September Under Glass Update

September is over, but writing under glass with the “She’s on the bottom” theme goes on… Still, I thought you might like a short update, and perhaps a bit of an excerpt šŸ™‚

Last month I wrote a total of 16 hours of erotica.

During that time I finished the first draft of a novella tentatively entitled The Coolest Wife EverĀ (previously known as Twin Magic) and added about 11,000 words to my kinky post-apocalyptic “short” (haha!) which has the working title The Last Men in the World.

I think The Last Men in the World will need at least another 7k before it’s done. Crazy. I’m not so awesome at this short story thing these days, am I?

I’m no longer accepting prompts for the “She’s on the bottom” theme, but I have four more to write for before we pick a new theme. Two images, two ideas.

  • Pony play and fairies
  • Pegging

(I think I might be able to combine those)


I also need to write this year’s Christmas story (which just so happens to be a spin-off from my story in Demons, Imps and Incubi).

My point is, I don’t think we’ll be looking at a new theme before December, but you never know… you never know.

In the meantime, here’s a short excerpt from The Coolest Wife Ever. Enjoy!

Ethan padded down the hallway toward his room. It was late, the house was cast in shadows and the carpet muffled the sound of his footsteps. This, he thought, is how horror movies start. An unsuspecting man is on his way from the shower to his bedroom when suddenly BAM! he’s hit upside the back of his head with something heavy and crumples soundlessly to the ground, a growing crimson stain seeping into his beige carpet…

Caught up in his story, Ethan had to force himself to keep his pace slow and relaxed–Deirdre would never let him live it down if she knew he’d let his imagination carry him away with it. Again.

Faint honey-coloured light spilled out from the open door of the spare room. Ethan peeked in as he passed. Deirdre’s sister Ann had been staying with them for a few days while she looked for a place of her own. She was in there now, sprawled out on the bed reading a book. Her lamp’s weak illumination shadowed as much as it lit and he wondered how she could seeĀ the words well enough to read them. She looked up and waved. Clutching the towel around his waist with one hand, Ethan waved with the other. “Goodnight,” he said, continuing down the hall even as Ann’s respondingĀ ‘night came to him.

The next door was his. His and Deirdre’s. Uncharacteristically, it was closed and as he reached for the knob his imagination plunged him back into the brutal world of a horror movie and flashes of all the terrible scenes that might greet him on the other side.

None of his imaginings even came close to reality.

The only light in the room came from the lamp on Dee’s night stand and she’d draped a sheer scarf over it to further diffuse the light. Even so, the way she was standing in front of it meant Ethan could see her silhouette clearly. The light shone through her dark red hair, making a reddish halo around her shadowed face. It shone, too, through the flimsy negligee she was wearing, emphasizing the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts in a way nudity could not.

“Hmm,” she said, and he saw a quick flash of pink as she licked her lips. “You are wearing far too much.”

Ethan looked down at the towel wrapped around his hips. It was the only thing he was wearing–the only thing between his swelling cock and Dee’s gaze. “I am?”

Holy crap, Ethan thought, I sound like an idiot, asking ‘I am?’ like some moron in a porno who doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the next scene. He knew what was going to happen, he was just surprised. Initiating sex wasn’t really Dee’s style. And now here he was, messing it up when she finally did.

“Take it off,” she commanded, her voice husky.

Ethan dropped the towel and it pooled at his feet with a thud.

Dee stepped toward him, running her manicure over the washboard of his stomach. Her touch, thought light, was confident and when she pinched his nipple he reached for her to return the favour.

“No,” she said, holding a finger up between them. “I decide.”

I don’t think so, a voice in Ethan’s mind rebelled, but he shushed it. He was intrigued and wanted to see where this was leading. “That so?” he said.

“That’s so,” she agreed, wrapping her fingers around his cock.

She stroked him a few times, slowly, teasing, and he had to resist the urge to duck his head and kiss her pouty lips, but resist he did. Then, just as he was getting into the rhythm of her hand, Dee kicked the towel at his feet into a makeshift cushion and knelt on it.

Holy shit! he thought. Dee never–but then she was. Tangling his hand in her hair he looked down just as she, mouth open, ready to take him inside, looked up. When their eyes met a shock went through him that was anything but sexual.

It was not his wife with his prick balls-deep in her mouth, it was her twin sister!

Dun dun dun!

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