Hot Self-Loving

By Charlotte Stein (Guest Blogger)

I’ve recently started a story about a woman whose furtive masturbatory endeavours get her into all sorts of trouble. And I kind of wanted to talk about that, and how women never admit that they like to diddle themselves, even though any reasonable person would probably go insane if they didn’t rub one out on their happy pillow seventeen times a day.

Or is that just me?

But seriously though, that’s not me. I almost never use a pillow.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, what I wanted to talk about. Which is women and empowerment and doing yourself, etc etc. Only as is so often the case with me, I found my mind wandering to the thing it always wanders to, on those cold lonely nights with my pillow, Dave.

Cocks. Because I love cocks, and HOMG I love them even more when they’re being stroked. Hopefully by some dude who thinks he’s being sneaky, probably as he lurks in the men’s bathrooms of the office he works at, gasping against tightly pressed together lips with his hand probably stuffed into his pants because dear God no, he can’t do it right out in the open!

Especially when I’m only too willing to burst into said bathroom, and kick in the stall door, and most likely catch a dude having an innocent poo on the toilet.

But seriously, here’s a short excerpt from my latest just-handed-in-novel, Control, about how much I like the idea of catching dudes doing naughty things:

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‘Gabe, are you all right in there?’ I say, and it’s so much like a game I could cry with happiness. I can feel it filling my chest as much as it’s filling other places, even when I try to hold it down.

Don’t, I think, don’t, but then he answers:

‘I’m fine. Really. Don’t come in here.’

And I’m not sure I can stop it. He’s playing, with me. It’s obvious. I think he means it, but at the same time...

The door won’t be locked. I know it before I even get close to trying it. And I just reach out and turn the handle and push it open, not quite bursting in because I’ll never be Delaney, but close enough.

He has his trousers shoved down— not around his ankles, in a pathetic puddle. Taut between his legs, and no further than mid-thigh. He hasn’t taken the underwear off, and it flashes pink and gleaming against his delightfully hairy and finely muscled thighs.

I can’t see his balls, because the elastic is cutting over them— likely too tight for comfort. Though I suppose that’s the point. It doesn’t seem to be putting him off to have a pair of little knickers, digging into him.

Quite the contrary. His cock’s in his fist, the ruddy tip peeping between his tense, squeezing fingers, everything so clearly ready to go off that I freeze in delicious anticipation. I run my gaze all over this frankly startling tableau — one that’s so sexy and dirty and fabulous that I’m sure he must have planned it just so, oh God, you little whore — just waiting for it to happen.

But I guess he’s in no rush.

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And now you’re thinking that I hang around in noted masturbation spots, waiting to jump out on unsuspecting men. Does it say something about me that now all I can think is: IS there such a thing as a noted masturbation spot? If I go down to Kew Gardens one day and visit their animal topiary, will I find Furtive Freddy pulling on his plonker, behind the leafy hippo?

Because grudamn, let me get my butt down there, immediately. Men of the world, beware. I’m addicted to your wanking, and I’m only too willing to resort to nefarious means, to catch you at it.

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Charlotte Stein has been writing for over ten years, and perving on hot dudes for even longer than that. However, it’s only recently that she’s had the courage to pair the two together and pen some critically acclaimed, steamy-hot erotic romances. She lives in Brit-land with her very own hunk of manbeef, and their imaginary dog.

You can find her at
www.themightycharlottestein.blogspot.com, usually in the middle of rambling about nonsense, squee-ing over her totally unexpected life as a writer, and generally lusting after seriously sexy men.

Control, her novel about a woman who can’t decide between a submissive and a dominant, can be pre-ordered here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Control-Charlotte-Stein/dp/1907016449/