Awesome Authors Presents Daddy X

Master of Light

Angela hadn’t seen the box in years. 

“Miss Angela? Where do you want me to put these? Should I throw them out?” 

“What’s that you’ve found, Marta?”

“There’s two video tapes and lots of DVDs. I found them in a chest, in the attic.”

The very presence of the old shoebox brought back the nostalgia of dire times, when there wasn’t enough to pay her way through college. College. What a long-expired aspiration, no longer relevant. Money wasn’t a problem anymore. “I’ll go through them and throw them out later, dear. Just leave them with me.”

As the tall, exotic blonde sorted the recordings, she came upon the first one. That first video. Her first shy encounter with “Crepuscular Bob, Master of Erotic Light” She popped it into her hi-tech video system.

Years ago, Angela’s waitress job at the diner wouldn’t begin to pay for another year of school. Not even with two shifts a week. She was failing out. Her parents had quit pouring good money after bad. She needed to make at least a couple of thousand, fast.

She’d understood, even at the time, that her biggest asset was her body. Angela had made extra cash modeling nude at the art school, and she’d stripped at clubs a few times, but she also understood that the really quick, dependable money was in hardcore porn. The players in that line of work could be skeevy and possibly dangerous, so she hesitated until she was desperate before going online to check for possibilities. There, in the deepest reaches of the Internet, she found the sleaze that paid so well.

The stills had mortified Angela. Pictures of young women in compromised positions, bent over garbage cans behind dumpsters, ass and cunt spread wide with foreign objects shoved in them. Men’s faces buried between ass cheeks. Unfortunate, spanked women in contrived swoons wouldn’t even convince the rankest amateur of a state of lust. Gang bangs. Bukkake. It was all just sad filth. Angela could never work like that. Never demean herself in such ways, no matter what money she could make. Some things just weren’t worth it.

Angela then discovered an image with genuine artistic appeal. A strange, erotic still popped up, done either through a filter or in some lighting situation that obscured the image with shadow surrounding a dim glow. The softly lit naked woman floated as if on air, attended by ghostly images of bodies administering to her. It wasn’t easily seen. One had to settle eyes on the image before scant suggestions of arms, legs, heads and cocks entered the obscure light from the shadows. Angela’s pussy heated; an overwhelming warmth emanating from her crotch signaled a moist discharge.

The phone number was local.

“Hello? Is this Crepuscular Bob?”

“Yes, this is his studio.” The female voice suggested a smooth professionalism, a knowledgeable confidence that resolved Angela’s hesitation.

“I’d like to schedule an interview.”

“Can you come in tomorrow?”

Next day, Angela knocked on the office door, an office in the most prestigious building in town. As the door buzzed, she pushed into a posh anteroom to face an attractive receptionist.

The woman smiled. “Hi, I’m Lacy. I’ll call Bob. He’s been expecting you, Angela.”

The male baritone from the intercom was clear and distinct. “Send her back, please.” In the work area, a tall, very good-looking man was arranging reflective panels in various colors above an antique maroon easy chair. The equipment all looked to be of sophisticated manufacture and high quality.

“Well, hello!” he said, eyeing her up and down, obviously liking what he saw.

“I’m Angela.”

“So what brings you here?”

“I need to make money. But I do have scruples. I don’t want my face to be seen.”

“Which is it? Do you actually have scruples, or is it just that you don’t want to be outed? The amount you’ll make depends on such things.”

Angela had never considered the question. “Er… I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” She grinned, trying to reduce the awkwardness of the situation.

“Strip down.”

Bob arranged the naked Angela, legs slung over the arms of the chair. He turned off the lights.

Although her cunt had begun pulsing with Bob’s visual attention, Angela had not yet begun to seep. She could hardly see in the gloom. His hand touched her upper thigh. “Ooh!” she exclaimed.

The photographer retreated into the dark and arranged a tiny beam, focusing a spectral glow over her vulva. “Nervous? Don’t be. I won’t hurt you.”

“Should I have shaved?” she asked.

“No, I actually prefer the hair,” replied Bob. “Not so virginal.”

“No worries there,” she said, trying to act flip.

Bob’s voice rang with such commanding delivery that she wouldn’t have contradicted him. “Do you feel sexy?”

Angela puzzled over his intentions, but the scene appeared to be above board, his attitude cordial, further easing an otherwise tense situation. “Maybe if you touched me,” she murmured.

“I was just going to suggest that,” he said, extending a hand into the field of light illuminating her cunt.

The vision of an unconnected hand probing Angela’s flesh doubled the hunger growing inside of her. She moaned.

“Oh? Maybe we should record this.” he said. “Looks like it’s going to be sellable, considering how well you’re responding.”

* * *

Angela paused the tape and went in the master bedroom to wank to one of the later DVDs. One of the films that made her all that money. Gang bangs with what? Twenty? Thirty? All her holes. Her record was forty-five. The well-lit visions with sweet-faced Angela as the centerpiece, squatting in a kid’s red plastic pool, splashed with jizz, multiple men standing around, masturbating over her naked, glazed form.

All the work of Bob’s alter ego— Sunshine Bob, Master of Erotic Light.

She’d then take a nap before her date with Ambassador Garcia. He’d be picking her up, so her Ferrari wouldn’t have to come out of the garage.

 


 

About Daddy X

Daddy X

Daddy X always wanted to be a dirty old man.

He survived the 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and George W. Bush. He maintained an (almost) steady trajectory through Catholic school, a paper route, muskrat trapping, a steel mill, Bucks County, the Haight Ashbury, North Beach, the SF bar business, drug addiction, alcoholism, a stroke, hep C, cancer, a liver transplant, a year of chemo, a stickup at his art gallery while tied to a desk (not as cool as it sounds), a triple bypass, heart attack…and George W. Bush. 

Now he’s old, and it’s time to get dirty.

He’s been with Momma X (greatest editor on earth) for fifty years, but she thinks his stuff is too skievy to deal with. They live in northern California with a ninety pound lop-eared hound (17” wingspan) and two cats.  Daddy is also published in anthologies by Naughty Nights Press, House of Erotica and Cleis Press’ Best Bondage 2015.

When he’s not writing smutty stories, Daddy serves as one of the Storytime Editors at the Erotica Readers & Writers Association. He’s also a regular contributor to the Oh Get a Grip group blog.

Find Daddy X here:

 


 

Books by Daddy X

The Gonzo Collection by Daddy X

The Gonzo Collection: Outrageous erotica fiction in the tradition of Nicholson Baker and Hunter S. Thompson

Excessica, 2015
Approximately 60,000 words
Print edition 192 pages
ISBN: 9781504500159

“… the only people who really know (the Edge) are the ones who have gone over.” –Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo journalist.

Take a ride with Daddy over the edge. You won’t forget the distinctively drawn (and extremely horny) characters you’ll meet between these pages.

An eighteen year old carnival hand nurses a crush for his gorgeous blond employer. A voyeur and his exhibitionist girlfriend find a window to peek through. A woman awaits her man while crouched naked on the floor, rear end pointed toward the door. An attempted rape is thwarted. A spy bites the dust. A man dates and mates with a fifty-foot woman. 

Mood and a sense of atmosphere bring it all to life in these twenty one gems of erotic excess.

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Brand X by Daddy X

Brand X Over-the-top erotica

Excessica, 2016
Approximately 20,000 words

Good things come in plain brown wrappers. Daddy has stenciled a big red “X” on the cover of his new collection to warn the reading public. Open this book only if you’re ready for X-rated excesses beyond the ordinary. The five tales Daddy has chosen for this volume are X-tra outrageous.

In “Tenters” a young couple discover sex hot and steamy under blankets, establish a new campus tradition, and develop a new career.

In “Size Matters” a woman cajoles her over-sexed friend into taking on two huge cocks nobody else can handle.

A lecherous father spanks his son’s girlfriend in “Nikki and the Neighbors”.

A woman plots to land a man by withholding penetrative sex until they tie the knot in “Light My Fire.” Meanwhile, she compensates by doing… other things.

“Sneak Attack” unfolds during the American Revolutionary War. A British officer frees a young widow held captive and abused by a band of rebel soldiers. When he escorts her back to the English camp full of sex-starved men, he unleashes depravity and horror.

Strap yourself in for another wild ride with Daddy X.

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Flash Daddy by Daddy X

Flash Daddy
Erotic Flash Fiction

Excessica, 2017
Approximately 18,000 words

Fifty five X-tra hot quickies from the Master of Flash

Do you like your stories quick and kinky? Swift and sexy? Distilling the erotic energy of a romance novel into just a few hundred expertly chosen words?

Well, come a little closer. Daddy X has a story to tell you. It won’t take but a minute.

Daddy X’s flash fiction archive is brimming with tales of sudden satisfaction. From that trove he has chosen this premier collection, fifty five of his finest filthy reads.

Fast and furious romps abound, as do tender tales of loving sex. And since this is Daddy X, count on plenty of laughs along the road. Whatever your pleasure, you’ll find more than one gem that warms your cockles (or wets your cunnels!).

What’s up those little skirts he’s so fixated on? What, pray tell, is a Bowling Night Flasher? How can a gang bang be romantic? What’s the latest outrage from the horny, hapless Delbert? What’s live? What’s jive?

Don’t be shy. Take a chance. Life’s too short for regrets.

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