This weekend, we paid a visit to some friends who live near London. Mrs Berry likes to visit them because her Southern accent doesn't feel out of place down there. In amongst drinking lots of wine, we watched the rugby final (booo!).

The next day, we went to London. Our first stop was Covent Garden, where we watched some of the street performers. This man did some juggling. He was very funny.



Nearby were two 'living statues'. This one posed with Brat 2 when she gave him some money. If anything, he was even funnier than the juggler, though Mrs Berry couldn't help but admire his pecs.



After a spot of lunch, we walked to the British Museum. This is the impressive main entrance hall. The circular building in the middle is the Reading Room.



There were lots and lots of interesting things to see, including some very strangely dressed people. This couple had obviously spent a long time co-ordinating their outfits.



Why was the Egyptian boy confused? Because his daddy was a mummy. Upstairs we found some real mummies. Maybe this one will provide inspiration for an erotic story. Look at her buxom hips and erect nipples, and the inviting join between her legs. I wonder if the carpenter was tempted to put a hole there.



In the Reading Room, we saw some of the Terracotta Army from China. I wasn't allowed to take photographs. You will just have to take my word for it that they were quite impressive.

On Monday we went to Hampton Court Palace. It was built early in the sixteenth century by Cardinal Wolsey, and he gave it to Henry VIII, who lived there with the first and possibly others of his six wives. This is the main entrance.



Not quite as grand as Berry Palace, I'm sure you'll agree, but pretty all the same.

Unfortunately, my camera ran out of batteries again after this, so if you want to see more I suggest you visit Wikipedia.

There's yet another new Berry story at Ruthies Club this week. Stark Naked Dolls is the result of me wondering how they make those sex dolls so life-like. It's dark and it's ever so slightly chilling. Enjoy!

Then get yourself over to Ruthies Club, where they are having a Flash festival this week. Each author has submitted five stories of no more than 300 words each, so there's five times the fun to be had.

My own effort centres on a not-so-quiet suburban street and the extremely kinky goings-on behind those twitching curtains. What would the neighbours say? Actually, in this street, they'd probably want to join in. Find out for yourself in 1-5 Acacia Avenue.

You'll also find five-somes from MySpace friends Mat Twassel and Sommer Marsden. Anything by these two is well worth checking out.

Assassin Sane is back at Ruthies Club in his hottest adventure yet.

Thomas Sane is still a reluctant killer, and this time he's up against a skilled female assassin who positively revels in it. He'll need all his wits about him, and Alan is ready to push him beyond his limits.

Visit Ruthies CLub now to take a look, and brace yourself for possibly the best illustration yet from Andrzej Wilkowski. Phew!

PS: The small print. You know the drill by now, and it applies in spades to this story. It's dark, violent and sexy, and probably no one ought to read it at all. This especially apples to those of a nervous disposition, pregnant women, people with heart problems, minors, anyone living in a country with morally strict governments and prudes. And George Bush.

Well, I'm in another writing dry patch. Inspiration has caught the last train out of Berry Brain and is having an extended vacation.

Instead, I thought I'd tell you what's on my car stereo at the moment.

I'm listening to The Concerto Project Vol One, by Philip Glass. Glass is one of my favourite modern composers. There is a power and drive to his music which i find very appealing. On this CD is his cello concerto and a timpani concerto.

I bought it for the cello piece, having heard it on a classical music station, and my heart sank when i saw the second work. For those that don't know, a timpani is a big drum, also known as a kettle drum. How can you make a solo part from that?

Very well, is the answer, and this was one of those glorious times when I found a piece on a CD even better than the one I bought it for.

There are two timpanists. One of them is Evelyn Glennie, who I have long admired. Despite being profoundly deaf, she has become one of the world's greatest percussionists. She's also a bit of a babe, and absolutely charming. In the pictures on the CD sleeve, both timpanists have seven of these gigantic drums arrayed in front of them. Imagine seeing that live in concert. I would imagine it's quite impressive. I like to play it very loud.

Anyway, if you fancy dipping your toes into modern classical music, I'd recommend this!

