Please Teach My Husband: The Series

Stop the presses.

Getting old stuff out of my brain worked. I have had…wait for it…an original idea. With several of my stories getting longer and more complicated, I wanted to be able to write something punchy, quick, and exploratory without any big feelings to navigate. Hookup culture with a twist.

And so:

On a planet (to be named), an Earthling researcher has been tasked with collecting anecdotes from a holy man. This man's entire role is to satisfy and train the married men of his town when their wives are unavailable or uninterested. The society is egalitarian and suspicious of offworlders with their backwards values. We see this society through the researcher's eyes as he records the holy man's recollection of his visitors/supplicants, focusing on the encounters that would involve play/light kink (in Earth terms).

Already this concept has challenged me. A lot of kink involves some amount of perceived transgression or power dynamics. What changes if a society is completely accepting of sex between all consenting adults? What justification would there be to, I don't know, call someone a cumpig if it isn't stigmatized? When I lived in Japan, common dirty talk was that bottoming will feminize you. "No, don't make me cum with your cock; you're turning me into a girl!" or "I'm going to turn your asshole into a pussy!" Shit like that. If you've ever read stories featuring "gooning," or "mindbreak," you've definitely seen this in Western culture. Would humiliation play remain in an egalitarian society that finds no shame in men having sex? Such are the fun, stupid questions I ask myself while I type.

Thus far, I've outlined:

1. Please Teach My Husband Foreplay (toys)
2. Please Tie My Husband Up (bondage)
3. Please Help My Husband Last Longer (edging)
4. Please Punish My Husband (spanking, light exhibitionism)
5. Please Teach My Husband To Top (ooh, is the researcher going to have to step in?)

With a couple other entries floating around. I like the idea of the researcher struggling to stay professional while he's being told a bunch of sexy stories. Formatting could be a bitch, though. I'm trying to figure out how to let our entry character interject when he needs more details, or doesn't understand a term. 

In conclusion, I'm excited to have something new to think about, and could use suggestions on what other light kink I could include in this series.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 16

 This is it. We did it. This is the end of where we follow Jay and Dillon (at least until I figure out if I want to follow through on some vague ideas of a high school reunion for him, Aaron, and Crispin. Don't encourage me). This feels a little disjointed to my eyes, but it's also a literal first draft, so…if it sucks shit then let me know, I guess. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.

Jay's Not Gay You Guys 4

I did a word count check on this Watching Him Back epilogue, and it's long. Long in a way that makes me question whether it's worth it. I get to write about another dumbass, though, so at least I'm having fun. Right guys? Right?

Right?

Here's more of this:

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 3

Part one got flagged for some reason, and I haven't figured out how to contest it. Let me know if I need to repost it or something. Ya'll, I really thought I was cooking back when I started this shit. Now I'm not so sure; maybe it's because I'm farther away from my own college experience than when I wrote the bulk of this epilogue. Whatever. Here's some more of it, and hopefully it resembles a story with plot and characters.

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 2

"Are you going the foam party on Friday?" I ask casually in lab.

Dillon shakes his head, and then sighs. "Yeah, actually." I knew this, but it makes it way easier knowing that he doesn't want to go. We work in silence for a little bit, until he does what I want and asks, "You?"

"Naw, man," I say. "My friend Carter's pledging Sig Ep, and they're all having a Fortnite tournament. It’s supposed to be a fundraiser."

Dillon seems to perk up at that, but he doesn't say anything.

"You wanna come?" I can feel him analyzing me, but my face is all up in the microscope. "Okay, I found the water flea."

Dillon passes me a dropper of alcohol and replies, "I could make it."

Jay's Not Gay, You Guys 1

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Personal Assistant.4

Living up to the title of this blog, I tell you what. This thing almost has a trajectory.

My boss still touched me too much. We were working a lot—I had notes and files and emails to prove that my presence wasn’t completely unnecessary—but he’d massage my shoulders or the back of my neck while he looked over my notes. Even at dinner, when his wife and two children were there, Mr. Baker would touch my foot with his or rest his hand on my thigh under the table. His hand went to the small of my back whenever he passed behind me in the kitchen.

It wasn't as though we went entirely unnoticed. "Ken just follows you around everywhere," I overheard Regina tell Mr. Baker when they were relaxing in the living room. She sounded amused. "He's like a puppy."

Personal Assistant.3

 Still not exactly sure where this is going, but here's more one it.

"We're heading to the lake next weekend," Stuart told me not long after, "my family and I. I want you to come along."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I replied honestly, giving a quick smile to my coworkers passing the open door.

He clapped me on the shoulder, but as usual let it rest a little too long. “It’ll be a working trip,” he offered. “You’ll get time and a half.”

I marked myself as out of office. After all, what could he do with four children and a wife running amok?

***

Like a family in a black-and-white film, the Baker clan waited for us on the steps of the lake house. Some of the clan, I corrected myself. The children I had met at the chili cookoff weren’t there.

Stuart kissed his wife before turning to me.

"You've met Regina," he said, squeezing her waist, "and this is my oldest boy, Graham. Graham is going to be a junior this year."

Personal Assistant.2

Read part 1 here

From the way he waited for me to make the first real move, I reckoned he’d had affairs with employees in the past. In fact, he stayed mostly still while I unbuckled his trousers and slid the zipper down, and merely held onto the edge of his desk when I fished inside of his tight briefs. His cock was nice, about seven inches and cut with a flared head. I’d never seen a straight man with shaved balls, at least one who wasn’t in sex work, so I wondered how he explained it to Mrs. Baker.

Will.4

 "I mean, of course you don't have to," I began, but Will saved me the embarrassment of giving him an out by coming back to me.

He sat next to me and clasped his hands. "What do you want me to do?"

Was it not obvious? I wanted a fricking handjob. But Will, I was realizing, was delicate. Not like me. I needed to be as gentle with him as he’d been with me. "Just touch me," I replied, placing my hand on the back of his head. Will responded softly when I kissed him. He let me draw him to me again, and as I sat back Will's leg slipped over mine. It was like it belonged there. Like his little noises, like his cum drying sticky on my stomach, like his hand on my neck.

Mob Men is Live

Mob Men is up. It's showing the limits of Literotica's formatting, because I really with there was a better way to show that we're in one of Mario's reveries than

***

That's it. Center aligned asterisks and paste tense. Very unsatisfactory. 

All that being said, I realized as I was selecting chapter breaks that it would have made more sense to publish as one long piece rather than broken into several little chapters. I was too impatient; proud of myself for being able to move one more file into the Published folder. There were enough gaps between chapters of Stay Away From Her/Power Plays to let reader feedback influence some of the story in a way that still felt fun. Mob Men, by contrast, would likely benefit from reading in one burst. By the time anyone* reads this update, I'll probably have submitted the 5th chapter for publication.

Currently I'm writing an epilogue from Alex's perspective, a lil' sumthin' sumthin' to tie things up with a bow. Is it what people want? I won't find out because I'm releasing chapters too fast for anyone to form, an opinion. If I finish and publish that 6th chapter this week then you'll know I was procrastinating getting ready for a long work trip.

*No one. I yammer and yap into the void.

The Mob Kids Ride Again

In the grand scheme of Getting These Stories Fuckin' Published, I settled on the one that felt the most complete. It just so happens to be something I never published on this blog (which I realized today). Alex and Mario are sons of rival gangs: Alex is the baby of his Russian mob family, Mario the expected heir to an Italian "family." Mario is our POV character, and we follow him through a meetup with Alex as Mario reminisces about their relationship.

Initially, Sons of the Underbelly was a dumb take on yet another conversation with new acquaintances. I had only an outsider's perspective on a couple of specific cultures, and a reluctance to use the same language (mostly racial slurs) that seemed so common amongst these guys, and I still haven't seen a single episode of The Sopranos. What I did have was a story structure. So like me mashing my sister's Barbies together to make them kiss (she used to get so mad at me), that one conversation and the structure slammed together. 

I'm renaming the series. For one, Sons of the Underbelly is overwrought. For two, I'm noticing that a lot of my titles start with an S or a W, and I want to switch it up. I debated the following:

• Bravta 
• Bravta Boy
• Mafia Boys
• Mafioson (a terrible portmanteau)
• Mob Men (a terrible play on Mad Men)

The terrible wordplay was the winner! It gives nothing to potential readers. It also doesn't really fulfill its promise, because we're only following Mario when he's away from mob business. At least, right until he deliberately makes shit hit the fan.

What it does do, is be a unique and searchable title. Is it strange to be lowering my standards in order to get shit done? Or is it admirable that I'm soundly rejecting the perfectionism that kept all these stories trapped in my brain for years?

Please pretend it's the second thing while I clean up the rough edges for publication.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 4

WE DID IT. This fuckin' thing is all the way published on God and Al Gore's internet. Around 44,000 words in total of pure nonsense.

