Lauren's Hot Blog

This was the book where I began my autobiographical series, writing under my “real” name. Sure, Lauren Milfinger isn’t my actual name, but it’s the one I’m using for my web site, twitter account, and everything else, so it might as well be. I’m even using it on more or less legitimate novels, such as Lust for Blood, which doesn’t have any of the really kinky stuff you’ll find in the other novels.

So far, I’ve done three books in this series. Across the Pond, the second, is about my college summer break, when I went to England and stayed with my Uncle Ralph and his horny family. It was a bit of a shock when I discovered that my fraternal-twin cousins, Eve and Andrew, were sort of screwing each other. I say “sort of,” because they weren’t fucking, but Eve was fine with her brother screwing her in the ass, and she loved sucking his cock and having him eat her. It was a contraception thing. She was fine with her father putting his vasectomized cock in her pussy. I couldn’t blame her. Uncle Ralph had a gorgeous, ten-inch schlong and amazing self-control. It seemed like he could fuck forever. Andrew could still get her pregnant, so for him it was oral or anal.

Perhaps needless to say, I got it on with all of them. Eve was definitely the kinkiest of the bunch, by the way.

For now, the autobiographies have concluded with the recent release of They All Cum at Carlisle’s. That was the summer when I taught a creative writing course at an adults-only nudist colony. It was a great place. Everybody was fucking everybody, and my brother Sam arrived for a visit halfway through my stay. What can I say about Sam? He’s tall, handsome, and has an eleven-and-a-half-inch cock. He was very popular while he was there. Just to make the summer complete, the camp’s owner, a gorgeous young lady, took the train back to New York with me (sex on a train is a blast), and, when she went home, my cousin Eve popped over from England and we renewed that wet, kinky relationship.

As you may have noticed, I love sex. One of the joys of putting my website on line was getting to run around my apartment naked and tease Jim, my web guy. I’m not a kid anymore, but I’m still in good shape, and Jim is in his sixties and hung like a fucking horse. Don’t knock older guys. Some of them are still pretty good in the sack. A lot of young guys cum too quickly. Older guys tend to last longer, and lasting longer means I get to cum more times before he does. Mostly thanks to porn, a lot of younger guys will eat pussy now, but, again, the older ones seem to do it better. Other women, to be brutally honest, do it best.

It would be nice if I could have a hung guy and a horny woman living here, ready to take care of my every sexual need, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Most nights I just have to take care of myself. I’m not complaining. There’s an art to masturbation. It’s the one form of love making where you never have any doubts about you being the most important part of it all. I love working my fingers into my pussy, feeling the juices welling up from deep inside me. I can cum a dozen times or more while I’m fingering myself. Using a big vibrator can accomplish even more. I’ve had a silicone monster working inside me for a couple hours at a time and felt like I was cumming continuously the whole time it was buzzing away in there.

Just in case you need a new vibrator– and who doesn’t, really?–you can’t beat these people. Good prices and great products, and if you use my links I get a little commission and it all helps to keep me writing.

I’m working on one of the “tamer” books at the moment. If you’re one of the lucky few who’ve read Lust for Blood, you’ll know that the lady’s maid in the book, the lusty Maureen O’Leary, has a secret life as a writer of Victorian pornography. One of the books she’s written is The Erotic Adventures of a Lady’s Maid. It occurred to me that this wasn’t a bad idea for a real book, so I’m busily producing her magnum opus. When I say “tamer,” I mean that the book can be sold on Amazon, so it’s still loaded with sex. It’s just that there’s no incest, or peeing, or any of the stuff that upsets them. You have to be careful with Amazon.

There is something inherently erotic about certain forms of horror. The modern incarnations in slasher movies have nothing erotic about them, but much of older horror did. Vampires are particularly evocative in this context. Vampirism, after all, has always been a metaphor for sexual congress.

