What Makes Women Wet

I'm Science Fiction Romance author Kayelle Allen and I'm here to SEx you up! Today's blog is fantasies.
Yes, I do love sweet true love, the deep, wonderful, "gaze into your eyes and adore you" love.

Ain't talking about that today.

Instead, let's explore the topic of good old fashioned so hot you gotta have it topic of L-U-S-T. Wet, nasty, naughty, slick, fingers-in-your panties hot. What makes a woman wet?

Okay - here are the ground rules. You don't have to divulge your secrets. Instead, you can make up a fantasy character, talk about a hot book that got your best friend all tingly, or you can be a bit naughty and post your own real life fantasy. At the end of the day, I'll hold a drawing only for those who post a fantasy. Winner gets either of my books, At the Mercy of Her Pleasure or For Women Only.

I'll start. I wrote one of my favorite memories into a book, For Women Only. This scene came to me after one of my sisters forced me *cough* to go to a male strip show on my birthday. Forced me, I tell you! It was so sinful. Yeah, right. *grin*

In this scene from For Women Only, the Kin (think feline) heroine is taken to visit a male strip club and sees a performance by one of the horned and hooved Tyrans. Here you go:

Throbbing music pulsed and tickled deep in Mehfawni's chest. Light tracked across the stage and into corners where males danced almost nude in cages.

A man cloaked from head to toe in chain mail strutted onto the stage, pumping both fists to the hard beat. The female audience chanted his name in time. Rheman. Rheman. Rheman.

The dancer turned away from the audience and leaned backward, until the chain mail hood slipped off his head and onto his shoulders. He turned his head to one side.

The audience gasped. He had horns. Rheman was a Tyran.

Unlike most Tyrans, whose horns curved upward and out like a bull's, Rheman's horns curled down around his ears, almost into a circle. He'd painted them gold and the color flashed against the dark brown of his skin.

His metal cloak teased downward, off bulging shoulder muscles, down his smooth back and halted at his waist. While women screamed and shouted, he looked at the audience over his shoulder, flirting, seeking whether he should continue.

The cheering crowd urged him to take it off. The chain mail slipped further, showing the top of his buttocks, enough to reveal a thong made of metal links. The cloak jerked back up a bit and Rheman darted a quick guilty look at the audience, biting into his lower lip like a child caught being naughty.

His bronzed body almost forcibly drew Mehfawni's gaze.

The audience clapped hands in unison, chanting, "Take it off, Rheman!"

He straightened his arms, tilted back his shoulders and let the metal-ringed cloak hit the floor.

He wore only the thong and a pair of boots. He bent forward at the waist, both hands clasping his ankles, exposing his long, firm legs and perfectly shaped ass, and unclasped the covers over his feet. He ripped them off.

She held her breath. His hooves were gold, too.

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Okay - your turn. Have a hot bit that excites you? Gets you all toasty? Makes you want to do the wigglies? Share it. I dare you...