Hi,
I had a rude awakening this week that turned up trumps in the end. And that is rare for me. Rude awakenings are usually literally just that: someone fumbles me up from the depths of sleep and does something very rude to my still-sleepy body. Though I'm not still for long. And rarely sleepy, either.
Where was I? Ah, yes. I was told that people, in general, don't read erotic books. They'll read a story, a short sexy story, but they don't want a whole book to daunt them. They don't have the time. They have a hand in their undergarments, a bead of sweat on their brow, and they simply want to quickly ease the sweet discomfort. Plot development? Character development? Forget all that! Cock development! Pussy development! And don't spare the horses!
That makes perfect sense. In fact, I experience the same almost daily myself. So what to do? Well, gather round, start undoing those buttons, buckles and zips, and I'll tell you.
Give the people what they want! A morsel. A mouthful. A nibble. Then let them merely wipe up the resultant crumbs and get on with their lives. Brilliant. Thank you, Timea, my friend and fellow-writer, for planting that seed.
I have published seven volumes of short erotic stories and now, dear reader, for your enjoyment, I have decided to publish a select selection of these torrid tales individually, in neat pervy packages under the collective banner of 'Alexandra's Naughty Nibbles'. 'Like mother: like daughter' is the first to hit the virtual shelves and will quickly be joined by many more.
So get stuck in! Pour a coffee, mash some tea, decant a wee dram, drink in the glossy cover and take five away from your hectic lives. And keep a serviette handy for those inevitable 'crumbs'.
Have a lovely weekend,
Alexandra xxxx
Heavily censored excerpt from 'Like mother: like daughter'.
I took her hand and helped her to her feet. A smile flickered then lit her face and she kissed me passionately - too passionately, to be honest - her invading tongue jousting roughly with my tonsils. Eager hands frisked me, squeezed me and pulled me tightly to her till I nearly suffocated. Breaking free, I cocked my eyes towards the welcoming staircase. She nodded. With one hand supporting my erection to stop it bouncing painfully about, I climbed the narrow stairs. Behind me, Sandra's heavy breathing was punctuated by the Morse Code of her high-heels clicking on the bare wooden steps. Mother and daughter in the same night. Save-our-fucking-souls!
An awful sight greeted us on entering my bedroom. Two spunk-laden condoms snaking their way across the dark blue carpet seemed to freeze as I turned on the light. My hastily discarded clothing was everywhere. Maddie’s crimson knickers - she’d insisted I keep them - were draped over the bedpost, the stained crotch on full display. The bottom sheet was in disarray and half the battered, stripy mattress was exposed. Most of the twisted quilt was on the floor. An open, empty pizza box and a few drained lager cans littered the far corner, and a saucer full of fag ends - she’d smoked after every orgasm though I'd told her I detested the habit - sat on the bedside table. Between the saucer and my bedside lamp, stood two half-empty mugs of coffee, one of which was smeared with lipstick. Next to them was a big, black dildo with an accompanying cap-less tube of KY gel. If I’d known her mum was calling in, I might have tidied up a little, removed the evidence of her daughter's debauchery. Face flushed with a mixture of arousal, embarrassment and trepidation, I turned slowly to face her.
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