Measuring up: get your cut-price copy today!

Hi!

From today and for a limited period, 'Measuring up - an indispensable compendium of eclectic erotica' is available at a vastly reduced price. The book is, as the title suggests, a collection of naughty short stories, many of which have at their core deliciously dark and bitter pips; for such is life: occasional sweet mouthfuls of fruit and a stomachful of guilt. Well, my life, anyway.

So, go on! Treat yourself. Sink your teeth into the most secret and succulent parts of me. Chew me over. Ruminate. And all for less than a buck buck buck!

'Measuring up' on Amazon

Take care till next time,

Alexandra xxx

Excerpt from Measuring up:

I stepped to his side, pointed pencil towards paper then nervously swapped hands and began.

'Right. Okay. Could you tell me when... you last had sex?'

His answer was immediate.

'Two weeks ago. Girl I met in the pub. She was very...'

While ticking the relevant box, I cut his anecdote dead.

'Okay.' That was the fourth okay in as many sentences; I promised myself I would not say it again. 'And when did you last masturbate?'

'This morning. In the shower.'

This time, my smile was natural.

'Again, a bit more information than required, but thank you.'

I set the clipboard down.

'O... As a stimulus, I'm going to show you a short film. It is erotic in nature. At its conclusion, I'm going to measure your response to the stimulus. Do you understand?'

'Yeah. You're going to show me a dirty film and then measure my dick.'

His robe already displayed a promising bulge.

'Yes. I suppose I am. Are you happy with that?'

He nodded though looked suddenly thoughtful.

'Is your lack of underwear part of the stimulus?'

Was it so obvious? The room suddenly became even warmer. I bought myself a few moments to think.

'Sorry?'

He gazed at me as if I were naked, and I wished I'd got a receipt for the moments - they were totally fucking useless; thinking was impossible.

'Is the fact you are bare but for your smock relevant in any way?'

Both for its own sake and as a homophone, 'bare' conjured up images of Geoff and Pam. His cock in her arse. His cock in her mouth. The self-same cock I had fellated in this self-same room. I retrieved the clipboard, hugged it to my pointy breasts and stammered.

'Er, no. Not at all. Think of me as, er, simply part of the furniture.'

He snorted.

'Knickerless furniture?' Another, though gentler, snort. 'I'll try, but it's going to be hard.'

I ignored his smiling innuendo.

'Are you ready?'

'Yeah. Fire away.'

After stepping back out of his eye-line, I pressed the remote and the screen slowly lowered. It was all part of the process, added immeasurably to the anticipation. At least, that was the theory. Lights dimmed. Darkness. The thought of what was to follow made me dizzy with desire. A trickle tickled my inner thigh. I reached down, lifted my uniform and swept it up, brought it to my mouth and destroyed the liquid evidence of my arousal. Unsurprisingly, it didn't help at all. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me rigid. If I'd touched myself again, I would have climaxed. Knees shaking, heart thudding, I clicked the remote once more and the movie began to play.

The blonde in the geeky glasses chewed her lip then started to strip. The black dress simply fell from her and she stepped out of it. She was young, slim, but deliciously curvy. Her black underwear was decadently delicate. The bra was next to go. Its removal was classic burlesque. Unfastened straps flapping, she clasped the cups to her bosom and caressed the hidden heavenly hemispheres while her eyes asked the inevitable questions. Shall I? Shan't I? As the teasing garment was tossed away, the subject's chair began to rock and hoarse expletives filled the air.

'Fucking hell! Fuck me! Fucking gorgeous tits!'

So immersed in the stimulus was he, that I believed Jake had forgotten I was even there.

The girl's heels were precariously high. The black hold-ups added inexplicable allure. When she finally lowered her knickers to display the most beautiful shaved pussy, the subject hissed some more.

'Oh, fuck! Oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck...'

Sinking to her knees before the rock hard cock that now filled almost half the screen, she whispered huskily.

'Hey lover! I'm gonna suck your cock, big boy! You like that, don't you? Mmm, course you do. And I'm gonna swallow; swallow every fucking drop.'

Red lips parted and the tip disappeared. A delicate hand encircled the shaft and began to stroke. The sounds were intoxicating. Slurping. Groaning. The smacking of lips. Jake was breathing heavily. The chair was rocking insistently. I took a couple of silent steps and peered over his shoulder. What I saw took my breath.

His gown was open, chest, belly and legs on full display. His tanned body was slim, smooth, and beautifully defined. He had no pubic hair. No body hair at all. He was perfect. And that was without taking into account his incredible cock. Fuck. What a monster. Not only was it long, but it was very thick, and the head was rounded like a club. He stroked it lovingly, coaxed it carefully, alternately squeezed and released then stroked it some more. A wetted finger circled the underside of the head as he grabbed his balls and thrust rhythmically from the hips.

I was aching to touch myself. Lubrication again dribbled down my inner thigh. The on-screen cock lurched. The blonde coughed, spat out the pulsing flesh, then received one, two, three shots of cum onto her beatific face. The picture froze. I picked up my measuring device and stepped from the shadows.

'May I?'

'Oh, god, yes!'

Freud tapped me on the shoulder.

'Haven't you forgotten something, mein liebes Mädchen?'

I snorted derisively.

'What? To ask him if I remind him of his mother?'

'Nein! Nein! Die Latex Handshuhe? Die... Latex gloves?'

With difficulty, I blanked him out, had long ago decided I was not going to be party to his twisted little psychological games. And no way was rubber coming between me and this prodigious prick. Not in any of its titillating medical guises. Glove-free, I rested one end of the rule on the smooth pubic bone then eased the sliding stop downwards till it rested on the tip of the obscenely swollen glans.

'That's 9 inches.' I couldn't help but express my admiration. 'Wow. Lucky boy! Now let's see if the girth is equally impressive.'

Outwardly phlegmatic, while internally in chaos, I reached into my pocket for the tailor's tape measure. The unexpected touch of his hand on my arm almost took me over the edge. I froze. He whispered.

'I've got more than that. Try again.' 

*****