New Year’s Eve: A Beginning

She’d been drinking cider, and it was sweet on her breath as I kissed her. It was just gone midnight on New Year’s Eve, and we’d never kissed before, never even come close. So it was a shock how quickly we went from a tentative exploratory peck on the lips to passionate how-have-you-been-missing-from-my-life-all-this-time snogging. One minute our lips were nervously grazing each other’s, a few seconds later we were lashing tongues together like our lives depended on it. It was a shock, but boy, was it was a good shock.

Her name was Annie, and we’d known each other for a few years. There was a mutual friend, someone we’d both known at university—we’d hung out in separate circles, but I knew Cate through the running club, Annie knew her because they were doing the same degree. Both of us went out drinking with Cate, in the way you do as a student—hanging out as a big extended friendship group, with lots of people on the fringes you barely knew. If Cate was the bit where the circles on the Venn diagram intersected, Annie and I were on the outer edges of opposite circles—we knew each other to nod at, but over the course of our time at uni we’d barely spoken.

That’s not to say I hadn’t noticed her. Of course I had. Annie was the girl everyone wanted to be with—funny, boisterous, witty, and hot. Let me emphasize that last word. Annie was properly, seriously hot. She wore miniskirts most of the time, and it was obvious why—her legs were great. She was pretty too—she had a nice smile, with full lips that I’d have described as kissable, except I’d always thought she was out of my league, so I tried not to think about her that way. Her curly brown hair and the freckles on her nose made her look perpetually mischievous, and way too cute. And, although I’ve been avoiding describing them, lest I come across as that kind of guy, there’s no getting away from the fact she had nice boobs too, the kind that shook on her chest when she laughed, soft, generous, and very, very eye-catching.

Now here we were, with Annie’s oh-so kissable lips pressed firmly against mine. To say I was surprised was the mother of all understatements. To say I was enjoying it—now that definitely wasn’t an understatement! This was right up there in my lifetime “best things to happen to me” list. I honestly couldn’t say how this had come about, but now wasn’t the time to think about it—the intoxicating sensation of Annie’s tongue dancing on mine demanded all my attention.

The room was crowded with drunken revelers. Some of them were kissing too, others were linking arms, trying to remember the words to Auld Lang Syne. Most of them had been drinking for hours and the room was noisy and rowdy in a good-natured way. Annie’s boobs flattened against my chest as she kissed me in the crowded space. When someone fell over, somewhere on the other side of the room, the domino effect of swaying bodies rippled through the crowd until Annie was lurching against me. I stumbled backwards, but used my arms to hold her upright. The result was to bring her even closer, with her weight supported in my arms. We giggled at each other, and for the first time since the kiss began, looked into each other’s eyes.

She was looking at me the way I felt about her—her eyes were full of a hazy lust, slightly drunk, but with a smile that told me everything I needed to know. She’d enjoyed the kiss, and wasn’t about to act all weird or pretend it had never happened. I smiled at her and said, “Wow.”

Annie’s smile broadened and she spoke breathlessly, echoing my words, “Yeah. Wow…”

For a few seconds we just stared at each other, then she took hold of my hand and whispered into my ear. “Come outside.”

After we’d pushed through the crowded room there were people in the hallway and more in the kitchen, drinking, talking, dancing, kissing, everything you’d expect at five past midnight on New Year’s Eve. No one was paying any attention to us but there was nowhere quiet, no place to go where we could be alone. In the end, we went out into the garden. There were a couple of smokers hanging around the back door, but down at the far end near the tumbledown garden shed, we were finally alone, just the two of us.

It was cold, but we didn’t notice. Besides, the first thing we did was kiss again, picking up where we’d left off inside. We were slower this time, more exploratory, our arms wrapped around each other, our heads tilted to bring our mouths close. Annie was a good kisser. She moved her hand over my chest, clawing at me through my shirt. I responded with my lips, and let my hand slide down her back, until it was resting on her hip. She shifted so her legs were between mine, her thigh pressed against my cock—it was a tantalizing hint of where things might go.

