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  • feedwordpress 10:47:48 on 2018/04/29 Permalink
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    American Concubine – steamy S&M with a younger man 

    Five Star ReviewsExcerpt from American Concubine – Story 1 from FALLEN ANGELS

    They finished eating.

    ‘Come here,’ he commanded. ‘Come, come.’

    He tapped his knees and she obeyed. She stood, finished her wine and sat back in his arms. He caressed her breasts. They were on fire, stinging as if from a bee sting. She squirmed and wriggled. He slid his finger into her mouth. She sucked it and he opened the lips of her vagina, the warm pad of his fingertip feeling for her clitoris which he nursed until her head dropped back, her eyes pressed shut and she sighed like someone who had reached the end of a journey.

    She stretched her legs over his thighs and the sudden thought that this is where she sat with Paul and the children on summer mornings flashed through her mind like a memory of another time. Without memory, there is no past. Without a past, there is no future. She arched her back and fought for breath as the tip of his finger worked its magic, a part of her that had been concealed in darkness revealed in brilliant light. The feeling became ecstatic, almost unbearable. She could feel her own juices run down her thighs. He steadied her as she rocked on the bridge of his knees. The contractions drew closer like waves rolling up the beach and, at that moment, that exact moment, he slowed, he ceased, and he left her floating across the abyss.

    ‘Don’t stop. Don’t stop…’

    He turned her in his arms and kissed her. She was trembling. Shaking. Her pulse raced. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and thought she was having a heart attack. For ten of the fifteen years she had been married she had been asleep and now she was awake.

    ‘Fuck me,’ she said and he smiled.

    ‘All in good time.’

    They stood. She was unsteady, as if the floor were the deck of a ship at sea. Just as he had slapped her backside when they left the bedroom, he slapped her again, a little harder this time, and it made her clitoris glow brighter.

    ‘Ouch,’ she cried.

    ‘That wasn’t hard.’

    ‘It hurt.’

    ‘Did it hurt, or did it sting?’


    ‘Let me ask you something, Michelle: have you ever laughed so much it hurt?’

    ‘I can’t remember.’

    ‘Pain and pleasure go together, sometimes, the greater the pain the more the pleasure.’

    He kissed his fingers and touched her bottom. Her whole body felt hot, electric, possessed. They went back to the bedroom. Moonlight lit the walls. She climbed into the mussed sheets and he rolled her on to her stomach. He massaged her shoulders, her back, her thighs. He pushed his tongue into her warm cleft, she was sopping, wet as a young girl, and transferred her fluids to the dark flashing eye of her anus. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, in and out, relaxing the muscles, and she was too…too in the moment to remember that she had never let Paul or anyone do this to her.

    Five Star ReviewsFallen Angels is out now with Xcite Books – six steamy novellas that will make your mouth water. Grab a copy from your local Amazon


    The post American Concubine – steamy S&M with a younger man appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 14:37:56 on 2017/09/26 Permalink
    Tags: american concubine, , ,   

    Ooo Some Five Star Reviews For American Concubine 

    American ConcubineFive Star Reviews

    Five Star Reviews at Amazon.com

    This collection of erotic short stories is every bit as good as this talented writer’s earlier work.
    By RD Von, September 25, 2017

    5***** Chloe Thurlow is, in my opinion, utterly unbeatable at writing erotica. Her words are nuanced and weighed and placed so precisely – and combine into erotic phrases that sweep you along into another world. Snow Fall Softly, one of the stories in this collection, is a brief encounter between two people who have tried to deny the sexual attraction between them until they can resist each other no more. Their snatched moment is beautiful in its tenderness and sensuality. He kisses her eyelid, for heaven’s sake! What is more intimate than that? The encounter is sensual, erotic, and just a little sad – passionate, yet tender.

    Flight 69 is a cliche. But there is nothing wrong with a cliche, when it is written as well as this story. Sex on a plane, between two strangers, is not that unusual. But the way it is written by this author will have you racing for the nearest Check-In desk (and the marzipan sweets of Business Class!). It is hot, powerful, erotic and perhaps every person’s secret fantasy.

