Category: Erotica

 

MIRROR OF PASSION

I look on thee, and find thee very fair,
Thy form so pleasantly stretch’d on thy bed,
The sunlight through the window on thy hair,
With cuntly thatch as scarlet as thy head.
So languidly thy hand doth beckon me,
To worship at the altar of thy quim,
As thou dost part thy lips that I might see,
That sanctum thou shalt never give to him.
My dress I leave bepooléd on the floor,
Thy perfect breasts I worship with my lips,
Thy cunt my tongue now trembles to adore,
Thy pungent nectar welling to my sips.
O sister, twin of mine, I love thee dear,
As tongues in quims bring ecstasy so near.

Sonnets are a little trickier than free verse. You have to follow a strict rhyme pattern and, at least generally, write everything in iambic pentameter.  Erotic content is optional.

I’ll admit, there’s a personal element to the poem. I’m rather fond of the taste of an aroused pussy, and I’m even more fond of when the owner of that pussy is busy licking mine while I’m licking hers. I plan to continue enjoying this as long as I’m able. It’s good to be single. I can have sex with whomever I like, presuming they’re similarly inclined. Some of my lovers have pussies, and some of them have cocks. I’m flexible that way.

 

 

I don’t write a lot of poetry. Still, in time, I do expect to have enough to publish a book that no one will read. I’m being honest there. Hundreds of poetry collections are published annually and their total sales hardly reach the figures of some truly horrendous romance titles.

Anyway, here’s a little free verse (that means it doesn’t rhyme or follow any set pattern) poem called “My Brother’s Cock.” It’s the sort of thing that you’d hear down in the Village back in the ’60s, usually with bongos in the background.

My Brother’s Cock

Rising,
Ever rising,
Flesh towering o’er golden thatch,
Rampant power,
Thick,
Hot,
Sibling’s delight,
My brother’s cock,
Responding,
Growing,
Purple knob twixt open lips,
Filling my mouth,
Head bobbing,
Rod of steel,
Animal heat consuming,
Fingering,
Stroking,
My clit on fire with his touch,
His magic cock
Filling my mouth,
Sliding in,
Sliding out,
Flesh gliding wetly,
Tongue swirling,
Deep, deep kisses,
Sucking,
Loving,
Fuck society,
Fuck stupid rules,
Our lust predominates,
His cum bursts forth,
Filling my mouth,
Taste of salty nectar,
Spilling out,
Drops on chin,
Splash on tits,
I hold him in,
Keep him up,
His fingers probing deep within my cunt.
With sudden thrust
I push him back,
Down on the floor,
Giant rod rising,
Tempting,
Soon deep inside,
Stretching,
Sliding,
Delighting,
I fuck my bro,
Our secret ritual,
My cunt alive,
Throbbing,
Clasping,
Pulsing with lust,
Drawing him in,
Teasing,
Keep him up,
Tightly squeeze,
Feel him now,
Feel him grow,
Tremble,
Shooting forth,
Gushing within me,
Sensation growing,
Peaking,
Body shaking,
Quivering,
Hard to breathe,
I collapse in joy as he subsides.

When I write stuff like this I feel like I should be wearing sneakers, black slacks, a black turtleneck with an ankh necklace, and a beret. Tight turtleneck, and no bra. Sort of a depraved Laura Petrie look (that was Mary Tyler Moore on the old Dick Van Dyke Show, for you youngsters). Or a young, depraved Diana Rigg, which might be a better metaphor, since Dame Diana has done depraved to perfection in more than one role.

I do still have some ankh jewelry. I love the symbolism. The ancient Egyptian symbol of life, as they like to tell you. Think of the arms as round and the origin becomes clearer. It’s basically a cunt sitting on top of a cock and balls.

I should now go write something profound. Or raunchy. I can never seem to make up my mind about that. Maybe something profoundly raunchy?

I have to admit I’m often a little frustrated by Amazon. So far, I have exactly two books in their system. Both are distinguished by the relationship between their characters. That is to say, their characters aren’t related at all. Not if they’re having sex with each other.

The characters in One Room are business associates, forced to share a hotel room because of a convention in town. According to one review, the story is a polemic against Christianity. The conventioneers are evangelicals, and one of the preachers does a little groping in the elevator. Two or three paragraphs, I’m thinking, do not a polemic make. This particular preacher is an asshole, which a surprising number of them are, but it’s just a passing incident and hardly different than if I’d made the jerk a Shriner or an Elk at a convention. People are known to misbehave when they’re in a town where no one knows them.

