Archive | September 2012

“Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts” now available on Smashwords and Amazon!

Flash: A Collection of Erotic ShortsIt’s finished! Whew! You can find it for sampling or purchase on or Smashwords now!


A TV anchorwoman is abducted and held captive by a mysterious man who professes feelings for her, but who seems to draw strength from her suffering. As the last days of high school trickle away, a geek gets lucky in the back of his friend’s car. Two strangers play a game of exhibition and arousal on a crowded subway train. A young wife pleads for her husband’s job with the manager of a taxi company, and ends up buying his cooperation with her own body.

Flash is a collection of four short stories, together totaling over 6000 words, that showcase erotic topics from sweet to spicy, pleasurable to painful. Whether you prefer to savor slowly or consume all at once, there’s something for everyone in this erotically charged collection.


Progress! Also another excerpt.

Guess what’s finished? That’s right! Flash is done! Mostly done, at least. I need to do some formatting work on it to figure out how I can add a table of contents without slapping on “Chapter One”, “Chapter Two”, etc., in front of each mini-story’s title. And then I’ll need to sneak that by the meatgrinder at Smashwords.

I can do this. I think.

Once I have that done, I can return to working on Sweet’s Dove, which is turning out to be less about dear Lucy meeting the laconic Sweet and falling in love, and more about Lucy’s own evolution, from the time she enters Judge Taylor’s household, to her joining the Boston bordello, The Graces. And then, hopefully, she will move out West to fall in love with Sweet, because stop hijacking my stories, brain. I had this one plotted out! Now you’re changing it!

On the bright side, it looks like this will mean a longer story and it also means I get to dip into some of my favorite erotic subjects, such as forced sex, attempts at forced orgasm, and dubious- and non-consent. Right now I’m in the middle of a scene where Judge Taylor has gotten his sweaty hands on some French tintypes to demonstrate to Lucy the proper oral technique.

Things are going to get steamy.

Seriously, check it out:

He held in his hands what looked like a large deck of cards. “I have brought you a present, Lucy.”

The Judge had only ever given me torment; I could only view any gift he might offer with wariness. So I remained silent and waited for him to fall on me. Instead, he sat beside me on the bed and spread the stiff cards so I could see their faces.

They were not cards after all but tintypes, wrapped in paper mats. The soft brown images were not the stiff portraits I was accustomed to seeing, but rather showed women in assorted poses, with varying degrees of nakedness. As Judge Taylor sifted through the pile, I was subjected to the sight of fleshy breasts, rounded bellies, gracefully curved and raised arms, with thick thatches of hair in the creases of each body.

I caught my breath and shut my eyes but he would not have it– I had not seen everything he wished me to see. His hand closed on my shoulder and pinched hard until I was forced to look again.

There, directly before my nose, was a different portrait. A man was standing naked below the waist, his shoulders and head cropped from the image. He possessed the same instrument my master had wielded on me, but his was inserted partially into the mouth of the girl who knelt before him, her hair unbound below her hips. Her eyes were closed, as I wished mine were, and there were words inscribed in the corner, fancy and flowing words. I, who could hardly read English, knew them to be in a foreign language. French, I supposed. It was known that the French were the most degenerate of the races.

“Do you see, Lucy?” The Judge shifted his hand from my shoulder to my chin, as if to help me direct my eyes. There was to be no glancing away; my entire field of vision was filled with that obscene coupling.

I thought I could detect, even in dull shades of sepia, the glimmer of moisture that her mouth must have left on that organ. I had never seen one so clearly and was grateful for the blurriness of the image– or I tried to be grateful. Beneath the thin cotton of my chemise, I could feel a heat gathering, the prickle of sweat or worse where my thighs pressed together. Traitorous body, to react to this. I could only hope that the Judge took my stiffness for disapproval.

“Do you see?” he repeated, and released my chin to seek the hands I had folded nervously in my lap. Seizing one, he pressed it to the buttons of his trousers. Before I could close my fingers against him, he had shaped my palm to the thickness that grew beneath. “Take me out.”

