Halloween Merriment

Happy Halloween, readers. This is Sashav38DD. Currently Shon is preparing to fight unimaginable evil and try to save the earth. By saving the earth, we mean he is playing Arkham Horror with his wife. The sanity loss is very real though.

As you can tell from the photo, Shon is preparing for Halloween. He thinks bobbing for apples is boring so he has dildoes in the pot instead. Also, instead of bobbing for them himself, he has me do it. Shon is kind of an asshole.

For your Halloween enjoyment, I recommend watching the original Halloween as directed by John Carpenter. Shon would like me to recommend that you read any of his stories he posted this month as they all have a ghostly or supernatural theme. Fuck that. If you read them and leave comments, it would only encourage him.

Have fun this Halloween and don't let the continual dunking of my face and breasts interrupt your happy thoughts.

Fiction: From Lip to Lip Part Two

Eric stood in the middle of the street. There was no need to worry about traffic. No one was driving. They were too busy kissing and groping each other. It was Halloween night and San Francisco was in chaos.

A woman dressed as a half naked nurse came up to him. Her breasts were about to fall out of her red bra.

“You look good enough to kiss!” the blonde yelled.

Eric smiled and took her in his arms. She grabbed his head and kissed him hard. The slutty nurse tasted like cherries and lemonade. Her tongue wrestled with his mouth.

A scream came from the back of her head. Eric caught the nurse as she went limp in his arms. A wisp of green smoke was all that was left of the goblin that was riding her.

That was the eighth goblin Eric had banished that night. The cold iron pin in his hand was slightly warm. He palmed it back into his hand and kept walking. He had a mission to accomplish.

“You have to find the Queen,” Catalina had said. “And you will have to fuck her.”

“Do I stick her with the pin?” he asked.

“No, she is too strong,” Catalina said. “You would need a sword made of cold iron, and quite frankly, she would kill your ass if she thought you were hostile. No, you just need to fuck her.”

“How will that get rid of her?” Eric asked.

“Because I will be summoning the thing that will get rid of her,” Catalina said.

So off Eric went. It was easy to follow the trail. The kissing people were a massive orgy that was crippling the city. He simply looked for the largest concentration of dry humping people and headed for the center of it.

“How will I recognize the Goblin Queen?” Eric had asked.

“Oh, you’ll know her,” Catalina said.

Eric saw what she meant. There was a crowd of people fucking in the park. They fucked like they had been denied sex for a hundred years. In the middle of them though was a woman who watched over them. No, she presided over them.

She had long blonde hair that blew in the October wind. Tattoos covered her arms like sleeves. Her round breasts were topped by metal studs through the nipples. The only clothing she wore was black thigh high boots. It was the face that convinced him though. She looked delighted and proud of the carnal carnage that surrounded her.

“Queen of the Goblins!” Eric yelled.

The orgy stopped. The Goblin Queen struck an imperious pose. Her hands on her hips, she glared at him with hungry eyes.

“Have you come to slay me, mortal?” she asked.

Eric swallowed. “No, I know what you are, and I know what you will do to my world. I have come to fuck you.”

“And what makes you think I will allow it?” The Goblin Queen demanded.

“Because I come to you of my own free will,” Eric said. “Because I know what you are, and I don’t have a little bastard clinging to my neck. Because you are a Queen and I am willing to be your subject.”

The Queen smiled. A dozen members of the orgy lay flat on their stomachs on the ground. She stepped on top of them and sat down like they were a carpet. She beckoned Eric towards her.

“Come fuck your Queen,” she commanded.

Back at the hotel, Catalina finished painting the symbols on the walls. The purple paint glowed as Catalina imbued them with power. She kept reaching into her cunt, pulling fresh juice from herself to outline the painted symbols. The runes were magical, but the dew from a cunt is what gave them power.

The room grew dreadfully hot. The lights went out. She could feel a presence though. More like smell him; it was an overpowering stench of cock.

“Who dares summon the Goblin King?” a deep voice asked.

“A woman who has need of you,” Catalina said. He was behind her. She was sure of it. She didn’t turn around.

“There is only one thing I give to women,” the Goblin King said. The voice was in front of her. A massive hand grabbed her breast. Sharp nails punctured the flimsy black dress and scratched her breasts.

Catalina didn’t cry out. “That is why I summoned you.”

Eric was top of the Goblin Queen. The bodies underneath them groaned Eric dug his knees into someone’s back. He was kissing the Goblin Queen, kissing her as hard as every goblin ridden woman had kissed him. He wanted to show her he meant business. He grabbed her chin and held her mouth as he assaulted her lips.

The Goblin Queen bit his tongue. He kept kissing. She grabbed his nipples and pinched them. He kissed harder. She tore open his pants and pulled his cock out. He grabbed her by the throat and kept kissing her.

The Goblin queen growled. “You may enter me,” she said.

Eric pushed her down onto her carpet of servants. She didn’t let go of his cock. She guided him in, ramming him into her. Eric pinned her body and held her down by her blonde hair.

“Okay,” Eric said. “Let’s do it hard.” He slammed into her.

Catalina was shoved backwards. She fell into the bed and the pointed hat went flying. The Goblin King was already on her. Inhuman hands ripped her black dress. He tore open the top so he could bite her breasts. He shredded her skirt so he could paw her cunt. He jammed two fingers into her, nearly lifting her off the bed.

The Voluptumancer was not going to be intimidated. She clenched down on his fingers. She pressed her breast into his mouth. One of his long horns grazed her face and she took it into her mouth.

The Goblin King moaned. “Oh yes, we will have fun tonight.”

The Goblin Queen moaned. “Oh yes, serve your Queen!”

Eric fucked her. His hands went to her nipple piercing. On a normal woman, he wouldn’t dream of playing with them for fear of causing harm. With the Goblin Queen, he twisted them savagely. She clenched down on his cock with each cruel twist. Her legs would kick and the living carpet beneath them would groan in pain.

She reached up with both tattooed arms and grabbed his short blond hair. Her fingers dug into his scalp as he fucked her. He looked down on her tattoos, seeing the strange symbols and monsters that was inked there.

The goblins began to appear. Without Catalina’s aid, Eric couldn’t see them normally, but he could see them now. They emerged from her tattoos, little naked woman scrambling out of her arms and onto him. Little women with pointy breasts kissed his lips and climbed over his back. He felt them groping his ass and pinching his thighs. Some of them were by his balls; giving him kisses while he drove into their Queen.

Eric kept fucking.

The Goblin King kept fucking.

His cock was impossibly large inside her. Catalina grunted with each thrust, feeling her entire body shake from the force of his cock. There was no escape from his cock; he was slamming it faster and faster inside her.

