Smokedawg “Second-hand Man”

About the Author:

Jefferson (aka Smokedawg) is a middle-aged editor and journalist manifesting his mid-life crisis by FINALLY writing the fiction his schoolmates always thought he would have been writing since graduation (but didn’t). In addition to beginning work on a science fiction novel in 2008, he fell into erotica in 2009 by starting his blog ”Better With Smoke” (http://betterwithsmoke.wordpress.com) as a way to explore the smoking fetish (independently and in conjunction with other fetishes) in fiction and commentary. He also has begun writing exclusive smoking fetish erotica for the forum “Smoking Fetish Kingdom” and plans to begin producing non-smoking erotica soon as well, exclusively for the Celis T. Rono Writer’s Collective (unless of course by some miracle some publisher wants to pay him to put it in print).  e-mail: pseudojeff@msn.com

“Second-hand Man”

By Smokedawg

Molly came out from the bedroom still clad in her scarlet kimono-style robe, but with her face all dolled up, only a bit of eyeliner and a mere hint of eyeshadow, but with her mascara turning her lashes long, dark and lustrous and her lips done in a thick chestnut-colored lipstick that complemented her shoulder-length auburn hair perfectly.

An invisible cloud with hints of both roses and oranges surrounded Peter as she sat on the couch, put a hand on one

of his knees, and smiled sweetly.

Great, he thought. Made up and scented up. I’d be happy under other circumstances, but Molly isn’t usually one for afternoon delights. And those rare times she does have a hankering for midday sex, she gives a sultry look, not a sugary grin. That must mean she’s decided we have plans to go out, and I’ll have to give up my dreams of watching the game and get showered soon.

Peter sighed, and picked up his smoldering, half-smoked cigarette. As he put it to his mouth, Molly reached out and

adeptly plucked it from his fingers.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“Where is it that we’re going, sweetheart? And how dressed up do I need to get?”

“Nowhere. Not just yet, anyway. What I wanted to tell you is that I’m tired of living with a smoker.”

Dawn Hullender Abigail “Tempest: Vampire Slayer Extraordinaire”

About the Author:

Ever since I was old enough to wield pen and paper, I’ve been recording the stories and fantasies that grow within the dark abyss of my mind. But it wasn’t until my husband changed jobs five years ago – a move that allowed me to quit my current job and stay at home full time – that I was able to sit down and complete my first full novel. Writing is more a necessity to me than anything else and I find myself at the computer all the time. I’ve completed two full novels and have thirteen more in the works.

My most favorite genres to write are Urban Fantasy, Mystery Thrillers and some Romance. I am totally in lust with vampires, werewolves and shape shifters the world over.

I have three children and a very adoring husband who forgive me of my brief moments of insanity, especially when it has to be pizza night because I’m too busy writing to cook! Since we live in a rural community in Northern Louisiana, I can enjoy the vast quiet that only nature has to offer.

We are accompanied by a menagerie of various pets which we have rescued in some shape, form or fashion, and we are proud to offer our home to those lost and wayward souls.

Abigail Tempest: Vampire Slayer Extraordinaire

By

Dawn Hullender

I all but collapsed against the cool concrete wall and reached up to wipe the beading sweat from my brow. Staking vampires was a messy and tiring job…but hey, someone had to do it, right?

After determining the situation was under control, I ran out of the wet darkness to the parking lot where my truck was parked. I hit the keyless entry button once to unlock the driver’s door, and wasted no time jumping in. I locked the door back before throwing my duffel bag in the passenger seat. Looking down at the blood and other unidentifiable matter splattered on my clothes, I silently patted myself on the back for having the foresight to buy washable seat covers.

I spared one last glance toward the dark alleyway. Never can be too careful, my dad always said.

The shrill ringing of my cell phone had me jumping in alarm. Checking the caller ID, I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath before flipping the little phone open to answer.. “Yea.” I hated my boss, and he knew it, but for some sadistic reason, he didn’t care. He even seemed to enjoy my hostility at times.

Jennifer Lauren Ackerman “Fangbait Finds Her Fanged Love”

About the Author:

I am 19 years young and I live in Orlando, Florida.  I am currently attending my local community college and working toward my degree in English.  I read like a breathe and I have an ever growing library in my room.  I have dreamt of becoming a writer my entire life.  This is my first short story ever submitted.  I would like to thank Celis for all her kind words and support.  I hope you enjoy.