I knew better than to protest. Fumbling one-handed, I undid the buttons that kept the thin wool fastened and parted the layers of his underclothing to expose his flesh to the open air. And, because I also knew he expected it of me, I let my fingers curl loosely around his shaft. I tried to ignore the delicate weave of veins against my skin but every time he twitched with excitement, they printed themselves against my palm and fingers.

His hand returned to my shoulder and through pressure, made it clear he expected me to kneel as the girl in the tintype was doing. Oh God, I thought, save me from this indignity. Save me from this, and don’t punish me for the water filling my mouth. I cannot help it, please.

(See? I told you so. Look for Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts very, very soon!)

“In the Back Seat” – A Piece from Flash: The Collection!

Flash: A Collection of Erotic ShortsI’ve been talking about this one for weeks and weeks– a collection of erotic flash fiction for your reading pleasure, with subjects ranging from voyeurism and exhibitionism to S&M to sexual awakenings, everything from sweet to sharp. Flash: A Collection of Erotic Shorts will be ready for publication next week but I thought it was high time I posted a little something to whet the appetite!

So do please enjoy this full sample of  one of the pieces in the collection, “In the Back Seat”. It’s still in the revision process so some of the details may change in the final version, but have fun taking a peek behind the curtain!

In the Back Seat

Her name was Amy Lin, and she was out of Evan’s league. The fringe of her black hair was dyed pink and she had a little silver piercing in her nose. Evan was lanky and soft from too many hours in the basement in front of his Xbox. It was plain to see that they shouldn’t be out together.

But Evan’s friend Steve was in a band, and had a girlfriend, and she wanted someone to talk to on their date. So she’d brought her friend Amy along, and Evan’s friend had brought Evan, and now Amy Lin was sleeping against his shoulder in the back seat of Steve’s hand-me-down Impala.

Steve and his girlfriend were in the 7-11, trying to buy more wine coolers. By the light from the store windows, Evan could see down Amy’s Riot Girl tank top; her breasts rose and fell beneath a black satin bra. She wore cut-off jeans that showed most of her thighs, ripe and prickled with sweat from the summer heat. Evan thought of the peaches under the misters in the grocery store.

Her breath cooled and tickled his neck each time she exhaled. She smelled of cinnamon.

Evan tried to sit calmly, as he thought he should. He forced himself to look straight ahead, through the windshield at the shoppers in the store. But there was still her scent, her warmth, the soft sound of her breathing. He could think of nothing else.

With a murmur, Amy shifted in her sleep. She turned her hips and put her leg over his thigh. Evan’s erection rose until it strained the crotch of his jeans.

Her knee was right there. He had to calm himself.

“Are we home?” Amy mumbled.

Evan held his breath, then said, “We’re at the 7-11. Steve and Mandy are inside.” He swallowed. “They’ll be back soon.”

She hadn’t moved away. Her breath still curled against his neck, more quickly now that she was waking.

“Mm.” For a moment Amy said nothing, then, “Have you and Steve been friends long?”

“Since middle school.”

“That’s funny. He’s so into music.” And Evan wasn’t. He wondered if he should be offended, but Amy Lin was stretching her back, and her knee brushed the head of his cock through the denim.

“Well he wasn’t always.”

Amy moved her leg over his, absently, nudging his cock again.

“What did you use to do together?”

The touch of Amy’s knee was electric. Evan struggled not to move his hips. Without thinking, he said, “Dungeons and Dragons.”

“The nerd game?” Amusement.

“Yeah. The nerd game.”

“I should tell Mandy.”

Evan sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. People are different when they grow up. In a couple of weeks we’ll all go off to college and we can close the book on high school.”

“Mm… it doesn’t sound like you’ve had a lot of fun,” she murmured, close to his ear. He found her amusement hard to define now. Amy’s smooth, bare thigh rubbed back and forth over his, just slowly enough to be unconscious, but Evan was almost certain that she was rolling his erection under her knee.

He drew an unsteady breath. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Dungeons and Dragons is a great game.”

Amy Lin giggled. “That’s not what I meant,” she whispered. And then she licked Evan’s earlobe into her mouth.

Evan’s hips would have come up out of the seat, but she held him down with her leg wrapped over his. While she chewed on his ear, Amy opened Evan’s jeans, pushed her hand inside and jerked the shaft of his cock until he was panting, eyes tightly closed. Her fingers were surprisingly strong. His organ trembled but he fought the fierce rush of excitement. He’d never been with a girl before; he didn’t want his first time to be coming on Amy Lin’s hand.

Then she took his wrist and guided his hand to her waist. He found her jean shorts unbuttoned, the teeth of her zipper open halfway down. Trembling with excitement, Evan put his hand between Amy’s legs; he felt the taut satin of her panties, then her stiff, black pubic hair, and finally the convolutions of her sex like some humid and alien flower.

Amy bit Evan’s earlobe so hard it hurt, then eagerly mouthed his neck. He tried rubbing her pussy and marveled inwardly at the way she made his fingers wet, the way her perfect hips jumped every time he stroked her close to her curls. She began to breathe quickly and finally whispered between kisses, “Oh… oh fuck…”

Suddenly she pushed Evan back and wrenched down his underwear until it made a snug band beneath his balls. His cock sprang up, swollen and beaded with pre-come that glistened like dew in the fluorescent light from the convenience store. He had no time to be embarrassed before Amy’s mouth fell on him.

It was exquisite. Her lips sank down his shaft and then she dragged them back, touching every inch of him, leaving him slick. Amy’s pink hair shone every time her head bobbed up between the front seats.

Evan saw her hand in her panties, squirming under the satin. The wet sound of her sucking was broken by feminine moans that quivered around his prick.

It was too much.

Evan’s body arched. His face contorted. One hand clawed the air wildly over Amy’s head, never quite grasping her hair. He shoved his hips against her face. Evan gave a deep groan; his cock bucked and spewed hot into Amy’s mouth.

When the spasms eased, Amy Lin sucked him clean.

Then she sat up and flashed him a wicked little grin, fastening her jean shorts. After a moment, with fumbling fingers, Evan did the same.

Neither of them spoke.

At last Evan said, “So. Where are you going to college?”


“In New York?”

“No, the other Columbia.”


Steven and Mandy came back without wine coolers. Amy Lin never talked about what had happened, but on the ride home– in the summer dark– she held Evan’s hand.

He never forgot that.



The Perpetual Challenge Machine

The machine being myself.

Once again I find myself slaving away on two pieces at once.

The flash fiction collection is coming along nicely; the third piece in the collection is now done, and one or two more pieces of flash will finish it. So far I have “Hemline”, “Sacrifice” and “Backseat”.

I will let you draw your own conclusions from the titles as to what the contents might be! I do know that short fiction isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I choose to see each as one might a truffle in a box of chocolates. They’re bite-sized, perfect for a nibble, and there’s an art to capturing an entire scene in less than a thousand words. A challenging art (ah ha, you have discovered my post title scheme), but it’s an enjoyable challenge. Hopefully a collection will be meaty enough to gain the approval of readers.

I’ve also started working on a historical erotic romance with an early title of Sweet’s Dove. Set somewhere after the Civil War, a soiled dove agrees to become a mail order bride for a gold miner in eastern Oregon. She’s determined to play the part of an unsullied virgin to escape her sordid past. Unfortunately, as often happens, that past catches up to her in the form of a former employer whose mistreatment of her is what led to her employment in a brothel. Complicating matters, her new husband, a laconic man who has a reputation for extreme violence in town, takes one look at her and refuses to consummate the marriage– leaving Lucy hurt, frustrated and more than a little offended.

I’m imagining that Sweet’s Dove will be a longer offering, perhaps even my first novella. It all depends on whether I can rise to the challenge of breaking the habit of eight months of concise writing without stumbling into the bad habit of padding a story with fluff.  When I sat down to write earlier, I poured 1200 words onto the page without breaking a sweat before life interrupted, so who knows! I might do it!

After these are done though, I think I’ll put the challenges on hold. Probably. Maybe. I do have ideas for a number of other stories that might not be as tricky to write. College co-eds seducing each other’s fathers (I do love older men), a woman kidnapped by a Faery Lord who’s adapted to big city life, a girlfriend who talks her boyfriend into helping her explore her deepest, darkest fantasy…

I need to find a way to write in my sleep. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.


Twelve Sentence Saturday!

