Category Archives: Polyamorous

Read what readers said about “Provocative, orgiastic snippets from a sexual voyeur’s social life”

The Lunarium – Reviews

The Lunarium (One man’s memories of the watchers and the watched)

frontcover     Named to Kirkus Reviews Best of 2013

Provocative, orgiastic snippets from a sexual voyeur’s social life.

Known for an oeuvre of titillating material, anonymous author Kathleen K. (Honey B., The Suite Life, 2012) explores the fascinat­ing, visually active life of bearded, middle-aged “watcher” James Boyle O’Donahue. Irish, single and unlucky in love, O’Donahue fully embraces his penchant for voyeuristic, erotic, group events. Unapologetic to a fault, he allows himself to revel in this clandestine fetish, defensively remarking that the ones being watched are indeed willing participants – their “secret passions are not spoiled by a witness participating in the redefinition of privacy.” Armed with boundless energy, dynamic tour guide O’Donahue directs readers through a wide array of creatively themed sex clubs: Revelry, a “small luxurious pit surrounded by theater seats”; the Lunarium, a fantasy event where he accompanies an unnamed companion; and the Beach, with its taboo “Beyond the Rocks” private area that’s a “sexual potluck” starring 12 randy, experimental couples and a roomful of writhing performers at a lactating “tit talent show.” Written with verve and a contagious sense of exhibitionism, K’s first-person narrative is divided into 70 “things”: brief chapters that descriptively chart O’Donahue’s carnivalesque adventures at risqué live theater performances. Amid this plethora of vicariously thrilling and erotic “sexual fiestas,” O’Donahue takes time to philosophically ponder the nature of strippers, compares gawkers to voyeurs, gets schooled by a sex professor and breathlessly observes amazing (and not so amazing) feats of carnality. K doesn’t aim for subtlety, but as a whole, the sexual observances form an enlightening examination of voyeurism.

A wild, steamy story with erudite sex-as-art undertones.

By Kirkus Reviews March 2013

Ms. Rose Reader from (Nov 13, 2015) 

I received this book on Goodreads in exchange for an honest review….
It was really hard for me to pinpoint my true feelings about this book. It was all about voyeurism (getting aroused by watching other’s have sex and vice versa), and was a twist on your average erotica book. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a steamy romance book but this left me a little… unsure.
I gave it four stars because I did think the author is a very talented writer. It was well-written, well put-together, and didn’t leave me yawning. The topic itself and how the author touched basis with it all, it what brought it down from five stars. Overall a good book, and if you are interested in this certain area then it is definitely a must-read for you!

Darlene Cruz from  May 2015

Directing the reader to where you need to be, what you need to hear and look at what the author wants you to see. Smoothly voiced that captured the essence of voyeurism. Just the word voyeurism gets your mind racing and you could say this book did just that. Very good writing that spelled out each action and reaction. Interesting read and a book someone who likes this kind of thing will enjoy. Not my kind of thing though but I don’t knock it. I won this book on Goodreads, First Read Giveaway. Thank you.

Christine Gilbert‘s review  (Feb 06, 2014) 

[A] unique perspective of erotica – this time voyeurism- written in quietly hushed words as we watch from behind the velvet curtains.

Echo Back:  Commentary from an author and friend (Dec 2013)

Congratulations on your award; it was well-deserved.  I finished The Lunarium today and was very impressed.  You mastered a unique and difficult genre, erotica.  It was imaginative, intelligent and very spicy.  I was especially intrigued that you wrote from a male point of view and quite “handily pulled it off.” – Joseph Santiago  DEC 2014

We live in a society that observes from a distance and there are places within our communities that place taboos open to be seen explored and available. This is a book that assembles the introspective tales of room after room of fetishized options taken at a distance. As you read these scenes you will get wrapped in the story carried through the book. I felt like I became an observer and was right there observing the spectates laid bare before me. This was an interesting read that felt like a journal or confessional being shared with me. This was a good read. – Susan Walker Dec 2014 ← entered for free copy

This is a book with many short stories of voyeurism. Not a my type of read.

Hoping for fireworks? Check combustibles – Verify ignition source – Concede chance of disaster

There’s a holiday mid-week and you may find yourself with a few moments to read something new, or refresh information that you might have seen before.  Either way, I’ve embedded links to some of the content at

The outreach is sincere, there is an independence to my business plan that relies on the curiosity of others.  Please, read; then share!  Follow me here:


See also:

It wasn’t “only” sex, between us it was TOTALLY sex, and if you don’t understand the difference then ask a linguist about nuance.

10:28 PM – 17 Mar 2018


I touched his cock to get a reaction, he was starving for sweet love while I force-fed him the down-n-dirty sex he felt he deserved.

10:50 PM – 5 Mar 2018



Do what you do now, and do it again later; “you” are never done.



Inside Title Page Image by Brian Quinn

There is a difference between “non-ending” and “not stopping”.  The production of art, the performance of it, rendering:  it comes and goes in cycles to deepen and season talent.  You cannot live it as a focal point (usually), it is not a fulcrum.  Talent strikes more than those of whom we know, the other part of success is the planning and execution, luck and inevitability, that draws an audience, hopefully leads to a following.  Such spirit creates the energy for Half Magic on Hulu TV, pushing for women to satisfy their own desires.  This is more about mating than dating in the long run, with whom can you share life?  Don’t keep score but surely balance the exchange.

We need people like this group who pop up elsewhere as actors, directors.  [Brooklyn Nine-Nine anyone?]

I make books and have banked a dozen of them with more to come; I let them grow their own interest with a few commercial reviews and giveaways.  They exist, diamonds no longer in the rough but polished and on exhibit.  The same as so many talents although prodigious that are unknown to others.  It’s a pyramid of fame that is not controlled by talent alone.  Breakthrough is rare; it strikes like lightning, fizzes out the same.

That best-seller validation for a book, for instance, is a commercial purpose, you cannot take it as a sign of value (quality) for that is intrinsic to the object.  Whatever it is worth at the moment or over time is infused in its assembly and remains with it.  It might fall out of fashion, or catch a wave of appreciation, but in and of itself it represents the work-effort that created it.  That is the building of a legacy, a presence beyond the mere idea of being recognized in life.  You must DO that, prepare for it then pursue it, paint or sew or construct as only you do.

When it is time to produce, then pay attention to the details and do a good job of it.  Immerse yourself in the elements, allow others their perspective, so that in the end you have created something powerful.  I did this with a dozen words and a pen name like the book art featured here by Brian Quinn.   I asked for a book cover for Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen; we selected another of his works for that purpose since it had to be easily interpreted in miniature for book ads.  This image posted here was used as inside book art, a rare expense in production that was well worth it because it so strongly captured the theme of the book:  he’s dark and looming and yet she’s central and powerful.  It’s not black and white, it is full of tone and shading, it starts a story in a still frame.

It is not only in the creation of art but in the supporting of it that a culture deepens, so please do go to a photo exhibit, buy art from a café wall…. hit my website for a nicely priced book.  We bemoan a weakening of our culture but please remember our choices and actions build that framework.  Bid on a kid’s art piece at the school auction, who knows who you’ll inspire!










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Sex = Risk. Risk = Cost of Chance. Chance = Spice of Life.

kathleen_k, sexotica, erotica, fiction, countercultureAt the cellular level, sex = risk.  You can change the course of somebody’s life, including your own, when you exchange vital fluids in this manner.  In all our days, we have yet to really tame the Pregnancy Enigma.  Why that baby then?  Why not the other baby now?  What comprises a baby: corporeal elements like blood and bone and brain or existential elements like who’s your daddy and what state is mommy in at this moment?  We all know the science and culture of conception but meaningful birth control eludes us.  Conception is a cardinal power, we really do not make it happen no matter how hard we try.   It is bigger than us to spark life on mere command, our mechanical interventions are clumsy but work for some.  Whether we try to tame it in the lab or just set it free in the corn fields, sex makes babies.  Life is persistent!!

It’s hard to believe that basic fact at times, when you’re knocking along without a scare, your barriers are holding or your fingers are crossed just right. You may think intellectually about what you believe is your reproductive plan but there are choices to be made when you’ve caught a live one.  This is where the power rests on humans, to continue or to end the gestation.  Post-miracle-of-life stuff.  Every egg ultimately tossed to chance, which genetic dibs and dabs might be swimming by… these actions are only partially conscious choices.   Ovulation is a sequence which once completed leaves an egg in the tube.  We might nudge and push that egg schedule around and try to hocus-pocus up some babies in an invasive manner.    Every pregnancy is a roll of the dice, unique, discrete, and fragile.

