Sylvia’s Initiation: Blue Existence and Red Lust now available!

The first two parts of the trilogy of Sylvia’s Intiation are currently for sale at Sizzler’s Editions (http://shop.renebooks.com/default.asp).  The three novels explore the dangerous, slippery slope from those experimenting with sex after a upbringing in a strict religious enviroment.  Sylvia, a nurse by profession is unhappy with her single status and her view on how all men seem to be after is sex.  To her, sex is dirty and humiliating act only meant for the procreation of the human race.  But a chance encounter with a college professor starts her down this new path.  Will Sylvia go too far?  Or will she cast off the shackles of her impressionable years and embrace sexuality for what it is?

Sylvia's Initiation: Blue Existence

Blurb for Sylvia’s Initiation: Blue Existence

Erotica noir at its darkest and most disturbing. Sylvia Meyers, a nurse who was brought up in an orphanage.  Sylvia seeks true love and scorns the those only interested in sex.  But that all changes when she meets visiting professor Nick Dekker.  Nick is open, honest and very experienced.  Sylvia finds herself intrigued by his matter-of-fact attitude towards sex.  She decided to let him teach her.  Nick helps Sylvia break through the Catholic upbringing even after she regresses after a particular terrible dream.  Sylvia becomes a sexual explorer.  Straight, anal, light bondages and multiple partners are experienced.  Each one permits her to delve deeper and deeper into sexual awareness.  Sylvia also unwittingly becomes a slave to erotic sensations. Can she break the addiction – and should she if she can?

Sylvia's Initiation: Red Lust

Blurb for Sylvia’s Initiation: Red Lust

After discovering her lover was a con-artist, Sylvia takes her hatred towards men to new heights as she begins to experiment in bondage.  Like a moth to a flame Brian Henson is caught up in Sylvia’s web of erotic torment.  In addition to Brian, Sylvia “recruits” her co-worker, Tiffany comes over to witness Brian’s punishment.  During the heat of the action Tiffany finds herself wanting to submit to Sylvia’s sexual domination.  Lives, pleasures and punishments begin to become woven into a dangerous tapestry as Brian and Tiffany vie for Sylvia’s attention.  But Sylvia’s Catholic upbringing once more rears it’s ugly head.  Is Sylvia damning herself or is it all just her imagination?A passionate and wildly erotic tale of sexual initiation by a master of BDSM erotica!   If you liked the first book, SYLVIA’S INITIATION I, then you will absolutely think that this new book in the series is just as hot – if not even hotter!

The Photo Shoot

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  The following contains adult situations and languages.  If you are not of legal age (ala eighteen) get out now!

Barbara Mentor sat on the blanket.  Beneath her she could feel the sandy from the beach spreading out, deepening to form-fit the contours of her knees, shins and feet.  Five feet away was Zack, the photographer for this shoot.  He was fiddling with his camera with a caution resembling an archeologist handling a priceless specimen.  To her right, just out of camera range was Roger, Zack’s assistant who was clutching a round disc covered in a foil-like, space age material.  His job, or so she’d been told was to reflect the faint rays of the moon onto her body for better lighting.  In reality his job apparently was to ogle, drool and fantasize about her.  He was fat-faced, having basset hound-like jowls which quivered and shook when he spoke.

What kind of pigs do this for free?  Well, I guess I know that answer now, Barbara said to herself, trying to keep the smile on her face. 

Thinking back to the phone call last week Barbara knew this could be her big break, a once-in-a-lifetime offer to grace the cover of a new magazine.  A first issue nonetheless.  It would probably end up a collector’s edition and she would be eternally remembered as the first model on the cover.  But there were no guarantees.  The magazine could flop—just another periodical failing to live up to its hype and not finding a niche in the marketplace.

But Zack swore this wasn’t the case.  From what he said this is a first in the world of magazines!

She’d done a bit of research before agreeing to the photographer’s offer.  There were, as one could imagine millions of magazines dedicated to the country’s (even the world’s) obsession with the supernatural.  But none of them came close to what Zack had told her about the publisher’s intentions to capture subscribers.  Innovation was rare in the business.  Copies of copies flooding the stands (or on the Net) of the same old thing were out there.  Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery but after a while it became too much.  Like trying to listen to thirty radio stations it became a hodgepodge of imagination devoid of noise.

But not this one.

Moonlight Magazine wasn’t anything like the periodicals she found on the Web or the bookstores.  While gothic magazines (from the bizarre to the tame) could be subscribed to this one didn’t show any signs of its more common brethren.  First off, it was funded by a major Hollywood actress.  Debbie McCain, the brunette bombshell of the Slaughter Isle franchise (there were now six flicks out) had put up the cash for it.  Known as the Scream Queen Deluxe, McCain reputation in Tinsel Town was spotless—both on and off the silver screen.  Her first director proclaimed her, “The best talent I’ve had the pleasure of directing” while others remarked about how “natural the camera enjoyed her”.  The second difference was the magazine’s dedication to only the best horror writing tinged with “just a kiss of erotica”.  Big names were penning tales for Moonlight.

Zack, finishing up his adjustments to his precious camera began to survey the surroundings, ponder the lighting and begin to bark out orders.  Roger All-Eyes (as Barbara began to think of him) was shifting around, slinking into another position with his porcine eyes still pegged to Barbara’s bikini-clad figure.

“Okay,” Zack said, “Barbie untie your top and twist about thirty degrees towards the camera.  Hold it so it doesn’t fall off all the way.”

“Zack,” she replied, “don’t call me Barbie. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Sorry, sorry I keep forgetting.  Just do what I want, babe.  This is going to be fun-tastic!”

Gritting her teeth at the mangling of the word fantastic, something Zack was prone to say Barbara began tugging off her tiny, blue top.  Looking over at the fat, squatting form of Roger he began to resemble some hideous mixture of a Doctor Seuss illustration and a lifetime subscriber to Hustler magazine.   Trying not to glare at the pervert she undid the strings of her top, catching it before her breasts were fully exposed.

“Great!” Zack said, “hold that pose!”

Jumping around like he had been kicked in the groin, Zack began snapping off pictures.  Barbara held her position, ignoring Roger’s leering. 

“Okay, put the top aside—twist away from me and give me a pouting, almost embarrassed look, Barbie.”

Choking back the urge to repeat her request about her name, Barbara did as she was instructed.  Zack was leaping and hopping, going from standing to squatting positions the photographer cheering and complimenting her as he worked.

“Great!  Oh, that’s super fun-tastic!”  Zack said, oblivious to his ramblings.

“Yer so hot,” Roger said in a thick muttering voice as if he had just swallowed something thick and gooey.

“Shut up, pervert,” she whispered without moving her lips. Her ire was growing weed-like from the way the man was staring. 

“Damn, we’re losing the light,” Zack said in a grumpy tone.  “I guess this will have to do.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired, the shoot was ending way too soon.

“Got the before pics… now gotta shoot the during and after shots.”

“The what?”

“I told you… Moonlight Mag is different.”

“I don’t… hey, who the hell are… oh my god!  Y-you’re Debbie McCain!”

Barbara hadn’t seen the horror movie star walk up but there McCain was in all her dark haired glory. 

I’m not gay—but damn! She thought.

Debbie McCain was tall, gorgeous and possessing a figure too perfect to be real.  She was wearing a simple dress, purple in color.  Around her waist and propping up her chest (not that they needed it) was a black corset with lavender frills and lacing.  Debbie’s dark eyes were deep liquid pools and Barbara was reminded of the well on her dad’s farm.  Gazing at McCain’s eyes was just like that.  Cool and faraway like the glimmer of water at the bottom of a well.  But her smarts showed through amid all the beauty.  Her intelligence was hidden yet not.  Resembling some secret hidden in plain sight, only someone observant (and Barbara considered herself to be this way) would notice it. 

It’s in her eyes you can see it, Barbara said to herself.

“This is our first cover girl?” Debbie said.

“Yes, what do you think?”  Zack said.

“She’s pretty… she has a vulnerable look to her and that’s perfect.”

“So you approve?”

“Most definitely… you’ve done well, Zack.”

“T-thank you.”

“You’ve earned your paycheck.”

“I’m so happy…  I can’t tell you…”

McCain’s movements, supple and swift cut Zack’s sentence off short when she put her finger to his lips.  Barbara saw the magazine’s financial backer glance over at her.  Still sitting on the blanket, still hiding her nipples with her hands Barbara watching the other woman smile sent a shockwave of hot electricity throughout her body.

She came over, walking as if gliding across the sand.   Her feet not sinking into it, or not at least to the depths which Roger, Zack and herself had.  Just indentations like footprints near the ocean line washed away by two or more waves.

“You’re a pretty one,” Debbie said, touching Barbara’s face as she knelt in front of her.  The gasp was more of a sigh when it oozed past Barbara’s lips from the woman’s caress. 

“Thank you,” Barbara said, her voice sounding far off.

“Yes, you’ll do so very nicely…”

“I will?”

“Of course, darling… of course.”

“Ah!  H-hey!”

Barbara words tumbling out of her mouth like drunken clowns exiting a carnival car when McCain’s fingers began stroking her left nipple.  She flinched away at first.  Then, without thinking about it Barbara was leaning into the light caress.  The view of the woman’s face narrowing from Barbara’s half-closed eyes.  The touch was like velvet pleasure.  As if the sensation could be woven into a soft fabric lightly charged with static electricity. 

“So excitable,” McCain said, her voice a throaty coo.

Barbara looking down saw the nipple between Debbie’s fingers had grown erect.  When she saw the other hand of the woman reach out for her right breasts Barbara, to her surprise found herself leaning towards it.

“Aaaaah,” Barbara said with a groan.

“Soft… aroused… glorious,” McCain whispered.

Barbara’s began to feel like she was drowsing on a raft in the pool.  Her skin heating up as if from the sun’s rays beating down on her.  It wasn’t until she tasted peppermint did Barbara realize Debbie McCain, the Scream Queen Deluxe was kissing her.

Touching her.

Fondling her.

McCain’s fingers were past Barbara’s bikini bottom, caressing, teasing and pressing against the wet, warm delights in Barbara’s nether region.  Dipping in, stopping only to swirl in lazy, light circles Debbie’s fingers stroking the inner walls of Barbara’s pussy. 

I didn’t even feel her hand leave my tit, Barbara mused.

Debbie’s prolonging kiss heating up Barbara’s body had yet to be broken.  When the starlet’s hand departed her nipple to curl around her back Barbara moaned in Debbie’s mouth.   In and out, swirl and stroke, kiss and be kissed became so alluring, mesmerizing Barbara could only enjoy it. 

“You are perfect…,” McCain said in a husky voice after pulling away her seductive mouth.

“Yes,” Barbara said, her tone sounding drawn out with a “don’t stop” tone to it.  The way the woman was affecting her, despite not being a lesbian hardly seemed to matter.  McCain was doing it, that seemed to be the only thing which mattered.

“Oooohhh…. Yyyyesss,” Barbara said with a loud moan when Debbie began nuzzling her neck. Far in the background, a million miles away she could hear the snap-wind of Zack’s camera, the gasping breathing of Roger the Pervert.  But none of this, nothing in the world could annoy or anger Barbara at this moment.

 “Ah!” she said, her voice a quick, raised expulsion of breath.  Hot points grew like flowers on her neck.  Debbie was slurping, kissing and licking the now sensitive flesh on the side of Barbara’s throat.  The pain diminishing like the dying refrains of a thunderclap’s echo.  Rippling and crinkling down to nothing it went. 

I smell… blood? She thought.  The iron-rich scent curling up into her nostrils sparking a tremor of fear.  The gulping jerks of Debbie’s throat giving Barbara rapid-fire ideas of what was happening.

“No!” she shouted, trying to pull away.  No amount of pussy stroking would bring her back to her previous, hypnotized state.  Icy fear replacing the hot passion she’d felt moments before. 

“Get… off… me!” Barbara shouted.  Finding her strength futile against McCain’s steel banded arms Barbara began screaming for help.  Sharp teeth gnashing against her throat sent more agony across Barbara’s neck. 

“Zack!  Get this crazy bitch off of me!”

“Hardly,” he replied.

“No, no, no you’ve got to stop… it hurts… it hurts so bad!”          

“Easy now,” Debbie said softly, as the cold tiredness began emulating from Barbara’s neck.  Weaker and weaker, like the frantic thrashings of a drowning sailor Barbara beat against her foe.  Her eyelids felt like closing garage doors—and she didn’t have possession of the remote.  Her hips, the traitor’s they were still bucking against Debbie’s quickening fingers.  Before the darkness swept over Barbara her orgasm drained the remainder of her strength. 

****

“How do you like them?” Zack asked Ms. McCain.  They were looking at the downloaded pictures from his camera on the lap top.  Seated in Zack’s SUV he watched Ms. McCain’s eyes caressing the images.

“Perfect… a grand layout for our first issue,” Ms. McCain said, ignoring the snapping of bone and the smacking the ghoul Roger’s lips.  Barbara’s body was being disposed of.

“And my payment?”

“Immortality?  When you complete your contract with us.  I believe you have another twelve issues.”

“Yeah… that’s right.”

“Reality, that’s what our readers want—and that’s exactly what they’ll get. Real pictures, real death and real beauties.”

Zack found himself repressing a shudder of fear.

 

               

Sophronia’s Portrait

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  The following is a work of erotic/horror and not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.  If you are underage, PLEASE LEAVE NOW!

            “You ought to take that thing down,” my mother said, “it’s awful.  I’ve always hated that picture you grandfather seemed to love.”

 

            Standing in the now-empty house where my mother’s father lived by himself for twenty years I felt strange.  Like some invader, a criminal who had sneaked in to steal what he could before the owner came back.  The house seemed to shout amid its silence, “You shouldn’t be here!”.  A din of echoing quietness. 

 

He’d been dead a week—my grandfather.  My mother, his only remaining daughter was standing there with an expression akin to someone just biting into a very sour candy.  Her brow knitting, her eyes half-shut while her lips curled into a disgusted smirk all the while staring at the old portrait in its now-dusty frame.

 

            The picture was sepia, brown hued typical of those old-time photographs from the late 1800s.  White objects blurring into a light umber shade and the deepest color a chocolate color seen only in a bar of thick, rich confection from a candy company.  The frame it sat in, elder enough to predate both myself and my mom combined was darker brown with gold flaked highlights.  Only a small brass plate, a quarter inch wide by three long broke the leaf pattern on the portrait’s housing.  In flowing script seen only in antique shops or on vintage postcards a single name was engraved.

 

            Sophronia.

 

            “Levi,” my mother said, “you should toss it in the trash before you do anything else.”

 

            Standing there I began to wonder why it was so repulsive to my mother.  It had to be the subject of the photograph but there seemed to be something more about it she hated.  Like some dusty reminder of her father’s iron will, memories of her childhood and being raised by very devout Christian parents it seemed to haunt her.  Like old wounds refusing to heal the act of being back in her father’s home went hand-in-hand with the picture she appeared to cast all her ire on.

 

            As for the subject of the photo, what could be said?  She was, of course very young and quite nude.  Her body glowed.  A stark white amid a dark background and the caramel carpet she stood upon.  In front of a mirror the photographer had posed her, angling her body to reveal the woman’s (Sophronia’s?) ample behind.  Her hair, a possible blonde or light brown color was piled up atop her head in a very Victorian fashion.  A strand, thick enough to hide a portion of one ear dangled down to her collarbone.  Sophronia’s face was downcast.  Was it embarrassment from her lack of attire?  Perhaps she was ashamed for being talked into such an act?  Or was she only playing the part of the innocent?  Was there really a trace of a slight smile on her face or was it my imagination?

 

            “Levi?” my mother said.

 

            “What Mom?” I replied.

 

            “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

 

            “Yes I am.”

 

            “Then take down that awful picture.  What do you think Evelyn will say about it?”

 

            I could already imagine what my fiancée’s remark would be.  Her face would contort into a mimic of my mother’s current expression.  Then, as if speaking with my parent’s voice would declare a similar fate for this picture.

 

            “Yeah,” I said after awhile, “I better stick it up in the attic.”

 

            “That’s a good man,” she said, speaking as if to a child. I awaited the possibility of the maternal pat on the head from my mom.  I watched her raise a hand but she dropped it to her side.

 

            “Is Evelyn coming over to help you?” the matriarch of our clan said.

 

            “No,” I answered, “she’s got class tonight.”

 

            “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.  Why you want to keep such a depressing, badly maintained house instead of selling it is beyond me.”

 

            “I like this house.  Besides, I can always sell it after I fix it up.”

 

            “Well, he left it to you.  Goodbye, Levi.”

 

            Watching her leave causing a wave of relaxation to course through my body.  Being in my mother’s presence was a lot like standing in front of a general during morning formation.  Nothing escaped her eyes—no missing buttons, loose collar or unshined shoe.  I wondered if she ever realized she was exactly like her hated father.  Looking up I wondered what Sophronia would have to say about my stuck up mother.

 

            “Probably tell her to loosen up and relax,” I answered for the nude woman.

 

****

 

            It took all day but I cleaned the two story house from top to bottom.  Exhausting myself in my efforts I found myself collapsing in front of the new TV my grandfather bought a year before he died.  Beside me, on the massive coffee table was the cold, sweating can of beer.  Channel surfing while sipping at the icy brew I did little more than vegetate.  I was alone.  Evelyn had called as I had just finished dinner.   Prattling on about her day and queries about how soon the house would be “livable”.  Another conversation just like so many others we’d had.  Just talk—nothing more.

 

            Thump!

 

            The sound came from upstairs and made me choke on the beer.  Straining my ears I heard nothing else.  A nervous laugh bubbling up my throat made my shoulders quake in silent chiding laughter.

 

            It’s probably a box falling in the spare bedroom, I told myself.  Don’t start jumping at shadows.

 

            Leaning back into the high-backed chair I set my beer down and stretched out my legs.  The soft glow of the television, the autumn breeze stirring the last dying leaves on the front yard’s trees were the only sights and sounds I experienced.  Dozing I forgot about the thumping sound.

 

            “Franklin?” a woman said in a tentative, soft voice.

 

            Franklin?  That’s Grandpa’s first name! I thought jolting back to full wakefulness.

 

            “Hello?” I said, standing up, “Who’s up there?”

 

            A pattering of hurried steps thumping through the house sent anxious energy into my limbs.  Rushing over I snatched up the fireplace’s poker to defend myself.  I waited and listened but nobody replied to my question.  Armed with a rod of steel and nerves of melting ice cream I began to ascend the steps in a slow, Don Knotts-like manner.

 

            “Hello?” I called out.

 

            No reply.  Had the interloper rushed into another room to hide or hop out the window and onto the patio’s roof?  My hands shaking I began to open doors in a cautious (self-preserving) manner.  The bathroom, my mother’s old room and even the spare bedroom were empty.  This left me only two more options.  The master bedroom or trudging up the narrow, dark stairs to the attic.

 

            Bedroom first, I told myself.

 

            Reaching for the handle proved pointless—it opened up before I could touch the latch.  Jumping back I began brandishing my improvised weapon like some coward in a gothic horror film.

 

            I-it’s her!

 

            Saphronia was wearing a sheet, probably flinched from one of the boxes I’d packed.  I’d found some yellowed ones in the bottom dresser drawers.  She was no apparition, no spectral image partway standing in reality.  She was whole, solid and real.

 

            Not to mention very frightened.

 

            Drawing back and raising her arms to defend herself Saphronia began backing away with a fearful expression.  Her eyes, brown as a nut went wide in shock then narrowed in anger.

 

            “Where isFranklin?” she said.

 

            “He’s dead.  Died four days ago,” I stated.

 

            “Who are you?”

 

            “I’m Levi, I’m his grandson.”

 

            “Oh, he talked about you.”

 

            “Funny he forgot to tell anyone about you.”

 

            “I’m not surprised.  That would’ve guaranteed his entrance into an asylum.  My name is…”

 

            “Sophronia.”

 

            “Yes, capital!  How did you know my name?”

 

            “It’s written on the plaque on your picture.”

 

            “Oh, that it is.  So tell me, Levi do you like my portrait?”

 

            Lowering the poker I felt my face turn red and become hot.  Sophronia’s eyes were dancing in a merry manner, showing her enjoyment of my embarrassment.  Her subsequent laughter—a womanly merry sound—was a delight to hear.

 

            “I’m sorry but…,” I began.

 

            “It’s to be expected, Levi,” she said waving her hand at me, “after all, who’d believe such a bizarre story?”

 

            “How is this possible?”
            “I know naught of what permits me to come here.  The first time I believed it was all some dreaming fantasy.  However your grandfather convinced me otherwise.”

 

            Blushing even harder my face felt like it was about to burst into flames.  Sophronia laughed even harder at my self-imposed misery.

 

            “Are you, perchance married?” she asked.

 

            “No… but I’m engaged,” I said.

 

            “Ah, but engaged in what, pray tell?  Is your fiancée about somewhere here in the house?”

 

            “No, she’s at her house.”

 

            “I see… “

 

            “And you?  Are you married?”

 

            “Heavens no!  Or I should say at least I don’t thinks so.  I remember nothing when I step out of my portrait.”

 

            She was gorgeous, regal in her posture and quite charming to banter with.  Toying at the stray curl of hair near her right shoulder sent me a message I wasn’t sure I wanted.

 

            “Are you, perhaps a virgin?” Sophronia asked.

 

            So brazen was her query I took a step back, faltering in my retreat. 

 

            “I am… well that is to say….,” I blubbered.

 

            “You are.  I can see it in your eyes,” Sophronia stated.  “Here, let me teach you about the loving arts and thus repay your kindness for not taking down my portrait.”

 

            Stepping into the hallway she encompassed me in a chaste (at first) embrace before kissing me.  Her lips were warm and inviting.  I was lost in the moment.  Locked like two ships at sea I felt her makeshift attire drop from her shoulders. 

 

            I don’t recall being led into the bedroom.  Sophronia undressed me in a manner best described as unhurried, even leisurely.  I was on my back, my cock hard and flat against my loins when she straddled me.

 

            “Oh… god!” I cried out.

 

            Her pussy was hot and damp holding me within her in a hungry grip.  Watching her breasts, milk white with pick rose-like nipples bobbing while she rode me.  She made soft sounds—happy and needful moans.  Leaning towards me, her hair encompassing my face like a silken curtain Sophronia kissed me again.

 

            We thrashed upon the bed in a wrestle of slow motion elegance.  My body grew rigid, quivering from the impending climax. 

 

            “Levi,” she gasped in a single heavy, quick breath.

 

            “Sophronia,” I answered.

 

            My orgasm overwhelming my mind from it all.  My body was going through terrible, happy convulsions until she too reached her climatic peak.

 

            “Oh yes!” she sobbed, “Oh yes… so wonderful! Say you’ll stay… stay with me forever!”

 

            “I-I can’t guarantee…,” I groaned out my reply.

 

            “Please stay.  I think I love you.”

 

            Then she collapsed onto my sweaty chest riding out her tremors of delight.  After a few murmuring kisses, words of thanks from her lips I fell into a dream-filled sleep of crass motherly words and shrieking fiancée demands.  But they, like my orgasm soon passed into nothingness.

 

****

 

            I awoke alone with the dawn’s rays seeping through the drawn curtains.  With much regret I showered and dressed.  Passing by her portrait I saw Sophronia was smiling.  Would I see her again?  Would I adhere to my mother’s wishes and take down the portrait.  How would I explain to her, or Evelyn for that matter?  I didn’t care.  I knew why my grandfather was smiling in his casket.  Sophronia was here like she had always been.  Years untold she’d climbed from the picture and loved the man of the house.  For how long?  I had no idea.  My mother was right to hate the portrait.

 

“It stays,” I told Sophronia’s portrait, “You stay right where you are. The rest of the world be damned.”

 

 

           

 

           

 

           

 

 

 

           

           

           

 

 

TSA T&A

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following is a work of erotica, if you’re under the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW or a horde of zombie mice will visit you at night, enter through your ears and eat your brain.

           The airport was crowded with grumbling businessmen, exasperated parents and whining children all pressed together creating a casserole of a bubbling dish of humanity.  Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport also was suffering a malfunction in their air-conditioning system.  Bad enough everyone around (myself included) were angry but we were hot and sweaty as well.  The heat simmered the human-stinking stew that nobody wanted to smell let alone taste.

            I’d been in Dallas for two weeks.  The erotica writers convention I’d attended turned out to be as busy as expected.  However on a personal note it’d turned out to be a bust in the romance department.  Melody, my ex-girlfriend had dumped me for a younger woman—a goddamn red-haired bimbo of a secretary.  She was sneaking around with this woman while I was pounding the keyboard and trying to edit a novel.  So oblivious to what was going on around me I didn’t figure it out until Melody came home, bimbo on her arm and declared she was leaving me.  It hurt.  It hurt a lot and I was bitter, angry and upset.  Not the best of moods to traipsing off to Texas to be surrounded by my fans.  I’d tried to be cordial and polite.  But after the first hour of autograph signing, my books being held straight guys (I have a lot of those kinds of followers) and little old ladies I was pissy.

The gala ball, a formal event on Saturday did little for my mood.  Apparently I was lesbian poison, nobody looked my way.  Maybe it was how I carried myself.  Stomping around the convention floor like a badger with a sore tooth hadn’t helped.  The ball was a bust.  I’d hoped I’d find a distraction at least here in Texas.  Not looking for a permanent thing it had been my hope and dream some pretty little thing might be the perfect salve for my wounded heart.

            Oh well, I thought, at least I’m headed back to San Francisco.

            Standing in the long line at the TSA checkpoint, my long hair frizzing out from the heat and humidity I tried to remain a calm island in a sea of irate, tired people.  Behind me a man was loudly grumbling about the wait.  His blown-up ego, towering self- importance was being prickled like a rabbit in a thorn bush about his missing his flight.  In front of me a woman and her two young children fidgeted, swaying from foot to foot.  The lady’s kids whined, pissed and moaned until I had to concentrate on the sweat trickling down my back before I committed murder.  So I stood there.  Tired, horny and angry in my business jacket, skirt and white blouse trying to forget the humid air and press of bodies.  The line moved forward.  It was just a single step forward, too short to make me cheer but at least we moved.  I wasn’t looking forward to TSA’s tender ministrations.  I’d seen too many online videos about how rude, rough and callous the agents were to airline passengers. 

            “Hey!” I exclaimed when my left bicep was grabbed unexpectedly.

            She was built like a brick.  A few inches taller than me but carrying an additional fifty pounds the federal employed agent appeared to be able to toss me over her shoulder and carry me off if need be.  Her short blonde hair was cut in a men’s style.  Her grip on my arm was firm and chock full of authority.  The woman’s chest was distorting the TSA logo on her shirt and making the pen in her pocket stick out at an angle.  Her “I’m taking no shit off anyone” expression was plastered on her face like a bad Halloween mask.  She wasn’t ugly—just hating her job.  Squeezing my arm and spoke in that cute drawl all Texans have.

“Miss Henderson, you’ve been randomly chosen to undergo additional screening,” the uniformed woman said.

            “Why me, Agent Holland?” I asked her after reading her name tag.

            “Your name was pulled randomly,” she said.

            “I’m not setting foot in that body scanner.  I’ve read online on how they can cause cancer.”

            “That means you’ll have to undergo a full body pat down.”

            “Fine.”

            I didn’t mean for my reply to carry that much sarcasm but it did.  Agent Holland scowled at my words.  I followed her (not that I had a lot of choice) to the side of the checkpoint and into a small room.  Another woman, a small slip of a girl followed us in.  This chick was brunette and didn’t seem happy to do her job.  She kept shooting Holland a look of mild disgust.

            “Put your purse and briefcase on the table, please,” she said, shutting the door.

            I obeyed only because I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, get on the plane and have a stiff drink.  The TSA agent snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves.  I tried not to swallow like some prisoner seeing the gallows from her jail cell.

            “Place your hands on your head, please,” Holland said, her voice blasé and bored sounding.

            “I’m goin’ for coffee, want any?” the brunette said, her tone quivering.

            “You have to stay,” Holland said, “it’s procedure.”

            “It’s okay, I don’t care,” I replied.

            As the other agent left I put my hands on my head.  With my arms up Agent Holland walked over and began to run her hands down from my wrists to my elbows.  I flinched a bit.  She gave me a smile which seemed to say, “Yeah, I know but it’s my job, okay?”.  Across my shoulders her hands went.  Searching my back I shivered from Holland’s touch, the feel of her wide palms as she stroked me. 

            “Mmmm,” I moaned with hot, quick embarrassment when her hands ran across my ass.  But the sensation of her squeezing and parting the soft cheeks had caught me off guard.  Like I said, I was lonely, horny and a bit sensitive.  It wasn’t an excuse, it was the state of my mind and body.

Holland didn’t seem to hear my comment.  She went about her business and I found myself biting my lip when she explored my legs down to my feet.  I knew what was coming next.  The return trip of her hands would come near my pussy, my neglected and now wet pussy.  Agent Holland stood up, the upward caress abandoned.  When she reached for my chest I know she had to see the fear and excitement in my eyes. 

Oh please, don’t react! I told my nipples. 

Running her blue latex fingers under the wire of my bra I felt those traitorous nubs swell and stand up.  I tried to distract myself.  I examined the ceiling and walls and tried to forget how aroused I was.  But Holland’s hair carried a nice herbal scent, her body’s heat swept over me and her hands were now on my tits.

Oh… fuck…that feels sooooo good.

I felt as if I was about to bite through my lower lip as the agent probed my large breasts.  Whether it was an accident or on purpose I let out a soft, slow groan of ecstasy when her thumb crossed my right tit’s areola. 

“S-sorry,” I said when she looked up.

“You’re gay?” Holland asked.

“Y-yeah, is that a problem?”

“No. I’ll try to make this quick and professional.”

Her answers and questions were spoken in a gruff, no-nonsense manner as if she could care less.  But I caught the slight crinkling of the left side of her mouth.  Her lip tugged upward in a very “Ah, ha!” sort of fashion.  I knew without asking this thick bodied woman wasn’t straight.  She looked like a bull-dyke and my anticipation grew in leaps and bounds.  She was gay—and a very interested lesbian at that.

Her hands released my tits and ran down my flat stomach causing it to quiver in trembling spasms.  Holland knelt and her hand reached my skirt’s waistband and I couldn’t help myself.

I leaned into her.

Hard.

Holland chuckled making her breath whoosh into my stomach making me shudder as if a cold breeze had wafted past me. 

“Been awhile, huh?” she said.

“T-too long,” I stammered out with a moan.

“Poor darlin’…”

She stood up.  I looked into her blue eyes and saw she was also quite excited by my reactions to her touch.  A faint smile appeared on her lips and her eyes unlocked from mine Holland glanced over my shoulder.

“The camera’s on,” she said.  “I’m going to help you out just don’t scream or cry out, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I said my words trembling with arousal.

Still kneeling she lifted my skirt.  My face grew hot, my cheeks warming to the erotic encounter I never expected.  Pushing her latex-clad fingers into my sex I shook from stem to stern.  The smell of her gloves, the pressure on my pussy and the nearness of her lips to my love bud increased my excitement to the nth degree. 

Oh please… kiss it… touch your lips to my pussy, I thought-begged at her.

Agent Holland went behind me leaving me feeling cold and abandoned.  My skirt falling over my needy slit like a bank’s vault door slamming down.  Henderson’s Savings and Loan had been sealed, or so the thought occurred to me.  I wanted to cry.  The feeling I’d be left unfulfilled and sexually frustrated washed over me like someone tossed a bucket of dirty water across my face. 

I was still looking down when it happened.  My body jerked making my tits wiggle when I saw her arms go around my waist.  Like naughty blue spiders her fingers sought out the hem of my skirt once more.  She raised it slow and easy.  Shutting my eyes to concentrate and enjoy it all I managed to suppress a moaning sob when her fingers neared the top of my panties.

I knew the crotch of my underwear was damp from my excitement.  I could feel the air caressing the moist, throbbing spot.  Holland’s fingers pressed on either side of my cunt and I tried not to bend at the waist from delight.  She stroked my pussy.  Tender flicks of her finger across the engorged bud of my clit made me whimper past tightly pressed lips.  My labia were spread.  Holland’s digits were on either side pushing my thick pussy lips and allowing her to run another finger from my slit’s base to the sensitive nub.  Through the material of my panties she caressed me.  My hips bucked and my knees began to wobble.  The TSA dyke stroked me for a few minutes until I was silently gasping for more.

“Just follow me,” Holland said into my right ear.

She walked me backwards, we paused briefly and I felt her sit down.  Her hands never left my sweltering cunt.  Her wet latex-covered digits firmly caressing past the cotton panties and teasing my eager quim.

“Hey!” I exclaimed when pulled into her wide lap.

My legs were spread apart, the left side of my panties bypassed and Holland’s finger slipped inside my pussy.  I leaned forward.  The woman behind me sank her digit as far as it could go into my hungry snatch.  I tried to, but failed to contain my sob of delight when her other hand began stroking my clit. 

“Like that?” Holland said in an amused, aroused tone.

“T-the camera… what about t-the camera?” I mumbled.

“I’ll delete the file.  Just sit back and enjoy.”

“The other agent… what about her?”

“She won’t be back… relax and enjoy it, darlin’.”
            I leaned back and laid my head against her shoulder.  Holland kissed my cheek as she continued to finger-bang me.  Two latex-coated digits now filled me.  Squeezing and pinching my clit Holland made me gasp in hot, heavy breaths until I couldn’t think straight.  I ground my ass against her lap trying to wedge her fingers as deep as possible.  The sloppy sounds of her fingering me, the musky scent of my pussy and the sight of her hands shoved deep into my panties dominated my senses. 

“Oh… no, please… don’t,” I whined when the hand on my clit was pulled away.

“Relax,” Holland said.

I was pushed forward and felt the TSA agent fumbling around her chest.  A big, warm sphere now rested against my back.  Holland pulled me across her lap with the ease of a nurse handling a newborn.  My ass slid across her pants and I hoped I wasn’t leaving a wet spot on her trousers.  In the end I hung there half-on and half-off her closed thighs.  My legs dangling off her right leg, bent at the knee with my feet on the floor of the examination room.  I could feel my long brown hair sweeping against her shirt.  Without warning Holland pushed her massive tit with its erect nipple into my greedy mouth.  I sucked it hard.  My face was mashed against the soft, firm breast and it eclipsed my view.  Holland’s hand resumed stroking my clit and penetrating my pussy.

“So wet… so hungry,” she said about my cunt.  “You’re so nice and slippery.”

“Mmph,” I agreed past a mouthful of tit-meat. 

I tongued her nipple, Holland let out a gasp of her own.  The squishing sounds of her fingers delving into my snatch grew louder and wetter.  My knees fell apart.  Holland’s fingers became more persistent in their actions.  Flicking my clit the woman made me whimper into her breast. 

Oh yes… faster, faster baby… flick my bean f-f-faster! I thought at her. 

I grabbed her tit with both hands making her nipple distort in my mouth.  Squeezing and sucking, licking and nipping I tried to give as good as I was getting.  A third finger was inserted into my puss.  My face fell away from her massive tit, a long moan made my lips vibrate.

“Aaaaaaaah,” I cried out.

Holland stuffed her tit back into my face.  The squishy sounds of her fingers deeply penetrating my cunt sounded like a dog’s greedy gulping a bowl of water.  My inner tissues were spread as far as they could go, my pussy clenched and trembled in pre-orgasmic preparations.  I didn’t want to cum—not yet.  Fighting past the sensations I tried to hold it off.  I wanted a monster orgasm.  Hoping to be launched off her lap like the space shuttle I held back.

“Come for me, baby,” Holland said, her own voice husky and emotional.

No…no, not yet, I thought.

“I wanna feel and see your pretty pussy go ape-shit crazy.  Cum for me, darlin’… cum ever so hard.”

I released the remaining hold on my climax’s leash. 

My body went spastic on Holland’s lap.  It must’ve been what a fish out of water felt like, flopping and wagging its tail in a struggle to go back into its watery home.  Thrashing against the woman’s body I jerked, wiggled, bent and straightened out like some convulsing ER patient.  All the time the big woman kept stuffing her fingers into my slit and rubbing my clit as if to call a genie forth from my sex. 

My lips popped off her nipple. I tried to control my urge to shout to the heavens to let everyone know I was having a killer climax  I just managed to control my voice.

“Aaaagghh… aaaahhh…. Oh. My. God,” I grunted suppressing my need to wail.

“Ooooh, you’re so sexy when you orgasm,” Holland said.

My head lolled on my neck giving me a perfect view of the ceiling which seemed to rock from an earthquake.  It took me a few seconds to realize it was me moving not the building.  Holland leaned forward and kissed me hard, fast and deep.  Our tongues wrestled, she tasted like peppermint gum.  So passionate was the kiss it lengthened my orgasm by two-fold.  Her lips locked on mine, her fingers jammed into my pussy and the shaking of my body was all I knew after a while.  The warm, arrhythmic spasms began as my climax wore down.  I jerked occasionally on Holland’s lap, she held me and kept me from falling off.  I felt like a load of wet, limp laundry.  Just happy to be and nothing more.  She took her mouth from mine but not before giving my lips on last quick peck.

“T-thank you,” I breathed out more than said.

“All part of TSA’s friendly service,” Holland said with a chuckle.

“The service was outstanding.”

“You live in Dallas or Fort Worth?”

“No, San Francisco.”

“A shame. I was hoping to ask you out on a date.”

“Aw, that’s sweet… but I won’t be back until next year.  The erotica writers convention, you know.”

“I know.  I read your books Miss Henderson.  I’m a big fan.”

“What?”

“Can I get an autograph?”

I was stunned.  Climbing out of her arms and off her lap I smoothed out my skirt while staring at her.  Holland’s face was open, honest and could barely contain her arousal.  She handed me a piece of white paper from a pad in her pocket.  Taking the pen out of her hand I started to write before I remembered I didn’t know what her first name was.

 “What’s your first name?” I asked.

“Dorothy.  Dorothy Holland, Miss Henderson,” she replied.

“You can call me Betty.  After all, any woman whose stuffed her fingers up my cunt and made me cum until I’m shaky can’t call me Miss Henderson.”

“Okay, Betty.”

Dorothy’s face turned pink from embarrassment.  I realized she wasn’t prone to this sort of outlandish behavior.  Her shy nature exposed made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It wasn’t love—or I didn’t think so at the time.  Yet there was something there, something tangible I wanted to explore. 

“I never suspected you’d let me do that… I’m kinda shocked,” Dorothy said.

“You silly,” I said with a laugh.  “My website states clearly I’m gay.”

“Oh… it does?”

“You knew that… you just wanted to tease me, didn’t you?”

“The computer didn’t pull your name out.  I lied.  I saw you and couldn’t believe it was you.  I told the senior agent I wanted an autograph and he let me pick you out of the crowd.  I knew you were gay, but wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.  I’m not exactly a swimsuit model, ya know.  At least this way I could touch the woman whose books I adore legally.”

“Why you naughty girl, Dorothy!  Yeah, you’re not my usual type but I do find you attractive—even before your little body cavity search.”
“Sorry, can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?  I’d like to eat you until you scream but I have to catch this flight.”

“Now who’s the tease?”

“Me, I guess.”

I noticed I’d left a wet mouth print on her right tit.  The desire to pull out her left and make them equal in arousal and moist consumed me.  I couldn’t take my eyes off how her boob was sticking out of her white TSA shirt and hanging over her bra.  Walking over I took a business card out of my purse.  With quick and nervous fingers I wrote down my unlisted phone number along with the one for my cell.  I handed it to Dorothy who’s face went slack with shock.  Her mouth dropped open and this made me happily think how’d I’d like to resume that kiss.  She took the card and I kissed her fast on the mouth.  She surprised me, it seemed only right to do the same to her.

“Call me when you get a chance,” I told her.

“But we live so far apart.  How are we going to get together?” Dorothy asked.

“We can’t I don’t have the cash for a return flight for awhile… do you have a computer?  A webcam?”

“I don’t have a webcam.”

“That’ll have to do.  We can get together online.”

“Phone sex?”

“If you like.  After all I’m a writer.  Just think about how nasty and dirty I can talk.”

I knew she could by her instant reaction. Her face went from a pinkish shame to scarlet excitement at the thought of what I’d say.  She shuddered in the chair making it squeak and creak.

“Maybe we can meet halfway—at a nice no-tell motel…,” I remarked in my best seductive voice.  “You.  Me.  A bottle of lube, several vibrators and no clothing for an entire weekend.  Sound good?”

“Oh god,” she moaned.  “I wish… but I don’t have any vacation time.”

“Well it’s a thought.  I think I’ll put this little encounter in my next book—if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be a character in one of your novels?”

“If you want I can change your name.”

“No, that’s okay.  Wow!  Wait until I tell my roommate Jill about all this!”

“You do that, sweetie,” I said kissing her on the cheek.

She blushed even redder.

“Are we done here?” I asked.

“Yeah… unfortunately,” Dorothy said with a giggle.

“I’ll be in touch if you don’t call first.”

“I-I will…”

“Thanks, Dorothy.  Thank you for everything.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Mine too.  Just don’t forget to delete that file from the camera over there.  I don’t want to be a star on the Internet.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

I walked out of the room, my legs still shaky from my orgasm.  Walking past the other TSA agents I noticed how they were acting.  The skinny brunette who’d left the exam room was all but gagging in repulsion.  She must’ve been in on it.  I worried Dorothy’s job might be on the line if this breeder reneged on the deal she’d made with Dorothy.  The fat guy sitting by the computer, probably the senior agent was licking his lips and leering at me.  The other men were crowded around him their eyes fixated on the monitor.  Their bodies were hunched over like coroners during an autopsy as they watched the instant replay.  Most of them sported wood.  I wondered how many would excuse themselves, go to the bathroom and jerk off.  I laughed.  They looked up, grinned like felons so I gave them a wink and they all got embarrassed.  The people in line were shooting me looks of utter disbelief.  Perhaps my cries weren’t as muffled as I thought.

Fuck ‘em, I thought, strolling past them with my head held high.

I slept like the dead on the flight back to San Fran.

****

            The rest of the story goes something like this.  Dorothy deleted our little escapade from the TSA computers but saved a copy for us both.  It’s supposed to be impossible but I knew better.  The Internet was filled with TSA shots of women’s and men’s nude bodies from the scanner.  As for the file… well, she sent a copy to me.  If I thought getting it firsthand was hot, viewing it was a whole new experience for me.  I watched it twice and masturbated the last time with my favorite dildo.  Plunging it into my sopping wet pussy, watching Dorothy woman-handle me until I climaxed I drove myself to another screamer.  I came as hard then as I did on the monitor. 

Dorothy called a week later.

I talked dirty for three hours.

Dorothy climaxed, half-dozen times—I had four myself.

TSA found out about the entire finger-fucking, tit sucking session and acted accordingly.  Dorothy got fired.   Somebody squealed and I figured it was the homophobic brunette who left us alone.  So jobless and craving me, Dorothy was in a peck of trouble (her words, not mine).

I had no choice.

I flew Dorothy out to San Francisco, let her stay with me under the false pretense for just  awhile so she could find another job and apartment.  She’s now a bouncer at a gay bar and it’s working out for both of us.  We drive each other crazy at night.  Keeping with our first encounter she occasionally dresses up in her old uniform (she kept her spare, I paid for it when TSA was told it was lost) and “searches” me.  Last night she bent me over the coffee table in front of my webcam.  I didn’t have any explosives on (or in) my body but I did have an explosion.  Of the orgasmic kind, I mean.  Howling and screaming in delight I detonated while she reamed my hot, hungry pussy and slid her greased thumb up my puckered anus.  I came hard—my fingers are still shaking on the keyboard—you see, we just finished before I started writing this. 

Shocked?  I write about what we do in bed, on the couch, in the elevator, on the balcony and in the bathroom  To make sure I get it right, we record our antics.  And I do mean everything.  Ours is a no-holds-barred, living on the edge style of sex.  Because of Dorothy and the digital recordings my writing has taken on a kinkier aspect, even my editor has commented about how more real and hot it sounds.  I couldn’t agree more.  It’s been four months and I don’t want Dorothy to move out.  We’re not exactly in love but it’s all good—Dorothy doesn’t want to go anyway.  So who says the TSA don’t provide a necessary service? 

They sure did for this lonely lesbian.

 

Now available; Arcanum Academia!

Arcanum Academia available at Silver Publishing

My new novel is out at Silver Publishing (https://spsilverpublishing.com/product_book_info/new-release-c-1/arcanum-academia-p-343)!   This is my first book with Silver and I’m very pleased with it.  Here’s the blurb to further peak your interest:

 

“Detective Allen Franks and his partner Debbie McMasters thought they’ve seen it all. With a rash of serial killings involving Evans City University coeds murdered in ritualistic fashion what more lies in store? Enter Cassandra Radcliffe, an anthropology major and practicing witch. With the aid of her coven Cassandra tries to scry for the killer’s identity. The sexual rite, the Philosopher’s Ring, is desperate in nature shocking the campus police as well as the two cops. But Cassandra is adamant she can help. Debbie thinks she’s a fraud but Allen has other ideas. But as the body count rises is Detective Franks’ association with Cassandra still professional–or is it turning into something more? Amid all this distraction the serial killer ups the ante. Can Franks and McMasters uncover who’s behind it all or will they have to rename Evans City University to Arcanum Academia?”

Eye of the Beholder

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following is a work of erotic/horror not suitable for persons under the age of 18.  If you’re not this old, get off my site!  What are you doing reading erotica?  You should be outside playing or even going to the mall.  Geez, some people’s kids…

            Harold held the phone in his hands.  He could feel its cool plastic bouncing against the side of his face in trembling jerks.  Licking his dry lips he listened to it ring, his heart racing so fast he began to worry it would burst through his rib cage. 

            I should hang up, he thought.  This is desperate, too desperate even for me.

            The indecision raged like a war in his skull but fate intervened when the call was answered.

            “Hello,” a woman’s sexy voice said. 

            Harold’s voice caught in his throat like a half-swallowed piece of chicken.  The lady’s voice was throaty, sensuous and a bit amused.

            “Hello?” she restated.

            “Ah… hi,” Harold said squeaking out the words.

            “What’s your name?”

            “H-Harold… Harold Carter.”

            “Hello, Harold my name is Melaina what’s your pleasure this evening?”

            Harold swallowed hard.  The effort was accomplished by a jerky bobbing of his Adam’s apple.

            “I-I really don’t know how to answer that,” he said.

            “Oh my,” Melaina said, her tone filled with more amusement, “Is this your first time, Harold?”

            He felt a hot chill (a contradiction in itself) wash over his body.  Goosebumps were dimpling his arms and sweat beading on his forehead from what she asked.

            “Y-yes,” he said, a nervous chuckle punctuating the end of his statement.

            “I promise to be gentle,” Melaina replied.  “Tell me, Harold what are you wearing?”

            Another swallow later he told Melaina of his warm bathrobe and soft boxer shorts.  It was a quick expulsed description lacking in many details like a child lying to his parents about who broke the expensive vase in the living room.

            “W-what are you…,” Harold said with a shiver.

            “… wearing?” Melaina said finishing his query.  “Practically nothing at all.  I’m sitting here in a black, silk robe, it barely reaches my mid-thigh.  It’s so hot here in the city I’m completely naked underneath it all.”

            Gulping and closing his eyes Harold tried to speak but the mental images of Melaina (if that was really her name) lounging naked in only a bathrobe made him giddy and weak.  But it was her voice tainted with just a hint of some non-American accent which really fired his thoughts.

            “The fan,” she said, “is blowing across my body.  The cool air is making my nipples hard.”

            “Oh…,” Harold said in a gasp more than a sigh.

            “I’m uncrossing my legs, I’m so hot down there—ah, that’s much better.”

            Harold couldn’t speak again.  But to his relief Melaina kept right on going with what she was doing.   

            “I’m so lonely, Harold.  It’s been ages since I’ve been with a man.  A real man.  Tell me, Harold—are you a real man?”

            “Y-yes,” he said parting his robe with shaky fingers.

            “You sound like one.  A bit inexperienced but I ever so love being someone’s first lover.  Would you like me to describe myself?”

            “Please…”
            “I’m tall, even for most women.  My hair is black, thick and very soft.  It’s a bit curly and falls to the middle of my back.  If I wanted to I could cover my big breasts with it.”

            “Please don’t.”

            “I wouldn’t do that to you, Harold.  My tits are so big and firm.  My poor nipples are the size of quarters and they’re begging for you to touch, kiss and suck them.”

            Harold fumbled around his boxers but finding his now raging hard-on wasn’t difficult despite his anxiety. 

            “My tummy is flat,” Melaina said continuing on with her description. “I have a navel piercing, a diamond.  Oooh, look how it glitters in the soft light of my apartment.  I’m reaching down further.  My fingers are just now touching the soft down of my pubic hair.  It feels so good to caress those delicate curls.”

            “Yes,” Harold groaned.

            “My pussy is wet.  I can see it glistening like morning dew on the grass. Should I touch myself, Harold?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh that’s nice… I’m so very horny, Harold.  My poor cunt has been neglected for far too long.  Ah!  I have a finger inside it.  Ooooh… so soft, wet and warm my pussy that is.”

            Harold began to stroke his cock with his hand.  It shuffled up and down in quivering jerks.  Melaina moaned in his ear.  It was a long drawn out rasp of sexual need which sent erotic sparks up in his imagination to burst into lusty fireworks.  Her accent grew more pronounced but he couldn’t put his finger on where it was from.

            “I’m spreading my long legs… putting them over the arms of the chair… yes, I’m wide open now… Ah!  I put another finger into my cunt… so full now.  I wish it was your cock, Harold.”

            “M-me too,” Harold said in a too fast voice.

            “Are you jerking off?  God, I hope you are.  I can see it… your hand roaming up and down on that nice piece of meat rising in your lap.  I want to suck it… taste the salty sweetness of the pre-cum gathering at the very tip.”

            Harold searched his brain for a response.  It was a frantic tossing of replies but like someone going through their dresser for a favorite shirt with no time to be delicate he found nothing to say.

            “I’m squeezing my left nipple with my other hand,” Melaina said.  “Ah!  That was a bit too hard… but it felt really nice.  Can you hear me fingering my pussy?  It sounds all wet and sloppy—hungry, that’s what it sounds like.  It’s hungry for you meat, Harold.”

            Only a gasping whine came past Harold’s lips.

            “Mmmm,” Melaina said in a groan, “I just sucked my pussy juices off my dripping wet fingers.  I tasted marvelous.  Do you want to fuck me now?”

            “Y-yes,” Harold said stroking his cock and licking his dry lips.

            “I’m letting you crawl between my splayed legs… Oh, you’re big.  Be gentle with me, Harold… Oh!  That’s it… slide it in nice and slow.  Oh God!  I feel so full.  Don’t thrust so hard just yet.  Oh! Ah!  That’s it, baby… a nice easy pace…”

            Harold squirted some lube onto the palm of his hands and resumed masturbating.  His nervousness gone, replaced by carnal desire which heated his body like nothing had ever done before.

            “Oh… God!” Melaina said, crying out, “You’re all the way in me.  So good… so hard… so big… fuck me, Harold.  Fuck me until I scream.”

            His hand blurred across the stiff erection it held.  Melaina’s moans husking out of the phone’s earpiece and exploded in his brain.  He could see her, open and welcoming his cock in his imagination.  She let out a small cry—he grunted in response.

            “Oh Harold,” Melaina said.  “Y-you’re wonderful!  A-are you sure this is your… first time?”

            He couldn’t respond.

            “I-I’m going to cum… are you going to… cum?” she said in a throaty warble.  “Please cum with me… it would be so… nice to cum together… Harold, cum with me.”

            “Yes,” he said in an excited shout.

            “Oh fuck me, Harold… squirt your hot cum in my pussy… I-I’m going to… oh yes, I’m about to… oh Harold, I’m c-coming!”

            Her lusty voice rose from a husky contralto into a thin scream of ecstasy.  Harold’s imagination painted a picture of some ethereal creature, an angel perhaps writhing in pleasure and impaled on his lap.  His legs straightened out and his heels dug into the carpet of his apartment.  Harold’s body went rigid, his muscles locking up like he was having the most delicious seizure.  While Melaina let out a continuous stream of soft cries Harold ejaculated all over his knuckles and his left thigh.

            “Oh… Harold… Oh f-fuck yes… Harold, I came… I came so hard for you, baby,” Melaina said in a thick groaning voice.

            “I did too,” he said in a tired tone.

            “I’m so glad.  Was I good?”

            “Y-you were perfect… I’m happy I called you.”

            “I’m glad you called too.  Do you want more?  I’m still horny… I’m always horny for you, Harold.  Would you like to suck your cock?  Or perhaps you’d like to take that nice big piece of meat of yours and fuck my tight ass?  Tell me what you want… I’ll do anything for you, baby.”

            “No,” Harold said after a few seconds of deliberation.  “Not this time… but I’ll call back.”

            “I’d like that.”

            “C-can I ask for you?  I really like your voice.  It’s so warm and wonderful…”

            “Sure, I’d like to see you again.  Just tell the woman who answers the phone you want me.  Do you want me, Harold.”

            “Oh god… yes.”

            “How sweet… I’ll be waiting for you, Harold.  Remember this call will be billed to your credit card, okay?”

            “I understand.”

            “Goodbye,  Harold… sweet dreams…”

            The line went dead and Harold hung up the phone.  The sticky remains of his climax began to make his skin itch and grow tight.  He stood up in the darkness and felt his way to the bathroom.  In his mind, he felt like Melaina hadn’t hung up. 

            Maybe it’s just a fantasy but I could swear I feel her presence, Harold thought.

****

            This time the phone rang and Harold wasn’t so nervous.   He told the operator he wanted Melaina and she told him he’d have to wait. 

            Is she with another man? He wondered.  Why should I feel jealous?

            He knew in the logical side of his mind it was stupid for him to feel this way about Melaina.  She was, after all a phone sex employee not some girl he’d met at a club or out shopping.  Despite the agreement between his logical and emotion side Melaina was nothing but a whore he still couldn’t stop how he felt.  Emotional whirlwinds of love, hate, need and jealousy swirled around his skull like two primal forces dancing in the desert heat of his carnal desires.

            “Hello?” Melaina said, interrupting his thoughts.

            “It’s me, it’s Harold,” he said.

            “Harold, you called back?  How sweet of you.  Did you miss me?  I know I missed you ever so badly.”

            “Yes, I missed you.”

            “Oh, that’s so adorable.”

            Her tone was condescending at all.  Harold knew she really meant it as sure as he was of sitting in his apartment in the dark.

            “Your voice it’s got an accent I don’t recognize.  Just a bit of one.  Where are you from?” he asked a bit nervous about getting personal.

            “Ah, not many of my callers hear that.  You must have excellent hearing, Harold.  I’m from Greece.  But I came to America a long time ago,” Melaina said with a wisp of amusement.

            “When did you come to the States?”

            “Harold, if we waste time talking about my past you’re bill is going to be outrageous.  Wouldn’t you rather hear what I’m wearing tonight?”

            “No… I don’t care.  Are you really from Greece?  I’ve never been to another country before.  Well that’s not true, my parents and I went to Canada once.”

            “I’d never lie to you, Harold.  Yes, I’m from Greece… born and raised there until I left.”

            Harold’s mental musings went into overdrive.  He could see her getting on the plane, her long curly hair blowing in the Mediterranean breeze in some Greek airport.  The sun making the bluish-black mane she possessed to sparkle in the sunshine.

            “Harold, I’m wearing a soft pink teddy today,” Melaina said.

            “Which part of Greece are you from,” he replied interrupting her.

            “Harold, let’s get on with this.”

            He didn’t like the tone of her voice now.  It was a bit angry and too demanding they get down to business and forget all the personal questions.

            “I’m sorry,” Harold said, “but I just want to know more about you.  I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Melaina.  I know it’s been a week but you’ve been haunting my dreams.”

            “You dreamed about me?  How utterly sweet,” Melaina replied with a throaty chuckle at the end.

            “Every night.”

            “What do we do in your dreams, Harold?”

            “We… talk, go out for coffee or walk in the park.  But we’re always happy.”

            “Now Harold, really do you expect me to believe you don’t dream about fucking me?”

            “Not most of the time.  It’s true!  I swear it!  I would never lie to you, Melaina.”

            His admission of truth ended and the woman on the phone didn’t speak right away.  Harold’s heart hammered against his chest like a caged animal desperate to break free. 

            Have I screwed this up?  Maybe I shouldn’t have told her about the dreams, he thought.

            “Harold,” Melaina said, her tone sounding a bit exhausted, “You’re a sweet guy and all, but honey this is a job.  My employers might fire me if I don’t make you happy.  Get it?”

            “But you are making me happy,” Harold said, “does it matter of I have an orgasm or not?”

            “Well I suppose…”

            “Where are you from in Greece?”

            “It’s a small isolated village just outside of Meteora, near Mount Olympus. It’s called… do you really want to hear this?”

            “Yes!”

            “I don’t see why.  I lived alone for a long time without any friends or family.  Look can we just get on with the sex?”

            “No.  Why did you leave?”

            “I was… lonely.”

            The word came out slow like some freed prisoner finally seeing the light of day.  Her accent softened as she said it.  Harold could hear the anguish in Melaina’s voice and it was a feeling he knew all too well himself.

            “Are you still lonely?” he said.

            Melaina didn’t answer at first.  He could hear her breathing on the other side of the line and he found he was holding his breath.  A full minute (and $9.95) went by before she spoke again.

            “I… yes, I’m still lonely,” Melaina said.

            “I’m so sorry,” Harold remarked, “you sound so beautiful.  You’re voice is wonderful.”
            “Few people who met me would say I’m beautiful.”

            “I’m not as shallow as them.  I could listen to you read the phone book and be totally captivated by it.”

            She laughed.  Melaina’s laughter was rich and full.  

            “You’re just too sweet,” she told him.

            “Look,” Harold said, “I know this is highly inappropriate but I’d like to offer you a job.”

            “Pardon me?”
            Melaina’s response was filled with both disbelief and suspicion and her accent vanished amid the words. 

            “I run a company specializing in audio books for the blind,” Harold said, ignoring his inner voice telling him to stop.  “We’re the biggest company in the business and I’m always on the lookout for voice talents… talents you most definitely have.”

            “A job?  A real job not some excuse to get me alone so you can live out some sick fantasy?” Melaina said.

            “Absolutely.”

            “Can I think about it?”

            “Sure!”

            “Okay, I promise to consider your offer.  Now do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

            “I’m all ears.”
            As Melaina started to describe in vivid details how the teddy clung to her big breasts and tickled her pussy Harold felt he’d won a major victory.

****

            She was angry.  He could tell it in the heavy footfalls as she entered the apartment that his Mother was very, very upset.  Harold didn’t bother to turn around when she entered the studio flat.

            “What the hell is this?” Mother said in clipped, irate tones.

            “What is what, Mother?” he said.

            “You have wracked up a huge charge on your credit card for some… oh my god, a phone sex number?  Harold, have you lost your mind?  How long have you been doing this?”

            “First off, it’s my money.  Second off, it’s really none of your business but for your information I’ve been talking to a woman for three months now.”

            “A woman?  More like some gutter-dwelling, toothless whore!”

            “Melaina is not a whore, well not technically and she is most definitely not toothless nor does she live in a gutter.”

            He heard her stomp over and fling herself into a chair.  The creak and groan of the seat told him she hadn’t lost an ounce despite being on a new diet.  A diet, he had suggested to her after Mother’s doctor told her to lose some weight.  But tipping the scales at three hundred pounds years of gorging on rich food wasn’t going to stop overnight.

            “Harold,” she said, her voice tired, “your father and I have gone along with all these crazy schemes of yours.  Luckily the audio book thing has paid off.  But really, do you think I’ll stand idly by while some ugly slut you met on a phone sex line robs you of every penny you’ve made?”

            “Melaina isn’t ugly and I’m not wasting my money,” Harold said, “Even if I am, it’s my money to spend.  Not  yours.”
            “You’re going to throw that in my face, aren’t you?”
            “I’ve paid off the house, bought you both new cars and made sure Dad’s employer didn’t stop his pension.  As far as I’m concerned this is my business and not yours.  The sales of my audio books are up and growing more everyday.  In fact, Melaina has a unique vocal skill which I plan on using for a particular genre we just picked up.”

            “Sex books?”

            “Erotica, Mother it’s called erotica.”

            “Filthy, disgusting and depraved is what I call it.”

            “Sex sells, Mother.  Even the blind like to read about it.”

            “It’s vile.”

            “So is your butting into my finances.”

            “You dare!”

