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.

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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.



Too crazy…

Bryan Bachelor promised Phil, his coworker and occasional after work buddy, to go speed dating tonight. After three rounds, Bryan had too much merlot and not enough havarti cheese and ritz crackers. But all the alcohol in the world wasn’t enough to loosen him up.

The woman across from him was cute, if a tad desperate. She wore a low-cut white blouse with a black bra underneath. Her makeup was layered on so heavy, she was three steps short of being a circus clown. An attractive version of Mimi from the Drew Carey Show, but with an annoying snort in her laugh every time she told a joke. Bryan pretended to laugh too.

Her perfume mingled with the potpourri of perfumes and colognes in the bar. It was like a candle shop, but more dangerous to the sinuses. The lovely expensive smells mixed with the cheaper, gas station variety perfumes. The result was a mishmash that was worse than any individual odor. Bryan sunk his nose into his wineglass, just to have a little relief.

Every five seconds, he glanced from Mimi’s small and perky rack to the massive digital clock on the stage, counting down the minutes to the next switch. Only three minutes. He could survive. But then the timer would start again. This was a long night already. Phil already scored on his first round, and left with his arm around a blond woman’s shoulders (she wore tight black leather pants) and her hand on his ass. Lonely, and more than a tad jealous, Bryan kept his head low and tried to ignore the flood of other speed daters. At least it was an even mix of men and women. He’d worried there’d be too many women desperate for company and sex. Or worse, the event would be a sausage-fest.

He’d had no idea what to expect. Were there a lot of single people in the big city? Did they really spend Friday nights speed dating? The answers to those questions were yes, and what-the-fuck yes.

The bar itself was posh and cozy, more of a British-style pub than an American place. The massive mirror behind the bar made the crowd seem even larger, a sea of strangers drowning their loneliness with one free drink and a little company to numb the sting of being single. The maroon colored carpet was littered with broken peanut shells.

The heavy, dark varnished wood chair creaked every time Bryan shifted his butt a little. When he opened his mouth, he only managed a creak before Mimi prattled off another slapstick comment, and then he pretended to laugh again. Which only made her laugh even louder, as if she were trying to break his wineglass with her high-pitch squeal.

He had no idea what Mimi’s real name was. The sticker name-tag pressed against her left boob was indecipherable. Maybe an E, or a J, the rest was round and flowing scribbles. Bryan certainly wasn’t telling her what his last name was, for fear of what joke she might make.

Finally the clock’s alarm dinged like a microwave. Time with Mimi was up. The event MC, a flamboyant man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo and greased back hair, grabbed the microphone and announced the time was up, as if the alarm wasn’t enough notice.

Bryan waved goodbye to Mimi and zoomed off to the next table for his next date. She was a blond. The next one down was a brunette. After that was a redhead.

A little of everything, at least. He just wanted the night to be over.

Mimi screeched goodbye, and then swallowed the next sucker with a nasally laugh.

Bryan sat down in front of the blond. Her name-tag read Olivia in large sweeping cursive, and she had drawn three little hearts underneath. Her hair was curly and frizzy, and stuck out as if she had just rolled out of bed. She wore a loose hot pink tank top that revealed just about every mole on her tanned chest. As far as Bryan could tell, Olivia wore no bra. Her teacup sized breasts poked through the fabric of her shirt, hinting at the nipples.

She extended her hand out for Bryan to kiss, five shiny and mismatched bracelets on her wrist jingled. She kept her other hand under the table. Her beer glass was drained, only the suds left.

Bryan introduced himself, but only squeezed her hand. He tried to pull his hand back, but she held on. Be friendly, he reminded himself. Don’t look at the clock. Oops, too late for that.

Something about this woman’s perfume smelled off. Musty, actually. Then just below the constant din and rattle of the bar-life, Bryan heard a vibration.

He casually rubbed the inside of his ear with a pinky finger. Maybe Mimi damaged his eardrums.

Olivia clutched at his hand, squeezing tighter than he liked. She leaned forward, giving him a great view of her breasts, all the way to the pink nipples. Her face brightened red, thick lips rounded in an “o” and her eyes fluttering fast.

Her other hand was still under the table.

Bryan reconsidered what that vibrating sound might be.

“So, Olivia,” he said. “What’s your favorite music?”

She licked her lips. “Oh, anything hot and heavy.”

“Such as?”

“Something that makes my hips shake.”

“Okay.” Bryan wanted to take his hand away, but that felt wrong. At the same time, he wanted to say something sexy, but that seemed too cheap. He always thought speed dating meant a lot of short dates with lots of people all in one night.

Apparently Olivia took speed dating to mean another thing. Cut all the crap with dating, and go straight to the big orgasm, without even bothering to figure out who’s place to go to.

Bryan cleared his throat, and took another sip of merlot.

“You’re cute,” Olivia said. She muscled his hand closer to her chest. Not like it took a lot of strength, she could’ve punched Bryan and knocked his lights out, his defenses were so low. “I mean, really cute.”

“Umm, thanks,” he said.

The vibration under the table sped up a notch, and then another. Olivia’s eyebrows fluttered and she rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

“So,” Bryan said, “what are your hobbies?”

