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Old 08-14-2011, 09:09 PM   #1501
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I've just released the novella Light and the Darkness with Yellow Silk Dreams. It's available there, and also at Amazon.


Hope you enjoy!
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Old 08-15-2011, 07:10 PM   #1502
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My newest scifi series. Check it out in Fictionwise:

Adventurer: Simulator Problem

The United States Marines have been sold a new training simulator that's way beyond anything else available. It will allow Marines to train in specialized environments, without the cost associated with send the trainees to distant locations. The first trainee is sent into a simulation and returns. After he returns from the first test, he's tested for everything known to medical science. There's nothing medically wrong with the guy when he returns from the first test. The trainee is then sent into a simulation and he dies during the second simulation. Every trainee who's then sent into a simulation dies while he's in the simulation. There's nothing wrong with the trainee's body, except that it's dead. Into the mystery comes James Aquila. He's 18-years-old, six feet six inches in height, 240 pounds of lean muscle, with professional athlete vital signs. James is an ex-member of the SEAL Teams. For the kind of money they offer, James is willing to try the simulation. James is accepted as a trainee and sent into the simulator. It's not a simulator and James quickly discovers that he's in another world. There are aliens in the other world and the aliens want to kill him. James is an ex-member of the SEAL Teams, dismissed because of unusual tactics that he used during a mission and not because of inability to do a job, no matter who gets in the way. He manages to deal with the aliens and then encounters natives of the world to which he has been sent. Some of the natives of the world try to kill him. One of the natives who doesn't try to kill James is a girl named Pala. Pala is stranded on the tropical island where the non-simulation takes James. She is stranded because of a war between her Polynesian style tribe and another tribe. After several trips in and out of the simulator, James sets sail into an unknown world to try to get Pala home. In the process of the voyage to Pala's home, James encounters a group of aliens who call themselves Keegor. The simulator that brought James to the alien world is a Keegor space travel machine, stolen from the Keegor, and they want their device back. Well, the Keegor want their device back, but first they do have a few jobs for a James Aquila type guy.
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Old 08-18-2011, 07:37 AM   #1503
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My first eBook

Darkness Awaits by M.A. Church (nomoretears00) was released by Republica Press on 8/18/11.


Alone in the world after the deaths of his parents and twin brother, desperate to escape the memories of the ones he lost, and driven by a need from a recurring dream, Michael searches for a new life. And a new life he finds; a life full of myths that are real, wicked pleasures that the darker side of sex offers for those that are submissive, and an extended life.

Max, a creature that depends on the blood of the living, offers his heart wrapped in chains and silken ropes. But along with his love comes hidden dangers, plots that threaten to destroy the new life Michael has embraced, and an enemy that seeks revenge. As Michael descends into the darkness his courage, strength and love are tested.


I was dreaming once again, and it was of him.

The silky weight of the blindfold obscured my vision, but I could hear his heavy breathing behind me. I shivered, knowing what was coming. A sharp pull at my hair yanked my head back. Sharp, pointed teeth nipped along my jugular. My pierced nipples were tugged and twisted through the thin material of my shirt. I moaned.

"Don't move until I tell you," he whispered in my ear.

"Please, who are you?"

"The wait is almost over, Michael. Soon you will belong to me, and we'll be together. I will take care of you, give you what you need, what you have yet to admit you crave."

The possessiveness of those words should have scared me, but they didn't. I leaned my head back against his chest. He undid each button of my shirt. When it fell open, I held my breath waiting to see what would happen next.

"Remember to breathe, beautiful."

His hands moved up my sides, stroking and tracing each rib before returning to my hard nipples to pull on the platinum hoops. A sudden hard twist made me arch against him. My arms jerked, wanting to touch him, but I knew better. He was stronger than me, and I didn't have permission to move.

"Ah, shit," I said, clenching my fists at my sides.

The shirt slid off my body, a sensual caress, as his hands rubbed and twisted my nipples to the point of pain.

"Shh, trust me, Michael. Put your hands behind your back with your wrists crossed, now."

Cold, hard metal enclosed my wrists. The loud click startled me. Sliding his body against mine, he rubbed against my cuffed hands. I whined as he rubbed that tempting piece of jean restrained flesh up and down my ass. He was long, hard and thick. He ground his erection into me. My own cock strained against the fabric of my low-slung pants. Precum seeped from my shaft, wetting my boxers. His hard bulge pressed into the lower part of my back, then slid down.

"Please! Oh, please touch me." His touch ignited a desperate yearning in me that I'd never known. "I need to feel your hands on me."

I shook in his arms as he held me captive against his body. I tried to grind my ass back against him, determined to force the issue. His large hand slapped down hard on my ass several times. I shook in his arms as heat snaked to my cock making me harder. My balls pulled up tight to my body. I groaned as I crept closer to coming. The shock of him spanking me almost outweighed the shock of how much I liked it.

"Slow down, we're going to take this nice and easy. I'm going make you scream when I finally claim you, then I'll have you begging for more," he hissed in my ear.

"Oh god."

Could words alone make a person come? With my back against his chest, he unbuttoned my pants; a slow, teasing process that left me gasping and fighting not to thrust my hips. His breath was hot against my neck, distracting me while his hands moved to the waistband of my boxers. Long fingers scrapped across my belly, making my muscles quiver. Easing the top of my boxers down, my shaft sprang free. His thumb ran across the top of my cock, rubbing the precum all over. He caressed my hard length, his fingers tormenting me. With a feather-light touch he followed the main vein that ran the length of my shaft. My legs trembled.

"Harder, do it harder, please."

"We do this at my pace, not yours, Michael. I decide when and if you come. You'll learn to submit to me. You'll submit your mind, body, and soul to me."

Resting my head against his shoulder, I fought my body's instinctive urges. I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay upright. His touch was light enough to keep me hard and aching, but not so much as to trip me over the edge. I strained to resist thrusting my cock further into his hand. I was willing to do anything for relief.

"Stay very, very still, Michael." His voice sounded different, rougher.

Something sharp was run along my hips and down my legs. My pants split at the seams and fell to the floor, shredded. Warm air swirled my legs then something sharp like... claws? brushed against my skin.
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Old 08-23-2011, 11:39 PM   #1504
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God Mother
by Xavier Carter (c) 2011

Now available at Smashwords.

Everyone should have a teacher in their lives. Someone to help, guide and train them in the ways of life and love. Cole Schuster is lucky enough to have someone like that. Follow his adventures through life and love as his God Mother teaches him about them, with the help of his cousin, mother and other wonderful ladies in his life.

------------------- Except

It is on my twelfth birthday I notice her as an individual. Up until that time, she is part of the group I know as relatives. It's the time in a boy's life when girls are no longer yucky and they start to be more than just a person who is not a boy. I also remember noticing my buddy's older sisters around the neighborhood. Especially, when they would lie out in their bikinis, bikinis, considered scandalous at the time, yet covering three times as much as the 'bikinis' of today.

She is a beautiful woman, with dark hair and clear brown eyes with specks of gold. Her nose, slightly bigger than most, fits her face perfectly. Her smile is what brings her to my attention, bright and sincere. At the time, all the women in my life are moms. Looking back, I now realize they are each in their own right, what we today call MILFs. Even my own mother is one, as are the mom's of all my friends. I remember this like it is yesterday.

Over the next couple of years, she attends every celebration parent's heap upon their children, little ones and big ones. Her name is Joan and on a number of occasions mom tells me, she is my God Mother and her husband is my God Father. At the time I have no idea what that means. It isn't until I truly notice her I want to know. So, shortly after my twelfth birthday, I ask my mother.

"Mom, what does it mean to be my God Mother?"

"I was wondering when you would ask that question. Joan is your God Mother and George is your God Father. If something were to happen to your father and me, they would take over for us, caring for you."

"Oh. Like what?"

"Well if we were to get into a car accident and…and…"


"Yes. Then Joan would become your mother and George your father. They would also take care of you if both dad and I were hurt at the same time and can't. Joan asked she be included in your life just in case something happened and she needed to care for you. She wants you to know her so you won't be afraid."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

That is the best news I ever heard. She doesn't appear to be a blood relative. Oh and the part about her taking care of me if something is to happen to my parents isn't bad news either. Over the next couple of years, I grow close to Joan. At every event, which she attends in my life, I sit and talk with her. I tell her what is going on in my life and what my dreams might be at that point in time.

She seems so happy to hear every word I have to tell her. When I first did, she seems a little surprised, yet also pleased. As I grew older, I start to play sports. She attends every one of my little league games. Sitting in the bleachers with my mom and cheering me on. Then comes pony league. She is there, but seems sadder. When she attends my birthday parties, she comes alone.

It is my sixteenth birthday when I get the nerve up to ask her. We are sitting in the driveway the night of my party looking up at the stars. She is sipping a beer while I take small swigs out of my bottle of Pepsi.

"Joan, where is George?"

"Oh, god," she replies, her shoulders droop as her face, full of sadness, turns my way. "Sweetheart, George and I have divorced."

"Oh, Joan, I'm so sorry."

I am no stranger to divorce. Several friends on the block have been through them. It is sad to watch and I bet it is horrendous to experience.

"Thank you sweetie, you are such a joy to have in my life right now, I thank the stars that you and I can share our lives and experiences."

"Me too, Joan and I have wanted to say this for a long time now…I love you."

"Oh that's so sweet, I love you too."

She leans over, kisses my cheek, placing her hand on my head. She sits there smiling at me for a long time, stroking my hair gently. Then she stands, looks down at me and turns, hurrying away into the backyard. I swear she mutters under her breathe, 'If only…'.

Over the next couple of years, I just enjoy her company when I can. She is so easy to talk to and an avid listener. I tell her about everything I experience. My loves, my losses, my ups and downs, she listens to them all, intently, she is always concerned about my well-being and helps me work out my emotions.

As I get older, she gets more and more beautiful. It is true she is athletic. In our conversations, she tells me about her work out regime and I am truly impressed at how well it is working for her. Although she is not my mother's contemporary, Joan is at least five years, if not more, younger than mom, Joan has withstood the sands of time far better than my mother.

Last edited by Zeb_Carter : 11-04-2011 at 08:26 PM.
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Old 08-24-2011, 09:26 AM   #1505
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Good old tex can produce garbage faster than I can remove it! He's even thretening to publish it! A chaptered tale. Here's your share for today. Enjoy.

Here's post # 398 from the A.I.R. thread - its not much different than his posts 379, 394, 396, etc., etc...

teenager … champion of “favorite” writers
dixie’s nemesis
retard regurgitator


Originally Posted by TxRad View Post

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Old 08-25-2011, 09:47 PM   #1506
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Launched by BarbarianSpy on 25 August 2011, a GM Civil War Novella, Blue and Gray, by Dirk Hessian (a pen name of sr71plt):


During the Union retreat from the American Civil War battle of Port Republic, Virginia, two soldiers from opposite sides find themselves alone in the ruins of an old mill. In the tense moments of their meeting, the wounded Union sergeant, Able Jenkins, experienced in warfare and guile but troubled by the thought of men coupling with men, must scheme for his survival, while the vulnerable Rebel private, Josh Hardy, inept at war but known by men, is beset by temptation. Both men survive the encounter, but neither does so unmarked. And what they each think is a shameful end to their forced relationship is destined to become anything but that.


Josh’s mother had been called away the previous day across the mountains to Staunton to help with her sister’s birthing. Josh hadn’t even thought about his own supper and there, at the door, was Paul Cushman. It was only then that Josh remembered it was a Wednesday and that Paul always came to supper and gave Josh a study hour on Wednesday evenings.

Opening the door, Josh stood back, embarrassed and flustered. Both he and Paul covered the embarrassment well, with Josh apologizing that he’d forgotten that Paul would be coming when his mother wasn’t there to fix supper. The real reason for Josh’s embarrassment was that he had no idea whether or not Paul had recognized him in that pile of entangled naked bodies behind Mr. Morris’s barn the previous Saturday. Paul gave no indication that he had, though, much to Josh’s relief. Josh stammered that he still could rustle up a meal if Paul didn’t mind a cold plate, and Paul said he didn’t mind.

Josh continued to be flustered through the supper, but Paul was as smooth as always and kept the discussion rolling along with reports on his students and how different their personalities were.

“It’s like some have no appreciation at all what a basic education can do for them and just can’t wait for the school day to be over, whereas others want all of the experience they can get and have a passion for living life to the fullest and seeing and experiencing it all.”

Josh stammered his agreement, lost more in the sensuous way he thought Paul spoke those suggestive words than in the innocent meanings that no doubt were behind them. Since his sexual awakening, Josh felt like he was reading a new dimension into everything another man said. And it was all too new for him to be able to separate the reality of it from the possible fantasy. He watched Paul chewing at a cold chicken leg, a bit of grease running below his full lips. Paul’s tongue flicking out to catch the grease, and Josh had to look away, in embarrassment.

He should clear the table so that they would have a place to study, but he had turned hard at listening to Paul’s rich, deep voice and watching him eat lustily—and just imagining all sorts of desire-rooted possibilities. It might have been logical that Josh’s so recent sexual congress with five men would shock him so badly that he would pull away from any suggestion of sex with a man. But it had had the opposite effect on Josh. Each night since he had dreamed of Paul and had awakened to find himself fisting his cock and streams of semen running down the shaft into his reddish gold, curly pubic hair. It was just as well that his mother had not been here the past two days.

At length Josh had to clear the table, so he stood and awkwardly positioned his hips away from Paul as he maneuvered dishes into the kitchen. When he came back, Paul was standing away from the table, over by a chair where he had dropped his knapsack, and he was rummaging around in the pack and pulling books, a chalk board, and chalk out of the sack.

