New in June: Barely employed pizza shop guy Brian wants a change “down there.” Bigger, right? Much to his surprise, meditation does the trick, sort of. Now he’s a girl down below! His roommate doesn’t mind, and gives the new package a daily workout. While his sex life has never been better (the new guy at work is enjoying him every night after closing), Brian worries that he’s feminizing by the day. He’s looking way-too good in jeans! He calls his old friend (no benefits) Stacey, who can’t believe his story. Then she tries meditating and gets trans-sexed! And they become friends with benefits. Five different endings will be sure to satisfy your kink! [sex change, sex swap, mutual masturbation, fantasy sex, MF sex, FF sex, transsexual] Word count: 8,300 Price: $2.99
Just released, the trailer for the five book series (Making Michael Obey, Making Michael Submit, The XXX Widow, The XXX Weekends, Love for Rent).
E-Read Erotica Reviews: Deliciously pervy, wonderfully raw, and blatantly sexual. A delight of strange smelling and sticky foreign food, if foreign food was the pleasures of unknown sex. A mindless romp down the corners of some dark alley, where strange grunting noises are heard, screams echo out, and the smell repulses you yet attracts you in the same whiff. The danger draws you in. The disconnected and animistic nature where sex is the only thing that matters, the only human action in which we find meaning, and the only interaction between people that matters nowadays.
Word count: 7,800
I’m K.C. Cave and I’m pissed. Kobo, an e-book distributor you’ve probably never heard of, banned my pseudo-incest erotic short, Seeding the Brat. Why? Who the fuck knows? But I’m angry enough to share the joy of this funny, extremely graphic and loving short story. Subscribe to my newsletter before December 1 and I’ll send you a free download of Seeding the Brat.
That’s not all. I’ll also include my latest, WTF erotic short, Sex Machine. That’s in addition to my usual new-subscriber deal, a free download of the 12,000-word Making Michael Obey. That’s how pissed I am. I’m giving away 30,000 words of toe-curling, genre-busting erotica crammed with nonstop fucking, masturbation, voyeurism and sexual discovery. Click here to subscribe, and you’ll get the links in my December 1 newsletter. (Note: As always, I am deeply indebted to Boruma Publishing for its support–and for providing readers with a wide range of erotica, including titles you won’t find on Kobo and Amazon.)
Need more enticement?
Banned on Kobo! Why? Who knows? Ebook distributors (including Amazon) go on mindless witch hunts against certain erotica categories. Now it’s pseudo-incest. Amazon buried it a long time ago; you buy it there, but you’ve got to search for it (or click here).
The blurb: Hannah was wealthy after her rich parents drowned on their swingers cruise. All the money in the world, though, couldn’t do anything about the brat’s raging hormones and her overwhelming urge to procreate. So the 18-year-old beauty set her sights on Angus, the recent college grad she grew up with and who was now the man of the house, the sprawling Victorian mansion where they were raised.
One problem: Hannah’s never gone all the way, unless you count the recent fumbling by high school football star Biff Baxter in the backseat of his ’68 GTO (he dropped the ball at goal to go, and Hannah had to take things into her own hands). That fiasco behind her, she learned a lot about the male of the species as she huddled in her secret hiding place and watched the well-endowed Angus pleasure himself in the most innovative ways. The sight, sounds and smells of him coming to climax after climax over the summer gave the brat an idea that would right a wrong (Angus was gypped out of his inheritance) and satisfy her lust. But for the plan to work, Hannah must convince Angus it was his idea to seed the brat. [brat, masturbation, MF erotica, explicit erotica, mutual masturbation, taboo erotica, humorous erotica, virgin]
E-Read Erotica Reviews: The book finds its voice early, and it feels like comfortable writing. You know it when you reads it, the writer just takes you on a sight-filled trip, doesn’t feel obligated to explain everything, and skips along in time over the most important points until it settles down for the main event. There’s enough detail in each to make you feel like you know each place and character, but not enough that you feel wallowed down in minutia. The sex scenes even stop when they serve their point. Oh my, a writer actually in control of the beast? Very nice work, patience, and control shown here. Give yourself a gold star.
I’ll also send you Sex Machine:
New in December: In Sex Machine, book 7 of Alison’s Erotic Adventures, our heroine’s reputation as a sexual athlete catches up to her: Alison is recruited to model for a high-tech sex robot! Her GF, Moriah, is the next sexual dynamo the geeks want to hook up to a bunch of sensors while she masturbates. One problem: She’s a gold star lesbian and a virgin. The computer model requires that she sleeps (ha!) with at least 4 men. What to do? I mean, it’s about advancing science and creating a mechanical sex surrogate to help sexually dysfunctional men. The solution? De-flower Moriah fast. Alison makes Moriah the main attraction dat a bachelor’s party. Problem solved! Word count: 7,800 Price: 2.99 (free if you subscribe to my newsletter before December 1).
And my usual new-subscriber deal:
The set-up: This 5-story value pack features mega-teaser Junie and her boyfriend Michael. She makes life miserable for him—seducing, spanking, licking and tormenting him all over the house just because he wants to loll her around on their new bed. It’s all loving fun in this 12,000-word set with explicit M/F sex, oral sex, spanking, masturbation, anal play, food desecration, and nonstop male humiliation.
E-Read Erotica Reviews: K.C. Cave is quickly becoming my favorite author for WTF kinky sex. This book is a very fun collection of kinky encounters between just two people, but wow, they slam home with intensity and sexual energy…. I enjoyed this a lot.
BDSM Book Reviews: …an enjoyable read with likable characters and sexy scenarios. The writing is both fluid and imaginative. The author makes it easy for readers to project themselves into the action and care about the outcome.
In Sex Machine, book 7 of Alison’s Erotic Adventures, our heroine’s reputation as a sexual athlete catches up to her: Alison is recruited to model for a high-tech sex robot! Her GF, Moriah, is the next sexual dynamo the geeks want to hook up to a bunch of sensors while she masturbates. One problem: She’s a gold star lesbian and a virgin. The computer model requires that she sleeps (ha!) with at least 4 men. What to do? I mean, it’s about advancing science and creating a mechanical sex surrogate to help sexually dysfunctional men. The solution? De-flower Moriah fast. Alison arranges to make her the main attraction at a bachelor’s party. Problem solved!
Thanks, as usual, to Moira Nelligar for the cover art. And to Jo O’Brien at Boruma for her guiding wisdom!
So, let’s start with the basics. You can call me Ryan Andrews, and the one thing you know about anyone beginning an introduction with “You can call me…” is that it’s not actually their name, but at least it’s a reasonable pen name with a gaming allusion. I am in my early thirties and British although the rest of the open book is left intentionally blank to avoid spoilers.
I write a variety of stories and characters, all of which have in common that there’s copious amounts of sex, bdsm (or at least the d portion) and in many of them an actual storyline. I found that I got sidetracked writing alone and it was remarkably easy to lose focus and track despite the best intentions and outlines so writing as a partnership works far better for me. Randi’s tastes compliment mine well and we found our writing styles matched on the first short story (longer stories to come in future if anyone’s interested as well as continuing the shorter ones). We seem to keep each other focussed and can keep the action moving rather than locking up as sometimes happens with me at least.
As for writing the range of characters, I find it surprisingly easy. Multiple ones at the same time might be an issue but switching from one to another just flows. It’s about figuring out what they want (barring the obvious motivation of sex) and letting them write their actions for me, kind of like having someone tell you what just happened rather than working it out yourself.
I’ll admit that I never figured I’d be a published author though, let alone this way, but you work to your strengths and I do have a fairly solid libido and vivid imagination. I can say this for writing, it’s never been boring and I’ve not failed to have fun with it. What more can you ask for really?
I love this series. It just doesn’t care if it goes all porny and nasty and it talks to us with a filthy mouth because that’s what I need right now. Not anything soft, not anything written with a feathered and eloquent pen, but something primal and nasty that shocks me and takes my mind to a darkly filthy place. Something gritty, dirty, urban and sexual which is covered with sweat and all sorts of unmentionable bodily fluids because fuck it, my care for a world which pretends to be an orderly and nice place has just run out.
And I ran out of fucks to give last week.
This book? This is what I need. It is deliciously random, promising to give us one thing and then doing a spin move on us and delivering something totally else that we never knew we wanted but enjoyed the fuck out of nonetheless. It starts in-media-res with sex, twists us around with setup and narrative, and then switches to the point-of-view of a non-sex character and gives us glimpses of the action instead of the fully-realized in-character scene that we have seen thousands of times before.
Go ahead and tease me, I like my dirty imagination filling in the gaps.
I don’t care about genre or if it’s supposed to be lesbian or put into some category. I don’t care. Just give me something nasty to take me away. This book delivers. It is short, and lacks a couple basic “what do they look like” sort of narrative pieces in the beginning, but if you are following the series I am sure those would seem redundant. Me? I am coming back in after a bunch of other books so I tend to appreciate the little “she tussled with her blond hair” sort of things that yes, I should know by now; but no, jumping back in I appreciate the unnecessary reminders of the basic 411’s every once and a while.
Wonderful cover too, colorful and sexy and well put together. So good I wanted to put this up twice.
And the writing is spot-on for how this should feel. It skips the boring parts, gets to the point, stays focused on the nasty close-ups, and then teases us by not showing some of the best parts. It is confidently nasty, but also playful in its approach and style. It doesn’t feel obligated to show the entire sex scene like the film was a terrible thing to waste and everything should be shown and put on the screen. As writers, sometimes we feel obligated to show everything, and write through a boring day just to give the reader a sense of completeness. Same with a sex scene, sex is all good, isn’t it? We wouldn’t dare cut out—boring, move on, next scene and go to the next part of the review. Once you understand you have the control as a writer, you will never write the same way again.
If the world was porn, this book is how life would be.
Sometimes I wish the world was porn, then fucking with each other would be entirely pleasureful instead of what we got now. So yes, this book is like a drink of strong whiskey with the burn to the throat and a shock to the system as it goes down, exactly what I needed on a day like this. Sometimes, as readers, we like the pain. We like to be numbed and drink in something looked down upon and spit upon. We like to have our world rocked, to get drunk with the forbidden, and to hold up our glass and say, “another round please.”
It’s our right.
This is our escape.
And I love how this makes me feel. Drunk with the possibilities of random and wanton sex. Fucking the norms and the rules. Spitting back at those who would call this trashy smut. Because it is, and it says it with a smile and a middle finger held up proud and high.
A book that makes me feel free again?
Pour me another.
Alison’s night of mindless lesbian lust with her girlfriend Moriah (in the same bar where she once “entertained” seven guys on a busted pool table) goes belly-up: Moriah’s plane is late, and Tommy (the old friend with benefits who played sheriff during her serial gangbang) walks in with four German auto execs. He had hired a mother/daughter duo of whores to entertain them on that pool table, but they’re no-shows. Alison, dressed in full-slut mode, owes him. She’ll help him close the deal of a lifetime—for a price. Alison doesn’t give it away free anymore. 
“Allie, fuck me. Please.”
Alison reattached the cuffs to Moriah’s wrists and pushed the ball gag into her mouth.
Stepping back, she surveyed the situation. Alison, at five eight and a hundred and thirty, outweighed Moriah by more than twenty-five pounds and was a full head taller.
Alison’s full breasts nearly burst out of the teddy, and she had firm, muscular legs and big shoulders like a swimmer. Moriah, petite and nearly flat-chested, wasn’t as curvy. But her ass was round and protruding, like a slim boy’s. The smaller woman was at just the right height.
Alison strapped on a harness and dildo, slathered the fake cock with lube, and stepped behind Moriah.
Moriah jutted her ass in anticipation, her breath coming in short bursts. Alison guided the silicone cock head down Moriah’s crack to her swollen pussy, and pushed. Moriah’s muffled squeal told her she was on target. She gripped Moriah’s hips with both hands as her cock slid inside. Alison fucked her slowly, watching the dildo disappear inside her girlfriend with each stroke. Moving her hands up to Moriah’s tiny breasts, she kneaded her straining nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.
“When you get off the plane from Milwaukee Friday night, I won’t be there to meet you,” she whispered in Moriah’s ear. “Take a cab to Ric’s Show Bar on Eastern Boulevard. Make sure the driver lets you off at the door—it’s a shitty part of town.”
Alison’s thrusts picked up speed. Spit dribbled out of Moriah’s mouth and bubbles flared from the sides of the ball gag as Alison fucked her faster and harder.
“Me, I’m going to dress down-home, East-side slut. You know, like I’m two years out of high school, no job, a killer body, and the food stamps are running out. Plunging neckline, pushup bra, ass out, micro mini,” Alison said, her hips banging into Moriah’s ass. “You know what happened in that bar two years ago, Mo? I fucked seven guys on a busted pool table in the back room. This time”— Moriah came again, the explosion so hard that the ball gag popped out of her mouth—“I’m going to fuck you on that pool table.”
Alison slowed her thrusting. “But here’s the thing,” she said. “We’re going to act like we don’t know each other. You’re going to walk into that bar, a dyke wandering into the wrong place, not knowing anyone. You’ll go to the bar, but you won’t sit next to me. I’m going to size you up, lick my lips, and start fucking lubricating as I think of the fun we’re going to have. I’m gonna pick you up, baby, thrill you and seduce you at the bar while all these steelworkers and salesmen and forklift drivers watch us, their mouths watering over my tits and ass, their hands on their cocks. Then I’m going to waltz you to that back room and fuck your brains out.”
Moriah gasped, dope-brained and helpless. Her mouth and chin were covered with spittle, her ass and inner thighs slick with her juices. Alison took Moriah’s face in both hands and slowly, gently kissed and licked her, cleaning up the mess.
“It’s gonna be so hot,” Alison cooed. “Four days without you, baby, I’ll be so fucking horny. Will you be horny for me?”
Moriah’s eyes focused. “Fuck, Allie, where do you come up with this stuff?”
Alison unsnapped the wrist straps, and Moriah collapsed in her girlfriend’s arms.
“Allie, before I get on that plane, I’m gonna dress soft dyke, ripped khakis, maybe a Sit on My Face T-shirt and a hoodie. Flannel works, too. In Milwaukee, I’ll get a haircut. Short on the sides and back. Butch. The look will be tragically unstylish masculine,” Moriah said. Her face darkened: “What if my plane is late?”
“A slut in a bar full of horny steelworkers?”
Alison snorted. “I can handle it.”
“Oh, sure, you can handle it. Like that last time. Who was your fuck buddy who set it up? Jimmy?”
“He was there to protect you, right?”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Allie, if I find out you fucked a man there, I’ll kill you.”
“Then don’t be late.”
Back in the winter of 2014, I decided to try my hand at writing a short story. I had read erotic fiction in the past, and, like most authors in this genre, had come to the conclusion that 90% of it was crap. I had an idea, cobbled together with bits and pieces of stories I had enjoyed. It would be a religion, one which held that physical love was a sacrament. That the Deity of this religion was an actual presence in the lives of Her worshipers. That the Christian religion was intensely hostile to this older faith. And lastly, that belief was something which was inherited in the bloodline of the priesthood, and that the Deity had a vested interest in making sure the bloodline of the High Priests endured.
These ideas all came together in “The Guardians of Heklos,” a monster of a book which ran nearly 100,000 words. My “short story” nearly devoured my life for three months as I wrote, revised, edited, and wrote again. I posted a few excerpts on an erotica website, but the responses were not as enthusiastic as I might have wished.
