I've started a series called PRETEND, where a wife arranges for her husband to get excited looking at and touching their daughter, and then dragging him into the bedroom to take advantage of his excited state. Like many of my stories, the best laid plans go awry and both the father and daughter discover a sexual attraction that threatens the marriage the wife was so determined to improve. Throw in some other females and the husband's reluctance to engage with other partners grows thin.

The next big project is the epic tale of what happens when Harriett goes off to London to be the nanny for a newborn who she doesn't know is the offspring of Harvey and the wife. And what Harvey does for sexual recreation while she's gone.

Everything! One feedback message, review or comment from a reader means more to me than the pennies I get when dozens of people purchase my work.

I grew up in my grandfather's closet, reading the sexy paperback novels he hid there. I had no idea that anyone wrote such erotic material and published it.

I keep my covers simple, with just a few graphic elements that I spruce up with some barely-hidden sexual object.

I wrote my first story the day my wife said "No" to having sex. I needed an outlet, and writing stories about sex in a humorous way seemed the perfect therapy.

It is utter clutter. Stacks of documents, brochures, art supplies, car rental agreements, empty plastic bags - you name it.

Nobody in real publishing invited me in.

My trusty desktop computer.

Smashwords is an easy way for me to bundle up and share series of stories with a similar theme.

When someone sends me an email and says how much they enjoyed the sex and the humor in one of my stories.

I don't. My desktop is adjacent to my bed, so I can write all day without getting vertical. Except for my male organ, which gets vertical often.

Sleeping and eating. And if I want to get aroused, I read one of my stories. They make a lasting impression.

My grandfather had an old wooden box of sex novels in his closet. I'd sneak in to read them on occasion. Okay, as often as possible. One had a man show up for a physical, get misidentified as the doctor, who subsequently had sex with a female patient. The sudden mistaken identity leading to consensual sex blew my mind! I devoured all of the books, bending the spines at the good parts so I could revisit them easily. In my heart, I knew someday I'd contribute to sexual literature.

My own stuff. And I have to say, it's pretty good. After writing and editing it, it still gives me an erection.

Yes. It was about a young man whose penis was all bent out of shape, and the misguided prescription from his physician to have sex to straighten it out. His mother starts out giving his hand jobs, fellow students and teachers contribute to the therapy, and finally so do the nurses and the doctor's own daughter. It's called Corkscrew. I might release it some day, especially if I get reader requests for it.

I mentally picture a male and female and ask, "What would cause them to have to take off their clothes?" Each unique answer is a story.