Mackayla over at Mackayla’s Book Reviews is hosting a Twelve Sentence Saturday and I thought I’d join in on the fun.

Confession: I am a blog hop virgin! You don’t have to be gentle but remember the importance of foreplay and don’t be shy with the lube!

I chose my 12 from The Nymphomaniac’s Pillow Book 2.


With the light from the hallway filtering in behind her, I saw the same half-smile on her lips that she always wore. Then I lost sight of it when she bent down and set her mouth against mine.

In that first moment, the kiss was no more intimate than any kiss shared between friends. A kiss of greeting held more heat. I think she made it so to keep from frightening me, not knowing that I craved such things, every minute of every day. I took what she offered then and as the pressure of her lips on mine lingered, I learned the unique softness of a woman’s mouth. The fragile warmth, the delicate weave of her skin brushing mine, the tender give of flesh to flesh.

And then her tongue, oh, just the tip of her tongue as it teased by my lips, its shape asking me to open to her. A request rather than a demand, a sweet caress of heat and moisture and the first taste of her. Mint and salt and living breath washing over my tongue as my lips parted around that tendril of flesh, as my tongue brushed around hers.

This is the other difference between men and women: while Joanna kissed me, deeply and truly, she did nothing else. As if there was nothing in the world for her but my mouth beneath hers, the sharing between us of sensation. 

(If you’re intrigued, you can find the rest at Amazon or Smashwords for further sampling or purchase for only 99 cents!)

The Nymphomaniac’s Pillow Book, Part 2, now live on Smashwords and!

Fresh off the virtual presses! Click the cover for its page on Smashwords, or here to be taken to its page on

In this sequel to The Nymphomaniac’s Pillow Book, our narrator’s sexual journey continues. Free of her parent’s strict control, she experiments with exhibitionism and voyeurism, enjoys her first sexual encounter with another woman and then tumbles into bed with two others– after suffering the pangs of jealousy and physical frustration from listening in to their passionate lovemaking.

This erotic short story of almost 6000 words brings together classic sensual poetry and a woman’s thoughts and feelings about her early bedroom romps; her reflections capture the best of both the physical and the emotional.


Wait, what? (Recess #6 on Amazon top 100 list!)

I tweeted about this when I first noticed it but I thought it was worth a blog post as well, and I’ve finally found a few free moments!

So, while I was paying attention to things that were not erotic (you know, like the job(s) and the kids and the cats and oh god all of that laundry; why can’t you be sexy, laundry?), Recess decided to sneak onto the Top 100 free erotica list on

For serious. Have a look, it’s right there at number 6 (or maybe 7, it’s been fluctuating back and forth but mostly it’s at 6).

There I am, sandwiched between authors like Selena Kitt and Delilah Fawkes (she who led me to look into self-publishing erotica! Although she doesn’t know it because I’m shy; if you ever read this, Delilah, thank you!).

Let me say that again: I am on an Amazon top 100 list with Selena Kitt and Delilah Fawkes, two women who support themselves writing erotica. We  are in the top 10, eight months after I published my first erotic story. Okay, so are a lot of other people, and sure, it’s just the free stuff, but holy shit!

(No more profanity, I promise, I’ll save it for the next story! No more parenthesis either, honest, cross my heart.)

I spent about an hour and a half on the phone to my mother the other night exchanging “holy shit!”s with her, both of us squealing like co-eds with the quarterback’s hands in our panties. And I know that may seem odd, using an analogy like that when referencing one’s mother, but you have to understand my mom grew up in the 60s in California. I bet you a dollar she’s reading this and cackling.

Okay, maybe not. Sorry, Mom! No more schoolgirl analogies!

But she was right, when we finally stopped squealing and started actually talking, that this is just the beginning. The start of a life spent doing what I’ve always loved to do.

Why am I rambling on? Really, this is just a long lead into a HUGE thank you to those who have read my stories. I thanked you a few days ago and I meant it; I mean it even more now. You rock, every single one of you. With that sort of encouragement, how can I do anything other than continue writing?

Maybe next I’ll tackle putting more effort into marketing!

Okay, maybe not. Author, know thyself.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.

Look for The Nymphomaniac’s Pillow Book 2 later this week! I’ll be pricing it at $0.99!