As I’m putting the wraps on Company Benefits, my latest smut story, Mark, one of my faithful readers, questions my choice of which cover image to use. Is it Door number one or two? Well, come on down!
Both are gorgeous, but which one to use?
I would never kick either one out of bed for different reasons. When I design a cover, my first goal is a beautiful woman who speaks to me and roughly relates to the storyline. My cover ideas are typically opposite to what other authors create. After I designed the initial cover, I got to thinking. I liked the shot, but it didn’t seem to fit my idea of an executive’s wife who is taking care of the pool boy while her husband is off making multimillion-dollar deals.
Our hero, Reggie, finally makes salesman of the year. The promotion includes a new office on the top floor of his company office building. They manufacture heavy equipment, such as bulldozers and snowplows.
Off-limits to all worker bees, the top floor of their skyscraper is covered with thick carpet, glass-walled offices, and administrative assistants straight out of Penthouse. He discovers to his delight that executives are treated like royalty and afforded every perk desired.
Reggie’s only job is to sell heavy equipment, and assistants handle everything else. What Reggie didn’t realize was that his employer had a special department called “Triple S.” Triple S or Spousal Support Services’ job was to take care of the wives left alone as their jet-setting husbands roamed the world selling bulldozers.
The company knew that a happy wife means a happy life or, more correctly, a happy salesman who makes more money for the company.
Reggie boards the company jet to fly off to Buffalo and get their signature on a two hundred and fifty million dollar snowplow contract. At the same time, Triple S shows up at home to take care of his wife, Jane.
In My Dreams is an explicit erotic story about a twenty-year-old woman whose world is turned upside down by her parents’ untimely death. Shy and withdrawn, Patrica, or Pixie as she was known, was raised under a strict and overprotective roof by parents terrified of everything, especially hormonally charged young men.
After her parents died in the tragic car accident, Pixie was left alone in the home where she grew up. Struggling to deal with her loss, Pixie took a job in a large metropolitan city far away to try and resolve her demons while starting over.
Pixie realized that weird things were happening to her in the strange new city even though she was happier. For example, she kept finding inappropriate clothes in her dirty clothes hamper or her closet. Like a miniskirt that barely covered her behind or a see-through blouse. Both of which would result in a beating if her mother were still around.
Pixie’s dreams began to reveal that she had a darker side which disgusted yet excited her at the same time. After reading the book Sybil about a woman with multiple personality disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder as it’s currently termed, she began to understand what was happening to her.
My latest erotic tale, In My Dreams, will be released next Saturday, November 6, 2021, at Amazon and SmashWords initially. After that, it will be rolled out to Apple iBooks, Barnes and Noble, Scribd, and Kobo, along with several other publishers.
In My Dreams is an explicit erotic story about a twenty-year-old woman whose world is turned upside down by her parents’ untimely death. Shy and withdrawn, Patrica, or Pixie as she was known, was raised under a strict and overprotective roof by parents terrified of everything, especially hormonally charged young men.
After her parents died in the tragic car accident, Pixie was left alone in the home where she grew up. Alone and struggling to deal with her loss, Pixie took a job in a large metropolitan city far away to try and resolve her demons while starting over.
Pixie realized that weird things were happening to her in the strange new city even though she was happier. For example, she kept finding totally inappropriate clothes in her dirty clothes hamper or her closet. Like a miniskirt that barely covered her butt or a see-through blouse. Both of which would result in a beating if her mother were still around.
Cheating Glory Hole Wives was written a while back but is still popular. Glory holes are typically found in adult theaters or video stores. They are small rooms with holes cut in the side walls. Guys go in and stick their dicks through the hole, and the person on the other side sucks them off.
It’s the most anonymous sex you can have as you don’t know anything about the other person beyond what their cock or mouth feels like. A fair percentage of larger cities offer glory hole services.
Ensconced in his basement man cave so he can watch non-stop football, Ralph becomes suspicious that his wife is entertaining herself with a completely different sport. One where she spends most of her time on her knees! Worse, she has sucked his best friend’s wife in on her dirty little game, and both wives start disappearing at night dressed in outfits that would be more appropriate for streetwalkers than sweet loving housewives.
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.
Rajasthani Moon:
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’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.
X-Rated Excerpt
“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.
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