For now though, we drew apart again, breathless. We exchanged the same hazy, lust-filled smiles as before and her fingers curled around mine. I didn’t know what to say, so settled for, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Annie blushed. If anything, that was even more surprising than the kiss. She glanced at her feet, then raised her eyes to look at me.

“Me neither.”


“No. I wanted to, but.”

I was confused. “But what?”

“I always wanted to, when we were at uni. You never noticed me though. I always thought it was Cate you liked.”

“Cate?” I shook my head. I understood why she might think that, given she was the only reason Annie and I were ever in the same room as each other, but Cate wasn’t my type—she prided herself on her ability to outdrink any man in the running club, and anytime someone tried hitting on her, they got a withering putdown in exchange for their efforts. I suppose, from the outside, the grudging respect Cate afforded me—she didn’t treat me like a complete idiot—meant it looked like I was more likely than anyone else to date her, but when it came down to it I’d always had my gaze set elsewhere. Or put it another way, I’d always fancied Annie, not Cate.

So it’s fair to say Annie had it all wrong with her idea that I’d never noticed her—nothing could have been further from the truth. Surely she knew that? I guess not, I mean up until now, we’d never done anything like this. Maybe I’d been playing it too cool with my attempts not to drool at the mouth every time I saw her. That, and when it came down to it, events conspired to mean I just never got close enough to fall into a proper conversation with her. But none of this mattered anymore, because now we’d started this thing, it was obvious we had a whole lot of catching up to do and were pretty eager to get started on it.

There was a fireworks display going on in the distance, partially hidden by the roofs of the street behind the one we were in. It was too far away for the noise to disturb us, but every so often the sky glowed with multicolored explosions. I remember we glanced up, once or twice, when a particularly impressive firework went off, but we weren’t going to be interrupted that easily—the only thing we were interested in was each other.

Kissing Annie as the fireworks went off around us was something that’ll live with me forever. With no one else around, we were uninhibited in all the best ways—tongues searching as our lips pressed together, both of us utterly breathless with desire—it was one of those pure lust kisses, the kind where there’s no holding back, none at all. Annie’s hands were on my chest, then my shoulders, then sliding down my back until they were on my backside, pulling me closer. As the kiss went on, she was more or less straddling my leg with her skirt rucked up at the front, her lacy white panties visible as she ground herself against my thigh.

She moaned her desire into my mouth, her arousal making her incoherent, although the words didn’t matter because her actions communicated everything I needed to know. I lifted my leg slightly, pressing the weight of my thigh into her pussy. Her moans intensified. My excitement was equally obvious, not just in how I kissed her, but in much less subtle ways too—I was rock hard, my erect cock jammed tight against the inside of my pants. The way things were between us right then, it didn’t surprise me when Annie murmured her approval, sliding her hands around to feel its girth through the denim of my jeans.

I throbbed beneath Annie’s touch, a rush of blood so violent it made my head spin. My hand went to the front of her panties, cupping her mound through the thin fabric. She responded by grinding herself against my palm, kissing me hungrily as she did so. Emboldened by Annie’s blatant action, I slid my fingers into the front of her panties and found the top of her slit. She bit her lip as I pushed deeper, and mewled into my mouth when my fingertip drifted over her clit. I couldn’t go much further, not with her panties restricting my movements, but she kissed my neck fiercely and whimpered, “Ooh yessss,” hissing out the yes as my finger separated her labia.

Was I fingering her, or was she humping my hand? I don’t know and I don’t particularly care either—whatever you call it, it was working for both of us. I do know we stayed like this for a good while, and only really stopped when we realized the firework display was over. We weren’t really solving anything—it was enough to get us both worked up, but it wasn’t taking us as far as we so obviously wanted. Annie gave me another one of those grins—shy but sultry, sheepish and seductive, all rolled into one. It was utterly irresistible, not that I was going to try resisting, you understand.

“It’s cold. Do you want to go back inside? Find somewhere quiet?”

Of course I did.

