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Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Maura and Her Two Husbands

An Excerpt From Maura and Her Two Husbands (18+)


Chapter 10
Bugs


Easy lay on his side propped up on his elbow with his head cradled in his hand. The thin sheet that covered him, traced every curve of his leg and ass. He faced the television and didn’t notice Maura standing in the doorway. On the TV, Tom and Jerry played their games of cat and mouse until Jerry bashed Tom upside the head with a mallet. Easy laughed. Maura cleared her throat. He turned and watched her looking at him.

Maura searched her head for words, but she found nothing but numbers and accounting formulas. What could she say to this man, she wondered?  She looked at Easy lying in front of her swaddled like a baby. She could have grabbed the African Fertility statue and clubbed him to death as he lay helpless. He had come between her and Sidney. But was that his only crime? Someone had let out his cornrows. His hair hung loose and almost touched his shoulders. A black Christ or a black devil? A voice in her head told her to touch his hair and he would take the curse away, and she would be healed. But Maura disobeyed the voice. She pulled off her top and flung herself across his body. He managed to turn over onto his back. As he turned the sheets wound tight around him imprisoning him more so. She ravished his face with kisses as he struggled to free his arms. Easy's lips reminded her of Sidney before he showered. She knew those lips had traveled over Sidney’s body in the wee hours of the morning while she slept fitfully, dreaming of the act she was now committing. Her thigh brushed his thick manhood. It was hard as a brick.

“Slow down, girl,” she heard him utter. But she did not slow
down. She thrust her tongue between his lips and tasted his pungent morning breath. She could not slow down. She could not turn around.

Easy managed to free one arm and he held her tight against his chest. With one hand, he grabbed her hair, pulled her face from his, and looked into her eyes. He released her and their tongues probed and teased like two prizefighters. Her hand grasped his manhood and squeezed until it felt like a rolling pin. Overcome with energy, Easy sprang up and caused Maura to roll over. He freed his other hand from the sheets, rolled on top of her, and pinned her arms. His lips traveled down her neck nibbling and probing the soft flesh. He kissed her collarbone before traveling to her chest. His tongue circled over each nipple until it stood up firm. She pulled his head close to her and he tugged and sucked her nipples like a baby. He stopped and looked at her. But she couldn’t stand to see her reflection in his eyes and she pushed him back to her bosom. She held him there and felt him tugging at the waistband of her warm-ups. She tried to pull his hands away, but they tugged her pants halfway her thighs. She wanted to kick and free her legs. But caution stopped her.

“Where are the condoms?” Maura asked between kisses. Easy leaned over and pulled out the top nightstand drawer. The box was as light as air in his hands. He looked inside and shook the carton as if a foil shield might be stuck to the sides hiding.

“Damn,” he cursed. Maura played with his lips, circling their thickness and inserting her fingers between them. “We don’t need no condoms,” he whispered. He rose and planted himself between her feet. He reached up and grabbed her panties and pulled them off along with her warm-up pants. He threw them 
off the bed, grabbed her feet, and sucked her toes. His mouth traveled down one leg, took a moment to breathe in her crotch, before traveling down the other thigh and back to legs and ankles and feet. When he journeyed back to her crotch, he lingered over her shaved pussy. Maura arched her back and pulled his head close as if she was going to pull him inside of her. She shut her eyes and imagined herself as the woman from Hustler--eyes walled back in her head between ecstasy and death. She looked in the mirror and watched Easy's ass and his balls hanging between his legs.

Suddenly she pushed Easy’s head away, grabbed his ankles and lifted his legs. Her only instructions came from the fire-scarred photo. She bent over Easy’s manhood and opened her mouth wide. His dick felt like a large pickle, rigid and ringed with veins. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her mouth cradled it until Easy grabbed a handful of her hair. He gently eased her head up and down until Maura caught his rhythm and swam on her own. Her eyes took in his hairy balls that looked like turkey gizzards and the nappy hair between his legs. She teased him until he grabbed her hair and sent her back to work. She felt Easy’s body tighten and the veins in his manhood grew rigid. He began to groan. He tried to push her away, but Mara would not turn away. She was stubborn and one-minded like a fish after a lure. She reminded herself of an old sow rooting after filth in the mud and she didn’t care.  Her pace quickened. Her throat ached. She looked at Easy. His eyes were closed and he breathed rapidly like a dying man. His hands gripped the back of her head. He was the fisherman who would not let go of the prize catch, even if it meant falling into the sea and drowning. He called Jesus’ name a couple of times as any sinner would about to release his soul upon the altar. In a moment Maura’s 
mouth was filled with hot bitter seed.

He wanted to ask her where she had learned to suck dick. But he felt the sound of his voice would ruin the moment. They lay there listening as the pest control guy sprayed the yard next door. The motor  driving his spray gun hummed, ebbed and rumbled depending on how much effort he exerted in driving away Maura’s spell. She raised up on one elbow and looked at Easy.

“I need a favor from you.,” she whispered.

 “What, little lady?” He kept his eyes closed.
The little lady sounded strange to Maura’s ears. She had always been called Maura. She had never had a nickname outside the names Myesha had called her when they were growing up. “I need you to talk to Sidney about the divorce, get him to change his mind.”

“Sidney is a grown man.”

Maura touched Easy between his legs. “And I’m a grown woman.” Her hand traveled over his manhood, over his belly, and caressed his neck. Her fingers brushed his lips. When he parted his mouth, her index slipped in and he sucked it. Maura’s 
cellphone rang feverishly downstairs. She let it ring while Easy sucked her fingers. He kissed her and tasted his seed in her mouth.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Easy whispered.


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Saturday, August 29, 2015

Me, Sisyphus, and Editing

Editing! Argghh. Just when I think I'm done, I look over the work and realize I started my previous edits while I was legally blind. (I'm not) But that's what it feels like to encounter so many mistakes and start all over. Page sixty seems to be my crest of the hill of one hundred and ninety-three pages. If I could just get past that point. 
My problem is I'll read a really good book, and think my own weak prose sounds nothing in comparison. Or I'll pick up a book on writing, and realize my scenes aren't doing anything to advance the novel. They were just visions I loved. I have to beat them in shape or let them go. So A change begets a change that begets a change that begets a fresh new batch of mistakes that begets more editing. All that rock pushing. 
But I see the solution. Stop reading good books and books about writing. Well I think that's the answer. What do you say Sisyphus?

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Thursday, August 27, 2015

The Unemployed Writer







I've recently become unemployed from my day job. Or night job in my case. The questions from co-workers lucky enough to have kept their jobs was, "What are you going to do? Are you looking for work?" I'd mumble something like, "Yeah I'm looking, not sure, perhaps soon, blah blah blah." But then I realize I was about to live a dream, I'd been wishing would come true. The ability to write full time was about to come true. So no, I was not to become unemployed at all. I had a job waiting for me. I just had to make it pay. Yay! or Yay?

I have I been actively writing everyday since June 30? No. I had to take a moment to mourn the loss ... of a decent paycheck and benefits and even an identity. A new routine had to be established. I had to give myself a new title. I was no longer "Service Delivery Level Tech I." I now can say I'm a "writer!" Yay! or Yay? 

Now that writing is my job and I want to go from having one sale a day to having dozens I have to establish a new routine. Working nights at my previous job often meant I slept late in the day, even on days off. It meant I was sometimes depressed and exhausted. It meant my off were for resting and idling the day away.  But now I'm revived and energized. Here's the action plan for the new career as a writer.
1. Get out of vacation mode. No time for idle driving and shopping (no money either)
2. Get up early
3. Hit the books for reading
4. Hit the keyboard for writing and editing
5. Have fresh eyes for new and old work
6. Enjoy the process! 
So has all of this been yay! or yay? Well I've learned a lot about myself. I've learned that all of those moments when I feigned exhaustion and tiredness,  I was just being lazy. There's no day job boogey man to hide behind and blame for my lack of writing. Or my lack of reading. The internet is as distracting as ever. The bed sometimes still holds me until almost noon. The house isn't that much cleaner, and the belly isn't that much flatter. So now is the time for this good man to stop kidding himself. Get to work!

What does the future hold? I don't know. I fight off images of myself living under a bridge. I feel more guilty about not giving that homeless person a dollar. Gee that could be me one day. 
WILL WRITE FOR FOOD

Enjoy these Amazon freebies!

How I Got Over
No Satisfaction
When Dogs Bark
Americana
We Are Here



Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Writer's Digest Conference

I had an enjoyable time at the Writer's Digest 2015 Conference. It was a pleasure to be in the company of so many writers and to listen to such dynamic and inspirational speakers like Jacqueline Woodson and Jonathan Maberry. And of course the icing on the cake was being in New York. That place is the writer's prompts heaven in my opinion. 
There was an enormous amount of book offerings. But one gem off the table was this book by Donald Maass, The Breakout Novelist--How To Craft Novels That Stand Out And Sell. I was and am in the process of editing a book. However when I picked up the before-mentioned book and started reading a few chapters, a light went off in my head. There's a lot of work to do on my own book. The Breakout Novelist is not so much a hand holding how-to book, but a very excellent guide post. 
It is a good idea for all of us struggling novelists to read about writing and to read as much as possible about writing.



I would like to see for next year, maybe a few longer sessions focused on the mechanics of social media, or have some sessions run just a tad longer. 
If you were an attendee, what are your thoughts on the conference?

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Trees Still Grow Books

We love our eReaders. But sometimes we want the feel of a real book in our hands. Sometimes we go places where you have to turn off your devices. Well you never need to turn off a book.

For the fans of Wes Writers and Charles Harvey, we have some books in paperback. Of course we do assume our vendors uses as much recycled paper as possible. Your local bookstore will be happy to order any of these titles at your convenience.


Odd Voices in Love .... Those love stories about troubled love and love troubles



When Dogs Bark ... The original poetry and story collection published in 2000 that many still love today.


Amazon
Barnes&Noble
IUNIVERSE





When Dogs Bark 2 .... Updated in 2013...New Stories and New Poetry




Bark Too ... All of the Poetry from When Dogs Bark.



Roommates: Spicy Gay Reads
Hot Gay Erotica



Upcoming on paper in 2015

The Butterfly Killer
Amazon  B&N  iBooks  Smashwords

Promise Goodday
Amazon  B&N  iBooks  Smashwords

Boy 4 Higher
Amazon  B&N  iBooks  Smashwords

And others as popularity dictates and time permits. Please Comment if you have some suggestions.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Boy4Higher




Antoine Rucker lives a double life. During the day he is a young black up and coming IT executive for a large Atlanta based insurance company. On the weekends when night falls, he takes to the streets the popular Bulldogs Club and sells his body. Slide in between the covers of Boy 4 Higher and find out why Antoine is such an enigma. Get an up close look at life on the streets and crooked cops.

An Excerpt:


I wake up in the middle of the night and toss and turn. It’s two a.m. “Too busy for bullshit.” My boss’s voice rings in my head. It’s not that I don’t have enough to do at work. The problem is I’m too fucking smart. I know how to cut out the bullshit and get right to the core of a problem. I don’t have to read reams of reports or listen to some idiots chirp back and forth for hours to come up with answers I had five minutes into the meeting. When I was a kid in school, I was always the one who finished the assignment first. That gave me plenty of time to bullshit and cut up. I was the A-student getting those unsatisfactory marks in conduct. If they’d unleash me, I could run the entire Data Services with half the staff. But the CEO follows the wishes of the Family Stockholders. They believe in taking care of employees from the first day they spring through the door, to the day they hobble out on a cane. All of upper management toes that line. I got my sites beyond the CIO’s office. More with less is my motto. But shit, I shouldn’t have missed that conference call.

I roll over and feel my dick hard against my belly. For some reason, I wonder what Mike and Bunny are up to. Are they making love? Is he thinking about me as he plunges into her? I imagine him quietly grunting as his ass quivers between her thighs. I imagine a four-poster bed rocking to his monotonous rhythm. She gazes at a painting of boats out at sea. She imagines herself floating in one of the boats as the waves rock and lap against the sides. A sailor with bronze shoulders makes love to her. She feels Mike’s thighs tighten and knows he’s about to come. At that moment she moans and quivers. He rolls off and is fast asleep. But the sailor pushes her breasts together and kisses each nipple. His lips trail down to her belly button. She rubs herself and cries out softly. And this is how Mike and Bunny will survive another seven years unless his lies catch up with him.

Preorder now through iBooks, Nook, and Amazon   Available Fall 2014

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