Wednesday, January 18, 2017

It's a scorching new release from July Cumming!
Click here to grab the deal! 

Book 5 in the Organ Grinder series can be read as a standalone and contains 32,000 words of kinky explicit bottom play scenes, lesbian dominance, submission, spankings, bondage, and other kinks that cannot be mentioned here. Intended for 18+ readers only.

Molly gave the wine bottle a little spin and watched it stop on herself. “Now what? Do I kiss myself?”
Lindsay chuckled. “Not quite, Darlin’. The bottle has to go around at least once. Try again a little harder this time.”
“Okay,” she replied, giving it a stronger spin.
We all sat and waited for it to slow down. It spun six times before creeping back to her.
Molly blew on the bottle as hard as she could, pushing the neck towards me. “Violet!” she cheered.
“You’re cute. Alright, we might as well stand up for this. My legs are starting to cramp sitting this way.”
“Okay. I could use the stretch too.”
We both stood up, gave our bodies a twist to get the kinks out and proceeded to stand closer to each other.
“This is how you really do it ladies,” I muttered, wrapping my hand around Molly’s waist. I applied a light pressure to her back, drawing her in closer to my body. “Are you ready for a real kiss?”
Molly nodded and licked her cherry scented lips. “Uh huh.”
I placed my other hand on the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. My naked lips met with her sweet velvety lips three times before I nibbled on her plump bottom lip like I owned her. I ran my tongue around my mouth, softening my lips to match hers.
Molly flinched as I slipped my tongue inside her mouth and probed it against hers, but she didn’t pull away. In fact, she returned the motion by repeating my action back inside my warm and always inviting mouth.
I played with her bottom lip, gently tugging with my teeth before sucking on her lip. As our mouths intertwined, I lowered my hand down to her perfectly rounded ass and gave her a little squeeze.
She let out a soft moan. Her knees slightly buckled as she pressed her body into mine.
“Times up!” Chloe exclaimed.

Molly continued kissing me like it was the last kiss of her life.
I pulled her in tighter against me and she let out another moan. This time it was longer and sounded like I was turning her on. She grabbed my hand, raised it up to the stretchy waistband of her skirt and helped guide my fingers down the back of her panties.
I continued French kissing her while skimming my finger over the crack of her plump ass. Her breathing deepened, giving me a clear sign that she wanted more as I stroked her smooth untouched flesh. Just as I pressed my finger deeper towards her tight virgin asshole, someone pulled me backward with a tug on my mini skirt. My lips abruptly unlocked from Molly’s, putting an end to our embrace.
“Hey!” Molly huffed.
I turned to see who had ass blocked me as I slipped my hand out from Molly’s skirt.
“I said times up. Nobody else kissed for that long,” Chloe scoffed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was a set time limit on the kiss,” I replied.
“Chloe should give her a spanking for that,” Gwen suggested before taking another sip of whiskey. “Anyone care for another drink?” she asked, waving the bottle around. When nobody claimed the bottle, Gwen set it back down on the table.
“Gwen’s right. Violet was a bad girl and should be punished accordingly. Chloe, would you like to do the honours?” Lindsay asked, picking the bottle up off the table. She took another sip and handed it over to Chloe.
“Gladly. Violet, I’m gonna have to get you to lay across my lap,” Chloe instructed, tapping her hand on her knee.
“I didn’t mean to get Violet in trouble. Do you really have to punish her?” Molly asked with a worried look on her face.
“I’m afraid so Molly. She didn’t stop when she was told to stop. Around here that’s punishable by an ass-whoopin’.” Chloe took a swig from the bottle and handed it back to Lindsay.
“But it was half my fault. I’d never kissed a girl before. I guess I liked it more than I thought I would. She’s pretty good at it.”
“Well then, perhaps you should get a spanking too.” Chloe grinned. “What do you think Lindz? Ladies? Does Molly need to be taught a lesson as well?”
“Oh, yes. For sure,” Gwen nodded.
The others in the room nodded along in agreement with Chloe.
“Alright then. First up is Violet. Come here, Darlin’.”
“Yes’m.” I walked around the coffee table and lowered my midsection over Chloe’s thighs. “Is this good?”
“Kimmy, could you scoot down a little?” Chloe asked, flipping up the back of my skirt.
“Why should I?”
“Well, unless you want Violet’s face in between your legs, you need to make some room.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, giving Kimmy a flirty grin.
“Fine, I’ll move,” she replied, sliding over to the end of the sofa.
With me facing Kimmy, it gave Gwen a clear view of my bottom, which by all means was fine by me. If I had to look at Gwen while receiving my spanking, I most likely would have an orgasm on Chloe’s lap. It gave me the warm fuzzies thinking about that redheaded vixen staring at my behind.
“Great. Now, this may hurt a little Violet,” Chloe said, running her hand over the back of my thigh and up to my frilly panties. Her hand circled over my covered cheek and stopped in the dip of my tush. “Are you ready?”
Was I ready? That’s an understatement. I was born ready and always willing for my ass to be spanked. These girls had no idea how much I loved a good hardy spanking.
“Uh huh. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to cause trou-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt your little hiney?”
“Yes’m.” Actually, it didn’t hurt at all, but Chloe didn’t need to know that. To be honest, it felt more like a tap on my ass. I can tolerate a dangerous amount in the department of pain. The harder they spanked, the harder I came. I arched my bum, hoping it wasn’t the last of the spankings. “Please don’t do it again. I swear I’ll listen the next time.”
“You better believe you will.”
And there it was, the swishing sound of her ruthless unseen hand barreling down across my ass.
I couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if I’d tried.
“Hey! That smarts. Please stop, I’m begging you,” I whined.
“Begging won’t help you, Princess,” Gwen muttered.
“Hmm, something’s not quite right. My hand isn’t feeling it the way it should,” Chloe said.
“I know what the problem is. It’s so obvious.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep. Mind if I fix it?” Gwen asked.
“Sure, go right ahead.”
Gwen hooked her fingers into the tight waistband of my undies. “This might help,” Gwen said, yanking my frilly panties down to my thighs. “That’s better. Now everyone can see your scrumptious bare ass.”
I let out a high, anguished yelp. Fuck me that bites, but I love it.
“Oh, yes, that’s much better. Thanks, Gwen.” Chloe gently rubbed her hand over my sore tender mound of flesh. “There, there. It’s almost over.”
Almost? I don’t want it to end.
Thwack! Thwack! THWACK!
“Fuuuuck!” I wailed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more please.”
“I think you should stop now, Chloe,” Lindsay urged. “Her bottom is bright red.”
“I’ll stop when I damn well want to,” Chloe barked, removing her hand from my ass.
The force of her hand gave me such an adrenaline rush as it struck my naked skin. Chloe’s ass-walloping on me was stern and heated, just the way I liked it. My clit instantly swelled from the lingering sting left behind on my throbbing hiney.
My body trembled from the excitement of her touch. “You’re hurting me,” I whimpered.
I wanted more, so much more, but I had to play it cool. I had to act like I was truly sorry for not listening. Good girls were given the special rewards. Bad girls were denied the gratification if caught wanting more.
“Don’t be such a baby. I don’t want to hear one more peep from you,” she ordered through her gritted teeth before striking my backside again.
I wanted to scream in delight. Those last swats were so fierce and painful, my tush had gone numb on me.
“Now perhaps you’ll listen and obey the next time when you’re told to do something.”
Chloe soothed my wounded bottom, easing out the searing heat in my sensitive flesh.
“Yes’m. I’ll behave. I promise.”
Of course, I wouldn’t behave. What would be the fun in that?
I glanced over to the spectators of my punishment and they all looked as though they’d witnessed a murder.
“Damn Chloe, that was intense.” Gwen placed her cold hand on my bottom and ran it up and down my rosy behind. “I can’t believe how hot her ass is from that. I can’t wait until it’s my turn. Pass me the bottle, Kimmy.”
Kimmy stretched her arm across me and handed Gwen the cherry Whiskey. As she pulled back, she placed her hand on my other cheek and began to rub my skin. “Oh, yeah, it really is scorching. You did a number on her bottom, Chloe. I don’t think Molly will be able to handle this.”
Molly had dropped her jaw for so long, that a pool of drool had formed in her mouth. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Do I really have to get spanked? Can’t we just pretend I did? I didn’t mean to get myself in trouble. I’ll do anything,” Molly begged. She put her palms together, “Please. I don’t want a spanking.”
Lindsay sighed. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s really not up to me. Ladies? What should we do with Molly?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe we can get her to do something for us when we ask,” Kimmy suggested, kneading her fingers into my ass.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Chloe replied. “I’ll have to think of something good. Be grateful you’re gettin’ off so easily, Molly. Your ass could’ve looked like Violet’s.”
“Thank you. I really don’t think I could take it like she did.”
“Okay Violet, you may stand up now,” Chloe said, giving me a nudge on my hip.
I didn’t want to get up from her tender warm lap. I had a burning ass and two women playing with my ass cheeks like it was a mound of modelling clay. It was heaven.
“I said you may get up now Violet. You better listen or else.”
Shivers ran up my body. Or else what? You’ll spank me again and again? I wanted to say exactly what I was thinking but then she’d know I enjoyed it more than anything. I stood up, carefully pulled up my panties and went back to my spot on the floor. Even sitting on my knees made it torturous on my tender tush.
I looked over at Molly and she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t be, though. This party was finally getting exciting and going somewhere.


About the Author
July Cumming is a dirty girl with an even dirtier mind. Living in Western Canada, she hides from the snow and frolics in the sun. When she isn't writing out her naughty taboo fantasies, she's plotting them wherever she goes. She enjoys singing '80s tunes at a local karaoke pub and loves to create scrumptious meals.

July's stories are vivid, highly charged smut with a twist.

Twitter @JulyCumming 

Friday, December 2, 2016

Short Story ~ The Dream Express

Do you believe holiday dreams come true?

The Dream Express 
Jenna Fox © 2014

That morning had begun like all the others; pressing the snooze button a dozen times, indecision on which skirt to wear, and waiting in line at the java cart for a cup of high octane. I barely made it to the station on time before I remembered it was Christmas Eve.
I found a window seat on the train, crossed my legs and grabbed a newspaper when he sat down across from me…again. My eyes abandoned the headlines to steal a glimpse of him; the mysterious man with the coal-black hair and decadent, dark eyes. Each day he wore a different designer suit and his coat always hugged his chest in the same way I dreamed of doing.  His polished shoes said that he was a man who demanded organization and power. I licked my lips... hmmm, just my type.
Week in and week out, I’d noticed the movement of his mouth as he talked on his cell phone, although I could never decipher what he was saying. If I allowed it, the twitch of his lips could push me right into madness and plenty of times, I’d fantasized they were smashed on top of mine. To collect my senses, I took another sip of cinnamon spiced coffee when he smiled at me. Quickly, I looked away and suddenly I realized I’d been in such a hurry that I’d forgotten to apply my make-up.
My legs, jittery from too much caffeine, carried me along the aisle lined with shopping bags toward the bathroom. Why was I in a rush? There was still plenty of time before the conductor called my stop.
In the restroom, the air grew stuffy as I grabbed hold of the door. Shew, dream on, girl, I giggled in spite of myself. There was no way that gorgeous man had noticed me, a girl with extra padding on her hips from too many Christmas cookies. My hair required some attention, so I pulled out a comb and a tube of mascara just as the door squeaked open. Jeez, there wasn’t enough room for two people inside those cramped quarters.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I muttered to the person behind me.
“I certainly hope not.” A man’s voice, smooth as egg nog whispered into my ear.
“P -pardon me?”
“I’ve been watching you all year and you’ve been a bad girl.”
Our eyes met in the mirror and after a heated pause, the comb fell to the floor. I almost screamed, but when the fabric of my skirt lifted, all I could do was moan. I should’ve been blushing with embarrassment, but instead, I licked my lips and tossed my head back as fingers pushed their way through the honey of my pussy, slipping in and out teasingly. The rising heat between my legs moved northward; self-combustion was about to steal away my control, but I held on, clinging to every sensation, reveling in it. 
My pulse pounded in my ears as I sensed him kneel down behind me. I closed my eyes, propped my leg upon the cold counter, and slid my hand down my thigh as he moved his head between my legs. I weakened with each flick of his tongue against my clit. I was losing myself. My balance was slipping, forcing me to grab the sink for leverage. Not even the cold glass of the mirror pressing against my cheek could pull me down from this heaven.
Although in the throes of passion, I somehow managed to breathe out the words, “What if someone walks in?”
No answer.
I really didn’t care if someone walked in; it would only add to the excitement. All my thoughts and energy were focused on that tiny place his tongue was attacking. He used no pattern; no rhyme or reason to the darting flicks of his tongue as he moved it around my outer lips, then back inside, pulling me deeper into a maelstrom of wantonness. I held my breath in anticipation of the next touch.
I’d long forgotten I was being pleasured by a stranger inside the bathroom of a commuter train. I was a breath away from screaming out a climax over the furious blast of the train’s whistle when he moved away. My body quivered from frustration as I heard the door close.  I turned and looked down.
Nobody was there. 
It was only a dream.
Good grief, I need to get a grip, perhaps more sleep! Watching those late-night movies had finally taken its toll on my mind. I broke my dazed and confused state with a splash of cold water onto my face. My hair was once again a fright and the reflection in the mirror was of a woman who had probably lost her mind. I gathered my belongings and opened the door, shaking off the remnants of my vivid imagination.
My stop was probably getting close, so I made my way back to the passenger’s area with an erotic ache still throbbing between my legs. Laying in my seat alone and abandoned was an ivory envelope with my name embossed in gold lettering. A curious onlooker had me pausing before I snatched it up and crooked my fingers, lifting the gold seal. It read:
Sweet Andie:
I won’t be back again until next year and if you’ve been a good girl, I’ll let you come.
I felt as if the thousand-watt smile on my face would tell the other passengers what had happened right behind the bathroom door, just a few feet away from the traveling grandmas and unhappy toddlers.
Until that day I never believed in Santa Clause or that dreams really do come true.  
I’m getting my list ready for next year!