Josh seated himself when he came back, and Paul sat down very close beside him. Josh, trembling, looked at Paul with a question written all over his face.

“We work on cursive this evening. I will have to guide your hand.”
Josh was shaking as Paul wrapped an arm around his shoulders and folded a hand over Josh’s hand that now held the chalk. Paul’s chin rested on Josh’s shoulder.

They only made it to L before Josh felt Paul’s sensuous lips at the hollow of his neck and Paul’s free hand finding that Josh was hard.
“Paul,” Josh whispered in a shaky voice.

“Shush,” Paul whispered back. His long slender fingers were deftly working the buttons of Josh’s fly. “I saw you on Saturday—with those men at the cock fight. And I have so burned for you myself.”

“Paul, don’t . . . we can’t . . .”

“Your body says we can. That it’s what you want too.”

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Old 08-25-2011, 11:24 PM   #1507
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Released by eXcessica on 25 August 2011, the prequell of the GM “Death in . . .” Clint Folsom NYPD homicide detective series, Death to Innocence, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt). How did Clint Folsom become promiscuous? What is it about him that makes men have to have him?


Clint Folsom was no stranger to murder even before he lost his innocence to other men. The distinction of the NYPD homicide detective is his celebratory gay male promiscuity, which the police department frequently finds helps it close cases and thus makes Folsom a valuable investigative asset. This precursor to the Clint Folsom mystery series illuminates the elements of slow but relentless death of young Folsom’s adolescent innocence under highly unusual circumstances in narcissistic and hedonist Hollywood. The events that not only developed and sharpened Folsom’s sexual proclivities are revealed, but it also illustrates why men gravitate to him like bees to honey. The murder mystery folded into the plot of a young man’s journey to manhood illustrates reasons why Folsom is haunted by his past and driven by his profession.


We were both watching Tilton and Emilio at the side of the pool house, where Tilton’s upward strokes seemed to be going on forever and Emilio had collapsed now and was just bouncing up and down on the wall like a rag doll. A brief image of how this must be rubbing his back raw flitted across my mind, but even that I found arousing. Sweet and sour; pleasure and pain. I shuddered.

“He wanted to do that to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” I admitted in a small voice.

“And you wanted him to, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” in even a smaller voice.

“I want him to do it to me too,” Robert whispered.

I looked around at him, surprised about where he had taken this—no admonition, no “You mustn’t.” Just the acknowledgment of how alike the two of us were. And the wide gulf that inevitably separated us because our wants were too much the same. I resented him a bit then. He’d already taken Gene. Now he wanted Tilton too.



“What is it I have that men want?”

“You mean besides being young and drop-dead gorgeous?” Robert said with a laugh. But when I didn’t answer, he turned more serious. “They want your innocence, Clint. Did Tilton say what he wanted from you?”

I thought on that a moment, but then I remembered. “He wanted my cherry. He wanted to pop my cherry.”

“Precisely. Tilton wants them young and innocent. He wants to take them far down the path. There are rumors about what he does—and that he films what he does and sells it. He will take a young man to the edge—and maybe beyond.”

“And yet you want him—you want that?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Robert said, “Yes, I guess so. I want to know where the edge is. And a man like that . . . I want that too.”

“Then we really are alike,” I said. I shuddered at the thought—not so much at the thought of what Tilton did but at the thought that it blindly intrigued me. “But men. Regular men, not ones with the appetite of a Tilton. Is innocence what they want too?”

“That’s what they all want, Clint. But in your case it won’t stop there. You have so much more that they will want, even after you’ve lost your virginity. They’ll be attracted to your own want and your own openness for it. That’s what brings a man like Tilton buzzing around it. It’s the peculiarity of your upbringing. I can tell. I saw it and feared for you in your vulnerability. But I also envy you. Because as you grow older, it will work well for you.”

“What will?”

“Your openness and your want. You’re so intense. I can see that you’re just bursting with want. When men cock you in years to come, they will be aroused to new heights by the joy with which you receive and ride their cocks—and your insatiability in opening your legs for them. You will make men feel like supermen. There’s no greater feeling you could give them. And you’ll do it all without them losing their sense of your innocence. So each time, for them, it will be like the ultimate—taking your virginity. And the enjoyment they will receive will be multiplied by the enjoyment they sense that you get from it.”

“But, it won’t be real innocence, will it, Robert?”

“No, no, it won’t. But it will be enough for them to feel it is. It will make them supermen and they won’t be able to stop sniffing around you. And as long as you are enjoying it, it’s all good.”

“Then what will be the death of innocence for me? Have I already passed that?”

“No. The death of innocence for you will be when you go looking for it. When it stops being the man tracking and seducing and dominating you—but you going to him and begging for it—knowing that that particular fucking is bad for you, but begging for it nonetheless. But by then, there should be no tragedy in it. You will be ready and will have already experienced the thrill of being thoroughly, wondrously fucked.”

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Old 09-02-2011, 11:59 AM   #1508
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Launched on 1 September 2011 by BarbarianSpy, habu’s The Handyman, a GM novel covering a sweeping, 370-year history of immigration to the United States by six families from disparite origins and toying with the concept of men’s sexual desires and preferences being inherited down through the generations. Habu is a pen name of sr71plt.


Mystery surrounds young hunk Tab when he steps off the bus in the small, historical harbor town of Shernhaven, Massachusetts. How is he so quickly able to perceive the dark underbelly of the town—and what is it that he’s putting his “handyman” skills to changing, or “fixing,” or, at least, to shaking up? How can he know that the seeds of what the town is underneath its picturesque veneer go back to its founding three hundred and seventy years before? And to the men who founded it.

When Tab steps off the bus onto the town’s Braintree Road and immediately catches the speculative attention of Shernhaven’s leading banker, Trevor Cole, is it chance or is it part of something deeper?

The Handyman toys with the concept that the sexual proclivities of men can be passed down through the generations as it follows the history of American immigration into a small New England seaport town through the arrival and establishment and interrelationships of six founding families. Shernhaven is a man’s town in every sense of the word and becomes so from the unique input of the men who have arrived in Shernhaven to establish their presence from the very beginnings of the United States.

Arriving in 1640 with a land grant from the English king, Charles I, three families, those of the Sherns, Coles, and Geers manage to establish a place in history for themselves in Shernhaven. The aristocratic Sherns have ruled, by right, from the town’s founding, and their men share an interest in cruelty in the taking, down through the generations. The original founders of the Cole and Geer families arrived in more servile fashion, and not just in their social status, but they also manage to establish themselves in enduring prominence and power in Shernhaven.

Spice is added to the mix when the slave trade becomes a mainstay of the Shernhaven economy in the mid eighteenth century, and Kweku, the original black stud arrives in Shernhaven from the African Gold Coast by way of Jamaica. His descendants become the always-ready and enormously satisfying men of the Semple family.