That’s the problem I hear about the most, when people examine the risk of interactive sex and it is not just fearing “the herp” but of having a kid at the wrong time or with the wrong person or even with best intentions it all goes bad.  I do not diminish the need for care and caution even as I advocate for more analysis.  What do you want, what can you sustain, where are the anchors?  Honest self-appraisal:  are you ready, are you fit, are you committed?  So hard to tell the truth about yourself at least twenty years into the future:  you just want to love-fuck free and easy, not worry, be happy, share and party yet still at the root is the cosmic spark of risk for which we hunger at times or is thrust upon us.

No battle of the sexes after the point of conception, it is an ordained power that women can encapsulate another being in her body in a way that no man can or ever has (absent the anomalies proving the rule) and so we divide here: us women and them men.  Women are the physical embodiment of what is a mind-blowing IDEA to men, pregnancy is a process men can only watch once they instigate it (or if they violently interfere).  They may never even know (for sure) it is their biological child.  Fatherhood is an act of faith with society via the mother, to sponsor a child.   Matrilineage has usually been trackable by society embodied in caretaking and custody; patrilineage more about name and station, ego and fame.  For centuries we could not even know paternity for sure… DNA was not a factor until this brief flip of time.  We humans are rooted in the idea we cannot know paternity for sure, it is the majority of our racial memory to trust the parentage as reported in the records, or by tribal rule or whatever.  Maury Povich isn’t the only challenger to that!

The more often more of us think carefully about pregnancy, the better chance our children have of being welcomed to a world made ready for them.


To a lesser degree, the disfiguring and fatal sexual diseases are rooted in science and numbers too, you do not have to sex with a lot of people to get an STD, you have to make yourself vulnerable to one person with that STD… there are symptoms and odds and all the rest but at a microbiobial level there’s a spark or there is not.

#readmore  for affordable thought-provoking books in print and Kindle.kathleen_k_sexotic_penis_size_erotic

The moment before I open a professional review

I close my eyes and tell myself it is a single opinion, whatever I am about to read is just one view of my work, and in the long run will be dismissible.  In this moment it is the result of a big gamble.

As an indie author-publisher, allocating $500 for a Kirkus Review is a significant decision.  They’ve been opining about books for eighty years with a reputation for tough standards but some backlash for abject cruelty at times.

I pay $500 whether I publish their review or not.  They get paid for writing it.  You can decide to bury the review and that’s fine with them.  If you publish the review, you can use it in whole or part to advertise your book.  The weight of their name is significant in the publishing world precisely because they have assembled a rich reviewer pool delivering firmly structured 300-word judgments.  You throw your book in a proverbial pile and it is handed to you-have-no-idea-who and that’s your shot:  no re-do, no preferred reviewer, not even a pick of genre.  Take it or leave it.  More precisely, pay first and see what you bought later.

  • First stand-alone sentence is summary of book.
  • Paragraph is plot and content analysis.
  • Last stand-alone sentence is ‘tag’, the ‘boom’, the ‘bam’.

I bought the review in late February so it was due back in late April.  I didn’t haunt my account waiting for it only because I was busy elsewhere.  I finally checked in mid-May and here is what I found.


Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen Kirkus Reviews May 2015

Prolific eroticist K (Honey B., Sexual Consultant, 2014, etc.) conjures a fictionalized wet dream starring a hyper sexualized woman and the domineering hoodlum who sexually enslaves her.

Though the mysterious, unnamed raconteur of this erotica describes herself as an ordinary woman, she’s really an experienced physician who exudes “a sensation of calm, a sense of security.” She’s swept away by a cocksure, bearded, “dense and dreamy” stranger named Nathan, whose livelihood includes larceny and money counterfeiting. K’s novella, easily read in one heated sitting, glosses over plot in favor of the sexual exploits between the narrator and Nathan as their relationship intensifies to incorporate kink and sadomasochism. Nathan is slowly revealed to be a crestfallen attorney and military serviceman–turned-criminal, but that hardly deters the narrator from pursuing him. Their respective appetites for carnal satisfaction seem infinite; any opportunity for role-playing and sexual adventure is met with agreement, including the addition of Jo, Nathan’s sexy “surrogate,” to their lovemaking. The book consists of short vignettes that ultimately blur into a carnal cacophony of three-ways, safe words, penis rings, and jail bailouts, as the narrator who “wanted a bad boy and got one” swiftly becomes rapt and ultimately enamored by Nathan’s sexual bravado. Readers of graphic erotic fiction will appreciate K’s smooth delivery of unbridled passion coupled with introspective ponderings in which the veil lifts to reveal her protagonist’s true nature. This aspect elevates the narrative from one-note fantasy to an explicitly personal chronicle complete with a surprise ending. Although the ever reliable narrator spends most of her time being bossed around and used like a Fifty Shades sex toy, the story is very much owned and operated by her. “I didn’t want somebody to love,” she unapologetically confesses. “It was more selfish than that, I wanted somebody to enjoy my body with me.”

Thin and unassuming, K’s latest is a titillating and highly provocative tinderbox, conflating taboo themes of hierarchal subservience, gender domination, and eroticized objectification.


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Sexotica is the rundown and roundup of options in the carnal markets

Fifty Shades of Grey is a stand-in phrase for sexually explicit writing and now a racy movie about power and pain… in high places.  Very beautiful people playing with sex gadgets and tensioners, oh! so extreme.  It’s a big shift from having incidental sex (spies, cops, criminals doing it between ‘important’ plot-advancing activity) to a film using the sex as a character, an energy.

I have always focused on the appetite for E.L. James’ trilogy rather than the taste level of it… wildfire sales gave me hope as an indie author-publisher that people remain curious in this video-porn-saturated world; they want romance and intrigue and details of seduction with illustrative outcomes of any such contact.


Intriguing image from

The problem with designating this or any other work “erotica” is that it requires a subjective sense of engagement to be moved by words.  Sexotica qualifies on content alone:  specifically, information about options and alternatives is presented.  Turning you on isn’t the objective, increasing your knowledge and appreciation of sexuality is.  Humans like to learn about things we’d never do (suck toes, chase a cheetah, fly a rocket…) but we are extra shy about our non-essential sexual curiosities.  Remember, sodomy used to mean anything that didn’t make a ‘legitimate’ baby which disallowed pre-marital, extra-marital, anal, oral, manual and masturbatory release.  It seems unseemly to ask for details on precisely how not to do those things specifically.

One reason the Fifty Shades movie will disappoint some viewers is because they won’t give over to it in a crowded theater.  Put it online and it will go-go-go.  Pretty pretty sex… in oh-so-faux perilous situations.  Contrast it with Fatal Attraction making it dirty by framing sex in a dingy elevator and against a sink full of dishes.  The beautiful and arch expression of peak physicality in the actors themselves puts a shine on a common enough man+woman encounter, statistically speaking.  Maybe not at the sink but it isn’t about the sink.

I’m beckoning rowdier readers to request a sample book in exchange for a reviewOnly you can give us your reaction to the books.  I write for folks who like the vernacular, the language is freewheeling.  Focus remains on the inventiveness of the physiques and techniques in these mucho many vignettes and scenarios: the rundown and roundup of specificities in general.  

If the idea of smart and sexy language sets you a’Twitter:  @KathleenKxxx

I rode that sweet cunny like a desperado heading for his hide-out: crazy-wild getting there and unleashed when I knew I made it home.

For rowdier readers  kathleenk_sexotica_honey_b_sexual_consultant     ADULTS ONLY – SAMPLE

from Honey B., The Buzz   (Coming. Soon. Summer 2015)  Honey B. is a sexual consultant who tells truer-that-true tales of a retired pay-to-play girl who turned to giving Frank advice about Dick.  Sassy, sharp and seriously experienced, Honey advances the belief that sex is about learning.  In Book IV of the quintet, it is the consorts and cohorts who tell us stories about her, what it meant to meet her, to interact, to (pretend) to dominate, to (actually) submit.  Told in alternating explanations about the impact of her sexual intervention, and quicker snippets of encounters with an inventive, intelligent sex⇔love partner, The Buzz is another oddly thoughtful look at choices and strategies in the carnal markets.

Honey B., The Suite Life – Book I available now

Honey B., Sexual Consultant  – Book II available now

Honey B., Erotic Advisor – Book III written, not yet in production

Honey B., The Buzz – Book IV in production

Honey B., Happy Endings – Book V written, not yet in production


She had her way with me, I presented myself for her ministrations without a single limiting request… who was I to tell a sexual artist what she must do to please me?  I was not shy with my body but my feelings were sheltered deep inside.  Piece by part by portion, she blended the tactile rush of her educated fingers with the whisper-kisses of entreaty.  I withstood the call of her sex so she could push against my boundaries, the ones unspoken and thus most feared.

I cannot give away her secrets but I can share this moment:  She’d got me standing at the edge of the bed upon which she is prone, her face at my groin, panties at her ankles.  And she did this for me!


I never met an investigative reporter before, I hope this book idea works out because the world is full of surprises and Honey is one of them. I had lived half my life in a fog and one woman blew me clear into a whole new life. Opening my eyes to the desire for sex gave me a new outlook on existence.

I expected to go to yet another counselor with my husband Tony and try to figure out why we weren’t making our marriage work. I loved him and he loved me, and yet we bickered and fought over every little thing. We had done so much sensitivity training that we could hardly brush past each other in the hallway without attaching interpersonal significance to it, we had sex every night and worked at it doggedly until we were mutually satisfied.

Honey said, “For god’s sake, take a break. Quit fucking so much, you’re ruining your love life. You need more sleep and less sex.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. We were not used to being criticized for our sexual endurance. Most counselors reassured us that our continued sessions of orgasmic-at-all-costs intercourse held us together. Honey disagreed because we spent too much time at it. We were in a sexual rut. I thought marriage was symbolized in sex and that our commitment to daily exchange of sex would ward off all evils that threaten marriage. What Honey did was simple as pie. She let us see ourselves differently. We went on a sex diet.

For three days in a row we went to bed, kissed goodnight, and rolled over. The extra hour of sleep helped us start the day easier. We could take time to have breakfast together and plan the day. The fourth night we made love so fast that we didn’t miss much sleep. Three more days without sex and we planned a feast. We took a bath together, we ate each other to orgasm, we had dinner, we made love.

I hadn’t been so horny in a long time. We had broken our old pattern after two weeks of this and then Tony suggested to try two days off, one on, because the rapid-after-waiting sex was intensely exciting for him. He loved how quickly I got ready for him to enter me, I was flattered that the first sight of my body aroused him. We feasted on each other on Friday nights, and sometimes we snuck a fuck on Saturday afternoon but we were being naughty then and it didn’t take much to knock us out.

The other counselors did not understand sex as well as Honey did and although these other people offered reasonable methods for improving our interpersonal communications, it took a sexualist like Honey to give us a boost toward truer love and deeper sex.

Once we got past our scheduling problems, we looked more closely at the components of our pleasure. I was re-taught how to handle Tony’s penis by watching him whack himself off.  I learned to close my hand around it like a tube, not intended as a vise; visualizing the pliant vagina for which it longed; I learned to get rhythmic and repetitive so he could focus on the sensation and intensify it mentally – I had been changing my strokes too often and too radically. I quit laying next to him to do it (the angle was all wrong). I sat on the edge of the bed and he stood before me, I used two hands to scoop his cock and balls into an orgasmic storm so he could splash my chest with his cum.

Tony took pointers on eating me; we discovered I preferred to include a dildo in the act because I loved the penetration. As eager as he was to tongue me, and as much as I liked to be nuzzled as foreplay, in fact it took a thick stick to fill me the way I wanted. I got so wet from this that it was embarrassing to me at first until I understood that the lubrication was sexy to Tony, he thought of me slicked up for his dick.

I thought I’d never think about sex again after Tony died, we had been so in tune and it was such a physical love – then I took out our dildo and I filled myself with memories. I didn’t realize how good it was for me to do this until I started weeping after my orgasm: I was wide open, like I used to be, like Tony encouraged me to be. Like Honey presumed we intended to be all along.  I remembered our love was expressed through desire and I could still feel that.


