Eric’s not home.

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The four of us- me, Ben, Dave and Manny, look for the key to his back door. Ben lifts up a potted, wilting fern. “There we go,” he says, unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. The guys think it’ll be funny to take naked pictures of me and stash them around Eric’s apartment. I’m not sure what’s so funny about it, but I don’t care enough to ask. Eric’s my latest fuck buddy, the other three are in his death metal band.

I sit on Eric’s bed while the three of them argue about how to pose me. When I peel off my jeans and panties, the argument stops.  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snap, “you’ve all seen me naked before. Get over it.” It takes a minute for them to all realize what I mean. Manny blushes and laughs nervously. Ben snorts and chugs a beer.

I agreed to let them photograph me, mostly because they bet I wouldn’t. Ben knows exactly how empty I am and exploits it at every opportunity. It was probably his idea.  I’m not self conscious. I’ve gone beyond that somehow. Dressed, naked. I don’t care either way. I hit bottom five floors ago and I just kept falling. I’ve fucked each of them at least once within the past few weeks. I even fucked Dave right here in Eric’s bed.  Eric said he didn’t care, he even encouraged it.  Crazy seems to be the new aphrodisiac. Continue reading →

Fun stuff from The Dirty Boys reading in NYC

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So much filthy, dirty, fun stuff happened at the latest reading! I read a few sections from “My Girlfriend Jake,” as well as a few pieces from the blog. One new thing we tried was a writing prompt. Readers sent in various prompts and photos, and we picked one by the very lovely Piper. Each of us read our interpretation of the photo below. Here’s mine, and I’ll link to the other pieces at the end. I will post links to the audio as soon as it’s available. This was a hell of a show, so many amazing stories!

 

prompt photo

Writing Prompt:

“Show me your new tattoo, did you get something pretty?” Daddy asked me. I stepped out of my little plaid skirt and pulled my panties down around my ankles and waited for his reaction.

“I see,” was all Daddy said. He frowned and turned away. My heart thudded so hard that for a moment, I felt like I was going to pass out.

“Growing old is a crime, eh?” he said quietly. I didn’t need to translate it for him. I stood very still as he walked in slow circles around me. He stroked his graying beard thoughtfully. He stopped in front of me and crossed his arms in front of his chest. I looked down at my feet, avoiding his gaze. Maybe I hadn’t thought this through as much as I should have.

“Did those boys you’ve been with fuck you better than me?” he growled suddenly.

“No, Daddy,” I whimpered, still not meeting his eyes.

“Did those boys punish you better? Maybe you’d be happier being the fuck toy of someone your own age?” Daddy was so angry, more than I’d ever seen.

“No Daddy,” I trembled. He paced across the room, deciding what to do with me. He stood by the open door for a moment, and I was afraid he was going to order me to leave. What had I done?

Instead, he paced back over to me, grabbing a handful of my hair. “I’ll show you what kind of punishment an old man can still inflict,” he hissed in my ear. Daddy marched me over to the bed and flung me across his lap.

I bit my lip to hold back a smile as his favorite strap whistled through the air. I’d thought this through exactly right.

 

Read Guy New York’s post here.

Here’s Gibson Grand’s interpretation.

And one from Jack Stratton!

 

 

Dirty Boys Reading in NYC on September 7th

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DirtyBoys05

 

Once again I’m heading to New York City and teaming up with the Dirty Boys to bring you an evening of literary debauchery. I’ll have a limited number of copies of “My Girlfriend Jake” available. If you’ve been to a reading before, please note the change in venue. If you’ve never been to a reading before, you are in for a delicious, fantastic, filthy evening.

Excerpt from “My Girlfriend Jake”

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Jake’s laying on the bed, he gasps when I walk in from the bathroom.my girlfriend cover small

“Oh,” is all he says, not with disappointment, but with wonder and delight. “Oh,” he says again, then grabs me by the hips and pulls me on top of him.

I notice Jake’s stubble is gone, he’s baby-faced, smooth, for me. I let him pull the white t-shirt up over my head.

Caressing me slowly, he traces his fingers across my breasts so delicately that it almost tickles. He looks at me, really looks at me, seeing me with different eyes. He runs a warm palm over my curves, lingering over my hip, my thigh.  I close my eyes and remember my first time with a woman, how frightened and excited I was. I was afraid to touch her, I thought I would break her, and this is how Jake is touching me now.

He takes a nipple into his mouth, but he doesn’t bite. The tip of his tongue flutters against me and he sucks lightly, pinching my other nipple gently. I did that to my girlfriend, wanting to love her and hurt her all in the same moment.

At the moment where we’d usually cut to the chase and fuck, he slows down even more. He drifts across my body, kissing and rubbing long neglected spots. I grab handfuls of the bed sheets, writhing under him.

I long to reach up, to take a pair of breasts in my hands, to explore the sweet triangle between a woman’s legs. Rising up, I gently suck one of Jake’s nipples, rubbing his crotch over the top of the panties. Our lips finally meet, and hungrily we kiss.

I spread my legs for him, wanting him to thrust his cock in me, but he doesn’t. Instead he inserts a finger, drawing it in and out excruciatingly slow. One hand rests on my thigh, as if to say “settle in, darling, we’re spending a long time right here.”

It’s been a long time since anyone teased me this long and sensuously. Jake reaches over, grabs my purple vibrator and switches it on. He presses it against my clit, traces around my pussy, everything except inserting it.

I’m losing my mind.

“Would you like to watch me?” I whisper into his ear. Wordlessly, he presses the vibrator into my hand. He’s been asking for this for a long time, and I’ve denied him, wanting to save something for only myself. But now, this moment, it seems right.

The vibrator hums loudly as I crank the power up and thrust it into myself. I’ve only let him see me masturbate once before this, but it was a long time ago. Eagerly, he shifts around on the bed for a better view.

I spread wider, drawing the vibrator in and out of my pussy with one hand, rubbing my clit in slow circles with the other hand. Jake is mesmerized, I catch and meet his eyes, he seems almost embarrassed by the sudden intimacy. His cock pushes against the panties, but he ignores it.

I’m excited by him watching, much more than I thought I would be. I feel the wet spot spreading out underneath me, the tiny splashes as I fuck myself. Jake’s breath is heavy. Maybe a little too theatrically, I thrash and moan, but he doesn’t notice the exaggeration.

“Come here,”  I say softly.

Jake edges closer to me, I take his hand and guide it over the top of my other hand clenched around the vibrator. Together we thrust it in and out of my pussy.

“Kiss me,” I say.

Jake leans over and kisses me deeply. I dart the very tip of my tongue past his teeth and out again. The next time, he catches my tongue and sucks it lightly. We fuck me more urgently, our hands clasped together, slick from my juices. I moan into his mouth, no theatrics this time. He pulls away a little.

“I wanna watch you come,” he whispers. I nod.

Jake sits back, releasing his grip on the vibrator, letting me take back complete control. Faster and faster, I force the vibrator in and out. I let my mind wander to when I used to fuck my girlfriend like this, watching, waiting for the little flexes of tension in her belly, when my mouth would meet her cunt to lap up the juices I made her spill. How I would kiss her, our faces hot and sticky with each other.

“Fuck it,” I hear him say from someplace far away.

I feel Jake take the vibrator from my hand, he’s inside me now, the panties pulled down just enough to release his cock. I’m so wet that his cock nearly slides all the way out of me. His hand grips the hair on the nape of my neck, I reach around and grab his hair too.

“I’m so close,” I gasp, and the words are barely out of my mouth when I erupt.

You know you wanna read the rest of this. Buy it here on Amazon, and don’t forget to leave a review.   In the UK? Buy it here! 

Cover art by the fabulous Yao Xiao.

 

Dream Girl

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When I enter the room, she’s standing in a corner. Why she’s being punished, I don’t know. But I’m glad she is. Black corset, black stockings. Skin as pale as the moon on snow. A cherry red ball gag against cherry red lips. Blonde curls.

It’s the hair that does it.

This is how I know it’s a dream, even submerged under heavy layers of sleep. Blondes are not my thing. When I fantasize, when my eyes follow a woman down the street, it’s always dark hair, short, androgynus. Dark haired pouty butch girls make me swoon, not curls and ribbons and red, red lips. My subconscious has it’s own fantasies.

