Literotica Authors and Their Books (For Literotica Authors ONLY)

Released on 12 May 2011 by BarbarianSpy, a (more than slightly autobiographical) GM novella, Platres Conclave by habu (a pen name for sr71plt):


BLURB:

Blessed with an absence of his high-powered deputy-ambassador wife, the recent purchase of a vintage Jaguar convertible, and a reservation in the room Daphne du Maurier occupied while she was writing Rebecca, bisexual American novelist Collin Stevens taps his inner carefree nature to take a week’s vacation from settling in to a tour at the American embassy. He escapes to the venerable British colonial-period mountain hotel, the Forest Park, in Pano Platres, Cyprus.

Upon meeting charismatic, sensual, and seductive Greek Cypriot actor, Nico Christou, at the hotel, Collin is quickly taken up—literally—in the arms of a group of talented and randy artists, musicians, and writers conclaved in Platres for a week of creativity, during which the young American novelist finds himself celebrated in both art and casual sex. Much as he subsequently tries to write the whirlwind week off as a last fling before dutifully settling down as an embassy spouse, Collin finds he cannot escape the intensity and arousal of either the conclave experience or Nico Christou.


EXCERPT:

I went to my hotel room and worked feverishly again on the manuscript until I felt exhausted—and profoundly thirsty. A room refrigerator was not likely to be something they would install at the Forest Park in the current century, so, still in my tux pants and pleated shirt, but minus tie and jacket and with the shirt comfortably open at the collar, I left the room again and went looking for the Olympus Bar, which the hotel brochure assured me was open until 3:00 AM. It was almost midnight now. Still feeling the solitude of the hotel—not that I objected to that—I took up the George Seferis poetry book and a biography of him with the subtitle “Waiting for the Angel,” and tucked them under my arm.

The handsome man was sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and talking with the barman as if they were longtime friends when I entered. I found a table far enough from the bar that I could read without hearing what they were discussing but at an angle where I could watch the other guest. He was powerfully built, and I thought him the best thing I’d seen in the hotel thus far. The barman came over and I ordered a brandy sour, which I’d learned was virtually the national drink of Cyprus after beer and wine, and, after he had served it up, he went back to the bar.

I was engrossed in a passage in the biography that I thought would give me a good hook for my own manuscript and thus didn’t see the handsome man approach and circle behind me.


“You cannot sleep in Platres for the nightingales.
Shy nightingale, hidden among whispering leaves,
you bring the echoing coolness of the forest
to the sundered souls and bodies
of those who know there can be no return.”


The voice was deep and rich and the poetry had been enunciated with mesmerizing cadence. What shocked me, though, was that I recognized the poem. It had been the source of the title of the manuscript I was working on—“Sleep for the Nightingale.”

“It’s from George Seferis’s ‘Eleni,’ and it was written about this hotel. Seferis is virtually the adopted poet laureate of Cyprus.”

“Yes, I know,” I answered.

“What of these tidbits of information do you know?” the man asked. I was looking up into his face as he came around to the side of me.

“All of it,” I answered.

“Ah, an educated man. Do you mind if I sit for a moment?”

“No, please do,” I answered, gesturing at the empty chair at the small table. “An interesting—and unique introduction,” I said as he sat. Like me, he had lost his suit jacket and tie and had unbuttoned his pleated tux shirt. Unlike me, though, he had unbuttoned his almost down to his navel and as he sat his shirt front opened to where I could see a well-muscled chest with a patch of curly black hair running under his pecs and meeting at his sternum and continuing down toward his belt buckle. He was well tanned and there was a silver ring through his right nipple. A man of mystery and surprises. He had me from that moment—if not before.


ILLUSTRATION:

To see an illustration of this book by the Turkish artist Ynal, visit the http://www.BarbarianSpy.com Web site.

My latest novel, Adventurer: Simulation Problem is now up in Club Lighthouse Publications.

The story is a scifi adventure, featuring an ex-Naxy SEAL, James Aquila, who is sent into what is supposed to be a very advanced simulation, from which volunteeers have been returning dead. The simulation turns out to be a trip to another planet. When Jim arrives on the alien planet, there are beings waiting to kill him. The action builds from there.

waw very nice

Beautiful Trouble Publishing

Just a note here to say that Beautiful Trouble Publishing has started publishing my short stories! I've revised and expanded them, and I'm really excited to have them so well edited and given room to breathe. They also now have fun covers! I hope readers who like my stories (and may be missing them here) are willing to go over there and download them in a nice format...with a sexy cover---did I mention the cover?

And one story, in fact, is brand new, never posted here on Lit. It's my first heterosexual (and interracial) menage It's called "A Special Occasion."

You can check my sig or profile to see which of my stories they've put out so far--I refer you the sig/profile rather than just name them because BT now has several of my stories and they're putting a new one out every other month or so. Which means those little cover images in the sig/profile--which are also links--should be getting longer.

Happy reading all!

Released on 26 May 2011 by BarbarianSpy, a GM American historical GM novellete, Colonel’s Treasure, by Dirk Hessian (a pen name for sr71plt):



BLURB:

Young Rob Winston is deemed too small of stature and unsoldierly to take his place in the military ranks of the American Revolution. All he is seen fit to do is to become the sexual comfort and treasure of Colonel Seth Hampton of the army of General Nicholas Herkiner in the Mohawk Valley campaign. With the help of the Indian subchieftain and scout Otetiani, however, Winston endeavors, by taking on the role of spy, to show that his talents in enticing the desires of men are more than enough to turn the tide of war. At war’s end, however, he must choose between his colonel, the Indian chief who has mastered him, or the runaway slave, Jeremiah, to whom Rob himself has become a slave.


