Friday, May 27, 2016

You Want to Play? Let's Go. - Part Two

Co-Op Mode: 
Short Story – 
Part Two
Read Part One Here
.
She giggled nervously, sure she knew where this was headed.

Play the game, Max.

So I can play you.

She smiled. Okay, Sir. She flexed her fingers over the keys. Let’s play.

She looked up at the screen. She’d just stolen a shipment of weapons from a rival band of pirates; she ought to go back to town and sell them. She was just heading out when she felt his hands caress her waist. She shivered as his thumbs brushed the sensitive swell of her breasts. She swallowed hard.

“You’re not playing.” He sounded so smug.

She coughed and moved her mouse around aimlessly, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered when his hands cupped her breasts. “Just, uh, trying to decide who’d offer the best price in town.”

He squeezed her breasts. “Of course. By all means,” he said as he flicked her nipples with his fingertips, “decide.”

The tavern owner always needed weapons, to protect his business and to funnel to some allied rebels. He was a good choice.

She blinked blankly as her blood began to heat. She swallowed and frowned. Now where was the tavern again?

She clenched her teeth against a moan, when he began to massage her breasts, and moved her character toward the tavern. She was just about done being cheated by the tavern owner—due to her own…negligence—when his hands began to slip south.

He touched her inner thighs, the stroke making her toes curl. “So what’s next?”

She looked at her loot level, which was lower than it should be. Head in the game, Wells. Head in the game.

Which was easier said than done, when she felt his fingers dip between the folds of her sex.

“This doesn’t really seem fair,” she said, her voice breathy. Her eyes closed at his teasing touch to her clit. His swift, sweet circles were too soft and slow to make her come, but enough to turn her on. “It’s, uh, not easy to concentrate like this.”

“Shh.” She could hear the smile in his voice. He slipped his fingers inside her, her slick arousal welcoming his touch. “This is between me and your lower half. The rest of you can do whatever you want.” He slid out of her, only to add another finger, stretching her further. She gasped and her head fell back to rest against the hard plane of his chest. “Go on, space pirate, loot the galaxy.”

She shook her head, the crown of her head brushing his skin. “This is cheating!” She groaned when he slipped his fingers from her, instantly wanting them back.

He lifted a shoulder and moved out from behind her. On his hands and knees, he looked at her with a grin. “Think if it more like trying to level up.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. Sure. Hard mode through sensual torture.

He crawled closer, settling between her thighs. “Think I’m kidding?”

Max only laughed harder.

Right up until he pinched her inner thigh. Max squealed and jumped, her legs instinctively pulling away from him.

He just tugged her ankles back into position, before tapping the keyboard now gripped tight in her hands. “You’re not giving up on the game, are you?”

Max fought the urge to both grin and smack him with the keyboard. Hell no, was she giving up. “Just deciding on tactics.” She just needed to regroup. She sat up and shooed him to the head of the bed, so she could lay on her stomach, facing the screen.

Resting up on her elbows, she nodded. Yes, that was better. It gave her maximum game-play maneuverability while also giving him plenty of space to play.

He smirked back at her and smoothed his hand over her thighs and ass, clearly approving. “Good.”

———

All right, Max, let’s play. He grinned before smacking her ass as he watched a rival pirate attack Max’s avatar.

“Shit.” She wriggled in his hands and furiously button-mashed, lacking her usual finesse and strategy.

Grinning, he nipped and licked and sucked his way up her calf. He chuckled as he heard the game’s grunts and groans and the simulated smack of flesh on flesh. “How about a deal?”

“Kinda busy.” She grunted along with her avatar, her gaze locked on the screen.

“Think of it as a kind of,” he said, smiling, “incentive. If you don’t win this fight, I get to take off your panties.”

“And when I win?”

“You get to keep them?”

She scoffed. “How about you give up your pants?”

“Deal.” Either way, it was a win for him. But he didn’t plan to give up anything.

She grinned as she landed a particularly good punch. “Deal.”

He grabbed her ankle and began to nibble at the sensitive skin. She squealed, letting her avatar get thrown to the side. “Damn.”

He grinned and began to make his way up her leg. She squirmed as his lips and teeth tickled her knee. He let out a chuckle at the way her avatar stood blank and unguarded against her opponent, while he pressed lingering, wet kisses up her thigh.

Her breath hitched, bringing her back to the task at hand. Grumbling, she jabbed at the keys harder. She stiffened, determination clear in every tense line of her soft body. He felt the muscles in her thigh tighten in his hands as she smacked down the enemy in relentless moves.

He frowned as he watched the pirate’s health decrease. She was going to win if he didn’t do something. 

With a huff, he trailed his tongue up her inner thigh and along the vee of her legs. Her toes curled and a small, frustratedly aroused sound escaped her lips. He could smell her arousal, warm and womanly, as it built under his attentions. Her legs parted limply, welcoming him—urging him on. 

“Fuck.” She growled again, before buckling down to play again, determined to ignore him.

He almost laughed—Max hated to lose just as much as he did.. But instead he bit her. Hard. The sweet flesh of her thigh soft and giving between his teeth.

She yelped. Her keyboard tumbling off the bed to the floor in a crash.

“Ow.” She laughingly kicked out, pushing him away with her foot. “That’s going to leave a bruise, you jerk.”

His smile widened at the idea of her wearing his mark. It wouldn’t be the first time. He loved it when she did. Loved to think about it. About her feeling it every time her thighs brushed as she walked. When she sat. When she cross and uncrossed those shapely legs.

He couldn’t help but laugh when she tossed her sleep shirt in his face.

He grabbed her shirt. A jerk, huh? “Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head. “Looks like you just lost, space pirate.” He stretched and twisted the cotton in his hands. “My turn to collect.”

“Look again,” she said, nodding to the screen smugly. “Sir.”

He looked up at her character, who was looting the now knocked-out rival’s pockets.

He couldn’t believe it.

She’d won.

“Biggest badass this side of the galaxy, baby.” She wiggled her butt triumphantly. Enticingly. He stared at that lush, round behind shake. “So where’s my reward, huh?” She held out her hand. “Pants, please. Now.”

He sighed. A deal was a deal.

But that still left a lot of wiggle room. He grinned before grabbing her hands and pulling them behind her back. He cinched the shirt around her wrists at the small of her back in a messy knot that likely wouldn’t hold up to much struggle, but he liked the image of that shirt binding her.

“Uh, sir,” she pointed out, raising an indulgent eyebrow, “this isn’t what we agreed on.”

He grabbed a pillow and lifted her hips so he could slide it beneath them. Damn, her ass was round and full and thrust up just for him. He leaned down and nipped at one sweet cheek, the cream-colored curve of it revealed by those sea-green panties. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

He shrugged, touching the foam-colored fabric. “You’re still wearing your panties.” He pushed the bit of lace aside, baring her wet sex to his gaze. God, she smelled fantastic. Fragrant heat wafted from her, making him feel crazed. He leaned over to dig into the bedside drawer for a condom before he tore at his pants and freed his cock. “And my pants,” he said as he stepped out of them and tossed them on the bed next to her, “as requested.”

She just laughed until he slipped on the latex and slid deep inside her, making her moan as her wet pussy hugged him tight.

On a groan, he fisted the knotted shirt, holding her wrists still as he thrust within her. He felt her push back against him, her ass bumping and bouncing against his hips. He stared at their bodies, joined in a hot, slick, frantic dance. Fuck. It was so hot.

Her breaths came out in short, fast pants as pleasure pushed her toward orgasm. He felt her body squeeze him tighter, pull him deeper. He gripped her hip and began to thrust harder, the sound and feel of her arousal feeding and fueling his own.

She threw her head back on a gasp as her body tensed, her orgasm overtaking her. He felt her pussy clench his dick in a silken pulse. Groaning, he ground his hips against hers, loving the snug heat of her body, as his own climax hit him, plunging him into pleasure as he poured himself inside her.

For a moment, they lay there locked together on the bed, neither quite willing to give up the feel of the other. Until, in a sweat-soaked slump, he collapsed onto the mattress next to her.

Still breathing hard, she rolled onto her side. She wiggled her wrists free from her makeshift, cottony restraint. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him before smiling at him cheekily. “If that’s your idea of losing, Sir,” she told him, “I can’t wait to play again.”

He chuckled and held her tighter, feeling her fit him in every possible way. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, grateful to have found someone like her.


CHECK OUT HOW MAX
& HER SIR MET IN MY
NOVEL SHOW ME, SIR
AVAILABLE NOW ON








LEARNING A NEW WORLD
Please check out my novel The Taming School from Sizzler Editions that explores discovering kink!
Available Now On
HAVE YOURSELF A KINKY, LITTLE XMAS!
Please check out my story in Coming Together's charity anthology that lets your feel-good do some real good!

GEEK SEX IS THE KINKIEST SEX!
Please check out my story in Riverdale Avenue Books' anthology that proves no one knows how to play better than nerds!


REBEL WITH US!
See how Kat & Peter will face our uncertain future in Coming Together's defiant, charity anthology that celebrates diversity and equality!
And Listen to an Excerpt




YOU'RE INTO WHAT?!
If it exists, someone’s kinky for it! Check out my story in SinCyr Publishing's anthology that takes a walk on the weird side: you won’t regret it.
UNIDENTIFIED FETISH OBJECT
Sometimes really it sucks being female! Please check out my feminist, space alien novella from Less Than Three Press! Available Now On

And Listen to an Excerpt



Find even more great reads and Put Your Money Where Your Orgasm Is!




Also, find out how you can support me and collaborate with me on my Patreon Page!

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Are We Having Sex Yet? - Sex From a Kinkster’s Perspective

I’ve stopped telling people what my number is—you know, that magic number everyone is so curious about.

How many people have I had sex with.

And it’s not because of the patriarchy or sexual double standards. I’m openly kinky and, whatever that number is, it’s a high one, so I’m already screwed over by that aspect, whether I disclose or not. So, at that point, why not?

Well...here’s the thing: I don’t know how many people I’ve had sex with.

I mean, if I sat down and made a list of all the guys I’ve had straight-up, traditional, PIV sex with...yeah, I could do that and my number would likely be rather average.

But is that really the definition of sex? Is that really a good standard to use?

Maybe.

Like Greta Christina says in her wonderful piece “ARE WE HAVING SEX NOW OR WHAT?”, “It's a pretty simple distinction, a straightforward binary system. Did it go in or didn’t it? Yes or no? One or zero? On or off? Granted, it’s a pretty arbitrary definition; but it’s the customary one, with an ancient and respected tradition behind it, and when I was just screwing men, there was no really compelling reason to question it.” When I was young and the only sex I was having was straight-up, traditional, PIV sex, there really was no reason to question the measuring system. It made sense.

Then, like Christina, I began widening my horizons. I began going to kink and sex parties. I began playing with people and sex. If I grinded naked with a guy in a hot tub, but his penis never went in my vagina, did I just have sex with him? If I fooled around with a woman, who clearly did not have a penis to put in my vagina, did she now count in my number? And, if she did, did every guy I’d fooled around with before her, but didn't have PIV sex with, now factor in? Did that now make me bisexual? What about the transwomen or gender fluid people I’d teased and touched and let tease and touch me? Did I now have to identify as pansexual? I’d also been part of large group scenes where sex was happening but not specifically with me or with PIV with just me and one other partner while other people participated in other ways; which, if any, of those counted?

Everything was getting a bit blurry and I was suddenly contending with labels that, while I had no particular problem with in general, felt...ill-fitting on me. Because, while these experiences were positive ones for me and my partners, they’d felt more friendly than anything. Sure, they were sexual and intimate and pleasurable as all hell, but they felt distinctly different than most of the sex I was counting as Sex.

They felt like play. Much like spanking or flogging or whipping or restraints, where you are definitely doing something sexual, but it doesn’t quite feel like sex yet.

Yet.

I’d also had scenes that had felt more like making love than just about any other sexual experience I’d ever had. Hell, the first time I’d said I loved a partner and meant it was in the middle of a scene. Not sex. A scene. So, if in that moment, with my raw back arched and my sweaty body tingling and shaking with sensation, we were quite literally making love, were we having sex?

And, if so, then which scenes, of all the scenes I’ve had, counted as sex and which didn’t?

I find myself at the same place Christina does at the end of her essay, “I still don't have an answer.”

And I think that’s okay.

I am okay with not knowing my number. I am okay with letting that definition and distinction die. Because straight-up, traditional, PIV sex, which while fun—don’t get me wrong—doesn’t quite capture the vast expanse of what feels like sex to me anymore. It isn’t the culminating act. Hell, it’s not even my favorite part or most pleasurable act. I can think of a lot of acts I find sexier and more stimulating that PIV sex. So why would I ever use it as my standard?

Hell, I wrote an entire novel dedicated to the idea that you could have awesome, amazing, mind-blowing sex without it. Because, like other kinksters, I could do without it. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it and would miss it, if I never had it again, and there are days and nights when I crave it so much I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop getting distracted by it, until I have it. But, even if I didn't, if I never did again, that would be so very far from the end of my sex life. The near limitless sexual variety that kink opened up for me is one of my favorite things about it. If you can think it, you can find a safe, sane, consensual way to explore it. Having that kind of endless buffet of options kinda dethrones the idea of a definite sexual act. There are soooooo many other acts that I could engage in and enjoy the fuck out of, if that one act, or really any singular act at all, was taken off my table.

I’m often asked by readers and publishers why my stories don’t focus on or linger on the more traditional forms of sex. Like I said, I had an entire novel where PIV never happens. Many of my short stories don’t have it either. If they do, the actual push and thrust of PIV is a tiny fraction of a scene, a few paragraphs of a story that can take pages waxing poetic about bondage or spanking.

And I think the answer is that PIV sex isn’t a fantasy of mine. When I close my eyes and fantasize, PIV isn’t where my mind goes. What gets me hot is all the other stuff. Partly because all the other stuff, foreplay and kink play, is so intentional. The intent is to seduce. To arouse. To tease and heat. To me, those acts exist purely to provide pleasure. To turn you and your partner on. Why wouldn’t you want to linger there? It’s something that’s meant to take time. That takes effort. That builds and flows. It can be full of familiar ground, tricks and touches that feel like a dance you know all the steps to, or can feel like uncharted territory, leaving you a little lost in the excitement. You could say one sentence to someone in the morning and, with the right intention behind it, it’ll stay with them like a constant caress throughout the day.

Next to that PIV sex seems like a mad dash to a finish line. A fun race, to be sure, but not something that requires a whole lot of choreography. Much less word count.

I find myself so much less concerned or interested in specific acts than in the intention that fills and fuels them. And I find myself really not caring what others think of my sex life or sexual definitions or experiences; because, not having been there—in the moment with me—who are they to say anything anyway? Which is why, whatever my number or definition, I think I like Oh Joy Sex Toy’s viewpoint: Sex doesn’t define you (...) Sex is about experiencing consensual sexual things that make you and your partner feel happy and pleasurable, and satisfied.” That covers a lot of ground and gives you near limitless room to explore.

And, yeah, I’m more than okay with that.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Don't Do Anything. Watch Me Touch. - Part Two

Plunder Novella  
Solo Mission:  
Part Two
Read Part One Here
.
She shook her head and smiled. You are so whipped.

Hey, Kat’s upstairs, happy and exhausted, and I’m here now. Put me to work before I tell Hayato to enact his own curfew.

Max laughed. Whatever. He’s prepping for mediation tomorrow. Maybe you and Kat don’t, Mr. Big Bad Dom, but we know who really holds the handle in this relationship. And Max Wells, plundress of the galaxy, was never whipped.

Metaphorically, anyway.

She sat up straighter. Newly flush with loot, she began to fill in Peter about the mission and what she needed him to do to complete it.

They were about half-way through the mission—stealing private sector stores of food, medicine, and weapons that were being diverted from poorer, rural outposts to an overly opulent government delegate meeting—when she saw the message.

All it said was From Sir right above a counter ticking down the seconds. Fifteen minutes. He was giving her fifteen minutes.

She smirked at the cheeky tactic. So Sir was feeling bossy, huh? She couldn’t tell yet if that made her feel rebellious or like rewarding his assertiveness with compliance.

She snickered and shook her head. Sir.

It was their running joke-that-was-not-quite-a-joke. A titular nickname that held only the meaning they gave it from moment to moment. That granted him all the power and control she decided to give him.

She knew there were people who gave the title more formality—more significance and weight—just as she knew there were people who scoffed at or looked down at or were even offended by it, but it worked for them. In their own way, it fit the roles they inhabited. That they lived and loved by.

It signified that he was special to her—the only man she’d ever allow to get bossy with her and only because he knew how to make it worth her while. Which, in turn, strangely made her feel special too.

Which, of course, didn’t mean that she couldn’t make him work for it.

Fifteen minutes, huh? Cockily, she sent back a message. Until what exactly?

The only response that came back was a new counter. With three minutes shaved off of the original time.

Well, then, aye, aye, sir. Message received.

Looks like she had her own dwindling curfew to worry about.

A part of her—the contrary, rebellious part—wanted to scoff at the restriction. She was a fully grown adult; no one told her when bedtime was. Much less some guy looking to get laid.

Except…well, getting laid sounded pretty good. They hadn’t had sex in a while and, now that she’d thought about it—realized how long it’d really been—she missed it. Wanted it.

But she still had her mission.

Max bit her lip and looked back at her game. Frowning thoughtfully, she shrugged. She could finish her mission in that time, she was sure of it.

It’d taken some creative manipulation of resources and players, but she and Peter had all but cleaned out the sector’s supplies and were dropping them off at the outpost—for a healthy cut of the booty—just as the counter’s timer went off.

Hecks yeah.

Feeling like an intergalactic boss, she collected her share of the raid and saved her game. After shutting down her game, she headed to bed. It was time to collect her reward for a raid well done.

She tilted her head when she saw that the bedroom door was closed. They never closed doors. They’d both lived alone too long and were too comfortable with each other’s bodies to get in the habit of closing doors. So a shut bedroom door confused her.

With him, everything held meaning. Every tone and word and action could speak volumes. It just wasn’t always clear what was being said.

She turned the knob.

The room was dim with just the far bedside lamp lit. She blinked in the doorway when she saw him. Lying in the middle of the bed. Naked. With his hand on his cock. His eyes—a natural dark brown with his usually blue-colored contacts out for the night—were almost completely closed and his head was tossed back on the pillows. Fair strands fell stray and loose from the top bun twisted at the crown of his head. His luxuriously golden skin looked lustrous in the lamplight.

Well, hello, sir.

He was so gorgeous. Unlike anyone she’d ever met or would ever meet in her life. It was like unwrapping a gift or discovering hidden treasure. Her eyes widened while she watched his hand move up and down his hard shaft.

“You like to look.”

Max glanced up. He turned to lean on his side, so he faced her. Studied her really.

She nodded thoughtfully even as her gaze slipped south to his hard length jutting upward against his taut middle. She swallowed hard. It was a good show. “I’d like to join.” She moved to strip off her old college t-shirt and walk toward the bed.

He held up his hand to stop her. Reflexively, she did, curious to see what game he was playing. “Take off just the shirt,” he said, his gaze narrowing on the comfortably stretched-out, worn-thin cotton covering her breasts, “then take a seat at the end of the bed.”

She quirked her eyebrow at the small patch of duvet he pointed to at the opposite end of the bed. Okay. Weird, but all right. She tugged the sleep shirt over her head and draped it over the back of a chair. “Okay, now what?”

He sat up a bit, so he could lean back against the headboard. “Now watch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just watch?”

He grabbed his sex in his hand. “If you’d wanted to do more, you’d have made it to bed on-time.”

She checked her phone. “I couldn’t have been more than three minutes late.”

“Late,” he pointed out, “being the operative word.” He tsked and settled back in the comforter. “I sent you a clock and everything.”

“So I can only watch?” She shook her head. What kind of game was he playing?

He lifted a shoulder casually, but she could see his eyes fire as he gripped his dick again. “You could always give me something to look at too.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes. Give a lawyer a loophole… How typical!

Fine.

She couldn’t touch him; that didn’t mean she couldn’t get him to touch her.

With that thought in mind, her smile widened and she got comfortable. “You want to look too, huh?” She cupped her breasts, heavy and full, in her hands.

Then look. Sir.

She brushed her thumbs over her nipples, feeling the rosy tips tighten. She sucked in a breath and did it again, the touch burning within her. She squeezed one full breast in her hand while she continued to tease and stroke her other peak.

“Pinch your nipple.”

She smiled. He loved to watch her pink flesh flush a deep, dusky rouge with sensual abuse. She saw his grip tense when she moaned and writhed a bit on the blankets.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded breathy and hot. “You like that, don’t you?”

She nodded and squeezed harder. “I see you do too.”

“I do.” His face flushed hot in the low light. “Twist.”

Her breath hitched and she felt her breasts shake with the harsh jerk. She felt the sensitive skin of her nipple stretch and the blood rush beneath her finger’s pinch. Her eyes fluttered shut as sensation shot through her. She breathed through it before massaging her tender flesh in sweet, soothing motions.

“Are you wet?”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Do you want me to see?”

“Yes.” The word was a hiss.

Fine. She tucked a hand down beneath the waistband of the pajama bottoms she was wearing. She slid her hand down to stroke the soft, swollen folds between her legs. “Mmmm.” She continued to rub along her labia. “Very.”

“Let me see.”

She grinned and tsked. “What do I get out of it?” She began to play with her nipple again.

“I’m letting you see mine;” he said, letting his hand lingeringly play along his hard length, “only fair I get to see yours.”

She almost laughed aloud. “If you’d really wanted more, sir” she said, echoing his earlier words while she spread her legs more, offering him a better view of her cotton-blocked tease, “you’d have asked me to take off my pants.”

He chuckled, the sound low and luring. “Fair enough.” He shifted to sit up a bit more. “Then, if you won’t let me see, tell me. Describe it.”

She sent him an amused look. He wanted her to dirty talk about touching herself? She pursed her lips and thought about it. Okay, she could do that. “My sex is so slick I can feel it drip warm and thick over my skin.”

“Are you getting the bed wet?” His hand began to move faster.

“Yes.” She could feel her arousal soak through her pants; it must be drenching the covers.

“What else?”

She coated her finger with her heat and began to stroke her sex. “I can feel my clit, hard and needy against my fingertip.” She panted, the words broken by her breath. “I can feel each touch like a lick of fire, starting in my belly and spreading all over.”

“More.”

She looked up and met his gaze, the dark brown of his eyes feeling almost like a stranger’s after more than a year of his usual contact-colored blue. It made her feel keenly watched. Exposed. Naked. “I can see you watching me. Can feel your eyes on my body like a touch.”

“Does it make you hot?”

It shouldn’t. Not when it felt so unfamiliar. “Yes.” Because, as strange as it may feel, here with her Sir, it also felt safe. Riding an edge that, with him, she knew well. “Yes.”

“Does looking at me make you hot?”

Always. She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting the words to feel right on her lips. She wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her. She wanted to take him and be taken. Staring into the need in his dark, deep, walnut-colored eyes, she needed him. She nodded, feeling her teeth ravage her silent mouth.

“Say it.”

She shook her head and pursed her lips tight.

“Tell me.”

She shut her eyes and bent her knees. Her feet flexed hard against the pleasure threatening to overtake her, even as her hands continued to play hurried havoc over her body.

“Max.” His voice, so musical and almost pretty, reached inside her and tugged at her will. “Look at me.”

She shook her head again.

“Look at me and I’ll let you have an extra half hour of Plunder tomorrow.”

She shouldn’t have, but she laughed and opened her eyes.

Yep, she really shouldn’t have.

She felt her control slip, the second she saw him. Beautifully tense, every muscle in his lean body pulled taut. Arousal flushed skin now slick with a sheen of sweat. And his cock thrust, insistent and hard, in his hand, now held in a tight fist. He was on that same edge with her. And about to fall off.

Fuck.

She felt her body peak on a sharp breath, everything within her seeming to lurch as pleasure tore through her. Her head fell back and she moaned, her back arching and her mind going blank even while her hands kept on in adoring torment.