    This collection of erotic short stories is every bit as good as this talented writer’s earlier work. There is an element of pathos in some of the stories, as the erotic lives of ordinary people are revealed. I can’t help feeling that many of them are seeking something that is out of their reach. Excellent writing.

    In my book … this book … is a Must read!
    By Michael Swanson, September 12, 2017

    5***** I would like to compare Chloe Thurlow’s stirring new anthology of erotic short stories, American Concubine, to 50 Shades of Grey, but I feel this collection of short stories is much more erotic and engaging. Especially since American Concubine is not a large novel you have to wade through. Each of Chloe’s short stories moves at a quick clip, yet not so fast you don’t come to appreciate each character for his or her unique personality as well as their unique sexuality. And for male readers, the stirring insights Chloe provides into the most intimate sexual machinations of the female mind, simply is a MUST read. My favorite selection is Flight 69. I recommend starting with Flight 69 first, as if this ultra hot tale of erotic discovery at 40,000 feet doesn’t get your heart pounding, you have no heartbeat at all.

    Thank you RD Von & Thank you Michael SwansonFive Star Reviews

    American Concubine is out now

    Grab a copy

    The post Ooo Some Five Star Reviews For American Concubine appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 13:54:21 on 2017/09/19 Permalink
    Tags: , BDSM, being a concubine, , ,   

    Snow Falls Softly – from American Concubine 

    Snow Falls SoftlySnow Falls Softly is the second story from American Concubine – it is the night before Josh Caton’s wedding and the girl in his arms is not his fiancé …       

    Men are governed by lines of intellect – women: by curves of emotion – James Joyce

    He kisses my eyes. My lips. My neck. He slowly draws my top over my head and my breath catches as his long kiss caresses the hollow of my throat. I feel the elastic on my bra stretch. I hear the snap of the catch, the pop of the button at the back of my skirt, the crackle of the zipper. My skirt falls to my feet and I step from the folds.

    My heart drums and my blood races as his fingers reach for the strips of silk at the side of my panties. He eases the material over the curve of my bottom and I sigh as if relieved of a terrible burden. I am naked and only naked are we completely ourselves.

    His lips continue their journey, roaming over the swell of my breasts and down in a line to my belly button, which he licks as I recall licking sherbet from my hand as a little girl. That’s how I feel that instant. Naked after a bath. A little girl wrapped in a big fluffy towel as I am wrapped now in the moment.

    He drops to his knees and nuzzles through the garden of my pubic hair. I stroke the back of his head as his tongue dives between the lips of my vagina into the pool of my liquids and secrets. I am a lake, drenched, sopping, overflowing. I can smell the soft breeze of my own arousal. Warm juices run down my thighs. His hands cup my bottom and I have the odd desire to feel their weight, to feel a flash of pain to focus this agony of pleasure. I feel proud, confused, ashamed. I am floating. My entire body has become one erogenous zone. If longing makes the heart grow fonder, I have longed for this moment until my heart was ready to burst.

    His tongue runs in a line up the length of my body. We kiss again, my taste on his lips, my body folded into his embrace. He wrestles from my arms, stands back and removes his clothes. I watch as he places them over the chair beside the desk with its clutter of papers, a cup from Starbucks, an iPad with its blue points of light. I wonder if guilt has intensified my feelings and observations. Everything in my mind is sharp like a razor. Josh Caton is forbidden fruit. I am forbidden fruit. Was it coincidence or the motions of the moon that has put us together here, now, like it was meant to be?

    He is naked. I admire him like a work of art, a sculpture by Michelangelo. He is six feet, broad with strong legs, large hands and a mesh of bronze hair on his chest. His cock stands straight like an arrow pointing the way, like a lifeline thrown from a boat to a drowning man. Or woman. The sunset is silver in the cold November sky, the light in his office darkening with the dusk. It seems as if we are about to enter a myth, a fairy story, a fantasy, and pause at the gate as adventurers pause before they set out on the final leg of the journey.

    American ConcubineSnow Falls Softly



    “For male readers, the stirring insights Chloe provides into the most intimate sexual machinations of the female mind, simply is a MUST read.” Michael Swanson, Amazon.com

    The post Snow Falls Softly – from American Concubine appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 09:42:57 on 2017/09/13 Permalink
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    American Concubine – Steamy S&M With a Younger Man 

    American Concubine is out – finally, frantically, breathlessly … I have a dampness beneath my armpits and a feeling of guilt that’s terribly English, I know, and completely genuine.

    Guilt because I have not written a blog for months and now here I am asking you, my loyal readers, to dip into their pockets and get a copy of my new book. And even that needs an explanation.

    American Concubine is the retitled anthology of six novellas originally titled Fallen Angels. For some reason, the android censors at ‘distribution’ discovered reasons to shield the reading public from my work – it was just SO sexy their mechanical minds had to be re-oiled twice a day! I had to tinker with certain sections until the robots  settled down and did what robots are supposed to do, stop being human. Weird? Absolutely.

    The anthology consists of six novellas beginning with the luscious tale of an unfulfilled woman who meets a younger man and learns that discipline might just be the answer to cure her own frustrations. With American Concubine are five more tales: Snow Falls Softly, Flight 69, Sophie’s Secret, Hell is Other People and Bringing Angels to Life.

    Excerpt from American Concubine

    She slipped down to the bed so he could remove her shoes, her red pants, her panties with satin bows. She was with a man ten years younger than her and she thought about something Justine had said: why had she waited so long? She was naked, finally, and being naked with this stranger she didn’t know and knew nothing about made her nipples harden.

    He stood there waiting for her to unbuckle his belt, unsnap the button at the top of his jeans, lower the zipper. He was wearing white shorts and when his cock emerged from the folds she hesitated only long enough to admire this thing, this creature that is man, this work of art, this object with a will of its own. His cock was long, wide, the head pale pink and it felt as smooth as porcelain as it slid between her lips and down her throat.

    ‘That’s it, slowly now, up and down, up and down. Don’t think, just go with the flow,’ he said and she remembered the way he had encouraged her with his velvety voice as they crossed the Queensboro Bridge and completed the New York Marathon.

    She paused for breath. She flicked her tongue across the indent at the tip of his cock and softly squeezed the sack of his balls. He sighed. He liked that. She dropped to her knees. She pulled his jeans and boxers down to his feet. He tossed his jacket on a chair, removed his tee-shirt and took hold of the hair at the nape of her neck before setting her back in motion.

    ‘Open your eyes, look up at me,’ he said and she did.

    Michelle could hear the whoosh and slap of flesh against flesh. She held the globes of his backside and slid rhythmically up and down the length of his cock, her mouth expanding and contracting, her senses pricked by the scent of roses. She hadn’t done this for a long time, longer than she could recall, but it’s like…like swimming. You don’t forget. It’s natural, it’s feminine. She had no idea why it felt so right but it felt so right; it felt as if she were born to be down on her knees, eyes wide, a beautiful cock sliding in and out of her throat.

    American Concubine is available

    NOW, TODAY –

    Just click and read –


    The post American Concubine – Steamy S&M With a Younger Man appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 14:15:09 on 2017/04/20 Permalink
    Tags: ,   

    Fallen Angels Fall With Desires For Excess, Lust and Betrayal 

    Fallen Angels fall because deep in the psyche of ever girl is an unconscious desire for excess, lust and betrayal. We are taught to be good and dream of being bad.

    Who are these fallen angels? They are the girl next door, your girlfriend, your little sister. They are me, it goes without saying. And they are you, dear fallen angels, even if you are not aware of it.

    After a lifetime of being told not be show the tops of your breasts or your knickers in short skirts, your hip bones and curves in teeny bikinis, the inevitable fall is like slipping into a steamy bath of decadence and sin.

    Like well-heeled and unhappily married Michelle in American Concubine who finds a lover with S&M desires and learns he works for her husband. Like Jools in Snow Falls Softly who surrenders to her boss on the eve of his wedding. Like sad little virgin Angela Budd in Bringing Angels to Life who discovers her true self as a call girls and believes that “every time she has an orgasm an angel comes to life.”

    Fallen Angels OUT NOW

    FALLEN ANGElsFallen Angels is the title of my seventh book. It is a collection of six novellas, each one a mirror image of the times in which we live in America and Europe now it has it become one world.

    It is published by Xcite Books and FREE if you have Amazon Prime, just $3.75 at Amazon US and £2.99 at Amazon UK. 

    Follow the link to FALLEN ANGELS 

    EXCERPT from American Concubine

    She slipped down to the bed so he could remove her shoes, her red pants, her panties with satin bows. She was with a man ten years younger than her, and she thought about something Justine had said: why had she waited so long? She was naked, finally, and being naked with this stranger she didn’t know and knew nothing about made her nipples harden.

    He stood there waiting for her to unbuckle his belt, unsnap the button at the top of his jeans, lower the zipper. He was wearing white shorts and when his cock emerged from the folds she hesitated only long enough to admire this thing, this creature that is man, this work of art, this object with a will of its own. His cock was long, wide, the head pale pink and it felt as smooth as porcelain as it slid between her lips and down her throat.

    And P.S. – Katie in Love, my last novel, has been nominated for the People’s Book Prize. Loads of people have voted for the novel, more than thirty of you have left kind comments. Thank you. Thank you. Before the poll closes, if you would like to vote, just follow the link VOTE FOR CHLOE  xxxx Chloe.

    The post Fallen Angels Fall With Desires For Excess, Lust and Betrayal appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 12:23:38 on 2017/03/16 Permalink
    Tags: , macrophilia, sex in cars, sex with giants   

    Macrophilia Men Want Sex With BIG Women 

    Macrophilia is when LITTLE guys dream of having sex with BIG girls. Giants, in fact. The bigger the better. It’s not just sex they’re after, macrophilia addicts want to feel sheltered inside the domed highways and silky caverns of a large woman.

    The word macrophilia means ‘lover of large’: macro – big, philia – that thing that drives us and makes us crazy. Personally, I am a cactophile and an hispanophile. No, I don’t want to have sex with cactuses or Spanish culture (that does not exclude Spaniards, by the way) but they turn me on, the culture because it is steeped in blood and passion, the cactuses because they quietly stand there whispering you can look, but you’d better not touch. If you haven’t tasted cactus fruit you haven’t lived. 

    I am quite a tall cactus myself, almost five feet eight. On those occasions when I step into five-inch heels, I have noticed height-challenged men gazing up at me with far away eyes and what I now know are macrophilia longings.

    They don’t want to make love with me. They want to be eaten by me. They want to be digested by me. I’m not joking. The macrophilia man wants to turn back the hands of time, become a seed again, be absorbed by the egg from which he sprung. His craving is to be punished, degraded, dominated, made to look small, minute, a microbe.

    Kinky? Oh, yes. But, then, what isn’t. People want to get intimate with robots; one man was arrested having sex in public with a mattress; car sex is a huge turn on – not in cars, with cars. A Swedish man was caught humping a bicycle; another got his rocks off on uncooked pizza dough – and there’s lots more unlikely acts of debauchery to be found at Cosmopolitan.com.

    Macrophilia Babes

    There are guys who find their way back into the eternal womb by following the strictures of their dominatrix, that mother figure smelling of breast milk and discipline. They clean her floors and bend to have their bums warmed. In rubber suits with skull masks and zipped mouths, they become babies again.

    Macrophilia is a particularly male fantasy. Just as there are foot fetish hookers getting their feet massaged and charging for it, tall girls and plump girls short of a dollar provide macrophilia guys with trampling, lifting and carrying, roleplaying and domination without penetration.

    According to psychologist Helen Friedman, most men with macrophilia tendencies had dominant or abusive mothers and are playing out unresolved emotional issues. Others, I imagine, read Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels as little boys and recall Gulliver in the land of giants falling for the giantess with the seductive name of Glumdaclitch.

    Macrophilia Men Want To Look Small


    My novel Katie in Love has been nominated for the People’s Book Prize. Loads of people have voted and left comments – thank you. If you haven’t and would like to, it would be so appreciated xx Chloe. Just click PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE Again, thank you.  

    The post Macrophilia Men Want Sex With BIG Women appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 17:17:07 on 2017/03/03 Permalink
    Tags: , , People's Book Prize   

    Katie in Love Nominated for the People’s Book Prize 

    Hello friends, subscribers, readers and Mother (who secretly reads my blog!)