After a shudder that jiggled her hair about her face, she refocused. “I like hard hobbies. Long and hard.”

“The kind that require double A batteries, clearly,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Olivia said. “I like the real thing too. But it’s not like I can carry a real one inside me everywhere.”

“And the real one doesn’t vibrate twenty-four seven.”

“Exactly!” She squeezed his hand even tighter now. Another orgasm shuddered through her body, her shoulders bunching up, chest turning bright red.

The smell of wet pussy was embarrassing, and at the same time intoxicating. Like a bad joke that you should be ashamed of every time it’s told, but then you tell it anyways. Bryan was disgusted, ashamed, and turned on by Olivia’s behavior.

His prick told him so. And the equipment never lied about what turned Bryan on.

“So,” he said. “You want to get out of here?”

Olivia clucked her tongue and shook her head. “If I said yes to that question for every guy, I’d never get to leave my bedroom.”

“Fair enough. But come on, you gotta say yes to some lucky bastard here.”

“Oh, you’re sweet,” Olivia said. “I don’t have to go home with anyone to get off. Speaking of…” She scrunched her brows tight, and lowered her head onto the table, hair covering her face, a tiny moan escaped her throat.

Bryan rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “But there must be something I can do to convince you.”

She raised her head slow. “Well, there is something. But you might not like it.”

“You don’t know. Hit me up.”

Olivia took her hand away from his grasp. She sat upright, with one arm behind her head, the vibrator still doing its magic down below. “You have to lick my armpits.”

“What? Wait…” Well at least her pits were shaved, but still.

“If it’s my pussy you want in your face, and my nipples in your mouth, and my ass pressed against your pelvis.” She poked her tongue out and licked her own underarm. She giggled, and looked straight at Bryan. “If you want all that, then you can lick my armpits.”

“I… I don’t know what to say to that.”

The vibrator cut off. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. The hand that had been doing the deed was slick and shiny.

“Is this negotiable?” said Bryan.

“Nope,” Olivia said. “And our time’s up anyway.”

The giant ridiculous alarm clock buzzed.

“But…” Damn, he wanted her, and Bryan didn’t know why. The crazy ones were always bad choices, and sitting across from a bad choice, he figured he could live with the consequences.

“Nope,” she said again, looking away and flipping her hair to cover her face.

Bryan stood up slow, afraid of showing the world his massive erection. It was gone. Just as well.

The brunette waited at the next table.

Not crazy enough…

Bryan glanced over his shoulder, to make sure Olivia just wasn’t playing hard to get. She already had one hand between her legs again, and was focused on the next poor bastard. Oh well.

Not only had she gotten him rock hard while only touching his hand, he had a little precum inside his underwear. The tip of his pecker was wet and a tad uncomfortable, and now he was determined to get laid here. He could do this.

The brunette tight-lip smiled as Bryan sat down. She was pretty, with straight shoulder length hair and an oval shaped face with high cheekbones. Her name-tag read Melissa, in simple all-cap block letters. She wore a light blue turtleneck shirt with long sleeves, baggy enough to cover her shape without looking sloppy. No earrings, bracelets, or rings. The only jewelry on her was a standard Citizen watch. Next to the gigantic yellow leather purse was an untouched lime soda drink with no ice. The bendy straw was in backwards, with the bent side touching the bottom of the glass.

The ridiculous clock was wound, and started ticking. Melissa’s smile persisted, as if she weren’t sure what to do with her lips now that Bryan had sat down. Friendly, but not warm. A tad fake.

He folded his hands on the table in front of him, The dating jitters felt a little more real, now he was turned on. The possibility—the hope, really—that he was ending the night rolling around in the sack with somebody was real.

“Hi,” said Bryan.

Melissa parroted the response, and then fidgeted with her watch.

Well, this was a great start.

“What’re your favorite hobbies?” Bryan said, looking her in the eye and smiling back at her. He made his smile sharp and toothy, just enough to be sexy and toned down enough he could be friendly if things turned out wrong. Maybe she was tired of getting Olivia’s castaways, and just needed some proper warming up. She made no response, except to sip from her soda. Well, shit, Bryan could’ve thought of a better opening line.

Melissa shrugged. She looked away, and took another dainty sip from her soda. “I like horses,” she said at last.

“Awesome,” he said. “You enjoy riding?”

“All the time.”

Bryan had no idea if she was being cute or serious. He hoped for the former, prepared for the latter. “What do you like about riding?”

Maybe he should’ve added the word “horses” to the end of that phrase. Melissa didn’t seem to notice the gentle double meaning. Her face was a perfect mask, with a cute mouth and a button nose. Could he give her a good time? Did he want to?

She seemed a little spacey for a moment, and then refocused on Bryan. “I like the freedom,” she said at last. “The wind in my hair. A beautiful creature beneath me.”

“So you like riding outdoors?” Bryan made the words sound serious, but with a curl in his smile in case she really did get the double meaning.

Melissa tilted her head and stared at him funny. “I rode PJ around the stadium during 4H. But that’s not really the same.”

Alright then.

“Do you do bareback riding?” he asked, fishing for something nice to say. He instantly regretted the phrasing.

“Oh, no,” Melissa shook her head. The way her hair flitted about her forehead was kind of cute. “That’s dangerous.”

“I see,” Bryan said. “But doesn’t the idea sound fun? A wild animal between your legs, with a hint of danger?”

“I’m not sure what your idea of fun is,” Melissa said, matter of factly.

“I’m not sure either, some days.”

She took a long careful sip from her soda. The silence hung like an awkward… fuck it, Bryan had no word for how awkward this speed date was. He knew he had his own struggles at coming up with things to say. But Melissa just wasn’t helping at all.

Instead of feeling attraction or lust, Bryan felt sorry for her. The mood was dead.

He reached out, grabbing both her wrists. After some fumbling, he held her hands in his.

“Melissa,” Bryan said. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Thank you.” She visibly brightened. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Bryan bit his lip, and then gave her the best sexy glare he could come up with. She leaned forward a little, blushing at the cheeks and neck.

“You’ll find a wonderful man,” he said. “Maybe even tonight, who knows. Although,” he glanced to one side and whispered, “be careful with the men Olivia there is throwing away.”

“Huh…” said Melissa, with a quick look at the blond woman. Olivia was still masturbating while holding a poor schmuck’s hand. The new guy was visibly nervous, red as a beet and staring a hole in the table. “You know, all the guys tonight have been a little weird. No offense.”

“My point is,” Bryan said, “just be yourself. Mr. Right will be attracted to who you are.”

“You’re such a sweet man.” She untangled one hand out of his, then grabbed the straw in her soda and took a sip. Her eyes zipped back to the guy at Olivia’s table. “You think he’s into horses?”

Bryan patted her on the hand. “You’ll have to ask him. Maybe he has a hobby you’d enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“Umm,” Bryan said. The alarm clock dinged and the MC announced the time.

Bryan wished Melissa a wonderful night, and moved on to the next table. The redhead waited.

Just right…

Bryan thought her name-tag was indecipherable at first. Curvy lines and scribbles that made no sense. But when he sat down, he cocked his head and realized the tag was on upside down.

Linda was the redhead’s name. He introduced himself. After the pleasantries, they stared into each other’s eyes and fell silent.

Not awkward. Bryan liked looking into her beautiful brown eyes. Linda had her hair tied in a loose ponytail, and wore eyeliner, lipstick, and only enough blush to give her pale skin some color. Her purple tank top fit snug around her body, making her hand-size breasts look bigger than what they probably were. She had an easy smile, and looked him straight back in the eyes.

She was fit without being too skinny. He wanted to see her standing up, but he imagined her having nice, shapely thighs and hips.

“I’d ask what your hobbies are,” said Bryan, “but I feel like I’ve asked that a thousand times tonight.”

“Ha,” she snorted. She twirled a lock of hair with one finger. “Don’t bother. I keep changing my answers to that question.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s put it this way. What would you rather do than speed date tonight?”

“Honestly? I’d probably be binging on ‘90s sitcoms. You know, Seinfeld. Home Improvement.”

“Drew Carey?”

Linda snapped her fingers and bounced up and down in her seat. “Damn it! I miss Drew Carey! I loaned out my DVD collection to a friend and never saw them again.”

Now here was a woman Bryan could appreciate. Someone who understood old references and liked classic shows. He leaned forward on his elbows. He bit his cheek, knowing he should keep his expectations in check. But deep down, he was excited for no explainable reason.

“I’ve got all the seasons,” he said. He paused, and rubbed his chin. “Might be a little premature, but you’re welcome to borrow them. Or, you know, come over and watch them.”

Linda glanced at him askance, her eyes roaming up and down his body. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

Bryan laughed a little. He couldn’t help it. “So why aren’t you binge watching ‘90s shows tonight? Instead of this.”

Trying to beat the stupid giant clock, he wanted to say.

As if reading his mind, she shot a glance at the giant ridiculous alarm clock. Linda shrugged one cute bare shoulder. “A friend dragged me to this. And then she had the balls to leave me high and dry, when she hooked up with a tall, swanky stud.”

This time, Bryan and Linda laughed together. “Same story here,” he said. “My buddy left with a cute blond.”

“Was she poured into a pair of tight leather pants?” Linda asked.

“Yeah,” Bryan said slowly. “And she looked real comfortable with Phil.”

“That was my friend Gloria.”

“The same who has Drew Carey hostage?”

“You got it.” Linda sighed. “I keep her around because I usually get lucky when she takes me out on the town.”

“Any luck tonight?”


He touched her on the back of the hand. Just a light touch, which turned into hand holding. Linda had nice warm hands, smooth as warm sateen. He imagined what it’d be like to have her hands on his body.

“So,” Bryan said. “Our friends ditched out extra early. Want to follow their lead?”

“I follow nobody’s lead,” Linda leaned forward, giving him a nice view of her cleavage. “But I think we’re both done here.”

Bryan didn’t need to be told twice. He stood up, then walked around to her side of the table and helped her up. Linda tucked her hand inside his elbow, and they walked right past the stupid clock and out the door.

He kissed her on the ear and said, “Your place or mine?”

“My apartment is empty,” she said. “And it’s across the street.”

“Works for me,” Bryan said. He felt light headed and more than a bit dizzy with excitement. Disbelief creeped into the back of his mind. Was this really happening? Was it really this simple with Linda? The traffic light wouldn’t change fast enough.

When it did, Linda had no problem keeping up with his quick steps. She kept glancing at him and squeezing his arm. Once they were across the street, she kissed him on the shoulder.

Then she pointed to a flower store on the corner. “Above that shop,” she said.

Linda opened the side door with a key on a dangly chain, and led him upstairs a narrow flight of stairs. At the top, she turned back to him.

She smiled shyly. Cute as hell, but Bryan sensed a problem. “Is it okay if I have second thoughts?”

“We just met,” he said. “Sure, I’d be disappointed, but you’re the lady in charge.”

“Do you have a condom?”


“Came prepared to speed dating?”

“A man has to hope,” he said, shrugging. “We can just binge watch TV and see how the night ends.”

“Sounds like a dangerous plan,” she said. “I like it.”

Linda unlocked her apartment door and yanked Bryan inside. She wasn’t lying when she said it was empty. Calling her place a studio was being generous. Just a small room with white painted walls, shaggy green carpet that might’ve been left over from the ‘80s, and a kitchenette in one corner. Under the one window was a futon on the floor. Opposite from that was a big screen TV.

“Nice place,” he said.

She shut the door behind her. “Don’t be coy.”

“Really, I like this. Simple, to the point. My kind of woman.”

Linda flopped down on the futon and flicked on the TV. She patted the spot next to her. Bryan set his keys, wallet, and phone beside the futon and sat next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders. To his pleasant surprise, she snuggled right in.

She turned on Seinfeld.

This was definitely the strangest speed dating night he’d ever done. Not what he expected.

Bryan hoped the night wasn’t over yet.

Almost there…

After five episodes of Seinfeld, Bryan had to push Linda off, because his arm was falling asleep. She had been still the entire time, with her head nestled in the crook of his neck and her elbow temptingly close to his crotch. He was hard from the opening segment of the first episode to the end credits of the last. He rubbed her arms now and then. His fingers were so close to her breasts, he wanted to lightly pinch a nipple to see how she’d react.

But Bryan played the gentleman and enjoyed the shows. Not difficult to do, because he was honestly enjoying the evening with Linda.

He made a show of rubbing blood back into his arm. “Should we call it a good night? Or you up for more?”

“It’s already been a good night,” she said. “How about we make it a wonderful night?”

Bryan liked the sound of that. He smoothed her red hair behind her ears. Cupping her face, he brought her closer.

Then he kissed her. He prepared for a quick smooch, hoped for a lot more. At first it was only a meeting of lips. Bryan pressed his tongue against her teeth. Just the tip, to test the waters. Linda grabbed him by the shirt sleeves and climbed on top of him, straddling her legs around him.

She jabbed her tongue in his mouth. He slipped his arms around her waist, and reached around to cop a feel. Linda had a firm, bubbly ass. The feel turned into a squeeze. He couldn’t quite force himself to let go. She tugged him by the hair and continued making out with him.

And then she shook her hips. Bryan was uncomfortably hard. No way she didn’t notice him poking at her.

He grabbed the bottom of her ass, bringing her body heat as close as possible. He was frustrated by her skinny jeans. He wanted to press a finger into her folds and explore every inch.

Linda carefully unbuttoned his shirt, one painstaking button at a time. The love making was slow, sweet, and bothersome like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. Eventually, Linda stripped Bryan to the waist and tossed his shirt aside. She lightly scratched him across the shoulders and down the chest. He lifted her shirt. Her skin was baby smooth.

Linda stopped the kissing abruptly, leaving him panting for more. Crossing her arms at the waist, she lifted her shirt the rest of the way and pulled it off, revealing her black bra.

Bryan held her at arm’s length for a moment, just to enjoy the view. She ran her fingers through her own hair, beaming a smile that was too precious for words, like an angel sitting on his lap.

“I didn’t expect speed dating to end like this,” he said.

“Nobody does,” Linda said, a crafty quirk lifting in her brows. Before Bryan could make a lame joke about the Spanish Inquisition, she tugged at his belt.

They hastily removed each others’ pants. Kissing, scratching, pinching the entire time. He removed his briefs and black socks. She did the work of taking off her own panties.

And then she pushed him flat onto the futon. Then she straddled her legs around his head, shoving her neatly trimmed pussy to his mouth, and went down on him. She teased his tip with her wet tongue. Bryan didn’t need much encouragement. He held her by the hips, and lapped at her folds.

With two fingers, he opened her and licked at her exposed clit. She was already wet and tasted sweet. Linda had him by the balls and licked him up and down the shaft.

He dived two fingers inside her, which forced a cute squeal out of her. Her tunnel was pleasantly tight and slick. Bryan felt around inside, curling his fingers slowly. Linda tensed up and then relaxed lazily top of him. She swallowed his cock, breathing heavily through her nose, but every time he tickled her G-spot, she stopped sucking and only rubbed her tongue across him.

And then her pussy contracted. Linda gag screamed around his cock, and a small gush came out of her pussy. She sat upright, pussy pressing down gently on his face as she wiggled around. Bryan lapped at her juices.

Linda rolled off of him. She was faced away, giving him a nice view of her bubbly ass. One of her bra straps had fallen down. She panted, and half turned to him. Her face and chest were bright red with exertion. “Oh my,” she said, cupping a hand to one breast.

Bryan sat up and moved toward her, grabbing her by the waist. She didn’t resist. He pulled down the other bra strap and kissed her on the shoulder. He reached around her for his wallet, and got the condom. A minute later, he was ready for more adventure.

Then he bent Linda over and rubbed her pussy to get her wet all over again. She didn’t take much coaxing. She white-knuckle gripped the edge of the futon with both hands.

He plunged his cock inside her. A perfect fit. Tight without being uncomfortable. He shook his hips Elvis-style. Linda squirmed and squealed underneath him. The temperature of the apartment seemed to heat up another five degrees. Bryan’s skin was hot and tingly. Sweat pored down his back. Linda was hot and sweaty too. Her hair was tangled and falling over her face.

He clutched her hips, holding her still. Then he pounded her as hard and fast as he could. If her neighbors were home, they almost certainly heard the skin on skin slapping sounds. Surely they also heard Linda’s moans and half muffled screams. They probably heard Bryan smacking Linda’s ass hard enough to leave a handprint.

Maybe Bryan should’ve left the TV on.

But he wasn’t about to remedy that. A little part of him enjoyed the thrill of being caught.

Linda turned her head around, a pleading look in her expression. Her makeup was a mess. So was her hair.

Tension built up in his balls. There was no stopping it.

A wild idea popped up in his brain.

Right as he was about to blow, he pulled out. He snapped the condom off. Bryan barely had to stroke himself. He popped a creamy load on her back, stream after stream. Just kept coming. So much he wasn’t sure if his orgasm would end.

When it did, he collapsed face down on Linda’s futon. She fell on top of him.

“Why did I avoid speed dating for so long?” he said.

She kissed him on the nape of the neck. “And you can keep avoiding it now,” she said.

“Good,” he said. Bryan liked the way Linda teased her fingers across his ribs. He also liked how her leg was pressed into his crotch. He fell asleep with her on top of him. When he woke up, she was no longer there. But he heard the shower running.

And that was the end of speed dating, and the beginning of the best sex in Bryan’s life.


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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.


The caramel latte was okay. Would’ve been better without the nutmeg, but it was the seasonal drink at Horney’s Coffee House. Marissa Thompson tried to make it last, sipping slowly.

Her interview appointment was late. And if he was who Marissa thought he was, then this was to be expected.

Christmas lights decorated the front picture windows of the cafe. Green, red, purple. Garland and tinsel hung above the window frames. Seasonal music played from the loud speakers—Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, and more modern renditions of the carols. Everybody seemed to be in a cheerful hustle, dressed in fuzzy sweaters and winter boots.

Marissa opted for a low cut sweater, the green one with the loose three-quarter sleeves, and regretted her choice. She had to keep her woolen scarf on and tied around her neck in order to keep at least somewhat warm. Defeated the entire point of wearing a cute sweater that showed off her pushed up cleavage.

A draft came from the bottom of the window. She shivered and held her arms tight across her chest. She wore skinny jeans and black knee-high leather boots with two inch heels. Another glance in her compact told Marissa she had enough makeup on and her gold hoop earrings looked just fine.

She dropped the compact back in her purse, and got out her notepad and pen.

In the five years of working for the Wenakaga Sun newspaper, Marissa had never worried about her outfit while out interviewing for stories. Just never occurred to her, except to appear professional and courteous. Well, there was the period while working the sports desk, and Marissa got to interview the cute college football players. But they all stank like sweaty animals after games. And then the time covering the story on the local artists’ community. Ton of cute guys, covered in paint and wet plaster-of-Paris, but they seemed oblivious to Marissa’s flirting.

Marissa sighed, and checked her long curly black hair in the dark window. What was with her?

She tucked her curls behind one ear, and looked past herself. Snow fell in fat flakes that splattered against the sidewalk. The parking lot lamps cast a dim orange glow on the cars outside.

The other Horney’s patrons smiled at her kindly, as if to encourage her. As if she were on a date. Marissa tight-lip smiled back, and then reflexively tussled her hair. She really hoped it didn’t appear she was on a date. She imagined what she appeared like—nervous, anxious, not in control of her emotions.

Truth was, Marissa had a hard time pointing at what her emotions were.

Heartbroken? A little. Sick to her stomach with nervous energy? Certainly. Uncertain of what the next hour would hold?

Yeah, sounded like a first date.

Even though she had the advantage of at least knowing the guy from years back, and recently exchanging professional emails with him.

Marissa sipped from her coffee. Now it was bitter, sweet, and lukewarm. So much for saving some of it for the interview.

She just hoped Heath Olson would hurry up already.

He’d always been late, at least as long as Marissa knew him, which unfortunately hadn’t been for long. She’d been a freshman undergrad, with no life experience and curious about everything. Heath was a grad student and the teaching assistant for Marissa’s Psych 101 class.

The lecture hall might have been filled with a hundred students, most of them female by Marissa’s memory. But Heath always seemed to make eye contact with her. Maybe it’d been because she sat center in the first row.

But Marissa imagined his attention was something else. She daydreamed about Heath. His soft brown hair that seemed permanently shabby, reaching past his ears. Brown eyes, rough stubble on his chin, the way he rolled his shirt sleeves up while making a point.

For Marissa, his lectures were never boring. She never missed a class, and always stayed after with questions. Heath, in his soothing and relaxing voice, answered every one of them. And then he’d lightly tap her on the elbow and wish her a good day.

That’s the way it was.

Never once did he say or do anything inappropriate. Or even ask her out, like she dreamed of.

Nor did Marissa ever flirt with him. At least not in a way that got his attention.

“Miss Thompson?” said a familiar smooth, relaxing voice.

Marissa jolted. Damn near tipped her coffee cup over onto her lap. She fumbled with her notepad and pen, then laughed and tried saying hello. Didn’t work out so well.

Heath Olson looked the same. A little older—fuck it, fifteen years older—but still just as hot. More attractive, if that were possible. Instead of the stubble, he was clean shaved now. Glasses sat primly on his nose, obscuring those handsome eyes a little. His hair was shorter now, not as thick and brown as she remembered.

But, hot damn, it was the same man of Marissa’s misguided young fantasies. And he was just as dashing now, standing in front of her, real as life and twice as gorgeous.

Marissa couldn’t prove it, but he seemed bigger, more muscular all over. In the back of her mind, she wondered what it would take to prove it. To get him undressed.

She shook her head. And then smiled kindly, standing up, and offered her most professional handshake.

“Yes, call me Marissa,” she said. “Heath?”

“Yes,” he said. Heath held her hand a moment too long. He held eye contact, captivating her with his brown eyes.

Did he recognize her?

How could he? College was a long time ago, another lifetime, and he must’ve taught hundreds of freshmen girls.

The warm handshake ended. They sat down. Marissa sniffed her coffee and set it aside. She went through the motions of thanking him for meeting her. In a small way, she was thankful to just be this close to Heath again, after all these years of wondering what might’ve happened.

Three long-term boyfriends, one who proposed but never followed through. A house. Four major career changes. And more pet guinea pigs than she could name off the top of her head.

On the flip side… Marissa still wondered. If he noticed her. If he felt the same way. If a fire could be rekindled, even though the fire was less than a spark in reality.

“You okay?” Heath said.

“Huh? Yes,” said Marissa. “Sorry for being a bit spacey tonight.”

“No worries.” He leaned forward on his elbows. Then he pointed at her cup. “Maybe I can freshen your cup for you?”

Marissa giggled despite herself. “I’d appreciate that. And then we can do this interview.”

“Sure thing.” Heath stood, and leaned across her for the cup. He tapped her on the elbow before turning around.

She melted. As he walked away, Marissa realized she was holding her breath. And then she realized she was staring at his backside while he ordered a cup for himself, and a fresh brew for Marissa.

Heath came back before she was ready, and not a moment too soon.

“So,” he said. “I suppose you wanted to ask me questions.”

“That’s how this usually works,” Marissa said. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what to ask him anymore. The story, her assignment for the newspaper. He started up a community outreach program for mental health, and won several awards and grants for doing so.

“Not sure what you’d want to know,” Heath said.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“I’m just a community college professor with too much time on his hands,” he said. Heath rubbed his mouth, and then took a careful sip of coffee. “Look, sorry. I don’t seek recognition for what I do. I just do it.”

“And that makes you a good man,” she said.

Heath smiled, showing his laugh lines and a slight blush on his neck. He gazed at her, eyes narrowed. As if studying her. Marissa squirmed under his scrutiny. She smiled back, realizing how much she enjoyed him watching her. How much more she’d enjoy that gaze if she were naked.

Heath glanced away first, pretending to look at the garland and tinsel. “Sorry,” he said. “You just seem familiar. More than familiar, but I’m afraid if you’re not who I think you are. If that makes sense.”

“Who do you think I am?” Marissa’s heart hammered against her ribs.

“When I was a grad student, I taught Psych 101,” Heath said. “And there was a student, who sat in the front row of the lecture hall. She was gorgeous like you, but eighteen at the time and wet behind the ears.”

Marissa told him where she went to college. Heath’s face lit up like he’d just gotten the best Christmas present ever.

“I had hoped,” he said, and reached out and touched her hand. He let go almost as soon as he touched her. “But I wasn’t sure if it’d be you.”

“I never stopped dreaming about you,” Marissa said.

“And I never forgot you,” he said.

Marissa’s heart fluttered up her throat. She wasn’t sure whether to reach for his hand, kiss him, or take a sip of coffee. She did none of the above. Instead she waited with her hands folded in front of her.

Heath cleared his throat. “I couldn’t ask you out,” he said. “I wanted to. But I didn’t dare risk it.”

“I understand,” Marissa said. “Not so much at the time. But I do now.”

“Perhaps we can make up for lost time?” He smirked. “Unless you have someone…”

“No,” she said, smiling broadly. “Do you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “But hey, we’re already on a coffee date of sorts. Right?”

“I’ll take it,” Marissa raised her cup.

They clinked cups together. Outside, the snow kept falling.

* * *

Three hours later, Marissa and Heath were kicked out of the coffee shop by a tired barista. Out in the fluffy snow, the wind making her lips and cheeks pleasantly numb, Marissa kissed him. Just a quick peck on the cheek. Innocent. Mostly.

“I wish the night didn’t have to end,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to,” said Heath. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“What do you think I’m thinking?” She smacked him on the arm.

“That it’s too fucking cold to stand out here teasing each other.”

Marissa smiled. Her cheeks felt numb and warm. “Follow me home. I have hot chocolate.”

“Sounds delicious.”

She got into her car, he got into his. Marissa couldn’t wait for the engine to properly heat up. Nor could she drive slow enough to be safe on the icy roads. And when she welcomed Heath into her front door, she was so excited that taking her boots off was a challenge.

She led him by the hand, icy cold fingers inter-locked with his, to the kitchen, where she put a kettle of milk onto the stove. Soon enough, the man of her dreams sat with Marissa in her living room. On her couch, right next to her. So close she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

She barely believed it. She had long considered her fantasies of Heath only that—wild fantasy, originally spun by a love-struck girl who should’ve known better.

And now, here he was. Marissa hadn’t even interviewed him for the newspaper story. Business was just going to have to wait. Over the course of the evening, she had learned so much about him, and shared so much of her life with him. It had been wonderful and magical. And Marissa felt it wasn’t over. Couldn’t be.

“Sorry,” she said. “I really wanted to write the story first thing tomorrow.”

“Write whatever story you need to,” Heath said. “Tonight is for us.”

He set aside both of their mugs, and then stroked her hair. Marissa closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. He had strong, rough fingers. Gentle, but forceful if a bit nervous. She didn’t blame him for being unsure.

But Marissa had waited fifteen years for this moment to happen.

She blew on her hands, to make sure they were warm, and then placed them on his face. Holding him.

And then she kissed him.

She meant it to be a short peck. A beginning, with no promise of anything else. But then it deepened. They locked lips, tagged each other with their tongues, and his body heat was too much for her.

Marissa pressed both hands against his chest. And then she slid onto his lap, straddling him. Heath used his gentle fingers and explored her body. Up her ribs. Across her back. Her shoulder blades. And then back down to her hips. She kissed him slow, savoring him for as long as possible.

It was everything she’d dreamed of. But she still wanted more.

He broke the kiss first. Panting, red in the face, but without the uncertainty. In place of uncertainty, was conviction. Conviction Marissa shared. She knew Heath wasn’t leaving her home without getting naked first. She felt it.

On a whim, Marissa slipped her sweater off. Before him, with so much skin exposed and lacy black bra nearly in his face, she felt both vulnerable and powerful. His fingers grazed up her stomach, loving and smooth. Heath cupped both breasts, squeezing for a moment before Marissa playfully shoved his hands away.

He gave her a devilish, irresistible grin. And then he reached around behind her.

Marissa expected him to unclasp her bra. Instead, Heath massaged her shoulders, and then slid her bra straps down. She tugged at his shirt, unbuttoning him as fast as her shaking hands allowed.

He had a smooth chest with wild hairs around the nipples. Marissa stroked his nipples and pinched them. Heath closed his eyes and leaned his head back. She massaged down his torso. Down his stomach, to the belt. She tugged, making him gasp and snap his eyes back open.

Heath stood and helped her with the rest. The button, the zipper, pulling his briefs down just enough for him to whip it out. He was long, well hung, with a bulbous head and half erect. A string of pre-cum stretched from his tip to the inside of his briefs. Marissa slid down between his legs, pulling his pants down further, breaking the string. Heath sat back down and raised his backside and Marissa helped him entirely out of them.

The room smelled pleasantly of him, an odor she realized she missed. Been too long, way too long, since she last had a mostly naked man in her life.

Marissa knelt closer. She stuck her tongue out and licked him down the shaft. He breathed slower, like he was meditating and found his center. Marissa took one ball into her mouth and tugged. Then did the same to the other. Heath moaned, playing with her hair. The sounds he made turned Marissa on even more.

She discovered something else she missed without realizing it—being cock hungry.

Marissa licked him up and down, savoring every sweet inch. The veins popping out, the salty skin, the prickly hair at the base. She had forgotten what it was like, taking a man into her mouth and watching him react. The “oh God” expression on his brow. The way Heath’s lips quivered while she toyed with him. How he flexed his muscles while playing with her hair.

When Marissa took him all the way inside her mouth, he let out the sexiest moan. Another thing she’d forgotten about. The sounds. The sighs. The pleading.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Heath said. “Oh, God. Fuck. Yeah.”

She couldn’t deep-throat him. Not a big guy like Heath. Maybe one day, if he taught her. He’d taught her many things in college. Marissa wanted him to teach her other  kinds of things now.

But she took him in as far as possible. She loved the way her lips naturally wrapped around him, like she was made for him.

And then he pushed her away. A wild, savage look in his eyes. Heath lifted her by the arms and turned her around. Marissa pressed her palms against the back of the couch, planted her knees on the cushion with her thighs wide apart.

Heath buried his nose into her privates. Licked her out, flicked her clit with his tongue. When he entered her with a finger, she asked for more. Pleaded. Fingers weren’t enough. Not after all this time and all those late night fantasies with her sex toys instead of the real thing.

“One sec,” Heath said. He left. She could hear him digging around in his jacket in the front hall. Heath came back with a condom.

“Came prepared?” Marissa said.

“When you first contacted me,” he said, “I wondered if it was you. I wanted it to be you. And so, yes, I came prepared for this.”

“You sly devil.” Marissa stuck her ass further up in the air. Already wet and eager. She was glad he’d brought a condom. Made the night more perfect than it already was. “Need some help?”

Heath bit the condom wrapper, with no luck. Marissa laughed at him—with him, at least he was a good sport and laughed at himself. She got off her hands and knees and turned to face him.

Marissa took the condom from him, opened it with no fuss, and then knelt before him. One last lick and suck, just to taste him again, to get him fully hard. Didn’t take much. She licked his salty precum from his tip, and he twitched to full mast. Marissa slipped the condom onto his cock. She always enjoyed this part. Taking control. Watching the guy look on in eager anticipation.

The very fact this Heath’s cock… the man she figured she’d never see again. Never get to truly know, except as a teacher from long ago. And now he was here, in front of her, the smell of his cock mixing with the lube on the condom.

Once the condom was slipped down, Marissa stood up. Then she nudged Heath into the couch.

And then she turned around herself and sat in his lap. Marissa reached between her legs and grabbed him by the cock. She put his tip into her pussy. And then wiggled, her slick juices sliding him the rest of the way in. She rotated her hips, loving the way his hit her spot just right. Loving the way he massaged and occasionally slapped her ass while she fucked him slowly.

Her skin heated up. Sweat pooled inside her bra. Marissa ran her fingers through her hair. Somebody screamed. She was surprised it was her. Heath shifted under her, and then she felt his body heat pressed against hers. He reached around and fingered her clit while she rolled her hips back and forth. Another scream escaped her throat, and this time she didn’t hold back.

“Marissa,” he said in her ear.

“Heath,” she said. “Oh, baby! Fuck!”

Her pussy tightened and spat his cock out. Every part of her—the inside of her pussy, her toes, the tips of her breasts—tingled with orgasm. A flood erupted from her, ruining her couch. Heath shuddered underneath her. Heat flushed her body. She felt light headed.

But Heath was still hard.

Marissa grabbed his cock and slipped him back inside her. This time, she bounced up and down while rubbing his balls. Faster. Not holding anything back. Skin slapping skin. She pleaded him to give it to her.

He clutched her torso, holding her tight. Then he stood up and threw her into the couch. Heath smacked her on the ass.

And then, he was inside her again, doggy style.

Pumping her like a man possessed.

Marissa could barely breathe. Barely focus, except on the beautiful sensation of being fucked.

And then she felt him twitch inside her. Felt the condom grow warm with his semen. His cock fell out of her, she was so wet.

Marissa fell on her back, dizzy and giddy. Heath settled down on top of her, head on her breasts, and kissed her sweaty skin.

“Thank you,” he said. “I only dreamed…”

“No. Thank you.” Marissa played with his hair until he fell asleep in her arms.

And then she slept too.

* * *

Later, Marissa invited him upstairs to her bedroom, where they made love again. At dawn, wrapped up in his arms, bedsheets soaked in their body fluids, Marissa thought about getting up.

She needed to write the article. Even without the interview, she could’ve at least drafted it out. It’d be something for her editor to have. She had a deadline for this, after all.

Heath snored. He smelled of raunchy sex and sweat. Marissa’s hair was completely tangled. She had no idea what to do with Heath in the morning.

She’d had the best night of her life.

And all thanks to the man she loved in college. The one man she once convinced herself was long gone. Those lonely nights, crying about what never happened, seemed like ages ago.

And now, Marissa finally had wild sex with her teacher, after fifteen long years of wondering.

It had been better than she ever dreamed.

Before she nodded off to sleep again, she dreamed the morning sex would be even better.


Thank you for reading! If you would like to purchase this story, you can find it at your favorite retailer. [INSERT LINK] Or feel free to leave a tip with the PayPal button below.

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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Frisky February Bundle Presale!

Frisky February CoverJust a quick announcement… I am so humbled to be featured in the upcoming Frisky February bundle, which is currently on pre-sale and will be available through BundleRabbit and other retailers. This bundle is HUGE (that’s what she said). Nineteen books, all yours for a minimum purchase of $3.99. Some incredibly fine authors in this one, so don’t miss out.

The bundle goes live on January 25, but is on pre-sale now. You can find it at: BundleRabbit, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Apple.

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: Dawn at the Sunset Corral


Dawn Copperpot comes out to the creek by the Sunset Corral for only one reason. Well, two—to be by herself, and to masturbate.

After a long morning of mucking out stables, Dawn needs the me-time. Armed with a shotgun, a couple of sex toys, and her imagination; she waits for the sunrise to have the perfect orgasm. But her imagination leads her to the memory of Nate Ramsey, the one who got away.

Until a nearby twig snaps.

If you enjoy sweet, contemporary Western-inspired erotica, be sure to read Dawn at the Sunset Corral.


This story is no longer free to read, but you can find it at your favorite retailer. Or feel free to leave a tip with the PayPal button below.