August MacGregor

Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over


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20 Scary Stories in 5 Words

I recently signed up for Twitter to give this whole tweetering thing a shot, and it’s been a neat way to see what a lot of authors out there are doing. I’m at @AugustMacGregor if you wanna give me a shout.

While on Twitter yesterday, I saw that one of the trends was #ScaryStoriesIn5Words, which just begged to be checked out. A story in 5 words? A scary one? Yes and yes. I had no idea it was a thing. And there are some fun and creative ones out there.

This just begged to be tried, so I came up with a bunch of them. Ideas kept coming, and I blame the excitement mixed with nervous energy about NaNoWriMo starting tomorrow (my first — please be gentle).

Here’s my shot at scary stories in 5 words:

  1. Seriously let’s just be friends.
  2. Blind date: Attila the Hun.
  3. Neighbor’s wearing same slutty-zombie costume.
  4. Sharted at horror movie’s climax.
  5. Your blog killed the Internet.
  6. There’s always next, next season.
  7. Tree falls, whole forest follows.
  8. Zombie apocalypse, bullet supply low.
  9. Bigfoot real, becomes your dentist.
  10. Cellmate sings “Frozen” song endlessly.
  11. Swatter meets fly; relationship over.
  12. “Honey, come meet my boyfriend.”
  13. Vampire needs braces; scariness declines.
  14. Apple releases 5-pound smart phone.
  15. Power tie slowly strangles CEO.
  16. Spider simply refuses to die.
  17. Members Only jackets trendy again.
  18. “Honey, let’s get waxed together.”
  19. Application accepted! Decade on Mars.
  20. “It’s Raining Men” — umbrellas useless.


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A Little Graveyard Fun

graveyard, by buzzsnap (Flickr, Creative Commons)

buzzsnap (Flickr, Creative Commons)

Happy Halloween again! I just had to write a quickie story for the occasion. A couple has some sexy fun and dialogue in a graveyard. It’s not as explicit as many of my other stories, but it’s still meant for readers 18 years and older. Have a fun and safe Halloween!

“Oh c’mon,” he said, “you’re not scared, are you?”

“Of course I am!” she replied. “If you say you’re not, then I know you’re lying.”

“Well, maybe a little bit. But that’s the point, isn’t it? A graveyard on Halloween — it’s perfect!”

“Perfect?” she echoed. “Far from it. I’ll take a bed in a warm house any day over this.”

“But that’s the whole idea. A bed can be for any old day. This is different and fun.”

“Okay, okay. I agreed to it, so let’s get on with it. The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over.”

“Which,” he said, “is what every guy wants to hear before sex.”

“Hey, just saying. But doesn’t it feel, I don’t know, sacrilegious to do this in a cemetery?”

After sighing, he said, “We’ve already talked about this. None of these people care one bit. Just their bodies are here. Their spirits are too busy in heaven or hell or where-ever to care. C’mon, baby, just relax about it.”

“Well, it is different, I’ll give you that. Not my kind of sexy, though, so I’m not going to be wet for you.”

“Then how about a little foreplay? We can start up here…”

“Jesus!” she cried out. “Your hands are cold!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll warm them up. How about I suck on them, my mouth’s sure to be warm.”

“Yeah, I do like your mouth, what you do with it all over me. Mmm. That feels good. A little chilly, but your mouth warms my nipple right up.”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she purred like him. “Don’t forget the other one, you know how she gets jealous. Ooo, there you go. Mmm, yeah. Now, what did you way before? You thought doggy-style would be the easiest to pull off here?

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, then said, still with her nipple in his mouth, “Doggy-style.”

“Smart thinking. I can lean over, push up my skirt. I won’t have to take off any clothes and get really cold. Maybe this was a good idea after all, naughty boy. All those naughty ideas you come up with like — Wait! What was that?”

He released her nipple and stood up, looking behind her, into the cemetery and the woods beyond it. “What?”

“Something like a stick cracking,” she said. “Maybe someone’s there?”

His eyes narrowed as he inspected the woods and looked left and right. “No,” he said, “I don’t see anybody. Maybe it was just a squirrel.”

“They aren’t nocturnal, are they?”

“How the hell would I know? Now, I’ve got to get back to these beautiful tits.”

“Okay,” she said. “All right. Mmm. I love it when you call them beautiful. Maybe it was just a squirrel. Maybe it was nothing. Don’t know. What I do know is that feels really good. Your mouth works wonders on me. Ohhh — Oh my God!”

Again, he released her nipple and stood up. “Jesus! What is it now?”

Her shocked face was frozen, staring at something behind him. He turned to see the apparition rise above a gravestone that read “Here Lies Wallace Hardwick, May He Rest In Peace.” The apparition’s face didn’t look peaceful at all — and downright pissed off that he had been disturbed.

They ran, screaming, to the security of his car parked next to the cemetery. Then they sped through the streets to the security of his house, with their hearts still hammering wildly.

End


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The Troll’s Bridge: Free Ebook!

Troll's Bridge cover, 400px wide

Happy Halloween!

As a treat for you, here’s a free ebook of an erotic novella: The Troll’s Bridge. And you don’t even have to wear a costume to get it.

No, we’re not talking about Internet trolls here, who try to start arguments. We’re talking about the creatures from Old Norse mythology. Or, rather, someone who dresses up like one.

If you’re interested, head on over to Smashwords and download it… but since this is a work of erotic fiction, it is meant for mature readers 18 years and older only. I’m going to let this giveaway last for a bit, so you have until Friday, November 21, to get it for free.

The description of the book:

A man dies across the street … a mysterious man dressed as a troll shows up on Halloween night … a face stares through the kitchen window … across the street a man appears, who has piercing slate eyes that can hypnotize you.

Strange things are happening in Sophie’s neighborhood. As she tries to make sense of it, her active imagination doesn’t help matters. Nor do her loneliness or her ache for a lover to take control rather than her doing the work for her mostly complacent husband.

Will the man with the piercing slate eyes step up and show her not only that control, but give her the energetic sex she craves?

“The Troll’s Bridge” is an erotic novella (31,600 words) that contains explicit descriptions of sex (including light BDSM), two apple pies, a Mr. Magic toy, a tower room in a castle, and swordplay on the deck of a pirate ship.

*****

An excerpt:

His eyes were stone, like the castle walls on Frankenstein’s Revenge. The troll-man would carry her there, with her limp body draped over his shoulder. He’d walk through a grand hallway and up darkened spiral stairs, meager light coming through slits in the stone wall. Up and up they climbed, to a room at the top of the castle. Flickering torches on the walls provided the light. The troll-man slid her from his shoulder onto a raised slab so that she lay on her back.

Medical equipment was everywhere around the room. Sophie looked about the room, wondering why she was there.

Then the troll-man loomed over her. She stared up at him, unable to move. A scalpel appeared. In his steady hand, it slit her black dress straight up the middle. Her naked skin shivered in the chilly air. The troll-man stuck little circular suction nodes on her temples, ribs, and thighs. Red wires trailed from the nodes to machines, which now beeped in regular intervals. Their beeps came much slower than the beating of her galloping heart.

The flat, cold bottom of the scalpel’s handle touched her forehead. It glided between her eyes, over her nose and lips, down her neck, between her collarbones and breasts, and over her rollercoaster belly. Her breath shot out in short bursts as the cold steel slid on her skin. Goosebumps shimmered in the scalpel handle’s wake. The handle stopped on her pubic mound. It stood upright in the middle of her small patch of dark pubic hair.

*****

The cover-your-ass 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.


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New Release: The Indie Author Power Pack: How To Write, Publish & Market Your Book

augustmacgregor:

I read David Gaughran’s “Let’s Get Digital” a couple of years back, and it provided a background into the world of self-publishing for me. A great intro about the brave, new world of publishing on your own. Well, David’s book is out with two other books as “The Indie Author Power Pack: How To Write, Publish & Market Your Book” — and the pack is only 99 cents! Three e-books for less than a dollar! And just in time for NaNoWriMo, so this will be good reading material for breaks in November, or maybe it can wait until December, when the dust settles. Either way, this is a damn good deal.

Originally posted on David Gaughran:

indie-power-pack-blogFor the last few months I have been secretly planning an assault on the New York Times bestseller list. Today, I can finally announce the release of the book I’m hoping will do the trick.

The IndieAuthorPowerPack: How To Write, Publish & Market Your Book contains three top-rated guides:

  • Write. Publish. Repeat by Sean Platt and Johnny B. Truant
  • Let’s Get Digital (2nd ed.) by me
  • How To Market A Book (2nd ed.) by Joanna Penn
  • + Bonus Content!

It’s only available for a limited time, and you can pre-order it now for just 99c at:

Amazon|Apple|B&N|Kobo|$0.99

The box will launch on Monday, November 3, but if you pre-order now the book will automatically download to your device next Monday.

I took great care in selecting the books for this box set. I wanted to present the very…

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A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart: Last Day Free

Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart - ebook cover

Today is the last day you can get my erotic short story, “A Honeymoon For Our Lives Apart,” free! Snatch it up while you can at Smashwords. Only for readers 18 years and older, please — as the story contains explicit descriptions of sex.

An excerpt:

And I do. I plow into her as fast as I can. Sweat drips down my forehead and lower back. Her eyes bore into mine again. Her head sways from side to side. Her mouth hangs wide open, letting grunting and panting pour out. Strands of hair fall over her eyes, down to her cheeks. She grips her tits in tight handholds. Her nipples peek between clutching fingers.

My control has flown out of the window. I’m heaving like a beast. Fuck control and trying to be good enough for her, trying to win her love and persuade her to divorce her husband and spend the rest of her life with me, going on vacations with me and dinner dates, fucking my brains out, getting the brains fucked out of her, and sucking my cock ’til it explodes. All because we’re awesome together, and the world just feels right when she’s around.

And fuck that polite shit, that remembering which stupid fork is the salad fork and the kinds of wine and worrying about what other people think of us as they whisper, “Look at them, Howard. He’s much, much younger than her.”


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You’re Next

In getting into the Halloween spirit, I wrote a horror story. It’s a bit different than what I usually write, and it was nice to stretch my writing muscles. There’s a little bit of sex in there, so this is really meant for readers 18 years and older only.

Even though Evina knew it was a dream, her heart pounded from fear. There seemed to be no way out of the house.

It wasn’t a stereotypical haunted house from the movies, with cobwebs in every corner and stretched across dusty furniture. But it was a huge mansion that had seen better days. Discolored wallpaper in the hallway was peeling off the wall in spots, and there was a general sense of old age.

That was coupled with the general sense of dread within her. As far as she knew, there was nothing chasing her. And there were no screams of someone in pain coming from behind the many closed doors. Instead, there was the sound of a piano playing, a slow song that had a simple, sad melody. One that Evina couldn’t place.

Rather than having an obvious cause for her fear, she felt a foreboding of something about to happen. Because of that, she didn’t want to open any of the doors in the hallway. But her hand still reached out for an elegant bronze doorknob. She couldn’t stop her hand. It was as if a part of her wanted to get it over with, see what the dread was all about.

The door opened to a large, rectangular dining room. Dark wood panels on the walls, with tall windows across from her. Three chandeliers, their crystals glinting in moonlight, hung over the long dining room table on which rested two lit candles.

After Evina’s eyes swiftly scanned the room, they raced to the people on the table. Two people were having sex. A naked man stood next the table, and he was bent so that his upper body lay on the woman who was on the table. Her luxurious red dress was bunched up at her waist and draped over the table. The man’s face was buried at the woman’s neck, on the other side of her head from Evina. She was mesmerized how the man’s clenched ass moved as he fucked the woman.

But then his ass stopped moving.

The man’s head raised. His torso slowly raised. His cock was still inside the woman, but now he stood straight up instead of being bent over. His body rippled with hard muscles.

He looked at Evina, frozen in the doorway. His eyes shone with a brightness stronger than the moonlight through the tall windows. His crimson lips smiled. They opened to show teeth that were far too big for his mouth. But somehow those gleaming spikes fit in there.

“Delicious,” he said, drawing out the word with an Eastern European accent.

Evina only stared, her breath caught tight in her lungs.

“You’re next,” the man said with a wide smile, those spike teeth glistening. A drop of saliva fell off his chin.

The woman on the table turned her head to look at Evina. Her face was empty of all emotion, like it was a blank husk of a shell.

Something sparked within Evina, a reaction to the man’s words and the woman’s face, and she ran. Ran as fast as she could, her breath now churning like a galloping horse. The hallway was empty of doors now, possibly because the dining room was so large. She dearly hoped there wasn’t another door to the dining room, where the man could’ve run to and would be waiting for her.

Thankfully, there wasn’t another door to the dining room. Instead, a staircase — and she sped up the steps until she reached the upper floor. Evina was faced with another hallway, and she opened the first door.

Another large room, wood paneled. A woman knelt in prayer, her hair so long that it flowed onto the floor behind her. She was bathed in purple light emanating from a tall stained glass window, whose broken-glass mosaic depicted a castle on top of a wooded hill, the sky set in many shades of violet.

“Get up!” Evina yelled at the praying woman.. “We have to go! He’s coming!”

The woman’s head slowly turned to face Evina. Just like how the woman on the dining room table had done.

“Why?” she asked in a calm voice. “He said you’re next.”

Dread dropped to the bottom of Evina’s stomach, and that self-preservation sparked within her again. Once more, she ran and flung open the next door, across the hallway.

A library. Empty of people. A relief. She rushed into the library and slammed the door behind her.

The doorknob didn’t have a lock. There was nothing stopping the spike-toothed man from entering the room. Evina frantically looked for a possible hiding spot — somewhere she could tuck her body in case the man opened the door and looked about the room, but wouldn’t be able to see her.

But there was nothing. Just bookshelves all the way up to the ceiling and two leather armchairs flanking a floor lamp.

Something moved. Between two shelves. A stick coming out from behind the books on the shelf. Another stick. Hairy sticks.

Those weren’t sticks.

Evina screamed as more legs appeared, reaching out, knocking over books, sending them thudding to the floor. A brown spider emerged, out of one of the books, and it somehow kept increasing in size as it climbed out of the pages of the book.

Evina flung open the door and rushed out. The naked man was at the beginning of the hallway, grinning at her. Blood now dripped from his chin. His cock was erect.

He said, “You look delicious.”

Again, she screamed. Again, she turned and ran. Down the hallway, rushing past closed doors. The soft piano music seemed to mock her, as if it was trying to calm her down. But there was no calming her down. Not with her heart and breath pounding in a fury.

At the end of the hallway was another staircase. Leading up. God, how she wished it would lead down. Down, down, down, to where there had to be a door that opened to the outside, the world out of this maddening house.

She braved a look behind her. There, down the hallway, was the man walking toward her. And behind him was the spider, now enormous.

Up was the only way. She burst up the stairs, taking them two at a time, gripping the railing like it was a rope and she was crossing a bridge over a deep chasm. The stairs went up and up, not stopping for another floor and another hallway. Still, she did not slow down.

Finally, the stairs ended. Another door. Thankfully, not locked. The only other way was back down the stairs, so Evina opened the door, steeling herself for something scary inside.

An attic. Slanted ceilings of the mansion’s roof line. Old-fashioned steamer trunks and furniture everywhere, all of it covered with cobwebs. A window at each end of the attic let in moonlight. Nobody was there.

She closed the door and was grateful to see a lock on the doorknob. Anything to slow down the man and spider. She turned the lock on the knob and pushed a steamer trunk across the floor to settle behind the door. Then another trunk on top of that one.

Evina was sliding a third trunk toward the door when a loud thud jolted the door. She jumped back, not wanting to go any closer to the door with the extra trunk. Another violent thud against the door, this one louder, more powerful. The floor shook in the impact. Evina scampered across the attic, hiding behind a stack of crates.

The door broke with the third hit. The two steamer trunks were shoved aside. It had been a good idea, but not very effective.

Peering through gaps in the crates, Evina could see the naked, spike-toothed man appear and look about the attic. His smile seemed permanent, the smile of a lunatic who found everything impossibly funny. The man walked toward her, and Evina couldn’t tell if he saw her or not. Next to her was a broken chair, and she picked up the leg. It felt solid in her hands. A weapon, but she wished she had a better one. A machine gun would’ve been nice.

“What did I tell you?” the man asked, his Eastern European accent heavy. “I told you that you’re next.”

Then the spider appeared in the doorway behind him, the long hairy legs reaching out. The man’s eyes opened wide in shock as the legs wrapped around him, embracing him in a deadly hug. But still, his smile was there as the spider’s mouth opened — a mouth closer to a shark’s mouth — and swallowed him. The sounds of the man’s bones crunching sickened Evina, as if the bones were mere twigs in the spiders powerful jaws.

The sounds were quickly over. And Evina knew her bones were about to be crunched next. Since the spider was surely going to find her hiding spot, she leapt up and threw the chair’s leg as hard as she could. It hit the spider’s body, causing it to slide back a few inches.

She threw everything she could grab. Other parts of the broken chair. A footstool. A tall mirror. A globe on a pedestal. Some of them missed the spider; some of them were on target, pushing the spider backward a little and causing it to give a high-pitched whine that Evina hoped was pain.

But the spider was not retreating. It was not slowing down. If anything, it seemed to be growing angrier every time something hit it. So Evina backed up, continuing to fling anything at it, in the desperate hope that her attacks would eventually kill it or cause it enough pain that it gave up chasing her.

Still, it continued on. And the attic ended. Only a wall with a moonlit window was left. Her hands heaved at the window, but it didn’t move. The spider kept coming. The window was the only way. She kicked at the glass two times, breaking it in crashes, sending shards raining down. The spider was closer, whining louder now, not from pain but from anticipation of killing the thing that had caused it pain.

Evina looked out the jagged window at the cloudless sky beyond and leapt. The teeth of the broken glass dug into her as she passed through.

Gasping, she sat upright. Bed. Her bed. Her bedroom. Her bureau. Gregory’s bureau. Gregory laying next to her. Stirring.

Her heart still thundered. It was a dream. She had known that. As real and vibrant as it had seemed, she had still known it was a dream. But, through all that had happened in the mansion, she was still scared witless.

“Are you okay?” Gregory asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Bad dream,” she said simply.

She lay down and slid into his arms, with her back to him. As he embraced her, his forearms reminded her of the spider’s legs. She shivered, but settled further back against Gregory, loving the warmth of him. The security of him.

End


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NaNoWriMo Prep

Well, I’ve decided to dive into National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year! A short background if you haven’t heard about NanoWriMo: it’s a month-long rush of writing a novel to reach the goal of 50,000 words completed by the end of November.

I’m working on another post for the background of my thinking for the month, and I’ll post that on November 1.

But today, I want to share some resources for others who are going to take part in NaNoWriMo. I thought these three posts to be great for preparing for the month ahead, which is sure to be wild. Actually, these posts have good advice for writing fiction in general, and not just for this event…

  • NaNoWhoNow? NaNoWriMo Dos And Don’ts. Chuck Wendig gives a blow-by-blow account of surviving NaNoWriMo. This post is filled with solid advice that has helped me get my head straight before November arrives. Things like… be disciplined (thankfully, I’m not afraid of hard work), be persistent, don’t think your novel is finished simply because it’s 50K words long, and don’t forget to polish the sucker after November is done (I’m sure I’ll have some meh writing in the rush of the month). A damn good post.
  • 12 Character Writing Tips for Fiction Writers. Melissa Donovan offers us writers a list of 12 items to keep in mind as we develop characters. These are thought-provoking in considering more about our characters, and some of these may not come out exactly in the action of stories — but instead may influence them. A back story for the character, for example, as well as their family and friends. I bet thinking about these things for the main characters in my NaNoWriMo novel will help shape my writing.
  • Lessons from Writers – J.R.R. Tolkien. JMD Reid shares what he learned from Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings about character development. Namely, to make your characters suffer. Give them challenges. This makes a lot of sense to me, for it increases the danger, tension, and drama. It gives readers a chance to root for the characters to overcome the obstacles and come out on top. If a character always gets what she or he wants, where’s the drama and fun in that? This post is a good reminder to push your characters to give them a chance to eventually achieve victory, rather than have it handed to them.

As I mentioned, I’ll fill in some more detail about my thinking behind NaNoWriMo on November 1 — as I’m still wrapping up some other stuff. Good luck to all those participating in NaNoWriMo!

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