Hump Day Hump NC 17 and a solo act….

This is from a WIP entitled How Not to Date a Fae.

I like the hero already! *g*


How Not to Date a Fae

“I want you now!”

Ario moaned softly as the words sang by Martian Gore seemed to pierce his very soul.

He was hot, so hot and the moans and the sexually explicit droning beat coming from his stereo didn’t help matters any.

Muscles tightened and bulged from his deliberately slow movements. One fist was clenched tightly in his white cotton sheet, ripping it form his moorings on the side of his bed. The other hand gripped his dick hard, pumping at it almost violently as the words of the song flowed over his sweating body.

“I want you now!”

He moaned, his head flying back, his shoulder length black hair flying back to frame his face in ebony locks of silk. Sweat leant his body a golden aura that was picked up and reflected in the light of the five candles that lit his darkened bedroom, creating a spot light for a one man show that no one would ever see.

Or so he thought.

“I want you now.”

He squeezed hi eyes shut as his arousal and his loneliness seemed to fill his chest. He concentrated on one and pushed the other away, his fist beating ever more rapidly at his hot throbbing dick.

Yes, throbbing. That was the only way to describe the incessant swelling between his legs, the pulsing shaft of cock that had been in an unusual state of arousal all damn day.

Nothing he did would make his dick behave, not the cold showers, not the hard back breaking labor, not the thought of all he left behind to venture here into the wilds. Nothing worked so he was forced to resort to once of his most hated and beloved activities.

Do you know what it means to be left this way? When everyone’s gone, these feelings they stay! I want you now!”

God that man’s voice, Ario moaned, arching his back into his thrusts, fucking his fist harder than he would ever dare do to anyone else.

His heels dig into the bed as he slid his legs up, lying prone not giving him what he needed.

He needed to thrust to fuck, to slam into something and he needed it more than breath.

A sobbing cry left his lips as he rose up to his knees, his thighs spread wide as he pounded away at his dick.

Not enough, not enough, not enough, his mind chanted and he ran his free hand over his chest, pulling at his nipple rings, hissing as the small pain drive him closer to what he desired but not far enough to topple him over the edge.

“F—fuck,” he stammered his hand rolling down his chest, sparks igniting wherever his fingers passed, and down to tug and roll at his balls.

This made him sit back on his heels so intense was the bright shaft of pleasure, but it was not enough.

He tugged harder, almost angrily and this dick got harder, the precum flowed more furiously, and he was no closer to release.

Frustration built as the air was filled with the sounds of his moaning and the wet squelch of his fist and his dick.

He was almost sobbing as the tension and the pressure built and built with no release valve in sight. He was growing afraid that he would go mad before he ever obtained his elusive orgasm.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing and falling with the sweat that freely fell from his body as his hand released his balls and then it struck.

Combined pain and pleasure, the ultimate agony mingled with the ultimate ecstasy. This eclectic sensation ran thought his body, bowing it as he lost all control and fell to the damp sheets below him. It curled him into a fetal position as he felt the built up fluids in his cock break free of their fleshly prison and send fiery bolts thought he head of his dick.

The screams that tore from his mouth were both rapturous and agonized as he sobbed out his body’s release.

“Do you know what it means to be left this way? When everyone’s gone, these feelings they stay. I want you now.”

As the last lyrics and the moans of the ending song filled the air, Ario stuffed his fist in his mouth, tasting the remains of his hard sought release in his hands even as he strived to stifle his sobs.

“No more,” he gasped between sobs as the sensitivity in his body began to decrease, as his nerves that were screaming out their abuse now subsided into the soreness that would plague the surface of his skin for days. “No more,”

Yet as he sobbed, he felt a sudden lightness of being, a wave of heat that was comforting as it was compassionate. It didn’t tae away his pain or the quickly fading pleasure, but it managed to cloud his mind, to clam his body so that his sobs soon disappeared as his was lost to a dark cocoon of sleep.

“No more,” a small voice promised as its owner leaned against the window. Eyes no larger than copper pennies gleamed with determination as tiny hands pressed against the glass.

Then quick as a flit, the tiny being was gone, its silvery gleam lost in the night sky, like so many dancing fireflies.

It had work to do. The decision had been made.


Contest Winner

Sorry! I kind of fell asleep! *g*

But the winner of the How Not to Date an alien is…..

The Burnett!!!!

Congratulations, Hon! You are now the proud possessor of Your very own Alien Basket, the custom made hat, and a copy of How Not to Date an Alien!!!1 WOO HOOO!

You are one sick puppy! LOL

Send me you Addy and I’ll send out the goods! Congratulations and thank you everyone for participating! *g*

Flash, Happy that I am no longer the sickest puppy on the block! LOL

Contest Update

You all are not making this one easy! LOL And I have discovered that most of yoy are sicker in the head than I am! LOL
I am amazed at your level of depravity…amazed and awed! LOL

But the contest ends today at 9 in the pm. So if you want to get in on the chance for the gift basket filled with goodies, the custom Mini Victorian hat, and the free copy, send in your answers to me @

My neighbors are now standing by…cause some of these Why Not to Date An Alien answers are too good to sit for….and some of them want to make sure nothing crawls out of the computer and slithers someplace where the sun isn’t supposed to shine! LOL


Release Day for How Not To Date An Alien from Changeling Press

WOOT! Today is a good day! It’s so good, in fact, that I have decided to hold a contest! *g*

Today is the release day for How Not to Date an Alien…so…..

Send me your best reason not to date the cheeky little bugger…be as funny, frank, or as raunchy as you want! The winner receives a free copy of Alien and a gift basket made by me (I am kind of famous for the things *g*) including your very own custom made Alien repellent/attraction hat!

Sounds good?

Well, send your reason to and a panel of distinguished judges…hmm…a panel of judges will select the winning reason. *g*

Good Luck!!!


Count Down to Alien from Changeling Press

3 Days Left!

Soon, you can have a not so cuddly but ultra sexy alien of your own…If you can stand the heat!

How Not to Date an Alien

Changeling Press

ISBN: 978-1-60521-474-0
Genre: Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Price: TBA
Length: Novella
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Kilana knows what her eyes are telling her can’t be true.

There’s a naked man in her bed and he’s glowing. And then there are the solid black eyes, the floating several feet above the bed, and the most damning of all… he has antennas.

The newly divorced Kilana thinks she’s seeing things, but when he opens his mouth and tells her he’s hunting humans and his intentions are to devour her, Kilana knows she has an alien problem.

But who will help her get away from the admittedly sexy creature that wants her pleasured and fattened until her flavor is perfect? Maybe her hair-brained friends Se and Lena can help her avoid the big suppertime cut…

Or maybe she’s on her own with the drooling, leering, orgasm-delivering fiend. And maybe dating an alien won’t turn out to be as big a problem as she thinks.

Buy Link Coming 06 August 2010


How Not to Date an Alien

Chapter one, Identify your Alien

One must always determine what type of alien one is trying to date. It would not bode well for you if you chose a flesh eating Scrimtat from Veta Belga . That would give a whole new meaning to the term dinner date. As these creatures are very dangerous, it is best to avoid them at all costs.

“You have antenna.”

Kilana peered closely at the man who was resting rather conformably and naked, beside her on her bed. Somehow, he made the huge California King feel like a college dorm twin.

“And you do not,” he helpfully pointed out, with a black lipped grin that somehow made his spiky white teeth look all the more deadly.

And of all things, his long black hair was tied back into a long braid that seemed to snake around his firm pale naked body. His eyes were a solid black too, and she was sure that if she weren’t so hung over, she would probably be screaming bloody murder right about now.

And the man was naked.

There was only one explanation for his phenomena. She was still drunk.

“I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten,” she whispered, her head not willing to take even the shock of her own voice raised above a normal conversational tone. “And when I open them, you are not going to be here. Do you understand?”

He shook sadly, pouting a bit. But she hardened her heart. She didn’t have time for cute little imaginary beings in her bed. She was a newly divorced woman, and she had things to do.

Like maybe wake up sober and get her divorce papers framed and gilded.

She peered at him again and had to blink fast and swallow hard. He had the biggest eyes she had ever seen. Those large liquid black eyes were solid; there was no white to be had there at all.

The whites appeared that all the white seemed to have leaked out into his pale skin. It was kind of a molted silver and white, rather uncommon but certainly not too abnormal for a figment.

But his head nodding was making her dizzy.

“Don’t nod,” she added swallowing again, holding onto a moan with the persistence f a clinging vine of ivy. “You are making me sea sick. God, you would think that my own figment would not be so monochromatic as to cause sea sickness. I thought I had more imagination.”

So she closed her eyes, inhaled softly, exhaled long and started counting.

One figment two many. Three reasons to never drink again four any reason. Five senses going crazy and six is the devils number to remind me to stick to seven heavens number, unless it is the number of tequila shots. I should not have eight the worm thing last night and nine martinis are more than enough, especially at ten dollars a glass.”

She opened her eyes, but the very pale and very monochromatic creature was still lying next to her in bed.

“You are still here,” she moaned, dropping her head back onto the pillows and peeling one eye open to stare at him balefully.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, before reaching out with one finger, one finger with the longest black fingernail she had ever seen. “And I will be here for a while.”

He tapped her on the nose and she knew her eyes were going crossed as she stared at it, but that was one awesomely sharp looking talon.

