Love To Die For: The Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West


Love To Die For: The Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West.  Look inside and buy now with a click!

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Love to Die For: Last of 27 THE INITIATION OF SU NU

Loins aching, lips a-tingle and mind ablaze, Su Nu set out from the cave. The Fang Shi had guided her by hills and open meadows, through forest and down valley, along a stream and behind a waterfall. He felt through the slippery entrance for materials to kindle fire, blew red embers to heat her body, opening her to his whispered stories of the Golden Lotus, the Jade Stalk, Bamboo Grove and Strumming Lute.

His hands molded to her shape as they lay on sheepskins, fire in their cheeks. She thought him a handsome man with his short black triple-forked beard and wild hair bound in the red band of a trance-healer, a Master of the Formula. Their kind had no lineage and roamed alone, falling in fits and healing the sick. Rumors ran of gatherings under the black moon, circles of fire and the calling of beasts. Mediator with Spirit, he held all in thrall with his shadowed eyes. A flick of his horsehair whisk could make people sleep and talk at the same time, walk on hot stones and feel no pain. Master of magic and fighting arts, demon-killing sword strapped to his back, he tarried in the forest. Villagers brought food and gifts to barter for healing and learning.

He told her of the days when the Fang Shi flourished, of the open teachings of the Lady, then of persecution by those who taught celibacy in defiance of the Goddess.

Now we hide and practice without drums, rattles, robes or other articles of our craft, wearing the headband far from the cities. Now you cannot tell a sage by his clothes. Hidden Masters, our influence waned. But now we come again, to penetrate the inner courts.

His soft voice aroused her, and the warmth of the fire her body. He laid a hand on her belly, the center of her being, the cinnabar field.  Our rites are secret, he said, because they are real. Her heart throbbed.

He moved his other hand to her breast. Give up the known and comfortable. His touch was hot through the cloth. To awaken, seek the hard. Her nipple rose to his palm. I will teach you the first step, the Solo Rite. Find others for Clouds and Rain, Three Treasures and Sacred Geometry, Five Flavors and beyond…

She whispered, Only you …

Drop attachment, exhaust desire. Then you shall sit in the Circle of High Degree, of Double-Masters of Yin and Yang. Talking, lightly tapping fingers on her chest to make the points, he rested his palm on her skin, for the fabric had slipped, in the wayward way of clothing.  On the cusp of womanhood and a-twitch with curiosity she found much of what he said hard to understand and some hard to believe, and did she care? She was lying in his cave, on sheepskins beside a fire, held by the man held in awe by her family and the whole village; and his hand was in her blouse.

Stories hide codes, but codes without practice are empty, Su Nu, he said, What use is knowing the five flavors, without blending them to make the five pleasures? Only the adept sees through the veil. Flames dancing in his eyes, the Master opened his pouch and showed her his fruit packed inside. Peeling back the skin he fed her in ritual fashion, inserting little by little. She savored the taste. Soon his hands slid from her face to her shoulders, speeding her heart as they slipped down to her fingers. He guided her to fan her arousal, then watched. She was tentative, embarrassed yet fascinated by his pleasure.

Now she waited for her first moon, to be taken by the Master, he who lay beside her now, breathing secrets in her ear.  To understand Life, he murmured, one must understand where Life begins, and where, most often, Life ends.


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

This is the final extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks.  You can buy them now with a click!

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Love To Die For 26 of 27 KIDNAPPED!

Ah Mee, kidnapped by professional cherry-pickers, was carried across country for days in an oxcart. She could have escaped. In the strange friendship that grew between captor and captive as they traveled by day, and deceived by her obvious pleasure in their sexual fun when they played by night, the kidnappers neglected bonds and blindfold. Her cherry was to be preserved so they did not intrude, but wanted to watch her at her Solo Rite.

Now, you are the Three Treasures, and I the empty space, she began. The men played along with some impatience as if humoring a child.

Ah Mee began her practice of Self-Love, slowly and gently, but they pleasured themselves to climax at thrashing speed. Mongs mighty fist hammered like a woodpecker at his surprisingly small red stalk as he lay with knees bent, giant legs spread and robe rucked up, big round face turned towards her and eyes fixed on what he could see between her teasing fingers.

Ming, less blatant, concealed his action inside the blue robe as he sat propped against a tree-trunk watching her jutting breasts. It aroused her to see his hand moving in shadow as she caught a glimpse of his Jade Stalk: bent in a sideways curve the shape of Mongs hunting bow. She wanted to see, to feel with her hands and to suck.

Come, Ah Ming, show me, she wheedled, lifting her hem. She straddled Mong, lowering herself on to him, not inside but riding his little rod, her slippery lips sliding back and forth along its ridge, hips at the gallop, squeezing her nipples and pushing them out at Ming, holding his eager gaze, beckoning him until he stood in front of her, astride over Mongs face, robe aloft. She took that tempting curve into her mouth, while his hands on her shoulders shook with ecstasy.

Her lascivious delight astonished herself as much as them. She lay back on Mongs great legs and bucked, fingers frantic on bud and breast. Their excitement intensified and she felt Mings lips sucking her and Poon joined in too, until she knew not which was part of who, as hot juice ran down her face and belly. She smeared it over her skin.

Poon rolled away to lie face down, buttocks bared to the sky, truncheon rubbing between hand and leg. He got a crick in his neck from trying to watch Ah Mee at the same time but his climax was instant when she obeyed his gasping order: Show me your butt! Kneeling on Mongs chest she turned and poked it out, holding her rear open until she heard his grunts of ecstasy. Men are so easily pleased, she thought….

She tried to take the three of them into her mouth at once. Two, yes, all they had to do was press against each other standing up or lying down. In all other positions their bodies got in the way.

Sometimes one or another had trouble getting hard, or climaxed too fast and lost interest for a time. She saw how they all rose stiff in the morning, yet lost it after urinating. She learned their tastes, their grunts and cries and shouts and roars, points of arousal and places to calm, whether they liked to see, to hear or to touch.

How did you know I was a virgin? she asked one day as the cart creaked its endless way. You might have captured anyone. How can you tell?

Its the way they move their body. Kind of not knowing what its for. And theres a look in the eyes, and how they talk,‘ said Poon.

Innocence. said Ming…


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short path and buy them now with a click!

Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love

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Love to Die For 25/27 RAIDERS OF THE KHAN – A Story by Jen

There are many legends of China long ago, of pirates in the eastern seas, bandits in western lands, desert nomads, raiding on horseback. My story is about Ah Su, like me, a virgin but, unlike me, without experience of men. Elder daughter of a noble house, she was betrothed to the younger son of her father’s vassal. They said he was handsome. Her father sent her with guards, gifts and treasures, across a stretch of desert to the lands of her future husband.

The Raiders of the Khan attacked her bridal caravan, storming through in a cloud of dust. The escort had no defense against the horned bows of that thundering herd. Terrified cries of her relatives and bodyguards drowned in the bandits’ whoops of triumph. They came in like a whirlwind and rode the same away, blood of the slain seeping into the sand, Ah Su slung across the neck of a galloping horse, hair undone and whipping in the wind.

They flew over barren hills to an encampment, a low tent floored with skins and hung with colored cloths woven by the women of the tribe in the long evenings of nomadic life. When her captor lifted Ah Su from his horse his gentleness surprised her. She stood by its sweating flank, her lovely yellow dress flecked in foam. He fondled the horse’s ears, pulled off the sheepskin saddlecloth, and slapped its rump. She remembered her silly girlish thought as it trotted away, ‘How will I get home now?’ but then he turned to her and she found herself looking into slitted eyes of startling violet, lips wide and red as the cloth binding his brow. And he smiled, showing teeth so white she wished they were hers.

She had never set eyes on the princeling to whom she was pledged so felt no disappointment at losing a lover, only dwindling regret that she would not be able to fulfil the contract between their families. These thoughts came later because in that moment she felt a thousand feelings new to her sheltered palace life. The very smell of him was overwhelming, horse sweat and manliness, the light of victory in his broad flat face, and pride! He had captured a duke’s daughter, and the riches of her wedding entourage.

He seized her round the waist and pulled her close, her breasts crushed against his wolf skin-clad chest. His skin was a light brown and those eyes tilted up at the corners made his face look ever cheerful. He was the son of a Khan who once raided far to the northwest and carried off a fair-haired blue-eyed girl from the land of snows. Ah Su knew her later, wondering what her own child would look like.

She was ready for love, thinking of her wedding night, preparing herself for an ordeal with a stranger. Temeluk was a stranger but there was something …different…they connected that night, body, mind and soul.

He sat at her feet, and sang to her in his tented chamber. She knew none of the words but all of the meaning. His voice melted her heart, and she opened to him like a rain-kissed flower. Watching his face in the flickering light of the sand-lamp and hearing his songs she felt her heart beat and body heat. She wanted to be naked, to touch his skin and stroke his spirit-hair and, even as she had that thought, he reached out …


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short path and buy them now with a click!

Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love

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Boozing at the China Fleet Club, hitting on the Sixth Fleet ashore for R&R with dollars to spend, friends to make, poker to play. The other off-duty function of soldiers on the tiles Harry preferred sober, finding a hooker down Lockhart in the early afternoon. Then with a clear head he could win a few bucks before getting wasted in Wanchai. Until he met his own Suzy Wong.

 Outside the China Fleet a Chinese guy in Marines singlet shoved a flier in his hand. Harry navigated through crowds on sidewalks, past bars and their smells of beer and perfume, doors spilling out or sucking in soldiers and sailors, pimps and prostitutes, vendors and thieves, to Hennessy Road. Here, between the Sailors & Soldiers Home and the Tavern Hotel, there blazed a sign, a neon picture, of black top hat, white gloves folded over silver-topped cane, and champagne glass complete with tiny gold bubbles.

He went in bearing the handbill’s purple rubberstamped promise of

‘ONE FREE DRINK on your second order, Compliments from Mama Lee,’

‘The Top Hat Bar Offers to Our Patrons The Tops in Everything – Business Hour: 10 A.M. to 2 A.M.’

And there she stood, lovely as Ziyi Zhang, copper-colored hair, richly patterned high-collar gold cheongsam setting off amber eyes, side slit to up to ivory thighs. And there stood Harry, not entirely sober, eels in his belly slithering. She pretended not to notice his staring until he wanted the free second drink. Taking his hand, she led past unnoticed other girls, to a booth. The jukebox was playing the Platters, Red Sails in the Sunset.

Harry was twenty-two, she claimed sixteen, looking younger.

‘What’s the age of consent in Hong Kong?’ he asked.

‘We learn to say Yes very young in Wanchai.’

But not, it turned out, to him. Jen was a cherry-girl, indentured to Mama Lee who awaited the best offer.  ‘You’re being sold?’

‘Just my cherry.’ The jaw tightened in her beautiful face. ‘No man can buy me. Not me!’

‘Just buy you drinks, right?’

‘Right!’ she laughed. He liked her voice, high and mellow.

‘Can I take you out?’

‘You have to pay Mama. You must pay to take me out.’

‘I know what’s what. But you have to say yes, don’t you?’

‘Did I say no? Did I?’

‘Is she your real Mama?’ Jen Lee, reminded him of something.

‘No. My mother ran away to Canton and left me with the missionaries. They tried to make me believe in Jesus. I would not. But I liked Mrs Entwhistle. She made me read Jane Austen. And the Bronte sisters. She did.’

‘And your Dad?’

‘I do not know. He was gweilo.’

She had such a sweet face, such merry eyes, she charmed everyone. And there was an inner toughness too, making her the top earner of all the young lovelies in the Top Hat, itself a bar several cuts above the rest. Harry was to be on the receiving end of one of those cuts.  Over the following weeks, much of his pay went to Mama Lee to buy Jen out for a few hours at a time, for what Harry hoped would be romantic trips to the Peak, Tiger Balm Gardens, here and there. They would find a bench under a tree, stare at mandarin ducks on a pond of ornamental fish, or find a secluded place to lie, her head pillowed on his arm. Harry would try to talk romance and she would turn away. ‘That is not for me. No. Not me.’

‘It’s just business between us then?’

She sat up, face flushed. ‘How can you say that! What you pay Mama Lee does not come to me. I could stay in the bar and make money from the Yankee sailors. I could. Maybe, Harry, I should!’

‘Jen, no! Jen, I’m so sorry.’ Then, ‘So why do you come out with me?’

‘Everyone needs money but sometimes I like to do things just because I like to do things. I feel comfortable with you, Harry. You are respectful, most times. I am enjoying to do things a normal girl does, things I would do if I were free. Look at me. Half Chinese, half foreigner. Half-caste,’ a tear spilled, ‘and although I believe my year is Rat, I do not know the day or hour of my birth. No Chinese man would marry me. I do not know my luck.’

‘Hey,’ he exclaimed. Harry followed the horoscopes in the Hong Kong Standard, ‘I’m a Dragon. Do we match?’

‘We do by year. But it is not so simple. Even without the cherry price,’ she gave a childish smile. ‘Rat is survivor. I know one day I will have money. I will.’

‘And Dragon? Dragons capture virgins and hoard gold.’