Exhaustion from a half century of wars bring the Germans, in the form of the Fischer family, the men of which have an obsession for punishment, to Shernhaven in the early nineteenth-century and some thirty years later the potato famine in Ireland introduces the Irish to the town, represented by the Dungans, with their puritanical streak.

Nearly four hundred years of the churning and melding of all of the sexual obsessions of men for other men in the town of Shernhaven inevitably results in complications and tragedies that come to a head in the late 1990s.

Ten years later the handyman, Tab, strides into this mix and slowly, but surely, the whole sexual power structure of Shernhaven begins to shift.

The last mystery is how and why—and to what end is the handyman working?


The Trailways bus came in south from Boston on the Boston Road, turned right onto Cushing Street to come into Shernhaven on the east side of Shern Park, the center green of the old Massachusetts harbor town. Half way down the green it turned right again, headed east on Braintree Road and made an almost immediate turn left into the Shernhaven bus depot.

Only six passengers disembarked before the bus took on four more and headed east toward its next destination in Braintree.

The last one off the bus in Shernhaven was a young man of twenty-five or so in dusty jeans, a tight white T-shirt, and brown, ankle-high construction boots. He walked just a couple of paces down the curb toward the park from the door to the bus and bent over and placed a duffel bag and his jeans jacket on the ground. While he was straightening back up in a languid motion, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and matches from under the fold of the sleeve on one of his biceps. Cupping his hand over the flaring match and leaning his head down, he lit a cigarette between his lips.

He shook out the match and rather than tossing it on the ground, ran it into the hem of his jeans at one ankle. Taking several deep drags on the cigarette, he stood there and looked up and down Braintree Road, seemingly a stranger in town getting his bearings.

Standing in the window of the Union Bank of Norfolk directly across Braintree Road from the bus station, the bank’s president, Trevor Cole, was taking the scenery in. He liked to have his desk near one of the front windows. He was a window shopper of sorts. And this young man who had gotten off the bus was just the sort of shopping Trevor Cole liked to do.

He found the young man quite attractive. Slender, but with a good build. He had an assuredness about him and a fluid movement that Cole liked. In fact, he was sexy as hell. Trevor identified him immediately as a working man. The jeans, boots, and T-shirt helped him peg the young man, but so did his deep tan, his close-cropped dirty blond hair, and that red bandana around his neck. It was just the sort of bandana the Stilton kid had been wearing last summer on the road crew fixing the pot holes on the road up to the Upper Head. . . .

The Stilton boy wasn’t home for long, so he had to take the work he could get. Cole, whether Andy knew it or not, had arranged for him to get this job. Trevor Cole prided himself in thinking ahead. The pay was OK, but it was dusty work. That was what the red bandana was for. Andy had it around his neck and would pull it up and over his mouth and nose whenever a vehicle went by and kicked up dust. The road was asphalted, but, even though it led up onto a bluff, the sand got up there on dry days like it had been last summer and kicked up a choking cloud.

Even with the bandana—especially with the bandana—Andy looked good to Cole. He liked the construction work look. It gave him a thrill to slum. And Andy was in great shape—a college football player, just like Trevor Cole himself had been at Harvard only four years previously—and had been wearing just construction boots and low-hanging shorts in addition to that bandana.

Trevor Cole didn’t just know when Andy Stilton would be home from college for the summers; he also knew quite a bit about what Andy did at college.

A twenty-dollar tip to the head of the road crew and another twenty to Andy, and Andy had ridden to the top of Upper Head in Trevor’s BMW convertible with him, gotten in the back seat with Cole, and let the banker suck him off before folding Trevor’s belly over the tonneau cover and fucking him doggy style. The college guy had been surprised that Cole had been the one who wanted to be bottomed. He was easier to convince and handle when he’d found that out. He’d said that Cole had looked too macho to want to be the one giving it up, but Cole just laughed and said he had always been good about putting up a good façade.

Yes, Trevor Cole had fond memories of a hunk with a red bandana around his neck.

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Old 09-02-2011, 08:09 PM   #1509
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Wink Tied To Passion

I am new to Literotica. I submitted my first story a few days ago, and I just got news from my Publisher today that my first bdsm erotic novel is now for sale. I just had to share the news. It is called Tied to Passion and is available at Sizzler Editions: http://shop.renebooks.com/ProductDet...=THOMPSONAR-01

You can read an excerpt from it on my blog: http://amberrosethompson.wordpress.com/

It is a story that could have had so many different titles: How to Make a Boyfriend; Battle of the Dommes; To Switch or Not to Swith, and so on, but Tied to Passion was the final decision.

It is also LGBT friendly and while the main hero and heroine are of opposite sexes, that doesn't mean others aren't pulled into the fray.
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Old 09-03-2011, 03:38 AM   #1510
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Case of the Missing Millionaire Novel Now Out!

I do post first drafts and abbreviated stories here (the original, pretty different version of "Case of the Missing Millionare: A Marly Jackson Mystery" can be found on literotica here:
http://www.literotica.com/s/case-of-...ng-millionaire )

Now the eBook is up for sale for Kindles on Amazon - (here:
http://www.amazon.com/Missing-Millio...5034944&sr=1-1 ) and the paperback and pdf downloadable versions will be for sale soon.

The eBook is US $3.99 and here's the description:

When a missing persons case crosses her desk, Marly Jackson P.I. is hot on the trail to a multi-million dollar reward. The Case Of the Missing Millionaire takes her deep into a world where sin sells for any price and every friend is foe. Evading mobsters, a killer, and the FBI, Marly teams with her ex-lover Finn, a retired police captain, a deviant heiress, and a former whore to find the truth in a sea of sex, lies, and betrayal. When passions run hot, Marly must keep her cool to win the ultimate prize…survival.

It's different than the novella version here, which will be taken down eventually. I really appreciate the feedback from y readers and fellow writers/editors on here and I do hope you enjoy the book.

As a note on how different they are...the novella is 11,000 words and the novel is 70,000 so check it out and see!
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Old 09-11-2011, 07:24 PM   #1511
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Smile The Taylor Saga

Although this is still in progress, book 1 & 2 are out in ebook and print!

Links are in my signature to the ebook or search amazon.com for Breaking Taylor and it will bring up both.

However, I am offering a super special -- for a limited time!

Obtain the ebook version of 4 of my works - the first two books in the Taylor Saga and 2 short story excerpts that didn't make it into the finished work for only $8 - instant delivery upon confirmed payment via paypal. If you need to pay another way pm me.

I have almost ALL file formats available - kindle, kobo, sony, doc, pdf, etc etc

This offer shall end September 30, 2011

Book 3 is 1/3 finished and should be ready for a holiday release! Watch for it.

Thank you

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Old 09-15-2011, 09:02 PM   #1512
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Habu Menage Novella

Released 15 September 2011 by eXcessica, a no-holds-barred mutliple-partner menage novella, Cynthia’s Box, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt):


Paul Caldwell, a successful architect who has returned to the university for a refresher course, is smitten by the vision of architect student Judith Parnell floating across the quad in front of the university library. She looks so pure, virtuous, and vulnerable that he determines to have and protect her—this despite his own promiscuous bisexual past. To win Judith, he has to woo her away from the architecture professor, Grace Stainer, who she is living with—and then try to keep her out of the clutches of clients after they marry and move to the California coast.

Refusing to see Judith as anywhere but atop the pedestal of purity and innocent vulnerability his mind has set her on, despite obvious signs to the contrary, Paul meets his greatest challenge. Paul’s own willingness to prostitute himself to career success leads him, through the aging movie star Gideon Draper, and Judith to being sucked into the hedonist world of his projected major California clients, the sexually predatory Cynthia and Thad Standall. Paul has career and marital decisions to make when he discovers that the Standalls not only are insatiable but also are not quite what they seem to be.


I closed my eyes, taking this kiss as only preliminary to one that would linger longer and be so much more satisfying. But no such kiss came. I heard her laugh and felt that her hands were no longer on my arms. The laugh sounded at some distance.

I opened my eyes to see that Judith had waltzed off several steps and was now standing in the light coming from the living room. She curtsied sweetly at me and gave another little laugh. “And now it’s time for me to go back to the group. I’d hate to find they had started in on dissecting the Seagram Building without me being that.”

She scampered inside like a wood nymph, and I found myself drawn back into the living room.
the students were beginning to leave now. I presumed that Pedro’s dissertation on Philip Johnson’s influence on the design of the Seagram Building and its Four Season Restaurant was being saved for another gathering. Judith was up in the kitchen speaking softly to Grace Stainer and then she disappeared down a hallway toward the back of the house. Grace came down into the living room. She was carrying the brandy bottle and took a moment to refresh my glass and to look up into my eyes and give a small smile and whisper, “You will be able to stay on for a bit, I hope,” before she turned and chatted with the other students as they slowly departed in twos and threes with polite thanks for the evening’s gathering.

When the other students were gone, Grace turned to me and took the not-yet-drained glass of brandy from my hand and put it on a glass-topped table and said, in a low, rich voice, “You’ve only seen the public rooms of this house design. Would you like to see the rest—the ‘inner sanctum’ areas?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. This didn’t put me on guard in the least; an architect is naturally curious about any unusual house design.
She could have asked me if I wanted to see the crawl space under the house and how the piping was running and I would have quite genuinely said that was a divine idea.

As we moved down a hallway with a blank stone wall on one side and a fully plate-glass window wall on the other overlooking a narrow stretch of lawn with thickly planted pine trees beyond, Grace said, “You know, you have quite a reputation in New York. It’s why I was so pleased to learn that you were coming here for your refresher course.”

“Oh, is my work in New York coming into that much interest as far away as this? I haven’t really worked on all—”

“Oh, it’s not for your architectural work, Paul—although I’m sure that is quite nice too. But we’re here now. Let’s see what’s in this room.”

She opened the last door on the stone wall facing the glass one, leaving only one more closed door—at the base of the hallway. The room was dim from where I was standing in the doorway and was furnished in a minimalist Oriental style with paper-shaded lamps and a bold red and gold and black lacquer-look swirl of color on the back wall behind the queen-sized bed that hovered off the floor on an inset platform. Judith was lying on the bed, naked, her eyes on me as I stood in the doorway.

Grace Stainer nudged me forward a step into the room and murmured, “I’ll be just a few moments. Feel free to start without me,” and then clicked the door shut with her in the hallway and me standing, dumbfounded in the room.

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Old 09-16-2011, 07:01 PM   #1513
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Free E-book from Vivian Vincent!!

In celebration of my having quit smoking for 8 months, I will give away a free e-book to anyone who visits my website at http://vivian-vincent.zxq.net. Pick a title from my 'books' page. Then email me through the contact link (located near the bottom of the page) or send me a PM here with FREE BOOK in the subject line and of course which book you chose.

Titles to choose from include:

Of course, there are over a dozen other titles to choose from so surf on over to my website today and pick your freebie!

This is a web exclusive offer and will only last until September 30, 2011.

Last edited by michchick98 : 09-16-2011 at 07:08 PM.
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Old 09-17-2011, 03:11 PM   #1514
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Review of "Beginning of Time"

Dirk Hessian (a pen name of sr71plt) received a 4.5/5-star review for the recently released Beginning of Time from Black Tulip at BookedUp on 15 September (http://boookup.********.com/)


A profoundly moving story of primeval survival and love.

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

Reviewer: BlackTulip

When I read the blurb I thought instantly of the movie Quest for Fire and I remembered how I had loved it at the time. I was really curious and excited to read it, this subject being such a rarity and I wasn't disappointed.

The author made a wonderful job with the re-creation of the beginning of time. It is a fascinating tale about discovery, courage and love. It is the journey of a young man who learns that the world can be hostile and brutal when he is kidnapped from his home and later is captured another time and used as a slave. Fortunately he will see another side of it with another tribe where he is offered knowledge and is accepted as a part of the community.

At one time he finds himself injured and is rescued by a man who will become his future. This same man will, day after day, draw their life and love story on the wall of their cave!

It seems a simple enough story to tell given the fact that the goal at the time was only to survive another day. But I think it takes a skillful author to make it rings so true.

This book is a wonderful and moving short story. I give it a 4.5/5.

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Old 09-21-2011, 02:19 PM   #1515
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It hasn't been released yet, but I got the cover art for my book today, and I wanted to share


You can find out more about it, if you'd like, through the web address on my profile.
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Old 09-23-2011, 11:55 AM   #1516
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New CIA Candy Store GM Novella

The latest from habu (a pen name of sr71plt), The Indian Prince—the most recent in a GM series of CIA Candy Store tales of espionage and deception—was launched on 23 September 2011 by BarbarianSpy.

This novella skewers an actual royal persona, but not an Indian one. Guesses can be PM’d to sr71plt, and he’ll acknowledge the first who can correctly identify who the character is modeled from.


Prince Bhadur Khan of the remote, but strategically located, Indian satrapy of Balrampur is an inbred and crazed killer with two fetishes: He has an obsession with military discipline and exotic military hardware and he is just as aroused by man flesh as by his revolving succession of wives. Regardless, the prince has become the linchpin of maintaining U.S. interests in the region. There is enough complex and volatile political and sexual intrigue going on in the court of Balrampur to make Machiavelli’s head spin. The United States has become embroiled in the Balrampur court’s machinations and is heavily committed to keeping the prince happy because Balrampur plays host to a secret U.S. photoreconnaissance jet operation keeping tabs on events stretching from the Near East to Southeast Asia.

Into the center of the palace’s den of scheming snakes is thrust young CIA Candy Store unit agent Craig Townsend. Craig possesses the combined needed attributes of being a jet pilot and just the sort of man who revs the Indian prince’s engines . . . and this is precisely what young Townsend is assigned to do for the interests of U.S. intelligence.

The palace plots thicken and become more dangerous and volatile by the hour as Craig Townsend is called upon to serve more plots and desires in the palace than he can count, let alone keep in balance. Then a new and unavoidably present threat of terrorism and treachery from within descends on Balrampur and the American contingent there.


When I had been called into Sam Winterberry’s office in Langley and he’d told me I was flying a Fairchild Magnus, a follow-on from the Fairchild Merlin photorecon plane, into Sravasti, India, my initial responses were “Where the fuck is that? I’ve never heard of such a place” and “I’m no longer in the photorecon business. What’s the angle?”

“I’m glad you haven’t heard of Sravasti, Craig. Our operation there is one of our best-kept secrets and we like it to stay that way. It’s the capital of a small Indian state called Balrampur, near the Nepal border. We have a consulate there. But what the consulate really is fully composed of is a CIA station.”

“A consulate? Or even a station. Why would we need either there?”

“For the same reason we need you to fly one of the new Fairchild Magnuses there. We have a secret home strip there for photoreconnaissance over several high-profile target areas there. So we take a great interest in Balrampur.”

“But why me? Doesn’t the Agency have any other jet jockey available to go there? I haven’t even checked out on the Magnus. That has come in since my time in that field.”

“For us to stay in Balrampur, we must keep the local potentate in our pocket. In this case, the local potentate is the Badshah of Shwetambar, and as far as we know, he might be dead. His people—meaning one person, really, his closest adviser—haven’t let us at him for months, and he’s old and feeble—and there has been a rumor of a bad heart for some years. We even have intell claiming his wife is slowly poisoning him. She’s from a rival family for ascendance in Balrampur. She forced her son, the Rawal, to marry her niece last year—which led to the Rawal ending all communication with his mother.”

“And you want me to revive him—this Badshah?” I had meant it as a joke, but there wasn’t much humor in Sam Winterberry and I certainly hadn’t drawn any out of him now.

“Well, this does bring us to the reason why we are sending you in with the Magnus. You are the only one cross trained in what we need there at this moment.”

“Ah, who needs to be fucked then?” I asked. If we weren’t going to have a mirth fest, I thought we might as well get down to brass tacks.

“The Badshah’s son is a man of wide tastes. He’s also been very hard to handle. He may stand in our path, though, as soon as there is a change of rulers in Balrampur. He needs to be handled. And so do any of the advisers around the Badshah and Rawal, as necessary. The primary ones all have the taste for it, we understand—in the dominant position.”

“Ah,” I had said. And that was my assignment.

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Old 09-24-2011, 11:42 PM   #1517
angel Graham!!
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My debut novelette (16K words), Second Chance at Love, a lesbian erotic romance, is now avaiable at Amazon, (Price should be lowered to .99¢ within 48-72 hours), Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.
Short blurb:
A tender, yet spicy novelette, Second Chance at Love is the story of two women who have loved and been hurt before. In Second Chance at Love, we get a look at the beginning of a romance that began online, and how both Dana and Alex begin their relationship, which includes Domination and submission. The story follows them through their first phone call, their first date and then follows another day in their life when everything changes.

Will Dana and Alex find love again. Is this second chance at love their final chance?

A Woman to Love, a lesbian erotic romance is available now at: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords
Available at all three places for $0.99. Thank you.
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Old 10-03-2011, 07:19 AM   #1518
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In Pieces - a novel

Book Title: In Pieces
New Pen Name: Geoffrey Mann
Published: September 2011
Available on Amazon and Smashwords - See http://inpieces.co.uk/index.php for details
Word Count: 89,320
Price: $0.99
Formats: Amazon Kindle and EPUB (iPad, iPhone, Sony, Barnes and Noble Nook and others)

About In Pieces

In Pieces

Love heals most things except life itself

Skating along the precipice of insanity, Jane withdraws into the protection of delusional fantasies. There’s no one Jane any longer. As her personality fragments, she becomes four different women. Jealousy and paranoia are eating her from the inside out.

Jane’s English husband, John leaves their San Francisco home when his consulting business fails. He plans to build a new life for them both in England. Tortured by Jane’s obsessive jealousy, he’s oblivious to her developing mental illness. Worn-down, world-weary, despairing and lonely – his life is in pieces.

A chance meeting with a neighbour, Rosie – a practising psychotherapist, changes everything. Reaching beyond the painful present, John and Rosie begin a new journey towards love together; one that is forced to confront all of life’s passions as well as its debris. It’s a hard road strewn with the conflicts of past, present and future and the agonies of mortality itself.

This is a story that defies the age-worn stereotype of the romantic novel. It dispels widely held myths about the passions, desires and sexuality of the post-menopausal woman and the older man.

A Special Thank You

The idea for this book originally appeared as five chapters entitled, “Unleashed Desires, Ageless Passions” by Jon Owens in the mature section of Literotica.

A special thank you to Laurel and Manu for making my book possible and to my patient Literotica editor who taught me to write dialogue and convincing erotica.

To my readers, who gave me the confidence to go on, a very big thank you for all your messages of appreciation and support. Unleashed desires went on to become an entire novel, In Pieces, written under the pen name of Geoffrey Mann. I couldn’t have done it without your encouragement, support and your countless messages that kept me going. I’m still an amateur writer who now writes and publishes books in addition to my day job! Currently, I have two other books underway, parts of which I’ll share with you here when they’re complete.

Thank you all.

Jon Owens
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Old 10-03-2011, 11:05 AM   #1519
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Second Chance: King of Avuls

It's the latest adventure in the Second Chance series. Justin Imperiale continues to add new Kingdoms to his existing Kingdoms. This time, he also finds a new world.

Check it out, at Club Lighthouse,
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Old 10-03-2011, 12:17 PM   #1520
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[Spamming, bumping, posting same content to multiple locations, and screen-stretching to disrupt the forum is prohibited per our forum guidelines.] - Last Warning
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Old 10-03-2011, 12:32 PM   #1521
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Thumbs up

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Old 10-09-2011, 02:13 PM   #1522
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New Title by Jaymal

My first book has just been published by Excessica...

Twisted Lust: Erotic Tales of Deception, Manipulation and Revenge

Included are three totally new stories - Little Black Dress, Jenna and Celeste in the Movies and Erica's Big Day - along with one of my Literotica tales Career Move. Twisted Lust is published for Kindle on Amazon and in multiple formats on Excessica itself.



Here's the blurb:

A young woman's theft of a dress puts both her and her boyfriend in the thrall of her unforgiving and predatory female boss. An office employee plans a deal with a charming devil so she can secure a lucrative promotion. Two freshman college girls run the gauntlet of a wild surf-shack sex party to try and secure end-of-year test papers. And a bride's bachelorette-party indiscretion returns to haunt her when the man she jilted takes ruthless control on her wedding day.

