Jun 272018
 

The Spider Queen Collection by Sarah Hawke is a group of short stories set in a fantasy world that features the Drow from Dungeons and Dragons campaign with the serial numbers only partially filed off. if you are unfamiliar with the Drow, all you need to know is that they are sexy pervert elves who live deep underground and hate the surface elves. They worship a Spider Goddess who enforces a cruel matriarchy on the Drow. If you are a male, you are considered next to worthless, fit only to serve as a soldier or servant. If you are a woman, you are considered to be superior but the Spider Goddess demands competition so any sign of weakness is exploited by your female rivals. It is a cut-throat environment where someone is always being tormented by someone, so they might as well torment the person below them in social status.

The main character is a Drow Priestess who is assigned to a remote backwater outpost and is bored from tormenting her male soldiers. Luckily, her soldiers capture a human man and his half-elf girlfriend. The Drow Priestess quickly introduces them to kinky sex, domination, humiliation and bondage. So far, pretty typical for a fantasy sex novel.

Where things get interesting is the second story takes place much later. Now the surface slaves are willing participants in their debasement and are accomplices to the Drow Priestess’ schemes. The third story skips ahead to the Drow Priestess living back in the main Drow city, breaking in new slaves while her old slaves continue to mature as devious hench people. The final story skips ahead again to plot climax where the Drow Priestess’ schemes begin to unwind.

I greatly enjoyed this skipping of time. A lot of long BDSM novels tread the same ground. You have the scenes where the slaves debate their inner nature. You have the multiple scenes where they resist and then are finally broken. You have the long boring discussions of kinky philosophy. Every BDSM book has these bits and the author happily skips past them. Each story feels like the condensed good part out of a typical novel.

The sex is well written. The use of magic is creative instead of merely providing magical recreations of modern sex toys. The ruthless Drow culture is fun to see and the rather willing nature of the slaves takes the edge off of what could have been a much darker story.

All in all, I really enjoyed this series. It feels like the summer popcorn version of other BDSM novels. It is good, cruel fun at the expense of just about every character. I’m looking forward to reading more from the author.

 

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Jun 222018
 

For the past year I have been fine tuning my thoughts on what the fuck is wrong with so much of nerd/pop culture.  Misogyny is a huge part, and I find that a lot of the worse fans are sexist assholes, but I also find a lot of perfectly not-sexist assholes who truly believe deep down that a female version of a character is some sort of heresy.  I have struggled to put my finger on this weird narrow vision. I finally found some answers when I was studying religions and I wanted to put these thoughts down somewhere.

There is a certain kind of fan that treats pop culture not as entertainment to be observed, enjoyed and discarded as they would other entertainments, but as something closer to religion. More specifically, they treat their chosen religion as something that is burned into holy stone and cannot be deviated from. They approach their pop culture the same way a fanatical Christian would treat the Bible as something to be taken literally. My term for this is Orthodox Fan.

Examples of Orthodox Fandom,

Believing that since a character that first appeared in the racist past as a white male, then any recreation of that character as anything other than a white male is wrong.

Rebooting a character created fifty years ago to include anything from the present day is some sort of terrible idea.

Movies or shows featuring different actors than the ones who originally portrayed a character.

Extreme reactions against anyone applying any sort of logic to a movie series that was made for kids.

I kick myself for not seeing this earlier as the very word, ‘fan’, is derivative from ‘fanatic’. That is what these bad kinds of fans are, they are fanatics. Sure, there is racism and sexism involved, but I think the cause of their sexism and racism in fandom has more to do with their fanatical adherence to the source material.

An Orthodox Fan often have the trait of loving something without ever absorbing the message of the thing they are a fan of. This happens a lot in religion as well. Everyone knows of that person who quotes religious scripture to justify their own desires, We all know of people who claim to follow Christ but seem to be lacking in any Christian qualities. These hypocrites see themselves as the true believers because deep down, they hear and repeat the words without ever absorbing the message. Orthodox Fans behave much the same way.