The Goblin King did not satisfy himself only with her cunt. His hands enclosed her breasts and squeezed them painfully. His teeth let marks on her breasts, lips and shoulders. His legs kept spreading her thighs, forcing her to be as exposed as possible. She was completely his.

Catalina took it all. She just had to hold on for Eric to do his part. She had faith in him.

She thought of Eric.

Eric thought of Catalina.

He reached down and grabbed both of the Goblin Queen’s legs. He lifted them up as he fucked her. Higher and higher he lifted them until he had her legs on shoulders. Her cunt shifted and the Goblin Queen groaned. There, there he was striking the deepest.

The little goblins were all over him now. Several of them sat down on the stomach of their Queen and watched Eric’s cock go in and out. Several of them were on her tits, biting and pulling at her flesh. Some of the goblins climbed over Eric’s chest, happily hanging on to his nipples.

Eric thought of Catalina and kept fucking.

The Goblin Queen tightened. Her body writhed and she clenched on his cock. The Goblin Queen climaxed with a scream that shattered the night.

Catalina didn’t hear the scream. She just knew that the Goblin King had stopped fucking her. His hands released her and she felt his cock leave her suddenly.

“That bitch!” the Goblin King roared.

The lights came back on. Catalina was alone on the bed.

Eric felt something grab him by the back of the neck. He was lifted off of the Goblin Queen and sent flying through the air. A fucking couple broke his fall.

“What are you doing here?” the Goblin Queen screamed.

“What are you doing here?” the Goblin King roared. “You said you were going to the Weeping Fields! You never said anything about coming here!”

“You never let me have any fun! I hate you!” the Goblin Queen screamed.

“Leave this mortal!” the Goblin King yelled. “Return to our home where I will punish you properly!”

The Goblin Queen laughed. “You can try!”

Eric stood up. He never saw the Goblin King. Everyone was unconscious except for him. He walked over to the body of the Goblin Queen. The blonde woman was asleep. The tattoos on her arms were gone.

He turned around and ran back to the hotel.

Catalina was still in bed. Her pretty black dress was in shreds. The room stunk of cock.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

The Voluptumancer nodded. “Come fuck me. I want to be touched by a human.”

Eric got on the bed. He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. He gently passed his hand over her bitten breasts. With tender affection, he parted her thighs. As softly as night falling, he slid into her.

“I can’t believe that got rid of them,” he said.

Catalina moaned as his human cock eased away the memory of the Goblin King.

“I told you that jealousy was a powerful force.”

Eric laughed and made love to his Voluptumancer.

The end.

Fiction: From Lip to Lip Part One

Halloween at San Francisco was crazy. Eric walked the street back to his motel room and passed by three couples making out on the sidewalk. Two of the couples were engaged in serious face sucking but the third couple was sticking their hands in each others’ pants. Things were certainly different here than they were from back home.

Not that Eric had seen much of San Francisco. He and Catalina arrived a week ago and Catalina has done nothing but hang out with that lesbian witch coven. They had hired her for some long ceremony that apparently could not be viewed by male eyes. Catalina would stumble back to the hotel room they rented, exhausted and walking funny. She also had a sore jaw which discouraged her from talking. Eating pussy all day long must wear a girl out.

Eric could have seen San Francisco on his own but it wouldn’t be the same. Catalina was a Volptumancer, an adept in sexual magic. Traveling with her has been an eye opener. She could turn everyday normal things into incredible mind blowing, and cock blowing, experiences. He could visit the city on his own, but he knew it would be ten times better if Catalina showed him around.

Which is what she promised to do tonight. The ceremony was over and they paid Catalina an obscene amount of money. She promised that she would take him out to the best spots tonight. He just nipped down to the corner store to buy some more deodorant while Catalina got dressed. He wanted to be irresistible tonight.

“Hey baby!” the receptionist at the motel said. “Want a good luck kiss for Halloween?”

Damn, and he hadn’t even put the deodorant on! She was cute with spiky black hair that would have got her dirty frowns from back home. She was wearing black lipstick that he was curious to taste.

“Maybe later,” he said. He had Catalina waiting for him.

His room was on the first floor. He ducked in and stopped in his tracks. Catalina was dressed.

Gone were her usual flowing white dresses. She was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline that revealed both of the ample treats on her chest. Full sleeves covered her arms while a jagged skirt showed off her shapely legs. A black pointy hat sat on top of her long black hair.

“Nice!” he whistled. “I thought you hated to be confused with witches.”

Catalina shrugged. “Halloween is a perfect time to be what we are not. Besides, I can feel the air is charged tonight.”

“You’re telling me,” Eric said. He took the deodorant out of the bag and put it on. “Everyone is horny tonight. People are a lot more open that I am used to. Kissing and groping in public must be a big city thing.”

Catalina adjusted the brim of her hat. “Really? Well, Halloween can bring out inhibitions in people.”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “That receptionist girl, the one with the spiky hair, she even hit on me.”

Catalina snapped her focus to him. “That is odd. What did she say?”

Eric liked the one of interest in her voice. Maybe she needed to see that other people were interested in him. “She asked me if I wanted a good luck kiss for Halloween.”

Catalina narrowed her eyes. Wow, who knew Voluptumancers could get jealous?

“Go tell her you want your kiss,” Catalina said.

“Huh?” Eric said. “I wanted to go out with you tonight.”

She smiled. “We will, but first, go get her and tell her you want a kiss. Oh, and bring her here for it. I want to watch.”

“Really?” Eric said, but it was a silly question. It wasn’t the first time she made a kinky request of him. This was just the first time she invited other people into it.

Catalina nodded. Some of her hair fell into her immense cleavage. “And hurry back.”

Eric did as she asked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He liked kissing Catalina. It was like kissing another world every time he touched her lips. Besides, it wasn’t like the cute receptionist girl was going to go for it.

“Sure! That sounds like fun!” the spiky hair girl said.

Eric watched as the young woman skipped to their hotel room. Damn, she was excited. Hmm, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Catalina was sitting on the bed. Her legs were spread wide and short skirt had risen up to her knees. She was leaning back, showing off her enchanted cleavage to best effect.

“Hello, my name is Catalina.”

The cute receptionist waved. “Do you want a kiss too?”

“After you two kiss,” Catalina said.

The woman nodded. “That’s a promise!”

Eric looked at Catalina. He was having second thoughts. She had warned him about this. She said that he would have to watch out for his jealousy. She was a sophisticated woman of the world and sexual sorceress. He sometimes wondered what she saw in him. The last thing he wanted to do was come across as a jealous simple man. He had to show her he could be as cool as her.

He took the receptionist in his arms. She was a tiny person. “Are you ready?”

She answered him by grabbing his head and kissing him. She pried open his lips with her tongue. She pulled him down hard and kissed twice as ruthless. She was hungry for his mouth, kissing and sucking as if she had been denied kissing for a hundred years.