‘Every Chinese family wants a Dragon for a son-in-law…’

Hearing this, his heart started racing. Other Army guys married Chinese girls and took them back to Blighty.

‘…but I have no family. And I have to make my own life, Harry. My own life.’

‘And it has to be this life? Waiting for some rich fat fuck…’

‘I do not like these rude words.’

‘Sorry! Come on, Jen. You’ve had an education, you speak perfect English, surely there’s something else…’

‘There is! I am writing stories. I send them to Mr Run Run Shaw to make into movies. Soon I shall be rich, and have no worries, and do just what I like, every day. I will even pay the Army and take you out!’

‘And has Mr Run Run Shaw made any into movies?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Hundreds of people must send in stories. Every day.’

‘Then I will deliver them in person.’ Defiantly. ‘By hand!’

Careful, Harry, he thought. Don’t be the one to deflate her, despite day-mares of her defloration by Studio Security en route to the casting couch.

‘Hey, Jen, sure they’ll take them, just a matter of time. These guys must be always on the lookout for new stuff. I bet they have teams of readers going through everything that comes in. They’d be stupid not to.’

‘This is what I thought. Myself.’

‘Have you shown them to anyone else?’

‘Sometimes I read to the girls. Some things I write about I do not know. They help me.’

‘Makes sense.’ His cue to be more encouraging. ‘Can I read them?’

With a mischievous smile she pulled a pad from her purse and handed it to him. Harry opened it, to inked vertical lines of black Chinese characters on yellow paper.  ‘Ha, ha!’

Jen smiled. ‘Shall I read them to you? You can correct my English.’ Harry nodded, happy she wanted to share, falling in love. She read, looking up every so often to see what effect her story was having, or perhaps if he was paying attention. Then, turning her face to him. ‘Do you like my story, Harry? Did you?’

‘Wow! But how do you know…’  How did she know…what?

‘I am not the only girl in the bar, Harry. What do you think we women talk about?’

He had no idea.

‘Did it excite you?’

‘Er, yes, kind of.’

Her face fell. ‘But I want you to have pleasure.’

‘You mean you want to give me pleasure?’

‘I can do that for you. It would give me pleasure too,’ then, as he reached for her, ‘no, you must not touch me. I can touch you.’  She had done that before, in the bar, discreetly under the table, calibrated to the amount of money he was spending. In those days he still believed what he wanted to…


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short path and buy them now with a click!

Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love

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Love to Die For 23/27 HEARTBREAK HOTEL

After a few dates progressing from above to below, over to under, outside to inside, Jane and Harry arranged a riverside picnic to surrender her virginity. She liked things spontaneous so they pretended they weren’t going to do anything. They had done everything else, all the things Harry dreamed about in his little room at the farm, plus some he hadn’t.  They chose a spot by the Athi, the same river that bordered, some fifty miles upstream, the scene of his own surrender. Here in the outskirts of Nairobi it was a broad spread, far from the flat water and low banks favored by crocodile and hippo, running between giant boulders, with hidden places shaded by acacia, and big rock slabs warmed in the sun. 

 She was a passionate girl, quickly aroused. They found a place where the afternoon sun fell on a smooth flat rock, hidden by bigger rocks on the river side and trees on the bank. Harry spread a colored blanket on the stone and they lay facing each other. She stroked his face and told him she loved him.

‘I love you too, Jane.’ It was not the first time they said it but this time, consummation moments way, Harry felt it, deep in his heart. She was so, normal! Taking time, they undressed each other, each item coming off with another kiss, another declaration. And then, naked, they put their arms around each other. She held him tight.

‘I’m a bit scared, Harry.’

‘It’s OK, honey.’

‘It’s the first time for you too, isn’t it?’

Shit! This was absolutely not the moment for confession. But how could he lie, in that moment? ‘Would it matter if it wasn’t?’

She pulled away. ‘Harry, you haven’t! I wanted it to be the first time for both us.’ A tiny sob. ‘You should have said! Who was it?’

His loins were aching, aching, aching. But then, he thought, and then, he said, ‘So you only love me if I’ve never loved anyone else?’

‘No,’ she cried, ‘I love you for you. I just wanted us to …’

‘Jane,’ he stared straight into the blueness of her eyes and gave her the literal truth, ‘Jane, I’ve never loved anyone else, and I’ve never slept with anyone else. I love you, just you, and I promise you this is the first time for both of us.’ Which it was, for them together, and for her, individually.

Hot inside she was quick to climax, and they consummated their love there in the African wilderness.  They wrote each other little notes commemorating the event, she on lavender-scented pale violet , he on scratch pads or Clipper packs you could spread open. They did it thirteen times over their year together, not enough for Harry but he stayed faithful, as far as he could remember.

 It ended sadly, for Harry, on her family vacation at the coast near Mombasa. Jane met a professional diver and yielded to the glamour of a man with a dangerous profession and enormous truck. Harry, having hitched three hundred miles to surprise her, did that for sure, creeping up to the Christmas dinner on the beach and seeing her happy face lit up with candlelight and adoration for her new hero.  Imagine the silence falling on that long table as he appeared from the darkness, to stand and stare at the untold story, before disappearing like Banquo’s ghost, back into the dark, the smell of seaweed, to walk down the end of Lonely Street, to Heartbreak Hotel…

So Harry lost one virginity and took another, started with a quickie, on to a one-night stand, then the full girlfriend experience, complete with broken heart: all firsts. And learned that ‘on location’ doesn’t count, looks don’t always count, girls are unpredictable, and he should be a lot more discreet. And that sweetness ain’t always light.

But he had tasted the honey. Now the farmer’s boy was ready to play the field and scatter his good seed on the land.


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short path and buy them now with a click!

Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love

Posted in adult fiction, erotic adventures | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment


They went out into the darkness, Mia in the middle, and walked through Jeevanjee Gardens. Harry put his arm round her waist, found Ted’s already there. He pulled away. She took his hand, pulled him back. They walked close, every few steps her breast brushing Harry’s arm. By now he felt so hot if he didn’t make it with her he’d have to throttle the bishop. They reached an office building just off Delamere.  ‘Is this your Dad’s?’

‘Yeah.’ Ted opened the door, pulled them in. ‘Don’t turn any lights on.’ They could see enough by the streetlamps outside. ‘Armenian Imports’ read the sign. Ted led up carpeted steps to a big landing with three doors leading off. ‘That’s the main office where I work and the secretaries, that one’s my Dad’s, that’s the boardroom where they have meetings and stuff.’

‘Where’s the imports?’

‘Warehouse in the Industrial Area.’ Ted took a step towards the main office. Quickly, Harry pushed open the door to the boardroom, Mia’s hand in his. Massive long table, polished dark wood, black-upholstered chairs. Harry sees the bolt on the door, pulls her in, slams it shut, bolts it, and grabs her. Ted starts shouting, hammering from outside. Harry doesn’t care, nor does she.

Her mouth is all over his face. He pushes aside two of the chairs. They roll away. He leans her against the table. He doesn’t know how far she is going to let him go and he doesn’t ask. He takes off her glasses, puts them on a chair and cups her breast. She moans. She isn’t stopping him. He lifts the layers of petticoats with that beautiful rustle. She kisses him like it was the last kiss in this life. He smells the gin and orange on her breath, tastes it on her tongue, fumbles with her top, can’t figure how to open it, take it off, rip it apart, working himself up into clumsy panic.

‘Stop,’ she breathes and his heart thuds. Not now, please, not now, he thinks. She pushes him away until she has space. Eyes not leaving his for even a blink, she wriggles out of the top and puts her hands behind her. The bra opens and her breasts spring out. She unfastens the skirt, dropping it to a pool on the floor, steps out of the panties, and out of the pumps. The hammering stops. Muffled voice from the door. Then silence.

 Harry’s eyes feasted. He had not seen a body like hers. Creamy white skin, smooth as alabaster. He put his hands on her breasts. Warm. Firm. Nipples hard. Her body full, her neck so beautiful, dark hair adorning her shoulders. Moonlight flooded the boardroom. They faced each other. His mouth was dry, heart racing. Oh God, don’t let her be a CT: girls who’d lead a guy on almost to third base and then close down, ‘I’m saving myself for…’ Yeah, anyone’s guess. Just out of the bush, Harry hadn’t yet come across any of these cock-teasers yet. It wouldn’t be long, but not tonight.

Mia, moon goddess, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his belt, and then stood back as he took off boots, then jeans, his erection fully present. For the first time he felt the tantalizing tenderness of a woman’s hand as she stroked him there, from tip to scrotum. Ah, the difference between that and when he needed to get himself off just as fast as he could, fist like a jackhammer. Her palm was soft, her fingers light…


*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!

Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short cut and buy them now with a click!

Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love

Posted in adult fiction, erotic adventures | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment