I Brought You Here To Love Your Curves (BBW Rough Sex Erotica)

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Jen is about to discover a new side of herself: one that wants to be taken forcefully and ravished by monsters. Will she find release as the manifestations of the spring zodiac come to claim her, one after another? Words: 29, Ryan went too far when he willingly surrendered to his domineering packmate, Scott. Words: 41, Contains an inexperienced guy with a difficult past, a cocky bad boy who's fueled by adrenaline, turbo-charged cars, sexual awakening, and a full-throttle ending!

Published: October 24, Aurea "Goldenlocks", the village witch's daughter, is still a virgin but she has longed for her three half-beast stepfathers since her mother bound them in a ritual many years ago. As the seasons turn, and the long winter brings danger from the north, she takes flight into the dark woods to search for them.

Published: October 4, Casey is a tough-girl demon hunter who's falling for her cocky partner, Nick. This 20k word erotic romance novella contains: a deviant vampire party, tentacle demon, explicit sex, anal sex, mind control, vampire-slaying action. Words: 46, Published: September 21, This pseudo-Victorian re-imagining of Alice in Wonderland is an erotic fantasy novel intended for adults who want to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Contains: gender transformation, light BDSM, a kinky tea party menage, naughty tentacle vines, machines powered by steam and magic, an eccentric cast of characters, and a happy-for-now otherworldly ending. Words: 12, Published: August 30, What happens after happily-ever-after? When Charlotte met billionaire Jackson Reed, she was enthralled with his power and his dark interests. But after a kinky whirlwind romance and years of marriage, their sexual fervor diminished.

Now she is faced with a dilemma. How far will she go to rekindle the fierce passion of the man she loves? Words: 10, Published: August 20, Along the way to becoming accomplished scientists, Greg and Jean had a quick fling that never blossomed into anything more. Then the aliens came and the world changed around them. Will their small team of scientists find any hope for the future of humanity?

This erotic romance short story contains a post-apocalyptic relationship, a charming gangbang, and breeding for the future of the human race. Words: 18, Published: July 28, As a young bisexual werewolf, and overall nice guy, Ryan has some difficulty adjusting to life with a pack.

To make matters worse, their wealthy pack matriarch is intent on teaching him a lesson. Will he come to terms with his darkest desires? Words: 20, Published: July 21, Jane was a poor farm girl on a barren plot of land before she met Brutal Bill. Now she carries a revolver as his companion on the toughest journey of her life; trying to eke out a living as a hired gun. When the sun goes down, the sex gets rough, as she struggles to find companionship with the mean bounty hunter in these gritty erotic tales.

This bundle of short stories is for adults only. Published: July 4, But loyalties will be tested when Jane and Gus find themselves thrown together by circumstances. Then Jane winds up captured and fearing the worst. How far will she go to get out of a deadly situation? This 9k word short story is for adults only. Published: June 16, Bulging with adventure and dirty sex on the high seas, this two-pack chronicles the naughty exploits of privateer Captain Anne Hitchcock. This 20k word short story collection is for adults only. Words: 9, Published: June 11, Tough-girl Casey is trying to unravel a demonic problem, along with Nick, the sexy young executive with a mysterious past.

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She learns more about Nick's kinky side, and just might surprise him herself. But will things go too far when they're faced with two perverted succubi who are packing heat? This word short story is for adults only. Words: 11, Published: June 8, Captain Anne Hitchcock is arrested on false charges.

She tries to find answers by seducing her jailor. Meanwhile, her queer crew get hot and sweaty as they look for a way to free her. This Words: 7, Published: May 25, Bill has disappeared and Jane is stranded in a dusty backwater town. Even worse, the law has a keen eye on her.

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Bored and anxious, she has a drink with a good looking young man, and things get out of hand. What will Bill do when he finds out? Published: May 13, Collected here for your paranormal fantasy, two kinky tales of hot men being dominated by supernatural creatures. Contains the following gay erotica stories: Struck by the Vampire, Haunted Skin. This 11k word short story collection is for adults only.

Collected here for your frat boy fantasy, the saga of Rick and Tony's crazy fraternity sex antics. Published: May 12, Ryan is a young college guy, and he's a bit naive for a werewolf. He didn't understand the strength of his animal nature until he met Amber, the girl of his dreams. And he didn't know his limits until he fell into the clutches of her jealous pack-mate, the man of his nightmares. Words: 4, Published: May 6, When their frat brother is blackmailed by a rival fraternity, Tony and Joe will do anything to stop it.

Anything, including subjecting themselves to public humiliation and rough hazing. Will they be able to handle the final round? Published: April 28, Captain Anne Hitchcock is a privateer looking for her next big score. Word has it that some gems were stolen by a pirate, Captain Richard "Long" Peck. She wants his booty, in more ways than one. Will her rag-tag crew of queer sailors be able to catch him? Words: 8, Jackie is a naive yet adventurous nymph who is tricked by a satyr into trading a rare root and a lick of her nectar, for two "magic" beans. But the beans are more magical than any of them could have imagined.

Will she be able to save her forest from the powerful forces above? Published: April 19, Jane was a poor farm girl who was never content with farming. She almost lost her last hope when she was attacked by a band of marauding outlaws. Fortunately, she was rescued by Brutal Bill, the man of her dreams. Published: April 17, Even after a year together, Brian is still surprised by his lover Gabe's sense of adventure They find their limits tested when the ghost takes their kinky play much too seriously. Words: 5, Published: April 1, Tony and Rick are caught in the act after a long night of passionate sex, and their frat brothers want in on the action.

To make matters worse, their egotistical leader has an old grudge with Tony, and now he has an eye on Rick Published: March 19, Andrew never realized that moving back home would be so difficult He wasn't expecting to be under the vampire's watchful eye, and he definitely didn't intend for the vampire to spank him or dominate him. Words: 3, Published: March 11, Tony had always watched his fraternity brother Rick from afar, but when he finds himself alone with Rick after sharing a drunken bond, he might just get his chance to make a move Published: March 2, Casey is a professional demon hunter with a flair for sex magic.

She understands the paranormal, and knows just how to deal with the most indecent encounters.

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Anna and I discovered right away that we both loved horses, so soon enough we were riding together. She told me early on that she was gay, but I didn't think much of it, having had many gay friends. Then I saw her garden and her glass dress in the making and her extravagant jasmine. Then she told me about the company she was building and the house she wanted to one day construct, a house with a stream running through it, a house that had fruit trees growing in its center, and I began to imagine my way into her imaginings, thinking, I can see myself there.

And once I could see myself in Anna's dreams, it was like we'd turned a corner. No longer able to envision a future with my husband, I'd been living for some time with mist in the distance, but with Anna, the distance seemed to glitter. Her dreams were huge. She dreamt of growing gardens all over the world.

She has twice traveled to India, once to manufacture cars and once for curiosity, bringing back with her exotic textiles that were somehow comforting to me. I sat on her bed one evening, and she brought them out, textiles folded and then unfolded, a rich red silk bordered with gold, bolts of it. Nothing happened that night, but I was aroused. I don't mean sexually. My whole body was beating like the North Star that we could see outside the window.

Like a beacon the star beamed, and when I went home and got out of my car, moths flew to me the way they're drawn to light, which I was. I went inside. My husband was sleeping in his study. Upstairs in the master bedroom, which I'd come to occupy by myself, I slowly took off my clothes. I pictured taking off my clothes for Anna. Because I'm fat, and because I have had a bilateral mastectomy, I knew I would never actually do that, but I thought about it nevertheless.

I imagined us in her dream house, by an interior stream, kissing.

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A woman! A woman? A woman. I wrote woman on a piece of paper and then crossed out the w and the o so the word became man.

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Just two little letters separated the sexes; surely I could bridge that gap. Every embryo begins its life as basically female, and it's not until at least the seventh week of pregnancy that the fetus asserts its sex, setting into motion the development of a penis or a clitoris. I don't like the word penis , and I'm not so sure about clitoris or vagina either, but the actual penis I like well enough, whereas the actual vagina frightens me, the mound hiding an incredibly complex body part. These are not the feelings of a lesbian, or even a flexible bisexual. Given them, how could I have sex with Anna?

And yet as I discovered more and more about her, as day after day, week after week, I met this amazing woman who wanted to cook for me and care for me and for whom I, in turn, could cook and care for, I found myself falling in love, and not just in friendship love but in sexual love, Anna's presence filling my body with spark. For weeks I went back and forth in my mind. I had a nightmare—I forgot its contents, but it involved sleeping with a woman—and I realized, upon awakening, that no, I could not sleep with Anna.

But then a day would go by in which we did not speak, and I'd find myself pining for her and, when I saw her again, wanting nothing more than that. And then one night I had a fight with my husband. The fight was nothing new. He said something snarky to me, and I responded in kind. I switched on the outside lights and stormed out of the house and down to our barn, where I hung out with my horses past midnight.

I nuzzled Halo in her neck and felt Flame's hot breath on my face. I took Flame from her stall and curried her coat until it gleamed like a wet chestnut. I put her back in her stall, said good night to my horses, and left the barn. Ahead of me the house was sunk in darkness.

My husband had shut off all the lights, even though I was outside. I made my way slowly through the thick blackness, slid open the door, and flicked on the kitchen light so the room leapt to life: a half-eaten orange on a plate on the counter, the rough rind of the skin in scraps around it. The orange, its lantern color, its vitality, the way it was open like that—it all reminded me of Anna.

Standing in my house, I realized that I wished I were standing in hers. I turned on my computer and wrote her an e-mail, and at the end I said, "Good night, loved one. Smarter than me, by far. The first time we had sex, we lay for hours on that couch in Vermont playing with each other's hands, and then slowly, so slowly, that gave way to kissing, and I kissed her first. I refused to take off my clothes because of my weight, but she pulled off hers with abandon, yanking her shirt over her head, her bra black, unsnapped, revealing two mounds tipped with pale pink, which I touched gingerly.

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Anna slid off her shorts, and a night went by, the window in our room wide open, the cool spring air pouring in, the comforter stuffed with feathers, the muscles in her thigh defined, my fingers finding them, and more. I let her touch me, too, beneath the sheath of my clothes, but what I really remember is touching her—her body a brand-new continent, even though it shouldn't have been because it was in some sense identical to my own. But how strange, how odd, how confusing, trying to navigate the huge open space of the female form, of this female form with its history and pains and likes and dislikes, and not knowing any of it, really, and trying to find my way.

In the midst of it all, I suddenly remembered my nightmare, its ugly contents: I'd been with a woman and felt disgusted by the prospect of oral sex with her, of any kind of sex; it had seemed revolting. And now here I was, just weeks later, with a woman in an enormous bed, and nothing was disgusting, which surprised me. After all, are not dreams the royal road to the unconscious? And is not the unconscious the truest, most authentic expression of self? Apparently no and no, in my case. I like sex with a woman, but I also remain ambivalent about it, although that has nothing to do with Anna, whom I love without reservation.

Evolution is godlike to me, and I can't help but think that my body is designed for a man: the interior pathway built for the sperm to race up toward the egg. If so, then am I somehow using my body in a way that goes against nature—as retrograde and bigoted as that sounds? Seeking to reassure myself, I type "homosexuality in the animal kingdom" into Google, and I find articles in Nature and Science about same-sex relationships that occur between all kinds of animals, from bonobos to giraffes to fighter fish to birds.

In fact, currently in a German zoo there exist a pair of homosexual male penguins. In an attempt to convert them, the zoo warden separated the couple and placed a Swedish female bird with each. But neither boy was interested in the girl, and the protest from the German gay community grew so loud that eventually the warden reunited the lovers, who frolicked once more.

Therefore, I should have no doubt, no hesitation. I thought I was a freethinker, open to anything, and I am, I am, but I am also not.

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  7. I'm willing to go outside my heterosexual box, but I do so on tiptoes, glancing backward. I take my children to the Public Garden in Boston to celebrate spring, and everywhere there are heterosexual couples holding hands, not to mention the swans on the pond, regal and ivory with flaming orange beaks. One especially large swan waddles across the grass with seven babies following her, and in the green rushes by the river we find a nest—a nest! The eggs and the ivory swans and even the smell of spring itself all seem to suggest to me that heterosexual sex is what makes the world go round, gay penguins or not.

    There is now a heaviness in my limbs. I want to go home and slip between my sheets, to be alone with my body and its wayward wants. I know for a fact that were I to call Anna, she would come over and comfort me, whereas my husband would not. She would not judge. She would put her hand on my head.

    She would make me soup from chives and coconut milk. Surely this sort of kindness cannot be bad—her ability to nurture so natural itself. I take my children home, but the image of the eggs stays with me. Dusk comes with a chill. I sit in a rocker with a blue shawl over my shoulders. The house is deeply quiet, the silence amplifying the sound of the kitchen clock as it ticktocks through time. I could spend my life in a dead marriage to a man I still somehow love, a man in whom, buried beneath dreck and dross, I can still discern the qualities that drew me to him: the humor, for instance, his elfin ways, his capacity for kindness, none of it accessible to me but nonetheless visible like a ghost moving in a world out of my reach.

    I read somewhere that most marriages survive until the offspring reach age seven, at which point the children no longer necessarily need the attention of two parents. Evolution, always seeking to protect the progeny, has apparently wired us to remain wed for almost a decade.

    Were Anna an Aaron I would be just as attracted. What counts for me, apparently, isn't the gender of my partner but the ineffable essence. As I rock, a deer leaps out of the woods and across the lawn, and then it's gone. The clock talks. I've been alive one half of a century, and my lifetime is dwindling down. I don't want my days to be dry. I am seeking companionship, love, and the object of my affections just happens to be female.

    I am not attracted to Anna because she is female. I am attracted to Anna because she is Anna. As for the evolutionary imperatives, if I'm cared for myself, does that not give me more strength to care for my children? I've noticed that since my affair with Anna began, my husband and I are fighting less, and thus a certain toxic tension has been lifted from the household.

    I've heard that this is common, that affairs can improve primary relationships. Because the straying party tries harder out of guilt? Because she just doesn't care anymore?

    For me, maybe it's that I'm better able to withstand what I have now because I know that change is just around the corner. I'm fairly certain that I will leave my husband, and I hope, eventually, that he and I will remain friends who together parent our best beloveds. In the meantime, I rediscover a playfulness. The day after we visit the garden, I take my daughter shopping and insist she try on sundresses with skinny straps, patterned with bursting flowers—clothes of color and character that she ultimately rejects, but still. We have fun in that store. I hug my son hard, riffle my fingers through his sandy blond hair.

    Evolutionary biologists admit that homosexuality has them stumped. Gay sex doesn't yield children, so why hasn't it been selected out of the population? That homosexuality has endured and is found in a wide range of species across the globe suggests that same-sex pairings must play a role in the roll of generations. There is one study suggesting that people who are relatively open to same-sex erotic behavior—and who are thus assumed to be more likely to engage in it—have higher levels of progesterone, a hormone related to bonding and caretaking.

    Could it be that gay people are particularly good at nurturing children, and that trait has helped them survive the Darwinian elimination game? Another study, involving Samoan islanders, seemed to back up this so-called kin-selection theory: Researchers found that gay Samoan men were more involved with their nieces and nephews than were their heterosexual counterparts of both sexes.

    Much of this is speculation, of course, and that I need to investigate the evolutionary advantages of homosexuality unnerves me. When my husband and I wed, we had my close lesbian friend lead the ceremony. We acknowledged out loud that our marriage was privileged and that there were millions of same-sex couples who could not enjoy the benefits of a heterosexual union. Which is to say I've always seen myself as utterly accepting of homosexuality, but my relationship with Anna has revealed a corner of homophobia inside me.

    And while sex with Anna has shown me a whole new world of pleasurable possibilities, I still can't bring myself to try oral sex, though I will say that my objections to it were initially knee-jerk, whereas now I'm just cowardly. What began as an aversion has softened to a crisis of confidence, a severe shyness. Last weekend Anna and I went to Martha's Vineyard.

    We stayed in the house of one of her friends, who loaned it to us for a weekend getaway. If you stood in the heart of the house and listened hard, you could hear the murmur of the sea over the hill and down a steep slope of wild grasses. Everywhere in this house were ocean-worn rocks—smooth, silky stones that the owner, an exquisite artist and sculptor, had drawn on with colored wax pencils, transforming a plain and plebeian object into something of artistic beauty.

    There were stones of angels and stones of the sun; there were stones of waterfalls and of tigers pacing through thick fields. There were tiny stones with tiny drawings on them and stones too big to hold in your hand. Next to the painted stones was a wire basket holding newly found ones, and I took one in my hand.