A while back, I was a good netizen, and wrote fan mail to an author of erotica. We corresponded. He liked some of what I shared with him. He encouraged me to write for publication.
The first two stories below were the result. The comments of readers encouraged me to continue.
Chapter 1 of this story actually happened, sort of. The rest is the product of my imagination.
This story was indirectly in response to another I read. I will post a link when the author puts it on his web page.
More to come!
Please send your comments to me, Margery, at
This is a little fantasy I had thinking about New Year's eve.
These stories were sent to me by the son of the late Ovid.
He asked me to post them here as a memorial to Ovid
to a father-son bond.
All of the stories carry this warning:
This is a story about sexual excitation. It is for adults. It contains sexually explicit material. If you are not chronologically, emotionally, and intellectually mature, do not read this story.
If stories explicitly depicting sex acts offend you or do not interest you, to do not read this story.
However, it must be noted that this story does NOT contain any violence, sadism, brutality, masochism, necrophilia, pedophilia (children or teens), bestiality, gender transformations (literal or figurative), incest, urolagnia, coprophilia, non-consensual sex, or risley acts. If a story without these activities offends you or does not interest you, do not read this story.
What follows is a fantasy. It takes place in a world where there are no sexually transmitted diseases, and where the stranger who comes to your door is not after your life or even your VCR.
With thanks to Quinn Rogan, a story of a puchase on the installment plan.
I know it's a cliche, but my husband really does control the remote.