Star Trek is a science fiction show about the power of diversity and bringing different people together. Orthodox Star Trek fans think it is a show about these white guys who were smart and banged chicks. They see the idea of women in charge or non-white heroes as unrealistic.

Superheroes are about people who feel the call to protect the world and help others. Orthodox Superhero Fans think is a medium where guys wearing spandex punch other guys in spandex. Warner Brothers catered to Orthodox Superhero Fans with their terrible movies until the Wonder Woman movie. This was a movie with an actual fucking message and lo and behold, people liked it.

Star Wars is about, umm. That’s a good question. I sometimes think Star Wars has a really nasty fandom because other than good guys-fight-bad-guys, I couldn’t tell you what message or higher calling Star Wars is trying to instruct. It is truly just an excuse for big space battles and laser sword fights.  Think fast, other than take down the Empire, what does the rebellion stand for? What is the political leaning of the Empire other than a dictatorship? Why the fuck are droids slaves that even the good guys abuse? The Orthodoxy is strong in their fans because other than buy more Star Wars stuff, there is no grand meaning.

Which brings us to the nasty secret about pop culture franchises and their fans. At their very basic root, most of pop culture is created by companies looking to make money. The ones that resonate with people often have themes or messages but these are just designed to attract people into liking it enough to spend more money. Ultimately, nerd culture is a giant consumer’s market. Orthodox Fans treat it as a religion, but only as a religion that they give lip service to without having to actually believe in anything. To these fans, the ultimate act of worship is buying shit.

Not all fans are like this, of course. There are great fans out there. Real fans are cosplayers of color who embrace these white characters and make them their own. Real fans are inspired by fictional heroes to help out in their community and to look out for one another.  Real fans are happy to watch their favorite media creation change and grow to include more people. Real fans would never attack another fan for being “wrong” in their fandom.

You know, some fans truly don’t give a shit and they are cool too. Enjoy your vampire bounty-hunter show as an escape from your bad day and don’t feel obligated to do jack shit except enjoy it. You’re a fan too and you know, I think I love you most of all because you are never going to harass someone on Twitter because they cosplayed as a Hispanic version of your vampire bounty-hunter.

So yeah, this is my grand Orthodox Fan theory. It is not meant to excuse bad behavior but maybe this kind of flawed thinking will be easier to recognize in yourself and others.

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Jun 202018
 

Sometime around last October, I published my interactive book, Ravished Inside the Haunted House. It was a monster of a book and took my half a year to write it. I was exhausted and told myself that my next book would be a hell of a lot shorter.

About a month later, I decided what I wanted to write next was a story about a sex gladiator on a faraway planet who battled for his ass, literally. In front a screaming crowd and an evil Queen, he would fight aliens and people, with the winner having the right to fuck the loser with domination sex. It would be part of a grand tournament with a big finale where the winner gets to fuck the Queen.  It would be an interactive book where the reader took the part of the sex gladiator.

My initial thought was to write fast and dirty. Just spit this draft out there and I should have it done by June. Polish it and get it published in July. It would be like my version of a summer blockbuster: loud, crass and big. I would even get the jump on it and write some of it in December. Hell, I may have it done by May!

It is now June and I am about 80% of the way through the first draft. Whoops.

My rough outline was simple. Gladiator has a night before the match where he bangs the servant assigned to him. He then has a fight. If he loses the fight, he gets fucked and he is out of the tournament and the story ends. If he wins the fight, he fucks the loser and the story moves on.  The gladiator goes back to his room, bangs the servant and repeat. Easy-peasy. That is six fights and six nights before.

My biggest concern is that this would be most linear interactive adventure I have written. All of my books read like amusement parks; you can only visit so much on one trip. The early choices determine what part or theme of the book you explore. This allows the reader to play through the book at least three or four times with clearly different stories. I like this approach because it gets a lot of replay-ability out of a single book.

This book wouldn’t have that feature. You start at the same place, fight the same six sex gladiators and have the same six nights after the fight. There would be variations of how you fight or how to spend your night, but all in all, it is a single story-line without any real reason to read again unless you really like the story. This was a problem but I figured that I would just have to make sure the story is really good and worth revisiting.

Halfway through writing the first fight, it occurred to me that I have stressed that sex gladiators play to the crowd and play to the Queen but there is no mechanism to encourage the player to keep it mind. It seemed obvious that winning wasn’t enough, I had to quantify how good your win was. By adding that element, it stood to reason that your night after the fight would change as well. If you win and please the crowd and Queen, the Queen sends you a gift. If you win and only please the crowd, then someone from the crowd visits you. If you simply win, then you just have sex with your servant and maybe some luxury that has been provided for your quarters.

Now I have a lot of variety to play with. We have the same six fighters, but now there are three different ways to spend your night after each fight. That will help a lot with repeatability.

Of course, once I introduced the idea of three different ways to spend a night before a fight, it seems logical that the fight itself would change. Maybe fucking a member of the crowd gives you a hint about your next opponent. Maybe the Queen’s gift gives you an advantage. Maybe having sex with your servant can have risks in that you don’t adequately prepare for the next fight.

As you can easily see, now instead of fighting the same six gladiators, you have three possible variations for each of those fights. The math works out to three possible versions of each of the six fighters equals eighteen different mini-stories. Add to that the three different versions of the six nights before each fight for another eighteen mini-stories. Add them together, and I have thirty-six variations to write out for this tournament. Plus any variations I want to do on the grand ending when the Queen rewards you.

So that is how my simple story ballooned into a massive space gladiator epic that has consumed all of my writing for this year so far. I think it will be worth it. On a single run through, you will see twelve of the mini-stories and have twenty-four that you never saw. Of these thirty-six combinations, you could repeat some and see new ones depending on your choices. It may be linear, but there are a lot of ways to get to the end.

It is a lot of work but I can’t wait to share it with you.

 

 

 

Jun 182018
 

Annihilation was a movie that I wanted to see but didn’t get the chance to. I saw it recently and really regret not seeing it in the theater. It was a gorgeous movie about evolution and a failed marriage that happens to feature a group of women exploring a terrible place. It concerns an expedition into a weird place where something fell to Earth and now the landscape is all wacky with weird life. It is an exploration movie, mixed with weird science and just plain mysterious things. Big emphasis on mysterious shit.

After I saw the movie, I read the book by Jeff Vandermeer.  Holy crap, if I thought the movie was good, the book is spectacular. They deviate a lot and I read that the director wrote the movie from what he remembered of the book, and didn’t go back to reference the book. Normally I would have some harsh words about that but the sliding perception nature of the book makes me wonder if a half-remembered version of the book into a movie might not be the best way to adapt the book.

Technically this book is about an expedition into a weird place called Area X where the laws of logic and science have given way. The narrator is a member of the 12th expedition, sent in by a government agency to figure out what the fuck is going on. Almost instantly, she realizes that most of their preparation was a lie and their real mission is a mystery.  The narrator is also looking for some answers on what happened to her husband who went in on a previous expedition so there are personal reasons for going as well.

In reality, this book is a deep dive into the narrator’s personality. She’s an introvert biologist who feels most at ease observing life rather than participating in it. This drives her husband away and she knows it, but is so emotionally detached she is not all that sure she really misses him.  She observes the weird land around her with the same detachment, giving her an advantage over her rapidly failing teammates.

As interesting, weird and fantastic as the land she is exploring is, the real story is about how alien the narrator is to her husband, her family and her place in the world. I was drawn to the weirdness of the creatures he meets, but ultimately I couldn’t help feel that the narrator is her own unique species.  She doesn’t get her husband and he never really got her. She failed at most of her field work jobs because foundations need data they can use instead of the data she found interesting. In this weird Area X, she is an alien explorer but she was one in the normal world as well.

As a porn-writing nerd who dabbles in magic, I sympathize a lot with her. I suspect most people of an introspective bent will.

There are themes of perception being played with as well. Truth is fucking fluid. The group was lied to and manipulated but to an unknown end. The narrator inhales some spores early on and it gives her an advantage in perception but maybe also hallucinations. Journals are found and both trusted and suspected of being false. The fact that everything you know comes from the journal of such an emotionally detached person who admits to ignoring unpleasant facts makes every page untrustworthy.

The differences between the movie and the book is centered mostly on the narrator. In the book, she is a biologist who trying to connect with the bizarre life around her. In the movie, she is a biologist/ex-soldier. It is a weird change that turns a book of self-reflection into a movie about shooting monsters and trying to find the true fate of her husband. The movie expedition members get attacked by monsters. Most of the book expedition dies from circumstances only guessed at. It almost feels like a condemnation of Hollywood that the only conflict we accept in movies are things that can be shot or blown up.

The book is part of a trilogy and I haven’t read the others yet. Whether they live up to the wonderful experience of the first book remains to be seen. No matter what happens with the rest of the series, I will think back on this book fondly. The last time I read a book that both disoriented me while making me thinking really deeply was House of Leaves. Thankfully, Annihilation is a lot shorter.

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Jun 122018
 

There is a certain kind of writer that is always in style. It is a cranky voice, angry at the ridiculousness of the world and raging mad at the rich and powerful. There is a hostility in their writing that is a like a vigilante smashing thorough injustices that we just take for granted. They often have a wildman quality in which we think they are crazy but we also wish we could borrow a little of that crazy to be used in controlled doses.

The problem with these kinds of writers is that there is a thin line between being hostile to those who deserve hostility and just being an asshole to everyone.  When you poke past their writing and look at the writer, sometimes you find a wretched person with some nasty qualities.  The writer is less of a vigilante and more of a psychopath who happened to attack the things you didn’t like.

Anthony Bourdain, by all accounts, had none of those problems. He was the rare angry writer who upon closer examination, was even more admirable. Anthony was an advocate for Latinos and their invisible role in the food industry. He was a champion of the MeToo movement. when other people tear into a North Dakota food critic for her review of an Olive Garden, Anthony gets her a book deal and points out how her earnest column was an honest examination of the food that was available.

I encountered Anthony through his television shows and they were such an education. He taught me that no matter where you go, something is frying some kind of meat. He taught me that real food is made by families and the best meal you can find is made by a grandmother. He taught that food is always about who has access to it and what is the scarcity.  he taught me that if you are a tourist, don’t eat where the tourists eat but eat where the locals go. Most of all, he taught that people were much more alike than they were different.

My favorite Anthony memory was when he went to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. The people there seemed so exotic and foreign but yet here they are, gathered at a fried chicken restaurant like you would find in any Southern state. I consider myself such a super-liberal guy but watching that moment and seeing how surprised I was, made me understand that I had a lot of unconscious prejudices that I wasn’t even aware of. That was the kind of stuff Anthony tackled everywhere.

And my Goddess, he could write. If you only know Anthony by his wonderful television shows, then you need to check out his books. I have a fondness for “The Nasty Bits”, a collection of articles and essays he wrote for various sites. Each one is a mini-story about life , food, cooking and everything in between. He wrote fiction with the same edge, crafting crime stories like he has been doing it all his life.  it is truly unfair that he could write that good.

It is his stories of being a chef that really resonate with me. He wrote about how being a chef where everything goes right is cool, but the best memories are when things go to shit and you still managed to send a meal out. Time and time again, he made cooking out to be a madman’s passion where things are always going wrong but you make it work. Or maybe you don’t make it work and you just suck it up. Either way, you keep cooking and you do it again tomorrow.

As an anxious person, these stories always amazed me. When I first started cooking, the smallest mistake would be so discouraging. I used to break down in tears if a meal came out bad. It has taken a lot of work to get past that and I still have my episodes but man, reading Anthony, a genuine bad-ass in his own right, talking about fucking up cooking and carrying on, is fucking inspiration. Anthony, rightfully so, glamorized the mistakes and troubles of cooking as part of the real work of cooking. Any dumbass can make a steak after a few tries but a real cook fucks up a sauce and does his best to save it. Whether he saved it or not is not as important as the fact that he did his best to make it work.