    My novel Katie in Love has been nominated for the People’s Book Prize.


    The news came out of the blue and bowled me off my feet. I had to drink three glasses of champagne to regain my balance. 

    Now, I need you to vote for me by clicking on the PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE.

    You have to register your email address, but it only takes half a minute. To say it would mean a lot to me is an understatement!

    The People’s Book Prize was founded by Tatiana Wilson to give new authors an equal opportunity in the marketplace, based purely on talent and ability, ‘the perfect vehicle to discover writers’ talent voted by the public, raise the profile of libraries and celebrate reading.’ The founding patron was Beryl Bainbridge, a role now played by thriller writer Frederick Forsyth.

    Katie in Love now has almost 100 reviews on Amazon.co.uk and more than 100 at Amazon.com – the majority five-stars. It is my sixth novel, the first to be self-published, then republished by Thistle Publishing

    katie in love nominated for the People's Book PrizeThat’s all for now. Please click and vote at the People’s Book Prize – thank you, xxx Chloe

    “Katie Boyd has nothing in common with Tom Bridge, the volunteer doctor she meets at a party – except in bed she finds a passion to match her own. Tom is intense, puzzling, a man who cares about others and compels Katie to question her own life drifting through the hip clubs and London party scene. When Tom returns to his post in a Sri Lanka orphanage, Katie isn’t sure if their passion was lit by its brevity, or if love, unexpected and not entirely wanted, has edged its way into her life. Should she go back to being who she always was? Or follow Tom into the unknown?”

    The post Katie in Love Nominated for the People’s Book Prize appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 15:01:51 on 2017/03/01 Permalink
    Tags: aching feet, , foot fetish, personal relief, tired feet, tongue kissing technique   

    Foot Fetish Hookers Are Making Fortunes on the Nation’s Weary Feet 

    Foot fetish hookers have found a way to make fortunes and I’m jealous. How do you get into the business? Where do you start? What would mother say?

    If there are people out there willing to pay good money to massage my feet, I want to hear from them in the comments box – like, yesterday.

    My interest in the foot fetish phenomenom was sparked by an article in the New York Post. Spas have sprung up in Manhattan where well-heeled guys pay $200 to spend forty minutes rubbing, kissing, licking and adoring girls’ pretty pampered feet. They interviewed one purveyor of foot fetish relief who says she has a ‘clothes on’ policy and her job is ‘technically not prostitution.’ The girls probably just lie back reading the Wall Street Journal wondering what they are going to do with all the money they are raking in with their feet.

    There are two types of foot fetish. Those who hate having their feet touched, and those who love it. I am one of the latter. It is a passion that began after I competed in a cross country race at school, ten miles on a damp English day through muddy forest and field. From two hundred girls, I came fourth, a worthy achievement instantly forgotten. Like coming fourth in the Olympics, who cares?

    One of the girls in the dorm gave my feet a massage and I fell in love. I had a boyfriend named Simon at the time. At the Easter break, we had learned how to use tongues when kissing. But the pleasure of Simon’s lips on mine was nothing compared to Gemma’s fingers pressing into the pressure points on the soles of my feet. I am squirming in my seat just thinking about it.

    Men are more prone to foot fetish than women. As a minority female victim, I may create a FaceBook group to lobby the NHS for compensation. I mean, they spend billions on bad backs and cancer, a few million for girls who spend their days in high heels seems a very small ask.

    Foot Fetish Martyrs

    According to Wikipedia, foot fetish, foot partialism, foot worship, or podophilia is a pronounced sexual interest in feet. It is the most common form of sexual fetishism for otherwise non-sexual objects or body parts.

    F Scott Fitzgerald was as fond of the foot as he was of the bottle and visited one prostitute regularly to ‘appreciate her beautiful feet.’ James Joyce liked women’s farts. René Descartes had a passion for women with cross-eyes – I blink therefore I am? Salvador Dali liked the gap between women’s thighs to be big enough for a grasshopper to jump through.  The Marquis de Sade had a box full of fetishes, most famously, according to Roland Barthes, his desire for Marianne Lavergne to whip his buttocks with a parchment beater with bent pins. I like that about the Marquis, he could take it as well as give it. 

    Martyrs to foot fetish are drawn to shoes, sandals, flip flops, painted toenails, high arches, toe-rings, anklets, even socks. According to Sigmund Freud, foot-binding is a fetish. Then, Freud got almost everything wrong. Foot obsessives like tickling, rubbing, licking, sucking toes, sniffing and some enjoy rubbing their genitals with arbitrary feet, preferably pretty ones.

    foot fetish acupressure

    The foot is particularly susceptible to stress. It is one of the most complex parts of the body consisting of thirty-eight bones connected by various joints, muscles, tendons and ligaments. When your feet ache, it drains the entire body and generates trauma in other areas. Your shoulders or back may be tender, but a foot massage is often the best treatment.  

    The foot represents the whole body in acupuncture. Skilled therapists are able to apply pressure on key points, or meridians, to relieve pain in other parts of the body. For those among us with a foot fetish, this works even when it doesn’t work.

    Two things: if you have a foot fetish, do leave a comment below (no puzzles or tricks) and if you haven’t read Katie in Love there’s a foot massage scene that will drive you wild xx Chloe  


    The post Foot Fetish Hookers Are Making Fortunes on the Nation’s Weary Feet appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 12:31:41 on 2017/02/20 Permalink
    Tags: BJ, , , girls on bicycles, , oral sex   

    Girls on Bicycles Smile as They Remember Their First Orgasm 

    Girls on bicycles present a picture of both unsullied innocence and deep sexuality.

    I remember when I was young watching other girls on bicycles and admiring the way their bottoms shifted and danced as they moved up and down, up and down. Did I look the same: stylish and chic, wild and a little wanton?image shows girls on bicycles

    My first sexual experience wasn’t with the gardener, as Mother always suspected, but with the tip of the triangular-shaped seat rubbing rhythmically against my groin and sending sensations I didn’t know existed up through my developing body. There is no feeling in the world better than building up speed on your bike, then rolling down hill with your legs spread out and your cleft on the monorail of a hot leather saddle.

    It is not an urban myth that men surreptitiously sniff the seats of girls’ bicycles. The boiler man at school spent hours in the bike sheds leaning over the saddles when he thought no one was looking.

    Girls walking down the street often attract whistles, hissing, lewd comments, the occasional grope. One man actually slapped my ass once as I passed. Girls on bicycles gliding by with their skirts billowing like sails on a windy day don’t hear the comments and are going too fast for itinerant hands to reach out and touch them.

    Are their knickers showing as they ride by? Of course they are. That’s half the fun. Girls on bicycles wear flared skirts to reveal cheeky peeks of all that is normally hidden. We are the daughters of Eve with temptation in our genes. Girls like being naked. Get over it!

    Girls on Bicycles Time Machine

    Girls and cars form a bond that is macho dominated, as if the automobile is holy object demanding that we go down on our knees to anoint with our little pink tongues. Some girls I know, not mentioning any names, have an instant urge to reach for fly buttons and give head the moment they hear a car engine roar.girls on bicycles with knickers

    It’s not the whiff of gasoline that drives girls on bicycles, but the free clean air of the open road. They are not controlled by the machine. They control the machine. It runs through the power of their strong calf and thigh muscles. A bicycle without a rider is a useless heap of rubber and metal. With the rider, it its a two-wheeled gypsy queen from planet Lust, the ninth star in the Erotic Galaxy.

    The bicycle is a time machine. It takes you back to who you were. When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of your lover’s hand as it crosses your body. Girls on bicycles feel a tension in their thighs and remember their first orgasm. That’s why girls on bicycles are always smiling.

    girls on bicycles are a sexy work of art in progress


    “I am never disappointed when I read a Chloe Thurlow book. More than the story for me, it is the way Thurlow links sentences and words and images together that astound me. She creates vignettes and scenes that are literally alive with literary genius. I mean this sincerely. I find her to be one of the best contemporary writers of our day. And a champion for the sexual freedom of women at its best and most gritty.” R.B. O’Brien, Amazon



    The post Girls on Bicycles Smile as They Remember Their First Orgasm appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

  • feedwordpress 11:21:22 on 2017/02/14 Permalink
    Tags: , sense of love   

    The Sense of Love Can Be Found Through All The Five Senses 

    Making sense of love when love makes no sense needs the five senses working together like a team of archaeologists digging deep into the soul.

