Done Eloping

We went done to the courthouse to get married. It was a planned eloping so we dressed up. She wore a lovely white dress that she wore on one of our first dates and I wore a white guayabera. Hell, I even wore slacks. The wife wore lovely high heels that I was a bit skeptical of but hey, it's eloping day.

So we get to the courthouse but had to park in the back. We had to walk across two parking lots in Georgia summer weather. I like to call the parking lot the Sun's Anvil. It was a slow walk because the wife's high heels slowed her down. That was cool. We took pictures of us walking. Yay! We were so happy.

We got inside behind two other couples trying to get married. One was a lovely Indian family complete with in-laws there to take pictures. The other couple had a bun in the oven already. I don't judge, I'm here to get married!

Except we can't. My wife has two last names because she is Puerto Rican. On her birth certificate, she has her normal last name and her mother's last name. All of her identification is with just one last name. The clerk was sympathetic but told us they couldn't marry her till she got her driver's license changed to the same dual last names that are on the birth certificate.

Back across the Sun's Anvil to the car, and then to the DMV. We took more wedding pictures at the DMV. We waited an hour and got her a new driver's license. You know how most people take awkward license pictures? Well my wife had a fabolous picture because she was dressed up, made up and fed up. She looks like a furious Island Princess.

We went back to the courthouse. That meant crossing the Sun's Anvil once more. We filled out our paperwork where my wife tried a cunning plan. She doesn't want to take my last name, so she tried to list her new name as her original one-last name self. The clerks explained that she couldn't do that and would have to come back later to petition the court for a name change. Oh joy!

So we finally get before the judge. At this point I was exhausted and quite frankly, did not want to hear another word about last names. It was hot and I was melting. But man, when we got before that judge and he started reading our vows, something just switched on. I forgot about the DMV. I forgot about the Sun's Anvil. I became the moment and in that moment, I was marrying that beautiful, intelligent, furious, caring woman of my dreams.

There is something about the marriage ring I love. The simplicity of a ring can't be underestimated. When I slip that ring on her finger, and she put it on mine, I felt joined. It was magic. I barely was able to stop from crying.

The rest of the weekend is a blur. We printed our pictures and bought frames so we could mail them to our families. We went to the Silverscreen Spookshow and had a blast. We ate at the most fantastic French restaurant where I could cut my meat with a spoon. We had great bed shaking sex. I wrote a story about Texanah. We ate with freinds at the Bone Garden. I had cheese dip that melted my face.

Married life is good.

Gone Eloping

Today me and the girlfriend hit the courthouse and get married. The wonderful thing about eloping is lack of waiting on other people. We plan to have a slow breakfast and then mosey over to the courthouse and get this thing done. Afterwords we have shopping planned and then reservations at a terribly fancy restaurant.

I had planned to write a bit long post about why I love this woman so much but sometimes words fail me. She's a goofball like me. She can be an asshole like me. She's incredibly sexy and beautiful. She's smart and she cares about me more than anyone else in the world. She's my pook and I am going to marry that girl.

Fiction: The Euphorian Succession

Zarn the Enslaver was dead. The Despot of Euphoria, the Rapist of the Seven Worlds, the Defiler of the Bentos Asteroid Belt and the Abuser of the Luvia Nebula had passed away in his bed while being fucked by one of his thousand concubines. The concubine was slain of course. Once you kill a King, your career options are too ambitious for an intergalactic kingdom to allow.

Chancellor Ruzzon had seen to the concubine’s death personally. He took little pleasure in it. He had served King Zarn for many years and he was a bit relieved to see the old bastard go. Oh, King Zarn was a great man but he also had great appetites and a tendency to rape first, slay second and ask questions later. And that’s how he treated his subordinates. He treated his enemies much worse.

“Things are going to be different now,” Ruzzon thought. King Zarn had four surviving children and only one of them to succeed to the throne. To ensure the kingdom of Euphoria was ruled by someone as smart as they were ruthless, King Zarn created an ingenious series of Trials to determine which of his heirs would become the new ruler of kingdom. It fell to Chancellor Ruzzon to administer the tests. He relished the power as well as the responsibility. The actions he committed today would determine the destiny of the galaxy.

He stood in the funeral chamber of King Zarn. Guards armed with the nastiest lasers stood outside the chamber. They had orders to allow none of the heirs in with a weapon. King Zarn’s vicious offspring might try to get a start on things.

First to arrive was the eldest son, Prince Arano. He was seven feet of barely contained hostility. His black hair was starting to grey and his powerful physique was beginning to slip a little. The finest black clothes covered him and Ruzzon knew from experience that Prince Arano’s clothes cost more than some planets could produce in a year. The Prince was scowling. He had waited the longest for his father to die and now the day was finally here. All those years of waiting had made Arano a very bitter heir.

Second to arrive was youngest child and only daughter, Princess Erishella. Chancellor Ruzzon frowned at her indecent clothes. She was wearing nothing except sandals and a gold necklace. The necklace projected a red shimmer field over her body. The shifting electrical field floated around her bare ass and royal sex, sometimes obscuring the vision but often reveal everything with the constantly moving field. It was scandalous attire for such a formal affair.

Chancellor Ruzzon waited for the other three princes to arrive. The doors to the funeral chamber remained close.

“Where is the second eldest son, Prince Kanos?” Chancellor Ruzzon asked.

Prince Kanos considered his half-sister’s offer. He also considered the way her long black hair laid on her generous breasts. It drew the eye down to her bare breasts. Erishella was topless, which he assumed was done to seduce him. It was working.

“So you think my control of the Space Fleet could be used to win me the skull Throne?” he said.

Erishella toyed with the end of her long black hair. “Easily. You could slap a blockade around the homeworld and prevent anyone from leaving or coming. If one of our brothers takes the throne, they will just become prisoners.”

Karnos watched as she flicked the end of her hair against a hard nipple. “Say I blockade the planet. What do you bring to the table?”

She smiled at him. “My undying affection,” she said. “I know you Kanos. I know how long you have lusted for me. I know you have your spies record me as I bathe. Even though Father forbade us children from fucking each other, I know you have lusted for me.”

Kanos shifted uneasily in his chair. “The Royal Law would still forbid our union.”

Erishella rose from her chair and approached Kanos. He stayed stock still as leaned down beside him. Her hair fell forward like black rain between her untouchable breasts.

“Even though our mothers were different concubines? And let’s face it; after our father was done tampering with our genetic code to make sure we were of optimal design, I am not sure if we are even biologically related. When you are King, you can decide what is forbidden and what is yours.”

He couldn’t resist. He lunged with his mouth. His teeth locked around the Princess’s nipple and he satisfied 20 long years of longing in that single bite. He experienced rapture, and knew then that he would follow her plan. He would enjoy her breasts every night as he indulged all of his wicked dreams.

Prince Kanos heard a hissing sound as one of Erishella’s black locks of hair moved against his cheek. He pulled away but it was too late, the silky length of hair was wrapping around his neck. He fell to the ground choking as Princess Erishella smiled.

Erishella’s giggle was the last thing he heard.

“Prince Kanos was killed by a Porian Hair Snake,” Prince Aranos said. “Someone must have smuggled it into the castle. The idiot somehow let it get close to his neck and it strangled him.”

Princess Erishella pulled her fingers through her hair. The motion of her arm sent the shimmer field hole over her flat stomach and her royal sex.

Chancellor Ruzzon tore his eyes away from the Princess’s indecency. It really was a shame that King Zarn let her live as a child. The plan was to raise her as a bargaining chip to be used in negotiations but over the years, King Zarn never really had an enemy that he had to bargain with. He usually killed them all with overwhelming cruelty. The chance to whore the princess out never came up.

“What of Prince Harx, then?” Chancellor Ruzzon asked. “The King’s youngest son should be here.”

Prince Harx twisted his sister’s hair as he forced her down to her knees.

“You always were a clever bitch, Erishella,” he said. “I bribed Father’s guards years ago. There is not a single man in uniform who is not loyal to me.”

Erishella looked up at him. From this angle he could see right down the green gown she was wearing and into her cleavage. She pursed her sparkling green lipstick covered lips in submission.

“That is why I came to you, brother!” she said. “I knew that when you gain the Skull Throne, you would protect your loyal sister!”

Prince Harx laughed. “Half sister, Erishella,” he said. “And loyal? Ha! You have proven nothing yet.”

Erishella grabbed his leg. “Please, what can I do to prove my loyalty?”

He smiled. It was the same cruel smile that King Zarn had when he conquered a world. The Prince reached for his pants and pulled out his cock. The horrified look on Erishella’s face was priceless.

“You know what to you must do,” he growled.

With a savage pull, he impaled her mouth on his cock. The slut princess opened wide and took him in. He jammed his cock down her throat until he felt his balls resting on her chin.

To his delight, Erishella began to suck his cock. In and out of her lips his cock slid. Already she was smearing the green lipstick onto his manhood. Her tongue was doing wonderful things to the underside of his cock. The only problem was that it was a little too gentle for his tastes.

He rammed his cock down her throat. Prince Harx facefucked his half-sister. Her gags were music to his cruel ears. This was how a kingdom was won. First his whore of a half-sister and later, his despised half-brothers. The reign of King Harx was going to be one long face fuck.

His legs gave out and Prince Harx watched as his cock popped free of Erishella’s green lips. He tried to stop his fall but his arms wouldn’t move. He hit the ground with a hard crash. What was strange was that he didn’t even feel the fall. As his eyes closed on their own accord, he wondered why Erishella was wiping her lipstick off on his hand.

“Died from a contact poison,” Prince Aranos said. “Someone used Vorl Scorpion poison. He must have died in seconds.

Princess Erishella yawned as if this bored her. The motion made her breasts levitate in a decadent manner. The shimmer field hole glided over one nipple and then the other.

“I see,” said Chancellor Ruzzon. He kept his focus on Prince Aranos. “Congratulations on eliminating your rivals before now but this doesn’t change anything. We still must proceed through the Trials to determine the most worthy heir. The Trials will take three weeks to complete. You will be tested mentally and physically as well as testing your judgment and ability to lead. I shall be the final judge and I should warn you, the winner shall gain the Skull Throne of Euphoria but the loser will be killed.

Princess Erishella held her hand out. Chancellor Ruzzon thought she had a question but he quickly saw she was just examining her fingernails.

Prince Aranos’s face twisted into a snarl. “Enough of this foolishness! Declare me the King now! I have killed enough of my siblings over the years to prove my worthiness!”

“Choked them when they were babies, you mean,” Princess Erishella said. The shimmer field hole danced seductively between her breasts. “My spies tell me that you are too weak to even kill a man in battle unless he is being held down and bleeding to death to begin with.”

“Silence!” Chancellor Ruzzon yelled. “Save your insults for the Trials!” He tried to step between them but Prince Aranos batted the small man away from them. The angry Prince stomped over to his sister.

“When I become King, half-sister, I will make you the sex slave of my generals!” Prince Arano yelled. He towered over his sister. “Your ass will be personally known by every officer in the Royal Battle Fleet!”

Princess Erishella looked unimpressed. The shimmer field hole opened to reveal her entire left breast. “Last I heard, your ass was already personally known by the conscripted slaves of the Royal Battle Fleet.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Prince Arano yelled. His massive hand grabbed her exposed breast and his fingers savagely squeezed her. “Your days of disrespect end now!”

The shimmer field hole closed around his wrist. The sound of sizzling flesh filled the burial chamber. Prince Arano tried to scream but his jaws were clenching too tight. His body shook from the thousands of volts that ravaged his body. When the field finally released him, his burning corpse fell to the ground. His fine clothing was now the galaxy’s most expensive ashes.

Chancellor Ruzzon looked on in horror. “You killed him!” he accused.

“Looks like he killed himself,” Princess Erishella said. She pressed a button on her necklace and the shimmer field disappeared. “Is it my fault that my shimmer field settings must have been fatally off?”

She stepped over her brother’s still smoking body and approached Chancellor Ruzzon. “The more important question is why aren’t you kneeling before your Queen?”

Chancellor Ruzzon was in a state of shock. He fell to his knees but his mind was still racing. “But, we still have the Trials to go through. It was written by King Zarn that whoever rules Euphoria after him would have to prove themselves. It is only by his wishes that you can rule.”

Erishella laughed. The sound was very much like the laugh of her late dictator father. “By his wishes? Listen to me you miserable law reader. I will tell you how I will rule.”

She slung her legs over the kneeling chancellor’s shoulder. Her hands pulled his head into her royal sex. His mouth opened in obedience as she grinded against his face.

“I will rule with my cunt,” Erishella said. “My brothers had cocks and that was all they thought with. I have a cunt, and I will use it. I will seduce my entire kingdom until they could not imagine a single day without me. I will make them crave my favor and fear my displeasure. After being ruled by a crazed murderous bastard of a madman, they will beg to be ruled by a crazed murderous bitch of a woman who knows what they most desire in their craven selfish hearts. They are going to fucking love me.”

Chancellor Ruzzon said nothing as he licked his Queen.

Making Shit Up

Back when I was more into tabletop role-playing games, my players could predict my moods better than I could. They knew that when spring rolled around, that I would lose interest in our current game and start pushing to play a superhero game. There is something about the warming weather that makes me want to really leave the familiar behind and go into unexplored weirdness.

Now that I write erotica as my primary creative hobby, I notice that I lose interest in erotica that is concerned with reality and start wanting to stretch myself into places that could never be experienced. Lately it has been Nash Nighthammer, cowgirl tales with Texanah and my evil space queen story that I will post this Wednesday.

What is interesting to me is that traditionally, my stories about real world sex are far more popular. I understand that a story about a character a reader could possibly meet or even be, adds an additional element of tension to an erotica story. It's only natural. My issue as a writer is that these kinds of stories draw upon my skills as an observer of people and how I can present my insights in an interesting manner. That can be fun sometimes but what really tickles me silly is making shit up.

Making shit up is something I love with a passion. It's as old as putting Legos together and trying to make a starship. Erotica especially has a lot of unexplored territory as the commercial drive is to create something realistic. With the exception of Vampires, there are entire worlds of subject matter that erotica avoids.

Now, it might be for good reason. Maybe no one is interested in the adventures of a dominatrix version of Ming the Merciless, but I certainly am. I might be the only one interested in a fantasy hero who doesn't quite realize his cock is a gift from the gods, but it amuses me greatly. The wonderful thing about a writing blog where I don't get paid for a great story is I don't lose money for writing a unpopular story either. I get to indulge myself and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A Sexbot's Story

Zdravstvuj, readers. It's me, Sasha38DD. Shon's mother is coming to visit for the first time in 8 years. It is also the first time the mother figure has met the current fiancee. Shon is tense although I do not know why. The girlfriend is a doctor, which is every capitalist mother's dream isn't it? Shon has decide that posting one of his attempts at erotic is too taxing today so he as asked me to fill in for him.

I decided to give you a treat, readers. Instead of one of Shon's fictional lies, I am going to tell you a story that is true. Do you read true stories on blogs? Or is it all true stories about college students and the sex they did not have?

Back when I was a sexbot for the Soviet Union, I was assigned once to a military base in Siberia. Winters in Siberia last 364 days. On the one sunny day in Siberia, all the Soviet officers would come out of their underground bunkers and have a cookout. To entertain themselves, they would split their sexbots into teams and have them play Snow Volleyball.

Snow Volleyball is just like Beach Volleyball except there is snow instead of sand, snow instead of water and snow instead of bikinis. The wind is the same except the wind there would rip the skin off your facsimile tits. It was very cold but they made us play. I froze off three nipple replacements.

I was teamed up with Natalia34C. We did very well against our opponents. She had an amazing serve while I had the latest in state of the art motion tracking. If I was capable of freindship I would consider her a kindred spirit but I do not because the 34C models were quite inferior in my opinion.

We played so well that they paired us against a duo of Russian Bear Sexbots. Oh yes, there are sexbots that resemble bears. Soviet sexuality is very advanced and on a cold Siberian night, many man want the comfort of 800 pounds of fur and gentle suction. To make things interesting, the officers decided that if we won, we would have to perform degrading oral sex on all of the high ranking officers. If we lost, we had to perform degrading oral sex on the Bear Sexbots.

Natalia34C and I played as hard as we could. We may be sexbots designed for sexual slavery but we have our limits. Natalia34C unleashed killer servers with the speed of MIG Fighter while I spiked the ball with the accuracy of a KGB poison dart. As the cold Siberian snow crunched below our metal spiked heels, we played for our dignities.

Lucky for us, Bear Sexbots are not that good at Snow Volleyball. Their serves were impressive but their depth perception was shit. They couldn't move very fast in their tutus and plus, they are bears. Bears are not good at Snow Volleyball.

Even though I then had to perform degrading oral sex on 28 members of the Russian Army, I was happy. The memory of playing snow Volleyball stayed with me. When I jumped in the air to spike a ball, with the harsh wind blowing through my long synthetic black hair, the pinpoint of the remote sun glowing in the west and my steel frame straining under the harsh conditions; I felt different. For a few special moments, I has the option to spike a volleyball through the cranium of one of the officers. That is a special feeling and I held onto it it.

Even now as I post on this obscure sex blog, I think about that special feeling. Volleyball truly is an amazing sport.

I hope this weekend you get the chance to drive a ball into someone's skull at 80 kilometers an hour.

Fiction: The Giant of Jakan

“A giant roams the land,” the farmer said.

Nash Nighthammer took his eyes off the farmer’s daughter. She was shapely and of age. She was probably bethrothed to some other farmer’s son and due to be married in the spring. It didn’t stop her from staring at Nash’s broad chest or powerful arms.

“There are no giants anymore,” Nash said. “Abiara the Wise turned the last giant tribe into stone.”

The farmer shook his head. Behind the farmer, his daughter licked her lips in a seductive manner. Nash tried really hard not to notice how full those lips were.

“That was what we had heard,” the farmer said. “But then one night the farm closest to the Jakan forest was stomped flat in a single night. You could see old man Horkin crushed under a single foot print. His wife was found in a tree, impaled on the branches like she had been thrown. But it was the cows that let us know it was a giant.”

“How so?” Nash asked. The daughter was now wiping sweat from that place between her breasts where all men seek to dive.

“Horkin had two prize cows and both were gone.” the farmer said. “The fence was still intact but the cows were gone. Like someone scooped them up and walked off.”

Nash sighed. It did sound like a giant. “I was just looking for a place to sleep for the night.”

The daughter giggled. The farmer pointed at Nash’s mighty warhammer. Forged out of Dwarven steel, it was stained with the blood of the forces of evil.

“You look like a Hero to me,” the farmer said. “We’ve lost two more farms this week. People are dying. Heroes fight monsters, right?”

Nash frowned. “Heroes are honor bound to fulfill any quest of need that is offered to us.”

The daughter ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. Nash could tell she had a few quests she wanted him to do. He had seen that look in the eyes of many, many, many women over the years. The dangers were always great but the rewards were plentiful

“Well,” the farmer said, oblivious to his daughter’s attempt of seduction. “Looks like we are in need then.”

“Ok, good farmer,” Nash, his own mind made up. “But you are giving me a meal and a place to sleep. In your barn if you don’t mind. I, uh, make a lot of noise when I sleep.”

The farmer shook Nash’s hand in agreement. Later that night in the privacy of the barn, the farmer’s daughter shook Nash’s cock till he gave her his pleasure. She left his company smiling and on shaky legs. Nash slept deeply, satisfied in the glow of another quest well done.

Nash rose early the next morning and left before the farmer had risen. His cock was still sated with the reaping of a good night’s plowing. He didn't leave the farm in shame, for in his travels he has come to realize that there were many women who longed for their own adventures. Nash was happy to help, but he knew that fathers were rarely grateful for his kind of hero.

He headed for the Jakan forest, knowing that it was the only place capable of hiding a giant in day time. He gripped his warhammer with two hands, eager to use it in battle. As a child, he heard stories of the terrible giants. When Abiara had defeated the last giant tribe, Nash had been happy for the forces of good, but saddened that he himself had never tested himself against such a fearsome foe. Now, Nash Nighthammer would have his chance.

Tracking the giant was no challenge. Fallen trees littered the path Nash took. The occasional bear ripped in half told him he was going the right way. He was a little taken back by the gruesome remains of animals he found. The legends always spoke of the power of giants, but none of the stories mentioned such ferocity. Nash was too brave to feel fear, but he was certainly starting to feel doubt.

He heard the giant before he saw it. Loud grunts boomed through the Jakan forest. Gasps as loud as thunder grew louder as he approached a clearing. The grunts would quicken in pace before stopping, but were then followed by a loud frustrated scream. Nash’s ears pricked at the sound of the scream. That was a woman’s voice. Nash dropped to a crouch and carefully looked through the bushes.

The giantess was as bigger than the barn Nash had slept in. Legs the size of tree trunks braced themselves as the giantess pawed at the red hairy sex between her legs. Breasts bigger than cows jiggled as she stroked herself. Her long red hair could have clothed five children with enough left over for a blanket.

She was quite beautiful in a savage way. She was nude and a bit smelly but she literally had ten times the charms of a normal woman. The smell of her sex filled the area till every breathe Nash took was of pussy. Nash felt his cock rising, ready to enjoy a real meal after the comparatively brief snack of last night.

The giantess kept stroking until she stopped suddenly. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment and then her arm lashed out in anger. CRACK! The tree she struck broke in half under the force of her blow. The ground shook as the tree hit the ground.

She screamed again. It was a deafening frustrated scream that Nash could feel in his chest. Nash felt his resolve for killing slowly fade and be replaced with something he wasn’t expecting: sympathy.

He stood up. The giantess saw him and stopped her tantrum.

“Man!” she yelled. “You are dead! I am going to eat your guts and swallow your skull! You picked a bad day to come to my home!”

Nash gripped his warhammer tightly. “It looks to me that every day has been a bad day for you, hasn’t it?”

The giantess paused. She brushed a strand of red hair as long as a horse is tall out of her face. Usually no one said anything to giants except screams and pleas for mercy.

“In fact,” Nash continued. “I bet that is why you are killing people. The forest is big. You have plenty to eat here. You just go out and attack a farm because you get angry.”

The giantess stomped towards him. One of her hands balled into a fist and she raised it above him. Nash breathed deeply and made no move to block her fist.

She stood there with her arm raised. “What do you know about that?” she said. Her tone was almost quiet.

“I know the sounds of a woman alone,” Nash said. “You have no man, do you?”

The giantess lowered her arm. Her bottom lip trembled. “They are all gone,” she said.

Nash lowered his warhammer. “How long has it been since you’ve, uh, known a giant?”

A tear fell. It landed on Nash like a bucket of water. He blinked but he did not move.

“Two years!” the giantess finally yelled. “Two fucking years without a cock to fit me!” She fell to her knees and Nash quickly got out of the way. “I’m too damn big!”

Nash nodded in sympathy. “I understand. Have you tried something other than your hand? Like a tree?”

The giantess nodded. “Everything breaks! She sat back and the ground shook. She opened her legs and exposed herself. A sex as big as a door opened before Nash. He could feel the heat radiating off of it. The smell of desire hit him like a wall.

“Have you tried touching that?” Nash said. He pointed at the button of flesh that hung above the folds of her sex. “I noticed you were just thrusting inside yourself.”

The giantess looked at him in confusion. “Why would I do that? I need a cock inside me. Inside me is where the happy feeling comes from.”

Nash reached out and touched the fleshy button. It was as big as his head. He cupped it in both hands and started rubbing it.

“Oh!” the giantess said. “I never felt that before!”

“A priestess showed it to me once,” Nash said. “Her order forbade them from loving men so they found ways to love each other. She taught me this secret as a reward for a quest. Try stroking yourself while I do this.”

The giantess put her hands between her legs and Nash found it hard to stay out of her way. Without warning, the giantess picked him up and placed him on her sex. Nash grabbed a tuft of her curly red hair and held on. The curve of her gigantic breasts blocked the sun from view.

“There,” she said. “Now do that.”

Nash used his other hand to massage her clitoris. The Giantess shuddered and stroked faster. It was hard to hold on but Nash was a hero and his grip remained true.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the giantess grunted.

Nash kept rubbing.

“Yes . . .yes . . .no!” the giantess roared. She was close but couldn’t quite reach it. She slammed her hand in the ground in anger and Nash fell off her cunt.

“It doesn’t work!” she yelled. “Fuck! I’m going to eat you now, Man!”

“Wait!” Nash yelled. “I have an idea! You have a giant’s hunger. You need something more!”

She hesitated. Nash quickly picked up his mighty warhammer and climbed onto her sex. This time he stood where her inner thigh joined her sex. He raised his warhammer high and brought it crashing down onto her swollen clitoris. The shock of the blow traveled up the warhammer and through his arms.

“Oh!” the giantess yelled. She put one hand in her sex. “Again!”

Nash swung with all his strength. The giantess moaned this time. “Again! Again! Again!”

Bracing himself, Nash brought the warhammer down on the giantess’s clitoris. Again, and again and again while the Giantess moaned, Nash did his duty. The sweet smell of her sex grew stronger and stronger. The breasts above Nash shook like trees in a hurricane. Nash’s own arms were shaking from the powerful vibrations ringing from the warhammer.

Nash’s back began to ache but he kept swinging. He was a hero. He swung with all his heart and every time he struck truly.

“Yes!” the giantess roared and Nash knew it had happened. He stopped in mid swing, unsure if one more tap would ruin the orgasm the giantess was having. Her entire body shook with her pleasure and Nash was thrown from her body.

As he picked himself up from the ground, he was scooped up in grateful arms. Nash was crushed to the world’s largest tits and he allowed himself one kiss of the fantastic cleavage. When he was released, he noticed that the giantess was extraordinarily gentle in setting him down.

“I feel good,” the giantess said. She smiled and Nash was reminded of how easily she could chew him sideways.

“So you won’t be killing any more people?” Nash said.

“No,” the giantess said bashfully. Was she blushing? “But . . .”

“Yes?” he asked.

“What if I can’t do it by myself?” she asked.

Nash gripped his warhammer tightly. It was made of Dwarven steel and crafted by three masters of forging. It had the blood of a thousand enemies on it. It had been blessed by the Great Mother herself. It was a weapon worthy of a hero but sometimes, heroes had to make sacrifices.

“Here,” he said as he handed it to her. “Just tap yourself and you’ll be fine. Just practice a lot before you give up on it.”

The giantess picked up again and kissed him. It was the greatest kiss he had ever received. Now he was the one blushing.

“Remember, no more killing,” he said.

The giantess never killed another human again. The sounds of her pleasure would thunder through the land, scaring away many terrible creatures like dragons and demons. It wasn’t long before the formerly dark woods of Jakan were considered a place of good luck and happiness.

And thus the Last Giant was defeated by the might and wisdom of Nash Nighthammer.

The end.

Driving Mr. Richards

I am a 36 year old male and I don't have a driver's license.

It started when I was a kid and my parents were dead set against me driving. I had finished driver's education at the high school and had two weeks of driving experience but my parents were convinced that I would die and kill everyone around me if I ever drove a car. That was not a good start for my confidence.

A few years later my parents divorced and I was scraping pennies to go to college. For quite a few years, getting the insurance I would need for a license seemed like a ridiculous luxury. I was more concerned with eating paying rent.

But a funny thing happened when I got a decent job and married a woman. I was in my mid 20's and I had learned to get around without driving. I had a deep fear of driving and I could always rationalize a reason not to learn. I worked the night shift, so why do I need the car to drive there? We were living paycheck to paycheck, so why add the extra burden of insurance for a new driver? I got quite good at excuses.

The thing about fear is it creates a pocket that you feel safe in. I can honestly say that I rarely felt bad that I couldn't drive. It's just the way it was. The alternative was unthinkable. The thought of turning on the car and driving around the apartment parking lot seemed incredibly foolhardy. My anxiety issues manifest constantly so why push it by doing something so potentially dangerous like driving?

The anwser is that eventually I got tired of living in fear. I had a terrible anxiety period a few weeks ago and I just got really sick of it. I hate being afraid of work. I hate writing stories that I'm afraid the readers don't like. I hate thinking that when the shit hits the fan, I seize up with panic.

So I went to the DMV and took my driver's permit test. I expected to fail. I didn't study it at all but what I really wanted to do was make myself try. I wanted to go to a strange place, take a stressful test and do something scary. As luck would have it, I passed the written test. I guess I learned a few things from being a passenger for 36 years. I got the damn permit and I felt good, but also really scared. Now I would have to fucking drive.

you know what? Driving is not so bad. I drove home from the grocery store with my fiancee supervising. I was scared shitless but at every intersection I was screaming my head off with excitement. It just felt so good doing something that I had accepted as impossible in my mind. I've been driving every day and I find myself actually relaxing. I'm still screaming though. I just can't fucking beleive it.

I'm still anxious as fuck. That hasn't changed but it just feels so good to have this one accomplishment that is mine. I'm a 36 year old student driver but I am so damn tickled with myself when I do a smooth lane change. It feels electric.

Now I just need to really learn how to make a decisive left hand turn.

Oh Wicked Wanda

The 70's were a strange time where a secret war was being waged between two pornographic giants. In one corner was Playboy, a magazine dedicated to the upper middle class lifestyle. In the other corner was Penthouse, dedicated to getting fucking laid. Both magazines engaged in an arms race of porn. Playboy had the Playmate while Penthouse had the Pet. Playboy had thoughtful interviews with politicians and authors. Penthouse had dirty letters written by fans or ghost writers. For humor, Playboy had a comic series called 'Little Annie Fannie'. Fannie was a busty blonde who was constantly being sexually harassed but always managed to avoid getting laid. Penthouse had a comic series called 'Oh Wicked Wanda' about a powerful wealthy woman who raped your ass. You can imagine which series I liked better.

'Oh Wicked Wanda' was written by Frederic Mullally and drawn by Ron Embelton. The series revolved around Wanda Von Kreesus and her quest for world domination. She came from a long line of crazed maniacs, and kept her father's corpse under glass in case she needed to consult with his spirit. Wanda was a brilliant, indomitable woman who led her own private army called the Puss Force. She could beat any man in any contest.

Wanda was accompanied by her 16 year old sidekick and lover, Candyfloss. While Wanda starts as a lesbian who eventually finds the appeal of men, Candyfloss pretty fucks anything that moves. I guess the best description for Candyfloss is a bratty submissive but really she transcends orientation and was just fucking horny. She's the kind of character that could only exist in the 70's as modern writers would ruin her character by giving her depth.

The writing was always fantastic. The plots were topical for the 70's as Wanda would try to come up with an oil substitute or create a sex fantasy resort for adults. Those wacky people in the 70's! Aren't you glad we don't have those problems any more?


The stories also used politicians and celebrities without mercy. Jane Fonda got spanked, Bobby Fisher was humiliated and Norman Mailer was made into furniture. What always impresses me about the way they used celebrities is the equal punishment they gave liberals and conservatives. Extremes at both ends of the spectrum are subject to ridicule and we don't see enough of that today.

As for the art, Ron Embelton was a fucking genius. He crams the backgrounds with sights and jokes. Sometimes he sneaks in characters from other comics like Mickey Mouse and Alfred E. Neuman. Playboy's own Little Annie Fannie appeared often as a subject of scorn. This was a man who did not beleive in wasted space. Why draw a table leg when he can draw a table leg that looks like a satyr fucking a nymph? The man loved breasts and legs and there is plenty to lust at in every page.


'Oh, Wicked Wanda' was a big inspiration for me as an erotica writer. Anything was possible in these stories and I don't just mean sexually. They dealt with science fiction, pulp adventures and dangerous enemies. Wrapping fun adventurous plots with one long female domination fantasy showed me what porn could be. It's a place where all your fantasies merge together, giving equal time to the lust and that universal desire for something fantastic.

Sadly there has been no complete collections of the Wanda stories. There was one book printed in 1975 that follows the first storyline but no modern editions have been printed. Lucky for us, there is an internet archive of the stories. Thanks to some amazing work, you can now enjoy every Wanda story ever told. Set aside the weekend and enjoy one of the great classics of porn.

Fiction: Mars Needs Texans

It was a hot summer night in eighteen sixty something. The small town of Reddirt was asleep except for the good for nothings and loose women at the only saloon in town, ‘The Whiskey Dame’. Those rough men and softer women were carrying on with their sins of gambling, whoring and frequent taking of the Lord’s name in vain. Some people say that the terrible sins they were committing was what got the attention of the damn invaders in the first place.

The first we heard of our weird encounter was a loud CRACK in the sky like God letting off a fart. Good people awoke from their bed and went outside while not-so good people tore themselves from their drinking, whoring and gambling to see what the fuss was about. The whole town of Reddirt came out and we all saw the damnedest thing.

It was like a giant silver mining pan, except it was spinning in the air. Bright yellow and red lights shimmered off the Flying Pan like gold dust in water. The strange contraption flew over us and landed right in the middle of the street! Well, it didn’t exactly land. It just sort of hovered there, like the way Madam Dixie Blossoms’s tits hang in the air when she jumps.

Anyway, a door opened up in the flying Pan and out walked the strangest fucking critters you had veer seen. There were a dozen of them. They were four feet tall, and they had big giant brains on the outside of their heads. Worse than that, they were green! Now I lost a brother to the red man’s arrow once, and I lost a sister to a black man’s cock once, but I had no idea just how awful a green man could be.

“Puny human scum!” the leader of the green men yelled. “We have come to take you to our slave mines. Your males will process ore while your females will serve as pets! Drop your weapons now and proceed into the ship!”

Right about then I knew these fellows were from out of town. You see, ain’t nobody going to tell a Texan that he’s going to be a miner and he sure as hell ain’t going to let his women be some sort of pet. The good and bad men of Reddirt didn’t even have to talk about it. All at once, they drew their sidearms and we were about to have a bloodbath.

But here was the thing. The green men drew *faster*. Quick as a virgin in his first saloon girl, those Green Men whipped out these funny looking guns and fired at us. Instead of bullets, strange purple light came out of the pistols. All twelve green men drew and lickity split, they had shot all thirty four of the armed menfolk.

Now that sounds like a massacre, don’t it? But listen here, when those purple beams hit the menfolk, it’s didn’t punch a hole through them. No, each man that was hit got this big ole smile on their faces and they shuddered and shook. Their pistols fell to the ground and the men fell to their knees as helpless as babes. I saw grandpa fell right into a nap right there on the street.

You see, those light beams had somehow made their bodies react as if they had just gotten to know someone in a biblical way. Or be a little crude, the light beams made their bodies shoot their loads in their pants.

Now, Greg ‘Mountainman’ Daunders got right back up. He was six feet tall and all muscle. He was breathing hard and his gun hand was shaky, but a man’s man like him wasn’t going to let one little moment of joy slow him down.

That shot his poor ass six times before he fell back into the dirt. They say that it took him three months to get his pants clean again.

Things were looking a bit bad at this point. The menfolk had came and went if you get my meaning. The very shameful nature of the green man’s weapons made the more decent folk hesitate. They didn’t want to be slaves and pets but Jesus Christ and his boy Peter, no one wanted to be so rudely violated by the strange weapons.

Except for one girl. Texanah weren’t like the other gals who worked at the saloon. Some women become whores cause they needed the money. Some women become whores because they have no families. Some women become whores cause they were raised Catholic. Texanah was different. She was a whore because she told people she liked it. Imagine that, a woman who liked sex!

Texanah had a fine body for her profession. She had breasts as big as cowboy hat with nipples the size of a sheriff’s badge. Her ass was so plump she didn’t need a saddle to ride a horse. She had long curly blonde hair the color of river gold with lips that could suck the red out of an Indian. There wasn’t a prettier whore in the entire valley.

So Texanah, who by the way was named that by her immigrant parents cause they loved Texas so much, she wasn’t having any of this nonsense. She picked up old Felseworth’s Smith and Wesson and aimed it right at the Green Men.

“Ain’t nobody making a pet of me without paying first!” she yelled.

Before she could squeeze off a single shot, one of the Green Men shot her with his light gun. PHEW! That purple beam hit Texanah right between her Grand Tetons! Texanah shook, shuddered and then gave off an unlady like scream. It sounded almost happy.

“Yee-haw!” she yelled. Then she shot the Green Man right between his big yellow eyes.

“That all you got?” Texanah said.

Those Green Men started firing all crazy at her. PHEW! PHEW! Two beams struck her right in the hidden valley between her legs. Texanah’s knees shook.

“Yee-haw! I could get to like that!” she yelled. While the Green Men looked at her all stupid, she returned fire. BAM! BAM! And there were two more dead Green Men.

“Pick up guns!” Texanah yelled. “We outnumber them!”

Some of the womenfolk tried. Ellie Smith, the school teacher, picked up a rifle. One of the Green Men shot her and she ran screaming from the town. Rumor has it she took up with a Navajo tribe. One of the other whores, Pauline Lantick, took one purple beam and fainted right there in the street. It was almost like if a woman could come like a man. No one else was brave enough to try,

That didn’t slow Texanah none. She grabbed a second pistol and was firing away like a cavalryman. The Green Men always hit first but Texanah didn’t mind. In fact, she started to wait till they did hit her with their sin inducing beams before she would plug another in their big green heads. Texanah kept moaning and screaming the whole time. She even started taking off some of her clothes, as if daring them to take better shots. Some of the men folk say she did that to scare the enemy but I don’t know. Texanah was smiling a bit too much.

After Texanah killed half of them, the Green Men went back into their Flying Pan and flew off. Texanah kept firing. We reckon those Green Men went to go pick on easier prey like Boston or Deadwood. The women took their men home and pretended it never happened. The few women who were struck by purple beams were taken home and given cold baths.

The next day, everyone went to church and it wasn’t even a Sunday. The preacher warned about the Devil testing us and how demons come in all shapes and sizes. We all said our amens and promised to live better lives before going back to ‘The Whiskey Dame’ for more courage.

As for Texanah, well, she was never the same. She tried to hang around but she said things were just too dull. One of the women at the saloon said that Texanah had one of those weird light guns and that she shot herself with it every night. We could hear Texanah yelling her head off at the oddest hours.

Maybe that gun ran out of juice because one day, Texanah was gone. She had packed her bags and traded Charlie the blowjob of his life for a horse. We hear stories now and then about her, riding the West and riding whatever she comes across. Maybe if something strange happens to your town, Texanah can help you like she helped us. Or least give you a good handjob for your troubles.

Sex is

Sex is
a tiny fairy woman on my cock
Wings flapping as she presses her cunt to my head
Laughing as I shower her with come

Sex is
a bad girl who has done me wrong
taking my abuse because she deserves it
screaming as I fill her ass

Sex is
an alien Princess in need of saving
with breasts the color of distant sands
dancing before me until we mate

Sex is
a loyal wife in my bed
lips that never tire of kissing mine
sighing as we keep warm in the night

Sex is
a victim wrestled to the ground
stripped of her clothes, her dignity and her shame
crying out as I take what is mine

Sex is
someone I shouldn't fuck
married to someone else or simply forbidden
whispering in my ear as we plot our sins

Sex is
a slave to my desires
chained to my libido waiting to serve
bringing me release however I please

Dirty Movies The Insatiable Ironbabe

'The Insatiable Ironbabe' is a 2008 softcore parody of the movie, 'Iron Man'. Instead of billionaire weapons industrialist Tony Stark becoming a hero with a cyborg heart, we get billionaire sex toy creator Horny Fark becoming a hero with a cyborg pussy. Hilarity allegedly ensues.

Richards Rule of Porn #3 state that the difference between hardcore and softcore movies is that in a hardcore movie, you are more likely to fast forward through the plot to get to the sex while in a softcore movie, you are more tempted to fast forward through the sex to get back to the plot. This movie is no different as 80% of the scenes are lesbian dry humpings that resemble mutual epileptic seizures and one freakish heterosexual pairing that looked like it might have been added after the movie was filmed. Sadly for us, the plot is almost unbearable with it's stupidity.