Eric heard the bedsprings move. He assumed Catalina was leaning back. He imagined she was masturbating while they kissed. The thought thrilled him. He liked kissing the girl, but he liked the idea of Catalina watching better.

“Got you!” Catalina said. Suddenly, the girl went limp in Eric’s arms. He grabbed her falling body easily.

Catalina had her hand clenched as if she was holding something there. “Nasty little thing,” she said.

Eric set the receptionist down. “What are you talking about?”

Catalina used her other hand to stroke her sex. Eric bowed his head to her hand. She rubbed her juices over his eyebrows. When he lifted his head again, he saw what she had in her hand.

It WAS a nasty little thing. It looked like a tiny woman. Her body was an ugly pale green color. Her head was pointed with tuffs of black hair sticking up from the point. She was naked, her tiny breasts studded with even tinier bones.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“It’s a goblin,” Catalina said.

“Like the things Bilbo fought in the Hobbit?” Eric asked.

“No.”

“Like the monsters you fight in Everquest?” Eric asked.

“No.”

“Oh wait, like the servants in Harry Potter?”

Catalina smiled. “Now I know you are just fucking with me.”

Eric smiled back. “Okay, but what is a goblin?”

Catalina looked closer at the struggling creature. It blew her a kiss.

“Goblins are perverted creatures that love to ride humans. This one was on the neck of our friend here. They like to fuck vicariously through their host bodies.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Eric said. “She just wanted a kiss.”

“They reproduce through kissing,” Catalina said. “See the spiky hair on the goblin? See how it looks just like the hair on our woman here? That’s because she kissed someone who was being ridden by a goblin, and this is the one that was born from her body.”

“Whoa! I kissed her!”

Catalina laughed. “It takes a lot of kissing. Some sex will speed it up too. That is why I asked you to invite her back. I had a suspicion she was being ridden.”

“How did you know that?” Eric asked. “Just because some cute girl wants to kiss me?”

Catalina looked at him. “You know she was a lesbian, right?”

“Fuck, I knew she was!” Eric said. “How do we get rid of this thing?”

“Easy,” Catalina said. She took a metal pin out of her hat. It looked thick and ugly. The goblin squealed as the pin came closer. The pin barely touched the goblin and it vanished in a puff of smoke.

“They hate cold iron,” she said. “I always keeps a few pins around just in case.”

“How did they get here?” Eric asked. “Is it because of Halloween?”

“That is part of it,” Catalina said. “Goblins follow their King and Queen. Judging from the color, I would say the Goblin Queen is here. Some foolish human allowed the Queen to take them over. The goblins followed and now they threaten to drown San Francisco in an orgy of decadence. Get enough of them here, and they won’t be leaving in the morning.”

Eric held his hand out and Catalina put the iron pin in his hand. “All right, so how are we going to stop them?”

Catalina smiled. “That is what I like about you. Tell you there is a wicked Goblin Queen and you ask how we save the city. A lot of people would be asking how can we run away.”

“Well, I know you are not running away,” Eric said. “And I’m not leaving you here alone. It is just that simple.”

Catalina kissed him. Instead of the assault the possessed woman committed on his mouth, this was gentle and affectionate. Their lips melted together, each of them expressing with their tongues what words could not convey. When the kiss broke, he was breathless for all the right reasons.

“You are going to defeat the Goblin Queen by fucking her,” Catalina said.

To be continued.

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 174

Dr. Vanilla took a deep breath. "Sally, please be reasonable. We can help you!"

Sally kicked him in the balls. Dr. Vanilla gasped and would have fallen to his knees if it wasn't for the chains that was holding us to the wall.

"Quit calling me, Sally!" she growled. "My name is Mistress Medea now. Say it!"

She cracked the electric whip and sparks flew from the floor. She was no longer the shy blogger with her frequent posts about her cat and her inability to find a dom. She had been transformed by the Censors of Atlantis into her new persona.

And even Dr. Vanilla would be the first to admit that her new persona was hot. She had long black hair with red streaks the color of blood. She was wearing a corset of red metal that gave her body an hourglass shape not found in nature. Her boots alone were adorned with more spikes than a Road Warrior marathon. The glasses were the best part. You can chemically alter the brain of a nerd girl into a cruel dominatrix but you can't take the glasses away from the nerd.

She hit Dr. Vanilla with the electric whip and he cried out. I struggled with my chains but they were so strong. My mind was racing, I had to figure out a way out of her. It was my idiom.

When he lifted his head, it was Mr. Dom who spoke. "Stupid little cunt! A corset from Hot Topic doesn't make you a dominatrix! It takes willpower! It takes a belief that you are a fucking god! Whip me all you want, you are just a fucking poser bitch playing dress up and reading your Anite Blake novels."

Oh shit. Mistress Medea just glared at him. Mr. Dom had a nasty tendency to say exactly what people feared the most. He knew her when she was Sally and he knew her now as Mistress Medea.

"Teach me," she said. "Teach me how to be more like a real dominatrix."

"No!" Dr. Vanilla suddenly answered. They could switch personalities faster than a stripper could spin a tassel. "Don't listen to him! He will destroy you!"

"Shut up, Doctor!" I snapped. You got to hand it to the Dr. Even when we are captured and being tortured, he wants to protect people. Shit, even the one torturing us.

She kicked him in the balls again. "Teach me!" she yelled.

The force of her request was so desperate. Even after the Secret Censors had fucked with her brain, she still was insecure about being a dominatrix.

"Let me go first," Mr. Dom said.

Mistress Medea started to and then stopped.

"God damn," Mr. Dom said. "You don't even have the courage to make a mistake! Free me and risk me escaping, or leave me here and wonder what I could have taught you. Make a damn decision, Mistress Chickenshit!"

Mistress Medea unlocked his shackles.

Mr.Dom moved like lightning. His leg kicked against those spiky boots and sent her tumbling. As soon as she was on the ground, he had his hands on her throat. She was down on the ground, pinned and helpless.

"Bitch, you are so lucky I am not the Midnight Cock," Mr. Dom said.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, I heard Dr. Vanilla whispering to her.

Dr. Vanilla released me from my shackles and checked my arms for circulation problems. I went to work frisking Mistress Medea for anything we could use in our escape. Dr. Vanilla looked exhausted.

"What did you say to her, at the end?" I asked.

"I said she made the wrong choice." he answered.

Sister Interruptus

My sister is in town. My ten years younger, biseuxal,smart sister. Which means I can say words like fuck, shithead and extrapolate without her getting confused or offended.

We may hit the strip clubs. We are cool that way.

Fiction: The Cadaverous Can-Can

It was a somber night at the Big Cup Saloon. The drinkers were drinking in silence. The whores were barely talking dirty. The gamblers were making intelligent bets based on probability and not sheer guts. It was a depressing October night.

The empty stage was a terrible reminder of what had happened last night. The Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had come all the way from Chicago to perform their famous naughty act. They had come out onto the stage right as a nasty fight was breaking out over by the poker tables. Guns were drawn and eighty shots were fired in a mad battle for survival.

Only one of the gunfighters had been killed, but all twenty of the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had been shot dead. Being loose women, the local preacher wouldn’t let them be buried in the town graveyard. There was an old Injun burial ground that was used instead. Being from out of town, no one was willing to buy them coffins, so they were dumped into a mass grave with their flirty costumes still on.

Because of the violence of last night, the saloon owner, Big Hank, wouldn’t let anyone bring their guns in. All of the firearms were locked in a safe by the door. People grumbled but it was the only saloon in town. They turned in their side irons and tried to get a drink and some pussy.

About the only thing that was good about that quiet night was a newcomer in town. Her name was Texanah and she had tits bigger than the whiskey barrels. She had long blonde hair that spilled out of her cowboy hat and a tight ass that she encased in even tighter jeans. The woman was a one tramp whorehouse and she had been drinking and fucking all day in the spare room upstairs. I heard she wasn’t even paying Big Hank for the room. She just let him watch while she fucked anyone with ten dollars in their pockets.

But not even Texanah could revive this dead night. The swearing was half hearted and not even that asshole, Florida Bloyd could get a fight started. I was playing the piano and no one was making requests. The damn place felt cursed.

Pretty soon, we found out we were cursed. It started with a scream at the door. Big Hank’s muscle man, Dirty Paul, was screaming like a girl who just got poked for the first time. It was an awful inhuman scream. We all looked at him and saw what the fuss was about. He had a woman ripping his guts out, and here is the sick part, she was jamming those guts into her mouth.

Oh lordy, she wasn’t alone. There about twenty women pushing their way through the door. They shambled into the saloon still wearing the dirt covered dance clothes we buried them in. It was the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets, and they were back from the dead! They were also pissed as Hell and hungry for flesh!

Things got crazy. No one had any guns and all of the weapons were locked in a safe that was covered in Dirty Paul’s blood. The Strumpets stumbled forward, their pale tits jiggling within their tight corsets. Their torn skirts revealed flashes of dirty thighs and shins. Any one stupid enough to get within arm’s reach of them was torn apart by supernatural strength. The undead dancers would pause to eat the body but mostly they seemed more interested in the live meat.

“Give me your fucking skirt!” Texanah yelled. A whore next to her jumped and started to undo her dress. Texanah had no time for that shit. She grabbed a hold of that skirt and ripped it straight off her body.

The Strumpets shambled closer and ate poor Old Man Ollie. Texanah ignored them and chucked off her jeans. The people in the saloon were conflicted. Sure, there were nasty undead dancers coming closer, but Texanah just bared her ass to everybody. They didn’t know who to keep an eye on.

Texanah wrapped the skirt around her and climbed onto the empty stage. “Play some god damn dancing music!” she yelled.

I started playing. As soon as the music played, Texanah started dancing. Boy, could that girl kick high! Her legs snapped up into the air and her skirt billowed like a flower opening in spring. Even though she was wearing cowboy boots, that girl was dancing pretty fast. Every kick of her leg would flash her cooch to the entire saloon.

The men were spellbound but the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets were watching too. They started growling; a terrible nasty sound of the damned. I had worked with enough women to know that sound. They were jealous.

The Strumpets jerked. All of them twitched in the same identical manner. Their backs arched and their hips moved. The walking corpses spasmed in harmony with each other. They formed a line in the saloon and they danced.

Holy shit. The cadavers can-caned with a fury you wouldn’t expect out of dead women. They grabbed their skirts and kicked even higher than Texanah! They flashed their unholy thighs and garters at us with each hellish kick.

Texanah seemed to take that as a challenge. She kept dancing and stripped off her shirt. Her big bountiful tits bounced with each kick. Texanah jumped in the air and spread her legs out in mid air like she was mounting a horse. She swung her hips around and humped the air in the most decadent manner I have ever seen. I don’t know what kind of dancing that was, but it sure as Hell was dirty.

The Strumpets growled again. They danced harder. Desperate to outdo Texanah, they ripped their clothes to reveal bullet holes and big cold breasts. Some of the men screamed in horror as the Strumpets showed a little too much dead skin and blood.

The Strumpets didn’t care. They did more elaborate steps around each other. Around and round they danced, ducking under each other’s arms and legs in a beautifully choreographed display of teamwork and skill. Even dead, they were the best Can-Can dancers in the country.

Texanah was grabbing her tits and shaking her ass at the crowd. The crowd of terrified and oddly horny men cheered louder for Texanah. The trampy blonde didn’t have the skill of the Strumpets but she made up for it with a trainload of passion. Texanah danced because it was so much like fucking.

The Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets had had enough. Still dancing, they slowly filed onto the stage. Their legs still kicking, the lined back up on the stage to grab the audience’s attention.

To my surprise, Texanah let them have the stage. She moved away as they crowded her off and she jumped down when there was no more room. The crowd sighed but they were smart enough not to boo.

The Strumpets really went into their act then. They danced their little unbeating hearts out. One of them jumped in the air and something disgusting flew off her body. Another one did a cartwheel and left her hand on stage. They kept on dancing though. They weren’t going to let a thing like decomposition slow them down.

BAM! BAM! BAM! Three of the Strumpets suddenly lost their heads in a red mist.

Texanah had cracked open the safe and gotten the guns out! Butt-naked except for her hats and boots, Texanah had a pistol in each hand. She fired on the dancers who were all conveniently lined up in a row. She aimed for the head, taking each one out with a single shot to the face. When she exhausted her guns, she would drop them and grab more off the safe.

When the gunsmoke cleared, all of the Fabulous Can-Can Strumpets were dead again. The lack of heads kept them down this time. The crowd let out a sigh of relief that the nightmare was over.

Texanah was pissed. “God damn, couldn’t one of you assholes have done this while I was dancing?”

No one had an answer for that. To make up for it, we dragged that smart ass pastor out of his church and made him give a good Christian burial to each and every one of those damned souls. We built them coffins with locks on them and we buried them in the church graveyard.

As for Texanah, she left after the last funeral. “It is time for me to move on,” she said. “This place is too dead for me.”

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 24

"This is the place," the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said. "Tumblr Domme said she would meet us here."

I looked around. The nudist beach was almost deserted. The sun was starting to set but a few diehards were sticking around. I guess the feeling of having the salt air coming off the ocean onto your skin was too good to pass up. It felt pretty good to me.

"I see you are enjoying yourself," the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said. She pointed at my rising erection.

"It's the company I keep," I said. the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student managed a blush, which is pretty incredible. She was butt-naked except for some water proof paint she had used to make a bikini on her body. The purple paint seemed to accent her full breasts and beautiful sex rather than conceal them.

"I don't see Tumblr Domme anywhere," I said. "Are you sure she is coming?"

"She sounded pretty scared," The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said. "Something had threatened her to stop blogging and she wanted our help. She just wasn't willing to talk over the phone or by instant message."

Something in the sky seemed odd. There were four kites in the air. The weird thing was, they were pitch black. Also, I couldn't see any strings connecting them to anyone on the beach.

"What are those?" I asked.

The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student gasped. "Oh shit, we got to get out of here!"

She started to run down the beach. I watched her purple painted ass jiggle and clench in front of me. It was really hard to run with a full erection.

"What are they?" I yelled.

"Vampire Kites!" she yelled back.

I laughed and she turned her head around to glare at me. Her breasts were bouncing wildly as she ran with all of her healthy vitality.

"You won't be laughing when they suck your cock right off your body," fhe Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said.

We ran faster. As the sun dipped down below the horizon, I could hear them in the air above me. They made strange sucking sounds. The Vampire Kites spun in the air lazily as they kept up with us running on the ground.

Around us, naked beach goers kissed and fondled each, unaware of the horrible doom floating above them.

*Hats off to Phantom of the Pulp for the wonderful inspiration*

New Age Old Question

Back in the day (three years ago), nerds used to debate what as cooler, Ninjas or Pirates. I know, silly question right? Pirates are obviously cooler cause they drink, have cool ships, fantastic clothes and wenches. Some people preferred Ninjas with their martial arts, black clothing and wire stunts. People got a little crazy defending their choices.

That was then and now is now. The next great debate is a sexier one. Who is better, Nurses or Witches?

Witches have magic, sexy cat habits and dance naked.

Nurses have medicine, sexy nurturing habits and sponge baths.

Damn, this is tough. One gives you blowjobs while you are sick and the other rides you like a broomstick. One has you drink something to make you feel better while the other gives you something to drink to feel very naughty. Both are famously bisexual if porn has taught me anything.

Both also have very sexy outfits.

Let the debate begin! Plus, please anwser the poll to the right. This is important information.

Addicted

My name is Shon Richards and I am addicted to writing. It has been 9 hours since I wrote and I am getting the shakes.

I rediscovered this as I wrote my Choose-Your-Own-Porn story. It was a long multi- page event and every day I felt like I had another hundred pages to write. It was a nice feeling. The story kept getting bigger and there was always more to write. Knowing I had to so much to write made it easier to write. I didn't have to come up with a new story every week, I just had to keep building on the one I had.

The fiction blog I am doing now is like that too. Because I am writing daily entries for a fictional character, I find that I conceivably have more to write than I should. He is surviving in a wasteland, he needs to worry about food, water, shelter, boredom and hygiene. Survival takes a lot of work. Dealing with grief takes a lot of work. Dealing with stress is a novel in itself. I can't possibly write about everything he does on a daily basis and it makes for a fun challenge. Instead of filling pages, I am trying to conserve pages. It is day 25 in my writing and I just now have time to discuss how he is using the toilet.

Which some of you may find ironic because I can't update THIS blog on a daily basis but I am writing a fictional daily blog. I think it comes down to the fiction part. It is easier to be objective about someone else's fictional life. If I was writing about my life it would be kitten updates and my thoughts on ebay auctions that are hilariously bad. Real life Shon can be terribly boring.

My real life gets even more boring the more I write. I am stealing time to write. I am writing in between work appointments. I am dealying the conquering of the universe in Galactic Civilizations II because I want to write about Jimmy's water problem. I am sitting in the lobby of my wife's massage therapist working on notes to determine when is the best time to make Jimmy hunt for gasoline. I am researching how generators work. My life focuses on one story that I don't want to spoil for you so I have very little to talk about.

On the other hand, if you are curious as to what amounts for sexual research these days, check out my Tumblr at Erotiterroism Cell 69. I find Tumblr extremely interesting for satisfying my visual inspiration. I should put a link in the sidebar but I want one of those fancy buttons and I am not sure how to do that.

Oh well, back to writing.

Fiction: Ghost in my Basement

There is a ghost in my basement. For the most part, I only hear her. Her moans echo through the floor in the middle of the night. Not the scary kind of moans though. These are sexy moans like she is masturbating as hard as she can. She climaxes in a banshee scream that always gives me a hard-on.

That is what I get most of the year but around October, things change. It is not always the same day, and it is not always on Halloween, but it is always in October. One cold morning I go down to my basement and there she is, waiting for me.

She is always tied up. She sits in a wicker chair that I do not own with her hands tied behind her back. The rope is thick but it cuts easily for the knife I keep down there. She is almost naked. A black leather collar is wrapped around her neck, fastened with a tiny padlock that never opens. Her chest is bare and, revealing nice pale breasts with pink nipples. Her legs are covered in leather chaps that expose her shaven sex and her tight pale bottom. Red lipstick colors her lips, a dark unnatural red that is the same color as her hair.

For one day a year, the ghost is all mine.

She barely speaks. I have no idea what her name is. I call her Annie for no particular reason. The only time she talks is when she moans or I tell her to beg. She is good at begging. She is a damn near fountain of babble when I ask her to beg. I tell her to suck harder or bend over, she obeys instantly. Ask her what her name is or where she is from, and she looks at me with frustrated vacant eyes.

She only smiles when I fuck her.

Hey, don’t judge. The first time I saw her, I cut her loose and got her a blanket. She just sat there, making sad moaning sounds. Annie kept reaching for my pants and kissing my feet. I went upstairs to get the phone to call the police, but when I came back, she was gone.

The chair was gone. The rope I cut was gone too. I could smell her though. It smelled like sex.

Next year, there she was again. Tied up and looking up at me with eager eyes. I had done some research in that time. There had never been a death at this house, at least not one documented. I read books where they say ghosts repeat actions they did in life over and over again. I read some theories that said ghosts are trying to achieve something they didn’t accomplish in life. I read some theories that said ghosts are trapped and can only move on to the afterlife if something breaks the cycle.

Annie wasn’t offering any suggestions as to why she was here. At least, not any verbal clues. All I know is when I kiss her, she feels like a real woman. When I pinch her nipples, she moans like a real woman. When I tie her over a bench and fuck her from behind, she cries out like a real woman. When I stop fucking her and tell her to beg for my cock, she begs unlike any woman I have ever met in life.

She likes it. I am sure of it. I spend all year looking at porn, watching bdsm movies and reading bondage books. By the time she arrives, I have a list of things I am going to do to her. She never says no. She never says yes either come to think of it, but she moans. She moans and her pussy gets wet and she begs like she has been waiting all year.

