Literotica Authors and Their Books (For Literotica Authors ONLY)

Barbara: A Novel of First-Time Intimate Sexual Adventure



DESCRIPTION:
Sexual intimacy explicitly portrayed through endearing relationships among adolescents and young adults as they experience the rewards and pitfalls of newly discovered emotions and desires. Graphically descriptive, the novel offers young lovers a wealth of insight into the often forbidden world of lovemaking. The story follows a talented and sexually curious Rock musician from puberty through adulthood, as he learns the hard lessons of life and love from a cast of endearing female characters.

REVIEW:
"Barbara is a no-holds-barred novel that, for young folks, could almost stand as a textbook of the unexpected highs and lows of early sexual experimentation. For us oldsters, it rekindles memories of our youth when rules were thrown out the (car) window in favor of that first taste of love in all its screwy, emotionally wrenching aspects. Fun to read, Barbara offers a sip of clear cool water in a world dominated by stagnant literary fiction." Hack Taylor, Book Review Editor, WM Publishing.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
R. LeBeaux is a pen name. The real person behind the pen is a semi-mature latent hippie, former rock musician, novelist, editor, publisher, graphic artist, Web designer, music producer, video director, and script writer. His latest novel, Barbara, is available on Amazon in print and for the Kindle, and on Smashwords for all other electronic text readers (see links below). He has authored nearly 2,000 published articles that have appeared in over 30 national and international publications. His work has also been reprinted in hundreds of newspapers, on the Internet, and in educational materials for journalism and English classes. At the time of this writing, he resides in a humble three-room castle in Central Florida with his anti-social parakeet, Bird, where he daily slaves before a computer screen while partaking of an occasional liter of Merlot and listening to ‘60s folk music.

LINKS:

To Purchase In Paperback or Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1419693794/thewritershome

To Purchase In All Other Electronic Formats, including for the iPad, the Sony Reader, all mobile devices, and for download to read on your computer:

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/12563

The Author's Blog (read excerpts from the novel):

http://rlebeaux.blogspot.com/

Free ebook promotion ends at Midnight, Pacific Time, today, Saturday, March 12, 2011...eleven titles to choose from... http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/therealamicus

Thank you!

Amicus

I wrote, and Posted, a note to you...but it is nowhere to be seen....dunno?

I followed your audio link...a lovely and trained voice, and I had some questions as to how the mechanics of your recording system worked as I aspire to create some audio books of my own and I thought perhaps you would share some of your technique...I did radio for like a hundred years, so I have the voice, but the ambient noise in my office mar any attempt at a professional sounding production.

smiles...

Ami

Now available through Smashwords.

Dirty, Sexy Girls is now being offered through Smashwords' Premium Catalog.

Launched on 24 March by eXcessica, a habu “something different” GM SciFi, Pleasure Giver


BLURB:

It is no mystery in this very human world of “give the customer what he wants” that many major medical and other society-beneficial scientific breakthroughs are delayed and pushed aside to make way for the development of toys and procedures to enhance sexual prowess, fantasy, and satisfaction—man’s hunt for the ultimate orgasm. In this sizzling story set in the far-distant future in a remote galaxy, professionally bred and sculpted man-on-man Pleasure Giver Jeremy is content with his trained and augmented abilities to give and receive the ultimate in pleasure from men, while retaining the humanity to appreciate that he is frightened by where the science of sexual enhancement has progressed. Galvanized by the question of his dying mentor that “it seems we go to great lengths to make our humans more mechanical and our hominoids more human—all in pursuit of the ultimate ejaculation ,” Jeremy struggles to maintain for himself the humanity of having the ultimate choice.

EXCERPT:

When I touched the access screen of Julian’s chambers with my palm, the doors slid open and I was surprised to find only his chambers facing me. He was still in Channel One mode here.

I found him sitting on a chaise lounge under a portal to the heavens. His high rank qualified him to be one of the few who had visual access to the stars in his chambers.

“You called for me, Julian?” I asked. “And yet there is no fantasy channel established.”

“I did not sign for you, Jeremy, to satisfy my sexual needs. I signed to give you some relief. And I signed for the night. I know, as you probably are beginning to know, how taxing this part of the journey is on our Pleasure Givers. I’ve often said there should be some sort of rationing while we are in the empty zone—or they should stock up with extra Pleasure Givers—maybe shuttle them out for just this period. This is when our allotted stock of Pleasure Givers is depleted the most. Statistically, it just isn’t cost effective to run a universal explorer this way.”

I walked over and sat down beside him. “You do not wish to have me?” I asked. “At the beginning of the journey, you asked for me on occasion. I no longer arouse you?”

“At the beginning of the journey I was younger—and feeling much more well,” he said. And then he laughed.

“You are not well?” I asked. I was genuinely concerned. Sometimes Julian was the only one who made this existence bearable for me.

“It will pass,” he answered. “It always has before.”

“But you don’t want me?”

“I’m not sure I could have you. But of course I want you. You are the most beautiful young man on this vessel. Everyone wants you. In fact, I’ve heard the captain is going to reserve you as his bed mate soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” I murmured. “But I will believe it when and if it happens.”

“And when it does—no, even now—I counsel you to be very careful of Lucius.”

“So I have already been warned,” I answered. “But thank you for telling me as well. May I try? May I try to give you the pleasure?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. “But it must be your choice to give. I would not take advantage of you—what has been made of you. I sometimes think that we have expended too much effort on developing our ability to manipulate the human race to gain more sexual pleasure. There could have been more effort put into medical advances that enhanced other aspects of life. And it seems we go to great lengths to make our humans more mechanical and our hominoids more human—all in pursuit of the ultimate ejaculation.”

“I think you perhaps fly in the face of human instinct, Julian,” I said with a laugh. “What could be more important to a man than the sex act—and that ultimate release?”

“All so true, but perhaps truer for a young man of your age than an old man of mine. Still, it seems we are on a self-perpetuating cycle with the sex enhancements. No sooner had we perfected the enlargement of the male sex organ than we had to develop means to enlarge the receptacle for the sex organ and augment its ability to arouse.”

“I think you think on these things too much, Julian,” I whispered. “I am more interested in you in the here and now. Right now, here and now, I would like to see how large I can make your sex organ, for our mutual pleasure.”

Released on 25 March by BarbarianSpy, a GM novella, The Legend of Holleystone Grange, by Sabb.


BLURB:

Robert Wilde is driving along any road that appeals to him on a relaxing but lonely trip from London to join his lover, Dale, at the beautiful old English country house, Holleystone Grange, home of the wealthy old family, the Holleystones. Dale and friend have been invited to join a weekend house party at the Grange by an old school friend of Dale’s. Unfortunately, Dale has had to go to France on business, leaving Robert using the time he has taken off, so they could spend a week together, to make a slow, winding journey there by road, alone.

Robert innocently takes yet another turn in the road, but one that leads him into a dark, ancient forest at the center of which is a village of legend, frozen in time, where for one night his lordship oversees Robert’s wild debauchery at the hands of his willing villagers.

When Robert arrives at Holleystone Grange, he is soon to discover another legend, the legend of the ring of the Holleystones, an ancient ring that over the centuries has often chosen the Holleystone bride. Under the mysterious Henry’s influence, Robert is soon caught up in yet another legend, shocking Portland Holleystone and everyone else in the weekend’s house party.

But in the modern world how real are legends? And what secrets do they unexpectedly hold?


EXCERPT:

“Chance, Josh,” I replied, with a smile, more than pleased to talk to such a good-looking young man. “Pure chance. I have no idea how I got here, really. I am just taking any interesting-looking road or turning and seeing where it leads me, though I do have to arrive at Holleystone Grange by the end of the week. And this quaint village pub is where the twists and turns of today’s drive have led me.”

He gave a small chuckle. “Ah, chance is an amazing thing, sir, isn’t it?” His eyes twinkled, and there was some other look there that made my knees feel weak, though I was getting hard elsewhere. I was not looking for sex, but I hadn’t had any for a couple of weeks. I’d be back with Dale in a couple of days, though, getting plenty, and I was naturally monogamous.

“Yes. Yes, chance is an amazing thing, but I must make a note of how to get here, as this is the sort of place I’d like to come back to. What is the nearest town?” I asked him.

“I’ll have to think on that, sir. There are several nearby.”

I might have thought it was an odd answer if I had not been so taken by him and eager to talk after several days traveling on my own, but I was glad of company, and I didn’t give it much thought.

“If you really want to come back, I am sure you will find the way, sir,” he added.

I had vaguely been aware of the door to the bar opening and glanced up to see someone entering, an older man, very smartly dressed, and with a serious look on his face. I’d have given him no more than that brief glance if he had not fixed his eyes on me and turned towards our table. My companion looked up at him. “Good evening, sir,” he said and the new arrival made a small movement with his hand.

“I’d best leave you, sir,” Josh said, standing up and winking at me. I was going to protest he should stay, when the older man said, “May I?” and took Josh’s seat.

He seemed to be examining me in a very personal way that made me feel naked. It was a possessive look. A dominating look and a lustful look all at once. If I had been firming up to Josh, I was unexpectedly getting even more aroused by the new arrival. “Robert,” he said with a big smile, “I think we need to get to know each other better.”

I had no idea what to respond. And no words came to me until he had moved his chair closer to mine and, placing an arm about my shoulders, moved his face to mine for a kiss. “No,” I blurted out, as I pulled back in surprise and worry and looked about, but the small crowd in the bar didn’t seem to care. They were not oblivious to us, though, as I saw Josh smiling at me, or at us, and then stepping over. He bent over me and whispered, “Just relax for his lordship.”

Launched by BarbarianSpy on 24 March, a GM sports stories anthology by habu (a pen name for sr71plt), The Sporting Life.” Already #73 on the top 100 best-seller’s list for GM anthologies at Amazon.com.


BLURB:

The sporting life means something slightly different to the men who love men than it means to the usual sportsman. To many, the goal of a sport is to play the game and to win by achieving the best score. In this collection of three dozen stories, many of which have never been published before, habu explores, sometimes with intensity and sometime tongue in cheek, sport as merely the framework in which to achieve an entirely different goal and to score in a much different meaning of the term. Step into the sporting life of habu’s world.


EXCERPT:

Will Hocking woke to the sound of a man and woman loading their car outside the motel room door and the woman not being too quiet about what needed to be packed where. As soon as Will opened his eyes, though, he shut them again. A beam of early-morning light was coming through the part in the drapes that didn’t completely close and that was being ruffled by the air from the air-conditioning unit under it. When he opened his eyes again, he could see movement through the slit in the drapes. The car that was being loaded was just on the other side of the window.

He turned his head toward the clock on the nightstand. “Christ almighty,” he muttered. It was only 6:00 AM. He’d had less than three hours of sleep. And now he wasn’t sure when or if he’d get back to sleep—which was funny because he always felt drowsy. At least until recently.

His muttered phrase had caused a shifting and low moan in the bed beside him, and Will turned, almost in surprise, to find a naked young man, laying on his belly, stretched out above the covers in the bed beside him. It took Will a few moments to collect his thoughts on where he was and who this was. He’d played in both games of the double-header on the road against the Bowie, Maryland, Bay Sox the previous day, and he obviously had partied pretty hard that night, and later this morning he had to be down at Wilmington, Delaware’s, Frawley Field to scout out catchers in the Blue Rocks High-A league organization.

There was rumor of a hot shot catcher coming up the roster fast there, and Will’s team, the Richmond Flying Squirrels, was shallow at that position. The Richmond team was Double A, so someone wanting to move up to the majors from the High-A league should see the Flying Squirrels as a favorable move.

He gave a good look at the young man he’d picked up the previous night. A fine looking young Puerto Rican. Very fine, Will could remember from last night. At least twice fine. Will reached over and ran a hand down the line of the young man’s back to one of his well-rounded butt cheeks. Such a nice coffee-and-cream skin tone, he thought. Unblemished and firm. No fat on this rent boy. His hand went between the mounds, and he was rewarded with a moan and the spreading of thighs. His fingers pushed inside the rim of the guy’s channel and he heard another moan. He couldn’t remember whether they’d talked price, but Will thought it would be worth every penny he’d have to pay. Couldn’t be a whole lot. It wasn’t the snazziest of clubs he’d picked the guy up in.

The young man was stirring and the couple out on the other side of the window were taking their sweet time in packing their car. “Christ,” Will repeated in frustration.

The rent boy turned on his side to face Will and smiled with sleepy eyes and reached over and cupped Will’s balls and then moved his hand to Will’s cock.

With a grunt, Will sat up in the bed, his back against the headboard and folded his legs, yoga style. He reached over onto the top of the nightstand for a pack of cigarettes, coaxed one out of the pack, lit it with a lighter that also had been on the nightstand. He took a couple of puffs and then he kept the cigarette in his mouth as he reached over and lifted the smaller Puerto Rican’s torso with hands under his armpits and pulled the young man’s head over to where his face was in Will’s lap.

Madison's Cure and Other Erotica (Best of)

Here are erotic stories of bdsm, menage, lesbian love, cougar love, bisexual love, man on man sex, and the paranormal just for good measure! The author picked out his favorites from all his tales, stories that have received high reviews/praise and work he loved the best. As Illyvich writes: "An author puts their best passion into work that arouses them and it seems that most of my stories are about friends I've either fucked or wanted to fuck, so the passion was not hard to find!" Included are Adventurous, Mistress Anna, Aqua Dream, Chick 'n Stu, Claimed, Community Service, Confession, Emerald Green, For Amber, Heat Wave, Lashway's Lease, Release, Reversal, Secret Connection, and others.

Ten years in the making LOL! It's out now though from Sizzler Editions.

http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=ILLYVICH-23

Artistic Sights, Heavenly Delights.

This story, first published here as an Earth Day tale has been rewritten, extended and extra sex has been added and is now available to Download from Total-E-Bound.




He paid her to paint his portrait but he really wanted to steal her heart.

Hermione is an independent, single mother who has caught the eye of Philip Haughtington, society high-flyer and well known heart breaker.

He wants to seduce her and she is determined to resist but how long will she be able to hold out against his looks, charm and firm, commanding hand?


Artistic Sights, Heavenly Delights costs £1.69 (or dollar equivalent) which I reckon is a bargain. I know I'm biased, but trust me, I'm an author.

I'm new to this board

I have a few stories posted and am about to enter the Earth Day contest. I want to let people know that I also have stories published on Smash Words. http://smashwords.comprofile/view/j... email is [email]jjjohns@jjjohns.net[/email].

I'm new to this board

I have a few stories posted and am about to enter the Earth Day contest. I want to let people know that I also have stories published on Smash Words. http://smashwords.com/profile/view/jjjohns

My revised Valentine contest story is published there as "Henriette's Valentine's Day Party" and "A Grand Tour" is also there.

I have three stories there which have not been posted on Literotica.

If you read any of my stories I'd love to know what you think of them. My email is jjjohns@jjjohns.net.

Broken by Laura Lovecraft

Here is my first full length published e-book
Broken Book One: Siblings with Benefits.

based on My Literotica series Siblings with Benefits. Broken Book One contains Chapters 1-10 of SWB professionally edited and with three new previously unreleased chapters. Available now on Smashwords or visit
www.lauralovecraft.com

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/51218

Lightning Strike

My new short story Lightning Strike is available at Smashwords.

Jim Carr was a lonely young man living in the big city. One day on his way home two things happened to him. He was struck by lightning and he met a beautiful woman.

Except

Jim Carr was walking down the street on his way home from work, the clouds overhead dark with the coming storm. As he rounded the corner and started across the park down the street from his house, there was a brilliant flash and a loud bang as a single bolt of lightning hit him squarely in the head. Dropping to his knees, Jim cried out in pain slowly falling forward the blackness of unconsciousness washing over his mind.


Opening his eyes slowly, a sharp pain still present in his head, Jim saw the face of an angel, his head cradled in the soft lap, of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Opening his mouth the woman placed a finger to his lips.

Deadly Captive Available Now!


Blurb: Lydia awakes, bound and blind, to the whispered urgings of a man who has his hands on her. His words confuse her at first, but she soon understands they are both in the middle of a performance that will determine whether she remains in captivity or dies. The crowd must be entertained, and her cellmate makes sure it is.

Forced submission is not the only horror Lydia endures. She has no memories of life before her imprisonment, and Joe, her cellmate, is her only comfort as the powerful creatures that hold them captive torture and debase her. Together, she and Joe cling to the will to survive long enough to break free and seek revenge. Their desire to sustain one another triumphs over their wardens' efforts to destroy them. There is no pain, no suffering, that can tear them apart.

Beyond their cell, their love is tested. Can they hold strong in the face of the challenge of the new powers they have gained along with their freedom?

Special Content Alert: BDSM, forced sex, graphic violence, menage, dark erotica

Click cover for excerpt.

Launched 14 April by BarbarianSpy, a GM novella espionage thriller, Operation Black Jade, by Shabbu (a coauthored pen name of Sabb and habu/sr71plt).


BLURB:

Having already used Australian newspaper reporter John Carpenter once in a CIA operation targeting Muslim terrorists in Sydney despite having established a sexual attachment that was soured because of his duplicity, American spy Paul Gentry finds he must try to use Carpenter again in China. Gentry’s principal source into an impending Chinese arms sale to Al-Qaida in Hong Kong, Ping Xuanyu—Mysterious Black Jade—has fled or been taken to Guangzhou, China, not only before revealing the information Gentry needs to interdict the arms sale but also with inside information of Agency operations that the United States doesn’t want revealed to the Chinese, much less Al-Qaida.

In a tale with more twists than a corkscrew and with deceptions and betrayals at every turn, Gentry convinces Carpenter to take him along into China on a film crew documenting Christian and Muslim religious communities in Guangzhou only to run up against master Chinese spy master Ma Ming. Gentry now faces the greatest dilemma of his life—how to fulfill his mission without sacrificing the man he has come to realize that he loves.


EXCERPT

Once the taxi was on its way to Lower Albert Road, I settled back in my seat and turned my mind to wondering how I was going to relieve all of this sexual tension building inside me and get satisfactorily laid tonight. I considered myself off duty now.

Dinner at the Foreign Correspondents’ Club wasn’t the least bit helpful. All of the men at Bert’s Bar that evening were old farts—at least I thought so until I turned and saw a familiar face come into the bar, one that I hadn’t had any expectation of ever seeing here and one that brought back to me both an old arousal and a twinge of guilt. What I had seen, coming to the door of the bar but then almost immediately turning away, was John Carpenter, a journalist with the international desk at the Morning Herald in Sydney, Australia, and the man who I had used—and, according to him, sexually abused—to gain contacts in the Muslim community in Australia on my last intelligence assignment. Standing behind him in the doorway was a handsome, well-built Norwegian I’d seen around the club, who I understood was a cameraman between assignments and who I invariably would have seen as stiff competition if I’d decided to fish seriously in the correspondents’ club pond. Seeing him with Carpenter now excited my sense of competition.

I had to admit to myself that Carpenter had affected me like no one else had in my work and that he was perhaps the one genuine regret I had in a long progression of casualties of the war on terrorism that I had created over the past decade of what passed as service to the United States.

I pushed off of the bar and moved to the door, catching Carpenter’s arm just outside the door to the bar, in the corridor. I pretended that the Norwegian wasn’t even there.

“John,” I murmured in a low voice. The moment I touched him, I could feel a shiver go through his body.

“Paul?” he replied in a surprised voice, as he turned to me. I also felt him shake my arm free, and I instantly felt the loss. I didn’t want him to react as if I repulsed him—not as intimately as we had been entwined—but his movement of sloughing me off told me that he had forgotten nothing about the circumstances of our parting.

“Hey, John. You’re looking good. I’m sorry, I . . .”

But that was as far as I got. He merely shook me off, and turned and strode off under the guidance of the Norwegian hunk, leaving me standing there alone in the hallway saying “sorry.”

None of this helped with the sexual tension I was under. I left the club, hailing a cab and giving the name of a massage parlor, Dragonese, on Causeway Bay to the driver. He turned and smiled at me over the seat, a young, almost feminine-looking young man with long black hair, and I could clearly see that he knew exactly what I’d get at Dragonese. What he also gave me at the moment was the nagging feeling that I’d seen him before. I didn’t usually focus on taxi drivers, but it occurred to me that he was strangely similar to the driver who had transported me from the trip I took to the Sheung Wan market.

As I intended, I did get off at Dragonese, as the well-muscled Japanese masseur followed up a tension-relieving professional sports massage that melted out into a slow hand job with a ball-sucking blow job. It didn’t end in a fuck, though, because he clearly wanted to top me, and I wasn’t having any of that—at least not tonight. He’d assumed he could top me, because I’d let him do that before. Sometimes that’s what I wanted. But it wasn’t what I wanted tonight.

launched 15 April by eXcessica, a menage novellete on sexual intrigue in Rhodesia in the early ’60s, Dark Primeval, by habu (a pen name of sr71pt).


BLURB:

On the cusp of a long slide into disintegration in Rhodesia, British Foreign Office official Brian Kennelly arrives in Africa, ostensibly to assess the 1963 situation in Britain’s African colony. But he really has primarily been dispatched at the behest of the powerful Earl of Devon to try to convince the earl’s son, Alister Cullingworth, and his wife, Pamela, to return to England before they are swept up in the chaos of Rhodesia’s struggle for independence. The wrinkle is that Brian has been the subservient lover of both Alister and Pamela at different times, and he arrives in Rhodesia with conflicting and confused emotions on what he wants—and who he wants it from. He finds Alister and Pamela in a primeval, self-destructive struggle of their own that belies their rejection of the Britsh ruling class traditions they both stem from and the slow realization that he wants them both—at the same time.


EXCERPT:

I was pulling quietly up to the cottage not long after the break of the next day. The landscape was magnificent in the early-morning light. I could see how Africa could get its talons in a person. I could understand why Alister had made the choice he had, especially now that I had seen his sons. This wouldn’t really be hurting Alister. This would be releasing Alister, which I now felt prepared to do as I was now released from him. He could merge into the kraal life of the Shona in Epworth. He’d be all right through the hard times to come. He’d be one of Rhodesia’s survivors. The sons of the House of Devon—regardless of never being accepted in England—would be enough for Alister here in Africa.

And this would be releasing Pamela, and her deep-seated guilt too. Or at least I told myself that’s what I would be doing for her.

All was quiet at the cottage. For some reason I had assumed that I’d hear Alister’s booming voice, his acid tongue at work, if he had returned already. I quietly mounted the stairs to the veranda. I stood, ready to knock at the door, but then I heard the moaning. My heart went dead, and it was on leaden feet that I pushed the screen door open and crossed the highly polished parquet floor and looked into the bedroom beyond.

They were stretched out in the middle of the massive stinkwood four-poster bed, covered in the brightest of white muslin. They were both naked. Pamela was lying on her back in the center of the bed, her knees wide, the heels of her feet planted on the bed, and rocking her pelvis up and down.

Penny, the young, muscular Shona house servant was crouched between Pamela’s knees, his hips pushing in and out in rapid motion, the muscles of his bulbous butt cheeks contracting and releasing, fucking her hard and deep. I was moved by the contrasting color of the merging and writhing bodies—and by the power and beauty of his gleaming, heavily muscled body—massive strength working her delicate, white body like a musical instrument. Overpowering, brute strength, taking her willowy, compliant body, even in the realization of the steel and resilience of her, meeting every thrust with a thrusting power of her own. Not a powerless taking, but a machine of contrasting parts working in brilliant concert.

Pamela was moaning and sighing as she’d never done for me or, last evening, for Gavin either. She was murmuring to him in that click-clacky language of the Shona. She was writhing under her Shona lover as she had never done for me. She was crying out in a voice of passion that I had never heard before.

I could not help myself. I crept closer rather than retreating. The vision of Pamela and Gavin fucking beyond the beaded curtain at the hotel bar—and the emotion of what I had wanted at that point—flooded me and kept me in the room—not just in the room, but creeping closer to the bed. What Alister had said, back in the rondavel, swam up from the depths. “Think of her as Pamela.” No pretense now. It was Pamela. Pamela and a young, muscular man at the height of his desirability. I wanted Pamela in a newly discovered shared coupling, but I didn’t want just Pamela. I wanted Penny too. And I wanted him fucking me like he was fucking Pamela. I knew I had wanted that the first time I saw him in his dance of polishing the bungalow floor.

REVIEW:

From 4-star 1 May 2011 review by Examiner.com’s Acquanetta Ferguson: As far as erotica tales go, this one, while short, packed a powerful story of one man’s journey of learning who he truly is. Yes he has sex with quite a few people and this is no love story. Which is always a nice change from the flowery protestations of love and happily ever after.

There is also something to be said for a man who writes erotica. Some don’t get it and write porn, but Habu gets what erotica is all about and the story comes off as a powerful read.

Story Inspiration and Matching Illustrations to Stories


I find discussions of the inspirations behind works of erotica to be interesting and provide the inspiration for the GM novella Cairo Surrender by habu (a pen name for sr71plt) here along with passages from the book that inspired the Turkish artist Ynal to provide illustrations (posted with the artist’s permission) for the work. Excerpts of a review on Cairo Surrender are also provided at the end.

Inspiration: Habu often starts with setting—historical-period atmospherics—a theme, or a fleeting image for story inspiration. The inspiration for Cairo Surrender was an intersection of the three. “I wanted to capture the ‘end of a colonial era’ in Egypt feeling and use that to underlay a story on the loss of innocence through a foreboding and lengthy and deliberate seduction by a satyr figure laced with treachery. Shepheard’s Hotel was—and still is—a British colonial study in itself. It set the atmosphere for the story. The character I wanted to concentrate on was the complex one of the satyrish Pasha Rushdy Abazar, exploring traits in his personality that were arousing, seductive, dominating, arrogant, degenerate, and noble all at the same time. The themes of the book, though, may never have come together if I hadn’t seen the image that was used for the cover of the book. Seeing that, I instantly knew the time period, situation, and story that I wanted to give Cairo Surrender.”


Passage from the book associated with the cover image:





The view of Abazar through not just the dust particles but the haze of blue smoke above his head was just as obscured and hazy as was Abazar’s view of Michael. The first sensation that Michael had when he woke and sat up was of the face of a handsomely cruel satyr as viewed through a hanging of Spanish lace. It was a confusing sensation to him—fearful and yet exotic and tempting at the same time.


Passages matched with drawings by Ynal:


Michael showering and watching Abazar do his morning exercises:





They started to eat, but Abazar only ate half of his and pulled Michael’s away from him half eaten as well.

“I’m not finished,” Michael said in surprise.

“Yes you are,” Abazar said, the voice of the parent. “We aren’t active in here—can’t be as active as we normally would be. You need to eat, but you need to regulate yourself too. Go clean yourself now. And I will exercise my body. It would be best if you did so as well.”

As Michael rose and moved tentatively over toward the shower and privy corner. Abazar picked up the trays of the half-eaten food, placing Michael’s on the floor in front of the food delivery flap in the door and taking his own over and placing it on the floor at a corner of Michael’s cot. Then he stood and stretched out his arm and leg muscles and moved to the center of the chamber.

Abazar gave a little grin of amusement, as he saw Michael huddling in the corner, now clothed in darkness, and rinsing and then soaping and then rinsing himself, being careful not to expose himself. At the same time, however, he was surreptitiously watching as Abazar did some sort of dance-like movements in the middle of the cell to stretch and work his muscles—nothing strenuous. But he talked in low, soothing tones as he worked his body, explaining to Michael what each graceful movement did and how it kept his muscles well worked.

Michael watched in fascination but also in increasing embarrassment, as he felt his body tense up and his cock going hard. This shouldn’t be happening to him. He had no idea what was happening to him. He just knew that he couldn’t stop watching Abazar’s graceful, sensuous movements—and that his gathering thoughts about Abazar were ones he should not be having.


The beginning of Abazar’s seduction of Michael:





“Come over to the cot now, Michael. I will tell you another story.”

Michael walked toward his cot, slightly stumbling, and mumbling to himself. He knew there was something he was forgetting, but the voice of authority had called. And he wanted to hear the story. What he really wanted was the massaging to start again. That had made him melt.

What Michael forgot when he left the shower was to put his drawers back on, so he came to Abazar dazed and naked.

He sat with his back toward Abazar and Abazar started to gently work the youth’s back muscles, while in low, mellow tones, quiet enough that Michael had to arch his back toward the storyteller, bringing his ear close to Abazar’s lips, to catch it all.

Michael’s senses were suspended in some sort of nirvana, where he could hear Abazar’s words and where he could feel what Abazar was doing with his hands—and knew that he’d been taught men didn’t do this to other men. But that he didn’t care, that he was enjoying sensations he’d never felt before and that he was exhilarated in his inner being that it was Abazar who was touching him. That all of his defenses were down.

Thus, when, during the telling of the story, Abazar’s hands moved around to Michael’s chest and belly, Michael just sighed and leaned back into Abazar’s chest. He lay there, murmuring and moaning, and watching his own cock stand straight up and start to throb. Listening to Abazar, getting the gist of what he was saying, absorbing it, as Abazar’s hand slowly glided down and wrapped itself around Michael’s cock, and stroked him, with Michael’s instincts kicking in and his pelvis slowly rolling to the rhythm of the stroking until with a little cry and a sigh, he released his seed, watching it burble up between Abazar’s fingers and dribble down his hand.


Abazar preparing a sleeping Michael:





With a sigh of regret, Abazar moved Michael away from him and rose from the cot as he laid the young man down on his back. He leaned over and kissed the youth tenderly on the mouth and then placed his hands on Michael’s face and closed his eyelids. Michael almost immediately drifted into the regular breathing of deep sleep, and Abazar was assured that he had been right in holding off. He wanted Michael to be fully conscious, not in half a haze, and to tell he wanted it, to know he wanted it.

Still, Abazar could not leave him. He was too keyed up. Not the whole way now, certainly—if he could hold off. But part way. Preparation. Preparation for Michael and pleasure for himself. Relief. Partial victory at least. At least that was his reasoning. Because he was smitten, only barely in control of himself. He could not pull away yet. He’d never been so smitten with a conquest. The challenge was what aroused him. The first taking. That’s as far as his interest usually went. But with Michael, he wasn’t sure. He just wasn’t sure.

Abazar sat back down on the cot, beside the thin waist of the golden youth. Michael was laying on his back. Abazar ran the fingers of one hand along Michael’s full, sensuous lips, and, with a sigh, Michael opened his lips and two of Abazar’s fingers slipped inside. Michael sucked on the fingertips as he had sucked on the bulb of Abazar’s cock—almost innocently, certainly unconsciously. Not waking, but stirring a bit. Abazar’s eyes were feasting on the vulnerable youth and his other hand was stroking his own cock, bringing it fully back to life again, intent on finishing what he hadn’t let Michael finish—hadn’t demanded of Michael. A third finger followed the first two.

He gently extracted the moistened fingers from Michael’s mouth and lifted the youth’s leg on the wall side of the cot and hooked it over his own left shoulder. Abazar leaned over then and scooped his fingers into a large chunk of butter that had been softening on the food tray he had set on the floor at the corner of the cot. He moved his hand to between the youth’s now-spread thighs and found and toyed with the entrance of Michael’s channel with his heavily greased fingers. Periodically over the next half hour, the hand went back to the tray for more of the butter. He would need plenty of it. Michael moaned in his deep stupor, but still did not awake. Abazar slowly worked the channel with, first, one finger and then two—and four—as slowly, ever so slowly, the tight channel opened to him.