She heard his echoing groan, a shuttering sound, and felt the bed rock beneath her as he writhed.

She smiled. Maybe there was something to this curfew thing. Cause that was definitely worth getting into bed for.


READ PLUNDER'S 
"CO-OP MODE" TO FIND 
OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT !





CHECK OUT HOW MAX
& HER SIR MET IN MY
NOVEL SHOW ME, SIR
AVAILABLE NOW ON








LEARNING A NEW WORLD
Please check out my novel The Taming School from Sizzler Editions that explores discovering kink!
Available Now On
HAVE YOURSELF A KINKY, LITTLE XMAS!
Please check out my story in Coming Together's charity anthology that lets your feel-good do some real good!

GEEK SEX IS THE KINKIEST SEX!
Please check out my story in Riverdale Avenue Books' anthology that proves no one knows how to play better than nerds!


REBEL WITH US!
See how Kat & Peter will face our uncertain future in Coming Together's defiant, charity anthology that celebrates diversity and equality!
And Listen to an Excerpt



YOU'RE INTO WHAT?!
If it exists, someone’s kinky for it! Check out my story in SinCyr Publishing's anthology that takes a walk on the weird side: you won’t regret it.

UNIDENTIFIED FETISH OBJECT
Sometimes really it sucks being female! Please check out my feminist, space alien novella from Less Than Three Press! Available Now On

And Listen to an Excerpt



Find even more great reads and Put Your Money Where Your Orgasm Is!




Also, find out how you can support me and collaborate with me on my Patreon Page!

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

My Golden Rule of Relationships: Be There, Be a Good Time

So I’m a nerd. I’m a dork and a geek (which makes me—what—a gnork?). And I always have been. I grew up and currently—and proudly—reside on the outside of the inner social strata of everything, from the playground to the office.

So, as someone on the outside who made her own inside, I’ve noticed that people like me never really learned the conventional social rules. We never learned all those ways to make people like you. The right things to do or say or how to dress or what things to like. For us, it was too often too hard or not worth the effort to fake all those things just to be with people who were faking it for the exact same reasons.

Because of that, my gnorky friends and partners and lovers developed one basic rule that I try to live by in all my relationships: Be there and be a good time.

Be whoever you want to be. Be unashamedly and unabashedly who you are; we will welcome you and love you for it. Love D&D; we may or may not, but we love that you love it. Are you into professional wrestling or 50s fashion or the search for extraterrestrial life? Are you gay? Poly? Asexual? Curious? Are you religious? Maybe atheist? Are you financially strapped or do you have money to burn? Are you into metal? How about showtunes? The older I get, the more I realize that the details don’t matter. The details don’t shape who we are; who we are shapes the way we approach and handle the details.

In every relationship I’ve ever been in or will ever be in, I want you to be all that you are, however you are, because that’s the person I want to know. Just so long as you can be there and be a good time, that’s all I ask.

And, for the longest time, I thought that it was the easiest thing to ask a person. That our little rule was the easiest thing to do. So common sense and intuitive that it should go without saying.

Which is why I was always confused by the people who just couldn’t follow it.

It’s only recently that I’ve realized just how high a bar that is to clear. How hard it is for a vast number of people to accomplish. Because that small, simple rule is inherently asking quite a lot.

Take “Be there.” It just means that, if we have plans, you have to show up. When we hang out, hang out. Seems simple enough, right? Basic attendance points. If we have a party, attend. If we’re bumming at someone’s house, grab a cushion on the couch. If we’re making plans online, chime in. So simple anyone can do it, right?

Except that it requires time, effort, and commitment. It implies that you’re going to dedicate and invest as much in us as we will in you. That the relationship—be it platonic, romantic, sexual, or a buffet of all the above—that’s being built and maintained will never be taken for granted. That the focus of the relationship is never about what we do—from huge, massive, blow-out parties to quiet nights in someone’s basement—and is always more about the fact that we do it together. It’s proof that you’re in it for the long-haul. That you’re going to be there when times get tough in the same way you’re there when they’re easy. Or that you’ll be there when you’re needed and will come to us when you have need. That you can be counted on. It’s proof that you matter and that we matter to you.

