Sherry Wood's Blog

April 30, 2016

Secretly you love this do you even wanna go free?

-Lorde, Glory and Gore


“Listen,” KJ said in that deep voice of his. “We’ll go over the rules later - anything you don’t like to do?”
“Um…you mean sexually?” I knew that was what he meant, but I asked anyway.
“Yes.” He was quite forthright with his answer, and very comfortable with this discussion. I felt his snakeskin boot ride up my leg and it turned me on significantly.
“I…”
“You don’t know,” he finished my sentence. “Maybe you need to do things that you might not like just to find out.”
Oh my god. I shut my eyes as I felt the tip of his boot between my knees. He leaned
across the table.
“Open.” His tone was so rigid. I parted my knees, allowing his snakeskin boot to slowly
make its way between my thighs to my panties. I slid down the booth to meet it.
“Oh…” I felt all my blood there turn warm with need. KJ kept his eyes hooked on mine.
He reached for my wrist, pulling it with an assertive tug so my body flew across the table and our faces were inches apart. He proved that he could get violent - and if I agreed to this Secret Room thing, I might be in some real trouble.
“I want you to go to the bathroom,” he informed in his unshakable voice, “And I want you to think about what I said in the limo, let it jump around in your little pink brain - will you do things that scare you to find out if there’s a part of you that likes them? We should figure this out before I have you in my Secret Room, where I might lose all control. Oh, and another thing, don’t come back here with your panties on.” He was downright arrogant and demanding just then.
I couldn’t believe it. I was overwhelmed - a stunned, smitten grin took over my blushing face as I got up and went to the bathroom. Was this really happening? It was all so intoxicating - so magical.

I paused in front of the bathroom sink and looked at my face. My cheeks were so pink it looked like I’d been slapped in the face over and over! My blonde curls were thick because of the humid weather tonight. I looked good. I looked oversexed. A doll finally pulled from her box and played with...
I turned when an older woman walked in and gave me a look that let me know I was correct in thinking I looked like some bizarre sex kitten. I tried to control my zealousness as I went into the stall to pee, catch my breath and stash my cotton panties into my clutch.
I went back out and - just to make the lady more disgusted with me - I didn’t bother to wash my hands as I left the bathroom.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw Sledgehammer sitting at our booth. Sledgehammer. Something about the ratty-haired 6’2 beast of a man intimidated me even more than KJ Wilson.
I eventually moved out of the waitress’s way and over to KJ and his legendary guitar player. It felt very strange to not be wearing any underwear. I’d never been in public without any on before. Sledgehammer got out of the booth to let me in, so I was stationed between him and the brick wall, and KJ put his boot right back on my knees.
“Open,” KJ said. “We want to play with you.”
Oh my god. I felt Sledgehammer’s hand fall down on my knee and pull it towards him. My knees were pried open and I loved it, I loved the control. KJ was the one to sexually awaken me when I was twelve and now he was going to introduce me to things I didn’t even know I liked. Or didn’t like.
My sex was naked, exposed, and wet. Sledgehammer slid his hand up my inner thigh but KJ got to my pussy first, pressing the silver tip of his rough snakeskin boot against it.
“Oh…” I started to move around but Sledgehammer put his hand on my shoulder to keep me still.
“Uh uh," he warned. "You stay still darlin, you got that?” Sledgehammer's voice was as deep and gritty as KJ’s. I stared down at Sledgehammer’s ripped black jeans and then up at KJ, whose red hair was all in his boyish face. Sledgehammer touched my little nose as KJ pressed his boot against my pussy so the silver tip started to enter me.
“Oh...god…” It was a little cold and painful. Then I started to think about all the places that shoe had been tonight…
“No,” Sledgehammer put his hand on my knee, pulling it away from the other one. “Now…” he said in a uniquely calm tone of voice. “If the waitress comes you better be a good girl and act like everything’s cool, okay? We wanna play with you here and then take you back to our Secret Room.”
What was this Secret Room?? Oh god, my pussy wanted this, and the dirty tip of KJ’s shoe pressed on…
“Oh…” I sighed as I felt Sledgehammer’s hand brush across my cheek.
“Be a good girl and respond,” Sledge said. I could barely focus on what he was saying because the pain had taken over.
“Say okay,” Sledge ordered as he slid his hand up and down my hot face. “So I know we have an understanding.”
Oh my god.
“Okay…”
“I guess she only says yes sir to me,” KJ said, thrilled, moving the tip of his boot around in a circular motion and driving me insane. Then my body jerked forward and Sledgehammer grabbed my chin, warning me to stay still.
“I might need your help with this, Sledge,” KJ informed, keeping his pale blue eyes on my hot, reactive face.
“Of course.” Sledgehammer sounded much obliged. I felt Sledgehammer’s fingers start to play with me. His touch was very assertive. He took two fingers and held me open as KJ shoved his boot in some more.
“Oh no...oh…”
"Shush,” Sledge told me, one hand on my leg and the other playing with my pussy. All I could think of as I squirmed around in the booth was that if they did this to me in public then what on earth would they do to me in The Secret Room??

Snakeskin Boots - thriller/erotica - out this June

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Published on April 30, 2016 09:37 • 105 views

November 2, 2015

Who are you today?
Will you be the sun
Or the pouring rain?
Who are you tomorrow?
Will you make me smile
Or just bring me sorrow?
Who are you gonna be
When I'm lost and I'm scared?
Who are you gonna be
When there's nobody there?

-Who Are You, Fifth Harmony



A few years ago, I started writing about a character named Banny Jones - a fun but awfully troubled character - and I really haven't been able to stop since. He first popped up in The Scorpion, a book that has just felt “more alive” to me than anything else I've ever written. It's a story about a woman who takes off to New Orleans after her relationship fails. She never wanted to settle down anyway, and she never could once she went to New Orleans and met wayward boy Banny Jones, the cute street musician with his guitar who stopped her on the street to sing Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman."

But who is he? I didn't “base” him on anyone in my life like I usually do with characters. Other people in The Scorpion were based on people I know, but not him. He just popped up. He just sort of happened. Like an unexpected sound. Or a blackout.
It was exciting to me in the same way it might be to have an unexpected guest show up to a party and they end up being everyone's favorite person there. But who are they? How did they know about the party? They were never invited.
But there he was and he stuck around. I would try and write other books without Banny Jones, but he would just have to be there. A character would mention being a fan of his band Muthafuzz – a chainsaw-buzzing sound of a punk band from New Orleans, where Banny grew up in a deplorable house on Desire Street.
I still can't feel completely satisfied with any book that doesn't include Banny Jones – only when I am writing about him does the story start to feel alive - does something start to kick...
There is just something about him. The dirty black hair, the skin that feels warm like a dusty window in the summertime...
So when I try to pinpoint just where this character could have come from – if he wasn't based on a person, perhaps “something” inspired him – there is one thing that always comes to mind.

Back in the year 2000 I went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I was SO excited – not so much for Mardi Gras but to just see New Orleans for the first time. William S. Burroughs referred to New Orleans as a dead museum. Musician John Mayer said if he arrived there in a box and couldn't see anything, he would still know he was in New Orleans because no other place in the world feels quite like it. That is very accurate.
I fell in love with New Orleans the second I arrived. I fell in love with the colorful buildings and the way the morning sun hugged them. I fell in love with the food, the smells, the moody weather. I kept asking myself how I would ever be able to leave.

One evening me and my friends were traipsing about the French Quarter. I remember there was a guy with his own tarot card stand down by the river. He also had a guitar with him, down by his feet.
My friends were in a hurry to see everything – the shops (like the voodoo store where we were warned earlier "don't touch anything or it could trigger negative energy” and the cool record store)
The guy with the tarot card stand was wearing a black fedora that looked used. It's odd that I saw him from quite a distance but for some reason I could tell his hat was old – perhaps salvaged from a house fire. I don't know. This is the feeling that I got. His black jacket also looked quite tattered. He was just standing there among the street musicians and tourists, looking right at me.
He waved at me and I waved back. Then he waved me over to his stand. I tried to get my friends to slow down but they were on some kind of shopping frenzy.
“Just for a second,” I said, pointing over my shoulder. I even heard the guy at the tarot stand call out:
"You should really get a reading. There's something you should know."
“What is it that you wanna do?” My best friend asked because I was nagging now. I HAD to go.
“Go see that guy for a tarot card reading - just real quick.”
My friend frowned as he stared in the direction I was pointing over by the river and asked, “What guy?”
I turned and pointed, but there was no guy. There had been a guy though.
“There was a guy with a tarot card stand and he wanted me to come over...”
My friend gave a nervous laugh. “No more hurricanes for you,” he said, meaning the cocktails, and we kept walking. I kept looking back over my shoulder as we headed to the record store but there was no sign of any guy in a fedora hat with a tarot card stand.

The next day when we packed and had to check out of the hotel, I said to my friends, "Let's go and walk around the French Quarter," because we had time to kill and also, I loved that area. And also, I wanted to see if I could spot that guy again. We walked around but there was no sight of that guy and my friends were hungry and restless. An hour later we left New Orleans for North Carolina and I would never know who that guy was or what he wanted. But he had black hair. He had tattered clothes. He had a guitar. These are the details I recalled.
For some reason when I think about Banny Jones, I think about him. I have no idea if there is any relation. Maybe Banny is just a dark character I created. Whatever or whoever he is, he keeps coming back...
Today I started writing about him again, in the followup to The Poison Of Yes ("https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...") where he falls in love with a Montauk Boy named Harlow Gibbons and struggles with being in charge of Harlow's grueling treatments in an underground base in Montauk.
I took a break from writing about him and went to my bathroom and the door to my closet collapsed as I walked by it, falling against an old wooden coat rack on the wall across from it, and the entire thing collapsed - all narrowly missing my head in their crash to the ground.
Maybe this was all just a coincidence, but it was unnerving nonetheless.
So I just decided to share this blog about Banny Jones, a character that will always haunt me, as I sit here watching the movie Pretty Woman, which just so happened to be on...

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Published on November 02, 2015 18:37 • 103 views

September 17, 2015



“Let's go to the beach,” Bryson decided, taking her hand. “Come on.” He didn't want to go back to that roach-infested motel and mourn his mother. He didn't want to be alone.
Amy slowly gave in and walked with him under the bridge and over the rain-soaked sand. It had stopped raining, and the air was sort of humid and sticky. Summer would be here soon. School would be out – and Amy would have to come up with ways to not be home in order to avoid her stalker.
“You wanna dance?” Bryson asked her.
She looked at him and this time those big blue eyes of hers had him a little doting on her. She even almost smiled.
He held out his hands and thought about what his mother once said: Treat girls like princesses even if they aren't and they might turn into one.
Amy had small hands. She put them in his and they started to dance.
“We don't have any music...” she whispered.
“There's always music playing somewhere – maybe you're not listening hard enough,” he said.
She closed her eyes and tried to hear music, but all she heard was the occasional blast of music from someone's car as it whipped down Lake Shore Drive.
“I can't really hear anything.” She sounded so bummed.
“How about if I sing?” Bryson offered.
She laughed a little and he was actually glad she was laughing again.
He draped his arm around her lower back and pulled her close. There were tiny lightning bolts in the sky – pointing out for a very brief second how ominous the low, dark clouds over the beach were.
“Come ride with me...” he started to sing. His voice was very low and pleasant next to her ear. She got lost in this moment. Someone finally wanted to dance with her. “To the distant shore, we won't hesitate...”
Amy held him close, feeling safe in his arms as Bryson kept singing.
“To break down the garden gate...there's not much time left today...”
“What?” Amy pulled away, laughing. Her laughter was crude again. He really didn't like it when he was laughed at.
“I'm sorry – is that Life is a Highway?”
“It was playing at the diner,” he sulked, awfully defensive.
“Aww, I'm sorry – you have a nice voice.” She tried to compliment him to soften his hurt feelings but once Bryson was hurt, it was hard for him to shake it off.
“Listen, I think there's a reason you didn't run off to a better city and I didn't go to my prom tonight – so we could meet each other,” Amy said. “I really do like you. You're different.”
Bryson looked away. She'd ruined the moment.
“I have to go,” she said, unfortunately. “I'm supposed to be home by midnight.”
“Let me pay you back for the food – you can take a cab home.”
“You're a sweet boy,” she said, resting her head against his chest. He was strong and fit and a great dancer. She listened to his heartbeat and felt his warm skin. He put his hand in her hair before she pulled away.
“Keep your money,” she told him. “You need it. I'll be fine – I have subway coins.”

Bryson turned to walk in the other direction, towards Navy Pier because he loved popcorn and they had the best popcorn there. His mom would always buy popcorn when they went to the movies. Frank would argue about it being too expensive but his mom would say they had to get the full going-to-the-movies experience and buy some anyway.
Bryson smiled a little as he thought of his mother and walked along the sand. He decided to take his shoes off to feel the wet sand under his feet. Life was scary without any kind of future plan, but at least he didn't have to be around his father anymore.
Fuck it. It was still warm enough for late night skinny dipping. Too bad Amy ran off like that – she could have got to see Bryson naked.
He started to strip, taking his shirt off and then reaching down to undo his pants when he felt something freezing cold on his shoulder. He turned, thinking maybe it was Crazy Amy playing a joke on him, but it was an old man with thick grey hair and a droopy face of loose skin, especially around his chin and neck. His whole face seemed to sag like a bag full of water. Bryson turned to walk away.
“Leave me alone, dude,” Bryson scoffed. He thought it was a little funny – probably some old bum wanting change. Bryson pressed on, but he found sand challenging to walk quickly in.
He looked up and saw the old, pale man standing in front of him. What? Impossible. That was impossible because he'd just been right behind him. Bryson tried to fight off the fear, because fear held you back, but it had grabbed hold of him right before Bryson felt a pinch in the back of his neck.
“Ah! What the fuck!” he reached back, thinking he got bit by a spider or some weird sand creature. He spun around and saw the old man was now behind him. But he'd just been right in front of him! Maybe there was more than one man.
“STOP!” Bryson yelled. “STOP FUCKING WITH ME!”
The old man started to laugh as Bryson lost feeling in his legs. He felt his whole body go numb. He wanted to run, but instead he dropped to his knees, terribly weak all of the sudden.
The man stood over him, just watching as Bryson's body crumbled into the sand. The numbness Bryson felt in his neck quickly spread through his whole body and he found it impossible to move. He stared up at the old man who wouldn't take his eyes off of Bryson. He realized, as the man loomed over him, that the man didn't have a shadow.
Bryson tried to sit up but it was impossible. He stared at his arms and legs to make sure they were still attached to his body because he couldn't feel them. He felt very out of it.
“I've given you a very strong drug,” the man informed Bryson, “No need to even try to move. You can't.”
Bryson started to feel a very sharp pain in the back of his head. He didn't own the moment anymore, he couldn't move. His mouth ran dry. It was horrifying. He couldn't run. The man kept laughing as hot fear swept over Bryson's half-naked body. All Bryson could do was helplessly lie there as the old man studied Bryson with deep interest. Then he felt something plastic like a trash bag fall over his face. He tried to lift his arm to swipe it off but he couldn't even move that much. He kept struggling to move as the old man got on top of him.
“MMPH!” Bryson tried to scream as the man placed his hand over the bag. The bag covered Bryson's entire face now. None of this made sense. Bryson was young and healthy and this man looked five seconds away from dropping dead. Bryson should be able to fight him, but the drug was completely disabling.
“Yesssss,” the old man hissed, pleased. “Very warm, very human boy.”
“NNNNMMPH!” Bryson continued to try and scream but his screams were muffled because of the bag. Then the bag went inside Bryson's mouth and Bryson felt something wet and grainy rush over his tongue. What the hell was that? Sand?! The man was trying to force sand down Bryson's throat.
Bryson started to cough and choke as the man's cold, hard body pressed down against his. The man's sharp knees pressed down against Bryson's legs to pin him down. He felt like he was going to sink down under the sand with this cold, violent man as sand tickled his throat.
“NNNMPH!” Bryson would have been able to fight back if it wasn't for the drug.
“It's pointless now, boy!” the man said, his words pregnant with dark amusement. The weight of the man's hand was oddly heavy and so cold Bryson could feel the man's icy fingers through the bag over his face.
“I'LL BITE YA!” the man suddenly warned. Bryson froze in fear just then. His body was coated with sand and hot, panicky sweat. Then he felt something stab him in the inner thigh of his left leg – he wasn't sure if it was more needles or what, but the pain was brutal and even stung a little. The man started biting Bryson's leg all over, moving up from his knee towards his hip.
“MMMPHNNNNNNNNPHHHH!” Bryson struggled, especially when he felt the man's other hand start to explore him. Bryson felt a terrible stab in his right leg this time. His teeth were too sharp to be human teeth. Human teeth couldn't puncture flesh so deeply like this.
The pain forced another muffled cry from Bryson.
“NNNNMPH!!!!” Bryson couldn't fight, but in his mind he was fighting, and it was terribly exhausting and pointless.
“Shush now,” the man said. Bryson's leg felt like it was on fire. Then he felt the man start to undo Bryson's jeans as Bryson choked on the wet sand in his mouth and his eyes began to water before he finally blacked out.


Cold. It was very cold in the room he woke up in. He could only move his head. His wrists were wrapped tight in cold, metal shackles that were nailed to the wall. His feet were spread and his ankles were held in shackles too so his bare feet were a few inches above a cold cement floor. His blurry vision tried to make out the wall on the other side of the cold, empty room.
He had a horrible taste in his mouth and a very intense headache. He felt something cold touch his face and he shook his head around, wishing he was free to move the rest of his body the same.
“Marvelous,” he heard a man speak.
Bryson tried to see his face, but he couldn't really make out anything but undefined shapes. He'd been drugged, and all of his senses were still very weak.
“Where did you find him?” another man asked. Oh my god. There was more than one man in the room. Bryson could sense them all staring at him too. He struggled to move, but the rusty shackles cut into his skin when he did. His body ached from being hung on the wall and forcibly eagle-spread. He was pretty sure he'd been stripped completely of his clothing too. The musty scent of his own sex was too easy to smell.
“Oh god...” Bryson moaned. “Please...”
“Give him a shot to give him clarity,” a voice that sounded like the same one he heard out on the beach, spoke. “I want him to see us. I want him...to know...what he's in for.”
Bryson felt a terrible pinch in his neck, a needle going deep into his vein. Another drug?! He hung helplessly as the drug entered his bloodstream. Then he felt a cold hand slide up and down his face. Bryson shook his head in protest and the room filled with sinister laughter. Bryson started screaming as his vision sharpened. He saw ten skinny, pale old men sitting at a table in the room, all staring up at Bryson and laughing at him. Then his eyes fell to the floor and followed the numerous feeding tubes snaking along the ugly cement floor. Then he saw there were IVs hooked into his arms and legs and a tube running into his stomach.
“No...please, god, please...please...” Bryson kept struggling to move, which only made the cuts in his wrists caused by the metal shackles deepen. “Oh god..” Bryson moaned in pain. In fear. When he shook his head to protest, sand fell out of his messy blonde hair into his eyes. It seemed no matter what he did, it just brought on more pain.
There were two men directly in front of him, just standing there, staring up at him like he was an expensive, gorgeous painting they wanted. But they already had it. It was hanging on their wall for them to admire as they wanted.
Their eyes were big and dead and cold. Eyes usually reflected what was in the heart and the mind. They both reached up to touch Bryson's face, their fingers more frigid than icicles.
“He's so warm,” the man with the graying hair observed. Then he looked back at Bob, the man that attacked Bryson at the beach. “Why did you decide to share him with us?”
“I was in good spirits,” Bob grinned. “Besides...” he tilted his head towards the old man in the corner – Henderson – who hadn't taken his eyes off Bryson since he'd been attached to the wall. “It's Henderson's first taking. It should be enjoyed.” Bob stared Henderson down. “Note - it won't always be this easy. I won't always fetch your food for you. Make sure to keep that in mind – and feel free to repay me for this exquisite favor.”
Henderson was very quiet. He was still getting used to his lifeless shell of a body. He was really addicted to how good it felt when the rush of fresh, warm blood filled him up.
He finally got up from his spot in the cold room and walked over to the boy. He pushed the other men away so he could touch the boy himself.
“Don't get greedy now,” Bob warned. “He belongs to us all.”
Bryson stared down in panic as Henderson placed his hand on Bryson's stomach. He felt the warm rush of blood inside the boy's body. He was so warm compared to Henderson that he nearly scorched Henderson's hand.
Meanwhile the icy touch of Henderson was nothing but horrific for Bryson as he was helpless to it, and Henderson ran his hand down towards Bryson's penis.
“That's enough. Take your tube there and come to the table,” Bob said.
Henderson slowly drifted away, he could barely walk he was so weak and empty. All the men had been waiting all day in this underground room, to feed. Bob promised them he would bring them a delectable treat and had kept his word.
Bryson watched as the old men picked up the tubes from the floor and he realized what the men were about to do.
“No...no, no, no...” Bryson struggled, and the metal shackles drew blood from his wrists, intensifying the coven's hunger.
“Oh...he smells so good,” Henderson noted.
Bob lifted the end of his tube to his dry, chapped lips. Bryson shut his eyes. No! Bryson thought. Not like this! I can't die like this. Jesus Christ...
"I'm in the mood...for love," Bob started to sing as the other men placed their tubes in their mouths.
“Been a tough week,” one of the old men joked. “I could use a drink.”
“This – this is Happy Hour,” Henderson said. They all laughed. Then Bryson heard a grouped sucking sound and felt his blood being pulled from his body.
“No...noooo...no! PLEASE! OH...” Bryson struggled, the rustiness of the hard, cold metal shackles rubbing his skin off as his blood was drained from him. “Mama...mama...” he started to cry. “Oh god...AHHHHHH!”
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Published on September 17, 2015 12:19 • 107 views • Tags: chicago, erotica, vampire

May 29, 2015

When two teenagers aren’t able to go to their prom together because of a tragic accident, they will try and make up for it later on in life, creating brand new chaos.

Vegas Buxxx (formerly Vegas Handcuffs) out June 2015 ;)


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Published on May 29, 2015 07:01 • 86 views • Tags: erotica, high-school, s-m, vegas, violence

February 2, 2015

“What is that?” I didn’t really want to know – but I had to know.
“It’s a cage bed,” Brace said, touching the rusty netting of the cage. My eyes fell to the stained mattress inside of it. The mattress was a sunshine-yellow with a slightly brown stain in the middle. There was even a hospital wristband inside of it!
“Great, can we look at clothes now?” I asked. But the salesman was already on his way over, sensing Brace’s shameless excitement. Something in this corner smelled like pee and death and I really wanted to go.
“Just got it,” the cheerful salesman alerted as he walked right up to us. “That old asylum over on Randolph shut down and they sent a lot of stuff over here.”
“No way,” Brace was thrilled. “Where’s the other stuff?”
“Oh, out back, we haven’t got the space for it all yet – but this I just had to display.”
Brace looked at the price tag. It was three-hundred dollars.
“That’s such a good deal,” he said. I thought he was joking until I saw him take his wallet out.
“Alright!” The salesman couldn’t be happier. “Always good to see ya, Brace.” The guy gave Brace a friendly pat on the arm and Brace kept this small but cute smile on his face as he walked over to the checkout counter. He looked so pleased. Then he stopped and looked at me.
“Hey, you want anything? We can still look around but I’m gonna go ahead and pay for this. I have to have it.”
For what? I wanted to ask but he looked so happy that I didn’t.
I shrugged and stayed there as Brace went over to the counter to make delivery plans. The sales clerk whipped up a form for Brace’s info and I slowly made my way back up the aisle and waited as Brace filled it out. “I’ll be home later today – can you deliver at four?”
“Four’s great!” the salesman answered.