Anthony Bourdain passed away this Friday and I am still in a state of grief. He committed suicide, which as a lifetime depression sufferer, really hits close to home. It is deeply unfair that such a wonderful man could have perished but that is how depression works. Depression sucks and it is a daily fight. Anthony lost that fight and I hope wherever he is now, he is happier.

As for me, I will try to remember what Anthony tried to teach us. I try to cook with love for whomever I am cooking for. I try to be mindful of the privilege I have to enjoy food most people will never get to have.  I try to get out of my routine and try new things.  And for Anthony’s sake, never have the fish special on a Monday because it is most likely the fish that turned bad over the weekend.

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Sep 272017
 

Back in the glory days of my youth, I played Warhammer Fantasy and Warhammer 40K. I loved role-playing games but there was something irresistible in managing an army or small squadron through a tactical situation. Role-playing was about stories about wargaming was about the thrill of winning and the almost more entertaining thrill of losing.

As I got older, I stopped playing wargames because they can all day to play. It is can also get expensive as armies grow and miniatures have never gotten cheaper. The days of spending six hours to fight a battle with an army that takes all year to save up for is long gone.

Thankfully, I have been able to get back into wargaming through the wonderful game of Pulp Alley. Games usually take a two hours and the miniatures can be as few as two and rarely if ever cross over into more than ten. More importantly, the rules are simple but incredibly fun. I have been playing off and on for a year now and couldn’t imagine playing anything else.

The premise is that each player has a small league of like-minded individuals. Each game centers on the leagues trying to achieve the same goal. The players have six turns to gain objectives, deduct clues or just slug it out. Fortune cards are drawn at random and used by both players for unexpected advantages. No one truly dies so even if your league gets wiped out, they will just regroup and be ready for next time.

One of the strengths of Pulp alley is that the rules as written can cover any kind of game genre. Want to play space opera with your Jedi Knights or Cylons? Pulp Alley has you covered. Want to play a fantasy game of rival warrior bands fighting over a temple? Yep, you can do that.  I myself have a cult leader and his followers, a band of women adventurers from the mountains of Tennessee and a time-traveling scientist who has an army of robots. Basically, if you ever wanted a game to create your dream group of miniatures, this is the game for you.

I suggest getting the core rulebook, and a set of their fortune cards. If you like it, then I suggest the Pulp Leagues Book which has more skills and rules for creating a game for specific genres. Pulp Alley also came out with rules for solo play which are quite good.

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Sep 212017
 

Hot Cop walks through the dessert looking like he will die at any moment.. He comes across two little girls selling lemonade in front of their town. Hot Cop drinks their lemonade without paying and the girls start to cry. This may be Hot Cop’s best bad-ass moment.

The leader of the town comes out and welcomes Hot Cop to Cronenberg. Oh dear. Anything referencing David Cronenberg should be an instant warning to run the hell away if you want to keep looking human.

The town’s Cult Leader shows Hot Cop to the town and explains how everything is a paradise and everyone is pretty and there is nothing to worry about and because Hot Cop is Hot Cop, he believes it all.

Grace meanwhile tracks down Hot Cop. She finds him Cronenberg and tries to get Hot Cop to follow her but nope, Hot Cop is burned out and just wants to settle down with the cult. Conflict!

Of course not everything is cool in Cronenberg. grace finds out there is a lot of noxious gases that have brainwashed people e as well as making the people of Cronenberg look like, well, characters from a Cronenberg movie. Hot Cop isn’t believing it and Cult Leader has Grace dumped in a toxic pit. Oh noes!

Luckily for Hot Cop and Grace, the REAL hero of the show, Slink, has been fired from Blood Drive by the CEO of Heart. He is scheduled to be executed but first he has to go through severance with HR. Once again, the evil bureaucracy of heart is a delight and even more of a delight when S;link murders an accountant who really should have saw it coming. Slink makes a last ditch effort to keep his job by tracking down Grace and Hot Cop to recruit them for a final mission.

Which means we get to see Slink come to Cronenberg and it is glorious. Slink has a gas mask so we get to see the lemonade the girls sell is dog piss and that the pretty houses are shitty shacks. Slink stabs his way into the church and although I have no doubt he could murder-spree the whole town, Slink is a showman so he has to engage the Cult Leader in a preach-ff and it is wonderful. No one talks like Slink and I wish he was a real person so I could join his cult of personality.

Meanwhile, Hot Cop and Grace nearly die but they declare their love for each other. Aww. Oh, they also agree to help Slink and rejoin the Blood Drive. Yay!

Oh yeah, Tortured Cop and Evil Robot Woman escaped Heart with a cool scene where they used an 80’s style video game interface to pick their car.  Aki had to stay behind because she has an Anti-Running-Away device. The two Stockholm lovers have to separate. Sad.

All in all, it was a fun episode of Blood Drive. The cult was truly nuts and having Arthur gassed and going along was actually fun. Slink’s rescue was amazing and grace is always a bucket of pissy sunshine to everyone she meets.

Other thoughts,

It is kind of a shame that literally minutes after having an epiphany about his martyrdom, Hot Cop goes back to being stupidest man in the apocalypse due to Cronenberg gas.

Grace and Hot Cop were covered in cement mud and that was not a bad thing to see at all.

What was up with the CEO sucking on a lollipop like Grace does? We have already seen him with pink nail polish. Is obsessed with Grace because he wants to be Grace?

Evil Robot and Tortured Cop are shown sleeping on two police desks pushed together to make a bed. This bugged me for way too long as I tried to figure out if that was remotely comfortable.

 

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Jul 172017
 

This a fan fiction story featuring adult performer Jay Taylor in the Zombies Run universe.  All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Jay Taylor’s hottness is the property of Jay Taylor. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. if you like exercising while listening to a zombie apocalypse drama, I highly reccomend Zombies Run. If you like sexy girls, I reccomend Jay Taylor porn.

“You’re doing good, Runner 5. The entire camera system for the village is back up and running. The router you reconnected seemed to do the trick. I can’t believe one raccoon could cause so much damage.”

Sam Yao cycled quickly through the different camera feeds. There was the empty village square. There was the cleaned-out grocery store. There was the main road leading north. There were the burned remains of the bus. There was Runner 5’s cute butt inside the electronic store.

Sam zoomed in. All of the runners were in great shape but Runner 5’s ass was a fantastic example of female beauty. The running shorts clung to her bottom and were soaked in sweat. He had a brief fantasy of cleaning the sweat from her ass with his tongue.

“No, no,” Sam said to himself. Stay professional. The runners relied on him to be their eyes and ears. He couldn’t perv on Runner 5 just because she was the hottest woman still alive in the zombie apocalypse. It wasn’t right and Runner 5 had saved the lives of Abel Township hundreds of times.

Sam turned on the mic again. “Thank you again for doing this quick mission. I know you would rather be back here for the Founding Day festival but you know how it is. As soon as we lose camera coverage somewhere, it means it might be a prelude to an attack. Since it was just a raccoon who likes to chew wires, you can come back now.

Runner 5 turned around and faced the camera. She shook her head in the negative. Her ponytail bounced behind her.

Sam became a hundred times more alert. “What is the matter? Did you find something? Is it Van Ark again?”

Runner 5 looked up at him with her enigmatic expression. She grabbed the bottom of her sports bra with both hands and pulled it up to reveal her sexy small breasts. Pulling the bra over her head, she tossed it to the side and grabbed her breasts. Her fingers pulled at her nipples.

“Oh no,” Sam groaned. She was doing it again.

Runner 5 smiled. Her high cheekbones almost glowed when she smiled. She licked her lips and gently rolled her nipples in her fingers.

Sam glanced at the shed door. He rolled his chair towards the door and turned the lock. If the Major came by, he would just tell her that it was an accident that he locked the door. She might even believe him.

“Sam,” Runner 5 said through his headset. “Do you want ass or more tits?”

Sam’s heart raced. Runner 5 almost never spoke. To hear her say his name gave him an instant erection. He rolled back over to the monitors and watched.

“Ass,” he answered.

Runner 5 nodded and turned around. She hooked her fingers into either side of her shorts and slowly pulled them down. Her hips wiggled back and forth as the shorts slowly exposed her perfect ass centimeter by centimeter.

A memory flashed. Sam was sitting in this very chair while Runner 5 sat in his lap. She had her shorts off then, and she wiggled and squirmed on top of his hard erection. Around and round she grinded her perfect ass until he came in his pants. That was the best Christmas.

On screen, Runner 5 pulled down her shorts and stepped out of them. She grabbed her ass with both hands. Her fingers sunk into her firm flesh and pulled. He could see the tight ring of her asshole.

“Holy shit,” Sam moaned.

Runner 5 licked her finger and pressed it to her asshole. She rubbed the outside of her asshole and Sam could easily imagine that it was his tongue. As her finger moved, Sam could almost taste her.

There was movement on another monitor. It was a zombie. The zombie was leaning against the wreck of the bus. Maybe it was trying to walk into it.

He turned back to Runner 5. She was grabbing her ass while her hips rolled. Fuck, she was hot.

“You turn me on so much, Runner 5,” Sam groaned. “I love watching your ass. I would love to bury my face in it. I would cover your butt in kisses and then I would lick your ass. I would fuck your asshole with my tongue. I want to taste every bit of you.”

Runner 5 moaned. Her butt clenched and all those wonderful muscles flexed along her butt.

“I would fuck your ass, if you let me,” Sam said. “I would be so gentle. I would slip inside you so carefully until I was deep inside you. Oh, I wouldn’t last long. I would try to hold back but it would only take a few thrusts before I came deep in your sexy butt.”

Runner 5 groaned. She leaned forward over the counter. She spread her legs and Sam could see the edge of her hairy bush. He zoomed in closer as she plunged her fingers into her wet pussy.

Now it was Sam’s turn to moan. Runner 5 fingered herself while her ass continued to clench. Her hips rolled as she humped against the counter.

“I wish I was there to fuck you,” Sam said. “I love your ass but I know your pussy would be perfect. It would be so warm and tight. I would bury myself deep in your cunt and fuck the hell out of you.

“Sam,” Runner 5 moaned. “I don’t hear you jacking off.”

He knocked over the pile of mission papers by the fan. Under the pile was a lunch box. Inside the lunch box was a pile of chip boards but hidden deep under them was a tiny bottle of lube.

Sam pulled his pants down and squirted the lube into his hand. It was almost empty. That was no problem. He was sure Runner 5 would bring him some more.

Runner 5 turned around. Sam gasped at the sight of her hairy bush. She had her fingers deep inside her as she leaned back against the counter. Her mouth hung open as she moaned and Sam had a quick fantasy of filling her mouth with cock.

Sam grabbed his hard cock with his lubed hand. He groaned loudly and Runner 5 smiled on the screen. He pumped his cock with a mad fury.

They didn’t talk as they masturbated but that didn’t mean that they were quiet. Sam knew that she could hear the wet sound of his cock getting jacked with lube. He could hear her groan with every thrust of her fingers. Their breathing got louder and louder as they came closer to orgasm.

Sam came first. He always did. When it came to Runner 5, he had no staying power. He came and he came loudly as he shouted his pleasure.

Runner 5 smiled at the camera as he came. She kept smiling as her fingers stroked her pussy to orgasm. She cried out and grabbed her tit as she came. Her slender body shook as she rode the aftershocks of her climax.

“Oh Jay, I have made quite the mess.” Sam groaned when he could speak again. He winced as he realized that he used her name on the comm line. That was a big no-no. Then again, so was using the surveillance system to masturbate together.

Runner 5 laughed and brought her fingers to her mouth. She licked her fingers slowly, putting on a show for Sam. It was amazing how much she could get into her mouth. When she was finished, she looked at him with an intense sultry look.

Sam knew what that meant. She was still horny. Everyone knew how brave and quick Runner 5 was but only Sam knew how insatiable she could be. Well, maybe some of the other runners knew. And the doctor. Okay, probably the motorcycle guy. Still, most people didn’t know what a fantastic slut she could be.

“If you can get it up when I come back,” she said, “how about I suck you off?”

Sam swallowed. His tender cock throbbed. “Well, then all I have to say to that is RUN.”

 

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May 102017
 

I started keeping a log of how much time I spend writing a day. I don’t really have a goal in mind as much as I want to know just how much time I actually spend versus time I thought I spent.

This is the sort of record keeping that I have always resented in the past but now that I want to finish this giant Haunted House CYOA before Halloween, I am very curious. If I fail at that goal, I want to be able to look back and figure out why.  I am brutally honest in my records on why I stopped writing and it has created some interesting trends. Comic book day is hard to write. Days that I am depressed as hard to write. This kind of data is nice to have as I can form strategies for dealing with it.

The best result of this is when big legitimate reasons for missing my writing time occur, I have it written down. I usually get frustrated with my slow progress but now I can point at a block of time and go, “No one is getting shit done when they have to spend all their time dealing with health insurance.” I haven’t had a guilt episode since this record keeping and that is very nice for me.

Record keeping has also made me very aware of my writing habits. I tend to write in twenty minute bursts and then have an urge to be distracted. The act of stopping a timer every time I want to be distracted makes me very aware that I am sabotaging myself. Since I have recorded my writing time, I have managed to extend my usual writing burst to an hour before I need some sort of distraction break.

Right now I am using an Excel spreadsheet where I list the date, minutes logged writing and any notes of the day. I have to stress that I have fought this kind of detailed record keeping at every job I have held but now, I find it so useful.

I recommend you give it a try too.

 

Apr 172017
 

On of my biggest interests is hoaxes. To me a hoax is not just a lie or a forgery, it is usually an attempt to introduce a weird idea, like a mermaid in Fiji or a secret Conspiracy of Nice People, and make it seem just plausible enough that you know it is unlikely, but you kind of hope that it is true. I like the idea of introducing magic and mystery to the world.

I have tried my hand and small hoaxes in the past but nothing of a grand scale. In the back of my mind, I was always gathering ideas for the Big Hoax but never found my inspiration. I considered it a writing exercise and to pull it off, it would require my best skill.

As I studied other hoaxes, I found out some unexpected side effects. mainly, if you create a weird thing that has no obvious explanation or background, then mentally vulnerable people can latch onto those ideas and incorporate them into their own delusions. You could argue that deluded people will latch onto anything anyway, but the particular nature of a good hoax; ambiguity, fake history, mysterious clues and other bits are almost tailor-made to become part of a deluded person’s psychosis. For every benign social experiment out there on the net, there are someone, or a group of someones, who take it far too seriously.

Which is why I gave up the hoax hobby. I still study it but I have little wish to write fodder for someone elses break from reality.

Which brings me to Alex Jones’s lawyer arguing that his client, a known conspiracy spreader, is just a performance artist. that doesn’t surprise me. He is pretty damn good at how he frames, spreads and originates a conspiracy. What gets my goat is that I realized conspiracies can be harmful to people BEFORE I ever made one, but this guy made a living from it and can still look art himself in the morning. I would have thought that the only way Alex Jones could maintain his dignity would be do the long hoax of pretending to be a believer ot stupid things. It turns out he can’t even do that.

Oh well, scumbag is just as big of a scumbag as imagined. Still, I am grateful I never finished one of my conspiracy hoaxes.

 

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