Mother Superior Book 2: Decisions LIVE

mother-superior-2It’s alive! The vamp is back. Mother Superior Book 2: Decisions is available online. My vampire series moves along with this installment. Diavola, the futa Mother Superior, has to decide her next move in the fight against the vampire Aurora. The decision shocks Diavola’s assistant/lover Sister Shannon. Didn’t shock me. I read my outline. What would you do with the choice: eternal youth or certain death?

I flesh out… so to speak… my vampire mythos with the transition ceremony and first feeding. Warning: blood is involved.

[NOTE: a question has been raised about the photo I used on the cover. Just to protect myself I will be uploading a new version. The link to Amazon will remain the same.]


The aging futa Mother Superior Diavola has a decision to make. Stay true to her calling as the facilitator and mentor to young futanari as they enter their new lives, or to toss it all aside for the siren call of eternal youth.

As she and her faithful African-American assistant prepare to meet their adversary, the vampire Aurora, the decision had been made. The die was cast and their adventure was about to begin.

This is a 7,300-word story containing futa and vampire sex. There will be blood.


The ceremony begins. Ancient beyond comprehension they stripped their clothes and tossed aside. The dark room couldn’t hid the bodies framing their sensuality. Futa and vampire melded into one. Aurora’s arms wrapped the nun from behind, one hand sliding across warm flesh to grasp a giant breast as the other took a firm hold of the futa cock jutting proudly.

Long incisors sank deep into the neck with an audible pop. Mother showed no reaction, no indication of pain. Instead she held her neck bent at an angle in surrender. Aurora at first closed her eyes in ecstasy as hot blood poured into her mouth The first swallow was always the sweetest.

Sister stared, mouth agape. It was almost obscene, like the vampire was making love to her superior, her friend, her beloved. Their intertwining of limbs as Mother reached to grasp Aurora’s ass completed the tableau. Precum poured from the dark red cock onto the floor. Sister licked her lips. Tasty. She hated to see the waste.

After several minutes Aurora pulled away, delicately wiping a smudge of blood from her lips and licking a stained finger. Shannon grew weak in the knees. On one hand she wanted to grab the knife and drive it into the monster’s heart to protect her loved one. On the other she desired to be lying under their bodies allowing their juices to dribble into her mouth.

Explore with me the growing relationship between Mother Superior and her Maker, Aurora. They are just getting a good start on their adventure. Book 2: Decisions on Amazon.

Review of Mother Superior Book 1: Futa v. Vampire

mother-superior-1I don’t mind telling you I was nervous when Bryce Calderwood posted a review of Futa v. Vampire. It was his books starting with Enthralled that got me interested in combining the futa with the vampire. His take… oh my friends… was unlike any vampire tale you have ever read in your life. No elegant vamps in tuxedos. I had to be sure nothing of his seeped into my own ideas.

So his 4-star review thrills me. I’m on the right track in building the legend of my own ‘creatures of the night.’

Hot and erotic vampire/futa September 21, 2016
A good beginning to a promising series. Tons of constant futa action. Interesting vampire lore. Enjoyed it a lot. Ready for the next!

I will be posting book 2 to Amazon today.  Just finishing up the edits when I ran across this review. I had to take a moment to squeee. Thanks, Master. I kneel at your workstation. (Bryce does DD/ls BDSM, too.)

An Epiphany

imagesI had a lot of traffic for my last post “Not A Pretty Story,” not the least of which was the person I was explaining myself to. (Thanks, my darling, for understanding.) It also generated comments on Facebook and Twitter besides my friends here at WordPress. Some insights were shared with me and one, in particular, has caught my attention.

As I am, in the most basic sense, hiding from life, unable to interact in ways a normal person takes for granted, I just may be suffering from more than simply being shy. The suggestion was that I have PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. While I have always thought of that in terms of combat vets who had witnessed and/or participated in the horrors of war, I have to admit I was just a tad stressed by my experience.

Since I was irritated and kind of blamed my therapist for putting me in the position to be attacked in the first place, I never went back. I cancelled her by phone. Had I instead gone and told her what happened, just maybe she would have (1) walked me through the healing process, and (2) given me a fucking discount! That would have helped. Instead, I’ve been stewing in this memory for a very long time.

I have written the incident into my stories several times now as an explanation for my protagonist’s personality. The very first series I wrote and published — T-Girl in the Office — (I’m not linking because this isn’t an advertisement post) is a telling of my life starting with working alone in a law firm midnight shift. Vastly romanticized, of course. Had to have a happy ending. The hope was that writing about it would dissipate its power. I tried three times not counting my previous post. I won’t again. It hasn’t worked. Going to sleep I hug my pillow dreaming of my love, wrapped in her safe arms. But during the night I have flashes.

Bottom line: if I’m ever going to be comfortable going out in public, much less dressed en fem, I may need to find a therapist. Haha! Could be more of a challenge that you think.

So thanks for your comments, everybody. Seriously. It has helped me. And isn’t that why we do blogs in the first place?

It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption LIVE

It's a Futa Life 2It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption is available on Amazon. And I should make a fortune off this book. I posted it onto Amazon while hunkered in an evacuation shelter using my iPhone as a hotspot for my iPad to fill out the New Title Checklist. My perseverance alone should count for something LOL. (I live in Apalachicola, Florida. Hello Hurricane Hermine.)

Anyway, this is book picks up where Book 1 ended. Cynthia the futa and Anna her deputy girlfriend have declared their love after a bomb attack. What the story expresses said is true: do not put off expressing your feelings to those you love. You never know what can happen and when. You would regret it.

So their love blossoms and, of course, hot sex ensues. Always. But into this idyllic life comes the terrorist looking to spread fear, choosing the lone female cop as his focal point. Will Cynthia be forced to watch the execution of her lover? Will she be able to stop it?


Cynthia the futa is relieved when Anna returns home safely after a terrorist bomb attack. Realizing how life can change in the blink of an eye Cynthia determines to declare her love. Her heart bursts when Anna returns the emotion. From that time on they are unable to keep their hands off one another.

They unwittingly put themselves in danger as they become targets. When Cynthia is attacked in her own home and strapped to a chair, forced to watch the murder of her lover, how will she be able to prevent the tragedy? Can she stop it?

This is a 7,300-word story containing a sexy futa, a hot lesbian, and sex exploring the unique futanari genitalia from all angles.


Anna had kicked off the covers during the night. Most of her body lay exposed to Cynthia. Fingers traced a violent history. There were some cuts and abrasions from the bomb the day before. She traced some larger welts along a muscular thigh, on one calf, and a long thin scar across her upper chest.

A trembling lid indicated Anna, too, was waking. When her gray eyes opened she found Cynthia’s hazel pupils mere inches from her. As if she was inhaling her exhale. She started, then flashed her trademark blinding smile. She has the most perfect teeth, Cynthia thought.

“Mornin’, dear,” Anna said, yawning and stretching noisily. “Whatcha doing?”

“A favorite book, often read, has the cover scratched and dented, the ends bent . . . pages dogeared, text highlighted and loved passages underscored, You are my book, darling, and every mark is a memory. Like this one,” she said running a finger at a long welt.

“The memory for that one,” she chuckled, “is an attack in Afghanistan during one of my tours there.”

“And this?” indicating the thin scar.

“A drunk got me with a knife one night. Total surprise. He had been a jovial lush seconds before. This is the worst,” Anna said placing Cynthia’s hand on her left breast.

“What happened there, darling?”

“Somebody stole my heart.” Cynthia teared up, the fear from the night before washing over her. She could have lost her lover. She would have been devastated, destroyed if she had been denied this growing relationship.

Cynthia rolled on top of Anna, fleshy body against body. From that position she stared seriously into Anna’s eyes.

“What?” Anna asked, sensing the mood shift.

“I can’t lose you. I just couldn’t survive–“

“Shhh,” she said silencing her with a kiss. Lips softened as seconds passed, warmth spreading. Cynthia’s futa cock decided to join the party. It unrolled from her inner thigh like a stirring snake on the hunt. “Umm, darling, are you trying to steal my nightstick?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Ha ha, don’t need to. Mine is bigger.”

You can pick up this future Library of Congress book-of-the-month nominee at Amazon. Click on It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption.

It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start LIVE

A Futa Life 1My latest series begins: It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start. Cynthia is  attacked by bigoted thugs in Washington, DC. Fearful of another such event she flees the big city, opting for a small community in the Florida panhandle. No one knows her.She knows no one. Her new life will be a clean slate.

She meets Anna, a beautiful deputy sheriff. There’s a mutual attraction… and so we’re off on a new romance full of love and lust, pain and passion.


Cynthia suffered a horrifying experience at the hands of thugs merely because she is a futanari. Frightened of a repeat occurrence, possibly with mortal consequences, she flees the city of Washington, DC and heads for a small town in the Florida panhandle. It’s new. No one knows her, she knows no one. Here she can start anew and rebuild her life.

When she meets Anna, an attractive deputy sheriff, she feels an immediate attraction. It becomes quickly apparent that the feelings are mutual. Each are isolated in their own existence. Can they overcome their loneliness and make a success of what they have begun?

When a series of terroristic explosions involving the police come across the news, Cynthia is frantic with worry. She can’t reach Anna no matter how many times she calls. Is Anna alright, or is this romance to be nipped in the bud?


“This has been a wonderful day, Cynthia. Thanks for having me over.”

“It has been my pleasure. In the short time we’ve known each other I feel a real kinship.”

“Me, too. I’ve felt so isolated at work. All those blustery leering men around. To finally meet someone like you . . . sweet, gentle, loving . . . I feel my life becoming complete. I hope I’m not scaring you with my feelings,” Anna said, studying her face.

“Not at all. It’s been years since I have felt safe. Anywhere. Yet here, with you, I’m at peace.”

“I like that,” she said, smiling. Anna wrapped her arms around Cynthia’s waist and brushed her lips against her neck. She had a soapy smell from the shower combined with an odor of spices from cooking. Cynthia moaned softly and closed her eyes. Her hand caressed Anna’s breasts. Anna eased Cynthia back onto the mattress and loomed over her, looking into her eyes. Tears formed.

“Sorry,” Anna murmured, “it’s been a long time since I felt this way.”

“Me too, darling.”

Anna lifted Cynthia’s crop top over her head exposing her ample bosom. Her finger circled a nipple causing it to swell. She had discovered the left was much more sensitive than the right and used that in her ministrations. When one became too sensitive she switched, continuing the pleasure yet offering relief. After a short time white milk began leaking from the left. She smeared it around the areola, then dipped her head to lick at it. Cynthia responded by tangling her hand in Anna’s hair to pull tighter.

“So tasty,” Anna sighed. Cynthia smiled and mewled her happiness.

Anna’s hand found Cynthia’s jean shorts leg and followed the thigh to its juncture. Heat from the futa genitalia led her to a swollen clit. She pushed on it. It stood proud. As she pulsed against the tight nub Cynthia groaned deep in her chest, a rumbling sound of passion. A gush of honey oozed from the wet cunt coating Anna’s fingers. She brought the finger to her mouth and sucked noisily, licking between long fingers to get every drop.

Join in the first of several episodes at It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start on Amazon. I promise you’ll sweat.

Trouble in V Land

AdobeStock_50031686-650x433Ma belle V is having problems adjusting to my… special friend. In case you don’t slavishly read my every textual utterance (and why aren’t you? I’m fucking interesting!), let me give a quick recap. When I moved from DC to a tiny town in Florida a small group of church ladies took me under their wing. I had no friends. I moved in cold. They were sweet, asked me to dinner and birthdays and other events. It kept me social, which I’m not. But I appreciated them and always have a good time with great food. (They are mostly Filipinas… cooking machines!)

Things went swimmingly for years when out of the blue one of them, V, asked if I would be interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. Well, yes and no. Yes, who doesn’t want a romantic relationship? I yearn so for companionship, love, all the usual stuff to be in my life. No, I had no idea she was (1) interested and (2) lesbian. And as it turned out, she had no idea I was a transwoman.

Our first physical encounter was interesting, to say the least. She batted that thing like it was a playtoy. And I guess in some ways it was although, thanks to my HRT, not too reliable. Haha. But she is, indeed, a lesbian and thus having a hard time reconciling her feelings toward men and my own vestigial equipment. (Oh god, I’ve never gotten to use that word before… vestigial. I love it!) No matter how many times and in various ways explained that I am, indeed a woman, despite my deformity, she just can’t grasp it.

While it is still ongoing she’s seeing me less and less and I have a feeling it will eventually die out. The arc of the relationship is going in the wrong direction. We’ve never lived together, only dated and horsed around. We’ll see. I’ve been alone for a long time. I can go the rest of my life alone. But don’t you think that life is so much more fun when you have someone to share it with, to hold when looking at a beautiful sunset, to marvel at a painting, a song? <sigh>

You Won’t Believe It

imagesSo there I was last night, sitting at my laptop having a lovely dance on Catalina Island with this beautiful, blond CD (in Second Life, sadly) when my doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood my ex-priest. He asked if he could come in and, of course, ever the lady, I invited him in.

He said he was concerned over my sudden departure from the church. I had been such an active participant, an integral part of the community. He wondered what prompted my decision. I told him that the subject of his last few homilies had been personally offensive and I saw no reason to allow myself to be offended.

“Why? What offended you?” “Your diatribe about men in dresses.” (Yes dear readers, I actually used ‘diatribe’. I talk like that.) “But I was talking about those confused about their god-given gender.” “I understand, Father. I’m not confused. I KNOW I’m a woman.” Dead silence. Then you could see realization cross his face. Delicious!

Then the real reason comes out. “G_____ died last night. We’re having a funeral on Friday. Could you come back long enough to run that through?” (I am… was… the head of the bereavement committee)


That felt goooooooood. (Not about G_____, of course. He was a nice guy. But there is a whole group of ladies involved in the committee. They’ll be fine.)

Latest Book Doing Well

Screenshot 2016-05-06 19.42.53

After last week’s abject failure, Dining Alone Bundle, a trans romance, I am thrilled with what I published Thursday, Futa Road Trip. As you can see from the screenshot, I am ranked #13 in Erotica/Lesbian and #26 Erotica/Transgender. I hope to get that transgender ranking down… the weekend’s just started, so perhaps this will improve before Sunday night.

2015-04-23 12.18.27I want to thank all the little people who helped me… the makers of the Pilot Varsity disposable fountain pens, whoever invented the lined yellow pad of paper, those magnificent bastards at OpenOffice 4.1.2 who allowed me to stop using Word, and finally, a special shout-out to my muse, Rachel. Thank you, Rachel, for being my best friend. (I don’t want to wake her up for a high five, but there is a cookie with her name on it for later.)


Work In Progress

librarian_by_meghanalynn-d78n7jyI always have a work in progress. I usually have four or five things in the hamper, adding a little at a time until it reaches a tipping point. Then I put full time on it to completion. There’s never a dearth of ideas, is there? Everything can just jump out at you suddenly and you say ‘hey, that’d make a good story.’ That’s the fun of writing.

Anyway, I posited an idea for a story a few blog posts back called “The Spinster’s Revenge.” One of my readers –rushmorejudd —  left a comment with a scene suggestion. I thought I’d play with that and came up with the below excerpt. Actually his original idea was a lot classier! But, I am primarily nasty, so class takes a back seat. Sorry rushmorejudd. I did, however, place this early in the story as you suggested. It provides a way for the starstruck shop owner to start up an affair with the author. CAUTION: first draft. Also, ADULT. Very adult. Remember I am a writer of erotica.

Let me set the scene. This story is about Laura, a young, tattooed feminist bookstore owner and Gabby, a transwoman author, ex-marine, who has come for a book signing. A hurricane is in the works. After a shortened book reading and just as the discussion starts the police drive through town with their loudspeakers telling everyone to get to their homes and board themselves in. Roads closed. So Laura hurries everyone out who was in attendance, leaving just our two main characters. Laura remembers that earlier in the day two young kids (legal teenagers!) had come in to browse for a book. She doesn’t remember them leaving.

Laura walked towards the back of the room, checking behind the stacks and bookcases. As she entered the back room, in the corner, she heard some noise. Treading carefully up the aisle before the noise she looked through the bookshelf. She saw some movement.

Pulling a couple of books out to make a viewing port, she saw the two youngsters who had come in earlier. The buxom girl had her top off and was sitting on the boy’s face. Her hips were slowly moving back and forth, a walking stride on a horse.

She was gorgeous. The waggling of her breasts in time to her hips was mesmerizing. Her hands were above her head, arms entwined, head back and eyes closed. Her long blonde hair whipped side to side.

Laura didn’t move. One hand slid up along her blouse to a small breast and squeezed gently, enjoying the sensations it caused. The young man’s cock was stiff, jutting from his thick pubic thatch. His hands were on her hips, kneading the muscles in her legs.

“Doesn’t this turn you on?” Gabby whispered softly. Laura jumped at the voice, not hearing her approach. She didn’t answer right away, watching as the two bodies moved, melding into one. Gabby rested her hands on Laura’s hips.

“Keep watching,” she said as she slid her hand into the top of Laura’s stretch jeans, down onto the outside of her panties. Slowly she pulsed her hand on Laura’s mound to the rhythm of the couple. Laura’s breath quickened.

Laura could feel Gabby’s large breasts pressing against her. Her whole body became sensitive to every move, every sound in the room, every breath on her neck. Gabby lowered to Laura’s neck, tongue licking lightly, tasting her.

“Ummm, nice,” she said. Laura gushed a little juice into her panties. Gabby could feel it soaking in.

“Darling, you are so sensual,” Gabby said. She lifted her hand so she could get it inside the panties, wanting to touch her delicious core. She could feel the heat of her fluids, the puffiness of her pussy lips. Running her fingers along the opening, she drew a gasp from Laura. Laura was going crazy. It had been too long since anyone had touched her.

The blonde stood and situated herself over her partner, lowering herself until her cunt was just above his erect cock. Reaching under herself she guided him in, sinking slowly onto his engorged member.

“Wouldn’t you like to join them?” Gabby asked, edging the tip of a finger into Laura’s pussy. “Wouldn’t you like to be licking his balls while they fucked? Hmm? Tasting her juices as they rolled out, feeling his pubic hair tickle your nose?”

Gabby’s dirty talk was having its effect on Laura. Her cunt was gushing more and more onto her fingers, coating them for lubrication. Gabby responded by forcing herself into her, deeper.

“Oh shit that feels good,” Laura whispered, turning to look at Gabby. She liked the look on Gabby’s face… lust… determination. The finger was deep in her vagina while the thumb was working across her swollen clit.

“Oh god,” the blonde said aloud, bouncing quickly on her young stud. His hips were pressing up off the floor trying to force more cock into her. Her hands were on his shoulders as she stared down into his face. Her breasts were flailing, slapping him across the face.

Laura groaned softly at the sight. Suddenly she could feel Gabby’s erection pressing against her buttocks while her nipples were so hard Laura could actually feel them through the thin cloth of her blouse.

“You’d like that young cock shoving up your cunt, wouldn’t you.” Laura nodded her head. “You want his balls slapping against your pussy lips, don’t you.” Laura moaned, eyes squinted shut. Gabby’s fingers invading her and thumb attacking her clit was about to take her over the edge.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Laura said.

“No, not yet,” Gabby said. “Come when they come.” Gabby slowed her movements, teasing Laura’s pussy. Laura whimpered in frustration.

“Please, darling, let me cum.”

“Patience, little one.”

Gabby left her fingers at the entrance of Laura’s pussy, running around the wet lips, sliding a finger pad on her aching clitoris just enough to keep her on the edge. They both stared intently at the bucking couple on the other side of the bookcase.

The blonde had sat upright and was riding her cowboy for all he was worth. Her hips were a blur, hair thrashing around her head, breasts a frenzy of motion. He was just holding his hips off the floor providing deep penetration.

Laura continued teasing her own nipples sending electric shocks to her groin. Gabby was grinding her cock against Laura’s small, firm butt.

The blonde threw her head back and let out a long moan, hand clasped across her mouth to stifle the sound. Her body froze. The veins in her neck stood out in bas relief. The boy went into action, throwing himself into her at an impossible speed. He wanted desperately to finish before her orgasm ended.

It was a race, but Gabby’s finger was making quick work of Laura now. The thumb was pressed tightly on Laura’s clit as she humped on the assaulting hand. Just as the boy’s hips made a final upward thrust and froze, Laura’s climax hit with a jet of scalding juice.

“Oh gawd,” she said as wave after wave of orgasm suffused her body, shaking, thighs quivering. Gabby stayed at it, fingers thrusting, coaxing out the last drops.

“Come on baby,” Gabby said, “give it all to me. More.” She ran her tongue along her earlobe, sucking a piercing into her mouth.

Laura kept pumping her hips, trying to force out more fluids. The couple was lying on their backs just on the other side of the bookcase, catching their breaths.

Finally, Gabby pulled her hand from Laura’s slacks, sniffed her fingers and, with a smile, licked it. Laura watched every movement.

Gabby turned her around to face her. With one hand she pulled open Laura’s mouth, then put her finger in. Laura closed her mouth and sucked, moaning, tongue running along the long digit. She tasted herself. It was good. The passion in Gabby’s eyes was powerful. Desire was palpable.

Before Laura could move they heard the kids rousing, getting dressed. They pulled away from each other as Laura moved toward the front of the shop. When the young couple came out of the back Laura was at the counter while Garry was on another side with an open book. They watched as the two came shyly toward the counter.

So that is what I’m doing this fine, cold winter evening.

The Spinster’s Revenge

These are the photos I’m using for inspiration. (I’m considering the center one for the cover.) What I’m thinking right now is a romance set in a feminist bookstore called The Spinster’s Revenge. The young owner has invited an older writer (not decided yet whether my usual trans or not) for a book signing.

Meanwhile a hurricane which has been in the news as approaching threatens to shut down the whole area (panhandle of Florida). After a short signing and book reading –sometimes contentious (older cis audience) — the police come through town warning everybody to stay off the streets.

So everyone leaves except the author and the owner. She lives on the second floor of the bookstore and, by default, the author is stuck there too.

The hurricane does hit and starts to do damage to the building. But between the two they overcome any problems. In the process, a romance builds.

There will be my usual dose of sex, probably gentle, though. Too soon to tell. I’m letting it all brew right now.