Blowing All Year Round

I am a huge fan of fellatio. It ties in with my natural love of cock. I adore the feeling of taking my boyfriend’s erection in my hand, stroking it, letting my tongue swirl around his length…

Or if he’s not yet hard, planting little kisses on him, relishing in the feeling of him growing harder because of my lips. Getting him to the high point of arousal and then having him fuck me silly is quite possibly my favourite way to spend an evening (my second favourite way being stuck under the duvet with a bag of crisps, watching Hannibal).

So, yeah, big fan of sucking cock.

Not so keen on the concept of Steak and Blowjob Day.

Apparently invented to counteract the “female aspect” of Valentine’s Day, on this most hallowed day you give your partner a blowjob and a nice medium rare porterhouse (possibly as a refuel after all the sucking) as an act of love and a thank you for the gifts you got on V-Day. I’ve got a bit of a problem with that.

For one thing, my boyfriend’s a vegetarian.

Half of me rather loves the idea of Valentine’s Day, as an excuse for going on an adventure with your partner and showing them how much you love them. I like flowers, I like being taken out to dinner, and I like exchanging silly and in-jokey presents as much as I like being pinned against a wall and kissed until I can’t speak full sentences any more.

And the other half of me thinks it’s ridiculous because of two reasons –

One – Why would you need a specially assigned day to show your partner how much you love them?

Two – As said by the ever eloquent CJ. Forrest:

Valentines Day is (to my mind) pretty reciprocal anyway, and even if it isn’t, what on earth makes you think that making a restaurant reservation and picking a card/ordering something from Interflora is such a terrible burden that it needs special recompense? How jaded and cynical must your relationship be if you’ll only do these things in tit-for-tat fashion?

Which is why ‘Steak and a Blowjob’ day really pisses me off. It perpetuates the idea that these things are somehow undesirable, that the only circumstances in which someone will do them is because they’re being shamed/forced into it.

I think that’s kind of, sort of right on the nose. It is entirely CJ’s opinion of course, but there is a great big heap of truth served in these quotes.

First of all, Valentine’s Day is not “a girl’s special day”. In its essence, it’s a day where both partners show their love to each other. Not something that one partner begrudgingly does for the other on one day, with the other begrudgingly reciprocating on the other.

Second – blowjobs are not icky. Blowjobs are as amazing as cunnilingus. Even more amazing when you’re 69’ing and getting it as well as giving it (but that’s a story for another time, I think).

Similarly, love is not icky. Love is (and excuse me if you think this sounds a bit mushy) really fucking amazing. Love is not one special day out of the year where you extra mega hard love someone and then not really, but 365 days a year where you… well, love someone with all your heart.

Love, silly and in-jokey gifts and adventures with your partner are things to rejoice in all year long.

And so are blowjobs, and cunnilingus, and any form of oral sex because oral sex is pretty fucking amazing.

(Maybe not steak all year long though – bit expensive…)

Written for Marie Rebelle’s Fellatio Project, which I hope to contribute to a few more times.

The Fellatio Project

Eroticon 2014 – Thank You Notes

“If censorship is the answer, it was a bloody stupid question”

– Zak Jane Keir

I have to admit that, as I boarded the Bristol-bound train on Friday afternoon, I was a bit trepidatious about the weekend ahead. If only because after the rather duff year I’d just put behind me, I didn’t think I’d be up for socializing that much.

Gosh, how bloody wrong was I? Turns out, I needed it. (more…)

Author Blog Hop Q&A

Shiver me timbers (wait, what?), I’ve been tagged in an author blog hop! My lovely friend Lexie Bay has tagged me, so I get to answer some questions in regards to what I’ve got planned on the writing front in the next twelve (or so) months.

So, here I go!
If you could achieve anything with your writing in 2014, what would it be?

I think getting more stories accepted/published would be my main goal. I’d also like to try and get a story accepted in a magazine or on a website, or something to that tune. I’m also tentatively working on my first novella, so setting a big block of time aside to do just that is something I’m hoping to do quite soon.

