Some Kinky, Masturbatory Fun

Hey all!

Seems like ages since I posted some sexy smut.  Between gearing up for a new book launch, editing, writing, and the daily grind of the 9 to 5, I have been busy to say the least.  So today I thought I’d offer a snippet of one of the stories I wrote a few years ago. This story is still in its rough draft, and is just an excerpt, but I hope you enjoy anyways.

Until next month lovelies,




Roderick’s face was already blazing as the ginger-haired hostess led us to our table.  The bistro I had chosen served brunch exclusively, and only on Sunday mornings.  The waiting list was a mile long but it was well worth the wait to see the blush creeping up Roderick’s neck, highlighting his cheeks.

“And is this to your liking, gentlemen?” the hostess asked.

It was a table set for two with a bleached linen tablecloth so long it almost touched the floors.  Warm sunlight spilled through the slanted window beside it.  The flame from a single taper candle in the center of the table danced the way I imagined Roderick’s cock would be dancing before long.

“Yes, this will do just fine,” I smiled.

Our hostess nodded, pulling our chairs out for us.  Roderick sat first, looking around nervously.  The bistro was an informal place, but Roderick had chosen a suit and tie anyway.  Armani, by the looks of it.  He looked dashing, if a little stiff around the collar.  I, on the other hand, had chosen something a little more breezy—short sleeve Polo, khaki shorts, and a pair of open-toed sandals over sockless, feet.

“Jonathan will be your server this afternoon,” our hostess said, handing us our menus.  “Enjoy your brunch.”

“Thank you.”

The hostess left us alone but I was too distracted to read the day’s specials.  I sensed Roderick’s rising anxiety across the table.  The way he refused to look at me.  How his fingers thrummed the sides of his menu.  I allowed the din of the bistro to grow in our silence.  The scraping of silverware as people ate.  The oblivious idle chatter around us.

“Have you decided?” I finally asked.

Roderick shook his head that he hadn’t.

“Then might I suggest the Shitake Sunrise,” I said.  “It is phenomenal here.”

“Excellent choice!” a new voice chimed.

It belonged to a smiling college-aged boy with a ruddy face and a mop of curly blonde hair.  In one hand he held a pair of empty wine glasses, the bottle of chateau noir I’d ordered with our reservations in the other.

“I’m Jonathan, and I’ll be taking care of you gentlemen,” Jonathan said.  “Am I to assume you have dined with us before?”

Jonathan was handsome and gay, everything I looked for in a man.  That boyish smile belonged on the cover of every GQ and Vanity Fair magazine cover ever made.  I let my eyes cascade over the broad chest stretching Jonathan’s white button up, the mounds of the bubble ass packed in the back of his black dress pants.

“Best brunch in the city,” I smiled.

Jonathan twisted the cork from the throat of the wine and held it out for me.  I inhaled the fragrant hints of forest floor, mushroom, and chocolate.  It smelled divine.  I watched him pour two glasses, offering me mine first.

“May I begin you gentlemen with some fresh fruit?”

“That sounds lovely, Jonathan.” I said.  “And my friend and I will be having the Shitake Sunrise together.”

“Very good, sir,” Jonathan said.

I smiled at the way the word “Sir” sounded on his pretty lips, wondering if it would be untoward to give another man my number while out with a client.  When he walked away, I caught myself checking out his ass again, wondering what those fleshy cheeks might look like after an hour or so alone with me.

The thought made me hard.

Roderick was still pensively lost in his menu.  I watched him, swirling my wine in my glass and wondering if Roderick’s cock was already hard from the anticipation.  I sipped my wine.

“Delicious!” I declared.  “Have a glass, Roderick.”

“No, thank you.”

His voice was a shaky whisper.

I nodded.  Setting the glass aside I fixed Roderick with a hard look until the other man met my stare.

“Say the word and we call this all off and go back to the hotel.”

“N-No,” Roderick stuttered, almost panicky.  “It’s just this is all so…so public.”

I allowed a smile to touch my lips, a hint of my wickedness.  “That’s the point, Mr. Senator, of public humiliation.”

Worry flashed in Roderick’s blue eyes.  The youngest man elected to the state senate, he hadn’t quite gotten used to being under the public’s microscope.  Sure, in every other facet of his life Roderick certainly seemed conservative enough—Masters in Political Science; family man; staunch republican.  There was just this one little thing.

A secret he was willing to pay dearly to keep.

Thankfully the young Senator found me when he did.  Roderick wasn’t my first time dealing in political anonymity.  I went to great lengths securing the meetings of each of my clients, at times placing entire continents between them and anyone they might know.  It was part of my price, along with their submission.  Roderick had to learn to trust me.

“You are safe with me, Roderick,” I said, the command in my voice snagging Roderick out of his whirling thoughts.  “If at any time you feel like you cannot go on, you know what to say.”