The main point here, of course, is that you can write about sex and publish the story on Amazon, but you have to be careful about how you do it. No one under eighteen can be involved in anything sexual. Incest is right out. No sex with animals, except maybe werewolves, but only when they’re human.

This is a good example of something you can’t do on Amazon. The title alone will likely get the book thrown into “blocked” status, since it certainly implies there’s incest going on. It might even get blocked for something as innocent as the author’s pen name. And, of course, there’s simply no way that cover illustration is ever going to be allowed. There are naked boobs! Children might be watching, for fuck sake! Mind you, I sort of like that effect. Even though it’s a photograph, it has the look of those old painted covers that once adorned the better sort of one-off porn novels hidden behind the counter at the smoke shop.

I’ll be honest, an author might get away with this for a while. Amazon has humans who can pass final judgment on the titles they allow, but initially you’re dealing with bots, and bots may not catch the boobs, the implication of the title, or the “cuss word” in the author’s name (I wonder if I should use that one on a title or two, but maybe change it to “Randi”). In any case, they’ll eventually catch you, and while they probably won’t ban a commercial publisher who tries to slip in an incest title from time to time, they’re a lot more likely to do so to a self-published author.

If one were to use this old Victorian photo as the basis of a story, some routes would be just fine at Amazon, while others would definitely not be. If the story suggests that this is a Victorian gentleman enjoying the company of a pair of filles de joi from the local brothel, it would probably pass muster. On the other hand, if your story implies that this is young Lord Humpe, passing the time by nibbling on his sister’s cunt while his other sister plays with his generative member, it won’t be long for the list. In actual fact, I have no idea who these people were, though a pimp and two of his stable would likely be a safe enough guess. About the only thing I can say for sure is that it’s a studio shot, since real Victorian houses didn’t have painted canvas walls behind the sofa.

You could not, in any case, actually use the photo in your book, or on the cover. Not only are there naked boobs, there’s also a naked dick. There’s a good chance they wouldn’t even allow that inside the book.

This is another good example of a book you won’t find on Amazon. You will, naturally, find it on Lot’s Cave, and on several other online marketplaces. The cover, curiously enough, might just pass muster at the river site, the model’s breasts being sufficiently covered by her hair, but the subject matter would never make it. It’s a pretty good little book, in my personal opinion, though I suppose you could argue I might be slightly prejudiced in its favor. I got a little experimental with this one, keeping the story flowing, but changing the narrator, so you end up with a continuous first-person story told by four different people. I think it works rather nicely.

 

 

Books need covers. Even books that never appear in physical form, which the majority of mine don’t. But where to get the covers?

This one came from Lot’s Cave, which is where the majority spring from. Sis and Her Friend is filled with the same incestuous behavior as are the bulk of my books. The bulk written under this particular name, at least. These are the easy covers. I just send them the manuscript and they take it from there, formatting the file for various outlets, and commissioning a cover design. It takes a few weeks this way, but the finished product seems worth the wait.

There are a couple of exceptions, naturally. Two of my books were written for a more mainstream audience. Mostly, that means nobody is fucking a sibling or parent. Amazon won’t carry books where that sort of thing is going on. They seem to be okay with characters fucking unrelated people, though, as long as everyone is an adult. They don’t allow any underage sex, and that’s probably as it should be, even if it makes writing “high school” sex stories a bit predictable, since everyone has to be a senior.

The cover for One Room, which was done by the nice people at C.E.B. Pubs (who publish my Amazon-rated books), was one where I had a bit more input. Some things are obvious about this one. To begin with, the model is wearing sexy lingerie, but everything is still modestly covered up. You can’t have naked tits on Amazon’s bookshelf. I’ve often thought it would be nice if you could, as nudity sells more books than semi-nudity.

For this book, I selected the photo from a set I’d purchased for my website. The full set ended up in the members’ section, where, so far as I can tell, no one has ever seen the rest of them. I’m seriously thinking of shutting down that section. I don’t have the money to make it big and comprehensive, and not too many people want to spend the money on a subscription when there isn’t very much material there.

I have to suspect that I might sell a few more copies of the book if I could put this image on the cover instead of the one that was used. But I can’t. I have to use what the sellers will allow and, again, I’m not in a position to become a major publisher and sell my own books through a big on-line store.

I’ll admit I had a little help with this one. The girl holding the candelabra is a stock photo, and the license says we can’t sell more than 50,000 copies of the book without paying an additional fee. So far, I’m afraid, there’s very little danger it’s going to cost any more. The blood dripping down at the top is another stock photo, superimposed on the first. Then that background image was imported into InDesign, where the title and my name were added.

This one, unlike the others, also had to be made in a high-resolution version suitable for print reproduction. Lust for Blood is currently available in Kindle, ePub, print, and audiobook editions. That almost wasn’t possible, by the way. Originally it had a bit of incest added to the mix. Somewhere along the line I realized it was potentially a more mainstream title, so the incest came out. Lord Muntglare and his sister, Lady Anna, may still end up naked in his photographic studio, but she only has sex with her friend, Suzanne, and it’s their guest his lordship jerks off over. A simple change such as that is the difference between a book that can be sold on Amazon and one that can’t.

I can’t help thinking this shot would make a great cover for the book I’m currently writing, but I’m afraid it would be too limiting when it comes to markets. I’m fairly sure this will be another Lot’s Cave title, since it contains some obvious fetish content, and may include a certain amount of incest as well (I haven’t got quite that far yet, but I think it’s coming). Even with some carefully-placed text, I don’t think Amazon would ever allow that image.

My latest release from Lot’s Cave is Sis and Her Friend. It has all the most popular elements. A set of 18-year-old, brother-sister twins, cheerleaders, group sex, and a horny mom getting it on with her kids. Obviously, this is one of those books that you won’t be seeing on Amazon.

I decided to go a little Rashomon on this one, though I didn’t ape Kurosawa to the extent of retelling the exact same incident from multiple viewpoints. Rather, the story unfolds in a continuous narrative, but each part of the narrative is told by a different narrator. This might be an interesting candidate for an audiobook, provided I could find four narrators who were willing to share the royalties. Well, two, at least. There’s one guy and three gals, but I suppose all three women could be voiced by the same person.

Speaking of audiobooks, Lust for Blood is progressing nicely. My publisher tells me that the narration should be done in a few days. What I’ve listened to so far sounds pretty good. I’ve also added a few more outlets for the ebook, as I’ve added a Lot’s Cave edition to the one published by C.E.B. Pubs. To be honest, while there’s a lot of sex in Lust for Blood, it’s still tame enough to be allowed on Amazon, so Lot’s Cave is doing this more as a courtesy than because it really fits their usual catalogue. Not a bit of incest to be found. It does have its share of lesbians, servant sex, randy aristocrats, and a few vampires to keep the reader occupied. There’s just no one screwing any close relatives.

 

I finished a new story a couple days ago. I’m calling this one Sis and Her Friend, which no doubt tells you that it won’t be going to Amazon any time soon. I’ve sent it to Lot’s Cave, where no one has any trouble with a little fictional incest–or much anything else, for that matter. They may decide to submit it for Kindle, but I doubt it would be accepted. Any time your hero starts off masturbating with his sister, and ends up screwing his mother, it’s unlikely the story will pass muster with Amazon’s censors, who don’t care so much about legality–stories like that are completely legal, since they don’t involve real people–as they do about whether some reader will complain because Jesus told him not to do that. Hell, Amazon will turn down a book because there are tits on the cover. (That’s not the actual cover, by the way.)

People sometimes ask me why I write incest stories. Honestly, I write them because they sell. Sex stories sell in any case, but sex stories featuring close relatives sell even better. There are no doubt psychological reasons behind that. I’m not sure what they are, exactly. Perhaps the idea that sex is permitted, but sex with relatives isn’t. Not in our culture, at least. There are a number of countries where it’s perfectly legal to have sex with your parent, child, or sibling as long as everyone is an adult at the time. This is why “genuine” incest porn tends to come from places like Japan and France, where the restrictions involve marriage but not sex.

Obviously, not everything I write involves incest. Lust for Blood doesn’t, though there may be a moment here and there when you start to wonder if it’s going to. It very nearly did, until I realized I potentially had a mainstream novel on my hands. So the brief moments went away, or were modified to eliminate any genuine incest between Lord Muntglare and his sister and substitute, perhaps, something implied but not something you could be sure of. He’s photographed her naked, and he’s known for seducing his models, but whether there was anything untoward betwixt the noble siblings is never even mentioned.

Lady Anna, in any case, is far more interested in having sex with her school friend, Suzanne, or with her lady’s maid, than she is in bedding any man. Suzanne is more flexible, sleeping happily with Lady Anna, but apparently just as happily romping in the forest with the earl. She comes from the professional class, her father having been a barrister, but not the nobility, so perhaps she’s thinking in terms of her long-term financial security as much as of sexual satisfaction.

Or she may just be bi. You get to decide that when you read the story.

And I really wish that you would. It’s quite a good story, with a decidedly Victorian feel.

This was the book where I began my autobiographical series, writing under my “real” name. Sure, Lauren Milfinger isn’t my actual name, but it’s the one I’m using for my web site, twitter account, and everything else, so it might as well be. I’m even using it on more or less legitimate novels, such as Lust for Blood, which doesn’t have any of the really kinky stuff you’ll find in the other novels.

So far, I’ve done three books in this series. Across the Pond, the second, is about my college summer break, when I went to England and stayed with my Uncle Ralph and his horny family. It was a bit of a shock when I discovered that my fraternal-twin cousins, Eve and Andrew, were sort of screwing each other. I say “sort of,” because they weren’t fucking, but Eve was fine with her brother screwing her in the ass, and she loved sucking his cock and having him eat her. It was a contraception thing. She was fine with her father putting his vasectomized cock in her pussy. I couldn’t blame her. Uncle Ralph had a gorgeous, ten-inch schlong and amazing self-control. It seemed like he could fuck forever. Andrew could still get her pregnant, so for him it was oral or anal.

Perhaps needless to say, I got it on with all of them. Eve was definitely the kinkiest of the bunch, by the way.

For now, the autobiographies have concluded with the recent release of They All Cum at Carlisle’s. That was the summer when I taught a creative writing course at an adults-only nudist colony. It was a great place. Everybody was fucking everybody, and my brother Sam arrived for a visit halfway through my stay. What can I say about Sam? He’s tall, handsome, and has an eleven-and-a-half-inch cock. He was very popular while he was there. Just to make the summer complete, the camp’s owner, a gorgeous young lady, took the train back to New York with me (sex on a train is a blast), and, when she went home, my cousin Eve popped over from England and we renewed that wet, kinky relationship.

As you may have noticed, I love sex. One of the joys of putting my website on line was getting to run around my apartment naked and tease Jim, my web guy. I’m not a kid anymore, but I’m still in good shape, and Jim is in his sixties and hung like a fucking horse. Don’t knock older guys. Some of them are still pretty good in the sack. A lot of young guys cum too quickly. Older guys tend to last longer, and lasting longer means I get to cum more times before he does. Mostly thanks to porn, a lot of younger guys will eat pussy now, but, again, the older ones seem to do it better. Other women, to be brutally honest, do it best.

It would be nice if I could have a hung guy and a horny woman living here, ready to take care of my every sexual need, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Most nights I just have to take care of myself. I’m not complaining. There’s an art to masturbation. It’s the one form of love making where you never have any doubts about you being the most important part of it all. I love working my fingers into my pussy, feeling the juices welling up from deep inside me. I can cum a dozen times or more while I’m fingering myself. Using a big vibrator can accomplish even more. I’ve had a silicone monster working inside me for a couple hours at a time and felt like I was cumming continuously the whole time it was buzzing away in there.

Just in case you need a new vibrator– and who doesn’t, really?–you can’t beat these people. Good prices and great products, and if you use my links I get a little commission and it all helps to keep me writing.

I’m working on one of the “tamer” books at the moment. If you’re one of the lucky few who’ve read Lust for Blood, you’ll know that the lady’s maid in the book, the lusty Maureen O’Leary, has a secret life as a writer of Victorian pornography. One of the books she’s written is The Erotic Adventures of a Lady’s Maid. It occurred to me that this wasn’t a bad idea for a real book, so I’m busily producing her magnum opus. When I say “tamer,” I mean that the book can be sold on Amazon, so it’s still loaded with sex. It’s just that there’s no incest, or peeing, or any of the stuff that upsets them. You have to be careful with Amazon.