Twisted Lust is a collection of four erotically-charged tales, crammed with explosive lust and exploitation. Hapless heroines get trapped in nets of sexual desire and unscrupulous schemers do what it takes to get the sex or the payback they want. Full of intrigue, plot twists and explicit carnal encounters, these stories will take you to dark and delicious realms of sexual fantasy. Each is an unashamed and unflinching guilty pleasure, where morally compromised women undergo exquisite punishment – punishment neither you nor they will forget.

And here's an excerpt:

Erica was aghast, nearly frantic. The room seemed to be closing in, she thought she were about to faint. Clementine caught her arm and steadied her, brushing her hair consolingly. “But… But it’s my wedding day! You can’t do this to me today of all days…”

“Ah, but that’s what makes it so perfect for your act of atonement. I want to be the first man to fuck you on your wedding day, Erica. I want mine to be the first cock thrusting in and out of Mrs Erica Laughton.” His hand, she noticed, was stroking leisurely up and down the crotch of his trousers. “And if I don’t get my way, then the version of the movie you’ve just witnessed is the one that gets screened this evening.” He was rubbing himself more smoothly now, and dimensions that alarmed her were making themselves apparent beneath the fabric. “Imagine that, Erica. Stephen’s romantic surprise all lined-up and ready to play for the assembled guests and they get subjected to you sucking off two strippers instead. If that doesn’t make it Wedding of the Year, I don’t know what will…” (from Erica’s Big Day)

Hope you enjoy. Jake/Jaymal
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Old 10-14-2011, 05:56 PM   #1523
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The most recent habu (a pen name of sr71plt) GM detective murder mystery of the Clint Folsom series, Death in Hollywood, was launched by eXcessica on 14 October 2011.


The possibility that the death of Clint Folsom’s movie star parents twenty years ago brings the promiscuous NYPD homicide detective back to his L.A. hometown. Here, while trying desperately to discern the real events and meaning of his parents’ last moments on the treacherous curves of the Pacific coast highway and what part they played in twenty-year-old murder and suicide cases, Folsom faces ghosts, both recent and past, of his own. A lover who Folsom has tried to give up when the other man married is the L.A. detective who brings Folsom back to California. And the convoluted network of his parents’ own lovers await their renewed chance at Folsom as well.


As Danny pulled into the motel, all of this history swept over me. I couldn’t talk immediately, and when I could, it came out in a hoarse croak. Danny got the wrong idea.

“Clint,” he said. His voice was hoarse too. One of his hands wrapped around my neck and brought my face to his, my lips to his. His other hand went to my basket, and I responded to him.

“Danny, no,” I whispered. “Why are we here? Rental car and then hospital. That’s what this trip was about. I said I didn’t need a place to stay.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. This is the motel. We have a room here. I meant from the beginning that we had a room here. Just now. The kiss. Your cock. I know you want me, that you still want it.”

“No, Danny. It’s a mistake. I don’t—”

“I’m getting out of the car and going into the room, Clint. You can sit out here in the car if you want. When you’re ready, though, I’ll be on the bed.”

By the time he reached the door to the room and was inserting a key into the lock, I was by his side.

We didn’t make it to the bed for the first time. He took me on the carpet between the door and the bed doggie style, me on all fours and him crouched over my pelvis and riding me hard. And then on the bed, every which way, all of the ways we had fucked before.
He strapped my wrists to the headboard with his knotted belt and made me take his cock, hard and deep, in punishing thrusts, as my groans and grunts and whimpers harmonized with the angry squeaking of the coils of the box springs.

He was the Danny of old, with all of the power in his cocking that he’d had when he’d claimed me as his territory in New York. And there, for an hour, I was his again—completely, with full satisfaction—with no thought to my resolve or my pride or to his wife, Sharenda, no doubt waiting for him in a one-bedroom love nest across town.

“Should I cancel out on the room?” Danny asked between kisses, as we cooled down, our bodies still stretched out against each other, my rump cuddled into his crotch, and his dick still deep inside me.

“No, we can keep it for a while,” I murmured.

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Old 10-22-2011, 07:46 PM   #1524
Posts: n/a
Mia Natasha's Doc Cock

I have expanded my story, Dr. Cockburn's Medicine, to a 50,000 word novel. My publisher is Excessica. The BDSM erotic horror book will be available this Friday, October 28th, 2011, just in time for Halloween.



TITLE: Dr. Cockburn’s Medicine
AUTHOR: Mia Natasha
GENRE(S): erotic horror, BDSM
WORD COUNT: 50,200
PRICE: $3.99

BLURB:Roxana Petrofski is a thirty-five-year-old free-lance journalist for a fashion magazine who pens BDSM erotic literature in her spare time. Michael Johansen is the man she dreams about, her on-again, off-again lover. Currently off-again, Roxie uses all sorts of religious, magical thinking, and masturbatory remedies to keep her spirits positive as she dreams of the moment when they will reunite.

The moment arrives in the form of Vicky Abenstance’s annual Halloween party. A chance meeting with a now married Michael turns into a weekend get-away at Michael’s Adirondack camp. It’s not a trick, but a treat, and about to be the best Halloween date ever! Roxie is certain his devotion to her will end his problematic relationship for good and she will no longer be the other woman.

Will Michael fulfill every wish for happiness Roxie has ever made, including a perverse thirst for BDSM? Will Michael turn out to be her dream man or will he return to his wife, Dr. Lisa Cockburn? Follow Roxie as she fights a Halloween horror filled battle for the man she loves, and for her happily-ever-after.

WARNINGS: Oral sex, f/m sex, f/f, m/f/f, anal sex, non-consent, violent BDSM including surgical alteration, graphic language, graphic depictions of sex acts.

KEYWORDS: BDSM, bondage, married man, anal sex, oral sex, non-consent, m/f/f/threesome, surgical alteration


“Hi Rox. It’s me. It’s Michael.” He sounded hesitant, not the confident guy from last night.

She blurted, “You called.”

“I said I would,” Michael replied.

There was a pause then. Roxie was almost afraid to continue as though it was enough that he had called. In one of her kinky romances, it might have been the end of a chapter, not the beginning, and Roxie had not thought through to the actual conversation she might have with him had this opportunity been presented to her.


“I’m here,” she said feeling foolish that she could not corral her racing thoughts and raging hormones - even for a moment. She cleared her throat of the impending constriction.

“Good,” he said. “I was afraid I scared you away. What are you doing?”


“Are you writing?”

She could feel herself blushing. Of course, he did not know. Had he stumbled onto a Kindle of her Lucky story, he would have found a ridiculously accurate resemblance to himself in the character of Matthew Jones down to that sexy beauty mark under his eye. It would become more than obvious that she was the author. She was surprised that more people did not recognize her prose, especially her editor at Lucky magazine, who had written her a fan letter.

Once she had come home from an event in Manhattan and could not find her journal. She had visions of someone reading her chapter notes in there then selling the information to the Orthodox Today bulletin thus having outed her as a perverse slut. The leather bound book turned up two days later in a location she had thought she had checked, which made her think she was slowly losing her mind. A quick trip to see Dr. Vander had alleviated those rabid thoughts.