The cleft of her ass started at her nape and moved along her supple spine, punctuated by two little dimples notched like thumb-holds at her hips.  Even now I can position my hands as if hauling her back up against me, remembering her fleshy ass yielding to the command in my fingers.  I could just about control myself when she was facing away, her fine rump bumping me back.  Still couldn’t face her, didn’t think I ever would.  This dog style humping was all I deserved.


I fabricate books.

I fabricate books. Books are printed on paper and bound, most often with a cover that wraps around it, usually hand-held but can be propped on table or lap, requiring repetitive mechanical finger action to advance pages.

Bedside readers for the adult mind… erotic & sexotic

kathleenk_erotica_books_dark_prince_sexotic HoneyB I 7174296_cover  PP Native Cover.4539172.indd

frontcover Stoner-cover copy imageStoners_bone_of_contention_cover

hires_frontcover  ARCHING Cover Memorial+3 pre-FINAL cover_rough0003a


Vivid family fiction for those who read

between and beyond the words.

frontcover   FAMILY cover front harvest from PDF

Stainless Mary BookCoverImage   LentHand frontcover-medium

eBooks are pale iterations lacking body, they are not tactile, they do not show wear or tear of handling, they don’t have cracked spines or bent corners. Overly-tidy for my taste.  War and Peace is the same “weight” as Love Story on an eReader but put side by side in print telegraph their scope (comparing file sizes just isn’t the same).

I render digital versions for convenience.  It’s a low-cost way to get my stories into people’s minds.  I would like to see less “bad faith returns” meaning if you do eRead the book, don’t eReturn it.  It is just as low-class to wear something once and take it back.  You know you’re wrong.  eBooks have “Look Inside” previews and reviews so it isn’t a pig in a poke, and MAYBE you might go wrong 10% of the time.  You also don’t have to “like” the book meaning if the ending bummed you out that isn’t reason to reject the book purchase/reading experience.

I am grateful for Print on Demand as it allows me to create book masters for one fixed cost and then produce copies as needed.  I imagine it runs much like a busy port using containers to mix shipments of feathers and bowling balls by creating stack-able units no matter the content.  POD publishers have lots of ‘containers’ ready to roll. My graphic poetry is stacked on my Stoner fictional memoirs next to the Honey B.’s.  Mixed in with the sexotic-erotic-graphic containers are the family-driven narrative fiction products ready for reading by those who don’t want all the folderol of overt sex yet expect passion, drama and engagement.


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Tweets… for rowdier readers

I use the Twitter handle KathleenKxxx to beam out lines from the erotic-graphic-romantic titles available at

You don’t have to join Twitter to read the tweets:

I use the “xxx” to forewarn of graphic content because I like peppering people’s thoughts with self-contained freewheeling excerpts like this:

You don’t have to love a man to get on your knees for him, but there’s going to be a reason you think this is advantageous. #readmorebooks

Seeking rowdier readers

I toss out something every couple days, hoping the energy bounces around a bit, hoping readers associate my logo and my language.  Intelligent and inventive erotica draws a well-read crowd with sex triggers in the language centers of their brain.

I paid for the sex, tipped for the tease, but the grace was a bonus.
from Honey B., The Buzz
Sexotica. Coming. Soon. Spring 2015

The #EARTG hashtag flags a ReTweet Group to consider sending this along to thousands of self-declared Erotic Authors who, joy of joys, sometime re-retweet the message to their own followers.

Most Tweets are less promotional so I can exploit those enumerated spaces:

Women are natural creatures, they may seem like flowers but they root like trees (capable of cracking cement one tendril at a time).  #EARTG

Every couple of days, out pops another:

I didn’t know if I was a treat or a payment or what… besides being a woman who would put out for a man at the nod of another man. #EARTG

My blog post titles and links also appear as Tweets: these two forums represent the long and short of my counterculture commentary online.  All of this is done in support of the independent fabrication of bedside readers for the adult mind.

“I never thought you’d do that.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“I thought you’d never do that.”
“I never thought you’d ask.”

Here are a few more thoughts in my ongoing expression of gender dynamics and sexual thoughtfulness, trying to shift the emphasis away from stupid-ass selfies.

Sexotica uses old school structure for new world ideas: it layers frank descriptions of physique & technique with sassy dialog & rich prose.

Women have more range in their sex display behavior than men. It’s easy to wave a stick but how to advertise a recessed resource?

I hold the faith that if I invest my attention in her pleasure from the start then I am much more likely to share it in the end.

you’re poised over me.
you descend.
your shaft in my shaft.
i am centuries deep and measure your cock in light-years.
#nerdlove #sex

Forget the please and thank you stuff, and get to the fuck and stuff it stuff.

the couples were as ordinary as could be but they humped and balled and screwed and fucked for us to watch, and watch we did.  THE LUNARIUM
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Erotic-Sexotic Poetry Giveaway: ARCHING OVER

kathleen_k_erotica_maxximus_graphic_poetry_arching_over_collected_collectionsLove|Sex is timeless and recognizable…it has been my great pleasure to hone a poetic voice for that exchange of essence, yearning and exultant, with a dash of nasty-sass.

It is your own hand that brings you off
but it is my voice in your ear
as you crest, as you peak,
you at the vertex
with me in the vortex.

I’m offering ten free copies of ARCHING OVER  Collected Collections of Graphic Poetry through  The offer closes on December 15th, 2014.  If you aren’t a Goodreads member yet, consider joining this readers’ forum that offers author outreach.

We ignite our erotic memories:
did anyone ever do this to you? Here?
Like this, with the back of a hand?
No? Did they know not to twist
at the tip but at the base
of your thrumming summit?

And did they fold their fingers
into the pleat of your sex
like this? Indirect yet intense.

Show me what you showed them,
how you offered
what you offered.

Offer yourself to me.

The artwork for ARCHING OVER is provided by Maxximus who unified the four separate collections of my sexotic poetry in a work we called Cubed Lips:


might i mention that
you never say certain words
as if they stop in your throat
as if they reverberate in your head
unable to escape
even when you are excited
even when you are begging
even then you are circumspect, cautious
you say you want to be inside me
(not fuck, not ball, not screw…
not even push, bang, bury)
you can’t say what i want to hear
even though you do everything i want you to do


Contact me if you know who to give credit for this…

you have denied yourself every temptation
in your mortal fear of sin
you haven’t dared to dance
haven’t thrilled with flirtation
deny even your dreams
because your desire is an untrained dog
you have tricked into a closet
and woe the day the bastard slips out


It’s never just me writing the poems.
It’s never just you reading them.
Many thanks to the creator of this relentless interconnected energy, please contact me!

sailing on the sensuous breezes
of a moon-swept sea
creatures of a planet
that binds us by gravity
yet we learned how to fly
it limits our life span
but lets us love forever

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Rising Above Porn Scum: Lôôk at “The Lunarium”

The deluge of online porn is like air pollution, a man-made artifact evidencing a selfish nature.  Erotica is respite from the choking ram-a-jam virtuality that drowns the finer points of sex∞love in raw rasterized two-dimensional reductions of our richer selves a/k/a stupid ass selfies.  Everywhere you search you see the hole-pole Hodge-podge of porn scum.  The only antidote to smut is sex-positive push-back by many more of us and more frequently.  Sexotic language entices you to ponder the more complicated elements of submission and permission, slower roasted thus fuller bodied.  As is shown in the sample below:  we see action, motive, context and outcome in a tidy package of language.  Think deeply about your longings and see what it does to your feelings.

KATHLEEN K. BOOKS MILESTONE:  The Lunarium was Named to Kirkus Reviews’ Best of 2013 which is a great distinction for an indie author-publisher.  Kirkus Reviews has been assessing books for eighty years and has earned a reputation for toughness.  Kirkus will be naming the next crop for The Best of 2014 in a few weeks and I wish all the contenders good luck.  I thought I’d commemorate being notified last year around this time by tossing ten free copies into the rowdier reader pool at

The Lunarium GiveAway       Share the link Valid until 11/30/2014

The Lunarium is a collection of sixty-nine vignettes of voyeurism entitled and enumerated as Things.  It is not about creepy peeping, it is an inside look at the hidden world of exhibitionism.

SAMPLE – For Adults Only





Bedside Reader for the Adult Mind

The Thirty-Ninth Thing  ><  Her First, Then Me, Said She

I am at the Slick Cat Club, far from my home and my real world.  I’m advan­tageously seated near the stage so I can catch every juice detail.  Mr. and Mrs. Performance Couple are plain ordinary people, her tummy sags a bit, his ass is soft.  They are healthy and these human individu­alities make her outstanding breasts and his long fat dick all the more appealing.  I’m not paying enough attention to what they are saying so I pick up in mid-monolog.

“I want you to trust me, Bob.  I understand what you want – a taste of something different.  You’re loyal as hell, aren’t you?  You don’t want to hurt my feelings by admitting how often you wonder about other women.  It’s OK.  I’m not mad about it.  I’d be mad if you lied about it, so don’t.  Tonight we’re really putting on a show: allow me to introduce my stage assistant:  Missy.  Missy is appearing courtesy of her man, he’s here watching.  She’s going to rub up against you, you don’t mind that, do you, Bob?  She’s young and firm, close your eyes and remember when we felt like that.  Go ahead, put your arms around her.  She even smells fresh, doesn’t she?  Now, Bob, I’ve known you a long time.  I want you to relax, indulge yourself.  You deserve it, after all, you’ve been faithful and fair.  As have I.  So this is for us.  That’s right, Bob, pull up her blouse and lick her tender titties.  Close your eyes and listen to me, Bob.  Missy’s a dream for you from me.  And that’s a powerful love.  The kind of love I believe you feel for me.  So you would surely agree that I might have some longings of my own, I might want to break out too.  Maybe a young cock would feel to me like that young cunny does to you.  If you had a hand buried between her legs, you wouldn’t mind if Missy’s man put his hand between mine… right?  You’d know when you feel her twitch that I’m twitching too.  I do understand what you want and why you want it.”

Missy and her man were as ordinary as Mr. and Mrs. Performance Couple, they did, however, offer the vigor of prime.  Missy was raven-haired and her light pink nipples drew my eye.  In spite of the fact the puffy centers stretched big, somehow I thought of them as inexperienced, little-used, that every suck on them would be daring.  I refused to focus on her tight twat, the idea of fingering her made my hands clench.  If I was as close to her as Bob was, I’d be able to get one hand on both butt cheeks which literally jiggled when she moved, a derriere to adore.

I admired Mrs. Couple, she was simultaneously Mr. Couple’s fantasy and nightmare.  She could give him another woman to make love to, and she could make love to another man.  Why is it so many cheaters think they are the only one of the pair with runaway thoughts?  Can’t both sides have the same mix of desires: to be safe, to have fun, to live, to have a home from which to roam.  Mr. Couple was a little rusty, he made a few wrong moves until he fit himself to Missy.  He seemed distracted, looking over his shoulder at his wife being pronged by a long-haired blue-eyed biker.  Missy’s boyfriend was in leathers, his fly was open to let out his rowdy cock and balls (it was more of a flap, Mrs. Couple could screw herself right down against his bare groin).  Even with this arresting sight behind him, Mr. Couple’s hands were stroking Missy, up under her arm, behind her elbow, over the torso, into the dark.  He peeled her pussy lips apart and slid up against Missy’s opening.  Never taking his eyes off his wife, he prodded Missy with his cock.  We could see him making headway, we all understood why he had to pull out even though it was the last thing any of us wanted to see.  One step forward, two steps back; the deeper in he was pushing, the farther out he was pulling.  Thus deeper to thrust on his return.  You do keep going forward, one measure at a time.  I don’t know where his mind was but his prick was deep in Missy, her hips were dipping in a limber way I can’t describe but do admire.

Encore!  The couples righted themselves and while Missy and her man did a beautiful background version of Two Youths A’Fucking; Mr. Couple got up behind Mrs. Couple and cracked her butt in front of everybody.  She was so wet from being with another man that he could lubricate himself sufficiently to slip his dick in the back door.  We were not surprised, once we saw it, because even as she dared him to accept her as a complete female he was rising to a complete maleness she found exciting.  Mr. Couple might have been on vacation with Missy but there was no doubt he was at home with Mrs. Couple.

#polyandry #Lunarium #voyeur

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