Curiously, one of the oldest English vampire stories, Polidori’s The Vampyre, recalls an older form. Lord Ruthven is a vampire from the beginning of the story, but during the first part of it he is clearly still living. He dies, or becomes un-dead, partway through the story. One might say that the story is also a cautionary tale, and even something of a condemnation of the exaggerated sense of honor in vogue at the time. After all, our hero could have saved his sister if he hadn’t thought that upholding his oath to Ruthven was more important than her life.

Lord Ruthven is also, like most pre-1922 vampires, not particularly bothered by sunlight. That vulnerability seems to date from that year, when it was first used in the unauthorized German Dracula adaptation, Nosferatu. Count Orlock, to be sure, did not burst into flame, which seems to be the modern standard. He simply faded out of existence.

The Irish writer, J. Sheridan LeFanu, provided a different vampiric milestone. Carmilla, the title character in his novella, is also seemingly comfortable moving about in the daylight. She is also, rather clearly, a lesbian, and her vampirism seems to be connected with this sexual appetite. LeFanu might be given credit for the notion of the vampire as shape-shifter, for Carmilla often commits her depredations in the form of a large cat.

Hammer’s 1970 adaptation, The Vampire Lovers, emphasizes the lesbian aspects somewhat more than LeFanu, who had to contend with Victorian standards that allowed only oblique inferences. It also contains a good deal of nudity, with the sort of natural, unmodified female bodies that still prevailed in the early 1970s. It’s just my opinion, but I can’t help thinking naked women looked better in those days than they do now.  I’m not sure that I did, but I was five when this movie came out, so I was kept well covered up. Particularly in the household where I grew up. No one went to horror movies because, you know, Jesus wouldn’t have approved, particularly if there was nudity.

It would be another thirteen years or so before I got around to experimenting with sex. Mostly with the other cheerleaders. We had these weekly Bible study sessions after games, you see, where we’d read all the dirty parts, such as Lot and his daughters, or where Abraham admits that Sarah, his wife, is also his half-sister, or David and Jonathan (those two were gay as shit, trust me), or just about anything in Song of Songs. Reverend Killjoy insisted Song of Songs was an allegorical ode to Jesus’ love for the church. In our opinion, it was mostly about fucking and pussy eating.

Bram Stoker, the author of Dracula, spent several years working for LeFanu before taking on the role of Henry Irving’s theatrical manager. His research into central European vampire legends rounded out the literature. His imagined world still dominates, and there are constant references to Dracula in literature and film. There are certainly vague hints at a lesbian relationship between Mina and Lucy, at least as school girls. I’ll admit that I rather picked up on that, then took it all the way, when I was writing Lust for Blood, which not only has vampires but a good deal of explicit (in a Victorian sort of way) lesbian sex.

Originally, there was going to be a bit of incest, too, but I decided that this was something that might appeal to a broader readership than most of my books, so that came out. We have to make compromises if we want to sell anything on Kindle or iTunes. (The iTunes version, along with any other non-Amazon eBook versions, should be along sometime in February, after the Kindle Unlimited enrollment expires.)(So if you want to read it free, you need to do so now.)

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I’m still working on the first chapter of The Erotic Adventures of a Lady’s Maid, my version of the Victorian sex novel that Maureen O’Leary, Lady Anna’s lady’s maid in Lust for Blood, claims to have written. It’s been a few days, and I’m probably only about a third of the way through the chapter. Keep in mind, though, that these are Victorian chapters, the sort that start with a list of subtitles, so this first chapter covers: Birth and Childhood; The Allinghams confer; Early service; The journey to Elton; Arrival in Elton; Corningwood Manor; Meeting Mrs. Allen; Duties explained; Introduction to Lady Caroline; An impudent groom; Meeting Lord Corningwood; A gift from her mistress. In other words, in a modern novel, this one chapter would likely be the first ten or twelve.

There’s no sex in “Birth and Childhood,” obviously. I write very sexual characters, but they’re all of legal age before they get into anything. The Allinghams, the solicitor and his wife who employ Cecily’s parents, do their conferring in bed, however, so we get into it fairly quickly. It’s very kinky, in a Victorian sort of way. People in late Victorian times were very staid and proper, as long as they though anyone was looking, but they could be just as weird as modern people when they were alone. In “The journey to Elton” section, Cecily, on her way to her new position in rural Kent, has the train compartment to herself so, naturally, she takes advantage of the solitude to masturbate her way out of London. Things will, as they say, go on from there.

There are obvious differences in writing about Victorians and writing about contemporary people. Sexuality hasn’t changed that much, but the way it’s expressed has. Victorians were flowerier, for one thing, and somewhat less inclined to using some of the more popular modern vulgarisms. Mind you, they rarely wrote “penis,” or “vulva,” or any of the proper terms, either. They were more inclined to “his massive tower of pleasure,” or “the fragrant depths of her secret cave of passion.” I don’t know if they actually talked that way, but they certainly wrote that way.

Getting into that style takes a bit of adjustment. Since the story is set in England, there’s the additional adjustment of switching to British spelling and syntax. The date of the story, mostly 1894, dictates much of the context. People are getting around in carriages, and on horseback, or by bicycle. They wear a lot more clothing than we do now. One reason lady’s maids existed was because wealthy women often wore dresses that required a second person helping to get in and out of. A bodice fastened by twenty buttons, all in the centre of the back, for example, or a laced corset that was, again, operated from behind.

You also need to figure out the back stairs hierarchy in a place such as Corningwood Manor, seat of the Corningwood family for centuries. Who works under whom, that sort of thing. A lady’s maid was something of an odd girl out in that sort of household. She was often the only female staff member who, while definitely a servant, answered directly to the lady of the house, and not to the housekeeper. Governesses were in a similar position, except that a governess was not, technically, a servant, being usually a gentlewoman with a proper education, and not working class. A lady’s companion fell into a similar category, with the most important distinction being that, while she was obviously paid for her services, she was normally treated more as a family member, including, generally, eating with the family and not with the servants.

A lady’s maid such as Cecily, who was literate, well-spoken, and properly educated, might be called upon to act as both maid and companion. She’d still eat with the servants, though, but she was presentable enough, and articulate enough, to be taken along on visits and trips.

Most Victorian lady’s maids did not, of course, provide quite the same level of intimate services Cecily provides for her employer, but Cecily is rather special, and Lady Caroline is quite beautiful and just happens to prefer other women to men. Cecily, to be honest, doesn’t discriminate.

It’s going to be an interesting book. I think I can safely say that much.

I’m wondering if I should simply shut off commenting. As it is, all comments have to be approved by me before they appear. You might notice that there aren’t any appearing here yet, which I think neatly categorizes the half dozen or so submitted daily. It’s not that I won’t approve comments, even some rather quirky ones, but I’m not going to do that if the comment has nothing whatever to do with the post, or is obviously written by a bot instead of a person. My personal favorite (I get two or three of these every day, usually on the same early post) is a long collection of paragraphs that are obviously intended as “select one” generic comments. These people don’t give a shit what they say, because the point of the comment isn’t the comment, it’s the half-dozen spam URLs included with it.

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I know some of you are going to be a little disappointed that there’s no incest in Lust for Blood. It started out that way, but I ended up cutting it once it became obvious that this one might just be capable of breaking out of that narrow specialist market. The cut didn’t involve that much. Just had to change where things were aimed in an early scene. Our pals at Amazon don’t seem to mind implication, but definitely frown on anything overt.

It’s fun writing from a late Victorian viewpoint. The setting is mostly a rural estate, which means things such as electricity and telephone service have yet to make it so far from town. Rich people–the first viewpoint character’s father was an Earl, as is her brother, now that their father has passed, and the new neighbour is a Marquess–still had servants in 1895, so perhaps they didn’t miss the conveniences. Not having electricity means using gas lights and paraffin lamps, both of which are certainly more evocative of the period. Not having telephones in the countryside means that, when Lord Muntglare desperately needs to get the doctor out to the estate to care for his sister, all he can do is send a servant with the dog cart to collect him. Something that may take up to three hours.