Annie slipped her fingers into mine and we went back inside. It was less busy now. Some people had gone home, a few others were sitting in a circle in the front room, sharing a joint. Cate was in the kitchen, beer can in hand, putting the world to rights with some of her friends. But what we couldn’t find was an empty room, somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed. Instead, we settled for a quick kiss, hidden in the shadows at the top of the stairs, before heading back down to see how much life was left in the party.

The trouble was, this was Cate’s house, and we’d both traveled a long way for the party. I was planning on crashing on the couch, Annie was sharing a room with some other girls from Cate’s social circle. We didn’t have a bedroom to go to. Annie and I lived in different cities, so going back to one of our homes wasn’t an option. Our only choice was to wait for everyone who lived locally to go home and for those staying overnight at Cate’s house to go to sleep. With nothing to do but wait, Annie and I went back to the front room and squeezed into a space on the couch—the same one earmarked as my bed, once everyone else left.

There were a couple of other people already sitting on the couch, which gave Annie an excuse to sit super close to me—so close she was practically sitting on my lap. Her thigh straddled mine and she slipped her arm behind my back, drawing us even closer. We joined in the conversation over the next hour or so, sneaking lust-filled glances when no one was looking, letting our fingers touch, fingertip to fingertip, keeping the anticipation high. Mostly though, we were waiting for people to leave.

Finally, sometime around three a.m., Cate announced she was going to bed. Cate’s exit was the catalyst for the party to wrap up. Most of the people who lived locally had already gone, it was just the people crashing at Cate’s who needed to sort out where they were sleeping. I had a sleeping bag I was going to throw on the couch. Annie went upstairs with the other girls, but cast a glance back at me as she left—the expression on her face filled me with confidence she’d be downstairs again in a little while.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The house was absolutely quiet, and the muffled creaks sounded loud, even though it was obvious they were being made by someone trying not to make any noise. The next thing I heard was the living room door twisting on its hinges as it was pushed open carefully. Then I heard the faint rustle of someone walking across the room. The next thing that happened Annie was diving under my sleeping bag, snuggling herself up against me. It was difficult not to giggle as we squirmed ourselves together, our hands wrapping around each other as our lips joined once again.

Annie was wearing a T-shirt and panties, nothing else. I’d stripped down to my boxers. Both of us were exploring, discovering these facts for ourselves. We were doing this in the dark, relying on touch. It was rushed and clumsy and greedy, but it was as sexy as hell and a whole lot of fun too. Annie’s hands were on my chest, then sliding into my underwear, feeling for my cock. My hands went under Annie’s T-shirt—my first discovery was that she’d taken her bra off, my second was to confirm just how large and soft her breasts were. I pushed her T-shirt up, exposing them—then it was a fumbled race, Annie pulling the T-shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor, me taking her breasts into my hands and lowering my mouth to them. I kissed her cleavage, tasting the heat of her skin. But the best bit was Annie’s gasp when my lips closed around one of her nipples.

I moved from one breast to the other, feeling for the nubs of her nipples with my tongue, circling them then taking them between my lips in their entirety. I had a breast in each hand, pushing them towards my mouth with my palms. My fingers pressed into the soft flesh, leaving deep indentations where her breasts yielded to my touch. Annie’s hands went to my head. She stroked my hair as I sucked, but mostly she was holding me in place—it was obvious she liked what I was doing and I was more than willing to oblige.

Annie’s search for my cock had been abandoned as I devoted myself to worshiping her breasts. I could live with that—I was perfectly happy with the way things were. Anyway, the situation was deeply arousing—my cock had been fully erect from pretty much the first moment Annie snuggled onto the couch with me and it didn’t get any softer during the time I spent with my face buried in her cleavage. So it was inevitable that sooner or later she’d become aware of it—it was tenting my boxers in a big way, and it must have pressed into her thigh as I leaned against her, drawing attention to itself.

I didn’t mind the result—Annie’s hands drifted south again, searching for the waistband of my boxers. When she found what she was looking for she pushed them down, freeing my cock and balls from the confines of my underwear. I remember she giggled at how violently my erection sprang out. That didn’t stop her wrapping her fingers around my shaft the moment it was revealed. Then she gave it a squeeze, and it was my turn to force myself to muffle my groans. It was another one of those unforgettable moments, a sensation that’ll stick with me for the rest of my life.

