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?”

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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