“Yes, I am writing,” she said, “but it can wait. I’m not on a deadline.”

“Are you free this weekend?” he asked. And there it was.

“Wide open,” she announced holding her breath with anticipation.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay.” Roxie tried not to sound overly excited but it was very difficult for her.

“You haven’t heard it yet,” he said mysteriously.

“I’m trying to be accommodating,” she said. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.” Calm down, you idiot!

“I feel the same way,” he said.

“It’s nice to hear you say that,” Roxie said. “Thank you.” She feared sounding redundant, like the many men who had asked her out during the long Michael hiatus, who would go full circle – How are you? Fine, how are you? Fine, how are you? And so on. Roxie referred to it as carousel greetings in Luck’s Destiny. Needless to say, she always declined the offers.

“So, Rox,” Michael Johansen offered, “I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the Adirondacks. I have a cabin by the lake. It’s really quiet and we can be alone and….”

“And talk?”

“Yeah. We can work things out,” he said. “Something we should have done a long time ago.”

“What about your….” She was going to say wife before he stopped her.

“Don’t worry about anything,” he added. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” Had he left his wife, she wondered? It seemed like it. “Pick you up at eight?”


“No, in the morning, silly,” he said. “I’m working right now. It’s a long drive. Better in daylight and especially now because it’s peak season for autumn leaves. You’ll love it. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Roxana Petrofski said like a bride at the altar. “I do. I mean, I will.”

“See you, Rox.”

“Can’t wait,” she said feeling all orgasm tingly.

Roxana Petrofski put the phone down and did a little happy dance nearly tripping on the edge of the living room carpet. Then she realized she needed to prepare for her trip.

Michael Johansen wanted to take her to his cabin in the Adirondacks! Everything had to be just right. Roxie could not let her outside appearance be the factor in losing him again. This time, if he did not like her, her personality would be to blame. She showered and spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for a new negligee, and lingerie - and clothes for the drive. Kathy at the hair salon squeezed her in for a trim and blow-dry after her turn at the yoga center.

Adrenaline kicked into stratospheric gear. It was eight in the evening, the condo was clean and she was ready to go, twelve hours too soon. Now she just needed to get through the night. Television did not help, her knotted stomach kept her from eating, and she tried in vain to write another chapter in Luck upon Arrival. Roxie could not stop thinking about Michael Johansen. She accidentally wrote Michael several times in the draft instead of Matthew. She should have called the character Jonesy, she thought, which would have forced her to start with a J and not an M. It was no use trying to concentrate on fiction when real life was finally kicking in. She always wondered what would happen to her writing career if she had a real relationship. Now she knew. There would be no more hours of endless words filling pages of documents in her laptop. No more cocks and cunts, and fucking storms paired with the kinkiest of kinks. All of it simply versions of her deepest darkest fantasies, and longings for the one man who had until now, gotten away.

She took out her exercise mat and began to do the calming yoga poses she had learned recently, the ones she had already practiced earlier today, all the while thinking how they would work if her body was restricted against the massive chest of Michael Johansen. Lifting herself using her own body weight, Roxie tried to concentrate on breathing and the power of her triceps and core as sweat poured from her brow.

Suddenly the thought slapped her face. Would he cancel? She fell out of the pose and curled into the fetal position for comfort. No, she thought, Michael was a man of his word, and this had been the first time, in a long time, that he had actually given his word to her. That was as good as a diamond ring – and a big fat gold wedding band. She laughed thinking on the cliché, as good as gold. Roxie did not want to be a cliché. She tried to believe in the power of miracles and her positive thinking won out. Fetal turned to downward dog and final stretch.

Roxana Petrofski relaxed on the sofa and masturbated again, this time while listening to her favorite sex music. Michael’s naked body, perfect in its proportion with the exception of that gloriously supreme dick, saturated her every sexy thought. He was not thicker-waisted. He was as perfect as the day they had first met. Her Michael. Eventually Roxie retreated to her bedroom and, with the television tuned to a paid porn site, she fell asleep with a finger on her clit.
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Old 10-22-2011, 07:56 PM   #1525
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A ménage anthology for Halloween, 13 Ways for Halloween, by habu (a pen name of sr71plt, was published by BarbarianSpy on 21 October 2011.


A Halloween Treat for every taste.

If you are up for a Halloween treat of open-minded, unguarded readings of scare-season stories, this ménage anthology collection from the wildly imaginative pen of habu is for you.

The stories in this collection take Halloween-inspired cuts at stories that combine horror, erotica, nonerotica, literary fiction, gay male, historical, interracial, supernatural, Romance, lesbian, cougar, vampire, transexuality, cross-dressing, humor, cuckold, masturbation, toys, voyeurism, treachery, incest, and . . . whew . . . satire. Oh, and men and women.

And, yes, we know there are fourteen stories in this thirteen-story anthology. This is the season of nothing being quite what it seems.


As soon as she’d come out on deck, though, Ellen decided this had been a mistake. It was so dark out here and she’d felt as she walked toward the bow of the ship from the stern that she was being watched.

And now she thought she heard the scrapping of shoes on the deck behind her.

She turned. Yes, there was someone there. Tall and dark. Dressed in black. In fact all black. A black man. And one of some height and build.

Ellen’s throat constricted. She couldn’t help it. She’d moved to Atlanta from New Mexico. There hardly were any blacks in Albuquerque. But there certainly were in Atlanta. And she didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. She knew she shouldn’t be frightened in the presence of a person of color—a man, mainly; black women didn’t bother her. Black men frightened her—and something else, too, though. They intrigued her, in a sensual, “what if” way. But this only frightened her more.

She thought now that she recognized him from the costume party—as much as a stranger in a mask and costume could be considered “recognized.” And she had to admit that this was one reason she’d retreated from the party. He’d been tall—almost overpowering—and decked out all in black. A pirate, she thought. And it seemed like he’d been watching her and was moving ever closer to her as he moved around the party room floor in a seemingly random manner.

And there he was—out on the deck. Maybe following her. She quickened her steps and came around to the plate glass doors of the casino near the bow of the boat—and ran right into a tall, masked man in a Harlequin costume.

“There you are, Ellen. I searched for you at the lounge but didn’t find you.”

It was Riyad—the intriguingly handsome Saudi businessmen who had been assigned to her dining table—the one that Stephanie had said, with some regret, had the hots for Ellen. The man who had kissed her hand as she sat at the table on the previous two evenings that the ship was steaming toward Puerto Rico—and then, just this afternoon, had leaned down and brushed her lips with his before he left the table—much to Stephanie’s obvious chagrin, with the whisper of just one word—“Later”—which seemed to be saying so much more than the one word. And that had seemed to be taking so much for granted. Riyad had already conveyed the impression that he prized himself highly and took what he took as if by some right of being Riyad.

“Riyad. I’m so glad—” She didn’t have a chance to tell him why she was glad to see him and . . .

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