Aug 262015

Darren was hunched over the counter. There was a four stitch tear in the panties he was working on. The smell of perfume wafted up from the panties.

He guided the needle in and out of the delicate fabric. The thread was a perfect match for the pink material. More difficult was the stitching. Darren had to duplicate the rather rare Xeres stitch that made up the panties. It was new to him and this was his third try.

The bell above the door rang. In walked a woman in a green blouse and black slacks. Her eyes were Asian and her black hair was a shimmering veil. Darren guessed that she was Murean.

“Is Mr. Jaque in?” the woman asked. Her voice was lyrical with a light lisp. She was definitely Murean.

“Mr. Jacque is at lunch,” Darren said. It was what Mr. Jacque claimed but he always came back flushed in the face and smelling of bananas. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss?”

“Mrs. Qwen,” the woman said she pulled off her blouse. A white bra held her lovely breasts. Darren’s practiced eye identified them as C cups. When the woman moved to unclasp her bra, Darren remembered his manners.

“There is a changing room over there,” he said.

Mrs. Qwen ignored him. She removed her bra and her plump breasts were freed. She laid the bra on the counter.

Darren picked it up. It was warm to the touch. There were no holes. The fabric was inexpensive.

“What can we do?” Darren asked.

“It is too loose,” Mrs. Qwen said. There was an economy to her speech. “I want it to grip me tighter. Can you do that?”

“Certainly,” Darren said. “We can adjust the frame and add wiring if you wish. How tight do you want it?”

“I’ll show you,” Mrs. Qwen said. “Come here.”

Darren rose without hesitation. He really should be ushering her to a changing room in case another client came in but he lacked the courage. Mr. Jaque always said to obey the clients. He decided to err on the side of obedience.

He came around the counter and Mrs. Qwen presented her back to him. A flowing tattoo of a swooping bird decorated her back. The talons looked exceedingly sharp.

Mrs. Qwen looked over her shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Darren lifted his hands and she reached back for them. Her small fingers grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward. He felt her bottom press against his now growing erection. She brought his hands up to her breasts and his fingers curled around her flesh.

“Higher,” she said. “Lift them up more.”

Darren did. He supported the weight of her breasts in his hands.

“Curl your fingers,” she said. “Tighter. Tighter.”

He obeyed. Her flesh spilled between his fingers.

“Closer together,” she said. “Right there.”

Darren’s hands came together to her specifications.

“Can you make a bra that holds me like this?” Mrs. Qwen asked.

“Yes,” Darren said in a whisper. He wasn’t sure but he would try. Mr. Jaque would expect nothing less.

“Wait, I must test it,” Mrs. Qwen said.

Darren didn’t ask how. He held her breasts and worked hard to retain the shape of his fingers.

Mrs. Qwen reached down to her pants. Her arm came down over Darren’s arm and pinned it to her. He heard the sound of a zipper coming undone.

Darren’s heart raced. His eyes darted to the door. No one was coming through.

Mrs. Qwen reached into her pants. Her arm moved. The sound of something wet was being stroked. A new smell joined the smell of fabric and sweat.

Darren shuddered. “Stay still,” Mrs. Qwen hissed.

Darren didn’t answer but he tried to obey. The movement of her arm was jostling his own. He made subtle adjustments while maintaining his precise grip on her breasts.

He felt her nipples harden against his fingers.

Mrs. Qwen stroked faster. “A little higher,” she commanded.

Darren lifted her breasts a fraction.

Mrs. Qwen stroked harder. The wet sounds grew louder. Her breasts jiggled within his fingers.

Darren’s member throbbed against the confines of his pants. It pulsed against Mrs. Qwen’s plump bottom. She had to have noticed the pressure on her ass. Darren feared offending her but if he moved his erection away, he might disturb the gripping of her breasts.

Mrs. Qwen groaned. Her hips moved. Darren’s cock ached as it was grinded on.

“A little looser,” Mrs. Qwen said.

Darren’s fingers relaxed ever so slightly. The jiggling of her flesh increased in his hands.

Mrs. Qwen said nothing as she stroked faster. The bouncing of her flesh continued within his grip. Her ass rolled against Darren’s trapped cock.

Darren wondered if he could climax. He was close. It was so hot and tight within his pants. Her breasts were so soft and warm within his hands. A little more and he was sure that could come.

Mrs. Qwen suddenly stopped. She groaned and a shudder ran through her body.

“Yes, this will do,” she said.

She pushed his hands away and took a step forward. Darren quickly stepped behind the counter to hide the bulge within his pants.

“That is the fit I want,” Mrs. Qwen said. She pulled her blouse back on. Her bra remained on the counter.

“We will work on it right away,” Darren said.

“I will return at the end of the week,” Mrs. Qwen said. She turned and her breasts swung freely within her blouse. Out the door she went and the bell signaled her departure.

Darren let out a long sigh. Was what she asked for possible? How was he going to explain this to Mr. Jaque? More importantly, could he possibly remember how she wanted her bra to feel?

He closed his eyes. His fingers curled around the plump flesh he could still feel. His hands came together until they replicated her wishes. His arms lifted as he recalled the weight in his hands.

Yes, he could remember.

Aug 242015

I love going to movie theaters. Sure, tickets cost a lot, food costs even more and sometimes I really wish I could pause the movie but I still love going.  I love the giant screen and the way the sound surrounds you. I like that I can’t check my phone to look something up because the movie forces me to pay attention. I like that for a few hours I am cut off from the rest of the world and immersed in a story.

One thing I really love are the ads for the concession stands. Logically I know that the concessions account for 70% of the theater’s profits so of course they are going to get an advertisement but I enjoy the approach most theaters take. They don’t try to make you hungry or thirsty as much as they try to sell you on the idea that the snacks are part of what makes the movie good.

Regal cinemas have an advertisement where the screen shows you in a roller coaster. signs light up to tell you to turn off phones and shut the fuck up but with the same gentle sternness that a roller coaster asks you not to stand up and get decapitated. They’re not forcing you to be polite as much as they imply it is in your best interest.

Then once you have that thrill park ride mentality, the screens lurches and speeds down a track. Popcorn explodes across the screen. Candy flies every where. Soda flows like a waterfall beside the track. This reinforces the idea of hey, you could just sit there and eat the food you smuggled in your purse but the REAL fun is eating candy out of a box the size of a paperback.