“Doing what?” she asked, wondering if it was insanity to talk to an obviously drug induced creature from her boring imagination.

Maybe someone slipped her Special K. Ketamine was said to produce very believable hallucination in users. Maybe someone had slipped her some and had their wicked way with her prone helpless body.

Then again, maybe not.

She thought about it for a second, and none of her girl parts seemed particularly sore. Her anus was fine and her Va-jay-jay appeared normal and unused as usual. No odd taste in her mouth, other than the stale beer and regret—

“I am hunting.”

“Yeah,” she scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “That makes sense. Hunting — in my bed — while being totally naked. Yes, that makes perfect sense.”

He remained silent and smiling, showing off that mouth filled with fangs.

“Okay, no it doesn’t. “ she rolled her eyes, and then winced at the lancing pain in her head. “What exactly are you supposed to be hunting in my bed at—“she glanced out of the window, noting it was still night, “O’dark-thirty? Tell me that Mr. Monochromatic figment of my imagination.”

“I am not a figment,” he stopped smiling. “And my coloring is very nice for my people. It is considered very attractive.”

“I’ve hurt my figments feelings,” she groaned, rolling over and closing her eyes again in an attempt to make him go away. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there and waiting to speak.

“I don’t have feelings, in the way that you mean,” he pouted prettily.

“Of course not,” she allowed, wondering when she actually slipped around the bed into insanity.

“And I am not a figment. I am a Scrimtat from Veta Belga.”

“Scrintat, sure,” she spoke around a yawn. “I can tell by your very black lips and your very black hair.”

“My tongue is black too,” he grinned. “See?” and he stuck out one of the longest black forked tongue this side of a freak show.

“I can see why I dreamed you up,” her voice went thready. “Each fork in your tongue operates individually?”

She had to know. There were so many things she could imagine him doing with that, the clitoral pinch being just tone of them.

In response, he wiggled each side then closed them in a pinching manner.

Oh yeah! Now that’s what she was talking about!

“Sweet,” she decided. “Good for your all over clitoral stimulation needs. Now if your dick matches your tongue–”

She could only hope! Really! If she was going to dream up naked men, then his carpet had better match his drapes, so to speak.

He slid back and tugged at his braid, showing off a thick ringed cock about the thickness of those novelty dildo’s one gives away at bachelorette parties. And it was solid black like his tongue and his lips. The four ribbed rings that surrounded the sloping head was a nice touch she congratulated herself on imagining.

“I make good figments,” she grinned, then winched as her head began to pound. “I wonder if it’ll all fit?”

“I am not a figment,” he closed his legs and repeated, one antenna dropping a bit as he sniffed at her.

“Okay, imaginary adult-friend.”

“I am alien to your planet and I have come hunting.”

“Okay,” she snorted. “I’ll bite, you crazy hallucination, figment, whatever. If you are an alien, what happened to the anal probe? But anus feels just fine.”

“You are thinking of the Greens,” he sighed. “Odd creatures, like you can find anything in a humans digestive tract other than the wastes of what they just consumed.”

“So what are you hunting?” she demanded, wondering if the drugs had driven her to insanity.

“Humans,” he leered before he licked his lips and fixing his gaze onto her body. “I am hunting humans.”

“Right,” she snorted, trying not to laugh despite her hang over. “You are such an entertaining figment, sorry,” she raised one hand in a placating manner. “Sorry, you are an alien, right?” Shaking her head she rolled her eyes as she settled back into her bed, ready for some sleep. “And the only human you see fit to hunt is a freshly divorced forty year old woman who just dumped two hundred thirty pounds of dead weight and needs to shed about ten more. Try again, imaginary alien. I know you are a figment because there are much more probable females out there. So I am going to close my eyes and when I open them, again, you will not be here.”

And then the pale bastard went and did something that almost made her wet her panties.

He rose up, well floated upright and hovered over the bed.

Suddenly the urge to vomit dissolved as she came to the sudden realization that hallucinations rarely floated.

And if they started floating, she would most certainly not feel the long black braid that smacked her in the face, smelling of vanilla musk and lemon.

She blinked and attempted to sit up, her mouth dropping open as he rolled over so that he was floating directly above her, facing her, and those black lips had parted showing her some suddenly dangerous looking teeth.

“Humans?” she squeaked her flight or flight response dissolving as he reached out and ran a finger over her face, closing her mouth before his tongue slid out and ran along the side of her face.

“Tasty, he purred, his forked snaking back into his mouth.

And then something poked her in the belly.

Oh look, she thought, looking down at the dark erection that swelled and thickened until it was kissing her navel with its slanted head. The taste of me makes him hard. Or is it that its supper time-

She looked up once more into those glassy black eyes and then the world, like her conciseness, fled.