A while ago, I started experimenting with Foxy and expanding her horizons. Previous stories had portrayed her as a typical swinger wife, attending house parties and then returning home with her husband. This was basically a mirror of what we were experiencing in real life.

Previously, I had made it a point to make the fictional versions of ourselves close to the real-life versions. But, hey, what’s the fun in that?

With the House Party series, I decided to let Foxy off her leash and see what would happen. As a pantster style writer, I write by allowing the movie to play out in my mind, then writing down what everyone does. This way, my stories are a surprise to me as much as they are to my readers.

The House Party series of four books turned out well and followed Foxy through her run naked through a field of flowers phase as a runaway slut, then porn star, then back home when she realized her side of the bed was slipping away. Some of my readers complained that they didn’t feel a climax was reached in the storyline.

The Shrink was an attempt to bring closure to the saga, and has Foxy home, spending time on the couch with her analyst as she attempts to deal with her less-than-hausfrau behavior.

Now, The Death of Innocence is another attempt to put Foxy to bed once and for all. I was born and raised in Deep East Texas, where right and wrong have an almost religious meaning. Foxy and Larry, by chance, are involved in a school shooting where they stop armed gunmen who are attempting to shoot up an elementary school. Larry, a multigenerational Texan, is at home with guns and hunting, while Foxy has only used a weapon in recreational shooting.

At the beginning of the story, Foxy caps one of the terrorists with a Mossberg 500 tactical shotgun, which watchers of SWAT and Law and Order know is a typical weapon used by law enforcement. The Mossberg is essentially a sawed off 12-gauge pump shotgun, devastating at close range. Foxy sees the gunman blown apart by the scatter gun, and now, on top of everything else, she’s taken a life.

The Death of Innocence is an attempt to put closure to Foxy’s bad behavior, but now she has to deal with the Boatman and his vessel of tormented souls. The Boatman is seen in literature as the hideous creature who comes to you late at night and tries to put your soul in his boat with other tortured people by reminding you of your past misdeeds.

On top of Foxy’s problems is Heather, Larry’s new girlfriend. At 6-foot-2 and a younger clone of Foxy, Heather is the culmination of her fears. Knowing that all of Larry’s new girlfriends after she ran off to become a porn star are her fault. Foxy feels the world is collapsing in on her. She had hoped that her psychiatrist would help her with her problems, but after seeing how pretty he is, Foxy seems to spend most of her time on her knees rather than talk therapy. Then there is Candy, the shrink’s sweet receptionist, who is demanding Foxy’s attention along with her tongue. What’s a girl to do?

The Death of Innocence is currently a little over 60,000 words with just a little to go, and I’m trying to get it finished and out the door. As usual, I’m working on several other books at the same time and seem to struggle with focusing on one story at a time.

This book is another attempt to bring Foxy back into the fold, and hopefully, it will succeed.

I’m Larry Archer, a writer of erotic narratives for those eager and interested. Alongside my partner Foxy, we’re active swingers, and I draw inspiration from our real-life experiences. My tales often delve into themes of swinging, unicorns, Hotwives, and cuckoldry. While this lifestyle isn’t suited for everyone, it has been fun. My work is explicit and intense, yet often woven with a semblance of a plot. Larry Archer’s adult fiction is typically upbeat and entertaining, reflecting the fun we’ve found in swinging. You can find my stories on most popular platforms. Larry’s erotic romance novels are offered in digital, paperback, and audiobook formats.

For a full catalog of all my stories, click this link:

I always recommend that you purchase your smut from KinkyLiterature. The price is the same, and you help support a site that provides the best erotic literature. You still end up purchasing through your recommended supplier; however, the sale goes through KinkyLiterature, and they make a commission off your transaction, but your price remains the same.

Buy Links:
Kinky Literature
Amazon Kindle
SmashWords
Apple iBooks
Google Play Books (audiobooks)
Kobo
Barnes and Noble
Scribd
Gardner Extended Retail

Larry Archer on BlueSky (take that X): https://LarryArcherAuthor.bsky.social

Larry Archer on Medium: https://medium.com/@larryarcher69
Larry Archer on MeWe (Explicit Content): https://mewe.com/i/larryarcherauthor

A Snippet from The Death of Innocence

Below is the beginning of a chapter where Foxy and Linda, the club manager of The Fox’s Den, are going to party with Foxy’s college boy toys when Linda gets called back inside the club.

Foxy waited in her silver Mercedes, her finger tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel before she caught herself. She rarely allowed herself to be frustrated, but the anticipation gnawed at her. Linda was taking forever. Just as they were sliding into the low-slung sports car, one of the security people had a question for the statuesque blonde, leaving Foxy alone in the parking lot. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind. She took a deep breath, and that’s when she heard the muffled oars and the splashing water.

“I’m patient, Foxy, but don’t think I’ll wait forever,” a haunting voice echoed in her ears. The boatman. His grotesque boat full of corpses drew close to her out of the mist. The nauseating stench of death filled her nose as the skeletal figure appeared from the ethereal vapor. His tattered rags barely clung to his bony frame, and his rotten teeth twisted into a hideous smile. “What a tangled little web you weave,” he said in a mocking tone. “I see you! You’ve witnessed death and taken lives with your lily-white hands, thinking you’re so much better than common rapists and thugs.” He looked at her with hollow eyes, knowing her darkest secrets.

“Go away! Leave me alone,” Foxy cried, her body trembling. “I only did what had to be done.”

His wicked laughter cut through her like a knife as he pointed to the empty seat on his repulsive boat bound for hell. “That spot is reserved for you and your slutty ways,” he taunted. “But I’ll let you twist in the wind for a while longer as I wait for the perfect moment to take you.”

Cackling like a crazed witch from a Halloween movie, the boatman turned his ghostly craft and vanished into the swirling mist, which seemed as ominous as him.

“Foxy! What’s happened? You’re white as a sheet and crying. I’ll call security,” Linda said as she climbed back into the car, her arms instantly going around the suddenly fragile brunette. Her voice was frantic as she looked around to see who could scare the bitch queen, but no one was near Foxy’s car. The parking lot spun with chaos, but the strange vision had vanished.

Looking outside, Linda saw Virginia standing by the entrance. “Virginia, call security!” She yelled, her voice piercing the confusion.

Instantly, an alarm bell sounded, and within seconds, armed men burst out of unmarked doors on either side of the club’s entrance. In less than a minute, men with body armor and automatic weapons surrounded Foxy’s vehicle like a fortress of flesh and steel. The club’s front door almost flew off its hinges as Tiny burst through with Jack and Steve hot on his heels. The six-foot-four grizzly bear sprinted to Foxy with his gun looking like a toy in his massive paws. He flung himself on top of her, shielding her from any possible danger without a thought for his own life.

“I’ve got you!” Tiny growled, sounding like gravel being poured out of a bucket. “No one hurts you on my watch!” His huge body filled the car as he covered hers.

Foxy heard the snap of Steve’s M4 as he pulled the charging handle and let it go to load a cartridge into the chamber. He stood outside Foxy’s door like a sentinel, scanning the crowd with his back to the car. Jack, the ordinarily calm head of security, rapidly looked around the parking lot with his hand under his sports coat. His two decades of experience as a homicide detective automatically kicked in to protect Foxy as he ran scenarios in his mind.

“It’s okay, everyone calm down,” Foxy’s muffled voice came from under Tiny, whose two hundred and sixty pounds kept her pinned in the car seat. “Get off me, Tiny!”

Tiny didn’t move as he gathered Foxy up in his muscled arms. “Jack, is everything okay?” He asked. Foxy knew that Tiny would never let her up, no matter what she said, if he thought there was any possible threat to her. It was like being held in the arms of a benevolent yet protective grizzly bear.

Jack spoke into his sleeve and nodded as he listened to the voice in his earpiece. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he said, “Tiny, let Foxy up. There is no threat.”

“Are you sure, Boss?” Tiny asked, his voice unconvinced. “I’ll carry Foxy into the club and have Steve cover us.”

“They have just reviewed the parking lot tapes, and no one was around her car beyond the valets and Linda,” Jack explained. “Foxy, let’s get you inside and sort this out.”