Color slashed across Roderick’s face all over again.  “Artichoke,” he whispered, looking at his clenched fists.

I smiled at his capitulation.  “Good boy.”

Jonathan was back with our fruit—a summer medley of grapes, strawberries, kiwi, and various melons is a sweet sauce.  Setting the bowls in front of us, I noticed the way our waiter’s eyes flashed between us as if sensing Roderick’s unease.  He looked down at me and I could almost see the boy’s runner’s body strung up in my dungeon.

“I took the liberty of putting in your omelets,” Jonathan said.  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

There was that word again.

“No, Jonathan, that will be all.”

I watched our waiter’s ass as he walked away, imagining the way it might feel beneath my open palm.  When I looked at Roderick he was watching me, the need in his blue eyes reaching across the table.

It was time.

Beneath the table, hidden by the long tablecloth, I slipped out of one of my sandals.   The warmth of the day, coupled by the walk to the bistro had made my size 14s damp with sweat.  I stroked my foot down the senator’s calf, hooking one long toe beneath the open mouth of his pants leg.  Roderick’s eyes went wide, his body stiff as I imagined his dick must be.

I allowed a satisfied chuckle and withdrew my foot.  Roderick loved it when I laughed at him.  I loved the way he squirmed for me.  Sitting back I chose a fat chunk of melon and popped it in my mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the juices bursting across my pallet.

“Take out your cock, Roderick.”

Roderick’s eyes popped wide.  “N-Now?”

I leveled him with a threatening stare.  I hated repeating myself.  “Reach under the table, unzip those expensive pants you’re wearing, and take out your dick…now.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish trying to breathe out of water.  I stroked my bare foot up his leg, coaxing Roderick to do as I bid.  He looked defeated as he reached under the table cloth.  I smiled when I heard the tinkle of his belt buckle being splayed across his lap, the distinctive sound of his zipper.  I trailed my foot up his leg, dipping across his thigh until I felt Roderick’s cock.

I was right; he was hard

A Little Bit of Life


Hey all!

I can’t believe I almost let the month slip by without catching everyone up on some of the recent goings-on in my life.  Between work, moving, and writing I have been busy, busy, busy.  So where to begin…

First of all, let’s discuss the move.  Anyone who has ever moved probably knows the royal pain it can be, so I really don’t have any room to complain.  But at least we couldn’t have asked for a better day to do it. The sun was shining and the temperature reached the 70s.  Considering 2 days later is was snowy and cold, I think we picked the perfect time to lug all of our crap to a new city.  Once we were settled I could finally focus on writing again, and the various projects I have in the mix. Stay tuned for a few sexy snippets from those.

Which brings me to the writing itself.  Last month I tweeted out that I had too many literary irons in the proverbial fire.  That may have been an understatement. Besides the raunchy anthology I hope to have out in May, I have also rediscovered my passion project – a creative non-fiction piece I’ve been working on for 3 years now.  And by “working on” I mean taking notes and worrying incessantly over it.  Moving closer to the town I grew up in must have given me the push I needed to finally set pencil to paper – or, fingers to keyboard in this case.

So between working, editing, maintaining 2 blogs, and my other projects I have been a little busy, and it doesn’t show any sign of slowing down anytime soon.  But I’m up for it.  Now, if I could just work on some organizational skills I’ll be all set.

Anyways, that is what has been going on in my world.  Hope all is well in yours.  And don’t forget to check back in April for a sexy little m/m story I have planned for you sexy readers.  .

Until then…




It was a time of revolution, and so we holed ourselves up.  Bodies crushed together.  Naked flesh knitted to naked flesh like a finely stitched mesh.  We made love in that darkness until sweat wept from us.  Until the body was weak and we cried out from exhaustion.

The world could have ended beyond us, yet we were still here.

“I must fight now.”

“I know.”

“Think of me?”

“Always, my love.”

I hoisted my weapon as the skies lit up, not knowing when or where we should meet each other again.

An Update and a Sexy Excerpt

Happy New Year!

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday.  I know I did.  I got some wonderful feedback on my sexy short Cuck’d for Christmas and, to my blissful surprise, got a good deal of writing done for various projects I have in the mix.  While 2016 might have been a shit storm, it was a productive year for writing.

Now it’s back to the drawing (writing?) board.

I’ve picked up my Z Saga again, the book series that kicked off my self-publishing debut.  Z is a group of POV erotic short stories set against the backdrop of a zombie apocalypse.  I like writing about sex and I love zombies, so it sounded like a win-win.  And while there are a thousand different stories raging through my brain, Z truly has my heart.  Now, almost a year after releasing book 2 in the series, I’m back to writing on book 3.

Each story is written to stand alone, though each one play in to the larger narrative.  Z follows a ragtag group searching for haven in a fort somewhere in central Indiana.  The characters are as diverse as the zombies staggering after them, and the endings will leave you chomping at the bit for more.  You can find Book 1 (Jacobi’s Story) here, and Book 2 (Camille’s Story) here.

But don’t take my word for it.  Here is a little tantalizing teaser from Book 2 to tide you over.  Feel free to rate and write a review on Amazon.  Or just drop me a comment on here.  I would love to hear from you.

Until next month…



Sleep rarely came easy.

I lay there on a pallet of blankets beside Nadine on the storeroom floor, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing and wondering how she was able to sleep so soundly after the things we’d seen these past few years.  It wasn’t long before I found myself thinking about Jacobi again.  Jacobi always slept like a baby.  Or so he liked to brag.  Jacobi Jameson was a lot of things—pompous and arrogant, a self proclaimed sex addict.  Humble didn’t make the list.

I tried to push him from my mind.

He’s fine, I told myself, not for the first time since leaving him alone to fight his way out of the barn.

I remembered the way he came crashing to our rescue in Chicago, all attitude and brawn and swinging that damn pickaxe of his.  The bastard always did think he was God’s gift to the universe.  Just happened that day he was.

Jacobi never noticed me as he led our little group across his makeshift system of planks, boards, and ladders he’d used to interconnect a few buildings via the rooftops.  The rooftops!  By then it had been more than a year since he left me, back when all of this shit started.  He was scruffier than before, just as big and built as I remembered.  By the time he noticed me in my blood-stained clothes and baseball cap that hid my red hair, the greeting was every bit as cold as I imagined.

“Cunt,” he bit.

“Asshole,” I fired back.

That night we fucked as if we hadn’t missed a beat.  It was the kind of sex fueled by years of anger and raw emotion and sexual need.  Jacobi pulled my hair, slapped my ass until I was on fire, squeezed my tits until I thought they might burst in his big, calloused hands.  All while his sex railed between my legs, filling me with an exquisite heat I hadn’t felt for too long.

I could almost feel him now.  So hard, so rough…with a steely tenderness I had never found from another man, including Damon.

A new heat ignited between my thighs.  I let my hand glide over the flat of my belly, beneath the waistband of my jeans, until I found that sensitive jumble of nerves Damon had used to torture me with earlier.  God, I was wet.  Moisture gathered in the cleft of my pussy as I parted my lips, stroking my clit and sending an electric current humming through my veins—stoking the fire in my belly to a roaring inferno.  My heartbeat quickened with my breath.  My legs parted with need.  I wanted to come…needed it…again…

I sensed Nadine shift on the floor beside me.  When I looked up, she was watching me through the darkness, head propped on her fist and smiling her plastic smile.  My hand jerked out of my jeans.  It was so dark in the storeroom, maybe she didn’t see.

“I…thought you were asleep.”

“Sorry,” whispered Nadine.  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” I said, probably way too fast.  “I was just about to get up for my watch.”

Some of the heat left my pussy and filled my face.  At least in the darkness Nadine couldn’t see me blush.  I can’t believe Nadine of all people had just caught me masturbating.  How fucking humiliating!

Nadine lifted herself onto an elbow, the sheet covering her slipping down her lithe little body to expose the petite mounds of her breasts.  Our eyes met in one hungry moment, a sort of understood silence passing between us.  She reached for my hand with a warm, lover’s touch, bring my fingers to her lips and giving each digit a strange little kiss that made butterflies leap to life in my belly.

“Please, Cam, don’t let me stop you,” Nadine said.  Her voice, whispered in the storeroom, sounded sad.  “We get so few pleasures these days.  Please don’t let me stop you from feeling good in a world that is so bad.”

I found myself lying there beside her, Nadine guiding my hand back into my jeans…slowly…as if seeking consent with every inch I relented, edging my fingers closer and closer to the quiet hunger waiting between my legs.  A soft moan escaped my lips when I realized how aroused I was, how fucking wet I’d gotten from letting another woman manipulate me like this.

My breath hitched when I felt Nadine’s hand close gently over mine through the layer of my jeans, guiding my fingers into my pussy like the cock I so desperately needed.  My mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, my hips rocking off the floor as Nadine began thrusting the palm of her hand gently against my crotch, fucking me with my own fingers.  Through a glaze of sweat I wondered if she sensed me come.

“Nadine, I…”

Before I could say more, her lips closed over mine, swallowing whatever I was going to say next.

And then we were kissing.

Until that moment I had never kissed another woman—had never even thought about it.  Nadine was gentler than Jacobi.  Softer than Damon.  I could only lay there, her breasts heavy against me, kissing her back.  Our hands moved in tandem, my hips thrusting greedily as she continued to fuck me, fueled as much by the new climax rising in my groin as Nadine’s eager tongue in my mouth.

I tumbled over the edge so completely I thought the moan rising in my throat might meet my lips.  My thighs snapped shut as the orgasm pounded through me, my free hand sandwiching Nadine’s over my jeans as I came for her again.  I collapsed in a breathless afterglow on the floor beside her, Nadine’s head resting on my shoulder.  She was watching me again, chewing her bottom lip like a flirting school girl.

I laughed.  “What?”

“See now,” she grinned.  “Don’t you feel better?”

I hated to admit it, but I did.

“Thanks,” I whispered, kissing her forehead.

When I looked up, Damon was standing in the door, silent and dark as the shadows that hid him.  I scooted away from Nadine, equal parts startled and mortified.  If Damon had seen us, he gave no sign of it.

“Your watch, Camille,” was all he said before climbing into the cot to sleep.  Like an obedient lapdog, Nadine climbed in with him.



Cuck’d for Christmas: A Preview

It’s live!  My new erotic short story Cuck’d for Christmas is available for purchase on Amazon, and to celebrate here is a sexy little excerpt.  Enjoy!


Marissa gazed down at her husband’s head tucked neatly between her silken thighs, spread just enough on the bed to allow Thom access to her hungry pussy.  Thom’s brow wrinkled beneath the beads of sweat forming there, nose nestled in Marissa’s smooth mound.  His committed tongue stroked little starbursts of pleasure across her clit, eliciting tiny whimpers from Marissa’s throat that begged for more…more…

…far more than Thom could give her.

More than once Marissa found her gaze drifting back to the TV Thom insisted on always keeping on in their bedroom.  The Weather Channel had promised a white Christmas and they had delivered on that promise a day early.  Christmas Eve, and the moving storm front, promised to stall holiday traffic across the county.

“You okay, babe?”

Marissa gave a little start when she realized Thom was watching her beneath heavy-lidded blue eyes.  She found herself looking him over as she so often did these days—his sandy blond hair swept sweatily to the side of his clean-shaven, almost boyish face, his broad shoulders and lean, ropey muscles that rippled as he pawed hungrily at the insignificant organ between his legs.

Thom waited on bended knee like a puppy waiting for a command, forever concerned about her pleasure.  Ordinarily he did wonders with his tongue and mouth and fingers, making Marissa cum until she trembled in orgasm before satisfying himself with her cunt.  How could she tell him that tonight he simply wasn’t enough?


“I’m fine,” Marissa said, grateful for the excuse of a police siren that lilted distantly on the icy night outside.  “I just can’t remember if I locked the door or not.  Could you run down and check for me?”

She wondered if her husband put voice to the lie, if he sensed the undulating need swelling in the pit of her belly.  But in typical Thom fashion he just sighed and rose naked from the bed.

“Sure, be right back.”

Good old, predictable Thom—non-confrontational, non-aggressive, a pacifist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom.

When she was alone Marissa threw herself back on their bed.  What the hell’s wrong with me?  She told herself it was the stress of the holidays that kept her from focusing on their play, but Marissa knew it was much more than that.  Five years or marriage and Thom had never made her come, at least not with that puny thing between his legs—more veins and head than any real meat.

Thom knew it, too, and that only seemed to make it worse, to add to his masculine shame.  Sure he stepped it up other ways sexually, but in the end Marissa was never quite sated.  And tonight all of that pent up need seemed to pool in the pit of her belly like overflow from a flood.  If Thom ever asked her what she wanted for Christmas Marissa might have said, “The most mind-blowing fuck of my life!”

But Thom never asked, and Marissa could never bring herself to tell.

Marissa looked down at her naked, thirty year-old body, her tits heavy and flushed with the need burning her from the inside out.  Long black hair curled in ringlets around her breasts and she gave one of the silver rings spearing her nipples a harsh tug she felt deep in the folds of her cunt.  Her back arched.  Reaching between her legs she found her slit, still wet with Thom’s saliva, excruciatingly empty.  Not for the first time Marissa imagined someone other than Thom filling that void.

A strange scuffling noise downstairs pulled her from her fantasies of bigger cock.


When he didn’t answer Marissa reached for her discarded robe on the floor, too aware of the sticky dampness coating her thighs.

“Thom, I swear to baby Christ you’d better not be fucking with me.”

What am I talking about?  Thom never fucks with anyone.

Marissa padded barefoot down the hall, robe swinging open behind her as she descended the stairs.  She always went all out for Christmas—garland, lights, presents, and, the show-stopper, the fresh cut Christmas tree she and Thom had picked out together a few nights before, fully loaded with ornaments, ribbon, twinkling lights, and displayed in full-view in front of the bay window.  The smell of pine needles and fresh-baked gingerbread cookies still cooling on the kitchen counter filled her nose when she rounded the corner.

Marissa froze.

Standing in their living room near the fireplace was a man.  Firelight twinkled in his dark eyes as he drew Marissa in with his gaze.  He looked Latino, a head taller than her husband and thick with muscle that bulged beneath the orange jumpsuit he wore.  One powerful arm hooked around his throat held Thom’s naked body at bay.

“No sudden moves lady or I’ll snap this vato’s neck right here.”

Marissa couldn’t move if she wanted.  Panic threatened to cripple her right there in the living room.  Danger crackled on the air like electricity, sending a cold chill rippling through her.

“Take anything you want.”  She struggled to keep her voice level.  “Just don’t hurt him.”

“Fresh clothes,” the stranger growled, his voice tinged with an accent.  “Rapita chica!  Go!”

Marissa raced back upstairs, arousal replaced by adrenaline as she tore through the dresser drawers looking for something that might fit the intruder.  He was so much bigger than Thom, especially through his chest.  None of Thom’s shirts would fit.  In the end she settled on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

A flash from the television caught her attention.  Clutching Thom’s sweats to her chest, Marissa eyed the words emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.

Manhunt Underway for Escaped Inmate





R. F. Lange


“It’s dead,” Max said, letting his car coast to a stop before trying the key again.  The ignition clicked, but was otherwise silent.

Jenna shot him a coy smile.  “You’re kidding me, right?”

They had been dating officially for six months, having sex for a lot longer.  Max should know he didn’t have to use some outdated pickup line to get into her panties.  She looked at him in the driver’s seat, dashing in his zoot suit and fedora.

“I didn’t even think people still used that old ‘Oops, my car died’ line anymore.”

Max couldn’t help but laugh, knowing how it must sound.  “No line,” he said, trying the key again to no avail.  “We’re officially broken down in the middle of nowhere.”

Jenna looked out the window at the dark countryside.  They hadn’t seen a house for miles.  She was suddenly regretting her choice of costume—a sexy low-cut flapper skirt with spaghetti-straps that accented her breasts.

“Don’t you have AAA?”

Max lit up.  He’d forgotten all about the AAA membership his dad had bought him for Christmas last year.  Until now, he hadn’t needed to use it.  He pulled his phone.


“Let me guess, no signal,” Jenna said, studying her own phone.  “Me either.”

Max smiled sheepishly.  “Guess we’re walking,” he said.

Jenna sighed.  Her heels weren’t made for trekking down a gravel road in the dark.  She’d have to give Michelle shit for moving so far away from civilization.  Hopefully, they weren’t too far away from Michelle’s new farmhouse and the Halloween party she was throwing.

They climbed out of the car, the chill of the night immediate against Jenna’s exposed skin.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a piss,” Max said, crossing to the side of the road.

“Well hurry up,” Jenna said, rubbing her bare arms.  “I’m freezing.”

Max smiled to himself as he took a leak.  He and Jenna hadn’t been dating long, but he thought things were going well.  Until tonight, that is.  He knew he’d hear about his car troubles all the way to Michelle’s.  He wondered what made his car die.  Whatever it was that had stalled the engine would have to wait until morning.  Depending on how far away Michelle’s house was, that might be how long it takes them to get there.  He glanced up at the cloudy night.  It looked like rain.  Hopefully, it would hold off until he and Jenna at least got somewhere dry.

Something bright caught his eye.

An orange-glowing orb about the size of a tennis ball, flitting across the sea of black above them.  A quick look back at Jenna showed her staring up at the sky too.

“What is it, Max?” she asked, her voice a quiet whisper on the night.

Max shrugged.  “Shooting star, maybe?”

“It’s moving too slow,” Jenna said, studying the objected as it listed lazily, stopping and starting again like a hummingbird buzzing from one stamen to the next.

It was definitely getting closer, flashing now, as if trying to communicate with them.  Max felt Jenna clutch his arm, gathering beside him as they watched the object drifting toward them.  Jenna felt the urge to run back to the car, to lock the doors and wait the thing out.

“I’m scared,” she whispered to Max.

“Why?” Max laughed, a strained sound on his lips.  “It’s probably just a weather balloon or—whoa!  You see that?”

The light was directly above them now, splitting into thirds, each glowing orb flashing in tandem with the others, floating into a triangular formation in the sky.  Max gaped in wonderment.  Were they really seeing an honest, true-to-god UFO right now?  The lights stopped moving and were just hovering over them, almost like they were watching Max and Jenna below.

“I want to get back in the car, now,” Jenna said, shivering.  Her skin had gone icy with goose bumps.

“We’re fine,” Max said.  “There has to be an expla—”

Night turned to day suddenly in a pulse of blinding white light that erupted over the black countryside.  Heavy, almost palpable, Max and Jenna recoiled at the brightness that washed over them.  When they opened their eyes again, everything had gone dark, and the skies were empty.

Even as his eyes adjusted to the new darkness Max saw that Jenna was white as a sheet.  She was still gazing up at the sky, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.  Jenna felt funny…different somehow.  Heat coursed through her like a generator and her breasts felt heavier, fuller.  Moisture wet her thighs.  Had her pussy ever felt so empty before?

“We need to get the hell out of here,” Max said, taking Jenna by the arm and trying to get her to move.

Jenna didn’t budge.  Panic gripped at her belly, threatening to cripple her right there on the side of the road.  Not because of what they’d seen, but because of the mounting need filling her to the core.  Something far deeper than the physical.  This need was visceral…something altogether primal that paralyzed Jenna in its hold.

She needed to fuck.


Max felt it too—a quiver in his abdomen that made his balls pull tighter between his legs.  It terrified and excited him.  If Jenna knew about the erection swelling in his pants she’d probably call it quits with him.  How could he think of sex at a time like this?  The thought was fast consuming him, though, making his whole body feel hot despite the chill in the air.

“What are you waiting for?” Max said, and his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth.

Jenna watched him hungrily, brushing a hand up his arm.  Heat radiated through his shirt.  She could almost smell his arousal, the pheromones coursing through his veins, the fear stuck in the back of his throat.

Jenna went for his crotch.

“Jenna, w-we can’t…”

Max wanted to push her away but instead found himself guiding Jenna’s hand to the bulge snaking down the leg of his zoot suit.  Deft fingers worked open the buttons, reaching in to draw his cock out into the open air.  Jenna had never seen him so hard before.  The veins on his erection were distended and throbbed in her hand.  The smell of male musk was an electric jolt to her cunt, driving her to her bare knees in front of him.  Bits of gravel dug into her as her tongue slipped across the salty fluid spilling from the tip.  Jenna’s pussy practically drooled between her thighs for its own taste.

“Fuck me, Max,” Jenna whispered into his cock.  “Fuck me right here, baby.  I need you right now.”

Something was wrong.

Max could feel it even as need drove him to lift Jenna bodily from the ground and plant her firmly against the hood of his broken down car, slipping her skirt up to reveal the black, lacy panties beneath.  He wanted to tell her, to stop it all as he tore the lace free from her smooth cunt, but the heat of her stoked his own fire, driving his hips forward in greedy thrust.

Jenna moaned, back arching off the hood of Max’s car as he drove his full length between her drooling walls.  Max felt bigger than ever, as if he was fucking her with some other man’s cock.  She could feel it swelling bigger and bigger inside her, locking itself so close to her cervix her hips jerked up to meet his as the first of her orgasms crashed through her like a tidal wave.  Her hands thrashed wildly at Max’s shirt, ripping the buttons open and clawing as the sweaty, muscular chest underneath.

Max couldn’t speak through the animalistic need driving his hips back and forth, deeper and deeper, running him closer to the edge.  Jenna twisted beneath him, eyes squeezed tight as another orgasm pounded through her, lips curling over a silent moan—or was it a scream?  Her legs coiled like two pythons around his waist, pulling Max deeper into Jenna’s sobbing pussy.

Something’s not right.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through Jenna, stealing her breath and making her shudder against the hood of Max’s car.  She couldn’t stop coming, couldn’t stop fucking.  Her hands went to Max’s chest in an effort to tell him to tell him to stop, that she wasn’t sure how much more she could take, but the feel of him made her hips lurch hungrily for more of his cock.  So she let herself explore the smooth chest bearing down on her, the swell of Max’s belly.


Max had always been so well-built, but now…

His hips pumped in tandem with Jenna’s until their sweaty flesh clapped in adulation, urging them on.  Even if he wanted to stop Max didn’t think he could.  It was too late.  A hunger unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life filled his belly.  Max looked down in horror to see that he had started to swell, his belly distending between his and Jenna’s entangled bodies.  His eyes shot up to Jenna.  Her tits had fallen out of her top and looked huge, her nipples purpling into two stiff points.   Her belly looked bigger too, almost pregnant.

Jenna’s stomach was in knots.  Tears burned her eyes as she watched their ever-expanding bellies.  What’s happening to us?  Terror filled her gut, along with a burning hunger.  Another orgasm stabbed through her, driving a moaning scream from her lips that lilted through the night.

Max’s garbled moan filled his mind as he pounded himself closer inside Jenna’s Needy cunt.  His belly was almost a perfect orb between them, making him look as pregnant as Jenna.  Jenna’s fingers stroked the curve of it almost maternally, the distended flesh rippling beneath her touch.  Her legs tightened into a vice around his waist.

“Not yet, baby,” she managed as Max hurried her toward the cleft of another orgasm.

Max almost wept with need, but he knew she was right.  It wasn’t time.  The sight of his distended belly excited and terrified him in equal parts.  It felt like his insides were on fire.  Max felt something trickle from his nose.  He wiped the distraction away, hips grinding against Jenna’s wet pussy as he teased the edge.  He wanted to come…needed it.

