Erotic Author Spotlight Series: Charlie J Forrest

erotic_author_spotlight

This week we welcome Charlie J Forrest into the Erotic Author Spotlight, a sensual, sexy writer who has penned a number of erotic stories sure to set your imagination and sheets sizzling. Find out more about this wicked author below, as well as several free excerpt of his amazing talent!

You can also get the FULL version of Pirates of Men’s’ Pants completely FREE – all you have to do is subscribe to Charlie J Forrest’s newsletter, the link for which is available on the cjforrest.com website.

– Cara Sutra

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Biography

Charlie is a London-based writer of erotica and erotic romance. He specialises in writing stories about BDSM, bondage, humiliation, submission and public sex.

He tries to bring a flavour of the British countryside into everything he writes, although any description of sunny weather or functioning public transport are pure works of fiction.

In his free time he pursues the twin impossible goals of the perfect cup of tea and trying to get the cat to stop sitting on his laptop and do something about the mice.

Free Excerpts:

From Cuckquean in Chastity

Blurry Forest

“”Can I help you?” asks a voice at my shoulder. I snap my hand away like it’s been burned. Not meeting the newcomers eye I mutter something about ‘just looking’.

“Ah, I see,” says the voice. I glance up to see a pair of blue eyes, framed by smart, light brown hair. “This isn’t the most popular model we have,” she continues, pointing to where my hand had just been, “But for my money it’s well worth the extra expense.”

“I… I was just wondering…” the words die in my mouth, but I reach out a hand to point to the row beneath, at the ‘accessories’.

“Well, this is the main harness,” she says, “and these are additional elements that can be added to the main strap.” She reaches past me to pluck the harness from the display and opens it up with her hands. “So you can add an anal plug, or a vaginal insert onto here,” she says pointing to the central strap that passes beneath the waistband. “That way, when you’re using it, you get to share in the fun of it.”

I nod and, in spite of myself, reach out again to touch the assembly.

“Would you like to try it on?” she asks. I nod and she guides me over to the dressing room at the rear of the shop. “Now, obviously you can’t try out all of the bits, but you can get a general feel for it.” I nod again, meek, and step into the curtained cubicle.

I slip off my skirt, hanging it from the hook on the wall and step out of my shoes. Then I carefully step through the leg holes of the assembly and pull it up. The straps are awkward and I eventually poke my head out and ask the shop assistant if she wouldn’t mind giving me a hand. She joins me in the cubicle and quickly sets about the straps, tugging them tight first around my waist, then between my legs. The transformation is remarkable. I feel the pendulous weight of the dark shaft now thrust rudely out from my hips. As I step it wobbles, pulling teasingly at the straps.

“Is there a mirror?” I ask.

“Yes, of course, just outside,” says the assistant, pulling the curtain away. I hesitate for a moment, then step out. The shop is empty aside from the two of us, but still it feels daring to parade myself like this, legs bare up to my knickers. She leads me over to the mirror and I catch her eye this time and can’t help smiling. I look at myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, marvelling at the obscene protrusion thrust out from my hips. Instinctively I reach down a hand to touch it, my fingers sliding around the shaft.

“We have a number of different dildos available” says the assistant, “There’s this one, which is a penis substitute but, if you like, there’s also a slimmer one designed for anal play. She pulls something blue and bulbous headed from the shelf. I hold it in my hand, polished silicon smooth to the touch. I wonder what it would feel like to have it pressed tight against my ring, barging its way inside me. More than that, I wonder what it’d feel like to be the one doing the barging.

I buy it, and the accessories. We carry them over to the till and, at the last minute, the assistant also tells me that there’s a pocket in the front of the harness for holding a bullet, so I buy one of those as well.

I struggle to sit still on the bus ride home, the large paper bag clutched tightly between my heels to stop anyone from seeing. When I finally get home I shut the door and at once find on of my hands has slipped into the waistband of my skirt, stroking my inner thighs and feeling how damp my knickers have become.

I know I’ve got about an hour before Mark gets home from work so I take my new bag of tricks upstairs to the bedroom. The packaging is fiddly but not unmanageable. Attaching the inserts to the straps of the harness is trickier, but I only incur a few pinched fingers before getting it done. Then comes the big part.

We’ve played with toys before and it’s not my first time with a butt plug, but it is the first time I’ve tried to do this sort of thing on my own. I pull the harness up as far as my hips, carefully lube up the inserts, then kneel, face-down, on the bed, my hips high, my legs apart and buttocks spread. Millimetre by millimetre I guide the plug in, feeling my anus resisting each little nudge. It gapes wider and wider until the whole thing pulls its way into me with a delicious sensation. Next I slip the insert into my pussy, stroking my clit a little as I do so. My mind suddenly fills with images of men gathered around, watching me, with my pussy and arse rudely thrust into the air as I steadily fill myself with toys. I pull my hand away and curse under my heavy breath. Waiting for Mark might be more effort than I thought. I slip the little bullet into place and then pull the whole assembly tight, just like she did in the shop.

