A New Short Story | Workplace Taboos: Tabitha

Tabitha crossed her legs again, the bumpy ride on the public transport almost too much for her that morning. Deprived and tortured by dreams of various affairs, changing lover and location with each roll across her mattress.

Left wet, tired, and needy, every chore to get to work seemed to agitate her: the way her body sought out pleasure from simple tasks like brushing her teeth and slipping on a silk blouse. Running to make the bus made her nipples hard and dampened her panties.

Another re-cross and the bump in her seat vibrated against her cheeks, spiraling up the front of her.

By the time Tabitha made it to the office, her high-walled cubicle—only one of six in the large room and backed into the corner behind two others, she couldn’t think of anything except releasing herself from the morning’s torment.

But she’d have to wait.

Her standing date at the coffee pot in a half hour didn’t leave her enough time to get what needed done and recuperate, so she shunted her coat, pulling fabric against her breasts and that burn hardened them again.

A frustrated sigh sent her in a small circle around her cubicle before she sat to check her emails with little success until she met Sarah in the floor’s break room. Her hug squeezed new life into that sensitive yearning that had just started to subside.

“Showing off the goods today.” Sarah’s brows waggled before her gaze blatantly ogled Tabitha’s breasts. “Trying to get yourself a date to the company party this weekend?”

“Hardly,” Tabitha said. “Just one of those mornings.”

“We’ve all had them. I heard that Walt two stories up was walking around with a giant hard-on last Monday, just boing—” She mimed a giant johnson in front of her polka-dotted skirt, grinding her hips and swinging it around like she meant to knock down Tabitha with it. “—for damn near the entire day until his secretary took care of him.”

Before moving to Mating Metropolis, what Sarah suggested, what most of the staff, and fuck it, the city had taken part of, would have been taboo, but everyone here was horny most of the time. Tabitha hadn’t slept with anyone at the job yet. Rubbed one out a time or two before she packed a small box in her desk with some aids, like the dildo that easily latched onto her chair and would be hidden by her skirt once she returned to her cubicle.

She’d also snuck off in semi-public with a few men from her neighborhood and a few others across town on some errands. A few times, she discovered others fulfilling their own needs in half-hidden corners. And once, an orgy in the park at night.

The barrage of memories shifted Tabitha’s stance, sending the slender piece of fabric riding higher in her cracks.

“Could you imagine?” Sarah asked. “Everyone knowing while you’re in there banging your boss? I mean not ours. She prefers men, but like do they hold a lottery or a roulette or does someone volunteer? Do you think that’s in her contract?”

“Did you read your contract? I’m pretty sure they’re the same.” Tabitha tried to derail her co-workers train of thought. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who came to the office horny today.

Sarah cringed at the mention of contracts, suitably distracted by a current client who complained about their terms and conditions like they hadn’t read them when they agreed. After another five-minute rant about suck-face, Sarah sighed, refilled her coffee, and sarcastically trudged back to her office.

Tabitha did the same, adrenaline building low in her chest and anticipation trailing a tingling line down her center.

Her computer monitor hummed on, and she brought up the forms needing filled and filed before she could start on her projects’ daily lists. Tabitha also pulled the plain file box from the back of her desk’s cabinet that held her sex toys, a much smaller version than the collection she had at home. These all silent or quiet and easy to hide when need be.

The vibrators shifted out the way as she reached for the Average John, a rubber dildo with a suction cup harness base that stuck solidly to her grooved plastic office chair. She pulled him from his plastic case, shoved the box under her desk with her toes, and shimmied off her panties. A draft caressed her between her thighs as she fastened Average John, the cold against her wet sex teasing the ache deep inside.

Locking the wheels of her chair, she pulled it close to her desk, straddled the seat, spread her lips with one hand, and slid against the head of her prosthetic cock.

Teeth pinched her bottom lip as she slipped herself down a few inches, up and down two thirds, coating the rubber with her juices, and a final thrust slid the dildo all the way home. A gasp dropped her lip free, grinding her hips down against the rubber balls for an added spike in pleasure. The burn soothed and redoubled.

Tabitha adjusted her skirt to hide her bare hips and the veiny rubber stuffed inside her. Her breast weighed heavy and tight against her blouse, back arching to accommodate small thrusts. Enjoying the mere feel of being filled, stretched, pushed at the very depths of, she slowly worked her legs around front, leaning back to release two buttons and the pressure against her nipples. The opening allowed for easy access, brushing her fingers over them and bringing them to attention.

Stretching her arms overhead, another flash of pleasure shuttered through her, rolling her hips over the cock and balls.

A glance at the open door to her cubicle made every sensitive movement amplify, shoving Tabitha forward to look like she was at least pretending to work. Feet hooked around the chair legs, tits sitting on the desk, she searched for some light music to disguise her light thumping as she found a rhythm that mimicked dancing. A small bounced that crammed the thick head against her cervix.

She had to be careful or the suspension on the chair would creak, pleasing but frustrating.

At this rate, it would take her until lunch to come.


Read the rest of Tabitha’s story here.


Tabby CoverWelcome to Mating Metropolis where citizens have complete freedom to explore sexual taboos without judgement.

Moving to Mating Metropolis means giving into sexual whims with neighbors, co-workers, and strangers. It means forgoing long-held taboos.

Tabitha’s given in to a few of her horny impulses, but she’s never crossed that line at work. A thin line. An invisible one.

But when she wakes up with a desire she can’t suppress on her own, even with the aids she keeps hidden in her cubicle, Tabitha breaks her own rules and gets caught by a co-worker.

How deep will she fall into this workplace taboo? More importantly, how many times can Tabitha succumb to bodily pleasure?

Dive into this short, playful erotica story now.

Dirty Little Serials: Ian & Dreena

Ian’s hands sifted through Dreena’s hair, turning her towards him and examining the bump on her head. She’d whacked the door pretty hard. Sparks shot down the nerves in his arms. Dark blue eyes blinked up at him as his thumb smoothed over the tender rise in her scalp.

No blood or bruising.

His fingers shifted behind her ear, tilting her head up as she glared at him. This mer disliked her attraction to him as much as she felt it. And he felt it, too.

Ian pressed his mouth against hers to be rewarded by a bubbling noise in the back of her throat before Dreena grabbed the front of his shirt and opened to him. She didn’t seem at all uncertain of him like this. When they spoke, they had issues.

She unbuttoned his collar and slid into his lap. The familiar warmth of her didn’t mask how different she tasted, like salt-water taffy, creamy and sweet.

“I don’t plan on following in my brother’s footsteps. I’m not going to mate you.” He said against her lips before he nuzzled her. Ian grabbed her hips; he’d never fucked a mer before. “If we fuck, that’s all it’ll be.”

Dreena ground herself against him. “Am not virgin.”

To accentuate her point, she rolled over him and nipped the corner of his lip. Oh, he’d have fun with her.

Her elegant fingers tugged the front of his shirt free of his slacks and belt, burning him with her touch. She bled electricity into him.

His hands responded in kind, finding their way beneath her dress to rub the fabric tucked between her thighs. Her panties barely held the heat of her at bay. Ian’s cock jolted as Dreena grabbed him in return. He needed to fuck her, but this wasn’t the place.

The car slowed as they approached his brother’s house, and he tucked his shirt back in as she pouted. Gods, he wanted her mouth around him, wanted her mouth against him, wanted to cause her mouth to fall open as she orgasmed; he wanted her.

“Not here,” he said as he opened the door for her and lifted her off his lap. The single item they’d gone for hung from his finger as he escorted Dreena back inside, up the stairs, and past the females waiting for her. Instead, he left the small, paper bag on the doorknob, knocked, and ushered Dreena inside the small study at the end of the hall.

Trapping her against the door, his body met hers, and she pulled at his clothes, undressing him with such precision.

“You certainly have done this before.”

Her nails retorted as they sank into his back. Ian kissed her to keep his mouth from messing this up. And his slacks fell around his ankles as he reached to lift her against him.

Thighs burnt around his waist, trapping his cock against that small slice of cotton.

He wanted to tear them off.

Instead, he laid her on a settee and yanked them down her legs. The scent of her arousal assailed him. Cock nestled against her, his hips pumped, teasing gasps free with smell of her.

She was intoxicating.

Coating himself in her juices, Ian thrust himself to the hilt and swallowed her moan. Teeth and lips found her throat to release her next moan into the room—quick but soft and more than enough to tighten the skin down his spine.

Then Dreena’s legs lifted higher on his back, and he scooped her knees with his arms, pulling her taut around him. He buried himself into her, keeping his mouth busy to refrain from telling her all of the dirty things he wanted: that her pussy was magnificent, to promise her the same pain her nails drove into him, that he’d fucking ruin her. And he wanted to; everything inside him craved it.

Dreena’s fingers squeezed the back of Ian’s neck, nails slicing into an ear lobe.

Hips jackhammered and pulled a soft cry from her.

He couldn’t break her yet.

No, he wanted her again first. For the night.

He’d fulfill every dirty fantasy she was too afraid to admit she had.

The beast inside him roared as Ian sank his teeth into her throat, barely keeping himself from drawing blood.

But oh, the way she jerked under him, around him.

Ian rode her to orgasm, fighting through the way she squeezed.

A small increment of control vanished, and he took what he needed, hips smacking the flood of moisture between her thighs.

Drowning in the sweet and salty scent of her, he pulled sweet tears from Dreena as her pleasure wavered on pain.

She’d learn quick not to fight it.

With an uneven beat, he filled her, hips driving to push his seed as deeply inside of her as his cock would allow and nudging the end of her until she mewled for him.

The shake of her limbs electrified him, confirming how later that night, he’d show her what it meant to be a little slut.

Transmundane Raises Funds for Paranormal Romance Novel that Combats Sexism

Transmundane Raises Funds for Paranormal Romance Novel that Combats Sexism

A Paranormal Romance with characters that shake the foundations of what you know about what real romance looks like.


Guthrie, Oklahoma – June 15, 2015 – Alisha Costanzo is publishing the third novel in her Broken World series with Transmundane Press, and independent press based in central Oklahoma. LOVING RED fits within the urban fantasy and romance genres and battles sexist views often seen in commercial stories by delving into the male perspective and portraying equality in romance.

Stereotypes and sexism still affect us. So writing in the male perspective is liberating. Alisha loves being a romantic goofball without seeming needy. She loves swearing like a sailor, having tattoos, doing the heavy lifting, grossing people out, and being the real pervert that she is, and not only being found attractive for it, but writing an ideal male. But the best part of her ability to show how a man can be more than what the media portrays him as—more than a set of six-pack abs, bulging arms, scruff, and testosterone. Instead, she shows men as geeks and goobers, who want to be held and have fears. They can be melodramatic, lonley, and just as good of a caretaker as a woman. They don’t have to be knights in shining armor. Instead, they’re free to be partners.

“Writing in the male perspective is akin to freedom. And although I love to write empowered women in their various levels or snark, sarcasm, stubbornness, sweetness, and strength, something about slipping into a male’s persona liberates me.” –Alisha on why she loves writing male voices.

LOVING RED is raising funds via Kickstarter with various prizes, such as the novel, character artwork, scents, plushies, and unique experiences with the author. The novel is a fast-paced, alternating third person point of view of the kidnapping, escape, and battles between the Celampresians and the Assetato, focusing on a newly budding romance between a shifter-wolf and a human. Kaia is a strong female protagonist who can hold her own, and Severins is a strong yet sensitive male who defines what it means to be a soldier. Together, they fight for their lives while trying to protect a missing Assetato agent, a shifter bear and the man who broke Kaia’s heart.

About the Author

Alisha Costanzo is from a Syracuse suburb. She earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Central Oklahoma, where she currently teaches English. She’s the author of BLOOD PHOENIX: REBIRTH and BLOOD PHOENIX: CLAIMED, and co-editor of DISTORTED. In the meantime, she will continue to corrupt young minds, rant about the government, and daydream about her all around nasty creatures.

Donate to the campaign here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/alishacostanzo/loving-red

Dirty Little Holidays: Christmas with Hank & Robin


Thick satin ribbon laced Robin’s waist, dipping between her thighs, just braced along her sex and ass to rub her as she moved. Hank tied her arms together, looping the ribbon around the bedpost to secure her.

Hank’s fingers trailed over her breasts, spreading goose bumps in the wake of his touch.

Cold glass chilled her as it met the inside of her thigh, roaming up her ass. Hank shifted the ribbon aside, coating her anus with lube before the glass pressed in on her. Sizzling pleasure spread through her as he worked the anal plug past the tight rim of her ass and seated it inside her with the most excruciating patience. Robin’s thighs wobbled to keep her upright.

With the ribbon replaced, Hank nudged her knees apart and pulled her hips back, tightening the restricted knot around her waist and pressing the plug more firmly inside of her. A faint moan vibrated against her closed mouth.

Hands curved her back harder as Hank moved in behind her, rubbing the hard length of himself over the ribbon that covered her sex.

Glass shifted inside of her again, this time in a steady beat to the small movements of Hank’s hips. Robin’s core tightened with the need to be filled, too.

