Sunday Quickie: Hotel Siren


I’d been traveling all over for business. Chicago, Minneapolis, Washington, Miami. Too many places to name. In one of those cities, I had an encounter I’ll never forget.

I was at the hotel, walking along the balcony with a much too bitter coffee in one hand and a leather portfolio case in the other. The sun was too bright for early morning, but felt nice on my bare arms. I wore a slim pencil skirt with a slit up one side, a pink sateen blouse, and three-inch patent leather heels. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Hotel Siren”


Sunday Quickie: Worst Second Date Ever

Worst Second Date Ever

I met Kimberly through a friend at work, and had a lovely first coffee date with her. Even ended the night with a quick, cream-and-sugar kiss on the lips, and she gave me her phone number. Didn’t take much arm-twisting to convince her to go on a second date with me.

Picked her up at seven. I wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and shiny black shoes. Kimberly wore a red sundress and three inch heeled sandals. She greeted me with a more passionate kiss this time, but again all too quick.

After that, the evening went from good, to bad, to what the fuck just happened?

Around the corner from her house, I got a flat tire, and had to change it. Which made us late for our dinner reservation. The maitre’d had given away our table, and we waited for an hour. My lasagna came out cold, and her house salad featured wilted lettuce and one lousy crouton. After an unsatisfying meal, I took her to the cinema, only to discover that it was children’s night or something. A lot of screaming brats and a limited selection of cartoons convinced me to take her somewhere else.

She chose a coffee shop next to a bookstore. A mob was outside the bookstore, waiting for a signing with some wannabe erotica author. The barista had smeared makeup and smelled like a pussy, and messed up our orders of hot chocolate.

“Well,” Kimberly said, and sipped the white chocolate mocha she didn’t order. “I’ve never been on a date quite like this.”

I blew on my triple espresso latte, afraid to actually drink it. “Wish I could take credit for planning all this.”

“I’d be truly impressed if you did.” Her tone was dry, sarcastic. The crinkle in the corners of her eyes made her look dangerous. We shared a long moment, staring at each other over our styrofoam cups, tired smiles on both our faces.

The moment was interrupted by a vibrating sound. And it almost certainly wasn’t a coffee grinder in the shop’s back room.

Kimberly quizzically arched an eyebrow up, the dangerous look intensifying. I had to lean forward, to hide the erection poking up my jeans. The vibrating got kicked up a notch, then another. A low feminine squeal echoed from somewhere behind the counter. Kimberly at the straps of her sundress.

Then she stood up, taking my drink away, and tossed both cups into the nearest waste-bin, sashaying her hips as she strutted. I was convinced she wanted to leave, but instead she pointed to the ugly green couch near the coffee shop’s fake fireplace. I tried my best to hide my boner, but Kimberly glanced down at it anyway. I closed the front window blinds.

I fished in my pocket and brought out a condom. I always come prepared, though I never expect anything on a date, especially a second date. At the same time, Kimberly dug around in her purse, and brought out a condom. Same brand as mine, same packaging.

She giggled. I chuckled. We both shared a belly-aching laugh.

And then I pushed her to the couch and kissed her. A gentle brush of lips. Tongue. Teeth. Then the fondling started. I grabbed one of her melons, gave it a firm squeeze. Her hand slid up my thigh, and made a bee-line to the zipper.

This was happening so very fast. But I wasn’t going to tell her no. I couldn’t.

The vibrator buzzed even louder, like some giant angry insect. Surely the barista had it on max. I hoped her battery wouldn’t run dry any time soon.

Kimberly ripped open my dress shirt, and twisted my nipples. I tore the sundress straps down, along with her bra straps, and popped her breasts out. I tried to suckle her, but she insisted on opening my jeans. I didn’t deny her.

She gasped when she saw my cock flop out, and wasted little time in sucking it. I had to pull her head away by her hair, and force her down on her back. I ripped her silky pink panties off, and ate her like the dinner I didn’t get to enjoy earlier. Her moans were soft, subdued, and matched the moans coming from the hiding barista.

Then I plunged a finger inside Kimberly, and hooked her right on the G-spot. I made short work of her, and sprayed an orgasm all over the couch.

I stroked myself, letting Kimberly calm down a little. Her skin was flushed, hair sticky with sweat as if she’d been working out. Then I put on the condom she had offered me.

Slid only the tip in at first. Back out. I enjoyed the way she squirmed under me. I rewarded her with the rest of my cock, balls deep.

Gripping her calves, I lifted her legs up over my shoulders.

Kimberly gripped the couch cushions, bucking her hips against me.

I fucked her. Slow, jack-hammered, slow again, wiggled my hips, pumped the juices out of her. Her tits jiggled around as I pumped her. Kimberly screamed, and buried her face with her arms.

I pulled out, tore off the condom, and blew the biggest damn load across her dress. Even managed to sprinkle her left boob. Then I fell into her arms, and we made out.

After a few minutes, Kimberly pushed me away, and we got dressed again. As best we could at any rate. I glowed with exhaustion, and couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was radiant.

Once dressed and the used condom thrown away, the barista came out from the back room, haired messed up and what little left of her makeup smeared down her face.

“Oh, shit,” the barista said. “I didn’t realize you guys were still here.”

I winked at the girl. “It’s okay.”

“Huh?” the barista said. “I’m half deaf.” She pulled out a hearing aid to show us.

I tipped the girl twenty bucks and Kimberly and I left.

“That, was the worst date ever,” Kimberly said, hand in the crook of my arm.

“Want a repeat next Friday?” I asked.

“Next time, we’ll use your condom.” Kimberly kissed me.

Our next date was a lot better. Turns out, the deaf barista always takes an extended break at the same time every night. She even locked the door next time, and doesn’t seem to mind that Kimberly and I have completely ruined the couch.


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Frisky February Bundle On Sale Now!

Frisky February CoverLooking for some sexy Valentine’s Day reading?

I am so humbled to be featured in the upcoming Frisky February bundle, which is now available through BundleRabbit and other retailers. This bundle is HUGE (that’s what she said). Nineteen books, all yours for $3.99. Some incredibly fine authors in this one, so don’t miss out.

You can find it at BundleRabbit and at Amazon, Kobo, Apple, and Barnes & Noble. (The links to the other stores are at the bottom of the BR sales page.)

In the words of A. L. Butcher, the curator of Frisky February:

February is the sexiest and most romantic month of the year. Grab something hot and sensual and settle down to enjoy it slowly…This collection of steamy reads should keep you simmering for the whole month. From aliens to elves; from romance to red-hot; from ladies enjoying ladies; from sexy vampires to sex-starved superheroes.

Fantasy, romance, erotica, LGBT fiction, science fiction, and more in this 19 book collection.


Frisky February Montage

Humpday Story: Speed Dating Night

Speed-Dating-Night-GenericAt speed dating night, Bryan Bachelor must learn to navigate the three types of dates: too crazy, not crazy enough, and just right. Not that he wants to play this game of Goldilocks. Nobody does.

But Bryan promised his friend he’d do it. Some friend, who left with a sexy date on his arm after the first round.

A posh bar, an over enthusiastic MC, and a sea of strangers drowning their sorrows with a free drink. Bryan just wants the clock to ding so he can be one date closer to calling it a night.

At least he has choices—blond, brunette, and ginger.

If you enjoy quirky humorous erotica, be sure to read Speed Dating Night.


Thank you for reading! If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer.

Sunday Quickie: The Window Show

The Window Show

The neighbor lady mows her yard about the same time every evening, right after I eat supper and before I steep a pot of tea. I sit in my screened-in sunporch and smell the grass clippings on the steamy summer nights. Usually I read or listen to the radio. Often, very late at night, I take off my clothes and blow a load before bed time.

The house backs up to a forest, and nobody can see me except for Marissa, the cute neighbor.

One night while mowing the grass, she wore a straw hat and a skimpy blue bikini, the top barely concealing her ample bosom, and the bottom rode up her ass crack like floss. I had planned on reading Catcher in the Rye for the first time, but after one long stare at Marissa’s beautiful body, I dropped the book on the floor and forgot about the tea kettle on the stovetop.

