Lustful, Lewd & Late

Lustful, Lewd & Late

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


A fiction writer grew up with a family without being adopted and writes a new hot novel but cannot think of anything to replace his foul working title. He's in bed with his so-called step-sister and she satisfies his lust and solves his literary dilemma.


A fiction writer grew up with a family without being adopted and writes a new hot novel but cannot think of anything to replace his foul working title. He's in bed with his so-called step-sister and she satisfies his lust and solves his literary dilemma.


Submitted: May 03, 2017

A A A | A A A


Submitted: May 03, 2017




A hot-selling fiction author on both sides of the Atlantic is Nixon Rice, obviously not a pen name. 

The 33-year-old Nix. as his female lover of the moment would call him on the phone or pillow, is a sporty-looking Englishman who’s a nightmare for the media to locate because he has no phone and no-fixed address.

Nixon’s home is a converted flat-bottom narrow canal barge that can be anywhere on London’s 65-mile canal network. He sometimes ventures farther away, moving his home into the connecting hundreds of miles of the country’s inland waterways.


Chapter 1

The semi-recluse (and incidentally beardless) Nixon Rice, was currently up a creek off the Grand Union Canal near Rickmansworth in south-west Herefordshire, quite close to London.

After a light breakfast, he cycled a few miles to the clinic of his cousin, a dentist, for his annual check-up.

“Bubbles,” she  said (her nickname for him was based on his favourite breakfast cereal of rice bubbles when they were kids). “You look fit remarkably fit. You must be shagging copiously and risking going blind.”

“Thanks for your confidence in my manliness Viv (Vivian). While admittedly the occasional female latches on to me, my fitness comes from cycling and operating so many fucking self-operating locks.”

When he inspection commenced, he enquired after 30 seconds, “How are the teeth?”

“Mine are okay but yours are in need of a clean and polish to get my big tick.”

Such banter was usual between those two.

Nixon later got another bit tick by agreeing to stay that night with his cousin because conveniently her husband was away with their two pre-school kids visiting his parents. She’d told Nixon said she’d adore an over-due good ramming.

“How’s your mum?” Nixon asked just before Viv, with a winkle in her eyes above her face mask, asked him to open wide. That made him wonder if his cousin had lesbian friends.

Her parent’s association with him began seven years before her newly-married mother Jess became pregnant with her only child, to be called Victor if a boy or Violet or Vivian if female.

Nixon bonding with the family was quite usual.

Jess’s sister Lynette arrived at the home of the newly-weds to dump her baby on to Jess, pleading with her to look after the wee fellow who was four months old.

Lynette explained she was leaving her partner Earl, who ‘probably’ was Shadbolt’s father, but during the rowdy nights they had with groups of the occupants of their block of six student flats, it sometimes was difficult knowing who was fucking who and not all the males wore condoms.

She claimed she’d secured a fantastic opportunity to join the crew of a container ship to learn to be a ship’s cook while working peeling potatoes and scrubbing pots and pans. She emphasized she’d  be away only four months.

Lynette never returned and wrote to Jess twice in the first three months and on both occasions never mentioned how her baby son was progressing.

For the next thirteen years before Jess’s husband Tony and his father combined financially to send Nixon to boarding school, he’d been cared for and loved by his Aunt Jess.

Soon after the birth of Vivian, the 7-year-old proved that he could be trusted to hold baby Viv safely. He learned she was his ‘stepsister’ until eventually the time came when he asked Jess if Viv was his stepsister why did he call her Aunt Jess.

Jess told him the truth and he returned to boarding school rather pleased that he had a mysterious mother and that inspired him to fantasize a story about his mother’s life story and he wrote his thoughts down. He won an inter-schools competition for that story and more literary successes followed.

Those successes led Nixon into a career as a lazy but exciting author who refused to the normal relationship between a publishing house and its writers  and the stress of his unconventional behaviour as an instant success as a new author probably turned his editors prematurely grey.

*  *  *

After satisfying sex, Viv lit their second ‘joint’ and Nixon became sentimental. He acknowledged he owed a huge debt to her mum, his Aunt Jess who had been his legally appointed care-giver.

“Jess loved me, and still does. I can’t understand why she and your father never adopted me when it became clear that my birth mother had abandoned me?”

Viv squirmed and said she was supposed to never talk to Nixon about the complications of his past.

Nixon passed back the share cigarette stuffed with dried cannabis and Nixon drawled, “This seems the perfect time to tell me with immunity.”

Viv reached for the cigarette and inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling with almost closed eyes.

“Dad thought there would be fewer complications in future if they applied to adopt you, but mum said no and dad agreed with her after hearing her story. Mum’s best friend at high school had been adopted and told mum the worst thing that had happened to her since the death of her parents in a car crash was being adopted over her protests. She’d believe that in her heart and spirit she remained the daughter of her deceased parents but bent under pressure and had struggled on with the charade to keep her adoptive parents happy.”

“Great thinking,” Nixon said. “I now admire your mother even more.  Within the next few days I’ll courier them a couple of open tickets to fly to San Francisco and then join a cruise up to Alaska.”

“Wow, they’d love that.”

Nixon said the tickets would just arrive and with the message they were a gift from an admirer.

“They’ll guess it’s probably you.”

“So what but please do your best to keep them guessing.”

“You are a splendid guy Nix and I still love and remember that time when you were 10 that you told me you regarded me as your stepsister but I was to tell no one, that it was a secret confession just between you and me.”

“That’s the recipe Viv for the very best of secrets, non-divulgence. And you’ll always remain my secret stepsister.”

“Omigod,” cried Viv, rubbing him erect to start them off again.

They awoke near dawn.

“Where are you with your latest novel?”

“On the horns of dilemma, is the best way to describe it. It’s the name – I guess I tried more than a hundred scribbles to pin a title on the manuscript as I’m on to the final reading. It’s three months behind schedule, but so what; I mean who cares apart from the publisher? Never before have I dispatched a novel without my decisive title.”

“What’s your working title.”

“You won’t want to know.”


He grinned in the darkness and said, “Big Tits and Wide-open Cunt.”

“Oh, yuck!”

“Nix, I suggest you refocus your mind to fundamentals. If that working title was leaked to the public, many of your female fans would vomit and never again read anything you wrote. The worst possible thing an author can do to his career is to outrage his loyal readers by writing or publicly behaving repulsively, even if only for an inane moment.”

Nixon sniffed and said, “Yeah, good point. The problem developed when reaching for a suitable working title. I was totally frustrated because my mind floundered under my confusion about my tentative story line that seemed to spit out mixed messages and so I brutally typed out words that I privately thought the new novel was about.”

“Oh, really? Have you descended into writing sheer crap that’s too feeble to even mirror its own story line?”

“No. What? Oh fuck.”

There was silence, as if both of them had hit the wall in their thinking.

Finally, Nixon stuttered, “I-I believe it’s the most profound and sexiest s-story I’ve ever w-written.”

“Oh, really? You sound so convincing.”

After briefly reflecting on that insult, Nixon narrated an expanded first part story line:

The reader will soon find the name of the lead character Lillian White translates to ‘lily white’, growing up in a mansion on the hill, her father being a mega-rich head of  a network of several logistic companies.

The husband is addicted to indiscriminately having sex selectively with many of the females closest to him and sadly hasn’t had sex with his wife in years as an alternative to divorce and cruel reprisal after catching her nude in bed with the guy allowed into their home as her personal fitness trainer.

In turn, the mother takes it out on their only child Lillian because she’s doesn’t know if the father was her husband or their chauffeur. She can’t dare to submit the child to a paternity test, fearing her husband’s conclusion in being asked to agree to such a test would be the end of her privileged life and further, should such a test proceed, learning of an adverse result could easily destroy her sanity as well as her marriage.

Over time, the mother increases her influence to systematically raise the offspring of uncertain parentage to be the perfect child and to keep the daughter removed as far as practical from the evils of this world.

Lillian was tutored at home by retired teachers who underwent careful screening before winning the highly-paid positions and eventually Lillian received an online university education and participated in all required external studies by remote television on the pretext that she possessed a rare medical disorder that even Lillian believed she possessed.

Her assumed father was prepared to let this charade continue because his wife needed something substantial like this to ease her boredom arising from staying much of her time at home. Lillian gained her degree and was excused from attending the graduation ceremony although she watched it live with her mother on their private TV link.

It had been agreed by the adults, that Lillian should spend the next six months relaxing after the mental constraints of studying for so long in isolation. She had mingled throughout her life under close watch at home with some of the children of her parents’ friends and they believed that Lillian had such low immunity protection that even a cold virus could be fatal for her.

Two weeks after her graduation, Lillian was relaxing in the garden in the two hours before lunch. All permanent and casual staff were required to keep away from that area when she was there. However, a casual gardener pushed boundaries and Lillian saw him and went over and spoke to him. That continued for several days and perhaps with the 43-year old guy chatting her up it become inevitable that she willingly had sex with him, losing her virginity.

Understandably, when one of the maids looked out and reported to Lillian’s mother what was occurring on the lawn, her mother totally lost it. She took a knife from the kitchen and went after the guy. She rushed at the seducer screaming. Fortunately, the couple had been having clothed sex and the maintenance man was able to escape, fully clothed, to voluntarily cease his employment by climbing over the wall and disappearing.

The hysterical mother turned and plunge the knife into her daughter’s stomach and then rammed the knife into her own chest, dying probably thinking she’d killed her grossly protected daughter.

Lillian was recovering from a knife wound and blood loss in hospital when two of the family’s legal team arrived at the bedside and informed that her father never wanted to see her again, that the mansion was being sold and a large sum of money and investments were being transferred to Lillian, allowing her to enjoy an enriched life.

“Well that’s the setting,” the author said. Of course, in time the real fun starts, with Lillian learning about life in the raw. She learns to drive, dance, gains a taste for liquor and drugs and takes to sex with gusto. She pulls males into her arms, as many as three at the time, learns to do wonderful things with sexy women and runs he life as she desires. Her two rules in her new life are to never submit to anyone and to never be on time because why live with one eye on the clock after years of being controlled on how she lived.”

“Hmm,” Viv said, drooling slightly and reaching for Nixon’s cock.

“I agree, your story is one hell of a mix, two lives in one lifetime, but I guess the main story is Lillian’s rush to fill her heart and mind in experiencing her new life with all its twists, lushness and perils.”

“Yeah, spot on,” Nixon said sinking a dry finger into her.

Viv continued thoughtfully, My mother, your Aunt Jess, as a KS3 teacher (of children between the ages of 11 and 13) had a strong influence in our educational development, especially you, and pushed the once long respected fundamentals known as the three “R’s”  – reading, 'riting and 'rithmetic. You should use an alternative to that fundamental principle to compose a suitable working title.

“Nah, not now. Let’s fuck.”

“Wait, what about the two ‘L’s – lustful and lewd?”

Nixon paused his fingering.

“Yeah, not bad. There’s plenty of descriptive lustfulness and then lewdness in my manuscript to justify such a title.”

“Good, then we’re getting somewhere. Then I suggest add the word ‘Late’, thus making a title out of the three ‘L’s’, the insertion of that last word creating something of a mystery

Nixon laughed and said not bad, it would appear dynamic as a heading but where was the mystery?

“Don’t be a knucklehead all your life Bubbles. Although the insertion of ‘late’ is meant to refer to Lillian deciding to hell with arriving on time, thoughtful women reading that title would probably think this is a book about a woman being lustful and lewd and then late with her period.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, as Nixon jumped out of bed.

“I have to write down Lustful, Lewd and Late while it remains in my mind,” he chuckled. “Rub yourself wet before I rush back to fuck myself brainless.”

He rushed back into bed, grabbing her.

“You’re a treasure Viv. Just as well your parents finally decided to call you Vivian instead of Violet. A female called Violet wouldn’t have been much good at sex and have the flair to create such an um poignant book title as you’ve have. Are you sure you’re not a suppressed writer yourself? With you wicked ways of thinking you might be great at writing children’s books.

“You insulting arsehole. Get going and concentrate on what you really are good at doing.”


The End

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