Radley von Wright: Group Romance! Erotica Bundle: FFM, Lesbian, Menage and Taboo Groups

Hi, we’re Eva and Radley! We’re high school sweethearts that fell in love, got married and lived happily ever after. We’re the only couple in the world that co-writes spicy nonfiction erotica as well as erotic romance fiction for discerning adults.

Dear Reader,

We’re pleased to present to you several true confessions in this erotica bundle. Lust-filled experiences pulled from the pages of the sensuous life we live in the Midwest as husband and wife. We’re a very normal couple at first glance. Many would consider us somewhat boring but, truth be told, our sex life is anything but. All of the stories recounted here are real. Names of young women who’ve joined us have been changed, not to protect the “innocent” — for these ladies are anything but “innocent” — but to maintain the level of respect, trust and love we have for each new partner who dabbles in our hedonistic lifestyle: even if only for a beautiful, steamy moment.

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PS: If you enjoyed this book bundle, it would be greatly appreciated if you posted a review. Then, please drop us a line to let us know which review is yours, so we can thank you personally.

Sweden is celebrated around the world for being pioneers of LGBT rights and I was thrilled to finally be visiting the place. For years my friends had been telling me that attending Stockholm Pride Festival is a must for my bucket list. Although I was going to be there during the winter and would therefore, unfortunately, miss the summer festival, I was nonetheless very excited for my upcoming trip. My husband Radley and I are jazz musicians and were going to be touring Scandinavian countries for the next few weeks. An adventure I welcomed, as Scandis are lauded for their progressive ideals, liberal sexual attitudes, and warm hospitality. Before I’d left the US, I’d had a girls’ night out with my friends and they’d jokingly warned me I’d be driven mad with lust by “some of the most beautiful creatures on the globe”.

“Knowing you, Eva, I bet you’ll hookup with a hot girl in your first twenty four hours,” my friend Katie had teased me, nursing her scotch whiskey.

I’d written her off, thinking she was exaggerating due to the strong spirits we’d all, a little too excessively, imbibed that evening.

Not to say I’m a prude sexually. In fact, I’d even consider myself to be somewhat of a nymphomaniac. But nothing could have prepared me for this trip.

We’d arrived to Stockholm the night before and I had the entire day off for some “me” time. I’d booked a spa day at the 5 star hotel we’d splurged on while my husband Radley spent the day sightseeing and meeting up with an old high school buddy that’d moved to Sweden a few years back.

As I leisured in the upscale spa for the afternoon, I removed my robe and settled into a comfy position on the massage table. Relaxing music played softly and I could already smell the wondrous assortments of oils permeating the room.

Heaven.

After a delightful morning of pampering in the salon, and a scrumptious vegan lunch on the top floor restaurant with panoramic view of the entire city, I was already melting into a gooey puddle of contentment. To top it all off, my masseuse Liv gave me the royal treatment, making my body sing in bliss.

My friend’s predictions had been right. Stockholm didn’t disappoint. I was feeling the city’s good vibes, for sure.

Little did I know that my day up to this point was just an appetizer.

I floated down a sleek hallway and entered the heavy door leading to the sauna. A wall of steam hit my face, flooding my vision temporarily. I took a deep breath in to adjust to the heavy air, opening my eyes to find a seat in the hazy space.

Two rows of wooden slats formed benches that lined the small room in a square shape. The steamy sauna smelled of cedar wood, evergreen essential oils and was almost empty.

Almost.

Cue the delicious entree.

Sprawled across one row of benches were two of the hottest women I’d ever seen, completely nude. They lay on their towels, not even slightly uncomfortable by the fact that a complete stranger was seeing them in all of their bare glory.

Wow. Katie was right about Europeans being very open sexually, I thought, remembering my friend’s parting words.

Both young women had blonde hair swept up in a ponytail: scented oils mixed in with their sweat, coating their long, lean bodies in a thin sheen that glimmered in the mist.

I guessed by the relaxed expressions on their faces that they’d also experienced Liv the masseuse’s magic fingers earlier.

They both looked up from their blissful daze through the steam and I flashed them a brief friendly smile before I walked to the adjacent bench. Once I picked my spot and laid out my towel, I began to remove my thick white robe.

I was glad that I’ve adhered to such a vigorous fitness routine of yoga, pilates, and weights in the gym because I could feel their eyes following every movement of my slim figure and caramel-colored curves as I allowed my robe to drop to the floor.

They were clearly very fit, and much younger than I, but even so, my thirty-something body didn’t look a day older than theirs.

“ Swedish women will blow your mind, Eva… ” I could hear my friend Katie telling me, knowing my proclivity for European women.

Yes, my mind raced, but the only thing it could think about was how wet my pussy was getting, and how incredibly hot these two completely nude strangers were, inches away from me.

Thank god for steam , I thought, as I looked down at my towel. They’ll have no idea just how wet they’ve made me.

I glanced over at the two friends, surprised to see they were still looking at me. No, not looking, staring. Very directly: at my exotic dark features, my puffy mane of mixed-girl curls, my rosy brown nipples, my cleanly shaven mound.

They were taking in every detail of my golden brown body, clearly with no intention of looking away.

The woman lounging nearest me must’ve noticed me returning the admiring stare. She parted her thighs a bit more, leaving nothing to the imagination, and patted the bench next to her. Before I could remove my appreciative gaze from the tight pink slit between her legs, she made eye contact with me and said in a pouty tone, “do you want to share our bench?”

Are they hitting on me? Is this what Swedish women are like? I thought in disbelief. Do they just hookup with a random stranger they meet in a sauna?

“Um, yes. That would be great,” I replied quickly before they changed their minds. I couldn’t help but remembering all the stories I’d heard about how sexually free Europeans are, especially in the more liberal cities.

Could this even be possible? I asked myself, eager to test the waters with my new friends.

I grabbed my towel and sat down next to the two women, hoping to prove my friend’s hypothesis true. And even though I knew a hypothesis could never fully be proven as fact, I was sure as hell gonna try.

“My name is Eva,” I offered as I allowed my gaze to greedily scan the woman nearest me. She couldn’t have been more than in her early twenties and was clearly affluent; lash extensions, short manicured fingernails, stylishly highlighted hair, a small diamond necklace around her slender neck.