Culmination of the seduction, Michael bound to the wall:





“You are just virginal,” he whispered. “And alas, I am a stallion. I know when you have all of me inside you, me riding you in glorious rhythm, all of your fears and inhibitions will evaporate. As soon as you experience the ultimate pleasure.”

The tension inside Michael wasn’t lessening; if anything it was stiffening. Abazar had to think of something. It was all for naught if the young man wouldn’t beg for it—and receive the fullness of it. His eyes traveled around the room, searching for some idea of what to do. He could just turn the golden youth to a position where he could mount him fully and just take him and plow him until Michael completely surrendered. But what if that didn’t work? He had invested too much in this challenge to not have his victory.

His eyes went to the walls across the chamber from the cot, and he smiled.

“What if you had no control, if you welcomed it and wanted it and had no control, no way to stop it?” he asked.

“Hasn’t that been my life so far?” Michael asked wearily. “Not having control.”

“Yes, it is the problem, but it may also be the gateway to the solution. You have not had control before—but you were being forced to do things you did not want to do. What if, at least for a beginning, you had no control but you were being given what you want. That could help get you past the block in your pleasure and your being able to receive it fully.”

Michael said nothing, mulling over this conundrum. His thoughts went back to the small reception room at Shepheard’s, to the Nubian taking the waiter. He had been aroused by that then—and even more so in thinking upon it since. And he knew now that part of the arousal was that the waiter had no choice, no control. And when Michael thought of the Nubian coming to him after finishing with the waiter, the arousal he felt was couched in being taken by force, without his consent, beyond his control.

“We have come so far. You do want the ultimate lovemaking, don’t you? You do want the feel and to have the knowledge of every inch of me inside you, don’t you? The joy of knowing you are being so fully possessed and that you have the effect on me to keep me hard and having my seed flowing deep inside you? Knowing that tomorrow we might both be dead?”

“Yes,” the answer was breathy, as while Rushdy talked, he was slowly stroking Michael’s cock again, and the youth was responding to the arousal.

Michael turned his head and looked into Rushdy’s eyes, only to see that Rushdy was staring away from him. He followed the satyr’s line of sight and shuddered and moaned when he saw what Rushdy’s attention was focused on.

Abazar had moved the table aside, and he used his and Michael’s linen drawers to wrap the youth’s wrists in so that the manacles hanging from two adjacent iron rings on the wall didn’t chaff his skin too badly.

Michael was barely able to reach the floor with the balls of his feet when he hung from the manacles on the wall, but that didn’t matter for very long, as Abazar moved in close to Michael and reached down and cupped and spread his buttocks in strong hands as Michael raised his legs on Abazar’s hips.

The first entry in this position was arduous, but Abazar assured Michael that it would open him as the position on the cot had not.

Michael cried out as the bulb of Abazar’s cock breached the rim of his channel, and panted and whined that maybe they should leave it for later.

“You are my prisoner now; you will be fucked deeply before I unshackle you,” Abazar growled, which caused Michael to look into his eyes with fear. But all he saw was an encouraging smile. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? No control over the inevitable. No responsibility. I take all responsibility.”

“Yes,” Michael murmured. “It’s what I want.” And then “Oh, my God!” he was crying out, as Abazar’s cock gained a good two inches of depth never reached before. Visions of the Nubian taking the waiter flowed through Michael’s mind and he felt his channel slackening and his captor moving, gliding deeper inside him. And Michael wanted it all. He wanted Rushdy inside him, and he wanted the Nubian inside him. He wanted to experience, to live it all. All Egyptian men, the men of the world. He wanted them all inside him. His channel relaxed, the muscles of his channel walls beginning to work with the shaft that was splitting him.

Michael rode Abazar’s hips with his legs and arched his back and shuddered and writhed as Abazar’s staff reached the depth of a normal man’s cock in his well-buttered channel.

“You’ve done it, golden one,” Abazar whispered in his ear. “This is the best that most men could do. I could work you here—and you would enjoy it. It is not ultimate, though. Do you want the ultimate?”

“Yes, oh yes,” Michael whispered through his groaning.

He pressed in another inch, and Michael gasped. Abazar held there for several moments, both of them breathing heavily. He dipped his face to Michael’s and they kissed deeply, and Abazar then let his tongue run down along the side of Michael’s throat and down to his nipples. He waited until Michael stopped trembling. The youth was moaning, hanging from the rings, control of his arms completely taken away from him.

Michael could feel Abazar trembling now. Abazar took Michael’s calves in his hands and leaned in and kissed him on the lips again. Michael was whimpering, knowing he was at the moment—the gateway to the ultimate.

“Forgive me, little one,” Abazar murmured. “Just a few seconds. Only a few seconds. And then, slowly but surely, the journey to paradise.”

Michael was already opening his mouth to scream out when Abazar jerked his legs wide and thrust hard inside his channel with his cock. Michael cried out and writhed and pleaded, but saddled to the hilt now and having faith that Abazar wasn’t lying to him and that the pleasure would progressively overcome the pain, he gave all control, all tension, up to the command of this satyr who now fully possessed him. Feeling the full surrender, Abazar gave a snort of victory and completion and began to pump in short, sure strokes deep inside his conquest until they both felt the flow of him deep inside Michael’s no-longer-virginal channel.


From the 5 star, plus “recommended read,” review of Cairo Surrender by Kathy of Dark Diva Reviews[/b]

(http://ddrreviews.blogspot.com/2010/...way-cairo.html):

“The beginning of Cairo Surrender is that of an historical with serious overtones of danger. I was intrigued but darned if I could figure out how habu was going to change direction. But as I continued to read I was in awe of how totally and utterly he took us on the real journey! And what a trip it was.”

“Once we got to the heart of the story, not only could I see everything as it happened—the descriptiveness was superb to the point that I found myself transfixed.”

“I will say that the different sensualities explored created an eroticism that was wickedly hot—in all the best ways.”

“ . . . when we reached the end the surprising twists nearly took my breath away. I can still feel the sense of amazement I felt. Truly habu is a consummate storyteller who not only knows how to capture the reader’s mind, but also their heart... certainly the imagination is taken on a voyage nearly unparallel to anything that I’ve experienced in a short story. I’m reminded of Scheherazade who managed, for a thousand-and-one nights, to save her life with her riveting tales. habu could definitely give her a run for her money.”

The playoffs are on!

And our book is available!

I, PennLady, aka Eve McFadden, and MugsyB, aka Tamara Clarke, are pleased to announce that our new compilation of hockey romances, Melting the Ice has been released by RepublicaPress.

You can check it out here: http://www.republicapress.com/melting-the-ice.aspx



Four stories, originally posted on Literotica, are included: Ghosts of the Forum, Game Misconduct, The Tip of the Iceberg and Uncovering the Ice. They've all been revised, so they're not what you saw before.

Melting the Ice will also be available at AllRomanceEbooks.com, Bookstrand.com, Amazon.com and Smashwords.com.

Forced Pleasure

Out now from Sizzler Editions:
http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDetails.asp?ProductCode=ILLYVICH-24
$5.99

Two more romantic tales of bondage from your humble author are served up in this collection. In Forced Pleasure, we have the struggle between want and need as Francine looks to help her relieve Micah's stresses in a most unusual way only to realize that her lover Nick has plans of his own to handle both of their hearts. In Sweet Submission, Gawith is happy with his new kinky, poly family but the one thing that dogs him is the mistake he made with the woman who captured his heart. Samantha is the perfect submissive, older, caring, loving and into the Lifestyle with just as much gusto as Gawith. But his mistake could cost him the one thing he needs in order to be complete. BDSM tales in their own right are romance stories, though not always told in the typical fashion or given the typical outcome. But to those who understand What It Is That We Do, there is a beauty never missed.

Launched 28 April 2011 by BarbarianSpy, Choke Hold by habu (a pen name of sr71plt), is a GM espionage/commando adventure novella sequel to habu’s Silas’s Choice, released last year by eXcessica.


BLURB:

In this sequel to the gay male military espionage action/adventure novel Silas's Choice, retired commando spy Silas Collins and his young lover, Ward Spano, are caught up in a race for their lives from an operation gone bad in Silas's CIA past. While trying to keep a step ahead of Japanese judo mercenaries who are killing off members of a team Silas headed to unsuccessfully extract an Ecuadoran leader, Silas and Ward find themselves perpetually a step behind. In action that takes them from the jungles of Thailand to New York and on to a male brothel in Cairo, a safe house in Amsterdam, and, ultimately to a dojo in Okinawa, the two former CIA operatives have to uncover not only who is choking off the life of Silas's former team members and why, but also who is helping to keep the assassin elusive-and why.


EXCERPT:

They walked down Band Street along the side of the row of houses facing Burgwal, and into a narrow alleyway behind those houses. Silas put a key in a lock in a gate at the back of the row house he’d leased, and the two shed their jackets to reveal they’re black working clothes underneath. Silas went over to the back of the building and pulled down the ladder of a fire escape which he had made sure on an earlier visit was well greased, and they quietly ascended to the second floor. Silas also had the key to French doors on a balcony looking out into the rear courtyard. Heavy drapes were drawn across the doors, and the doors opened out, so it was mere seconds before Silas was slitting the drapes apart and viewing the drawing room of the house, which extended the full depth of the building.

He watched long enough to assure himself that there were only two men there, both young and Japanese.

At a signal from Silas, he and Ward burst into the room, taking both of the Japanese men off guard—but only momentarily.

Tomi, the older of the two Japanese, made a dash for the door into the interior of the house, and at a motion from Silas, Ward took out after him.

Meanwhile, Takeshi Higa turned toward Silas and took a defensive stance that prompted Silas to go into a crouch, as well. The two squared off, Takeshi closer to Silas than Silas realized. The American had no intention for this to be a judo match, so he swung his gun around to make obvious he had the upper hand, but as he did that, Takeshi lashed out with a foot and the gun skittered out of Silas’s hand, across the floor, through the French doors, and both men heard its metallic sound as it fell through the iron mesh of the balcony floor and somewhere into the courtyard below.

Quick as a flash, both men had knives out, and, both in a menacing crouch, circled each other warily, thrusting and parrying. The only sounds they were making were short grunts when a sharp knife point ticked an arm or a leg. Silas was holding his own, but the young Japanese was a lot better trained than he had expected, and he was losing hope of taking him captive. He now was fighting for his life.

Meanwhile, Ward’s pursuit of the training-hardened Tomi had proceeded into the entrance hall of the row house and toward the back of the building down a corridor beside a narrow staircase leading up to the next level. Light was coming from the last door down the right, which Ward surmised was the kitchen and where he heard the clatter of some crockery.

Tomi was a wily one, though. The next to last doorway to the right down the hallway was a doorless opening covered by a beaded curtain. It was a small pantry opening both to the hallway and to the kitchen beyond. Tomi, far from panicked by the surprise appearance of Silas and Ward, had entered into the kitchen, scattered crockery on purpose, and slipped into the pantry. When Ward passed the pantry door en route to the kitchen, from whence he’d heard the noise, Tomi burst forth into the hallway from the pantry door.

He put Ward into a headlock and kneed him in the small of his back, forcing the young man into the kitchen and bent over the kitchen table. Ward fought valiantly, trying to gain a grip on Tomi’s strong arms to pull him away, but Tomi wouldn’t budge. He applied pressure on Ward’s neck until Ward’s body went limp.

It was at this point that Tomi’s Oshiro Dojo training automatically clicked in. In the killing mode, the dojo’s style was not only to take the opponent’s life but to claim victory over him sexually as well.

Thinking Ward subdued and perhaps already dead, Tomi released his choke hold and jerked down both Ward’s trousers and his own. In that brief moment, Ward marshaled all of the remaining strength he had and both screamed out his plight and dashed chinaware left and right off the kitchen bench.

A bit surprised, but still in full control, Tomi thrust his hard cock up inside Ward’s channel while at the same time renewing his choke hold on Ward’s neck and, thrusting again and again, started to gauge his quickening ejaculation with the snapping of Ward’s neck.

Released by eXcessica on 6 May 2011, a menage short, Ritual of Honor, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt).


BLURB:

Asking life for little more than the opportunity to play the piano and tennis, family pressure finds a young American man enlisted in the Air Force and assigned to Okinawa. There his extraordinary natural sexual attraction leads him into the hands of a manipulative pimp and the beds of bored generals and their wives, to be shared separately and together. Disillusioned, he leaves the service to be taken in by a cougar Okinawa art gallery owner. She uses him to cajole and satisfy well-heeled clients both in Okinawa and Tokyo, which drives him to playing the piano and servicing customers in a Naha piano bar for the man who seduced him into prostitution in the first place. Enter the mysterious, powerful, and wealthy Japanese art patron, General Takehiko, who wishes to both liberate the young man and use him for his own ritualistic purposes.


EXCERPT:

The c lub lights were dim, but I’d left on the spot over the piano so that I could check scores. I’d been playing for some time and was gliding through “Deep Purple”—”When the deep purple falls over sleepy garden walls . . .”—before I realized that Steve was standing in the shadows next to the beaded-curtained doorway, listening to me play. He was wearing a robe and the bareness of his calves below warned me that this was all he was wearing. He was smoking a cigarette while holding a liquor glass in his other hand—and staring at me with those bedroom eyes of his.

I tried to bury myself, my eyes, my entire focused attention in the piano keys in front me. I was playing away furiously, now not even aware of whatever tune I changed to—especially since “Deep Purple” had been a special fuck song for the two of us—willing Steve to go away. But not wanting him to. Remembering, as I played, how expertly and totally Steve took me. How much I melted at the smell and taste of him and the churning of his cock deep inside me. I had not had sex for weeks. I had come to want it and expect it nearly daily.

I was ripe for Steve. And somehow he knew it. Having started into “Deep Purple” in the first place probably was my unconscious saying I wanted it. Steve always seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

I heard the robe hit the stage floor behind me and saw naked, well-muscled arms reaching around me from both sides. The cigarette, still burning, was placed, ash end hanging precariously over the side of the piano on the ledge next to the keyboard on one side, and the glass, still half full of ice and an amber liquid, was being set down above the keyboard on the other side. And then, hard, muscled thighs were swinging over the piano bench on either side of me and Steve was sitting precariously at the back of the bench with me huddled between his thighs, my hands still furiously running across the keyboard. My mind, however, was in a hundred places at once: trying to identify the tune I was playing, trying to remember if I’d eaten supper, concerned that the cigarette would burn down to the wood of the precious piano lacquering; equally concerned that the condensation from the liquor glass would leave a ring on the piano; wondering if I’d brought that score of Gershwin tune s with me, feeling Steve’s hard cock running up the small of my back, trying to remember whether I had picked up my other tux from the drycleaners that morning, wanting Steve to leave me alone, wondering how I could get through the night if he did leave me alone, feeling Steve’s hard cock, smelling the essence of Steve, remembering how much I loved the smell of Steve, feeling Steve’s hard cock, feeling Steve’s hard cock.

It Started With a Joke by Kirsten McCurran

My first Kindle Direct Publishing ebook short under my "Kirsten McCurran" pen name is now available at Amazon!



Synopsis: A throwaway joke between friends becomes the most interesting night of two couples' lives when they swap spouses on a double date.

Sample Excerpt:
Marie gave me a quick wink and caressed the back of my husband's neck as she pulled him into a kiss. Kurt didn’t have any second thoughts about kissing another woman. He went right into it, his fingers twining in her flaming curls and opening his mouth to hers. I couldn't know, but I could imagine his tongue flicking out to entice hers. Kurt's a great kisser and Marie was lucky to get her chance to experience it.

I'll admit it was strange watching my husband kissing another woman, even if I'd given my tacit approval. Jealousy flared for a second, but I didn’t react to that. I swallowed it down and turned and kissed Brett. The best thing was to find something else to occupy myself. Brett kissed me eagerly, like he'd been waiting to do this for a while. His strong arms held me tight and I felt locked to him, like he was suddenly in control. I'm Type-A in most aspects of my life, so I enjoy giving my man some control and Brett seemed to sense that instinctually. His hands roamed my slender body like it belonged to him, and I was more than pliant to his advances. After a few seconds of kissing Brett, I forgot all about the couple on the other side of the room. He nuzzled me and kissed my neck. I closed my eyes and sighed when he found the sweet spot on my neck that makes me shiver.

"Mmm…" Marie moaned, breaking me from my reverie.

I peeked from the corner of my eye and saw Marie’s top was down to her waist and her strapless bra was gone. Kurt had her reclined back against the arm of the loveseat and his face was in her ample chest. He pinched one of her thick, pale pink nipples, while sucking on the other one. Marie’s head was thrown back and she massaged my husband’s scalp, something I know he loves. She pulled at his shirt, trying to get it off without unbuttoning it. My jealousy had shrunk, and now there was a strange fascination with seeing Kurt and Marie together.

Brett demanded my attention again, pulling my face to his and teasing with his tongue. Our mouths crashed together and he grabbed at my breasts. It’s a shame, but I didn’t feel too much through the cable-knit and the padded bra that helped fill out the dress. I was tempted to look at the other couple again and spied my husband pushing his hand down Marie’s tight jeans. His shirt was off and she dug her manicured nails into his smooth back.
“Oh,” I huffed in surprise when Brett effortlessly lifted me onto his lap. I was turned so I couldn’t easily see the other couple and now Brett really would have me all to himself. I didn’t catch him checking out his wife with my husband at all, and wondered why he wasn’t at least curious. We were right back to necking like teenagers, only in this position he could easily squeeze my firm butt and I could caress his strong chest through his pullover shirt. Kurt is built, but Brett was solid in the way that just happens when you’re doing physical labor. He doesn’t have a six-pack, he’s just solid. He doesn’t have to run every morning or do yoga like I do, he’s just fit. It’s strong and manly and it turned me on more than I thought it would. I could imagine Brett ravishing me at will.

I was acutely aware of his hand moving from my butt to my hip and then to my knee and I parted my thighs so his hand could slice between them like the sharpest knife through silk. Even through my tights and panties he had to feel the damp heat from my humid pussy. I moaned into our kiss when he touched me there. God, I couldn’t help it. When was the last time someone other than my husband had touched me so intimately? Although we were all together in this, it still felt a little wrong and that made my heart flutter even faster. Brett was so good with his hands, like the expert craftsman he was. The side of his hand pressed firmly into the cleft between my lips, bearing on my clit, and my whole body tensed when I pushed back at his hand. He did not fumble around. Brett knew just how to touch me for maximum effect. I tore my lips from his to gasp for air, then kissed and sucked on the stubbly side of his neck.