This was a game two people could play. We reshuffled ourselves on the couch, lying alongside each other face-to-face, body-to-body. I pushed Annie’s panties down over her hips in the same way she’d pushed my boxers off mine. We hadn’t taken them all the way off, but it was sexier somehow, knowing we were only partly undressed. It emphasized that this was something we were doing on the quiet, sneaking around in someone else’s house. The whole experience was massive turn-on—unplanned, yet perfect.

Now we were kissing again. It seems like I’m always saying that, but it was true, it was what we did—whenever we got the chance, our lips joined together. It was instinctive, but it was something right, something that felt good. As we kissed our hands explored, giving each other pleasure. Annie still had her hand on my cock, her fingers sliding up and down, not hard or fast, but super intense, like she was edging me, keeping me aroused without taking me too far. From the reaction I was getting, I was doing something similar to Annie—my finger had slipped through her labia, into the deep pool of wetness within. She’d sighed at the first touch, but now she was squirming against my finger as I circled it inside her. Then I dragged my lubricated fingertip higher, up to her clit. Annie’s sigh turned into a soft moan and she bucked herself against my hand.

This, as far as I’m concerned is one of the best things two people can do together. Mutual pleasuring, responding to the other person’s reactions, seeing how far we could take each other. And with Annie, it was perfect, we just clicked. After that first touch I teased Annie’s clit more firmly, using my fingers to make her writhe beneath me. I was figuring her out as I went, listening to her moans, feeling her body move beneath me. When I found something that worked I remembered it, returning to it again before sending my finger in search of other sensitive spots. I kept circling back, sending one, then two fingers into her pussy, finger fucking her for a few strokes, then when she started to dig her fingers into my arm, scooping up her wetness to return my finger to her clit. And all the time we did this we were kissing, lips and tongues together, devouring each other.

Her hand was on my cock all this time, masturbating me as I masturbated her. She went faster when my touches took her closer to the edge, backed off when I did. She was closer than I was though, almost all the way there. I shifted position, kneeling between her legs. Now it was easier to finger fuck her, and I did, using two fingers and curving my hand, so it scythed in and out of her pussy. It was messy and fast, Annie’s wetness was slathered over my digits, and smeared over her sex, making her labia shine with it. She bit her lip and moved her hand down, reaching for her clit with her fingers. With my fingers moving inside her and her own rubbing frantically at her clit the result was inevitable—she stuffed her fist into her mouth, muffling her cries as she came, her legs trembling as the orgasm washed through her.

A second or so later, she gave me a lopsided, lusty grin, one that made it clear things weren’t over yet. Her gaze turned to my erection and she reached for it. She was whispering urgently to me, “Quick, come here,” and pulling me down onto her body at the same time. There was no time to think, or try to change positions—we were working on instinct. I more-or-less fell into her, my erection going all the way in one movement, producing a yelped gasp from her as I bottomed out.

There was nothing fancy about this—we were doing it in the dark, for the first time, and there wasn’t a lot of room on the couch. But we were joined together as closely as two people can be, and it felt good. We were kissing again, obviously, and my chest pressed against her breasts, flattening them on her chest. My hips rose and fell, sending my cock in and out of her as she responded, moving her body in sympathy with mine.

At first, it was enough just to be inside her, to feel the warmth of her pussy enveloping my cock. But when I increased the length of my stroke Annie dug her fingers into my shoulder, signaling her desire. A buck of her hips told me what I needed to do. I drove harder for a few strokes, then slowed, dragging the length of my shaft against her as I slid every inch of it out and then back in. I continued using this slow, tormenting pace, making both of us wait. Then, out of nowhere, I went deep and used short hard thrusts that kept me buried inside her but ground against her clit with every stroke. Annie panted into my mouth with every thrust—yes, yes, yes.

This was less measured now, any pretense of control abandoned in the heat of our coupling. My arms were wrapped around Annie’s shoulders, keeping her close to me. Her hands were on my shoulders, her fingernails still digging into my skin. We were both panting, our breath ragged with exertion. I changed the pace again, slowing my stroke. It was more an effort to prolong things than anything else—I just wanted this to last, it was far too good to end. It was a fight against the inevitable though. Annie’s pussy was in that delicious zone where it was both tighter and wetter—her juices were everywhere, but I felt her clench around my shaft, the first spasms of her second orgasm imminent.

It didn’t matter whether I went fast or slow now. I was only one or two strokes away from my orgasm, whatever I did. I stopped, and looked directly at Annie. “I’m almost there. What do you want?”

We were both completely still, suddenly aware of where our impetuousness had taken us. I saw her bite her lip, thinking. There was a moment that probably lasted for about a second, but which felt like forever. Then, without any warning, Annie bucked her hips against mine.

“Go on. I want to feel you.”

That was all I needed. I wasn’t going to think about this, not now. This was one of those magical moments you just seize without question. I still had no idea how this had happened, how the stars had aligned to bring me and Annie together, but from the moment of that first kiss, it had been perfect, every second of it. What happened next was going to be the climax of one of the most amazing nights of my life, literally and metaphorically. I lifted hips, pulling my cock a few inches out of Annie. When it went back in, I climaxed.

It was like a lightning bolt, a sudden jolt of my body as it lost control. I felt it in my testicles, then pulsing through my cock. Then it was wetness, everywhere, my semen mixing with Annie’s juices, her pussy full of it. It was over quickly, but it was an eternity too, a shuddering spasm through my body as I flooded into her again and again. Finally, when there was nothing left to give, I collapsed against Annie, and we kissed, greedily at first then gently.

We stayed there, curled up together, for another twenty minutes. We spoke quietly, both of us baffled at how we’d missed out on doing this while we were at university. It was difficult not to touch Annie, to feel her skin, warm and soft beneath my fingertips as we whispered to each other. In the morning we’d make plans, work out when we could see each other again. It wouldn’t be easy—we lived in different cities, I was looking for a PhD place, applying for them wherever I could. There was a real chance I’d be moving overseas in a few months. Our lives were in that early-twenties flux, not yet established in the pattern they’d follow as we settled into our careers. But all of that was for tomorrow. Right now was about each other and the euphoria we still hadn’t come down from. Dawn was only an hour away, but for the moment we talked and we kissed, content with what we had.

Out Now! The Captured Warrior

Following on from my “coming soon” announcement last week, The Captured Warrior is now available on Amazon! Just in time for the weekend! It’s enrolled in Kindle Unlimited too.

It’s a novella length story (just shy of 31,000 words long), with a fantasy setting (there aren’t lots of high fantasy elements, but it is a world where dragons exist, which I reckon makes it fantasy). It’s definitely erotica, but there’s a proper story too, which should keep you reading in-between the sexy bits 🙂

There’s plenty of harem/ threesome/ menage a trois type scenes – it may be a new genre for me but I’ve tried to make it just as sexy as all my other stories!

If you’re interested in checking it out, this link should take you to the appropriate Amazon store:

Warrior - Copy

Coming Soon!

I’ve been busy for the past few weeks, frantically working on a new story. After a big push last week I finished it on Friday! I’ve already done a lot of the editing work, but I’m going to take a short break from it, then do a full edit – so expect to see it soon!

It’s novella length (over 30,000 words) and it’s going to be called The Captured Warrior. It’s my first ever fantasy erotica! I haven’t included a lot of high fantasy elements (so no magic, no elves), but there is the occasional reference to dragons (this story very much has the potential for sequels though, so let’s wait and see!)

Kink wise, it’s a harem/menage story, with lots of FFM scenes. It’s set in an world with two Kingdoms at war with each other (Amrit and Ursur). The captured warrior is from Ursur, and he’s been brought back to the royal palace of Amrit, where the Queen is ruling while the King is away at war.

The Queen recognizes that the warrior is high born, and likely to have knowledge useful to the King. She keeps him alive and waits for the King to return. During the wait, the warrior’s physical attractions become increasingly tempting, but the restrictive rules the Queen is bound by means she cannot sleep with any man except the King, on pain of death.

Faced with the temptation presented by the warrior, the Queen searches for loopholes in the rules…

There are two: firstly, there is nothing stopping her from watching the warrior sleep with women from the royal harem. Knowing this, she brings two of the finest maidens to the warrior. Secondly, there is no rule prohibiting her from sleeping with women – only men are off limits. She can at least be close to the warrior as he takes the maidens!

Of course, when it is the warrior she is so attracted to, none of these loopholes give her what she truly desires. Her only option is to break the rules!

Of course, this has consequences. The story becomes an adventure, as the Queen sets about breaking free of the restrictions placed upon her.

Warrior - Copy

Does length matter?

I’m an erotic fiction writer, so it was inevitable I would get round to asking this question at some point. Does length matter?

Right, that’s the all-too-easy-to-make joke over and done with. Of course, what I’m talking about is story length. So to rephrase the question: does story length matter?

Short answer. No. If a story is compelling, or entertaining, and well-told, it should be as long as is necessary, and no longer. That could be anywhere from 1,000 words to 100,000 words, just so long as the words do the job they set out to.

I could (should?) stop there. I’ve answered the question. But I’m not going to, mostly because I find the topic interesting – specifically, in relation to the art of telling erotic stories, and even more specifically, regarding selling erotic stories.

Firstly, some terminology.

The divisions between short story, novella, and novel (plus a bunch of additional categories) are pretty blurry, depending on who you ask (or where you look on the internet). Here’s one set of definitions:

Flash fiction:               Up to 1,000 words

Short-short story:        Up to 3,500 words

Long-short story:        3,500 to 7,500 words

Novelette:                   7,500 to 17,500 words

Novella:                       17,500 to 40,000 words

Novel:                         40,000 words and over.


Some of these definitions are more variable than others. Not everyone uses novelette as a term – short stories might be as long as 20,000 words, and everything between 20,000 words and 50,000 words might be a novel. In fact, I’d say 50,000 words is a more widely used definition of novel, and in reality, commercial novels typically clock in at around 80,000 words.

Erotic fiction thrives on the shorter forms – novels are rare. Lots of stories in collections are often in the 3,000 to 5,000 word range. Unless you’re doing something unusual, this is probably about as short as a story can be and include a reasonably full sex scene. It leaves the bare minimum for setting up the scene and letting the reader get to know the characters. This is one of the differences between literary fiction (where 3,500 words for a short story is the norm) and erotic fiction – sex scenes can’t be glossed over. To set up a story and have a good sex scene takes up words.

I can’t do it. I struggle to write stories as short as that. Some writers can, and I’m jealous of them – getting everything into a story with so few words and making it a satisfying read takes some good, concise story-telling. It’s a real skill.

Short erotic stories work as a product because lots of readers are looking for a “one-sitting” read. From a commercial sense they work because of the existence of Kindle Unlimited: the length doesn’t matter as the reader is paying a fixed rate for as many stories as they can read in a month. Once they’ve read a short story, they just move onto the next one. To sell the story (as opposed to having it read in Kindle Unlimited) it probably helps if the story is a little longer than the minimum. As far as I’m aware, most erotic stories sold as stand-alone books on Amazon are rarely less than 5,000 words. Anything less doesn’t look like very much when read on a Kindle – to charge $0.99 or $2.99 for less runs the risk of it feeling “too short”. A more common length is maybe 6,000 to 8,000 words. Highly prolific authors (I’m not one) can write these fairly quickly, and maintain a high enough output to always be “visible” when readers are searching for books on Amazon. (In my experience, a book will stay highly visible for a week or two before getting buried by new books, will still be visible to readers who are searching diligently for a month or so, and will disappear completely after three months. The only way to maintain visibility for your back catalogue is to put out new books, which hopefully attract attention to the older ones as well).

I don’t think I can make any more generalizations than the ones above. There are erotica writers producing stories of every conceivable length, at vary frequencies. Even saying that short stories are popular is to ignore the large number of people writing novels – but if I was going to make one more generalization it would be that writers leaning more towards erotic romance tend to write the longer stories and novels.

I really should stop though – someone will be able to identify an exception to every statement I’ve made so far!

So as a non-prolific author who likes to tell stories that satisfy me (either by having detailed sex scenes or having complex characters who grow through the story, or both), what length are my stories?

My shortest stand-alone story is An American Affair. It is 7,739 words long. My longest in A Bit of Rough (77,149 words). So my shortest story is a novelette, and my longest is a novel. Penny Meets the Neighbors is also a novel, at 65,024 words.

Excluding the stories mentioned above, the rest of my stories can be divided into two groups.  I’ve got a lot of stories in the 11,000 to 14,000 word range (which makes them novelettes), and a similar number of stories in the 23,000 to 33,000 range (so they’re novellas).

The novelettes tend to be the “sex” stories, the ones I’d classify as erotica. If you’ve got a free hour or so, or an evening, they make hot, fun reads. They include Farmer’s Daughter Threesome (11,194) and Poolside Threesome (13,879) – notice the common theme! (1, Coverlid Place and Meaningless Masturbation? are the other two).

The novellas are more often the erotic romances, or the longer, more complex stories. They’re usually divided into parts or chapters to make reading them easier (they may not be one-sitting reads, but they’re easy to read in a couple of sittings, with obvious stopping places along the way). Islands (23,122) is the newest, and The Sin of Love the longest (33,335). The Other Side of Town and Horny Mandy are the other stories in this category.

To circle back to the start – does length matter? No, of course not! It’s about telling a good story, as well as possible. Whatever length the story needs to be will emerge in the writing. There is a readership for every type of story, whatever the length!

New Story! – Poolside Threesome

I’ve got a new story out!

It’s called Poolside Threesome!

It’s available now on Amazon, and is enrolled in Kindle Unlimited.

Universal Amazon link:

This one is a return to good old fashioned sex-filled erotica! The premise is simple – Kimberly, a wealthy socialite, newly single after catching her husband and the maid together, is tanning herself by the pool. She’s watching Pablo, the handsome pool boy/gardener/handy man, happily whiling away the afternoon thinking dirty thoughts about him.

But Kimberly has a secret – she’d been lusting after the maid just as much as her husband – but unlike her husband, she’d managed to keep her hands to herself. The last maid has been replaced, but the new one is just as alluring in her own way. The difference is that she’s far more naive and sexually innocent than the previous maid.

Now Kimberly is single again, she has no qualms about seducing the new maid. She also wants to have her wicked way with Pablo. Her solution? A hot threesome with both of them!Pool - Copy

The Smashwords mid-year sale!

July is the annual Smashwords mid-year sale! All my books listed on Smashwords are discounted!

The best deals are on my novels – I’ve discounted them both by 75% – they’re both only a dollar now!

Here’s the link for A Bit of Rough:

Here’s the link for Penny Meets the Neighbors:

I’ve also discounted my stand-alone shorts and novellas by 50% (so they’re $1.50 now). Four of these are bundled together in Collected Stories though, which has been discounted 50% and in now just $2.00 – even better value! Here’s the link for Collected Stories: (It contains 1, Coverlid Place; Meaningless Masturbation?; Farmer’s Daughter Threesome; and Horny Mandy)

It’s still worth checking out The Sin of Love and An American Affair, since they’re not in Collected Stories. Here’s the link for The Sin of Love:

And here’s the link for An American Affair:

Happy reading!

New Story Out Today!

My new story has just gone live! Islands, an erotic romance. Here’s the Amazon blurb:

Marcus was wealthy and successful. Wealthy enough to own his own private bolt-hole, a house on a remote Aegean island. Once a rich man’s playground, a place to escape the grind of his life in London and host his friends at elaborate parties, now he uses it to hide away from the rest of the world. With his wife gone, killed in a car crash, it is the only place he can find peace.

The isolation is broken when his housekeeper, an elderly Greek woman breaks her leg and sends her daughter Callie in her place. Callie recognizes Marcus’s loneliness but finds it impossible to break through his emotional defenses. He no longer dares risk his emotions, terrified as he is of exposing his heart and feeling the pain of loss again. It takes a revelation that shocks Callie to the core to change everything.

Islands features sensuous prose, strong characters, an idyllic location, and a moving and involving story. It is an adult themed erotic romance, with explicit sexual scenes.

It’s enrolled in Kindle Unlimited, if that’s your thing. Find the story on Amazon here:

IslandsEditsSmall - Copy

Coming Soon!

I’m putting this here more for my own sake, to keep me motivated as I hit the final, difficult stretches – getting this story to the point where I’m happy with it, getting beta-readers, doing the editing, all the things that need to be done to get a story out. Long story short, I’ve been working on this since February on and off (with lots of off recently because of other commitments), but I can at least sense the finishing line is on the horizon now! So here it is, the cover for my next story, “Islands”!

IslandsV2 - Copy

Erotica or erotic romance?

My stories always feature sex, usually quite a lot of it. Early on, I’d have called pretty much everything I wrote “pure” erotica. For instance, something like 1, Coverlid Place is very definitely a story about sex, and pretty full-on sex at that (think woman goes to adult store to give anonymous blowjobs at a gloryhole, then goes to an adult cinema knowing the audience will be a room full of horny men…). Or take Farmer’s Daughter Threesome – the title pretty much speaks for itself – the aim was to write a hot threesome story! I wrote longer stories in this sex-is-the-point-of-the-story vein too – Penny Meets the Neighbors is novel-length, and has a plot, but the plot is about how Penny gets deeper and deeper into her new, extremely wild sex-life. These stories are not romances!

Somewhere along the line, I started writing stories that I’d classify as erotic romance, rather than pure erotica. There’s still a lot of sex in them, and I strive to make them just as hot, but not only do they have a romantic couple-meet-and-fall-in-love element, but I also try to make them rounded as a piece of writing. There’s more character growth in them, and the sex serves a purpose in the storytelling beyond just being a turn-on (although these stories are still very much intended to arouse the reader!)

The first thing I wrote that felt different this way was Meaningless Masturbation? – it’s as hot as hell, and still one of my favorite stories, but writing it was about so much more than just the sex scenes, and it was really satisfying when it all clicked together and everything about the story felt “right”. More recently, The Sin of Love worked this way too – the sex scenes are super intense and smoking hot, but there was heaps more to the story than just the sex. It rates right up there with Meaningless Masturbation? in my own personal ranking of my stories.

There are a few stories that end up halfway between the two extremes, either by accident or design. A Bit of Rough (another novel length book) starts off as erotica with a main character who develops an obsession with “rough” men such as the builder working on her house. About halfway through, once she’s had a succession of encounters along those lines, I made her character grow, and the romantic element of the story increased. So overall, it’s an erotic romance, but early on, there’s a lot of sex that’s there for the sole purpose of being hot! Another example is An American Affair. It’s hot, and very sensual, because it focuses on the sexual encounters of an affair, but it’s also a little deeper, because it is based on real events, and is very personal to me.

So, have I switched from being an erotica writer to an erotic romance writer? I’d say no, but I have got better at merging the best of both worlds into my stories. My most recent book (The Other Side of Town) is definitely erotica rather than erotic romance, but I think it benefits from the lessons I’ve learned along the way. My work-in-progress (which will be called Islands) will be erotic romance, but again, the plan is to make sure it’s plenty sexy too! Going forward beyond that, I’ve got story ideas that fall into both categories – I just have to chose which ones to write!

Finally, have I picked a side? Do I prefer one to the other? Should I write one category of story more than the other? Even though I’ve found some of the erotic romance stories very satisfying to write, I don’t think I have chosen – I mostly write what I like, rather than writing for the “market”, and as long as I enjoy what I’m doing, I imagine I’ll keep on switching between the two – “pure” erotica can be a lot of fun to write! Hopefully I’ll keep on producing more stories that combine the best of both worlds. It all depends on where my muse takes me!

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