Two young birds
Sat in opposite trees
They chirped
They cheeped
Each calling the other over
But the gap was far
The thought of flight
Scary to them both
Their thoughts consumed
With the fear of falling
Both blind to the possibilities
Of what may happen
Should they both then fly.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Writing Challenge

Story Challenge: Word and Genre suggested by Laura ~ neon hotpants / crime thriller.

“Talk to me Sargent. What have we got?”

The middle aged policeman cleared his throat before addressing the suit clad inspector. Whereas the Sargent was time served and had progressed through the force via hard work and pounding the streets, the inspector was fresh faced and straight from behind some desk at the academy. There was still a mutual respect for their respective rank.

“Another from the homeless community. Male, around thirty year old.”

“That’s the fifth in as many days! Cause of death?”

“Strangulation, the same as the others.”

The inspector nodded as though he’d been expecting the answer and began pacing around as if searching for answers to the questions in his head. “I assume there were no witnesses as before also.”

“Actually,” began the Sargent. “We have a description.”

It was the first time the attack had been seen, or at least the first time anyone had come forward with information. Whilst previous murders had similar characteristics, there had been no viable leads with which to investigate.

“Average build and height, wearing a black hooded and neon hotpants.”

The description had the inspector kicking the ground in frustration.

“Look around you. What do you see? We’re smack bang in the middle of festival season and nearly everyone is wearing neon clothing of some fashion.”

The Sargent remained silent.

“Let us hope the body parts with more helpful clues than your witness.”

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Finding Reason


To my left stands an Angel tending to my tears. “What did you do?” she asks soothingly.

On my right a Devil. “It’s not your fault!” he says rubbing my shoulder with his talloned hand.

Like an island isolated by a maddening sea, I stand resolute understanding their words, yet let them fall upon my ear, waves upon a rocky shore.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Brave the Shave 2019

This me. A hairy tattooed lover of heavy metal.

This time last year my mother passed away after a brief battle with cancer. In her honour, and to raise money for the Mcmillan Nurses who eased her pains during her stay in hospital, I have decided to undertake the Brave the Shave 2019.

The long hair and beard will all go, and be donated to a charity that makes wigs for cancer survivors.

My hair loss will be temporary. The loss of my mother permanent. If you can, and only if you can, spare a little loose change to make a donation, it is all going to such a deserving cause.


Thank you for just reading.


Punishment NSFW +18

Laid over my knee

Naked once soft white skin

Now red with handprint scars

Punishment for brattish behaviour

Tears cascading from pain felt eyes

Playing my emotions?

Large hands easing the pain

Firm powerful strokes across each cheek

A gentle writhing to guide my hand

Urging to be felt in places pleasuring

My hand falls heavy again

The imprint left in white

Upon her once again reddening skin.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Writing Challenge 18+ NSFW

“First Real Orgasm”

We enjoyed a healthy relationship, good foreplay and great sex. So often we would cum together gazing longingly into each others eyes, unless in the 69 position, when we both promised to be vocal in our appreciation of each other.

So why then, did it take almost eight years of this unanimously perfect union, for me to have my first real orgasm?

It began as a bit of playing around. I’d been fucking her arse, somewhere she doesn’t often let me play with, whilst playing with pussy with one of her vibrators. The sensation for me was extremely stimulating, especially given how often she consents, but mid fuck she asks me politely to stop.

At first I tried to convince her to keep going, but I could sense her getting more and more agitated. Eventually she rolled away snatching her toy from my hand, as I lay face down frustrated my head buried into the pile of pillows.

“Stop sulking!” she said.

“I’m not!” was my muffled reply.

“Yes you are. Here, how do you like it!”

She took her vibrator, still switched on and buzzing, and placed it between my ass cheeks. I didn’t know how to respond, but my lack of protest must have awoken a curious side in us both.

“You like that do you?” she asked softly, seeing if I was receptive to more than just the tip. It felt strange, it felt good. I lifted my ass to assist her.

She’d got more than half the length of of it in me before she started thrusting it in and out. At the same time wanking by now hard again penis with her other hand.

Was I secretly gay? Was it normal to have your partner fuck your ass with her toy? The sensation was like none I’d felt before, especially when my muscles clenched this toy inside me as my cock exploded in her hand.

I was exhausted. My legs shivered and I was unable to move. I truly believe that in that moment she’d unleashed my first real orgasm and in herself, found a new weapon at her disposal in our bedroom antics.

It only seemed right that I roll her onto stomach, lift up her ass and eat her pussy till she came.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


It’s been awhile

A pale blue sky threatens to break through the early morning grey and bleary clouds.

The light wind rustles through young tree branches making them animate to some silent dance.

From where I sit in a silent house in contemplation of the day ahead, I watch as squirrels dash up and down with youthful endless energy.

Life is good.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown



So I just read post on Facebook that deeply offended me, but then also had me questioning my own past views.

A young woman posted about her recent experience using a well known dating app and a response she received from potential, or so she thought, connection. It read along the lines of, “Sorry, I could never go on date with you as, at best, you rate as a 6. Ad I am an 8, obviously I’m looking for someone equal or higher to my rating.”

First of all, who rated him an 8? Secondly, if I were to be objective, I’d score her higher than a 6. However, beauty is subjective. What one finds beautiful is not always seen the same way by another. Using this guy’s rating mechanic and his goal to date equal to or higher, what makes him think a 10 rated woman would want to be seen with a 8 rated male?

The whole thing is preposterous! Beauty is very much within the eye of the beholder and should not be subjective to a dumb ratings method.

I’d like to think I’ve rejected the chance of a relationship based on compatibility, not because of looks alone.

Thoughts of: authorchrisbrown


Curious 18+ NSFW

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked without a hint of compassion of sincerity. But then why would she, she was being paid regardless of whatever took place within the four walls of this dingy bleak hotel room.

He took her thick, hard penis in his hand, trying to give the illusion of being self assured and composed, however in reality he was trembling more than a young puppy whipped for fouling the carpet. Offering the tip to his Virgin ass, he braced himself.

An intense pain flushed over him as the thick shaft sunk deep inside him, and more so as it withdrew and thrust again. The was a strange sensation too. With each thrust he could feel her balls slapping against his own, his hardened penis swaying with the motions. It was quickly becoming a pleasurable pain and he couldn’t help but give vocal encouragement in the way of grunts and groans.

She grabbed his hips and held herself deeper than she’d been before, filling his once tight hole with her cum. He moaned gratefully as he accepted it all.

“Would you like to fuck me now?” she asked in the same clinical tone as before. “Or would you like me to just suck you off?”

He gazed at her large, false rounded breasts and she knew. Kneeling down, she placed his cock between them and waited for the inevitable release as a result of him fucking her cleavage.

“Well that’s that then,” she said wiping herself down with a nearby towel. “You’re trans sex cherry popped.”

He said nothing, preferring to dress in silence. Not through shame or guilt, but from a confused sense of his own sexuallity. They parted not saying another word, yet secretly knowing this would not be the late time they’d meet.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


Handbag. Snippet from ‘Beaches, Boys and Forgotten Bras’.

Imogen finished getting ready and checked the contents of her handbag before heading out to the waiting taxi. Sunglasses, book, passport and tickets all there amongst the usual inhabitants of keys, makeup and other bits that had been thrown in over the duration of her having this particular bag. The secret to a good bag is that not only should it compliment any outfit, but also be deceptive in its capacity for holding not only all of a girls day to day needs, but also all the knick-knacks picked up along the way. Finally she was ready and locking the door to her apartment made her way to her waiting ride.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown