Literotica Authors and Their Books (For Literotica Authors ONLY)

A summer GM Key West dazzler romance, Four Coins, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt) is released by BarbarianSpy on 23 June 2013.


BLURB:

New York television soap opera heart-throb, actor Nathan Thorne, travels to Key West on an open-ended vacation from the pressures of the big city. He’s there to scout out the keys as possibly a new home where he can create the life he wishes to free him from the effects of a double tragedy in relationships and an even darker past he doesn’t want to face.

Having booked into the center of freestyle gay life activity on the key’s Duval Street, Nathan is immediately caught up in both the carefree gay male “whatever brings pleasure” atmosphere of Key West and in no less than four relationships offering him a widely divergent set of preference choices.

These are choices, however, that prove to be entangled with each other. Each offers both a release and a reconnection with the tragedies he is trying to escape. Only one man, however, the most incongruous and potentially most dangerous of those he links to, forces him to face his demons and points him to the path of satisfaction and healing. The question remains, however, which of these paths Nathan will choose to walk down.


EXCERPT:

He went out on the balcony and looked down on Duval Street, which seemed to be getting busier by the moment. He heard a cat call and looked down at the sidewalk to receive an offer to come up and join him. But he just smiled, waved the offer off, and withdrew into his room. He changed into swim trunks, pulled shorts on over those, shrugged on a T, grabbed a towel, and clattered down the stairs and out onto the street in his sandals. Smiling his way through the whistles and requests to know him better, he escaped to the Audi 4, headed east on Duval and then south on Truman.

The clerk had been right—about both things. The sun was going down by the time he got out on the beach and the beach was nearly deserted. As he’d driven out on Duval all of the foot traffic seemed to have been heading toward the Bourbon Street Pub area. The clerk had also been right that there were rock outcroppings on this beach, creating pockets of privacy. Nathan found such a pocket area from where he could go down to the water and then come back and lay on his towel and be entirely alone.

He wasn’t really alone on the beach, of course. The first couple of private areas between the rocks he had passed were occupied, by couples—coupling. He looked aside and moved briskly on from these. The memories were still painful to him. He was here to be alone. Wasn’t he?

Each moment as he sat, knees bent up into his chest, on the towel and peered out into the ocean, moonlight shimmering off the surface of the gently rolling waves, he thought that it would be his last minute here, that he was ready to stand and return to his hotel. But he lingered, as if he was waiting for something. Why had he come out here at all? Was it because of what he’d heard about the Key West beaches?
What had he come to Key West for? Was it some sort of last-ditch effort to end this numbness? To regain feeling? To somehow find life again? To somehow bypass the pain and guilt he felt whenever he was able to feel anything at all?

It certainly wasn’t to be alone. He could be alone in New York. He had been alone in New York for months.

It was time finally. Nathan moved to rise, but as he did so, his view to the water was blotted out. Someone was there.

“Oh, you’re alone.”

“Yes, no one else here,” Nathan answered, as if conveying that whoever the owner of the voice was looking for was not to be found here.

“Do you want to be alone?”

That question was much too fundamental for Nathan to respond to immediately, and the young dark-haired man took that as a “no,” entered the crevice in the rocks, knelt beside Nathan, and rocked back on his haunches.

“Hi, I’m Gene. You come here to hook up?”

Yet another fundamental question that Nathan didn’t know the answer to. It perhaps was what he had wanted subconsciously by coming to Key West at all, but he hadn’t openly considered the question.

“I just flew in today . . . from New York. Wanted to check the beach out.”

“This beach?” the guy asked. He seemed so fresh and alive—in a cheery curly dark-haired athletic way that made anything he said sound innocent and natural. “You know what sort of beach this is?”

“I’ve heard,” Nathan said.

“So, did you come to hook up or to be alone? Should I shove off?”



1224932.jpg
 
attachment.php



On Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/329852
On All Romance e-books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-betweenwhat039swrongandright-1225738-149.html
On Amazon : http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DEVMGZY

DESCRIPTION: If you love something, set it free.... Tanya had set her love free all those years ago but it had given her nothing but memories of Christine and an aching emptiness in her life. A chance meeting makes all that hurt begin afresh. (12,904 words)

EXCERPT:
************

“Breakwater?”

“Yes. How would I get there?”

“Just follow the main road down and you’ll see it. Fifteen minutes if you’re walking. I recommend their Blackened Scallops and Filet Oscar – finest seafood on this island. If you don’t believe me, ask this young lady here. They were there last night, right Sweetie?”

Tanya looked up to see who he was referring to… and all color drained from her face. She stood still for a moment, swaying, clutching the bannister for support.

“Brad! She…,” the girl’s eyes darkened with alarm as she came running towards Tanya. “Are you all right?” the vision asked, concern evident in her eyes and in the frown on her face.

That face. Oval, with high cheekbones, haloed by hair the color of dark chocolate, eyes the color of overcast skies and adorned by dusky rose half opened lips.

Those lips were moving, Tanya registered.

The girl helped Tanya to sit down on the stair and took one of her hands in hers. “What is it? Are you okay? Does it hurt somewhere? Maybe we should take her upstairs to a room? Brad! Maybe you should lie down.”

Tanya resisted the helpful ministrations of the girl. Her head rose on its slender neck, and she looked into the face that she hadn’t seen for twenty-two years.

************
 

Attachments

  • BWRARcoverFinalsmaller.jpg
    BWRARcoverFinalsmaller.jpg
    70.5 KB · Views: 129
Last edited:
Charlie's Naked Proposal

Good morning to all,

I am searching for the story titled "Charlie's Naked Proposal", written by "scouries©". This story was the authors submission in the "2008 NUDE DAY CONTEST". I seem to not be able to locate this story and hope you can assist me in finding it.

Thank you,

Slimdick
 
Hey Readers,

Thought I'd share: http://www.amazon.com/Torn-To-Pieces-ebook/dp/B00DMKT8SK/r Out now! A Menage featuring two sexy wolves, one hot witch and unfulfilled needs..unless Kerian and Jackob resolve their differences and learn to both love Iolite...

There is an audio excerpt read BY THE AUTHOR: http://saschaillyvichauthor.com/2013/06/26/audio-excerpt-from-torn-to-pieces/

For those wanting something more immediate, here's an excerpt:

Kerian caught the scent of cinnamon mixed with her normal scent. "Iolite, you're hiding something from me." His voice became stern.
Any other woman would have shrunk from him. Standing at just over 6 feet, his body comprised of solid muscle. Iolite's hands barely fit around his forearms. The glare of his seemingly colorless eyes struck fear into everyone but Iolite. Of course his eyes weren't colorless, just a really deep shade of green. Hell, half of his pack acknowledged him as the strongest among them; his ability to get back up after any fight proved his mettle as pack Alpha.
His admiration for Iolite went up another notch.
Kerian set his wine down on the counter. He knelt before her and took her hands in his, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her wrists. He sent a little push of tranquility into her.
Her features softened, her lips curling into a tiny smile. "Well, one of the alphas is on his way here today. I wanted you two to meet in hopes that the three of us can come up with some sort of solution. I can only do so much with witch craft. I really want to find a safe haven for the sick while we work out a magical cure."
Kerian stiffened. "Is this alpha also your lover?"
She nodded slowly.
Something in his stomach began dancing. Butterflies, were they? "Iolite, my heart goes out to you, you know that. And I'm glad you were able to find another alpha when I'm not here." He paused. The scent in the air changed. Kerian watched the clouds cover the sky as the sun set. He swallowed hard. "Who is this other alpha?"
Her weak smile grew. "I think you'd like him. He's tall and rugged, just your type."
He still had to get used to Iolite enjoying his bisexual side. "Is he the only other?"
She nodded.
Kerian understood the finer points of juggling relationships, some of the bitches in his pack had struggled for dominance until they forced him to choose one of them as mate. Rules were set into place to establish order as to whom he would mate with and for how long in order to produce puppies, but the list had dwindled down so much due to the disease, forcing Kerian to look to outside sources for satisfaction.
The pack didn't wholly approve but Kerian left them with no choice. "It's my rules now. Trust me."
Many had. But Kerian's loneliness threatened to consume him until in Jackob's absence; Iolite had slipped into his heart and captured a part of him no other woman could possess.
"It's not unusual out here to mate with a human witch."
She nodded. "Lots of alphas consider me a catch but some of them, ew!"
He chuckled. "I know what you mean. Some of us are a pretty rough bunch."
"Rough doesn't begin to cover it." She ran her hand over his five o'clock shadow. "Speaking of which, are you staying the night?"
"Depends." His smirk returned.
Iolite frowned. "Please? I haven't seen you in a few months and I miss you."
He hated when she pulled that trick. The new lover was coming over? Surely she couldn't…well they could talk about it after they met.
"Baby, please?" She pouted. "Getting pregnant by one of you could be a lot of fun." She winked. A tongue snaked out and licked a pair of very full, kissable lips.
His body hardened as his heart melted right there. For a woman in her late thirties, Iolite knew all sorts of tricks to make men beg.
"Dirty pool, Iolite!" His raised voice made her laugh.
"Good, you're staying. Now, Jackob will be here in the next—"
His heart stopped. Jerking his head upwards, he glared at her. "What did you say?"
A knock on the door interrupted them both.
"That's probably Jackob." She feigned a weak smile.
Tension consumed him, tightening his shoulders. His eyes narrowed, his senses all fell on alert. Nerves tensed and muscles were ready for a bloody fight. She couldn't have. It couldn't possibly be the same Jackob he'd been thinking of before showing up here.
She laughed nervously.
"Iolite," he sighed, setting his head in his hands. "Why him?"
"I don't understand," she rose and rushed down the hallway to answer the door.
Upon opening it, he heard her respond to the sound of what were probably leather steel toed boots against the concrete floor. "Iolite, good to see you again. How've you—wait. I smell something funny..."
Kerian looked up at the same moment that Jackob rounded the corner.
"You." Angry eyes narrowed at Kerian
He still possessed those piercing icicle blue eyes, glinting of danger.
Damnit.
Jackob pointed a well-muscled arm at Kerian. "You," he repeated
Slowly, Kerian rose. His mouth went dry at the sight of Jackob, dressed in standard leather pants, knee-high boots he knew had more than blood on them. His leather vest hung open, showing off a handsome, smooth and oh so muscular body. A year ago, Kerian would have begged to lick a trail of kisses down Jackob's washboard stomach. Long dark hair cascaded down both sides of his face with those icy blue eyes glancing at Kerian.
For a moment, neither of them seemed to breathe.
In an instant, Jackob crouched and lunged forward.
"Jackob, no! Freeze!" Iolite threw her hand out towards Jackob.

BUY NOW: http://www.amazon.com/Torn-To-Pieces-ebook/dp/B00DMKT8SK/r

Sascha Illyvich
Erotic Romance Author – The Bad Boy of Romance
 
Last edited:
attachment.php


Now for sale at:

Smashwords: Suzie-My Life as a Slut
Amazon: Suzie-My Life as a Slut

Suzie:

How do other women stand it? How can they sit still? I need a hard cock in me as many times a day as I can. I need it now and I mean now. All the time, day and night I need the pressure relieved. Doesn't every woman need what I need?

The life and times of a nymphomaniac. See how she copes with her problem and her life.


Sample:

Rocking my hips back and forth, I could feel his cock flip past my cervix. Each time, it sent sharp pleasure through my belly causing my nipples to tingle. My clit, mashed between us, our pelvis bones pressing it so hard that the pleasure it caused me was almost unbearable. I was shaking and shivering with orgasm constantly. My hooded eyes burned with my desire. My husband was grunting as he slammed his hard cock up into me as far as he could, once again pushing his cock against my cervix. I almost swooned as the pleasure became almost too much. Unfortunately, for my husband, it was never enough. Ever. I needed more. More cock, more pleasure, more sex. More, more, more, all that he or I could find me.

All my adult life, well since I was sixteen, I thought every women, girl, female, felt the way I did when having sex. I assumed they all thought about sex, as I did, all the time. It wasn't until I met my best friend, I realized I was…abnormally charged, sexually. That was thirty years ago. Today, I am still horny constantly. My pussy is sopping wet because all I can think about is getting a cock in it. It doesn't matter whose cock. My husbands, my best friends husband, the stranger walking towards me in the mall, I didn't care. I needed a hard cock in me all the time or at least as many times as I could arrange it in a day.

When I first met my husband…

He was two years older than I was; I thought I had met my match. He wanted his dick in me all the time. I mean all the time. Yet after awhile, he began to wane. That's when he started bringing men home for me. He knew they were just useful toys to me. Things to be used and discarded and I was in heaven, two cocks at once. I would pass out after about three hours of them taking turns with me. Mark, my husband, would bring guys home every night. Then it was two guys so he could sit back and relax, I had worn the poor guy out. Instead, I wore out these strangers. Of course there was AIDS to think about. Although, AIDS didn't slow me down too much, they, the men, just had to use condoms to get in my pussy. After all, I didn't have a death wish, just a cock wish.

...​
 

Attachments

  • Suzie1thumb.jpg
    Suzie1thumb.jpg
    26.2 KB · Views: 104
Launched on 30 June 2013 by BarbarianSpy, an unthemed anthology of GM short stories by habu (a pen name for sr71plt), Grab Bag 4:


BLURB:

This fourth volume of habu’s Grab Bag collections contains fifteen all-new short stories and continues a series trend of eclectic gay male settings and plotlines presented in the order in which they were delivered for writing by habu’s fertile muse within the period of only a couple of months.

This collection, atypically for habu, set mostly (but not wholly) in the United States, takes us from one coast to the other and through time from the antebellum period of the American South to the present and from schoolroom to jazz club.

Included, in addition to story ideas just dropping from the sky, are stories inspired by e-mail exchanges with readers, requests for specific fetish stories, the exploration of a rarely written story specialty of habu’s—the gay male fetish of sounding—in both story and essay, and stories written specifically for themed contests. As always, though, the reader will also be entertained with representative tastes of habu’s signature gang banging, double penetration, domination, male prostitution, rough sex, older-younger, big black on small white, humor, bondage, twist endings, and gay romance themes.

There might even be a vampire or two lurking about!

Two of the stories, the initial one, “Two Men in a Dungeon,” and the later “Sailors and Flyboys” were inspired by a series of e-mail discussions (accompanied by photos) from a reader, a former naval officer and currently serious bodybuilder, wanting to exchange experiences and “interests.” Two stories, the Russia setting “Satin Sleigh Ride” and “Satin Circus,” were the result of a reader’s specific request for stories on a “satin” fetish that the he hadn’t seen covered in gay male stories before.

Habu has come to specialize in rare offerings on the extreme gay-male fetish of sounding. Included in this collection is a story on both sounding and drug use, set in a jazz club, “Friday Nights with Lenny,” and, by request, an essay, “Experiencing Partnered Sounding,” on the research habu did to be able to write these stories.

Two of the stories were written to theme specifications for writing contests. “For the Glory of the Earth,” dealing with plans for uranium mining in rural southside Virginia, was inspired by actual news reports, and was written for an Earth Day contest. “Porn War” was written for another themed contest requiring the story’s protagonist to be a story writer who experiences the erotic events he writes about.

History, both foreign and U.S., is a frequent setting for habu’s stories as are the themes of big-cocked black men dominating small white men and of male brothels, intrigue, treachery, double penetration (DP), and unusual sexual positions. All of these elements come together in the antebellum South plantation life story “New Master at Riverbend.”

Among favorite foreign locales of habu stories (e.g., Southeast Asia, the Middle East, the Mediterranean) Australia ranks high. Not only has habu traveled there and found the men there open and inviting, but it’s also where publisher of the Grab Bag anthologies lives and works. Therefore, there’s almost always an Australia setting story or two in his Grab Bag collections. There are two in this collection, although the first, “Swimming Lessons,” doesn’t say it’s set in Australia. However, the beach behavior observation that inspired the story was set on an Australian beach. Other inspirations for this story were the longstanding habu writing fetish of DP and a reacquaintance during this period of writing with the positions of the male Kamasutra. Habu was first initiated into these exotic positions when he was introduced to male-on-male sex—by an Indian doctor in Bangkok. An illustrated discussion of these positions popped during the months of writing the stories in this collection in an Internet search and the positions have been used in several of habu’s recent stories. The “sex in the surf looking back at a beach crowd” theme is also one that recurs occasionally in habu stories, being brought back by memories of beach play he enjoyed in Cyprus.

Another story connected to Australia, “First and Only,” set in a gay district of Sydney that habu frequented when he traveled down under, was inspired by the intersection of discussions with his publisher on finding books of nude male art for the publisher’s drawing classes and the scintillating image of a male model sent to habu over the Internet.

The other international-setting story in the collection, “Arabists’ Literary Weekend,” also relates to a recent habu trip abroad—this time to the Forest of Dean area of England. The setting of this story is an ancient manor house habu lived in for a week while sightseeing around southwest England and Wales. The setting was married to a theme stemming from habu’s reading “binge” on Arabic authors of historical Middle East novels.

The remaining three stories are set in the United States in present time. In “The Custodian,” high school teacher Blake is looking for a hookup with a professional man, but that isn’t who he is drawn to. In “Snow Trap,” set in a snow-bound mountain home, the young protagonist, Boyd, is trying to escape the man he is attracted to but who should be taboo to him. And in “Solicitous Service,” a young congressional intern, Tyler, is getting an unexpected kiss off from an unclassy political leader in a classy suburban Washington, D.C., restaurant.



1225778.jpg
 
attachment.php
attachment.php
attachment.php


Three short stories now available at:

Smashwords: Susan Michelle Carol

Amazon: Susan Michelle Carol


There is nothing more I enjoy, than going to a bar, a tavern or a pub, whatever you call them and scoping out the hotties that gather there. I am never disappointed, but I am constantly amazed at what, who I find.

I mingle in the crowd, trying to find that group, a gaggle if you will, of women who are on a ladies night out. Then I try to figure which one is ripe for the picking, who will be the one to leave with someone, maybe with me. Sometimes, it’s the quiet one, other times, it’s the loud rowdy one. No matter who it is, I can usually pick the one who will not leave alone.

Sometimes, the married ones are most likely...to be picked up. And most of the time, it’s not their husbands they leave with. Sometimes, on more occasion than you would think, it’s their husbands who have set them up…

…and sometimes I find that single most spectacular woman, who for reasons of her own is on the prowl and picks me up.

Bar Pickup – Susan

I sit, in a booth, watching the petite brunette sitting at the bar, she is a buxom beauty of about forty, but looks ten years younger. The reason I know this? Well I know because she is my wife of twenty years, her name is Susan. I have followed her here. She knows I’m here and is expecting me to approach her and pick her up. It’s a game we play about once a month, but tonight I have different plans. Tonight I’m going to sit back and watch how she handles the advances of other men. It is something that I have never done in the past.

I am curious. Will she rebuff them? Will she flirt with them? Will she come to where I am sitting and ask what is taking me so long? Or will she succumb to one of the men in the bar tonight? I am also curious how I will react to such a situation. Not that I want my wife to cheat, is it cheating if I know about it, on me, but I wonder what I will feel, inside if she…has relations with another man. Or woman for that matter.

She is looking at me, an eyebrow raised in query. I look away, pretending I haven’t seen her. Smiling, she takes another sip of her drink, a glass of red wine. She does love her wine. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A man, tall, dark hair, young from the look of him, approaches her. Susan smiles as he uses his opening line on her. He signals the bartender, but Susan shakes her head. She giggles softly at the young man’s response, but still shakes her head. Bowing slightly, the young man retreats back across the room from where he came.

I look at my drink, I peek at my wife out of the corner of my eye. She is staring at me her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to gain my attention. I smile to myself as I glimpse another man approach her. This one is about our age. His opening line must have been intriguing, as Susan doesn’t shoo him away. She looks at me and I quickly look away. I catch her nod out of the corner of my eye and when I next look over at her, the stranger is sitting on the stool next to her.

As I watch Susan, talking and flirting with another man I find myself strangely aroused. To my surprise, I find no feeling of jealousy, no revulsion at watching my wife talking, touching, flirting with another man. Yes, they are touching. Just little touches, here and there, mostly on each other’s arms or hands, as they talk. My Susan is smiling, her eyes are sparkling as the stranger flirts with her and I’m aroused watching her. This feeling is new to me, yet exciting.

Bar Pickup - Michelle

I walked into the hotel bar, looking around as I headed for the barstools lined up against the dark wood monster of a bar. As I took a seat, I noticed a pretty redhead sitting at the end closest to the booths that lined the far wall. She looked my way taking a sip from the drink in her hand. I saw the glint of light reflect off her wedding ring. She smiled at me and nodded. I smiled back and turned to the bartender who now stood waiting for my drink order.

"Give me whatever you have on tap," I told him.

"Yes sir," he replied heading to the tap.

I looked in the mirror, that inevitable fixture in every bar I had ever been in, and saw the redhead looking at me with her smoldering eyes. I winked at her and she shyly turned away. I smiled shaking my head as I wondered what she was doing here. The bartender set my beer in front of me and I handed him a ten. I picked up my beer and took a sip. I rose from my stool and headed down the bar toward the petite woman at its end.

Glancing my way for an instant, she quickly looked away. Now she seemed nervous as I approached. I stopped for a second looking her over. She was a beautiful woman. Her hair was perfect, her figure was pleasing to the eye and as she looked at me once more, I saw a very pretty face. If we passed each other on the street, I would be staring at her as she passed. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the stool next to her.

"May I sit with you?" I asked softly.

"Of course," she said looking up at me smiling nervously.

"My name is Jim," I told her, as I sat down.

"I'm Michelle," she said sweetly, offering me her delicate hand.

"Glad to meet you Michelle," I told her taking her hand in mine.

I didn't shake it as she expected. I held her hand in mine putting my other hand over hers. She smiled nervously as she swiveled to face me. She was wearing a beautiful red dress that ended, as she sat, mid-thigh. Her legs were encased in dark stockings, her feet in red pumps, all very stylish.

"Glad to meet you too Jim," she replied looking into my eyes.

I looked into her pretty brown eyes. I then looked at her face. Her skin was almost flawless, just the tiniest lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Yet there were some lines, which led me to believe she had been frowning as of late. The twinkle in her eyes drew me back there.

"You are a very pretty woman Michelle," I told her touching her wedding ring with my fingers.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "thank you Jim that is very kind of you to say."

She took a sip of the last of her drink. She looked at me and raised her left eyebrow. I raised my hand and the bartender came over.

"Another of whatever the lady is drinking, please."

As we faced each other, I placed my free hand on her knee. Her leg jerked a little but she didn't object to my touch. She did however look over her shoulder toward the booths behind her. Looking over her shoulder, I now noticed a man, sitting alone, at one of the booths. Michelle quickly looked back at me placing her hand on mine. I smiled at her.

"Is that your husband?" The shocked look on her face was priceless.

"Yes," she answered shakily. "He…" I pulled my hand from under hers and placed a finger on her lips.

"No need to explain, I think I understand. He wants to…what, watch?"

"No, no, nothing like that, he just…wants me to be…safe." Her face scrunched up a little as she searched for the words. "He has this fantasy..."

"I understand. No, I think I do. Does he want me to pay for you?"

"Oh god…yes," she whispered hanging her head in shame.

Bar Pickup – Carol

That son of a bitch, that slimy, stupid son of a bitch, who the fuck did he think he was? Fuck him. No on second thought I won’t…ever again, but tonight I was going get the fucking of my life or I wasn’t going home. In fact, I may never go home, at least not to him. Slime ball, son of a bitch. God, I have never been so furious. I stomped across the marble floor to the bar entrance, stopping just outside to calm my anger and my nerves. My name is Carol, Carol Manning, Missus Manning, soon to be ex-Missus Manning. Fucking two timing cocksucker.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open and step inside. The noise, although loud, has a calming effect on me. My shoulders relax and the knots in my neck untie. I spot Peggy at the bar, just as she spots me. I wave as I start over to her. There are at least six other women sitting at that end of the bar. Sitting or standing around in a group, talking and laughing. I join them. I know them all. I work with them.

“Carol, so glad you could make it here tonight,” Peggy says wrapping me in a soft hug. “Order up, you’re a little behind.”

Squeezing in, I order my drink from the bartender. Suddenly, someone swats my ass, hard. Spinning around, it’s Joyce. Laughing, I give her ample ass a good smack. She howls as she wraps me in her arms. Peggy is my best friend, but Joyce sits right next to me at the office. We are also good friends and know all about each other’s lives. For the next hour we laugh, joke, and drink. As the happy hour crowd starts to thin, the bar is now quiet enough to talk without having to shout. It is also empty enough for us to push two tables together so we can sit and talk.

“Well ladies, it’s Friday night, it’s seven o’clock and we’re in a bar all alone,” Peggy says raising her glass in a toast. We all raise our glasses and drink.

“So, who got laid last?” Joyce asked.

“I did, night before last,” Paula says looking around the table.

“Was it Herb?” Peggy asks laughing.

“Of course, who else would it be?”

“Then you didn’t get laid,” cackles Peggy. The rest of us laugh along with her.

“I did too, Herb is a wonderful lover.”

“But does he know how to fuck?” Peggy asks still laughing.

“There’s a difference?” Paula asked naively.

“You bet. Tell me, did you come, come hard?”

“I came…a little…maybe.”

“Then you didn’t get laid,” says Peggy softly in apology.

“Oh,” Paula sighs.

“Anyone else?” asked Peggy.

“I didn’t,” I respond, “but I am tonight, if it’s the last thing I do.”

The silence was deafening.

“He didn’t?” Joyce asks her voice full of sorrow.

“He did,” I tell her. “And tonight is payback.”

“Good for you. What are your plans?” Joyce asks.

“I’m going to sit in this bar and see who wants to pick me up. Then I’m going to fuck the shit out of him,” I tell them all.

All the girls were looking at me, a stunned look on their faces.

“Carol, what happen?” Peggy asks.

“That bastard…fucking cocksucker…he actually brought home one of his sluts…” I start to cry.

“Oh shit,” Peggy is beside me, her warm arms around my shoulders. “You poor dear, what are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to prove to myself I’m still as desirable as I was before we were married and then I’m going home and kick his ass out of my house.”

“Good for you. We’ll help?”

“How are you going to do that?” I ask her.

“Girls, it’s time to get Carol fucked, good and hard. Are you in to more than one guy?”

“At the same time?”

“Yes or one after the other. Have you ever pulled a train?”

“What? No, no, I just want a guy to fuck. I don’t want him fucking me, I want to be in control. If he can’t handle that then fuck him.”

“Okay, I’ll take your discards,” Joyce says laughing.

“Fine, but I get the good one, the rest of you are on your own,” I joke back.

The rest of the girls laugh nervously. Never on one of these women’s nights had any of us talked about doing what I am about to do. We have talked about sex before. We have talked about how bad it was or how good it was, but never about cheating on our husbands.

“All right then girls, Operation Carol has begun. Keep your eyes open for all likely candidates,” says Peggy seriously, looking around the bar.

...​
 

Attachments

  • barpicksusanthumb.jpg
    barpicksusanthumb.jpg
    27.9 KB · Views: 102
  • barpickmichellethumb.jpg
    barpickmichellethumb.jpg
    28 KB · Views: 99
  • barpickcarolthumb.jpg
    barpickcarolthumb.jpg
    27.9 KB · Views: 100
Released by Dreamspinner Press, July 8, 2013 – Thick as Thieves, an M/M sword and sorcery romp by Tali Spencer. Available at All Romance Ebooks, Amazon, and Dreamspinner.

Blurb:

After Vorgell the barbarian fucks himself with a unicorn horn, he ends up in a cell with Maddog, a pretty young thief. It’s lust at first sight for Vorgell—but honestly, he can’t help it. Unicorn horn is a potent aphrodisiac, and now he can’t stop thinking about sex. Luckily, Madd is one male witch who knows how to put Vorgell’s new magical body to good use when he tricks Vorgell into a kiss that helps them escape.

Vorgell may desire sex in general—and Madd in particular—but Madd has no intention of being screwed by a man twice his size. He has problems of his own, including an enchanted collar that causes him to desire his most hated enemy. He wants that collar off as soon as possible, but that requires stealing a basilisk egg from the castle they just escaped.

Drawn together by lust and magic, the two men join forces and soon find themselves up to their necks in witches, wizards, and trouble. Vorgell and Madd might just be perfect for each other, but first they have to survive long enough to find out.

Excerpt:

Vorgell tumbled against the hard floor as the cell door slammed shut behind him with a clang far too final for his liking. Maybe Baron Flemgu hadn’t been kidding when he’d promised to lock him away and let him rot.

“Oh, lovely. A roommate.”

Startled, Vorgell looked over his shoulder. Another man sat in the corner, wrapped in a cloak and hogging the cell’s only patch of light and probably warmth. From what Vorgell could see of him, he didn’t look like much of a threat. He was small, dark-haired, and beardless, with the soft looks of some high lord’s fancy boy. Vorgell had golden hair and a warrior’s body, boasting the scars of many battles. He came from the mountains far to the east of this land, though his band of warriors had been captured and consigned to a slave trader. That indignity had lasted only as long as the slaver’s skull. Since then, Vorgell had made his way to the city of Gurgh—a den of murderers and thieves he had gladly departed so he might try his luck at hunting witches in the wooded wilderness around Baron Flemgu’s castle. And now he was here, in a cell at the tail end of a string of bad decisions.

Difficult as it was to ignore the other prisoner, Vorgell pushed himself upright and peered up at the high barred window. Judging the distance, he crouched and then leapt. He was able to grasp the window ledge with his fingers and pulled himself up until he could just see the top of a line of trees.

“Impressive,” said his companion. “I would have thought you too bulky to make that jump.”

“I’m tall.” That was an understatement. He stood head and shoulders even over the tall men of Scur, and the men of Gurgh were not fit to hold his spear. Vorgell released his grip and dropped back down, landing on his feet. He turned eagerly to his pretty cell mate, happy that in his travels he had learned to speak the local tongue. “My name is Vorgell.”

The little guy snorted. “All that gets you, apparently, is guest accommodations in the baron’s tower.”

“Same fine accommodations as you. What did you do to piss off the baron?”

“You first, big guy.” A smile like a fisherman’s knife flashed his way. The boy had pretty teeth and secretive eyes with long thick lashes, set in a face fetching enough to belong to a girl. Vorgell’s cock thickened, his excitement coming to a boil despite his efforts. He couldn’t help it. For the last three days, all he’d wanted to do was have sex.

“I killed a unicorn,” he managed, though he couldn’t stop staring. The other man’s body possessed a delicate, graceful build that only encouraged thoughts of fucking him here and now. “I was hungry. Thought it was a deer. Turns out unicorns aren’t very big.”

Smile vanishing, his companion sat up straighter. “You killed the unicorn?” His black cloak fell open just enough to reveal a tempting glimpse of skin beneath a stained shirt. “What about the horn? What did you do with that?”

Vorgell flushed. “I was hungry, as I said. There were these berries growing where the unicorn had fallen, and—”

“Love berries. They grow wherever unicorn blood falls.”

“Yes.” The baron’s magicians had explained it. “Well, I ate all the berries I could find, and—”

“And for the rest of the night, you were hallucinating and as horny as a ram.”

“So they tell me. All I remember is having vivid dreams about, well, erect members. Apparently the creature’s horn was too… shapely to resist. When the baron’s soldiers caught me, I was fucking myself with the thing. Unicorn horns dissolve inside, did you know that?”

“Actually, I do.” At least it sounded as though the man believed him. “Are you telling me your barbarian ass consumed the whole horn?”

“Yes,” he admitted.


Review

“When I read the blurb for this book, I knew right away it had the potential to be a wild ride. Any author that has the balls to have such an attention grabber for the start of a blurb was something that I wanted to read and I’m happy to say this book lived up to my expectations and more.” Nikyta, read full 5 star review at Sid Love’s review blog.
 
Shadows in the Night by M.A. Church (nomoretears00)

Released by Dreamspinner July 12, 2012 - Shadows in the Night ~A Leap of Faith Novel. Shadows is a M/M paranormal/shifter novel that throws together a modern man, named Chip, and Jason, a Native American who lived in a time when the buffalo roamed across the land we now call America.

~As of July 12 Shadows made DsP Bestseller list.
~As of July 12 Shadows made Amazon Gay Romance Bestseller list.
~As of July 14 Shadows made ARe Bestseller list.

Blurb:

When Chip Riley's beloved granny passes away, she leaves him all her money, her land, and a house that needs some tender love and care. She never mentioned the legacy comes with a Native American shifter who intends to claim Chip as his mate.

Jason Sky has lived since buffalo roamed the land. When his totem spirit, a black cougar, saves a little girl, he doesn’t realize that generations later, her grandson will become his mate, leaving him to take on a modern man with modern ideas. But that’s the least of his problems.

Garon, another shifter with a long-held hatred for Jason, plots to kidnap Chip and lure Jason to his death. Soon Chip finds himself in an untenable position between a rock and a hard place. A leap of faith may be the only way to save himself and the man he’s learned to love.

Pages: 200

Cover Artist: L.C. Chase

eBook: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3990

Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3991


Excerpt:

Panting for air, Chip stared at the animal. The thing was freaking huge, black as night, and bleeding all over his porch from a bite on the back of its leg. To make matters even more interesting, it was lying in front of the door. Now what?

“Okay, Plan B.”

Chip sidestepped to the left, moving slowly. Hadn’t he read somewhere not to make eye contact—cats took that as a sign of aggression? Or was that dogs? Did it matter at this point? The cat was bigger than he was and had long, sharp teeth and claws—enough said. Maybe if he could ease around to the back door—

Calmly the creature lifted a paw and cleaned the blood from its muzzle. Eyes trained on Chip, it let out a loud warning yip, then slammed its paw down.

“Son of a….” Chip yelped as he cleared the ground in fright. Once he had his feet planted safely back on Mother Earth—and his heart crammed back into his chest—he glanced at the black cougar. Now it was tending the bite to its haunch. Again, Chip edged toward the back of the house and another loud yip sounded, stopping him in his tracks. But the big cat climbing to its feet made the air in his lungs freeze. With a grace that belied the pain it had to be in, it jumped off the porch.

Feet rooted to the ground, Chip watched as the cougar, rumbling deep in its chest, blocked the path to the back of the house. He risked all and made eye contact. Holding his eyes, the black cougar turned its head, slowly looking at the front door. Cutting its gaze back at him, it huffed out a breath. Chip, mouth hanging open, stared at the big cat.

Oh no, it did not just…!

Chip side-stepped again, and the animal’s tail swished on the ground and again it slammed its paw down. Once more, it yipped at him.

Oh yes, it just did.

“That’s it, I’ve flipped completely out. Heat stroke combined with sheer fright has fried my brain.” Why the hell does it want me to go in the front door? Did I really just think that? Chip flinched as the cat stepped nearer. “Okay! Front door it is. Then a phone call to the local shrink, ’cause I’ve lost my damn mind.”

Chip walked backward; he was not taking his eyes off that wild animal. And damn if it wasn’t following him. At last he reached the porch and had to turn around or trip. Jumping on the porch, he dug in his pocket for his keys. The thump of the big cat landing behind him caused him to go light-headed and made his hand shake. The smell of crushed grass, wild animal, and something more pronounced—a woodsy musk—enveloped him.

“Get the door open, Chip. Now,” he mumbled to himself as he dug his keys out of his front pocket. He stabbed the key at the lock. Why the hell did they make these things so damn small? Didn’t the stupid manufacturers understand that being ordered by a big-assed cat weighing more than him and standing waist high was a fucking tad unnerving? Thank God he hadn’t locked the deadbolt. Just as he slid his key in, a low, vicious growl sounded behind him.

Chip closed his eyes, assaulted by visions of his body torn to bits. Glancing over his shoulder—prepared to look death in the eye—he instead found the big cat staring at the woods. Its ears were laid low, tail twitching madly, and hair bristling. It dawned on Chip the black cougar had its body between him and woods, almost as if it was… guarding him.

Was that other cat out there?

With a hiss, the big cat stepped away from Chip, backed up to one of the pillars, and arched its tail….
“Oh come on. Not with the spraying again!”

The smell of urine flooded the area as the black cougar turned its head and balefully eyed Chip. Looking back at the woods, it let loose a scream that had every hair on Chip’s body standing up. But the answering call made him light-headed.

Something was out there.

A not-so-gentle nudge nearly knocked Chip off his feet but got his attention. The damn animal was herding him indoors. Throwing the door open, he scrambled inside and slammed it shut. He quickly locked the door. When that didn’t make him feel any more secure, he used his keys to lock the deadbolt.

“Oh God, oh God….”

His mind was in an uproar—mainly because he had company. The big cat had trailed him into the house. He’d tried to keep it out, but it just shoved its way inside. Stunned, he watched the black cougar limp across the floor toward the kitchen. Unsure what else to do, Chip stood by the door. Should he… should he grab his shotgun? Stay frozen by the door? Completely panic? Jesus, now what? Instead of having a tiger by the tail, he had a cougar underfoot. A very large cougar that didn’t exist.

“Okay, shit. Now what?”

Instinct told him to grab his shotgun, but honestly, the animal hadn’t tried to hurt him. If he wasn’t mistaken, it had protected him. Freaked him out, sure, but defended him. Curiosity, and yes, trepidation, had Chip following the animal into the kitchen to find the damn thing headfirst in the sink, trying to turn on the touch faucet. Chip locked both locks on the backdoor too. Yes, he’d just locked himself in with a large wild animal, but the one outside scared him more. Kind of.

“You thirsty?”

The cougar’s tail swished as it looked back at him, then tapped the spout. Unable to believe what he’d just seen, he watched the cougar drink. It was as if it knew how to turn the faucet on. His eyes traveled down the length of the animal. Holy hell, he had no idea these animals got so enormous… and intelligent. Much too intelligent.

“Ah, um, if you’ll back up some, I’ll see if I can find a water bowl.”

The big cat settled on his haunches. Chip found a large plastic bowel under the cabinet and filled it with water. His uninvited guest acted as if it understood him, but that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Of course it was. Chip set the bowl on the floor and dropped into a kitchen chair as the cougar quenched its thirst. Once done, it curled up on the floor and resumed cleaning its coat.

How the hell was he supposed to get this animal out of his house? Especially since it acted as if it wasn’t ready to leave. Not that it mattered; he was not opening the door right now, not with whatever else was out there. Chip rested his hand on his chin. And what was the scent? He had smelled it earlier when the big cat crowded him into the front door. It reminded him of another scent, but his scrambled mind couldn’t place where he’d smelled it.

Maybe in the morning he should take his shotgun and do a little exploring. Then again, he was really more of a city boy. As Chip sat at the kitchen table, his uninvited houseguest curled on the floor, head resting on its paws, eyes closed. Every move Chip made had the cougar’s ears twitching toward him. Nearly half an hour had passed, and Chip’s ass ached from the hard kitchen chair. To add to his discomfort, his stomach was gnawing. After a particularly loud grumble, the animal’s eyes blinked opened, and the big cat stretched its long body. Sharp claws extended from the pads of the cougar’s paws, and then it came to its feet. Chip gulped at the sight.

“Jesus, you need a trim.”

The animal looked at him and yawned, displaying long, deadly canines. Chip swallowed hard again. He had a predator sitting at his feet, eyeing him. What if he wasn’t the only one hungry? Chip gripped the table as the cat stepped closer to him, whiskers twitching. Then the creature turned and padded over to the refrigerator, rubbing against it. Chip shook his head. Talk about your not-so-subtle hints. He slowly stood, waiting to see what the big cat would do. Unconcerned, it moved into the living area and made its way around the room, stopping at each window.

“Damn thing acts like it’s checking the windows and stuff.”

Since the cougar was occupied, he grabbed the prime cut of streak he’d planned to grill for dinner later in the week. Better to sacrifice the steak than have the animal sample his prime cut. With that thought in mind, he decided steak would be the only meat he fixed. No point in tempting Fate. Turning his back, he quickly prepared a bag of prepackaged salad and dumped blue cheese dressing over it. When he turned back, he came face to face with the big cat, who was sitting on the bar.

“Sweet baby Jesus!” Chip yelped.
 

Attachments

  • ShadowsInTheNight_final.jpg
    ShadowsInTheNight_final.jpg
    73.2 KB · Views: 3
Last edited:
New Book - Getting Pegged

81B7PF7x6tL__SL1500_.jpg

http://www.amazon.com/Getting-Pegged-ebook/dp/B00DVW7MX2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373765784&sr=8-1&keywords=Getting+Pegged#_

Take a look at my first book of short stories about Pegging called Getting Pegged. It’s made up of four stories that range from first-timers to expierienced couples. For the femdom fans, two of the stories take place in a female dominaant relationship, and include other fetishes such as facesitting, creampie, watersports and domination.

Kinks and Drinks - When Collin hooks up with a sexy bartender Veronica he finds out that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Their first dates turns into a wild ride for Collin when he learns how adventurous his date really is.

Late Night Visitor – It’s late in the night when Curt wakes to the sound of his wife coming home from a bachelorette party. After an evening of drinks and bawdy fun she’s ready for sex, and it’s Curt who’s on the receiving end.

Good Morning Dear – A bright Sunday morning finds Pete and Holly still in bed, but Holly doesn’t plan to stay there for long. She’s ready to start the day, and it’s up to Pete to do anything she desires. (Some watersports/scat)

Taking Control – Home from a long day at work, Anita finds the house a mess and her lazy husband Bill lounging around as usual. A unclosed chat box on their computer is the final straw. Anita decides to take control of her marriage and teach Bill where he belongs. (Some watersports)

It's free for Amazon Prime users. Please take a look and tell me what you think.
 
Update on freebie...

There is now a Smashwords version of this story that I first posted here. I'm giving a free copy of the final edition to anyone that checks this post on Literotica.com. Check the signature for details...
 
There is now a Smashwords version of this story that I first posted here. I'm giving a free copy of the final edition to anyone that checks this post on Literotica.com. Check the signature for details...

Just downloaded it and plan on giving it a read later.

Will post a review when I am done.

Thank you.
 
Launched by BarbarianSpy on 13 July, Gilded Cage, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt), a 1930s, Egypt-based companion GM novella to habu’s Cairo Surrender.


BLURB:

Commercial models, including male ones, were at the top of the pampered and self-absorbed pyramid even in the 1930s, and young American model, Alec, is quite wrapped up with himself and convinced that he is irresistibly desirable to all men, with an interest in men. He has strong views on what he deserves from a man when he is taken by fashion photographer lover, David, to Egypt to film atmospheric man’s perfume ads in Cairo and Luxor.

Feeling slighted and taken for granted by David and feeling the sexual competition from another model, Jared, Alec turns to rich, mysterious, and strikingly handsome Pasha Rushdy Abazar—at first to invoke David’s jealously, but increasingly to attract the pasha himself. Abazar, who hosts the first photo shoot at his Giza villa across the Nile from Cairo, overlooking the great pyramids, does seem to be making moves on Alec when he personally flies Alec to the second photo shoot in Luxor and wines and subsequently dines him in style in Cairo.

But Abazar’s attentions do not quite meet Alec’s expectations and Alec’s narcissism requires “it all.” The question quickly emerges of whether Alec is going to be blind to the pasha’s own, separate, agenda until it is too late to save himself and to maintain control of his own life.


EXCERPT:

We were on the terrace of some high muckety-muck Egyptian’s villa in Giza, outside Cairo, filming on an ancient Egypt theme commercial campaign for a men’s perfume called Him. The men’s fragrance accounts were my best. They not only paid well, but they let me show the maximum amount of skin and, back in New York, that was great advertisement for where I really made my money—rich old men buzzing around me for my body.

And my body was really looking good, I knew. I was reclining on a marble bench, arching my torso up sideways, stretching out my gorgeous pecs and popping out the muscles of my biceps, the pyramids in the background beyond an ivy-covered wall as backdrop. The gold lamé skirt was just big enough to cover the essentials—now that David had adjusted it. I was well tanned from lying on deck on the passage down from London, although I’d need to work on the tan constantly along with my other gym work. My eyes were heavily kohled in an ancient Egyptian design, and my nipples had been rubbed with brown blush to make them stand out. Other than that, the only adornment between my beautiful body and the adoring public were the gold snake bracelets on my biceps; the turquoise and gold breastplate, carefully arranged so as not to hide my nipples with their quarter-sized brown aureoles; a couple of gold rings on my fingers and toes; and the product—a bottle of the Him perfume.

Besides David, racing around between the three cameras to get enough shots while my body glistened with sweat to just the right degree, and the two light men traveling with us, there were plenty of other men wandering around behind the cameras to distract me if I hadn’t been a consummate professional. Stanley, our ever-frowning and sweating manager, was there, of course. And those young Egyptian men—barely more than boys—prancing around with trays of this and that and showing their little brown bodies off. I certainly could have done without them.

I suppose I have to acknowledge the presence of the other model, Jared, who had come with us from London and was mincing around in the background, looking at my pose and devising ones of his own, mimicking me, of course—but the least said about him, the better.
Four burly, foreboding-looking guardians with rifles, aswathe in all those scarves and such that desert natives always seem to wear, their eyes darting around, were standing at the four corners of the terrace, where stairs went down to the marshy ground leading to the Nile. They had been there to accompany us on our journey from Alexandria to Cairo this morning. David said the guards were necessary because revolutionaries of the Wafd Party were being restless—in fact had been restless for the four years since the British governor general of Sudan, Sir Lee Stack, had been assassinated in Cairo in 1924. As mean as they looked, though, I had flights of fancy of lying under one of them, feeling his “gun” working deep inside me, telling me they couldn’t get enough of me—depending on what their faces and bodies looked like under all of those wrappings, of course.

And then there was a host for this shoot venue—Pasha Rushdy Abazar. He, I had to admit, was worth looking at.



1239998.jpg
 
Question for Morgan:

You said: "The Sex-story or Porn Letter on the other hand, is much faster and far easier to crank out at volume. It's also steadier work than erotica and it pays better per word count. ($25.00 to $150.00 per letter at 15,000 words max.)"

Are you talking about the "letters" in such publications as Penthouse and Playboy?

Could you please elaborate on where these markets are?

Thanks,
Jodi
 
Launched on 2 August 2013 by BarbarianSpy, a GM anthology of stories set in the Mediterranean region, Tails in the Med, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).


BLURB:

The Mediterranean evokes visions of sensuality, crystal blue water, beaches, lush vegetation, “whatever you like” lifestyles, and hot-blooded Latin men. It evokes that for the author habu, at least, who lived several years on the island of Cyprus and enjoyed life to its fullest there.

In this thirty-story anthology, several of the stories having never been published before, habu invites you into the Mediterranean gay male lifestyle as played out in the countries swirling around this inland sea. The stories start in Portugal, which isn’t in the Mediterranean but is Mediterranean in feel and lifestyle, and, from there, moves to Spain, Monte Carlo, Italy, Corsica, Malta, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Egypt, and Libya in a whirlwind journey of hot all-men action.


EXCERPT:

From the short story “The Apyko”:

The evening at the Monte Carlo Casino wasn’t going well for Tyler. He had won some and lost some during the early part of the evening, winning enough to entice the overconfident gambler he was to remain and losing enough to discourage him from cutting his loses. At this point he would have enough for a few more days on the continent, an airplane ticket home, and enough to carry him for a couple of months while he looked for a dream-ending job in the States—but without the Lucky Card.

He gravitated toward a European roulette table more, he probably didn’t realize, because of the croupier at the table he eventually landed at. The young man, perhaps not much older than Tyler’s own twenty-five, spoke French but had the dusky skin of a North African. Tyler thought that he perhaps was from Morocco or Algeria. Wherever he was from, he was naturally sexy and sultry. Deep bronze skin, black curly hair, and fluttery eyelashes. His big brown eyes had a well-practiced aspect of knowing he had strong powers of seduction—and that he turned his attention to men. Indeed, it was apparent to Tyler that the croupier, who was identified on his name badge as Harun, had caught—and held—Tyler’s attention from across the gaming floor and that the young man’s mystery and charisma had been enough to pull Tyler to his table.

Harun was controlling the wheel. Another croupier was operating the paddle that either pulled the losing chips off the felt-top table into the house pot or delivered the winnings. A chef de partie—game supervisor—hovered over the table, making sure all was in order. The latter was dressed in a tuxedo but there was little camouflaging that he was a glorified bouncer, here to keep the players under control. . . .

Tyler had sat too late to enter the game yet, which gave him time to look around the table. He had drifted here completely absorbed in Harun, the croupier. . . . Three of the chairs across the table from him were occupied, or more accurately, two and a half of them were. A young punk-looking man, probably a rock star and nearly recognizable to Tyler, was in one chair, and a gorgeous, but model-thin and vapid-looking blonde, half on his chair and half on the one next to him, her arms draped around him and her face nuzzled into the hollow of his neck, occupied the one-and-a-half chairs. One chair away from them sat a hulking Greek. He looked every inch the shipping magnate who had acquired his empire by hard work from the deck of his first ship and who now covered what was still a rough, no-nonsense, peasant in the trappings of great wealth.
Although the rock star was as engrossed in the game as the old biddy was, and the blonde was totally focused on the rock star, the Greek seemed to be almost off-hand in his placing of his bets. His eyes, hooded and knowing—almost undressing Tyler where he sat and speculating and assessing what the young man was doing there and what his desires and vulnerabilities were—kept moving from his chip pile to the betting numbers on the felt table top and then to Tyler.

The man was what one politely would say was mature—probably in his mid fifties—and ugly when each aspect of him was considered separately. He also was hairy, although this didn’t tot up against him in Tyler’s mind. But the package was commanding, mysterious, and intriguing in its own way, and the man exuded power and domination. Tyler felt like the man’s eyes were stripping him in every way. But that was precisely the sort of man who aroused Tyler. If he commanded Tyler to strip and took him right here on the top of the roulette table, no one in the casino would intervene, and Tyler knew he would let him do it.


1253887.jpg
 
Natural Consequences -- The Sequel to Good Intentions, aka Angels, Demons and Alex!

If you read and enjoyed "Angels, Demons and Alex" on Literotica, or its published incarnation as "Good Intentions," then you'll love the newly-released sequel: "Natural Consequences!"

Alex Carlisle has enough to deal with even on quiet days. Living with an angel and a succubus is no easy feat. One has divine responsibilities she can’t explain, and the other tempts him toward a decadent lifestyle he’s not sure he can manage. Add to that the stresses of college and trying to hold down a job, and it’s lucky Alex can even keep his head on straight.

Yet the complications keep on coming. An amorous (and terrifying) werewolf won’t take no for an answer. Vampires from across the country want to know what happened to their allies in Seattle. To top it all off, events in the city have drawn the attention of Federal agents who know far too much about the supernatural, and they have no patience for the chaos that Alex and his friends leave in their wake.

WARNING: Natural Consequences contains explicit sex, explicit violence, explicit expletives, violent misuse of office equipment, nudity, perfidy, disruption of public transit services, polyamory, theft, arson, open relationships, trespassing, heterosexual foreplay, lesbian sex, depictions of beings of a divine and demonic nature bearing little resemblance to established religious or mythological canon, cell phone hacking, contempt of court, flagrant violations of civil rights, dangerous use of alcoholic drinks, infidelity, public sex, bras, panties, murder, attempted murder, blasphemy, atheist rationalizations, cannibalism, prostitution, decapitations, gossiping, defenestration, exsanguinations, tax evasion, sexual harassment, ancient Babylonian marriage customs, horse-poisoning, stalking, selfies, bribery, assault under color of authority, fantasy depictions of sorcery and witchcraft, highly sexualized Halloween costumes, assault and battery, stabbings, excessive handcuff play, mayhem, explosions, existential discussions, controversial topics of sci-fi fandom, living room sex, home invasions, mind control, conspiracy, cohabitation outside of marriage, multiple references to British science fiction literature and television, bad study habits, government surveillance, donuts, spousal abuse, interrogations, even more explicit sex, guys from Eugene, classroom misconduct, sexual misconduct, divine misconduct, general misconduct, voyeurism, reckless driving, murder of Federal agents, poor firearms safety habits, misuse of a swimming pool for gladiatorial combat, insanity, immolations, public endangerment, sexual promiscuity, consistent contempt of vampires (screw ‘em, they suck), kidnapping of police officers, kidnapping of Federal agents, underage drinking, dismemberment, abuse of authority, still more explicit sex, electrocutions, destruction of private property, escape from Federal custody, barbering without a cosmetology license, World War I, betrayals, slavery, mild dom/sub play, cosplaying, a high school flashback, infidelity, reliable predictions of eternal damnation, destruction of a nice Zoot suit, nutshots, party fouls, littering, domestic violence, lengthy foreplay, abbreviated foreplay, disrespect for authority, falsification of records, prostitution, public indecency, impersonation of police officers, obstruction of justice, biting, clawing, hair-pulling, trash-talking and a general and willful disregard for traditional Western family values.

On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Natural-Consequences-ebook/dp/B00EENE9G0

And on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/345338
 
Launched by BarbarianSpy on 11 August 2013, a GM novella set in the American south, Austria, and the Cape Verde islands, Prepared in Cape Verde, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt). The e-book is an expansion on an sr71plt story published to Literotica.


BLURB:

Young Jackson Taylor’s first sexual encounter with a man is, as he anxiously anticipated, instigated by his college soccer coach, aided by his Austrian team mate Stefan Eisler. Before this relationship can be developed further, though, the coach becomes embroiled in a sex scandal while Jackson is home from college with the mumps. Barely having escaped being caught up by the scandal, Jackson transfers colleges, shines as a soccer star there, and is invited by Stefan Eisler to join him in trying out for the professional Milan, Italy, soccer team.

Once Jackson arrives in Europe to stay with Stefan’s family before the Milan trials are held, it’s quickly evident, though, that Stefan is primarily interested in having Jackson for himself. In escaping the enticing clutches of Stefan, Jackson finds himself being taken to a remote island of the Cape Verde chain off the coast of Africa by the mysterious and commanding Austrian financier Klaus Gehler, who has stocked his island solely with men who take a special interest in Jackson and who slowly teases Jackson into wanting them.


EXCERPT:

With Klaus Gehler I obviously was in the presence of a highly unusual man. He exuded power and strength—and elegance and refinement. I knew I was way out of my league here, and I felt like I would be moving down a path of no return if I associated with this man in any way other than encountering him at concerts during interval chats. But if Stefan wanted to brush me off, I certainly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of stepping on my tongue in the presence of Gehler.

“Yes, I was looking into some travel options,” I said. “I came to Europe several weeks before the Milan trials for summer break to see how well I’d like to live outside the United States. The Eislers have graciously shown me a few of the major cities, but I would like to get a deeper feel for the countryside while I’m here.”

“Stefan told me that you didn’t major in sports at the university but studied English and won a few writing awards. Is that so?”

“Yes,” I answered. “In the states, the university athletes usually have to have some academic field of study. Mine was English, yes. Yours was what, Stefan?”

“Geology on paper, but sexual gymnastics in reality,” Stefan answered with a little laugh. He wasn’t helping keeping this discussion in a neutral channel.

But Gehler went on as if he hadn’t heard that suggestive answer. “Ah, It is well that you are a writer. That would fit perfectly. I write too, but something entirely more dull, I’m afraid. In my business I have to keep up a constant and voluminous correspondence. And my secretary, Franz, has had to go off on a family medical emergency. So, I am bereft and just about to leave for my retreat. It would work out marvelously if you could take on the role of my temporary secretary. Just for three weeks or so. I would promise not to overtax you—to let you gain considerable experience of European ways and still have time and opportunity to do the physical training you need to do to prepare for the Milan trials. How would that sound to you, Mr. Taylor?”

“That sounds perfect,” I answered, giving Stefan a defiant look. And I did think it was perfect. I found myself excited with the prospect of three weeks away from Stefan. It was only later, when I was back at Stefan’s house and packing, with Stefan studiously avoiding me, that I began to have second thoughts. I began to realize that it wasn’t so much departing from the situation with Stefan that was exciting me as it was that I was going to be with Klaus Gehler, a fascinating older man. It didn’t escape me, though, that I was finding Gehler fascinating in the same way that I had once found Coach Jacoby fascinating. And that was a fascination that had proved to be quite dangerous for me before and I was trying to reject. Was refusing Stefan and taking Klaus Gehler up on his offer a matter of moving from possibility to certainty? I rather thought so, but I felt powerless to stop it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to stop it.



1268508.jpg
 
happens to know organising the event independent of his wife, or because I work there and husband deliberately suggested this venue to his wife when it was being arranged, or sometimes just because work with her.
 
Launched on 24 August 2013 by BarbarianSpy, a GM novella set in the cattlemen-sheepmen/farmer range war in 1870s Colorado, Fire Down the Valley, by Dirk Hessian (a pen name for sr71plt):


BLURB:

As civilization begins to reach the Colorado of the late 1870s in the form of roads and telegraph lines snaking west, young Cal, thrust into the world of the white man without even knowing his birth name, faces wars between worlds he can’t fully place himself in.

When the cavalry arrived to move the Arapaho into reservations, Cal, the sole survivor of a wagon train massacre and raised by the Arapaho, is “rescued.” Pulled out of the only life he remembers. He subsequently is fostered by a sheep herding family in a Rocky Mountain valley on the verge of a range war between the cattlemen, the sheep men, and the farmers as the latter began to fence the land, and is thus caught between worlds, none of which he can completely identify with.

Cal also finds himself torn in finding his sexual identity, tossed between an Arapaho brave, a half-breed cowboy, and a cruel ranch owner.

Calamitous events in the unsettling birthing of Colorado and the effects of encroaching eastern civilization claw at Cal to take sides and make momentous decisions of his own—if the men who matter in his life will give him choices.


EXCERPT

The mule obviously felt safer here, in the more open terrain and on the surer path, even if Cal himself went on higher alert. It wasn’t just the big animals he was watching for but also for maverick Arapaho braves who had escaped the forced relocation to the south and were existing alone or in small bands in the mountains. He would have been surprised, though, to find marauding cattlemen at this elevation. Cowboys didn’t like the mountain, and there was little to draw them this high. Cal imagined that, to a cowboy, the mountains were too much like the hated fences. That was what Cal was counting on by taking the mountain path. Completely oblivious to the dangers at hand, now the mule wanted to get on with the journey at a faster clip than the ever-vigilant rider did, and Cal continually found himself reigning the mule in.

It was about the time that Cal broke into the timberline that he had every reason to be worrying. He presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. Tracking him now was one of those solitary Arapaho braves Cal was watching for. Cal, however, wasn’t anywhere near as able to detect the young brave following him as the Arapaho was in tracking his prey.

Not long after breaking into the open, Cal came upon a turbulent mountain stream taking snow melt down into the valley and knew that he was half way to Hayden now and that he could start looking for someplace safe to camp for the night, which was quickly approaching. He followed the stream back down the mountain, looking for and picking out a good place to cross, and then continuing on for a bit to find a glen in the forest next to a pool of water below a waterfall to make camp. This, he reasoned was as safe a place to spend the night as any.

His was a false sense of safety, though, the Arapaho brave followed him at a distance down the stream and climbed a tree as they neared the glen, knowing instinctively that Cal would set camp there, and attentively watched Cal’s every move as he made a campfire, set up a lean-to tent, and boiled coffee for an evening meal of hard bread and smoked trout.

Ilesh clung to the branch of the tree, almost motionless, for more than three hours, watching Cal prepare and eat his dinner, check to ensure that the mule was safely staked out, inventory what he had in his saddle bags, douse out the fire, strip down to his underlinens, and crawl into the lean-to he’d constructed against the protected side of a rock outcropping.

The young Arapaho brave was well versed in being one with the tree, and he had the strength to perch there, motionless for as long as he needed to. In the years since, as merely a boy, he had eluded the American soldiers who were rounding his people up and shipping them off, Ilesh had lived up to his name, which translated as Lord of the Earth in Arapaho. He had grown lithe, yet muscular, and straight and strong. And he had learned to steel himself against the elements, clothed only in a breechcloth and leather leggings and moccasins, in all but the coldest weather.

He waited there until the dark of night before silently slithering down the trunk of the tree. The mule knew he was there and moved nervously away as far as its tether would permit. But Ilesh came closer to the beast and put his hand its muzzle, stroking it and keeping it from whinnying its fear. Having calmed the mule down, Ilesh reached down and pulled his breechcloth away, freeing a long, thick knife. Taking this in hand, he slowly stole toward the lean-to, entered it, and landed at a full stretch on Cal, who was lying on his back.

Ilesh had the element of surprise and he was a stronger man than Cal. The struggle was fierce, with Ilesh having the advantage of hold from the beginning, as Cal was just waking up. Slowly but relentlessly, Cal was tiring within Ilesha’s full-body embrace. The Arapaho brave forced his knees between Cal’s thighs and spread and raised them. The brave’s knife was long and hard and sharp. It sliced into Cal again and again and again. Cal thrashed about, but he couldn’t withstand the relentless attack of the Arapaho brave for long.


1271250.jpg
 
Does anybody else think they are getting ripped off by Amazon? I got a check last week for royalties through June. The previous one was for through April. That means there has been no payment for May. Is this a normal delay or are they trying to rip me off? :confused:
 
Does anybody else think they are getting ripped off by Amazon? I got a check last week for royalties through June. The previous one was for through April. That means there has been no payment for May. Is this a normal delay or are they trying to rip me off? :confused:

You said the royalties were through June. Could that mean they include May?

You also said check. Isn't there a cut off amount in order for them to write a check?
 
Last edited:
Launched on 8 September 2013 by BarbarianSpy, a bi male-perspective novella, Summer of Denial, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt), an expansion of a story first published to Literotica under the same title.


BLURB:


Steeped in denial and laced with prescription medications to combat nerves, young pop-song composer, Adrian, has belatedly signed on for a summer escape from New York City to Daufuskie Island, an isolated largely absentee millionaires’ retreat near South Carolina’s Hilton Head Island.

Summering with Adrian, in tension that builds rather than dissipates, are his older wife, Helena, a novelist; her elder half brother, Damien, a randy painter seeking to mimic the styles of Rousseau and Gauguin on the steamy South Carolina island; Damien’s promiscuous international model younger wife, Tish; and the piggish but powerful book agent to them all, Benjamin Wrangel. Floating around the edges of this volatile core group are Wrangel’s sexy and willing Thai houseboy, Krit, as well as a sensual Adonis native hunk, Vandi; an uninhibited Tahitian-looking model for Damien from the local Gullah community, and an enterprising tourist boat captain.

The retreat isn’t going well in terms of helping Adrian to come to grips with his desires and the blockage in his composing muse. And it all begins to boil over when Helena reveals that the novel she’s working on is one exploring relationships—the separation of what she says are the two largest, distinct groups of relationships, those that are primarily sexual and those that are affection relationships. She claims that only a few merge satisfactorily into a combination of two, and that a person is in danger of two such relationships arising and competing at the same time.

Will the revelations that arise from Helena’s theories and the steamy couplings he stumbles on—and participates in—early in the summer clarify or deepen Adrian’s unacknowledged issue?


EXCERPT

“Everything is perfect now that Adrian has his Petrof here and set up,” Helena spoke up. “Is it in proper tune, darling?” She leaned the bulk of her chest over the coffee table, showing far more cleavage than I’m sure she would have intended with fewer drinks in her, flicked the ashes from her cigarette into a tray, and picked up her martini.

“Yes, thank god, dear. . . .”

“Good. I know it’s your lucky piano, your muse. I know you’ll knock out glorious tunes by the dozens. You’ll see that I was right to insist that you have your piano and no other.”

I felt myself flare up. She’d always thought of my work as effortlessly “knocking out tunes by the dozens,” as if doing so were a piece of cake in contrast to knocking out novels with long paragraphs and five-syllable words by the dozens was. I knew I wouldn’t be “knocking out” tunes here. I had the piano, but I didn’t have Charlie, my collaborator, my lyricist. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to knock out a tune again, whether here or in New York.

But Helena was sailing on. “And you, D. Does the art studio suit?”

“It would if I planned on spending any time in it, H,” Damien answered, the siblings so familiar with each other that they each were reduced to single letters in speaking directly to each other. “I’m delighted with the island. I think I’ll go native with my painting here—out in the open, in the lush jungle.”

“Yes, this is rather a sexy island, and the jungle certainly is lush,” Tish piped up with a giggle and a grin. Her face immediately fell, though, as if she were a child in a room of adults who had deigned to speak without permission. She gave me a panicked look, but there wasn’t a thing I could do for her—short of telling her husband he need take into account that she’d just been fucking in the ferns with a hunky native—and she lowered her gaze to the hand she had on mine.

Damien inclined his head forward, gave her a withering look out of the top if his eye sockets, and continued his dissertation. “I’ll call this my Rousseau and Gauguin period, perhaps—if I can chose between their styles. I’ll have to experiment. It will be so much fun. I agree, this idea of yours quite likely is a winner, Adrian.”

He had turned to me. He, like Wrangel, was suggesting that this summer was my idea.

I opened my mouth to speak, to question and contradict, but Wrangel mercifully filled the sliver of a void in sound.

“I hope you have started your new novel, Helena,” he said, turning to my wife. “We’re a bit off schedule, you know.”

That was it, I realized. That was the catalyst that had brought us together here. Wrangel was a book agent. Each of us was working on a book for him . . . . Wrangel had gathered us all here in isolation to crack the whip over us. . . .

“Yes, I’m toying with the concept of relationship,” Helena said, taking another drag of her cigarette and her martini, in turn. . . . I’m going to separate and distinguish in a pure form sexual relationship and affection relationship. I won’t moralize between them, but I will show how basically it’s one or the other except in the rare instance where they intersect and merge.”

“And you will show this in a novel? With tension and resolution? I’m not quite sure—”

“Yes, the tension will be that my protagonist will have more than one intersection of the two. She will hedonistically enjoy sexual relationships and she will easily slip into relationships of affection, but rather than the optimum one relationship that is satisfying on both the sexual and affection relationship levels, she will be forced to suffer two simultaneously of equal dual strength. . . . One of the relationships will be with a man and the other with another woman.”

“Ah, yes, I see,” Wrangel said. “Quite possibly excellent, yes. And the resolution?”

“Oh, in the end she will realize that one of the relationships was of a fourth kind altogether—a completely sterile one.”

“And which one would that—?”

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” Helena quickly answered, anticipating the question. She was speaking to Wrangel, but her eyes were boring into me.



1281186.jpg
 
Faded Love by M.A. Church

Faded Love, a M/M contemporary about scarification, was released by Storm Moon Press on September 13, 2012.

~I was part of the Carved in Flesh anthology from Storm Moon Press that came out a year ago. Now my story, Faded Love, has been released as a single title. This anthology caught my eye because of the subject matter. In a society that worships beauty and is filled with everyday images of what’s ideal, I had to wonder what would happen to an internationally well-known model who ends up scarred.


Can Ashley's lover prove that scars fade, but love doesn’t?


Blurb:

One moment in time can change your life, especially a life that revolves around your face. A near-fatal car accident leaves a world famous model's face scarred and his career in a tailspin. The life Ashley knew is over and he wants to do nothing but fade away into nothingness. Only his lover, Will, can pull him out of his dark depression and make Ashley see even scars can be beautiful.


Excerpt:

The first thing Ashley noticed when he woke was a feeling of disconnection. He was floating, drifting. His eyes weighed a ton, as did his body, and his faced itched. Trying to lift his hand to scratch at the insistent itch, he struggled to get the limb to function. Nothing seemed to work right. Was he home in bed? He didn’t remember getting home. A soft beep caught his attention. What was that annoying sound? His mind was fuzzy and his mouth was as dry as cotton. Seriously freaked out, he fought to open his eyes, and his body jerked as he twisted. Pain exploded, greeting him unmercifully, biting at him.

“Ashley? Can you hear me?”

That voice. He knew that voice. With a herculean effort he opened his eyes. Or tried to. One side of his vision was pitch black, and the other side was blurry. Sickly fear coated his body. He flung his hands up, searching. What the hell was covering the left side of his face? Clawing at the covering, he whimpered as an out of focus face bent over him.

“Hey, hey now, ease up there. It’s okay.”

“Will?” Ashley’s hand was gently held and pulled down. Why did Will’s voice sound so funny, like he was hoarse? “Will? What’s going on? Where am I? What’s on my face?”

“Listen to me. You’re in the hospital.”

“Hospital? Why the hell am I in the hospital?” Straining, he was finally able to make out the pale walls, and smell a scent he had always associated with hospitals: cleaners and sickness.

“You don’t remember… anything?” Will bent over Ashley, still holding his hands. God, Will’s skin was so warm, and his was so cold. “Tell me what you remember.”

“Was on my way home from that shoot. You called. I was going to call you back… Will?” Ashley’s voice rose and cracked. “Then, nothing until now. What—what… Will?”

One of Will’s strong hands managed to loosen itself from Ashley’s death grip and brushed Ashley’s hair back from his face. “You’re in the hospital. There was an accident, a bad accident. You were hit on the way home two days ago.”

“Fuck me! Two days ago?” Ashley bit his lip as pain spiked in his ribs. “How bad? Who hit me?”

“It was pretty bad. You have bruised ribs from the impact with the steering wheel, your arm is bruised—not broken—and more bruises over your body. I forgot the driver’s name. They hit you on the passenger side, slammed you into a street light. Two people in the other car died.”

“Died? Jesus.” Every time Ashley tried to lift his hand to his face, Will stopped him. “What’s wrong with my vision? Why can I only see out of one side?”

Gripping his hand, Will hesitated. “You were struck so hard your head hit the driver side window.”

Ashley gripped Will’s hand. There was more, he just knew it. What little he could make out of Will’s concerned face told him that. “And? Tell me, dammit!”

“The window busted. There was glass everywhere. Oh God, Ashley, I’m so sorry. You were cut. On your face… and—and… there’s going to be a scar.”

“A scar?” Ashley whispered, and then his voice gained in strength as horror stabbed at him. “A scar, on my face? My face? No! Oh my God, no! How bad, Will? How fucking bad?”

Tears soaked Will’s voice. “From the hair line to under your chin. Jesus, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”

The screams from Ashley’s room brought most of the nursing staff at a dead run.


Buy Link: http://www.stormmoonpress.com/books/Faded-Love.aspx
 

Attachments

  • faded_love_3d_500.jpg
    faded_love_3d_500.jpg
    51 KB · Views: 4
Back
Top