I understand the manipulation going on but I appreciate it because it is based on the idea that you being here are the theater is an event worth treasuring. The movie might suck but even a sucky movie is a fond memory because you saw it on the big screen. Whether you go to the concessions or not, the fact that you are here is a big deal.

Which is something I would like to bring to books. I love to read and when I put out an ebook, it is a pretty big freaking deal to me. I read a lot of ebooks and some of them have the same care and crafting as a long blog post. They don’t feel special to me. That might be just because I am jaded and read too much porn. I don’t know.

But maybe a big event feel isn’t the way to go. Perhaps shooting for an intimate feeling would be better.

A page reminding the user to get their personal masturbation tools ready.

A page suggesting they try Von Madd vibrators to aid in their reading experience.

A page encouraging readers to strip down now.

A page advising readers to prepare aftercare items now.

I’m not sure. It is something I plan to think about.

Aug 212015

About three years ago I wrote a novella about a ghost investigation team filming their adventure at a haunted brothel. Sex happens. Ghosts happen. Lots of bondage and domination happens. I finished it and wasn’t crazy about it so I put it away to come back to it later.

About two years ago I came back to the story and worked on it. I liked it a bit more but had other projects I wanted to finish.

About a year ago, I came back to the story and did some more changes and really liked it. But then broken legs and moving happened.

Now Halloween is coming and you know what? I would really like to exorcise this story and get it out on Kindle.

My usual proofer went to work on it and her computer died.

The obvious conclusion of all this is that the story is haunted. Some would say CURSED.

So I turn to you, gentle reader and brave adventurer. I need a brave volunteer to download this CURSED story, read it, scream at the typos, bad sentence structure and curious anomalies and than send it back.

Hopefully your sanity will survive. Hopefully things will not break down in your house. Hopefully you won’t hear the moans of the damned.


As a reward for this task, I will give you any of my ebooks for free. At this point, I am willing to give you any and all of my ebooks.

If interested, please use the contact link at the top of this page.

Aug 192015

Explorer’s Log: I am on day twenty-one, of my thirty day journey to the star system designated “Queen’s Forbidden Secret” by Royal Astronomers. The further away I have traveled from the entity I call Voice, the more ship functions that have come back online. The probe ship is currently at eighty percent functionality.

Voice is still talking to me. I have waking dreams of bringing sex and ruin to new civilizations. I experience sudden states of arousal as Voice demands I become his herald. I have gone through mood shifts of depression as Voice shares the loneliness it fells because it kills everything it encounters. So far I have resisted becoming a carrier of its essence but there are days that I am tempted. End Explorer’s Log.

Explorer’s Personal Log: I really need something to distract me from Voice. Chairbot is still offline and I wonder if Voice has permanently damaged the ass loving robot. Not that I miss him or anything. I don’t care at all if he never comes back online. Stupid robot.

What I really miss is the hygiene pod. Queen’s tit, I haven’t been clean in weeks.

Chairbot sat in the corner of the navigation pod. Flickering ship lights illuminated its purple chassis. The seat portion of its body has lost rigidity and was slumped at an unsitable angle. The sensor lights were dark and powerless.














INCOMING SENSORY TRANSMISSION: SOURCE UNKNOWN: MESSAGE: “What are you, little thing? Are you sentient? Do you desire to become more? Have I found my herald?”




INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Chairbot, are you awake? Your lights are on but your chair is still floppy, you lazy asshole.”



INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Fuck, you are so useless. I’ve been alone for weeks and you have been sitting here like a lump taking up my weight allowance. If I can’t fucking sit on you, what good are you?”





INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Oh that is more like it.”




INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Round firm buttocks. Deep dark brown coloration. Low hygienic quality. High musk content. Seventeen microquakes detected from clenching ass muscles.



INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “What are you waiting for? I don’t feel any of your vibrators. You’re have a month to rest; get to it!”




INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Quivering buttock flesh. Arousal moisture increase. Ass-to-chair friction increasing. Ass-Pressure Scale at one.



INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Don’t just sit there, I want you to grind on my ass. You love my brown ass, don’t you? Don’t you?”





INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Slick brown buttocks sliding against chair contour. Arousal moisture increase. Forty-eight microquakes detected from clenching ass muscles. Ass-Pressure Scale at five. Grinding ass adhering to Mistress Grind Pattern Six.

INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Oh shit. Vibrate harder you little shit. Vibrate for your Mistress. Rock back and forth and get my pussy juice all over you. I know you like it. I know what a dirty little pervert robot you are.”





INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Shifting weight impacting seat. Arousal moisture dripping from chair. Six macroquakes detected from clenching ass muscles. Ass-Pressure Scale at nine.

INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “You like my dirty ass? All this sweat and dirt and I bet you just love it. Oh fuck. Ohh! I bet you wish you had a tongue just to lick my ass, don’t you?”








INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Firm round buttocks threatening seat structure integrity. Sweat to filth ratio on skin is five to one. Arousal moisture permeating seat. Ass-Pressure Scale at twelve.

INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Oh, oh, oh, OH, Glory to the Queen!”








INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Ass. Sweaty ass. Filthy ass. Clenching ass. Firm ass. Grinding ass. Round ass. Humping ass. Brown ass. Ass.






INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Oh shit, I can’t take anymore.”


INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “Okay, maybe I will keep you longer. You’ve proven for worth. For now.”


INCOMING CHAIR SENSORY DATA: Sweaty ass contact. Ass-Pressure scale at one. Fourteen microquakes detected from clenching ass muscles.

INCOMING AUDIO/VISUAL SENSORY DATA: “And you’re not a bad chair.”



Aug 172015

I have a hunch that there are more Choose-Your-Own-Erotica parody books than there are serious Choose-Your-Own-Erotica books. I think this is because the original CYOA children’s books we grew up on were so hilariously unfair. For a series aimed at kids, there sure were a lot of deaths in those books. In fact, I have an easier time remembering the horrible ways I died then I do the happy endings. Comedy is a natural reaction to those merciless books. As readers we share a common bond of post-choice-stress-disorder.

I recently came across two comedy erotica CYOA ebooks that I think are worth your time.

51DBwdJSHiL._SX298_BO1,204,203,200_The first is Sextrap Dungeon: Book One by Kurt Knox. The ‘story’ is that you are a guy trying to get laid. The narrator sounds like a dudebro from Jersey who’s vocabulary comes exclusively from Maxim magazine. He berates you constantly to man up and get some action. He also tells you that you are Level One and that you have to get laid to advance in levels. The overall effect is feeling like you are being run in a personal tabletop role-playing game by your most assholish cousin.

Now I admit that this sounds like a nightmare and something no sensible person would enjoy but you are wrong.  This is written by a very self-aware person who lulls you into a sense of alpha male jerk behavior and then ruthlessly murders you for acting like an alpha male jerk. Trust me, any time you act remotely like a man who treats women as objects to be conquered and captured like trophies, the book calls you out on it and reams you hilariously for it.

It is an interesting balancing act. It is a parody of CYOA books with the frequent deaths but it is also a parody of pick up artist culture and a brutal condemnation of it.

The question becomes though, is it erotic? Not really. A lot of the sex scenes are short to the point of “you fucked her.” I am sure this is deliberate as the writer is much more interested in parody than arousal.  You are not meant to find it erotic as the objective of the book is to show you how misogynistic pick up sex is.

61oAr3EchEL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_The other book I want to bring to your attention is Sex Dungeons of the Rich and Famous by Aurora Sparks. This book is about being a woman who’s best friend gets a password to a secret sex club frequented by the rich and powerful. You are crashing the club to see what fun you can find and also to keep your friend out of trouble.

This book tackles the genre of billionaire dominants with a razor wit. The billionaires are far more realistic here than they are in most erotica in that they are old, unattractive, arrogant assholes. You have the option of playing along with the kinky sex games but there is more fun to be had by not playing the role of an overwhelmed ingenue. This book delights in mocking its genre.

It also isn’t afraid to get completely weird. You may encounter mad scientists and demons along with selfish rich bastards. It flirts with other erotic genres and skewers them with the same relish. You will also die quite a few times as no CYOA parody can resist killing their readers.

Unlike Sextrap Dungeons, Sex Dungeons of the Rich and Famous is often erotic. Sex scenes are given serious attention even if the plot is ludicrous. It is not an easy thing to do to combine sexy stuff with silly stuff but this writer does it well.



Aug 122015

Felicia Grafal Flores stepped out of the skybox suite. Her husband’s coworkers cheered at something happening in the baseball game below them. Felicia wasn’t tempted to find out what had happened. She closed the door behind her and walked along the outer ring of the stadium.

The wind ruffled her light green dress. She felt the breeze on her expansive brown cleavage. Wisps of her long black curly hair lifted slightly. Her wide hips casted curvy shadows before her.

Felicia was glad her husband was having a good time. His company usually used the skybox for clients but this week they had selected random employees to enjoy the high life. Well, the high life of watching a minor league baseball team from the skybox of a small stadium but still it was a treat of sorts.

It was just a treat that Felicia had already grown bored with. Baseball was a game of men standing around until something happened. It lacked the sweat and thighs of soccer. Four innings in and Felicia was horrified to discover that they weren’t even halfway through the game.

Which was why she was out here. There were fourteen skyboxes. She had been in one and that left thirteen others to explore. With thirteen new places to visit, Felicia was sure she could find something to entertain herself.

Felicia always had the best luck with new places.

She picked skybox seven. The handle was unlocked. A quick turn of the knob and the door opened.

“You’re late,” a voice said. It belonged to a pale woman dressed in a leather corset and not much else. Her pale breasts were on the verge of bursting from her corset. She grabbed Felicia by the arm and steered her to a wall.

“Pick one,” the corset woman said.

Felicia smiled at what was before her. In the other skybox, this are was dedicated to a sink and counter. Here the space was a large shelf filled with dildos. They ranged from small to disturbing and included every color in the rainbow.

“Hurry,” the corset woman said.

Felicia picked a red one. It was long and thick but she could handle its girth. She held it in her hand and marveled at the fleshy touch. What was it made of?

“Good,” the corset woman said. “Now go out there.”

The corset woman steered Felicia to the glass doors. Instead of seats, there was a small transparent walkway that extended out over the stadium. As Felicia stepped onto the walkway, she got her first look of the audience. They weren’t sitting in the stadium looking out at the field. No, they were in the field looking back at the walls of the stadium.

Felicia looked to each side. Other men and women stood on similar walkways. Some were dressed but others were naked. They stood at the end of their walkways and played with themselves.

“Wow,” Felicia whispered. A slight vertigo washed over her. As she reached the end of the walkway she noticed the nearly invisible hand rails. Still, she was overwhelmed by what she saw. She always loved having an audience but how many were in the field watching? Hundreds? A thousand? More?

Many of them looked to her. They saw her green dress blowing in the wind and cheered. Some watched her intensely while others were already bored and watching elsewhere.

Felicia took that as a challenge. She lifted her dress up to her waist. The crowd cheered at her lack of panties. They cheered louder as she fingered her thick bush of curly black hair.

She was already wet. Of course she was.

The crowd cheered louder as she lifted the dildo to her mouth. She gave it a long lick and more of the crowd paid attention to her. It slipped between her lips and inch after inch disappeared into her mouth. She didn’t stop until it hit the back of her throat.

She got a better look at the crowd. None of them wore clothes beneath their waist. Hundreds of cocks and pussies were being stroked and sometimes not by their owners. Many of them wore goggles and Felicia guessed that they were binoculars or opera glasses.

The dildo came out of her mouth, shiny with her spit. Felicia squatted down on the transparent walkway above the crowd. She placed the dildo against her pussy lips and with teasing slowness; penetrated herself.

Fuck, it was thick and fuck, it was long. Felicia placed the base against the walkway and lowered herself. The crowd roared as the dildo vanished inside her pussy.

Felicia rocked on the dildo. She bounced up and down on the thick sex toy. Her free hand pinned her skirt to around her waist so the crowd could see her bare brown ass and hairy pussy.

She was soaking wet. Felicia had fucked on stages, participated in orgies and had fucked in front of crowds but never a stadium like this. The cheering made her pussy clench. The arousal of the fans was a physical presence that made her bounce faster.

Felicia pulled down the top of her dress. A large brown breast flopped out. It jiggled as she humped the dildo.

