Authors Give Back Sale at Smashwords

I’m writing this from my home office in Minnesota. For the last few days I’ve stayed home on paid leave from the day job and focused mostly on learning, reading, and long afternoon naps. So far I’ve been lucky not to get sick with the coronavirus, or to know anybody who has it. But the world-wide effects of the pandemic are very real. The world has changed over the last few months and there’s probably no going back to the old normal.

Smashwords put together a wonderful sale for readers, Authors Give Back, which goes through April 20, 2020. Everything from the Hermit Muse Publishing catalog is included in this sale.

Erotic short stories are 30% off.

Erotic collections and short novels are 60% off.

All six issues of Siren’s Garter are FREE.

And everything that exists under my D. Anthony Brown pen-name is 60% off.

You can find the Hermit Muse catalog on Smashwords here. Stay safe. Find things to do, like read fun books. We’ll get through this somehow.

The Ingredients of Erotic Storytelling

I learned the craft of fiction writing by doing two things—tons of dedicated study and even more practice. I took classes, read how-to guides, and studied books I enjoyed reading. But it wasn’t until I dived into erotic writing that I got in the massive hours of practice. Erotica was a great excuse to not care what I wrote while practicing the craft. Erotica was the gateway to stop taking myself seriously. Continue reading “The Ingredients of Erotic Storytelling”

Dirty Thirty!

A few newsworthy items…

Quick reminder about the Smashword’s Summer/Winter sale. You can get the Miriam F. Martin books for half off until the end of the month. Not a lot of time left on the deal.

And something I hadn’t entirely realized… I’ve gone thirty weeks of posting two short stories per week without repeating. “Control” was quickie number thirty, and “For Friends and Money” was the thirtieth humpday story.

Originally I’d planned on writing a brand new short story for each week for 52 weeks. Then life smacked me around and I had to dip into my catalogue to keep things going. But I still wrote a bunch of new work, so total win.

I’m resetting my goals again. So in the meantime, I’ll repost some of the older Wednesday stories until I have a backlog of new stuff. Any requests, you can leave it in the comment section.

And one more thing… I’m rebranding Siren’s Garter yet again. Still have a lot of work with cover designs, but I’m pleased with the new direction. I don’t think I’ll relaunch the issues this year, but certainly early next year I’ll have enough to a) publish more issues, and b) re-release the older issues with new designs. Right now I have six issues published, and the next four mostly put together.

I’ll much more to say about all that when I’m closer to having final products.

A milestone I hadn’t realized…

With Sunday’s “In the Bag” and Wednesday’s “Friends with Batteries,” marks 25 weeks of posting two stories per week. So that’s 50 erotica short stories. I sort of knew I had a lot of work out there, but hadn’t really thought about it much. And I feel like I’m only beginning.

I began this as a challenge to myself to write a short story every week, which fell apart faster than I’d hoped. Then I kept things going by using my backlist stories. I have three more I’m willing to use for Wednesday, after that I’ll either need to write more or re-post older ones. I like the idea of writing and publishing a short story per week. We’ll see how this goes again.

I still have a lengthy list of Sunday Quickie stories to draw from, plus a number that have never been published. They don’t take as much focus to write, so no worries about those.

But I plan on re-posting some of the older Wednesday stories anyway, at least every now and then. A number of the people following this blog probably never got to read the January and February stories. So, if you’re curious about any of the titles, or just want to re-read one, let me know in the comments. Here’s the list of the Wednesday stories so far.

And yes, I’m working on novels and novellas too. My productivity and focus is slowly ramping up, so I’m taking on longer projects. Just going slower than I wanted.

A Thousand-one Days of Writing

I don’t discuss writing on this blog on purpose. Simply put, I’ve reached a point where I no longer need to justify my process. I just do things and make shit up as I go, and that’s enough to get me publishable stories. Better to leave a few things behind the curtain. And honestly, I think either a blog can be for the readers, or for other writers, but probably not both.

But today, I want to look back at something i’ve done, for teaching and perhaps motivating other writers who happen to be reading this.

Beginning on June 10, 2015 all the way to right now on March 6, 2018, I’ve written every single day. By my count, this is day 1,001. Continue reading “A Thousand-one Days of Writing”

The Undressing Room

When the Unthinkable Happens

The Undressing Room


Miriam F. Martin

WhenTheUnthinkableHappens_v1I take GamerGirl out clothes shopping every so often. Not real sure why I do so. Ever notice the chair outside the ladies’ fitting rooms? That’s where I sleep.

When I’m not sleeping, I’m fantasizing. One of my biggest fantasies is to have wild, raunchy sex in the fitting room.

Surprisingly (or not) this is one of GamerGirl’s fantasies too.

For both of us, it’s the thrill of getting caught by a fitting room attendant, or by another customer. Or maybe even by security.

Luckily, department stores have drastically cut back on their staffing, so getting caught by an attendant is unlikely. Also because of less staff, there’s fewer customers. And security at these stores tends to be one guy who sits at a desk and watches TV all day, so no worries there.

But none of that kills the illusion.

So we were in the fitting room at GamerGirl’s favorite department store. She had an arm full of Lolita style dresses to try on. I had a massive boner bulging in my pants. She looked at me, I looked at her.

Then I pushed her into the cubicle and we ripped each other’s clothes off.

I played with her pussy for a bit to make her wet. Then I slipped on a condom. (She has five kids. She doesn’t need one from me. And Hubby owns guns.)

I turned her around to face the mirror. GamerGirl braced herself with a hand on opposite walls. I was balls deep in her.

Pretty soon, we were both sweaty. Our hair was a mess. Her makeup was ruined. I made eye contact with her in the mirror. Watching her tits bounce and her eyes roll backwards, just made me even hotter.

Then, over the intercom: “Good afternoon customers. There’s a tornado watch in affect. Sorry for the inconvenience, but we ask that you follow all ten of our employees to the designated safety area. Thank you.”

The thrill of being caught intensified. Now it was the thrill of being in danger. What if the roof got torn off while we were fucking?

GamerGirl and I rattled the cubicles. A few of the bolts fell out and clinked on the floor. The mirror almost came off the wall. It hung sideways.

And then the unthinkable happened.

People came marching into the dressing room. Lots of people. Employees, customers, security guy. More than I thought were in the store. Their feet shuffled across the hardwood floor.

“Is this really the tornado drill area?” said one person.

“Yes, ma’am,” said another. “And this isn’t drill, ma’am.”

“Just doesn’t seem all that safe.”

“Mommy, she has four feet!” said yet another voice, one with a high shrill like nails on chalkboard.

My dick shriveled up. I didn’t have to pull out. It just kind of fell out and migrated up into my prostate. My condom fell off and dropped to the floor. I didn’t dare move to pick it up.

GamerGirl and I froze, like deer in the headlights. Or rabbits caught in the garden late at night. Or…

Well, fuck it. We got caught, and it was nothing like I imagined. All the hot sweat was now cold.

I signaled to GamerGirl in the mirror. After a few weird hand signs, we agreed to dress ourselves.

I moved slower than a sloth slowed down with more than enough booze to tranq a mammoth. One leg. One pant-leg. Then the other. Pull the jeans up very, very damned slowly. Neither of us made a sound.

Then, unthinkably, the unthinkable struck again.

I accidentally smashed my elbow into the cubicle wall. Thunk! I froze again. The wall didn’t stay so still. The mirror creaked, and then fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand gazillion pieces.

The dressing room got real quiet quick. Even the tornado seemed to quiet down.

“Mommy, what was mmph mmmph…”

GamerGirl and I pretended the people outside the cubicle didn’t exist, as best we could. In return, the ignored us best they could. It was like being at family dinner and the weird uncle farted loud enough to rattle the house.

Nobody said anything.

After what seemed like an endless eternity, the damn tornado ended. GamerGirl and I cut our feet on the glass shards.

Driving her to the emergency room was the single most painful experience ever, not counting anything Vampirella’s done to me.

Needless to say, we’re both banned from that department store.


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