Jenna coughed, tasting something coppery on her tongue.  She took her hands off Max and stroked her own growing belly, the flesh rippling as another orgasm surged to the surface of her smoldering body.

It was time.

Max knew it too.  Eyes flashing wide, he drove himself over the edge with one last powerful thrust, cock pulsing, undulating as spurt after spurt of copious semen poured out of him and into Jenna.  Her belly gave a loud groan, or perhaps it was her own horror finally escaping her throat.

Max fell away like a discarded sheet as the thing tore through his belly with a sound of ripping flesh.  There was no blood.  No viscera.  The creature had consumed all of Max’s insides to give itself new life.  Eight black eyes blinked down at Jenna from a hideous, beaked face, eight pincers clacking like hellish applause.  A harsh buzzing filled her mind as the thing’s wings spread and it flew off into the night.

It was the last sound she heard before her own body split apart, and spilled new life upon the Earth.





R. F. Lange

Vinnie looked himself over in the mirror.

He needed to do something about all that hair.

“So what we doin’ for ya, pal?” the barber asked, eyeing Vinnie’s naked body.

He was a big man, older, with a handlebar mustache and long hair pulled into a ponytail behind his head.  Vinnie felt weird letting another guy look at him like this. It reminded him of all those physicals he had to endure in high school before he could play sports.

But what choice did he have?

Tonight was his first real date with Ziva, and something might happen. Vinnie had been picking up all the right signs up until the night they kissed for the first time. Ziva’s lips had crushed to his. Her tongue making laps around his mouth.  Vinnie knew she could feel his cock swelling against her.  Ziva didn’t seem to mind.  Instead, she began grinding her hips against the growing bulge in Vinnie’s pants, her breath heavy as they kissed.

She seemed as ready to fuck as Vinnie was…until she reached under his shirt and felt the coarse hair dappling his chest.

Ziva hated body hair.

“Want me to leave the two of you alone?” the barber laughed at the way Vinnie looked at himself in the mirror. “What’s it gonna be buddy?  A trim or a shave.”

Vinnie eyed his body hair. The way it spread across his chest, trickled down the flat of his belly, collecting in a tangled black mound around his cock.

“Take it all.”

“You’re the boss,” the barber said.  “Take a seat.”

Vinnie sat in the barber chair, unable to get comfortable despite the chair’s recline.  He shifted on the cool leather beneath him.  The hot towel the barber placed over his chest was a welcome relief.  Vinnie tried to relax.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect going to a place called Manscapes.  His buddy Jon had suggested it to him after Vinnie told him about his misadventure with Ziva.

“You’ve got to check this place out,” Jon said, pulling the lip of his running shorts down to show Vinnie his smooth-shaven crotch.  “I don’t even try to shave my own pubes anymore.  Fuck that.”

Vinnie had tried once to shave his own pubic hair.  Between irritated skin, razor burn, and the itchiness, Vinnie decided never again.

That was before Ziva…

Now that he was here, Vinnie watched as the barber looked over his tools.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the man chose the electric clippers.  The straight razor on the wall looked like something from Sweeny Todd.

The barber removed the towel from Vinnie’s chest and laid it flat over his lap, and Vinnie was grateful for the reprieve of modesty.

“So first time letting a guy shave you down, huh?”

He was basting a warm, fragrant shave cream onto Vinnie’s damp chest with broad strokes.

Vinnie shifted in the chair.  “That noticeable?”

The barber laughed. “Relax, pal.  You’re not the first guy to wander in here needing his coin purse trimmed.  That’s why I started this place to begin with.  Women have places they can go to get waxed and shaved for their partners. Men don’t have as many options.  So what brings you in today?”

He wiped his hand on a towel hanging over his shoulder and started the clippers.  Vinnie jumped at the buzz that filled the barber shop.

“There’s this girl…”

The barber barked a laugh.  “Ha!  Isn’t there always?”

Vinnie’s eyes were glued to the clippers as the barber lowered them to his chest.  The vibrations sent goose bumps exploding up and down his arms and legs as the barber sheered a swath of cream from his chest in a thick landing strip.

Another swipe.


Smooth flesh soon peeked through the remnants of the frothy shave cream where a few moments before his chest hair had stood dark and matted.  As the clippers trailed down his belly, Vinnie gave himself over to the goose bumps, the barber’s steady hands.  He was surprised how relaxing it was to let someone else shave him.

The clippers cut off.

“Can I get you to spread your legs for me, buddy?” the barber asked, hiking the chair higher off the floor.

Vinnie’s face heated.

He’d never let another dude anywhere close to his junk before.

Vinnie’s heart was banging against his chest as he let his legs slide over the sides of the chair to dangle loosely above the floor.  The barber snagged the wet towel from his lap.  Beneath it, the nest of pubic hair below his waist was mangled and damp.  The barber combed his fingers through it.