The ribbon smoothed against her, wider as it unfolded, and his cock pressed it into her. Satin quickly coated wet probed her, folding around Hank, constricting around her body, and twisting the plug. Squeezing her hips, he rocked her back against him, gaining as much entrance as he could. His sharp movements tore away the first wave of her orgasm, accompanied by a sharp noise.

Long fingers and steady palms smoothed over her rear before pulling the wet ribbon to the side and plunging his bare cock to the depths of her, setting off her second wave of orgasm.

Hands yanking at the ribbon around the headboard, Robin arched back to accept him, breasts scraping against the sheets below her as she reeled in the rough pleasure. Muscles loose yet taut, squeezing down her core as she gave in. Body ricocheting, the amalgamation of attentions inflamed her in ecstasy.

Thumb pressed down on the stopper in her ass, Hank rubbed her in time with his hips, and Robin succumbed, falling into her full orgasm as he rode her relentlessly through it until tears wet the corners of her eyes.

And he came inside her, rubbing her down, soothing her, and worshipping her body.

Still seated in her core, he bent to drop soft kisses along the back of her neck. “Merry Christmas, love.”

Robin shuddered, knowing this was only her present. Hank still had his to unwrap.

Dirty Little Photos: Santa Hat Fun

The Christmas bug has bit me – in all the right places, and I’m feeling generous. It’s been a long time, so look out for some themed Christmas photos and scenes this month.














Dirty Little Serials: Blake and Evelyn (One)


Blake was finally opening up to me, sexually that is. He’d always been a fine talker about his hesitations and unrelenting need to keep an eye on me—something about my beauty and wayward way with sex. I might not have been sourpuss, but I knew how to keep it in my pants when I grew interested in someone special.

And Blake was special: big and sweet and courageous…and maybe a little broken.

But he finally let loose a tidbit about himself. Power made him hungry—not at all an uncommon desire, especially from one of the city’s detectives. And besides, it’s nice to know a lamb can take on a lion from time to time.

I had myself putting away dishes in his kitchen when he busted through the door, armed, and searching for me. His .45 trained at my chest made my knees wobble even though he’d shown me it was empty only a few minutes ago. Still, adrenaline coursed through me.

He treated me like a criminal, so I backed away from the counter, hands in the air, and spouted off a snarky remark as he wrenched my arms behind my back and cuffed me.

And then he shoved me to the floor.

I fell on my side and tried to worm away from him, even though that was just show. His eyes blazed down at me as he caught the waist of my jeans and dragged me back.

“Where do you think you’re off to? I haven’t read you your rights yet.” He tore my jeans partway down my hips as I struggled. “You have the right to remain silent, and I don’t think you’ll be able to.”

My pants moved easily over my round ass since I’d left them unbuttoned for him, and he flipped me onto my stomach. I struggled to gain an inch when his arm encircled my waist and he hoisted my hips up, shoving his cock inside of me. And God it burned and made my core spasm around him. I groaned hoarsely and chanted no softly.

Cold tile met my cheek as he forced my face to the floor by my hair, his hips pumping with steady and vigorous need.

“Everything you say and do will be used against you to make you come.” He slammed home his point as he found the very end of me with the head of his cock, making my thighs shake with pleasure.

I fought it by squeezing and squirming beneath him, but I clamped down on every ridge of his shaft, soaking my inner thighs as an orgasm tore free of me.

Momentarily free and empty, I slumped against the floor before Blake flipped me to my back and harnessed my legs with a fist full of jeans. Pressing my knees to my chest, he loomed above me again.

“How about this time I get a nice scream from you.” Rubbing me with his length and making a damp mess, his movements swirled more and more against my ass.  Blake readied himself for the plunged in for anal, another form of play we hadn’t ventured into yet.

Fiery pleasure burned across my core as his pushed his head through that tight ring before he popped inside me. My legs pushed further back, raised my ass to him, and sharpened his angle of penetration.

Lust consumed his movements as he pumped himself into me, his face reddening and pale eyes glowing. The heady mix of pain and pleasure tore another orgasm from me but not a scream.

Determination took hold of Blake as his thumb found my cleft, ensuring no fall from the ecstasy of my last climax. A renewed and steady chant of no flowed from my lips as another orgasm crested, bleeding into moans, and building to the scream he demanded from me.

My body exploded, light yet burdened with pain and the continual thrusts of my faux attacker, and he came with tight jerking muscles.