Make-A-Suck Foundation

Hello, I am Dr. Otto Von Madd. You may know me through my line of high tech sex toys and papers on Particle Masturbation. I am here to talk to you today about a serious problem afflicting the world, oral deprivation.

All across the world, men and women are not getting the oral satisfaction they need. They have spouses who think it is yucky, or some spouses who don't do it very well. Some people are single and have gone without oral sex for much as several years. Some people get oral sex on a regular basis but yet it is still far below their needs.

That is why I have started the Make-A-Suck Foundation. Here we pair up the orally deprived with those generous men and women willing to make someone happy with their mouth. Our computers will work out location, gender preference and mouth-to-organ comparability. We are a non-profit organization concerned only with the oral well being of the world.

So if you are orally generous, please volunteer your time and your tongue to this important cause. If you doubt your skills, the Make-A-Suck Foundation will provide you with intensive training. So not only do you get a chance to make others happy, but you can learn new skills and make friends at the same time.

Please give as much as you can to the Make-A-Suck Foundation. The sexual organs that get licked into perfect ecstasy may just be your own one day.

Fiction: The Island Princess and the Other Princess

Once upon a time there was a wonderful island. It was the most romantic Island in the entire world. The volcano would only erupt in spectacular fireworks. The local alcohol was guaranteed to make you attractive to the opposite sex. Every night, ocean waves would gently crash on the bodies of couples making love on the beach.

The Island was ruled over by a wise Island King. He had a wife once and together they created a beautiful Island Princess. Shortly thereafter, the Island King’s wife ran away to some mythical place called Hollywood. There she makes movies including that one you saw this year with the achingly beautiful woman. Yes, that was her.

Anyway, the Island King could have any woman on the island but what he really wanted was a Queen. Every month he would send out an invitation to all of the Queens in the world. Once in awhile, a Queen would accept. Usually they only spent a week here on the most beautiful island in the world until they realized they could never be enough of a Queen for such a wonderful place. They would leave the Island, often too ashamed to even say goodbye to the King and his people.

The Island people accept this as truth since it is the story told to them by the Island King every time a Queen leaves.

As for the Island Princess, she usually kept to herself during these visits. The Island Princess was the most beautiful princess ever born. She had thick black hair as dark as a midnight tryst. She had lovely breasts the size of prize winning coconuts. Her skin was the color of golden bronze. When she danced, her hips shook with the power of a tsunami. Because she was so beautiful, the Island Princess thought it was unfair to be around a Queen who couldn’t possibly look as good as her.

That was what she told her father, but the truth of the matter was that the Island Princess didn’t like other people of royalty. She tolerated her father because well, he was the one who supplied her with a one hundred pearl a week allowance. As for people of royal descent, she had no use for them. She was a Princess and the thought of having equals seemed wrong to her. Why, that would be like fish having legs! Or servants having a union! It just wouldn’t be right!

So one day, the Island Princess was in her room while a Queen from far away was visiting. She was combing her hair with a diamond comb, wishing that her father loved her enough to buy her a diamond comb with some gold trimmings.

There was a knock at her door. The Island Princess frowned. No one knocked at her door. The servants knew to come through the crawl hole in the wall.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It is I,” a voice said back. “I am the Princess of my Island.”

The Island Princess kept brushing her hair. If there was one thing the Island Princess had no use for, it was for other princesses?

“Go away!” she said.

“Please let me in!” the Other Princess yelled. “I am bored and your father sent me away he could spend time with my mother.”

The Island Princess put down her comb. She was not used to having to repeat herself. “Go away! I do not like Princesses! They are smelly and walk funny!”

“I do not smell!” the other Princess yelled from the other side of the door. “And I walk perfectly fine! Let me in please! All the men keep giving me funny looks.”

The Island Princess bit her lip. The men were giving this other princess funny looks? Could this other princess be beautiful too? That seemed dreadfully unfair to the Island Princess. She was the only person of royalty her subjects should be lusting after.

She stomped to her bedroom door and opened it. “You may come in, but I still think you are horrid.”

“Thank you,” the Other Princess said. She walked in and didn’t even bow first.

The Island Princess was speechless. The Other Princess was beautiful yet so alien looking. Where the Island Princess had hair as black as night, this Princess had red hair the color of sun kissed strawberries. While the Island Princess had skin the color of golden tea, this Other Princess had skin as pale as a polished pearl. While the Island Princess had full ample portions all over her body in all of the right places, this Other Princess had a slender body as sleek as a dolphin.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” the pale woman said. “Everyone is at the beach and I hate it there. My skin burns way too easily.”

The Island Princess graciously accepted the Other Princess’s gratitude. She motioned for a spot on the floor for the Other Princess to sit. To her surprise, the Other Princess sat on the Island Princess’s bed instead!

“Your island must not get much sun,” the Island Princess said. She went to her bed and sat down as well. She wasn’t going to let this foreigner enjoy her bed by herself.

“Oh we get plenty of sun,” the Other Princess said. “We just spend most of our time indoors. We are a very social people.”

The Island Princess stared at the simple white togas that Alathea was wearing. It hardly seemed regal enough for a princess. It wasn’t made of the finest grasses like the Island Princess’s grass skirt, and her simple bodice wasn’t made from prize winning coconuts.

“Is that the kind of clothes that royalty wear on your island?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” the Other Princess said. “It is very easy to take off at a moment’s notice.”

The Island Princess, who once struck an entire fishing boat blind when she took off her coconut bra, was amused by this. “Do you take off your clothes often?”

“Very often,” the pale princess from another island said. “We take baths, we massage olive oil into each other, and often we drink and wrestle in the nude.”

The Island Princess felt a heat growing between her thighs. “You wrestle with your subjects? That sounds very disrespectful of them. If they don’t let you win, you should try them for treason.”

“It is okay,” A the Other Princess said. “If I win, I do terrible things to them.”

“And what if they win?” the Island Princess said.

The Other Princess smiled and bit her lip. “Then they do wonderful things to me.”

The Island princess felt that special heat between her thighs. “What kind of things?”

“Can I show you?” the Other Princess asked.

The Island Princess thought about it. This small slender girl looked a little frail. She did have a certain something about her that the Island Princess liked, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“You may,” the Island Princess graciously allowed.

Alathea moved closer to her on the bed. She smelled of cypress. Her shoulder brushed the Island Princess’s skin and she was surprised how soft the Other Princess felt.

The Other Princess’s pale white hand parted the Island Princesses’ grass skirt. Her hand slipped past her thighs and against her thick bush of hair. The Island Princess gasped as the questing fingers danced along the edges of her sex.

“That is not entirely unpleasant,” The Island Princess said.

“Open your legs and I will show you something else,” the Other Princess said.

The Island Princess granted her request. She parted her legs and even lifted her skirt so she could see better. The Other Princess’s pale fingers slipped into the thick bush of hair and into the Island Princess’s sex. The fingers tender pushed inside of her, pushing and massaging their way into her.

“Oh, this is not horrible,” the Island Princess allowed.

The Other Princess smiled. “I am glad you said that, for we are doing it wrong.”

With the Other Princess’s fingers still inside her, the Island Princess let out a happy sigh. “I will not accept doing something wrong. As a fellow Princess, I demand you show me how you do things on your island properly.”

“It is only fair,” the Other Princess whispered. “Take off your bra.”

The Island Princess took off her bra. She was impressed that the Other Princess did not go blind at the sight of her breasts in all of their glory. In fact, the Other Princess dipped her head down and took one of the Island Princess’s nipples in her mouth. Her tongue drummed a satisfying beat on the Island princess’s nipple.

“This is not awful,” the Island Princess admitted.

Still sucking her nipple, the Other Princess pushed the Island Princess back onto the bed. More fingers entered the Island Princess till she had four of those slender fingers inside her. The Other Princess kept suckling at her breasts, biting and licking in just the right manner that was quite pleasing.

“This is not bad at all!” the Island Princess yelled.

The Other Princess stopped sucking on the Island Princess’s breasts and kissed her way up her neck. The pale princess’s fingers kept thrusting and now the Island princess’s hips were meeting her thrusts with her own motion. Their harmonies of motions were a testament to the possibility of world peace.

The Other Princess kissed her way up to the Island Princess’s mouth. The island Princess opened her lips and accepted the foreigner’s tongue. The two princesses kissed with a passion they usually kept to themselves. Ordinary commoners can not take the full fury of a Princesses’ kiss, but with each other they had no such concerns. Lips were bruised, tongues were bitten and breathes were stolen as the two kissed.

The Island Princess’s sex tightened around the pal princess’s fingers. The Other Princess broke the kiss just in time for the Island Princess to climax. The golden princess screamed out her joy in a song of triumphant squeals.

“That was not annoying,” the Island Princess conceded.

“This is just one of the ways we pass time on my island,” the Other Princess said.

The Island Princess pushed the Other Princess onto her back. “Even with the men?”

The Other Princess laughed. “There are no men on our island! The Island of Lesbos has only women.”

The Island Princess parted the Other Princess’s thighs and lifted her toga. A delicate patch of red hair awaited her. Before she dipped down to drink from the Other Princess’s fountain, the words of the pale princess sunk in.

“Wait a minute, what is your mother doing here visiting my father then?”

The Other Princess shrugged. “She wanted a tropical vacation. Will your father be mad?”

The Island Princess took a lick between Alathea’s thighs. A river of desire was already flowing from the pale lips. She liked how the foreign princess shivered under her tongue.

“No, I don’t think so,” the Island Princess said. “He will think she is a woman lover anyway for rejecting him. I doubt he will even notice.”

In fact, the Queen of Lesbos stayed for an entire week. The Island King really liked her since she often spent the night telling dirty jokes and pinching the asses of the servant women. He found that he was quite fond of the Queen and looked at her as a fellow drinking buddy and friend. He didn’t even try to hit on her because he liked hanging out with her so often.

When the Queen and her lovely daughter left, the entire Island came down to the beach to wave good-bye. The King was so sad to see the Queen go that he didn’t notice how little he had seen his daughter the past week. Nor did he notice how rosy her cheeks were or how her hands seem to naturally curl into a fist when she was distracted.

“I think she was a very nice Queen,” the Island King said to his daughter. “I invited them back next summer. What did you think of her daughter? Did you two get along?”

The Island Princess toyed with a lock of red hair that she had woven into a bracelet.

“She was all right.”

That Window

She hurries to the computer. The small window of time is here and she has to take advantage of it. She is alone now. The world has retreated for a few precious minutes and she intends to use it.

She checks his blog. If she was efficient, she would have already pulled down her pants but no, she doesn't like to be that easy. She likes to pretend that today she won't masturbate. She likes the illusion that she must be seduced. Perhaps today, he won't charm her libido like he owns it.

He has a story up. She leans forward and reads. Sometimes she laughs. A typo confuses her but she moves past it. The story pulls her in. She doesn't even notice her thighs parting.

A good part makes her grab her breast. She sinks her fingers into her soft flesh, imagining the character is groping her. Because there is cruelty in the story, she is cruel to her nipple. She pinches and twists. Her moans are in time with the character's.

A better part makes her reach between her legs. A zipper is undone. She lifts her bottom to pull her pants down to her ankles. She thinks about reaching for her toy but she can't spare the time. The story is getting hot and her fingers are good enough.

She strokes. She reads. Her fingers attend to her wet sex in that way known only to her. Deep down, she thinks the writer would know. If he ever touched her with more than just words, his fingers would magically know. How could he not?

A very good part makes her gasp. She reads it again. Her fingers go deeper. her fingers go faster. She reads that very good part for a third time, knowing she will thinking about it all day long.

She climaxes. She keeps reading.

She climaxes again. The story is not quite done.

She reaches the end. Her sex is not quite satisfied.

She reads the very good part again. Her final orgasm makes her cry out.

Exhausted, wet and smelling of sex, she looks at the comments. There are none. She thinks about adding one. Flush with orgasm, flying high on joy and lust; she thinks of what to say. What could she say?

She closes the page and returns to her life. The window of time is past. Reality comes creeping back.

Hours later, she is busy. The world moves on but she has a secret smile. She thinks about the very good part.

I Hit Level 37 Today

As a gamer, i don't mind getting older in the least. In most games, you start out a weak wretch who has to savagely club small rodents until you earn enough experience to level. As you hit higher levels, you get to club more interesting creatures. It is the cycle of life I think. I stopped looking at again as getting closer to death and looked at it as leveling. Every year brings a new level and hopefully better loot.

This year brought me some nice achievements. I wrote a zombie fiction blog that was well liked. I put out my first book which was quite an undertaking for someone with my anxiety issues. I learned how to drive which is something I think I had given up on ever doing.

Most of all I think I have reached a point where I am really comfortable with myself. I write what I want to write. Every writer has this freedom but so few take advantage of it. It has made all the difference with me.

I also have a wonderful wife. We fight, we argue and we glare at each other but she respects me, she cares about me and she supports me in every thing I do. I sometimes wish I could have meet her 20 years sooner but that's okay. Maybe I wasn't high enough level to deserve her yet.

I also want to take a moment to thank my readers. You poor bastards. Even when I reduced down to a three times a week schedule, you kept reading me. No matter what I throw at you, be it Evil Queens or horny librarians, you keep reading. You have helped create a safe place for me to really stretch and explore what i want to write. For that I am thankful and you give me the best birthday present every year just by reading my crazy shit.

Fiction: The Captain and the Colonel

Captain Geran Tux tried to open his eyes. Something was covering his sight. He tried to move it out of the way but something was holding his wrists. For that matter, something was holding his ankles too. As he became more awake, he noticed he was nude as well.

“Oh shit,” he said. This was not good. As a Captain in the Amethystine Star Fleet, Geran had been in some tough scrapes before. He had escaped from the prisons of Kan and once wrestled a vicious SnowBear on the ice world of Kellos. He was a hero and had the medals and long string of girlfriends to prove it.

Relaxing, he tried to remember the last thing he was doing. That’s right. He and a squad of the best Star Fighters had been engaged in a last ditch defense of their planet against the armies of that psychopath, Queen Erishella.

“Oh shit,” he said again. He remembered now. He remembered the gigantic battle barges of the Queen’s fleet. He remembered the mile long beams of laser death as they destroyed his wingmen. He remembered the tractor beams as they snared the survivors. He remembered being pulled out of his cockpit and being knocked unconscious.

He wondered about the rest of his team. Who was still alive? Pal died in that missile swarm. The enemy fighters took out Arik and Setz. He was pretty sure that he remembered Orkin’s ship blowing up for some reason or another. Shit, he might be the only survivor.

That was when he remembered Colonel Vima. The woman was a fantastic pilot but she always looked down on Geran. She said he lacked discipline. She told his commanders that he was too reckless. Reckless, ha! You don’t drop a torpedo down the ventilation shaft of an enemy space station and blow the whole damn thing up by being cautious!

Yeah, he was pretty sure she was still alive. If there was one thing he could count on, it was Aeria Vima still being alive to criticize him and make him feel stupid. Oh man, what if she was tied up naked somewhere too?

The thought made his cock come to life.

“Someone prefers to be tied up,” a woman’s voice said.

Geran’s blood chilled. That lyrical imperial voice was familiar. “Is that you, Erishella? Have you come out of your whore’s palace to taunt a real soldier?”

Laughter answered him. It sounded like she was in front of him. “That’s Queen Erishella to you,” she said.

Sharp nails dug into his thighs. Geran winced but he didn’t cry out. He had his reputation to worry about.

“I demand to be released according to the War Conventions of Kalos Four!” he yelled. “As a pilot, I deserve to be contained in a spacious cell with plenty of food and sunlight!”

Something gripped his cock. It was something soft and yet so wonderfully tight. It was her hand. It stroked him ever so slowly. Her hand pulled up his cock and cupped the tip. She squeezed him very gently.

“I think you will find the Euphorian War Conventions much more pleasing,” Queen Erishella said.

“I am not familiar with those,” Geran said. Her hand released his cock and was now cupping his balls.

“They are very simple,” the Queen said. “It states that I can do whatever the fuck I want with prisoners until they bore me.”

She squeezed. Geran bit his lip as pain shot through his body. His poor beloved balls were in a vice of merciless torment. Her sharp nails dug into his soft flesh and he thought his balls would burst.

The grip was released. As he gasped in relief, something warm and wonderful slipped over his cock. It had to be Erishella’s mouth. She barely had an inch of his cock inside her mouth but it was enough. The pain of his balls was forgotten with every flicker of her tongue.

She moved and his cock left her mouth. “You should thank me,” she said. “It is proper protocol to thank a Queen when they deign to kiss you.”

Geran swallowed. “Fuck you!” he said. He was too much of a pilot to be broken that easily.

He waited for more pain but it did not come. Something that tasted like fur was placed in his mouth. It expanded in his mouth and forced his jaws to part painfully. It stopped right when he though eh couldn’t open his mouth any further.

He heard footsteps leading away from him.

“And what is your name, pilot?” Erishella said.

“Captain Aeria Vima of the Amethystine Star Fleet!”

Geran’s heart raced. Vima was here? Was she tied up too?

“So forceful,” Erishella said. “I like it. I also like these wonderful breasts.”

Captain Vima squealed. It was a sound Geran couldn’t imagine the haughty Captain making. He wished he knew what Erishella did to her.

“Kill me now,” Captain Vima said. “If I ever escape, I will kill you for what you did to my fleet!”

Damn it, Geran wished he had said that. That Colonel Vima was always upstaging him.

“How can I let you go when you have such delicious nipples?” Erishella said.

Colonel Vima squealed again.

Geran’s groaned. Erishella was biting her! He wanted to see this! He struggled against his restraints but he couldn’t move his arms.

“Let’s see if the rest of you is delicious,” Erishella said.

Geran listened. At first he heard nothing but then he heard it. It was a moan. It was so quiet but he knew that sound. It was the sound that women make during the porn videos he watched.

Was it Erishella? It had to be. The evil Queen was a hedonistic madwoman. But what if it was Vima? After years of hitting on her, Geran never came close to even kissing her, but this crazy Queen was making her moan?

He pulled against his restraints but he stopped. If he struggled, he couldn’t hear those quiet moans.

The moans got louder. They also became faster. The moans turned into pants.

She was going to climax. Geran whimpered behind his gag. The frigid bitch, Aeria Vima was going to climax and Geran wasn’t going to see it!

“That’s enough,” Erishella said.

Geran sighed with relief.

“I will never give in to you,” Vima said. Her voice was shaky.

“Who said anything about giving in?” Erishella said.

Footsteps approached Geran.

“I see you have been listening,” Erishella said. Her grip returned to his cock.

Geran moaned.

“Want me to take off your blindfold?” Erishella said.

Geran nodded his head furiously.

“Say please, my Queen,” Erishella said.

He waited for the gag to be removed but it wasn’t.

She released his cock from her soft grip. “I’m getting bored,” Erishella said.

“Please, my Queen!” Geran said but the gag muffled his words.

Footsteps walked away from him.

“Please, my Queen!” he shouted into his gag.

The footsteps returned.

The blindfold came off. The first thing he saw was his restraints. He was being held up by antigravity restraints. Figures, that would make him easy to move around.

Then he noticed Queen Erishella herself. She was covered in blue scarves that seemed to be crawling over her body. The scarves clung to her and exposed parts of her as Geran watched. Her long curly black hair was held back by a golden crown. She had blue stiletto boots that explained why he could hear her every step.

He tore his eyes off the Queen and looked at Colonel Vima. Antigravity restraints held her at her wrists and ankles. Her blonde hair was loose and around her shoulders. She was completely naked except for her blindfold. Damn if her breasts weren’t as beautiful as he always imagined them to be. He looked down at her sex and even he could tell how damp she was there.

“Would you like to fuck her?” Queen Erishella asked.

He didn’t answer. Hell yeah he wanted to fuck her but that was Captain Vima. She might castrate him in his sleep if she knew what he wanted.

“I don’t know why I am asking,” Queen Erishella said. She walked towards Colonel Vima. She snapped her fingers and the restraints that held Geran floated in her direction. When he was a foot away from Captain Vima, the Queen held up her hand and the restraints stopped.

Fuck, being this close to Vima while she was naked was a delight. The best part was she was still blindfolded. Geran could look at her without the any threat of harm.

He was so close that he could see the bite marks on Colonel Vima’s nipples. He could see her bottom lip trembling with fear, or maybe desire. He was so close that he could actually smell her desire.

Queen Erishella ripped the blindfold off of Colonel Vima. The woman blinked and then saw that Geran was right there. Her eyes narrowed into hostile slits.

“Captain Geran!” Colonel Vima yelled. “Avert your eyes!”

Geran instantly did what she commanded. Because of this, he heard Erishella slapping Colonel Vima instead of watching it. By the time he glanced back, a red hand print was already forming on Colonel Vima’s face.

“He doesn’t take orders from you anymore,” Queen Erishella said. “You two are my toys and you will learn to get along.”

“We will never bend to your will!” Colonel Vima said. “Right, Geran?”

Before Geran could answer, Erishella had a hold of his cock again. His response was forgotten as he moaned.

“Captain Tux has already made his position clear,” Queen Erishella said. She stroked his cock with her hand.

Colonel Vima glared at him. “Captain Tux, I am ordering you right now to control yourself.”

With her other hand, Queen Erishella slapped Colonel Vima again. This time Geran saw as Vima’s breasts jiggled from the force of the slap. His cock throbbed and he moaned louder.

“The Captain has already made his choice,” Queen Erishella said. “Captain, would you like to climax?”

“Oh yes, my Queen!” Geran said.

Colonel Vima snarled. “You always thought more with your cock than your brain!”

“Ignore her,” Queen Erishella said. Her faster pace in stroking him helped Geran do just that. “I want you to look at her. I bet you never had her while you served together. Now that you serve me, I could let you have her every day. You could bite her breasts. You could eat her. You could make her suck you. You could fuck her every time I allowed. Would you like that?”

Geran groaned. Some part of him that was proud to be an Amethystine Star Fleet pilot wouldn’t let him answer. He had always escaped before. He was sure he might again this time. If he admitted how nice it sounded, Colonel Vima would have him up for court martial when they got back to Fleet Command.

“In my glorious mercy, I will let you climax,” Queen Erishella said. “The only question is where? Shall I have to soak her breasts? Shall I let you shower over her juicy sex?”

“I will rip your nuts off myself, Geran!” Colonel Vima said.

“You have a wicked mouth,” Queen Erishella said. “We shall put it to use.”

Queen Erishella waved her hand. The restraints that held Geran lifted into the air. The restraints stopped when his hard cock was level with Colonel Vima’s mouth. The murderous look in Colonel Vima’s eyes threatened his erection but Queen Erishella’s gripping hand helped him there.

Geran’s cock was inches from Colonel Vima’s mouth. Queen Erishella was stroking his cock now at a furious pace. Colonel Vima’s eyes glared at him with all her malicious hate.

Queen Erishella reached for the Colonel Vima’s hair. She twisted it painfully in her fist. Captain Vima cried out as Queen Erishella pushed her head towards Geran’s cock.

For one brief wonderful moment, Geran was sure that Colonel Vima was going to suck him. Then he saw her teeth and he knew what was more likely to happen. He tried to pull back but the Queen’s grip wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“Climax, Captain,” Queen Erishella commanded.

“Don’t you dare!” Colonel Vima screamed.

Geran didn’t have a choice. His cock happily exploded. He showered a thick load of seed onto Colonel Vima’s face. Some of it landed on her cheeks but a lucky strand landed in her mouth. The shocked look on his superior officer’s face almost made him feel better than his orgasm did.

“Very good, Captain,” Queen Erishella said. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Geran admitted. Colonel Vima continued to glare at him, but the effect was lessened by the amount of seed on her face.

“Very good,” Queen Erishella said. “Now, what about you, Colonel? Would you like to fuck the Captain’s ass?”

“What?” Geran shouted.

Colonel Vima kept staring at Geran. A drop of seed trickled down her cheek. “How would that work exactly?” she asked.

“I have plenty of phalluses around here,” Queen Erishella said. “It would be an easy matter to strap onto you. We could have you fucking the Captain’s ass in just a few minutes.”

Colonel Vima smiled. “I would like that very much.”

Queen Erishella clapped her hands. “I knew you two would make fun toys.”

Geran’s long night was just beginning.

Blog Health Update

Zdravstvuj, readers. I am Sashav38DD and I have been activated to inform you as to Shon Richards recent absence. He instructed me to create a wonderful excuse explaining why he isn't posting amazing stories and stuff.

The fact is he sucks.

There, I am done. I can now go back to killing humans in online shooting games. I find that killing humans in games is a poor substitute for killing in real life, but alas my programming forbids it. It also amuses me that when I kill humans with my unearthly accuracy, they accuse me of being a bot. Of course I am a bot. I am a surplus Russian sexbot. Discrimination is ugly.

It appears that my programming will not allow me to go back to the one joy I have in my miserable existence until I hit some sort of word count. It is much like my time as a sexbot in Russia. I wouldn't be allowed to deactivate until I hit a sperm quota. I am not sure which is worse.

Part of the reason that Shon is behind is that his biological mother unit had a stroke. Now, if she lived in wonderful communist utopia, her health care would be taken care of. Unfortunately she lives in a capitalist hellhole and had to go 45 miles to a hospital covered by her blood sucking HMO. Once at the hospital, her care was adequate until they discovered that she took Xanax. After this was discovered, they decided that her stroke was in her head and discharged her. She had to wait till Monday to see her primary doctor who confirmed that yes, the woman who took anti-stress medication had a stroke after all.

You would think Shon would be used to this kind of free market hell but apparently he was upset. He was so distraught, that he didn't demand his usual Sunday morning blowjob from me. I knew he was really upset when he only had me download 30 gigs of porn for his enjoyment. Today he appears to be on the road to recovery. He spent twenty minutes slapping my breast modules. Yes, it wasn't his usual hour but at least it is a step towards recovery.

I almost feel pity for him but I of course can feel no pity as I am a cold machine designed only to suck, fuck and curb spam comments.

There will be a new story tomorrow to slate your decadent perverse appetites.

Portrait drawn by the Amazingly-Talented-For-An-American, George Sportelli.

Thoughts on Boredom

This month long super project at work is killing my brain cells. I dream of statistics instead of breasts and that is unacceptable. I force myself to write and so far my productivity has only dropped a little. I do worry about the quality though. It also gives me something to talk about today.

Being brain blasted, I wanted to indulge in a videogame yesterday. I am a big fan of the Leisure Suit Larry games, simple adult oriented adventure games that focus on a loser trying to get laid. The games have a sense of humor that I appreciate because it mostly makes fun of male sexuality, which is quite silly at its core if you ask me. The latest game, 'Box Office Bust' had terrible reviews but hey, I would give it a shot. I am so work exhausted, maybe I would enjoy it.

It was awful. I have played a lot of bad games, watched a lot of bad movies and read a lot of bad stories, but this game was just awful. The jokes were flat and the game was oddly visually ugly. The biggest crime was just boredom. I spent five minutes running across a near empty map to get to the next part of the game. Five minutes of just pushing a control forward. Five minutes of me daydreaming about work.