Vinnie felt himself go rigid, fingers digging in to the arms of the barber chair.

“Relax, pal,” the barber grumbled.  “Don’t need you jerkin’ around when I’m so close to your personables.”


The clippers hummed to life again, tearing through the male hair beneath Vinnie’s waistline.  Vinnie tried not to flinch—to relax, as the barber said—but the barber’s steady fingers were suddenly on his cock.  Feeling it up.  Pushing it this way and that as the clippers mowed off the thickest tufts of hair from Vinnie’s crotch.

Sweat beaded on his forehead when the barber lifted his sack, exposing the hair on Vinnie’s taint.

Vinnie gripped the arms of the chair again.  He’d never felt more vulnerable in his life. All the same, the vibrations from the clippers sent an electric jolt of pleasure through him that surprised him.  Goose bumps rippled across his skin.  Vinnie was mortified to feel himself getting hard in the barber’s hands.  He laid his head back and crushed his eyes shut, trying to will his thickening cock soft again.

The barber worked in silence, saying nothing of the erection between Vinnie’s legs.  When he was finished he stood up to examine his work.

Vinnie opened his eyes, looking down at the hard-on jutting conspicuously between his thighs.  He was surprised by how much bigger it looked.  A thin layer of stubble remained where a mess of male pubic hair had been just a moment before.

“Almost done,” the barber said.

He laid the clippers down, reaching for something that made Vinnie’s adrenaline spike—the straight razor.

The barber eyed the tool, running a thumb carefully along the blade’s edge as if to test the sharpness.  Folding the razor in on itself, the barber set it aside as he applied more shave cream to the stubble between Vinnie’s legs.

Vinnie’s cock was almost throbbing, it was so hard.  He could only watch as the barber tugged down on it like an obscene gear shift, flattening the skin of his pelvis.  A thick drop of fluid pearled at the tip.

“Shit!” Vinnie blurted.  “Sorry man.”

The barber swiped the towel across Vinnie’s wet head and threw the towel back over his shoulder.

“No worries, pal,” he said.  “Lotta fellas don’t know what to expect when they come see me.  Don’t know how good getting a haircut can feel…specially ‘tween the legs.”  He chuckled.  “Least ya didn’t shoot your wad all over my chair.”

Vinnie eyes went wide when the barber opened the straight razor again, the edge gleaming in the light.

“Now let’s finish you up and get you back to that girl you’re trying to impress.”

Vinnie’s hands clamped over the arms of the barber chair, eyes riveted on the barber’s hand as he moved the razor closer to Vinnie’s cock. Visions of mishaps and slip ups danced through his mind. His cock pulsed in the barber’s hands.

The barber ignored it, touching the razor’s edge to the base of Vinnie’s cock and giving the shaving cream one slow, methodical swipe.

The barber was right; Vinnie didn’t know what to expect.

Fireworks exploded all over his skin, his cock suddenly rigid.  Somehow, the razor felt better than the clippers.  The barber shaved another swath of stubble.


The sound came from somewhere deep in Vinnie’s throat.  His fingers loosened on the arms of the chair.

“Told ya,” the barber smiled.  “Feels good.”

Vinnie relaxed then, more so than he felt he’d relaxed in weeks.  Nestling back in the barber’s chair, he watched the other man work.  The soft, sure fist closing around his thick shaft.  The scrape of the razor as the barber shaved him, working it down his pubis with long, steady strokes.

Vinnie felt a flutter in his groin at the barber’s hot hand on his cock.  His own arousal by it all had startled and excited him at first.  Now, for the first time in his life, Vinnie wondered if he could ever do it with another man.  He closed his eyes and imagined holding the barber’s cock the way he held Vinnie’s.  Stroking it.  Opening his mouth and taking it down his…

“All done.”

Vinnie opened his eyes. The barber was cleaning the razor, returning it to its pristine sheen before hanging it back on the wall.  He squirted some sort of masculine-smelling ointment on his hands and began massaging it into Vinnie’s chest, his stomach.  Vinnie’s cock gave another awkward twitch when the barber reached between his legs again, massaging his newly smooth pubis.

“So what do ya think?” the barber asked, washing his hands.  “Think that girl of yours’ll approve?”

Vinnie stood up. His knees felt weak, like he’d been sitting there for hours.  Thankfully, his cock was going soft by the time he turned to look himself over in the mirror.  He checked out his body, smooth and glistening.  He looked more defined, somehow, his lean physique more muscular.

Vinnie smiled at himself in the mirror.

“I think so,” Vinnie said.  “But even if she doesn’t, I feel great.  Isn’t that what matters?”

The barber barked another laugh and slapped Vinnie on the shoulders.  “Ha!  Nothing else matters in the world, my friend.”