The sensations when I rise are worlds apart from strutting around the shop. Every movement, every shuffle, runs through the contraption and I feel the two invasive rods pushing against me as I move.

I’m not done readying myself yet. I shuffle over to the wardrobe, trying desperately to fight the rippling warmth emanating from my pussy and arse and slip on a pair of tall red heeled shoes. Standing in them at the best of times is difficult, but I know Mark likes them. I slip them on and raise myself upright. The new posture adds a whole new dimension to the sensations, the butt plug pulls and strains against the ring, while I feel the insert resting against the front of my pussy. I slip a hand down the front of the harness and manage to find the little rubber bump that switches on the bullet.

It thrums into life, tickling away against my pussy, just next to my clit. I try to stand, fail, feel my legs buckle and somehow manage to get as far as the bed before giving way, collapsing in a writhing heap. My hands reach instinctively for my crotch, grasping the base of the rubbery shaft of the harness and grinding it into my pelvis. If I buck my hips I can feel the insert bobbing in and out of my pussy, stroking the wet, parted lips. My eyes are closed, heart thundering, breath lost to quick, sharp gasps as I feel the ripples of warmth build into waves that are suddenly spilling over. My vision is lost in bright splashes of light, I hear myself from a long way away crying out like a beast, hips rocking and thrusting madly.

Eventually my orgasm subsides and I’m left sprawled on the bed, legs twitching, one hand idly stroking the artificial manhood at my crotch. I’m cold, but too exhausted to roll over and grab the duvet. My eyes close.”

From Pirates of Mens’ Pants

Blurry Forest

“He pauses, releasing the pressure on my shoulders and step closer to me, very close. I bump into the table behind me and he comes nearer. I feel his hardening cock pressed against my belly. When I breathe in my breasts rise. My nipples, teased into tight buds by the cold air and excitement, skirt across his jacket. He breathes in, deep and firm, like he’s readying himself for something. My stomach has dissolved into a quivering mass of butterflies. What was I saying? What could I possibly say, or do?

He grunts in approval as I close my eyes and let my legs buckle. I carefully slide a knee to either side of his boots as I lower myself to the floor. The table edge runs slowly up the curve of my spine as I squirm low, into place. His member grows harder, sliding over my breasts and rubbing against the underside of my chin as I drop into position. Why am I doing this?

Because he’s big and scary? Because he’s sexy and powerful? Because he just saved my life? Because he wants me to? Because I want to.

I look up but all I can see is a gigantic monolith of black. His face is up there somewhere, his eyes are watching me. I open my mouth to speak but, in one fluid motion, he rocks back and forth and his cock plumps into my open mouth.

He pushes it crudely against me, bouncing against the inside of my cheek as I muffle the words I was starting to form. I pull back, but my shoulders are sandwiched between his thighs and the table’s edge, so all I can do is slide my lips along his length. Craning my neck back I feel the swollen bulb of the tip pass the end of my tongue.

He could thrust forward with his hips, forcing my head back and taking my mouth by force, but he doesn’t. He waits as I kneel there, head back, sucking in quick breaths through my nose. I try not to think, not with the normal, rational part of me that’s screaming at me to fight him off. Something inside me switches and suddenly it’s like I’m in a play.

I’m playing at being the girl who would do this, the submissive heroine who will make him fall in love with me by being a sexual being, a siren unlike any other. I close my eyes and let my lips relax. His cock is hot, swollen and fat. I try to control my breathing, try to settle the fluttering mixture of panic and elation in my belly.

I move my head forwards, slowly, experimenting with the feel of this new degradation. His skin is soft, smooth and taut. I didn’t realise how big it would feel inside my mouth, how far I have to open my jaws to accommodate him. He doesn’t move, but I hear him sigh. I lift my tongue to press it against the underside of his member. It’s softer than the rest, giving way a little as I prod it. His smell is light and airy. The faintest hints of soap well rinsed and a sort of light sweat, like he’s been running for a bus. Not heavy or beery. I always thought of this as being something horrible, something dirty, but it’s not. His cock is a toy for me to play with, clean and new, a remote control to this towering dominant creature’s innermost sensations.

I twist my head slightly to the side, rubbing his tip along my cheek, tracing out little imaginary circles with my nose. My tongue works its way further down the shaft, sliding up from underneath to feel the tense rigid upper half of the shaft. I purse my lips and I can feel tiny vibrations running through the length of him.

I must be doing well because of the sounds he’s making. His breath is coming quicker, harsher. It’s as if he’s forgotten we’re supposed to be hiding from everyone. Hands appear from nowhere, running through my unkempt hair, urging me on. I want to smile, pleased that I’m able to manipulate him like this.

Then his hands clench, taking solid, stinging grasp of my hair. I suck in a gasp around his cock as he pulls my head back and starts pushing his cock into my mouth. For a moment I’m torn, wanting to fight and to run away again.

Then the other me takes over. Even with his hands holding me in place and his cock ruthlessly plunging past my waiting lips time and again, I try to wrap myself around him. I purse my lips so that, each time he pulls out, I feel the round tip penetrating me, sliding along the length of my eager waiting tongue.

He makes quick, deep strokes, each time pulling back just before reaching the back of my throat, stopping just short of ramming himself down into my neck.

Use me!

Freed from any responsibility to pleasure or escape him, my hands slide up my thighs, slipping easily into my knickers as he suddenly slows. He pulls out, gasps, and then I feel hot liquid on my face, tracing a crude line down my forehead and my right eye and cheek. His cock slips between my lips again and my senses explode with the flavour, the scent of him, a million times more powerful than before, so all I can taste, smell, feel is him. I am the vessel of his ecstasy.

My pussy is hot and slippery to the touch, easily accepting my fingers and I push my whole hand against myself, wanting to fill myself as much as possible before letting his cock out of my mouth, wanting to come with his scent in my nostrils. Frigging myself into oblivion with his spunk drying on my face like the girl who would do that sort of thing.

I imagine it’s his cock, magically reproduced and pressed up inside my pussy, filling me at both ends to double his pleasure, using me mercilessly as if I’m that girl, as if I like it like that. I grind both hands against my crotch, one digit running light quick circles over my clit, spiralling up pleasure into a peak that suddenly bursts. I twist my head to one side and he lets his cock slip from my mouth as I suck in a shuddering breath as the orgasm runs through me. His fingers releasing their grasp, leaving me a trembling heap of half formed thoughts on the floor.

I open my eyes, look up into the monolith and, this time, I can make out his face. His hands are busy tucking his penis back into his trousers, and he’s smiling. I can’t help it, I grin up at him, my chest rocking with a nervous giggle.

There’s a noise outside, someone moving either up or down the narrow wooden steps between decks. He moves before I have time to think, turning his back to me and heading for the door. He presses it open a crack, leaning in to the open edge, then it’s flung wide and he’s gone.”

From Cuckquean in Chastity

“”Can I help you?” asks a voice at my shoulder. I snap my hand away like it’s been burned. Not meeting the newcomers eye I mutter something about ‘just looking’.

“Ah, I see,” says the voice. I glance up to see a pair of blue eyes, framed by smart, light brown hair. “This isn’t the most popular model we have,” she continues, pointing to where my hand had just been, “But for my money it’s well worth the extra expense.”

“I… I was just wondering…” the words die in my mouth, but I reach out a hand to point to the row beneath, at the ‘accessories’.

“Well, this is the main harness,” she says, “and these are additional elements that can be added to the main strap.” She reaches past me to pluck the harness from the display and opens it up with her hands. “So you can add an anal plug, or a vaginal insert onto here,” she says pointing to the central strap that passes beneath the waistband. “That way, when you’re using it, you get to share in the fun of it.”

I nod and, in spite of myself, reach out again to touch the assembly.

“Would you like to try it on?” she asks. I nod and she guides me over to the dressing room at the rear of the shop. “Now, obviously you can’t try out all of the bits, but you can get a general feel for it.” I nod again, meek, and step into the curtained cubicle.

I slip off my skirt, hanging it from the hook on the wall and step out of my shoes. Then I carefully step through the leg holes of the assembly and pull it up. The straps are awkward and I eventually poke my head out and ask the shop assistant if she wouldn’t mind giving me a hand. She joins me in the cubicle and quickly sets about the straps, tugging them tight first around my waist, then between my legs. The transformation is remarkable. I feel the pendulous weight of the dark shaft now thrust rudely out from my hips. As I step it wobbles, pulling teasingly at the straps.

“Is there a mirror?” I ask.

“Yes, of course, just outside,” says the assistant, pulling the curtain away. I hesitate for a moment, then step out. The shop is empty aside from the two of us, but still it feels daring to parade myself like this, legs bare up to my knickers. She leads me over to the mirror and I catch her eye this time and can’t help smiling. I look at myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, marvelling at the obscene protrusion thrust out from my hips. Instinctively I reach down a hand to touch it, my fingers sliding around the shaft.

