Preview: Pusse and Cox Part Two

Isaac Cox stood outside the headquarters of Right Thinking Publishing. In front of him was Jamaica Vegas’s car. He had tracked the crazed scientist to this location and Isaac had a bad feeling that he knew what she was up to. He had to get in there and stop her before it got out of hand. That was going to be tricky.

For one thing, Isaac was a six and half foot tall giant of ebony muscle. Because he was working, he was wearing his long black duster and matching bad-ass sunglasses. He wore a shirt and a tie underneath the duster but anyone looking at him could see how powerfully ripped he was.

“I do not look like a person who might have business with Right Thinking Publishing,” he muttered to himself. He debated trying to pass himself off as a delivery guy but ruled it out. As a bounty hunter, he had developed a sense for when to fake it and when to just go right in. Lately he had been favoring the go right in method. He suspected it had something to do with not getting laid for awhile. One doesn’t really meet a lot of nice people in this job.

He headed for the back. The telltale scent of tobacco told him where to go. These buildings might have great protection but security always looses out to workers on their smoke break.

It was a woman smoking. Isaac smiled. Women he could handle.

He took off his duster and folded it over his arm. He rolled up his sleeves to show as much of his biceps as possible. He broke into nice smile #80. That was the smile that made women feel like they were the prettiest girl in the entire strip club.

“Hey!” he said in his deep voice. “Oh man I am glad to see you!”

The woman stared at his arms. “Oh yeah?” she said. She took a long drag on her cigarette. Her eyes took in the rest of him and lingered. Isaac noticed that she tried to casually run her fingers through her short brown hair to make sure she was presentable.

“I think I left my badge in the office,” Isaac said. “Could you let me back in?”

He flashed innocent smile #4. That was the smile that told the ladies at the strip club that he was new at this and was so completely innocent that he might let them touch him a bit more than the club standards would allow.

“I haven’t seen you before,” the short brunette said. She stood a little straighter and pushed her breasts out a bit more.

“I just started,” Isaac lied. He took a stab in the dark and came up with a story. “They wanted me to help branch into African American markets.”

She took out the cigarette and frowned. “Really?”

Isaac wasn’t buying his own lie. He tried another tactic. “Oh yeah. Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like a younger Sarah Palin?”

The woman beamed. “I do?”

Isaac nodded. “You both have that sexy smart look, you know? Oh, I better get back to work. Can you let me in?”

“No problem,” she said. “Just don’t steal anything.”

She meant it as a joke and Isaac laughed with her. “I’ll try!” he said cheerfully.

The woman pressed her badge against the door scanner and it unlocked. She tried to look casual as she did it but Isaac knew. Tonight the lady would be thinking of him sliding between her ivory thighs. He didn’t need a twenty stuffed into his g-string to know that.

“Thanks,” he said and moved into the building. He prided himself on not knocking the racist bitch out.

The first thing he did was put in the special ear plugs he had been given for this job. The earplugs looked transparent and when he put them in, he couldn’t tell any drop in sound. He just hoped they worked like they were supposed to.

“Now, if I was a crazy woman with a crazier weapon, where would I be?” Isaac asked himself.

He walked the halls. He put his duster back on because he knew he looked more intimidating that way. The trick to walking inside a place you don’t belong is to act like you belong. Isaac walked with purpose; as if he was late for a meeting and he did not have time for your bullshit, thank you very much.

Jamaica Vegas was a brown Hispanic woman so Isaac knew she would stand out in this crowd of white bread office workers. He peeked into doorways and open offices as he walked. He would already be at the next door before his brain would process what he glimpsed inside.

Two white guys talking around a water cooler.

One redhead talking on the phone.

An older guy working on his computer.

A guy and a woman kissing.

Two guys writing on a board.

A woman fanning herself with a folder.

Isaac frowned and paused. He peeked back into the room where the two guys were working on the board. They were drawing stick figures with giant breasts.

“Oh shit,” Isaac said. It was starting.

He walked faster. He walked past a man pressing his crotch against a copier as it printed pages. He passed another man talking on the phone while suggestively fingering a lamp. When he walked by two women kissing, Isaac knew his time was up.

“Hey baby,” a middle aged blonde said to him. “Want to come to my office?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I am looking for a Hispanic woman. Have you seen her?”

The blond pouted. She reached for her blouse and ripped it open. Two enormous breasts were barely held in by her white bra. The purple tint was already appearing on her skin.

“Why do you want some Mexican slut when you can upgrade to white chocolate?” she asked.

“Wow, ma’am,” Isaac said. “Your racist argument is quite offensive on so many levels that I am not sure how to respond in a suitably nasty manner.”

The woman bit her lip. “You could punish me. Want to spank me? Want to force me to eat your huge black cock?”

Isaac shook his head. “Can’t you fuck a secretary like everyone else?”

“Great idea!” she said. “Lisa! Get your pretty mouth over here!”

Isaac kept walking. He reached an intersection of halls and looked each way.

“Where is she?” Isaac said out loud. It was a bad habit he was picking up. After working two years in a strip club, Isaac found that he hated silence. He started talking to himself just to have some noise.

That was when he saw her. She was at the end of the hall. She had long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Bizarrely, she was wearing the same white lab coat that she had on in the picture Isaac had of her. The scientist looked right at him and smiled at him.

“You’re too late!” she yelled.

Isaac reached into his duster. Twin chrome plated 45 revolvers appeared in his hands. They were heavy as shit but most people pissed themselves with fear when Isaac pointed them.

Jamaica Vegas didn’t even blink. She spun around and went into the staircase.

“Bitch has no idea how much I work out on the Stairmaster,” Isaac said. Although he wasn’t a stripper anymore, Isaac never gave up his fitness routine. Once you are a magnificent hunk of beefcake, it is kind of hard to let go.

Inside the stair well, Isaac could hear the clack-clack-clack of Dr. Vegas’s heels as she ran. He stuffed the guns back into his duster. Isaac took the stairs two at a time. As fast as he was, Dr. Vegas was faster. The fugitive managed to stay one flight of stairs ahead of him.

Dr. Vegas ducked into a door on the third floor. Isaac ran through the same door less than three seconds later. He burst through and promptly tripped over a five person orgy.

He fell to the ground and somebody crawled on top of him. Naked purple breasts pressed against his bald head. A large hand grabbed his ass. A mouth took his thumb and started sucking.

“Poor bastards,” Isaac moaned. It was too late for them. Their brains had been permanently altered into a state of perpetual lust. He guessed the earplugs worked after all. All he had to do now was make sure these people didn’t fuck him to death.

Isaac shrugged off the woman on his back. He kicked the guy grabbing his ass and backhanded the woman sucking his thumb. A man grabbed his pants and Isaac calmly punched him out. A woman clung to each of his legs and he casually slapped them off.

Once he was standing back up, Isaac really appreciated how fucked he was. The hallway was jammed with humping bodies. The smell of cock and pussy was everywhere. Isaac had never seen so many pale bodies fucking. At the end of the hall, he saw Dr. Vegas waving at him.

“Freeze!” he yelled. He ran after her. He jumped over one humping couple and shoulder blocked a guy masturbating.

“Check out the black stud!” Dr. Vegas yelled. “I bet he has a foot long cock!”

Every one of those humping fuckers turned and looked at Isaac. He was used to being the center of attention. He just wasn’t used to watching nearly a hundred people suddenly decide to give in to their forbidden lusts and fuck a black man. With a screaming howl of desire, the whorish horde came running at him.

A young woman barely in her twenties threw herself at Isaac. With one hand he grabbed her throat and threw her into a wall. A naked man grabbed him from behind and started humping his back. Two elbows from Isaac later and the man was unconscious on the floor. It was getting ugly fast.

Isaac looked back at the stairway door. It seemed a mile away with all the crazy fuckers between him and the door. With a sigh, he drew his guns back out.

The crowd didn’t even notice his guns. He fired a warning shot into the air and they still lunged at him. A fat man with a tiny cock jumped at Isaac and he was forced to shoot. The big man went down and Isaac’s hesitation faded away. It was going to be them or him.

“You best believe, it is not going to be me,” Isaac said out loud. He noticed that sounded pretty cool. He wished he had a partner who could appreciate his witty one-liners.

He placed his shots carefully. He might be strong but not even he could push past twenty people trying to fuck him. The fact that there was no cure did not make it any easier to shoot naked people in the chest.

There was a poster on the wall for one of the books they printed. It had a black man on the cover dressed in bad hip hop clothes. The title was ‘Are Blacks Holding America Back?’

It became a lot easier to shoot naked white people.

Step by step, Isaac made it closer to the door to the stairway. The pistols thundered in his hands as he fired. The kickback was a bitch and he knew his wrists would be killing him in the morning but he didn’t let up shooting.

“I want to go black!” a woman yelled from behind him. He turned around just in time to dodge her diving at his legs. She hit the ground hard and reached up for his leg.

“Please!” she cried. “I want that cock in my ass!”

“Get in line,” Isaac said.

He moved more carefully and kept an eye on his back. He was lucky that he didn’t get tackled by that woman. He had to stay on his feet and keep moving.

Two women came running at him. They were both topless and both of them were stacked. Their breasts bounced in synchronicity with each other. The four breasts almost hypnotized him as he watched.

He shook his head and opened fired. Their faces exploded at the same time too. Weird.

Isaac walked carefully and chose his targets. He didn’t let anyone sneak up behind him and it made for slow going. Step, shoot, turn, check, step and shoot again. At this rate it would be dawn before he got out of here.

“What I need is a partner,” he said to himself. “Some hot sexy woman that can cover my back while telling me how good my abs look.”

A thin old man with an erection hobbled towards him. The man’s erection was thicker than his pencil arms. Isaac conserved ammunition and merely punched the guy in his chest. The cracking of ribs would keep him down.

“And while I am on the subject,” Isaac continued to himself. “I need a woman who is secure in herself and doesn’t think I prefer other women to her.”

“I will give you everything you need!” a woman screamed at him.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Isaac said. He punched her in the head rather than shoot her.

“And is it too much to ask for a woman who reads something other than damn vampire books?” Isaac yelled.

“I love porn!” a man yelled as charged Isaac.

Isaac nodded as he shot him. “We all do, man. I wish I could meet a girl who really likes porn and not just the artsy tattooed alternative shit.”

“Fuck me!” a woman screamed as she crawled towards him.

“Yeah,” Isaac said. He lowered his aim so he could get the crawling woman with one shot. “And I want a woman who tells me what she likes instead of hinting around and being all fucking mysterious.”

His way was blocked by five people fucking on the floor. On the one hand he was glad that they were more interested in their tangle of limbs than they were in attacking him. On the other hand, they were in his fucking way.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

“But I don’t want a fucking doormat,” he said as stepped over the dead bodies. “I want a woman strong enough to tell me when I am being an asshole. I know I’m not perfect.”

“You are perfect to me!” a woman yelled. She had both hands between her legs as she ran. Isaac admired her coordination.

“It was easier to shoot you when you weren’t saying nice things about me,” he said as he shot her.

He kept talking to himself. He was closer to the door but he still had a way to go. If he stopped talking then he would start doing math. He would think about the minimum number of people it would take to hold him down. He would think about how few bullets he had left in his guns. If he started thinking about things like that, he would get a bit discouraged.

“Shit, all I really want is a partner that gets me, you know? Being an ex-stripper turned bounty hunter sounds like some sort of cheesy late night movie. I need a woman who thinks that shit is cool.”

He was ten feet away from the door when it burst open.

To be continued when you buy the book at Lulu.

Preview: Pusse and Cox Part One

“I’m not so sure I should let you in, Ma’am,” the security guard said.

“Aw,” Olivia Pussé said in that sad tone that melted the hearts of men. She didn’t say anything else out loud but she was thinking plenty to herself.

“Check out my awesome tits,” Olivia didn’t say. “Take a good look at my delivery girl uniform that is missing a few too many buttons at the top. Check out my long gorgeous blonde hair that you want to run your fingers through. Check out my pretty red lips you want around your cock. Check out my cool sunglasses that hint at mysteries and secret affairs. Check out my tight little waist that you want to put your hands around.”

“Just don’t notice the bulge in my pocket,” Olivia thought as she smiled for the security guard. “Don’t make me pull out my 38 caliber Island Hawk automatic pistol with custom hollow point rounds. Don’t check out the six inch knife I have strapped around my ankle. Do not under any circumstances guess that I have a homemade silenced Uzi in this box I am carrying.”

The guard kept looking at her impressive cleavage and seemed to be on the verge of making a decision. Olivia made it easy for him.

“Okay, I know I am supposed to leave the package at the front desk,” Olivia said.

“But I have been a big fan of Right Thinking publishing for a long time. I would love to see inside the offices where all the best books about conservative political philosophy are written! It makes my heart race just to think about it. Here, see?”

She took his hand and placed it on her chest. The fact that there was a breast between his hand and her heart was completely intentional. She didn’t think the guard needed to squeeze in order to feel her heartbeat but she let it slide.

“See how fast my heart is beating?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” the guard said.

“And if you just let me deliver this package to the CEO personally, I would be so grateful,” she said.

“How grateful?” the guard asked. He squeezed again.

Olivia pulled her sunglasses down just enough so he could see her pretty blue eyes. “Very,” she said.

He pulled his hand away. “Go right in, ma’am. Take as long as you like. My lunch break is in two hours if you want to show your appreciation then.”

“Good, maybe I’ll have a bite too,” she said.

The guard was checking out her ass as she walked by. That was fine. As long as he was looking at her tight ass, he wasn’t paying attention to the grim smile on her lips.

Now it was time to find the bitch that killed her father.

She was alone in the elevator. The time it took to go up four floors was barely a minute. For Olivia that was plenty of time to think. She thought about her father, John Pussé, a private eye who had been hired to find a runaway teen. Olivia didn’t know how her dad tracked the teenager down to a Dr. Jamaica Vegas but when he did, Dr. Vegas put four bullets in his chest.

Olivia bit her lip as she tried not to think of what Dr. Vegas did next. She couldn’t though. The coroner Olivia sucked for the report was very clear on what had happened. Dr. Vegas had shot Olivia’s father and then sat on his face as he died. Judging from the large amounts of sexual fluid on his face, Dr. Vegas more than likely climaxed. The crazy slut had facefucked Olivia’s father to death.
A bitch like that has to pay.

The elevator doors opened. Olivia stepped out and looked around. Posters of published books decorated the hallway. Olivia smirked as she read each title.

‘Black Helicopters of the Chinese Mexican Alliance’

‘Welfare Millionaires’

‘Evolution: The Plot of Satan’

‘The Hollywood Abortion Conspiracy’

It was the last place Olivia expected to find Dr. Vegas but there was no arguing with the evidence. Olivia had broken into the woman’s motel room this morning. Among the dildos, ripped panties and pizza boxes, Olivia had discovered floor plans for the Right Thinking Publishing building. Notes had been written in a code that Olivia didn’t understand but one important fact wasn’t in code: today’s date.

Olivia sighed. She was going to have to start asking around. She picked a door at random and was about to knock.

A noise behind the door made her pause. It was the sound of a desk squeaking. Olivia was very familiar with that sound. It was the same sound of a desk that was being fucked on. The sound brought back happy memories of her cheerleading coach. Someone was getting fucked in there.

“I guess even paranoid freaks need to fuck,” Olivia whispered. She went to another door and was about knock on it.

This time she heard the sounds of a man moaning loudly. Considering how fucking happy he sounded, Olivia guessed he was getting a blowjob.

“This is just weird,” she said.

She checked another door. This time she heard the sounds of an ass getting spanked.

She went to another door. This door was shaking as if someone was fucking right against it on the other side.

“A bunch of horny mother-fuckers,” Olivia whispered.

“Hey baby,” she heard behind her. “Here to deliver a package?”

The guy looked to be in his fifties. His shirt was unbuttoned and was revealing as much of his chest as Olivia was. He was also sweating awfully hard for the interior of the cool building.

“Ah yes,” Olivia said. She put on her best dumb blonde routine. “I must have gotten turned around. Can you help me?”

He nodded and came closer. He was looking right at her chest. “How about I deliver a package for you? Maybe in my office?”

Olivia smelled pussy on his breath. “Do you work here?”

“Do I work here?” the man laughed. “Woman, I am the Vice-President of Sales. I haven’t had an erection in two years but I got one now. Want to go celebrate it with me?”

“Wow, that is very generous of you,” Olivia said. “But I should really deliver this. I think it might be down this way.”

“It is okay,” the Vice-President of Sales said. “I suspect I might prefer men.”

Olivia left him and headed down another hallway.

“I always knew conservative freaks were hypocrites but this is ridiculous,” she said to herself. “I just need to find Dr. Vegas and get the fuck out of here.”

A man stumbled into the hallway. From the waist up he was a perfect picture of conservative thinking. He had a nice jacket with a flag pin on his collar. His simple red tie looked expensive. He even had the quasi military crew cut that was so popular among older conservative thinkers these days.

The only thing that ruined his professional image was his complete lack of pants or underwear. His lipstick smeared cock was at full salute. It also didn’t help that he appeared to have an office lamp sticking out of his ass.

“Tits!” he yelled.

Olivia watched as the guy ran towards her. She was hypnotized by the way the office lamp bobbed back and forth between his legs. He wasn’t running very fast but damn if he wasn’t trying.

“Slow down there, boy,” Olivia yelled. She took a step back.

“Tits!” the man yelled again. He put his hands out as if he was practicing groping her.

Olivia shook her head and then acted. You don’t get to be head cheerleader for a college football team without knowing how to defend yourself. A single open palm thrust to his face knocked him off his feet. He landed on the lamp in his ass. Olivia winced as he made a funny sort of whimpering sound.

Now that he was incapacitated, she took a moment to study him. There was a strange purple tint to his skin. Although he was grimacing with pain, his cock was oozing pre-cum. The white of his eyes were turning purple as she watched.

“This is some fucked up shit,” Olivia concluded.

The doors at the end of the hall burst open. Four naked women stumbled out into the hallway. The oldest was in her sixties while the youngest looked to be Olivia’s age. All four of them were covered in bite marks and love scratches. They appeared to be covered in purple bruises but Olivia realized that was just the way their skin was pigmented. Every one of them was stroking themselves as they walked.

“I want your pussy!” the old lady screamed at Olivia. The other women howled in agreement. Like a pack of wild animals, they charged at Olivia. As they ran, none of them pulled their hands out of their cunts.

“God damn,” Olivia muttered. She swung the package at the first woman to reach her. She hit her so hard that the woman spun around twice before hitting the ground. She landed on her big breasts so Olivia had a feeling she would be okay.
Olivia dodged the second woman and kicked her in the back of the knee as she ran past. As the woman collapsed, Olivia slammed an elbow into the face of the third woman. An explosion of blood was followed by the muffled cry of the woman. She clutched her broken nose as Olivia shoved her down.

The last woman to reach her was the old lady. Olivia swung the package and Olivia was amazed to see the old woman dodge her. The woman fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Olivia’s waist. Olivia cried out as she felt the old lady’s teeth clamp onto her zipper.

“Give me your pussy!” the old lady screamed from Olivia’s crotch. The bitch was trying to chew her way through Olivia’s pants!

“No means no, Grandma!” Olivia yelled. She brought the package down on the old lady’s head.

The old woman kept chewing. She looked up at Olivia with purple tinged eyes.

Olivia swung the box down much harder on the old woman’s skull. The sickening sound of bone crunching echoed in the hall.

The old woman kept chewing.

Olivia shredded the package and took out the Uzi. She slammed the grip as hard as she could into the old woman’s head. Finally, the old woman let go. She fell back with a mouthful of Olivia’s pants still in her mouth. Her head was horribly deformed but she kept stroking herself with her hands.

“I am starting to suspect that this shit is fucked up,” Olivia said. “What is wrong with you fuckers?”

The moaning women gave her no answer. One of the women, the one with the knee that Olivia had kicked, was savagely humping a plastic hall plant. She was humping it so hard that her entire body was shaking.

The woman climaxed. She screamed a primal cry of pleasure and desire. The scream was so loud that Olivia slapped her hands over her ears and she could still hear it. The screaming orgasm lasted a full minute.

When the scream ended, Olivia heard other people answering. All around her, men and women were screaming their heads off. They were screaming their orgasms. They were screaming with pure need. They were some loud mother fuckers.

Doors sprang open all along the hallway. Out of the doors stumbled naked moaning people. Men and women were pawing at each other as they flooded the hallway. At first they seemed to be looking for the woman who screamed her orgasm but they forgot about her as soon as they saw Olivia. Like they were sharing the same libido, all of them stopped and leered at Olivia.

“I picked a bad day to not wear panties,” Olivia said. The woman had chewed a gaping hole in Olivia’s pants.. “It looks like I am wearing some sort of delivery girl chaps.”

The sex crazed crowd surged towards her. Olivia popped the safety of her Uzi and let rip. Normally she wouldn’t shoot at unarmed civilians but these fuckers were insane with lust. As a sort of compromise, she aimed for their legs and tried to hobble them. She knew that some of them might bleed out and die but fuck, what choice did she have? If they were half as tough as Grandma there, she was in trouble.

QUIP! QUIP! QUIP! The silencer made the Uzi sound like the world’s angriest stapler. The Uzi’s bullets punctured their legs and sent the crowd in front of her falling to the ground. Most of them moaned as they fell on top of each other. Distracted by the pressing of bodies, the sex crazed fuckers groped and mauled each other’s broken bodies.

Olivia spun around to take down the horny mob that was behind her. One excited man was already at her. He grabbed her shoulders and snapped his head towards her breasts. His purple tongue stretched out as he sought to dive into her cleavage.

“You wish!” Olivia yelled. She kicked him in the nuts. To her surprise, it didn’t even slow him down.

The lusty naked man jammed his face in her tits. His tongue lapped at her skin as he buried his face deeper into her abundant mounds. Olivia tried to push him off but he had a death grip on her shoulders. He wasn’t going anywhere.

There was at least seven other naked people behind him. Olivia realized that if they reached her, they could bring her down easily with their weight alone. She had to act fast.

With Tit-Man’s face still attached to her chest, Olivia turned her body around and aimed her Uzi. A ten second burst of bullets later, and the moaning crowd was on the ground. Just like the other crowd, they soon turned into a mass of orgiastic bodies as they came in contact with one another.

“Fuck!” Olivia screamed. Tit-Man’s teeth were clamping down hard on her right breast.

Olivia’s knee came up again between his legs. This time she had the rage of a woman with an unwanted breast hickey. She lifted the man off his feet and dislodged his face from her chest. His leering grin was replaced with a small gasp of painful disbelief. Olivia slammed her head into his face. He crumpled to the ground.
He looked unconscious but Olivia shot him in the legs anyway.

She had to get out of here. Olivia didn’t understand what was going on but she knew it couldn’t be natural. It was a pretty good bet that Jamaica Vegas was involved but how? Was it some sort of virus? Maybe some sort of super aphrodisiac? More importantly, could Olivia catch it?

The hall was choked with bodies but Olivia didn’t care. She climbed on a humping back and ran across the fucking people. It was a lot like trying to get to the bathroom during one of the orgies at her sorority. As long as she moved fast, people didn’t notice as her foot used their sweaty backs as a stepping stone.
She ran to the elevator and hit the button. The doors opened to reveal a smaller orgy. It was four guys and a single woman. Olivia had no interest in evening those odds.

Olivia went to the stairs. She swapped out the clip in her Uzi as she went down a floor. As she turned the corner at the landing, she saw that second floor door was open. A pile of bodies were savagely humping each other. One of the fuckers was easily three hundred pounds and Olivia knew she wouldn’t get through there. She turned around and went back up to the third floor.

“God, what I need now is some big mother fucker on my side to plow my way through these fucks,” Olivia said.

As she turned the knob to the third floor door, she heard the sound of gunfire. It was the loud powerful whomp of a nasty pistol. It sounded like the kind of gun that would hit a person so hard their organs would become a postmodern painting.

“That’s what I am talking about,” Olivia said. She went through to the door.

To be continued in Pusse' and Cox. Click the button to buy now!

Buy Pusse' and Cox

My new book, Pusse' and Cox is available for purchase from Lulu. The paperback version sells for $9.99 while the pdf version sells for a mere $2.99. The novel covers the adventures of Olivia Pusse', a college cheerleader who becomes a detective to avenge her father's death and Isaac Cox, a black male stripper who becomes a bounty hunter to make extra money. Together they battle Dr. Jamaica Vegas who has created a sound wave that turns people into uninhibited sexual zombies. A lot of fucking ensues.

I had several inspirations for this novel. I love grindhouse movies for their fearless plotting and exploitation elements. Perhaps the only thing better than grindhouse movies are modern tributes which take the extreme elements and repackage them. Robert Rodriguez's 'Planet Terror' and the SEGA game, House of the Dead: Overkill inspired me to give it a shot myself. I played both soundtracks non-stop while writing this book.

My other main inspiration are the terrible macho pulp novels of the 70's. Series like 'The Destroyer' and 'The Eliminator' have amazing action and pulp plots, but are also so loaded with conservative right wing propaganda that they are quite the chore to read for someone as liberal as myself. I wanted to create my own brand of action pulp with a touch of liberal propaganda. Instead of black muggers getting killed, I have a lot of right wing publishers getting shot. I am not sure if this makes it a better book on a moral level, but I sure as fucked enjoyed it.

This book was also a challenge for in that it is essentially a romance. Olivia and Isaac become a couple and I focus on their relationship. I haven't really done a romance in ages and despite the orgies, guns and zombies, this story is a love story at heart.

George Sportelli knocked out the cover and man, it is awesome. I wanted a grindhouse cover and that is what I got. 'Banned in 69 countries!' That is worth writing the whole book alone.

Because the book centers on two characters, I will be posting two preview chapters this week. The first chapter will be from Olivia's point of view and the second chapter will be from Isaac's. I hope you like them half as much as I do.

Click the button to purchase now.

Fiction: Aunt Jolene's Joy Shack

The sign said, “Aunt Jolene’s Joy Shack!” A ten foot tall neon sign depicted a busty woman. The lights would flash, illuminating one breast, and then turning off to illuminate the other breast. A sign below it promised adult toys, movies, books and novelty items.

“This may be the tackiest thing I have ever seen,” said Claire Currie. She had seen quite a few tacky things over the last few years. As a librarian for the Colette-Ashbee collection of erotic books, Claire had read and purchased cheap tawdry books of all descriptions. She had also handled leather bound erotic manuscripts written by Duchesses and poets. The young woman definitely preferred the higher brow books.

Aunt Jolene’s Joy Shack did not appear to deal in such lofty commodities. Located off a major highway and miles away from any town limits, The Joy Shack catered to travelers, truckers and anyone that was horny after driving all day. Signs bragged about ten dollar DVDs and heavy duty love dolls.

“This is the crossroads of Southern erotica,” Mr. Dillon said. Claire’s boss and superior looked out of place in his suit and tie. Even more out of place was his uncharacteristic upbeat mood. He seemed almost excited. It was as if he was visiting an amusement park instead of some dirty adult tourist trap.

“You can’t be serious?” Claire said. “What can we possibly hope to find here?”

“Ms. Currie, the Joy Shack not only deals in adult goods bought from distributors but also deals in a high number of used goods. Few people collect as much porn as truckers and here they can trade in their porn for fresh porn. There is no telling what classic smut has been traveling the highways for years before ending up here.”

Claire glanced at the suspicious number of trucks with Confederate flag stickers. “Is such a place safe to visit? I am aware of the South’s prejudice towards people of my color.”

Mr. Dillon looked at Claire with an appraising eye. It was as if he had never noticed that she was black before. Perhaps he was just using it as an excuse to look over her large breasts barely contained within her tight white blouse. His eyes cataloged slowly as they moved down her short black skirt, her long legs encased in stockings and her four inch heels. Claire blushed behind her glasses as his eyes slowly came back up to her face.

“Honestly, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said, “they are more likely to be prejudiced that you are British. Try to keep your conversation to a minimum.”

They entered the Joy Shack. Claire frowned as they passed through a hallway of pornographic pictures. All the pictures were of fucking, sucking or the stroking of bare pussies. It seemed needlessly crude.

The inside was much worse. The store was made of long lines of shelves dimly lit by strings of Christmas lights. Posters of porn movies from the last three decades covered the walls. Vibrators hung from the ceilings, twisting like phallic weather pointers.

“Welcome to Aunt Jolene’s Joy Shack!” a perky woman said. Claire observed with her librarian’s eye that the woman seemed to be attempting some sort of MILF motif. The skimpy red bikini and age inappropriate makeup gave it away.

“Thank you!” Mr. Dillon said with surprising friendliness. “Can you point us to the dirty books?”

“Why sure!” the bikini woman said. “Just go on past the lube and turn right at the cock rings!”

“Thank you, kindly!” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire sometimes forgot that Mr. Dillon was from the southern region of the United States. As a London girl all her life, Claire knew little about the South. All she knew she had learned from Dukes of Hazzard, George W. Bush and the documentary, ‘Deliverance’. She had spent years with Mr. Dillon but she only saw the sophisticated controlled side of him. How could he have ever come from this?

They followed the woman’s directions and journeyed deeper in the Joy Shack. They walked past nervous customers who shifted their eyes and stared intently as adult toys. At least, they did till Claire walked by, in which case almost every single one of them would look at her and try to steal glances. They didn’t seem to realize that the anti-theft mirrors posted every where let Claire know when she was the center of attention.

The book section was twice as dismal as Claire expected. Worn books with cracked spines and stained corners were packed together on tight shelves. Used magazines were also mixed in with the books, often with their pages open to depict unrealistic women evoking more unrealistic facial expressions.

“Ah here we go,” Mr. Dillon said. A trace of his Southern accent was creeping into his voice. “Let’s get cracking and see what we can find for the collection.”

“Oh I am sure to find something,” Claire said. “Look, they have a book called ‘Big City Butt Ho’s’ with a black woman on the cover. And right next to it is ‘Big Rapper Bubble Butts’. They must be part of a series!”

Claire turned to Mr. Dillon to show her finds. When she saw that his good mood had left his eyes, she knew she had made a mistake.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said as contritely as possible. “I guess that I am just a little disappointed in how trashy this place is. I will take it more seriously.”

“Ms. Currrie,” Mr. Dillon began, “porn is trash. It can also be sophisticated, it can be ethereal and sometimes it can be spiritual. As Librarians, we never judge. We collect. We catalog. We chronicle everything that turns humanity on. More importantly, we never consider ourselves better than the porn we deal in.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Dillon.” Claire said.

“Not yet you are not,” Mr. Dillon said. “Lift your skirt and expose your bottom.”

“Here?” Claire said. She looked around and saw six people in the same aisle as them.

“Right here, right now, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. The southern accent was gone.

Claire reached down and lifted her skirt. She gathered the cloth in her hand till her bottom was completely exposed. Today was a Wednesday, so her thong was a bright orange.

Several of the customers noticed right away. Whistles came instantly. Perhaps Southerners weren’t as racist as Claire thought.

Mr. Dillon picked up a rather large hardback book. It appeared to be a sex manual from the 70’s. He gripped it with both hands and gave it a practice swing.

“Please, sir,” Claire said. “Not here.”

“Why?” Mr. Dillon said. “Are you too good to be spanked in Aunt Jolene’s Joy Shack?”

Claire knew the answer that was expected of her but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

“Exactly,” Mr. Dillon said. “Now turn around.”

Claire did as he asked. Still holding her skirt in her hands, Claire turned around in her high heels. A small crowd of customers watched her in fascination. Now that she was facing them, Claire found that she was the one avoiding eye contact.

“Look straight ahead,” Mr. Dillon said. He knew her so well.

Claire forced herself to look at the customers. Lust was in their eyes. Well, lust and disbelief. They stared at the orange thong that covered her thick bush of pubic hair. They also stared at her face, trying to figure out what strange game was taking place.

The first blow struck her ass. There was no warning or warm-up taps. This was just a smack to her ass, delivered with only punishment in mind.

It nearly knocked her off her feet. Claire struggled to stay upright. She wanted to bend over and brace herself but Mr. Dillon had said nothing of the sort. It was her punishment to stand here, exposed and facing the very people she had been making fun of.

The book returned to her ass with another smack. Before her buttocks had time to absorb the pain, the book landed again. Mr. Dillon was striking her with rapid spanks. Her ass was enflamed and the heat only built with each merciless blow.

To Claire’s shame, her ass was not the only thing heating up. The force of the spanking was sending signals to her sex. How many times has Mr. Dillon spanked her before sex? Her body had become hardwired to the stimulus. With each blow he gave her ass, Claire’s sex became wetter and wetter. The flimsy orange thing did nothing to hide to the spreading stain of desire between her legs.

“What is going on here?” the bikini saleswoman said. She stood at the end of the aisle and was looking at Claire with shocked disgust. Claire blushed under the woman’s disapproving scrutiny. The woman was exposing more than Claire was and yet Claire was the one who felt shamed.

“I am disciplining an employee of mine who does not appreciate the fine selection you have here at the Joy Shack,” Mr. Dillon said. “Would you care to take a swing at her ass?”

Several customers shouted how much they would like to see that. Sensing the mood of the crowd, the salewoman broke into a smile.

“Don’t like our store?” the bikini woman said. she walked right up to Claire. “That’s very naughty of you, isn’t it?”

A light tap hit Claire’s ass. “Answer the woman,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire swallowed her indignation. “I have been very naughty,” she said.

“And she’s a foreigner!” the bikini woman said. “Why she does need a spanking! I ain’t going to use a book though.”

The woman reached around to other side of the book shelf and picked up a large black paddle. The metal studs in the flat surface of the paddle were not for show. The crowd grew larger as the woman stepped behind Claire.

WHAM! The paddle connected with Claire’s ass. Claire hissed as the pain spread through her ass. The crowd winced with her, disbelief clear on their faces that she was still standing.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The paddle struck her ass with tremendous force. The bikini woman wasn’t hitting as hard as Mr. Dillon, but the cruel paddle more than made up for her lack of power. The woman was trying to seize the excitement of the crowd and Claire’s poor ass was paying the price.

Mr. Dillon walked over to one of the gawkers. “Excuse me, sir. Do you appreciate Ms. Currie’s breasts?”

“She sure does have nice tits,” the man said. He had a hat that said “World’s Greatest Licker.”

“Then feel free to go over and have a free feel,” Mr. Dillon said.

“Really?” Hat-Man said.

“Really?” Claire said.

“Really,” Mr. Dillon said.

“Alrighty!” Hat-Man said.

Claire endured the spanking from the saleswoman as Hat-Man approached her. He had both hands up like a lurching zombie. Both hands sank into her white blouse and onto her tits. Claire forced herself to smile politely as he grabbed her breasts like a teenager.

“Hot damn, they are big!” Hat-Man said.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

“I bet they are as big as Dolly Parton’s!” Hat-Man said.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

“I wanna take these home and sleep on them!” Hat-Man said.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Through out it all, Mr. Dillon watched. Claire felt humiliated to be spanked and groped in public, but what really bothered her was how disappointed Mr. Dillon appeared to be. Something in this place appealed to him and Claire felt guilty for raining on his parade. Perhaps he was right; no one should ever feel superior to someone’s else’s idea of erotica.

Eventually the spanking stopped.

“Okay, I think she has learned her lesson,” the saleswoman said. “You should probably let go of her tits, Bill.”

“Aw, all right,” Hat-Man said as he let go of Claire’s breasts.

“If you think so,” Mr. Dillon said.

“I do,” the woman said. “Let that be a lesson to all of ya’all! If you don’t like the Joy Shack, you’re gonna get a spanking!”

“Me next!” a man shouted from the back of the aisle.

The crowd broke up. Claire went from being the center of everyone’s attention to becoming just another pornographic decoration in the place. Hat-Man didn’t even give her a second glance as he picked up a copy of ‘Big City Butt Ho’s’. The sales woman gave Claire a friendly pat on the back and handed the paddle to Mr. Dillon.

“You’re buying the book you were swinging and this paddle,” the saleswoman said.

“It is only fair,” Mr. Dillon said.

The sales woman walked away, leaving Claire and Mr. Dillon by themselves.

“You can put down your skirt now, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire obeyed. She winced as the cloth made contact with her tender dark bottom. Her hands free, Claire was free to smooth out the groping marks made on her shirt.

“I am sorry, Mr. Dillon,” Claire said. “You are right. The glamorous side of our job spoils me sometimes.”

“I understand, Claire,” Mr. Dillon said. The use of her first name was accompanied by his faint accent. “I just want you to understand that for every one prefers something different. There is no high class or low class; just what turns people on.”

“Like getting spanked in public?” Claire said.

“Or watching a beautiful woman get wet in front of strangers,” Mr. Dillon said. “I’ll tell you what. Find something that the collection should buy, and I will fuck your ass back at the hotel tonight.”

Claire smiled. “I appreciate that your idea of a reward is you fucking my ass.”

Mr. Dillon nodded. “It is. If you don’t find something suitable, I’ll have one of these customers fuck your ass instead.”

Hookers for Science

Dr. Otto Von Madd here with an important public announcement. Every year, dozens of street walking hookers abandon the physical dangers of their profession to embrace the spiritual hazards of converting to various religion. Groups like 'Ho's for the Savior', 'Short-sleeve Whores for Muhammad', and 'Fertile Sluts for Mormons' are converting prostitutes at tragic rates. These poor women are giving up their valuable skills and experiences in order to be slaves to out dated mythologies administered by controlling slave masters of religion.

Here at Von Madd Laboratories, we have decided to aid these poor men and women. I am happy to announce the creation of "Hookers for Science!" This organization will seek out and rescue high risk sex workers from the clutches of evil pimps and wicked priests. We will give them jobs in the Sexual Sciences Industry and give them a fulfilling lifestyle helping humanity overcome the sexual questions of our time.

Job opportunities include advising on Sexual Fantasy Recreation, Multiple Partner Dynamics, Gag Reflexology, and Economics. Test Subjects are needed for hundreds of different Sex Toy Prototypes. Exciting opportunities exist in the fields of Fake Lesbian Recreation, Sexually Transmitted Disease Control and Emergency Knife-fighting.

Our ultimate goal is to provide a safe environment for sex workers to develop highly profitable skills in self sufficiency while keeping their will free from the terribly corrupting influences of superstition and blind obedience to sky gods.

So please take some time out of your busy day and approach a local street walker. Explain to her the benefits of Hookers for Science! Explain it to her before some primitive savage convinces her to give her brilliant sexy mind to sun worshiping or praying to plants.

Fiction: NightByrd & Sparrow

When millionaire Teresa Mourne discovered that her family fortune came from her parents money laundering bribes for the Mafia, she swore to absolve her family’s shame by using the money to fight crime. She designed a flying battle suit and now protects the city of Comfort Bay from the corrupt and powerful. Along with her young sidekick, Sparrow, Teresa hunts the wicked as the mysterious NightByrd!


“What are you doing?”

Teresa looked up from the computer and rubbed her eyes. “I’m trying to crack this weird code that Mr. Know-It-All left on the steps of City Hall this morning. I realize now that it is a long sequence of polymer molecules, but I am no closer to figuring out what it means.”

Her sidekick sighed. Chrissy was dressed in her Sparrow battle suit. She had her helmet off so because she always waited to tuck in her long blonde hair till the last minute. The red reflective armor sparkled in the dim light and the metal jet wings almost glowed at night. Teresa suppressed a smile. Sparrow’s armor was terrible for night concealment but the young woman had insisted. Chrissy liked being the center of attention. That is also why Teresa added twice the force field reinforcements to Sparrow’s armor. The young lady got the majority of bullets aimed at them.

“Why are you still obsessing over Mr. Know-It-All?” Chrissy asked. “No one has seen him since he escaped from Foucault Asylum in two months. Maybe he’s gone straight.”

Teresa snorted. “Not likely. Mr. Know-It-All is an egomaniac genius. It’s not enough to be the smartest man alive; he has to make everyone else fully aware of how smart he is. No, he left this coded message for a reason. He’s bragging about something and he wants me to know what he is doing.”

“Whatever,” Chrissy said. “I’m going to go out on patrol. I haven’t fired a wrist rocket at a bad guy in days.”

“Go on,” Teresa said. “I can’t stop working now. I might be on to something.”

Sparrow shrugged and left. Teresa watched as Sparrow opened the windows to their penthouse apartment. She supervised Sparrow’s battle suit activation protocols before Sparrow stepped out into the night. A second later, the silent jetpacks activated and her glittering wings took off over the city.

Teresa turned back to the computer. Sparrow was young and naïve. Bad guys might turn good, but the crazy assholes like Mr. Know-It-All never changed.

An hour later, Teresa was flying over the city as NightByrd. The list of polymer molecules was meant to be used as an almost simple letter substitution code. Well, simple if you can tell the difference between a protein polymer and an artificial plastic polymer molecule at a glance, but for Mr. Know-It-All, it was almost as simple as Morse code. Translated, the code listed a library on Appletree Avenue.

It was so straight forward; it had to be a trap. That was why Teresa didn’t call Chrissy. It didn’t pay to underestimate the crazy ones, and Chrissy seemed to have no fear at all of Mr. Know-It-all. No, it would be better if NightByrd handled this alone.

Black metal wings extended as NightByrd floated over the library. It didn’t seem like the usual Mr. Know-It-All target. It was a public library. It didn’t hold rare books or valuable artifacts. It was one of the older and larger libraries in Comfort Bay, but there was no historical value. In fact, for a super-crime ridden city, the library had a remarkable lack of security.

NightByrd glided down to the library. She went to the skylight and took a look. Turning on her various night enhancing programs, her visor gave her a look inside the library that was better than if it was daylight.

Mr. Know-It-All was sitting on a desk. The smug genius was wearing his trademark white suit and matching top hat. Only a super genius like him could keep a white suit clean in this city. The arrogant asshole was stroking his goatee like a mastermind who just robbed fort Knox. What was his game?

NightByrd analyzed the glass on the window. One good punch and it should shatter. Whatever crime he was about to commit, she was ready to drop on him like an avenging angel.

Her fist was ready to punch when she saw another person enter the room. NightByrd gasped as she saw the red winged woman approach Mr. Know-It-All. It was Sparrow!

“Did she figure it out too?” NightByrd asked herself. No, Chrissy barely understood how the jetpacks worked. There is no way she could have unraveled his clue. If Sparrow was here, it was because she was working on different information.

NightByrd put her fist down. She was curious was Sparrow would do. Chrissy was always complaining that Teresa didn’t give her enough trust to work alone. This would be a great chance to see how Sparrow handled herself without Chrissy knowing.

Sparrow stepped up to Mr. Know-It-All. NightByrd turned on her audio receivers and pointed them at the two. She wanted to hear anything they had to say.

Strangely enough, they weren’t saying anything. Sparrow took off Mr. Know-It-All’s top hat and set it down on the desk. Mr. Know-It-All reached for Sparrow’s helmet and pressed a button that only two people in the world were supposed to know about.

Sparrow’s chest armor popped open and retracted into her shoulder pads. NightByrd gasped as she saw that Sparrow wasn’t wearing her padded clothes under the arrow. Sparrow wasn’t wearing anything at all.

Mr. Know-It-All reached for one of Sparrow’s breasts. His fingers tightened around her nubile flesh like he owned it. Criminal fingers that once held the United States Constitution was now mauling and groping Sparrow’s young tit.

Did Sparrow slap him? No. She just stood there and moaned. She pulled the belt off his pants and opened his trousers. NightByrd’s sidekick pulled out the cock of NightBryrd’s arch nemesis.

NightByrd did a bio scan on Sparrow. There were no traces of super-pheromones. There were no signs of delta wave mind control. She didn’t posses the physical signature of a shape shifter. This was Sparrow, and there was no excuse for why she was stroking the cock of Mr. Know-It-all.

Sparrow touched her belt buckle. The armor plates of her pants retracted into her belt. She was bare underneath, her ass and pussy exposed. Mr. Know-It-All let go of her tit to reach around and grab a handful of ass.

NightByrd felt a surge of jealousy. That was her sidekick. That was her enemy. The grim heroine couldn’t decide which of the two she was angrier with.

Mr. Know-It-All picked up Sparrow and sat her down on the desk. Sparrow giggled girlishly as the mastermind put her in position. He parted her legs and squatted before her. The villain’s head went between her legs and ate her undoubtedly wet sex.

Sparrow groaned with a volume that echoed through the empty library. She clutched Mr. Know-It-All’s head and wriggled against him. NightByrd didn’t need her scanners to know that Sparrow was undergoing rapid arousal and stimulation. Like everything else Mr. Know-It-All did, NightByrd was sure that he was doing this task with skill and mastery.

NightByrd wondered what his tongue would feel like. Desire bloomed underneath her armor and between her legs. NightByrd shook her head. No, this man was her enemy. She would not even entertain the idea.

Sparrow climaxed. A minute later, she climaxed again. Mr. Know-It-All kept licking, using some unknown technique that was no doubt absolutely perfect.

“Fuck me!” Sparrow cried. “Fuck me, now!”

NightByrd shuddered. The passion in Sparrow’s voice was intoxicating. NightByrd remembered when Sparrow would sound like that when they fought crime.

Mr. Know-It-All stood up. He placed his mouth at her pussy with his cock. Sparrow wrapped her long legs around him as she pulled him in.

They fucked. Mr. Know-It-All slammed into Sparrow. Sparrow took everything he had and begged for more. He grabbed her tit as he fucked. She grabbed the back of his head as their bodies merged.

NightByrd thought about dropping down onto them. She fantasized about the shocked looks on their faces. She wanted to hear Sparrow beg forgiveness. She wanted Mr. Know-It-All to realize he had been caught.

Wait. He already knew. That was why he sent the message to City Hall. He wanted NightByrd to know. He was fucking her sidekick, but it was meaningless unless NightByrd knew. Sex wasn’t nearly as important as the credit for doing it.

NightByrd stayed where she was. She would not give him the satisfaction. Let him fuck Sparrow.

Sparrow unwrapped her legs. She turned around on the desk and let her legs hang off. Mr. Know-It-All entered her from behind and they continued fucking. He grabbed the wings on Sparrow’s helmet and pulled her head back as they fucked.

Night Byrd still couldn’t believe that was Sparrow. Had she been neglecting her sidekick? Was Sparrow angry with her over something? Or did it have nothing to do with NightByrd at all? Maybe in their superhero lifestyle, the only interesting guys you meet are villains?

Sparrow cried out with another orgasm. NightByrd revised her theory. Maybe Mr. Know-It-All was a just a damn good fuck.

NightByrd had seen enough. Mr. Know-It-All was a wanted man but he escaped from prisons with ridiculous ease. Hell, at least he wasn’t robbing game show winners like he was the last time he got free. If he was content to humiliate NightByrd for the time being, it would keep him out of trouble longer than prison would. The affair would continue and he would keep sending messages in the hope that she would figure it out.

The dark avenger of the night flew away from the library. Somewhere, someone was committing a crime. NightByrd would find them and probably beat the shit out of them. The betrayal of Sparrow hurt, but her sidekick was an adult. NightByrd would handle it like she handled every other emotional trauma of her life: she would take it out on the criminals of Comfort Bay.

Atlas the Wanderer

Atlas the Wanderer: Book 1 is drawn by George Sportelli and written by me. This 24 page black and white comic tells the tale of Atlas as he battles the Magnificent Lady Wrestlers of Death.

A lot of wrestling ensues.

I should note that this comic is not erotica. There is a terrific amount of female flesh however and some really awesome action scenes. It is also not a superhero comic. It exists in its own little niche of protagonist with an inexplicable setting and foes. Actually, I am reminded of when I used to first read Heavy Metal magazine and how it was like visiting an alien world.

The book is quite minimalist with dialogue and will take you only thirty seconds to read but the art and the action should keep you enthralled forever. It feels less like a book and more like a mood. I am terribly proud of being a part of such a neat comic.

It is very strange to have a comic in my hand depicting a story I have written. I have books, but this is page after page ideas of mine filtered through an artist. George came up with the idea for Atlas and I am just flattered that he gave me a chance to play in his sandbox.

Order your copy from IndyPlanet by clicking here. It's $3.50. That's silly cheap. You should buy two so you can give one to a friend. Maybe you should buy three. It is a self contained story so no need to worry about annoying cliffhangers. Future books will come out and add to the epic of Atlas.

Fiction: Boarding House

5:58 a.m.

Connie Mayard opened her eyes. Her nipples were tender from where they had been bitten last night. A smile crept across her face as she remembered Robert’s hungry teeth. All young men were obsessed with breasts but Robert took it to a new level.

Then she remembered Daryl. Her departed husband, dead seven years this June. Her smile faded as she missed his presence in their bed.

The alarm went off. Connie pushed away thoughts of Daryl. She rose out of bed and stretched.

The boarders needed her.

6:26 a.m.

Connie slipped into Harlan’s room. She avoided the squeaky floorboards that she knew so well. The college student was snoring as he lied on his back. His erect cock pushed against his bedsheets like a tent.

Connie smiled. She sat on his bedside and twisted her long blonde hair into a ponytail. As gentle as a lover, she pulled the sheets back to expose his cock. It was poking through his rather loose boxer shorts.

She took a hold of his cock. Harlan’s snores turned into moans. She wondered what dreams he was having. Like all her boarders, he was a student at Eros University. She knew his major was in something to do with rubber fashions. Connie suspected that rubber clad sluts were suggesting terrible things to Harlan in his dreams.

Connie leaned down and took Harlan into her mouth. He tasted of night sweat and frustration. Her tongue licked at every contour of his cock. She relaxed her throat and took all of him inside her.

“Yes,” Harlan moaned. He was awake. He was thrusting.

Connie sucked. She gently stroked his balls. She opened her nightgown so Harlan could slip his hand onto her breast. Connie winced when he squeezed her bite marks but she kept sucking.

“Yes!” Harlan growled. He came in her mouth. His young come shot onto her tongue and down her throat. It never took more than a minute for him.

Connie slipped his cock out of her mouth and kissed the tip. She pushed his cock back into his boxers.

“Good morning,” she said.

7:42 a.m.

The kitchen smelled of eggs and bacon.

Harlan tore through his breakfast as he checked his laptop. Eddie ate slower, writing constantly in that tiny spiral notebook. Connie used to limit her boarders from reading at the table but kids today were gluttons for information. They liked to consume it or create it. The only one not reading something was Robert. Robert spent his mornings watching Connie.

Connie was nude in front of the sink. She was washing dishes and doing a rather clumsy job. Soapy water was splashing everywhere. She often scratched her shoulder with her wet hands, causing glittering trickles of soap to slowly trace down her back, onto her bare buttocks and down her long legs.

Robert’s diet required a vegetable smoothie that Connie made for him every morning. He had something of a weight problem but under her care, Robert had managed to shave 10 pounds this semester. He wasn’t fond of the smoothies but he could drink the fibery juice if distracted. Connie was more than happy to help.

9:22 a.m.

The boarders were at school and out of the house. The first round of laundry was in the wash. Connie rolled out the exercise mat in the living room and began her routine.

Connie reflected that she worked out more as a landlady than she ever did as a wife. She was in the best shape of her life. Her boarders were usually sweet enough to appreciate a loving mouth and open legs no matter what their shape, but Connie took a certain pride in herself. There were plenty of boarding ladies in the neighborhood, but Connie was sure that she was the only one with the endurance for a three hour gangbang.

12:12 p.m.

It was Eddie’s day for lunch. Connie prepared baked chicken wings and a salad for him. Eddie wasn’t crazy about the salad but he was learning. Connie wouldn’t be a good landlady if she didn’t teach them to take care of themselves early.

After lunch, Eddie fucked her on the kitchen table. Connie bent over the table as he took her from behind. Eddie pulled her hair as he fucked, and Connie made sure to sound wonderfully submissive to his cock. Eddie was majoring in Professional Dominating but Connie suspected he might be happier in Adult Film Production. Still, it was something he had to learn for himself. In the meantime, Connie was more than happy to indulge his dominate fantasies.

She came three times.

1:46 p.m.

Connie was reading Robert’s story for Creative Porn 201. She sat on the couch, one hand holding the story and the other hand between her legs. She wasn’t masturbating yet. So far the story had only inspired a few playful strokes.

She smiled as she read a sex scene that seemed awfully familiar. The main characters were fucking on a stair case. The woman was on the steps with her legs spread wide. The male character was eating her. Connie blushed as she read about the woman’s loud orgasm. It was a perfect recreation of her scream.

Connie began to stroke deeper.

3:30 p.m.

It was soap opera time. Connie might be renting her house to three horny students, but some vices could never be replaced.

5:15 p.m.

Harlan brought home some of his rubber designs. He needed a fashion that would be good for a science fiction theme, but also adaptable for a spanking.

Connie pulled the blue rubber over her legs. The costume adhered to her like a second skin. The mirror reflected an alien blue creature of breasts and hips. The rocket trails made of glitter were a nice touch.

Harlan picked up a paddle. “We need to see if the open ass shifts when you’re spanked.”

Connie nodded in agreement. She bent over the chair and stuck her ass in the air.

“Don’t be gentle,” she said.

6:05 p.m.

Connie’s ass was still burning but the boys needed to eat. It was swordfish night and thankfully, rice pretty much cooks itself. She fried the fish naked, but out of a sense of safety, she still had on an apron. The boys were considerate enough to cop a feel of her breasts but left her ass alone.

Robert made the salad. Harlan set the table. Eddie mixed together the mango sauce. Dinner was something everyone helped with.

Connie felt these boys would make fine husbands one day.

7:42 p.m.

Harlan was between her thighs. His cock hovered inches from her pussy. Connie reached up and pushed gently on his ass.

“Go on,” she said. “Don’t worry about how long you’ll last. You teased me, you ate me and you have me ready. Enjoy yourself.”

The fear was clear in Harlan’s eyes. The young were so easily defeated sometimes.

“Fuck me, Harlan,” she purred.

He entered her. Connie groaned and there was no need to fake it. He felt wonderful inside her. He had prepared her just like he had been learning and she was ready to go off.

Harlan fucked her. The fear melted away and was taken over with lust. He lost himself between her thighs. He fucked savagely and Connie rode his fury.

She came within two minutes. Harlan came seconds later.

He collapsed on top of her. She stroked his hair.

“You lasted so much longer that time,” Connie purred. “Not that it matters because you rocked my world. Thank you, Harlan.”

In her arms, Harlan gained a little more confidence.

8:24 p.m.

Connie moaned. She grabbed the side of the bed and clenched hard. This was heaven.

Eddie was at her feet. His fingers worked into her heels. Pressure points on the soles of her feet melted into bliss.

“Does it hurt?” Eddie said. The massage book was open in front of him.

“Keep going,” Connie said. She prayed to God that next semester Eddie took another massage class.

9:53 p.m.

Robert sucked her nipple. He laid in bed, furiously stroking his cock faster than Connie ever could. He used both hands yet was still able to do wonderful things with his tongue. The boy had coordination.

Connie leaned over him. She braced herself on the headboard. Her breasts hung like ripe fruit as she swayed back and forth. Robert loved it when she pulled her nipple out of his mouth. He loved it more when he caught the next one between his lips.

She never knew anyone who loved breasts as much as Robert. He always smiled when she pulled her hefty breasts free. It was like bringing Christmas every day. Connie loved that feeling.

Robert’s cock erupted. All that young come came spilling out. Connie licked her lips but she restrained herself. Robert was turned off by come swallowing. Boys could be weird.

10:17 p.m.

Connie pulled up the bed sheets. She turned off the lights and snuggled under her comforter. Her ass was tender, her breasts were sore and her pussy was exhausted. It had been a good day.

She thought about Daryl. He would be happy to know she wasn’t alone. He would be happy to know she was getting her brains fucked out. He was a special kind of guy.

She dreamed of horny boys who needed her.

Transitioning

This past week I gave my two month notice for my job. My wife and I determined that considering how time I spend doing this shitty job, I don't get paid nearly enough. There is no salary pacifier for stressing about a job 16 hours a day. There is no amount of money that can make up for some of the really questionable things I have to do in my job. We decided that I would quit and be a house husband for a while before moving to school.

I have to say that I am really looking forward to leaving the last major part of my pre-divorce life. I took this job because my 1st wife desperately wanted me to have a job as stressful as hers. I also took this job never expecting to get promoted to management where a lot of my social anxieties kick in. Having this job is something that Old Shon would do, while New Shon hopefully likes himself too much to work.

What does this mean for you? Well, maybe I will actually get that pirate anthology out this year. I might also get back to posting three times a week. I plan to start archiving some of my pre-blog stories in book formats, so people can finally own Thigh Vs Thigh and maybe some of my more popular stories. Heck, I may even get around to recording that epic 30 minute Eros University story I have in mind.

It is amazing to me how more productive I am just from knowing this job is coming to an end. I wrote a story on Wednesday and today I will write another. It is like I am alive again. I still have 2 months of work to go but fuck, I feel leo Bloom when he decides to become a Producer.

Stop the world, I want to get on.