fate or poetic justice that it turned out that it was him, Albert, who was afraid of taking the plunge. He – the man of so much confidence and bravado – was the one who was afraid of leaping into the unknown.

Her wonderful, sumptuous chestnut hair framed her lovely face, but still he trembled inside, knowing it was truly she, this green-eyed beauty he hardly knew, who was leading him into uncharted waters.

It was so unexpected, it had taken him by surprise.

But he had to admit he was the one who was awestruck, trembling on the brink. But how could it be? How could a man like Albert Giovanni end up here?

The first time he fucked her, that very night, that very first night, it had just been business as usual. The usual good fuck as he was wont to do. A fast, professional fuck where they both came hard and fast, giving satisfaction to both. And when it was done, he thought it was done. Over. Another fast fuck with another beautiful woman, as had been his way.

He rolled over in the big, low bed and sighed. Closed in upon himself. Self-satisfied. But then the strangest thing happened; it just did.

And he found himself, to his own great and everlasting surprise, turning slowly towards her again on that low bed of his. He was quite sure, quite positive in fact, that he was not doing the turning. It was as if the turning towards her was happening by itself. It was definitely not something he decided to do. Definitely not something he planned or even wanted… but it was happening anyway. And as it unfolded, he watched as he began to make love to Rachel again, slowly and gently this time.

‘Whatever am I doing?’ he thought, as he caressed her and heard her sigh. But things felt different when he touched her this time, he noticed; they just did. So he continued.

‘This is another kind of love-making,’ he thought. A kind of love-making he hadn’t tasted before. Because it felt different. It just did. It felt… somehow real. Yes, real. Like heartfelt or like… well he wasn’t quite sure how it felt because it was something he’d never actually felt before. So how could he know something he’d never known before. Never tasted before… But it was happening anyway. Despite himself. Regardless of himself. Regardless. It seemed to have its own life.

‘What’s going on?’ he thought as he felt the sea air change around him. ‘What is this…’ But it was beyond his control.

It was as if a great tide from a great ocean was coming thundering in and washing over him. Bringing with it, this mysterious sea change which was sweeping through his heart.

There was no denying it.

There was a wind coming up, a great powerful wind from somewhere, from somewhere unknown and far away, from some great depth that he had within him that he’d never experienced before.

So he stopped, even though he was deep inside her, and swept back her sumptuous chestnut hair and looked into those mysterious green eyes of hers. And when he looked, he was surprised to find she was actually there. Looking back at him, meeting him there where he was, not flinching, not wavering. Just there, fully present with him, a soft smile on her lips.

‘She’s actually here with me,’ he heard the words echoing inside his head. ‘She’s actually here… present… present… ‘

That was when he knew something profound was happening between them and he felt her open and allow him to reach her depths. He was quite unprepared for how it felt. Quite stunned. It was as if the wind was rushing in his ears, making his heart tremble. And he knew he’d been allowed to enter some sacred space, as an inexplicable unleashing of universal forces that were beyond his control took place.

About Rachel and Albert from the “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” books.

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Good pussy bad pussy. I knew that something had awakened in me, something I’d never experienced before. A force, a power, a drive, an energy. Call it good pussy, call it bad pussy, call it whatever you will, but a life force had been awakened in me and I couldn’t put it (her) back to sleep again. Right or wrong. Good or bad. She was awake! She was alive! She wanted to live. And she wanted more.

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She, my pussy, was alive in me. I felt her moving in me, reaching out, right or wrong, good or bad. She wanted to taste and touch, to be tasted and touched. She wanted to feel the life force, the energy, moving in and through her. She wanted like liquid desire itself. She wanted because she was, life itself. She wanted because she was, the energy of life itself. And now that she – the genie – was out of the bottle, there was no putting her back again. She was untameable, wild; she wanted to be free, had to be free. Because she loved life, because yes, she was life itself. She was the life force in all of us… she was the creative power of the universe – and yes she was sex. Sex! Sex! Sexual! She was pure and beautiful and couldn’t be kept down or locked up. And now she was awake in me, awake! A ravishing beauty, a hungry cunt, a wantingness for the essence of life. And what was that essence? It was the ecstasy of knowing my own soul, my own being, which was somehow alive and felt like frolicking in that stream of liquid desire that carries one on and on unto a state of orgasmic bliss, which was somehow like coming home and finding a peace that was beyond all comprehension… home, home, home. That’s what I wanted, that’s what she wanted, that’s where she was taking me, taking me, taking me… and there was nothing, nothing I could do about it. No stopping her. No turning back now.

She was me and I was her.

And we were flying.

_____

 

From the “Good Pussy Bad Pussy” books…

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Here’s some of what Sylvia Storm has to say about “Good Pussy Bad Pussy in Captivity”:

“It is wonderful to see the genre take on deeper meanings and subjects

This is well-written, wonderfully told, and a gripping account of a woman wrestling with sexuality and what that means to her. When I say sexuality I mean its power over others, and its power over her. The difficult situations are used to explore this power and her feelings about using it, both what it does to others and what it does to herself. You do get the feeling of the meaninglessness of sex forced or used to comfort, and this is a good thing that helps drive the book’s message of love home.

The cover is simple, pretty, and it reflects the dark themes of the book.

I told you this was a difficult book. Some books are fantasies and escapes, and they let you fly free from life or a moment or two. Other books inspire reflection and thought, and this book clearly falls into the latter – at least for me. There is a great examination of “good pussy and bad pussy” in the books in this series, and I feel that this theme of sex as a force for good, or as a force for bad, is worth bringing into your consciousness and thinking about. It is also worth discussing and reading, as I do not normally read books like this, but they do inspire me to think.

I liked it though, even the parts I didn’t like, I understood – and I did feel they belonged. The abuse, the mistakes, everything – these reflect us as sexual beings and the same things which happen in our lives. Sex is not always magically porn-movie perfect, and I support works like this that explore imperfect lives. Through these, we find ourselves. This is one you have to stick with until the end, as tough as it gets that redemption is there. Very nice work.

A strong recommend this one for readers interested in difficult themes, the meaning of sex in erotic romance, and readers interested in details of emotional survival. Overall, a book important not so much for the heat and erotic content as the message, reflections on sexuality, and hopeful spirit it communicates.”

For the full review, see: http://ereaderotica.com/?p=5326

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In the run-up to the release of my new book “Good Pussy Bad Pussy in Captivity” on June 26th, you might want to read (or re-read) the first book “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” just to warm up and get your juices flowing!

Lots of people are loving “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale”, which editor and publisher Guy Hogan of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette says is “a perfect example of sex as art and entertainment”. And then he adds the book is “a must read for all who appreciate the mysteries of sexuality and the human condition”.

You can also sign up for the Goodreads giveaway of “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” which is running now until June 18. Just click here to sign up: http://bit.ly/1FFLQFK

In my new book, “Good Pussy Bad Pussy in Captivity”, the beautiful and naïve Rachel is once again challenged because just when she thinks she can settle down with the man of her dreams, life takes a sudden, dramatic turn. Then in the flash of the eye, Rachel finds herself getting sucked into a web of dangerous deceit and sexual intrigue.

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From the House of Sin on Cap Ferrat to an isolated Buddhist monastery in the mountains of upstate New York, Rachel is once again on the battle field of our times, both sexually and emotionally. Then, in a blinding flash of insight that lays bare the haunted alleyways of her soul, Rachel realizes that things are not what they seem to be. Will she find her way out of captivity or will she remain in the shackles of the old world order?

In the course of the book, Rachel faces many dilemmas and difficult questions and must ask herself, what is she really experiencing? Is it love or abuse? Is it liberation or bondage? Is she really free or not? And who is making these choices for her? How much of all that happens to her is based on social programming and negative social norms about sex?

You can pre-order the book on Amazon here: http://amzn.to/19aUrr6

Or order the printed book on Amazon UK here: http://amzn.to/1IGMKoY

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We never really know where our life is going to lead us, do we? Sometimes we are in complete control, sometimes another guiding, driving force compels us into…

via What Do You Do With A Good Pussy Bad Pussy?.

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By some wild, crazy, roundabout path, Albert guided Rachel to a place where nothing except total surrender was possible.

She was no longer Rachel Somers with an identity worth protecting or preserving. He had robbed her as thoroughly as any man could of whatever it was she was.

He had stripped her bare. Left her with nothing she could identify with, and in that strange, naked state of being no woman she knew, she found herself connected to a sexuality so powerful that it jolted her beyond everyday reality to some awesome cosmic plane she did not recognize.

“This is not me,” she thought. “This is not anyone.”

That was when he plunged headlong, headstrong, into her, finding in her an intensity she did not know she possessed.

She spread her legs wide, baring her soul, allowing him entry everywhere – allowing him anything, everything. And when he raised himself up above her, supporting himself with his powerful arms, staring down at her with an intensity only he possessed – she understood him perfectly.

“Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, woman… ” she heard the little demon inside her hissing softly in her ear.

For one short moment, the real Rachel Somers, the Rachel Somers inside the writhing, aching, longing body of this particular Rachel Somers, laughed. And though no one else in the entire universe heard, she did. And so she laughed heartily and joyfully at herself, and at Albert, and at her life, and at her search for wisdom, too.

“It’s almost too funny,” she thought.

And there she stood, perfectly poised. Perched, before that formidable plunge into the cosmic void when all that Light hit her.

“He is the most strange and powerful man I’ve ever known,” her brain screamed.

“I am the most strange and powerful woman I’ve ever known,” the echo came back from deep inside her.

And right before she let go and jumped, heart first and ecstatic, into the nothingness before her, she knew, once and for all, now and forever – that nothing in her life would ever be the same again. Nothing would ever be completely clear cut and understandable again. No never. Never ever. That part of her journey was done.

Then she closed her eyes and let the passion – his passion and hers – and the passion of living and loving and of being alive all wrapped in one – finally carry her over the edge.

And as she flew fast, hurtling through space towards her Infinite Self, she screamed, delirious as a sacrificial lamb suddenly released from the agony of the limitations of this earthly existence…

“And this is exactly the way it’s supposed to be… ” she thought as she disappeared.

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The addiction is so powerful that she goes to him even though she knows it will be her undoing. That is how strong the allure is. How powerful. In fact, there is nothing in the whole Universe that is more powerful, more binding than this. Nothing. No here, not now, not ever. It is so tenacious. It has such tentacles, such fine fingers that have already enchanted and bound her up in knots too tight to ever be undone. And so, it is finished, and she goes willingly into his arms. Though he is a liar and a thief and will be her undoing. There is nothing else she can do, so it is written.

He removes the ribbon from her lovely chestnut hair and it tumbles down to her breasts. She murmurs no sound, makes no move, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. His hands are touching her breasts, finding her nipples. He is not kind. There is no kindness in his touch, nor in him. But still, or maybe in spite of this, he always awakens the same mesmerizing passion in her, taking her by surprise and astonishing her into blissful submission.

“Little Princess,” he whispers in her ear, pinching her nipples and kissing her. “Have you been a good girl today?” His fingers are now squeezing her nipples tightly and she moans, sucking in the air softly as she tumbles into the blessed oblivion, if only for a little while.

When he enters her, she knows it will be perfect, as it always is, a perfect match for a perfect moment before the pain of what she has once again done, torments her even more. Until, when he is sound asleep, she slips out the door in terror.

She didn’t remember him ever showing her any kindness. Nor did she expect him too. It was not how she was raised. No. She was raised to believe the mistaken idea that love was abuse and that abuse was love. How else could she explain to herself why she trembled with desire in the face of such insanity? There was no other explanation possible. She was like an alcoholic, addicted to the pleasure that could only be gotten through pain and which could only cause pain.

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