EXCERPT:

The day had been hot, and Rob had worked hard and bare-chested alongside Will Sheridan and the plantation’s African-origin slaves. Returning home, he was hot an d tired to the point of exhaustion. It was as much as he could manage to draw water in a bucket and sluice it over his torso next to the storage shed behind his house.

That’s where Hans found him, having seen the young Winston walking, bare-chested, breeches barely holding on to his slim hips, on the road from the Sheridan plantation, past the tavern, to the house. Hans had planned for months to be the first one to have the sensual young red head, if he could—regardless of what reaction the senior Winston might have to that. And he decided that this was the day he would fulfill his desire. It had been several days since the virile young man’s services had been bought at the tavern, and he was keyed up and needing to fuck something. Robert senior did not tolerate his prostitutes servicing each other.

Thus it was with the immediacy of lust and inevitability that he walked over the hill between the tavern, where the senior Winston was safely busy tending bar, and the house, with determination. He stripped away his own shirt as he walked, knowing that he looked good and perhaps would gain entrance with the young man more the ready if young Rob was inclined toward other men. Whether or not he was, however, Hans was determined to have his way with the lad.

“Hans!” Rob exclaimed at the approach of the man he knew to be employed by his father as a barkeep.

“You look well spent, young Rob. I know it must be hard work in the tobacco fields. Come, let me dry you with that cloth.”

Rob was taken aback by the forwardness of the Dutchman, and found the man close to him and rubbing his chest with a dry cloth before he could react either way. He also was too young and naïve to understand the overture for the seduction it was.

As Hans toweled Rob’s body, working the young man’s trembling belly now, Hans leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You know you have grown into a very desirable young man.”

“I don’t know . . . did my father send you on some errand to give to me?”

“No, young Rob. Your father did not send me. In fact, I think you will not want your father to know I have been here. You tremble at my touch. Don’t tell me that you do not enjoy being close to me.”

Hans was crowding Rob against the wall to the shed. He towered over the young man, nearly twice Rob’s size—but all muscle and virile manhood. Rob was hyperventilating from the power the other man was asserting—and from his near proximity. Responses were stirring inside Rob that he had never felt before—or rather that he’d felt before in slight ways, when he worked with Will Sheridan in the field and beside some of the young African-origin slaves—but that he had not consciously thought much about.

With Hans, though, Rob was increasingly understanding that the responses were sexual in nature—and that, as frightened as he was, he also was consumed by curiosity and wonder about the possibilities that were open to him.

“My father—”

“I came because I mean to fuck you, Rob. I feel you responding to my touch, wanting me . . .” Hans was very close to Rob now, one hand trapping the younger man against the wall and the other tracing the lines of Rob’s heaving chest “. . . and I mean to do so whether you wish or not. Are you a virgin? Will I be the first? I ask, as, if you are, I will be more gentle. But I will have you regardless.”

Released by eXcessica on 27 May 2011, an erotica Sci-Fi/Fantasy ménage anthology, Earth Primeval, from habu (a pen name of sr71plt)



BLURB:

Something wild and whacky and funky and chilling and thought-provoking from the steady hand and fecund mind of habu. In these six variously mystical, damning, challenging, and humorous Earth Day–themed stories, habu strips the relationship of human beings to the Earth and heavens—at or near the beginning of time—down to the basic elements of man’s relation to nature and spirit in a primitive-beat, erotic mix of different approaches to shared fundamental questions. Who is in charge here? And how do we, as human beings, connect to and adjust our own basic wants and desires to the glories and delicate balance of the universe?


EXCERPT:

I stood at the opening of our shelter of branches and thought I could hear the approach from afar of the hard, shiny-covered monsters and of their “development” of my world. I thought deeply and pulled from the internal treasure box where I had kept it safe for so many suns the wisdom that my mother had given me when her time had come. She had told me that I would know, just as the animals of the forest knew, when my passage time would come. And, like the animals of the forest, when that time came I should simply walk into the forest—into the arms of Mother Earth—and, like the animals of the forest, Mother Earth would welcome me and return me to her womb. My mother had said that this was the natural way, and then she had walked into the forest, and I had not followed her, knowing that it was her time and that my keening for her would only make her time difficult when it should be joyous for her. I waited until she had been swallowed by the trees of the forest and then I did keen for her. But I was really keening for myself and my loss of her.

Too late now to keen for Virile Oak and my lost son, Precious Oak. They were at peace with Mother Earth now. And there was no holding back the relentless advance of the hard, shiny-covered monsters, either.

So, taking one last look at the shelter of branches in which I had been bred so well and so often and with a small wave at the other woman crouched around the village and keening their loss of not only their own breeders but their whole way of life, I turned and walked and let the forest swallow me.

I had walked for many steps into the forest, into the very center of it that was still as beautiful and fecund as our whole world had been before the hard, shiny-covered monsters had appeared at the edge of the meadows. And when I was tired, I just turned my back to a mighty, old oak tree and waited for Mother Earth to gather me back into her womb.

Note that the e-book distributor Allromanceebooks.com is running a 50% off sale through Memorial Day weekend. Authors are getting full royalties, so this is a good deal for both readers and authors.

"Angels, Demons and Alex" out on Kindle Now!!

It’s out! “Angels, Demons and Alex” is out on Amazon Kindle under its new title, “Good Intentions!”

As a note to Literotica fans: “Good Intentions” contains some revisions, some small bits of new material and some cuts. There were a handful of scenes and plot threads in the original version (which was being posted as I went along) that didn’t go much of anywhere in the end and/or bogged down the story a bit. My cuts and revisions were made with an eye toward creating a tighter stand-alone work.

I have every expectation of writing a sequel. There is simply too much left to be resolved (deliberately so!) from the story to leave it hanging forever.

“Good Intentions” is available on Amazon for Kindle. I expect to get it up on SmashWords very soon for those of you who would prefer other formats. As I am writing under a pen name for numerous reasons, I would REALLY appreciate ANY help you could give this, my first published work. Give it your “Likes” on the Amazon page, write a review…even simply plugging it on Facebook and the like would help me out a LOT.

Here’s the link, and thanks so much!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0054E8QYE

--Elliott Kay, aka bashfullyshameless

Released by BarbarianSpy on 7 June 2011, an eclectic GM anthology of entirely new short stories (none on Literotica), Grab Bag, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt)


BLURB:

Grab Bag is a totally unthemed gay male anthology that exhibits the breadth and depth of the sometimes whacky and sometimes touching, but always creative and surprising, writing of that master of gay erotic storytelling, habu. In this “bag” are twenty stories that adhere to no uniformity of theme in time, space, locale, or message and that have never been published as stories before.

As has become the hallmark of habu, this is a collection of tales (and tails) that are guaranteed to excite and stimulate—not just the mind. A true grab bag of surprises and pleasures, these offerings are sure to be savored more than once.

Warnings: graphic gay sex, control, domination, bondage, reluctance


EXCERPT:

From “Barber Brad”

When I walked into Parson’s barber shop with what was almost a crew cut—with light highlights—any damn fool could see that I didn’t have enough hair to need cutting. But what I was counting on—and was successful in it—was that neither Brad nor the other barbers would recognize me for who I was. I figured that when they looked at a man, what they concentrated on was his head of hair, since that was their trade. I also had changed the style of my clothes. No more police uniform or even tailored dress shirt and trousers, with a tie. I was in jeans, a tight red T, and boots today. I must have guessed right. I had changed myself enough to be an entirely different person to them all.

When I was in Brad’s chair, he looked at me quizzically in the mirror across from the chairs and said in a low voice, his eyes searching mine, “Doesn’t look like you need a haircut, buddy.”

“I came for your special,” I whispered back. “Heard about it. Want it.”

“It’d be a pleasure. You’ve got a killer body. You know how much that haircut costs, though?” he asked, still keeping his voice down.

“Not sure I remember what I was told,” I answered. “But it sounded like I could swing it. I’ve got cash.”

“Seventy-five for the servicing and a hit. Hundred fifty for a doggy bag as well.”

“How much without the hit?” I asked.

“Same seventy-five,” he answered.

“Let’s do it,” I muttered back to him.

Fifteen minutes later he gave up on pretending he was doing anything with my hair, made a show of letting me check myself out in the mirror, and gave the back of my neck a razor-cut shave. As he finished that, he pressed on my carotid and up under my chin with his fingertips for a few seconds, sending chills up my spine in anticipation and giving me flash images of him fucking me right there in the chair, with all the other guys floating around and doing their thing and not noticing Brad’s cock was churning in my channel.

I got another chill as I felt the palm of his hand on my butt as we moved to the back of the shop.

“Strip, please,” he said when we were in the back of the shop and I’d doled out seventy-five dollars to him. “And lean over that table.”

New Vivian Vincent Release!




====

Adrienne McGuire ran the local seamstress shop, making dresses for the women of the small town of Tawas, Michigan and also mending and repairing torn and damaged clothing for all the residents and loggers living in the community. She had a good life with a loving fiancé.

When Trevor Jamison, the town’s outcast, walks into her shop, she’s instantly smitten with him, despite being engaged to another. She’s heard what people say about him possibly murdering his brother, but she’s determined to find out the truth and stand behind him, despite her family’s protests and the gossiping behind her back.

Trevor is instantly captivated by the beautiful young seamstress. She treats him kindly and seems oblivious to his past. Once he discovers she knows the truth, he worries she’ll be ridiculed right along with him and fights his feelings for her.

The color of his skin and the horrific incident with his brother has left his heart scarred, but Adrienne may be the only one who can heal him. Can he let her into his heart once she learns the truth of what really happened?

-----

EXCERPT:

Just barely nineteen, Adrienne McGuire was very adept at making her own clothing. She'd made most of the dresses she and her older sister Caroline wore. Her parents struggled most of their lives financially. Adrienne helped when she could, making dresses for a few women around town which resulted in her opening a small dress making shop on the edge of town, just down the road a piece from the local bed and breakfast.

The Tawas, Michigan area in 1909 consisted mostly of logging and farming communities. Anyone who wasn’t involved in one or the other was either a visitor, new to town, or was the proprietor of one of the numerous small shops and markets that lined the main road.

Adrienne’s business grew quickly and she found herself needing to hire at least one other seamstress to help her ease her workload. She’d tried recruiting Caroline, but it turned out her sister didn’t have talent with a needle and thread or even a sewing machine. Her sister ended up ruining more dresses than she actually made. Adrienne laughed it off and told her sister to stick with gardening and taking care of the household chores.

Adrienne expanded her business to include repairs and alterations and most of the lumbermen who were passing through town would bring their torn and tattered work clothes in to be repaired.

One man in particular caught Adrienne’s attention as soon as she saw him. Usually her assistant Suzanne took care of new customers, but there was something about this man that had Adrienne’s heart fluttering and her palms sweating. Getting to her feet, she walked out of the small office in the back of her shop and approached the tall man standing at the front counter.

“I’ll take care of this, Suzanne. You go ahead and finish mending Mr. Patterson’s shirts,” she told Suzanne, placing a hand on her shoulder gently and giving her a warm smile. She turned to the man waiting at the counter. “How can I help you, Sir?”

Their eyes locked and neither Adrienne nor the man in front of her spoke for several minutes. He stood about six foot two with long wavy black hair that stopped just below his collar. He had the deepest, darkest blue eyes Adrienne had ever seen. His nose was perfect and he had a strong, rugged jaw line and firm lips. He had a caramel complexion and Adrienne noted his dark skin looked smooth and flawless. She felt her heart beating faster and found it difficult to break eye contact with him. After the seemingly eternal silence, the man finally spoke.

“I have quite a few items in need of mending, but I wasn’t sure how much I could bring at once.” His voice was deep and smooth, causing Adrienne’s heart to beat even faster. “I have these items for now,” he continued as he placed two shirts and two pairs of pants on the counter in front of Adrienne. “They’re in the worst shape. I just can’t seem to mend these things myself.”

“Well, Sir, you’ve come to the right place. I can take care of these things for you. I just need to fill out some information. “ Adrienne finally broke eye contact with him and pulled out a small pad of paper from under the counter.

She held the pen in her hand, hovered over the paper and looked up at the man again.”Name?”

“Jamison,” he replied. “Trevor Jamison.”

“Address?”

“Just put it in care of Carter Bed and Breakfast. I work there.” Adrienne wrote his information down on the pad, struggling to keep her trembling hands in control. She hoped he couldn’t see how he had affected her.

“Do you have a specific time you need these back, Mr. Jamison?”

“Whenever you can get them, Miss—?”

“McGuire. Adrienne McGuire. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jamison,” she said, reaching out her hand.

The handshake lingered longer than it should have and Adrienne broke eye contact with him again. She looked down at the stark contrast of his darker skin against hers and felt her breath catch in her throat. The hand holding hers was large, nearly covering hers completely. His skin was roughened from hard work, the texture causing a shiver run down her spine.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am, and please, call me Trevor.”

“I—I can have these for you by Friday, Mr. Jami—Trevor,” she stammered, still unable to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, Miss McGuire. I’ll stop by on Friday.” He released her hand and turned to leave.

“Y— You’re welcome. You can call me Adrienne,” she replied but wasn’t sure if he heard since he was already out the door.

Suzanne emerged from the back room once Trevor had left. She was jittery and nervous and nearly pulled Adrienne’s arm out of the socket when she grabbed it and pulled her into the office.

“Have you heard about him?” Suzanne asked, a definite tone of anxiety in her voice.

“About who?” She noted Suzanne’s obvious discomfort. “What’s gotten into you?”

“That man who just left. I heard he killed his brother. Why did you agree to mend his clothes?”

“Because he’s a customer, Suzanne. I’ve never met the man before today and I don’t know anything about him killing his brother. Now if you’ll kindly release my arm, I have work to do.”

Suzanne released the iron grip she had on Adrienne’s arm and left the office. She muttered something as she walked away and Adrienne just stood there and stared at her. She wondered if what Suzanne had told her was true and she also wondered why she reacted the way she did to Trevor considering she was already engaged to be married.

"Good Intentions" now on SmashWords AND Amazon!

“Angels, Demons and Alex” is out on SmashWords AND Amazon Kindle under its new title, “Good Intentions!”

As a note to Literotica fans: “Good Intentions” contains some revisions, some small bits of new material and some cuts. There were a handful of scenes and plot threads in the original version (which was being posted as I went along) that didn’t go much of anywhere in the end and/or bogged down the story a bit. My cuts and revisions were made with an eye toward creating a tighter stand-alone work.

I have every expectation of writing a sequel. There is simply too much left to be resolved (deliberately so!) from the story to leave it hanging forever.

Here are the links, and thanks so much!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0054E8QYE

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66516

--Elliott Kay, aka bashfullyshameless

Heavenly Bodies Out NOW From Amazon

"Real erotica, full of pain intermingled with pleasure. Love makes the sexual scenes more powerful. Sensuality Level: Scorching." raves Ann Leveille of Sensual Reviews.

Two exceptional novellas of fantasy and eros by the author Coffee Time Romance calls "Amazing!" and rates "Four Stars!"

In "Sacrifice," Ares, the God of War, is banished from Olympus, falls in love with a mortal woman and is called upon to make a very unusual sacrifice if he wants to keep her.

In "Echo s Odyssey," the wars of faery are over, but for the assassin Echo and his lover Alexandrya, a new war is just beginning. They return to faery expecting to be reunited with the third member of their triad, the princess Serenissa, only to find she and faery itself are threatened by even greater peril.

Heavenly Bodies is a pair of erotic, romantic adventures dealing with carnal love between humans and gods and fairies with their heavenly bodies! Sascha Illyvich is the author of the novels "The Gift of Her Submission," "Light and Shadow" and "Dark Traders," among others. His short fiction has appeared on Literotica, and in many anthologies, including "Nectar of the Gods" and "Caught in the Middle."

"The sensual tone of the story flowed ... the language and situations were believable. Fans will enjoy [his] heart-touching romances." says Coffee Time Romance Reviews. "Sascha Illyvich is a wonderful, erotic storyteller. He turns you on and tugs your heartstrings- at the same time!" Sabrina Smith Moses, author.

Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/HEAVENLY-BODI...=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1308244908&sr=1-3

Congrats, Sascha. But it's strange it isn't out as an e-book too. I think you'll find that's where most of the readers/money is for books like this.

Or is it already out in that form?

The adventure continues, in this twelfth novel in the Second Chance series.
Justin Imperiale has begun to learn how to use more paranormal powers, using the information gained when he defeated Gaiton. He can now teleport himself from place to place. Justin will use the new powers to military advantage.
The South Continent Empire is near war with Tiwanaku, the country to the South of the present Empire and a country with a regular army, tanks, field artillery, heavily armed infantry and so forth. It looks bad, however, Justin has a plan. In the process of carrying out his plan, Justin encounters Annda, a woman he abandoned to a terrorist group. Annda and Justin have a mind war.
After the mind war, Justin manages to obtain four neutron weapons that he can use to solve problems in Avuls. He then arms drone aircraft with the weapons and ships them to a seaport near Avuls.
While the weapons are en-route, two space freighters and a warbird approach Corin. The ships contain refugees called Vorkal. The Vorkal have paranormal talents among them. Justin learns and also acquires a warbird.
Justin needs to go back to Mesodania, but decides to take the long way and he finds a talisman in the South continent. Due to some problems, Justin flies to Ifrequeh, instead of directly back to Mesodania.
In Ifrequeh, Justin discovers that a juju man called Dwarf is trying to take over his mine. To prevent a war, Justin is forced to fight a mind battle against the Dwarf.
Justin then returns to Mesodania. He finds that war with Avuls threatens and Justin becomes the lone voice of reason. The situation worsens and Justin secretly launches the drones that he's prepared, wipes out the leadership of Avuls and takes over.
Justin then discovers that drug smugglers are using Avuls to deliver their drugs to North Continent nations. Justin plans to steal the smuggled drugs.
Check it out!

Launched on 23 June 2011 by eXcessica, the fourth NYPD detective Clint Folsom mystery, Death in the Rockies, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).


BLURB:

In the fourth of the Clint Folsom gay murder mysteries, the promiscuous gay male NYPD homicide detective goes West on an assignment that he’s one of a very few detectives specializing in. In a soon-to-be released book, prominent crime novel writer Jason Jenks has fingered, not by name, but by clear identification, Giacomo Arcardi, son of one prominent New York crime family, with the sex murder of Lorenzo Rapino, son of another prominent New York crime family.

The details of the murder and case that he builds in the book make Jason Jenks appear to be the best living prosecution witness, and the NYPD is tagged with protecting him. At levels above the NYPD, the anxiety is palpable to prevent a gang war between the two crime families that would tear New York’s streets apart. The problem with protecting Jenks until he testifies is that Jenks doesn’t want to be protected and is heading off to an exclusive gay-male “pleasure” ranch in Colorado for a week of debauchery. Folsom is sent ahead, posing as one of the stable of pleasure givers at the ranch, to see, without his knowledge, that Jenks comes to no harm. The plot thickens—and disintegrates—as both Giacomo Arcardi and the murdered mobster’s brother, Mario Rapino, also show up in the wilds of Colorado and test Folsom to the limits in more ways than one.


EXCERPT:

The Ranchero was a bull-riding bar, complete with sawdust and peanut shells on the floor and a twangy country and western voice singing a “girl done gone up and left me” song assaulted a raucous crowd of men from the rafters. The basement club was set smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, but you’d never know it was there—unless you were a gay male, cruised, and liked both riding and talking the bull.

It was a place where guys could project themselves out of the canyons of skyscrapers by putting on their jeans and checked shirts, red bandanas, cowboy boots, and ten gallon hats and exchanging their workday martinis for mugs of Coors beer and a slug of chawin’ tabbaca. And it was a place where cowpokes could mill around and tease each other about riding, and horse hung, and free ranging and might even wind up hooked up for a personal little rodeo.

Those gathered around the bar and sitting in the straight-backed wooden chairs around the oak barrel-based tables wedged up to the edge of the show platform put up a cheer as a voice announced over the loudspeaker. “Time for the bull.” There were cat calls and yodels as the voice continued. “First up is our own Jake—just to show those of you just in off the range for the first time how it’s done. Then you can try your own hand at it if you want. $30 a ride, unless you do it with just chaps and a jock, in which case it’s $10 and any tips you get.” An even louder roar met this announcement. “And, oh by the way, if it’s Jake you want to ride rather than the bull, that will be $100.” The place went wild.

The house went dim and spots came up on the center platform, on which stood—dominating the entire club room—a mechanical bull.

Cheers were renewed as Jake came out from in back of the club and sauntered toward the mechanical bull. He was wearing just a red thong and reddish-brown chaps, a red bandana, a ten-gallon hat, and spurred boots.

The bull began to rock gently as Jake approached it, and he swung up easily into the saddle. Jake was a sandy-haired lad of no more than eighteen or nineteen. Lithe but hard muscled and smooth skinned. Not an ounce of baby fat and a sheepish “oh gosh” grin that made him look inviting and vulnerable all at the same time.

And could he ride a bull. It wasn’t long before the bull was tossing this way and that way, but Jake held the saddle and swung his ten-gallon hat above his head. He put on an awesome show, mesmerizing the guys gathered around him, jaws dropped to chests, as they followed the undulating of Jake’s bull-worked muscles and dreamed their little dreams.

Jake looked out over the crowd. Times like this he liked picking out the faces, liked looking for the best-looking guy in the crowd and of what he was thinking as he watched Jake ride the bull. Was Jake turning him on, making him think of how much he wanted to ride Jake? This is what Jake did this for—not for the money—but for the thoughts of turning these guys on, of having a room full of horny, good-looking guys, all wanting to fuck him.

One face out there arrested his attention. Not the youngest or best looking of the faces Jake had focused on during the ride. And not adoring and drooling. More intense, more possessive, harder. Jake shivered and pulled his gaze away from that face, looking for what he really liked. But he found he kept returning to that face, which remained immobile, staring him down, pulling him in from across the crowd. . . .

If there was more action for him after a bull ride, Ted would be waiting at the back area door with the john and the c-spot in his hand. Nothing like that tonight, though, so Jake pushed on through the beaded curtain separating the club room from the back area warren of corridors and rooms, some of the rooms outfitted with beds in a bunk room motif.

Jake took in a ragged breath as he was walking past the fuck rooms toward his own dressing room when he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. The face from the crowd. Three fifties in his hand.

It's finally out!

I finally had my literary baby! I've been writing sci-fi erotic short stories since 1996, and now I've started editing them and compiling them into volumes of collected stories, plus new material never seen before. Volume one is graced with cover art by Sensual Pilgrim, who started out as a fan of mine from way back when. The image is from the story "The Brood," included in this collection. The link to buy your very own digital copy for only $2.99 is in my signature below. Enjoy!

Launched from BarbarianSpy on 25 June 2011, in Beginning of Time, Dirk Hessian (a pen name of sr71plt) dips back into the earliest civilization of man in his GM action/adventure historical novella series.


BLURB:

A profoundly moving story of primeval survival and love.

Beginning of Time chronicles the sexual awakening and fulfillment of a young man struggling to learn how to fit into his hostile, primitive environment. As he moves from an almost animal existence to an ancient civilization to a slightly more advanced ancient civilization—not always by choice—his resilience is taxed. But he survives, as does his innocent vulnerability, until he is saved by reaching his protector and ultimate lover, and their love story is depicted on a cave wall for future generations to discover, decipher, and appreciate.


EXCERPT:

It wasn’t only the elements and each other that threatened the Others who lived around me. There also was a threat from across the sky-reaching rocks and from the broad waters flowing to the horizon. There were different Others near us, large, hulky, nasty Others who smelled of rotten flesh.

They came to us in wooden vessels across the waters, coming straight out of the golden disk in the sky so that we did not see them until they almost were upon us. I was on the sands between the forest and the water. Graybeard wasn’t there. But one of the Others, the one who had laid with Graybeard before he selected me, was there, inching toward me. Being aware of where he was was what kept me from seeing the approaching vessels holding those Others I thought of as Sharpspears, because they carried with them long sticks, sharpened at the end. I’d seen them throw these sticks long distances and bring animals—and, once or twice, an Other—down with them.

I heard the trilling of Others giving warning, though, and turned and saw that the lead vessel was nearly where the water met the sand. Three giant Sharpspears were leaning toward the sand, ready to jump out. I turned and ran, but the Other who resented my lying with Graybeard had moved closer to me and I saw the rock he was carrying too late.

When I opened my eyes, I felt the fullness inside me. I was pinned on my back on the sand, with a Sharpspear holding down each of my arms. A third Sharpspear was kneeling between my spread thighs. And he was inside me. Other Sharpspears were standing around watching. And in time, they were all inside me too. I don’t know how many before my eyes closed again in saving darkness of eye and mind.

New Release: Waxing is for Pussies (lesbian threesome)

Today my lesbian threesome short "Waxing is for Pussies" is being re-released by the awesome loveyoudivine Alterotica, my home for queer and kinky books. This funny, fetishy story was originally published by Torquere Press. Now you can get it from lyd, All Romance ebooks, and many other retailers!

Waxing is for Pussies
By: Giselle Renarde | Other books by Giselle Renarde
Published By: loveyoudivine
Published: Jun 23, 2011
ISBN # 5057_1051
Word Count: 6,575
Heat Index

Claire is a butch dyke who doesn't go in for all the "girly" stuff. Her girlfriend Billie works at a salon, joyfully painting nails all day. When Billie takes up hot waxing, she asks Claire to be her test subject. She also asks her salon buddy Soo Jin to give her hand. How will Claire and Billie react when Soo Jin takes the request for help as an invitation to play?

Excerpt:
“Have you ever had a bikini wax?” Billie asked as she ate.

I laughed. “Do I look like someone who gets waxed?”

With a shrug, she said, “I don’t know. You got a pedicure once.”

“From you,” I added as she lifted a piece of sushi saturated in soy sauce to her mouth. “I just wanted to meet you. Every time I tried to say hi on the street, I chickened out. I get nervous talking to beautiful girls.”

Billie smiled as she chewed. “Want one?”

I waved away the sushi. “Nah, I already ate, but thanks.”

Shaking her pretty head, she leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I knew she’d have left a big red lipstick stain in her wake, but I left it for the moment. “Not sushi, sweety.” She cooed like a crafty little dove. “A bikini wax. Want one?”

Without meaning to, I laughed out loud. There were so many reasons to say no, I didn’t know where to begin. “What, you mean at the salon? Because I’m pretty sure your boss just banned me for life.”

“We could do it after hours,” she said with a sneaky grin. “I’m a key holder.”

What other excuses could I come up with? “I’ve heard it hurts like hell.”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” She spread some wasabi on her sushi and topped it with pickled ginger before setting it in a pool of soy sauce. “You have how many tattoos? I think you can handle a little hot wax.”

She sure wasn’t making it easy for me to resist the call of the wax. I tried to think up a better excuse than, “I’m a pussy and I can’t take the pain,” but it wasn’t happening.

“Besides,” she went on, “I think you’d taste great bare. My lips would like it.” When she winked at me, my jaw swung open. Hell, yeah! My lips would like it too! “And—who knows?—you might just enjoy the process.”

Rising from the footstool, she pulled down on the hem of the black cotton dress that served as her uniform. The one last piece of sushi, she left in front of me in its plastic box. I stared at it in displaced awe. After tiptoeing to the door, she turned around and said, “Come down after hours. We’ll have a good time.”


Buy Now from loveyoudivine http://www.loveyoudivine.com/index.php?main_page=document_product_info&cPath=37&products_id=834

or All Romance ebooks http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-waxingisforpussies-565506-144.html

HA! I just noticed that I'm a "Virgin" LOL

Brotherhood of Janus: First Gathering

Is now available at Smashwords.

---------------------------------------

"Brotherhood of Janus - Bylaws and rules of Membership"

George J. Hood and Hyraim Janus founded the Brotherhood of Janus in 1865. The founding of the Brotherhood was for the advancement of members and their families. The Brotherhood required members to help other members in the areas of business and conservation of family fortunes. That was the primary reason for the formation of the Brotherhood. Only, later - 1920 - did the gifting of pleasure to each other in a monthly celebration come to be an additional aspect of the group. Although, in the archives, there is mention of grand meetings of the Brotherhood council and once business concluded, refreshments and entertainment, provided by the member's wives, began.

Membership is either inherited or bestowed. Although there are instances, were short-term memberships were given for payment for the good of the Brotherhood. The first five hundred members are founding members. Even though the member currently holding one of the first five hundred memberships is only a descendant of the first member, they are always to be revered as one of the five hundred.

Looking at the number in the lower right hand corner of the booklet I read my membership number, 00000293, I was a Five Hundred.

--------------------------------------------
Excerpt

"Order, come to order please," a man standing at the podium just to my left shouted banging a gavel as a loud gong rang though the hall.

The women on the floor quieted down and rushed quietly to their assigned benches. The men stood still facing the podium. The crowd in the gallery all found their seats as quietly as possible. The festivities were starting.

"My membership number is two, five, eight, two. Is there anyone here with a lower number?"

Mine was much lower but I was actually new to the Brotherhood and didn't want to usurp someone else's place. Unfortunately, I was standing very close to the podium.

"You sir two, nine, three, your number is lower, please step up to the podium."

"Sir, as I am a not of this lodge, please continue," I whispered as I walked toward him.

"Please, sir, step up here. We are honored to have you here tonight."

I climbed the steps to the podium and shook his offered hand. When he turned to leave I held on to his hand holding him there.

"What are my duties here?"

"The same at your lodge, sir," he said with surprise on his face.

"You will have to excuse me sir, but I only recently…ah…how should I put this…this is the first meeting of a lodge I have been to since I inherited my membership."

"I see. Oh, I see. Then let me assist you sir," he told me handing me a sheaf of papers. "Just read this. Then say the phrase, 'Let the festivities begin!' loudly and hit the podium with the gavel."

"I can do that, thank you, you honor me sir and I am honored to be here."

"We are honored to have you here, sir."

I bowed toward him and turned facing the audience. Lifting the microphone slightly I looked out over the crowd. The women's faces held expectation and pride. The men stood proud their hands behind their back facing the podium. I smiled and bowed to the crowd on the floor.

"I am honored to be here tonight and to be able to participate in the festivities this weekend. I thank you in advance for you hospitality." I had to pause as the shouts of here, here, rang though the ballroom.

"To begin, these are the rules. Women in light blue are only to give and receive oral sex. Women in pink must require all men to use a condom. Women in red will only allow anal penetration, no vaginal penetration. Woman in black will do whatever the male wants, within the color exceptions of course.

"Men in Yellow do not have to wear a condom with black or red. Green may only have intercourse with a condom. White may only observe and if invited may touch the woman. They may also have contact with light blue following the rule for light blue.

"If a woman says no, for whatever reason, walk away. Lodge master-at-arms will be circulating on the floor to enforce the rules. You all know the consequences of breaking the rules, suspension of membership for one calendar year, for which dues are still payable.

"So, have a good time and follow the rules no matter how heated the couplings get. I would also like to thank those who have provided this gathering with the beautiful women that grace this lodge."

For anyone who read my non-erotic, inspirational novella, Chatham Square here on Literotica and is interested in a continuation of that story, the sequel, Savannah Time is now out in on-line stores, including Amazon.com’s Kindle store. A paperback version will be available on Amazon.com in about a month.

Book Jacket Copy

Savannah Time is a story of human caring, loyalty, inevitable change, bittersweet heartbreak, and hope, set in the lovely garden that is historic Savannah.

In this follow-on to Chatham Square, the eclectic collection of residents of one of Savannah’s original residential squares have moved along in the almost-glacial “Savannah time” pace of this southern city, although, for some, the concern is that the pace is going to fast—that inevitable unwanted change is in the air.

Samantha, the little black girl with the deformed leg of the previous book, has grown to nearly her eighteenth birthday. The residents of the square who rallied to ensure she had the reconstructive operations she needed are, for the most part, now in need of nurturing attention themselves, and Samantha is providing the “Florence Nightingale” support they need. But Samantha is at a cross-roads in her life. She has long said she wanted to become a doctor, but as the time approaches for her to leave home in pursuit of that dream, she feels the pull to remain in Chatham Square to help her friends.

Conflicted between what they want and what Samantha needs, her friends on the square fight to conquer their own fear of change for Samantha’s sake. The doll maker, Ginny, who is the emotional “glue” for the residents of the square and employs Samantha and as assistant; Rose, the matriarch “queen of the square”; Arnie, the irascible but kindly super of Ginny and Samantha’s apartment house; and the ailing bookstore pair, Tom and Edward, all have to bow to inevitable changes if Samantha is going to be set free.

Added to the mix are two young men vying for Samantha’s attention and a new resident to the square, a novelist on a mysterious mission.

Another new Vivian Vincent release!



===

Caroline Carter woke one morning, not really knowing how she’d gotten where she was, but accepting things as they were. When she saw a news story about an old bed and breakfast being auctioned off in a small town in northern Michigan, she felt an unusual pull toward the historical building. Making arrangements to attend the auction, she ended up placing the winning bid. Once the building is officially hers, she begins renovations.

