Something Blue: Jenna Tales by Jenna Jameson, M. Catherine OliverSmith

From the Publisher

World famous entrepreneur, sexy celebrity icon, and New York Times best-selling author Jenna Jameson presents JennaTales, Erotica for the Woman on Top. These titillating tales are written by today's hottest authors to tempt and tease you. Each refreshingly creative story portrays powerful women who know what they want and how they can get it. Who better to represent these wildly sexy short erotic tales than the woman whose name is synonymous with sexy: Jenna Jameson.

Includes a free erotic audio story and sex tips!

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Table of Contents

Read a Sample Chapter

Something Blue

SOUNDS PUBLISHING

Chapter One

Game Day! Or game season! Or for some of you-all damn year long! Don't get pissy and mad if he likes watching the game or games. Talk about it and set some reasonable limits, but understand this may be the one way he really relaxes (other than sex). It's also a way for him to bond with other guys. Let's face it, guys can really suck at friendship, because they just don't know how to talk. So give him his sports, but get something for you, too.

One way to deal with the whole sports fascination is to get into the sport, too. It'll be much better if you can watch and cheer along with him. Throughout the game, plan on having great celebration sex or great consolation sex once it's over. This way you can look at the game as foreplay. Bet on the score with the prize being something you want. You know, a kiss here or a kiss there, maybe some deep kisses everywhere! Make watching the game fun for both of you.

Another idea is that if there is a fumble by his team, then he does something for you-a neck massage, a deep kiss, some nice tongue action the next commercial time-out-and if his team intercepts a pass, then he gets a treat of his choice. Things like this can make the game more fun, and you might actually get his attention away from the game altogether.

You can also get into the whole game day by picking out some sexy underwear or painting your body in the team colors. You could try dressing up as a cheerleader (or a player). Your guy is likely to find it seriously hot to see his woman in a team jersey and not much else. Smudge under your eyes and go get the ball(s)!

A good hard fuck against the public bathroom stall is a great way to relieve tension. It's also a good icebreaker with a new friend.

The Viper's Loving Embrace

She floated into the bar like there were wheels under her feet. Off-blond hair, not too tall. Mysterious dark eyes. She wore a blue tank and tight, matching soccer shorts. She was made of muscle and sinew. Like she spent her lifetime at the gym. Broad shoulders and thick arms, she could have looked manly, but she had curves in all the right places. Lean and muscular, but still feminine.

I doubted that I was the only guy incapable of taking his eyes away from her. She sat a few bar stools away from me. Near enough that I could get a nice view. But far enough away that approaching her would be uncomfortable-especially when she turned her well-defined back toward me.

She ordered tonic water from the bartender and sipped it through a red straw. I'd never once been close to a woman, intimately close, who was in such amazing shape. She was stunning. Like punch-to-the-head stunning. I could barely focus, at least on anything else. I couldn't help but imagine how her shoulders and thighs would feel to my touch. How hard her body would be and, in contrast, how soft her skin. Of course I knew it was just a daydream.

I was jealous, almost, when another guy approached her. He must have weighed twice as much as her and was nearly twice as old. In shape-not. He sported a rolling belly and extra chin.

"I know you!" He pointed at her.

"You do?" Her voice matched his tone and pitch.

"From the TV," he belched into his fist. "You wrestle."

She didn't answer. She didn't have to. But I had an A-ha! moment myself as I finally recognized her. She was a new challenger, up and coming, described as very focused. And cold, stone cold.

Her silence didn't stop him. "You are one sexy lady. Want to join my friends and me?" His head cocked back to a table where his two sneering, idiot buddies were sitting.

"No," was all she said. One word that meant a lot.

I was relieved. I wasn't done daydreaming about her yet. Then again, if I got enough balls up to approach her, would I get the same chilly, one-word reply?

"What? You too good for me?" The guy didn't understand what "no" meant. "Stuck-up bitch."

I thought of jumping to her defense. But that went against my golden rule: don't intervene. It's not my job to put myself in the middle. I play it straight. I play it safe. I play it simple. And I mind my business and let others take care of their own.

She didn't say another word. But the guy wouldn't let it go. "You're fake. Wrestling is fake, and so are you." Then he pushed too far when his pointed finger jabbed her in the arm.

She reacted immediately. Her hand lashed out, grabbed his wrist, and twisted it back while one of her feet jabbed at the hollow of his knee. The guy screamed as he fell, back-first, to the floor. A moment later she had a knee on his chest and a foot on his free arm.

She still didn't say a word.

His buddies kicked out of their chairs and moved fast toward her. I guess that even golden rules are meant to be broken. All she'd done was walk into a bar. She wasn't looking for any problems. She was just looking for a drink. I sure as shit wasn't going to sit and watch while three goons jumped her.

The guy's buddies stopped when I hopped in front of them. Now, I'm no tough guy. I'm more of a spectator than a participant, a watcher, not a fighter. They looked me over and spit air through their noses, knowing that I couldn't stop them alone. There were at least a dozen other guys in that place and not one of them dared or cared enough to offer any help.

