Hey Everyone, So this is the completely edited version of So, I'm Not a Vampire? I decided to post it on lit because I realized not posting my stories really solves nothing. Having them remove one of my stories was the first and only bad thing that's happened to me on lit. Am I angry? Yeah, but life goes on. And plus lit fans are way too awesome to leave....
Sometimes, I wonder how common Black kinky folks are. Perhaps my husband Samuel Zenith and I are unicorns. My name is Whitney Felicien-Zenith, and I’m a tall, curvaceous young woman descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. Five-foot-eleven, caramel-hued, with light gray eyes and a voluptuous body that is simply to die for. I live in the suburb of Kanat...
The Drive Home My pet knew I was upset with her and I felt her stirring occasionally beneath my desk. "Mistress Alison?" she asked. "May I be allowed to clean your leg and foot?" I smiled softly. "Yes," I answered, "But only clean, pet, nothing else. You are in enough trouble as it is!" I felt her soft tongue start to lick her juice from my leg and then fr...
All of my stories are true. Most of them happen in the 1970's when sex was still safe. One of the more enjoyable parts of being Head of Security in a luxury apartment complex was the people watching. I got to see all kinds of different people come and go about their daily lives. Most stopped by to at least say a hello and indulge in some brief chit chat. On...
Even if I didn't already know for sure, anyone could tell it was your last night in the office prior to a major trip. It was the way you kept rushing from issue to issue, obviously trying to cross off as much as possible prior to your departure. As a result, everyone, including me, kept their heads down. Days like today were fairly predictable: what you foun...
The dark of late night really was his favorite time of day, he thought. Above him a half moon gently slipped in and out of clouds. The gentle susurrus of tree frogs drifted out of the forest behind him, and was lost only in the quiet gurgle of the stream off down the yard to his left. To his right an expansive stretch of mowed grass was wrapped and hidden by...
As the light rail car came to a halt and the doors opened, Alvin Kotzwinkle turned up the collar on his top coat and pulled it tighter around him. The blast of winter air was bitter, almost as bitter as his resentment. He'd been at work the day before, slaving away over the charts and tables at his uncle's accounting firm when the phone rang. "Kotzwinkle."...
She climbed the stairwell with deliberate caution, her footsteps landing flatly upon the bits of melting ice on each step. The green rubber doormat at the foyer's front door generally failed as a reminder of consideration. People generally hurried past it to escape the bite of the wind and find refuge in the warmth of their cozy apartments. It wasn't the wea...
Julia considered the large package that sat in her bedroom. No name, no manufacturer, no return address, nothing to indicate who had sent this thing, and why they might have done so. It was heavy, with something large inside of it. She had to push it into her bedroom by sliding it along the floor. How it ended up in her seventh floor apartment was a mystery....
This story was also published elsewhere by me. *** Pittsburgh, October, 2013 Simon Newell knew that Detective Samantha Kingston had fabricated evidence to ensure the female drug kingpin was arrested at the scene. When he wasn't doing tarot card readings, Simon sometimes worked as a part-time consultant for the Pittsburgh P.D. When a case had them flummox...