What Type of Lexi Maxxwell Reader Are You?

If you’re new to my stuff, let me start off by confessing something important:

I’m all over the damn place.

For a girl who might say she “writes about sex,” that description doesn’t come close to describing the wide variety of books I write today … despite the fact that I do, in fact, still “write about sex” in all of them.

I suppose the confusion stems from the fact that every story has sex in it if the author is truthful. (Every story that has sexually compatible people in it, anyway.) Unfortunately, most authors cut from the action when characters consider taking some alone time together. They’ll “go to bed” at the end of one chapter, and the next time we see them, they’ll be having breakfast together.

But you and I know what happened between bed and breakfast, don’t we? They had some hot sex, right?

I don’t write sex stories. I write all kinds of stories … but if some sex happens in those stories, I choose to show it.

I don’t think I’m actually an erotica author … but I may be an author who appreciates the erotic in life. I don’t think I’m preoccupied with sex … but I do enjoy it a lot. Mostly I like people, and I like telling a variety of tales. And yeah, in all of those tales, people end up fuckin’.

But because I am so all over the place, you may appreciate a tour through my catalog, so you can get your bearings before diving deep.

Below is a list of the kind of stuff I’ve written so far … but please note that these are KINDS of books, and if your favorite isn’t specifically listed here, a similar KIND of book (or one in the same series) probably is!

Let’s get started:

My Stepbrother the GroomMy Stepbrother the Groom (Lexi’s Sexy Romantic Comedies)

This wonderful, hilarious book (and all of the Lexi’s Sexy Romantic Comedies, each of which are standalone novels, so the series as a whole doesn’t have recurring characters) are my least explicit and most truly “Romance genre” books.

My Stepbrother the Groom is about Ella Roberts, a girl who’s always been unlucky at love and settled for mediocre men. Then, at a wedding, she meets Nathan Hayes — a charming, handsome, interesting man with whom she’s immediately smitten. Fireworks abound.

But there are just two problems. The first is that Ella’s mother is about to marry Nathan’s father — and while that’s hardly taboo given that they’ve just met each other, it’s definitely bound to cause big problems with Ella’s mother, who has her own visions of life as a family.

The bigger problem is that in two months, Nathan and his fiancee will join Ella’s mother and hers, in a double wedding.

You’ll love this book if you love romance in general and especially if you enjoy romantic comedies in written or cinematic forms. It’s ridiculously funny, awkward, sweet, and empowering.

Get My Stepbrother the Groom here, or search other stores: Amazon US | B&N Nook | Kobo | Apple

AnticipationAnticipation (Erotic Romance)

This book was my gateway between “pure sex” stories and something with a much more fleshed-out story. You’ll see both influences when you read it.

Anticipation is positively dripping with hot action, but the core of the story is decidedly domestic and sweet. The main characters are a married couple, and they don’t go off screwing anyone else in these pages. Instead, we watch them rekindle the spark that they’ve lost over the years.

More than anything, this is a connection book, and it’s an awakening book.

Caitlin, the protagonist, is a woman who finds herself more a wife and mother than a sexual being. She finds herself as plain, perhaps even uninteresting.

In this book, she re-learns differently, and readers tell me that this is perhaps the book they relate to most, and that has even helped a marriage or two.

Get Anticipation here, or search other stores: Amazon USB&N Nook | Kobo

thefutureofsex-2The Future of Sex (Science Fiction)

This series, co-written (uncredited) with the authors of The Beam, takes place in that book’s futuristic story world and is in many ways the opposite of Anticipation.

There are romantic story lines in The Future of Sex series (its sequels include The Girlfriend Experience, The Avatar Experiment, and more) but they take a heavy back seat to the commoditization of human sexuality as it’s being manipulated in the year 2063 by a titanic sex industry giant: the monolithic O corporation.

By the time this series takes place, the civilized world exists only within the North American Union, walled off by a defensive shell called the Lattice, protected from the barbarian East and rising sea levels while life goes on as a hyperconnected, hyper-enhanced dystopia.

As our story starts, Chloe Shaw is arriving for a job as an elite spa escort. Chloe thinks she’s being tested for her ability to please the wealthiest, most demanding men and women still left in the world, but it soon begins to seem that there’s more to O’s plans for her than meets the eye.

This series is stuffed with a wide variety of inventive new sexual technologies (nanobots, bodily enhancements, computer-simulated immersive porn) meant to bring out the fullest — and most profit-generating — of human appetites. But does O truly understand what it’s done, via its political and history-rewriting machinations, as well as its new use of the secret new Beam network? Or has it awoken something inside Chloe — a girl with a mysterious and paradoxical past?

Get the first book in the Future of Sex series here, or search other stores: Amazon US

cover-Lexi-Bitten-1Bitten (Paranormal)

Bitten was my response to the vampire craze. I’d been reading a lot of vampire books, but wasn’t really digging into any of them. I felt like they were all about the gimmicks rather than the relationships. And if you know me, that’s just not enough.

So I wanted to write something where the bond between the two main characters was thicker than the blood. Bitten does exactly that. It’s about a Emma, a heartbroken girl trying to move on, doing everything she can to finally put the pieces of her life back together after the death of Henry, the only man she ever loved.

Emma left New York and the life the two of them shared together, fleeing to California. She found a small house on the beach and got a job at a little local paper as a photographer. Emma thought she was doing fine, and maybe she was, at least until she sees Henry in one of her pictures, staring straight at her.

Emma doesn’t know if the man in the photo is really Henry, or if she’s losing her mind.

Bitten is one of my more graphic novels, with depiction of sex that make Fifty Shades look like Twilight. But if you want to read the hottest vampire story you’ve ever read, this is your ticket.

Get Bitten here, or search other stores: Amazon USB&N Nook | Kobo | Apple

A Temptation in TimeA Temptation in Time (Time Travel Romance)

This is my regret story. I have this whole thing about the immutability of time, and how much it sucks that you can’t go back and do something again if you think you might have screwed it up the first time.

I sort of modeled this one after a film you may or may not have heard of: Peggy Sue Got Married. It’s about second chances, temptations in our pasts, and fate.

The story itself is sweet at times, funny at times, and blisteringly hot at times. We all sometimes wonder what it would be like to taste forbidden fruit. Well, this book is where I tried to answer that temptation for myself.

One thing to note is that this is my only book that’s told, in full, from a male perspective. It kind of had to be that way, given what happens. (You’ll see.)

This book is definitely one of my favorites. It’s a standalone, not a series … but I’m sure I’ll do similar titles in the future because it was so fun cool and fun and eye-opening.

