Category Archives: Books

Does a body good.

We all know the internet’s a strange place. Hell, I’m a major contributor. But it’s only strange because the world is strange- we just never had such unprecedented access before. In my day, you’d actually have to go to the library and dig around in these things called “books” to sate your curiosity for the curious. How do you think I learned about the Aves and the Apis? The encyclopedia and my mother’s romance novels, that’s how. Thanks, mom.

Speaking of books and the internet and romance, have you checked out the eBook eRotica scene lately? It’s like the wild west out there, if cacti and dirt were incest fantasies and Lolita fetishes. (Strangely enough, both the west and eRotica contain a plethora of steers and queers. Brokeback Borracho!)

Intrigued? Titilated? Looking to make a quick buck? Then check out my article on The Wild West World of eBook Only Erotica over at my writing day job, LitReactor:

We’re not talking Lady Chatterley’s Lover or The Story of O, here. Hell, we’re not even talking the bodice-ripping pirate rape of your mother’s Harlequin Romance. This is unabashed, down and dirty fuck fiction, made specifically to put money in pockets and a rocket in yours.

I even try my hand at writing my own eRotic story, although what I wound up with was certainly less pornographic than Fresh Teen Sluts: Bath Time With Daddy or Little Virgin Sister’s Webcam Show. I went a little more… classical. I guess that’s the influence of my mother’s romance novels.  An excerpt, submitted for your one-handed approval:

The undergrowth of her undercarriage shimmered with the sheen of her musk. Glistening liquid orbs trickled down the shaft of her pubic fronds, breaking up into even smaller droplets, ejected in an arc like seed as they met the pliant flesh of her quivering pussy cheeks. These satellite droplets fell like tears, splashing off the porcelain cliffs of her inner thighs, and ran down in rivulets to fill the basin of her cleft like some geological formation at the dawn of time.

“Be gentle, Sir Knight. It is my first time.”

She didn’t say it- she breathed it. The plea tumbled out in a whisper, the word “time” barely avoiding being sucked back in on a sharp intake of air as a finger dipped into her honey-pot.

“That makes this a first for me as well,” The Knight cooed like an over-confident pigeon. “For I have only known the hospitality of a lady by force.”

Her body stiffened, eliciting a smile.

“But you are different, my lady. You are the first I have wanted to give of herself… willingly.”

He hovered over her body, the proof of his words bouncing like a diving board moments after its athlete has gracefully floated towards the watery depths.

“My warrior is yours to command.”

Click on over to LitReactor to find out what happens next. I’ll give you a hint: it involves blue balls and Spike Lee references.