When she does appear, I have roughly twenty-four hours. Man, I don’t even sleep in that time.

First, I fuck her mouth while she is still tied to the chair. I slam my cock into her throat and grab her dark red hair. I push her face in till I can feel my balls on her chin. She sucks me; oh she sucks me so good. Annie keeps sucking me till I shoot my load into her throat.

That is just a warm up. I have to get that out of the way so I can get over the excitement of her return. Once I climax once, I can calm down and take my time. I can break the nipple clamps. I can break out the candles and wax. I can slap her a bit. I can try out my new flogger and leave marks all over her breasts and cunt.

I can do all sorts of things.

The weird thing is, she never has to stop. I can fuck her all day and she never has to use the bathroom. I can feed her nothing but my cock and she never asks for food. When I am done fucking the shit out of her, she just looks at me with those eager eyes. She is insatiable.

I can’t always be fucking her. I find other things to amuse myself. I spank her a lot. I used to do with my bare hand but even a ghost’s ass can wear you out. I use paddles now; the bigger and nastier the better. She likes it that way.

Well, ‘like’ is a relative word, you know? She squirms when I spank her ass. She cries out so loud I have to gag her sometimes. Her pale ass turns all kinds of shades of red and purple when I really cut loose. By the time she fades away, the ghost slut can’t even sit without wincing.

Her ass is always pale and untouched the next time she appears. That is pretty much a license to do what I want as far as I am concerned. She’s like a toy I can never break.

She is a toy I can only play with one day a year.

I do wonder about her. I mean, obviously she is some sort of kinky woman who likes to get tied up, spanked and fucked. Or she was in life. I am providing a service, right? I am like giving her the perfect Heaven by fucking her over one day a year.

Then again, this could be her version of Hell. Maybe getting used like this one day a year is her punishment for something. Maybe she cheated on her husband and had all kinds of kinky sex behind his back. Heck, maybe being my fucktoy is her way of doing penance.

Either way, I am still fucking her. I got some new paddles and this electrical wand thing that hurts like a mother fucker.

She’s my ghost.

She’s my treat.

Mountains of Lust

I went through the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and Virginia this past weekend. It was my first trip to the mountains and holy crap, it was just immense. My mind had a hard time comprehending the scale. I would see some big ass mountain and then I would see a tiny house clinging to the side of the mountain. Forget having an island to yourself; a house on a mountain is desolation personified.

My mother was telling me how poor people were. To her e proof was in the outhouses and the lack of fancy food at the stores. To me it was in all of their faces. They look tired and worn through. There are two man jobs up there and it was farming and mining. These people work hard for not very much.

This was really evident when we went to a big ass Flea Market in Bristol. They were house in these buildings that were narrow warehouses. They sold anything from socks, to sticky notes to flip flops to old tabloids to Stephen King books. A lot of what we saw for sale was pure junk. Boxes of rusty pans sit next to boxes for Game Boy games. Not Game Boy games mind you, but the boxes were for sale. It was the desperation that got to me. These people were hard selling broken children's toys like they needed to make a rent payment.

Of course, these are the same people who once hung a circus elephant from a train trestle because it stomped on some local folks. They hung an elephant. You don't fuck with people like that.

I did buy issue #2 of the 1983 run of Red Sonja for a dollar, as well as an old Diane Duane Star Trek book for a dollar as well. There were good deals to be found through other people's trash. I also came across a box of mint Penthouses from the 70's that they were selling for 2$ each but my mom was RIGHT THERE next to me, and we don't have that kind of a relationship. Sigh.

It was hard not to imagine all sorts of naughtiness from these people. The most popular item for sale at the flea market were DVD's. These people wanted some fucking entertainment. It was too easy to imagine orgies in those beautiful mountains. It was too easy to imagine wife-swapping and deviant experimentation to pass away the long nights. A perpetual fog hung over the place that were actually just low clouds, but the fog gave a feeling of concealment to the place. A man could fuck his neighbor's wife in the white haze of dew in front of the church and no one would see. The trees were thick enough to hide an outdoor BDSM dungeon.

The mountains are a place for secrets.

The drive back was strange. I felt lean and mean. I felt fucking glad I didn't live there but at the same time the pure beauty of the place was damn tempting. There is something magical about seeing trees clinging to the side of a mountain you can barely perceive much less conceive of. It reminded me of my favorite erotica stories: big appetites frustrated by bigger obstacles.

Days like these, I know why the wolf howls at the moon.

Off to Fight Cannibals

My mom lives in the Appalachian mountains. She has neighbors who have never seen a toilet. That would be scary enough but I am also a fan of the movie, 'Descent', a British film that shows all of the underground cannibal genetic monsters that live there.

It is on. I got a crowbar, which as we all know is an all purpose tool and weapon in videogames. I actually have 50 feet of rope which as we all know, is an important part of every Dungeons and Dragons player's equipment. I also have unresolved anger at my ex-wife, which as we all know is the best source of anger in a horror movie.

I'll see you all Monday

Fiction: Joy Ride

Eric loaded the car. All he had was a suitcase. His boss, Catalina had two suitcases. He wasn’t sure how she got by with just two suitcases. In the month they had been together, he had seen her wear a new outfit every day. They just couldn’t all fit into these two slender suitcases.

He shrugged. It was probably magic. Catalina was a Voluptumancer after all. She practiced sexual magic in all of its forms. So far he had seen her banish a Gremlin, bless a brothel and helped a small town get over a weird case of mass impotency. He didn’t know how she could sex magic some suitcases, but it didn’t seem that far out of her powers.

As far as Eric knew, there was no end to what Catalina could do sexually.

“Where are we driving to?” he asked.

Catalina was searching through a small notebook. Eric didn’t mind that she didn’t answer right away. It gave him another excuse to look at her. The lovely Hispanic woman was wearing a purple t-shirt over her ample breasts. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders and framed her face. She was wearing jean shorts, which was odd considering how brisk the air was this morning.

God, he loved fucking her.

“San Francisco,” Catalina finally answered. She took a postcard out of the notebook. It showed the Golden Gate bridge and a topless hippie woman with painted nipples.

Eric laughed. “That is all the way across country,” he said. “It is going to take us a week at least.”

Catalina smiled. Her dark eyes brightened with a secret untold. “We’re going to go a special way.”

Eric’s cock got hard. “A magic way?” he asked.

Catalina nodded. “You’re driving. Take your pants and underwear off before you get in.”

That was how she was. Catalina didn’t like to explain as much as she liked to show. It used to bother Eric until he realized why she did that. Catalina might fuck all kinds of people, but she rarely got to share anything with them. Only Catalina knew the wonders she experienced.

Eric looked around but no one was watching them in the hotel parking lot. He stripped off his pants and his underwear as well. His cock was still hard in anticipation for what Catalina would show him today. He climbed into his car and saw that Catalina had taped the post card of San Francisco to the dashboard.

“Ok, start driving west,” Catalina said.

“I think the highway is north actually,” he responded.

Catalina placed her hand on his cock. “Trust me,” she said with a squeeze.

Eric drove. It was early morning. There was hardly any traffic out. He felt very exposed with his cock out, but he figured few people would see him. Well, maybe if a big truck came by they could look down on his cock. The thought made his erection wilt a little.

“No, no,” Catalina said. She tugged on his cock a little. “Your desire is what fuels this ride.”

She jacked his cock. Her firm hand slid up and down his cock and brought it back to life. Eric didn’t know what she was talking about, but it sure felt fucking nice.

He saw a topless woman ride by on a motorcycle. She wasn’t wearing a helmet either, her blonde hair whipping behind her. She had beautiful sun kissed breasts the color of bronze.

“Did you see that?” he yelled.

Catalina smiled. “Keep driving,” she said.

Eric noticed how lucky they were that they hadn’t hit stop lights. That is when he saw that there weren’t any. There wasn’t a single light at any corner. For that matter, there weren’t that much traffic either. It was like he was the only person on the road.

They passed by six naked people waiting for the bus. There were four men and two women. The men wore ties and nothing else. The women only wore hats that might have been in style in the 60’s. They all looked calm and bored despite being naked.

Catalina kept stroking his cock.

They went up a hill where a man rolled a giant breast in front of him. The breast was heavy and squishy yet the man kept pushing. The nipple was very hard. The man was grunting and swearing, but he was also smiling.

“Ok, what the fuck?” Eric said. “Seriously, what is going on?”

“We are traveling the Roads of Lust,” she said. “You will see a lot of strange things here. The important thing is not to stop and to not lose your arousal. As long as you stay in a state of desire, we can keep going.”

They passed by a group of jogging men. They wore leather from head to toe with jingling bells hanging from their crotches. They were saying something, but their ballgags muted their chant.

“Where does this stuff come from?” Eric said. Catalina stroked his cock harder until they were out of sight of the leather men.

“From people,” Catalina said. “Wet dreams, sexual fantasies and turned on imaginations provide the fodder for the Roads of Lust. Of course, the Roads of Lust also bleed back into the world. Have you ever had a sexual fantasy of something that turned you on in a dream, but freaked you out when you woke up?”

Eric didn’t answer. His erection however faded fast. Catalina pumped faster but he was becoming limp with each tug.

“Stay with us, Eric!” Catalina yelled. She bent over and put her head in his lap. She took his cock in her mouth and licked him furiously.

“Oh!” Eric groaned. His cock surged under her tongue. “Yeah, sorry. See, this one time when I was a teen, I had a dream like that. I dreamed my grandmother was wearing this green bikini and she was seducing me. In my dream, I was like really into it, but when I woke up, I was grossed out. I didn’t jack off for a month. Considering how much I jack off as a teenager, that is a pretty damn long time.”

Catalina lifted her head of his lap. She kept one hand on his cock and kept jacking him. Her spit made everything slippery and wonderful despite the thoughts of his grandmother.

“So you’re saying I got that dream from here?” Eric asked.

“Sure,” Catalina said. “Someone who does want to fuck their grandmother had that desire. Or maybe a grandmother had it. For that matter, maybe some guy sitting on his computer somewhere wrote the story and it traveled the Roads of Lust. The thing is, erotic thoughts travel both ways.”

Eric thought about is as they saw a giant blimp pass by. It was shaped like a nude woman. It was monstrously big but incredibly beautiful in an ample way. He realized that he saw tiny people climbing over the blimp woman, doing inscrutable things on her body.

“Both ways?” he asked. “Everything is here is someone’s desire right?”

The Voluptumancer shrugged. “Maybe. Or they come from somewhere and end up in someone’s desire. No one really knows what comes first: desire or the thought that gave someone the desire.”

There was still no traffic. For that matter, there wasn’t much of a street either. It was turning into a road that went into a forest. They saw things lurking behind trees. Some of the things were sexy. Others were less sexy and just violent looking.

“Fuck, that wolf has big ass claws,” Eric said. “Are we safe here?”

“Safe?” Catalina said. “Interesting question. As long as we keep moving we are.”

A wolf leaped out of the trees. Eric screamed as the giant shape went over them. The wolf landed on a woman on the other side of them. It ripped her clothes off and buried its face in her sex.

“What the fuck?” Eric yelled. He took his foot off the gas.

“No!” Catalina said. She whipped off her t-shirt. Her massive brown breasts took Eric’s attention from the violence they had seen. She took his right hand and placed it on her breast. She squeezed his fingers tightly into her flesh.

“Keep driving,” Catalina said. “They don’t see us here, not really. They fuck each other. They fuck other desires. If we stop, then we might become a fantasy. We might never find the Road of Lust back out.”

Eric squeezed her breast tighter. Her felt reassurance in her soft skin, the same skin he had kissed and groped before. His fingers found her nipples and he pinched them. Catalina’s groan drowned out the scream of the woman underneath the wolf.

“How are we getting to San Francisco this way?” he asked. He watched a group of lumberjacks climbing a cock as big as a redwood.

Catalina tapped the postcard. “The Roads of Lust go everywhere. We could drive to Hawaii if we wanted to. All places exist in our desires. It is easier to go to our desire of a place and then drop off the road and land back in the real world.”

They passed through a forest of cocks. Some were giants that towered into the sky which others grew like foot long mushrooms. Eric was sure that this was a great dream for someone. It just wasn’t doing anything for him.

“Ah, Catalina,” he said but the Voluptumancer was already thinking ahead. She took his hand off her breast and put it on her crotch. The thin shorts couldn’t cover the heat he felt there. He could feel how damp she was already. Eric could easily imagine how wet and slick she would be.

The forest began to change. The trees disappeared and a lake appeared beside them. To the other side was a gorgeous beach. Hundreds of bodies lined the beach and Eric could see that everyone one of them was a woman. It was oily breasts and tits as far as the eye could see.

“Oh my,” he said. Catalina took his hand off of her crotch and placed hers back on his cock. The amount of tanned flesh around him was such that she only had to give his cock the lightest of touches from time to time.

“Did I do that?” he asked. He pointed. "That was exactly what I was thinking of when I touched you. It reminded me of the beach, hot and wet."

Catalina laughed. “Maybe,” she said. “The Roads sometimes show our deepest fantasies. Of course, they sometimes show our worse fears. You would be amazed how intertwined they are.

Eric laughed until he saw it. A flash of green on the side of the road. There was a woman standing on the side of the road, feeling herself. Eric knew who it was. Jesus Christ, he didn’t want to see that here! He looked on the other side of the road and there she was again!

