Saturday, August 19, 2017

Just Desserts - short story

Just Desserts

   It was after the fifth time I told my son to clean up his room and the clear indication that it wasn't going to happen that I set on the unenviable task of doing it myself. With only the sole protection of yellow rubber dish-washing gloves to keep me alive, I told my wife I was going in.
  “Better you than me,” she encouraged and pushed me in the general direction. As I entered the room, I wondered if there was ever a smell as dank as the teenage male. I also wondered if I had smelled this bad and what gas masks my parents used to deal with it.
After I had excavated several dirty dinner plates turned science experiments from the area, I came upon a small wadded up white sack, the kind you would get from a bakery. I blinked as I remembered a time long ago, toward the end of elementary school. It involved me, a girl and a brownie. A frozen brownie.


I guess it was while Tommy Whitzberger was playing his rendition of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” on the accordion that I found out DeeAnn Smith liked me. I had just gotten off the stage where I’d performed my magic act for the 6th grade talent show at our elementary school. Getting used to the dark of the auditorium, I finally found a seat in the audience.
Mrs. McIntyre, my homeroom teacher, was emcee. She came on stage, clapping and said, “That was ‘The Great Howard’ and his wonderful magic act. Good job, Howard.” She then began the task of building up the anticipation in the audience for accordion rock wizardry.
I happened to sit next to Misty Oppenheimer, the school blabbermouth and one of DeeAnn’s friends. I really wasn't part of the “in crowd”, so didn't trade much on the gossip circuit. So I was surprised when she whispered in my ear. She told me that DeeAnn told her that she thought I was kinda cute. She went on breathlessly that she wasn't supposed to tell anybody, especially me. This is, of course, the one thing you never tell Misty Oppenheimer, but I guess DeeAnn hadn’t learned that at the time.
When I heard this I felt dizzy. My face flushed and my vision blurred. After the talent show, I went to one of the school restrooms and looked in the mirror to check myself. I was just sure I had come down with something. A disease that flares up whenever someone tells you you’re cute and you immediately start to turn ugly. A few years later, I would learn there is such a disease.
It’s called puberty.
The thought of a girl being remotely attracted to me really didn’t occur to me at all. I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I was happy because as far I as knew, this was the first time anyone had expressed an interest in me. It also terrified me because I did not want to screw this up. And if my life up to that point was any indication, there was a very good chance of that happening. I really don’t think the words ‘paralyzed with fear’ would be too far from what I was feeling. After all, I had been on this planet for almost 12 years now and this was my first. Who knows when the next one was going to come around.
When DeeAnn stopped by my house after school to again tell me how much she really enjoyed the magic show, the gray brain cells that processed this sort of thing came alive for the first time and wondered what the hell was going on. Immediately, they clumsily lurched into action. The first thought was realizing that sometimes DeeAnn came by my house on her way home from school. Then, these limp barely-used ganglia and neurons thought it would be a good idea to get her something. I went to the corner market. Flowers were too expensive on my lunch money budget and cards were too schmaltzy for my preteen idea of romance. A small fifteen-watt light bulb went off above my head when I thought of the bakery. I scanned the displays and settled on a brownie. To make it extra special, I had her name written on it with pink frosting. I have no idea why I thought this was significant. Like she was going to look at the brownie I gave her and wonder, “But is this for me? I don’t know, it doesn’t have my name on it.”
All things considered, I was a thoughtful, sweet, awkward, stuttering, sweating bucket of quivering nerves. What could possibly go wrong?
Since she passed by my house infrequently, I put the brownie in the freezer, so that it wouldn’t go bad. Weeks went by as my after-school-vigil-of-looking-for-DeeAnn droned on. I was getting tired, my eyes were getting sore and my brownie was getting frostbite. Then one day, there she was.
I ran to the fridge, grabbed the brownie, sped to the front door and yelled, “DeeAnn!” She stopped, turned around and smiled. And then everything moved in slow motion.
I wondered if she still liked me. I wondered if this had all been a joke. I wondered if perhaps she was allergic to brownies. I wondered if she was on a diet and if she was going to be offended and how dare I get her a dessert. All these fearful ‘what-if’ scenarios went through my head, and I panicked.
And in that panicked moment of brain vapor lock, I hurled a dense completely frozen brownie at the only girl who had, up to that time, expressed an interest in me and slammed the door.
Because, that makes sense.
I put my head in my hands. How could I be so stupid? What did I just do? She is probably not enjoying her brownie and basking in the knowledge of what a fine and sweet young man I am. She’s probably suffering a concussion, laying unconscious on my lawn, bleeding out as her friend screams with horror about the maniac who just beaned her schoolmate with a frozen dessert.
All of this was interrupted by a knock on the door. Was it DeeAnn? Was it her friend? Was it the police? I slowly opened the door.
It was DeeAnn.
I inexplicably feigned surprise (“Ohh, DeeAnn. What are you doing here?”). DeeAnn wanted to thank me for the gift as she ate (okay, sucked on) her frozen brownie. I said, no problem.
And that was it. That’s as far as it went. The next year was junior high, which had its own share of drama, hellish  anxiety concerning the other gender and fleeting moments of fun. And DeeAnn? She went the way of every other girl who’s had refrigerated rock-hard confections thrown at them.
And then Tommy Whitzberger. How was I to know she had a thing for accordion players?

Saturday, April 22, 2017

The Ballad of Keith and Judith Anderson

   In the Fall of 2014, I had about three short stories I'd written and I texted a published author and good friend of mine if there was a market for BDSM Erotica Short Stories. One thing led to another and I ended up self publishing "Pretty When You Cry", a collection of those short stories with a few others, under the pen name "Keith Anderson" in February 2015. I chose "Keith" because I had been called that half the time whenever anyone couldn't remember my name and Anderson, was the last name of a childhood friend, one of my favorite musicians (Laurie Anderson) and was fairly common like "Smith" which was the last name of the pen name of my friend, the published author.
   Shortly after publishing, my author friend said, put together a blurb, your buy links and the front cover image and post it to few book groups on FB.  Keep that up for awhile, then put a pin a twenty to its lapel, wish it luck as you send it off into the world and start work on your next book. Which I did, more or less. "Pretty When You Cry" by Keith Anderson got some attention and made some good sales and I got an offer from someone to be my PA and assemble a street team, which I took them up on. And that helped sales even more. And also attracted the attention of Blushing Books, which has been publishing spanking and BDSM fiction since the 90's on the Interwebs.
   Ever since FSOG, they had been inundated by submissions by people and they were abysmal. Seeing as how I was in the lifestyle, they were interested if I were writing a novel. I was and when I was done I send it to them in the fall of 2015. Lo and behold, they wanted to publish it. But there was a problem.
  They always had issues with romances and their readership if it was under a male pen name. The sales were always flat and were never received well. So, it would be a condition in my contract, that I would publish my novel (original title - "Kinky in Flatland", since renamed "Nadja's Choice") under a feminine pen name. For me, this was a simple business decision. I wrote under one fake name, I'll just write under another fake name, big deal. And so, "Nadja's Choice" was published under the pen name "Judith Anderson" in the beginning of 2016.
   And I'm certainly not the first to be asked this. Harold Lowry wrote romance novels involving country girls and rugged cowboys under the pen name Leigh Greenwood for over twenty five years. Thomas Elmer Huff was a best selling author of twenty three gothic romance novels under the names Edwina Marlow, Beatrice Parker, Katherine St. Clair and Jennifer Wilde. Bill Spence is a grandfather, father of four and WW II vet who published twenty two romance novels as Jessica Blair. Publishers asked him that he assume a female name in order to better the reception of his novels, which Bill didn't mind at all.
   I'm a slow writer and I wanted to build a list of credits, not split up my books between two names, so I re-published "Pretty When You Cry" under "Judith Anderson". I've since published two novels "Nadja's Choice" and "Smart As A Whip" with Blushing Books and a short story "Tongue in Geek" in "The First Annual Geeky Kink Anthology" with Riverdale Avenue Books under the pen name "Judith Anderson". "They Say Its Your Birthday" was published in "Confessions of a Spanking Author" by Blushing Books under "Keith Anderson".
   Now hopefully, I hope things are clear as mud. There are quite a number of people among the book groups here on FB who knew me as "Keith Anderson" and some who know me only as "Judith Anderson". I realize there was some confusion, so hopefully, this clears the air. Or not.

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Book Spotlight : Jake's Redemption by Jean Kelso

Having grown up in a small town as the youngest of four girls, Jean Kelso learned a lot about life. And one of her dreams was to write. In school, she excelled in short stories and silly poems that her teachers loved and she also came to realize that she loved helping people.

She went to college, became a nurse and met her dream man. They soon married and had kids. Her full-time nursing career pushed her writing to the side, but then fate intervened. Jean was diagnosed with cancer. While being laid up in treatment, her passion for writing returned and in 2014 self-published her first novel.

Thankfully now in remission, she continues to write novels and delight her readers with well-written stories full of romance and engaging characters.

In the spotlight today, is her newest release, "Jake's Redemption". At the age of twenty-eight Jake had seen and done it all, enjoyed a few of the perks, but mostly regretted every experience. He became a man he had sworn he would never become–an enforcer, just like his father. His father had pulled all the strings, and had all the control.

Sex, drugs, and fighting. Stealing, lying and cheating. That wasn’t the life he wanted. He wanted better. Then, betrayal from family turns his life upside down and the only source of scenery he has for the next seven years is from behind bars.

Now on parole, Jake Green wants to start over. New. Fresh. He wants to learn from his mistakes and fix his broken past, especially with his family. He will do anything to have it all.

Until he sees Devon–the one woman who sees Jake, the real man inside.

With Jake’s screwed up past, and a family so torn apart, can he and Devon work through everything together? Is Devon the angel he seeks, who can give him the redemption he craves and deserves?


I’ve had seven years of thinking about my life, about the mistakes I’ve made. I have tattoos and scars to prove the errors of my ways. The only thinking I need to do now is to figure out how to make up for those wrongs. To make right to all those who deserve the best. The top of the list I suppose should be me. I need to do what is right for myself. To fix what was done wrong to me. I need to salvage my identity and make it, to make me who I really want to be. And that isn’t who I used to be. Too many years I did wrong. I can’t do wrong anymore. ~ Jake

Buy Jake's Redemption at these following stores!

Amazon US –

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Free Story from "Pretty When You Cry" Paperback now on sale for only $9.99!

   Here it is!  The free story I promised from the Revised and Expanded Edition of "Pretty When You Cry"! The original edition which only had 7 stories in it was a finalist for Best Book of the Year (2016) by the BDSM Writers Con.

   The new Revised and Expanded edition has TEN stories, plus prefaces that explain background details about every story that's included!  AND the paperback edition of this release is now on SALE for ONLY $9.99! And if you want your paperback signed, it'll be as easy as sending it to me and then I will sign, send it back to you at no additional cost!

Buy your copy now HERE (US) or HERE (UK) !

And now for the FREE story from this release!



I wrote this back in 2007 and it was my first piece of erotica. I was in between relationships and had started working as a desktop tech at an aviation plant. There was a workfloor where they did maintenance on aircraft engines, but also professional business floors where there was nothing but rows and rows of cubicles. My mind started wandering one slow day and this story came about. It was also posted up on my FL account back in 2009.”

After a few key slips and a computer crash, I finally got the spreadsheet for the Simpson account finished and could proudly say I was midway through the pile of crap on my desk. I slumped in my chair. It was late and I was the only one left in the cube farm on the third floor. At this rate, I’d never get finished with all of it today, but I had told my supervisor I would finish these spreadsheets before I went home. Me and my big fucking mouth.
I prided myself on being a fairly good worker. I paid attention to details and I wasn’t some ‘Barbie’ who put white-out on her computer screen. But I wasn’t above being distracted once in a while and one such distraction was working his way through the cubes tonight.
To say that he had matinee movie star looks, a chiseled chin, wavy coal black hair, ocean-blue eyes, broad shoulders, a massive chest and everything else in proportion would be like a horrible cliche in some vapid porn story. Besides, he wasn’t. He was tall, but bald, like he shaved it. The ocean-blue eyes were there, but they were behind wire-frame glasses. He certainly wasn’t muscle-bound, but he was trim and knew how to carry himself, which to be honest, seemed to be half the battle with most men. He didn’t walk around like a human question mark but more like an exclamation point, with his shoulders back and chest out. No dazzling smile, but definitely a cute grin with dimples that made my toes curl. He didn’t come out of the gate, charging a girl with gallons of testosterone, but sidled up next to me and talked softly. His voice was deep, rich and smooth. And his dimples, did I mention his dimples?
I remember when we first met. The network jack panel in my cube cracked when I moved a file cabinet against it and it needed replacing. Casey came up from the facilities office to take a look.
“I'm gonna need to get under your desk to inspect the damage.”
“Oh, do I need to get out of your way?”
“Well, they usually do, something about me being under their desks with their knee hemline skirts makes them nervous for some reason.” Cue his dazzling smile.
“Ah, I see,” I nodded, “and what if I buck the trend?”
“Ooo, a rebel, I love it.”
I giggled. “Well, seeing as I'm surrounded by gossips, I guess I'll move. We don't need people talking.”
“Speak for yourself, I always love giving people something to talk about.”
“Well then, you are someone I need to keep an eye on.”
Moving to duck under my desk, he said “Please do.” Cue more dimples and me melting as he got on his hands and knees to look under my desk and I could glance at that lovely cute butt of his.
Ever since then, whenever he was on the floor doing something, he would come by and flash those dimples and we would chat. He was the maintenance-person-jack-of-all-trades-sort, and I had a feeling he was overqualified for his job. But he seemed to enjoy where he was in life and I never questioned him about it. The cubes here were right up next to each other, so flirting and not have everyone talking took a bit of finesse, but we both seemed to be up to the challenge.
He was getting close to my cube and I was about to say hey, when the phone rang. Crap! I turned on my headset to take the call.
“McIntyre?” From that one word, I could tell the voice on the other end belonged to Mr. Wesson, the head of my department.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do you know where the information on the staff meeting this morning is?”
“Yes, Mr. Wesson, I can email that to you right now.”
“Well, that’s fine, but I was wanting to know…”
“Sir, it's on its way now to you. I included the minutes, those in attendance and the plan for the next meeting.”
“Okay, thank you, McIntyre, I’ll look it over.”
I always prided myself with ending phone calls quickly. They can end up being a quagmire of wasted time and that takes me away from actually working, or at least doing what I want to do most, like talk to a certain someone.
I stood up and looked around, but he was gone. Crap, I thought to myself, exercised my ninja phone skills for nothing. I sat down, dejected and sighed.
I gave a jump and whirled around in my chair. He was standing behind me with that shit-eating grin on his face and those dimples.
“You about gave me a heart attack, Casey.”
He gave a quick smile and sat down on my desk. “I’m sorry hon, but it would’ve been okay, I am certified in CPR.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t stand for ‘Crappy Pickup Routine’, would it?”
Casey grabbed his chest in mock pain. “Oh! That hurt, baby. The thrill is gone, huh?”
I shook my head, giggling. “Hardly, it's just I’m still here and I don’t want to be. But I need to get this paperwork finished, so I’m stuck here. And if I keep getting phone calls like the one I just had, I’m never gonna get finished.”
“Well alright,” he said, as he grabbed the very ineffective stress ball off my desk and started tossing it in the air. “If that’s the case, then why don’t we play a game?”
“A game?”
“Yep, one I know you’ll enjoy.”
“Okay,” I said, pushing my keyboard drawer in and sitting back in my chair. “What are the rules, Mr. Hoyle?”
“Well, it starts with you sitting at your desk working with your spreadsheets--“
“Sounds incredibly boring.”
“And I’ll sit under your desk.”
I blinked.“Okay, sounds slightly less boring.”
“But I’m not doing anything.“
“Okay, now I’m back to being incredibly bored--“
“Until the phone rings, then I start making things interesting.”
“How interesting?”
“VERY interesting.”
“Well, okay, I just use my ever-reliable ninja phone skills, get off the phone and enjoy the--“
“Oh no no,” he interrupted, shaking his head, “when the phone calls ends, so do I.”
My jaw dropped. “Well, that’s just evil.”
“I know. That’s what makes it fun,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“I don’t know.” I started, but then he put down the stress ball, swung his legs over the desk and ducked underneath. I had to stifle a giggle at the absurd suddenness. I took a quick glance around to make sure we were the only ones there.
“Hey, I didn’t say I was going to do this,” I weakly protested, “besides just watch, with my luck I won’t get another call for the rest of the--”
And then the phone rang.
It rang again and again.
A muffled voice came from under the desk. “Umm, are you gonna get that?”
I took a deep breath and turned on my headset.
“Hello, McIntyre?”, said the voice on the other end.
Oh god, it was Mr. Wesson again.
At first, Casey's fingers slowly slid up from my ankles to my calves and then to my thighs, his hands spreading my legs, they were firm but gentle and slow. I didn’t feel like I was being manhandled and I could feel my skirt slowly inch up my thighs as my legs separated. I had to take a deep breath as I felt myself start to get wet from his gentle attention. His fingertips softly tickled around my inner thighs like feathers. I had to keep from squirming too much so it wouldn't affect my speaking tone.
“I just wanted to go over some of the figures in the second spreadsheet for the Amalgamated account,” Mr. Wesson said.
“Yes, sir.” I tried to concentrate on bringing up the appropriate files as his fingers traced back down my legs to my calves, gently massaging, tickling around my ankles. I thought this might not be too bad to maintain, but then he did it. He kissed me on the inside of my leg, just above the knee.
“Now it seems like the figures for the third quarter are a little wonky, I want to make sure the equations are set right.”
I could feel his mouth gently kissing my skin, his breath warming my thigh and his goatee tickling my skin as his lips slowly nibbled their way up my leg, which helplessly started to shiver. “Um yes sir, well, I did double check those macros.”
Casey’s fingers gently ran up my right leg, his fingertips tickling their way to my knee and then further past. It was very hard to keep from squirming. I couldn’t help scooting my butt down to the edge of my chair to give him easy access. I knew I was gonna pay for it and honestly, I really didn't care.
In addition to trying to keep an ear out for the phone conversation, I wondered which would reach my pussy first, his lips or his fingers. I about lost it when I felt him slide the damp cotton of my panties aside and realized it was going to be a tie. His tongue licked up my wet lips and took its time licking around my clit while his fingers teased around my wet folds and easily slid in. Two, I was guessing, very slowly making their way into me, deeper as his tongue settled on licking my clit from side to side. I arched in my chair slightly, bearing down on the sensations and pressing my pussy against his tongue. My free hand balled into a fist, trying to maintain composure on the phone.
“Well, okay, are we sure we’re calculating the correct interest rate?”
His fingers inside me started into a rhythm, sliding in and out of me, gently moving deeper inside as I fumbled around with my mouse, trying to focus my eyes on my monitor. “Yes, Mr. Wesson, we are,” I said, struggling to keep my breathing in check.
I lurched against my desk quickly and then settled back, my chest heaving when I felt Casey arch his fingers, twisting them gently as they went in and out, his knuckles rubbing against my g-spot. His tongue was going to town on my clit, alternating between licking it up and down, side to side or teasing around it. Every so often he would gently suckle it into his mouth, making me fight the need to pound my balled fist into the desk.
I startled myself a bit when I realized I was rocking in my chair with no clear memory of when I started doing that. The twisty in-and-out of his fingers--thrusting harder now, coupled with his very hungry mouth--were just about to complete their mission. Letting my head fall back, I couldn’t help breathing deeper through my mouth, when I faintly heard.
“Well, okay, McIntyre, that’s all the information I need, I’ll let you get back to-- “
"No, no, no!!” I screamed.
“What?!?” Mr. Wesson said.
Casey really started working on me now, right when I really needed to think of a reason to continue the phone call. I simultaneously really loved him and hated him at the same time.
“Um, to be honest sir, I really think we need to go over the responsibilities that we in the accounting department have, um, those have changed recently and I think, I think I would really be remiss if I didn’t have those clear in my head.”
The only thing I had clear in my head was Casey's tongue slipping over my clit, tickling and teasing.
“Well, that’s a bit of a lengthy list, McIntyre, I don’t…”
“Please, please, Mr. Wesson,” I pleaded, perhaps a bit too desperately, “Go over them again.”
“Well okay. First off, there’s the matter of making sure the figures in the quarterly spreadsheets are...”
I reached down and held Casey's head against my wet hungry pussy, putting my feet up against the edge of the desk. I couldn’t believe how deep he was, how good he felt, how teasing and talented his tongue was. Most of all, I couldn’t believe how much he was in tune to me, he took notice of everything and memorized it, if he got any kind of reaction, he would do a few more licks on that side of my clit and then move on and then come back to it, like he was reading my mind. In the end, I’m not sure what I was doing, besides not letting his head go till he fucking finished, feeling the sweat bead on my skin, but I knew what it was all heading toward. Me arching back in my chair, bearing down on all the ecstasy thrilling through my body. I kept breathing, not holding it in, but spreading the amazing bliss all over, from my tight shoulders to my trembling calves.
After the waves slowly subsided, I collapsed in my chair, letting my feet fall to the floor. My head fell back and my eyes closed against the glare of fluorescent lights. My hand let go of Casey's head and went limp and my fist finally let go and relaxed, I wouldn’t be surprised if it started floating involuntarily in the air, its certainly what I felt like doing.
“…before the deadline and certainly before the quarterly business meetings, if those numbers aren’t there, then the whole department has egg on its face. Now, I’ve talked to the department heads about whittling this list down, because I know that sometimes it can all seem like a bit much.”
“Ohhhhhh,” I said slowly, dreamily, “that’s okay, Mr. Wesson.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, McIntyre, nice to have a team player. I’ll go ahead and let you go.”
I took a deep breath, turned off the headset and flipped it on the desk.
Casey slowly poked his head up, gingerly wiping his mouth and flashing happy dimples. “How was that?”
“It was…amazing,” I said, then shaking my head, “and horrible, and it was, god, it was fantastic.”
“Ready to do it again?”
I shook my head again in surprise. “No! No, of course I don’t want to do it again! I could have lost my job, my boss could’ve found out, I could’ve been fired.”
Casey just knelt there, smiling up at me.
“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head, “never, ever, ever…we are NEVER doing that again!”

And then the phone rang.


  I hope you enjoyed that and trust me, there's a LOT more where that come from!  I've had more people tell me to put a WARNING sticker on this book to NOT read it at work! LOL  :)

           Buy your copy now HERE (US) or HERE (UK) !

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Five Essentials for any Great BDSM Scene!

In addition to writing BDSM erotica, I’m also an active member in the local BDSM community where I live and I thought I’d touch on a few things that are essential to enjoying all this kinky fun you’ve been reading about. The absolute bedrock foundation is the principle of ‘Safe, Sane and Consensual’.  Safe, in that the activities involved have been gone over to mitigate as much risk as possible. Sane, so that the activities cause no mental or psychological harm and most importantly CONSENT. Consensuality is of utmost importance, if all the participants have NOT consented to what’s going on, it’s not BDSM anymore, its assault and abuse, period. There are no fifty shades of gray here.
On this foundation, I believe there are five essentials to a great BDSM scene. A lot of people mistakenly believe that you need to have expensive toys or equipment, a fully functional dungeon or porn star’s body to have nasty kinky fun.  But, the truth is, one can have an immense amount of fun with just their hand, a willing ass and a lap to bend them over.
  1. Good clear communication – Having strong communication skills is very important for an enjoyable scene. The Dom/Top needs to check in periodically on the sub/bottom to make sure things are copacetic and conversely the bottom needs to be able to gauge their condition and communicate that to the Top.
  2. A thirst for knowledge – Certainly all the participants in whatever activity they are engaging in need to have as much knowledge about as they possibly can, the burden being on the Top. They not only need to know the ins and outs of spanking, flogging, caning, etc, but they also need to be as well-versed as they possibly can about any issues that can arise. But the learning does not stop there. Anytime you play with someone new, you are starting from scratch, learning their responses, watching for clues, checking in with them and taking in all that information and using it to give the best possible experience for both of you.
  3. A strong desire for fun – If you’re not in this for the sheer unbridled fun of it, then you need to get out. Even though we may mete out seemingly merciless pain, whispered threats in the ear and binding inescapable restraint, its all to bring the most pleasure we can and also, to have hot orgasmic fun.
  4. Adaptability – Run out of rope? Handcuffs won’t fit? Did you break your rattan cane against their ass (probably the most intense mix of excitement and disappointment you’ll ever have ;))? Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna learn pretty quickly to adapt. It never ceases to amaze Me how creative kinky people are and how our devious little minds are always working out ways to torment and excite. In addition, in case something doesn’t quite work out like it should, it helps to be quick on your feet and adapt to the new situation.
  5. A sense of humor - This is something I’ve learned from the group I go to here in town. I personally think BDSM works best when you take your Kink very seriously, but not yourself. In other words, you should take what you do seriously, taking care of your partner’s needs, knowing all you can about what you’re doing, etc. But at the end of the night, you need to realize you’re not really Lord Master DragonSlayer the Third. Because sure as fuck, one of these days during one of your scenes, things are gonna go sideways and its all gonna come crashing down that you’re just Joe Smith from accounting. And at that moment, you’re gonna have to decide, are you gonna get upset or are you gonna just laugh at yourself and move on? Trust me, the second option is not only the best way to make sure you can salvage the scene, but in the long run, is just the healthier way to go.

With these five essentials, you’ll be well on your way to having a very enjoyable and fun time exploring your kinky and sexy depraved interests.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Book Spotlight : Taking The Stage by Paige Parsons

6 weeks of rehearsal, 6 weeks to get the lead actress on stage, and 6 weeks to fall in love. The only consistent thing in her life was time.

Her lying, cheating husband betrayed her. Devastated, she quit her teaching job. Now Robyn Rose isn't sure she has it in her to start over again in the only job she ever really enjoyed—the theatre.

But support for her penniless artistic future is limited, until she meets Joseph James Davis. He is the director of Robyn’s last-chance gig, and has some unique, over-his-lap sorts of ideas about what it takes to keep his stage manager on her best behavior. He also might just be her last chance at love.

Now, if only they can get their lead actress (who is also his ex-girlfriend) to take the stage without destroying their possibility at a future together.

Buy now on Amazon and Blushing Books!

Excerpt : 

“She’s not just actor crazy! She’s beyond psycho-diva-drama-queen crazy! She’s the kind of crazy that has an actual diagnosis. It comes with pills, twenty-four-hour watches, and small padded rooms. That bitch practically took my head off!”

Joseph stood next to the door, blocking escape by the ranting bundle bouncing around his office. He’d wrangled her into it after he came up on a scene right out of a movie—two beautiful women in the throes of an anything but beautiful cat fight. It was rounded out with co-stars and deck hands pulling the two of them apart.

“Don’t you stand there like I’m overreacting, because you know that I’m not. This has been coming for weeks! I blame you.”

“Excuse me?”

Joseph knew Roby’s feelings on just about everything, but he was still more than curious to see where she was going with this particular proclamation. She often had a poker face, but never a poker mouth, facts that usually led to heated discussions, and often her to a heated backside. This was not a new argument. He knew what she wanted. It was what she’d wanted since the first week Kat showed up. Roby wanted her gone. So, in that regard, he supposed she was right that it was his fault, because he had zero intent of sending their lead actress packing.

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Bio : 

Paige Parsons is a creative Joan of all Trades, with her first love being theatre. However, theatre rarely paid the bills so, she's also worked as an educator, journalist, UPS customer service representative, and a receptionist at a record label.

Now living and working in Asia, Paige, a native New Yorker, has always loved the world of make believe and was a voracious reader and wild storyteller growing up.

She has been making up stories and getting them on paper for as long as she can remember and is always thrilled when someone expresses love for something she's written. After years of fear, and waiting for the right moment, she finished, submitted, and is thrilled to present her first full length novel.

She holds an undergraduate degree in Communication/English-Creative Writing and a graduate degree in Education and has spent the last 25 years collecting stories around the stage as an actress, stage manager, and production manager.

Paige loves to tell stories, read stories, and put stories up on the stage.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

All you need is LOVE

From spending time with friends who are plus size and in different forums and groups with many lovely and beautiful people who happen to be plus size, I've been trying to gather my thoughts and say something important to these friends who I value so dearly.

I know that so many of you struggle daily with conflicts internal and external. Whether its from rude people or from lack of confidence or self-esteem, it can seem overwhelming. And it doesn't help that society constantly bombards us with images and messages specifically designed to make us feel lousy about ourselves, just so we will buy their latest product. However, I've come to a very important conclusion about ourselves and our desires.

If you can't come to yourself with love and acceptance, you will never acheive any of your goals, no matter what they are. Whether they are professional, interpersonal or personal goals, if you look in the mirror and detest what you see, you will never succeed at anything.


We've become so conditioned by society and the diet/health INDUSTRY (yes, it is a BUSINESS), that we need to feel badly about ourselves to motivate us to want to change. But I believe that by starting with hating our bodies and ourselves, we are sabotaging ourselves before we even begin. We are tripping ourselves before the race even starts.

I know its hard to wrap our heads around it at first, but we need to come to ourselves with love and acceptance. Then and ONLY THEN, will we make changes about how we treat ourselves. If we make a concentrated and strong effort to love ourselves, than we will start to think differently about ourselves. We will change the negative self-talk that pollutes our thoughts and start with more self-affirming thought patterns. Once we start doing that, then we will start treating ourselves differenty. We'll start thinking about our health, our lives, our relationships in a different, more positive way.

We might want to start getting out more, doing some excercise, maybe change our eating habits. We'll start to see the toxic relationships and people in our lives and start shedding those things and cultivate healthy relationships with like-minded positive people. But all this will ONLY come if start by loving ourselves. Every beautiful inch. Every dry patch, every belly roll, every pimple, every wrinkle. It starts with love.

Will it be easy? Nope. Certainly not at first, not easy at all. But it will, eventually.
Will the changes be overnight? Nope, they will start small and slowly, over a great deal of time.
Will there be immediate weight loss, will you get that bikini body by summer, your six pack abs in two weeks? Nope, certainly not.  But that's not the point. It's never been the point.

When you love yourself, you will just naturally treat yourself better. Your views will change, your habits will change, your friends will most certainly change and more often than not, they will so slowly you probably won't even know its happening. But one of these days, you will look back and and see an old picture of yourself, and it will be like you're looking at yourself though a dull and dim light. And more recent pics will seem more radiant and bright.

But it will only come from love. Hating yourself will NEVER transform your life. It will only come from the love you have in your heart for yourself. Then you will change, not only for the better, but it will be permanent.

Thank you and know that I love all of you and all that you are in my life so much.  :)