Today I’m shining the spotlight on a pretty extraordinary book by a friend of mine, which just came out yesterday. As it happens, I edited this collection of erotica, because I think Daddy X has a unique voice that deserved to be heard.
A warning though—his work will not be to everyone’s tastes. It’s extremely raunchy and somewhat messy. But then, sex is, isn’t it? I find that his comic sense and open-mindedness balance all the graphic descriptions. For the most part, the stories in this book wouldn’t be considered romance, but almost all his characters have happy endings.
“… 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.
Excerpt (from “Sex Crimes”)
Fred shouldn’t have followed that young girl. Not up the stairs of the bus. It wasn’t even the line he should have taken home. He tried to look up her skirt. A short denim skirt. Wasn’t his blonde in the window enough of a gamble? Was she not going to be enough for Fred after all?
He couldn’t screw it up, not now, his latest offence just settled a month earlier in court. Because of his new temp job at the bank, the cops had let him go again, on probation, but if there would be another incident, he’d wind up in jail. A sex offender is not treated well in the joint. No, he shouldn’t have followed this one at all. But she looked so cute.
Shouldn’t one fantasy at a time be enough for Fred? He already had the horny lady in the window, even if she didn’t know he was hiding in the bushes. He had a lot to learn about women. Why did this young thing intrigue Fred so?
He shouldn’t have sat across from her either, but there they were, the last two empty seats on the bus, facing one another on opposite benches, the wide aisle between. He could almost sneak a peek under the stiff blue fabric when the standing passengers shuffled around. Her legs were bare, except for the short white socks and sneakers. Such smooth skin on the inside of the young girl’s thighs. A short halter top. Some few light freckles sprinkled between her breasts.
Fred stared out the window, trying to imagine his blonde, to distract himself. He sweated with nerves. Did the young girl wear underwear? Panties? There was certainly nothing at all under the skimpy halter. Thin blue veins visible, just beneath the translucent surface. Such tender skin along her ribs. So much younger than the woman he watched from the yard.
The girl swiveled her torso to look out the long window behind her. Fred could see inside her twisted top. Was that a nipple, or pink aureole? Lots of white skin. The perfect little ‘Q’ of her bellybutton. The young thing swept back her short black bangs with a flair. A flair meant for him, Fred hoped.
No, no. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t possibly approach her, not so soon after the last complaint.
With the help of a public defender, Fred had claimed that he was just urinating. An emergency, a need impossible to ignore. How was Fred to know someone had been watching?
A young, female someone did see. The prosecutor had maintained that Fred had been exposing himself.
But this one seemed to be flirting with him, opening and closing her pale legs, bringing back intense images of the recent night’s escapades. A nervous smile pursed the girl’s lips. But you never know, do you? Not when your imagination is going wild. Fred has misconstrued things like that before. But this girl seemed so outgoing...
Even though he’d been a juvenile at the time, his first offence still remained on his permanent record. Sex crimes don’t go away. Fred had thought the same thing that time too, that time on his paper route. He’d thought the young girl wanted him. He knew he was mistaken when the mother called the cops. He’d thought the daughter had wanted to give him a tip, so he unzipped his fly and hauled it out.
Yes, Fred was always thinking things like that. It was just because he was lonely, he told himself. Women don’t really want a guy who shows her his dick before they even exchange names.
Be a real man, Fred. Such a sneak.
But this one seemed different. She made eye contact whenever he looked her way. Or so it seemed to Fred.
She smiled, a shifty, come-on smile, so obviously uncomfortable. Surely she wasn’t used to that kind of thing.
The girl’s limpid stare made Fred’s cock stand hard. Sore, confined like it was in the tight jeans. Maybe he could just get some little relief if he took it out. The bus was crowded. Nobody would notice, though. Not if he kept the newspaper on his lap.
Oh God, he shouldn’t be doing such a thing. Shouldn’t think that way. But she moved so, shifting her ass in place. Her skirt had ridden up in back. Fred imagined her rubbing her little bottom on the hard surface of the bench.
She grinned at him, a self-conscious, enticing affectation.
At least it seemed like she was teasing him. He wondered if her pussy was wet. Maybe itchy. Maybe an itch Fred could scratch? He dared not ask, even though this one looked of legal age. Was there a smear on the seat beneath her? He decided he’d investigate if she exited before he did. Perhaps he’d touch the yellow plastic where she sat. If he found it slippery, he’d probably sniff it too. He thought that this could be better than the blonde after all.
Fred watched his last transfer stop go by. He didn’t want the ride to end. His cock got longer, harder too. He stroked it under the pile of papers, hoping nobody could tell what he was doing. Except the girl, of course. It wouldn’t be so bad if she saw, now, would it? Maybe he was just what she was looking for. Maybe, just maybe, this was the one for Fred.
The crowd began thinning out. More people exited the bus than got aboard at each stop. What would Fred do if left by himself with this sweet thing? Would he do something untoward? Maybe he’d be her Prince Charming. Maybe he’d show it off. If they were left all alone.
Get your copy of The Gonzo Collection today!
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-gonzo-collection-daddy-x/1121800500?ean=2940151267243
About the Author
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 most recently in Cleis Press’ Best Bondage 2015.