Unpacked, those two words mean quite a lot and ask for qualities and conduct that, from my experience and for whatever reasons, too many people lack.

How about “Be a good time.” Be fun. Be smart. Be funny. Be the kind of person who people want to be around. Again, sounds so easy.

But, within that, it means don’t cause drama, don’t be a downer, don’t be a drain on the relationship. It’s not that I expect everyone to always be happy or to never have a bad day. Of course not. Rather, it’s the exact opposite. As a perpetual outsider, I, better than most, know that drama happens. People have bad days. Bad things happen. So much of the really bad stuff hits you uncontrollably and without warning and without logical reason. And loved ones are the people who help you through that.

But to seek drama out or invite it—or worse, to cause it—is ridiculous, pathetic, unacceptable, and cruel to do to the people you claim to love. A single person can disrupt an entire group dynamic. Can bring it up or down with the simplest things.

There’s a Marilyn Monroe quote that people love to tout: “I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” And, while a part of me agrees with part of that—like I said, I do think that the people who love you should be there in the hard times as well as the easy ones. It can make a crumbling world right again. But, for the sake of the ones you love, aim for easy. I think sometimes we look at this sentiment and use it as an excuse for bad behavior. See it as an excuse to dwell in our worst or not try to be our best. But, as much as we can, don’t we want to at least try to be our best for those we love?

A relationship should give as much as it gets. It should be fed even as it feeds. In a healthy relationship, it’s so very rarely about a single, individual person and is so much more about how the dynamic feels and acts and works as a whole. Because, when it works, everyone’s happy.

Show up. Be there. Be fun. Be smart. Be funny. Be a good time. Because when you do that—when you make the effort to make sure everyone has a good time—you do too.

It’s a good rule. One that has always served me well and has never steered me wrong. Simple or not, it’s something worth asking of people. Worth demanding of people. Worth placing as the bar for standards. Because, if those in it can’t be there and be a good time, can it really be considered a good relationship?

Friday, May 13, 2016

Playing With My Partners - Part Two

Stuck: 
Short Story – 
Part Two
Read Part One Here

To read the rest of this story, please check out this novel of interwoven stories with Deep Desires Press!

Kinksters call it play for a reason. Come have some fun!


Life can make love hard, especially in the kink community. Follow an eclectic, kinky ensemble, through a series of interwoven stories, as they struggle to put a little more play into their lives.

Especially when the marriage between Kat and Peter Richards starts to fall apart. It’ll take this community of kinksters to bring them back together again. After four years of marriage, Kat and her husband’s relationship seems so…nice. Not bad. Just average, ordinary. Nice. They haven’t played in forever and she desperately misses it. She wonders if they’ve lost their spark and worries her happily ever after came at the cost of her sex life.

Peter will need the help of their friends  — from an exhibitionist learning to reconnect with her body and appreciate being looked at again, to an exhausted, off-duty cop having a rough night with an unexpected partner, to a Little struggling to keep her roleplay fantasy fresh against the toll of reality’s ticking clock — to remember that, with trust, communication, and the right partners, play can make life and love so much better.


AVAILABLE NOW ON:






MAKE-UP SEX MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!
See what happens after Kat & Peter's happy ending in my story from Deep Desire Press!
And Listen to an Excerpt

LET'S GET INTENSE FOR THE MEN!
Please check out my story in The Sexy Librarian's anthology that gives us a bold peek into lust and love from the male perspective!


FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED!
Please check out my story in Sexy Little Pages' anthology that explores the taboo juxtaposition of holy and sensual!

THINK YOU OWN ME?
Please check out my novel Show Me, Sir from Sinful Press that celebrates feminist kink!

REBEL WITH US!
See how Kat & Peter will face our uncertain future in Coming Together's defiant, charity anthology that celebrates diversity and equality!
And Listen to an Excerpt


LOVE EROTICA? LOVE CONSENT?
Please check out my story in The New Smut Project's anthology and see how consent makes everything sexier!
BREAKING THE RULES!
Please check out my story in this hand-held library of erotica & explore to your libido's content!






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