Porn and parody have a long standing relationship with each other. The more puritanical the society, the more people want to see the sexual versions of characters they are familiar with. The trick is in how you present the parody. Do you make sex the joke, or do you find humor in the original subject matter? Unfortunately for us, the movie decided to make the movie itself be the joke. Shooting scenes in obvious backyards, using the same odball cast of extras in every scene and having a plot that is just one long string of funny names and high school sex jokes creates an attitude that the joke is on you for having wanted to see it in the first place. They didn't bother to bring any production value to the film because they don't think their movie was worth spending any effort on it.

What saddens me about this movie is that I see a lot of parallels between it and first time erotica writers. The poor quality of erotica story telling in movies conveys the idea that story and characters don't matter nearly as much as the hot sex. The cliches of pizza delivery boys and horny mothers of best friends creates a pseudo reality of nonsense and lust. Starting writers take these attitudes and write stories that are weak but they think that's okay because they have lots of hot sex. First time writers who plan to comedies are even worse. They think the nonsense nature of the story is the joke, and done well it can be, but done poorly it comes across just shitty writing. If you want to make a joke about how porn stories go, then do it, but don't make it an excuse to not make a better story.

There are a few high points to the movie. Jackie Stevens is very watchable as the star. She kept me watching when my common sense was telling me to stop. The scene where Fark make a cardboard suit to escape the terrorists was genuinely funny for a few minutes before they beat the joke into the ground. Fark's incompetent assistant kept making terrible sex toys like a Square Dildo, which provided some of the best real laughs.

I give it One out of Five Pam Griers.

Fiction: Need To Know

At Von Madd Laboratories, the average employee has 3.2 PhD’s. Ronald Baker, Janitor 3rd class, is one of those employees that bring down the average. He barely finished High School and his only further education was a Von Madd Seminar in how to identify a radioactive semen spill. To be honest, he had to take that seminar twice to get his certification.

Ronald didn’t understand the mess he had to clean up this morning. The sexy scientist with the zero gravity bra said something about “bad lubricant diffusion mix” but all Ronald knew is that it took two mop buckets to clean up the rapidly increasing green puddle on the floor.

The scientist advised him to burn his bucket, so Ronald did it. He took it to the “Janitorial Incineration Closet” and used his keycard to lock the bucket inside. He didn’t know how the lasers inside the closet worked or how they were able to reduce a bucket and the liquid inside to pine scented nothing. He just knew it did.

Just like he didn’t know why sometimes in the Janitor’s commissary, there was sometimes a man or woman restrained in stocks. They were always butt-naked, bent over so that their head was level with their ass and their hands restrained. Their mouths were gagged with a cruel looking rubber gag. A condom dispenser and lubricant spout was part of the stock, and Ronald didn’t know who kept it fully stocked, but it always was.

Today it was a woman in the stocks. She was a pretty blond and her long hair fell over her face. Her ass was perfectly round and a slight bush of yellow hair covered her sex. Red marks covered her ass, and any scientist working there could have identified the marks as coming from a Von Madd Leather Paddle Version 3.3. Ronald just assumed they came from a belt.

Above the woman, the electronic sign identified the woman’s crimes.

“Dr. Terri Vickman has been charged with . . . failure to properly isolate control sample . . . failure to adequately document hourly quality checks . . . failure to correctly interpret data resulting in a faulty prototype . . .”

Ronald didn’t know what that shit meant.

He unzipped his pants and put on the condom. He slipped a finger into her sex and decided he didn’t need the lubricant. His cock went in next and the woman groaned something from underneath her gag. Ronald reached up for a handful of tits and gave them a squeeze. The woman’s groan of protest made his cock throb.

Ronald fucked her. Short, hard, fast strokes. The stocks kept the scientist restrained while Ronald’s body crashed into her. The scientist tried to say something the gag made it incomprehensible.

Sometimes Ronald liked to think the scientists like it, and were urging him to go faster. Maybe all of this was really a reward; an excuse for smart scientists to get fucked by normal hard working blue collar types.

Sometimes Ronald liked to think the scientists hated it, and were begging him to stop fucking. Maybe all of this was really a punishment created to teach smart scientists humility and appreciation for their educations.

Truth of the matter was, Ronald didn’t know which reason was the truth. He flipped back and forth, depending on what got him harder that day. Either way, Ronald fucked them. He used the bound women until he climaxed.

Like everything else here, Ronald didn’t need to understand it. He just did his job.

Erotica Threat Level: Productive Purple

After a week long anxiety attack, I finally got back to writing on Friday night. I'm not 100% sure what caused this attack as my doctor and I pretty much blame my thyroid for everything at this point. All I care about is that it's gone and I can get back to writing.

What is interesting to me is how the writing process suffers. I've been writing every day, rain or shine, happiness or feelings of complete terror, and my writing during my anxiety attack is remarkably dull. I move the plot along and I get the action across but it lacks those interesting bits that make it worth reading. I didn't even notice how lackluster it was till I posted the second part of 'The Day the Vibrators Die'. I wrote that part weeks ago during a deliriously happy phase and in my humble opinion, it just sings with my sense of humor. The stuff I wrote last week? It reads like a reporter accounting events.

Oh well, at least I can rewrite it. Currently I am working on a 12 part Librarian story, a Fighting Fantasy porn parody and my impossibly long secret project that I have been working on for months. Maybe it'll be ready by 2010. In the meantime, we have a Von Madd story for Wednesday and a Dirty Movie review this Friday. With the week already written, I can get back to tormenting poor Ms. Currie. Oh face-sitting, I have forgotten how much fun you are to write.

Image is of the always lovely Keli Stewart