Friday, January 24, 2014

An Erotic FairyTale on #RomanceBeckons with Angharad Jones

ROMANCE BECKONS welcomes Angharad Jones.
Angharad Jones lives in a small village on the outskirts of Cincinnati, Ohio. She is the author of Snow White and Rose Red, a sometimes serious, other times comedic, yet-always erotic fairy-tale. Fortunately for readers, it is available now, through January 29, 2014, for a Kindle Countdown Deal. Please take a look on AMAZON!

Snow White & Red Rose BLURB
In this highly eroticized re-telling of the classic Grimm Brothers' fairy tale, readers will fall in
love with the two beautiful, lustful sisters, Snow White and Rose Red. Snow White, with her porcelain-like skin, blonde hair, and demure pink lips, wants to marry Jacob Grimm, but he, the wayward lad, wants to marry a lass with money and a title; sadly, Snow White has none of these attributes. At last, in despair of ever finding a husband within the village, she agrees to marry Richard Haus, a wealthy widower from a distant land. 

But what is she to think of the rumors people tell? Is Richard truly a Bluebeard, with his succession of deceased wives?
Now Rose Red, with her pale skin dotted with freckles, raven-black hair, and blood-red lips, encounters far more difficulty in her pursuit of a husband. During the long winter, during which time, she, her mother and sister, nurture Black Bear at their hearth, she is stunned to find herself falling in love with an animal of the forest. When Black Bear leaves, at the springtime thaw, she is surprised when she sees a scrap of gold fabric clinging to Black Bear's paw. Before he leaves, Black Bear warns the girls to stay away from the evil dwarves. They have been hiding underground during the bitterly cold winter, and now with springtime's thaw, they will break through the earth and wreck havoc. But Rose Red has more prosaic concerns. She is in love with a young man from the village, Roland. When war is declared, though, Roland enlists, and, despite Rose Red's best efforts to persuade him to marry her, he asks her to wait. For two long years, Rose Red toils and fears she shall turn into an old maid. 

When Snow White writes to Rose Red, asking her to attend to her during the birth of her first child, Rose Red realizes that her life will never truly begin until she kicks the dust of the provincial old village off her heels.
As she embarks upon her journey to the distant land, she is surprised to see the King's men. They are searching for the Prince, who disappeared years earlier, never to be seen again. 

What does it all mean?  And why does Snow White fear for her life?

ENJOY a Comical Excerpt from Snow White and Rose Red:
“Oh, please stop!” Snow White panted.
Jacob Grimm let out a frustrated sigh, rolled off her belly and flung himself, facedown, into the hay. He pounded the floorboards with his fists. “Rot it all!”
For the past several weeks, every afternoon at four o’clock, Jacob Grimm had taken Snow White by the hand and led her to the haymow in his father’s milking barn. Ostensibly, Jacob Grimm went there to milk the cows, but in his afternoon trysts with Snow White, he meant to recover a different kind of buttermilk. Thus far, his efforts had borne no fruit, but he hoped he might press his suit a little harder today. He hoped his patience might finally be rewarded, and he’d nearly succeeded, when she suddenly called an end to their congress. Facedown in the straw, he spoke in a muffled voice. “Dearheart, you are driving me mad with desire. Don’t you know we are behaving in a perfectly appropriate manner?”
“That may very well be true,” she gasped, rising up onto her elbows, “but it doesn’t necessarily mean I must do it.”
“You’re such a prude.”
“Am not.”
He rolled over onto his back and let out a heartfelt sigh. Every afternoon he’d escorted her up the railing and into the deepest and most secret part of the haymow, where he tucked her away under piles of hay. He plied her with treats and entreaties, and he believed—at long last—his patience would finally be rewarded. God alone knew he’d worked hard enough at it. God alone knew he deserved it.
He ran his fingers through his thick mane of blond hair and blew out his breath. He gazed over longingly at the nubile maiden, lying prone beside him, at the blonde thatch of pubic hair he’d finally managed—after many supplicating kisses and protestations of undying love—to persuade her to reveal herself to him. And there, basking in the late afternoon’s sunbeam, gleamed her lovely, lustrous thatch, and below her thatch, tucked away between her supple legs, resided even more enchantments. He called it her hidden, long lost treasure. Long lost indeed, for he’d begun to believe he’d never sample any treasure from the cache. If only, oh, if only she’d share this treasure with him, he’d become the happiest of men.
She tempted him, she tempted him sorely.
And yet, the maiden did not yield, she did not give way. Ever resolute, she wanted the one thing in the world he dared not give her. A ring.
Snow White noticed him staring at her thatch and bestowed upon him a winning smile. “You must first make a proper request to my mama. Until you do—”
He cried out in frustration. How many times had they traversed this subject? “You know my papa will never approve the match.”
“Well, then. I suppose that’s that, then.” Snow White cried, deeply offended. Jacob Grimm watched with misery as she struggled to rise, yanking up the undergarments around her knees until they covered over the lovely thatch of blonde pubic hair. In a matter of moments, her lovely thatch disappeared, covered over by linen underpants. Her skirt, which he’d raked up over her hips, was thrust back down over her knees. “If I’m not good enough for your father!”
“It’s not that, dearheart.”
“But it is, isn’t it. If that’s the case then, you shan’t mount me.” She rose to her knees, pulling straw from her corset.
His cock throbbing, Jacob Grimm groaned deep in his throat. “Snow White, do you know how long I’ve waited?” He rose up onto his elbows and gazed directly into her clear blue eyes. Those piercing blue eyes. “Do you know how patient I’ve been, how long I’ve waited?”
“As long as I.” She shot back, struggling to her feet. She adjusted the stays to her corset, then flung one foot up onto a hay bale. At first he thought she might be offering him a stolen kiss from her secret lips, but no, he realized with a sigh of disappointment, she was merely adjusting the garter. Even so, he feasted his gaze upon her lovely, gleaming thatch. Goodness, how her blonde hair glowed. And ah, those pretty thighs, those lovely, creamy thighs. Jacob Grimm watched with increasing despair as she adjusted her garters, snapping them into place with an emphatic thuck, thuck sound.
Jacob Grimm bemoaned his fate. Who brought him this recalcitrant virgin? She meant to torture him, cut him to the quick. When all his other mates sampled freely the delights of their female companions, why didn’t he get to taste of her pink, soft flesh? Oh, he blamed his father. All Papa’s fault, really.
Father sneered and looked down upon on the widow who lived on the outskirts of town. He’d once courted her, shortly after her husband passed, but she rebuffed his advances and, scorned, he’d vowed never to visit the widow’s cottage again. And then, as the girls grew into blooming womanhood, Papa declared, unequivocally, that the two beautiful sisters, Snow White and Rose Red, occupied a lowly social position and were therefore unmarriageable.
Papa explained it all thoroughly to him one night at The Three Witches Pub, when father and son knocked back a pint or two before heading home after a long day’s work in the fields.
“Oh, Jacob, you know what I’m getting at.” Papa nudged Jacob roughly in the ribs, flashing him with a knowing leer. “You can still play with those girls. You can still roll around in the hay, have your fun. You can rut’em all you want, son. But don’t you dare bring one of those hoary sluts home to me, boy, and expect me to sanction the marriage!”
“Yes, Pa,” Jacob muttered, sipping the foam off his beer.
“Don’t test me son, I mean it. I’ll throw you out the door and disinherit you and leave my entire estate to your younger brother, I will.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Pa.”
“Be sure you don’t,” Papa finished, mollified.
“But, Papa, I must ask you. Why do you disapprove so of those girls? Everyone in the village thinks they’re the sweetest, kindest girls that ever did tread upon the earth.”
“One winter, a year ago now, I heard a rumor,” Papa said darkly. “And one night, I stole out to the widow’s cottage and took a look for myself.”
“What rumor?”
“Why, didn’t you hear any of the villagers gossiping like magpies? They were talking about it all winter long.”
Jacob shook his head. “No, Papa, you forget. I spent most of my time in the fields.”
“Aye,” Papa agreed, “I suppose you’re right, then.” He wiped the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand and gazed at his beer stein. “Well, from what I learned, one dark night, during one of the hardest winter storms in history, the widow and her daughters took in a stray.”
“Ach, Papa, how you can be so unkind? Isn’t that but an act of Christian charity, taking in the stray soul?”
Papa’s bleary eyes focused on Jacob’s face. “Boy, you don’t know what you’re nattering on about. I’m not talking about some homeless vagabond. The stray they took in was a massive black bear!”
Jacob Grimm goggled at him. “A bear? And it didn’t eat them alive?”
Papa grinned owlishly from over the rim of his stein. “Oh, it ate them, all right! The big brute ate those girls up and he rutted them all through the night during that long, dark winter!”
“A bear?” Jacob Grimm scoffed. “Ach, Papa, for shame.”
“Ayuh, son,” Papa said. “He had his way with those little whores through the whole winter long, every night, every single night, as the flames danced and flared in the fire.” He gazed at Jacob with a malevolent smile. “I seen it with my own eyes, boy!”
“Seen what, Papa?”
“I went out there one night, and peered in through the casement window.” He shook his head as if he could not believe the depravity of what he’d witnessed. “Son, that bear was by the hearth, on all fours, rutting that little raven-haired bitch Rose Red.”
“Snow White wasn’t there, was she, Papa?”
“Are you daft, boy?” Papa roared. “She was on her knees behind the bear, licking his furry balls!”
“Oh, Papa, that can’t be true. Not my Snow White.”
“I’m afraid so, lad,” Papa said, gesturing to the barkeep for another stein. “Those girls are as wicked as the day is old. Mark my word, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised if the lot of them turn into witches.”
Jacob Grimm clutched his head and groaned.
“If they’re willing to fornicate with wild animals—” Papa muttered ominously.
“Oh, Papa, please, please. Stop, Papa, please.”
“Oh, rut’em all you want,” Papa said. “But don’t you dare marry any one of ‘em.”
“Yes, Papa,” Jacob said meekly.
Ah, but it proved hard, much harder than he expected, to honor his father’s demands. The flesh of many a fine fruit had passed across Jacob’s lips; his tongue, many the nectar of a budding pear slipped down his throat. He ate of ripe peaches, bursting-at-the seams nectarines, plum tomatoes, and luscious melons. No matter the shape, no matter the size, he devoured it all with a lusty hunger. And yet his appetite grew. No longer content to slake his thirst with the rotund, earthy lasses who toiled in the grand manors as cooks and scullery maids, no, he grew refined in his tastes and appetites. The common girls were lovely girls, of course, in their way, all flesh and bosoms and wide-open lips, but after a time, he wearied of their simple-minded brains, their vulgarity.
No, after a time, his taste for these repasts grew more delicate, more refined. Abandoning the heat and humidity of the summer kitchen, he charged up the stairs, searching for choicer cuts of meat. He rolled around in the luxurious beds with the hoity-toity upstairs maids, who served only to whet his hunger the more he feasted upon these juicy morsels of flesh.
And his toils were richly rewarded. Sarah, the fulsome cook at the neighbor’s manor, bore the evidence of his battering ram, for she swelled large with child. Soon, he thought with a dry smile, another one of his bastards would be scampering across the hen-yard, tormenting the chickens.
Yet over the past several months, as his taste grew more affected, more refined, he reached the point where he found even the upstairs maids not to his liking. He preferred a higher class of young woman. A young woman, to be exact, who looked and smelled and filled her corset just like the demure and lovely Snow White.
He gazed down forlornly at his throbbing erection and growled.
“It’s not my fault,” Snow White pouted, dropping to her knees and searching for her little bag. She pulled it out from under a bale of hay and unlaced the drawstring. She found a brush and combed out her golden hair. She pulled it back into a long, loose braid. Her hair, her beautiful hair, gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight. She gazed defiantly at him. “It’s your father who won’t allow it.”
She was right, of course.
“That does nothing for my member, Snow White.”
The girl gazed wistfully at the place where the muslin fabric strained to contain his cock.
“Such a shame,” she purred, kneeling down on the straw and brushing her fingers lightly across his bulging manhood.
Jacob swooned. “Woman! Don’t do that.”
She flashed him an innocent smile. “Don’t do what? This?” She expertly reached her fingers through the opening in his breaches, unbuttoning him with an ease that simply amazed him, and withdrew his throbbing cock. Its pulsing heat radiated warmth in the girl’s cool hand.
“God almighty,” he groaned.
“How lovely.” She smiled at his cock with the air of one inspecting a strand of pearls, as opposed to a young man’s glowing manhood. Her fingers curved around the shaft and she squeezed gently.
“Oooooh.” Jacob’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Lie back down, my sweet,” Snow White whispered, “and let’s talk about your papa.”
“Let’s not. And I swear I’ll marry you.”
“Don’t make promises,” Snow White whispered with a repressive smile, “you have no intention of keeping.”
She hoisted up her petticoats and straddled him, her bent knees resting on either side of his thighs. She bent down over him, her pink tongue darting up and down the length of his shaft. Jacob moaned as she did this. He reached up and ran his fingers through her silky blonde hair. She continued licking him in this fashion for a few more moments, then popped the nubby tip of his cock into her mouth, wiggling her tongue and lips together around the nub. She bobbed up and down on his shaft, increasing, then releasing the pressure of her jaws around his member; bobbing, bobbing, drawing him up, filling him, causing him to lose all hope and reason. She then opened her lips wide and swallowed up his cock, right down to the balls. She bobbed up and down on his shaft, her artful, talented tongue massaging and circling the full sheath as she rubbed his cock from top to bottom. She pressed her lips tighter, then looser, then tighter again, as Jacob Grimm groaned gutturally in his throat.
His cock throbbed as he drew close to his crisis. She increased her efforts, bobbing up and down, squeezing tighter on his shaft, until finally he burst forth his seed in an explosive torrent of cum. A frothy, creamy cum filled her mouth and she sat back on her haunches, swallowing it all down with a big naughty smile on her face.
Jacob watched through half-hooded eyelids as he fell back, utterly spent, exhausted, onto the fresh, clean straw. “You are the greatest, most marvelous woman in the entire realm.”
“It’s a wonder then,” she retorted tartly, “that you don’t tell your papa. I’m sure if you thrust your point hard enough, he’d agree to post the marriage banns.”
She gazed down at his spent member, now lying quiescent on top of his breeches. “Just think,” she tittered with a saucy smile, “the treats I’d be giving my handsome husband every night in our marital bed.”
“You’re right.” Jacob raised himself up onto his elbows and gazed at Snow White with a bleary smile. “You’re better than any whore.”
“Hah.” She scoffed. “Of course I’m better than any whore. I’m still a virgin.”
“I’ll tell Papa I must marry you and make you my wife, that cursed bear be damned.”
She started in surprise. “Bear? What bear?”
“The bear,” Jacob Grimm replied with a patient sigh, “that my papa says you and your sister serviced all winter long.”
She gazed at him with a look of horror, her features turning pale. “What?”
Jacob regarded her with a baleful expression. Surely, surely she knew? “The bear,” he repeated, thinking she didn’t hear him correctly. “The bear that lived with you, all winter long. My papa says that you, your sister and even your mama—how shall I put it—all took a hand in his care.”
“A most dastardly lie,” she snarled. She jumped to her feet and flounced to the railing, grabbed ahold of the wooden slat and stood on the top rail, staring at him with a look of undiluted hatred.
Jacob staggered to his feet, clumsily shoving his cock back inside his breeches. He ran forward. “Snow White, wait! Let me explain.”
“Sod off! I never want to see you again, Jacob Grimm. And you can tell your bleeding father he’s got a lot of nerve criticizing my family, when I happen to know your father likes to bugger the sheep!”
And with that, she scurried down the railing and hurried out of the barn, scampering across the meadow back to her mother’s home.
“Wait!” Jacob Grimm cried. He stood at the top of the haymow, his clothes all disordered, bits and pieces of straw clinging to his hair. “You’ve got it all wrong, Snow White. The business with the sheep, he only did it the one time!”
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