"Okay! Okay," I heard the guy on the floor. His voice was different than before. Higher pitched, more apologetic. He knew she'd beaten him but good. She let him up and he waved for his partners to follow him out of that place. I hoped no one noticed how much I was shaking.

She was sitting on her chair and sipping through her red straw again even before I'd caught my breath. I stuffed my hand in a pocket, crossed my fingers, and moved up to her.

"That was a sweet move," I complimented.

"Thanks. First thing they taught us in wrestling college." She winked and I laughed.

"C-can I," I stuttered. "... buy you a drink?"

"No alcohol tonight. I have a big match tomorrow. Biggest of my career so far. I need to be clear and complete."

Well, at least I got better than the one-word "no" that the other guy got. I started moving back to my seat.

"But you can sit with me for a while, if you want," she invited.

I sat and offered her my hand. "I'm Bob."

She took my hand gently and wiggled it a little.

"Your name?" I asked.

"Stage or real?"

"Your real name."

"Eve," she answered with a smile. But suddenly she seemed distracted.

"Something wrong?" I was breaking my golden rule again. But she was worth it.

"Nothing, really." She was a bad liar. "Okay, it's the match tomorrow. Big break for me. But I'm up against a real bitch. Highly ranked. And she's known to cheat a lot."

"Cheat? How can she do that?"

"Lots of practice. She hides coin rolls in her waistband and uses them when she punches. And I hear she even has a pair of steel-toed sneakers. I swear, the refs are blind, deaf, and dumb some days."

"Handle her like you did that guy a few minutes ago. You'll do fine." I tried to comfort her.

"Thanks." She laughed again. "I just hope tomorrow's ref pays attention. It's all up to him. If he keeps it a fair match until I can spring my signature move on her, I'll kick her ass."

"Signature move?" I was curious.

"Well, it will be my signature move. If it works. I call it the Viper's Loving Embrace." She grabbed a napkin and the bartender's pencil and sketched the scene for me with stick figures.

"Check it out," she explained. "Off the top rope, I do a semiflip and wrap my legs around her neck. My crotch is against her face, and my face is in her lap. You know, like she's giving me a piledriver. My hands grip her thighs, and the momentum pulls her down to her knees. A twist one way, then the other. A tug and a pull later her shoulders are on the mat and the ref is slapping his palm red." She dropped the pencil onto the bar and awaited my reaction.

She was an impressive woman. Strong, smart, and sexy. I looked at the stick figures on the napkin.

"It seems oddly erotic," I said. She laughed at my discomfort.

"I've heard it said that wrestling is a lot like fucking, except with a big audience and small clothes," Eve smiled. Then she used the red straw to suck at the bottom of her glass. "Mmm. I could use a couple of real drinks. Just to relax some."

"I won't tell anyone if you do."

She shook her head. "Nah. I have to be on top for tomorrow. Too bad I broke up with my boyfriend last month. Sex is an even better stress-reliever than booze."

We sat quietly for a while. She spent the time rolling what was left of the ice around the bottom of her glass as I tapped my fingers on the bar.

"How about if-" I started, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed and her thin brows rose as she watched my mouth.

"Could I ... I mean ... maybe we ..." I tried again and again, with each attempt making me more nervous and embarrassed. Eve giggled against her index finger as her lips puckered. She was making me work for this. I inhaled deep.

"I could help?" Damn. It came out as a question instead of a statement. "Volunteer. Stress relief, you know? Me ... With you, like-" I don't know how it happened without me noticing, but someone had obviously nailed my tongue to the top of my mouth.

"I never thought you'd offer." She placed a palm on my thigh. "Where do we go? I share my hotel room with another gal."

"I have a roommate," I confessed. "His girlfriend is over for the night. That's why I'm here."

Eve flicked her straw with a finger and carefully scanned the bar. The bartender had stepped into the back room and the all-male crowd was engaged with chatter and drinks.

"Follow me." She stood and motioned to the back wall. I obeyed, marveling at my good luck. When she reached the door to the women's restroom, she glanced back at the bar. Seeing that no one was watching, she grabbed my arm and yanked me inside with her.

I'd never really seen the inside of a women's room before, at least not after I was six or seven and absolutely refused to go with my mother any longer. It was a damn sight cleaner than the guys'. No toilet paper on the floor or graffiti on the walls. Of course, no urinals either. And I swear that the air smelled like lavender.

Eve rested her butt against the sink and crossed her arms. "I'm the only woman in the bar. We should be okay in here. For a few minutes at least."

I froze. I just stood there. I couldn't get my legs to budge.

Eve looked at me impatiently. "I said a few minutes, Bob. Not a few hours."

Two steps later and she bruised my lips with hers. Her palms on my shoulders, she pushed up until her ass was on top of the sink. As we kissed, she trapped me when her legs wrapped around my waist. My fingers stroked her tight thighs, as smooth as they were buff. She grabbed my hand and swiftly slipped it into her shorts. She was wet, and it was easy for one of my fingers to enter. Sighing, she reached down and grabbed my hard-on. She squeezed, just tight enough for my cock to grow and fill her palm.

Our tongues tangled as she backed me into one of the stalls, forcing me to sit. Straddling me, she ground herself onto my lap. I moved my hands up her shirt, feeling the firm muscles in her stomach and chest. Her breasts-not too big, not tiny-were natural and tender. When she tore her top off, she pushed a nipple into my mouth and clasped my ears.

I ran my hands all over her hard body, enjoying her firm, tight flesh. I thought it would be weird being with such a well-defined woman. She had a better body than I did. Much more definition. Yet she was the perfect combination of hard edge and soft femininity.

She stood and pushed down her pants, then her thong. Pointing at my front, she said, "Pants off. Now."

It didn't take me long to obey. I returned to my seat as she settled on top of me. She was so wet that I slid into her in one smooth motion. I massaged her thighs and tight ass as she slowly rocked against me.

The slow motion became faster until she was bucking wildly, her breasts bouncing in front of my face. Once in a while, I'd reach out with my tongue, flicking a nipple and tasting her soft skin.

Emboldened by the action and my inflated cock, I grabbed her by the ass and managed to stand. Pressing her back against the stall door, I fucked her standing up, driving into her with hard thrusts. My knees burned and my legs trembled. But I fucked her until she was screaming my name over and over. I came right after she did. Both of our voices were hoarse from all the grunting and moaning.

I felt a lot more relaxed walking out of that restroom than I had walking in. Eve's smile showed that she felt the same. At the bar, we talked for a few more minutes. Then, suddenly, she shook my hand, planted a small kiss on my cheek, and left.

I was sad to see her go.

But I knew I'd see her again.

The next evening the crowd was in a roaring mood. They hooted, booed, and clapped for no reason at all. Eve looked stunning as she passed from the halls and into the spotlights. Unlike some of the other wrestlers, she didn't wear an elaborate costume. No mask, no sequins. Nothing that would distract attention from her defined muscles. Her black leotard showed off her firm biceps and legs. The V-neck of her tight top exposed her cleavage.

With her eyes glued on her opponent, Eve paced slowly around the ring, like a predator stalking her prey. Then she leapt toward the corner and got on the second rope. She raised her head, her fist slowly rising in the air. Turning to her opponent, she slid her thumb across her throat. Venom dripped from her eyes.

The crowd went crazy.

When she returned to the center of the ring, she noticed me for the first time. I was the guy in black and white, standing in the center. That's right. I reffed her match.

I was tempted to call it all her way. But that was against my occasionally broken but never forgotten golden rule.

Oh, and Eve's signature move, The Viper's Loving Embrace?

It worked even better in the ring than it did on a napkin.

Bev Ichan

Put a leash on it and you have yourself your very own Pet Cock.

She Might as Well Name It

My Gloria loves my cock. I don't just mean she's hot to fuck it and suck it and take it up her ass. She's into all that, but she's crazy for my cock just to look at and pet. Best of all, she likes to watch me come. I think that to her I'm just the guy my cock is attached to. She even met my cock before she met me. It was like this ...

You know what it's like straphanging in a commuter train in rush hour? You get squished in on all sides by all those bodies. Sometimes you get some chick in front of you with her ass pushed back against you and what with the pushing and shoving and the train rocking, it gets embarrassing. Your hard-on is rubbing against her even though you pull back and hold still, but there's nothing you can do about it. You get scared she's gonna think you're doing it deliberately and will get pissed and call a transit cop. At the same time, you're half getting off on it.

I was on the way home when I got jammed up tight behind Gloria but I didn't know her, not then. The carriage was packed. She had on this, like, real thin dress so my woody could feel the heat of her ass through it and my jeans. Every time the train swayed it was like I was fucking between her cheeks. Someone behind me moved, so I was able to back off about three inches. She stayed with me and pressed against me even harder. I didn't believe it at first. She gave a bit of a wriggle back at me. Then I believed it. I tried a bit of a hump at her, testing. She humped her answer. I thought, Oh fuck, I got lucky!

The next thing was unbelievable! Gloria reached back behind her and started fumbling with my zipper. In about five seconds flat she had my fly open and her hot little hand groping inside. I felt her fingers stroke up and down my shaft, checking it out. She must have liked what she felt 'cause she made a fist around me and started slow-pumping. I want her to keep on doing what she's doing, but what about when I came? I'd have me jeans full of come. I leaned down-she's short, my Gloria-and I whispered into her ear, "My stop is next."

She goes, "It's my stop, too. When we get off, I'll get you off." She gave me a squeeze, let me go, and left me to pull my own zipper up.

I got out close behind her to hide my bulge. She walked ahead, fast, so I had to hurry to keep up. "You need to make a phone call," she called over her shoulder.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Something Blue Copyright © 2008 by Sounds Publishing, Inc.. Excerpted by permission.
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