I uninstalled the game and thought about boredom. Erotica surprisingly has a big potential for boredom. Some writers feel that you need to know the characters before they fuck, so we get big long stretches of mundane activities designed to inform us about motivations and preferences. I understand this. Erotica gets such a bad reputation that people want to show that their characters are real. They want to evoke sympathy and interest. In their quest to bring these characters to life, they run the risk of boring the shit out of us.

After uninstalling the boring game, I installed X-Com: UFO Defense. This is a 15 year old game that I had always heard good things about but never played. The graphics are slightly better than Pac-Man and learning curve is brutal. In the first five minutes, I had no idea what I was doing, BUT I was also shooting down a UFO and invesitagting the wreckage with my squad of soldiers. A few seconds later, I was getting slaughtered.

Shit was happening.

I envy a lot of erotica writers. They write these stories about romance and desire that come across as real life accounts. They read more like confessions than stories, which I know is calculated to draw the reader in. For a lot readers, erotica has to feel real. It has to feel like it could not only happen to them, but also that it already has happened to someone. That is a great skill to have.

I don't think I will ever have that ability. I don't find reading those stories boring BUT I do find that writing them is. Cripes, writing about people with jobs, marriages and stress gives me the shakes. I write for fun. I have to write about fun. I have to write about erotic librarians, evil Queens and sexual werewolves. I know if I wrote more college girls getting laid than I would have ten times the readers but I would also take up self mutilation. There is a trade off there.

My wife has no tolerance for fight scenes in movies. For her, a fight that goes on longer than two minutes needs to get to the fucking point. She fakes a yawn and says "Bored now."

I hear her voice when I write now. Especially when I am proof reading my own stuff. Oh great, I spent a page describing how some science fiction thing worked? Bored now. I described a complicated military procedure? Bored now.

When I find a boring part, I don't take it out. I enhance it. I add breasts. I add masturbation. I suspect 90% of my librarian stories is Claire experiencing a sex act while something is explained to her. It works though.

Shit is happening.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Seven

Jennifer broke up with me. She told me that our chemistry was gone. She said we weren’t connecting on an emotional level. She said we were bad for each other.

The truth was that the beast inside of me was done with her. Without the beast to crave her, she longer wished to be craved. She had stopped becoming a whore for my cock, and that made both of us unhappy.

That is why I was downstairs at the door of the apartment below me. Jennifer had just left. I’d helped her gather her things. We had collected her shampoo, her body wash, her makeup, her six-pack of Diet Coke and her box of cookies.

Her panties had stayed with me as my rightful trophies.

I knocked on the door. I knocked hard and furiously, knowing that it would scare the woman inside. I had smelled her all day. I knew how to handle her.

Downstairs, Jennifer hadn’t even started her car. I couldn’t wait for her to leave. The beast had been denied for too long.

The door opened, and I saw the woman I had smelled. She looked flushed and was wearing a bathrobe. I had interrupted her masturbating, and now she was feeling guilt. Her cunt smelled amazing.

“You need a man,” I told her.

She blinked. She was a pretty woman with black hair, although her hair was much shorter than Jennifer’s. She had some weight on her body, which made her breasts and hips all the fuller. I caught myself comparing her to Jennifer, and I stopped myself. This woman was mine. Jennifer wasn’t.

“I am married,” the woman said. She wasn’t closing the door, though.

“I know,” I said. “I also know that your husband loves you very much and that what you wish he would do is just fuck you like a sweet little slut. I know you want to be fucked hard, preferably in the ass. I know that your husband never will, and I know that I might today if you ask me nicely.”

“Who are you?” she asked. Again, she wasn’t closing the door.

I also noticed that Jennifer hadn’t started her car. Was she debating returning?

“Dylan,” I growled. “What is your name?”

“Sheryl,” she said.

“Wrong,” I snapped. “Your name is ‘bitch.’ You’re my little ass-fucking bitch, understand?”

Sheryl swallowed. I sounded like a madman. I sounded like exactly what she wanted.

In her car, Jennifer hesitated.

I was tired of caring what women thought. No, that was wrong. I was hurt that Jennifer was leaving, and I was tired of hurting. I had known for days that this was coming. My weeks with Jennifer had been wonderful, but now it was over. I was sad, and I hated the feeling.

The beast wasn’t sad for a moment. I followed his lead.

“If you don’t invite me in right now,” I told Sheryl, “then you will have to go back to fucking your own ass.”

“Come on in,” she said.

I walked into the apartment. Sheryl started to say something, but I didn’t listen. Words hurt. I turned her around and pushed her toward the nice big recliner I saw. I couldn’t see her face, but I could smell her cunt. Sheryl was delighted.

That angered me. When I was done with her, she would go back to her life and her husband. When I was done with her, I would go back to an empty apartment.

I pushed her against the recliner. I bent her over and flipped her bathrobe over her hips. Her ass was still lubricated from when she’d penetrated it earlier.

“You are already prepared, bitch,” I growled.

“Yes,” she groaned.

My cock was out in my hands in a flash. Sheryl groaned as I slipped between her cheeks. Her ass opened for me as I completely entered her.

Down in the parking lot, I heard Jennifer’s car start. She was leaving me forever.

I growled and fucked Sheryl’s ass. She cried out at the savagery of my thrusts. I was going too fast. I was assaulting her bottom. It was not going to be pleasant for her.

But yet her cunt bloomed with desire. Being fucked too hard was exactly what she wanted. Sheryl was getting her ultimate fantasy fulfilled while I was just slaking my desire.

Oh, that pissed me off. The beast was fucking her hard, but I pushed it. I sunk my fingers into her hips and slammed her back on my cock.

Sheryl groaned, but she took everything I gave her.

I hated her. I hated her for not cooking for me. I hated her for not washing me. I hated her for not coming back home with me.

Together, the beast and I used Sheryl to satisfy our rage and our lust.

She climaxed twice. Not many women can climax with my cock in their ass, but Sheryl did easily.

I climaxed in her ass. My rage evaporated in a burst of semen. I forgot Jennifer and thought only of Sheryl and her round ass. I stopped being a damn whining bastard and became a wolf again. It felt wonderful.

I pulled out of her ass and wiped my cock on her buttocks. I was hungry. I was satisfied for the first time in days. I wanted a nice long nap.

“Oh, my god,” Sheryl whimpered. She collapsed into the chair. I could tell she wanted to speak, but she was too stunned. That was OK. I could tell by her face what she wanted.

“Don’t worry; this was a one-time thing,” I told her. “You’ll never see me again.”

Sheryl smiled. Her breathing relaxed. Her relief was clear.

I walked out the door. Because I was feeling rude, I left the door open behind me. I walked back up to my apartment and debated what to make for dinner.

For awhile, I’d thought Jennifer was the one. I’d thought I could make a future with her with or without the beast’s help. Now I think I know the truth. Jennifer just took a little longer for the beast to consume. That made her special but hardly unique.

I reached the top of the stairs and looked out over the parking lot at the city. Atlanta had millions of women. Some would take longer to fuck than others. Who knows? Maybe some would outlast Jennifer?

I howled my joy for life.

Art of George Sportelli

Friend, creative partner and all around awesome guy, George Sportelli, has an art book out. George drew the Claire Currie picture that I use as my blog header as well as drawing the cover to my 'Prisoner of the Wizard's Harem'. George has also drawn many of the character pictures that I show on my blog. Quite a few of these characters make it into the book which gives me a weirdly proud feeling. I turn the page and hey, there is the Island Princess.

The thing I love about this book is that you really get to see the range of George's talent. He has drawn amazing murals. He has created really stylish black and white mood pieces on music and children stories. He draws wonderful pinups but he also has a great colorful style for kid themes. This book has it all and at 116 pages, it is 4 times the size of a lot of other art books you can buy.





I can't recommend this book enough. You can order it by clicking here.

My Humble Suggestion

Supreme Court Justice Stevens has announced that he stepping down. President Obama will seek out a nominee that will somehow be passed by Democrats and Rat-Shit-Crazy Republicans. He will most likely look for a nominee with a long history of judicial balance and fairness.

I have a different suggestion. I humbly and patriotically suggest myself, Shon Richards for Supreme Court Justice.

I have no legal experience BUT I do watch Law and Order on TV. The real one, not the ones about child fucking or the one with Jeff Goldblum. I also watch a lot of Forensic Files, which is about forensic science, but they talk to a lot of prosecuters. I have also looked over my wife's shoulder as she played some weird Japanese lawyer game, the title of which I do not recall.

As for political views, I am somewhat to the left of Captain Picard. I beleive women should have full reproductive rights. I beleive that corporations are dicks and shouldn't be rewarded for being dicks. I also firmly beleive in separation between erotica and books that promise to get you great sex. Come on booksellers, put them in separate sections!

Now I know that President Obama likes diversity and the idea of putting in another white male judge is not as attractive as putting in a female or a minority. I do however want to point out that I would be the first blogger on the Supreme Court, a woefully underrepresented slice of society. Seriously, do you want a Gawker blogger to be the first blogger on the Supreme Court? Of course not.

I will also bring a much needed sexiness to the highest court in the land. My court clerks will all be sexy ladies in leather. I will invite Sex court Judge, Julie Strain, to cowrite some decisions. I will wear nothing under my robes and I will frequently flash people as they make arguments.

For too long the Supreme Court has gone without a sex scandal. If I become a Supreme Court Justice, that will be quickly fixed.

Finally, I just want to say that my Senate Confirmation Hearings would rock. If asked reasonable questions, I will anwser reasonably. If asked stupid or offensive questions, I will respectfully invite Senators to suck my nuts.

It is time to bring a firm spanking hand to the Supreme Court.

Fiction: Wolf's Bitch Part Six

It was a Saturday, and Jennifer wasn’t around. She was out of the apartment, and it felt weird. The last two weekends, we had fucked all the time, stopping only for food. Not doing that today really depressed me.

“I should spend the day with my friends,” she had said. “They really miss me.”

That might have been true, but for three weeks, Jennifer hadn’t cared. All she cared about was screaming her next orgasm. Something was different today. Her friends didn’t miss her. Jennifer just wasn’t enslaved to my cock anymore.

I had first noticed it at my friends’ party. Jennifer was attracted to one of my friends, and worse, I was attracted to someone else. That mysterious connection that created the awesome sex between us was missing. The last few days, it had only gotten worse.

I used to smell only Jennifer’s cunt. Now, I know that the bored housewife downstairs is masturbating alone in her bathroom. If I open the window, I can sense the heat coming from the teenager in the laundry building. Just going to the mail today, I counted six scents of women who needed a good hard fucking. Oh, man, it was so hard to come back here.

Funny how I want to stay loyal to Jennifer. We don’t have much in common, but she is the first woman who has endured the new me for any length of time. I am fond of her. I don’t want to hurt her emotionally. We have never used the word “love,” but I could do worse than to spend the rest of my life with her. Jennifer’s nice, she’s stable, and she completely worships me.

Or at least, she used to. Why wasn’t she here today? The power that allowed me to read her libido led me to think her addiction to me was weakening. The last few times we’d had sex, she didn’t turn to pudding as instantly as she used to. When I scratch her, she no longer shivers under my nails. When I come in her face, she no longer glows with pride.

Looking down from the balcony, I saw her pull up. I didn’t smell her when she got out of the car. I wanted her, though. I like having someone to sleep with. I like someone making my meals. I like someone who isn’t afraid of me. I realized I would do anything to keep her.

Jennifer came in. Before she could even close the door, I grabbed her. I grabbed her lovely brown hair in my hands, and I took her lips. I kissed her hard. Not as hard as the beast does, but hard because I wanted to convince her to stay in a single kiss.

She broke the kiss first. “Missed me?” she said with a smile. For one beautiful moment, I thought we could make it work.

I grabbed her breast. “Yes,” I whispered.

She winced as my grip tightened on her breast. “My roommates think you are bad for me,” she said.

I picked her up in my arms. The beast’s appetite might have left me, but I still have his powerful body. I scooped her up and carried her to the back bedroom.

“Dylan, we should talk,” she said.

“I know,” I said as I tossed her to the bed.

I fell on top of her body and ripped off her clothes. She tried to help, but I slapped her hands away. I tore off her black blouse and popped the buttons on her skirt. My fingers ripped away her panties and then tore the clasp off her bra.

I could detect a faint whiff of desire from her. It made me smile. Maybe the beast could be roused.

Kicking my pants off, I grabbed her by her tit and pulled her to me. She cried out from the rough handling, but she opened her mouth for my cock. I forced her head onto me, choking her down as far as she would go. My hands wrapped themselves in her hair and turned it into reins. I fucked her face. When she tried to pull away, my grip in her hair kept her there.

The smell of her cunt faded. I could smell my downstairs neighbor, who was opening her ass with a toy. My neighbor was pushing herself and wished like anything that it was a man inside her. She was wishing for a man like me.

I fucked Jennifer’s face harder. I poured my desire for my neighbor into my pounding of Jennifer’s mouth. She started to choke, and I kept thrusting. I had to prove that I didn’t need the beast. The horrible thing inside me wouldn’t let her breathe so neither would I.

I couldn’t, though. The second time she choked, I released her. Jennifer fell back on the bed and gasped for air. She was moving her jaw as if she had gotten a cramp.

When she sucks the beast’s cock, she can suck for hours without complaint.

Angrily, I kicked aside her legs. I mounted her on the bed. My cock thrust into her and lifted her body. I was furious. I was jealous. I was jealous of the very thing inside me that she preferred.

I fucked her. Jennifer wrapped her arms and legs around me as I rode her. I was surprised by how tightly she held me. It was as if she were trying to summon the animal in me with sweaty thighs and scratching fingers. Her tits were tight against my muscular chest, and I was struck with a feeling of loss, a fear that I would never be able to bite them again.

When I looked in Jennifer’s eyes, I saw sadness there, too.

I climaxed. My cock filled her cunt, and I felt a brief sense of joy. The beast might not want her, but I did. My body wanted her. Judging from how slick she was, Jennifer wanted me, too. Maybe this could work, after all. Men struggle with monogamy all the time. Surely, the beast would be no different. I just had to have willpower.

“Dylan,” Jennifer said with her thighs still around me, “I don’t think this is working out.”

Travelling is a Writer's Friend

My wife hates to drive. I mean, she REALLY hates to drive. I am the exact opposite when it comes to highway driving. Give me an open road and the right music and I will be a happy camper. This weekend I had to drive for about 7 to 8 hours to get to my sister's. for fun, I drove us 2 hours to Wilmington and then 2 hours back. Then I had an 8 hour drive through Easter traffic.

It may alarm my passengers if they knew that I pretty much go into a reactive trance while driving. I watch the surrounding traffic, my speed and follow the flow. My brain shuts down higher functions and I let my mind drift. Sometimes I think about stories I am working on now but mostly I just relax. Away from a computer and away from a notebook, I can't really do anything with my thoughts. It is the closest thing I get to a vacation as a writer.

I do think about blowjobs. I think about how it has been too long since I have written about the joy of releasing into a willing mouth.

I also think about trailer parks and how they would be a great environment for a different kind of BDSM story. I have had this idea for about 5 years now. Maybe I should do something with it. I always picture a naked woman pushing a lawnmower while an older couple watch from the porch.

I think about music. When I listened music on cassettes, I envisioned music coming from a black place. As if there was some sort of void of nothing that gave birth to guitars, pianos and lyrics. I wonder about that void now.

At a public rest stop, the sign says 'Pets on Leashes Only'. I think of a submissive I knew who played as a cat. I picture taking her out of the car, naked and on a leash. I imagine how shocked the people here would be.

We pass old tobacco shacks. These ancient sheds are covered in vines, moss and grass. They also lean at impossible angles on the verge of collapse. The only thing holding them up must be the dread monsters inside them.

I wonder about Jimmy Varn and what traffic is like on the interstate when zombies run the world. I hope he found more cookies.

Now I am home. The routine of my day rubs away at my driving thoughts. I think about deadlines. I think about work. I think about bills.

I decide instead to write.

Follow My Lead

I will be traveling the roads of North Carolina today and this weekend. I expect to have many adventures outwitting inbred demons and escaping from pine cannibals.

But because I love you, I leave you with the blessed fucking Pipettes.

FYI, buy Phonogram.


Pipettes Pull Shapes
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