            Harold didn’t bother to turn to face her, what was the point?  Mother had made up her mind and nothing short of a visit from Jesus Christ would alter it. 

            “Well,” she said, “if that’s the way you’re going to speak to me then I don’t see any reason to continue this conversation.  But mark my words, when this whore takes you for every cent you have don’t come crying to me.”

            “I trust my judgment on this,” Harold said, keeping his voice even and stoic.  “In fact, Melaina is going to visit the studio today and I hope to make her an employment offer.”

            “She’s going to what?”

            “Work for me.  She’s too fine a lady to be spending her evenings talking sex with strangers.”

            “You’re hopeless!  Utterly and completely hopeless!”

            Mother strode out of the apartment like an angry rhino charging at some African tour bus.  The slamming of the door was the punctuation on her stormy exit.  Harold didn’t care, he was smiling.

            Melaina’s coming to the studio, he thought.  I need to get ready.

            It had taken two months to get her to talk about the job offer.  Another two weeks had gone by before she’d accept his business number to call and get the details.  She’d investigated him on the Internet.  He knew, without a doubt the last time they talked Melaina would have no more reservations about his offer.  He’d proven his worth.

****

            The phone rang and she answered it.  Melaina’s voice came over the line as rich and sexy as before.

            “Hello, Harold,” she said.

            “I can’t believe you,” he told her.

            “What can’t you believe?”
            “You didn’t show up!  I waited all morning and half the afternoon to give you the grand tour of my studio and then offer you a very lucrative job offer for nothing!”

            “Harold, you’re upset please calm down.”

            “No, I’m not calming down!  Why did you do this to me?”
            Melaina let out a heavy sigh. There was something in that sound he didn’t expect to hear at this late date in their relationship.  It was the trembling note of fear.

            “Why are you afraid of me?” Harold asked.  “You’ve done the research, saw my website and know I’m no fly-by-night operation.  So why are you scared, Melaina?”

            “It’s just this,” Melaina said in a guarded voice, “if something is too good to be true, then it is.”

            “You think I’m scamming you?”

            “Harold… I don’t know what to think.  The web has stories about you.  How you never are seen in public and how you shun the limelight despite the riches and fame you’ve earned from your business.”
            “There is a reason for that. A very good and understandable reason for why I don’t go our in public.  But I’m not going to tell you over the phone.  I wanted to meet you in public where you could feel safe. How can I possibly get you to understand I mean you no harm?”

            There was a half-sob which bubbled out of Melaina’s end and came over the line tearing a gouge in Harold’s heart.  It was filled with distrust.  Not just some anxiety of a phone sex operator in fear for her life but something much more.  This was a deep-seeded terror of Melaina’s.  Something only years and years of abuse could bestow on a human being.

            Was she sexually abused?  He thought.

            The details were scarce but it was painfully obvious someone had done something to the someone he loved.  This fired his temper but he managed to keep it under control.

            “Melaina,” he said soft and low, “please hear me out.  I will not show up if you promise to come to the studio, meet with my production manager and tour the facilities.  Will you do this?”

            “You promise you won’t be there?” Melaina said.

            “I swear I won’t.”

            “O-okay.”

            “But why are you afraid of me?”

            “It’s not you I’m afraid of but myself.  Our time together has been sweeter than spring wine and I’ve come to treasure it.  I fear the reality of the situation would destroy what I feel.  I know I’m jaded.  Too many years of being ridiculed and mocked by people in my hometown finally drove me out.  I took this job because nobody can see me.  Then here you come into my life.  With sweet words and gentle emotions you’ve penetrated my defenses and given me hope again.  I will not stand by and watch that hope be cruelly shattered when we meet.”

            Harold’s breath hitched in his chest like some emotional hiccup.  He knew it!  From the very first time they talked, he knew Melaina and he were destined to be more than just phone sex buddies.

            “You feel it too,” Harold said, “don’t you?  That instantaneous connection the very first time we talked.  I know you did.  I felt it too and it’s too strong and true to be just coincidence.  Melaina, even if this relationship doesn’t pan out we can still be friends.  I won’t yank away my employment offer.  You can still work without being in public but I promise you the wages, benefits and hours will be all you deserve.”

            She started to cry.  Melaina’s wet sobs tore deeper claw marks in Harold’s heart until he too began to weep.  For a time, a brief minute or two they said nothing.

            “I’m so scared, Harold,” she said.

            “Don’t be, Melaina… please don’t be frightened of me.”

            “None of my relationships have ever survived the first date.  I fear for you… the man who I’ve come to treasure more than life itself.”

            “I know… I love you, too.”

            He heard the gasp Melaina let out.  It was a sigh gasping out of her and breaking down the walls of her emotional battlements. 

            “No,” she said, “I cannot let this be.”

            “Darling,” Harold said, “I don’t think you have a choice.  Fate or destiny has linked us together and no matter where you hide I’ll find you.  If it means my death, I’ll tear the world apart and hold you in my arms.”

“You don’t know the dangers you risk.”
“I don’t care.  Where danger is being faced that’s were life is being lived.”

            “Oh Harold…”

            “Melaine, please come to the studio.”

            “No.  But if you don’t mind I’d like to risk coming to your apartment.  If this is going to die an ugly death I don’t want it to be in public.”

            “How soon can you be here?”

            “Give me an hour.”

            “It will be the longest hour of my life.”

            “You’re so sweet… and I pray you’ll understand when you see this cannot be.”

            “I pray you’re wrong.  Hell, in fact I know you are.”

            She hung up without saying goodbye but Harold knew Melaina would show this time.  Despite this unknown tragic ending she so feared Melaina couldn’t resist the power of the love they had for one another.  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. 

            This is the first day of the rest of my life… a life I know I’ll share with Melaina.

****

            Harold paced his large apartment from one end to another.  The phone call from his mother had been the only time he hadn’t walked the floors.  Mother’s reaction was, of course predictable when he told her Melaina was coming over.  Harold hung up on her when she went into a shrieking demand he not let the woman in.

            The doorbell rang.

            Harold hurried over. He collided with the end of the couch sending shooting pains into his hip.  Staggering over he undid the locks and swung the door open.

            “Hello, Melaina,” he said.

            “Hello, Harold, she replied.  “You don’t look much like your picture on the website.”

            “Disappointed?”

            “No, actually you’re much more handsome.”

            “Please come in.  Can I get you something to drink?”

            “A glass of wine, perhaps?”

            He escorted Melaina inside.  She took a seat on the couch while he walked over to the wet bar.  His hands trembling so much he succeeded in slopping the liquid over the rim of the glass. 

            “You have a nice place here,” Melaina said.

            “Thank you,” Harold said, hearing her set something down on the end table.

            Carrying the wine over he handed to her.

            “Thank you,” Melaina said.

            Harold took a seat on a recliner near the couch.  He didn’t want to frighten her off by sitting too close. 

            “Still scared?” he asked.

            “Not so much now.  You seemed to have left out a few details about yourself,” she said in her rich Greek-accented voice.

            “It’s my curse.  I’ve been this way since birth.”

            “I see know why you shun public speaking.”

            “It doesn’t bother you?”

            “No, in fact it’s a bonus—one that alleviates most of my concerns.  I’m a bit vexed with you for not telling me sooner.  Harold, I think I can say with a lot of confidence this relationship stand a wonderful chance.  Do you think so?”

            Harold started to reply when he heard someone come in to the flat.  The weight and sound of the footsteps identified the intruder better than seeing her.

            It was Mother.

            “Harold!” his mother shouted.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

            “Mother, please go away I’m entertaining a guest,” Harold said warning her off.

            “I will do no such thing!  A-ha!  That whore is here!  Well let me give you a piece of my mind you dirty tramp.  Nobody is going to…”

            Harold heard her stomp into the apartment a rehearsed speech forming on her lips. Without warning his mother’s voice stopped.

            “Please!” Melaina wailed, “Don’t come any closer!”

            A shriek rose from his mother.  It climbed from the depths of her soul low and ominous until it reached an apex of shrillness which all but shook the walls of the apartment.  There was a creaking sound.  Like rock crumbling on a cliff face about to send some climber to his death.  The scream cut off in mid-voice.  Jumping to his feet Harold ran to his mother, his arms extended towards her.

            “Mother!” he shouted.

            His hands encountered a face of stone.

            “I’m so sorry!” Melaina said.  “I tried to warn her not to come in!”

            “It’s all right, Melaina,” Harold said.  “She was always butting into my business.  Mother thought she knew what was best for me.”

            “But how can we explain…”

            Harold reached over and caressed Melaina’s face, it was smooth.  Perfect, in fact. Stroking her cheek he pushed his fingertips into the full richness of her curly hair.

            “No snakes?” he said ending with a chuckle.

            “No snakes,” she answered.  “My mother had them but her children were spared that part.  It’s my eyes… I usually keep them hidden.”

“You took off your sunglasses, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”

“I heard you set them on the end table.”

            Melaina walked into his arms.  A warm and very feminine shape which seemed to fit like it was molded for his embrace. She was just a bit taller than him.  But somehow that excited rather than disappointed him.  Melaina’s ample chest pressing against his throat indicated all sorts of delicious possibilities.

“You’re a gorgon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m a child of Medusa.  I’m afraid I’m much older than you.”

“I don’t care.  I still love you.”

Harold felt her body quake and she kissed him soft and tender.

“I love you too,” Melaina said.

“Then you’ll marry me?”

Harold heard her gasp in surprise.  Melaina began squirming in his arms.  They came face to face.  He felt tears rolling down her cheeks to wet his own.

“I’ll outlive you…,” Melaina said.

“I don’t care,” he replied.

“You have captured my heart, why quibble over such trivial details such as how long we’ll have together. Say you’ll marry me, Melaina.  Make me the happiest man on the planet.”

“How can I resist such a sweet offer?  Yes, I’ll marry you, bear you children if I can and stay with you until you die.:

“After that?”

“I’ll look at myself in the mirror and become a statue to stand guard over your grave.  We’ll be together for all time.”

“That makes me so happy… happier than I ever expected to feel.”

 “My sweet, blind Harold.  I do think this is a match made in Heaven.”

“Or at least on Mount Olympus.”

She laughed that wonderful laugh.  He kissed Melaina and wondered exactly where he could put the new statue.

Maybe in the den, Harold thought.

           

           

Like Sexy Shorts?

Recently I’ve sent out and had published two short stories on Every Night Erotica’s website (www.everynighterotica.com).  Here’s what you’ll find of mine there:

Subway.  This tale is all about a young woman commuting to work and feeling a little frustrated since she’s been single (and horny) for so long.  What starts out as a commute turns into her being “felt up” in a crowed subway car.

A Silk Distraction.  What woman doesn’t hate their period?  Tired, aching and cranky a woman finds her boyfriend Lenny a bit too “aroused” during this time.  But a chance conversation about her newly purchased silk gloves leads her out of the sore mental cave and into the realm of hot erotic passion.

Again you can search for them here:

http://www.everynighterotica.com/

Enjoy!

Chris

Collector’s Edition DVD

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  The following long story (10,000+ is NOT a short story) contains adult language and graphic sex.  If you are under the age of 18 PLEASE LEAVE NOW!

Collector’s Edition DVD

            Josh Ramsey walked into his apartment.  He grimaced at the mess in the living room not because it needed cleaned but because it reminded him yesterday was his last day off.  He’d have to work another forty hours at Burger World before he could relax.  The smell of dirty clothes and his work uniforms reeking of French fry and hamburger grease welcomed him home like an irate wife.  He shuffled inside, closed the door behind him and tossed his book bag on the floor. 
The satchel contained his latest soiled work outfit, grease smeared shoes and an all too familiar white sack from BW.  Dinner was courtesy of his job.  He could see the flashing red-blue-red light of the neon sign from the street coming through the window.  It bathed the combination living/dining/bedroom with harsh illumination.  The sounds of cars and trucks with all their honking, revving and speeding down the street weren’t well muffled by the window or the heavy curtains.  Josh kicked off his shoes and headed to the bathroom.  Once inside he shut the door to the only separate room in the flat.  Peeling off his clothes (which due to their trip in the backpack carried a faint odor of fast food) he saw his reflection.

            Josh was tall and skinny.  At twenty-five he was still plagued by acne eruptions.  They dotted his face and neck like the boils on a troll’s ass.  Violent red in color mingled amid the scraggily and thin beard from not shaving for two days.  His nose was too long and his average brown eyes perched at the apex of it too close.  He looked like a bird.  His thin chest, narrow hips and oversized feet and hands completed his stork-like appearance.  Standing in his underwear he wondered what bet his parents’ lost with God to produce such a misfit.

            I should be depressed about my life but…, he thought.

            In his mailbox he’d discovered a reason to smile.

            Although he worked a minimum wage slave job, lived in a bad side of town in a shitty apartment there was one thing he still had.  To most it wouldn’t be worth mentioning.  Some would recoil in disgust from it while yet others would find it hilarious.  However his secret was safe.  Nobody knew his hidden passion, the reason he kept on going.  Like a man struggling through the burning desert towards a distant oasis Josh stumbled on through his life.  Onward to his goal—the bright light in the constellation of his life.

            Stacy Starr.

            He had run across her during a late night web browsing session.  Sitting naked in front of a computer he’d bought at a pawn shop he was looking for some excellent wanking material.  By sheer accident he stumbled across her site.  He could still recall the hot flash of lust which had torn through his chest making his breath catch in his throat.  His fingers trembled on the mouse. The picture of Stacy on her homepage had her right side facing the camera.  Her body turned slightly exposing both tits which peeked over the red satin sheet she was holding.  On the screen the white arrow shivered across the porn actress’ angelic face, heavy breasts and perfect ass.  Her golden hair hung in loose curls around her features.  Josh was quick to click her photos link and wasn’t disappointed.  Stacy alone, Stacy with another woman, Stacy with a man and Stacy with multiple partners the snapshots went on and on.  But unlike the others in the images none of them compared to the angel with the devil’s grin. 

            Stacy Starr—the brightest star in Josh’s life.

            He’d joined her fan club, bought her videos and paid good money to become a VIP member of her website.  He dug up every interview, read her biography and even purchased tickets to see her live and in person at a men’s club.  To see her, only fifty feet away dancing, strutting and smiling caused Josh to nearly black out from ecstasy.  He knew every curve, swell and arch of her body memorized over countless masturbation sessions.  But now he could smell her perfume, hear her voice live and watch her interact with the crowd.  She teased men wealthy enough to pay to come up on stage.  Josh cursed his meager savings and low wages.  Stacy was funny, charming and had a wonderful delivery when it came to dirty jokes.  Her two hours on stage seemed both long and yet short.  It left him wanting.  It left everyone in the men’s club wanting but not getting.  The perfect show.  The washed out strippers who normally worked there appeared to be faded plastic flowers compared to Stacy’s bountiful bouquet. 

            I’d hoped to get closer to her—but there were too many others in the way, he said with an inner grumble.

            He’d been rebuked by her manager a greasy man with too many chins and not enough brain cells to realize Josh was his client’s biggest fan.  He’d asked for five hundred up front just to attend a meet-and-greet with the adult film star.  Josh worked at Burger World and five bills were more than he could afford.  He’d walked out of the club depressed and angry.  It didn’t stop him from keying Mr. Moneybag’s Cadillac just out of spite.

            But last week there was an email in his inbox.  Stacy had a “special” gift for all her loyal VIP fans.  It was a limited edition, only-available-for-a-short-time collector’s DVD.  The price—a mere fifty bucks.  Without batting an eyelash Josh dropped the cash on it.  Now stashed in a zippered compartment of his backpack was the manila envelope with a return address fromHollywood,California.  When he pulled it out of the mailbox, saw the address and felt the DVD case inside he almost fainted.  His vision swam in lusty red waves when he spied the lipstick kiss on the cover next to his name and address.  Had Stacy’s lips really touched the envelope?  Was it another woman working in some sweatshop or had that angelic mouth made real contact near the printed words “Josh Ramesy,2023 Division Street, Apt. # 12,Chicago,IL60622”?

            He didn’t care.

            Josh started the shower which was quick to steam up the tiny room.  Letting the burning liquid roll down his body and ease away the tension of the day he imagined Stacy kissing the envelope over and over in his mind.

****

            Dinner was eaten in a hurried rush.  Sitting in front of him, still unopened was the goddess’ mailed surprise.  He toyed with it, spinning it around only after wiping his hands in a furious fashion to avoid leaving greasy fingerprints.  The anticipation of what could be on the DVD took precedence in his mind.  He tried to imagine what he’d find.  Stacy was bold as she was beautiful.  Scenes of past performances played out in his head like a looped video on the Internet. 

            “But she said it was special—for her biggest fans only,” he said past a mouthful of Super Deluxe Mega-Burger (hold the onions please). 

            He tossed the limp cold fries away and downed the rest of his Coke.  His eyes never left the DVD envelope.  Josh stood up and saw his devastated apartment.

            “No, this simply won’t do,” he said aloud while rubbing the stubble on his chin.

            He spent the next two hours cleaning up his place.  Tossing out trash, moping up the small landing strip of linoleum in the kitchen and even running the vacuum cleaner.  The last bit of tiding up left a burning smell lingering in the apartment.

            “Stacy deserves better,” he muttered.

            He opened the window after pushing past the heavy curtains.  The cool night air rushed in like a robber but then swept out after finding nothing to steal.  The scent remained.  Shutting the window and drawing the drapes he went into the bathroom.

            “I know I put those scented candles Wendy got me here somewhere,” Josh spoke out loud.

            The memory of the evergreen tapers and their obnoxious emerald hue made him scoff at the giver.  Wendy Marshall was fat, pimply and definitely NOT Stacy-like.  His co-worker’s hair was a badly dyed black, her blubbery lips seemed to constantly be wet and her pudgy hands were always near her mouth.  Needless to say Josh wasn’t shocked at the condition of her nails.  They were chewed to the ends of her fingers.  Wendy liked him.  Josh liked her as far away as possible.  Wendy gave him gifts (like the candles) and Josh gave her the cold shoulder.  Wendy told him about how she just bought some expensive lingerie, Josh cringed at the thought of her wearing it.  Co-workers laughed behind his back so Josh asked the manager to only schedule him from open (five in the morning) until two hours after lunch.  This limited his time working with Wendy to two hours (she went to cosmetic school from six untilnoon).

            “Ah, ha!’ he exclaimed when he found the candles in the back of the cupboard under the sink.

            Running into the living/dining/bedroom he rummaged through his junk drawer until he found an old lighter.  It was out of fluid.  Taking a risk he managed to light the candles on the gas stove only slightly burning his fingers.  Sucking on the singed digits he placed the powerful smelling candles around the room.  One on the television set, another on shelves next to his favorite paperbacks, yet another on the nightstand beside his bed and the last on the battered coffee table in front of the couch. 

            “Perfect!” he said with a satisfied chuckle.

            Going back to the bed (sitting in the back right corner of the room) he opened the nightstand’s only drawer and pulled out a bottle of personal lubricant and a pair of old dish towels.  He set them on the coffee table, checked the curtains for privacy and snatched the envelope (with the lipstick kiss) off the dining table.

            “There’s something missing.”

            He went to his dresser and found a pair of mock silk pajama bottoms.  Stripping off his clothes he jammed one foot in and then the other.  Josh tugged it up to his skinny waist, cinched the drawstrings and ran his hands down the soft material.  Satisfied all was as it should be he retired to the couch.

            “I wanna be careful with this,” he told himself.

            He ripped in delicate fashion the sealed edge of the manila package.  Tipping it over the DVD case slid out with a whisper and into the palm of his hand.  The cover made him swallow hard and dry.

            Stacy.  Naked.  Horny.  Smiling.

            Not just that but another lipstick kiss had been planted on the cover and—gasp—his name had been written on it.  Josh felt his eyeballs bulge out as he read the words.

            “Too Josh, all my love—Stacy” it said in flowing feminine script.

            Stacy began to shake as Josh’s hands trembled like a bowl of Jell-O in an earthquake.  He licked his lips.  Meanwhile in the fake silk confines of his pajama bottoms his thin cock began to stir like some awakened garden snake. 

            He opened it up, his fingers quivering with excitement he almost broke the case in two.  Inside was the silver disc itself.  Stacy’s face and name dominated it.  He frowned.  There wasn’t a lipstick kiss here like he hoped for. 

            “No matter, it’s all good,” he said consoling himself.  “The DVD is the important thing.”

            He stood up and walked over to the electronic video machine.  Jabbing the power button he waited for it to stick out its wide tongue to receive the ambrosia circular delight he held.  Placing it with exaggerated care he pushed the tray and ran back to the couch.  Josh picked up the TV and DVD controllers and waited.

            The blue screen seemed to mock him.  He began to worry the DVD was blank and he’d been ripped off.  As his anger rose (and cock fell) the monitor flickered from blue to the main menu.  He read the words in hot pink which were to the left of Stacy’s gorgeous face. 

            Welcome!       

Play.

Jump to a Scene.

            Extras.

            More Videos.

            Fan club Info.

            “So much to see, but what should I start with?” he said to the empty apartment.

            He wanted to get right to the action.  The hot desire thundering through his veins didn’t want one more moment of suspense. 

            “I’ve got time,” he told it, picking and selecting the Welcome option.

            The screen dissolved into tiny digital dots and sizzled back into focus with Stacy, the Sex Goddess herself, sitting on a wicker lounge chair next to a in-ground pool of blue water.  She was wearing a white and pink silk kimono and nothing else.  Josh could see her pussy exposed just enough by the hiked hem of her attire.  Before he could visually devour her long legs, angelic face and sensuous nether lips she spoke.

            “Well hello there, baby,” she said her voice husking with lust. “I’d like to welcome you to the never-before-seen, extra-special DVD for all my true and devoted fans.  Since I went on tour and met some of you I decided you deserved something unique.  I wish I could’ve met all of you—but I’m only one girl after all.  But I just wanted you to know I love each and every one of you—and I dream nightly about you.  This video is a collector’s edition so be gentle with it—and me.  Also I’d like to announce a new feature on my website.  It’s called “Sexy Talk with Stacy”.  You will be able to email me directly—and I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

            Oh shit!  Oh shit, I’ll be able to email her? Josh screamed in his head.

            “But for right now let’s spend some time alone together,” she continued, beginning to stroke her left breast through the silk.  “I’m sure we’ll have a really good time.  Ta-ta for now!”

            The images faded and returned to the main menu.  Josh found himself gasping for air. 

            He clicked Play, snagged the bottle of lube and tugged his semi-soft cock out of the fly of his pajamas.  Greasing up his palm he watched with a burning intent as the video kicked off with Stacy talking to him, calling him baby and stroking the pussy he’d pay anything to touch just once.

****

            “Hey mister, how about my change?” the angry man said.

            Josh blinked his eyes and stared at the customer.  Apologizing in a muted tone he scooped out seventy-two cents in change and handed to the business suit wearing man.  The guy snatched his order off the counter, grumbled something about Josh being a mental case and strode away.  The Tuesday lunch crowd had thinned out and nobody stepped up to the register he was standing in front of.

            Josh yawned so wide his jaw popped.

            He’d been up almost all night, pulling his pud while watching Stacy Starr perform dozens of self-pleasuring acts upon herself.  She spoke to him like the DVD was made specifically for him.  His crotch was sore.  When he finally went to bed he woke up with a stiff and sticky right hand and an aching cock.  He’d waddled into the shower and even the coolest setting of the meager deluge of water made him cry out in pain.  Between the lack of sleep, the soreness of his privates and the lunch hour rush he still carried the burned in images of Stacy’s hot antics.

            Josh looked at the clock.  It was one-thirty and he was due for a break.  Catching the manager’s attention he motioned for Cheryl Hanes to come over.

            “It’s my break,” he said trying not to yawn again.

            “Go ahead, I’ll cover for you,” she said, “and for God’s sake drink some coffee—you look dead tired.  You only got a half hour left on your shift but I’m afraid you’re going to fall down and hurt yourself.”

            “Thanks.”

            Josh poured himself some coffee.  Hot and black it steamed up smelling strong and slightly burnt.  Carrying it with limited caution (spilling enough on the back of his hand to nearly cause him to swear out loud) he departed.  He made his way around the stack of milkshake machines, the heated bin and the soda dispensers.  Stumbling past the fryers he avoided the grill worker’s attempt at conversation.  He pushed past the door and into the break room.

            Wendy was there waiting for him. 

            Her round, fat face broke into a smile and she seemed to perk up like some dog seeing its master come home after a long day at work.  He sat down and she leaned towards him.  This caused her big boobs (the only feature she had which caused a minor interest for her in him) to squash on the small table.

            Just great.  I’m dead on my feet and now I have to deal with her, Josh thought.

            “Hiya Josh!” she said in a too cheerful chirp.  “What’s going on?  You look really tired.”

            “Couldn’t sleep last night.  Apartment was too hot.  Air conditioner is broke,” he lied.

            “Oh you poor thing!  My dad works on things like that.  How ‘bout you bring it over to my house and let him look at it?”

            “Not today—I don’t think I have the energy for it.”

            “So did you hear the news?”

            “What’s that,” he said, sipping the burnt liquid and grimacing.

            “The Uptown Theater is having a special showing of the original Star Wars film this Saturday.  Not that crappy Episode One either—the first one with Mark Hamel, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford.”

            He perked up when the news awoke his inner geek.

            “Is it the re-release?” he asked, his voice rising.

            “Nope!  The very original original.  Do ya wanna go with me?  I could buy the tickets tomorrow on my way to work,” Wendy said.

            He smiled and immediately regretted it.  Due to his tired status he realized he’d fallen into one of her obviously laid traps.  She knew he was a big Star Wars geek.

            “I think I gotta work Saturday,” he said hoping she’d get the hint.

            “Oh come on!  You work days… the movie doesn’t start untilseven o’clockin the evening and you have the next day off.  What do ya say?  It’ll be my treat.”

            Fuckity-fuck-fuck! he swore to himself.  I’m too exhausted to come up with another lie.  I’ll just agree to it and then pretend to get sick—yeah, yeah that’s the ticket.

            “Sure I’ll go,” he said over the rim of his coffee.

            “You will?  Oh wow that’s fantastic!  I just know we’ll have a good time.  Maybe we can stop for donuts and go back to your apartment to talk about the movies in general.  I’m a big fan…”
            And a big assed woman too…

            “… and I know it’d be great to talk about something other than work,” she finished saying.

            “Give me your cell number in case I can’t find you at the theater,” he said.

            “Oh wow!  Sure let me go get a pen and paper from the manager’s desk!”

            She departed with all the grace and quietness of a buffalo stampede.  Josh hung his head and wished for a do-over.  But he knew he was fucked. 

            Maybe I should just tell her I’m not interested—wait I’ve told her she just isn’t getting the message, he thought.  Oh Christ, if the rest of the crew here find out I’m in for a world of snide comments and fatty-and-skinny jokes.  Oh well…

****

            It was Thursday night and his cock had healed.  Promising himself he’d take it easy Josh decided to only watch his favorite part of Stacy’s video.  Using the remote he picked the Jump to a Scene feature and highlighted the “Stacy in bed” image.  Lubing up his hand, tugging out his cock (still a bit tender) he waited for it to start.

            “Ooh yeah…,” Stacy said in a drawn out sigh. “I thought you’d never get here baby.  I’m so worked up—so horny for you.  But you can only watch.  In fact why don’t you take out that big, hard cock of yours and start jerking off?  You can watch me stroke my hot, wet pussy while I get off watching you play with yourself.”

            “Anything you want, Stacy,” he said in response.

            She began pulling apart her wet labia and exposing the inner pink petals of her cunt. She dipped a finger into it and ran it up in a slow caress.  She moaned loud and long as she did so.

            “Ooh yes… that feels so good,” she drawled.  “I love to touch myself and have you watch, baby.  I bet you’d like to fuck me—wouldn’t you?  Well that’s too bad because I want to tease you until you come.  I wanna see your hot jizz squirt out of your cock.  Oh yeah… look at how deep I can put my two fingers into my pussy.  Do you like that?”

            He did.

            “Does it make you horny seeing me stroke my cunt?”

            It did.

            “Oooh yeah but it’s not enough… just not enough to make me come.”

            Josh had to concur.

            She reached behind the pillow and pulled out a realistic pink dildo.  She licked the tip.  Stacy put the head in her mouth and sucked it long and hard.  The fake prick made a popping sound when she pulled it out between her tight pursed lips.

            Stacy giggled… Josh groaned.

            “I’m gonna fuck myself with this… are you still hard?  Oh yeah, I can see you’re nice and hard.  Here it goes… ooh it’s a bit too big… ahh, there it goes.”

            The head of the dildo was sinking into her cleft.  Stacy’s fingers began to rub her clit, she shut her eyes and wiggled her hips.  Her thighs shivered.

            “Oh so deep… so good… I wonder if I can take more?  Would you like to see me try, baby?” she asked.

            “Yes… shove it all in, Stacy,” Josh answered his fist picking up speed across his erect shaft.

            The ten inch long phallus of realistic latex eased into her.  She spread her legs wider and the camera zoomed in for a closer look.  The screen was taken up by Stacy’s cunt filled with fake meat and her fingers (red painted) circled her swollen bud in tight, slow circles.  The camera pulled back and Stacy’s other hand was squeezing her left tit.  Her mouth parted in a pre-orgasmic O of pleasure.

            “I’m going to stick my ass in your face—just to give you a different view,” she moaned.

            Stacy pulled the dildo out of her pussy, took her digits off her clit and spun around.  She got on her hands and knees, dipping down so her heavy breast dangled between her legs and framed her red snatch.   She spread her legs and pushed the fleshy invade back into the heated slit between her thighs.  Stacy looked at him over her shoulder. Her face was red and she was panting in hot desire.

            “Oh yes… tell me how naughty I am,” she said begging in hot need.

            “You’re an angel in heat,” Josh answered in a ragged voice.

            “I’m… I-I’m going to come.”   

            “Me t-too.”

            “C-come with me baby.”

            “Yes I will.  You’re so fucking hot—I love you, Stacy!”

“Isn’t this… fantastic?  I want to feel you come on me…”

“I wish you were here with your mouth on my cock!”

“Coat my tits with your jizz… make me your bitch forever! Oh yes… I can’t hold back…”

“You’re mine!  Forever and ever!”

            She stuffed and unstuffed the fake cock into herself.  Josh could hear (due to the volume being turned up near maximum) the sloshing sound of her cunt being plunged into recklessly.  His hand blurred across his cock, Stacy began to whimper in stuttering orgasmic noises.  She rolled over, reared up and wedged her feet underneath the arching top bar of the brass bed’s headboard.  She was totally exposed, splayed out in a vulnerable position while she drove the dildo into herself.  Stacy began screaming in soft high tones.  Her thighs shook, her face contorted in an animalistic delight as she drove the fake meat into herself.

            “I-I’m coming!  Oh fuck yeah… I’m coming for you, baby.  Come with me… please spray your jizz all over my cunt and hands!”

            Josh moaned loud and felt his balls squeeze tight and his cock begin to pulse.  The squishy sounds of his lubed hand gliding across his iron-hard shaft mimicked Stacy’s wet delving of her pussy.

            Then the screen froze. 

Stacy’s face was stopped at the very edge of her climax.  The image flickered briefly a few times but didn’t continue.  Josh’s hand stopped at the apex of his next stroke.  He waited for a second for it to continue while he ignored the need to orgasm.  But the image only remained frozen.  He started to swear.

“Goddamned cheap-assed DVD!” he said his anger rising.

He picked up the remote and pressed pause and then play.  Nothing moved.  He tried fast forwarding, it didn’t work.  Rewind was equally a failure and even pressing the main menu button didn’t do shit.  He screamed in frustration and threw the remote across the room where it struck the wall.  The back lid came off and batteries spilled out and rolled like terrified cockroaches under his bed.  He started to go soft.

“You fucking bitch!” he yelled at the naked woman on the TV.  “You cheap, rotten cunt!  I’m so pissed… I’m going to demand a fucking refund!”

He picked up the DVD case and flung it into the kitchen.  It hit the wall above the refrigerator and slide down behind it joining a few other items which had become lost there too.  Prancing around in fury, his cock still dangling out of his fly Josh swore up a blue streak.  He turned to kick the screen, his anger climbing to heights not yet discovered by any space vehicle.

Stacy began to move.

He flinched and fell back on the couch.  Watching in utter amazement another Stacy began pulling away from the stilled image and pressing her hands against the screen.  Josh looked on in fascinated horror as the glass began to bulge out.  He heard a tittering squeak of terror and realized he was making that noise.  Stacy-But-Not-Stacy pushed her hands, palm first thought the screen.  They were quickly followed by her arms, her face and her upper body.  Her huge rack melting outward to dangle almost to the floor. 

“No, no, no!” he wailed.  “G-go the fuck back where you came from… I’m sorry I was mad… please don’t h-hurt me.”

Stacy-Yet-Not-Stacy fell out of the TV and onto the threadbare carpet.  On the monitor the other Stacy was still frozen with her hand between her legs and her feet on the headboard.  The other Stacy stood up in a slow manner.  Her body flickered like a static laced TV transmission.  He could hear the hiss and snap just like you would during a bad storm. 

Then she looked at him and smiled.

He heard a squeal bubble past his lips.  His arms went over the back of the couch as his heels dug into the carpet.  He tried but failed to gain any purchase to escape.

“Hello,” Stacy-Out-of-the-TV said in a pop-snap-crackle voice.

“W-who… what are you?” Josh said in a mealy mouthed tone.

“I’m Stacy… Stacy Starr.  And you are Josh, right?”

“You can’t be… you c-came out of the TV.  How did you know my name?”

“Yes I know your name.  The DVD was made just for you and now you called me.”

“It was?  I did?”

“I heard you say you’d be mine for ever and ever.  Ah, that poor nice cock as gone all limp on you.  I bet I know how to bring him back to life.”

“N-no stay away…”

She walked through the coffee table.  Not on it or around it by passed through the center like it didn’t exist.  Josh saw it and froze.  Her legs made a crackling sound as it passed through the pressed wood of the table.  Stacy-Out-of-the-Boob-Tube knelt at his feet.  She started reaching for his forgotten and greasy shaft.

“Ooh this is a nice cock you have,” she said purring like a kitten.

Josh sobbed out like a terrified child lost in a grocery store and separated from his mother.

She grabbed his meat.

It felt solid but not solid.  There was an electric-like tingle where his flesh met hers.  She began to stroke him, he began to watch.  Nature took its course despite the unnatural events and he rose back to hardness in her static-filled fist. 

“Oh… f-fuck!” he said in a loud voice as she pushed his cock into her mouth.

It was like being encircled by some wet, electric sex toy.  He could feel every millimeter of her gripping lips, exploring tongue and deep throat.  She sucked and sucked.  He whined and gasped.  His hands fell to his sides and curled into white knuckled fists.  Stacy-Not-Stacy took his meat all the way to the base and he could tell there was room for more.  Slurping, licking and sucking the woman out of the television brought him to the point of orgasm.

Then she stopped.

He whimpered in wordless tones. She sat back on her heels and glorious ass and grinned like a sex fiend.  She climbed into his lap.  Slow and unhurried she mounted him.  His eyes rolled back in his head when his shaft sank into her buzzing almost electric pussy.  Josh opened his eyes to see her offering up her left tit.  He grabbed it and covered her nipple with his mouth.  He sucked it while she fucked him.  His lips and tongue tingled like he’d eaten spicy hot salsa.  Her smooth legs and supple thighs rubbed against his as she rode him without hurry. 

Up and down.

In and out.

Suck and fuck.

His balls swelled, Stacy began to cry out and toss her head wildly from side to side.  She came—hard.  One moment she was a steady piston rising and falling on his shaft and the next she was like a wild animal.  Bucking up and down in a furious attempt to drive his meat up into her body like some fleshy spike.  Her tits swung out of his hands.  They slapped at his face while she began to babble in lusty incoherence.

“Fuck yeah!” she wailed. “This is… better… better than… doing it to myself… oh yes… oh baby drive it into me… fuck me like an animal…”

“Huh, huh…ahhh!” he managed to reply.

“So hard… so good… fuck yeah!”

She screamed.  Her head fell back and she arched towards the coffee table making her breast thrust out erotically.  Stacy-Not-Stacy rode him until she was reduced to quivering rises and shivering falling upon his still unsatisfied shaft.  He started to say he hadn’t finished when she hopped off his lap and stuck her ass into his face.  She presented the puckered opening like it was a special present.  Without a word she sat down on his wet cock.  He sank into her snug, tight bottom until her creamy rear squashed against his trembling thighs.

“Oh… yeah…,” Stacy moaned.  “So deep in my butt… feels good…”

Josh couldn’t speak.  It was like having a Tesla coil wrapped firmly around your junk.  She began to squeeze her ass cheeks and pump her rear up and down on his meat.  He saw her grab her tits and toss her head back.  Her long golden hair hung down to the top of her bottom.

“Fuck me… fuck my ass, Josh!” she said in a tone like a horny angel.

He pumped his hips the best he could but she wasn’t leaving him room to maneuver.

“Come in my ass… do it!  Squirt you jizz into me… give me a sperm enema!”

He didn’t have time to reply and suddenly he was ejaculating so hard he felt lightheaded and dizzy.  Shot after shot was deposited into the snug realm of her ass.  She screamed along with him.  Her ass bounced off his thighs until he began to beg in blubbering tones for her to cease and desist.

“N-no more… please Stacy, no more,” he said with a gasp.

She rose from his lap like a ghost from its tomb.  Something wet glittered between her perfect thighs and she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

“You were fantastic,” Stacy said.

“You too…,” he mumbled.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Back into the DVD.”

“Stay?”

“I can’t not without payment.”

“How much?  I’ll give you everything in my bank account.”

“I need flesh…flesh and blood to remain on this plane of existence.”

“W-what?”

“I’d only need it once… would you do that for me?  I’d stay with you forever, just like you want me too.   I just need flesh and blood.  You could provide it for me.”

“I-I don’t know…”

“Think about fucking me every night.  No holds barred, nothing off limits and any taboos you’d like to explore.”

“That’d be nice…”

“I just need flesh and blood.  Surely there’s someone you know that nobody would miss.”

“Yes.”

“They need to be naked and aroused.”

“Naked and aroused…”

“Remember it’s important to have the DVD running.  It doesn’t have to be playing but it must be on as well as the TV.”

She kissed him on the mouth leaving a static charged sensation on his lips.  He watched her sink into the TV screen, remerge with the Stacy on the bed and then the DVD started up again.  Stacy shoving the cock into her pussy one final time and climaxing in a shriek of ultimate pleasure.  Her voice still echoed siren-like in his mind.  Josh closed his eyes and listened.

I need flesh… flesh and blood to remain… Surely there’s somebody you know that nobody would miss…

****

 

He woke up to the alarm clock’s warning, the DVD still running and the unmistakable smell of hot pussy in the apartment.  He thought about the price and by the time he was dressed and ready to go to work he had the details all worked out.

****

            Saturday night at the Uptown Theater and Josh was trying to keep his nerve.  It wasn’t because he was meeting Wendy Two-Tons-of-Fun but what would occur later on.  Did he have the courage to permit murder in his apartment?  Would the cops trace her back and slap the cuffs on him?  Was it worth it?  Was the price of having Stacy Starr (or this facsimile of her) all to himself?  He tried not to bolt.  But his lust for the porn star kept him rooted to the spot he was standing on.

            “Josh!  Hey Josh, I’m over here!” his date called out.

            She pushed her way through the crowd like an out of control tractor trailer going through a used car lot.  She was holding two tickets in her pudgy grip.  Wendy stopped just short of hugging him.  She was wearing a dress that fit her well and complemented her ample curves and bust.  The makeup she’d applied accented her beauty, a prettiness he didn’t notice before.  But she was no Stacy Starr.

            “Are you excited?” his co-worker asked.

            “You have no idea,” he said keeping his voice steady but just barely.

            “Let’s go!  I wanna stop and get some popcorn and drinks.”

            “Okay.”

            Then she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the cinema pushing people out of her way like they didn’t exist.

****

            The Donut Hole was empty.  With the exception of Josh and Wendy (who was babbling on and on about the movie) they had the place to themselves.

            “Oh and wow!  I still get goose bumps when the Death Star explodes and the rebels win the battle,” she said in a rambling voice.

            “Glazed or with icing and sprinkles?” the bored woman behind the counter asked.

            “Ah, both please,” Josh replied.

            “A dozen?”

“And then when they get their medals… like wow I get so stoked!” Wendy continued.

“Yes a dozen please,” Josh answered the cashier.

He thought about it for a second.  The passion she talked about the Lucas film made him remember his inner geek.  She wasn’t ugly, just a bit overweight.  During the movie he was surprised to see how much they had in common.  She easily grasped the subtle nuances of the film, the character development and many other things he’d long to discuss with someone.  Now he was thinking it was a bit of a shame about Wendy’s fate tonight.

“So what do ya wanna do now?” his date asked.

I’m not sure but I guess I have to go through with it, he thought.

“We’ll go back to my place… you know, to discuss the movie,” he said instead.

“Really?  Oh wow… I wasn’t sure if… oh never mind me I’m still excited about the film.”

He took the box of donuts and paid the unamused clerk.  Wendy stuffed her chubby arm through his elbow and pulled him towards the door.  In his mind Josh decided the faster this hyperactive tub of blubber died the better off he’d feel.

****

            He opened the door and Wendy breezed past him like a charging rhino.  She started an endless series of comments about how nice his place was (he’d been keeping it clean for Stacy), how good it smelled (the candles still cloyingly clung to the drapes) and admiring the view (the neon sign flashing “Tony’s Bar and Grille).  When she saw the bed out in the wide open she turned and gave him a sly grin.

            Oh Jesus, I forgot the part about getting her naked and excited, he thought in a cold rush.  But she’s worth it… Stacy is worth it… isn’t she?

            “Want a donut?” he asked closing the door.

            She followed him like a faithful mutt.  He set the box on the table when she hugged him from behind.  Wendy started talking in fast, halting words.

            “Ever since the first time I met you I knew somehow we were destined to be together,” she began.  “Everyone makes fun of you at work but I defend you because they can’t see the real you.  I see tenderness, compassion and a strength of character most guys don’t have. J-Josh I’ve l-loved you from afar for too long.  Tonight I’m going to show you how much.”

            W-what the fuck? he thought.

            “Now you know how I feel about you,” she said.  “I can’t believe we’re alone together… finally alone at last.”

            “I can’t believe it either,” he replied.

            “I’ve wanted you so bad… I can’t fall asleep without dreaming about you.  This is the start of all sorts of new dreams.  Don’t you think so?”

            He nodded his head and tried not to say it would be more like nightmares instead.

            She nuzzled his neck, he wanted to run.  Not to flee from her but because why she was here.  The terror welled up inside of him and icy fingers began to caress his heart.  He started to say they needed to leave—to go someplace else and talk about this.

            Wendy reached down and caressed his crotch, he forgot about the danger.

            “I want to try something,” she said, her voice thick with desire.  “I’ve been fantasizing about this for ages.”

            She spun him around and kissed him.  Her tongue invaded his mouth and he found himself responding.  He could feel her breath, taste the popcorn on her tongue and hear her soft moans of excitement.  Something bumped against his backside.  It was the box of donuts.  Her hands reached down and undid his belt.  She greedily kissed him while she undid the button on his jeans.  He gasped when his zipper was tugged down.

            Wendy’s hand was now on his cock.

            He always imagined his penis would retreat into the safety of his abdomen, going internal to escape her fat clutches. But instead his shaft actually rose in her tender grip.  She pushed her heavy bosom into his chest a silent plea for him to touch her.  Confused he was barely aware he was squeezing her large ass with both  hands.  She groaned in his mouth.

            Her mouth departed his and she winked at him.  There was a rustling behind him and then she produced a glazed donut and licked her lips.  She slid it over his cock now jutting out of his jeans.  She leaned forward and Josh hoped she could tell the difference between the pastry and his organ.  Wendy began to alternate between eating the donut and sucking his cock.

            She wasn’t bad at it.

            Her mouth was wet and talented.  Her tongue, coated with sticky glaze slid across his shaft.  He reached out, perhaps it was instinct to grip the sides of her head.  She was pulling at her blouse while she ate donut and sucked cock.  The white shirt came off exposing breasts barely contained in an obviously made-to-order bra.  He watched in amazement as she reached back without looking and undid the back.  Wendy’s boobs (double Ds if not bigger) spilled out.  Josh gawked at her huge nipples and his cock twitched in response.  She giggled around his shaft.

            Holy fuck… she’s got one hell of a rack! He mused in a dreamy fashion.

            Wendy ate the rest of the donut and pulled her face away from his crotch.  She scooped up a massive tit in each hand and began to jack his cock off between her meaty globes.  Josh nearly came right there.  Soft, warm and firm Wendy’s boobs milked him.  She caught the tip of his cock (which peeked out only for a nanosecond) and sucked it.  He had to close his eyes from the erotic scene.

            All this time you’ve been shoving her aside but this girl’s got some serious skills, he thought.  She’s honest, loving and is totally into me. 

            She pulled his shaft out of her cleavage and looked up at him.

            “I’m going to rock your word, Josh,” she said tears of joy in the corners of her eyes.  “I’ve waited so long to be with you.  I-I know I’m a big girl—but big girls need love too.  And I’m a bit of a freak.  I-I haven’t been with many guys but I try things on my own.”

            “R-really?” he asked.

            “Sure.  I usually use my dildo on myself and pretend it’s you.  It’s, I mean you’ve been in my mouth, my p-pussy and even my ass.  Now I get to feel it for real.”