“We have a number of different dildos available” says the assistant, “There’s this one, which is a penis substitute but, if you like, there’s also a slimmer one designed for anal play. She pulls something blue and bulbous headed from the shelf. I hold it in my hand, polished silicon smooth to the touch. I wonder what it would feel like to have it pressed tight against my ring, barging its way inside me. More than that, I wonder what it’d feel like to be the one doing the barging.

I buy it, and the accessories. We carry them over to the till and, at the last minute, the assistant also tells me that there’s a pocket in the front of the harness for holding a bullet, so I buy one of those as well.

I struggle to sit still on the bus ride home, the large paper bag clutched tightly between my heels to stop anyone from seeing. When I finally get home I shut the door and at once find on of my hands has slipped into the waistband of my skirt, stroking my inner thighs and feeling how damp my knickers have become.

I know I’ve got about an hour before Mark gets home from work so I take my new bag of tricks upstairs to the bedroom. The packaging is fiddly but not unmanageable. Attaching the inserts to the straps of the harness is trickier, but I only incur a few pinched fingers before getting it done. Then comes the big part.

We’ve played with toys before and it’s not my first time with a butt plug, but it is the first time I’ve tried to do this sort of thing on my own. I pull the harness up as far as my hips, carefully lube up the inserts, then kneel, face-down, on the bed, my hips high, my legs apart and buttocks spread. Millimetre by millimetre I guide the plug in, feeling my anus resisting each little nudge. It gapes wider and wider until the whole thing pulls its way into me with a delicious sensation. Next I slip the insert into my pussy, stroking my clit a little as I do so. My mind suddenly fills with images of men gathered around, watching me, with my pussy and arse rudely thrust into the air as I steadily fill myself with toys. I pull my hand away and curse under my heavy breath. Waiting for Mark might be more effort than I thought. I slip the little bullet into place and then pull the whole assembly tight, just like she did in the shop.

The sensations when I rise are worlds apart from strutting around the shop. Every movement, every shuffle, runs through the contraption and I feel the two invasive rods pushing against me as I move.

I’m not done readying myself yet. I shuffle over to the wardrobe, trying desperately to fight the rippling warmth emanating from my pussy and arse and slip on a pair of tall red heeled shoes. Standing in them at the best of times is difficult, but I know Mark likes them. I slip them on and raise myself upright. The new posture adds a whole new dimension to the sensations, the butt plug pulls and strains against the ring, while I feel the insert resting against the front of my pussy. I slip a hand down the front of the harness and manage to find the little rubber bump that switches on the bullet.

It thrums into life, tickling away against my pussy, just next to my clit. I try to stand, fail, feel my legs buckle and somehow manage to get as far as the bed before giving way, collapsing in a writhing heap. My hands reach instinctively for my crotch, grasping the base of the rubbery shaft of the harness and grinding it into my pelvis. If I buck my hips I can feel the insert bobbing in and out of my pussy, stroking the wet, parted lips. My eyes are closed, heart thundering, breath lost to quick, sharp gasps as I feel the ripples of warmth build into waves that are suddenly spilling over. My vision is lost in bright splashes of light, I hear myself from a long way away crying out like a beast, hips rocking and thrusting madly.

Eventually my orgasm subsides and I’m left sprawled on the bed, legs twitching, one hand idly stroking the artificial manhood at my crotch. I’m cold, but too exhausted to roll over and grab the duvet. My eyes close.”

Links

For more information on upcoming releases from Charlie and to sign up for the free newsletter visit:

cjforrest.wordpress.com

twitter.com/CJForrestauthor

By the same author

Full Catalogue of Titles Here

Cristina’s Crises

Bound in Plain Sight

Through The Eyepiece (Part 1)

Through The Eyepiece (Part 2)

Cristina’s Crises Omnibus (Volumes 1-3)

The Woes of Nelly

Cuckquean in Chastity

Breeding The Quean

Milking the Maid

The Woes of Nelly Omnibus (Volumes 1-3)

Male POV

Letters From Master

Book Covers

3D blank books cover set over white background

Blurry Forest

Blurry Forest

Blurry Forest

c_forrest_books-11

Blurry Forest

Blurry Forest

Blurry Forest

Blurry Forest

 

1 COMMENT

  1. Charlie and Cara….great excerpts! I’m sure I’m not the only reader who enjoyed those while images floated through my mind. As one reads, do they make themselves the voyeur or the subject? Which way offers more imagery? Readers?? Chime in here!

Please share your thoughts!