Get A Temptation in Time here, or search other stores: Amazon US

EbookEdition_TemplateLa Fleur de Blanc (Women’s Fiction – think The Devil Wears Prada)

La Fleur is one of my least explicit stories. This one is part chick lit, part soap opera, part ugly duckling comes into her own (though she’s hardly ugly) story. It’s very romantic but is not a romance … so if you’re a “Romance with a capital R” reader, this won’t hit all the same exact, genre-template buttons. But it’ll romance you, for sure.

The story is about a girl, Lily Whistler, who moves from Kansas to the beautiful California town Cielo del Mar to pursue her dream after her parents’ death: owning an exclusive flower shop that sells only white flowers.

The elite, high-society complex is filled with bitchy, uptight people, though, and Lily has to fight to find her true people among them while Kerry Barrett Kirby, the owner of fancy nouveau house across the courtyard, tries to take her down for reasons Lily doesn’t even fully understand … except that Kerry is (again) a total bitch.

La Fleur, shown here, is the first in a series with recurring characters. Look for Lily’s adventures to continue!

Get the first book in the La Fleur de Blanc series here, or search other stores: Amazon USB&N Nook | Kobo | Apple

EbookEdition_TemplateTogether Apart (Bittersweet Romantic Coming of Age)

I’ll warn you right now: this book will break your heart.

But it will also steal it away, hang on tight, and never let go.

I wrote this book because I had to, because the events that occur between Samantha and Zach within its pages are something I’ve experienced and I know so many good people do. Sometimes, people are very much in love … and sometimes, through no fault of their own, they simply grow apart.

We’ve all seen fireworks stories of couples who fight War of the Roses style, and we’ve all heard of those couples who become disillusioned with each other. But sometimes our separations aren’t considerate enough to give us such clear edges.

Sometimes, we can still love … and yet be meant to be apart.

Despite how much I cried writing this book, It may take the cake as my favorite of them all for now. Because yes, “bittersweet” contains “bitter” … but we have to remember all the “sweet” within it as well.

Get Together Apart here, or search other stores: Amazon US

MILF OptimizedMILF (Breaking Bad meets Weeds … with sex for money)

I love the tagline for MILF: Desperate Times Call For Desperate Pleasures.

I started this series asking myself the question, “Would you go all the way for your family?”

Yes, I would, but then again I love sex, and think prostitution should be legal anyway. Add my love for shows with the moral escalation of “Breaking Bad” with the comedic drama of “Weeds,” all centered around the secrets, lies, and shame that often follows sex, and I’d have the perfect cocktail for a fun but addictive series.

MILF is just that. The stories follows Natalie, a desperate mother in hard times. Her family life is barely clinging to livable, and the big bucks her husband isn’t bringing home aren’t helping. Despite every corner cut, every penny pinched, she clings to a ledge of normalcy while constantly dangling above the pit of poverty.

Until a friend approaches her with an offer too naughty to refuse. An opportunity to use her best assets to help her family increase theirs. Natalie is hesitant. Because once you slip into that hole, there’s no coming back out …

MILF is zippy. The sex scenes are HOT, and the secrets are smoking.

Get the first episode of MILF here for FREE, or search other stores: Amazon US | Kobo

AV OptimizedAdult Video (Clerks in a Porn Shop … with OMFG LOL Results)

I wrote this in collaboration (again uncredited) with the two guys who co-wrote The Future of Sex with me — but with diametrically opposite results. Where FOS is grim and futuristic, AV is “so wrong it’s right.”

I dare you to read this series and not laugh. You simply won’t be able to do it!

Adult Video tells the ongoing adventures of Seth, Heather, and Tiffany — the three minimum-wage slaves and occasional fuck buddies who man the registers and racks at Happy Endings sex shop.

Happy Endings is a “couples friendly” store with wide aisles, bright lighting, and a stated mission to help couples experience better sex lives without shame and with confidence. In practice, however, the staff fails the store, doing all they can to make every moment inside the place uncomfortable.

Seth (the all-American jock who grew up to be a slacker), Tiffany (the good girl), and Heather (the sluttiest slut ever to wield a slut stick — whatever that is) are joined at work by Sancho (the glory hole attendant whom Heather calls “Guacamole”) as they try to negotiate annoying customers while balancing a filthy sort of love triangle. And trying hard to get laid.

Get the first episode of Adult Video FREE here, or search other stores: Amazon US

FFT-Cover-TweakFilthy Fairy Tales

Do I really need to explain this one to you? Come on. Just read the title and look at the cover. :)

I originally released this three-story collection as three individual books (The Slutty Little Mermaid, Picockio, and Snow White and the Seven Kinky Dwarves), but now offer it as this more complete fantastical experience that asks some very important, very pressing questions that plague so many of us in life:

What would a pretty young mermaid lass do if a magic spell granted her a pussy?

Would Pinocchio’s willingness to tell the truth change if it was his dick that grew when he lied?

What shenanigans might transpire when a beautiful princess was sent away by a wicked queen … and found her way into the home of seven male deviants?

These three tales are absolutely hilarious, but are also surprisingly sweet at times. I would not recommend reading them to children as bedtime stories (although you might want to snuggle up with them when you’re alone!)

Get Filthy Fairy Tales here, or search other stores: Amazon US

Fuck Him!Fuck HIM! (Kill Bill with Sex — A Hilarious Tale of Erotic Revenge)

I was proofreading my manuscript of this book in public once. That was a bad idea. People kept staring at me because I was laughing so hard. Modest, I’m not!

Fuck HIM! is a parody of the Uma Thurman film Kill Bill, but instead of leaving Delilah for dead, the swine she’s stalking spent their wedding day screwing Delilah’s bridesmaids. Catching them just about killed Delilah’s spirit as her ex-fiancee and former friends laughed, but it’s Delilah who gets the last laugh when she learns of a sexual sensei who lives in the mountains … and trains her to use her vagina as a lethal weapon.

Despite the absurd premise, Fuck HIM! is shockingly hot. When you’re a sexual ninja, you can fuck your way through a bunch of bridesmaids and one cheating pig of a man without mussing your hair, and you can do it six ways from Sunday.

If you’ve ever been jilted and wanted your revenge … this book is for you.

Get Fuck HIM! here, or search other stores: Amazon US 

XXX Files E1The XXX Files (Paranormal Serialized Hotness)

I know I wrote it, but I think The XXX Files is the best erotical serial out there.

Hugely inspired by awesome scripted TV, going back to my very first favorite, “The X-Files” back in the 90’s, I tried to make my first serial as fun as it is sexy.

Piggybacking off of the precedent set by Mulder and Scully, I wanted Special Agents Brad Hammer and Courtney Grayson to have a spark of their own. They work for the mysterious paranormal sex crimes unit, Division 13, dealing with aliens, werewolves, vampires, and ghosts.

Hammer and Grayson had thought they’d seen it all. But then they are called on to a case which has them stumped … a room full of dead people and enough “DNA Stains” to look like a Jackson Pollock painting!

The only male victim is a scientist for one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies on the planet, and it seems he’s the victim of one of his own experiments — a cigarette called Red Breath which turns men into non-stop sex machines.

But it has another effect on women, turning them into something unlike anything the agents have ever seen before — a succubus that drains the life of anyone she has sex with.

Can the sex-obsessed Agent Hammer keep his pecker in his pants long enough to solve the crime or will he become the next victim in this case?

Packed with hot sex, thrills, chills, humor, and cliffhanger endings that will have you hot and hooked, you will positively love The XXX Files. 

Get the first season of The XXX Files here, or search other stores: Amazon US

And now that you’ve seen all those books, it’s also worth noting … 

… that although everything in my catalog under the name “Lexi Maxxwell” is “story first, with some sex included,” I do actually really enjoy writing pure smut: stories that are all sex, with little muss and fuss to get in the way of you’re quickly getting off. BUT! I’ve separated that stuff into a new pen name: Autumn Cole. You can find Autumn Cole’s positively filthy line of dirty stories here.

That’s it! There’s no way I’ll keep this page up to dates, so really your best bet for keeping up with me and all I write is to just search your favorite bookseller for my name.

Read, enjoy, please review the books you like, and have fun! :)

Do You Believe in Fate?

FateI’ve always viewed time with an abject sense of resentment.

On one hand, I suppose I should be grateful for what I have, and one of the things I have is time. I’ve had a number of years in my life up to this point, and hope to have many more in the future.

Now that I’ve quit my old advertising job in order to write, I have a lot more time in my day — though not nearly as much as my friends think, and often less than they do when it comes time to hustle.

But even when I’m busy and my plate is full, I can still choose how to use my time. At any moment, I can pretty much decide what I want to do.

I love most of those things, but the fact that I’m able to decide can make even tough or unpleasant chores more palatable.

On the other hand, I resent that Time’s so unflinching. She never, ever, ever gives second chances.

Nothing else is like that. If I say the wrong thing in conversation, I can correct myself. If I have a bad date (I’ve had many; I don’t automatically hop into bed with everyone no matter what my father thinks), I can go out the next night and search for someone better. If I make a stray mark on a sheet of paper with a pencil, I can erase it. I can edit my books before I publish them. I can edit my books after I publish them. Even the times I’m on podcasts, I can ask the hosts to edit if I flub.

But that’s not how it is with Time. I can take a photo, but before I so much as look at the picture, the moment I captured is gone. FOREVER. If you’re not used to overthinking everything like I am, the notion may not be fazing you right now. So I’ll ask you to take a minute and really consider it:

That moment will never, ever, EVER come again. 

If the finality of that statement doesn’t scare you at least a little, you’re not human.

If you turn your head just as your child takes her first steps, you will never see those first steps.

If you rip your only copy of a beloved photograph in anger, you will never have it again.

If you allow a friend who is too drunk to drive to take the wheel and they end up in a fatal accident, you can never — no matter how much you beg and plead — go back and make the choice that might have saved them.

Being the way I am (I call it determined, but those who know me sometimes say stubborn) gives me a fundamental problem with absolutes. Because there is always room to bargain in life, isn’t there?

You say you’d never part with your grandmother’s vase? What if I offered you a million dollars?

I can never be president? I’ll admit it’s a long shot given my likely antics in the Lincoln Bedroom, but it’s not truly, in the most concrete sense of the word, a “never” situation.

The expression goes, “Never say never.” I’ve also heard, “Uncertainty is the only thing in life that’s certain.” We live by these principles as axioms. Although we may think of many scenarios as highly, highly unlikely, we know in a secret, optimistic part of our brains that there’s still a sliver of a chance. That sliver keeps hope burning for so many hopeless people and hopeless situations. That sliver is the reason we say things like, “Nothing is impossible.”

I hate Time for her adamant refusal to never, ever budge. Time is a one-way train that refuses to pass any stop twice. You have exactly one chance at every encounter. One second to seize any given second. And then it is gone.


Just thinking about it makes me feel like I’m in a free-fall. That’s what life is like, though. You’re screaming past events and opportunities, and must grab them while you can.

It’s terrifying to think about. How can I possibly make all of these decisions correctly? I don’t have time to weigh all of the pros and cons of a thousand choices per minute! Time travel stories always talk about the Butterfly Effect, where tiny changes to the past carry huge consequences into the future.

If that’s a real thing, how can I possibly know what tiny choice I make today might forever mar my future happiness? Which small action might ruin my shot at meeting the man of my dreams, or at succeeding where I might otherwise fail?

Slow down! I need time to think!

But you can never pause. You can never rewind. All you can do is live this movie from beginning to finish … with only one chance to get everything right.

For any competent writer, telling stories is an act of intimate exploration and a way of expunging demons, so when I decided to write Fate, I knew I’d be coming face to face with some of my own personal terrors. At the same time, my fear of asking “what if” (and knowing that if I didn’t like the answer, I wouldn’t be able to change it) meant that I had no choice but to tell this story.

Writers are masochists. We’re shown a dark room with a curtain at its end and told never to peek behind it. And so of course, we do.

Thankfully, the idea that sparked Fate was, I thought, one I could handle. It got under my skin in the no do-overs way regret always does, but the scope was less sprawling than the classic tale in which the main character wishes his life was different. My protagonist, Malcolm Sims, actually has things pretty good. He has a wonderful, caring, and (of course) sexy wife. He has two terrific teenage sons. He’s his own boss, makes great money, and has plenty of free time. Malcolm has actually done well enough by age 43 that his wife Carrie no longer has to work, and they take nice vacations, drive a nice car, the works.

He only has one nagging regret: the time at age 18 when he could have hooked up with his high school crush, yet didn’t notice his opportunity. And Time — being the bitch that she is — would never let him try again after he’d looked back and seen the signs years later.

Today, regret is a sliver in his mind. He can’t get past it. He could have been with Molly Pfeiffer all those years ago… but now that he’s older and happily married, he never will.

Malcolm doesn’t want anything to be different. He loves his life, and his wife. He just wants another shot at that one lost chance — back then, in the past — to have the girl he’d spent years pining for. He doesn’t want to end up with Molly. He just wants to sidestep his timeline for an hour or so in order to screw her just once, then hop back on his ideal train.

He doesn’t really even want to fuck her. He wants to have fucked her.

Once the story popped into my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It raised a very interesting set of questions. For one, why would it matter to Malcolm, at age 43, if he’d been with Molly at age 18? By then it would only be memory.

When I thought about it practically, it had all the razzmatazz of deciding to swap one cup of coffee I drank six years ago for a decaf. It didn’t matter that the memory was about sex. Once finished, it was done, and would be just one more set of recollections in the larger archive. And in fact, the more I considered it, Malcolm could get what he wanted simply by using his imagination.

When the event in question was 25 years in the past, what was the difference?

And so to start my time travel story, I asked the Lexi Maxxwell version of that well-known question: Is it better to have fucked and lost than never to have fucked at all?

On the surface, the question seems pointless, yet recalls the same sense of desperation as the original, love-based question.

But once something moves into the past, does it even matter that we did it?

I went to Hawaii a few years ago. I drank mai tais and spent some time on a topless beach. But given that my Hawaii trip is over, does it matter? Would it make a difference if I’d never gone, so long as it didn’t affect my timeline otherwise? I didn’t meet any business people while I was there, and I didn’t miss important meetings by being away. If I had simply stayed at home, what would be the difference?

As I pondered, I found myself buried in what felt like very lonely questions. I started to wonder if anything I’d ever done had a purpose. I found myself staring the universe in her eye and questioning every tiny thing. It seemed likely that some parts of my past must have mattered while others were flotsam in the stream. But which was which?

Maybe publishing my first story after years of writing in secret was a watershed moment, instrumental in making me who I am today. But how do I know that it doesn’t just lift right out — and that if I’d never published that particular story, it wouldn’t have made a goddamn bit of difference?

So that’s where I started with Malcolm. Because he was a guy, I knew it wouldn’t matter if he got current-day pleasure from banging his high school honey. He wanted to have planted his flag in her past and then moved on, so I gave him his chance.

And with that, Fate was underway.

Now, you might think I knew in advance what would happen as Malcolm went about his temporal business, but that’s not how writing stories works for me. I didn’t know what would happen, and seldom do. I had to send Malcolm back in time, give him his chance to swap a single card in the deck, then wait to see what unfolded. Believe me — at the beginning, I was more nervous to be back in 1988 than Malcolm.

The good news is that in the end, I came to love Fate and its message more than I dreamed. It was fun; it was serious; it made me cheer and it made me cry. And of course, it made me wet in an uninhibited way I’ve seldom experienced when writing. Because believe me, there are plenty of cocks I wish had been planted in my past — and plenty of others I probably should have stayed away from.

If you haven’t read the story yet, I won’t spoil it. But I will say that Malcolm got what he was asking for, what he needed, what he wanted, and what he deserved.

Time and I still don’t see eye to eye. She’s still a relentless bitch, and she won’t be bargained with.

But after writing this book, I found that I was at least willing to see her point of view.


[button link=”http://www.amazon.com/Fate-Lexi-Maxxwell-ebook/dp/B00INEMMR4/” type=”big”] Fate is one of the best books I’ve ever written. We don’t get a chance to do things over. That’s why it’s fun to read about someone who can. I wrote this one to remember forever, and it’s only $4.99. Click here to get it on Amazon.[/button]

What Does Sex 2.0 Look Like?

FOS 1 OptimizedLet’s discuss the history of fucking.

In the beginning, there were single-celled organisms floating in primordial ooze. The “ooze” concept was pretty hot, but the world’s first horny beings multiplied by simply splitting in half. This was significantly less hot. But because the first organisms had nothing to compare it to, they figured that times were pretty sexy.

Later, the Earth evolved better lifeforms. At this point, the coolest kids on the block formed two genders, but they still hadn’t gotten things quite right. Female fish laid eggs and males came along and jizzed all over them in a cloud. Sex was definitely getting somewhere, but clearly there was room for improvement.

A bit later on, males got penises and females got vaginas. This was a banner day. If these new species wanted to survive, they had to find a way to deliver sperm to eggs so they could make babies. Because the eggs were all the way up a female’s cooze, the males had to fire up their injectors and blast sperm into the tunnel. Thus dawned the age of fucking, and the universe rejoiced.

But there was still a final hurdle for sex to overcome. Despite its obvious goodness, nature still hadn’t figured out how totally awesome fucking actually was. The whole “shoot jizz into a gal to procreate” M.O. was widely considered invasive, so early females of all species were (under this inferior system) generally perturbed by males sticking their dicks up inside them.

Some females ate the males who tried to poke their holes. Others beat the shit out of them. In order to adapt and unload their balls, males learned to be tricky, sneaking around behind their intended vaginas with enormous hard-ons, looking for chances to pounce. But when they finally got their tips wet, they had to be fast or were liable to get kicked in the balls.

But with the dawn of apes — and especially humans — sex finally entered its golden age. Fucking quickly claimed the center of society. Women were coveted because they possessed the precious gift of pussy. They were pursued and adored. They took over kingdoms and/or controlled them by manipulating men with the glory of gash. Men measured their worth by the inch, usually cheating by measuring from the underside of the balls. When they came up short, they bought sports cars.

Then, for a very long time, nothing happened.

Sex continued. No new organs or delivery methods came to the fore. We began to groom better for both slipperiness and visibility, but in general the mechanics haven’t changed since the dawn of man (and woman).

Dick goes in, dick comes out.

And sure, other things happen too, but those are the basics. If you understand those two steps, you graduate. In a way, it’s cool that something so awesome is also quite simple. But in another way, the lack of advancement is kind of disappointing.

When you think about it, innovation in sex has lagged far behind innovation in just about everything else. Shaving technology keeps evolving while advancement pertaining to the old in-and-out has stalled. Razors today have 17 blades and space-age lubrication strips, but cocks still go into pussies. They rub around until enough things convulse and/or dispense liquids, then the male falls asleep.

I’m being somewhat sarcastic, but in the big picture, I’m also kind of not. You may fuck once or twice a week or seven times a day, or once a year or never, but regardless, chances are you just fuck. You may role-play or be into feet or furries or something, but a given person’s repertoire tends to be fairly standard.

Dick goes in, dick comes out.

For most people, the standard, non-advancing nature of sex is a matter of fact. For me, it’s more. For me — as someone who makes my living titillating readers — it’s a career impediment. I have men in my stories, and they have dicks. The women have pussies. As far as heterosexual erotica is concerned, there’s not a lot of mystery. Is there ever any real question about what will eventually happen? Is he going to put it in her eye? No way. Jizz in the eye burns like a motherfucker. We know where that cock will end up. We just act surprised.

I face this conundrum, day in and day out. When you get down to it, my job is to make a fairly standard set of activities seem new enough to be scintillating. I can do it by pairing different sets of people, and by adding bells and whistles. I can do it by withholding for a while, so the reader can anticipate. But in the end, cocks pretty much always go into pussies, or mouths, or asses. Sometimes there are multiple cocks and sometimes there are none, but as a whole, I’m shuffling a deck with just a few cards.

I kind of wish that modern humanity would take a cue from those original bacteria, who weren’t satisfied with their sexual repertoire. They stood on their pseudopods and said, “Splitting in half is not hot enough for us! We must evolve sex organs!” Those germs had the fire to become more, but we human beings seem to have grown used to the fact that sex is sex is sex, forever and ever.

Maybe this whole thing — this feeling that sex is overdue for advancement — explains why I decided to write science fiction.

I wanted to peer ahead, and see what the future of sex would look like.

Speculative Friction

shutterstock_152337107Let’s get something straight: I like all kinds of stories, but have never really been a sci-fi gal. I ignored the whole genre for a long time — both as a writer and as a reader — because our culture’s hangover from the 1960s and 70s had given me a skewed impression.

I thought that sci-fi was people in tinfoil suits piloting spaceships and firing lasers. Dashing blond men protected bimbos with gigantic space tits and Donna Reed hair. There were aliens everywhere. The biggest differences between them and us was color. William Shatner hooked up with all of them.

But that wasn’t fair, and I suppose I knew it. Looking back, I’d known for a long time that there was fantastic stuff out there that was nothing like my mental impression. There were the works of Ray Bradbury and Isaac Asimov. And hey, Frank Herbert’s Dune is one of the coolest books I’ve ever read.

Then, when two of my friends at the Self-Publishing Podcast (Johnny and Sean) published their sci-fi serial The Beam last year, I knew I had to give that a read, too, because I like them and their books.

And surprise, surprise, I really enjoyed it. In fact, I loved it.

I said, “The world you’ve created in this book is absolutely fascinating!”

Sean said, “Thanks! You should write a story that takes place in it.”

My exact response was, “Oooo-kay … ”

See, The Beam world is massive. The main storyline takes place in the year 2097, after two reinventions of the internet plus the birth of true artificial intelligence have created The Beam, a network that connects and monitors pretty much everyone and everything.

It’s not a 1984 Big Brother scenario. If it were, I’d have dismissed it as paranoid. It’s really the logical next-steps that follow the way everyone today is always on and addicted to their smartphones. Can biological implants and nanobots really be far behind?

The main storyline takes place in what’s known as the North American Union — a federation formed by the US, Canada, and Mexico after massive ecological disasters decimated most of the planet.

Between 2013 and 2097, there were 84 years of fictional history mapped out by Sean and Johnny. There was the rest of the world — beyond the NAU’s protective dome, out in what has become the barbarian “Wild East” — to think about. Johnny and Sean had focused on the ultra-rich leaders of the NAU’s two political parties: the capitalistic Enterprise and the socialist Directorate. And in Season One, they’d focused on one city: District Zero, which used to be New York.

Seeing my hesitation, Sean said, “You have over 80 years and the rest of the world to spread out in. You could tell any story you wanted.”

The boys are persistent, and they have this way of making you believe anything is possible. I’d just read their bestselling self publishing book Write. Publish. Repeat. (which I have a few cameos in!) and was high on possibilities.

In my weaker moments, I thought: I write about sex. So what? I can find a sexy story to tell somewhere in the world within an 84-year timeline, right? 

That got me off the couch and made me take another look at sci-fi. The Beam wasn’t all tinfoil and lasers. It took place in the future, but at root was about people. I could write about people. Specifically, I could write about people fucking each other’s brains out.

But what really got me moving was remembering something else I’d heard about sci-fi. See, a lot of die-hard fans don’t even call the genre “sci-fi.” Instead, they call it “speculative fiction.”

Johnny and Sean had written about people who were over 80 years old but looked 30 thanks to repair nanobots in their blood. One of their characters (shockingly, my favorite) was an escort assassin who has neat little add-ons like cameras in her corneas and the ability to engineer hypnotic pheromones to lower inhibitions. In other words, yes, they’d written about people. But they’d written about advanced people. Evolved people. People who’d taken technology and used it to make themselves better.

If I was going to write a story in the world of The Beam, I knew I’d be writing about sex. But it could be advanced sex. Evolved sex. The old in-and-out could finally take that leap that was already long overdue.

Speculative fiction? Bah. Maybe that was good enough for some people, but this was my chance to indulge in some speculative friction.

The next time I talked to Sean and Johnny and they asked me if I wanted to write in their world, I smiled and said that I did, and that I had one hell of an idea. As a bonus, the title wrote itself.

I would call my story The Future of Sex.

Oh, the Nanobots

shutterstock_163978016Dick goes in, dick comes out.

Sure, there’s plenty of dick-and-hole action in my vision of the future. But as The Future of Sex opens, the company looking to hire my main gal Chloe Shaw — a monolith called O — has already spent their entire corporate history asking what more there could possibly be. “The Future of Sex” is their tagline. It’s their mission. It’s the reason they exist, and following its guideposts has made them one of the largest companies in the world.

I set Chloe’s story in 2060, halfway down Sean and Johnny’s master timeline, just as the first internet expansion (a network called Crossbrace) is due to be replaced by The Beam. The key difference between the two is that while Crossbrace connected people to others and their environments more than ever before, it was built by humans and couldn’t help but be limited by primitive thought.

By contrast, The Beam — in beta for special clients like O as the story opens — was built by A.I. That means new levels of connectivity, but it also demands new levels of participation. When The Beam reaches its full potential, O imagines, classical sex and enhanced porn will cease to be good enough.

People will start to live half or more of their lives as if they were digital beings — where small distractions like bodies and physical laws no longer apply.

I won’t go into a ton of detail (mainly because you can just start reading the first book by clicking the links at the end of this post), but let’s just say that thinking as the O Corporation gave me all sorts of ideas about how sex might evolve by the year 2060. And as if that wasn’t enough, thinking as Chloe — who turns out to be a bit of a prodigy — gave me all sorts of ideas about how sex might evolve further by the year 2097, with The Beam as a catalyst.

New materials technologies. Immersive simulation. Nanobots. You get the idea.

Just about every sci-fi story — ahem, sorry … any tale of speculative fiction — contains a warning. The Beam certainly does, and the fact that its world is so familiar definitely unsettled me as a reader. And so yes, The Future of Sex has plenty of “makes you think” messages about humanity, about desire, about stimulation of the body and mind (along with all the gray matter between them), and about what happens when natural evolution is influenced by marketing and profit.

But even without that … man oh man is future sex breathtaking. It would make our single-celled ancestors proud, because for once we’re not just putting a new coat of paint on a familiar machine. In The Future of Sex, humanity has pumped its collective fist into the air and declared, “Screwing and sex toys and porn are not enough for us! We need to evolve … well … everything!”

But something surprising happened as I wrote the first Future of Sex book … and then the three that have followed so far. I began to wonder if forward was always the right direction for progress. Evolution had always felt so clearly like an unending thing, but maybe that’s not the case. Maybe, in sex, the universe has already made something perfect. Something that doesn’t need to be improved upon.

Of course, I don’t know which way I’m leaning on that issue yet, because Chloe’s story isn’t complete.

At this point, I can only speculate.

But that, my friends, won’t stop you from having many, many hot times with Chloe along the way.

Get Episode One of The Future of Sex Here.

Or, read Episode One of The Future of Sex for FREE on the Blog by Clicking the Links Below:

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven

Dirty Trick

I-69Autumn waited until the tip of Sam’s dick was against her lips before smiling. “I have a fun idea.”

Sam’s cock throbbed in her hand. “So do I.”

“It doesn’t have to do with your dick.”

“I think you’re underestimating the situation,” Sam said. “Very little doesn’t have to do with my dick.”

Autumn slipped Sam’s head between her lips and started to suck it. Her tongue slipped up and began to toy with his sensitive underside. Sam gave a little jerk, and his cockhead swelled up as if goosed.

“I want to go to South by Southwest.”

“Is that code for your ass? I’m lukewarm on ass, Autumn. But if you insist … ”

“The festival.”

“Like a fair?”

“You remember. In Austin, Texas. We went last year.”

Sam’s head lolled back. It had something to do with Autumn tickling his balls and rubbing her hand up and down his shaft.

“When I went and harassed Tucker Max,” Autumn added.

Sam sat up. Autumn took rapid evasive action, deep-throating his rod. She felt it fill her mouth, then the back of her mouth before it went halfway into her stomach. Sam should consider himself lucky. His dick was too big for his own good, and was fortunate to have a girl who knew what to do with it. Autumn rose to the occasion, moving her head up and down, fucking him with her throat. She put her hand on his bare chest and pushed him back, until after a few more strokes he forgot what he was almost upset about.

Autumn was totally naked, because even when she was just blowing Sam, he liked to watch her trim ass and pert tits, a flash of pussy if she could get into a good position to open her pink folds and slip a finger inside. Sometimes Autumn liked to go fishing inside her cunt, then use the juices to finger paint around Sam’s pole at the head. He usually told her to lick it off, then speculated on whether they should try another threesome since Autumn liked the taste of pussy. This usually resulted in a passive-aggressive quasi-argument about how Autumn’s pussy tasted better than regular snatch, and Sam usually had to flip her end-for-end and bury his face in her furbox to prove his devotion, wrangling them into an always sticky 69.

Autumn slipped his cock out, worked the head, and paused to lick her lips, swallow, and catch her breath. She could suppress her gag reflex just fine, but never got how to keep from slobbering all over. Maybe it didn’t matter. Sam seemed to like it when she lubed him up as wet as a carwash, her hands and mouth dripping with saliva.

“I figure we can do some networking,” Autumn said. “Well, me, anyway. As Lexi. Not as Autumn. Nobody knows who Autumn Cole is. Now, Lexi Maxxwell, on the other hand? She’s … ”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Say we can go.”

“Oh, shit, Autumn. I’m going to cum in your mouth.”

Autumn slowed down. She took her stroking hand away and put it to her chin, feigning thoughtfulness.

“I said, I’m about to … ” Sam began.

“I’m thinking.”

“Keep stroking my cock. Come on. I’m close.”

“I can’t concentrate on dick-sucking when I’m trying to decide on something important.”

Sam reached out, put his hand in Autumn’s honey blonde curls, and guided her head toward his cock, looking up at her with its slit-eyed expression of wanting. But she knew how these things went. If Autumn paid that cock any attention, it was going to throw up in her mouth and instantly diminish her bargaining power.

“Just like another minute.” Sam reached out and began tugging his johnson.

Autumn slapped his hand.

“You’re killing me,” he said.

“I think we should to got South by Southwest.” She kissed the tip of his tall mushroom. It throbbed under her lips, pulsing red like a warning.

“Autumn … ”

“Can we go?”


“I’m hearing some indecision here, Sam.”

“Okay! Fine!”

Autumn smiled and slid his dick into her hot mouth. Her hand began to stroke, lubricated by the spit from her deep-throating. A moment later, Sam’s soldier erupted and his entire body shook. Autumn swallowed his load, then licked him clean.

“Manipulative bitch,” he said, his breath rolling out, heavy and rough.

“I’m going to check the driving distance.” Autumn stood, ran a slim finger along her lips, and gave Sam a salacious wink.



Two days later, Autumn came out into the living room, put her hand on Sam’s crotch to soften what would surely be a barely remembered reminder of what he’d promised, then slid down on the couch beside him.

“I’m ordering some print copies of Adult Video 1,” she said. “I’m going to hand that shit out like business cards.”

Sam looked up. “Mmm?”

“For when we go to Austin.”

“Austin who?”

“Austin, Texas. For South by Southwest.”

“Oh, hell, Autumn.” Sam folded his magazine and set it aside, meeting her eyes. “You weren’t serious about that. I figured that was just sex talk.”

“Yes, Sam. I always talk about tech festivals when giving head. ‘Ooh, baby! Let’s watch a TED talk!’”

“I don’t want to take time off and drive all the fucking way down there.”

“Fine. I’ll go alone.”

“Oh, no you won’t.”

Autumn shrugged. “Well, there we go. We agree.”

“What the hell do you want to go for anyway? It’s not like we’re swimming in cash. We’ll have to pay for all that damn gas, pay for a hotel … ”

“We can stay with Heather again.”

“You mean the girl who was slobbering all over that guy Paul’s dick while he was on the phone with Tucker?”

“That’s her.”

“Okay. So I think we can afford a hotel. If we go. But I don’t want to go.” He reached over and, without ceremony, slid a hand down the front of Autumn’s pants. His finger slid between her bare pussy lips. “I can convince you.”

“Please. Men can’t use sex as a weapon. Only women can do that.”

Sam’s finger began to move back and forth. “I’m going to rub you until you’re a quivering mass of meat.”


“I’m going to rub you like a steak.”

Autumn rolled her eyes and tried to scoot back, but Sam’s finger was in it for the long haul, and held fast. It had her hooked like a fish.

“This isn’t going to work.” Autumn said.

“Like a big, juicy, orgasming, dirty steak … ”

“Dammit, will you stop referring to my pussy as a steak?” 

His hand pulled away. He was about to pout. Sam was sexy as hell but was shit at dirty talk. He should have focused on his strengths, but like most men instead focused on his shortcomings.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was hot. I want to swallow your whopper with my pork loin later. Yes. Yes. Oh baby. But for now, I won. We’re going.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then threw his hands in the air. Autumn considered it a victory. Annoyed and exasperated was better than pouting.

“Why, Autumn? South by Southwest was a bust last year!”

“A bust?” She was aghast. “We fucked in alleys! We fucked in the car outside Tucker Max’s place! I discovered a disturbing truth about myself and a midget!”

“You’re right,” said Sam. “Win.”

“If we hadn’t gone last year, I wouldn’t have written I Fucked Tucker Max!”

“Are you kidding me? That book has sold like 10 copies!”

“Oh, it’s more than that.”

“I bought eight myself! Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to open eight separate Amazon accounts, Autumn! The things I do for you and your steak pussy!”

“You’re exaggerating,” said Autumn. “It got me started.”

“Not to mention that Tucker said it was the stupidest fucking story he ever read!” he added.

Autumn pointed a finger at Sam. “See, that’s the problem right there. He didn’t say that. He said that he thought it was stupid, then admitted that he’s not my demographic. Which is why it didn’t sell well. I checked on Facebook. Tucker and Lexi have virtually no overlap in their audiences. I figured they’d be transferrable, but I was wrong. Turns out, people say they don’t like humor with their sex.”

“Then why did you write that funny/sexy story for your Facebook people?”

“Oh, people say all sorts of things,” said Autumn, waving a hand. “If this were a story, it would be both sexy and funny. Are you telling me nobody would want to read stories about us?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m doing it better now. I have to change the positioning. You know all about positioning, right? It’s a marketing term.”

“Autumn … ”

“With Adult Video, I’m considering positioning it as comedy first, and erotica later. That’s what Ronnie says I should do. And as for the Future of Sex, that should be sci-fi first, and … ”

“Ronnie who?”

“Ronnie and Jon. The podcast guys.”

Sam gave her a blank look.

“My collaborators on AV and FOS.”

Sam shook his head.

“The people I said I wanted to go to South by Southwest to talk to and strategize with. Don’t you pay any attention to me?”

Sam looked caught. In fact, Autumn hadn’t mentioned anyone she wanted to meet up with and strategize with down in Austin, but that was mere coincidence. Sam wasn’t paying attention because Autumn usually made her most controversial asks while fucking or sucking him. She had an excellent success ratio, but Sam’s decisions always seemed ill-informed.

“Of course,” he said.

“I’m trying to build a career as an author, Sam. These things take time. You understand that, right?’

“The first Adult Video is free. You can’t even give it away!”

“Visibility. Genre confusion. Jon and Ronnie say … “

“Fuck Jon and Ronnie!”

Autumn locked eyes with Sam.

“Okay,” Sam amended. “Don’t fuck them.”

“I love you, babe,” Autumn said, “but you’re too down the middle sometimes. This isn’t like going into an office every day. I have to build something from nothing. I have to buildup fans slowly. Writing on my blog every day. Giving away free stories. Facebook. Tumblr. Podcasts, audiobooks, all that. It’s an exponential thing. All of a sudden, there will be this huge growth.”

“Any day now … ”

“I have to keep writing. Keep producing.”

“You’re all over the goddamn map. What are you writing? Porn? Comedy? Vampire novels? Kill Bill with pussy?”

“Genre-hopping,” said Autumn. “It’s a good thing.”

“You’re all over the place. You started with porn —”


“And you ended up with these stories with deep themes. Nobody understands porn with themes.”


“You can’t go from ‘Coffee Shop Slut’ and ‘Please Baby, Cum in My Mouth’ to thoughtful, intelligent novels. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe I should write unintelligent, non-thoughtful stuff,” Autumn suggested.

“It’s just that you quit your job for this. I’m carrying the load.”

“And I love when you deliver that load.” Her hand began rubbing his crotch.

“You’re doing all this work.” Sam’s face changed. Autumn realized that he was mad — if he was actually mad — because he was being protective. It was sweet. She rubbed his crotch more seriously.

“I am.”

“For nothing.”

“Not nothing. It’s getting better.” She opened his fly and gripped his growing erection. “Slow build. You appreciate a slow build, don’t you?”

“Does nothing make you horny,” said Sam, looking down.

“If you disagree, stop being hard.”

“This is unfair. You can’t win all of our arguments with sex.”

“So far, so good.” She leaned in and kissed him. “Hang in there with me, Sammy. You inspire me.”

“Is that why you named the female lead in Divorced ‘Sam’?”

“Short for ‘Samantha.’”

“ ‘Sam.’ ”

She kissed him again. Her fingers slipped inside his boxers, cupping warm, hard flesh.

“If I’m going to write about people fucking, I like the idea of writing about people named Sam fucking.”

Sam was rock hard. His protests had become half-hearted, and his hand had moved back into her pants. They were yoga pants, loose and stretchy. And Autumn almost never wore panties. Now his touch did feel good. A finger slipped inside, and he kissed her back.

“Did Sam have a hot pussy?”

“As hot as yours.”

“Please don’t talk about my pussy,” Sam said.

As if in answer — to show who had the pussy in this relationship — Sam shifted to the foot of the couch, pulled Autumn’s pants down to her calves, and buried his tongue in her snatch. Juices flooded from her pussy, and she looked down to see his face coated with warm lube. Sam rolled his eyes up at her, watching her face. She watched him for a while, then closed her eyes and focused on the sensations.

“Oh, Sam,” she said.

She felt his tongue move faster. It slid between her wet pussy lips, lingering and flicking across her clit. Soon she was on the edge. Sam sensed it and moved faster. Autumn wrapped her legs around his head and came against his mouth.

Her breath came in slow gasps as she slid down from the peak. Sam backed away. Her pussy felt hot and open, ready for him.

“Fuck me,” she said. He was already ahead of her, pushing his pants and boxers down. His purple shaft bobbed inches from her hole, and she could feel its heat against her.

He teased her with the tip, wiping his head up and down and covering it with her fuck juice. He rolled his cock across her clit, then parted her pink curtains just a little, just enough to be a tease.

“Put it in me,” she said.

“I’m thinking we should stay here,” he said.

Autumn reached down, took Sam’s hard cock in her hands, and pulled toward her waiting cunt. She needed to be filled. It had passed wanting, and crashed into urgent.

“Fuck me, Sam.”

“I’m hearing some indecision here, Autumn.”

Autumn’s eyes hardened. She looked between her legs, saw her man with his cock in hand, wiping the head across her blushing wet folds. A shit-eating grin on his face.

“I don’t want to talk about this now.”

He looked down. “Your pussy is so hot. I could totally cum right now, from here … ” He slipped the tip inside — just enough to make her want more, but not enough to satisfy. “Or right here. I could shoot my load of hot spunk all the way up inside your pussy, let it drip out … ”

“No. Fuck me.” She grabbed at his ass. “Do it right, you shitter.”

But Sam was stronger, and held his hips away. The maddening tip was still in her, not deep enough to scratch the itch. She tried to move forward onto it, but he moved back.

“I have trouble thinking when I’m indecisive.”

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to … ”

“I think it’d be smarter to stay here and focus on your social media presence.”

Autumn had never heard the words “social media” sound so sexy. Suddenly it was all she wanted in the world.

“We can stay here and fuck rather than spending all that time driving.”

Autumn felt conflicted. She’d been so sure that she wanted to go to Texas just a few minutes before, but now it seemed almost sensible to stay.

“I’ll do that thing you like.”

“Okay! Okay, fine! Just put it in me!” Autumn blurted.

Sam did, all at once. His legs were suddenly against her wet inner thighs, and her pussy clamped him like a vice. After all the teasing and the pre-orgasm, she came immediately. Then again as Sam began to thrust, as his balls slapped against her asshole. She could feel him swelling inside her, could feel him beginning to lose control as he leaned forward, his breath hot in her ear.

“I’m going to cum,” he panted.

“Cum in me.”

“Oh God. Oh God, Autumn. I’m going to fill your pussy with my hot cum.”

Autumn gripped him, both around the shoulders and with her tight hole. She felt him spasm, slapping into her, all of the noises wet and breathy. Then he was still, and a moment later Sam was pulling slowly out of Autumn, a glut of hot seed spilling from her gaping pink hole as it shuddered through its final spasms.

Autumn felt herself slowly returning to Earth, then looked up at Sam, still between her legs, cock spent but still semi-hard, a pearly drop of jizz hanging from its tip. Smiling.

“Dirty trick,” she said.

I Refuse to be Shamed …

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The World’s Smuttiest Soap

Naughty USA OptimizedI wasn’t exactly sure what Naughty USA was when I first started writing. It was very late 2011, and the only thing I knew for sure was that I really wanted to start writing fiction (somewhere other than from behind my locked bedroom door).

Like every time I get an itch, I’ll do anything to scratch it.

I was writing a lot of marketing copy at the time, and while I did enjoy it, it’s not the same as writing stories that people can’t stop reading. I love telling dirty stories in real life, and love the reactions I earn as they fall from my mouth. Considering the market’s size, erotica was my most logical genre.

Despite reading erotica, I’d never tried to write anything for others to read (not even anonymously on sites like Literotica) and had no idea what I was doing. The first story I  wrote was “Swallowing Secrets,” before it was “Naughty USA.”

That story was supposed to stand alone. Clearly, it didn’t.

I ended up writing a few more stories back-to-back-to-back. I finished with a half-dozen tales, all orbiting my own tiny universe. I loved these characters, and their nasty little lives, so I wrote another half-dozen stories to finish what was by then called “The Swallowing Secrets” series.

Then, because the characters were already breathing with a life of their own, I started with Sex & Money — a direct continuation of their world, adding several new characters to my dirty little soap.

I loved writing these, and by the time I finished Sex & Money, I had a favorite character — Autumn Cole — and wanted to write stories with just her. So I started the Talking Dirty series. These were written in first person, which was a ton of fun since Autumn is the character who I write as a sort of stand-in for me.

I finished Talking Dirty and got SUPER busy.

I couldn’t exactly quit my day job. Lexi sales were still mostly nonexistent, yet I truly believed in my ability to build an audience, and really loved the characters and worlds I was building. But as much I longed to keep going, the hard part of writing in the same world and around a rotating set of character (as with Swallowing Secrets, Sex & Money, or any soap in the world), is that you must effectively track  all your characters’ behavior, or else risk doing a grave disservice to your readers.

Tracking the characters and writing their arcs was a ton of fun, but extremely time-consuming, especially considering I had thousands of words worth of paid copy to juggle each week.

After Talking Dirty, I had to let my characters go for a while so I could start writing what I referred to as “single serving fantasies.” These are the Random Encounters, Sex in Public, Holidays, Pop My Cherry, etc. — many, many titles that I’ve since stripped from the market.

Guy or girl walks into a coffee shop. Sees a hot guy or girl.

They fuck.

Spew, wipe, repeat.

As much as I like reading and writing this sort of story, it wasn’t long before I started starving for something more creative. I managed to squeeze in the first season of XXX Files in late spring of 2012, but still my earliest characters spent an awful lot of time nagging me, begging for more of my time.

I wanted to write them again, but found it hard to justify the time. My smutty soap never really sold all that well, and I had to stick with what I knew was working.

Around summer I started getting a lot of email from married women (and a few men) telling me how much Lexi’s stories were helping them with their marriage and confidence. The way they were seeing themselves, and understanding their feelings, caught me by surprise.

Those emails meant the world to me and I started to really want to write something for them. At the same time, and because I can never seem to focus on only one thing, I started watching a ton of True Blood. And that made me want to write a super sexy vampire story.

Again, the characters from Swallowing Secrets and Sex & Money took a backseat. I finished Bitten, my vampire novel (which I later slotted into the ABC series), then Anticipation. Finally, the year ended with me determined to leave my marketing job and try my hand at writing fiction full-time.

I promised myself that on Lexi’s one year anniversary of publishing Swallowing Secrets, I would finally follow it up. So I bookended the original 24 stories with another two-dozen, changed the title to “Naughty USA: Year One” with Swallowing Secrets and Sex & Money being the first two chapters in a four chapter series.

If Naughty USA: Year One does well (especially in reviews) there will absolutely be a Year Two.

I really, really love the result. I hope you do too. I’m super proud of these stories, and how well everything finished off and came together. Not  surprisingly, I fell in love with these characters even harder the second time around, and have so many places I can’t wait to take them.

I really hope you love my work, and will review it if you do. I write for my readers, which means I choose what to write next based on audience feedback. If you enjoyed Naughty and want to read more, your review WILL matter.

Read the first 12 episodes of Naughty USA for free by clicking the links below:

Naughty USA #1 — Kirsty Poole: The Cost of a Cumshot
Naughty USA #2 — Celeste Sinclair: Special Delivery
Naughty USA #3 — Autumn Cole: Cum and Say Thank You
Naughty USA #4 — Sam Rayburn: An Inch From the Edge
Naughty USA #5 — Kirsty Poole: Swallowing Secrets
Naughty USA #6 — Gerald Hill: Like a Redwood Falling
Naughty USA #7 — Celeste Sinclair: Her Body Still Shaking
Naughty USA #8 — Rick Sinclair: The Dirty Girl Behind the White
Naughty USA #9 — Johnny Martin: Cougars And Cum Catchers
Naughty USA #10 — Rick Sinclair: Birth of the Pink Triangle
Naughty USA #11 — Autumn Cole: Wet Enough to Smell in the Dark
Naughty USA #12 — Kirsty Poole: To Spit or Swallow The Truth

Click Here to Buy All of Naughty USA at Your Favorite Ebook Store, or to Read More About it!