Oh God. She’s beautiful. Perfect. I walk all the way around her, her bright blue eyes stare straight ahead, never wavering, such a good girl. When I stand behind her, I see her hands aren’t tied behind her back, she’s holding them there, just so. She’s such a good girl that I ache for her in my sleep.

There are little frills on the bottom edge of her corset, barely skimming her thighs. Black on pale. I want to lick that place where the lace touches. I reach out…

Here’s where I wake up, full of wanting. I keep my eyes shut to hold her close. Don’t let her fade, must not let her fade.

I want to bite through the elastic on the garter belt, watch each one snap back in slow motion. Run my hands down her thighs, ease down those sheer black stockings, unwrapping my present like a terrible greedy child.

I want to take those corset strings, and tie them just a little tighter, until I hear that sharp gasp of breath. That’s how I would ruin a good girl like this, centimeters at a time. I’d brush my fingers through those curls, leave a strand or two tickling her nose. I’d be so cruel, in so many little ways.

Panties, is she wearing them? Yes, midnight black, like the corset. Reach around back and yank so the lace edging scratches the inside of her thigh, so the crotch pulls up tight and uncomfortable between her legs. A little pain now to make the pleasure that much more of a treat later.

I’d kiss her around the ball gag, my lips pressed against hers, my tongue teasing hers from the other side of the prison wall. Her lips would strain to kiss me back, her eyes finally focusing on mine. I’d step back because I’m not hers to have quite yet.

Or maybe I am.

Impatiently then, because she’s such a good girl and I hate waiting, I’d slide my hand between her legs, I’d pull those goddamn panties down around the tops of those perfect fucking thighs. I wouldn’t tease her clit, I’d shove fingers in, cram them into her wet and lovely cunt. She’d  spread her legs, tremble, trying to be a good girl, struggling to remember that she had to be good no matter what. And then I’d break her. She’d cry out, muffled by the gag. She’d flinch, moan, and then she’d reach for me, but she’d stop herself, just a little too late.

Her blue eyes would go wide when she realized her transgressions. Then I could really punish her for being such a good, good girl.

A little travel tale

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The only thing I knew about Effingham, Illinois, is that my friend got laid there years ago. He would never give details, other than to say he put the “F” in Effingham, then he’d smile slightly and change the subject. He was a hell of a pool shark, curly hair and mild manners. I imagine he hustled someone good that night and stole the girl at the same time, but I’ll never know for sure.

We pull into Effingham at the end of a long trip to Texas and back. It’s so completely Midwestern: the motel snuggled between Wal-Mart and the freeway, the sign shouts “BEST RATES HERE”. The motel is very burgundy, from the industrial carpeting to the polyester-blend comforter. The room is big, the window frames a terrific vista of the parking lot, Wal-Mart and the strip mall beyond.

There’s one good restaurant in Effingham, where food is described as “organic” and “local”. The waiters and waitresses, young fresh faced Midwestern kids, grew up on McDonald’s, but they’re learning the language of food that costs more than pocket change. They’re earnest, they squint and flip little pages of notes to find out if the cheese comes from a goat or if the beef is grass fed. It’s good, and we stop there every chance we get. Continue reading →

We drive.

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Every so often, Tony and I will drive all night. We’ll drop someone off at their house and keep going. We’ll be hanging out at a party, we’ll look at each other and get up and leave.

And then we’ll drive.

We go off armed only with the prodigious knowledge every country kid has of the back roads; we all know how to get from one end of the county to the other without our wheels ever touching pavement. This is before GPS, before any of us had ever heard the word “internet,” or could even imagine such a thing. There is a crumpled and tattered state map buried under layers of white fast food bags somewhere in the back seat, stains of ketchup and mud obscuring most of the destinations, but we never use it.

We just drive.

Our first stop is the only 24-hour store in town. A weary, frizzy-headed woman in a blue polyester smock rings us up as we load up on Mountain Dew, shitty bitter gas station coffee, chips, candy bars, cigarettes, anything we think will fuel us until dawn. We pay her in dollar bills and count out lots of change. She sighs in exasperation, but takes the pile of quarters and nickels anyway, noisily dropping each coin in its little plastic drawer as we walk out the door.

Tony always takes the wheel. I kick my shoes off, resting my bare feet against the dashboard or out the window, and we go until we feel like turning. Sometimes we’ll come to an intersection and he’ll look at me. I’ll say “How about left?” or if I say “Go straight,” he’ll always say “Remember, it’s always forward, never straight,” and then he’ll laugh at his own little joke.  Continue reading →

A little fantasy

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You enter me first, your hand trembles as you guide your cock into me. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, long enough that you still can’t believe it’s real. Will I feel the weight of him as he slides his cock into your ass?  He pushes into you easily, I feel the tremor deep inside of me.

We rock back and forth awkwardly for a few moments finding our common rhythm. We adjust knees and elbows, and suddenly we’ve found it, we all move as one. You fuck me on the same stroke that he penetrates you. We settle in and go deeper.

I stuff my fingers into your mouth, forcing you to lick and suck them. The sweat rolls off your neck, dripping down onto my breasts, every thrust from him echoes through you. You close your eyes, drowning in the moment.

My eyes lock with this stranger over your shoulder, we share a moment, sharing your body. Our rhythms change, we’re fucking each other now through you. We keep our gaze steady, your body is only an instrument of our pleasure. Do you even notice? Are you so completely lost in all this sensation, his cock buried in your ass, your cock slamming into my pussy?

We move as one enormous fucking beast, the bed creaks and groans against our weight. We pause, untangle, shift. Now you come at me from behind, I’m on my belly. My fingers press against my clit, you lay against my back, each of us only focused on what’s in front of us. You bite my neck, sinking your teeth in as he rams you, his hands clenched firmly on your hips, guiding you into me, guiding himself into you.

Your cock swells, filling me, your thrusts powered by his momentum. My fingers are frantic, I try to keep up. I feel your head raise up from against my shoulder, he’s grabbed a handful of your hair, now it’s the tipping point. All this energy courses through you, you’re coming, he’s coming, I’m coming and we all cry out and shudder and thrust. You’ll turn your head and kiss him deeply, not just for you, but for me too.

“Let me sketch you,” Edward says on one of our first dates.

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We’re in a museum, and we’ve wandered into the children’s wing. Kids are shrieking happily, making giant soap bubbles and pressing big red buttons that light up giant displays of frogs or dinosaurs. There’s an art area tucked in the corner, the only people sitting there are tired parents with armfuls of coats and sweaters watching their children run around the room at full tilt.

Edward sits down in front of a comically small easel, made of sturdy yellow and blue plastic. He tears off the top sheet of paper and arranges several colors of magic markers in front of him. For a long moment, he stares at me. Just when the feeling is getting uncomfortable, he picks up a black marker and furiously begins to sketch. The marker goes dry, he picks up the green one instead.

Within moments, with just a few well placed lines, he’s replicated me in multi-color: the bump on my nose, the loose hair falling from my ponytail. I look beautiful, and it surprises me. I’ve never seen myself through someone else’s eyes before. Continue reading →

The Shower

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I’m weak, still sticky and exhausted from the marathon sex session we just had. Nick asks if I feel like going out to get something to eat. I tell him I’d definitely need a shower first. Just the thought of getting up makes me tired.

He kisses my forehead, says he’ll get the water all warmed up for me. He gets up, I close my eyes and nearly doze off. Soon I hear the water running, the soothing sound tempts me, so after a few minutes, I get up to join him.

I push the shower curtain aside, ready to step in. Nick stands under the water, dark damp curls cling to the back of his neck. The steam is scented with lavender, he’s been using my soap.

Nick steps aside to let me under the hot stream. The spray hits between my shoulder blades and I let out a deep sigh. It trickles down my back, my hips, and converges in a stream between my legs. Nick kneels in the tub, catching the stream in his mouth. He grins up at me and I pat his head.

“Silly,” I say with a lazy smile. I’m still floating high above the clouds in delicious subspace. I feel light, as if I could drift away any moment. Continue reading →