Tag Archive | pseudo-incest

Chapter 1 of “Nephilim”, for your reading pleasure.

I came awake in a white room. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, all painted the same matte shade. The sheet tucked over my body was white. Even the bed’s headboard had been lacquered with white. The only break in the color scheme came from my skin. A moment later, I realized that the the gun-metal grey handcuffs broke the scheme as well. One was snapped around each of my wrists. My arms were spread wide, my hands pinned to the bars; I was naked under the bedclothes. There were no windows and only one door.

I had maybe fifteen minutes to myself, time spent panicking, kicking off the sheet and chafing my wrists, before the man stepped into the room. My kicking had left me exposed, which I immediately regretted.

He was carrying a tray and smiling at me in the way men do when they have a line of bullshit to feed you. Bullshit and oatmeal, apparently. The steam curling from the bowl on the tray smelled strongly of artificial peaches and cream. The cheap stuff that came in paper packets, its weight half flavor powder and half oats.

I tracked his progress to the bed. He sat on the edge, the tray across his thighs, and looked back at me. Bright as sunshine, as if I weren’t twisted awkwardly onto my side with one shoulder straining and my knees clamped together.

Good morning, pet. You slept well?”

Being naked in front of a stranger that increased my sense of vulnerability; I could only imagine that he’d planned just that. Even if I weren’t handcuffed and in a strange room with no memory of how I came to be there, I think I would have still wanted to remain curled up and motionless, protecting myself as best I could. He was dressed well; dark slacks, a buttoned up shirt with the sleeves rolled up onto well-muscled forearms. The contrast between us, naked and frightened versus dressed and comfortable, was chilling.

Where am I?” I squeezed the question through a throat gone tight.

He chuckled. “You’re where you need to be.”

That wasn’t good enough but before I could throw more questions at him, he reached for the spoon on the tray and scooped up a bite of oatmeal. It was presented to me. The too-sweet smell of it turned my stomach.

I set my lips against the offering and the man raised his eyebrows at me. Then he flicked the spoon and steaming hot oatmeal spattered against my hip, my thigh, my waist.

I screamed and bucked against the mattress, twisting my body to try to rub those burning spots against the sheets. It stuck to me like napalm and before I could scrape it all off with my contortions, he was on top of me. His hand closed over my throat and squeezed. With his thumb over my carotid, it took only seconds before my vision began to dance, touched by sparkling points of light. Panic set in; my struggles briefly grew more violent. It was only when I began to black out and stop my thrashing that he let up on the pressure against my neck. I gasped for air.

I could still distantly feel his body pressed against mine. His clothes were expensive; they whispered against my skin without scratching; they shared the warmth of his body. He smelled like aftershave, like upscale cologne; his breath still had a hint of mint on it from his toothpaste. As I sucked in larger breaths, he dipped his head to nuzzle at the angle of my jaw and I picked up the scent then.

When I give you food, little girl,” he murmured, “you eat it. When I give you something to drink, you swallow it.” Teeth scraped at my throat and I heard myself moaning, my voice made hoarse by his treatment of me. “You take what I give you and you do what I say. Do you understand?”

When I didn’t answer him immediately, his hand began to close on my throat again. My back spasmed and I arched up against him. “Yes!” I croaked. “Yes! I understand!”

Good.” He sounded pleased but made no move to get off of me. Instead he began to tease my hair back from my face and returned to nuzzle my neck, my ear. I could feel his erection against my thigh. It was hot and heavy; he felt huge even through the barrier of his pants. I wanted to squirm away from it but didn’t dare, even when he tensed his buttocks and ground against me to tease himself.

You have so many questions, I know. But I’ll answer them all in good time. My time. You’re mine, you always have been, you just didn’t know it.”

His finger pushed at my lips. I resisted it at first, gritting my teeth. But my throat still ached and my head was pounding. The discomfort reminded me of how helpless I was and I relaxed my jaw. The first knuckle of that digit slipped into my mouth, nudged at my tongue. With the pad of his finger moistened, he ran it over my lips to gloss them with my own spit.

I couldn’t help myself; I began to shake.

Shhh,” he murmured, “shh. It’s going to be all right. You’re where you belong, little girl. You’re finally home. Haven’t you always known you were different? You’re so special. So needed.”

He punctuated each sentence with another thrust of his hips. Unlike the choking, that rhythmic pressure was almost gentle. His cock was trapped against the inside of my left thigh and each push reminded me of how close he was to my naked sex. I could feel heat prickling over my skin, washing over my entire body in a wave. Not all of it came from being blanketed by a larger body; I knew I was beginning to react in other ways. Ways I couldn’t help.

