Love Out Of Lust Series

Monday, February 27, 2012

Beth Carter Guest Blogs For The AfterDark World.

The AfterDark World is proud to introduce an author that isn't afraid to step out of her own boundaries of work. Introducing Beth Carter, let her bring her introduction and also check out her latest release Kismet

Out of the Comfort Zone

It is very easy to stay within the confines of what is comfortable and normal in your set boundaries.  But erotica romance writers have the double edge sword of writing not only quality stories, but writing sex scenes that sizzle.      

One thing I love about the explosion of ebook publishing is the emergence of fantasies in print.  Readers are now able to explore different passions and a side of sexuality that hadn’t been there before.  So many different love stories are visited now, from male on male love to multiple partners.  Once thought taboos, ebooks are breaking down all types of zones to fulfill the reader’s demands.

Many of us erotica writers continually battle the preconceived notion that we write porn,   that we write subpar work.  We’ve had our intelligence insulted, our feelings bruised and our talent questioned.  Some people think we even live what we write, that our moral ethics are nonexistent.  But for me, writing sex is hard.  It’s perhaps the hardest aspect of my job and I do a lot of internet research and interviews to bring each character to life. 

I’ve recently stepped outside my comfort zone by writing my first male/male romance novella title “Bother Me’, due out May 8th through Loose Id.  I didn’t know the first thing about writing gay romance so I turned to watching movies, the internet and reading other authors like Jet Mykles to get the dynamics of male/male love. 

Stepping outside whatever box makes you feel safe is a way of exploring a part of yourself you may have been afraid to face, whether as a reader or writer.  I constantly push my own boundaries because I never want to stagnate my stories; to fall into the trap where I substitute character names but have the same plot and the same expectations.  And I never rest of my laurels.  I think I still have a lot more to learn on writing my full potential. 

-Beth D. Carter


I am a full time  writer and  stay at home mom which means I watch a lot of Pixar films.  Over and over and over again.   I hate washing dishes but I love cooking. I hate washing clothes but I love wearing them. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters, ones who are full of angst but where love redeems them. I push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. Music inspires me as do the boats and arguing seals in the  marina where I live. I hate people who don't pick up their dog's crap in public places and I really hate people who are rude and condescending. I especially hate discrimination in all and every form.  The perfect birthday presents are gift certificates to bookstores. And I love to hear from readers.  I’m really easy to find on Facebook or Twitter.


From Kismet ( ) by Beth D. Carter

I kiss him in a way that tingles down to my toes. It’s more than just a simple meeting of lips, it’s sin and raw power rolled into one punch. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and takes over, tasting me, savoring me. I can feel his hunger. I encourage it. I crave it.

I break the kiss long enough to bring my soaked shirt up and over my head. As soon as it’s gone, Kris resumes his kissing. Every nerve ending comes alive. Kris unsnaps my shorts and slides them down my hips and legs as he kisses his way from my mouth to my breasts. He latches on to one nipple, sucking hard.

He kneels in the damp grass, lifting one leg and then the other to help me take off my panties. His hands trace my muscles, sliding smoothly up my calves to my thighs. Gently he turns me around so that his face is to my ass, and he kneads my cheeks as his thumb sweeps between my crack to explore that territory. I can’t help but clench a little. But he’s careful, patient, and when he sweeps in with his tongue, the embarrassment fades away.

He licks from inside the top of my crack, down one cheek, to just where it meets my pussy. My juices have been running freely, mingling with rain, and I can feel his lips nibbling right at that spot. So sensitive, so heavenly. I can’t help but squirm, wanting more. But he simply denies me, retracing his route, all the way up. And then like a whirlpool, he starts circling my rosebud, around and around, until he hits the target area. He doesn’t slip his tongue inside, but instead runs the velvety roughness over it again and again, sensitizing it awake.

And then his fingers start pressing in, using my own juices to lube me up to prepare. In and out, maddeningly slow. One finger, then two. I try to escape, but there is nowhere to go. After he has three fingers in, he slides them somewhat in and out. At first it’s rough, but gradually the pain starts to fade to a burn. The burn then fades to… Oh my fucking God.

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