After the longest winter in a long time, I finally got my garden expanded and planted. This year, if the weather holds, the garden will produce a full years worth of onions, garlic, and potatoes. My beets are doing really good, but I lost almost all of the rest of the crops to the cold, wet spring. I got a good start on my greenhouse foundation and then my luck turned and every vehicle I own and my four-wheeler broke down. I’ve spent the last two weeks just turning wrenches, until yesterday. Yesterday I got back on the greenhouse project and now have almost 30% of my masonry work done. Today I just got my copy of my first piece of writing to be published: “Little Hammer”, a narrative nonfiction piece. My Backwoods home piece “It Happens to Everyone” will be out in a month or so. I co-wrote an erotic novella with a well published (and great) gal from England, and it’s currently at our first choice publisher.

I’m almost done going through The Airstream getting it ready for our trip to Burning Man. I found an older Duramax Diesel truck in Colorado and Shelley’s bring it up (and pulling a car behind it) when she picks up the kids in a few weeks. She’s going to stay in The Gulch while I’m at )’(

I’ve discovered the joys of polyamory and have been having a great time with several women. The kids are doing great, but I still can’t believe The Boy will turn eighteen this winter.

Over the last few years I have written and submitted several pieces to this company via email, and never heard back. This didn’t bother me; it’s all part of being a writer. About six months ago, after I decided to get serious about this writing stuff, I wrote two market specific pieces. Market specific meaning I chose two periodicals and wrote what I thought they’d like to receive as submissions. I also took my submission process up several notches; I wrote cover letters for both pieces, submitted via snail-mail and included SASEs. The purpose of the SASE is to have the work returned, generally with a form rejection letter. About a month after sending these off, I received the first of the SASE back (from a mineralogy publication,) and was pleased to find a contract and request for photographs and captions. I still haven’t received even a form rejection letter back from the self-sufficiency magazine, but what I have received is a request to renew my subscription for what would be the twelfth year now. I’ll consider sending that in the day they have the common decency to use the means I provided to at least return my work.

[RANT]

For a long time I haven’t supported the government’s role in marriage because of the inequality for same-sex partners, but it had never affected me personally until today.

Last week I filled out the fifty or so pages of forms necessary to begin Shelley’s and my divorce and submitted them for review before mailing them to Shelley.

I got them back today saying we can’t waive any declarations of p/alimony or child support. It didn’t matter that I was the one who could seek “maintenance” and that I also happened to be the one filing the papers and I made it perfectly clear that this wasn’t something I was interested in. They don’t care that we both agreed to take care of the kids independently while they were in our care. They are demanding to know when they will be with whom, who will provide their health insurance… and a shit load of other things that aren’t any of their damn business.

I think I’ll talk to Shelley about having our written pre-divorce separation agreement papers expanded and sent through lawyers. Fuck them. I don’t plan on ever remarrying and we can work out the tax issues between ourselves. [/rant]

And She Danced
By John Galt

The fire roared
The drink flowed
And she danced

The moon shone
The water rippled
And she danced

Night birds called
Shooting stars fell
And she danced

A beautiful smile
Honest and happy
And she danced

A hidden laugh
Gentle and shy
And she danced

My hand taken
Pulling me close
And we danced

This is not a movie I’d watch with my parents or with my children (unless they were older.) The film took what I felt was a very impartial, and in depth look at D/s (Dominant/submissive) relationships. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who has ever been curious about unconventional relationships and I’d like to thank H. for recommending this flick to me.

The only part to the day that wasn’t going to plan was that I was so attracted to her that I was having trouble pissing. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and the idea of what I would soon be doing with her. Every time I stopped to take a piss, as soon as I touched my cock it would start getting hard and would cock its head and give me the “come on, let’s go nail her” look.

Even thought I couldn’t find a suitable trail I couldn’t let the day end on an anticlimactic note like drinking beers at a local bar. So I decided it was time to see if all her adventure talk was on the level. I was so wrapped up in our conversation that I barely made the turn onto the snow packed dirt road, that lead to the local swimming hole. This being February I knew it would be froze over but I hoped the trail would be hard packed enough to walk on, and of course it was. It got used even at this time of the year. If I had to make a bet, I’d guess that three-quarters of the local population loss their virginity at The Swimming Hole. I didn’t intend to make the location something symbolic but looking back it was perfect.

She had been fairly touchy on the ride. Her hand would brush across my leg and linger there just a little longer than necessary for some item she didn’t really need. I still don’t know if she really was a little drunk, not very surefooted or was just giving me an excuse for taking her hand, but she kept stumbling up the snowy rutted trail. The end effect was the same; I had her hand by the time we got there. Taking my cue from her wanting me to drive, I figured I’d have to make the first real move.

I twisted her arm up behind her back, this sounds violent, but it was actually done very gently. If I had felt any resistance I would have stopped but she didn’t resist. The best part of this move is that it forces her body against yours. She took a sharp shallow breath as her body came to rest against mine. After letting my other hand grasp her neck just a second longer than necessary to make it perfectly clear on an animalistic level that I was in control, I grabbed her beautiful long blond hair.

You know for all that feministic thought, most of which is right; when it comes to sex I have yet to find a woman who doesn’t want… no, need, to be dominated occasionally. I pulled her hair back, forcing her to look up and into my eyes. In her eyes was a look of hunger I’ll never forget, without closing them she pulled against my grasp of her hair, and started kissing me. I also didn’t close my eyes, but bathed in her semi-blurry beauty, and sweet beer breath. Her breathing became faster and shallower, her tongue met mine. She moaned and started grinding her pelvis against me. I reached up under her layers of jackets and coats and found her small breasts. They were warm and her nipples felt like miniature gumdrops. She pushed herself away from me just enough for me to fondle them.

She stuck her freezing cold hand down my pants and grabbed my already hard cock. I could feel the slippery pre-cum, that had been waiting all day for this time, lubricate the end of my shaft when she started stroking it. Now it was my turn to gasp, I pulled my hand out of her shirt and thrust it down the back of her pants. One cheek of her ass fit perfectly into my hand. I squeezed, and then I squeezed harder, I wanted to lay a claim on it, even if just for a little while. She knocked my hat off. I let it fall, and didn’t even look to see where it ended up. I pushed her up against a nearby tree, and started undoing her belt, but then I realized I hadn’t brought any condoms and told her so. She told me not to worry and pulled a packet out of her inner jacket pocket.

I had her pants part way down when she told me she wanted to do it in the snow. I didn’t give a shit that the temperature was in the single digits, nor that we were almost a mile from the vehicle; I would have fucked her, in the middle of a Walmart at this point.

I took off my heavy wool coat and spread it out on a nearly bare patch of ground under the tree, she did the same and we had a good enough spot. I pushed her down on the coats, and started to take her pants off, but she had those kinds of boots that are laced all the way to the top. Realizing I’d be spending forever on those fucking laces I wiggled up between her legs. Her boots, wadded up jeans and panties came to rest on my back. My own pants had been pulled down by her in a similar fashion. I could smell her sweet musky scent and her clitoris was sticking up like a stuck zipper pull. I cupped her breasts, one in each hand and took turns sucking on their pale pink nipples.

With one hand I grabbed her long pony tail again; she fought me and brought her lips to mine. I took the time to give her a long languorous kiss and then with one hand smacked her ass while with the other I used her ponytail to pull her head back down onto the jackets, hard. She looked scared for just a second but then said “put it on, I need you inside me now.” Her pussy was soaking wet and surprisingly tight. I had always been told I had an amazing cock but I didn’t expect a woman who herself had admitted to being with many men to be that hard to get into.

On the first thrust she moaned loud enough I was glad we were miles from civilization, on the second thrust it sounded like she was going to start crying, her back arched and my cock was pushed from its hot home. She had fucking come in two strokes, I told myself in disbelief. I grabbed her ass with one hand on each side, and moved so that her ankles were on my shoulder. With her back still arched I tightened my grasp on her ass cheeks and shoved myself home again. This time I swear she was crying, but there were no tears, and she screamed “fuck me.” I rammed deep and her whole body started to shake. I was stunned, she was coming again.

I was so turned on by her hair-trigger I almost popped right there, but held off just to see what the hell would happen if I kept going. She started shaking, and her back and ass fell back to the ground like a rag doll. I grabbed her ankles, pulled myself out from between her legs, and pushed her legs up so that her thighs were resting on her stomach. Her whole crotch and a good portion of her ass was now soaking wet but I still had problems getting back in.

Now, it sounded like she really was crying, and maybe she was, but I was too busy getting my first good look at this amazingly quick pussy to know. It was small. Much smaller than most I had seen. My cock looked dangerously large, stretching it to widths that didn’t look natural. Between gasps, and sobs she kept chanting “fuck me, fuck me harder, I want you to come.” I couldn’t help smiling and looked up into her glassy eyes, I was distracted by her little tits; the ends were rhythmically rocking up and down her chest in time with my thrusting. The edges of her hard nipples looked like pink crepe paper. She grabbed my left hand and started sucking on my index finger, with her right hand she grabbed a handful of snow, made a snowball and rubbed it against her tits. That was all I could take; I blew. I could feel rope-like streams of cum rocketing out of my cock. She reached up and grabbed my beard with both hands and pulled, hard. It was her way of saying “so, you thought you were in charge, did you?”

I looked into her eyes, and there were actual tears there but she was also smiling. I felt myself smiling too and fell on top of her. I could feel our stomachs stick. I don’t know how she managed it in the frigid temperatures but she had worked up a sweat. I laid there listened to her racing heart slow until she started shivering.

A couple of my writer friends have come right out and told me I shouldn’t waste my time writing anything except erotica. This isn’t as bad as it sounds and was meant more as a compliment to my erotica writing skills. I know what you are thinking. Sure there is A LOT of bad erotica out there, but there is also some good stuff, Anne Rice’s D/s series comes to mind. Unfortunately most erotica writers are very poorly compensated for their writing. This however is most probably linked to the amount of truly awful erotica passed off as writing.

Nowadays a good platform has become a necessity for all writers, but an erotica writer needs a really strong platform in order to have any chance to financially succeed. The days of dropping your manuscript off at a publishers and waiting for a big fat check are over. For those who don’t know, a platform is how an author sells themselves to the public: e.g. book signings, blogs, websites, etc.

So this is where I need my readers input. I tried to keep my more…unique writing pieces separate from this blog, because some readers here are family members, and I was afraid to offend them, (luckily I have a great circle of writer friends who provided me support with these pieces.) Now that I’m not too concerned about how people choose to offend themselves, and I need the exposure this blog can provide for my writing, I’m considering integrating my more risqué pieces in with my more traditional posts here. This blog will never be all erotica, I’m talking about adding just a lil’ bit of spice.

What say you? Why do you come here? What do you like, and dislike?

Me in twenty-five weeks: