Welcome to my new erotic blog. I hope everybody is at least 18 and has at least one free hand to scroll down.
My name is R.F. Lange and I am an author and sex enthusiast just trying to carve out my own little niche of the interwebs. I write erotica because I believe sexuality is ingrained in everything involved in being human; whether implicitly or explicitly, sex is a very real driving force of the human condition. I write erotica to show that, and to give readers a safe way to fantasize about those little sexy things we never talk about but that always gets us there.
Almost anything can be erotic, whether it be for us or someone else. Somebody someplace on this vast earth is into that very thing that might make our genitals recoil.
That is why I do what I do! I have made it my mission to bring some of those fetishes and fantasies to life in the mind’s eye. Some of the things I write are things I would never do if I were in that situation. Others come straight from my own perverted mind.
This blog is a place to catch up with the things I write commercially, as well as a place for me to share those stories I’m not quite sure what to do with yet. It is all for you, dear reader, and any comments are more than welcome. After all, we writers live and breath for our readers. It’s how we grow!
To kick things off, I’m providing an excerpt of my first self-published short Z. It is part of a string of books I am writing about a group of survivors searching for their safe haven in a world overrun by zombies. It’s available on Amazon. From the blurb:
Three years after the zombie apocalypse a ragtag band of survivors are finally nearing their promised fortress. Jacobi Jameson is an arrogant, mouthy bastard whose only goal in the apocalypse is to have as much sex with as many people as possible. When he is separated from his group, he must find a way to navigate his budding feelings for another man while trying to get back to his group…and his ex-wife.
“Fuck me Jason!” the kid moaned from the end of my cock.
My name isn’t Jason, by the way. That’s just the name I gave him when I found the farmboy alone in the barn, shirtless and sweaty, tossing hay onto the loft above. His name is Kyler, I think. Or Kyle. Sky, maybe?
Hell, I can’t remember.
These days you don’t get much in the way of backstory from people. Poor son of a bitch will probably be dead by nightfall anyway.
I drove my cock deeper into his tight, smooth ass.
“Mmm…mmm…MMM!” the kid moaned into the bale of hay he was bent over. “Fuck…me…”
He was younger than me, late teens or early twenties. Tow-headed and ruddy-faced with a dark tan that covered his toned upper body and left everything below his waist pasty and pale. His tight ass worked back on me with every thrust of my steely cock.
I’m the sandy-haired, scruffy guy behind him. The one with the plaid shirt laid open over his hairy chest, dirty jeans crammed down to his ankles, and cock buried balls deep in farmboy’s sweet hole.
For now, just call me Jason.
After finding the old farmhouse on the edge of town, me and the others decided splitting up was our best chance to scout it out. While the others took the house to look for supplies, I checked out the barn. We’d thought the old place was abandoned. Everything else in town was.
Apparently, we were wrong.
I leaned in, my hairy chest against Farmboy’s sweaty back. “I want to look in your eyes when I cum,” I said, my voice breathy and raw.
My cock never left his eager little butt. With both hands I swept his sneakered feet off the hay strewn floor and threw him onto his back on the scratchy hay. My hips rocked my cock deeper.
Farmboy’s face was contorted with pain and pleasure as he stroked his cock with one hand, the other on the contour of my hip.
“Ohhh…I can feel your balls…so heavy.”
They should be. It had been too goddamn long since I came; I thought I might flood the poor son a bitch when I did.
I slammed deeper.
My big hands held on to the kid’s ankles like he might float away if I let go. The smell of male sweat mixed with horse manure teased at my senses—earthy, primal. Our flesh slapped together like obscene applause.
I let my eyes glide over his lean, muscular body: boyish and smooth, except the trail of light hair from the “O” of his navel to the chiseled “V” of his torso. His cock curved and engorged in his pumping fist.
Sweat glistened on his forehead. I swiped it from his brow with a thumb, cupping his smooth face in my palm. Our mouths crushed together, our tongues colliding in a host of wet sparks.
Farmboy’s arms enveloped my broad shoulders. Strong, calloused fingers raked down my back and dug into the mounds of my muscular ass.
I pulled away from the kiss, bringing my big hand to the back of his blonde head and forcing it to my swollen right nipple. His hot breath licked like flames against the sensitive nub of red flesh jutting through the tangled mess of black chest hair.
Farmboy’s lips were soft and wet as they closed on my nipple, sucking, teeth grazing maddeningly. As if hungry for more, he switched sides, chewing on my other nipple like he did the first, making me moan. Anyone who knows me well enough knows the quickest route to my cock is through my nipples.
It was getting me close…
“Jacobi, you in here?” a woman called from below.
That would be Camille, my cunt of an ex-wife. You’ll recognize her by those expensive tits she’s sporting, compliments of yours truly. She’s the one in the white, blood-splattered tank top. Fiery red hair. Big brown button eyes. And a resting bitch face you can spot from space.
“Up here!” I called down to her.
Farmboy’s ice blue eyes turned to saucers in his handsome face. I slammed my cock into him hard, driving a low moan against my chest before he could react to Cam’s intrusion. His eyes rolled back in his head. I could feel him stroking himself slowly between our sweltering bodies.
“I’m close…” he whispered against my neck.
Then another look flashed across his face and his body went stiff as his cock.
“Oh…sh-shit…J-Jason…I’m going to….aaaaaAAAAAHHH!”
He came in a rush, thick jets of cum spraying across his smooth abs, his chest, splashing him in his boyish face. I leaned in, licking the saltiness from his chin. The taste of him was enough to send me over the edge.
With a primal, animalistic growl I slammed myself deeper, emptying days’ worth of pent up aggression and anxiety into farmboy’s tight ass. Together we collapsed in a sweaty heap of tangled flesh on the bale of hay. I glanced over my shoulder to where Camille was standing at the top of the loft, her resting bitch face etched with disapproval.
“Hey Cam,” I smiled, breathless. “What’s up?”