Fangbait Finds her Fanged Love

By Jennifer Lauren Ackermann

Walking down a back alley in this city was not the smartest thing a person could do.  In fact, it probably ranked a nine and three-fourths on the scale of stupidity.  I never claimed to be brilliant, but I wasn’t dumb either.  I knew the risks and dangers, probably better than anyone.  It wasn’t the algae that coated the ancient brick walls that you needed to worry about, the bums huddled behind Dumpsters, the slime all over the concrete or even the rodents that scurried from corner to corner searching for food and a place to sleep.  No, what you needed to worry about was bigger than a rat and much, much faster, not to mention meaner.  Not just mean, but vicious.

I was clutching my purse to my side as my eyes darted to every nook and cranny that I could see, searching out anything that could be lurking there and waiting to pounce on me.  I strained my ears so hard that a headache was beginning to blossom in my temples.  I could neither see nor hear anything, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there.  The hairs on the back of my neck felt like they were trying to crawl their way down my spine, a sure sign that was being watched.

Just keep walking, I told myself.  Just keep walking and you’ll be home in no time.  Don’t look back.  Don’t act like you’re scared; they’ll smell it.  They like it.  Don’t fuel the fire.

I lifted my chin, daring anyone to get in my way as I continued to stomp down the alleyway.  My patent leather heel slid in a sickly green colored patch of slime and down I went, yelping as my butt connected with the damp cement.  I sat there for who knows how long, not believing that I just fell on my ass for almost the whole world to see.  Okay, so it certainly wasn’t the whole world, just a few bums and rats, but that failed to occur to me.

Gathering as much dignity as I could, I scrambled to my feet again.  “Stupid high heels,” I mumbled to myself.  “Stupid slime.”

Colleen Pearson “The Thin Line of Sanity”

About the Author:

Colleen began writing poetry in the mid 90′s and short stories came running after. Now, Colleen is working her dream job (second choice), first choice would be a writer. That way she could sleep late, stay up late, and write down all of the weird shit in her head and get paid for it. That way the impatient gargoyle and the dragon with the ass rash could see their names in print. So for now, she’ll stay in psychology, helping folks when it hits the fan and writing to help keep herself steady in a creaky world. You can find her on Twitter – ColleenMRose, or on MySpace – www.myspace.com/alytheena.

“The Thin Line of Sanity”

By Colleen Pearson

The obsession began in High School.  Like many of her classmates Mary fell for the sexy boy band Caelan.  Dreaming every night of meeting them both she and her friends talked of nothing else.  After graduation they each chose a different college and set off to start new lives.  Mary began college that fall studying psychology.  Each time Caelan performed nearby she was there.  Devin was always her favorite and her dorm room was covered with posters.  Ada lived down the hall and their mutual love of the group started a friendship that continues to this day.  They frequently argued about which guy was the cutest and occasionally Ada was caught off guard by Mary’s vehemence.  Their first semester they started a fan club to trade off driving to concerts and to monitor magazines, the Internet and MTV.

College life continued normally and eventually Mary began dating seriously.  Dwayne was in one of her classes her junior year and they hit it off immediately.  A few months before graduation she accepted his proposal.  They had a fairy tale wedding and the marriage is still envied amongst their friends.  In spite of Dwayne’s travels around the world to speak at conferences, when they are together the love and closeness they share is obvious.  Mary’s career took off after graduation.  Using her experience with Caelan she has authored numerous books on obsession and the effects on teens.

Sherri Kirbis “The Meeting”

About the Author:

I am currently a resident of Reno, NV; well that is until I hit my next gypsy streak and feel the need to take off again to parts unknown. I have lived in several different states and love to take off in the wind. Currently I am a full time freelance data editor and soon to be student. Working from home allows me both the freedom to travel on whim and to be able to write when the moment strikes! I’m an avid reader and like to write on many different genres, anything from erotica to paranormal romance; unless of course I’m blogging about whatever my current rant is at the moment! So far I am unpublished but I hope that is something that will be changing in the near future. You can find my other writings at: www.myspace.com/issydabrat.

The Meeting

By: Sherri Kirbis

Natasha posed herself as much as possible on the settee in the hotel lobby. Trying to look mysterious, exotic and leisurely all at the same time was a tough bill to fill. But, meeting a virtual lover in person was one of the hardest things to get herself to follow through on. Colby69 had been one of her longest running internet affairs. Never before risking giving any of her men her real life information, outside of the disposable cell phone she kept just for fun calls, in the years she’d been staying behind the safety of her computer.

Oh, sure, it was always easy enough to fall for one of her “beau’s”. They always seemed to know the right thing to say, how to really hold a conversation and listen, how to give of themselves freely via keyboard, webcam and phone. But, that was just it, they were easy affairs. Longevity only lasted while the phone sex was hot; hotter playing the voyeur

Smokedawg “Nobody’s Princess”

About the Author:

J. Jefferson (aka Smokedawg) is a middle-aged editor and journalist manifesting his mid-life crisis by FINALLY writing the fiction his schoolmates always thought he would have been writing since graduation (but didn’t). In addition to beginning work on a science fiction novel in 2008, he fell into erotica in 2009 by starting his blog ”Better With Smoke” (http://betterwithsmoke.wordpress.com) as a way to explore the smoking fetish (independently and in conjunction with other fetishes) in fiction and commentary. He also has begun writing exclusive smoking fetish erotica for the forum “Smoking Fetish Kingdom” and plans to begin producing non-smoking erotica soon as well, exclusively for the Celis T. Rono Writer’s Collective (unless of course by some miracle some publisher wants to pay him to put it in print).  e-mail: pseudojeff@msn.com

Nobody’s Princess

By Smokedawg

Deciding which was more indulgent or satisfying, the smell of the expensive leather chair in which she sat or the scent of the expensive brandy in the snifter in her hand, was something that Michelle Danby had resolutely decided was a pointless exercise.

Particularly when the smell that most occupied her thoughts was the smell of power.

That was a smell that was all around her in this building, but especially here in one of the small sitting rooms of the exclusive club to which she had been invited. Invited to meet personally and conversationally with the billionaire who ultimately signed her paycheck: Paul Whitten.

He sat nearby, his equally luxurious leather chair not so much across the low table before them, but just slightly around the curve of it from her. It was a kind of intimacy that few were able to enjoy with him, and yet it remained a restrained kind of intimacy.

Michael L. Lewis “Blind Mans Bluff” 2nd Erotica Story Part One

About the Author:

Michael L Lewis born Feb, 26 1974 raised in the beautiful Blueridge mountains of Southern West Virginia. Having grown up on cattle farms in the wide open country of Tazewell Va, he is no stranger to hard work and perseverance. Loves horseback riding, hunting and fishing. A father of five wonderful children and is currently enrolled in the Childrens Institute having the childrens Author ‘Shirley Raye Redmond’ as his tutor. Recently has a poetry book ‘Death Awaits The Ressurection’ published on Lulu.com and is also working on a Western Horror Novel as well as short stories for magazine articles.

M.L.Lewis’ Works In Progress

Blind Mans Bluff. Second Erotica Story Part One.

Hanging out with a few of my closest Wiccan friends here at the New River Gorge in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. We had plans to bungee jump from the mile high bridge when we discovered that not one of us had brought any of our jumping gear. Out of six guys, and six girls you would think that someone would have remembered what we needed- after all no one forgot the jeep load of beer, and camping equipment. Which brings me to my point. No one had jumping from a bridge on their minds; no we only had one intention for coming out here and that was simply to get ourselves laid. We all got together and decided to go on a hike to kill a little time, until party time! God I couldn’t wait to get into little miss Erica’s panties which I hoped she isn’t wearing. Erica a short petite twenty something brunette with a ass to die for, and a smile so kind, and oh sooo, sexy would look good wrapped around my thick cock. I could just imagine picking her up with my muscular arms and setting that tight little ass down so gently upon my throbbing fuck stick, just the thought made me hard. My fantasy was rudely interrupted as someone shouted sending an echoe down through the valley. “Blind Mans Bluff!” A game I’ve heard of, and played innocently enough as a child, but I knew what Erica had in mind as she shouted the game outloud for every creature within a ten mile radius to hear. Back in the day, ‘Blind Mans Bluff ‘ was a game played by Witches within their circle at special ceremonies such as Sabbats. The women would blindfold the men so that they could see nothing but the darkness itself as they ran amuck in the nude. The object of the game is for the man who is tightly blindfolded to catch his maiden while running around blind as a bat. If he caught one of the women, then he could do whatever he wanted with her sexually. The more I thought about the game, the more I wanted to play. Catching Erica would only be half the fun, but throwing her ass to the ground and burrying my cock deep inside her beneath a dark summer sky would make the chase all worth the while.

Sephani Paige “Fill Me”

_*_Bio for Cissi N. Hinderliter
Georgia is my most current residence but if you looked up the definition
of nomad, you’d see my picture there. I get restless and before I even
know it I’m somewhere else…again! I revel in my strangeness, I roll in
crazy and adore oddity. You can keep your normal…it smells bad and
taste worse! I’ve been writing poetry since I was 11 and I can still
recall the first time I had lines of verse running through my head when
I was suppose to be asleep. I still find myself, from time to time,
getting up at odd hours to write down a line or two and ending up awake
all night long to complete it as more keeps flowing. I’ve entered a few
contests and have done well in all of them. The Bridport Prize is my
latest attempt and first try on an international level!! I’m hoping this
helps me get published or even just a brief shining moment of “Wow!”
would be appreciated. You can find me at
http://flamestormbringerkni.deviantart.com or
www.myspace.com/sephaniderkatzchen

_*Fill Me*_

what do you do …
when all you speak  is tears
when all you hear is despair
what next is there to suffer
when breath holds on tight
and shudders to release
what agony can i compare to need so great
all i see is hopelessness and fear

Celis T. Rono “Sleeping Dead” Erotica #4

It took a while to write another short because I was so busy with other things.  So here it is, my fourth attempt at erotica.  I hope you like it.

“Sleeping Dead”

by Celis T. Rono

There was a reason why my grandmother was so adamant about not disturbing the sleeping dead in the forest.  I shake my head even now at the strong-willed girl of eighteen too mature to listen to her elders.  In fact, I shake my head at many things I did at that age.

In the forest lay sleeping forms that could not be awakened by even the loudest of screams or the fiercest of kicks.  My brother once had the temerity to throw a rock at an unmoving man in an immaculate tunic then ran away for fear of the figure awakening.  I stayed to watch and see what would happen, but nothing did.

A particularly handsome man with dark hair, strong nose, and full lips had intrigued me ever since I was a child.  He looked to be asleep, leaning against the cradle of an old leathery redcran tree.  I used to sit on his lap as a child and touch his black eyelashes.  As a young woman, I caressed his cold face from his cheek to his jaw wondering about the color his eyes.  He never moved.  His chest didn’t even rise to breathe in air.  Out of the twenty bodies strewn all over the forest, I was particularly drawn to this man.  I visited him everyday and even bestowed upon him a name, James.

Sherri Kirbis “More Than Dessert”

About the Author:

I am currently a resident of Reno, NV; well that is until I hit my next gypsy streak and feel the need to take off again to parts unknown. I have lived in several different states and love to take off in the wind. Currently I am a full time freelance data editor and soon to be student. Working from home allows me both the freedom to travel on whim and to be able to write when the moment strikes! I’m an avid reader and like to write on many different genres, anything from erotica to paranormal romance; unless of course I’m blogging about whatever my current rant is at the moment! So far I am unpublished but I hope that is something that will be changing in the near future. You can find my other writings at: www.myspace.com/issydabrat.

“More than Dessert”

By Sherri Kirbis

Zoe gave herself a once over in the mirror. Feeling glamorous in the emerald green silk dress and loving just how wicked it alone was making her feel. She was already in trepidations that Christophe was interested in her, excited that he was so, well just so everything a girl could dream a man would be. Turning to admire the way the dress fit snugly against her firm body, the way her legs slipped through the daring slits in the sides, her straight black hair wisped up in a simple twist, her nipples hardening against the material as if they were in preparation too. She supposed they were, after all it was a night for seduction. Perfect combination for the evening, glamour with just a hint of naughtiness, making the perfect recipe complete.

A wicked smile played across her full lips as she put on just a hint of color. Standing back to observe the picture she was creating and finding she was pleased with herself.  Now for the night dreams were made of, or so she hoped.

Her heart was rabbiting out of her chest as she walked up to the door. Just the sight of him standing there stole her breath. His golden hair lush and thick, a mouth just a little to large for his face but just his bottom lip had her teasing thoughts of biting down on that sensuous mouth. The steel grey of his eyes warmed as he smiled. “Wow, do you look terrific tonight, thank you for accepting my invitation for dinner Zoe.” At least those were the words she thought she heard rumbling out of those lips. Her concentration level was shot. “Thank you for having me”, she heard herself stammer.