I am completely thrilled that today my lovely, super-talented friend KD Grace has joined us to share all the gossip on her wonderful new menage novella Surrogates, share some of her photography with us and chat about sex in the open air. Oh, such naughty fun :-)
Take it away KD...
Doing it Outside
What’s so sexy about the great outdoors? Why is sex alfresco one of our top sexual fantasies? I think about this question a lot because so many of my stories are set with an outdoor theme or at least a good part of the fun takes place outdoors. I’m an outdoor sort of person anyway, but there are lots of other things I do, lots of other parts of my life that I don’t find sexy. Why the outdoors?
No doubt part of the reason is because we’re all brought up in proper Western society where sex takes place quietly behind closed doors, where even public displays of affection are frowned upon. Our animal cousins don’t care where they do it, and they don’t care who sees. I think there’s a big part of our civilised selves that really envies them that freedom. Though we’re supposed to be disgusted when we see a couple of birds or a couple of dogs going at it, let’s be honest, we’re not. Secretly we empathise with them. Secretly our wild selves fantasise about what it might be like to be so brazen. But I think sex alfresco is a fantasy that takes us even deeper into our psyches than just wanting to be like the birds and the puppy-dogs.
Route to Newlands
I remember the first time I went cross-country skiing. There were six of us altogether and we skied out onto a frozen lake in the middle of an evergreen forest in Central Oregon. It was dead cold out, January as I recall. It was one of those days when the powdery snow squeaked with the cold as our skis moved over it. The day was crystal clear, and the whole world was filled with the bright blue of the sky and the blinding diamond flash of the white, untouched snow.
We finally stopped near the edge of the lake in a bit of an inlet beneath a copse of fir trees and settled on the snow to eat our lunch. We’d barely begun to eat when we were suddenly joined by three grey jays – camp robbers – as my dad used to call them. They boldly lit on the tops of the ski poles we’d jabbed into the snow and waited expectantly until we shared our sandwiches and crisps, which we did, because who could refuse such cheeky feathery cuteness? As I sat there in the middle of a winter wilderness surrounded by white and blue and hearing only the flutter and chirp of the jays and the laughter of my mates at the brashness of the birds, it suddenly struck me that I was no longer watching winter from the safety and warmth of my living room, but I was actually participating in it! For at least a short time I belonged there. I was a part of it, even the birds accepted me. Well at least they tolerated me as long as my sandwich held out.
That’s the long way of saying that when we shut ourselves inside, we shut ourselves off from Sex Central. The outdoors is nature’s sexual playground. Sex is happening everywhere from plants to birds to squirrels to insects to mice to deer and foxes to snails and slugs. You know how it is when you see someone else eating ice cream and suddenly you just have to have some? Well, how could we possibly NOT want sex alfresco when it’s brazenly, urgently, passionately going on all around us? And this time of year, all I have to do is step out the door into my back garden to see some form of nature mounting up for a little rumpy-pumpy. The slugs and snails have been quite prolific this year J
I set my novella, Surrogates in several gardens on a wealthy estate in south England. And more than a few steamy scenes take place in the garden I know most about, the vegetable garden. However, having fond memories of the gorgeous Renaissance garden, The Villa d’Este, outside Rome and the Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall, I wanted there to be lots of lovely lush outdoor decadence in which my unusual threesome, Francie, Simon, and Dan could romp. Not all of the scenes are al fresco in Surrogates, but a majority of them are, and the wonderful naughtiness of having sex secretly in public while surrounded by nature is magnified by Francie and Simon’s love of gardens and the natural world.
Of course, ultimately the risk we humans have that our animal cousins could care less about is the risk of getting caught in the act, and Dan has way more to worry about than the birds and the bees catching him with his pants down.
DANIEL ALEXANDER III takes his marriage vows seriously. Until he gets the balls to ask his wife, BEL, for a divorce, watching each other masturbate is all he can offer his beautiful gardener, FRANCIE CARTER. But when Dan’s friend, SIMON PARIS, agrees to be his surrogate, affairs of the heart get complicated.
Dan wasn’t listening. ‘Francie, darling, I know how hard it is for you, with us not able to really be with each other. I promise that’ll end soon, and we can be together properly. But in the meantime, it’s not right me having Bel and you having no one. So I’ve come up with a solution for us. Simon will be my surrogate.’
‘What?’ Francie had pushed herself back against the sink as far as she could. Her heart raced in her throat and her face felt like it would burst into flame. ‘You want me to … You want us to …’ She nodded to Simon, then she glared up at him. ‘Is this why you’re here?’
But before Simon could do more than make a couple of fish gasps, Dan ploughed on. ‘Oh don’t you see, darling, it’s so perfect. If I can’t be with you, if I can’t give you what I know you so desperately need, then who better to help us both out that my dearest, most trusted friend, Simon.’
‘He’s a landscaper. He’s hired help just like I am.’ She sounded a lot more hysterical than she meant to. What she wanted to sound was outraged. What she wanted to sound was incensed.
‘No, sweetheart, no. Simon and I are old friends. We went to uni together. We spent a wild summer in Italy together. Darling, I’d trust Simon with my life.’ He shot Simon a meaningful glance, then his gaze came to rest on her. ‘I’d trust him with the person in my life I value most, the one I most want to make happy.’ He caught his breath, and his face softened. ‘Please, darling. This is a gift, something I can do for you. You can pretend he’s me. I can make love to you through Simon, and you, anything you’ve wanted to do to me you can do to him.’
‘Anything?’ She spoke around her racing heart, which felt like it would jump right out of her mouth.
‘Yes, anything, darling. Anything.’
‘Good.’ Before she had time to consider what she was doing, she slapped Simon, hard, hard enough that he recoiled. Both men gasped, and her hand stung like fire. But she ignored the pain, squared her shoulders and looked Simon right in his now watering grey eyes. ‘Then you can give him that for me.’
To her total surprise, Simon did exactly as she said. He walked over to Dan and slapped him, slapped him hard enough to knock Dan up against the staging table, slapped him hard enough to draw blood where a tooth cut his lip.
The electric silence that followed was interrupted only by the heavy breathing of all three. The two men glared at each other for a moment, sizing one another up. Trembling all over, Francie grabbed the edge of the sink for support, just as Simon turned his back on Dan and came to stand in front of her. He stood so close his breath ruffled the hair that had come loose from the clasp she wore it up in, so close that the rise and fall of his chest beneath his T-shirt was impossible to ignore, so close the heat rising from his body felt magnetic.
‘Does that about sum it up?’ He asked.
For a second, she thought she might cry. But instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She kissed him as hard as she had slapped him, like she wanted to eat him up, like she wanted to crawl up inside his warmth. And he kissed her back. Jesus, how he kissed her back! He kissed and nipped the hollow of her throat around to the sensitive place below her ear, then he whispered in between efforts to breathe. ‘If you want me to stop, tell me now before it’s too late.’
‘Don’t you dare, don’t you dare, don’t you dare,’ she gasped over and over again, guiding his hand to the knot tied below her right breast that held her wrap-around dress closed.
He yanked it hard, then he shoved and pushed until the dress slid from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her gardening clogs. Somewhere in the periphery of her mind she heard Dan’s fly unzip, a sound she’d grown used to over the past few months, a sound that constantly taunted her with everything she could see yet never touch.
But there were other things to focus on today. Simon kissed his way down her sternum and cupped her breasts, cupped them and kneaded them until her nipples strained against the callouses of his stroking fingers. Then his mouth took over. What her breasts lacked in size, they made up for in sensitivity, and her whole body thrummed as he suckled and bit, nibbled and licked.
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