August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over


Bent Branches

bent tree branches, by wintersoul1 (Flickr, Creative Commons)

wintersoul1 (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Claude and Vera had done this walk many times, a loop around the pond. The trees all about helped set the mark of the seasons for them — from the first wink of green to the thick leaf canopy, to a single leaf blushing scarlet (as if someone had seen its underside), to an autumnal kaleidoscope, to the last reluctant leaf to fall.

Hand in hand, Claude and Vera walked the loop around the pond, every week for years upon years. Mostly, they walked in silence. For it seemed more fitting to hear the world around them during this time: others talking, kids laughing and yelling, dogs barking, and — most of all — the wind rustling the leaves (in the attempt to flip up the leaves and show their undersides).

On this particular walk in autumn, Claude noticed how long his and Vera’s shadows were. And how hunched their shadows looked. Had they been like that last year? He wasn’t sure. To him, their shadows looked like two bent branches on the same tree. Bent from age and the wind, but still strong.



Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart: Excerpt 2

My erotic short story, “A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart,” is now available for free! You can download this ebook from Smashwords free until October 30.

Since this is erotica, it is meant only for mature readers 18 years and older.

An excerpt:

My robed lover pushes aside the curtain that I had drawn to make the room darker for my movie watching before she had knocked on the door. She gazes at the view that I had enjoyed when I first arrived at the room. A pool is just below our eighth-floor balcony, and then a long stretch of beach. A beach we’ll see a lot of in the week to come. When we aren’t fucking, of course.

Just like honeymooners.

This is going to be a difficult week. We’re like honeymooners, but we’re certainly not honeymooners.

“Finally,” Tabby says, still enjoying the view, “I get to have a trip like Mark takes with his hussies.”

“I still can’t figure out why your husband cheats on you.”

Her face turns toward me, hitting me with a smirk. “You’re sweet, Ethan. You’ll find out. I suppose there are lots of reasons why people cheat. With Mark, I suppose there’s the thrill of the new. That, and the thrill of doing something naughty and getting away with it.”


Honeymoon For Lives Apart coverTabitha is an older woman whose husband has cheated on her for a while, and she has parried with affairs of her own. Including an affair with Ethan, but it grows serious when Ethan falls in love with her. With a heavy heart, Tabitha breaks off the relationship. But before they completely call it quits, she invites him to a honeymoon for their lives apart, to be spent indulging in a lush hotel.

“A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart” is an erotic short story (16,150 words) about a older woman and a younger man that contains explicit descriptions of sex, naughty play in a hot tub, a video interview, a pet nickname, jealousy, and a chocolate dessert.


Lydia Walking Home

bra ad, by Steffen Hillenbrand (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Steffen Hillenbrand (Flickr, Creative Commons)

The hat was a nice touch. Lydia chuckled: the woman had a lot to smile about. Being paid to be on an advertisement, being bold enough to be shown in a bra for thousands of people to see.

Maybe she wasn’t exactly smiling because of her good fortune of being young — of having lots of energy, smooth unwrinkled skin, a happy-go-lucky outlook on life. A shame she probably didn’t realize that youth had a shelf life, as that may have made her appreciate it more.

Or maybe that was for the best. Let young people be careless. Otherwise, they may fret over the worry of not enjoying themselves enough, of thinking all the joy would be gone when they grew older.

Because, Lydia told herself as she smiled at a man’s firm butt encased in jeans, there’s still joy to be had when you’re older.




She walks from the bed to the window that’s glowing with morning light.

He hopes she realizes how her white, translucent nightgown wonderfully matches the curtain hanging in front of the window, that is also covered by slats blocking out most of the light.

But even if she doesn’t realize this, it’s still a beautiful sight for him. Her nightgown ending at her mid-thigh, her ass can be seen through the delicate fabric. The vertical line of her ass contrasting with the horizontal lines of the window slats.

The morning light radiates between those slats, and the curtain softens it. Same with her nightgown, softening her body.

Layers upon layers, and their soft appearance is misleading. For these coverings can be stronger than imagined, and they can take a long while to lift, to get at what lies underneath.

Their vacation has been a good way for unveiling. Peeling away layer upon layer of defenses. Routines, getting into ruts, are too easily established and not questioned enough. Until disturbed by a force knocking them to the side.

She turns the rod at the side of the window, and the slats turn, open, the spaces between them widen, allowing more morning light to rush through after it was impatiently waiting for that to happen.

She looks out of one of those spaces to the world beyond, the palm trees and brightly colored tropical flowers of the resort’s grounds.

Watching her, he commits this image to his memory. Along with the image of her walking toward the window. Now the curve of her breast is suggested through that translucent nightgown as she turns a little to the side. Just one of the many curves that he loves.

These images he commits to memory, for he wants to remember them after this vacation is over. This is not their everyday life, but a force to question it. And this force — with its beautiful images — must be remembered, for its effect can still work later on.



Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart: Free Ebook!

Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart - ebook cover

My new erotic short story, “A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart,” is now available for free! You can download this ebook from Smashwords free until October 30.

Only for readers 18 years and older, as this is erotica, and it contains explicit descriptions of sex.

Here’s the story’s description:

Tabitha is an older woman whose husband has cheated on her for a while, and she’s stayed with him — but she has dealt with his cheating by having affairs of her own. While buying a mocha cappuccino at the shopping mall’s coffee shop, she catches the eye of Ethan, who hasn’t before had a thing for MILFs, but Tabitha’s vivaciousness and assets grab his interest.

Their affair grows more serious than Tabitha had anticipated, with Ethan falling in love with her — on top of his deep lust for her. With a heavy heart, Tabitha decides to break off the relationship. But before they completely call it quits, she invites him to a honeymoon for their lives apart, to be spent indulging in a lush seaside hotel.

“A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart” is an erotic short story (16,150 words) about a older woman and a younger man that contains explicit descriptions of sex, naughty play in a hot tub, a video interview, a pet nickname, jealousy, and a chocolate dessert.

This is a work of erotic fiction and is meant for mature readers 18 years and older only.


Let’s get a little into the story with an excerpt (toward the beginning of the ebook):

She took my breath away back then—at the time when I was taking this video—and she still takes my breath away. At least I have these movies of you. No doubt, my memories will blur and fade. But videos will bring back every sharp detail. Thank you, thank you, thank you Tabby for letting me take video of you. Make that videos.

She fusses with her hair and pushes up her boobs. Her lips press against each other in that expertly swift move that women do to ensure their lipstick is on evenly.

My vain movie star. Bet you think this movie’s aboutcha, don’tcha?

Of course it is.

Tabby, you’re perfect for the movies. You see that now, don’t you? Christ, it took forever to persuade you to try it. Then I couldn’t get you to stop.

But then you put a stop to everything. A big, heart-breaking stop. Thank goodness I had the idea for these movies. Thank goodness we did so many. I’ll have all these videos to remember you by. And jerk off to your hotness.

My TV image sits next to Tabitha and says, “Ready?”

“Always am, baby.” A sly smile on ruby red lips.

My TV self can’t help but smile back. I was always putty in her hands. Especially after she had sucked and stroked me to a tremendous climax. I say, “Okay. Let’s get started, then. How do you remember us meeting?”


Finally, I’ve got to include it, the fine print: Any resemblance between the characters in this novel with persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The image in the cover is stock photography, and the model is used for illustrative purposes only — inclusion on the cover is not meant to imply the model’s involvement in the activities described in this story. All characters in the story are older than 18 years old and participate in consensual sex. The mention of companies and products in the story should not be taken as their support of the events in the story.



“It’s okay,” she said in her best soothing tone. “It’s completely fine.”

He grunted. “Easy for you to say. It’s not happening to you.”

“But it does. Of course not the same way. But there are times I’m not in the mood for sex. Lots of times. And it won’t work the way it usually does.”

“But I am in the mood for sex. Believe me, I’m totally in the mood.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

He sighed and said, “I just don’t get it. I mean, yeah, it’s happened before, when I was drunk off my ass. But I’ve only had a glass of wine tonight.”

“Yeah, I remember that time.”

“Of course you do.” His voice had an edge to it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That of course you’d remember the other time I couldn’t get it up.”

Her hand stopped caressing his limp cock and rested lightly on his chest. “Honey, please don’t get upset. I remember it just because it only happened those couple of times. That’s so rare.”

“Couple of times?” he asked.

“Yeah, after Scott and Justine’s wedding.”

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I just remembered that time in Vegas.”

She laughed, then quickly stopped herself. “I’m not laughing at you. Not because of that. But because of us. How crazy drunk we were in Vegas. It’s no wonder we couldn’t have sex! We were all sloppy and stupid, we could barely stand up.”

“Yeah. That was awesome. Totally makes sense why I couldn’t get it up. But was I that far gone at the wedding?”

“No, you weren’t nearly as drunk.”

“So what happened then?” he asked.

“Don’t know. What happened now? It doesn’t really matter. It just happens sometimes, honey.”

“Yeah, and you’ll remember it.”

“What, am I supposed to forget every bad thing? Come on, honey. I know you’re upset, but please don’t take it out on me. How many times have I said that I wasn’t in the mood for sex?”

“I don’t know exactly. Several times, I guess.”

“More than three.”

He sighed again. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. It’s just really fucking frustrating.”

“Then let’s move on, okay? It happened. How about some TV? Might help you get your mind off it.”

“Sure.” He sat up in bed, resting his back against the headboard, then clicked on the television and found a show about a couple being shown several houses and trying to decide on which house to buy. “This okay?”

“Sure, it’s fine,” she said, sitting up next to him. She kissed him on the cheek and added, “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

They watched the TV show together, not saying anything as the couple on the screen argued about what they wanted in their next house. Eventually, they decided on a house and the show ended. Then a new show began with the same process — but with a new couple.

Finally, he fell asleep, still sitting up. She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, tip-toed to the living room, and slid onto the couch, where she touched herself. While she got herself off, she couldn’t help but think of the hot guy on the TV show who was in the first couple looking at potential houses. She didn’t do it on purpose, but found that his face eased into her thoughts as she caressed her clitoris to an orgasm. Afterward, she tip-toed back to bed, turned off the TV, and looked at her husband with sadness. Still, she hoped he would be able to perform next time.



Resemblances to Miriam

The third one, and she still wasn’t Miriam. There had been somewhat of a resemblance, which was why Derek had picked her out in the dating website in the first place.

When Derek had figured going on a dating site might’ve been a good idea, he hit a brick wall with the long questionnaire and its seemingly endless, inane queries:

What are the things that you are most proud of?

What are the top three things you are most passionate about?

If you won a million dollars in the lottery, how would you spend it?

What’s the most important thing you’re looking for in another person?

The last one was laughable. The most important thing was that the other person be Miriam. Nothing else was needed. No worries about hair color or eye color. How important religion was to them. If they were a smoker or a vegetarian or exercised three times week. If they’d rather go to an art museum or a baseball game (or insert other sport in the line below).

None of that mattered.

Derek had to admit that his third date from the website, just last night, was the closest among all three. Her name was Bethany. There was something to her brown eyes that were Miriam-like. Sure, they were more guarded than Miriam’s. Well, except for toward the end, when Miriam certainly had her guard up in their many arguments. But maybe it was because Bethany’s eyes were guarded and Miriam-like that Derek was impacted by them more than the first two dates. Maybe he wanted to see those eyes become unguarded, back to how they looked while things were smooth and beautiful with Miriam.

Still, though, Bethany’s gestures were wrong. She moved in a different way. Not close to Miriam at all.

“Which,” Derek told the cup of coffee the morning after the date, “is completely unfair to Bethany.” He had been honest with Bethany during the date and said that he had recently had a painful break-up. He was taking things slowly. Bethany kindly nodded, said she understood.

But she didn’t know how deeply Derek wanted her to be Miriam.

He sipped the coffee, then watched how the disturbance of his lips caused ripples across the surface of the coffee. He couldn’t decide whether to ask Bethany out on another date or leave her be and just be alone for a while.



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