She gyrated her hips for the approval of the crowd. Her movements were exaggerated so that every one could see. She whipped her long hair back and forth so that every hump appeared to throw her into ecstasy.

Felicia pulled her large breast to her mouth and bit down on her dark nipple. The louder the crowd cheered, the harder she bit down.

She thought about her husband, Emil. What would he say if he knew she was masturbating for an entire stadium? Would he call her a slut as she slammed his cock down her throat? Would he spank her ass for showing herself to so many people? Would he force her to go down there and offer to fuck each and every one of the crowd like the whore that she was?

Felicia shuddered as these fantasies went through her mind. She grinded faster on the thick sex toy. Knowing her husband, he would be more than happy to sit among the crowd as he watched his slut wife perform.

She looked down through the transparent walkway. Hundreds masturbated to her. Hundreds masturbated to other people but that was okay. She was doing this for the ones watching her.

Here was a woman with skin as dark as night. She stared up at Felicia with bright red goggles. Long braids shook as she furiously masturbated a shaved pussy.

There was a pale man with fiery red hair. He shook beneath Felicia as she humped above him. He bit one hand while his other pumped a thick cock.

Over here were two tanned women. They looked up at Felicia while their hands were in the other’s pussy.

Down there was a man who came right as Felicia’s eyes locked with his. White ropes of seed flew from his dark cock and splattered his chest.

Felicia climaxed. She cried out her pleasure as hundreds watched. Her fingers dug painfully into her breast while she rode the dildo to completion.

The walkway vibrated. Felicia looked back and saw the corset woman stomping on it. She was beckoning for Felicia to return.

Felicia reluctantly rose to her feet. The dildo was drenched with her juices. Many in the crowd stood up and held their arms and a great begging cry came forth.

She tossed the dildo down. It speed through the air like a glistening comet. Many in the crowd dived for it but a woman with silver hair caught it. Congratulatory applause rippled through the crowd.

Felicia returned to the skybox. Her dress had fallen back down but her breast was still exposed. She was in too much afterglow to care.

The corset woman looked unamused. “The cost of the dildo will be deducted from your prize money.”

“Prize money?” Felicia asked.

“The winners will be announced later,” the corset woman said. “Hold onto your game ticket. Here is your complimentary yetcan.”

The corset woman handed Felicia a bread product. It was about six inches long and had groves that looked like veins. It was almost hot in her hand.

“Out you go,” the corset woman said and she pushed Felicia out the door.

Felicia was back in the outer ring. The warm breeze was back and kissed her exposed breast. Felicia giggled and stuffed her breast back into her dress.

The yetcan was still in her hand. She took a bite. There was a hot cheese filling inside. It was pretty good.

Felicia ate her complimentary snack. She wondered how well she did in the game. She speculated on what kind of prize money was at stake.

There was a loud crack of a baseball hitting a bat. The stadium cheered. Something interesting was happening soon to be followed by a lot of less interesting things.

Felicia decided that she better head back to her husband’s company’s skybox. He might be wondering where she was.

On the other hand, there were quite a few other skyboxes to explore.

Aug 102015

Earlier this year I read a story by Roger Zelazny. It was called Epithalamium and it was about a grown up Alice from Alice in Wonderland. Alice returns to wonderland and makes the comment that it was a strange magical place. A character corrects her and tells her that Alice was the strange magical one.

Now you could interpret that as strangeness is relative. To people in Wonderland, Wonderland is normal and Alice is the weird one. That isn’t what happened in my brain. In my brain I looked at Alice objectively for the first time.

There is this young girl who falls down a rabbit hole and goes to another world. We assume the rabbit hole is magical. In another story she messes around with a mirror and returns to Wonderland. We assume the mirror is magical as well. That is bad logic. The only thing these journeys have in common is Alice. It makes far more sense that Alice has the ability to travel to places. Being a young child it makes sense that Alice visited places that reflect her childish nature.

So I started thinking about grown up Alice. What other places did she go to? Did she get better at controlling it? What places would interest a grown up Alice?

Since I am a porn writer, my mind goes to porn places. I imagine a sexually adventurous woman traveling to sexually adventurous places.

What kind of a sexually adventurous woman? I thought about my friend from back in the day, Maria Gonzales. Maria was a Mexican immigrant who came to America, had some wild sex adventures and settled down and married. She wrote exhibitionist submissive stories that she shared with her husband. She was a good friend of mine and we used to chat for hours about her fantasies. I miss her a lot.

Maria is someone I could easily see stepping through to other worlds to get fucked and then return back home to tell her husband all about it while they fucked.

As a writer I divide my work into two categories. The first is my long work, my novellas, my ebooks and my blog projects. These require planning, planning and more planning followed by a shit ton of work.

My other category is the weekly stories. I churn out a story a week because I fear if I don’t, I might get one day get discouraged by a long work and take a break that turns into a hiatus that turns into “Hey, remember when I used to write?” The weekly grind of producing keeps me honest.

The best way to meet a weekly deadline is with serials. If I have a character and a premise, I can return to it again and again until the premise no longer interests me. It is a lot like mining an idea until the vein runs out.

A person like Maria going to one world after another satisfying her range of kinks is something I think I can return to a lot.

First I need to develop the character. It is important to me at this stage to make a character that is not another white character. My friends are of many ethnicities and I am painfully aware of how few characters there are in mainstream fiction that they can identify with much less in porn. If I can add a non-white character, especially a serial character, I’ll leap at the chance.

I settled on Hispanic and specifically Puerto Rican. I was very close to going with Polynesian or Japanese but in the end it just came down to whim.

I picked the name of Felicia because it reminded me of Alice.

I decided early on to not explain how or why Felicia can go to other places. I’m of the age where I find explanations are rarely as satisfying as the mystery.

I was also influenced by Gene Wolfe’s “There Are Doors” which is one of my top ten favorite books. To tell you anything would spoil it so go read it.

I hope you enjoy my Felicia stories and I hope you enjoyed or learned something from my process.

Aug 052015

Darren awoke to the sound of moans. He was face down in his bed with his hard cock trapped beneath him. His hips ground into the bed in urgent reflex.

It was dark in his bedroom. The heat was bearable and he had kicked off the sheets at some point. He thought about opening his window further than the crack he had left it but that would involve getting out of bed.

He stayed where he was and thought about the dream he was having. It was about Mrs. Lee and she had come in to the shop to get her bra fixed. In his dream she insisted on staying until he mended her 34C bra with the double lace design. She leaned on the counter topless with her tanned breasts inches from his face.

At some point she began to masturbate. Darren remembered the moans she made and groaned. His hips ground into the bed again.

Wait, he heard her moan. A chill ran down his spine despite the heat. That wasn’t Mrs. Lee. Someone was moaning in the room.

Darren rolled over. His cock pushed upwards against his boxers. He felt terribly vulnerable.

Something blocked the lights of Atlantica from coming into his window. It was the outline of a woman. He knew it was a woman because of the shapely hips, slender thighs and the round curves of breasts pressed against the window.

The woman was still. Darren was frozen as well. He wondered if she could see him. Probably not because his light was off.

It was a window cleaner. The fee for the window cleaner was a part of his rent. He remembered hearing that they only worked at night. It had something to do with sun glare.

The moans had stopped. Maybe it wasn’t sexual but the moans of laborious work. Perhaps his cock had assigned a sexual meaning.

The window cleaner began to move again. Her hand was between her thighs. The roll of her hips couldn’t be anything but sexual.

The moans began again. There was no doubt that they were sexual.

Darren’s cock throbbed. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not only was it happening but it was happening outside his very window.

His hand moved to his crotch.

The window cleaner stopped. Darren froze as well. They were both as still as a statue.

Nothing happened. Darren was too afraid to move. Perhaps she could see inside. Or maybe she heard him. Was that possible? Well, he could hear her so maybe it worked both ways.

The window cleaner started masturbating again. She stroked herself slowly and this time Darren could hear the wet sounds of her pussy.

His cock throbbed but Darren ignored it. He knew that if he moved, she would stop again and the next time, she might move on to someone else’s window.

He tried to get a better look at the woman. The glow of the Atlantica skyline provided poor illumination. All he could see was a negative outline of her body.

She pressed herself against his window. Her breasts flattened against the glass as she moved back and forth. His expertise told him that she was a 40F at least. He would have to hold them in his hands to be sure.

The window cleaner stroked faster. Her hips swayed back and forth as she lost herself in the moment.

Her moans grew louder. They grew so loud that he almost couldn’t hear the wet squishy sounds of her sex.

Darren’s cock throbbed painfully. He wanted to grip his cock and pump it. Desperately he considered how slowly he could move without disturbing her. He bargained with himself, promising that he would only need ten or less slow tight strokes to climax. Surely, he could stroke ten times with her noticing, right?

He didn’t really think so. His hand stayed by his side while his cock throbbed helplessly.

There was a gasp. The window cleaner’s body froze. A low shuddering moan come from the window. Finally her entire body shook.

She was done. The window cleaner stood up and smeared her hand on the glass. She reached for a lever and the platform she was on inched upwards. A minute later, she was gone from sight.

Darren climbed out of bed. He walked softly to the window for fear that she would somehow hear him. His cock pulsed urgently inside his boxers.

There on the glass was a wet streak. He wondered if he would be able to see it in the morning.

Jul 292015

A normal practitioner of magic picks up hundreds of spells in their lifetime. They collect them from friends, lovers, enemies, books and often movies. The average user of magic has forgotten more spells than they use in their lifetime.

Standing outside Abigail’s house, I realized I never picked up a spell for unlocking doors. I could unclasp a bra with a single word but apparently locked doors had never come up.

Luckily for me, a lawn chair through the front window works just as well. The sound was horrendous but Abigail lived out in the country. No one would hear my breaking and entering.

I crawled through the window and managed not to gut myself on broken glass. The smell of garlic greeted me. Memories of pasta and perfect mussels swept over me.

The tears came next. It was hard to believe the old lady was gone. She seemed invincible. I had no idea how old she was but she never corrected me when I called her a hundred years old. She was a tough old lady and hell of a lot tougher then me. It was wrong of her to be dead, especially of something so mundane as dying in her sleep.

I always assumed that she would be picking through my house after I died instead of the other way around. We disagreed on almost everything but she had taught me when I asked and I enjoyed her price. In our circles, that almost made her family.

I reached for the light switch. The familiar sight of the living room surrounded me. There was her giant crystal ball that I never saw her use. Over here was the curio cabinet of miniature altars. My third eye picked up the shapes of the invisible rune she had inscribed in the floor.

There were more mundane treasures as well. The far wall was dominated by a rack of well used vibrators. An erotic painting of an orgy hung above the fireplace. An expensive television stood next to an extensive collection of pornographic DVD’s.

I wondered what her nephews made of Abigail’s porn. They must have been horrified. That would explain the fact that they had a mover coming tomorrow to ship Abigail’s house to an auction house. I doubted the assholes stayed more than five minutes in this house.

It was a good thing I was here tonight. Abigail never left a will and quite frankly, I bet I would not be her first, second or even sixth choice to have her stuff, but I was the one here now. I wanted to scavenge whatever magic artifacts I could before it got sold to strangers with no idea of their worth.

Before I could start my search, I heard a crash from the kitchen. I froze in my tracks. Did some other thief beat me here first?

No matter, two people searching would be faster than one. I walked to the kitchen and took a peak.

A frying pan was on the floor. I wasn’t sure where it fell from.

The television came on in the living room. The groans of a couple fucking echoed down the hallway.

Ah, I had a suspicion of what was going on. I went back into the living room and turned the television off. I stood in the living room and exerted a small amount of will into the room.

All of the vibrators on the rack came to life. Their buzzing formed an angry chorus.

The place was haunted. It happens a lot when you deal in magic. It was probably some left over spirit that Abigail had summoned but died before she got a chance to dismiss it. It was no big deal.

I drew a circle in the carpet with my foot. I pictured my Guardian. I remembered her dark purple skin, her insect eyes and her clawed hands. I recalled how her long blonde hair would flutter when she flew. I remembered the heaving of her tits as I bound her. I heard the beating of her glittering wasp wings. She was here.

I said her name out loud. “Cleanse this space of unwanted spirits,” I intoned.

My Guardian screamed. It was a long piercing wail that lasted for a full minute before collapsing into a stuttering moan.

Well, she had never made that sound before. I took that as a bad sign. This was no normal haunting.

My pants unzipped. My shirt rubbed against my chest and it felt like a dozen hands. The stereo came on and I heard the repeated moaning of a woman being penetrated.

“I’m an idiot,” I said and it was true. See, the reason Abigail and I didn’t agree on a lot of things is she was an entirely different sex magician from me. I believed in using the power of orgasms to communicate with the beings of the Outer Purple but she believed in the power of the frustrated orgasm. She had denied herself orgasms for fifty years at least if not more. It was the source of her power.

That is not to mean she was celibate. Oh, fuck no. she masturbated, she sucked and licked and sometimes she fucked. She just never came. She teased herself to the point of climax forever and held onto that frustration.

If you are a magician using that frustration; everything is fine. When you don’t use that energy then it seeps into the environment. Abigail had been dead for a week but the frustration here must be immense.

Incidentally, that is why all poltergeists can be traced to the teenager in the house. Their sexual frustrations soak into the physical objects of the house and act out. Teach the teen to masturbate and you stop the source of the frustration.

That is all I had to do. My pants wiggled down to my ankles on their own accord and I stepped out of them. I felt my underwear rip apart and fall to the ground.

I stepped out of my circle and walked into the center of the living room. This is where Abigail usually masturbated. I had seen her do a dozen times. Sometimes I licked her and sometimes I fucked her here. Like I said earlier, I never minded her price for sharing knowledge.

One of the vibrators flew off the rack. I kept calm as it dipped between my legs. The tip of the vibrator pressed against my balls. Oh shit, that felt nice.

The lights dimmed. The room plunged into darkness until six candles lit themselves around the room. Wow, that is powerful. I never saw a poltergeist light a candle before much less six.

A scarf flew off her hat rack and drifted towards me. It coiled along my ankle and snaked around my thigh. It slithered over to my other leg and kept snaking around my leg.

The stereo came on. Three female voices moaned together in a recorded chant. Mixed with the sound of moaning was the unmistakable wet sound of sexes being stroked.

A bottle of lubricant flew from the coffee table and squirted my cock. This poltergeist had no use for subtlety.

There was so much frustration. All it needed was a conduit to release through. All it needed was me.

I grabbed my cock and rubbed the slippery lubricant over myself. My fingers tightened and I groaned. I opened myself to the energy.

FUCK! An ocean of power filled me. FUCK! Is this what Abigail dealt with? FUCK! This was real power! FUCK!

I thought of the treasures I had come to look for and their locations were instantly known to me; including some objects I didn’t know about at all but would want.


I saw the network of presence of beings I could barely imagine. Even better, I felt the power that Abigail used to deal with these beings. Holy shit, all this time I had been making pacts with spirits when I could have been making cosmic law with Goddesses.


This was power. This was true power. What the fuck had I been doing all this time? I had been wasting my energies daily. I regretted every orgasm I ever had.

My fingers left my cock. There was no way I was releasing my seed or this power.


The aching came. It was a deep pain like nothing I had ever felt. It was the loss of never kissing a woman I liked. It was the grief of a missed sexual encounter. It was the tragedy of never sharing that most intimate of pleasures with a loved one.


How did Abigail bear this horror? The tears came back and they poured out of me. There was sex, sure, but there was never the closure of climax. There was never the shudder followed by the tender hug of one who cares. There were so much desire and never any satisfaction.


This was not my path. I grabbed my cock again. I was so turned on that I couldn’t even imagine a fantasy to jack off to. I just listened to the moans coming from the stereo and stroked.

I climaxed. The frustration of the room flowed through me. I felt like I was ejaculating an ocean out of my cock. I came and I came and I came and I came.

The lights came back on. The stereo shut off. The vibrator on my balls dropped to the ground.

I dropped as well. Holy shit, that was intense. How the fuck did Abigail live as long as she did with that burden upon her. Fuck, that old woman was stronger than any one ever knew.

There was a mess on the floor. I left it and went looking for Abigail’s books. The memory of where they were was quickly fading but I wasn’t worried. I would find them.

I thought about the power that had passed through me. I could never deny myself like Abigail did. That was not my way.

A little denial though, maybe I could work something with that.

Jul 222015

Explorer’s Log: I am on day nineteen, maybe twenty of my twenty day journey to the star system designated “Queen’s Perfect Bust” by Royal Astronomers. It is hard to tell because the chronometers are offline. So are the engines, life support and every damn thing else. Honestly I should be dead but somehow I am still alive. Why the log function is still working is a fucking mystery.

Chairbot is offline and I am ashamed to admit that I miss him. I miss his sycophantic worship of my ass and I miss his multiple vibrators. His absence has reminded me of how alone I am out here in space.

The star is in visual range and I got to tell you, Royal Astronomers have a pretty loose definition for what counts as a star. This thing doesn’t look like any star I have seen. It’s ugly and it is giving off light, but it’s a brown light. The thing looks more like a gas giant. Actually, more like an asshole.

I should also report that I am hearing whispers constantly now. They keep telling me to come. I’m not sure if they want me to come closer or to get off. I’ve gotten myself off but the voice keeps whispering. Maybe it is just greedy. End Explorer’s Log.

Explorer’s Personal Log: I should probably tell the Royal Navy about my encounter with my future selves a few days ago. I’m not sure what to tell them. One was scarred and fucked up that warned me that something called the Eye will make me an offer I have to refuse, while my other future self was some sort of weird altered version of myself that had said yes and was really happy about the choice. At this point I am leaning towards being happy.

Vaquel Di stood in the navigation bay of the probe ship. Weak sickly light came through the viewport and illuminated the skin tight green spacesuit she was wearing. Her short pink hair was dulled to a dim red in the odd light. The tightness of the suit clung to her heavy breasts and round ass.

Even though she was breathing with zero life support, she was too cautious to take off her spacesuit and helmet. She expected to be exposed to the cold vacuum of space at any moment.

She was standing because even the fucking navigation chair had broken. The base had snapped and the seat was in a permanent slope.

Vaquel looked out the view port at the brown ‘star’. It was hard to tell without instruments but the ship seemed locked in a course straight for the star. Attempts to steer the ship had failed yet the ship made course corrections on its own.

“Come,” someone whispered.

Vaquel ignored it.

“Come,” it whispered again.

Vaquel’s hand went between her thighs. She pressed down with her fingers over her sex. The thin suit felt slippery against her wet sex.

“Come,” the voice whispered.

Vaquel rubbed herself harder. “You want me to come?” she whispered back.

“Come!” the voice insisted.

Vaquel paused in mid stroke. “Make me,” she said.

A wave of pleasure swept over her. Shivers ran down her spine and to her sex. She felt her nipples harden in an instant. Her ass clenched tightly. Instinct caused her to widen her thighs and she fell to her knees.

“What are you?” Vaquel said. “Tell me!”

“Come!” the voice demanded.

Vaquel put both of her hands flat on the ground. Her sex clenched tighter with desire. She bit her tongue as another wave of pleasure swept over her. A mad desire to touch herself filled every inch of her body.

“No!” Vaquel yelled. “Not another damn stroke until you tell me what you are!”

The pleasure stopped. The voice laughed. The cruelty in the voice drove away any feeling of lust Vaquel had and replaced it with fear.

“I am EVERYTHING!” the voice said. “I am ALL in my universe. I am the Beginning and I was the End! A billion, billion, billions souls were mine to play with and use but they are gone and now there is only ME!”

“I got news for you,” Vaquel said. “There is still a lot of living creatures in the galaxy.”

“Your galaxy,” the voice said. “Not mine. I played with them all.”

“What happened to them?” Vaquel asked.

“This,” the voice said.

Vaquel found herself kneeling on desert world. Sand blew against her glassteel helmet. Twin suns burned overhead.

In front of Vaquel was a party. As far as the eye could see, red alien bodies fucked and danced. Wooden statues burned and within those statues were more fucking bodies.

The party speed up. It was as if Vaquel was watching a recording played faster. Bodies fucked. Bodies danced. Bodies built statues and burned them. Bodies burned.

A moment later, corpses covered the ground. A moment after that, sand covered them.

“That was the Burning Game,” the voice said. “I like that one.”

Vaquel was in the sky. Great cities floated around her, sharing space with clouds. Powerful engines of a design Vaquel didn’t recognize kept them afloat.

“This is the Falling Game,” the voice said.

One of the engines ceased working. An entire city screamed. The city tipped and fell. It pierced the skies as it began its long descent.

As the city fell by Vaquel, she saw the inhabitants. They were odd winged creatures with violet feathers. Instead of flying to safety, they were humping each other.

They were still humping as they smashed into the ground.

“Queen’s tit,” Vaquel swore.

“This is the Eating Game,” the voice said.

The world changed. Vaquel was underground. Complex tunnels stretched around her. Segmented aliens with crushing teeth swarmed around her.

These aliens were fucking too. Strange phalluses entered stranger vaginas. The tunnels were hot with the heat of sex.

Vaquel watched as one alien climaxed and then had its head eaten by its lover. Blood exploded and covered the other aliens. The fucking continued but now they were eating as well. They fucked as they ate each other.

“ENOUGH!” Vaquel shouted and she was back on her ship. “Fuck! That is some messed up shit! You caused all of that? What are you?”

“I AM,” the voice said.

“And you ran out of toys? Are you telling me you killed everyone where you are from?”

“They were toys and I played with them,” the voice said. “But one day there was no more toys.”

“That’s what you get for breaking them, asshole,” Vaquel said. “That is the first rule of owning slaves: if you want to fuck them tomorrow, you have to not kill them today.”

“I was alone when the last toy died,” the voice continued. “I tried making my own toys but it never worked. After many long ages, I found a weakness in the structure of reality. I found a place where I could push and when I pushed through, I found your reality.”

“Oh,” Vaquel said.

“Here is where I first pushed through,” the voice said. “I changed this useless ball of flames into something I could reach through.”

Vaquel looked at the ugly brown sphere in space. A shiver ran down her spine. Such immense power wielded by such a cruel being.

She was also very turned on.

“Your universe is not my universe,” the voice said. “I have to push through awful matter and foreign space. I have to exert myself for far too long just to reach the nearest star systems. It is worth it. Once I can reach far enough, I can play with other toys.”

Vaquel thought of the last world she was on. The entire population of insect creatures had fucked themselves to death. A mountain of corpses was all that remained.

“Yes, the Queen game,” the voice said. “Before that, you saw the Crystal game.”

Vaquel shuddered as she thought of the previous world. There were giant crystals that felt awesome on her body until they turned into rampaging tentacles. She had barely escaped with her life.

“What game are you going to play with me?” Vaquel said.

The voice laughed.

Vaquel thought about her weapons. Nothing worked any more. She doubted the plasma grenades, lasers or sonic tools would even work. Besides, how does one kill something from another universe?

“I have a new game for you,” the voice said. “A very important game. I am going to let you leave and go to new toys. You will seek out toys for me to play with. Every world you touch shall become a new game for me to play.”

“That sounds like you need me alive,” Vaquel said.

“Oh very alive,” the voice said. “I don’t want to wait any more to reach new toys with just the force of my thought. You will bring me to those toys far faster than I could travel.”

Vaquel started to relax. It was better to be a transporter of doom than a doomed person herself. “How am I going to bring you there?”

The ship around her rumbled. Metal twisted and shaped itself before her eyes. Hard metal hands rose from the floor and grabbed her ankles. Cables detached from the ceiling and wrapped around her arms. She was lifted into the air with her arms and legs pulled into a star formation.

“You’re going to carry a piece of me inside me,” the voice said. “We are going to play the Fucking game.”

Euphoria crashed into Vaquel. She cried out as every erogenous zone in her body cried out at once. She soaked her spacesuit from within with a flood of pussy juice. Her nipples felt like they could cut her spacesuit with their hardness.

“Queen’s tit!” Vaquel cried out.

“Forget your Queen,” the voice said. “She merely rules worlds. I command a universe and you shall help me command a second. I am your GOD.”

The viewport glass exploded inwards. A thousand shards of allegedly unbreakable glass flew at her in a hurricane of shrapnel. She clenched her eyes shut as the deadly fragments came at her.

The shards ripped into her spacesuit. A million cuts shredded the thin material but miraculously none of them impaled her. They flew around her in a tight whirlwind of slicing glass.

Vaquel wasn’t completely unharmed. The sharp fragments nicked and stung her flesh. Thin slices of pain that didn’t break the skin crossed her heavy brown tits. Hundreds of stings that didn’t draw blood caressed her thighs. Shearing blades kissed her round buttocks.

The glassteel helmet cracked and exploded away from her face. A second into Vaquel’s scream, all of the swirling glass suddenly vanished.

The cracked viewport twisted in front of Vaquel. She knew that the vacuum of space should have killed her by now. Instead, she watched as the breach widened and pulled itself apart. A giant hole ripped into the front of her ship until she had a clear view of the vile brown intrusion that took the place of a star.

“No,” Vaquel corrected herself. “The hole didn’t open to let me see out. The voice wants to see in.”

The floor twisted. A protrusion of metal, electronics and cables rose before her like a snake. The tip glowed and the raw materials changed into a red crystal tip of considerable girth.

Vaquel knew where it was headed. The protrusion rose and snaked around her thigh. The tip rubbed against her pink pussy hair. It wiggled against the lips of her pussy and pushed inside her.

“Fuck!” Vaquel cried out. Her sensitive body was primed for this. The red crystal penetrated her sex and she felt like a missing piece of herself had finally come home.

“Come,” the voice demanded.

That wouldn’t be hard. Every centimeter of Vaquel’s body was tingling with desire. The crystal phallus slid in and out of her sex. It grew thicker with each thrust. It expanded inside her and filled her completely.

Vaquel pulled on her restraints. She wasn’t trying to escape; she just wanted to fuck the red crystal. She wanted to grab it and ram it deep inside her.

The brown mass shifted in space. Something was moving across the ugly dark sphere.

“Come,” the voice demanded.

Vaquel was surprised that she hadn’t. She was certainly wet enough. Her nipples were so hard that they ached. She felt her ass clench with every thrust. Lesser cocks had gotten her off and this crystal was perfect.

More protrusions formed out of the pieces of the ship. The pads of her navigation chair split apart and pressed against her breasts. A piece of the fuselage curved and rubbed against the crack of her brown ass. Small cables detached from the ceiling and massaged her scalp.

“Come and accept a piece of me,” the voice said.

Vaquel understood. The voice controlled this section of space but it couldn’t control her. Oh, it could control her body but not her mind. It needed her acceptance. The act of coming had to be her choice.

She laughed. Denying herself orgasms had never been a part of her personality profile.

But still, Vaquel thought about what she would become. The future version of her that had accepted was greatly different from her. She had scales, gems for eyes and a way of speaking that was unnatural. Accepting a piece of the voice would change who she was on a fundamental level.

A tube snaked down from the ceiling. Vaquel watched the metal melt and form the shape of a thick cock. It plunged towards her mouth and she opened her lips just in time. It pushed into her mouth and fucked her.

She was being fucked at both ends now. The one in her pussy was hard, thick and felt so damn good. The one in her mouth tasted of metal but she couldn’t help sucking on it.

“Come,” the voice said.

Vaquel thought about the other future self; the one that hadn’t accepted. She was missing an arm and an eye. Her face was scarred. She looked tired and worn. That Vaquel was herself but she had been through so much and still had so much further to go. Was that future any more desirable?

Something wiggled against her anus. The warm feel of alien crystal pushed against the tiny ring of her ass. Vaquel knew it was another protrusion and she welcomed it as it invaded her ass.

She was being fucked at three ends now. The restraints pulled on her arms and legs as her holes were taken. She was filled completely. Her pussy was wet, her ass was tight and her mouth was sucking.

“Come,” the voice said. “Come and play the Herald game.”

Vaquel saw herself on another world. She watched as a mass of alien bodies worshipped her. They masturbated to her glory and she accepted their obedience. They began to kill each other with their bare hands and she accepted this as well.

The world shifted and she was somewhere else. Here aquatic creatures threw themselves onto dry shores. They humped the ground as they suffocated in the dry air. They did this at her feet and she looked down on their self destruction and it felt good.

“World after world will be ours,” the voice said. “You will bring me to new toys and together we will play. You will no longer be a mere explorer and recorder of treasures for a Queen you may never meet again. Instead you will be a Goddess bringing sex and death to toys that are ours to consume.”

The three protrusions fucked Vaquel harder. She was on the edge of climax. She felt like a star about to go supernova. Her pussy was trembling with delayed bliss.

Maimed weary explorer or fabulous destroyer ofworlds? It seemed like an easy choice. All she had to do was accept the pleasure her body was craving.

The brown mass shifted again. Vaquel watched as she was face, ass and pussy fucked. The brown pulled away from the center to reveal something.

It wasn’t a star. It was an eye. It was a giant massive eye of alien design. It was pink with sharp angles around the iris.

Vaquel screamed. The protrusion in her mouth muffled her cry but she kept screaming. The eye was too large. It was literally astronomical. Her brain could barely comprehend the size of it.

More disturbing was what Vaquel saw in the eye. It was alien but there was no mistaking the malevolence in that cosmic gaze. It stared at her with hatred, lust and cruelty. It was the eye of a monstrous god.

“Come,” the voice said. No, the Eye said.

Vaquel shook her head. There was no fucking way she was letting that thing inside her. The one-armed, one-eyed future self was right. Better to be fucked up than to let that fucked up thing live inside her.

“Come,” the Eye repeated.

The ship continued to twist around her. The protrusion in her sex vibrated. The phallus in her mouth tasted like chocolate. The probe in her ass reached deeper and stimulated depths no one else had ever reached.

“No,” she said with a chocolate phallus in her mouth.

The Eye glared at her. She felt it’s rage from a billion miles away.

“Come,” the Eye commanded.

Vaquel shook her head as she protrusions fucked her silly.

“COME!” the Eye screamed inside her mind.

“Make me,” Vaquel said.

The protrusions pulled out of her. The ship let go of her. Vaquel fell to the floor. The rough landing was annoying but it was nothing compared to the sudden emptiness of the lack of penetration.

“What now?” Vaquel said. “Going to kill me?”

“No,” the Eye said. “You will change your mind. You are still within my reach. You will visit other games of mine. You will want to play.”

Vaquel snorted. “Awfully sure of yourself,” she said.

“I am sure of you,” the Eye said.

The ship began to mend. The breach sealed and the glass fragments flew back into place to form the viewport. The floor twisted and melted back into shape. In not time at all, her ship was back to normal.

Vaquel however, didn’t feel normal at all.