A new title : No Touching!

Hello again!

I have at last finished a new title.  It's called No Touching!  and is a steamy romance containing the usual fetish elements that find their way into my stories, including a new one that involves the use of fruit or vegetables.
As I explain in the opening pages, this story is based on three events which happened to co-workers and friends some years ago; I've blended those events into one story, which I hope you'll enjoy.  The e-book is available on Amazon in all its flavors right now, and it should be up on Smashwords, Draft2Digital and all their associated companies (including Apple and Barnes & Noble) in the next few days.

Here are a few details:

Adults Only.  Warning: this was written for an audience aged over 18 and it contains elements which some people may find offensive, such as the watersports fetish and the use of fruit or vegetables in a sex act.
 
Sheila offers George a lift home after an office party one night.  On the way, she acts on an impulse and - unintentionally - arouses his passions; her feelings are stimulated, too, and this incident leads to a weekly session where they meet at his house. 
Standing opposite each other, face-to-face, they watch as they perform acts with themselves in which they find sexual fulfillment.  They have an important rule: they are not permitted to touch each other’s bodies, and this self-imposed regulation drives their excitement to a higher level.
When this thrill gets out of control, there are unforeseen results.  Will they ever be able to resume their kinky practices?  And will their strange routine allow their relationship to evolve into anything closer?

And here's a short extract:



     I arrived on George’s doorstep armed with a bottle of wine and a cake.  I hoped that might charm him round after the two flashpoints we’d had in the office that week.
     When he opened the door to invite me in, he wore a broad smile that disarmed me; I was expecting to have a frank conversation with him to clear the air before we started.  “Thanks for this,” he said as he accepted the wine.  “It’s very generous, but you shouldn’t have bothered.”
     “But I wanted to.  After the week we’ve had at the office.”
     “The office is an entirely different world.  Let’s pretend that it doesn’t exist.”
     In an ordinary situation, in the circles in which I moved, it would be natural for us to greet each other with a brief kiss on the cheek at a social event.  But he kept his distance; I needed no reminder of our “no touching” rule.
     He invited me to sit down in his living room while he uncorked the wine and fetched a knife and two plates to serve the cake.  Looking round the room again, I saw a cluster of bananas in a fruit bowl on a shelf near the table.  I felt a warm glow; I’d been thinking about using a banana, and had made a mental note to bring some with me to this session.  But there was no need.
     “Here we are,” he announced, bringing in two full glasses of wine.  “Would you like to carve the cake?”
     I cut two slices and served them on the plates.
     “I’d like to try something different tonight,” he said.  “Do you have any thoughts?”
 
 -------------

While I have your attention, I would like to offer my apologies for my apparent lack of productivity recently - I have so much I want to write, but I've had to spend time in hospital recently - without my laptop - and my family insisted I take a holiday afterwards; they took me to a remote place that didn't have an Internet connection.  Then, when I returned home, a couple of solicitous in-laws arrived on my doorstep "to look after me"; things turned out differently, and I spent my time looking after them while I had plots and ideas whizzing round in my brain and I didn't have the chance to get many of them down on paper.
As a result of this, I've decided to spend the next six months living like a hermit.  Maybe that will give me the chance to catch up.

Finally, you may have noticed in my earlier remarks that Draft2Digital are handling some of my work now.  Unfortunately they appear to be staffed by a congregation of Puritans and they've asked me to change some of my covers and descriptions which they deem to be inappropriate.  They're relatively new on the scene, and don't like to risk upsetting people.  This has meant extra work for me and, as a result, these guys are still on probation as far as I'm concerned.

That's all for now, Folks!  Now, back to a new story for the forthcoming Waterlines 20....

Best
Chris

Waterlines 17 is here!

Hello again!

I hadn't expected to be writing here again so soon, but I am pleased to announce that Waterlines 17 has been published by Amazon KDP and Smashwords (for Apple, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, et al).  The cover is a little provocative because it depicts a well-dressed woman cleaning the urinals in a men's restroom, and I suspect this unusual scene may have been the reason for the initial delay in publication with with Amazon - one can imagine a hastily-convened committee meeting at Amazon HQ to determine whether the picture breaks any "house" rules.  Waterlines 17 contains three short stories:

A Sprained Ankle :  When you've injured yourself and you can't do things that you've taken for granted for so long, it's time to get inventive....

Paintball War : Sophie, a college teacher, allows her class to go on the rampage in the woods in a paintball war. When they continue their rampage in the men's restroom, she's left clearing up the mess. But there's a silver lining to this cloud....

Subterfuge : What do you do when you're on a train, the toilet's out of action, and you want to "go" when there's no chance of any privacy?


EXTRACT:

     When her duties were done, Sophie walked back towards the common room to pick up her bags, thinking about the long holiday that awaited her.
     “Sophie!” It was Gerry calling, from a few feet behind her.
     She turned round and saw him scurrying urgently towards her.
     “A few of the Second Year students have been having fun and games in the men’s restroom upstairs. There’s paintball graffiti all over the walls. Remember our deal yesterday? No mess in the college buildings, otherwise they’d have to clear it up afterwards. Well, they’ve gone. So you’ll have to play janitor yourself. And you’ll need to do it now, before you go home today.” He walked off, allowing no time to protest.
     “But Jason is equally at fault. He should be doing it too.”
     “He’s gone.” He called, without looking back.
     Shit! she said to herself, and went upstairs to the men’s restroom.

I hope you enjoy the stories.  Subterfuge is based on an out-take I saw of a European movie some years ago.  No, I don't remember the name of the movie or which country produced it.  I couldn't understand the language spoken, so I'm confident it wasn't French or German.  If I hadn't seen this scene myself, I'd have considered the concept just a little far-fetched.  But, hey, that's what erotic fantasies are all about, don't you think?

All the best

Chrissie

email: cpw (at) restroom (dot) net
Twitter: @RachelCray1

Return to the Poor Nuns

Hello again!

Return to the Poor Nuns  has just been published - it's the third in the "Medieval Dickgirl" series, following on from A Poor Nun's Endowment and The Poor Nuns in Revolt.  I do hope you enjoy it.

Here's an outline:

Seeking sanctuary for her daughter Agnes, Dame Anna presents her to Prior Michael at the abbey and, whilst there, Agnes writes more to the tale of Mary and the Poor Nuns started by Anna and continued by Michael.  In Agnes' contribution to the tale, the evil Benedicta pleads with Mary to help her return to the Poor Nuns.  Unsure whether she is truly contrite after her imprisonment by the bishop's chancellor, Mary advises the prioress to keep her in a secure environment... just in case.  Can Benedicta be trusted?  There is a new priest overseeing the spiritual welfare of the nuns and, still having to come to terms with his vow of chastity, he has his own agenda.  And some of the nuns still crave some moments of lust with Mary's unique endowment.  How can she resolve the situation before her husband comes to take her home?

EXTRACT:

          Clare grinned sheepishly. “Shall we go for a walk together? The room where Benedicta had you confined has been repainted; it is of course the cell where she will stay when she is appointed Anchoress, and is quite private. Would you like me to show it to you? We won’t be disturbed.” 
          “Yes. I’d like that.”
           They left her chamber and walked together into the cloisters, through an isolated doorway that led to a flight of steps; at the top was the door to the private room that would be home to Benedicta once she was readmitted to the community. It had been home to Mary when she had first arrived here, a sanctuary where Benedicta had her shut away from the world so that she could  indulge her own passions with her, unseen by anyone else. Clare unlocked the door and invited Mary to enter; the place smelt so much fresher now, and a new bed had been placed in the corner. 
           Clare pulled off her habit over her head and, standing naked in front of Mary, she took her hand and drew her silently across the room; with her back to the wall, she reached forward and put her hand up Mary’s gown to feel for the thing she craved to have inside her.

-------------

I hope to have Waterlines 17 published very soon.  Then I'll be busy with a couple of romance titles (one contemporary, one Regency) that I have in the back of my mind which will be going out under my alter-ago, Rachel Cray.  In the meantime, I'll be hoping that my Muse will deliver some more erotic stories for me to tell in the C.P. Waterman franchise.

All the best!

Chrissie

email : cpw (at) restroom (dot) net
Twitter: @RachelCray1

Paying the Rent

Hello again!

I'm in the middle of writing some short stories for inclusion in Waterlines 16.  I started one called Paying the Rent; it showed promise but, as I continued writing, it became obvious to me that this was going to be a great deal longer than the usual story that goes into the Waterlines series.  And I had no way of breaking it up into a serial with two or three parts.

I could have shelved the story and found something else to put in the Waterlines edition.  I liked the story, and wanted to carry on with it, while I still had my Muse breathing down my neck.  So here it is.  But please rest assured that Waterlines 16 will be out as soon as I can finish it and get it passed by my editor.

And now here are some details for Paying the Rent:

     Adults Only. Warning: this story contains elements which some people may find offensive. If you aren't interested in golden showers or watersports, or aren't curious about the fetish, don't buy or read this book.
     Susie lives with Gerry - a control freak - but takes a break to attend a summer-school where she meets Ben, a lawyer. At the end of course party, she gets drunk and ends up in bed with Ben. When she gets home and finds that Gerry already knows what happened, he makes life hell for her. When finds a new place to live, but can't pay the rent, her new landlord has a solution.... What exactly has he in mind? (12,000 words.)

SPECIMEN EXTRACT:

     “I have a problem. You might as well know: my former boyfriend has emptied my bank account. I’m trying to get it back, but it’s going to take time.”
     “And in the meantime… you have nothing to fall back on? Nothing worth selling?”
     “No. And unless I find something pretty soon, I won’t be able to afford to pay you next month’s rent.”
     “Thanks for your honesty. I appreciate that. And I hope you can get your money back quickly. But you have to see things from my point of view. You’re a new tenant, and as far as I’m concerned you’re still on trial here. We hardly know each other, but if you’d been here for six months, let’s say, I’d know you a lot better and I’d probably feel I could trust you. If you can’t pay me when the rent is due, you’ll have to leave.”
     I hadn’t expected this reaction. I was close to tears. “But I have nowhere else to go. Can you help me? Please?” I felt as if I was begging.
     “I have a line of tenants waiting for my rooms. I allowed you to jump your turn as a personal favour to Marina, that’s all. You have to consider yourself lucky to have got this room in the first place.”
     “And Marina’s done a lot for me already, and I don’t want to pester her for any more help.”
     He thought quickly. “Maybe there’s something else. Can we go in your room for a minute or two?”
     I unlocked the door and showed him in. He sat on a chair at the table.
     “I’ve never varied arrangements for rent with a tenant before, but maybe I could be flexible in this case, provided you’re prepared to be flexible too.”
     “Honestly, Scott, I’m desperate. I’d be prepared to consider anything.”
     “I could take a month’s rent in another form.”
     I thought I could see where this was going. I remembered my grandmother telling me she once had a neighbour who had a private arrangement with her landlord.
     “Over the next month, you’d have to sleep with me – here in this room – as often as I choose, on the nights that I choose. There’s room in your bed for both of us. I’m not a violent man, and I’d never harm you. I’d never seek to humiliate you; this is a straightforward business transaction, remember. I wouldn’t make too many demands, but it’s fair to warn you that I do have a few strange fetishes and you’d be expected to satisfy me in that direction too.”
     “Fetishes? What fetishes?”
     “We could call them small services. Things that you would do naturally anyway. Nothing for you to worry about. That’s the deal. Yes or no? If you can’t bring yourself to consider it, you will have to vacate the premises by the end of this week.”
     I sighed and looked at him. He seemed a reasonable guy, I supposed. At least he wasn’t a vicious brute like Gerry. I’d have to steel myself; in the dark nights I could pretend that I had Ben, that adorable lawyer from summer-school, inside me.
     “I don’t want to pressure you, but I have to know now. As I said, I have clients waiting in line for this room if you don’t feel –” 
     “O.K. I agree. Provided it’s only for the month.”
____________

And now I have to get back to Waterlines 16...

Best,
Chrissie

email : cpw (at) restroom (dot) net
Twitter:  @RachelCray1

Caught in the Act !

Hello again!
My latest title - Caught in the Act! - has been published on Kindle and Smashwords.  I hope you like it - the story is based on three events which actually happened to people with whom I have worked over the years.  I took the three threads and spun them into one single narrative.

Here's the outline:

Sally is promoted and moved to a new job; she finds a key member of her staff has a private habit and has alienated the rest of her team to the extent that its whole future is in doubt.  Anxious to make her mark in the office, she attempts to impose her own controversial solution to the problem... sometimes calling her own sanity into question.  Can she resolve the situation - and create a successful team from the remnant she has inherited?

And here's a specimen extract to whet your appetite:

At the end of one particularly exhausting day during her final period in her current job, she was relieved when it was time to get to bed.  She lived alone in her apartment, and had become used to her routine; she hoped that the new job wouldn’t interfere with the way of life that she had established over the years.  Sleep came easily to her that night but she was visited by an unusual dream. 

She was in the bar where she had been celebrating with her friends shortly after the news of her promotion had been announced.  This time, she was sitting in the chair that had been occupied by the young guy who had stared at her with such passion as he played with himself.  And the guy was back there in the dream, drinking at the table she had used; she looked down at his lap, and noticed he had his cock out again.  It was hanging limp, waiting to be entertained.

Responding to the challenge, she pulled up her skirt and made sure he could see the tops of her stockings, with the fastenings of her suspenders or garters.  He was electrified.  His hand flew to his crotch and his fingers curled round his cock.  She decided to go further, and pulled her panties aside to show him her pussy.  He began pumping hard at his dick.  Licking her lips to entice him further, she allowed her hand to wander down to her clit, parting her labia and showing him her vagina.

His face had gone red with pleasure, his eyes concentrating on her stockings, her thighs and her genitalia.  It can’t be long now, she thought.  He’ll have to come soon.

She focused her attention on the tiny pee-hole at the end of his dick head, willing his semen to spill out on to the carpet.

But, for all the energy he was putting into the exercise, his climax wouldn’t arrive.  Disappointed, but eager to help, she got out of her chair and knelt down under his table, positioning herself between his feet.  Without a word, she reached forward and put his warm erection in her mouth, moving it round gently with her tongue.

With her lips locked round his shaft, she groaned in an effort to prompt him to share his pleasure with her.  He remained silent; she moaned louder.

She jolted in her bed, and woke up.  She had been moaning in her sleep, and the sound had quickly returned her to the real world.  Her crotch was wet from her dream.

Looking at her alarm clock, she noticed it was only three o’clock.  She turned over and willed herself back to the bar, hoping to resume her ardour with this stranger.  But the scene wouldn’t return, and she felt frustrated; she couldn’t get back to sleep while she was in this state.

Grabbing her pillow, she tucked it between her legs and thrust her pelvis against it; she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking of the guy in the chair who was jerking himself off as the edge of the pillow brushed roughly against her clit.  In less than a minute she felt overcome with an intense rapture that flooded through her, bringing her infatuation to its conclusion.

---------------------

I hope you enjoy it!  I'm busy preparing stories for inclusion in the next edition of Waterlines (number 15).  Watch this space for more news.

Keep smiling!
Best,
Chris

email: cpw (at) restroom (dot) net
Twitter: @RachelCray1

The Look-out

The Look-out was published on Amazon Kindle yesterday.  It’s one of two stories I’ve written recently which are centered round sex in the office - I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it

Here are the details:

Adults Only.  Warning: this story is for over-18s only and contains elements which some people may find offensive. If you aren't interested in golden showers or watersports, or aren't curious about the fetish, don't buy or read this book.

Pauline meets Jim at the annual company dance; after a little flirting they become horny and go to a derelict warehouse for some exploratory intimacy. Worried about getting caught by people wandering into the abandoned site, she asks Cosima - a co-worker - to come with them and stand as look-out while she has sex with Jim.  Cosima gets jealous and wants a slice of the action for herself, but Pauline is worried that she might steal Jim from her.  What hold does Cosima have on Jim?  And what happens when she starts to behave strangely, threatening to wreck the relationship between Pauline and Jim?  Is there any hope for their future together?  (10,000 words)

SAMPLE EXTRACT:

“Yes, I’ve heard about her job offer,” Andrew said when Pauline phoned him that evening.  “And I’ll be glad to have her off my back.”

“She hasn’t made up her mind to go yet.  When I asked her about it, she said that she wasn’t sure.  Apparently she’s met a guy and doesn’t want to leave him.”

“Well, this is news.  Then she won’t be pestering me again, whether she stays or goes.  This calls for a celebration, Pauline.”

“I thought for a minute that the guy she met might have been you.  She wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“No.  You can breathe easy there.  It’s not me.  And I would never lie to you, Pauline.  Can you hold on a minute?  I can hear the door bell.  It’s getting late, and I don’t know who’s calling at this time.  I’ll just check the security monitor….  What the hell?  It’s Cosima, standing on my doorstep.  Looks like she’s carrying a bottle of wine.  This is too much….”

“Has she ever done this before?” Pauline asked.

“She’s badgered me on the phone a few times, but I’ve usually hung up politely.  She’s never turned up on my doorstep before.  I’m not going to answer the door.”

“She knows you’re in there.”

“What do I tell her that’s going to make her go away?”

“Tell her you’re entertaining me.  I know it’s a lie.  But in a way you are entertaining me, over the phone.  Hang up, answer the door, and ring me straight back when she’s gone.”

Pauline put down her phone and waited for him to call.  After two minutes, she was still waiting.  Relax, she told herself.  Cosima’s just being difficult.  She switched on the television to watch the news broadcast.  After a while, she looked at her wristwatch; she reckoned that over five minutes had elapsed since she’d spoken to him.  She wanted to ring him back, to find out what had happened.  But, she reasoned, she would be no better than Cosima, who had pestered him so many times on the phone; he might think she, too, was being demanding or controlling.  She decided to go to bed.

As soon as she’d switched out the bedroom light and tried to get to sleep, she felt more awake than ever.  She couldn’t spend the night with this uncertainty racing through her mind; she got up, made herself another drink, and began to watch a late-night movie on television.  But the action couldn’t drag her mind away from Cosima, standing on Andrew’s doorstep with her bottle of wine.  After an hour - by which time she had to admit that she had yawned so many times and had lost interest in the movie - she decided to get back to bed.  And, within twenty minutes, she was sound asleep.

She had a dream.  She was back at the firm’s annual dance, and had stepped out with Andrew for a little intimacy; they returned to the deserted warehouse once more, where Cosima was waiting for them.

“I need to pee,” Cosima smiled.  “Do you want to watch me, Andrew?  I know how much you like to watch.”

-------------------------

The other story - Caught in the Act! - will be published in the next day or two.  Details will be available just as soon as it’s ready.

All the best!

Chris

twitter: @RachelCray1

email: pcw@restroom.net

Now Available: The Poor Nuns in Revolt

Hello again!

My latest story, The Poor Nuns in Revolt - a sequel to A Poor Nun's Endowment - has just been published on Amazon Kindle.  It will be available on Smashwords in a few days' time, and on Apple, Barnes & Noble Nook, and Kobo in a couple of weeks from now.

Here are some details to whet your appetite:

After Mary and David have made themselves at home in the deserted house they came across in A Poor Nun's Endowment, Mary is visited by an old friend from the priory.  All is not well with the community, after the visit of the Great Pestilence (the Black Death); the evil Benedicta has seized control and is now Mother Prioress.  Mary agrees to return to the priory for a week to see if she can influence Benedicta into easing the poor nuns into a gentler Rule.  But she hasn't reckoned for the priest, who has some deviant sexual habits and attempts to blackmail Mary into performing sexual acts to gratify his cravings once he discovers the unique endowment in her anatomy.  What strange hold does he have on Benedicta?  What can Mary achieve to bring about a happier way of life for the good nuns?

And here's a SAMPLE EXTRACT:

“Are you coming with us to dinner, Philomena?” Sister Angela asked her as they filed out of the church.

“Soon, sister.  And please call me Mary now.  I love you all, but I am not a member of your community.”

“Are leaving us again so soon?”

“No.  I’m staying a little longer.  I have a few private things I need to do before I depart.”

The nuns interpreted ‘private things’ to mean spiritual matters and didn’t care to invade her privacy. 

She was just about to enter the refectory when she felt a hand on her shoulder.  Turning round, she saw it was Clare; she looked solemn.

“There’s talk of your going away,” she said.  “I couldn’t bear it.  Not now.  We were so happy when you came back to us.” Clare led her a few steps past the refectory door so they could have privacy.

“I promised you I’d stay a week, dear Sister Clare.  I have my own man waiting for me at home, and a lot of tasks to be done on our land.”

“I know.  But, before we go to dinner, may I hold you?  May I hold your cock, just for a few moments?  It’s so comforting.  And you can put it inside me, if you like.  Just like you did last night.” There’s a dark recess along the cloister where we won’t be seen.”

“Not now.  It’s too risky.”

“When, then?”

Mary remembered that, now that the priest had gone, his bed in the vestry would be available.  “We can go in the church vestry tonight.”

“But the last time I came to see you, when the others had left, that old priest came and threw me out.”

“Don’t worry.  He won’t be there.”

“After Compline prayers?”

“Yes.  But not for too long.”

They went to the refectory for dinner and, afterwards, there was a short period of quiet time set aside for reflection.  Mary had decided that this would be an appropriate moment for her to call on Mother Prioress to tell her of the priest’s departure. 

But Clare detained her.  “Dear Mary, I couldn’t stop thinking about… about tonight.  I’m bursting now, and don’t think I could wait until tonight.  Couldn’t we go to the vestry now and… do what we were going to do after Compline?”

She had a soft spot for Sister Clare.  It wouldn’t do any harm, she supposed.  And then she’d go and see Benedicta about the priest.  They walked across to the church and entered the side door into the vestry.  Once inside, Clare lay down on the straw bed that they had used last night, and pulled up her habit ready for Mary to take her.

-----------------

The first in this series,  A Poor Nun's Endowment, was very popular and if you enjoyed that story, I hope you'll enjoy this one too.  And, in the Epilogue, I've inserted a hint of two more stories still to come.  At the end of the book I've inserted the opening sections of other works with this theme - Dickgirl in the Dungeon and Dating a Dickgirl.

Until next time,

Best wishes,

Chris

cpw (at) restroom (dot) net

A Poor Nun's Endowment - Author's Notes

Hello everyone!

My latest title is published today - A Poor Nun's Endowment. I've described it as an Erotic Dickgirl Fantasy but it has a medieval historical flavour. This is the third story in the dickgirl/futa/futinari theme and, unless I'm persuaded to write something else in this vein, it'll be the last. I have other stories - in other fetishes - that are lined up to be told!

Here's the storyline:

Mary is a country girl with a tomboy streak. When she reaches adulthood, and finds herself excluded from the company of the boys with whom she grew up, she rebels and her father consigns her to a convent. On the journey there, she is approached by an old crone and granted one wish; on an impulse, she makes a strange choice: she wants a penis, so she can be accepted in the young men's group. But fate consigns her to the priory, where Mary unwittingly falls under the spell of the evil Sister Benedicta, mistress of the novices; when Benedicta discovers Mary's anatomical transformation, she makes her her own private sex-pet and Mary finds herself installed as a hermitess, confined to a private cell... where only Benedicta can come and use her to fulfil her own sexual desires any time she wishes. Is there no escape?
A chance visit by a face from her lost past - and the simultaneous arrival of the Great Pestilence (The Black Death) - offer her the opportunity she needs. Will she grasp the moment with both hands? And what then, when the known world is turned upside down?

SAMPLE EXTRACT:

Mary sat on the end of her bed and allowed her tears to run freely. She heard a noise outside her door and realised the bar that confined her here was being raised; she assumed it was Sister Benedicta again and decided not to move; she would have to see the miserable state to which she had subjected her.
It wasn’t Benedicta. It was Clare and three other young nuns. “Dear Philomena, what has happened to you? Why are you so unhappy?”
She would tell them, she decided. To hell with the consequences. She tried to dry her eyes.
They sat on her bed next to her. “Come. You can tell us. We are your friends.”
“Close the door, and I’ll tell you. But this must remain private. Between the four of us here today.”
“All right,” Clare said.
“I have a secret. A terrible secret. Only Sister Benedicta knows of this, and she has been... taking advantage of it.”
“A secret?”
Mary stood up and turned to face them. She felt she was crossing a bridge; there could be no turning back now. What she showed them could not be forgotten. “Since I have arrived here, my body has changed. I am still a woman, just like all of you, but now I have... this....”
She pulled up the front of her habit; they gasped.
Clare was the first to speak. “I knew of a boy who had a fine voice and, before it broke, the monks had him castrated so that he would not lose the beautiful sound he created. Are you not really a boy like him?”
“When I first came here, most of you will have seen me naked when I was being prepared. The senior sisters would be sure to have noticed this when they undressed me.” She let the hem of her robe fall and she returned to her seat on the bed beside them.
“So how has Sister Benedicta been taking advantage of you?”
“How do you think?”
They gasped again. “Surely... surely not... that?”

-----------

Whilst writing, I have to tell you that I have a number of other projects planned for this site - it's all in my head, and the only problem is finding time to write everything down!

Until next time,

Best,

Chris

Dickgirl in the Dungeon - Medieval erotic fiction

Hello again!

I have just had my latest title back from the editor, approved for publication, and it's available now on Amazon Kindle.  The Smashwords edition comes out tomorrow.  Called Dickgirl in the Dungeon, it's a 21,000-word medieval prequel to Dating a Dickgirl.  If you've read Dating a Dickgirl, you'll know that Ashley refers to a legend about an ancestor of hers... and this is the story that led to the legend.  I have to tell you that I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it too.

Here's some general information:

England in the 1470s – a medieval prequel to "Dating a Dickgirl".  After young Lady Rosamund's two brothers die unexpectedly, the survival of the dynasty - and the ownership of the castle and estate - is put at risk. In order to perpetuate the family line, she is at the mercy of her uncle, the manipulative Abbot of Blackminster, who suggests a plan to hoodwink everyone into accepting Rosamund as Richard, her dead brother. She is forced to wear an artificial manhood under her codpiece, and marry an unsuspecting girl. The abbot makes careful arrangements to get her pregnant so that everyone thinks 'Richard' is the father.

Rosamund - thinking her family duty as 'Richard' is done, now that the next generation is secure - longs to live as a young woman again.  But it's not so simple. There's a civil war, and she's captured and held to ransom. Life is hell in her darkened cell: her keepers demand sexual gratification and when a wealthy French lesbian visits her, new possibilities open...

Can she ever return to a normal life again after this crazy turmoil?

EXTRACT:

Alison followed her new husband into the bedchamber; he climbed on to his side of the bed first, watching her servants undress her – as custom demanded for the first night – and present her nakedness to him.  He had taken off all his clothes, except his hose, and she noticed his proud erection poking forth from under his codpiece.  I may not have a pleasing countenance, she thought, but he is already excited by my body. 
She thought it strange when he appeared embarrassed that she had noticed; he covered the bedsheet over himself and fumbled underneath while he removed his hose.  Perhaps it is unseemly for him to reveal himself in front of my women, she considered.
When she climbed into bed beside him, under the sheet, he bid the women depart.  The door closed behind them and now he and she remained together in bed in darkness.
“I hope I might be able to offer you some pleasure, my dear wife,” he began.  “But, if I cannot at first, please be patient with me.  I have no experience in these matters.”
She had heard that Richard had been sickly for much of his life; the fact that they were both virgins gave her some comfort that they could take time to explore each other’s bodies together.  She kissed his cheek.  “We have a lifetime together, husband.  There is time enough for us to do everything necessary in the world.”
“I shall take you tonight, as is fitting.  But, after I have had you, I may retire to another bed; I do not sleep well in company.”
She was bewildered.  “Are we not to spend the whole night together?”
“No.  That may never be.  But I shall try my best to give you as many children as we need.  And, in case you are wondering, I keep no mistress... or any other lover.  I need to sleep alone every night.  That is the way I am.”
“Very well.”  She reached across and placed her hand on his shoulder to reassure him; it ventured down slowly over his chest and stomach. 
But, when her hand came within inches of his crotch, to touch his manhood, he gripped her wrist tight.  “Do not touch me there,” he snarled.  “Never touch me there.”
For the first time in many years, she felt terrified.
He must have detected her panic.  “Don’t be scared of me, wife.  We must have some rules.  I shall copulate with you nearly every night, except when it is not convenient to you.  But, afterwards, I shall withdraw from your bed and sleep elsewhere.  And you are never, ever, to touch me down there.”

There could be more Dickgirl stories on the horizon if the demand is there! 

Thank you all so much for your continued interest, support and suggestions.

Chris

"Just for Tonight"

Hello again everyone!

My latest, Just For Tonight, has just been published online.  After my most recent title (Dating a Dickgirl) overran its planned length, I had intended to keep this story to 10,000 words; I seem to have a problem when pulling in loquacious characters to act out a story; they just don't know when to be quiet and so the dialogue - and the story - run far longer than planned.  I carefully interviewed all the characters in this title before writing it, just to make sure they weren't going to talk on and on past the "The End" announcement on the final page.

The result?  I stopped almost 2,000 words short of my goal, at 8,100 words.  They'd already said everything they wanted, and there wasn't really anything else to write past that point.  But there might be a sequel, if my readers warm to these characters...

Here's the sales pitch:

Mike and Andrea each have rooms in a house; they are suddenly required to vacate their home during a police investigation.  Their landlady allocates them rooms in another house but, through a communications failure, they have to stay the night together in a garden shed.  During the night, they witness strangers performing lewd and fetish acts together on the lawn outside, which awakens their own passion for sex. But in the early hours of the morning, the police arrive and they find themselves thrown into separate prison cells. What have they done to deserve this? Will these two still be attracted to each other when everything has been resolved?

And here's an extract to whet your appetite - taken from midway through the story:

   “I don’t think I’ve ever got myself that drunk,” Andrea said.
   “Really?  And you’re a student?  Then you don’t mix in some of the student circles I’ve seen in town on a Saturday night.”
   “My parents gave me a strict upbringing.”
   “But you’re off the leash now.  There’s nobody here to report back to them.”
   “There is.  Becky, the other girl who lives in the house, is a close friend of my family and we take care of each other.  If she stepped out of line, I’d be expected to let her father know about it.”
   “But Becky’s not here tonight.  You can unwind.  I won’t say anything.”
   “Meaning?”
   “Meaning you can do as you please.  And I don’t have any alcohol or drugs hidden here, so there’s no stimulant or anything else that can lead you astray.  If there’s anything you’ve never done that you’ve wanted to do, you’ve got until Becky returns.  Just let yourself go.”
   We heard two loud voices, and looked out of the window.  We saw a man and a woman, probably in their thirties, and they were pretty obviously drunk... or they’d been taking drugs.  They were laughing - almost hysterically - and pulling at their jeans.  It soon became evident that they were going to take them off.  They seemed unconcerned; it was getting dark now anyway and, when they were half naked, we couldn’t discern exactly what they were doing.
   I noticed Andrea’s face was glued to the window.
   “Curious?” I asked.  “The torch is flickering - the batteries are failing.  There’s nothing else to do, so I’m taking an early night.”  I sat in the chair and covered myself in an old coat I’d found.  I closed my eyes.
   “It’s not a bad idea.  It’s nearly ten anyway.”  I heard her take off her clothes and climb into the sleeping bag.  She zipped it up, shutting me out from any perceived temptation.
   After five minutes of silence in the shed, I began to feel warm so I removed most of my clothes.  By the time I’d finished, I was down to my underpants, but I made sure that Andrea hadn’t noticed. 
   I returned to the chair seat, trying to get to sleep, trying to ignore the noise of the party-goers outside.
   Andrea was silent; I assumed she’d managed to doze.  After tossing and turning a couple of times, I must have got to sleep too because I remember waking up abruptly.  A light had been switched on, bathing the interior of the shed in a golden glow.  I opened my eyes; a mass of light was pouring through the window.  I got up to look, but found Andrea looking out already.
   “Look, Mike!" she called.  "They’ve turned on the lights round the lawn.  I won’t get back to sleep now.  And I’ve got a tutorial in the morning.  I have to be alert for that.”
   Ground lights had been placed round the border of the lawn, introducing a theatrical appearance to the activities of the guests who were now frolicking together - all naked - in some kind of drunken stupour. 
------------

I do hope you enjoy this story.  Another offering is scheduled early next month.

Best wishes
Chris

Dating a Dickgirl - a novella for Futa fans

My Muse visited me around 3 a.m. one morning, while I was trying to get back to sleep, and suggested a new short story to me.  I'd finished Illusions, and was selling quite well, and Muse gave me the outline of a new tale I could write about a woman who'd actually had a modification to her sexual apparatus.  So, when I had time to spare, I began writing Dating a Dickgirl.

Here's the blurb - with an extract:

Leslie meet Ashley during a speed-dating event, and he's immediately attracted to her.  During their first date, his hand brushes against her crotch accidentally, and he wonders if she really is what she seems; as he gets to know her, it's apparent that she has secrets and he begins to lose interest in her... although he'd like to know exactly what she's hiding, and why.  Then he lands a date with Katie, a widow he met while speed-dating, and - after a shaky start - she presents him with a kinky range of sexual delights.  But when Ashley finally unveils her secret to Leslie - literally - his libido goes wild.  She has immense wealth and makes him an extraordinary offer, but would it guarantee him happiness forever?  There's only room in his life for one girl; which one is the right one for him?

EXTRACT:

          “Have you used sex toys, Leslie?”
          “What do you mean, Katie?  Handcuffs and other BDSM stuff?”
          “No.  I bought a vibrator to use to finish off if he couldn’t do it for me, but - in the end - I used it on myself while he was out.  And I even bought one of those strap-on dildo things.  I’d heard some men enjoy anal sex - if you can reach up to their prostate, you can get them to come that way, without the need for a hand-job.”
          “But were they designed to go up a man’s anus?”  I asked.  “I’m sure the ones I’ve seen would be too thick to go up mine.”
          “We could try later, if you wanted.”  Her eyes lit up.
          “Some other time, perhaps.  Let’s be conventional, just tonight, and see what happens.”
          “As you wish.  But you admitted you were an adventurous sort of person.”
          “I never used toys.  No: I had a fetish and my last girlfriend wasn’t keen.”
          She looked at me expectantly.  When I didn’t enlarge on my last comment, she became impatient.  “Well?  Come on, Leslie.  I’m waiting.  What is this secret fetish you have?”
          “Golden showers, or watersports.  I enjoy watching women pee, or feeling them pee against my genitals.”
          “Oh, is that all?  I thought it was going to be something really wild and kinky.”
          “Well, she thought it was kinky.  And that I was a pervert for entertaining such thoughts.”
          “Leslie, you’re not a pervert.  Trust me.  I’d be happy to water your dick and balls for you, if it was going to turn you on.”
....
          Within the next fifteen minutes, we were on her sofa; I sat at one end, and she sprawled herself across its length with her head resting in my lap.  She looked up at me and smiled.  “I know that spending the afternoon watching that movie doesn’t come anywhere near the wonderful Saturday afternoon you gave me last week, but I have to tell you that I feel like I’m in heaven with you right now.”
          I caressed her hair.  We were both relaxing, listening to some soft romantic music.
          Without warning, she rolled over and, looking down at my fly, quickly unzipped it and fished out my prized possession.  “He's my special friend,” she announced.  Then her head sank down, taking my penis between her lips.
          My hand found its way up her skirt; when I realised she was wearing stockings, I felt my dick growing quickly.  My fingers traced onward until they found her anal crevice, and worked their way forward to touch the wet entrance to her vagina.
          She drew her head away from my lap and looked up at me.  “Shall we go to bed?”
          “I’m ready when you are.”
          “I need to pee first.  Shall we stop in the bathroom on the way?”

----------------

I started out with the aim of containing the whole narrative in a space of around 10,000 words, which follows my recent pattern of writing.  But other forces intervened.  A secondary character insisted on having a greater role in the story and, by the time I'd finished, the whole story came to nearly 30,000 words - a novella, rather than a short story.  And, from this, the idea for a prequel emerged - set six hundred years earlier, round an ancestor of one of the primary characters in Dating a Dickgirl; provisionally entitled Dickgirl in a Dungeon, this will follow just as soon as I've finished my new project, a contemporary short story.

I do hope you enjoy reading Dating a Dickgirl!

Best

Chrissie

Latest title: Deflowered

(Note added, October 15: Amazon took exception to some aspects of this book and it has been retitled His First Time.  However, every word in the book is the same... only the title and the front cover have had to be changed.  And, at the time of writing, you can still get the original version from Smashwords, Barnes & Noble and Apple).

My latest title, Deflowered, has just been published on Amazon.  It should also be available through Smashwords, Barnes & Noble and Apple very soon.  It’s a reasonably short story - over 12,000 words; I did try to keep it to a standard ten thousand, but the characters wouldn’t stop talking towards the end, and I couldn’t get everything resolved within the usual timeframe.  I just kept writing until the characters reached their happy ending.
 

Here’s the blurb:

Daniel is 19 but looks a handsome 23.  He secures a job in an office where he’s the only guy; his co-workers are prickly to start with but, when a couple of them find out he's a virgin, he's led into a world of sexual release through the discovery of a fetish which excites his desire.  But is it enough to tempt him to stay with that crowd, who can get up to some crazy mischief?  Or is there another girl, waiting for him, with whom he might reach new heights? 

EXTRACT:

When they arrived at the pub, they found an empty table, long enough to accommodate them all.  Judith appointed herself as the waitress and started taking orders.  A kitty was agreed, and each member of the group contributed their share into a growing pile of cash on the table.

“Do you need a hand with the drinks?” he asked her.

“No, she doesn’t,” said one girl; when he turned to identify her, he realised it was Sandra, the same girl who had tripped into his arms the evening before.  “Come and sit next to me, Daniel.”

He shrugged and obeyed.  The girls were pairing themselves off, starting to talk to their neighbour round the table.

“I’m sorry about the misunderstanding yesterday,” Sandra began.  “I get the impression that you thought I was taking the piss.  I wasn’t.  I’ve got a little girlie crush on you, and I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

He thought quickly.  “Maybe.  I’m not sure...”

“Would this help you make up your mind?”  She quickly grabbed his wrist and thrust his hand up her skirt. 

His instinct was to draw away from her sharply, but it was too late.  He felt the warm pantyhose covering her crotch and was overcome with a desire to have some kind of sex with her.

“Keep it up there for as long as you like,” she whispered to him.  “And this afternoon, if you fancy it, we could go down the basement for some fun together.”

----------------

Now for some other news.  One of my recent titles, Illusions, has met with some success from an unexpected readership - fans of Futanari (or ‘Dickgirl’) fiction.  I decided I’d follow this through with an experiment, writing another story based more solidly in the Futanari/Dickgirl sub-genre.  I decided it would probably be around 10,000 words long - like so many of the other titles I’ve created - but I’m already at the four thousand word point and, from the way I’ve set the pace, the story looks like it’s going to be nearer 20,000 or even 30,000 words in length.  But don’t worry - length of my work doesn’t affect the price. 

The working title?  Dickgirl Dating.

I'm always pleased to hear from my readers - please write in!
The address is cpw@restroom.net

Until next time,

Chris

Illusions : a short story of an erotic dream and its aftermath

Hello again!

     My latest title, a 10,400 word piece, is a slight departure from the genre in which I have been writing recently - namely, watersports and golden showers.  Illusions still contains elements of this, but I wanted to experiment with futanari or futa (or, as some say, dickgirl).  Alan, the hero in this story, has an erotic dream where he is sleeping in a college and needs to take a leak in the men's room.  He is joined by a girl whom he met the previous day, and - in the dream - she has a fully-functioning penis.  And testicles too.  When he sees her standing next to him, using the urinal, his libido goes wild and... well, you'll have to read the story.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

     Here's the blurb:

     Alan and Fran meet at an evening class; when he gets home, he has an erotic dream about her which consumes him until he sees her the following week.  Was it all an impossible illusion?  She agrees to go on a date - but will he persuade her to help him re-enact any of his obsession?  When he takes her home, Fran hears some news which may impact on her lifestyle; Alan suggests a solution which may suit both of them, despite her initial misgivings; such a solution could lead to a relationship bringing passionate, unbridled sex, and enabling them to realise the fantasy he dreamed.

EXTRACT:

     “This is amazing,” she smiled.  “It’s such a small world.  First, you knew Jenny, and now you remember Pam.  I wonder how many other friends of mine you know.  I’ll have to write a list and get you to check against which ones have entered your life too.”
     “It might be quicker if I were to write you a list of all the girls I’ve ever been with, if you’ve got a small Post-It note.”
     “Oh, come on, Alan.  I’m sure you’d need a couple of big sheets of paper.”  In a moment of carelessness, perhaps, she parted her knees and allowed me a glimpse up her skirt.  Between her thighs, I saw her white panties and imagined the same camel toe, or pussy-cleavage, that I had noticed when we first met that day on the beach.  The memory brought me an instant erection; I couldn’t help myself.  I began to fidget.
     She noticed.  “Are you all right, there?” she asked.  Then she realised I was looking between her legs and immediately closed her knees tight together.  “Oh, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be a tease.  I don’t entertain men here very often, and I completely –”
     “Don’t worry about it,” I smiled shyly, putting my hand up to reassure her.  “It was very nice while the view lasted.”
     “I’ve made you go hard, haven’t I?”  She was embarrassed.  “Oh, Alan, I’m so sorry.”
     “There’s no need.  It’s made me look forward even more to our date tomorrow.  I’ll just have to make sure I fix your car first.”
     I finished my coffee and rose from my chair.
     “Thanks for the drink, Fran.  And I’ll see you at two tomorrow.”
     I left her apartment with a little more speed than I would have liked.  Perhaps I left her with the impression that I wanted to get home for a cold shower after seeing her accidental display.

-----

     Whilst writing, I can tell you that I have another short work on the drawing board.  I hope to have it out early in May.  I don't want go into too much detail about it here, but it does have some bearing on real life... it's based on an experience that was related to me by an old friend.  It happened a long time ago, and I've had to bring the background up-to-date; I just don't have time to undertake historical research these days.  Even if the story had been set 20 years ago, the critics would be sharpening their pencils, hoping to catch me out on some obscure detail.  That's why I like writing contemporary erotica.  
Finally, I'm always pleased to hear from my readers - you can reach me at
cpw@restroom.net

Best
CPW

Waterlines 14 is out!

Hello!

I am pleased to announce the publication of Waterlines 14.  Details below....

They say that confession is good for the soul.  I have something to confess to you - but I don't think it's going to do my soul any good.  But here goes...
As you know, I also write erotic romances under the name Rachel Cray.  I was half-way through my latest novella (a BDSM-style sequel to Snatched) and I got writer's block.  This doesn't happen too often but, when it arrives, I break off and write something else.  And I turn to the Waterlines series to write another short story for the next issue.  But this time, the muse brought me three stories, one after the other.

Touch Me, Take Me
Sequel to Watch Me, Hold Me, in Waterlines 12.
Jim and Tina are still together, but Jenny, her house-mate, tries to seduce him with tempting offers of a vacation and kinky sex.  She even hints at blackmail if he refuses.  Should he accept?  And how can he escape this situation without Tina knowing?
(6280 words)

An Athletics Meeting
Homeward-bound after working late,  Dave sees two girls behaving strangely in the road.  They attract his attention and lure him to their bedroom for some fun and games. Could this be the start of a long, wild three-way liaison?
(3000 words)

Watching... and Feeling...
Richard rents a room in a house with two other women; one is a bully but is his landlady's sister and teases him. When drunk, she makes demands on him. He doesn't want to lose his room. What should he do?
(4800 words)   

EXTRACT:

     I'd been working late at the office and stopped at a bar for a quick drink before going home.  I'd just missed a bus and knew that I’d have to wait half an hour for the next one; it was a warm night and I decided to start walking.  I'd done the journey on foot many times and found it took little more than 45 minutes.  I left the bar around nine o'clock.
     I hadn't been long on the road, going through a residential district; although it had seen better times it didn't have a reputation for serious criminal activity so I was happy to take the risk walking alone this time in the evening.  I heard some laughing and shouting a little way ahead; I noticed two young women, apparently enjoying themselves.  No doubt they'd had a little too much to drink and I judged them to be harmless. 
     I continued walking towards them.  There was hardly any traffic about, and occasionally they staggered into the middle of the road and ran back again.  As I got closer, they ceased shouting and their wild laughter reduced to giggling. 
     Then, in the dim streetlight, I saw what was happening.  They were both standing at the kerbside, holding up their skirts, their hands at their crotch, their knees bent and leaning back to pee.  I was surprised at the distance of their arc; it was forceful, reaching right out to the middle of the road.
     I stopped beside a parked car and watched, entranced at their performance.  I'd never seen a woman pee that far before, and here were two of them having some kind of competition.  It was almost an athletics meeting, I grinned to myself.  I became excited; I could feel my erection grow in my pants, and wished I'd been standing next to a large van so I could hide behind it and jerk myself off at this live show that I was so lucky to chance upon.
     They both seemed to be in their own little world; they were giggling to each other but I couldn't make out their conversation.  When it looked as if they'd finished, I continued walking towards them, thinking they'd probably ignore me now they'd had their fun.
     "Hey, mister!" one called to me.  "Did you see us pee?"
     Feeling a bit shy, I offered her a smile.
     "Well, did you?  You were close enough to see."
     "I was very impressed."
     "Do you need to go?  Can you beat my distance?"
     "I doubt it."
     "Oh, come on.  Get it out and let's see you try."

----------

     Having gotten that off my chest, I'd better head back to working on my romance novella (the provisional title is Taste For Revenge)

Back again soon,

Chris

Sisters at War - sequel to Sibling Rivals

I wrote Sibling Rivals in April last year (2012) shortly after the publication of Waterlines 3.  I wasn't quite sure how long it was going to be - once I had the characters in my mind, I let them take over.  Or rather, I let my muse hold them on a light rein.  I'd always thought that the story had more potential; I didn't want Gavin to march round to Valerie's house and tell her it was all over.  She's too nice a girl to be treated that way.

So I wrote Sisters at War slowly during December - I had to look back at my diary to check when the muse first delivered the germ of the story to me.  It's a lot longer than Sibling Rivals - it runs on to more than 11,500 words and I was beginning to wonder when it would come to a stop.  Dare I say... there's the possibility of a follow-on, but that's in the hands of my muse: now that Sophie's finished Tony, she'll be pestering Gavin again soon... she knows where he lives....

Anyway, here's the blurb:

After a brief fling with Sophie, Gavin had an affair with her sister Valerie.  Although he enjoyed the physical aspects of their relationship, the two girls were always at loggerheads with each other, and Gavin was tiring of the situation.  He wanted to finish with Val, but she persuaded him that they had a future together, and invited him to lunch at her home with Sophie and her new boyfriend.  However, the obnoxious, sex-hungry Sophie had designs for the afternoon - designs which backfired in a spectacular way.  How could Val - meek and placid but not without her own sexual charms which attracted Gavin - escape from her sister and still keep her man?  And how could Gavin get the message across to Sophie that she should get out of his life forever?

EXTRACT:

     I can’t remember how we got round to talking about it, but the subject of conversation drifted round towards group sex.
     “Have you ever had more than one woman in a bed?” Sophie asked Tony.
     He paused before replying.  Drink was beginning to affect them all.  Except me.  “No,” he answered.  “You know me.  One at a time is enough.  I couldn’t cope with more.”
     “I’m with Tony there,” I grinned.  “Ladies are so demanding, and I don’t like to disappoint them.  That’s why I wouldn’t try overreaching myself.”
     All eyes turned to Val.  “Don’t look at me,” she laughed.  “I’ve never got involved in that scene.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been there,” she added, looking at Sophie.
     “I’ve tried it once,” she admitted.  “And it was a bit like sex the first time: I felt a bit let down, but eager to give it a second chance.”
     “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” her sister asked.
     “A foursome, you mean?  Why not?  You’ve got Gavin, and I have Tony.  We’ve had enough drink to feel free with ourselves, haven’t we?  And I won’t fuck your man if you don’t fuck mine.  I’m sure you have room in your bed for all of us.”
     Soon Tony yawned.
     “Had a late night last night?” I asked.  “Sophie kept you busy?”
     “No.  I went to bed early.  And alone,” he replied.  “I feel so tired.  And I don’t know why.”
     I had my own suspicions.  I looked at Sophie; she cast a worried glance at Tony.
     “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s get the plates cleared away.  Then we can have some fun.  Tony and Gavin, you can get into the bedroom and start undressing.”
     Val and I caught each other’s eyes.  .... Tony and Sophie didn’t seem to notice us.
     “Do as she says, Gavin.  For me.  I’m feeling horny.  I’m not bothered about the other two being in there with us.”
     I went into the bedroom and began undressing.  Tony was in there already, half-undressed and sprawled across the bed.  “Still feeling tired?” I chuckled.
     There was no reply.
     I went up to him.  He was fast asleep, breathing softly
     ....
     The girls were laughing in the kitchen; the noise of the dishwasher reached my ears, and then Sophie came into the bedroom and stared at Tony lying on the bed.
     “Relax.  It’s not a corpse,” I joked.  “He seems to have fallen asleep.  He’s out cold.”
     Sophie thought for a moment, and then beamed.  “Just what I’ve always wanted!  A comatose guy entirely at my mercy!  I want to see if I can jerk him off!”

------------

I hope you enjoy it.

Whilst I'm writing here, I must tell you that I noticed yesterday that Apple don't seem to list three of my titles on my sales page.  I believe they may be unhappy about the cover on the first Waterlines, but I can change that, although I don't know if there's a problem with the others which aren't offered for sale on Apple (Waterlines 6 and 9).  More news here when I get the answers.

Best,
Chris

Waterlines 13 won't be published. Here's why....

Hello!

The latest edition of Waterlines has just been finished and will be ready for sale in the next day or so.  I'm superstitious, so it's not going to be called Waterlines 13.  I've called it Waterlines 12A. The next one will be called Waterlines 14 - I won't break the numerical sequence again unless I write a longer, single story (like Sibling Rivals and Business Incentives).

Here's the blurb for Waterlines 12A:

Homecoming
Larry is a soldier returning from operations. After six months he's eager to see his girlfriend, but he's horny as hell and hasn't even seen a woman in six months.  Temptations are placed in his way on the journey home - can he keep his self-control, or will he succumb to any of the enticements of any of the girls he meets?

The Coach Pot
Colin is at an auction and meets Leslie, an old flame from his days when working in Oxford.  She's bidding for an antique bourdaloue; what's it for?  When she shows him, he becomes sexually excited and they re-establish their "connection".  Although he's tempted, he doesn't want a full-on relationship with her.  How can he escape?

The Men's Room
Margaret is working overtime one weekend, alone with Ted in a building.  She's sexually attracted to him for a long time and, she discovers, he feels the same way about her.  But there's a job to be done.  How can they get their act together?  Thanks to the half-finished work of the plumbing contractors, an opportunity presents itself....

----------------------------

EXTRACT:

     “There’s some beer in the fridge.  Help yourself.  I’m going to change into one of my Regency outfits.”
     I went to the kitchen and cracked open a can of lager.  I heard her come out of her bedroom and throw something on an armchair.
     “You can try these on, if you like.  But take off your underpants before you wear them.  Then we’ll both be ‘in period’.”
     She’d returned to the bedroom by the time I got back to her living room.  She’d left me a pair of light grey breeches to put on.  I stripped off and tried to step into this apparel, but found them too constricting round my crotch.  “I’m sorry, Leslie, but they’re too tight.  I can’t wear them.”
     “They’re meant to be tight.  I’ll explain in a minute.  Try again.”
     I sat down and edged them up my thighs and over my hips.  When I finally stood up, I found my manhood bulged through the drop-front fly.  It was like being back at the auction, trying to suppress my erection under the catalogue.
     She emerged from her bedroom shortly, dressed beautifully in a white full-length plain gown that could easily have come from the props department of a film studio where a Jane Austen film had been produced.  Pride and Prejudice immediately sprang to mind.  Her large bust was somehow less noticeable now; she wore a high waistband, and perhaps she had taken off her bra.
     Leslie was one of life’s larger ladies but, wearing her Regency gown now, she looked truly beautiful.  She wore her hair up, too, and seemed quite a different person.
     “Wow,” I said.  “Just look at you.”
     “You like?” she asked, twirling round slowly.
     “Yes.  I’m amazed.”
     “Now I need a drink before I use my coaching pot.”
     I moved quickly to the kitchen.  “Hey, Colin.  Your butt looks good in those pantaloons.”
     “I thought they were breeches?”
     “No.  The tight-fitting fashionable ones like those were called pantaloons.”
     “I knew there was a reason you wanted me to wear them.”  I filled a glass and returned.
     “And look at your....”  She pointed down to my crotch.  “He’s struggling to get out of there, isn’t he?  Looking at the outline of your tight cock and balls is making me go wet and excited.”  Leslie drank her glass of water.
     “And now for your demonstration,” I prompted her.
     She turned and grabbed a coach pot from a shelf – I hadn’t noticed it there before – and held it up.  “Voilà la bourdaloue, Monsieur,” she announced.  It looked exactly like the items I’d seen at the auction and in the catalogue. 
     Next, Leslie raised her skirt to her waist and placed the pot between her open thighs, holding it low enough for me to watch her.

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Just in case you're wondering what a coach pot, or bourdaloue, looks like... here's one:

The Men's Room is a minor departure from my usual style in that it's written from a girl's point of view.  I started it in the usual fashion, from the guy's angle, but realised it would be more interesting from her viewpoint. 

I hope you get as much enjoyment out of reading this issue as I did when I wrote it.

All the best for 2013,
Chrissie