And maybe try out something different? I quite admire what Kay Jaybee has done with her Jenny Kane persona (and K D Grace with Grace Marshall.), so maybe something in the romantic direction?

(Psst – keep it quiet, but I’m also trying my hand at a sci-fi story about time travelling…)
What are the top three demons you must slay to achieve your goals in 2014?

  1. Fear of branching out and trying to write about new things.
  2. Achieving some sort of balance in my life – one in which I don’t go mad trying to do everything at once.
  3.  Self-doubt/negativity. Speaks for itself.

Name three things that inspire you to write

  1. Random things I hear and see during the day.
  2. Random trains of thought, such as “what if…”
  3. Wanderlust.

What advice do you have for a new writer who is considering writing fiction?

Write whatever you want to write about, in the way only you can. Whichever genre or style you write in, you are not a lesser writer for writing in the genre you love.

And if you’re considering writing erotica, the above applies doubly.


Whew! I think just about everyone who could be tagged for this has been tagged, so I’m just going to leave this here. If you want to “be tagged” by me, leave a comment and I shall do just that.

Microfiction Challenge: Control

So, a couple of weeks ago, the lovely Blacksilk had an idea for a bit of a microfiction challenge. The provisos were that the story should fit on one side of a post-it note and there should be one keyword which your story starts with.

I didn’t start off my story with my keyword (because I’m an ass and I forgot to read the rules again) but I hope you enjoy it anyway. It’s transcribed below the picture, in case my writing is too hard to decipher.

Microfiction: Control (c) Jillian Boyd, 2014

Take me in your hands. Hold me, feel me. Press my every button, make me tremble, make me vibrate with the arousal of this game we play together. Our hands explore, our minds and bodies one and for this brief, ecstatic moment, I am more than just a pawn in your game. More than just your console controller.

58 words, which took me about three minutes to knock out. It’s definitely not a masterpiece, but I enjoyed scribbling down what came to mind. It was inspired by the fact that ILB was playing his Wii in our bedroom.

I’m Editing An Anthology! – Call For Submissions: Flappers, Jazz and Valentino

*steps up to the mike, clears throat*

So, ehm… I’m editing an anthology for House of Erotica….

Yes, you’ve read that right – I’m editing my first (of hopefully many more) anthology! I’m flapping with excitement, I am. So, if you’ll allow me to get into writer mode for a second…

The anthology, which, as I said, will be published by House of Erotica, is called Flappers, Jazz and Valentino – which gives you some idea of what I’m looking for. Invoke for me the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, of the first talkies, dancing girls, the speakeasy, glamour, Josephine Baker, Charleston dancing, anything you can think of.

And make it steamy. Make it so steamy, my glasses will fog up upon reading your story. Trust me, that’s a sign that you’re doing it right.

I’m ridiculously excited to be editing this anthology – and I look forward to seeing what you come up with. Here’s the call for submissions in full – with the pretty cover for you to enjoy. And if you want to contribute, I’m looking forward to reading your story!

Flappers, Jazz and Valentino

AW MA GAWD, it's so pretty!

AW MA GAWD, it’s so pretty!

Editor: Jillian Boyd

Publisher: House of Erotica

Deadline: March 30th, 2014 (earlier submissions preferred)

Word count: 3k – 7k

Theme: Historical erotica

Pairings: Any

Heat Level: Anything from romantic and erotic to burning hot

Payment: Royalties will be split 40% of the net profits with contributing authors, exact values will be given once we know how many stories will be in the final anthology.

Rights: Six Years

Submission limit: up to two stories per author.

Author Jillian Boyd is on the hunt for hot historical erotica – stories set in those heady days of the Roaring Twenties. Whether it’s the glamour of the flapper, the spirit of Gatsby or the whisky-soaked excesses of the speakeasies, I want you to make the Twenties sizzle and spark with red-hot lust.

The stories needn’t all be about flappers and gangsters (although I’d love to have some in the collection) – let your imagination fly! But don’t forget the storyline – and the sizzling sex, of course. I want characters that fly off the page and spark off each other. I want fun, frolics and occasional frivolity.

As far as the ending goes, a Happy-Ever-After is good, but I have no problems with a Happy-For-Now.

The No-No’s: No scat, bestiality, under age sex, golden showers, rape or forced sex or incest of any kind and necrophilia.

Formatting: Please format your story in Times New Roman, 12pt font, double spaced with each new paragraph indented by ½ inch. Use quotation marks in dialogue. Since this is a UK publisher, I would love it if you use UK spelling and grammar in your story/stories.

Submit your story by emailing it as an attachment with the following filename.


In the body of the email, please include your legal name, pen name, word count, the type of pairing in the story (eg. M/F, F/F, etc…) and a short author bio.

Send your submission(s) to jboydwrites(at)gmail(dot)com – you can also reach me there if you have any questions or need clarification.

Authors must own their rights to the stories and not have had them published anywhere else. Please note the publisher has final approval over the stories included in the manuscript.

Writing Blog Hop Interview

The lovely Marie Rebelle asked me (ever so politely; she even DM’ed me specifically to ask) if I’d like to be tagged in an author blog hop. And considering I’m writing this introduction right now, it’s safe to assume that I agreed.

At the end, I’m supposed to be tagging three other (aspiring) authors so they can, in turn, answer the questions as well – this way, the hop keeps going.

Right. Off we go then.

1, What are you working on right now?
Well, currently I’m keeping busy with my day job! I’m taking kind of a break from writing short stories, but knowing me, that’s not going to last very long. It’s just a bit of recharging the brainbox, is all.
I kind of, tentatively, am scribbling down bits and bobs for future stories, but nothing concrete. I’d like to try my hand at a novella in the coming months…
2, How does it differ from other work in its genre?

To be honest, I wouldn’t know. I’d say my stuff is very “me” – the dialogue resembles the way I talk with people, the settings are not very elaborate and it’s nearly always set in London. I just tend to roll with whatever is bubbling in my head; scenarios that make me smile.

Bits and bobs from other works tend to float in as inspiration though. I might think of something I read somewhere else, and then go “But what if?” and riff from there. I don’t know if that makes sense.

3, Why do you write what you do?
In the words of Norman Lovett as Holly in Red Dwarf….
It’s a laugh, ‘innit?
I write erotic fiction because I like writing erotic fiction. It’s a genre that fits me, it’s a genre I like to play with. I’d like to experiment with other genres too, but erotic fiction is a genre that just works for me. And it’s FUN. It’s just fucking fun to write.
I don’t write erotica to turn myself on. I write erotica because I can. If you get turned on by it, that’s brilliant – but if it also makes you laugh, cry, giggle, snort, say “ah, yep, that…”, that’s even more brilliant.
4, How does your writing process work?

Writing process??


No, seriously. I look at a call for submissions, have a little brainstorm and start writing if something comes to mind. When I finish, I send it to my other half for editing, we bat it back and forth until I sit at my computer, shouting “CAN I SEND IT NOW IS IT GOOD WHY IS THIS SHITE.”

And then he calms me down and tells me to send it.


I don’t yet know who to tag…. If you want to be tagged, just let me know!

Fiction – Embracing The Cliché – Part One

I wrote this story a while back, and since I’ve not yet found a home for it, I thought I’d share it with you dudes. Aren’t you lucky. Read part one after the jump (no naughty bits just yet…)

Journalist Kristina is deep in the shit. Literally. Whisked away from the comforts of London and dropped on a farm in a rural town in the States with a camera crew and an entirely unfit wardrobe, Kristina’s job is to follow a cowboy around on his daily duties. 

Said cowboy is not best pleased with this. Daniel McKillop is a surly, brooding bastard. Who just so happens to be ridiculously sexy…



In Which I Learn How Insane Art Is

In which I learn a valuable (and pretty bleeding obvious) lesson about just how broad art is.


I stared at it for a while.

I couldn’t really stop myself from staring at it. It was a piece of such fine craftsmanship that it begged to be looked at. It was also the most absurd thing I’d seen in a long while. And I live in London, for fuck’s sake. This is the world capital of absurd shit happening.

But in its own way, it was absolutely gorgeous.

What was it, you ask?

It was a giant replica of a bulldog made entirely out of meringue.

I was at an exhibit in Central London, and this foamy hound was one of its centrepieces. Nothing abstract, mind. It was an exhibit on the history of a famous restaurant.

I was absolutely amazed by its sheer insanity. I mean, the entire exhibit was pretty good evidence on just how far some people go to create something memorable. But the dog. Oh my God, the fucking dog.

I can’t get it out of my head. It’s two days later and I’m absolutely obsessed with it. Well, not obsessed, but it has made me think.

It made me think about my attitudes towards art and craft (the art and craft of writing, in this instance). It made me feel like I wanted to take writing a bit more seriously. And it made me think of new ways of creativity, ways that I haven’t explored yet. The entire weekend (this and the reading at Sh!) was such a massive creative kick up the arse for me. For the first time, I actually learned from art, and I learned that art goes beyond a painting or a sculpture. There is art in everything. And that’s really bloody cool, that is.

Having said that, I can’t believe that it was a fucking meringue bulldog that made me realize this.

Ether Books Published Zipless : Lust In Six Parts !

JBZLISEALast year, I wrote a six part vignette series called Zipless. It was the story of two strangers meeting on a train and having a (near) zipless fuck. 

If you didn’t catch it back then, or if you did and like to own it for yourself, I have some good news. Ether Books, a new mobile social reading platform publishing “made for mobile” quick reads straight to smartphone, have published the newly retitled Zipless : Lust In Six Parts on their platform.

The people at Ether Books are absolutely lovely to work with, and they provide a platform for all kinds of writers, so if you want, get in touch with them about submitting your work, or download their app. You won’t regret it.

Anyway, on to my story. Zipless is, as I said, a straightforward story about two strangers meeting on a train, culminating in a zipless fuck. That’s it. It’s a nice, pocket-sized piece of erotica if you want to read something quick and dirty.





It was the only thing I could feel when I looked at him. Breathless, uninhibited hunger.

His eyes. My god, his eyes. They held my gaze and I could actually feel my panties moisten. I smiled coyly, my cheeks flushing a deep red. Shifting, I clenched my legs together, my hand between my thighs. If I clenched long enough, hard enough… god knows what would happen.

My pussy throbbed. Pulse raced. He could see it on my face. He was smirking. Skinny ginger fucker with a grin that wouldn’t quit. I wanted his cock. And I wanted it yesterday.

So if that tickled your fancy, go and download the Ether app and buy my story! Please? With sugar on top?

Short Fiction ~ Drowning


She couldn’t remember the last time they’d fucked.

For that matter, she couldn’t even remember their last kiss, their last touch or anything remotely intimate passing between the two of them.

Was their relationship as dead as the flowers on the kitchen table?

Friday night and she was alone in the vast emptiness of their house. Despite the size of it, it felt like the walls were about to come down on her. Trapped in a domestic lie.

Elle locked herself in the bathroom and slowly undressed. She stretched her naked body and stood in front of the mirror, looking into her own eyes. Half the woman she was, a shell of the better days of their relationship. Bags under her eyes from five AM starts and being woken up by the sound of his infernal phone ringing non-stop.

Why did she do this to herself?

Why did she even look in the mirror anymore? It scared her. It wasn’t her staring back at her.

Elle turned on the taps, filling the bath with comforting hot water. It had become her Friday night ritual, a bit of alone time so she could cope with the leaden emotions weighing on her shoulders. She watched as the bath filled and wondered if she’d be brave enough to call him out on his bullshit, to tell him that it was obvious that everything was going nowhere, fast.

He wouldn’t listen, of course. He was too much of a stubborn shit to ever face the facts.

Elle slid into the warm water and let it surround her. And for a while, she felt at peace. Even when she slid underwater, for the briefest of minutes, it didn’t feel like she was drowning. It felt like she was floating.

And when she came back up again, her lips curled in a small smile.

She’d work up the courage somehow.

But for now, there was only this bath and this body.

And that was enough to make her feel better.