NEW SHORT STORY, CONTEST, PLEASE VOTE: The Trans / Androgyne Practice by Neale Sourna

http://figment.com/books/545108-The-Trans-Androgyne-Practice

Locked in a coffin for an Initiation practice, Kar is terrified; but Dev is the only one to offer help. And Dev, who all Kar's friends dislike, is the one Kar truly wants. It's gonna be a long three day weekend
 

We lay in my stark coffin, side by side, in pitch black. Why? ’Cause who wants to lie in their coffin alone the first time?

“You okay?” Devon queried, cautiously, like I was a baby, who might explode into screeching hysterics any second. Leg touching mine, Devon’s warm grasp fumbled for my cold sweaty hand; I clutched, tightly.

“Ouch! Cut your claws, Kar. Or wear olives on your fingertips.”

“That was fun.”

“Delectable.”

“No food talk, Dev.”

“You could lose some LBs, Kar. Ow! Claws. Make me bleed out and it’s gonna get way messy in three days of this.”

“Alone. Together.”

Devon gulped, then silence. Devon’s hand in mine was—http://figment.com/books/545108-The-Trans-Androgyne-Practice

HESITATION [short story ON SALE!, a Playgirl Forum story expanded]

HESITATION [short story ON SALE!]

A businesswoman's emotional conflict between overthinking versus her erotic needs is tested when she's caught in the rain with the man who keeps her mind and emotions distracted. But, will she overthink a

playful shower together, too?



 
 _3218 words Erotic Romance short story fiction
[a shorter version published in Playgirl Magazine / Playgirl Forum]

Plus a Bonus Love Poem: A Lesson in Passion

ISBN:
978-1-938903-10-6 PDF ebook
978-1-938903-11-3 mobi

http://stories.neale-sourna.com/hesitation.html

Free Short Story Fiction: No Wedding Night by Neale Sourna

No Wedding Night

by

Neale Sourna

_Las Vegas NV USA; Today

Fisticuffs, as my Great Gran would say, broke out at our wedding; just before our vows were done. It was my bride’s brother against my best brother slash best man; then her sister slash matron of honor against my favorite girl cousin teamed with that cuz’s favorite BFF.

A groomsman, with valiant stupidity, waded into the fray—with the unladylike womenfolk—and got promptly damaged, slightly.

The police were called, by someone. No one’s admitting it. The cops settled everyone down. Thankfully, no one went to jail, or the hospital.

All right the hard part.

She cried, out of frustration, out of disappointment, out of embarrassment, while locked in her vestry dressing room, and she finally let me in, and finally let me talk her back to the altar to say our I do’s.

And we did, but the bad vibes hung there, I guess, contaminating everything, festering beneath our façade of happiness.

My family doesn’t like her family and ditto with her family’s feelings toward mine.

It seems that our making them both one family wasn’t working out. Isn’t this why old countries used to marry off their royal kids to their rival warring kingdom, in order to make blood peace? I must be the only one who loved history class. Of course, blood peaces resumed many a blood war.

We went to the reception, we had a peaceful meal and sweet toasts and teary eyed toasts and funny toasts, and we had our first dance, but the open bar’s prepaid liquor was fueling fires in those still burning with discontent. Did I mention countries at war? Yes. I did.

The police were called again....more on the brawl's aftermath

3 Free Short Story Chapters: Raj by Neale Sourna (soft romantic erotica)

Raj

by

Neale Sourna

A great Indian lady chooses a British Raj officer from the crowd for her amusement; but discovers her choice may bring her more than she expected.

-------

The tiresome British have been here for some time and find our ceremonies "fascinating" in a "quaint manner"; believing we are their British India. They do love parades in pretty clothes. And that is when I saw him, standing among the crowd of the faithful with two other "redcoat" officers kept back behind my official guard, as I entered for my official duties.

Our gazes locking upon the other caused a feeling as palpable as one's skin in an electrical storm.

Upon my exiting the temple, he was still there, just beyond the iron gates, separating us from them.

I spoke to my man and kept on, and the Britisher was collected and brought the secret way to my private apartments.

He was stripped—a fine figure from my hidden vantage—as he was washed and redressed in silks and finest linen, with only a few protests of good-natured curiosity from him, but no excessive, disrespectful attitude of superiority, or entitlement, so often rampant in one of his nation and race.

"What is your name, sir?"

He was startled by my appearance, and his eyes bulged, so did his linen trousers, when he beheld me in my simple gown, cut low between my generous breasts. He appeared unable to speak, or think.

"Sir. Your personal name, nor more."

"Sutton Palm—. Sutton. Ma'am." Hm. Very respectful, and attractive.

"Tell me what you thought, and felt, as your gaze first met mine. Exactly." He blushed, rather terribly.

"It wouldn't be proper, ma'am. Great Lady."

"Tell me, or I'll send you away, this instant." A look of distress distorted his fine, honest features. "Exactly, sir. Now." His gaze met mine in challenge, and then fell away.

"Nothing. My mind blanked, but I-I felt as one when caught in an electrical storm which makes the hairs upon one's body stand." Ah. Good answer.

* * * *

I took him by the hand and led him to a soft bed of pillows, and we reclined together...http://stories.neale-sourna.com/Raj.html

Free Short Story online_The Veil: 1846 by Neale Sourna

The Veil: 1846

by Neale Sourna

Gretna Green, Scotland

His mother hates me, fears that I'll take him from her, or, well actually, neither he nor I know for certain what she holds against me. But he understands this hindrance; that she wishes to post the banns for his marriage to … that other person.

So we ran, he and I, with my aunt's tacit approval, including giving me a gift before our late night journey began northward, to Scotland's nearest border and the famous Blacksmiths of Gretna Green, who forge both metal and legal marriage.

We were soaked from the rain's downpour, literally steaming in the hot work shelter, leaving me unable to wear my aunt's fair gift, as the smith was hot of foot to close and splash through cold puddles and slick mud to dry home and warm supper, and so we'd married without our rings, too deeply buried in my love's valise for safekeeping, as the smith impatiently waited to legally bind us.

And we runaways were forged together, man to woman, husband to wife, with full intent to double secure our matrimonial with a visit to a somewhat distant, but well-respected, ordained minister—in insurance against my new mother-in-law's contrary wishes and any possible suit of that other's frail love and family, in desiring to forever bind him in law, and with child.

We'd been hard pressed by possible pursuit and by our own leaping hearts to be forged together as one, over the tongs of Scotland's generous law. Now, it was done.

* * * *

We'd arrived at this lovely, gabled inn, a room was provided, warm meal and warm blankets, too, and our clothes had gone to be cleared of travel mud and dried.

All we wore were scratchy, woolen blankets.

We ate in mute happiness with nervousness underlying our delicate, new bond. Words of power had been spoken in that forge's rainproof shelter, the smith's apprentice a witness to acknowledge our new status in sacred mutual agreement; and the minister's extra weight of rank and piety would hold till floods ceased.

Our meal was eaten, with only bodily consummation the next surety to our bond of runaway love as yet left undone. We put aside food and wine for later, in case we hungered and thirsted in the night, during our first night alon‑.

I ran, with nerves too heightened, to the window and stared out, and stated, "The rain slows." He came and stood behind me, he in his blanket and I... http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/the-veil.html

Free Short Story, Wedding Night & Honeymoon: No Touching by Neale Sourna

No Touching

by Neale Sourna

No touching. That's what we'd decided, before truly realizing, as we do know, how hard this would be.

We've lived together for two years and our wedding's in two days, and we haven't "touched," I mean REALLY TOUCHED in two months. A brief, pecking kiss here; a quick hand squeeze there, yes, but not more. Pretty much just like business associates or brother and sister.

So, no lingering embraces, no handsy petting, not even lengthy handholding because, with this promise to ourselves, all of that becomes unbearable at a point; all those handsy, lingering, touchy-feely things clearly lead a woman and a man far astray to break from the kind of celibate pledge we've made to each other, and ourselves, after two and a half years of close, physical intimacy.

But we'd decided, in full mutual, sober agreement, to refrain from "close, physical intimacy" these last long, frustrating months. Two entire months. Sixty-one days. One thousand, four hundred, sixty-four hours. Infinite minutes. An infinity of seconds.

Not that we haven't had intimacy, still...http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/no-touching.html [abstinence]

Free Short Story: Empty Nest Honeymoon by Neale Sourna

Empty Nest Honeymoon

by Neale Sourna

Australia and Pradesh, India

Our youngest had flown from our nest, to try life on her own terms, leaving us, alone, together, for the first time, since before the children; and now, since Lal's retirement, we'd managed to argue constantly, getting on each other's raw nerves, because he'd never spent so much time home before.

So, I escaped to my sister Anila's, for a break from him being forever under my foot, walking behind me, throughout my house and gardens; criticizing—but no, he calls it "being helpful," to "help" me "streamline" my workload, etcetera, as if, after the many years of birthing and caring for his children and of his many short notices—.

"Didn't I tell you? We're to be having a business dinner party in three hours. I must have told you, Asha. Just unthaw something, do your magic, and put on a nice dress. No wait! Wear the dark purple sari—you look so very lovely and regal—."

I could have, should have killed Lal many times, justifiably. And a jury of twelve tired wives would free me. Tiresome man.

* * * *

Our eldest and middlemost child, surprisingly, met me at Anila's...http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/empty-nest-honeymoon.html

Free Short Story: Samurai Nights/Samurai Days by Neale Sourna

Samurai Nights

by Neale Sourna

Kyoto, Japan; 1600s

We were encamped within in sight of our lord's favored family temple. His entire core retinue was in attendance, to be of service to his every noble whim. He is a good lord, a great lord, who is extremely clever and most brave, and exceedingly handsome.

As one of the many ladies of his high court, it is a joy and a thing of great hidden tears to merely glance upon him, even at a distance, as I kneel when he passes and I bow in fullest respect to such a superior being.

But, it is rumored that his heartbeats are set upon the noble Lady Ko, a wealthy cousin of our emperor with many liege knights at her call. She is a widow, and mature, but highly valued for her fine lineage, wealth, and lasting beauty.

I am but a courtier's daughter, fair at the athletic defensive skills of katana, bow, and court wit. I'd more than willingly give my life in preservation of my lord's; and yet, he will never look upon me as he does the refined and delicate Lady Ko, who supped and laughed with him, as I continued my unfortunate display and regrettable knack for breaking my Koto strings.

If I could but....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/080116-samurai.html

Samurai Days

I was encamped within sight of my favorite family temple. My entire core retinue was in attendance. I didn't need them all, but it was the most certain way to have HER there, and have no one discern the full interest and possible plans I had for her.

She's clever in fierce conversation, brave in battle, and exceedingly beautiful every moment, and yet has a blushing innocence beneath her sharp wit that intrigues me to no end. It has been pointed out that she would make a most exceptional concubine. It is even a consideration her parents clearly entertain, having singled out her best assets to me, on more than one occasion.

I could make a high match of matrimony for her. I've had several underlords, and even a rival prince or two, beg a blood alliance, sealed by her graceful hand.

I have said, "No," and I will always say, "No."

My own betrothal prospects have been argued and betted upon for some time. My ally, Lady Ko, is the frontrunner, and a marriage alliance with that wealthy, imperial cousin would prove advantageous; and she is a woman in whom I have attraction.

But lovely Ko is not HER, who I could not keep my gaze from, at my banquet for Ko, not while she was so well presented in her finest robes and brightest smiles. She sings and plays the Koto well, although she believes she does not, and even played well, despite suddenly broken strings, and did a brave thing of humor to cover her playing errors, which most women would have been far too mortified to have accomplished.

SHE repeatedly distracted me from my necessary duties with Ko, and so I had her father send her from table, for....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/080116-samurai.html

Free Short Story: Becca The Outlaw’s Sea Battle, Part 6 by Neale Sourna [short story, novel excerpt, chapter excerpt]

Becca The Outlaw's Sea Battle, Part 6 [short story, novel excerpt, chapter excerpt]

by Neale Sourna

England; early 1690s

They'd been spotted, together, in port, shopping, of all things. They were gone by now, of course, or would be by the time he or any men he trusted could arrive to retrieve her, and yet John Eccleston, the Baron Ravenspurn, Third Earl of Northington, and newly made Duke of Hampshire, smiled, as he often did in his fashion, when he knew the goal of a fine and hard-won campaign would soon be his.

Supposed "unattainable" and "unassailable" goals were the best, for they garnered the greater reward, both personally and careerwise, whether in masculine war or at power-filled, subtle royal court.

Eccleston scowled, she'd run from engagement with him, and he'd found her and carried her himself from the isolated hunting lodge, in that great cape of Irish wool. He'd not noticed it then, a man's cape, he'd been so relieved to have found her well and unharmed, sighing in her sleep; for her popish pirate, no doubt.

The rogue Aidan O'Rourke had her, all right, that gentleman widower and foul Catholic loyalist turned pirate had walked up to her parent's home and had had a whiskey or two with a groom, as he'd seduced information from the man in easy conversation, after boldly raiding royal merchant ships and hiding in the cove nearby. And then, he'd sailed out of reach of Eccleston's gunfire, sailed with the outgoing tide, with her, after she'd sprinted....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-06.html

Free short fiction

Free Short Story: Becca Comes Ashore, Part 5 by Neale Sourna

Becca Comes Ashore,
Part 5

by Neale Sourna

Donegal Bay, Ireland, 1680s

Despite his carrot red hair, she hadn't seen him, but he'd seen her and recognized her, and had followed, until the wily-eyed Irishman had noticed him, and so he'd slunk from direct sight, letting her go on.

She was alone with a man not her kinsman and most assuredly not her noble, poor husband. He amended that thought to "her noble husband," for to call the fearsome earl "poor" by mistake to his face or in any way it might return to him could prove disastrous. But, he had valuable information, now, and directly sent it by his most trusted and fleet messenger, to the earl—the current whereabouts of his adulterous new countess.

* * * *

Becca laughed and Aidan's gaze pulled back from the surrounding market crowd, to watch her do so, as she watched the cabin boy and his rat terrier run about the cursing vendors like mad to see so many new and interesting things in this Irish bay port. Aidan's gaze captured hers.

"Laughing at me, sir?"

"No. But you're laughing at the boy."

"He likes it when I notice him, although I make him quite nervous. Why is that?"http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-05.html rest of short story / chapter novel excerpt

Free short fiction

Free Short Story: Becca's Faux Honeymoon, Part 4 by Neale Sourna

Atlantic Ocean near Ireland, 1680s

Faux honeymoon. That was the phrase scurrying around her mind; this time together, sailing, locked in his quarters, lying flesh to flesh in his bunk. Curse him, smirking whenever she called a wall a "wall" not bulkhead, the window "window" not port, and his comfy bunk a "bed."

"Are you listening? Aidan?" He stretched his big body and quirked one drowsy eye open.

"I'm happy and contented, woman, can yah not leave it at that?"

"But I-I know so little about your world, and it is quite a different world, fascinating, all open air and freedom. Granted, I've not been … 'topside,' is it? But…. Oh! What do your men know? Not that I care, as they're not gentlemen, and really, aren't sailors a kind of servant, except those the crown holds in service as virtual slaves, but they'd…. What? Why do you stare at me so?"

"You're quite energetic after bed-ridin', aren't yah?" She shrugged.

"Well, saucy sir, it HAS been a while, since…." Her incredible face saddened, and a part of him

was jealous of her hidden, longing memories of another man.

"You never took a lover, after you were widowed?" She frowned, plainly he'd hit a sore point.

"No. Not 'after' or 'before' nor during. My love, when given, is quite chaste. Surely you understand. I saw the relief on your face when I returned your silver cup."

She saw him wince, then she glanced at it now, it sat across the room in the place of secure honor, where he must plainly be able to see it directly before him whenever he sat to work. Was there another term for a sailor's desk, she'd have to ask, but later, as the cup practically sang in the light that reflected brightly off it like a fierce angel's....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-04.html

Free short fiction

Free Short Story: Becca Gets Her Sea Legs, Part 3 by Neale Sourna

Atlantic Ocean, Ireland; 1680s

"It's not fair," Becca moaned between gulps, of drinking a watered wine concoction, and promptly vomited, again. Aidan wiped her face, and then she fell back into his bunk, and watched as his hammock, which, though pulled to one side, swayed with the rocking of his ship. Damnable pirate. This new world of his would not be still.

"Utterly not fair."

"Your new husband, who you jilted your wedding night, pretending to be sick, so you'd not have to accommodate him, as per your full wifely duties, and then dashing away to me and sea, I think he'd say it was your just desserts, skittish girline."

"I doubt he'd say 'skittish,' perhaps something starting with an 's' and 'l.' And don't say 'desser‑'." And she hastily draped herself over the edge, and nothing came. A wholly unattractive way to spend one's time with one's new lover.

"More?" He proffered the drink and she shook her disheveled head and groaned with pathetic intensity, as he....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-03.html [short story chapter]

Free short fiction