“What’s the matter?” Catalina said. She felt his cock weakening.

“There!” Eric yelled. “In a fucking green bikini! It’s grandma! I just know it!”

These things happen on the Roads of Lust. Catalina swung into action. She reached under Eric’s seat and pushed it all the way back. The car swerved as Catalina climbed on top of Eric. With practiced skill, she slipped his cock into her. She pressed him into her breasts, obscuring his vision as he drove.

“Just drive straight,” she said. Catalina clenched down and Eric groaned in response. She moved her hips against him. Fucking in the front seat of a car while the driver is still driving would have been impossible for a normal person. For a Voluptumancer, it was all part of the job.

“Think about your cock in my cunt,” Catalina said. “Think about my breasts in your face. Bite my breast, let me feel how much you want me. Think about my ass right in front of the wheel. Grab my ass with one hand but keep the other driving. Feel my ass? Remember how it feels when you fuck it? Think about that, Eric, and keep driving.”

Eric drove. Catalina rode his cock as the world changed around them. She watched as the beach turned into a desert filled with well hung cowboys and humanoid cow-women. She kept humping his cock while they drove through a valley of sexy robots. She found new ways to move her hips while they drove past drive-in theaters showing home porn movies of famous stars.

Finally, they reached San Francisco. Not the real city of course, but the erotized version that exists in dreams. Naked hippies were having orgies. Gay pride parades of astonishing beauty and vulgarity passed by. Trolleys filled with nudists zipped through curvy hills. It was time to stop.

Catalina climbed off of Eric. His eyes widened as he saw the sights around them.

“Are we here?” he asked. “How do we stop safely?”

“Well, you can stop by loosing your desire,” Catalina said. “That is why it is so dangerous to lose your erection. There is no telling where we would have appeared in the real world.”

“That seems anticlimactic,” he said.

She laughed. “Here’s the other way.” She bent down and took his cock back into her mouth. It was so wet from her own juices. She sucked down hard and applied all of her skill to him with her tongue.

Eric came. His hands gripped the wheel as he released into her mouth. The hippies vanished. The gay pride parade transformed into a long line of cars. The trolley stayed but all the people on board were dressed in clothes.

The sudden appearance of the real world made Eric feel very naked in his car. On the other hand, he was too exhausted to care.

“I do love road trips,” Catalina said.

Inner Diplomat

I started writing entries for my fiction blog this weekend. I had Friday off which really helped. I find that when I start a very long story told in the first person, I need time alone to really get the voice down. Do it wrong, and it is just Cranky Shon telling a story. Do it right, and the character has a voice different from mine. The fact that this is a non-sex story has me a little nervous. I feel much more confidant talking about sex in the first person than I do anything else.

No story survives the first word you put on paper and this one is no different. My character, Jimmy, is one foul mouthed bastard. Then again, the world has gone to shit and the living dead walk the earth so I guess he is allowed to be upset. I'm curious if he'll calm down any.

What concerns me is a lot of my first person stories have a lot of hostility. When I start typing, I just turn to internal editor off and let things spill out. I don't look to type hostile words, but I find that if I am being true to a character, I have get to what annoys them , or delights them, as a person. Often that comes across as aggressive when my goal was more to be honest.

My wife gets frustrated with me because I can be extremely easy going. Someone could stab me and I could speculate on their motives to the point that I am sympathetic to my stabber. I am a diplomat at heart and I believe that 90% of the evil committed in the world is due to a lack of empathy. As a human being, I can be pretty damn soft.

As a writer, I can be mean. I don't think I am mean for sake of being mean. I think that everyone has a personal diplomat that makes them acceptable for human society. When I write first person, I think it is important to strip off the diplomat. I think the meanness is truth.

I think this inner layer of meanness is what is lacking from a lot of erotica. For a successful personal connection between two people, there is a high level of relationship management even between the greatest lovers. There are the love handles we refuse to see, or that thing they do that reminds you of your father. We keep those things to ourselves because our loved ones have no need to ever know what is inside out heads.

Readers though, they should know.

And the Raven Drew Hot Chicks, Forevermore.

Back in the Dark Ages known as the mid 1990's, I was heavily into superheroine fiction. Reading straight out porn was a little boring to me but I enjoyed the stories of superheroes I grew up with having sex. The genre has a few subgenres within it and I pretty much explored them all. There were relationship stories that bored me, rape stories that made me think way too much about other writers' mental issues and then there was my favorite topic: Superheroines in Distress stories.

As a kid I was always an escape nut. I loved the idea of heroes placed in a trap from which they escape. I would play those scenarios with my toys over and over again. When I grew up, I was intrigued by the idea of sexual traps that maybe threatened your life, but mostly they threatened your libido and your shame.

It is a very tricky genre. Do it wrong and you are writing overcomplicated rape stores. Do it wrong in the other direction and they come across as just silly. It is a damn difficult genre to play in.

Raven has been doing it right for over a decade. He relies on a combination of excessive text and a single image to get across his stories. He has female characters who are captured by dark forces and then subjected to many cute sexual ordeals. The overall tone is one of playfulness. This is aided by the fact that the heroine always wins in the end.

Although his stories are set in a science fiction setting, he incorporates just about damn near anything in his stories. Witches, pirates, robots and aliens share his kinky universe. He also spreads out into a nice range of bondage fetishes from spider webs, to robot manacles to frequent darts to the ass. When you read a Raven story, all sorts of shit can happen.

His main character is a sexy little sidekick named Gull. Her husband and boss, Raven, is a mysterious space Batman type who always has a plan. Don't judge Raven too much for going by the name of his sexy character. It was the 90's, we were all doing it. Gull somehow gets captured by evil forces and must endure humiliation and orgasms at the hands of her captors.

I want to take a moment to talk about escalation. Most BDSM fiction depends on escalation to keep the reader involved. The sexual acts get more and more extreme as the writer tries to top himself. A woman might be forced to strip to start with, by by the end of the story she is being given enemas by a football team. Raven never seems to fall into this trap. If he escalates, he escalates the creativity. That is a trend we need more of.

I also admire his use of text to convey his story. These are not comic books, these are illustrated erotica stories. Sex is too complicated for just words or pictures alone. Raven is one of the few people who knows when you talk and when to let the image speak. Click this panel and see what I mean.



What continues to impress me about Raven is that he is still doing this. He has been plugging away at this niche at his own pace and he is just getting better and better. He obviously enjoys what he does and the niche nature of his genre hasn't slowed him down.

His stories are at the Wizard's Lair, which is a post all to itself. Through two disclaimer pages you have to click on "Wizard's Henchmen" in order to select Raven's archive. It is well worth the journey. Be sure to check out the rest of the site for all sorts of costumed bondage goodness.