Thursday, November 24, 2016


She’s an empathic warrior who refuses to feel her own emotions. He’s an abomination hiding his truth within the robes of a priest.

When Liah travels to Red Leaf City to investigate a group of clergymen she believes might be corrupted beyond forgiveness, she meets Father Anthony Angelli, a man who sends her suspicions—and her libido—into overdrive. He’s hiding something, but Liah can’t find any evidence of wrongdoing and she’s got her own issues to deal with.

Tony can’t drop the matter. Refusing to let his colleagues get away with their crimes, he starts his own investigation, dragging Liah back to town even as he vows not to fall to the temptation she embodies. Unfortunately, his interference puts them both on display at a wicked gathering, and the only way to get out alive is to expose the truth—then pray for mercy.


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Sunday, October 16, 2016

Should You Be a Beta Reader?

QUALIFICATIONS: Honesty, integrity and trustworthiness

Do you have what it takes?

(Come close because I’m about to tell you a little secret)

A lot of people DON’T have what it takes.

Honesty is so important, and nothing shows poor character like dishonesty. Granted, I don’t like every book I read; I don’t like every movie I watch and I don’t like every person I meet, but my image and my personal character are important to me. No matter what I do in life, it is my goal to be honest and classy. And when I write a review, (good or bad) I keep in mind that someone spent their blood, sweat and tears to create a book/movie for ME to enjoy.

Something I would like to shed some light on is ARC distribution. An ARC is a book that hasn’t been published, but is distributed to a certain few ‘special’ readers to achieve specific goals such as attaining early reviews/feedback/whatever.

Notice I said ‘special’? If you are an ARC recipient, you are SPECIAL and shouldn’t take your position lightly. In other words, a book is ‘personal property’. It’s like letting someone borrow your car. If that person doesn’t bring the car back to you or give an explanation as to why it’s missing, you’re going to call the police or contact your insurance company. Right?

How Important are ARC Recipients? DEADLY IMPORTANT

And I can’t stress it enough.

Did you know it’s a compliment when an author or publisher hands over to you a product that could’ve taken ten years or more to create? Did you know every author needs constructive reviews… they are the ONLY way an author can improve their craft? Did you know it’s okay NOT to like every book they send to you? Did you know it’s okay to express your HONEST opinion about it?

Ah, HONESTY… you’re going to see that ‘H’ word again and again…

What happens if you receive an ARC that makes you want to gouge out your eyes? Do you tell the author and/or publisher the truth or just ignore the fact that you promised a review and disappear?

No, DO NOT disappear. It’s rude and nobody wants the reputation of being a liar because they didn’t do what they’ve promised.

If you recieve an ARC and have absolutely nothing good to say about the book, then just be HONEST about it. (But be prepared to explain why you didn’t like it). Maybe you didn’t like the characters. Maybe the plot dragged on. Maybe it was too long/short. Maybe you couldn’t connect with the characters or maybe the editing was shoddy. Whatever the reason, please understand that your silence hurts everybody. Authors can’t improve their craft if betas/ARC recipients never share their feelings.

Bloggers, BEWARE. When you fail to post a promised review, it discredits your blog in a big way. This is extremely unprofessional and publishers could put you on a watch list or blacklist you for not contacting them with a reason. Why? Because they‘ve given you a product that took considerable time, money and effort to create. And I don’t have to mention the fact that the product you’ve received is under COPY RIGHT laws. Yes, you can be slapped with a LAW SUIT or GO TO PRISON for doing something illegal with a little ole ebook.

By the way, if you’re an ARC recipient who approaches an author ASKING for an advanced copy of a book but don’t post your review or contact the author with a reason for your missing review, this screams dishonesty and frankly, it can give the publishing world the impression that you’re just a free loader or planning to sell the book to pirating sites which is illegal and will send your ass to prison in a heartbeat.

(Just sayin' ;)

I’m a blogger, beta reader, reviewer, critique partner and author. Like most, I’m insanely busy too. I also understand that ‘life happens’--situations beyond our control arise all the time. If I’ve promised a review and I know I can’t meet the posting deadline, then I feel it’s my responsibility to contact the author/publisher.

It’s common sense, not rocket science to be polite, HONEST and TRUSTWORTHY.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Not Only Naughty, But Nostalgic

Call Me Old Fashioned and I'll say, 'Thanks.'

The other day, one of my kids asked a lady her age. Unhappy with his inquiry, she replied, “Boy, don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask a lady that question?”

I laughed, and secretly thought, ‘speak for yourself, grouchy lady.’

I’m not a woman who gets offended when a person asks my age. As a matter of fact, it gives me an opportunity to force them to guess it. I tell them I’m old enough to remember watching The Young and the Restless on a black and white television. I’m also more than old enough to remember maintaining personal relationships face-to-face, instead of texting or email. (FaceTime is a poor substitute, and doesn’t count.) I think most would agree that looking into someone’s eyes, smelling their cologne and feeling their emotions as you carry on a conversation is hard to beat.

I feel lucky to have been raised in what I call a ‘special generation’. I miss the excitement of waiting three days for a letter to appear in my mailbox. I miss waiting for a call from that special someone and knowing I can only move as far as the phone cord would allow.

I miss buying a soda pop for twenty-five cents. I miss the old card catalog at the library because the new, ‘improved’ computerized system is too damn slow.

A lot of folks would wrinkle their noses at me, but I liked that old black and white television. I don’t mind watching fiction unfold in only two colors. It made real life stand out even more. Richer and fuller. Literally and figuratively in vivid, living color.

Yeah, that’s hard to beat.

Sometimes I think our super technology isn’t a good thing. At the risk of sounding like my parents, (OMG, I sound like my mother… ew!) having what we want, when we want it has made us too impatient and lazy.

As our world has gotten ‘better’ and smarter, it seems evil is getting its fair share of opportunities. I have to worry about my children coming in contact with cyber perverts on their tablets. They can’t go trick-or-treating from door to door. (Yes, I went without my parents.) And sadly, I don’t feel safe letting them play cowboys and Indians with toy guns in the front yard for fear of being shot by someone in authority who thinks small children actually carry real guns.

(I could blog about that subject all year long….)

But things of the past weren’t that bad, right? My mother always tells me the old paths are the best.

Stop for a second and look around. History, good and bad, is always repeating itself. You'll never get away from it, especially in the news and in the fashion world. (Ugh, whoever brought back Buddy Holly glasses should be slapped with a fish.)

So before you call someone old fashioned, take a moment and try to walk in their shoes. Our life experiences mold us. They make us the unique individuals we truly are. 

Yep, variety is the spice of life. ;)