She saw me and waved. I waved back, a little embarrassed by the massive bulge popping up in my shorts. I decided to at least pretend to read, pretend to drink tea, and even pretend to be the nice neighbor guy who doesn’t gawk at the girl next door. Wasn’t until she was done mowing that I realized I held the book upside down and my tea had gone stale. I figured she’d put the mower away, and then I could sit in the dark and masturbate.


Instead, Marissa got out her garden hose and watered her flower garden. Then pruned the bushes, bending over enough for me to memorize the curves on her backside. The sunporch got dark, and I turned on the floor lamp so I could “see” my book better, because I needed an excuse.

When she got out a lawn chair and sat with a beer in hand, I realized she could probably see me with the light on. I waved casually, and she saluted me with her beer bottle. Marissa leaned back in her chair, long muscular legs crossed, an amused grin on her face. She clutched one breast, and pretended to adjust the bikini top. Then I knew she’d been watching me the whole time.

I took off my shirt. I’m a long ways from chiseled, but I workout and have nothing to be ashamed of. By the time I tossed my shirt to the side, the amused grin on her face turned into a full on smile with white teeth that flashed in the waning light.

Marissa uncrossed her legs and rolled the beer bottle up one thigh. I just imagined how the cold glass must feel on her skin, and what it would be like I were the one holding the bottle. The tent pole in my pants got a lot stiffer. I pinched my nipples, twisting them, not really even thinking about what I was doing. Would she call the cops? Forever pick a different time to mow her yard?

She pulled at her bikini top, and flashed me one boob. She was lovely and firm, with a large pink nipple.

I popped the button on my jeans, then rubbed my palms down my thighs. Marissa shook a finger at me, shaking her head, and stuck her finger down the other side of her bikini top. She twisted the nipple underneath. I stood up and unzipped my pants in slow motion.

She dropped the beer onto the grass. She flicked her hair back, laughing, and kicked the bottle away with her foot.

Not to let a little spilled beer deter my impromptu strip-tease, I turned around. My jeans fell around my ankles, and I kicked them off. Pulling at my boxers, I turned around to make sure I still had her attention.

Marissa sat on the edge of her lawn chair, the bikini pulled aside and both breasts exposed now.

I slid my boxers off, showing her my ass cheeks. One hand clutching my junk, I spun on my heels. By the time I was turned around, Marissa was fumbling off the bottom half of her bikini. I removed my hand, showing her my rod. She had a lovely triangle patch of hair between legs.

We stared at each other for a long moment, like two kids seeing naked bodies for the first time. I sat back down, and started stroking. Marissa pressed a finger against her clit, and rubbed.

Pretty soon, our mutual masturbation got hot and heavy. She flicked her pearl, and shoved a finger deep into her tunnel. I stroked my shaft with one hand, and massaged my balls with the other. I sped up a little, and she kept pace with me. Then I tried slowing down, but Marissa slouched in her chair and pumped her pussy faster.

Soft moans came from her. I doubt she even knew she was making noise. Precum dripped down my hand. I wasn’t going to make it much longer at this rate. I slouched in my chair, putting one arm behind my head, and using my change in position as an excuse to stop for a moment.

Marissa didn’t seem to want to stop. Faster, more desperate, as if she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. I smacked my member for her, making the noise as loud as I could. The rest of world just sort of blurred away, and Marissa became the center of my tunnel vision.

Then suddenly a squeal erupted from her. She shivered and crossed her legs, breasts bouncing and heaving. Marissa covered her mouth. Face, neck, and upper body bright red, she leaned forward and nearly jumped out of her lawn chair.

Once she settled back down, a big smile from ear to ear, she nodded to me. For a moment I wondered about stage fright. That moment passed quick, and I stroked myself, my cock on fire in a tingly excruciating pleasurable way.

The orgasm started in my balls, and exploded upwards like an uncontrollable quake. A jet of creamy white cum blasted out of me, hit the screen window, and splattered on the floor. I sank in my chair, exhausted and warm.

Marissa stood, wobbly on her feet, and blew me kisses. I blew kisses back and watched her walk into her house.

Ever since then, Marissa and I have gotten together. But lawn mowing is now a chore we both look forward to.


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Humpday Story: After All These Years

After-All-These-Years-GenericDr. Heath Olson looked older, of course, but hot damn, it’s the same man of Marissa’s misguided young fantasies. And he’s just as dashing now, standing in front of her, real as life and twice as gorgeous.

Christmas lights decorate the front picture windows of the cafe. Green, red, purple. Garland and tinsel hangs above the window frames. Seasonal music plays from the loud speakers. Everybody seems to be in a cheerful hustle, dressed in fuzzy sweaters and winter boots.

Marissa owes the Wenakaga Sun a news story on Heath. But fifteen years after she first met him, the heartache still stings.

Perhaps she owes herself something as well.

If you enjoy sexy student-teacher erotica with a holiday twist, be sure to read After All These Years.


If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer.

Sunday Quickie: The Girl Upstairs

The Girl Upstairs


My downstairs neighbor is hot. Smoking, hot. Tall, dark black hair, baby smooth skin. Ryan is his name. He does the yard work for our landlord. Once a week I wake up to the smell of fresh cut grass, and I hear the clip-clip-clip of him trimming the bushes directly below my dinette window.

The aroma of fresh Arabian coffee mixes with the fresh grassy scent. I open the yellow lacy dinette window curtains and look out below at him. I’m wearing a lacy black bra and white Brazilian cut panties. He’s got on a pair of khaki shorts and tennis shoes. I hope he can see me.

So I tap on the window. Innocently, of course. Tap-tap. Ryan looks up, and nearly drops the trimmers. He fumbles for a bit, makes a nice recovery by catching the trimmers in one hand, and waves at me. I wave back, an impish grin flushing my cheeks. For an awkward moment too long, we stare at each other as if for the first time. Ryan looks away first, face and neck red from the sun, and he goes back to trimming the bushes.

I get an idea.

I slip on my cutest pair of wedge sandals and my nearly see-through pink bathing robe, and I go downstairs with a full bottle of ice water.

“Hey neighbor,” I say, offering him the water. “You look like you need a drink.”

“I do,” he says, and drinks the water in one long gulp. I take the opportunity to check out his chiseled abs, and the way sweat drips down his skin.

“More where that came from,” I say. It’s a struggle to avert my eyes from his beltline. I manage, for a second or two, but he’s hard, and he’s not exactly hiding it.

Ryan grins wolfishly, as if he knows exactly what’s going on in my brain. The bulge gets bigger, fuller. I want to reach out and tap it. That’s exactly what I do. He doesn’t flinch, or smack my hand away.

“Maybe,” I say, “you should get your ass upstairs before you embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you how? Like this?” Ryan undoes his pants and whips it out, he’s not even wearing boxers. His cock is bigger than most of my toys, with a fat mushroom head and a thick shaft that bends upward. The ball sack is equally huge.

I push him against the apartment building, in between the bushes. Luckily, there’s a little ledge for him to sit on. I slip off my panties, let them drop to my ankles. What am I doing? Fucking this near stranger in the garden between buildings? Letting him see my trimmed bush like this?

Mine is trimmed down to a cute little landing strip. Ryan is fast to touch me, and slips a finger inside while his thumb rolls across my clit. I lean in and kiss him. Tongue action follows.

My heart races. Soon I’m working up a sweat in the sweltering heat. Ryan is hot and grimy beneath my fingers. Before I know it, I’m straddling that monster cock and grinding it with my hips.

Ryan makes cute panting noises. He’s trying to be quiet, to not draw attention from anyone who happens to be passing by.

Deep down somewhere, maybe in my pussy, I know what a dumb idea this is. But I’m too busy squealing in delight as the orgasm hits.

My pussy squirts, watering his cock and balls. I squeeze a fistful of his hair and rotate his head as I kiss him hard to squelch my scream.

Ryan responds by grabbing my ass in both hands and pulling me closer.

He allows me a moment to bask. I push away first, and collect my panties from under the bush. Ryan zips up his shorts, but he’s still hard.

“Come by tonight,” I pat him on the crotch gently. “And I’ll finish the job.”

“I’ll bring dinner,” he says, and winks.

One last quick kiss before I head back upstairs. Ryan might have a long day of work ahead of him, but he has a long night of fucking after that.

I hope he’s well rested.


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