Work In Progress – Yoga

yoga01I’m beginning work on another quick little story about a niece who is turned through mind control into a personal servant of her evil mad scientist uncle…

The cotton material of her tank top was stretched thin over her firm young breasts. She was still in that awkward stage getting used to their weight as she ran through her yoga poses. She was beginning to feel warm and thought that it was from the lights in the studio her uncle had made down here in the basement of his house. They were bright she thought… as she continued stretching she felt flushed… she saw her reflection in the mirrored wall. It was the wall that separated this space from her uncle’s office which occupied the other half of the basement.

The space he had made for her had the mirrored wall and a dancer’s ballet bar running the length of another wall… there was thick padding on the floor which was perfect for her workouts… and an audio system with good quality speakers. Her uncle was an audiophile and the acoustics in this room were perfect. He even made a mix tape of Hindi music for her to listen to as she went through her routine.

But the lights were definitely making her hot. She could feel the sweat building.

Before she started into a headstand, she stripped off her tank top and tossed it to the corner. As she posed on her forearm with her feet pointed straight as an arrow to the ceiling, she could feel the weight of her breasts. They strained against her tight sports bra. Tight, contained, confined, she thought that this wasn’t right. A thought occurred to her that they really should be free, unrestrained, natural. That’s what a healthy workout should be, natural.

The thought occupied her mind. She rolled out of the headstand and sitting on the floor she released the clasp on her bra and tossed it on to the top she had just discarded. Her hands roamed over the newly freed breasts. A sensation rolled through her, soft, sensuous, rippling through her and gently ticking the pleasure center in her mind.

She watched her reflection as she continued caressing her breasts. Her breathing was heaver. Her nipples hardened as her fingers tweaked them. She watched herself. Yes, it must be the lights in here making it so hot she thought as her hands continues their teasing. Yes, it must be the lights indeed she sighed.



Erotic Proclivities 04


The library at school has always been my ‘go to’ place to get my serious writing and thinking done. There are small intimate sitting areas next to large sized windows that look out over the woods around the building. A very New England scene a full pallet of spring colors early in April. I was sitting there on a Friday afternoon working on a writing assignment when I noticed a cute blonde coed come over and sit in one if the overstuffed chairs. She was wearing a white UMass hoodie and a field hockey skirt with long white socks and track shoes. A gorgeous smile she kept flashing at me while I tried to concentrate on my assignment.

“It’s very colorful out there this year isn’t it,” she asked me, engaging in a bit of conversation.

“Yes, that’s why I enjoy coming here. I hope the plethora of color will Forster a plethora of words.”

“Only regular users of the library would use words like ‘plethora’. You must have been stuck here a long time huh?” She teased, twirling her hair with her finger.

“I occasionally venture out, foraging for food and whatnot”

“Whatnots?” She inquired raising an eyebrow.

“Of course. Necessary primitive needs. It explains this club and that man-cave” I teased back holding up my number 2 pencil and using it to point to an empty study room.

“I’ve always wanted to see a real man-cave”

“Then let’s check out my wall paintings”

As I finished closing the door to the study room she all but jumped into my arms and assaulted my mouth with her tongue. There was a fire in her eyes that I’ve only read about in cheap novels. The girl was out to devour me and I had gladly walked right into her ambush.

continue the story at

Erotic Proclivities 03

I wonder if she realized that it was her hat that caught my attention. It was the hat which she was wearing that sealed the deal for me. It was the summer of eighty two and I was working at a private beach and tennis club in the Hamptons. The club was open for members only on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, from May through September. During the week the facilities were available for the small staff of us who worked there. I had spent the morning this Wednesday on the main tennis court with our club’s teaching pro Frank. He helped keep up my tennis game volleying with him. That morning we had put in a couple of hours and were both ready for a good lunch break. He wanted to get a chance to rest, recover, and get a shower before clients of his started arriving for afternoon lessons. I was planning on spending time around the club house working on connecting our outdoor deck speakers.

The club house was a large octagon shaped structure with glass on six sides. On the south side, the walls were sliding glass doors which opened onto the large ocean-side deck. The north side of the club house the large floor to ceiling windows looked out over the bay. The large deck on the ocean side had a board walk heading down to the beach, and a corridor leading the spacious out building housing the men’s and women’s changing rooms and showers.

After lunch I was outside on the deck checking and adjusting speakers. I had put on some salsa on the stereo in the clubhouse and was working to make sure you could dance out on the deck. I noticed a large white hat, with a blue ribbon, and a lovely woman under it, walking up the boardwalk from the beach. The gate down by the road at the end of our drive had not alerted us that any members were around. The woman coming up the walk must be from one of the other beach clubs around us. This happened often because we were flanked on either side by large public beach clubs.

She was a summer’s vision of loveliness. She was lean and lanky with nicely tanned limbs. She wore sandals with a long, white, terry cloth wrap with which dark blue stripes, with a white bikini top, and topped it off with the wide brined white hat with a dark blue ribbon. As with most hats, there was something about how she wore it. A bit off to the side with the brim coming down to shield her face. It seemed as if she always wore hats. She carried a woven beach bag, and carried her casualness off with style.

“Can I help you miss,” I called from the ladder.

“Oh, sorry, I seem to be misplaced,” she said looking about.

“That’s quite normal around here, we have such a narrow beach front,” I said while getting down from the ladder and moving over to greet her. “People are often coming up from the ocean expecting to find Neptune’s beach club, or the Shawunk club.”

“Yes, the Shawunk club is where I’m from,” she said shaking my extended hand.

“That’s just a bit east of here, I’m Bill and you are at the Sand Dollar. It’s a private club.”

“Oh I hope I’m not trespassing or anything,” she said brushing her brown hair behind her ear.

“No,” I reassured her. “We are basically closed during the week. Our members utilize the facilities Fridays through Sundays. During the week we staff perform maintenance, but basically have the run of the place. How about a quick tour…?”

After showing her the outer bath building, we walking along the deck which overlooked the tennis courts. I waved to Frank, his afternoon lesson had arrived so he would be busy awhile. “So, do you salsa much?” I asked my new guest as I put my hand on the small of her back and led her to the club house.

The cassette in the stereo’s deck was on a continuous loop so the music was still playing through the speakers when we entered. I gave her the quick tour. The club house bar was a large semi-circle, with a large seating area of low modular sofas, and on the south side of the house was the wood dance floor with the doors leading back out to the deck.

I opened up the sliding doors leading to the deck to catch the breeze coming off the ocean.  My guest tossed her bag on one of the folding deck chairs, kicked off her sandals, and started walking across the dance floor. I met her halfway and as I took hold of her right hand I put my right hand on her hip and moved her easily into a turn step. She was very quick on her feet and moved very easily. We danced for a while. I was impressed with how fluid she moved. I spun her to her left then I took a step in towards her and came in right behind her. Holding her hips, I turned my face right, she turned hers left, and our lips met somewhere in the middle.

Gadget Notes 01

I’m noticing, at least as far as my current production goes, that the gadgets I use, make the job so much easier. Other than writing erotic fiction, I write technical and requirements documentation. I also maintain a journal, a personal narrative of ramblings really. I’ve been maintaining a journal more steadily now since the year two thousand. Prior to that my journal was a bit spotty, but some entries go back as far as my high school and college days back in the eighties. But, I digress.

About two years ago I bought a kindle. Not the expensive one either. I bought the seventy nine dollar on sale special because I know my history with gadgets. Some gadgets, like those personal information mangers back in the nineties, I hardly ever used. While the little mp3 players, I use all the time. Into which category this new addition to my gadget gallery would fall… only time would tell. Huh? What cliché? Where?

I must say that I haven’t read so many books in such a short time, well, since I was in school. On the kindle I’ve re-read many of Hemmingway’s short stories and novels, a dozen or so Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe series, and couple of Agatha Christie novels. I found that after reading five Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels, the movies were better (especially the ones with Sean Connery). When I read my friend Monica’s book “Winfield – Living in the Shadow of the Woolworths” I discovered that other writers can be as scary as Steven King. And having re-read Orwell’s “1984”, and Huxley’s “Brave New World”, I have determined that Huxley’s anti-utopian future is much more on the mark.

I have been convinced by many writers that I know, of one important piece of wisdom. You can improve your writing by improving your reading. My now ‘old’, kindle is one of the gadgets that I feel, really enables me to read much more. I’m hoping that blogging will similarly help me write much more. But that story still waits to be told.

Please share your thoughts…

Escaping the Household

What follows is a brief opening to a story I’m working on… a little something on the slab so to speak. Its a story of two girls taken and indoctrinated in the ways of an affluent household.

As I’m still polishing the Caitlin story, lining up an editor and working through some snags in that story’s continuity issues this ‘maids’ story is still in the developmental stage.

Lets see what it looks like while its waiting in the wings…

any feedback is appreciated


Their hearts were pounding in their chests now. Adrenalin was surging through their legs. Their race started with them slowly backing out of the room. Then hustling down the stairs, rushing across the great hall, and then out through the large french doors which opened onto the terrace. Then, once on the edge of the garden, it was a race for life and limb!

Just a couple of days ago they were two bright eyed and bushy tailed young shoppers at a Victoria’s Secret sale. Now they were running to save what precious little was left of their minds. Terri and Ashley were not yet fully incorporated into the household and as such they still had a tiny piece of the old fight or flight self-preservation, but that would soon be overcome. The two fleeing maids were more like chickens running without their heads than actual people, with any objective or target in mind for their escape. ‘Escape’ as a concrete concept was probably beyond their understanding at this point in the process they were undergoing.

The long, lean, legs were slowing now. The aerial drone near the garden was activated and it dispersed a fine mist into the path of the fleeing maids. As they encounter the mild narcotic, the contact high helped to reconnect them to their programming, and back into household control.

Happy Halloween Caitlin – first chapter


Well, the first chapter of the Caitlin project has been posted to it should take a bout a week to go through the review / approve process. Because I submitted the ‘softer’ version I think there should be no problem with the submission. I made sure to put it in the correct category so prying little eyes should not be getting their hands on such… smut lol!

Its a love story of course… a love story between a woman, a pumpkin, and a dark stormy night. What could be more ‘natural’ around Halloween.

and yeah, I KNOW I’m a little late with this one… shoot me!


 Later, she was awakened from her sleep by another sudden chill. “Damn draft in this old house” she thought to herself when she slowly came to the awareness this was more than just a draft… she was cold, and could feel the air around her. She realized with startled concern that the warm covers of her bed were not there. She sat up, startled, noticing dark shadows moving along the floor.  Suddenly a strong gust of shadows forced her flat back against the bed.

As the shadows on the floor gathered they created the form of a powerfully built man. This man, made of black shadows, solidified and stood tall and commanding over her bed. Stricken with the sudden shock she took in the sight before her, the chiseled torso, the broad chest, strong shoulders, and powerful arms; and there perched on top of this solid shade specter were the glowing almond eyes pointed brow and sinister smile of the jack-o-lantern she had carved.

She lay there in her bed immobile under some unseen force, and the penetrating gaze of the Dullichan loomed over her. She felt a brush of cool air move over her, and as her nipples hardened she became aware of her nakedness. Through this awareness she felt another sensation rising within her. A subtle sense of anticipation. It grew inside her, welling up from some dark place in her mind. It rose in her as if being drawn to the surface by the Dullichan, now with his arm outstretched over her.

He leaned over her now, bringing his hand closer to hover over her. As Caitlin lay there exposed to the specter she could feel herself warming. The hand of solid shadow came down on her taut firm belly and she felt herself quiver in response. The touch went through her like a warm wave of pleasure. The firm hands moved up her torso and came to rest on her breasts.  Then she felt the heat again, energy going from those fingers right through her chest and straight to the pleasure center. A wave of warm desire rushed into her mind filling it with a hunger for more. As Caitlin drifted, awash in the triggering of her pleasure center, she felt the hands move from caressing her breasts down her belly, reaching her abdomen, and lingering over her pubic mound. More of the magical heat radiated through her from those fingers and then they found their prey.