Another whimper escaped me.

His mouth found my ear again and his tongue curled around the lobe, as hot and wet as I knew I’d soon be. It was my weak spot, always has been. You can kiss my breasts, my belly, my thighs, even go down on me but I’ll always react strongest to having my neck and ear teased by a mouth. It took everything I had not to squirm but I knew he could feel my trembling anyway. As I tensed my arms and tried to stiffen up to hide it, the handcuffs dug into my wrists and clinked against the bars.

Between kisses, while he dipped the tip of his tongue into the recesses of my ear, the man continued to whisper to me.

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a very old story. A lot of people think they know it but they always get it wrong. They weren’t there, they don’t know. But I was. I was there when it all started and in a way, dearest, so were you.”

His teeth caught at my earlobe and I was surprised into gasping. As he chuckled again, I squeezed my eyes shut. There was no shutting him out though. Not his voice, not his smell and certainly not his weight on me.

Please,” I whispered.

It wasn’t a request but he seemed to take it as one. His hips lifted and pushed against my legs, forcing them wider so he could fit himself between them. Positioned that way, he could line up the trapped arc of his cock against my slit. The hand he’d used to shut off my air slid down my chest and his palm curled over my breast. He was so hot, unnaturally hot. I could feel his palm burning against my nipple; it felt like sunbathing at high noon, except all of that heat and light was focused on a tiny patch of my skin. A sensitive patch.

A long time ago, I was a servant,” he told me as he kneaded the softness of my breast in his palm. “You could say I was made for it. Born for it. There were so many of us. But the one who made us wasn’t satisfied and so he made others.”

The man paused there and pushed his hips forward again. If he’d been naked, the pressure and friction would have been softer against tender bits. Instead I felt his zipper grinding against my pussy lips. It wasn’t my imagination; they’d begun to swell and grow softer. In that state, they offered no protection and eased apart when he rocked against me. This opened up my inner lips to his friction. Worse, it exposed my clit. Its hood provided some cover but as the fabric of his pants caught at me, I could feel it being tugged up. Pushed back, exposing that little nub.

I could feel myself getting wet.

Apparently, so could he. “That’s it, pet. You like this, don’t you? Not being able to move, while I move against you. Ahh…just like that. Yes.”

There was nothing I could do but suffer it. Suffer it, and not answer him as best I could. Not that he seemed to notice. Or maybe he thought all of the answer he needed was to be found in my body’s responses to him. He continued.

Those of us who served first had never seen anything like those he made afterward. They were beautiful. So soft, so tender. Looking at them, it was all you could do not to want to touch them. We resisted for so long but finally we gave into that need. Some of us went to them.”

His hand shifted against my breast. Before I could draw a breath, he’d caught my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I knew what was coming but even braced against it, the pain when he pinched down hard was electrifying. I gasped and bucked against him, trying to escape it, but he bore down harder and harder. Hard enough that my gasp became a whine and then a scream. Such a small thing, to hurt so much. It sizzled through me, through all of my nerves until I couldn’t breathe.

Even when he let go, the ache lingered.

We’d never experienced anything like it. They felt everything so strongly,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “So we went back, again and again. We weren’t as careful as we should have been, but by the time our creator realized what was happening, it was too late. We were no longer innocent. None of us were. And when the children came, we were not inclined to service.”

The story made as little sense to me as my presence there. I didn’t understand it.

Please,” I begged him. I’d started crying at some point; I wasn’t sure when. “Please don’t do this.”

Ahh.” The pad of his thumb brushed over my cheek and then over my lips again, wetting them with the salt of my own tears. “It’s all right. You’ll understand soon,” he said as if he knew my thoughts.

His lips found my throat and the tip of his tongue probed my skin. “When we were discovered, we were punished, of course. Cast out. Some of us decided to protest that, to try to return. Some of us fought to protect our families. He wanted to destroy them because those first children were dangerous. Too big, too wild, too unpredictable…those bloodlines were never meant to be mixed. They threatened everything else that had been made. So I didn’t fight. I took my wives and my children and I found a place to hide. Where we could live in peace together. Or try to.”

The man had begun to rock against me again. To my horror, though my breast still tingled and ached, though my throat was still sore from his treatment of me, I found myself moving with him. Instead of remaining tense, my hips shifted and my thighs softened.

I began to cry again.

They were dangerous. My sons, my daughters. I had to destroy some of them myself. But there were others I could contain and so I did. We lived for a time like that. A family. Then, as my wives grew older and died, I realized that soon I would be left alone, but for these mad, broken offspring. And that’s when it came to me.”

I could feel his smile pressed against my skin, his lips curved, the threat of teeth just behind them.

They were mad and broken because the blood was too strong. My blood. But if they had too much of their mothers in them, they were…less. Weak, bland as unsalted bread. They needed to be refined. A little of their mothers, a little of me. Never both at the same time but with careful breeding…they call it line breeding, these days. It’s a little like forging the strongest steel over generations. And I had the time for that. The patience.”

Mad. Broken. If he was describing anything, it was himself. Anyone who’d steal another person off of the street– or had he taken me from my home? God, I couldn’t remember, why couldn’t I remember?– was going to be insane. But it only hit me then just how insane my captor was. I was being held by a madman who thought he was…what? An angel? I’d never been a regular at church but what little I knew about religion, about old stories, seemed to confirm that hypothesis.

It was not reassuring, to have a hypothesis.

His hand trailed down my neck, my chest, my stomach. I stiffened, thinking he was going to touch me between my legs and gloat over how wet I’d become. He didn’t. Instead, he thumbed free the button of his pants and drew down his zipper.

That was worse than a touch, or gloating. As he freed his cock, I could feel its heat. Its size. It sprang free and drooped against my mound, heavy and unyielding. I imagined I could feel the veins running along it, the way the velvet skin that sheathed its length shifted as he rubbed its underside through my thatch of curls. I’d always loved that feeling, before.

I could feel a part of me still enjoying it on a visceral level. Its texture, its weight.

A madman was going to fuck me and I didn’t dare struggle. Even if I did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He was too heavy and strong, the handcuffs were too tight.

He drew his hips back and the knob that crowned the shaft bumped against the tendon of my inner thigh, leaving a smear of wetness behind it. It nudged my thigh and painted the skin there in pre-cum. Another nudge pushed him against the hollow between my thigh and my swollen outer lip. He paused there, no doubt happy to let me feel the threat. To feel how close he was to my entrance, which felt tight and engorged and absolutely drenched. My clit was throbbing, a tiny but powerful pulse inside of it echoing my own racing heartbeat.

Over the years, I watched over my brood,” he whispered as he leaned onto his elbow and reached down to take himself in hand. He repositioned himself again and began to drag the head of his organ through my slit. From bottom to top and then down again, every time that broad, thick surface caught my clit, I felt myself jump.

The handcuffs chimed again as I twisted my hands and gripped the bars, myself. I didn’t need that restraint anymore; I clung for myself.

I kept them safe. I let them breed with others for one generation, maybe two, and then I would appear and sweep one of my girls off of her feet. You love so easily, all of you. That’s part of your charm.”

He caught my clit again. And again. I couldn’t stop the way my hips were rocking now, to chase that friction. The pain he’d given me was rapidly fading, replaced with pleasure. With wanting. I whimpered to realize it but he had me now. He had me wanting him. Wanting this.

Worse, he had me listening and wanting to hear what he would say next.

My captor didn’t disappoint.

Even as the head parted the fragile tissues of my sex, as he eased himself so carefully into my body, he whispered, “At first, I only thought to make something worthy of myself. A true partner. But as the years went by, so many years, I realized what I was truly doing. I was creating. He had created us but I was creating something new. A perfect being that was more than either of his servant races. Something new, and better than all of us. I could see it, flashes of that brilliance through the years. But it was never quite right. My blood was too diluted, or too strong. I kept at it though…ahhh.”

He paused as he sheathed himself fully within me. I could feel the crinkle of his pubic hair tangling with mine, could feel the silky weight of his ball sack resting against my perineum. When he inhaled, I could feel his cock twitch inside of me and I felt my cunt spasm in answer, clenching around him.

We fit perfectly together. He was large but not too large, thicker than he was long. He filled me completely.

And then he began to move. Now when he spoke, his low calm tones were broken with exertion and arousal.

Haven’t you always known you were different?” he asked me, his voice guttural. It was true, I had. I had always had the sense that I was separate and apart from the people around me. Not for any reason I could put my finger on. It was something that had kept me separate in my life. I was a loner and an introvert, and happy to be that way. But I didn’t answer him. Why encourage his delusions? Everyone thinks they’re different. Special.

