Larry Archer’s the name and smut’s my game. I’m a teller of tall tales, primarily erotic in nature. In plain English, I write porn or smut stories for those times you feel like reading with one hand.
They are perfect for those times alone with your tablet, phone, or laptop and a box of Kleenex. I also blog on the world of swingers in case you’re interested. My Smut is great when the only strange stuff you’re getting is your left hand. Or it’s been so long since you’ve had sex that you can’t remember who gets tied up!
Generally speaking, my stories are fairly graphic and not intended for those who are not of legal age or easily offended. If you are not a grownup (i.e. an Adult) or don’t enjoy reading about adult themed works, please leave now, otherwise I’m not responsible for anything you get splashed on your keyboard. Continue reading →
In My Dreams, my latest erotic novel, is almost out the door. In My Dreams is an entirely different story than anything I’ve written before. Well, if you ignore the explicit fucking and sucking scenes, gangbangs, wife swapping, lesbian and anal sex, and four-letter words, it’s different from my other smut stories.
My readers, who are continually amazed at how I can string seemingly non-related dirty words together in a single sentence, will not be disappointed. This story will leave your phone, tablet, Kindle, or PC all wet and sticky after just a few minutes of reading. So don’t forget to wipe your hands off after reading, and always remember to pull your zipper up.
This story comes straight from the fruit of my wife Foxy’s loins. One morning, she told me that she’d had a dream about a twenty-year-old woman, Pixie, who was fascinated with anal sex. Foxy had all these notes she’d made when she woke up about the storyline.
I asked, “Anal sex? Honey, are you sure that you’re not thinking about last Saturday night?”
Lisabet has a new release out for you BDSM and historical buffs. She’s released a number of erotic novels based upon an earlier time when our country was just getting started.
She’s his natural enemy and the only woman who can satisfy his perverse sexual needs.
Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with the daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire: a submissive partner to share his life.
As an engineer turned author, my foray into writing has been an interesting project. As a believer in Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, I have realized that engineers as a sub-group of humanity are generally different. No, we don’t all wear bowties and highwater pants, but somethings make us unique.
Often we struggle with our native language, and spelling doesn’t come naturally to us. In school, English and literature-related classes were always a struggle for me. I felt more at home with differential equations and thermodynamics than reading about Dick and Jane and their dog Spot.
Graduating from college, I followed in the footsteps of my relatives and became an engineer. It was refreshing to realize that my fellow engineers also suffered from the inability to write coherent sentences. But, like a pig in slop, we were happy in our little world.
Growing up, I went from a horny teenager to a horny single guy to a horny married guy. Fortunately, as readers of my column have probably figured out, my wife and I are swingers. So now, in addition to being a nerdy engineer, I’ve become a pervert.
Las Vegas is finally starting to cool off. The weather with daytime temps in the nineties is much better than the 115 degrees F we saw for several months as we head into fall.
Things are slowly opening up, but the Delta variant still has a lot of us on edge. Foxy and I have been fully vaccinated, but the increasing number of breakthrough infections is concerning. As a result, we haven’t been to a House Party in almost two years. Two long years!
We still Zoom with friends, but that’s not like the real thing. It had looked like this thing was over, but with about half the population believing that the government is putting microchips in our arms has caused the infection rate to climb again.
We recently attended the wedding of a friend’s daughter and the best man, from Florida, couldn’t come as he had COVID. Luckily his fever spiked before he left town and so we didn’t get exposed during the wedding.
I’m working on two novels, and both are in the final stretch towards the goal line. As they get closer to being “in the can,” as movie people call it, I’ll update you more on them in the coming weeks.
Now that the weather is getting cooler, Foxy and I can use our antique Corvette convertible more often. Unfortunately, the sun is so brutal that riding around with the top down is hard to do. The weather helps to encourage my wife to take her top off, but I hate it when she gets her rack sunburned.
Back home in the mid-west, she could lay out au natural at the pool a lot, but in Sin City, she has to stay under the patio to avoid overdoing it. One of the nice things about Las Vegas is that most homes have a concrete wall around the back yard which provides a lot of privacy. The way our lot is laid out, people can’t see the pool area, so suits optional works out okay.
That’s about all for now, Wifey called, and I’m meeting her for lunch after her massage.
My good friend and fellow author, Lisabet Sarai, has a new steampunk book out, and I wanted to give her a shout-out about it. It’s interesting how you can develop and maintain a friendship when you are half a world apart. Lisabet lives in the Far East, and I’m from Sin City in the US of A.