Oh, and the Alison Tyler J is for Jealousy anthology that will hopefully contain one of my stories has now gone off to Cleis Press, so there's not a complete dearth of writing news. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Well, the other day I got a note through my door to say that the postman had tried to deliver a package, but that it was too big to fit through my letterbox. Filled with excitement, I duly reported to the Post Office the following day and picked up a large packet. I skilfully deflected the inquisitive questions from Brat 2, who was with me, and opened it in privacy later on.

Yes, readers, it contained my two free copies of the Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica, and a cheque which will contribute nicely to the Berry Christmas Present Fund.

This is what it looks like:



Isn't it lovely? The contents page features my name not once, but twice, because it includes two of my stories.

Shock Treatment was my entry for Desdmona's typewriter contest a while back, and features a diabolical device that's definitely wired for pain.

Sarah gasped. A tingling sensation began deep in her pussy, followed by little pulses from each of the clips attached to her body. As Paige typed, she felt her nipples and clitoris respond to the gentle electrical stimulation, hardening beyond anything she thought possible. The vibrator inside her emitted a steady pulse. Its throbbing action was transmitted to the narrow probe in her anus, to her surprise and pleasure. Moisture started to gather around the part of the cylinder that was visible in her pussy. The pain when the clips were attached became a distant memory, banished by the pleasure of the moment.

In Tess of the Suburb's Bills, everyone's favourite erotic superheroine, Nightgirl, is back in an all-new adventure. When one of Tess Carlin's housemates rips her off, Nightgirl is there to help. She soon finds out that Tess is not just hands on, she has real difficulty keeping her hands off!

"So then, after tying me up and doing all sorts of things to me, she says she thinks that she's a bicycle!" Abigail looked at Helen and shrugged. "I mean, I like my bike, especially when I ride it down the cobbled street across town, but it never does stuff like that to me."

What will I do with the second copy? Well, I'm feeling generous. I'm going to give it away! All you need to do to be in with a chance of winning it is to leave a comment on this blog. And because that is so ridiculously easy, I want you to send me a message as well, telling me the full name of Nightgirl's alter ego.

Five hundred pages of sapphic pleasure could be yours. Get commenting! And messaging!

I am so excited! Really, really excited. If you can imagine a dog that has been told it's going for a walk, can see a juicy steak in its food bowl, and has just spotted that the hated cat from next door is asleep on the back lawn within easy reach, I'm even more excited than that.

Why am I so excited, I can almost hear you ask. Well, I got an email this morning to say that my contributor copy of the Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica is about to be sent to me, along with a cheque. A free book! And money! For me! This must be how Sommer Marsden feels on a daily basis.

I wonder if Mrs Berry will let me place it on the bookcase in our lounge. The room in which the children aren't supposed to be allowed, but in which the television is almost always tuned to the Disney Channel (boy, am I sick of High School Musical). The room in which the Berrys-in-law sit when they come for dinner.

I'll let you know what it's like, and maybe even post a sneak preview of my work, when it arrives. Or you could go buy your own copy, right now, right here.

And now I'm sure you'll excuse me while I go and jump around a little more.

Well, after weeks of prevaricating and irrelevance, I've finally got around to doing some story work. I haven't any firm dates yet, but I have submitted a number of stories for consideration.

 

There's a new story in my Assassin Sane series, in which Thomas must undertake his hardest mission yet:

 

I lifted her into one of the chairs and used her own stockings to tie her wrists to the arms. I pulled her ankles back around the sides of the chair and fastened them to the back legs with the remaining lengths of stocking. The chair had a high, slatted back, and I was able to use my belt to hold her neck against it. When I'd finished, I phoned Alan.

 

In Stark Naked Dolls, a young woman faces a fate worse than death at the hands of my newest villain, John Stark:

 

Mary Cochrane lay on a bed in the middle of a totally white room. She was nude, and her skin had a faint sheen to it, as though she'd applied a light coating of oil. Every last hair on her body had been removed, and her breasts were at least a size bigger than they had been. Her unblinking brown eyes stared upwards. She could still see, but it was like looking through a rain-soaked window. Her body refused to respond to her requests for movement.

 

A long time ago, I wrote a series of three short stories about a young couple's journey into exhibitionism. Max and Laura proved quite popular in the Fish Tank. Only three of those stories ever saw publication, so now I'm looking for a home for the remaining tow:

 

Laura undid the belt of her coat and let the two ends fall by her sides. Slowly, she unfastened each of the buttons. The coat gaped open. She looked from side to side then leaned forward and shrugged it from her shoulders. It slipped down her arms. She pulled them free, lifted her hips and pushed the coat onto the floor. Max looked at her. Her pale skin shone white in the light from the screen. She had covered herself with her arms as best she could, but when she saw him looking, she slowly let them drop to her sides.

 

I've also been inspired by a request from Ruthies Club for an upcoming flash edition. I've submitted a series of five flash stories, inspired by some pictures I found while browsing the web. Unfortunately they are far too naughty for me to show here. Each one is about the inhabitants of a typical British suburban avenue, and they get up to some very untypical and naughty things indeed:

 

Adam grunted and nodded vigorously, his eyes fixed on her hand. Richard pushed his wife's skirt up around her waist and eased her panties to one side. As his cock slipped into her pussy, she let her lips slide down Adam's shaft. His head fell back against the tabletop.

 

I have a feeling that these very short stories may yet blossom into full length features before very long. It was certainly a struggle to keep them to 300 words, and I have a lot more to say on all of the subjects featured!

 

And that's it, for the moment. I'm working on another spanking story, which I hope to complete in the next week or so, and I have a few more ideas up my sleeve (or should that be down my trousers, given the subject matter?). I'll keep you posted, and of course I'll let you know as soon as these stories are available for you to read.

...Mrs & Mrs Berry will play. This weekend was a bank holiday, which means that most of the country got the Monday off work. I also had Tuesday off.

On Monday morning Mrs Berry and I got up early and walked up onto Ilkley Moor. You may have heard of Ilkley Moor from the well-known song On Ilkla Moor Baht'at, about a man who goes up there without his hat (baht'at), catches a cold and dies.

Anyway, Mrs Berry and I did not wear hats, but we didn't catch colds and die because it was a lovely warm morning. Pretty soon we arrived at the Twelve Apostles, which is a stone circle on the moor. You will not be surprised to learn that it is made up of twelve stones. None of them is more than two feet tall, so it's quite small as stone circles go, but it is very pretty and there are marvellous views all around. We ate our breakfast up there with only the skylarks for company.

We then went to a shop to buy a new plant, as a fairly prominent bush in the gardens of Berry Palace suddenly died. Maybe it caught a cold. We didn't buy a plant at the shop, but we did get a rather nice garden chair that had been reduced to a bargain price. So then we went to another shop, where we got the plant we'd been after, along with, needless to say, several more that we didn't really need.

On Tuesday we went into Bradford. The Berrys-in-law had given me some book tokens for my birthday, so we headed for Waterstones. It's based in a rather beautiful nineteenth century building that used to be the Wool Exchange, back when Bradford was one of the most important textile centres in the world.

The books are all on the ground floor, and on a mezzanine level there is a small Starbucks overlooking the shop. We headed up for coffee.

Coffees at Starbucks are, bizarrely, not labelled small, medium and large. Instead, the smallest you can get is called 'Tall', which seems counterintuitive. Mrs Berry and I both asked for a 'Grande'. Grande is the middle size. They were HUGE! I can only imagine how big the largest size, or 'Vente', is. Perhaps the cup is so big that you can actually sit in it, like a hot tub, and gradually suck the coffee up through a straw.

We were naughty, and had a chocolate muffin and some chocolate chip shortcake between us. The cakes only come in one size, which was a little disappointing. Maybe a 'Vente' muffin would be the size of a lorry wheel.

We browsed the bookshop for ages. I could have spent ten times what I had in book tokens. In the end, I settled for a book that I have long admired and wanted. Mrs Berry did her single raised eyebrow thing, but let me buy it anyway.

And you never know, maybe in some ways it inspired her, because yesterday I got home from work to discover that she'd spent some of her own birthday tokens on some extremely sexy lingerie. She modelled it for me, and then my coffee went cold.