Besides, it was growing more difficult to think. I was not a woman who’d ever been able to climax from vaginal penetration alone but as he stroked his full length in and out of my cunt, I began to feel the same tingling tightness that came from having my clit played with. I could feel pleasure gathering between my legs like a knot made by twisting a cord between your fingers.

When I opened my eyes, his were right there, blazing at me. Looking into me. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape him. I began to pant, to make soft mewling sounds deep in my throat. It was too much.

He took it as a signal to quicken his pace and he began to fuck me in earnest, his pelvis slapping against mine. His hand slid from my hip to my throat and I could feel his fingers pressing in. Just a little, just enough to make my vision sparkle again. The threat of losing my air caused me to lift my chin up as I tried to take a deeper breath; he met that movement with a probing kiss.

When the kiss broke, he kept his lips against mine and continued his story. “Fifty years ago, I fucked my daughter, thirty-five years ago I fucked her daughter. Nngh…and now…ah, little girl. You’re going to be so beautiful. So perfect. My perfect little girl.”

His hand closed hard on my neck, closing off my air. I thrashed but couldn’t shake him off. A black fog began to creep into the edges of my vision even as the tension in my belly rose and rose.

Come for me, daughter,” the man whispered.

Unable to breathe, with my body and mind screaming for oxygen, I came in a shuddering splendor for him, squeezing around him with terrifying strength.

Daughter?

At the gripping liquid peak of my orgasm, I blacked out.

 

“Nephilim” now available for you knife-play/bondage aficionados!

Nephilim

This one has been a long time in coming! Nephilim is now live at both Smashwords and Amazon (click on the cover to see it on Smashwords). This isn’t a story for the faint of heart; it takes the concept of transgressive literary erotica and dials it up to safeword. It’s the sort of story that curls my toes and I hope it does the same for you.

Warning: This story is over 10,000 words and contains descriptions of knife-play and erotic branding, kidnapping/bondage, dubious consent/non-con, anal sex, pseudo-incest, and pregnancy. This is a dark, dark story. If you like dark dark, you should be fine.

Description:

“When men began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose. … The Nephilim were on the earth in those days — and also afterwards — when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them.” 

(Genesis 6:1-2, 4; New International Version)

When a young woman awakens in a white room, without any memory of how she came to be there, she finds herself the captive of a cruel but strangely alluring man. Sam, as he calls himself, tells her that she’s the descendent of angels and that her heritage is the key to unfathomable power– if she has the strength to undergo the process of unlocking her abilities. That process tests both her body and her spirit as she is subjected to the highest peaks of pleasure and the most terrible pain that she can imagine. Through it all, as Sam stakes his claim to her very being, she has to struggle with one crucial question: is she being held by a madman or is she the Earth’s last Nephilim?

“Syrinx Debauched” now live! 100% free erotica!

Because I love flash fiction and because my readers are the best readers and because it’s been such a terrific year for me, I’ve published another free story as a thank you! Click on the image to be taken to Smashwords where Syrinx Debauched is now available, and look for it on Amazon.com soon as well! This one is explicit and touches a toe right against the line of what is accepted and what is strongly taboo, so proceed with caution!

Description:

London, during the last years of the seventeenth century. When lovely actress Arabella is commissioned to perform a scene composed by a mysterious gentleman, she looks forward to his patronage and steels herself for his advances. But nothing can prepare her for what will transpire in the empty theater, involving a lustful madman and a chase of Pan and Syrinx that becomes all too real.

“Syrinx Debauched” is erotic flash fiction of more than 1000 words and contains themes of dubious consent, public sex, and feral rutting. In addition to this, you also receive four steamy excerpts from some of the finest erotic stories written and published by Corinna Parr!

 

 

 

Camping with Daddy now at Smashwords and Amazon!

University student Allison has just lost her mother; when her stepfather William asks her if she’d like to embark on the family’s tradition of going on a spring camping one last time, as a way for them to both say good-bye to the woman they loved, she agrees. But when temperatures plunge and William has to act quickly to keep Allison from suffering a nasty case of hypothermia, the two of them realize that their affection for each other has become so much more.

With elements of pseudo-incest, sleeping naughtiness, sex in the great outdoors and emotional conflict, this 8000 word story is meant for adults only– and only those adults who can properly appreciate the taboo!

Click on the image to find it on Smashwords.com and HERE to purchase it on Amazon!

Raw Excerpt – Camping with Daddy

For your Friday reading pleasure, here is a raw and unedited excerpt from my work in progress, Camping with Daddy.

Description: University student Allison has just lost her mother; when her stepfather William asks her if she’d like to embark on the family’s tradition of going on a spring camping one last time, as a way for them to both say good-bye to the woman they loved, she agrees.  But when temperatures plunge and William has to act quickly to keep Allison from suffering a nasty case of hypothermia, the two of them realize that their affection for each other has become so much more.  With elements of pseudo-incest, outdoor sex, sleeping naughtiness and emotional conflict, this is a story meant for adults only– and only those adults who can properly appreciate the taboo! Look for it on Smashwords and Amazon this weekend!

After Ally went to bed, William sat up for another couple of hours. It felt good to be out here, sitting in front of a fire and watching the stars wheel by overhead. His exchange with his stepdaughter had left him smiling and feeling reassured that maybe she didn’t want him out of her life entirely. Over the years, his fondness for her had blossomed into a deep and quiet love. It would have hurt to lose her too. Time wheeled by as he went back through his memories of the past several years.

It was only when he realized that his breath was fogging in front of his face that it struck him how cold it had become. The fire had burned down and the stars looked as if they’d dipped down towards the little camp to say howdy. He shivered and poked at the fire to make sure that it was safely banked, then stood to go to his tent.

Before he went in he cocked his head and listened. At first it seemed the little clearing was completely silent but after a moment, he thought he could hear something. The shudder of nylon, the click of teeth chattering together. Allison was freezing. Thoughts of sleep were pushed from his mind as he stepped close to her tent and listened again. That was definitely chattering teeth.

“Ally? Sweetheart?”

She didn’t answer but he heard the breath shiver out of her and his hand went to the tent’s zipper.

Freezing and fast asleep. He pushed into her tent and was greeted with the sight of a poof of blonde hair sticking out of the top of her sleeping bag. It was cold but William was used to that. He’d been coming out here for years now and was accustomed to the way the temperatures could dip. But they’d had pleasant weather on the last few trips, and while he’d made certain his stepdaughter had a good sleeping bag, he realized she might not have packed night clothes that could withstand colder temperatures. That suspicion was confirmed when he put his hand out to shake her into consciousness and the sleepy co-ed lifted herself up onto one elbow. In the gloom, he could see the gleam of one pale shoulder, completely bare but for the tiny spaghetti strap that curled over it. A  tank top, better suited to spring break in Cancun than here

“Wuh?” Her voice was muzzy and shaken by the shivering that wracked her body. William winced. She needed to be warmed up.

He climbed into the tent and zipped the opening behind him. Allison gave a little chatter of agreement and disappeared into the sleeping bag again. He could see the fabric shivering as she shuddered from the cold and it made him move quickly. He had to climb in there with her but there was no way he’d fit, dressed as he was in warm, bulky clothing. William stripped off his sweater and shimmied out of his pants. Leaving both his socks and his boxers on, he tugged at the opening of the sleeping bag to make room before squirming in behind Ally.

It was a tight fit, the bag hadn’t been designed for two people, and it was an icy fit besides. William felt as if he were wrapping himself around an icicle. As he curled his arms around the young woman and slipped his knee over her thighs to enfold her in the warmth of his body, he realized why she was so cool. His bare knee slid over equally bare skin, though hers was infinitely softer and smoother than his own. The fool girl was wearing that tank top and either panties, or just a very brief pair of shorts. It was an outfit that would get the pulse of any female-loving male going, in a normal setting. In this one, he felt a brief pulse of frustration with her before her almost violent shivering triggered worry again.

“Shhh,” he soothed as he pulled her back snugly against his lean chest, “shh, Ally. We’re going to get you warmed up, just try to relax, I’m here.”

She made a soft sound of complaint and shifted against him, trying to press in closer. Her squirming was pushing her hips against his crotch. William lowered his head and found himself with her soft hair tickling his nose. She smelled of sweet things: vanilla, fresh-baked bread, a hint of lemon. He tensed his arms around his stepdaughter and drew a careful breath. If she weren’t so cold, it would have been unpleasantly intimate in the confines of the sleeping bag. He felt himself flush.

Fortunately Allison didn’t seem to have come fully awake and had no concept of what her cuddling was doing to him. Will took another deep breath in through his nose and tried to ignore the stirring in his groin. He closed his eyes and thought of ice, of glacier-fed springs, of snow-capped mountaintops. He thought of Samantha, mother to the young woman in his arms.

It took longer than it should have to fade but eventually Allison’s shivering ebbed and William drifted into an uneasy sleep.