When she finds a letter in an old oak desk inside the office of the bed and breakfast, written by a man named Roderick to his beloved wife, she feels compelled to reply. She’s unable to explain the feeling of contentment and rightness she’s experiencing since purchasing the old building. Shortly after she moves in, strange things begin to happen. She begins having dreams of a handsome man who lives a hundred years in the past, and may very well be her husband!

Roderick Carter is distraught with guilt over losing his wife. She didn’t die, but he’d hired doctors who’d promised to cure her of influenza and return her to him safely. After she’s gone for a month, he sends a messenger to find her, with a note explaining his actions. When the messenger returns with the note, telling Roderick he was unsuccessful in finding the doctors or his wife, he puts the note away in the drawer of his desk at the bed and breakfast he owns.

Much to his surprise, the note is answered a few days later by someone claiming to own the very same bed and breakfast he is currently the proprietor of. When he replies, he learns the woman may just be his long lost wife, and she’s living one hundred years in the future!

Can Caroline and Roderick find their way back to each other or will the desk and their dreams be the only connection they have to one another?

===

EXCERPT:

"What?" Caroline asked, surprised. "You're kidding, right? I mean, you're what, seventy, seventy-five years old? If my sister—if I have a sister—was your grandmother, that would make her over a hundred years old. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not even close to that. I'm only twenty-three, Irene. What you're telling me is impossible!"

"It's not impossible, Caroline. Your sister passed away in 1978 at the age of ninety. I'm one of three grandchildren and ten great grandchildren."

"I don't believe any of this, Irene. You're conning me right?" Caroline rose to her feet and paced the lobby. "So if what you say is true, that would make me over a hundred years old myself. That's impossible!"

"What can I do to prove it to you?" Irene asked, placing a finger to her lips and cocking an eyebrow. "Oh, I know!" She jumped to her feet and walked toward the stairs. "I'll be right back."

"Sure, take your time," Caroline replied sarcastically. "The woman's crazy!"

Irene returned to the dining table with a large photo album under her arm. "Come. Sit," she said, motioning to the chair Caroline just recently vacated. Caroline looked at her with doubt and confusion. "Please? I promise, it'll be worth your time, dear."

"What the hell." Caroline chuckled as she approached the table and sat back down next to Irene. "Enlighten me, please."

Slowly opening the photo album and turning the pages, Irene studied each picture carefully before stopping at one and rubbing over it with her fingers. She gently removed the photo from the protective paper and handed it to Caroline.

Caroline took the photo hesitantly, looking at Irene first, then back at the photo. "It's a wedding picture. So?"

"Look closely at it," Irene said.

Caroline brought the picture closer to look at it. She gasped when she realized whose wedding photo it was. "That's just a coincidence. A lot of people have relatives who look like them," she said, trying to hide the doubt in her voice. She knew the woman in the photograph looked exactly like her and the man like Roderick and it looked as though they were standing in front of the bed and breakfast she now owned.

"Turn it over."

Caroline turned the photo over and her eyes widened at what she read. Roderick Carter and Caroline McGuire. September 2, 1909. The writing on the back of the photo was identical to her own. She tossed the photo on the table. "That still doesn't prove it's me." Her hands were trembling and she folded them in her lap, not wanting Irene to see how this photo affected her.

"Okay, I can see that's not enough to convince you." Irene began turning pages of the photo album again. "Ah! Here we go!" She removed another photo and handed it to Caroline.

"Yeah?" Caroline said looking at the photo. "Same woman, different guy."

"No, it's not the same woman, Caroline. Turn the photo over."

She turned the photo over and read what was written on the back. Caroline dropped the photo to the table and let out a loud gasp. The photo landed with the writing face up and she glanced at it again. Ian Tucker and Irene Jamison, June 14th, 1954. Not letting Irene see her reaction, Caroline's eyes fixated on the writing for a moment before turning them away. The handwriting on the back of it was eerily similar to her own.

"The woman in that photo is me," Irene said.

"Yeah, I see that, but this still doesn't prove anything."

"Will you just look at the picture again?" Irene asked, her voice raised in irritation. She needed Caroline to believe her if she was going to help her get back to Roderick.

Grabbing the photo off the table and turning it over to look at it once more, Caroline noticed the woman in this photo looked exactly like her also. She thought it was just a coincidence. She noticed the couple in the photo was also standing in front of the bed and breakfast.

"My grandmother told me about you and said we could have been twins."

"Look, Irene, a couple of photos don't prove anything. I really want to believe you. That would explain a lot of things, but things like this just don't happen. There's no possible way I could be Roderick's wife. There's no possible way you could be my sister's granddaughter and there's absolutely no possible way in hell Roderick and I are communicating through an old oak desk. I refuse to believe it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do. You're welcome to stay the weekend if you like. If you need anything I'll be out back." Caroline turned and headed out the back entrance to the hotel.

===

Also, be sure to visit my newly re-designed website. It's easier than ever to navigate and it's where you can find info on all my e-books! (Just click the link below)

Why Not PAY For It, Right?

You can read my smutty literotica here at your desk.... for free, of course....

..... or .........

NOW, you have the opportunity to read it using your e-book device... Kindle, whatever.....

PLUS
PLUS
PLUS
!!!!

Now you get to PAY for reading it in e-book form.

Don't you just love progress?

Go Here To Buy It NOW:

http://smashwords.com/b/73116

Can I have an autograph?

Well, hey! Congratulations ! How did you get so many formats? I don't have nearly as many....good luck on Smashwords and sales in general...

ami