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Enjoys blurring the lines between fiction and reality. Multi-genre writer — dabbles in horror, women’s fiction, erotic romance, drama, comedy, and other.
photo: SexArt

Since the night of my sensational threeway with Jackson and Amanda, I’ve been so eager to explore my sexuality, to the extent that I posted an ad seeking to join a couple as their ‘unicorn.’ Despite several offers, I haven’t been able to connect with the right people; and the one couple I actually fancy is a woman who goes to the same gym as me, Zoe, and her cute boyfriend who sometimes comes to pick her up.

Zoe has a really amazing body — ample bosom, taut abs, and a very curvy ass — which she has been flaunting…


photo: MetArt

For my 43rd birthday, my husband, Steve, gifts me a virtual reality console and a collection of games.

“Interesting,” I murmur, slightly agitated he didn’t get me the latest robot vacuum I hinted at a few weeks ago.

“Wait till you try this on.” He hands me a little disc.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You put the game chip in. Then stick this sensor here” — he taps the side of his head — “right or left, doesn’t matter, and voilà . You’ll experience everything your avatar does.”

Skeptical, I lift a brow. “Everything?”

Steve laughs…


photo: SexArt

“Happy birthday, Jules!” my best friend and partner-in-crime, Becca, declares as she swings open the door. Her smile is triumphant. “Like what you see?”

Clad in nothing but a towel around his waist, the stud waiting in the private suite is tall and possibly a decade younger than me.

“This is a mistake,” I blurt out.

Becca laughs. “I have a strong feeling you won’t regret this.”

Newly divorced from Steve, I went out with Becca and a bunch of girlfriends two months ago. I remember feeling tired of being lonely. I wanted to have fun. Go on an adventure…


photo: SexArt

I’m supposed to stay late to work on a project that’s due on Monday. Halfway through my draft, the computer acts out, so I have to call maintenance.

Guess who shows up? Brett Anderson, the new IT guy. He’s handsome, over six feet tall, and has a smoking hot body to boot. It should be criminal for someone to look that good and work here. Such a sinful distraction often spells trouble.

Perched on my swivel chair, I allow myself to shamelessly ogle the man’s perfect butt as he fiddles with my computer under the desk. Over the past two…


photo: MetArt

“Looks like you finally got some action,” my friend, Sasha, says when we meet for lunch.

“Not really.” At least not in the way she expects.

“Aww, hon. Is Steve still clueless? Seriously, though, you look fabulous.”

I do feel amazing these days. My skin is smooth with a constant glow to it. My hair is bouncier. Hell, even my stomach seems more toned from all those insane orgasms, thanks to the game created by a sex god for the enjoyment of fuckstrated mortals like me. And the crazy thing is, it’s only been a week.

“So, what’s your secret?”


photo: MetArt

The trip home is taking longer than expected, no thanks to the clusterfuck of a traffic jam due to a road accident. I’ll be late for dinner at this rate. Hopefully, the overpriced pizza will help convince Val not to make a big fuss.

When I finally park my 18-wheeler in the street and climb out with my duffel bag and pizza, the sun has set and the house is dark. No way. Did she forget I’m coming home today? …


photo: MetArt

To: avery.cox@gmail.com

From: shawnreece@mcnaryenterprise.com

Subject: Did you know?

I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend. This morning, when I was in the shower, I pictured those gorgeous tits of yours and how they always fit so perfectly in my hands, the way you moan when I squeeze them. Nipples, pert and rosy, begging to be sucked.

I imagined your pouty, red lips instead of my own fist, wrapped around my cock. Your eyes telling me you’d swallow it down, every drop, when I cum down your throat.

My balls were so painful I had to jack myself off. …


photo: SexArt

“Have you heard?” Jenny screeches over the phone, “Chris Beckett is back in town!”

“What? Really?” Chris Beckett was my classmate. Someone I’d secretly been in love with throughout most of my high school years. The one who got away. 17 years later, I still get tingly hearing his name.

“Yup. Word has it he’s on an unofficial business trip. I bumped into him at Liberty Station the other night and guess what? He asked about you.”

Me?

“Uh-huh. He wanted to know how you were doing. You guys should totally meet up.”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, Mia, how long…


photo: MetArt

I’m slouched in the back seat of a SUV in my black leather jacket, black shirt and pants, and sunglasses after facilitating the abduction of Harley Quinn, who by the way, is my girlfriend clad in her badass Halloween costume. Currently, she has a hood over her head, but she certainly made quite an impression earlier with her golden pigtails and lush tits squeezed together in a tiny top that says Daddy’s Lil Monster.

We attended a party and left the place around nine PM. I made sure to park some distance away in a quiet spot so the guys…

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