The Blowfish Blog

[Fishnet] Maze

There were other artists. Some were men, some were women, and she didn’t sleep with all of them. Just most of them. The labyrinth’s path extended out, twined around her body, all pieces of a path towards an unknown destination. Her own path now traveled over the southwest, as convoluted as her tattoo, from place to place, from person to person. Each of them added something to her, and she took it in, made it her own. A different woman might have lost herself on her travels, forgotten why she’d left, and why she was going. But not her.

Read “Maze” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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In Fishnet: “Cocksucker”

“Cocksucker,” by Lori Selke.

“Yes,” he says, and I can tell by the huskiness in his throat that he means it. “It’s nasty. A girl isn’t supposed to have a cock. She isn’t supposed to get turned on watching me suck it. But baby, I can tell you’d get turned on. You like to watch me, and I want to do it for you.”

I take a step toward him. One more step, and my little purple dick will be right in his face.

Read “Cocksucker” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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Duet for Violin and Dancer

“Duet for Violin and Dancer,” by Teresa Noelle Roberts.

I came out of it doing a shoulder shimmy—and violated everything I’d learned about good taste by shaking my cleavage and about ten pounds of beaded fringe directly at Tony before I spun back to the audience. Although the highly structured bra top held my breasts firmly in place, my heated nipples brushed slightly against the soft flannel lining, galvanizing my attention.

Read “Duet for Violin and Dancer” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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Portrait

“Portrait,” by Donna George Store.

Jenna doesn’t call it love. However, she did feel a prescient twinge between her legs when he came up to her at the reception and said, Very impressive talk, Ms. Wallace.

Several chance meetings and a few planned ones later, she got herself invited back to his place, because they both agreed she could hardly show him the tattoo on her butt in the middle of Café Milano. She imagined he’d offer her sherry and try to seduce her. No sherry . . . but by evening’s end he did make love to her on his bed with the Indian print spread, surrounded by trophies of his many travels.

Read “Portrait” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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Historical Inaccuracies

“Historical Inaccuracies,” by Julia Talbot.

“I like reenactment,” she said, spreading her legs, showing me neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair.

“So what is this?” I asked her, thinking of her Italianate gown and my hose and doublet. “Paolo and Francesca?”

“No,” she replied. “This is fucking.”

Read “Historical Inaccuracies” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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The Sound of Christmas Morning, The Smell of Summer Afternoons

“The Sound of Christmas Morning, The Smell of Summer Afternoons,” by Ariel Graham.

Not like I thought it would be so easy—I accepted everything that could go wrong, irate family members, lawsuits, offspring, being fired—but I was there to give comfort, to help belay fear and prepare the way. I took his hands and guided them to my breasts as I swung my leg over his and straddled him and let him call me Lisa.

Read “The Sound of Christmas Morning, The Smell of Summer Afternoons” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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House of Dreams

“House of Dreams,” by Matthew Addison.

“Holy shit,” Melody said, suddenly understanding. “You think you’re real?” This was new. “Sweetie. You’re a sexual fantasy. Tits that big with a waist that narrow? Doesn’t happen in nature without some surgical intervention. The Master made you up, just like he did all the rest of us. You’re in the mansion of his mind. It’s not a bad life. Good food, lavish apartments, all the naked volleyball you want to play. He reads a lot, so there’s a big library. You’ll —”

Read “House of Dreams” in Fishnet, Blowfish’s always-free journal of erotica.

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