This week’s erotic author in the spotlight is KC Cave – and wow, does this talented author have a hefty dose of hotness waiting for you this week! We’ve all been utterly spoiled with not only juicy details about KC Cave herself, but also 9 (nine… yes really) excerpts from her saucy books. Don’t just put the kettle on, make yourself an oversized flask, grab a duvet, some snacks and a vibe then get comfortable for a day of seriously sexy action.
Thanks KC Cave!
If you’d like to read about other erotic authors you can find the Erotic Author Spotlight Series here. Erotic author and interested in your own free feature post at Cara Sutra? Find the call for submissions page here.
I run a similar free promotional offer for sex bloggers and sex toy reviewers. You can find the Sex Blogger Spotlight Series page here, and the call for submissions (the Q&A and other info to send me) here.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org with your info – whether author or blogger – and I will reply with your spotlight date. This will be the next available Monday for authors and the next available Thursday for bloggers.
– Cara Sutra
I’m a former journalist of twenty years who is finally writing about something I actually know about–sex. My characters are often funny, which makes sense–sex is often funny. But more than that, my characters are sensual and passionate, because to me that’s what sex is all about. They’re also strong and opinionated (like me). My covers reflect it–I’ve found a graphics artist who matches my style, which explains why they are so sensuous.
My writing is all over the place–BDSM, lesbian, gay, femdom, vanilla MF–but the trend is toward lesbian. Woman-on-woman sex is what turns me on the most (yet, oddly enough, it’s my MM sex books that sell the best!). I fall in love with my characters as they fall in love with each other. Then we all get together in my head and we have lots of sex! And I take notes! Really, writing about sex is so exciting, such a turn-on. How do I know that I’ve written a really good scene? I get so aroused that I have to stop and masturbate! As you’ll figure out quickly when you read my books, I masturbate a lot–once a day. Often more!
Take, for example, Alison’s New Toy. Alison is a healthy young woman with a hobby–sex. A self-described fuck junkie, she starts out having the time of her life with her new sex toy, a strap-on vibrator that let’s her jill-off in a variety of new venues–in a park, at the mall, hiking in the woods, and even while driving (and she gets pulled over for speeding by a sexy young female cop. Before you can say “lesbian seduction,” she and the police woman are in a cheap interstate motel).
E-Read Erotica Reviews: The story is hot, wow, there are some great setups in here. Heat level is good, and I like the voyeuristic part and how it transitions into the erotic contact with strangers. The encounters are nicely done too, and if i must say, believable even though some are a bit fantasy-esque….The dialog is good, we get some great scenes and setups, and the sex is very explicit and detailed. There is foreplay too in the encounters, like asking if she’s ever been with another woman, and all sorts of very nice slow dancing before the sex. Very, very nice.
Settling on the bench, I took the remote out of my purse and gave it a squeeze. The breeze rustling the leaves and the sound of traffic rendered the buzz between my legs inaudible. I was already excited just thinking about what I was about to do—a public jill-off! A chill shot up my spine as I envisioned the exquisite agony of controlling my responses to a bone-shattering orgasm in an outdoor setting. I could always flick the remote if I started to lose control.
It only took a moment for the buzz between my legs to broadcast little waves of pleasure through my pelvis. Pinpricks of pleasure ran up my spine. A pool of liquid delight formed at the base of my spine and threatened to spill out. OMG! This was getting so intense so fast.
I clicked it off.
My hand went to my throat, like a matron shocked by the sight of an exposed ankle at a Victorian soiree. I coughed demurely and straightened my skirt. My exterior under control, I did an internal check. My pussy throbbed, while both nipples stood at full attention and pushed against the fabric of my bra. I resettled myself, shifting my hips as I clutched my purse in my lap. This was so much fun!
A tall and statuesque woman came out of the library and started down the steps. Her breasts jiggled deliciously under her tee shirt—she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra, which made me happy.
It was time for action. I clicked the toy on.
I’m not a lesbian, but I like looking at attractive women. If there weren’t hot guys around, she would do just fine. What’s not to admire in a youthful female body on a fine spring day? She flounced toward me, then turned and walked by. Her ass was poured into her jeans.
I spread my legs. The gossamer fabric of my panties was soaked. My juices flowed, and I knew my pussy lips were slick. The vibrations went through my ass to the hard bench and bounced back, amplifying their intensity. The muscles of my vagina tightened, and my asshole throbbed. This was exactly what I’d wanted the toy to do.
As I squirmed and clenched my teeth, I knew an orgasm was on its way. The sexual energy moved up my spine, over my shoulders, and to my breasts, tingling beneath my light, summer-weight top. I fought the urge to splay my legs and plunge two fingers into my slick hole. Gripping my purse, I squeezed hard.
As if on cue, two co-eds in cut-offs walked by, boobs bouncing and their tight little asses twitching.
I switched it off. My breath came in short spurts as I sat upright on the bench. If I looked anything like I felt, a concerned citizen would be compelled to call the fire department.
I was so zoned out and close to coming I hadn’t noticed the woman who’d seated herself next to me.
“Beautiful day, huh?”
I must have jumped an inch. She was thirtyish, with blonde hair just past her ears, and dressed demurely in a long skirt and embroidered blouse. She was even prettier than the woman with the bouncing breasts, and I was primed. I sucked in my breath.
“Gorgeous,” I replied. Miraculously, I got the word out without my voice breaking.
She smiled, looking me up and down with a knowing look. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
She had that right. Had she been watching me? I was just this side of an orgasm, my pussy throbbing, and getting off was my number-one priority. This woman was so good-looking and so nonthreatening, I decided to be truthful.
I returned her smile. “I’m masturbating.”
She turned toward me and leaned in, crossing one leg over the other, her hands folded in front of her.
“Mind if I watch?”
That was music to my ears. I flicked it on. The combination of buzzing on my clit and this beautiful woman’s direct gaze catapulted me to the edge. I gripped my knees with my hands in an effort not to scream. The waves of pleasure emanating from my pussy had spread through my body to my fingers and toes. I closed my eyes and my throat emitted a low moan.
The woman leaned in even closer. “It’s all right. There’s no one near. You can come now.”
A unique blend of heat and fireworks exploded in my loins, traveling through my muscles and blood, up my neck, and out the crown of my head. My cunt spasmed as pleasurable bursts wracked my body. I gasped and, with a huge effort, stifled the reflex to cry out. The intensity of my climax nearly knocked the breath out of me. I switched off the remote.
As my orgasm ebbed and my breathing slowed, I relaxed and leaned against the bench. I opened my eyes. She was still there, still smiling.
“Thank you. I really enjoyed watching you come.”
Incapable of speech, I smiled back.
She put a hand on my knee. “How do you do it?”
I held up the remote. It was a miracle I hadn’t crushed it in my hand. “A strap-on vibrator with a remote.”
Her eyes lit up. “What a great idea.”
“I just got it today.”
She leaned in to me. “Sorry if this sounds a little forward, but…I’m so horny I’m ready to explode. My apartment is right over there.” Her eyes indicated a low-rise building behind us.
I must have looked startled. My plans, as degenerate as they were, didn’t include getting picked up by a lesbian.
“Don’t get me wrong. You don’t have to do anything. It’s just that after watching you, I want to pleasure myself. And be watched. I don’t have the equipment to do it out here.” Her smiling face radiated friendliness.
I relaxed. Nothing wrong with that. “Just return the favor?”
“Just return the favor. Please.” She stood. I got up slowly, a little wobbly. The echoes of my orgasm were still bouncing around my body, pinballing between my nipples, my clit, my pussy, and my ass. It felt delicious. And, frankly, I was ready for another go.
[end of excerpt]
One thing leads to another (as so often happens in my books), and Alison and her new lover (Moriah, the traffic cop she had seduced) are having so much fun they stumble on a new business model–helping other woman achieve orgasm. The advertise on the internet, make house calls and soon they have more business than they can handle. The name of their business is Come Again.
Moriah stepped out of her shoes, unbuckled her belt, pushed her jeans down, and stepped out of them. After pulling off her thong, she walked to the window to adjust the curtains. No need for her to sway or rock her hips. Her round little ass was tantalizing below the ribbed cotton top that stopped at her waist. Her chubby labia peeked through like a second little behind between her thighs as she stretched on her toes, pushing the curtains together.
My darling was showing the confidence she had gained over the months Come Again had been helping clients achieve orgasmic relief. Three or four times a day, she sat on a couch in a client’s living room, spread her legs, and brought herself to an orgasm. Once shy and unsure, Moriah now was showing me—and our somewhat difficult client—that she knew how to take control of a situation.
She walked back to the bed, climbed into my lap, put her hands to my face, and kissed me. “Let’s show Robyn whatever it is that lesbians do.”
With that, she scooted up the bed, leaned against the headboard, and made little come hither motions with her fingers. I clambered across the bed to her, cradled her head in my arms, and glanced at Robyn. She was watching, her hands on her thighs and a sly smile on her face.
A fire had exploded inside me. I was awash in the excitement of a new experience unfolding and I could feel it in my loins. After months of working with clients, getting incredibly turned on watching Moriah masturbate, I was finally going to unleash my passion in the presence of a client. No more holding back for fear of offending a client’s straight sensibilities by kissing and fondling my girlfriend.
I ran my hand down Moriah’s face, tracing a line along her cheek, her chin, and down her throat. I wound my hand around her neck and took her mouth again, my tongue darting past her lips as my other hand traced the outline of her breasts. I stroked her nipples to hard pink points as I continued the kiss. A low moan escaped from Moriah’s throat.
Breaking off the kiss, I pushed Moriah’s top up toward her throat and undid the clasp between the cups of her bra, freeing her tits. I took her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, giving me access to her small, pert and now exposed breasts. Her nipples, growing erect, were tiny and perfect. I flicked them with my tongue, alternating back and forth. Moriah arched her back and moaned louder.
Releasing her wrists, I slid up to her ear and kissed it gently. “What would you like me to do, baby?” I made sure Robyn could hear.
“Oh, Allie, touch me there,” she said, her hips grinding against me. “Touch me, Allie, touch me.”
I moved a hand down her front, past her breasts, over her navel, and stopped at her Mound of Venus. I ran my fingertips through her silky hair and then reached down along either side of her outer lips, gently pushing them together.
She thrust her hips, nearly lifting her ass off the bed.
Slowly, gently, I separated her lips and explored her vulva. As I scooted down on the bed, Moriah’s hand went to her breasts, which she held and stroked. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her breath coming in hot spurts.
I covered her pussy lips with open-mouthed kisses, then slid my tongue inside and tasted her saltiness. I ran the tip of my tongue along her slit in a languid motion, starting at the bottom and moving up, breaking off just before her clit. After cupping her ass in my hand, she spread her legs even wider. I planted moist kisses on her inner thighs as my index finger found her hard little nub. I made slow circles on her wet clit.
Her moans were more frantic now. Moriah’s hands were at her side, gripping and twisting the bedspread as I worked her clit. Her wetness seeped along her crack to her ass, making my hand wet.
I came up with a plan to get our client into the act. “Robyn.”
She jumped out of her chair, startled. “Is something wrong? Is she okay?”
“No, nothing’s wrong, unless you call being an insatiable fuck sponge a problem. Take over. I’ve got to pee.”
“What? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never…” I ignored her, and after a second’s hesitation, she sat next to me. She didn’t react like someone used to taking orders.
I leaned down and kissed Moriah, now up on her elbows, her breath coming in deep heaves. “Allie, I can wait…oh, god!”
I picked up Robyn’s right hand, put two fingers in my mouth, and sucked and swirled them with my tongue. “First slide one finger in, then two. And kiss her. She loves to be kissed while she’s getting fucked.”
[end of excerpt]
Three of the Alison books, by the way, are compiled in Alison’s Erotic Adventures.
I’ve explored female domination/male humiliation in my Junie Makes Michael series. In book 1, Making Michael Obey, Junie makes life miserable for her live-in lover, teasing and torturing him everywhere around their house except the one place he wants to take her–their new bed. E-Read Erotica Reviews: K.C. Cave is quickly becoming my favorite author for WTF kinky sex. This book is a very fun collection of kinky encounters between just two people, but wow, they slam home with intensity and sexual energy.
My six-foot-two frame was stretched out as I bent over, on my toes and my bare ass pointing up. Junie grabbed my legs, using leverage to tip me inside. She’s amazingly strong for such a small package. I slid face-down into the chest and braced myself with both hands on an assortment of junk. My face rested against what appeared to be a Barbie doll. It was dark, so I wasn’t sure. I hoped it wasn’t a Ken doll.
Junie’s hand held my back down, applying gentle pressure. I was pinned. Without a display of brute force, I wasn’t going anywhere.
“What are you doing?” My voice was muffled by the array of junk. I thought it was a reasonable question.
“Sorry, darling, but it can’t be helped. Justice must be served. And you’re the only one available.”
“Only one what?”
I let that go. I heard her open a bureau drawer and pull something out.
SMACK. She had whacked me on my bare ass with what felt like a paddle.
“That’s for thirty-five centuries of male oppression.”
I struggled to pull out—or at least get off my toes and put my feet flat on the floor. It wasn’t going to happen. Junie had her arm around my waist. I felt the coolness of the paddle as she ran it across my bare cheeks.
“Do I get a whack for each century?”
“One for each year if you’re not more respectful.”
SMACK. My other ass cheek. Hard. But not too hard. Just enough to reawaken my cock.
“And that was for … ?”
SMACK. “Ow!” That one was really hard.
And, now, so was I. My dick strained against the cedar chest. If I could free a hand, I’d stroke it. Fat chance. A reach-around by my darling girlfriend was my only hope.
“That one was for menstruation.”
She had me there. What did that have to do with male oppression?
“Okay, could you run that one by me?” She ignored me.
“This is for the cramps.”
“And these are for the bleeding.”
“Junie, you’re not making sense.”
I felt her lean forward into the chest.
“If men menstruated, it would be a sacrament, celebrated in word and song. There would feasts and festivals. A monument on the Mall. And multiple cable channels, just like golf and college football.”
“And all you get is PMS?” Wrong thing to say.
“Michael, I expect better than that.”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“I’m the sacrificial lamb and you want sympathy?”
“Darling, things just worked out this way,” she purred. “Don’t take it personally.”
I could feel the heat radiating off my bruised ass cheeks. And then the gentle caress of her hand. Ahh.
“Poor boy. How’s it feel to be oppressed, poor boy?”
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
I heard her put the paddle, or whatever it was, down. Her foot pushed my feet apart, separating my legs. She slid a hand down my ass, between my legs and caressed my ball sack. She cupped my fragile, exposed testicles as if weighing them, like maybe she was sizing up, I don’t know, kumquats, in the market. Felt nice.
She ran her hand, very slowly, up my ass crack. Delicious. I shifted my weight from foot to foot to accommodate.
Junie leaned into the chest. “Doing okay?”
“Better. I was just about to start cunnilingus on Barbie here.”
“Oh, Michael, why do you make it worse?” She sounded genuinely sad. “Just as I was about to show you some mercy.”
*** end of excerpt ***
In Making Michael Submit, the couple are now married, but Michael’s attraction to Junie is falling off–he can’t keep his hands off himself! Junie has a cure for that–an acrylic cock cage and a strict draining schedule that saves their marriage. But with Michael under her strict sexual control, Junie’s sexual appetite can’t be fulfilled. So she finds new outlets, including a black lover and woman who comes into her life (and Michael’s). E-Read Erotica Reviews: The story moves along at a great pace, and I liked the storytelling style as well. The words just seemed very comfortable to me, both in what they wanted to say and what they told us. K.C. Cave has come a long way as a writer of erotic fiction, and she is clearly hitting her stride here and delivering.
“You’re utterly submissive to me now,” Junie said to me. “It’s miraculous. I can really see the changes that chastity have brought. Six months ago, you were this phony image of a man, a successful guy with a beautiful wife. But secretly you were pleasuring yourself in a dark corner, and your woman only served as your receptacle when you were in the mood for real sex.
“Now, you’re mine. You’re absolutely nothing, but you’re all mine. You don’t make love, you don’t touch yourself. You cook, you clean, you fawn over me, you jump two inches off the floor if I look at you cross-eyed.
“You’ve gotten more sensitive, too,” she added. “You’re gentler, more attentive to me. Your lovemaking is absolutely divine. It’s like you consume me with your mouth.”
“Princess,” I added eagerly, “my senses are so much sharper. I can tell when you ovulate. I can smell when your period starts.”
“See? Isn’t that wonderful? That’s what chastity has done for us. That’s why I’m going to keep you chaste. Right, Michael?”
“Yes, Princess. Absolutely. I’m so much happier. It’s just that today…”
“Never mind that. Something else you need to know. Your look of need and desperation enthralls me. I want more. I want more of looking down and seeing you kneeling between my legs, your entire being concentrated on only pleasing me.
“I want to see more of you looking uncomfortable and nervous,” she went on. “I want more housework done. I want more oral sex. I crave more of your sexual frustration. I love to see you shaking with desire. I want us deeper into this whole chastity thing. I want you to surrender. Seeing you like this, under my foot, completely within my power, is very arousing.”
I glanced down. Her nipples were sticking out through her bra and top. Junie’s breasts, small as they are, are major sex organs, second only to her clit. It’s where her arousal starts. She saw that I saw, and smiled.
I had an epiphany. All of a sudden, in a flash, I got it. My only salvation was Junie’s complete happiness. My dim mind, finally sharpened by months of denial, came to the realization that Junie was not getting normal sex. And that kind of sex is what my Princess enjoys most.
“Princess, I have an idea I’d like to share with you. It’s about how to make you happy. I know how much you like to make love. And I know we’re never going to do it again. Why don’t you take a lover?
“Before you answer, please understand. I don’t want to know about it, unless you want me to. I know it will be painful for me at first, but so what? I’ll get over it. I won’t be a burden to you. I want you to experience again the joy of making love to a man with a real member. The important thing is that you resume regular sex again. My only concern would be your safety.”
“Like if I picked up a man?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s danger…”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t I the one who picked you up? And took you back to my apartment for a night of sex?”
“Thanks for your concern, Michael. I think I still remember how to pick up men.”
“You’re right, Princess. Sorry.”
“Interesting suggestion. I appreciate the spirit in which you made it. I’ll consider it and get back to you.”
Making a face, she cast a long glance at my disheveled body.
“Michael, clean up your mess, wash the toys and put them away. I’m going upstairs. You cleaned my bedroom, right?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s sparkling. Clean sheets, everything.”
“Good. I’m going to lie down on the bed, and guess what I’m going to do?”
“I don’t know, Princess. Will you tell me?”
She leaned forward, her face just inches from mine, her chin in her hand, and spoke to me softly.
“I’m going to stretch out, relax and then put my hands to my face, my palms touching my cheeks. I’ll slowly move them down, over my throat to my shoulders. Then I’ll slide them down my sides, past my tummy, and over my hips.”
“Princess, you have such a beautiful shape.”
“Yes, Michael, I’m going to savor it. I’ll move my hands across my thighs and start back up my body, over my mound, up my tummy and then to my breasts. I’ll brush my fingers across the fabric.
“You can see my nipples are already hard, can’t you? I feel them without even looking. Slowly, my fingers will dance down the buttons of my blouse, opening them. After the last few buttons give way, I’ll trace the outline of my bra with my fingertip. That’s something you taught me. You tease me so well.”
“Princess, your breasts are so beautiful. They’re the embodiment of love. Think of it, for millions of years, breasts have been the original source of nourishment. Think of the love that represents.”
“That’s a wonderful thought, Michael. I love my breasts. I love looking at them. I love touching them. I like that they’re tiny. I love having them touched.
“I’ll undo the clasp between the cups and let the bra fall away, freeing them. That’s when I will slowly, lightly flutter my fingertips over them, circling my nipples.
“I’ll stop, just long enough to get up, go to the closet and undress. I don’t want my work clothes wrinkled, do I? I’ll hang up my top, put my bra away, hang up my skirt and slip off my thong. On the way back to the bed, I’ll pass the mirror. I’ll stop and savor my nude figure.”
“Princess, you are a jewel. Your body is a magnificent gift from the universe.”
“Thank you, Michael. I’ll stand there for a moment and look at my breasts. Then I’ll turn and look at my behind. Do you know, Michael, I used to think my butt was big and ugly?”
“Your ass is perfect, Princess. Your curves are totally proportional to your body.”
She stood and looked down at me. “What time is dinner?”
“Six, Princess. Tofu, asparagus and mushroom stir fry. Won’t take long, less than an hour.”
“It’s two now. If I haven’t called you by five, start dinner. If I do call you, get the strap-on, knock on my door and wait.”
*** end of excerpt ***
Book 4 in the series is The XXX Weekends. Junie sends Melanie, her lover, to tryst with her black male lover and be stretched before their lesbian weekend in Washington, D.C. In their trendy Dupont Circle boutique hotel, Junie has set up a small video studio so she record for posterity Melanie’s first fisting.
E-Read Erotica Reviews: Creatively hot, oozing with sexual tension and desire, this book is a masterfully written slice of pure, seething desire and lesbian lust. A let’s pretend trip between two women to Washington DC leads to one of them discovering her absolute limits of her passion and how far they can be stretched, only to have her inhibitions broken and a torrent of emotion unleashed. Not to be missed, and an incredible entry in this red-hot series.
Melanie pulled the door to the handicapped stall behind her and yanked off her wet panties, as ordered.
What the fuck am I doing? That crazy bitch Junie will be here in two minutes. Has she done this before? Is she a serial ladies room perv? Why did I agree to this?
She answered her own question: Two glasses of wine and soaking wet panties, the result of us planning our upcoming weekend of nonstop lesbian sex. I’m lucky she didn’t get on her knees and start lapping my cunt under the table.
Hiking up her skirt, Melanie plopped on the toilet seat and released. She flushed, and, just as she finished wiping, the women’s room door opened and fast footsteps echoed off the walls. The stall’s door flew open.
Junie attacked, pulling Melanie to her feet. She pushed her against the back wall, and kissed her deeply. While her tongue pushed into Melanie’s mouth, her hands pulled at her skirt, exposing her bare behind. Junie pushed a knee between her legs and spread her wide. Melanie, straddling the toilet, responded instantly, her pussy slick with need as Junie inserted first one, and then two fingers, into her and began thrusting.
“Fuck, Junie, goddam, what if someone…” Melanie protested between kisses.
“We’re the only women in the restaurant. If someone comes in, just shut the fuck up. Unbutton your goddam blouse.”
Melanie’s fingers flew at the buttons. With her free hand, Junie pulled her bra down and clamped her mouth on Melanie’s rock-hard nipple.
It was unreal. Just over two minutes before, Melanie had been sitting across the table from Junie in the elegant restaurant. And now this: She’s fucking me in the ladies room!
The bathroom door opened, and the women froze.
Junie clamped a hand over Melanie’s mouth. Then came the sound of water rushing in the sink.
Junie’s fingers had stopped in mid-thrust as they stood intertwined in the cramped stall, their hearts pounding. But she ground the heel of her palm slowly into Melanie’s clit as the unseen person washed her hands at the sink. With her other hand, Junie slowly grazed the pad of her thumb across Melanie’s smooth lower lip. The touch tingled lips above and below the other woman’s waist.
At the blast of the hand dryer, Junie resumed pumping her fingers deep into Melanie’s vagina.
The door opened and closed. They were alone again. Junie crushed her lips against Melanie’s.
Melanie exploded, her hips thrusting as she came into Junie’s hand. The fire of her orgasm sizzled its way through her body and melted a liquid path down her legs.
They both started at the sound of liquid splashing in water. Was someone in the adjacent stall? Was there a third person in the restroom?
“Junie! What the…”
“Goddam, Melanie! Look!” She had squirted all over Junie’s hand, her juices running down her wrist and forearm. Melanie watched as a rooster tail of liquid squirted out of her pussy and cascaded into the toilet bowl.
“Am I peeing?”
“I don’t think so.” Junie sniffed her hand, dripping with the liquid. “Doesn’t smell like pee. Have you ever squirted?”
“No, I don’t think so. I peed before you got here.”
Junie pulled Melanie into her and kissed her hard. “You are a dirty slut.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard and so fast in my life.”
“That’s just a warm up for our honeymoon. Anyway, I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes. Clean yourself up, Melanie. You’re a mess.”
“What about you? Can I make you come?”
“Let’s not push our luck. Michael will take care of me tonight. I’ll email you Amtrak tickets later in the week.”
And she was gone.
*** end of excerpt ***
Some of my work resists categorization. The Parasol: An Erotic Fable of the Old South is a humorous take on the Old South before the American Civil War–a parody of Gone with the Wind with a dose of Debbie Does Dallas. E-Read Erotica Reviews: A strong recommend for general erotica readers, and those with a penchant for spanking and naughty wives. … An excellent little piece of work here, not only is this researched, it sets the tone wonderfully, keeps moving at a brisk pace, stops for the little details, and knows when to turn up the burner and boil the pot.
“Tell me, dear wife, how is it you’re not with child?” the Master of Oglethorpe asked as he pushed his stiff rod against his wife’s inflamed flesh. “After what appear to be multiple assignations with my black field hand?”
“Well, Beau, I’m glad you asked,” she replied as she churned her ass against her husband. “That is an issue, isn’t it? I mean, we can have little freckled pickaninnies runnin’ around the plantation and no one says a word. But if the mistress of the plantation drops something that’s not sparklin’ white—well, I just perish the thought.”
“Are you with child?” He bent his knees to better align his prick with his wife’s beckoning entrance.
“Heaven’s no, Beau,” she sniffed, straightening her legs to better align herself with his impending thrusts.
Reaching back, she moved her hand tenderly over her reddening ass cheeks. “Observe, dear,” she said, running a fingertip down her crack. “You may have noticed that I have two entrances. When Big Jim first enters me, he uses this one,” she said, delicately separating her wet, swollen labia. She reached back and found her husband’s rod, now fully erect, and pulled it to her ready entrance.
“After a few moments of his incredible thrusting, I can feel his enormous thing swell even larger. That is the signal for me to move forward as he pulls out. Beulah, familiar with this technique, hands me a small jar of lard, which I smear on my, uh, other entrance.”
Her finger moved up, indicating her puckered brown hole. “Beulah smears lard on Big Jim’s member and then, well—use your imagination, dear.”
“Well, you asked how I avoid engenderin’ a mulatto,” she retorted. “Where his seed is ultimately deposited, it doesn’t ignite with my, uh, womanly creative somethin’-or-other.” Looking back at him between her legs, her face turned hard. “You might try it with Beulah next time.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” The cruelty returned to his eyes: “Why don’t I try it with you right now?”
“Don’t be so mean. Start with the other hole first, dear. The bottom one, from your perspective.” Her hand guided his straining cock to her slick lips. Beau gripped her hips as he, with a deep thrust, buried his shaft inside his wife and began thrusting.
“Okay, dear. I’m ready! Take me! I’m all yours!”
Her entreaties coaxed Beauregard to pump even faster.
“Any time, Beau! Do with me as you will!”
“Damn it, woman, I am!” he barked. “Have you been stretched beyond redemption by that black brute?” Back arched, knees bent, his head thrown back, Beau drilled his wife frantically. Beads of sweat formed on his brow.
“Husband, I don’t have all day…Oh, there! Yes! Now you’re in! Faster!”
*** end of excerpt ***
For flat-out, over-the-top comedy (and sex!), there’s The Nude Deposition. Remy, our lovable bimbo heroine, runs into legal difficulties and finds a new legal clinic with an unusual service model that includes an invasive medical examination, public sex with strangers and an over-endowed dwarf. E-Read Erotica Reviews: This one is written more for laughs, so the heat level is warm. The laughs though are very good, it just gets more and more absurd as the story goes on, which is a good thing since you can’t hit super absurd right from the start because it’s too much of a shock. The book eases us into it, and I will always say that writing comedy is also very hard, but K.C. Cave manages to pull off this satirical farce quite well, and keep the heat going through the entire episode.
The door opened, and a young woman entered the office. Remy couldn’t believe her eyes: Wearing a red, skin-tight micro-dress and six-inch heels, she was all curves. While her breasts weren’t as large as Remy’s, her neckline plunged nearly to her waist. A push-up bra did the rest. Remy’s shock at the sight of the provocatively dressed woman evaporated as she began to speak.
“Miss McClintock, I’m Professor Slutz. Will you come with me? We have a special conference room reserved for depositions.”
“Gosh, I’ve never seen a law professor like this before,” Remy thought as she followed Professor Slutz’ rocking hips and swinging globes down the hall.
Followed by: “Well, actually, I’ve never seen any kind of a law professor before. Aren’t they like school teachers? But, but … this chick is hotter than anybody I ever had in high school.”
The conference room, only a few doors down the hall, occupied a corner of the tall building and offered a stunning view of the city. In the center, a large walnut conference table was surrounded by upholstered chairs. Another white china pitcher and glasses sat on a sideboard inside the door.
“Please help yourself,” said Professor Slutz, nodding toward the pitcher. “I’ll join you.”
Remy had forgotten about the creamy, cool liquid, as distracted as she was by her steamy meeting with Professor Balzac and this unexpectedly gorgeous woman. The delicious concoction was even smoother and tastier than she remembered. After downing a glass, she poured another.
“Miss McClintock, I understand you’ve never been deposed before,” Professor Slutz said, settling her firm, round behind into one of the chairs. “Let me explain what’s about to unfold. Are you familiar with the term ‘juris doctoris’?”
Remy shook her head. She was having a little trouble focusing.
“That’s what it says on my law school diploma,” the professor said. “What it means, Miss McClintock, is that I’m a doctor of law. For you, that means you have to remove your clothes. You must be nude for the deposition.”
A vague thought that something wasn’t right flitted through Remy’s head. She took a long pull of the refreshing liquid, and the concern disappeared. “Now? Should I undress now?”
Professor Slutz nodded. Remy stood and began removing her clothes. Undressing was easy. The flimsy top slid right off. She wiggled out of her skirt and pulled off her thong.
“Is this okay?” she asked, her arms on her hips and turning to give the professor a full view of her not inconsiderable charms. Remy knew she was gorgeous and enjoyed showing off.
The professor shook her head. “Nude means everything, Miss McClintock. Boots, too.”
In a moment, Remy was completely and spectacularly nude, her firm, curvy, twenty-two-year-old body on full display. Her breasts were two perfectly rounded domes. Her nipples were tiny and perfect, the way they reached up all perky and creased.
Remy cocked a hip, tilted her head, and ran a finger from between her breasts down to her navel. She fanned out her fingers and dropped her hand to her freshly waxed pussy.
“How’s this, professor?”
The other woman smiled and stood up. “Follow me, dear, and I’ll make the final preparations here in the witness prep room.”
Remy followed the slinky law professor through a door and entered a small, windowless room. In the center was a large chair. It look just like a chair you’d find in a dentist’s office.
“Please be seated, Miss McClintock.”
Remy swung her hips and settled in. She was prepared for the shock of cold leather on her bare skin, but was pleasantly surprised by the chair’s warmth.
“Due to the nature of the complaint filed against you, Miss McClintock, this deposition has, ahem, special requirements,” Professor Slutz explained. “Please relax as I make some adjustments. Oh, can I interest you in more to drink?”
Remy nodded her head enthusiastically. The professor returned with another glass of the delicious libation, filled to the rim.
“Drink up, dear. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the complaint filed against you. You’re not a lawyer, is that correct, Miss McClintock? I didn’t think so, but it’s always best to ask. I’ll do my best to explain without the legalese. Basically, your ex-husband is asking the court to order that you pay him additional damages on the basis that during your brief marriage, you were frigid.
“I want to ask you now, before the formal deposition begins, are you frigid, Miss McClintock? And, just to be clear, by ‘frigid,’ I mean, are you abnormally averse to sexual intercourse?”
“Gosh, no, professor,” Remy gushed. “I mean, I love to fuck.” Shocked at her use of the obscenity, Remy blushed.
“It’s okay, dear, that’s what we need to know. I appreciate your frankness. The legal issue that we need to establish for the court is that you, to use your words, ‘love to fuck.’ And that’s what we’re going to do this afternoon. I mean, establish that you’re not frigid.”
“Will…will it hurt?” Remy stammered.
“No, it shouldn’t. In fact, it should be pleasurable—extremely pleasurable. Now, let me get you ready.”
The professor went to work on Remy, fastening thick, leather straps around her upper arms and waist. “You see, we’re going to also be taking some medical evidence as you’re deposed, so it’s important that you’re stabilized,” the law professor explained as she fussed with the buckles on the straps.
Securely strapped into the comfortable chair, Remy relaxed. Glancing at her drink, she told the professor, “I forgot to finish…”
The professor smiled, picked up the glass, and put it to Remy’s lips. “Delicious, isn’t it? I drink it all day long.” After she finished the drink, the professor put the glass down. Turning to Remy, she placed a hand to her throat, caressing it, and then slowly moved to her exposed breasts.
At the touch of the professor’s hand to her nipple, a bolt of sexual energy surged from Remy’s boob to her clit. She sucked in her breath as warmth radiated between her legs.
“My preliminary evaluation is that you are sexually responsive. Take, for example, these firm, taut nipples,” Professor Slutz said. Remy arched her back as the other woman’s hand molded her breast, and her fingertips brushed against her jutting nubs.
“But we need a more thorough examination to be absolutely sure,” the professor added, gliding her hand down Remy’s stomach to her Mound of Venus. “We need to go to the source and take precise measurements.”
Remy spread her legs wide, inviting the professor’s hands to her delicate folds, now glistening with moisture. Between the libation, Professor Balzac’s kisses, and this sexy law professor’s gentle stroking, Remy was in a sexual froth. The pool of liquid at the base of her spine was close to overflowing. She knew that feeling. It was her first orgasm.
“Please, oh please,” Remy pleaded. “Please touch me.”
The professor dropped to her knees and explored Remy’s open pussy with her hands. Her fingertips pushed aside Remy’s swollen labia, revealing a hardening clit.
“Oh, I forgot to ask,” the professor said as she drew little circles on the stiff little nub. “Do you need to relieve yourself?”
Remy nodded. She was feeling the effects of the third—or was it the fourth?—glass of the libation. The professor reached for a white plastic urinal and placed the cup between her spread legs.
Remy blushed furiously. How could she pee in front of this stranger? This…this law professor?
“Just let it go, dear,” said Professor Slutz soothingly, as if reading her mind. “It’s much better to do it now. Just relax.”
Remy let go, and her pee gushed into the cup. After she was finished, the professor dabbed her with a towel and emptied the urinal into a nearby sink.
Returning to the examination, the professor slid two fingers into Remy’s swollen pussy. “My, you’re a most responsive client,” she purred. “You’re exceedingly wet.”
Remy raised her hips, pushing against the other woman’s hand. Her cunt was exquisitely sensitive, almost painfully so. As she pushed, the professor moved deeper inside her, fucking her slowly with two fingers. An ecstatic expression had taken hold of her face, and her eyes pleaded for more fingers.
“Yes, I think you’re ready,” the professor said, sliding her digits out of Remy’s hot, wet hole and putting them to her mouth. She slowly and sensually licked and sucked Remy’s juices off her fingers.
With a quick motion, she pushed a handle on the side of the chair, and Remy’s legs rose in the air as her head and torso dropped. Her nude bottom and swollen pussy were elevated and exposed. It was like a gynecological examination table, minus the stirrups.
The professor opened the door of the room and, to Remy’s surprise, she was wheeled into the ornate conference room.
Another surprise: Four people were seated at the table, two men and two women. All were young and wore white lab coats.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present Miss Remy McClintock for your deposition pleasure,” the law professor said as she positioned the chair.
*** end of excerpt ***
I didn’t forget the guys. Welcome to the Club presents readers with a central character who discovers the joy of prostate play. How cool: A new way to orgasm! But if playing with a plastic dildo is fun, what about the real thing? He’s not gay, which is a problem. He sees an ad in an alternative newspaper: “Open membership/Exclusive men’s club/For the adventurous.” A few phone calls later, he’s on the way to an upscale hotel for his initiation into a very special club for men who are straight, professional, “and enjoy the Greek side of things.” His initiation will be an evening of sex and submission to six experienced men.
The sequel is The Glory Hole Shebang. Our hero is tasked with setting up the club’s next gay orgy. He manages to secure an about-to-be-demolished interstate rest area. On a hot summer evening, the old men’s room will be the site of the first annual, members-only, glory hole shebang. E-Read Erotica Reviews: … I actually like this one. Most all of it is anonymous male/male sex in various places, bathroom holes, chain-link fences, and just a smorgasbord of unsafe fantasy sex. It is written pretty well, and the thing I like about it is that it just does not let up. It is not something you go into expecting a grand story or a sweeping epic, this is just down and dirty by the numbers anonymous sex.
Grungy was the best word to describe the run-down public restroom—peeling paint on walls, the steel mirrors over the cracked sinks were scratched and cloudy, and the odor of bleach couldn’t conceal decades of use. One nice touch provided by the club’s decorating committee were newspaper clips hung on the wall about state police busts of perverts arrested in sting operations—sting operations operated in this rest area, where men were arrested for soliciting and performing oral sex. A nice touch.
Coolers full of ice kept water bottles and soft drinks cold on folding tables in the lobby, and a laptop and projector threw images of retro porn on the cinderblock wall.
“Dude, this is fucking brilliant,” enthused a member, his erect penis bobbing as he approached me. “Everyone’s having a blast! It’s so goddamned perverted! How did you pull this off?”
“It’s all who you know,” I replied, acting cool. “Ran into a guy I went to college with who’s now a bigwig at the D.O.T.”
I stepped inside the rest room, eager and anxious to see how the blow job extravaganza was progressing. Grunts, howls, and groans emanated from the dozen or so, metal-enclosed toilet stalls. Two men, their backs to the sinks across from the enclosures, were being serviced by men kneeling on the floor—sloppy, wet blow jobs, with loud slurps and mouth pops. Two women volunteers, nude like the rest of us, scurried about armed with towels, spray bottles of disinfectant, bottles of lube and packets of rubbers, all held in small shoulder bags. I looked down at my cock, and it rose to half-mast. I hadn’t had an orgasm in a week. The pressure in my balls was intense.
Some stalls didn’t have doors, and it was easy to walk by and see if any action was going on. Men either sat on the toilet or kneeled on towels as they serviced cocks protruding from the glory holes. In the adjacent stalls, they splayed their bodies against the cold metal walls, hands gripping the tops of the enclosures, their asscheeks clenching and unclenching as they were serviced through the glory holes.
My self-assigned job was to make sure every cock was getting sucked. I moved down the row of stalls, looking in, until I found an empty one. I stepped inside, and, sure enough, there was a straining, but unengaged penis sticking through the glory hole.
I sat on the black toilet seat, chipped and wobbly from decades of use. The penis was large, but didn’t look fully erect. I lifted it with my palm and felt its heft and heat. My experience with cocks was extremely limited—really, my only session with other men was my club initiation a few months before—and I marveled at the miracle of this huge appendage that nearly filled my hand. It pulsed and lengthened from my touch, and rose off my palm. I placed my other hand over it, and it was almost like a prayer, my hands folded over this hot, hard and throbbing penis. That such a thing could stay attached all the time, hanging between a man’s legs, always ready for a fuck or a yank, amazed me.
The glory hole was almost at mouth level, so I only had to lower my head slightly. Using a fingertip to raise it up, I took the glans inside my mouth, very gently, and held it.
I could feel the pulse jump as I held his lengthening cock in my mouth. Smiling inwardly, I tried to imagine what it must feel like, after waiting patiently for who knows how many minutes, your penis pushed through a hole in the wall, to have your half-hard cock engulfed by an unseen mouth. It was a good-sized penis, more than six inches protruding through the glory hole, and a wide girth that made it more oval than round. It was circumcised, and I started to swirl my tongue on the soft, spongy head. My hands went to the base of the shaft, and my mouth bobbed up and down on the cock.
I was sucking an anonymous cock in an interstate men’s room! Under harsh fluorescent lighting! With sounds of other men sucking and being sucked!
Without thinking, I dropped a hand to my own cock. I was rock hard. So, now, was the cock in my mouth. I could sense its owner pushing against the steel enclosure, and I could hear his feet shuffle on the floor as he pushed his body against the hard, flat surface that separated us. Holding his cock at the base, I tongued the length of his shaft, always returning to the tip, where I tortured his piss hole with my lips and tongue. I sucked his cock the way I wanted my cock sucked—when my turn came. I sucked him slowly and then fast, back and forth, alternating my mouth with my hands.
“Oh, fuck, oh goddamn, fuck, fuck,” I heard him groan, only inches away but invisible, except for his straining member.
*** end of excerpt ***
My latest book explores physical love between a woman and a woman in the making: Trans Action.
E-Read Erotica Reviews: The sex in this book is just so damn sweet I can’t resist. We have a woman showing a newly transitioning T – girl how it is to make love to a woman for the first time. It gets graphic and detailed, yet it still has a wonderful warmth and sweetness to it that I just have fallen in love with. This is a pretty unique book, one about someone who is between sexes learning how to love another person. I did get a thrill out of this as well, so the heat is well-written and it set the pot to boil for me.
Brogan took my hand and moved it to her breast. It was real. And quite small on her broad chest. I unbuttoned her shirt to her waist and unhooked her bra.
“So lovely,” I murmured, stroking her nipples to erection. I circled her areole with my tongue while watching her face. She flushed, and I kissed her again.
I wanted her to see my body. She helped me pull my T-shirt over my head and unclasped my bra. While she was bigger than me in almost every way, my tits were definitely larger. As I pushed my jeans down, she wriggled out of hers. Her hips were narrow, but her ass was tight and round.
What was between her legs? She had on bikini bottoms and I couldn’t see. I didn’t ask. All in due time.
Her body was lean and lithe. I kissed her breasts and ran my hands down the curve of her sides. “I want to pleasure you,” I said between kisses.
Brogan rolled on her back and pushed down her panties. Her hairless cock, small and stiff, popped out. I took it in both my hands.
“My dick. Maybe one day, if I can ever afford it, I’ll get a pussy.”
What it lacked in size, it made up in hardness. It was circumcised and only a few inches long. I ran my fingers down her shaft and explored behind. The wrinkled little nutsac felt empty.
“Brogan, can you come?”
“Sure. It might take a while. And not much comes out. It’s because my testosterone is blocked.”
“Good. Less mess.”
This was surely the smallest cock I’d ever seen. Does a penis get smaller with HRT? Safe to say, it really did a number on testicles. I’d have to remember to ask her later. I scrooched down and took it in my mouth. Virtually the whole of it—head and shaft—fit. Brogan took my head in her hands and guided me as I sucked her off.
All my pent-up horniness burst loose. I could feel the slickness between my legs. My clit was hard and demanding attention.
Without thinking, I pushed Brogan on her back and pulled a pillow under her narrow hips. Her little cocklet pointed straight at the ceiling, quivering. I mounted her cowgirl style, leaned forward, stretched my arms out beside her head and kissed her, probing her mouth with my tongue. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. Wanna be fucked?”
*** end of excerpt ***
Here’s hoping you enjoyed the excerpts (and my book covers). My ebooks are available through all the major distributors.