Tag Archives: sexual fantasies

Pleasure Incorporated: Pamela and the Plumber Part 2

DISCLAIMER: This is first draft stuff. 🙂

If you haven’t read part one of this hot story… check it out here first!

“I’m Paul, the hotel sent me to help.” He handed me a business card for Childs’ Brothers: Laying pipe day and night, as big as you need and as deep as you want.

“I understand you’re having some plumbing issues. I’d like to start with your tap,” he said and waited for me to usher him in.

“The bathroom is through the bedroom then around the corner.”

He nodded and made his way through the suite while I closed the door behind him. By the time I made it to the bathroom, he already had the vanity doors open, his flashlight shining into the dark cavity.

“This might take a while. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the lounge chair.

I sat as instructed, placing his business card on the window ledge.

He unclasped his tool belt and set it on the floor near his feet. “It’s awfully warm in here,” he said while shrugging off his Oxford button down. The shirt landed in a heap on top of the belt.

I licked my lips. Sculpted back muscles rippled into a narrow waist, and when he bent over to have a look under the sink, his jeans slid a couple inches off his hips, affording me a delightful view of the top of his ass.

After a few minutes of poking around the drain pipe, he extricated himself and dusted his hands across his pants. “Done.” He turned on the tap. Water rushed unimpeded into the sink.

Case closed, he shut off the valve and turned to me, hands on his hips, his jeans slipping a little lower. I had the sudden urge to trail my fingernails through the tangled curls on his chest, following the indents between his pecs and washboard abs until they dropped lower, and I could help him out of those ill-fitting pants once and for all.

“I’d like to take care of your flow problem now.” He stalked over to my chair.

“My flow problem?” Those jeans were within reach.

“Yes, I’d like to make you very wet.” His grin smoldered, one side of his mouth twitching upwards.

I wanted to trap those smirking lips between my teeth. I volleyed the serve back. “It’s a serious dilemma. I’d appreciate it if you could fix it for me.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He fished his phone from his back pocked. “But first, I need to let the office know I’ll be putting in some overtime on this one.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want you in trouble on my account.”

He finished texting his message and tucked the phone away. “Now, where were we?” He held out his hand, and I took it as he guided me out of the chair.

“I believe you were going to make me very wet.” I sidled up to him, glad to finally be getting down to business. I ran my hands up his forearms, gliding over his biceps and shoulders before threading my way into the course hair of his chest. Eager to follow the happy trail to see what kind of rigid tool awaited beneath that taunting zipper, I inched my exploration lower then froze.

Someone knocked on the door. I tried to ignore it, but the clamour continued.

“Excuse me. Don’t move.” I left my plumber, who had already been deliciously effective in getting my taps running, and answered the door.

“Good evening, Miss. I’m Rick Childs, Paul’s brother. I’m here to oversee his work.”

My mouth dropped. Dressed in an identical uniform as Paul, the only thing distinguishing the two brothers was the fact Rick stood in my doorway.

“We’re twins.” He delivered the line as a matter of fact, not something that had the potential to blow my fucking mind.

I nodded, my normal cheeky wit suddenly mute.

“Is he still in the bathroom?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, straight through there.”

As he wandered off in search of his brother, I took stock. I’d mentioned in my questionnaire that one of my fantasies involved a threesome, but I never expected Pleasure Inc. to stack one experience on another. I remembered some of the other things I’d expressed, rather explicitly, in that survey, and my heart raced.

Rick sat on the chair, and I found Paul where I’d left him, waiting by the vanity. He ran his finger under the strap of my dress, inching the fabric down my arm. “You don’t mind if my brother watches do you? I’m almost finished my apprenticeship. This is my last test.”

I glanced at Rick, who rubbed at a considerable hard on, pressing against the fabric of his jeans. My stomach clenched, moisture flowing between my legs. At this rate, Paul would have a flood on his hands. I wondered if that would constitute a pass or fail? “Anything I can do to help.”

Like the atmosphere after a lightning storm, the air around me pulsed with electricity, my nerves firing in rapid succession, catching every inch of my body up to speed on what could potentially happen.

Paul slid both straps down my arms, tugging the dress over my breasts and hips until it pooled around my feet. Running his fingers down my thighs and calves, he knelt on the floor. He lifted one foot then the other, releasing me of the cumbersome garment. The back of his nails whisked up my foot, lingering on the ankle clasp of my shoes. “These can stay on.”

I’d spared no height restrictions with my heels and wore a killer pair of CFM stilettos.

