I’m always slightly surprised when people approach me to say thanks for featuring older, married couples in so many of my stories. Is there really such a dearth of erotic stories about married couples that there’s a need to actively acknowledge it when it happens? Are these two concepts – marriage and sex – mutually exclusive in the world of erotic romance?
As an older married woman myself, I’m delighted to bring to life stories in which people who have a loving, long-term relationship, can still rediscover the spice that makes new relationships so exciting. I love the idea that we can overcome all the stress and grind of day-to-day living and take the time to fulfil our desires. No matter our age. No matter our marital status.
I don’t care that the average age of a romance heroine is 25. So what if Mister Grey is a self-made billionaire by the age of 27 (because, you know, they’re so commonplace ‘n all!)?
I want my heroes and heroines with a sprinkling of grey in their hair, not their name. I want my heroes and heroines with the extra pounds, the slightly saggy bits, the world-weary cynicism that comes with holding down a job, a mortgage, raising kids/teens/young adults, dealing with health issues.
Most of all, I want to transform the world for my characters by reminding them that sexy romance still exists as a possibility for all of us, no matter who we are or what stage we’re at in life.
In my story First Time, from the duet Not Vanilla (Spanking), a married couple attempt to re-kindle their waning libido during an anniversary weekend away. Their exploration of new boundaries begins with a spanking paddle… (warning – 18+ only excerpts ahead)
“Now, Grace. I’m waiting.” Impatience flares briefly in Henry’s features, and then disappears behind the stranger’s mask. This is my husband, and yet somehow it’s not.
My instinct is to immediately bend down and grab my ankles; let him do whatever he wants. The wet slickness that coats the seam between my legs is testament to how much I want to comply. My mind has yet to catch up with my body, though, and for some reason it won’t release the fear that is still holding me captive.
So I play for time and challenge him instead. “Why are you talking like that?” I know why. Of course I do, and yet these stupid questions spill out of my mouth. “Since when is that your thing?” I nod toward the paddle he’s cradling. It’s a style I would have bought myself, if I’d had the nerve. It’s quite large—a good beginner tool, because the larger head diffuses the impact. It’s made of wood, and I can see one side is cushioned with a padded leather cover. Henry is stroking that side on his palm. Clearly he loves the feel of it against his skin, and I have to confess, the thought of that leather caressing my body sends a signal straight to my sex. A breath catches in my throat as my long-dormant clit awakes with a throb. This weekend might be just what we need, after all.
In Watch Me from the duet Not Vanilla (Voyeurism), the struggle between a married couple to regain lost trust after William’s past indiscretion is central to why Isabel has taken up watching their neighbor:
“So, you like watching…guys have sex?” I couldn’t get my head around it, but she let out a nervous-sounding chuckle and shook her head.
“He’s not gay. He seems to like, well, all kinds of people. Men and women.”
My eyebrows rose. “At the same time?”
“No. Well, not always.”
“Not…” I cleared my throat, and a bark of laughter finally slipped out before I could stop it. My wife’s been getting off to group stuff?
What the hell had been going on here right under my ignorant nose? The lounge chair in the corner of our room suddenly looked real comfortable and I sank down onto it before my unsteady legs gave way.
“Does he know you’re…you know. Watching? If he doesn’t…” It’s illegal. I didn’t want to voice the last part of that sentence out loud, but the relief that swept through me when Izzy nodded turned my bones to mush. Lucky I was already sitting down.
“Yes. He doesn’t usually engage or anything, but…yes. Even that first time. It was kind of like he did it on purpose right in front of the window, looking for someone who would take the bait and…watch.”
And it was my wife who took the bait. My lips tightened, but then her shoulders lifted in a small shrug as she continued. “He always tells his partners before they start, too. I see their startled glance over here, but mostly they seem okay with it. He always shuts the curtains if they’re not. I think…” She hesitated, then blurted out, “I’m pretty sure they like knowing I’m here.”
Her tears came then, silently. They just welled up in those sad eyes, adding a green luminosity to the hazel, before brimming over and dropping down her cheeks.
“Don’t, Izzy.” I hate it when she cries. Especially lately, when I feel like everything is somehow my fault.
“I’ll stop, Will. I promise—”
“No.” I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to release my resentment over that bastard drawing my Izzy into such a crazy game.
After a moment I was back in control, and I held out my hands and beckoned her over. When she was standing in front of me her erect nipples were right at my eye height, and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and suck them in, working her into a frenzy the way I used to.
Remember what sex was like with me, Isabel? I can give you that dazed expression again. If you’ll just let me back in.
Similarly, Platinum Passion from my Gods of Love paranormal erotic series, is about a couple’s twentieth wedding anniversary and their desire to rekindle the romance of their early years. Their quest is aided by Pothos, the sexy Greek god of sexual yearning, who has heard their call and intends to deliver an anniversary night to remember:
From her vantage point a couple of meters away the two men were silhouetted against star-kissed water that reflected the vast night sky. They looked beautiful, one the embodiment of power, the other in a more submissive pose, like an erotic picture on an ancient Greek urn, and she felt the rightness of what was about to come next.
“Jeannie, I want to suck his cock,” Jake said, without taking his eyes off Pothos.
Pothos looked at her, though, desire written across his features. “I find myself wanting this, more than I expected,” he admitted in a hoarse voice. “Something about the two of you is making this experience…more.”
“More what?” The two men were waiting for her go-ahead, and perversely, she wanted to make them wait. It felt pretty damn exciting to be in control, even if only for a few seconds.
“Just…more,” he answered. “I cannot explain it. I do not ordinarily experience the emotional side of loving, not often at all. But here, with the two of you…”
His eyes were pleading, and then Jake was looking at her as well. “Jeannie, for the love of God…”
She raised her chin. “All right,” she agreed. “Go for it, boys.”
Then Jake was bending forward and Pothos slid into his mouth. She saw Jake flinch at the first taste of another man, then the initial hesitation disappeared and he groaned and took the organ deeper, sucking and licking and moving his head, slowly at first and then faster as he found the right rhythm. All the while these incredible grunting noises were emanating from his throat, as Pothos growled his own enjoyment from above.
Jeannie sat up, wanting to join in, and Pothos beckoned her. On hands and knees she scooted over to Jake and shuffled in behind him, pressing her mons into his rear and thrusting hard, reaching around his body to find and stroke him while she did so, matching her rhythm to the one he was using on Pothos.
She couldn’t catch her breath and her heart pounded frantically in her chest. Her breasts sank into Jake’s back as she rode him while he mouth-fucked Pothos. Never in a million years would she have imagined doing this with her husband.
And what they were doing was driving her right to the edge.
Do you enjoy reading about established relationships, perhaps featuring older couples, in the romance books you read? Do you enjoy reading about the re-discovery – as opposed to the discovery – of passion in relationships? I’d love to hear what you think!
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