Dog carts, by the way, which were always popular conveyances in Victorian fiction, are obviously pulled by horses, not dogs. They were two-wheeled, open carriages. The name came about because the seat was built over a ventilated compartment intended for transporting hunting dogs. Holmes and Watson seemed to spend a lot of time being hauled about the countryside in dog carts. At one point in this book Lady Anna and Suzanne stow their picnic hamper in the dog box.

I get to write as several people in this. It’s mostly diary entries, and about the only major character who doesn’t write anything is the vampire. He’s in good company there. The Count was notably silent when it came to contributing his own thoughts in Dracula, too. Lady Anna’s lady’s maid, Maureen, comes up with some good stuff. It seems she has a second identity of sorts, writing Victorian stroke books under a pen name. She’s a pretty Irish girl, obviously better-educated than most servants (she can read French, too), and sees nothing at all problematic with having lesbian sex with her mistress and her friend. She just sees it as something nice she can do and, besides, she enjoys it.

Lady Anna and Suzanne both talk about marrying, but you can tell their hearts really aren’t into it. It was just one of those things women were expected to do in the 1890s.

You really do need to read this book. It was partly inspired by a single line from Dracula, when Lucy writes to Mina, “We have slept together…” Now, I’m sure the original readers, back in 1897, were supposed to interpret that as they were roommates and slept in the same room. Me, I have a dirty mind, so I always figured those two spent a lot of time at boarding school playing at being lesbians before being graduated and settling on boring old men. That was  a fairly common Victorian pornographic theme, after all. Boarding school lesbians is still a popular theme. I’m fairly sure that Lady Anna genuinely is a lesbian, knows it, and, if she ever marries at all, it will only be out of a sense of duty. Suzanne is, I suppose, sexually flexible (she fucks Lady Anna’s brother, too, after all), but seems to have a preference for women.

There’s no question at all about whether these two were getting it on in school. They roomed together, and on colds nights they slept in the same bed, naked, and obviously going at it every chance they could get. They make that quite clear. They also make it clear they started just after Suzanne’s eighteenth birthday. People in racy novels tend to wait longer than real people. And, naturally, when they get together three years after leaving school, it’s obvious that with a dozen empty bedroom in the big manor house, Suzanne will share Lady Anna’s bed. At least, until Lady Anna starts to decline and finds herself inclined to bite (there are vampires in this, remember).

Because Lust for Blood is set in 1895, and mostly consists of diary and journal entries, with a couple of newspaper clipping and letters, the language may be a bit more oblique than in my modern stories. Victorians tended to speak of “rampant masculinity,” or “that glistening pearl wherein a woman’s passion is centred,” or other slightly flowery things like that. The ladies do throw in a few “cunts” and “quims.” Hell, people, Shakespeare slipped a few “cunts” into his plays, usually as puns, so there’s precedent.

This was also a time when doctors treated “hysteria” by reaching under their patients’ voluminous skirts and masturbating them to orgasm. It was even the time when the vibrator was invented, originally as a labor-saving device for gynecologists whose fingers were cramping up dealing with throngs of hysterical women.

There was a time when hysteria was a common complaint, if only because, most of the time, the only one getting off in the marriage bed was the husband. The three ladies of Muntglare Manor are just a bit more progressive than some of their contemporaries. They’ll get each other off, and if that isn’t practical, why, they’ll take matters into their own hands, so to speak.

I suppose I should warn you, this is actually a legitimate, more or less mainstream novel with a lot of sex scenes, not a sex novel with a vampire or two. It’s not for kids, obviously, but neither is it so far out that a film producer might not be well-advised to snap it up now while the rights are still cheap.

The Kindle edition is on sale now at Amazon.com, or you can read it free if you’re a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, or want to use your monthly Prime borrow. A paperback edition is in the pipeline as well.