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About the author:
Greybeard is a pseudonym (I hadda’ spell check that) for a guy that writes YA / Adult fiction suitable for school libraries. I didn’t want that author name associated with erotica, my online handle has been Greybeard since the old BBS days, ergo, Greybeard (with an “e”, not an “a”).
What inspired you to write your book?
I have novels in several genres (Western, SciFi, Sword & Sorcery Fantasy). On an author’s community someone asked, “What sells? What should I write?” The emphatic answer from several sources was “EROTICA”. I already had two of these stories laying around. I wrote four more and published it in hopes of making a few sales. eBook sales are so-so, I’ve sold one (1) Paperback out of my eight novels, this one.
Here is a short sample from the book:
IN YOUR DREAMS
She was tall and lithe… well, not too tall, maybe 5’6”, with sexy, tan legs that were full and tight, not skinny like those anorexic fashion models, flowing gracefully into a nice, round ass that jiggled just enough to be enticing. Her skin sparkled as the thin bathing oil splashed and trickled down her shapely calves. Perfect hips, slender but full accentuating a slender waist and flat stomach. And those breasts. My Gawd! Full, round, solid, with just enough weight they pulled down slightly tilting the full areolas and nipples upward, round bulge to the side and full enough to form a natural cleavage. A full neck gently leading to a soft but fully defined jaw line. Thin, aquiline nose, full sensuous lips. Gawd, how he’d love to kiss those lips. Big eyes, long lashes, noise. What the hell was that gawd-awful noise?
Aw, hell. That beautiful lithe, tan body began to dissolve from the back of John Weston’s eyelids as the sound of a klaxon blaring penetrated his consciousness.
A sharp slap on his arm. “C’mon, get up. We’re scrambled.” That was Bobby Moore, his RIO, Radar Intercept Officer, his flight partner. The term was a holdover from days past of jet aircraft on ocean going carriers. Well, they were much the same now, except instead of flying over the ocean they were in the vastness of space.
John mentally gave her a soft pat on her round ass feeling the warmth of her sexy body. She smiled over her shoulder, eyes full of promise as her image rapidly faded to be replaced by the harsh reality of bright lights and metal walls, the rotating red beacon and that damned shrill, blaring klaxon that pulsed like a hammer beating in his head.
Weston was off his bunk, into his one piece flight suit and boots and running down the hall in a matter of seconds. His crew chief handed him his helmet and quickly plugged in three leads that tethered him to his machine. Not more than three minutes elapsed from sensual imaginings to rushing at a break-neck speed through the launch tube and through the force field. Gawd, how he hated that. Even though it was only for a fraction of a second at these speeds it felt like trying to ooze your whole body through a wall. If anyone tried to walk through it they’d be repelled and collapse in a twitching heap. He often wondered what the long term effects of having your body and brain repeatedly scrambled would be. They probably wouldn’t tell you anyway. His earphones crackled bringing him back to reality. From the rear seat his RIO said, “Is this just going to be another delusional imagining of some paranoid long range radar operator, or is there something really out there this time?”
Imagining. The vision of that pretty face winking over her bare, sexy shoulder flashed through his mind. He said, “Yeah, don’t you just love spending thousands of the taxpayer’s dollars for a joyride?” But he was really thinking of another kind of joyride.
Suddenly as they shot through the emptiness of space they were bathed in a semi-visible ray that rendered their machine and their bodies motor functions inoperable. Just before darkness overtook him he saw them being drawn toward a huge, dark hull visible only because it blotted out the many stars behind it.
John slowly opened his eyes. The lighting was subdued yet it filled the room, which was itself a subdued bluish white. He tried unsuccessfully to move, but only his eyelids worked. Standing in front of him was a strikingly beautiful woman, though somehow she seemed harsh. Lustrous coal black hair, long and full, large dark-on-dark eyes where there’s no difference between the iris and the pupil, full sensuous lips painted a bright red that complemented her olive skin. They painted a cruel smile.
He felt the sensation of something sharp on his chest and his eyes moved down to notice long, slender fingers ending in long, pointed nails painted bright red to match the mouth. One sharp fingernail was dragging along his chest leaving a long, thin mark.
His eyes slowly roved over the rest of her. Slender, corded neck, strong shoulders, toned arms. She stood back so he could see, her eyes never leaving his. Long, slender waist into gently flowing hips. Her breasts fit her body, not overly large, but they had to hurt stuffed into such a small space. Her leather outfit was more like a thong stretched out to cover the rest of her. The top went around the back of her neck coming down over either breast pushing them together showing a bulging cleavage. The large nipples were exposed and hard poking through metal covered slits that held them tightly pinched.
Two tight strands were stretched down either side to a low bikini leaving her muscular flat belly exposed. Holding her arms out she turned slowly showing a tight muscular butt with the thong pulled tightly into the crack. Her thighs were slender and solid. As she continued her turn he noticed a slight bulge in her crotch. The leather formed a tight contour around the pubes, but there were tiny metal spikes extending from it. And they were not only external. Every movement of her hips, especially walking, must have rubbed the pointed tips against every sensitive inch. There was an especially large spike near the top that must’ve rested directly against her clit. Her dark eyes showed the ecstasy of both pain and pleasure as she moved.
“Ah, Della,” came a husky voice. “Do you like what you see?”
Just coming into his range of vision was the owner of that husky voice. Tall, slender, almost skinny, hair swept back, eyebrows of the same color. She had harsh blue eyes, sort of slanted, and a thin, cruel mouth, a mannish looking woman. She was wearing a high necked robe of some unknown fabric that hung straight and tight enough to show what few bony curves she had. Small breasts with hard, pointy nipples, bony hips, long, bony feet in sandals.
“Yes, Mistress Sandol,” came the timid reply.
With her head down the sexually clad Della shuffled forward and knelt on knee high black boots before her mistress. Sandol ran her long fingers through Della’s lustrous hair and tightened her grip pulling Della’s head up. “I might give him to you, later,” and with strength belying her skinny arms threw Della’s head away from her with enough force to cause her to skid on her side.
She turned her cruel eyes to Weston and said, “Well now, let’s see what we have here.” He noticed for the first time he was naked lying on a contour surface that was neither hard nor soft. Sensation returned, he was aware of pressure against his back and air against his body, but still he couldn’t move his limbs, only his fingers and toes.
She ran a hard, pointed fingernail along the inside of his thigh causing his leg to quiver. She cupped his testicles in her hand and squeezed gently causing him to gasp involuntarily. She lifted his penis by the circumcised head and let it drop. Mistress Sandol said, “Hardly adequate. Pity there isn’t more to him,” and turned away.
To himself he thought, “Hardly adequate?! Who the hell does this bitch think she is? Hardly adequate my ass!” He tried to say something but it barely came out as a rush of air.
To Della she said, “Well, no matter. Have him cleaned up,” and she turned to leave.
Immediately Della’s attitude changed when Mistress Sandol left the room. She came over to him, a sensuous smile playing on her lips and ran a finger down the length of his cock, which instantly grew hard. Her eyes widened and her mouth form an “Ohh” as she took the lengthening member in her hand and gently stroked it. From a distance down the hallway came, “And don’t play, Della. That comes later.”