    What is love? I knew the answer once. Then forgot it again. Then I wrote the novel Katie in Love and it all came back to me.

    When love comes it is overwhelming, a tidal wave washing over your heart. When love leaves your heart is a dry, empty, a desert island without vegetation, a void with a hole through the centre. They say love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It isn’t true. Love is fleeting. Hate is eternal. After love there is kindness. After hatred there is emptiness. Making sense of love is like doing a jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces are blank.

    Taste of Love

    Love tastes of lemon and ricotta, almond milk with a pinch of salt, Chinese food on far away beaches, pollen to the honey bee. Love tastes of oxytocin, serotonin and melatonin, that blend of seminal chemicals that make you high and, conversely, aids sleep. Love tastes of cherries picked from the tree in August, ice cold cava at three on a scorching afternoon, the air at daybreak after dancing on tables till dawn.

    When you are in love you lose your appetite. Love is the gas that fuels an empty tank. When you fall in love, your taste buds modify, adapt, open like a flower. A single tablet of chocolate has the erotic tang of some alien fruit. Love touches the palate like crystal water from the Holy Grail, a hint of paradise. Love tastes of the future. It is positive, optimistic, the elixir of life.

    Sight of Love

    Love is the sight of your lover’s face in the crowd, his picture in old photograph albums, his legs moving as he dances to Bruce Springsteen, the video on your iPhone when he gives a speech at a friend’s wedding.

    You make sense of love seeing your reflection in the mirror making love, when you see your face by chance in a shop window and realise you are smiling. Love is the sight of old friends and new land after a long journey at sea. Love is a spectacular landscape, the rising sun and setting sun, the full moon low in the sky, the stars on the clearest night.

    Sound of Love

    Love sounds like your name being called by your lover. Love sounds like naked skin slapping naked skin, the telephone ringing with the call you were waiting for. Lovers love the sound of silence after making love, the sound of butterfly breath on your neck as you snuggle, the tree branch tapping the window pane, the traffic in the cold distance while you lay wrapped in erogenous warmth.

    Love sounds like Eric Clapton’s guitar, Bach’s organ, Mozart’s imagination, the cool wind blowing on hot days, Pink Floyd driving fast on an empty road. Love sounds like an echo from somewhere deep inside. Love is the sound of fury, the sound of one hand clapping, the sound of Om. You make sense of love when you hear a baby’s heartbeat.

    Smell of Love

    Loves smells of the rain, the sea on sunny days, red nail varnish when you are wearing a red dress. Love smells of sweat after sex, the muggy air beneath the bedsheets, the scent of flowers your lover sends when he’s far away. Love smells of warm male jizz with its hint of secrets and mystery.

    You make sense of love when you smell the fragrance of old trees deep in the forest, the cologne of the city streets where you walked with your lover, the perfume of morning bedsheets.

    Touch of Love

    You understand the sense of love when your lover’s hand touches your breast. You appreciate the sense of love when your lover’s tongue reached your eager clitoris. You know the sense of love when your lover’s cock fills the sense-laden walls of your throat.

    Love is the touch of the sun’s hot rays and the moon’s cold light, the feel of wet grass and warm sand beneath your feet. Love is the touch of the cool free air when you fly in a hot air balloon. The sense of love touches your heart when you fall in love and the sense of love is a broken bird that cannot fly when your heart is broken.

    making sense of loveKatie in Love is on offer at Amazon

    “…a passionate journal of one young woman’s resistance to all that is conventional and her growing confidence as she embraces the joy of love,” Elizabeth Woodham, Amazon.co.uk

    “They just don’t write books like this anymore. Thurlow spins a tale like she’s travelled to us from a classier time to bring fine literature to the masses,” India Reid, Amazon.com


    The post The Sense of Love Can Be Found Through All The Five Senses appeared first on Romance writer Chloe Thurlow.

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