His dreams were of his late wife. They had honeymooned in a small bed and breakfast, never leaving the bed and having the breakfast delivered up each morning. In his dreams, they were twined together under the bed’s canopy of white gauze and William was exploring the curve of Samantha’s neck with his lips. He came to the bend where neck meets shoulder and let the tip of tongue drag over her skin. She tasted of vanilla, of fresh-baked bread. When he touched his teeth to her, her breath caught and she rocked her hips back against him, meeting his slow forward thrust.

It was exquisite, the way the soft inner flesh of her thighs gave way around his cock. He could feel the heat and moisture of her sex reaching for him. It would take only a slight adjustment of his hips to begin feeding his length into her but he held himself back from that. It was like fucking oiled satin, working himself back and forth between her legs, teasing himself and his wife with that slow, measured friction.

He held his breath as another careful thrust buried him between her thighs. He felt himself twitch. He could come like this, with the dome of his cock peeping out from the juncture between Samantha’s legs. Her buttocks were sweet and firm against him, flexed slightly from her own excitement. Feeling those deep muscles tensing led him into a shorter thrust, one designed to catch Sam’s clitoris.

She sighed and pressed her thighs together, trapping him there. The increased pressure wrapped around his shaft made the need to move imperative. William almost groaned at the way her body pulled at him when he began to draw his hips back. This thrust would finish him, he couldn’t hold off any longer…

But the blanket was tangled around them and he couldn’t move. He was throbbing, desperate to plunge forward but couldn’t get the space he needed. William shifted and made a sound of complaint.

And that was when he awoke, wrapped in the sleeping bag with Allison in his arms. It had grown warm– no, hot– while he’d slept. Her body was sweet against his, sweet and firm…

Now titled “Sharing a Sleeping Bag” and included in Forbidden Skin!

In the Works

Hello, internet! And a special hello to my international readers. This week has been a fruitful one for visits from all over the world. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? People from places I’ve seen only in books and television are popping in to have a peek.

Special thoughts go out to those in Indonesia who’ve been hit by not one but two immense earthquakes. I hope you’re safe and well.

A brief update here, it’s been busy and I haven’t written as much as I would like, but I’m a thousand words into my next story and working on nailing down the setting and plot points for another one. The rest of my free time has been spent playing with cover art, which continues to be a source of fun and inspiration. It almost makes me wish I’d gone to school to study graphic art but I admit I’m probably happier being self-taught.

Current story in the works is Camping with Daddy (the alternate title is Pitching His Tent because it is an option that makes me giggle. I probably won’t go with it though since the story elements are a little more somber), which will explore the beginning of a pseudo-incest relationship between a step-father and his step-daughter, following the death of his wife and her mother. I’m going to be dipping into themes of grieving, conflict, bonding…things common to everyone, I think. And of course, spiciness between the two, as temperatures dip in the mountains and they’re forced to huddle together in a single sleeping bag to stay warm.

Nephilim (past title, The Angel’s Child) has been submitted for Eden Connor’s transgressive erotica anthology. I’m proud of how that one turned out, and with how much I wrote for it. Not quite ten thousand words, but close.

The other story I mentioned, the one still being plotted out, is titled Wetware Dreams and is going to combine post-apocalyptic and cyberspace settings. How? Stay tuned to find out!

Craving the Crop has been selling like mad this past week and a half. It’s broken all of the previous records for my story sales and continues to do well, which is heartening. It really isn’t my strongest piece of writing, I have better works out there, but it’s captured readers’ fancy and I’m glad for that. I hope you’re all enjoying it!

And because I feel like showing off a little, have some cover art! If you have a favorite, let me know!

My Lover, My Brother now live on Amazon.

I probably wouldn’t have been so determined to publish this one if it weren’t my very first naughty (step)siblings story. I finished it the very day PayPal brought the hammer down on Smashwords.

So, to see it up in lights on Amazon…that feels oh so good. I feel like doing an erotica-themed victory lap! Which will sadly have to wait until my gentleman returns home and is available to, ah, pace me. Ah well! Until then I will bask.

Click here to grab yourself a copy!

Smoking hot Lauren has returned from her first year of University wanting to catch up with her beloved step-brother Ryan. She’s caught off-guard by the sparks that fly between the two of them when Ryan spies her skinny-dipping in the pool. And when she stumbles across her step-brother in a compromising position with an old high school acquaintance during a lakeside bonfire party, Lauren realizes that resisting her perverted desires is a lot harder than it should be!

Warning: This erotic short story of over 7000 words is intended for adult readers only! Expect strong language and explicit scenes of consensual sex between two unrelated adults.