            “I don’t know what to say…”

            However his heart was beginning to speak to him.  It spoke of ignoring a real woman, with real honest feelings for an electronic fantasy or images on the computer screen.  Suddenly he knew how stupid he had been acting.  Sure she didn’t have a figure like a porn star but her open and honest love for him transcended her physical appearance.  He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off before he could.

            “Don’t say anything.  If this is just one night I don’t want you to spoil it.  Don’t lie and tell me you love me, just make love to me,” Wendy said slowly.  “If tomorrow comes and it doesn’t work out then at least we’ll both have nice memories of this night.”

            “Wendy I should tell you something…

            “Hush now… no more words.”

            She stood up and took off the rest of her clothes.  Standing in just her panties Josh realized Wendy wasn’t that big.  Oh she had heavy thighs, a bit of a gut and chubby shoulders but she was proportionate.  He found his eyes being drawn to the thick patch of curly hair framing her cleft.  She helped him get undressed.  Then she kissed him.

            He found himself kissing her back with real, honest passion.

            He pushed her onto the table, she spread her legs.  Josh buried his face between her trembling thighs and began spreading the thick folds of her labia.  Her pussy was open, wet and ready.  He tasted her—she was delicious. 

            “O-oh God,” Wendy said in a halting voice.  “I-I’ve never let… Oh. My. God!”

            Josh jammed his tongue into her snatch licking and lapping at her salty-sweet goodness.  He brought up his hand and began fingering her swollen clit.  Wendy’s legs wobbled on either side of his face.  Looking up past her tummy he saw her fondling her own breasts.  She crushed her nipples between her quivering fingers while he dined at her Y. 

            “Oh yes… oh my… I-I’m going to…,” she said in a sobbing, happy voice.

            He dove into her sweltering snatch and licked her like a wild man.  It only took another minute or so before she went into wild convulsions.

            “I’m c-coming!” she squealed her body shaking so hard the table began creaking.

            Her thighs closed around his head.

            “Oh… fuck… oh yes, Josh you’re making me c-come so hard!” she wailed.

            The juices he was lapping up became thicker, like womanly honey.  He didn’t stop until she was pleading with him to let her catch her breath.  Standing up he saw Wendy’s face was scarlet from ecstasy, her nipples (the size of a midget’s fist) standing out like tiny fingers.  He licked and bit each one until she moaned for him to stop.  He loved the sound of her voice.  Josh loved the taste of her.

            He realized he loved her.

            Josh pulled her towards the couch and bent her over it.  Her large ass quivered as she spread her legs.  Looking over her shoulder she wore an expression of fear and excitement.  He touched the tip of his cock to her soaked and spread pussy.  He managed to push in an inch or two before she started speaking.

            “Oh fuck!” she screamed.  “It’s so t-tender… so sensitive!  Oh yes… deeper.  Josh push it in all the w-way!”

            He mashed his hips against her plump ass sinking all of his length into her.  She began pounding her fists against the couch’s cushions and shrieking like a wild woman.   Her butt wiggled and ground against his loins.  The hot smell of her excitement filtered up into his nose and drove him to madness.  He had a rude idea.  He stuck his right thumb into his mouth and coated it with spit.

            She said she was up for anything, Josh thought.

He sank it slow and steady into her puckered anus.

“O-oh God!” she gasped.

“Like that?” he asked.

“I-I don’t know… yes, yes I love it!  Stuff you finger up my ass.”

He did as he was told.  Alternating he plunged cock, withdrew and shoved his finger in while Wendy cried out in pure delight from the double penetration.  He fucked her for what seemed like an hour.  Each thrust made her moan.  Her second orgasm of the night made the couch scoot across the carpet and his ears ring from her blissful screams.  He pumped once, she sobbed for him to stop.  He thumbed her butt and she moaned with pleasure.  Again Wendy looked over her shoulder, her face hot scarlet with unsated lust.

Then she said something unexpected.

“I-I want it… want it in my b-butt,” she said admitting to a nasty, taboo desire.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Y-your cock… in my ass.”

He pulled out and pointed the wet tip against the loosened by still quite tight entrance to her rectum.  Josh had sank about two inches into her when she finally took her next breath.  He saw her sides expand and her bottom begin to shake uncontrollably.  Then she let out a scream.

“Oh. Fuck. Yeah!” Wendy shrieked.  “My ass… so full… so full of Josh-cock.”

He felt his nuts tighten and knew his load was about to be delivered.  Josh began to think this was right.  Wendy and him together, fucking like bunnies and loving every minute of it was just perfect.  The ring of her anus squeezed him—milked him until he could take no more.

He came.

“Oh yes… you did it in my a-ass!” she said happy and aroused.

Josh felt wave after wave of ropey semen spurt out of his cock and shoot into Wendy’s gyrating ass.  He fell forward and wrapped his arms around her.  He took a heaping double helping of tit in his hands.  He douched her bowels until the lay against one another taking in ragged, uneven breaths.

The television cackled to life and Stacy-Not-Stacy began to ooze out of the screen.

Oh shit!  I f-forgot all about this! Josh thought in terror.

Wendy screamed, her ass tightened down so hard she nearly snipped off Josh’s cock.  She tried to back away but only succeeded in burying the rest of his bone in her backyard.

“W-what the fuck is that?” she wailed.  “J-Josh something is coming out of the TV… oh my God it’s a woman… a fucking porn actress!”

“Good work, Josh,”  Electronic Stacy said with a grin.  “Now move away and let me consume her flesh and drink her blood.”      

Josh pulled out of Wendy’s butt.  His cock still leaking semen on the worn carpet of his apartment.  The static-crackling woman advanced through the coffee table.  Wendy was still leaning over the couch, her massive ass still sticking up in the air.

“N-no…,” his co-worker said, her voice a wet sob.

“I need it,” the thing from the DVD said.  “I want to be real.”

“No!” Josh shouted.  “Leave her alone!’

“But you promised.”

“I made a mistake—I don’t want this anymore.  I want  real woman not some electronic duplicate!”

Stacy-Not-Stacy still walked forward but as she reached out for her intended victim Josh yanked Wendy out of arm’ reach.  He thrust out his arms, a living cross displayed to repel the vampire from the TV.

“You’re going back on your promise!” the she-thing said in a horrible snarling voice.

“W-what is she talking about,” Wendy tittered.

“It seduced me… it wanted a victim and I made a mistake,” he answered.  “I thought I loved this… this thing but now I realized how wrong I was!”

“You were going to feed me to that?”

“I made a mistake… please forgive me, Wendy.”

“No more talk!  It’s time for me to eat!” Electronic Stacy said.

She lunged through the couch.  Josh twisted and threw Wendy out of the way.  A sizzling pain shot through his left thigh where Stacy clawed at him trying to disembowel his date.  Four claw-like burn marks were seared into his flesh.  It hurt.  It hurt a lot.  Staggering he managed to get around the couch before falling to the floor.  He watched in horror as Stacy, as naked as Wendy began to stalk the sobbing woman.  His co-worker tried to put the table between herself and her attacker.  But Stacy Vampire walked through it.  She reached for the bigger woman’s torso.

“Now you die and I live!” she screamed in a triumphant voice.

Josh lunged towards the television.  Stretching his entire body length he managed to brush the eject button for the DVD player.  The device’s tongue slid out slowly exposing the limited edition disc.  He reached for it as Wendy screamed.

The disc snapped like a gunshot.  Fragments of it peppered his face and soon his left eye was blinded by blood.  He could smell the iron scent of it.  Josh looked under the coffee table and past the corner of the couch to see if he’d made it in time.

Electronic Stacy screamed.

Wendy fell to the floor, obscured by the kitchen table.

He rose up from the carpet and saw the creature shatter into a million digital shards.  Stumbling to his feet, wiping away the blood in his eye Josh tried to see if Wendy was okay.  He could hear her sobbing and began to pray it wasn’t because she was in pain—or worse yet dying.  Josh padded in a drunken manner around the couch to see if he’d been on time with his last minute save.  Wendy’s naked form was curled up in a ball.  He didn’t see blood but that didn’t mean anything.

“A-are you okay, Wendy?” he asked.

“I-I think so,” she said in a small voice.

“Can you forgive me?  I was so blind—so stupid.  I became so obsessed with a brainless porn star I didn’t realize my feelings for you until it was almost too late.”

She stood up, her breast bobbling as she did so.  Tears were running down her face but he could still see the love in her eyes.  But now it was tempered with suspicion.  He suddenly knew he’d have a tough road ahead to win back her full trust.

“We should get dressed and talk,” he offered up.

“That’s a good idea,” she whispered.

He walked over and encompassed her in a hug warm hug.  She reached out slow and tentative and returned it. 

“I l-love you,” he said.

Josh realized he had tears in his eyes. He made himself a silent promise to do what it took to show Wendy how much he loved her.

****

            Brian Morrison got home to his dingy house.  He lived alone.  He was barely making ends meet and he had just a few dollars left in his checking account.  Today was payday—but it didn’t alter the fact he was already broke.  His boss had berated him for a minor mistake and his mother had called his cell to tell him his sister was getting married and asked when he was.  He hadn’t had a date in two years.  But he wasn’t depressed.

            Stacy Starr’s DVD, a collector’s edition had come in the mail…

Pirating or Lending, you decide.

I recently was introduced by a writer friend about an interview with Neil Gaiman on the subject of Internet pirating of his novels.  Now I’ve always held the belief this was theivery of the highest order.  But after listening to the man talk I began to reconsider my stance on this.  Here’s an article on the interview:

http://www.comicsalliance.com/2011/02/10/neil-gaiman-piracy-lending-books/

Here’s Mr. Gaiman on YouTube talking about it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Qkyt1wXNlI

After listening to this I wondered if he wasn’t on to something.  Morally it’s wrong but still…he’s selling more books because of it.  I began to think about my career as a reader.  I discovered David Edding’s “Belgariad” by buying the first 3 novels at a used bookstore.  Mr. Eddings didn’t get any royalties from it but he did get a life-long fan.  I bought everything by him from that point on.  Stephen King was introduced to me in the same fashion.  Also Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov and quite a few others. 

So is it really bad?  Free sample books from epublishers are all the rage but you only get a very brief taste of the authors who submit to these.  If your site (a publisher’s site) isn’t getting a lot of traffic then it doesn’t matter, does it?  You could put out the very best ebook on the planet but if nobody downloads it or knows about you then what have you accomplished?  Lending books (something everyone of us has done) is a better way to “discover” an author.  I have a free download here on my site, it gets quite a bit of attention.  My sales have increased because of it.  Now I’m thinking of putting it up on Scribd just to see what happens.  Scribd is the largest free download place on the web (or so I’ve heard). 

So is it lending, pirating or something new we haven’t considered?  Think back to how you “met” your favorite authors.   Did you always buy their books or did you discover them at a used bookstore or from a friend or family member?  If Neil Gaiman’s sales are rising in Russia due to free (pirated) eboks can this be something positive?  Do you think $7.99 for an ebook is a bit pricey for a file?  Should epublishers lower their prices?  I’d like your thoughts on these.

Ciao!

Chris

I’m going to piss you off with this…

A certain website devoted to helping authors has put out their annual “readers” poll and listed the “winners”.  Let’s talk about this for a second.  Here are the points I’d like to make before somebody starts calling me a kill-joy. On second thought that label would be fair because that’s what I am.  Personally I call it being “realistic”, but then again I’m a writer and I play with words for a living.   But then again that’s what my detractors say and most of them are writers too.  But I digress….here’s the points:

 The site is for AUTHORS, not READERS.

1. How many readers do you know who bother to respond to a poll?  Most of my readers have no contact with me.  So how would they even know about the poll?
2. Authors are (myself included) pretty much promotional whores (a.k.a. do whatever they can to promote their books). 
3. Authors have family, friends, co-workers and other authors (and editors) with the same publisher who want to help out.
4. I’ve seen NUMEROUS posts on authors & staff’s websites about “please vote for me on the blah-blah-blah poll.”  Not to mention Facebook, MySpace, etc…

Those are the only points I’m currently going to make.  So in the end you must ask yourself this question, “Who is voting for these books?” 

I think you’ve come to the same conclusion I have. 

Awards are nice, good reviews are as well.  But I believe in unbiased (not that anything is totally unbiased) merits.  Yes, I’ve won something like this and that’s why I know of what I speak.  As a test I put something of mine up for voting (on this “reader’s poll” in question but I won’t say what poll or when I did this) and only mentioned it on my blog.  I voted and so did my wife.  Guess how many votes I got.

That’s right…two (2).

Surprisingly enough I placed in the mid-teens.

So the next time you see an author stating how well they did at the polls remember this.  Sales are a better indicator of your book’s popularity… not some contest where you can vote (and everyone in your entire circle of friends, family and co-workers can vote too). That’s why the New York Times Bestseller List isn’t called the New York Times Readers Poll List.  However sales aren’t necessarily an indication of how good a book is (for example; Twlight).  If these people cast ballots in your favor but don’t read (or better yet buy) what you pen then is the contest fair? I’m sure there are exceptions to this rule… but I also believe in fairies, werewolves, honest politicians and other mythical creatures that don’t exist.  Anyway here’s a big, hearty congratulations to all the winners you deserve it.

Sort of.

This brings me to another point.  When asked to write something for an anthology by any of my publishers I can crank one out (and keep my usual high quality) in a matter of a few hours.  When I send it in I get the following comment, “Wow!  We didn’t expect this so quickly and be so good.” 

Why is that?

I’ll tell you why.  Most authors spend their entire evenings (or mornings or afternoons) promoting their current work instead of WRITING.  This has become an alarming problem that usually results in what I call Daily Oppressive Promotional Ergonomics or DOPE. 

You’re a writer don’t be a DOPE.

If you spend more than an hour a day on promotion and not one minute writing then you are not a writer but a promoter.  Stephen King in his book “On Writing” says he sets a word count limit of 2,000 words per day.  Personally I can crank out 2k of words in about an hour.  However I’ll spend another hour or so re-reading it and adding to it but that’s me.  What bothers me is when I see writers blogging, “I made my 5k word count today!” all I wonder is “How many k was worth putting on disk?”

However at least they’re writing not promoting.   

Writers write…that’s what we do.  We shouldn’t become so involved with “getting our work out there” that’s the job of a publisher (a.k.a. a good one I should mention).  If you’re publisher isn’t at least sending out your latest release to 3 review sites, including reviews on the buy page to your book, advertising on genre related sites or giving out suggestions then you have a bad publisher.  It takes money to make money so if your publisher isn’t spending cash to reel in readers, why did they publish you in the first place?  These places bank on you suffering from Promotion Marketing Syndrome or PMS to do their job for them. 

Don’t suffer from PMS…it’s not worth the pain.

Quite frankly I’ve stopped with one of these since I don’t see a future for it.  Plus I’m too busy writing…which is what I love to do.  Promoting sucks, spending time away from family sucks worse and giving 60% of my sales to someone not trying to at least shoulder some of the burden goes beyond sucking.  In fact the only thing worse than an indifferent publisher is a Black Hole (for overall suckage that is).

So don’t get PMS and don’t be a DOPE. Find the right publisher for your work and then move on to your next writing project.  You’ll be a happier, more prolific writer for it. And imagine all the free time you’ll have…scary isn’t it?

 That’s my two-cents,

Chris

 PS By the way I wrote this in ten minute and it’ over 900 words long.  Just wanted to make that point.