It was around this time that I thought, “This is actually good enough to publish. For money!” After some investigating, I was referred to Jo at Boruma.
To say that this decision has changed my life is an understatement. Before my first e-mail to Jo, I was a telecommunications worker who wrote as a hobby. Now I am a writer who works in telecom to keep food on the table. Jo guided me through the editing process, how to properly format a book, helped me choose a cover, and sent my poor little novel out into the world of e-publishing.
Where it landed like a dead fish. The instant riches and universal acclaim I hoped for were sadly lacking. It seemed the world was not ready for a pseudo-medieval erotic fantasy with strong elements of incest and a blistering antipathy for Christianity.
It would have been very easy to give up at that point. To say, “Well, I tried. But no one liked my story. So I quit.”
Luckily, Jo encouraged me to keep writing. She was patient when I nagged her. Supportive when I was frustrated. Honest when I asked her opinion. Understanding when I rejected a suggestion. My book count now stands at between twenty and thirty, depending on how you count the various multi-part books and anthologies. While the mansion, the Tesla, and the gaggle of attractive servants are still pending, I have achieved a small measure of success. Enough to keep my rampaging ego satisfied, at least.
Today, I sold a copy of “Guardians.” After deducting the cost of the artwork, I now show a profit on this book of four dollars and seven cents. Which probably translates to one cent per hour that Jo and I worked on it.
It has been so totally worth it.
Thank you, Jo.
Hello All. Today I would like to announce the publication of the first book in a new series. “The Succubus” is a story of an immortal being of passion and lust, who, by the whims of fate, becomes trapped in the body of a mortal woman. The story tells us how Althea and Rachel learn to work together to free Althea from the prison of Rachel’s body, and how Rachel’s family and friends are drawn into a world which is darker and more dangerous than they ever imagined.
Happily, this book was recently reviewed by Tera at succubus.net. Follow this link for the full review, but I think I can be forgiven for posting this excerpt:
“I highly recommend this work for the characters, the depth of the plot, the time taken to tell each of the main characters’ stories. This opening work doesn’t focus mainly on the erotica, the erotica is used to push the story forwards intelligently, which I really quite enjoyed. I have high hopes and expectations overall and I believe this series will be one of my continuing favourites to follow throughout.
Four and a half out of five pitchforks.”
To further whet your appetite, please see below for an excerpt from the book itself:
“It isn’t a cock,” she whispered, “but it will do for now.” Slowly, lovingly, she thrust her fingers into her channel. All the while, her other hand played with her breasts, dancing from one passion-swollen peak to the next, stroking and kneading and pinching until she thought she would scream.
Her climax grew slowly, as if it were out of practice and unused to her demands. She slowed down, keeping her eyes closed. Memories of her teenage years flitted through her mind. Times when she had hurried home from school, horny and itchy, desperate to reach orgasm. And then the long, frustrated wait in her bedroom as she fought her own body’s needs. She had learned to her dismay that an orgasm could rarely be forced. It had to be earned.
“Relax,” she breathed, repeating the mantra she had taught herself when she was fifteen. The word whispered through the muggy air of the bathroom. “Relax and concentrate. There, doesn’t that feel good?” she cooed, as she caught the rhythm of desire. Her hips rocked up and down, her hungry sheath swallowing her fingers. Even through the water, she could feel the walls of her vagina slickening.
“Almost there,” she gasped. “Almost…there!” She threw her left arm across her mouth to muffle her happy shriek as she came. Her fingers dove deep within her, her thumb mashed down on her clit. Her hips bounced up once, twice, then a third time, locking in place and sending a spray of water high into the air.
Whoa, she thought, when she finally opened her eyes. That was nice.
“The Succubus: Idle Hands” can be purchased at carnal-pleasures.com here.
Or if you prefer Smashwords, here is an alternate link.
Thanks for reading, and be happy!