October 2012. Zipping up the cool leather boots to within an inch of my knee always sent a delicious shiver racing up my spine. It wasn’t just the temperature of the soft material against my bare flesh, it was what it symbolised; what it made me. It made me his. Alone I sat, framed between pillars either side of the headboard that was almost twice the width of the one at home. Green irises stared back from the mirror on t...

April 2014. Hotels unleash the inner me,On tangled sheets we writhe.Licks, caresses, teeth and tongue,Descend, submerge, then dive. Map my surface, inch by inch,Explore my honey hive. Tumbling nectar coats your length,As wantonly I plead.Kneeling, bucking, spanks and groans,Epitomise my need. Molten seas of primal thirst,Expect your searing seed. Behind my back you grip my wrists,I flush at the restraint.Now I'm bound, my...

September 2011. He was in my dreams again. Always the same muscular body, lightly glistening as he towered over my naked form. Appraising me? Wordlessly judging me? Wanting me? It was hard to tell. His poise and the self-congratulatory manner in which he tugged my bonds implied satisfaction, despite the breath catching in his throat when his fingers brushed my yearning flesh. I squirmed. The sharp tang of his cologne mixe...

Biologically speaking there’s not a great deal of difference between the mouths of men and women. It was simply the way she used hers that made me melt. Unhurried at the outset, delicately picking up the pace to heighten my desire for her, each tender lap between my parted legs complemented by breathy kisses on alabaster thighs alongside stolen glances that dripped with loaded intent. She savoured every note of nectar tha...

Sometimes I wish She would not surface. I long to control Her, to be able to keep the cork firmly in its bottle despite the dark pressure, and only release my dirty genie when, and if, it suits me. Just once, it would give me immense satisfaction to have the strength to make Her stay inside when it mattered. No intrusion. No rabid hunger. To enjoy moments of intense highs at my own pace. Moments like this one, my back sho...

The luggage only just made it through the door ahead of us before it was forgotten. I wriggled out of my sandals and flung them in the doorless wardrobe as Adam hopped on one foot removing his second shoe, then we crushed together and spiralled into the room, kissing and groping as we went. Stopping just short of the bed, he grabbed my butt again and hiked the skirt up to my waist as our tongues duelled wetly. The sexual...

It was still early when we reached Paris: too early to check into the hotel near Gare de L’est, so we picked up a carnet, ditched our bags at the station and went sightseeing. Being just the right side of Bastille Day, the city was baking and heaving. Within two or three weeks it would become a comparative ghost town as the locals flocked south for the holidays. But today the throngs of indigenous Parisians and tourists g...

July 2011. In all my travels, the Paris Metro is one of my favourite transport systems. Whether whizzing across to breathtaking views of La Tour Eiffel or hopping up to Anvers to marvel at the gleaming Sacré Cœur and bustling artists of Place du Tertre, it’s an essential piece of kit to explore what is arguably the most romantic European city. To plan a Metro journey, just like most other underground systems, the rule of...

7th July 2013. Oh damn you dear Murray, you owe meThe Wimbledon atmosphere merryAdam and IAre watching you tryFor first British champ since Fred Perry “Let’s make it a game,” suggests AdamThe concept seems rather enticingPimms over iceIs out in a triceThe strawb’ries and cream are the icing The rules neither science nor rocket:“The Serb can be yours, and I’ll be the BritOnce every gameThe loser must drainTheir shot glass...

March 2012. This feeling is so good it ought to be illegal. Technically I suppose it is, which is maybe what makes it more fantastic. It’s a glorious day, unseasonably hot and summery. The kind of day where almost everyone finds a grassy country park in which to picnic. I can see them enjoying themselves on the field through the canopy of trees, laughing, playing ball games, Frisbee, cycling, walking dogs, eating and drin...

May 2007. It's late. I'm pacing my hotel room, the repetitive padding of my small feet against the soft carpet the only sound, waiting for the tell-tale signs of sex from either of the neighbouring rooms. As usual I'm horny with anticipation, having learnt that corporate travel has its perks when it comes to satisfying the audio voyeur in me. But so far it's a no-show, which pretty much sums up the day. The tech meeting w...

August 2010. I love hotels. Not for their comfort or cuisine but their ability to lower people's inhibitions. There's something about a hotel room that's intensely magical; step inside and you become just one of hundreds of strangers in the building, thrown together by circumstance. Families or couples on holiday, business people on stopovers, honeymooners and busloads of tourists make up close-knit groups of strangers th...