I just inhaled the wintry air and felt the snowflakes on my face once we were back outside. Brace wanted to go behind the building where the canal river was. There was a small lot where the big Salvation Army delivery trucks were. A poor little teddy bear had been tossed into the dumpster but didn’t quite make it, falling on the cement walkway by the back door instead. Brace wanted to scope out the other stuff from the asylum but the trucks were locked up. We started kissing behind the building. That cage bed must have really turned Brace on because I could feel the result in his leather pants.
This particular Salvation Army Store was surrounded by empty lots, vacant warehouses, and chunks of cement block along the canal. No one was ever back here except for delivery drivers but they were nowhere to be seen. Brace picked me up and put me on top of one of the cement blocks by the water. It was big enough for both of us to lie on and even have sex, although I still wasn’t ready. It was hot how he picked me up so effortlessly, like a doll, and just started kissing me. I loved how he ran his hand up my leg and then touched my face so his palm cupped my chin and his fingers touched my cheeks. His kisses were slow today, and very sexy.
“Brace…” I held onto him, my hands staying warm under his clothes as I touched his body. Brace was the most confident kisser I’d ever met, and for good reason. The fact that we hadn’t had sex yet made these make out sessions more intense. I ran my hands up and down his body, making his kisses harder.
“I want you on the rock,” I kept saying. We didn’t care that it was snowing; in fact it made the whole thing hotter. Brace obeyed my request and spread his sexy body across the rock. I ran my hand up the long, hard lump under his leather pants and he moved a little, panting and looking up at me as I got on top of him. The fact that he smelled made his skin tastier. I licked his torso, ran my tongue over his jutted hips and across that trail of hair again as he lied splayed out across the rock. I let him out of his leather pants and pressed my palm against the tip of his cock. It felt so warm and seemed so monstrous out here in this otherwise cold, grey surrounding.
“I wanna eat you,” I sighed, biting his earlobe. I placed my thumb against the tip of his cock. The way he moved – the way his head lifted from the rock when I touched him there – was so sexy. I wondered if he was thinking about that cage bed. Did he want to keep me in it? Did he want us to have sex in such a restricted space? The thoughts did excite me – they excited the parts of me I didn’t know was there until this morning.
I looked at his brown eyes and kissed him really hard.
“Mmm, Brace,” I sighed. I straddled him and because of the way he was positioned so his head was almost touching the grass and his boots were on the ground, the middle of his body was at my disposal. I pushed against him, feeling a slow tingle between my legs.
“Oh…” he moaned as I pressed against him harder and harder. Every second was a sexual delight. He was my toy. I pushed and pushed.
When he tried to move, I pulled on his dreadlocks to keep him down.
“Brace,” I sighed his name. It was everything.
“You’re gonna make me cum on you again,” he warned.
“Good.” I licked him again. “I want you to,” I whispered in his ear. “I want you to cum hard.” I licked his neck and a smile broke out on his face to let me know he was really enjoying this. But then his face quickly collapsed into a frown again as I pressed against the tip of his cock.
“Oh…oh my god…” he sighed.
“Shush.” I stuck two fingers in his mouth and he sucked like a good boy. I ran my other hand down the length of his cock and played with his balls. I think he said my name but my fingers in his mouth blocked the word from developing. I took my wet fingers out of his mouth and put them on the tip of his cock.
“Oh Jesus…” snow collected on Brace’s tongue when he sighed, quickly dissolving in his warm saliva. He slithered about beneath me as I took him in my mouth. The tip of his cock was salty and syrupy and warm and I sucked hard for a teasing moment.
“Yeah…” he sighed and then he moved a little when I took him out and left it in the cold. He lifted his head, wanting me to keep going.
I never felt so turned on. I imagined him spilling across my tongue; the warmth of it would make up for the wintry air around me. This was the greatest thing – making out outside in the snow. The cold, clean air made his smell all the more delicious.
“We could do it right here,” he panted. We were pulling at each other’s hair with the will to rip it out. That bed, that bed. Maybe it would be nice to be locked away…
“Tell me what you’d do to me in that cage bed,” I told him.
“Oh god…” I don’t know if his reaction was caused by what I said or my warm, wet pussy teasing the tip of his hot cock.
“I want us locked up there together, god…Joey…” he shut his eyes tight, close to popping off. I looked up at a boat in the canal. It was moving so slowly, way out there in the grey water. It was still snowing a little. “The next time we have a couple of days off together – just stay in there with you, naked, just stay…” I kissed him so the next words he was going to so say melted on my tongue. His eyes were shut; he was completely lost in pleasure. I ran my hands through his sideburns, studied his long eyelashes and kissed his forehead as I moved around against him some more.
“Joey…” he sighed. His eyes shut tight and his Adams apple jutted forward as I pressed against him the hardest I ever had. “I’m gonna cum…”
Cum. I waited and pushed some more, wanting to feel his warm, salty cum all over me. “Cum then,” I whispered.
He sighed as his head lifted and the rest of him was trapped under my selfish sex. It only took a few more seconds until it shot out between my fingers, causing the cum to spray in different directions. I cupped my hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming too loud, his own cum wet his lips and cheek.
“Oh god…” he sighed afterwards. He moved in the sexiest way, one booted foot left the ground for an entire minute. Then he just lied completely still. I looked up as that boat in the canal vanished in a wintry mix of fog and snow.

Buy the book: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...

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Published on February 02, 2015 11:05 • 127 views • Tags: 1995, chicago, drugs, rock-n-roll, sex

December 2, 2014

I was crying by the time I made it back to Shining Star. It all came back to me – all the fucking feelings. Yes. The caring. It was like right after sex – right after the perfect, most intense orgasm where you blasted out of your own skin – and then you came down, you felt yourself again filling out your shell, your body, the thing you were just stuck with, the thing that one day would start to go bad like a vegetable in the sun. Hey, hey. Good times. They just turn bad.
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Published on December 02, 2014 07:56 • 102 views • Tags: banny-jones, erotica, montauk, scifi

November 28, 2014

“We all know that we go into a different state of consciousness during the sexual act. As it is a creation process, it is not hard to relate that we can then have an effect on creation when in this form of consciousness. When we engage in sex, we are tapping into the blueprint that made the whole universe possible. As Crowley studied this information, he saw that the ancients understood what they were doing in their orgiastic rites…”

1
I clapped my hands so hard I thought they’d bleed. They stung and my palms were the color of roses. Clap, clap, clap! Someone could be playing drums and couldn’t outdo the sound I was making. CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! The drugs they pumped in me, the daily workouts, I was a strong boy. And any girl who had to fuck me couldn’t really deal with it. You should see her face, the way it opened up like it was about to split in the middle, the way she begged, because it hurt with me. It was supposed to. My cock was abnormally huge – the thing was a beast – and I fucked very aggressively, and I came hard. All girls suffered. But with these girls, they did whatever we told them. It was just like being on a computer – you tell it what to do and it did it. It was amazing. So, clap for that!
Tonight, there was a party. And for once it wasn’t underground at that crummy base. Chris got a swanky hotel room and took three girls along with myself.
The three girls chosen were Marsha, GG (Gillian Gunn), and this small blonde chick with big boobs called Alice. Each girl was beautiful, and they’d all been with me already and had survived. But Chris wanted each one to get pregnant and see which one took to the drugs and experiments he’d put them through, he wanted to see what kind of monster we could create. Should the baby just come out human, he’d toss it out like expired food.
I was clapping because all three girls were dancing around the room naked because we told them to. I was clapping because Rolling Stones was on the radio and I had a plethora of top-shelf booze on the counter to go with the music. I was clapping because we had these girls programmed to do whatever we wanted them to.
For example, Chris had just told naked Alice, “We want you to do a rap version of Halleluiah.”
"It goes like this, the forth and the fifth - uh, uh," Alice started rapping, jumping on the bed. Her tiny body was just boobs and ass jiggling. I was very hard; growing so much the tip of my monster cock was sprouting up over the waist of my trousers like a curious snake looking aboveground from its hole.
Chris recorded the whole silliness on his phone.
"The minor fall…" Alice dipped over to show her ass, which was exquisite – perfectly round. I was yet to get her from behind – I needed to get her pregnant so anal sex wasn’t necessary. But it might happen now anyway.
While Alice made a fool out of herself, the other two girls were told to sit down and watch. They didn’t move at all, they were the perfect observant pupils.
I picked up a new Pork Slap beer and opened it. It sprayed foamy delicious beer on me and a little on Alice and then I just poured it all over Alice’s ass. She squealed just like a pig and I pulled on her hair before she could crawl away.
“Nah, you stay baby,” I informed her.
“Keep singing,” Chris called out as I trailed my tongue along her sweet ass, collecting the cold beer off her skin.
"The baffled king composin - oh, shit," she about lost it when my tongue flicked over her wet pussy; her ass and tits jiggling.
“Okay, enough,” Chris said – no longer amused. “Banny – make her shut up.”
I didn’t need Chris’s instructions. I always knew what to do. I jumped up on the bed with my boots still on – my usual Militant Boy uniform on – red suspenders, jacket with the giant red Swastika on the back, snug black trousers, black wifebeater, black combat boots (with bloodstains on them), etc.
I dropped to my knees and wrapped my arm around her tiny waist and pulled her so her feet swung out from under her and her face hit the pillow. I pulled some of her hair back, fixing it just right, running my hand over her soft body. The starchy scent of beer and sweet smell of pussy pinched the air.
I unclipped my suspenders and used them to restrain her wrists to the bedposts.
“OH GOD!” she yelped, staring up at her helplessness. I
hadn’t even really done anything to her – hadn’t put anything inside of her – and she was already going crazy. I parted her pussy lips with my thumb and index finger and slipped my tongue deep inside of her. “OOH…” she writhed about, she quivered against my tongue. I had her.
My giant cock was out of my black trousers and it was incandescently green. It was against the side of her little foot. I caressed her little toes – Alice was ticklish. She giggled and tried to pull her foot free. “Don’t – I’ll bite ‘em off.” I meant it, and I had metal teeth, so she knew she best obey.
She tried to calm down. Her pussy was wet. She was turned on despite knowing this would only hurt her. She liked to be knuckle-fucked (when I masturbated her with my knuckles) but I wasn’t going to do that to her. I was just gonna go right for it, slam it all the way inside.
“Keep kicking and your little toes are gonna get bitten and burned.”
“Ahhhh…” she sighed, consumed in scary lust. I imagined her little pink toes glazed in my glowing green cum – like some strange exotic delicacy.
She tried to stay still as I placed my tongue way up inside of her again. Alice was a very sweet, very soft, very supple girl. Out of all the girls handed to me, I wanted to get her pregnant the most. I was not in love with her – I’d only ever been in love with one girl and one boy my entire life. But I was in wicked lust with her. I liked to watch her wiggle helplessly as I got her open and receptive to me. It never stopped. The things I wanted to do to this girl’s body.

Full novella out December 5th

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Published on November 28, 2014 12:10 • 96 views

June 18, 2014

This fish place was a gamble. There was a boy with nice dark hair and a big, bright smile who seemed nervous but determined to stay polite and professional. He was working the counter. His southern accent made it difficult to pick apart his words. But he was cute. That was all that needed to be understood.
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Published on June 18, 2014 16:22 • 103 views • Tags: scorpion-series

March 25, 2014

Okay, so to keep this brief because I’ve been a bit under the weather but I wanted to say that I’ve decided to put one of the stories from the collection What Does This Button Do, out as a novella. It just evolved into this amazing, longer story – and the characters took over. Especially when Banny Jones got involved. Banny now works for Chris Lackster at an underground facility in Chicago, doing the same type of experiments that took place in Montauk, in the eBook Silk Ties.
Chris’s new subject, Harlow Gibbons, has Banny wanting to be a good person and look out for Harlow instead of being the evil punisher that Chris has taught him to be.
This is one of the most disturbing, yet sweetest things I’ve written.
How will Banny and Harlow deal with being in love in such an awful place?
Find out in just a couple of weeks!!!

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Published on March 25, 2014 18:25 • 146 views • Tags: scifi-erotica-bannyjones

March 11, 2014

The following is an excerpt from What Does This Button Do?
Out this April on Smashwords!

“Are you okay? Do you remember?”
Gretchen only said yes, not sure to which question the answer belonged to.
“Things will be different for you. You had something taken from you. I’m so sorry.”
Gretchen remembered how her mother played with Gretchen’s hair, moving it out of her face and over her shoulders.
“But you are still special, you are still a child…I’m so sorry…” Her mother began to cry. In a way, she never stopped.

Years later, in high school, a therapist would tell Gretchen she should find a hobby, an outlet, “somewhere to put the pain.” Gretchen liked to draw. Paint. Pain. She added a T. Paint. She went to the paint store, but she didn’t know what to paint.
Then she saw him. Harlow Gibbons. Where had he come from? The wind seemed to have just blown him into her world. There were all kinds of rumors about him. Girls would gather in the hallway and whisper about him between classes.
"He’s from Ohio."
"I think he’s a Virgo."
"He beat up his father two weeks ago."
"No, he’s from Kentucky."
"He doesn’t have an accent."
"He fucking drives a 1982 Turbo though."
"He’s an alien from Sex Planet."
They would all laugh.
"Look at his hair."
And jocks would call him a fag, but that didn’t last long, because soon there were dents in the lockers from Harlow slamming their heads into them.

And all the girls eventually whispered the same thing when it came to Harlow Gibbons: "I want him."

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Published on March 11, 2014 08:38 • 149 views • Tags: banny-jones, erotica, louisiana, monsters, sci-fi, true-detective