Our relationship has been a fun one even though we’ve never occupied the same bed together or the same city for that matter. We’ve even co-authored a couple of stories together, and that’s been a hoot! Crashing the Swinger’s Pajama Party was based upon an actual event that happened at one of our annual New Year’s Pajama Parties.
When we lived in the mid-West, our PJ parties were typically around 100-120 people. Since we are in the Lifestyle, we’ve made it a point not to get too cozy with our neighbors but ended up friends with a couple who lived several houses down the block from us. He and I are engineers and they were often our dinner dates.
I always held my breath in December to keep from inviting them to our parties, and they would always comment about seeing the cars lined up for blocks every New Year’s. So I’d have to make some excuse about not inviting them.
As luck would have it, about 12:30 A.M., our doorbell rang, and I opened it to find our neighbor’s standing there. I invited them in, knowing full well that there was an orgy going on in the living room. By this time of night, most people were missing their clothing, and it was a shock for them, to say the least. Foxy was in her trademark long johns with little animals on it and completely unbuttoned to the waist, with the flap down. I wasn’t much better in a bath robe.
To say it was an interesting evening, was funny except at the time it happened.
Recounting that to Lisabet prompted her to suggest that we write a story about it, and that’s how Crashing the Swinger’s Pajama Party got started. I write pretty explicit smut stories, and it was interesting how I managed to get Lisabet’s mind into the gutter along with mine! I love to read stories from a female author’s mindset, and Lisabet is one of my favorites.
She often writes stories with a Far Eastern bent, and Rajasthani Moon is another good one.
Steampunk Shifter BDSM Romance
Neither kink nor curse can stop a woman on a mission.
A bandit prince cursed into beast form under the full moon.
A brilliant but sadistic Rajah whose robotic sex toys mingle with torture and delight.
A voluptuous spy on a mission from Her Majesty, tasked with discovering Rajasthan’s secrets.
She has never faced such a challenge.
When Rajasthan refuses to remit its taxes, the Queen calls on her most lethal and seductive secret agent, Cecily Harrowsmith. Cecily expects to have little difficulty persuading the rebellious Rajah to submit once more to the Empire. But, instead, she is the one forced to submit – to endure unprecedented extremes of pleasure and pain.
Kidnapped by the ruler’s half-brother Pratan and delivered into the hands of the handsome but depraved Rajah Amir, she soon finds herself fighting against her own lascivious nature as much as the schemes of her captors. Unfortunately, her sympathy for the moon-cursed wolf-man Pratan only complicates her situation. Cecily has never failed to complete an assignment, but now she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been re-edited, revised and updated for this release.
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – nearly one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
“You are not nearly as self-controlled and stoic as I would have expected,” Amir commented as she trembled with the aftershocks of her crisis. “Perhaps your reputation has been inflated by rumour.” He flicked at one of the dangling clamps. She bit her lip as pain raced through her, determined not to cry out, but she couldn’t halt the juices trickling from her twitching quim.
“Still, I’m personally delighted to find you are so responsive—to both pain and pleasure.” Wetness spilled along the crevice between her buttocks and the scent of almonds surrounded her. “That will make the interrogation much more entertaining, at least for me.” Once she was slippery with the aromatic oil, he worked his fingers into her back passage, despite her clench-muscled attempts to keep him out.
The sweet, dirty feel of him stretching her sphincter sent quivering waves through her belly. With all her amorous experience, she’d never received a man’s member in that most private orifice, though she’d been probed and teased enough to be familiar with the exquisite pleasures that channel could afford. I can bear it, she told herself. As long as he keeps away from my clit…
He removed his fingers, leaving her open and gaping. She swallowed her moan of disappointment. The next thing she knew, something monstrous and unyielding pressed against her loosened entrance.
“No!” she cried. “Please…” Too late. The artificial phallus he’d mentioned to Sarita slid into Cecily’s hind hole, facilitated both by the oil and her own copious lubrication. She’d expected pain, the tearing of flesh as the polished wooden artefact breached her defences. That she could have handled. Instead, the infernal toy entered with embarrassing ease, settling in her depths and triggering a wonderful, obscene sense of fullness. “Oh my God,” she gasped, as Amir wriggled the shaft and ripples of sensation wound their way down to her core. “Oh…!”
She tried to relax. She was determined not to surrender to another climax at Amir’s hands, no matter what he did.
Amir chuckled. “Like that, my lovely?”
“I, uh, doubt that it matters…ah—what I like. Ow!” He wriggled the rod, impaling her while pulling on the clamps. Agony mingled with shameful delight.
“Well, I like it, I must say. I like to see the ropes compressing your soft, ripe limbs and the clamps biting into your cunt lips. I like the lewd way the phallus juts from your delectable arse. You’re making me very hard, Miss Harrowsmith.”
He circled around the hassock to show her his cock, which he’d extracted through a gap in his garments. The rod of flesh reared up from his groin, ruddy as a pillar of flame against the white satin of his trousers. He ran his slender, jewelled fingers up and down its length, smearing the liquid that pearled at the tip until the taut skin gleamed in the torchlight. He looked utterly delicious. Cecily couldn’t stop herself from swallowing the saliva that gathered at the sight of him.
Of course he noticed. “I’d like nothing better than to bury myself in your mouth. But first you must tell me the truth about your mission.”
He disappeared from her view, a relief of sorts since she didn’t have to look at that tempting cock. Air moved behind her, tickling her damp, spread thighs. She heard the crackle of his electric implement an instant before lightning struck.
“Aye! Aw! What in bloody hell…?” She’d been stung by a monstrous bee, in the sensitive crease just below her butt cheek. Sharp pain radiated from the point of contact, fading to a throbbing heat as it curled around to settle in her cunt.
“Talk, Cecily.” Another sizzle, another vicious spark, this time catching the moist, swollen tissues of her lower lips.
“Ow!” He smoothed the glass dome down over her mons to her aching clit. “No, no! Not there, please… Aaah!” The current stabbed her, tearing her apart. She shattered, screaming, jerking in her bonds, as a raw-edged orgasm welled up from her punished flesh. “Oh God, God…” He shocked her again, letting the sparks jump to the metal clamps embedded in her labia. Agony stitched through her and yet she found herself flying off once more into climax.
“Tell me what your blasted Queen wants with us, and I’ll stop.”
“No, no, I can’t…”Cecily whimpered, limp and drained, twinges of irresistible pleasure still rippling through her body. The dreaded crackling came again. She tensed, tightening around the intrusion in her rear, expecting another jolt. The sound died away. Pain and pleasure flickered through her in alternating waves.
She closed her eyes, exhausted by conflicting sensations. Something round and silky-smooth prodded her lips. Without thought, she opened, and Amir’s hot cock slid inside.
Cecily could have sworn she was incapable of further arousal. Yet the sensation of his rigid bulk sliding over her tongue rekindled her. New moisture flowed from her exposed pussy. Her battered clit throbbed anew.
She sucked gratefully, tonguing the head, flicking at the ridge beneath, using all her considerable skills to wring delighted moans from her royal partner.
“Ah—Cecily—in this regard, at least you live up to your reputation…Ah!”Amir tangled his fingers in her hair, seizing her head and taking control. She did not fight him, but simply opened wider to give him access.
Today, the great folks at Kinky Literature are featuring one of my latest smut stories, Nina, the Fallen Ballerina. If you write erotica, you have to be on board with Richie and Randi at Kinky Literature. As an author of erotica, I know how hard it is to find someone who features erotic stories and doesn’t spray their keyboard with Lysol after emailing you.
All jokes aside, they have great and low-cost advertising programs to help you sell your porn. And since it’s all they do, you know that you always get preferred status.
If you read erotica, then Kinky Literature is the place to purchase your dirty stories. The price is the same, and you get the satisfaction of knowing that you’re helping a publisher who provides all the best erotica from all the hottest authors. Stories for all types of electronic readers, such as phones, tablets, iPads, PCs, and Macs. Even the stuff that is #2Hot4Amazon, wink, wink, nudge, nudge if you know what I mean?
Here’s a little blurb on Nina, the Fallen Ballerina, to whet your appetite and cause you to turn loose of some coin of the realm. If I can jerk off to my own stories, then you can also!
Nina, The Fallen Ballerina (36,000+ words) is a sexy tale about a beautiful young woman who trained all her life to be a ballerina. However, as she grew up, she realized that she was never going to achieve her dream.
Ballerinas are typically small tiny girls, and as Nina grew into a picture of her mother, she was tall and lanky, not ballerina material at all. Frustrated, Nina threw herself into her college studies and graduated with an MBA at age twenty-four.
Once again, she was thwarted in her dreams. Working in an office with a sexist boss, she found herself unfulfilled and unhappy.
Just when things couldn’t get any darker, she discovered a job listing for exotic dancers at The Fox’s Den. Could this be my destiny? She asked herself as she interviewed with the club’s manager Linda.
Maybe it was the first time dancing naked on stage or the way Linda kissed her that Nina felt she was home at last. It seemed natural to fall into the casual sexual attitudes at The Fox’s Den, and Nina found herself passed around like a joint at a hippie party.
Nina, The Fallen Ballerina, is an adult’s only HEA story that features a lot of girl-on-girl action as well as explicit bareback straight, oral, and anal scenes.
This story like all of Larry Archer’s eBooks are well written erotica stories with vivid descriptions of explicit sexual situations for men and women. As always the story is written in the humorous style that Larry is known for.
* * * WARNING Contains Explicit Language and Descriptions of Sexual Activity * * *
Linda’s hand was between Nina’s thighs, and her little finger was softly rubbing Nina’s mound through her panties. It took Nina a second to realize what Linda was doing to her and stroking her labia, from side to side, was one of the most erotic things she’d ever felt. She tried to figure out how Linda had gotten her skirt pulled up without her noticing but the sensations pounding her brain was making it hard to think.
Then halfway thru the song, Peaches spun around, and the skimpy top somehow disappeared and the next thing Nina knew, the top fluttered down on her head. As the soft material draped itself around Nina’s head, she could smell Peaches’ perfume. Without taking her eyes off of Peaches, Nina slowly pulled the flimsy material off her face and held it to her nose, while inhaling deeply.
Completely ashamed of herself for being so brazen, she was surprised at the reaction from the others sitting around the stage, everyone grinned at her, and a number clapped their approval. She wasn’t sure what to do with Peaches’ top but took a leap of faith and continued to breathe in the aroma of Peaches’ body and perfume.
The material was so soft and just the idea that a few seconds ago, it had been draped over that fabulous body was so irresistible. Nina rubbed the filmy top against her cheek as emotions, she’d never felt before flooded her body.
Nina could see the light sheen of perspiration on Peaches’ boobs causing her to fantasize about licking it off and wondering if that would be allowed. Her mind was in overdrive along with her body, and her sex was calling to her for satisfaction.
Nina took a breath before she could stop herself as Peaches strutted up to her, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Stepping down on the drink ledge, which ran around the stage, Peaches slowly squatted down with her knees on either side of Nina’s head.
For the first time, Nina found herself face to face with another girl’s sex. She felt Peaches’ fingers in her hair as the dancer slowly pulled her head between Peaches’ legs. The whole time, Peaches was doing a bump and grind routine right in front of her face. She could smell the aroma of the dancer’s pussy so close that it almost made her eyes cross while trying to focus on the clearly visible lips behind the translucent thong.
What am I supposed to do? She asked herself as she subconsciously licked her lips and stared at the spreading wet spot on Peaches’ bikini bottom. Is she as turned on as I am?Nina asked herself as she was being dragged closer and closer.
Peaches held Nina’s head with two handfuls of hair and rolled her hips in front of the woman’s face. With every movement of Peaches’ hips, the front panel of her thong was rubbed across Nina’s nose and mouth. The aroma of Peaches’ sex was making it hard to think, and she was sure that she could taste the womanly dew on her lips.
To make matters worse, Linda was breathing in her ear and offering encouragement. “Don’t worry, no one can see you between Peaches’ legs, give it a try.” Then Linda started chewing on her earlobe, and Nina’s world grayed out.
Nina could feel Peaches’ fingers tightening in her hair as she tentatively stuck out her tongue. Maybe just a little taste, she told herself as Peaches removed one hand from her hair and used it to pull her thong to the side.
She felt like she was watching a porn movie, except with her nose pressed to the TV screen. In fact, a porn movie with smell-a-vision, which caused her brain to throb from the visual, smell, and taste that was assaulting her. Nina knew it was wrong but couldn’t stop her wandering tongue from licking in between Peaches’ swollen lips. As she lapped up to the erect clitoris, Nina leaned forward to carefully suck the stiff clit into her mouth. She could hear Peaches moaning as the dancer’s pussy was ground against her face and mouth, while Peaches continued to twist her fingers in Nina’s hair.
She had her nose completely inside Peaches’ cunt, and all she could smell was pussy juice as the wetness traveled up her nose. Nina tried to pull back, but every time she tried, Peaches would tighten her fingers in Nina’s hair to tug her back in.
Linda kept panting in Nina’s ear, and every breath felt like a hot poker spearing its way to the center of her brain, followed by a wet tongue. Nina was pretty sure she climaxed at some point, but her brain was refusing to work, and the fog would not lift from around her head.
Finally, as the song ended, Peaches picked up Nina’s wet face and kissed her deeply. She could feel Peaches sucking her own juices off Nina’s face, and Nina sucked on the tongue, forcefully stuck in her mouth.
Hopping up from a squat, Peaches strutted to the center of the stage and ripped off her bikini top to fling it at Nina. The top hung across Nina’s head until she finally realized it and reached up and tugged it off.
Nina crumpled the top in her fist and brought the damp material to her nose and breathed deeply. As hard as it was to believe, the bikini top smelled even better than the wrap Peaches had been wearing. She tried to imagine how the thong would smell, but just the aroma of sweat and faint perfume was enough to make lightning flash behind her eyelids.
Opening her eyes, she looked across the stage at the guys who were applauding Nina as she breathed in Peaches’ scent. Nina was sure that they also knew what she was really thinking about breathing in and it wasn’t her sweaty top.
The wet sloppy kiss she felt in her ear, somewhat brought her back to earth, and Nina grinned weakly at Linda, who had somehow gotten her blouse unbuttoned and was tweaking her erect nipples.
“Are you ready to get up on stage and do it yourself?” Linda asked as she twisted one of Nina’s hard nipples.
Foxy, who struggles with anything more complex than her vibrator, is suddenly getting interested in eBooks. She is primarily a high-maintenance piece of arm candy and shocked me the other day when she had an idea for a smut story.
For someone who loves to talk dirty in the heat of the moment and comes up with ideas that would make a porn star blush has rejected electronic stories for some unknown reason. The only story of mine that she’s read is the print version of Stripper or Nurse.
Besides owning a smartphone for years, she struggles with the basic concepts of electronic devices. I tell everyone that I married her for her looks, but seriously, she is a very sharp cookie. Why electronics are such a problem, I have no idea, but her new iPhone is as much a mystery as her first flip phone?
So the other day, she announces that she has an idea for a new Larry Archer erotic novel. She dreamed the initiating scenes for a concept that I find exciting and have been working out the storyline.
Foxy and Larry, two swingers, pick up a stranded girl on the side of the road and take her home to try and help her just before Christmas. Initially, their motives were to try and help her, but rapidly the homeless girl becomes infatuated with the couple and their lifestyle. Their mission of mercy now turns to debauchery as they invite her into their home and family. This 34,000-word novella is reasonably long for your reading pleasure.
This is an erotic romance story intended for mature adult audiences only and includes graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adults with all bareback, straight, bisexual, lesbian erotica, taboo, erotica for women, erotica for men, romantic erotica, BDSM, and group scenes.
As an author of erotic literature or stroke material, if you must, it is often difficult to find distributors who will work with you and not spray their keyboard with bleach after emailing you.
Wife Swap 2 is featured today on Kinky Literature for your reading pleasure. If you are a reader or writer of erotica, make sure you bookmark KinkyLiterature.com for all the best erotica and dirty stories.
Wife Swap 2 (54,400 Words) carries on in the same depraved and debauchery-filled story that started in the original Wife Swap. This BDSM sex story follows Carol as she falls into the clutches of Dominatrix Mistress Foxy, who decides to beat some sense into her and breaks up Carol’s marriage to take her as the latest submissive in Foxy’s stable.
Despite the occasional beatings, this light-hearted romp completes Carol’s education as she realizes what she’s been missing all these years.
This novel-length story blends cuckold/Hotwife scenes, BDSM, and swinging situations into a fun-filled erotic novel that has something for almost everybody, regardless of your kink.
Writing erotica has proven to me that I am unable to focus on single topics. Looking in my Draft folder shows that I have over one hundred stories in some state of completion. I’ll get an idea that seems to take over my mind, and until I take pen to paper, the thought continues to mill around in my mind like the Geko talking about saving fifteen percent on car insurance.
I’ve been writing a series entitled House Party, which is now up to four novels with no end in sight. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m trying not to get into a rut and write stories with different themes. The Foxy and Larry storyline of over twenty novels deal with topics that have come straight from our swinger lifestyle in real life.
As an author of erotica, I don’t have to sit down at my keyboard and try to imagine what a bunch of perverts would do. I only have to think back to the last house party or convention we attended for ideas.
If you’ve ever wondered what “those people” do behind closed doors, you’re probably right. We are sick and disgusting, but it’s a lot of fun! “Straights,” as we call them, are those on the outside looking in at us.