Oral Intercourse with Alina X

Hi Alina X, welcome to Alina Meridon! I have to say: I love your name.

Thank you! It means ‘light’ – but I guess you know that.

Oddly enough, the Alina of Alina Meridon means ‘harbour’. Alina Meridon is ‘the city of silver spires’ in my first novel. I wasn’t aware at the time that it was a popular name in parts of the world, although I felt even then that it was a pretty name for a girl.

I always preferred Ali, myself, maybe because it sounds more Scottish.

Alina can be a Scottish name.

Yes, but I didn’t know anyone else called Alina so it was always weird.

I’m very curious about your surname. X. Is that short for something?

It is. It’s a Catalan surname, but I don’t want to say anything more.

I’m intrigued, though, because you’re essentially writing erotica and your name is X.


It makes me think the X is a fiction, that maybe your whole name is fiction. It makes me wonder whether Alina X is just the character in your novel, that there is no real Alina X.

So who are you talking to, then?

I don’t know. Alina X, the character, seems like a beautiful, fun and very sexy girl. Bisexual. Polyamorous. Very adventurous.

Thank you – I think.

But I’ve never met you in real life. All you are to me is words. How much of what you write is pure fantasy? How much are you yourself pure fantasy? Are you bisexual? Polyamorous? Are you even female?

Is there anything I can say that would convince you? And why does it matter? Let my words speak for themselves. Read my story and ask yourself: Is this real? Is this the memoir of a woman at ease with her sexuality? Why should I need to prove to you or anyone that I am more than the sum of my words? I mean, I could show myself off on YouTube, but I prefer to retain a little anonymity.

I can respect that. Thank you for putting up with my obnoxious questioning, Alina X.

Thank you for featuring me! One last thing – I just want to say a quick ‘Hi!’ to Sandy Monroe who helped me write the book.

Short Skirts & High Heels

Last summer, Ali interviewed Ben for the position of boyfriend, and thus began a wild sexual adventure: a polyamorous relationship with her best friend Fiona, exhibitionist antics and fun with blindfolds. But best of all was the night Ben sold her to his boss, and Ali discovered just how true the rumours are about black men…


Possibly the funniest thing we did was on the plane over to Paris. Fiona, Ben and I decided to have a nice romantic weekend in the city of love, and while queuing at security we were joking about joining the mile high club, but it’s not really possible on a short flight in a tiny jet.

The flight itself was just over an hour, which is just enough time for the flight crew to serve drinks and biscuits before the final descent starts. There were two seats either side of the central aisle, and we had booked three of the four seats in the last row, on the off chance we could sneak into the toilet for a quickie. We didn’t do that, but the plane wasn’t full and we had the back row to ourselves.

Ben took the window seat and I sat next to him. During take off I gained access to his cockpit and with my hand on the stick I helped him to gain altitude. A little later we had a ten minute window of opportunity, while the flight attendants worked slowly towards the tail with the trolley. I leaned over and worked him with my mouth, using long deep strokes (as well as I could in that awkward position), determined to make him come.

And I did, and the trolley was still three rows away. I sat back, grinning happily while Ben tidied himself away. I was still smiling when the flight attendant asked me, “Would you like something else to drink?” The shocked expression on my face had Fiona giggling for hours. (It became a long-running private joke between us to use that exact question whenever Ben or Fiona were offering to get me a drink.)

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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