Part 8 was clearly published in a hurry; I missed a fair bit of formatting, accidentally changed verb tenses for a couple of paragraphs…if it were easier to edit on Literotica I'd update it, but instead I'll save the polished version for an ebook. Part 9 only needed a bit of refining, thankfully. I wrote it back in 2017 or '18, when the world was young, and it's been fun to see how accurately some readers predicted the trajectory of Jesse, Todd, and Chrisette. Part 10 was mostly new except for the first section. I wanted to get it out when some folks were still reading the previous sections, but I was pretty burnt out on this whole story. Hopefully part 10 makes sense as a culmination of Jesse's character arc.

Were I to pinpoint when Todd falls in love with Jesse, I'd say shortly after he moves in with them. He gets to see the contrast between how Chrisette always talks about Jesse and the man's day-to-day actions and motivations. Chrisette probably did have to parent Jesse while they were dating, to her credit. I imagine him to be the type of guy who never had real curtains and slept on a bare mattress before her. He always tries his best, but he's just so, so dumb.

So here's the last of Todd's perspective.

You're Lucky I'm Drunk: Coop's Corner

I needed a break from the Power Plays/Stay Away from Her mental load, so here's what I've been working on as the follow up to You're Lucky I'm Drunk.  It's told from Cooper's perspective a couple years after the first drunken hookup.

—

It was stupid to get so excited. It wasn't like he was going to want to repeat the experience from last time. We hadn't talked about it since, not on the phone, not when we were texting, not anyhow. A pandemic had put a damper on my sex life, even if it had meant regular Friday night chats with Marshall. Plus, this time he would be here on business, not to mention that I had my kid for the week. I thought about getting a sitter, but that's not an easy thing to explain to a four-year-old. “Daddy’s friend is coming to town and Daddy has a lot of confusing feelings he wants to work out with alcohol and special hugs.”

Not that Marshall and I could do anything with her around, not really. Sierra was more visibly excited than I that Uncle Marshall was going to stay a whole weekend with us. They had only met once in person, but she had decided that Marshall was her “favorite boy,” except of course for me and whichever boyfriend she had that week in preschool. He’d started reading books over video for Sierra if she was with me when he called, and fuck me if that wasn’t the goddam sweetest thing ever.

“Is he going to sleep in my room?” Sierra asked from the backseat.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 3

 Listen, y'all. I've written threesomes before. I've even written threesomes in which the reader is supposed to kind hate one of the participants. This one has been a doozy. After a couple of downer chapters I'm pressuring myself to make the November section a barnburner. For the people. Because erotica. Said people have been very opinionated, which made me want to take the parts I'd already written and tweak them. The trajectory it was on didn't connect to the material I had for the aftermath. What could happen during an event, that Jesse was desperate to go well, that would make Chrisette upset? Poor woman. My apologies to womankind stand.

Note to Self: in the future, just make a super long chapter with the sexy stuff as a palate cleanser for the depression, lest the shorter installments be absolutely hammered in the comments.

August

I’m on a job site in Providence, talking to the foreman, when I get a call. He takes a peek at the scene before I silence it.
“How old’s your son?”
“He just turned one,” I say, and because I know Jesse would blow a gasket if I ever claimed Seth as my own, I clarify. “He’s actually my, uh, my girlfriend’s kid, but he’s the absolute best.”

“Cute,” the foreman says. “Mine all hit a switch right around that time. They were all about mom right until around ten, eleven months maybe? And then suddenly my wife was chopped liver and I was the favorite.”
I laugh. “Seth’s probably in that camp. He says ‘Da da da da’ a lot, and you can’t tell me that’s the best a one-year-old could do with my name. Sorry to his dad, who’s a good guy.”

September

“Todd.”

I straighten up from where I’ve been leaning on the shopping cart, letting Seth pull on my hair.

“Sasha. You’re looking well.”

It’s true, she’s as sleek and gorgeous as ever. Her sharp gaze lands on Seth.

“Is this Chrissy’s kid?”

“Da! Da! Da da da da!” Seth babbles. He does love a pretty lady.

“Yeah, this is Seth.”

She nods with a downturned smile that I know means she’s judging me pretty harshly. “Wow.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” I chuckle. It’s a relief to be able to say it out loud. “I live with them. We sleep like the grandparents in Willy Wonka.”

Sasha’s thick red hair cascades behind her when she throws her head back to laugh. “Are you fucking kidding?”

“Nope. I’d love to pretend like you should have regrets, but no. You were right about everything.”

“Including Jesse?”

“Hah. Well. That one’s maybe worse than either of us thought.”

Her eyes go wide. “Oh shit. You like him.”

“Oh, hi!” Seth says, so I don’t have to reply.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 2

I'm getting yelled at in the comments of recent installments (not here, obviously. No one reads this) and rightfully so. I apologize to women. I apologize to people with mental health issues, myself included. I apologize to happy throuples and the polyamorous community. I apologize to therapists, mine included. I apologize to the people who wanted to read a little gay porn for a nice fun time and got trapped in a psychodrama.

For this story to work, Todd has to learn and grow. Most folks I know, and Jesse especially, are slow to notice real change in the people around them, especially if their first impression is bad. Since we never leave Jesse's POV, I've been trying to figure out (for years; I cringe to see the publication date for the first Power Plays post) how to make change clear to the reader even if Jesse's can't see it.

In a story where no one is completely honest with themselves, Todd starts out close to Jesse—who does not allow himself much introspection—and lands closer to Chrisette by the end of chapter 6. By chapter 9 Todd will have the self-awareness on par with Sasha. She's my favorite, if it isn't clear from the way I treat her character.

March

Sasha spots Chrissy before I do and waves her to our table.

“How’s our girl?” she asks as Chrissy sits. I signal our server.

“Ya girl is so fucking pregnant.”

We make sympathetic noises. Chrissy looks healthier than ever, if anything, but I don’t know how pregnancy works. She makes it sound miserable.

“Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Chrisette grins. “Guess.”

“Girl,” I say. Sasha guesses the same.

“With all the girls in my family you’d think so, but nope. We’re gonna have a little boy running around.”

“A mini Jesse.”

Sasha and Chrissy both laugh like I’m being mean, but I didn’t intend it any particular way. He’ll probably be a decent dad, actually. He seems to be most comfortable when he’s needed. Chrisette…I can’t really picture her that way. She always bragged about how she could avoid being stuck with her nieces and nephews at family events.

Power Plays: The Todd Perspective 1

*Y'all, I feel like a real sicko every time I publish another section of this story. Folks really hate these characters! Or so I say to myself, full of vicious glee. However, there isn't much point in posting if nobody wants to follow the story; how unlikeable can Jesse, Chrisette, and Todd truly be before people stop clicking on Stay Away from Her altogether? I think I'm about to find out, because Jesse's going to be put through the wringer right when he thinks he won. Also there's barely any sex for at least a couple of chapters which again is not why anyone reads erotica. Trying to get your rocks off and instead you get a first-person description of a panic attack? No thanks. Down vote.

To make sense of Todd's arc, ever so often I'd write out a conversation that he'd have when Jesse wasn't around. He's somewhere between Neutral Evil and Lawful Evil, though I maintain that people (and therefore well-rounded characters) rarely think of themselves as bad people, even when they doing heinous things. Writing Todd's perspective has helped me refine the main story so that *you can pick up all the things Jesse misses.

There are spoilers in here if *you haven't read the 5th chapter yet, but I'm clearly not worried about anyone finding this blog. The Todd Perspective begins a month before the main story.

*Still nobody. I can see the blog data and it's very funny.

A Mini Revival

I'm back again. All the stories I've been hoarding, editing, restarting…I want to be free of them. Every scenario, every bit of dialogue, every scrap of colorful language that I collect goes somewhere into the plots I've already started. Whether the idea fits or not, I feel like I can't waste time creating new characters; I owe it to myself to finish a work already in progress. Sometimes this means I end up re-reading my own work for an hour, scanning it for where I can slot in that thought I had. Mostly I end up cringing at the words I typed years ago, asking myself if anyone is really gonna like this shit.

So. I released The Worst Days as a complete collection on Smashwords. The second chapter of Power Plays, which I retitled Stay Away from Her, the short piece "Olive Juice," the last official chapter of Watching Him Back all went on Literotica within the past week. The little feedback I've received has been mixed, which matches how I feel about this process. However, in the spirit of purging my brain of these stories, even a low rating means that someone took the time to read my bullshit. That ain't nothing.

What all have I been hoarding, you* ask?

Power Plays Pt. 3.1

 "Just let him take you while your car's in the shop."

I can barely hear her over the rush of water coming out of the shower. "Shouldn't you be going with me?"

"I've already seen it," Chrisette says dismissively. "Just look at the main ranch house, and then it's only, like, one minute east to see that barn that the owners said we could rent for half."

"Why not just do that?"

"Because it's kind of in disrepair."

"I don't know why you think Todd will be of any help." I don't want to go anywhere with him.

Chrisette pokes her head around the shower curtain to swat my ass playfully. "Since you don't like it when I hang out with him alone…" she teases, then ducks back out when I reach for her.

Dear god, if only she knew. "Just come with, baby."

"I can't, Jesse," she says sympathetically. "I have to go to work. Todd said he'd be here at ten."

Fuck that. "I'll see if Scotty can take me," I reply. "He doesn't have shit to do."

"Whatever, that's fine. I gave Todd your number just in case," she adds as she sails out the door.

"You did what now? Chrisette? Hello?"

Before I'm even dressed I call Scott. When he answers he sounds completely distracted.

"Sorry, dude," he finally tells me after I wasted my breath explaining the situation. "I actually am driving Hannah's car today, and I have to pick her up for brunch as payment."

This must be how the Little Match Girl felt as the last flame went out. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask. "Crazy Pussy Hannah? Fucking brunch? You hate her!"

"And she hates me," Scott replies, "but that makes the sex a-fucking-mazing"

Even though he can't see it I shake my head. "This is going to bite you in the ass, man."

He laughs, "Come on, son. Everybody gotta stick they dick in crazy at some point. I'm pulling up, so I gotta go. If Hannah thinks I'm talking about her I won't get any road head. She loves giving road head."

"Fuck off, Scotty," I reply.

"You too, man. Later."

The beep of the ended call feels more final than usual. I wait for some sort of fucked up text for the next hour. Get naked and blindfold yourself at 9:57. Some shit like that. If any idiot has stuck dick in crazy, that would be me. Just me letting Crazy get my dick in his ass, and then Crazy turning around and dicking me. This is unhealthy as shit.

When Todd finally shows up I'm so tense that my balls are trying to retreat into my body. The son of a bitch just pulls up to the curb and honks the horn. Todd takes one look at me and goes, "I'm just doing this for Chrissy," when I hop in.

"Me, too, dumbass," I mutter, turning my cap around so I can pull the brim over my eyes. We spend the next forty-five minutes in silence. It gives me plenty of time to figure out how to tell the charming property owner that we don't want to rent her house or her barn. At least, I don't. Chrisette likes the idea of the mason jar, rustic, homespun outdoor wedding. I like the idea of my mother not complaining the whole day.  

When we reach the ranch I hop out without waiting for Todd. Neither do I introduce him to the woman who answers the door. Todd catches up to us as she’s taking me through the open living room.

It's a nice home, but it's never going to work for all of Chrisette’s ancient aunties and uncles. 

"Is it normal for houses this style to have all these levels?" I ask as the tour comes to a close. 

The lady shrugs. "As old as it is, back when they couldn't just even things out with a bulldozer…"

"Chrisette said that you guys need wheelchair access," Todd reminds me.

The woman nods. "Then in that case I do recommend that you check out the old barn. It's a fair-weather-only location, but the whole thing is flat."

I grit my teeth. I knew all that, which is why I asked about all the levels. Todd is just rubbing my face into how much time he spends with the woman I'm about to marry. I get it; you're besties. "Can I poke around there for a bit?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart," the woman says. "I gotta go feed the horses, but it's just two minutes east of here. Keep going down the road; you'll find it."

“We’ll give you a call,” says Todd, shaking her hand. 

We will not do a fucking thing, I don't say as I follow Todd back out to the car. Instead I shut the door a little harder than necessary and make a dumb comment.

"I'm still waiting for you to be useful, bro." It sounds like I'm trying to start a conversation, which is not the case.

Todd raises his eyebrows. "I'm a building contractor for high-end offices and fancy homes, with a background in structural engineering. Did Chrissy never tell you?"

"I have never asked," I respond with pride. Fuck Todd if he thinks I have any interest in him beyond how to legally remove him from this earth. But still, no wonder he can afford such nice shit.

"What do you do?" Todd asks like we're at a Christmas party. How come Chrisette never told him? I know she talks about me, because if her mom or sister don’t answer their phones and Chrisette’s mad at me, Todd is who she calls next.

"Graphic design and a little animation," I respond shortly. It sounds cooler if I don’t add that it’s for a microstock firm and corporate app developers. I've been getting into the graphic novel game a little, cleaning pencil sketches and doing coloration on a freelance basis, but I hate explaining what that means so I don't talk about it.

Todd makes a huh face. "I never would have pegged you as an artist," he comments. “You seem like such a frat boy.”

Chrisette thought the same thing until she got to know me. She and Todd both use frat boy as code for idiot. I wear t-shirts and shorts all the time because I work from home. "I never would have pegged you as a functioning adult. So, we're both surprised."

He looks like he's about to laugh but thinks better of it. “You'd be pretty funny if you weren't such a dick.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Smug Little Bastard

If you didn't grow up with country relatives, this grammar might not make a lick of sense. 

Bless your heart.

“You like me, don’t you.”

I looked over at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded and his feet apart.

“What?”

He tilted his head. “You like me; I can tell,” he said.

I was dumbstruck for a moment while all the blood in my body rushed to my face. “J.D., where the hell’s this coming from?”