He stood, lifting me in the process, and I squealed as he set my bare ass on the cold granite of the counter top. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rick unzip his pants, drawing his hard cock out. He gripped the shaft, rubbing his hand up and down, his gaze never leaving mine. My head fizzed with arousal, leaving me lightheaded and aching with need.

Paul hooked his fingers around my thong and left them in a pile by my dress. “Spread your legs for me.”

I opened wide as he grabbed my ass, squeezing the cheeks hard, thrusting me forward. I had enough presence of mind to grasp the edge of the vanity before his tongue lighted on my clit. My head flung back, pressing against the mirror, as my hips arched upward.

I closed my eyes, relishing Paul’s masterful attention, delighting in the spasms pulsing through my legs as his fingers dove inside me.

“May I?” Rick’s voice, teasing beside my ear, snapped me out of my reverie. He stood completely naked beside his brother.

Paul acquiesced, letting Rick tuck between my legs.

“My brother forgot to pay these beautiful ladies some attention.” He unclasped my bra, releasing a cascade of cleavage into his waiting hands. My nipples tightened and peaked as his thumb rubbed the straining nubs. His cock twitched against my clit, his pelvis pressed tight against mine. The intimate touch caused my pussy to clench with need. I wanted that pipe in me as deep as it could go. I rocked my hips against him, easing some of the torture.

A quick look at Paul assured me he’d stripped off his jeans and underwear and had taken over residence on the lounge chair. Like his brother before him, he rocked a wicked hard on, his hand pumping. Their cocks were beautiful, not too big or wide, but smooth and ribbed with thick veins. Arousal jolted through me. I wanted them filling every inch of me. “I want you in my mouth.”

Want more? Read The Climax here!

Looking for other stories from Pleasure Incorporated? Check out Stephanie and Stephan’s story. 🙂

Stephanie and Stephan Part 1 https://wp.me/p85fwy-is

Stephanie and Stephan Part 2 https://wp.me/p85fwy-iI

Stephanie and Stephan The Climax https://wp.me/p85fwy-iW

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

 

www.marissacampbell.com
www.marissacampbell.com

According to Box Office Mojo, Fifty Shades of Grey grossed $239,670,000 worldwide during its opening weekend. The book itself has sold over 100,000,000 copies worldwide. There are many who have a hard time understanding this phenomenon, believing it a fluke—chalking it up to the power and momentum of hype and suggestion. For fans and devotees of E.L. James, the appeal is obvious, simple. From the other side of the fence, however, there is nothing simple about it. Most of the negative and hostile reviews are written by people who have not seen the film or read the book, however, many have done both and were horrified by what they read and saw. They interpret the messages in the book as reprehensible: rape, forced seduction, restraint, control, manipulation, abuse. Fans beg to differ.

Years ago, I moved to a new city. I didn’t know anyone and after several months, I became lonely and depressed. I used to walk my son to school every morning, and there was always a group of women standing around and chatting long after the bell had rung. I longed to join them. Then the day arrived when they invited me over. It felt like I had been given a glass of crisp spring water after stumbling through a barren, arid desert. At first, I was a little shy and uncertain, but after several mornings, I began to loosen up, laughing and chatting animatedly, enjoying the friendly camaraderie. That is until I told a joke.

One of the women regaled the group with a joke she had heard. It was cute and witty, and I chuckled along with everyone else. I offered up one of my own, one I had recently heard on a radio station. It was provocative, sexy, and a little dirty (seriously, it was really, really, funny). Except, when I delivered the punchline, I was the only one laughing. I was awarded a few polite smiles, and the conversation was diverted. That was a hard limit. Sex was off the table.

I went home that morning in a daze. I wanted desperately to fit in, and given the strict guidelines of the group, I adjusted my behaviour accordingly. I closed off a really fun, witty, playful side of myself in order to toe the line of respectable conservatism.

A part of me died that day.

Let’s flash forward a few years. I taught yoga, and I co-wrote an inspirational book called Life: Living in Fulfillment Every Day. I blogged about finding balance, about managing expectations, about finding the beauty and joy in our every moment. In my actions and thoughts, I tried to embody peace and serenity. I strove for balance and attempted to reduce stress in my life. There was an image I was expected to project, and at first, I embraced it willingly, but after a few years, I found myself wanting more. I was missing something. Part of me was still shut off. I was still toeing that line.

Let’s catch up with the present. In addition to Life, I’ve now written a historical fiction, Avelynn, which will be released this fall through St. Martin’s Press. It’s sexy, sensual, gritty, powerful, and compelling. I’ve also written a sexy, short story: Italian Delicacy, which is very yummy. Should I have written under a pen name? Hidden this other side of me? After years of tamping down my vivacious half, I coaxed it out of hiding. I offered it flowers and chocolate, begged it to come out to play. In fact, I’ve pushed so hard against the constraints and limitations that once bound me, that I’ve externalized that journey with a tattoo.

Dragons and Oms

Now, what on earth does all this have to do with Fifty Shades of Grey? Like the dragon and the OM. There are two parts of me. One is calm, the other likes to roar. One is peaceful, while one is rebellious and wild. One is mystical, the other one magical. One is powerful, one surrenders. One is dignified, and one is downright naughty. I am a kaleidoscope of colour and nuance. All women embody that brilliant tapestry. We are sexual and conservative. We can be dignified and respectable, nurturing and matronly, but we can also be playful and mischievous, hot and wild.

Women have a rich internal world and a vibrant external one. But too often, we are expected to live outwardly in a completely opposite fashion from who we really are deep down inside. Let me give you another example. Several years ago, I went out with my husband on a date. After months of spit up and diapers, I wanted to dress up—I wanted to feel sexy again. As I was leaving, kissing my children good-bye, my mother-in-law asked me if I was really going to wear that out. She was referring to a lovely blouse that showed off some considerable breastfeeding cleavage. She said this in front of my eldest. At the time, I was too dumbstruck to speak. It wasn’t until later that I explained to my son that I was a mom, but also a woman, and it was okay to be both.

I was done with shutting down that vibrant part of myself. The world needed to accept all of me. Every part, whether that fit into their expectations or solicited their judgments and disapproval. I was tired of being flat and colourless. I needed to be me. E.L. James fans get this. And they want to be given permission to enjoy the movie without condemnation and censure.

In my opinion, the appeal of Fifty Shades of Grey rests on the broad shoulders of female sexual fantasies. The part of us that we don’t always show to the world, the part that ignites a spark of desire and arousal that might not seem politically or socially acceptable—the dragon.

Studies show 30 – 60% of women have rape fantasies. For a couple interesting articles discussing these findings, feel free to investigate here and here.

To fans, the movie and books are not extolling abuse, but rather are condoning women’s fantasies, bringing to the screen a fantasy that upwards of 60% of women find arousing.

Anne Rice defended women’s fantasies in a recent Facebook post: She wrote: “Lecturing women on their fantasies, telling them NOT to like “Fifty Shades” because it includes abuse is just as bad, in my opinion, as telling women that “nice girls” don’t imagine being kissed, loved, touched, ravaged, swept off their feet. “Nice girls” can imagine anything they want.”

For a unique perspective. Huffington Post recently broke down another study by a team of researchers from the University of North Texas and the University of Notre Dame.

According to the article, there are two schools of thought as to why so many women get aroused by behaviour that the detractors of Fifty Shades of Grey consider deplorable. One is the ‘sexual blame avoidance’ theory, the other, newer, more enlightened theory is an ‘openness to sexual experience.’

The sexual blame avoidance theory proposes that women fantasize about being controlled and forced into having sex because they are unable to own their sexuality and instead worry about how society will perceive them. Being forced into and ultimately enjoying sex because of their submission removes personal responsibility—they couldn’t help themselves, it wasn’t their fault.

The women who fell under the new classification, described themselves as being open to sexual experience and didn’t feel a need to hide or repress their sexuality. They had high self-esteem and while enjoying the idea of being forced into sexual situations similar to what is depicted in Fifty Shades of Grey, they were also just as likely to fantasize about overpowering and forcing a man to surrender sexually against his will.

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

Fantasies are a natural and very normal part of our sexual lives, for both men and women, and we do ourselves a great disservice when we disavow that part of ourselves. A part of me died the day I hid the sexual, fun, flirty side of my personality. Rather than tamping down the gains we’ve made as women to express ourselves, (thank you, Madonna) to own our sexuality, to admit freely that we enjoy and think about sex as much as men do, we need to embrace all aspects of who we are. We are a dichotomy, and one aspect is not better than the other, we are both, we are all. We can stand against all forms of violence and abuse, whether it be against women, men, children or animals. We can fight injustice and ignorance. But we can also have a rich and varied fantasy life. We can be both the dragon and the OM.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo