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Invitation To Live
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-783-8
Genre: Science Fiction
eBook Length: 150 Pages
Published: October 2010

From inside the flap

Nick and Sheila Blackstock become lovers just prior to the detonation of a nuclear electromagnetic pulse bomb in outer space above North America. The high altitude detonation destroys every microchip in every electronic device and produces the complete meltdown of the entire electric grid, casting the population of the United States back to a time without electricity. Swiftly, Nick and Sheila, in the company of Ron Doris Steele, revert to a life resembling the primitive frontier days. Hardy men and women travel on horseback, defend themselves valiantly and effectively, and take up residence in caves. Steffen and Courtney Decker turn their cattle ranch into a fortified refuge from the predatory thieves that abound in a land in which government and law enforcement has ceased to function. Eventually the two families join forces in the fight for survival.

Invitation To Live (Excerpt)

Chapter One

Not much going on today, Sheila Robinson thinks to herself as she pushes the vacuum cleaner around the house. She has a fetish for doing housework naked - a preference that got her laid a lot when Lenny was living with her. If she wanted sex, all she had to do was put on the stilettos and work commando around the apartment. Seeing her naked could divert Lenny from the best basketball game ever played. She would intentionally work in the next room from where he lay sprawled in his recliner. Her performance was best done where only the occasional glimpse was afforded him.

The sight of a kinky naked woman pushing a vacuum in high heels would bring Lenny at a high lope. Just a passing glimpse would give him an instant throbbing erection that required her immediate attention. When he came to her for sex, he would be naked and clutching himself. After his initial presentation, Sheila would take over. What followed would be most of the ways there are for adults to misbehave.

The thought of her giving him the ultimate lover’s kiss would immediately place him at her mercy. Past cock-tending memories would make him ready for anything she wanted to do to him. Lenny Johnson’s idea of sex involved nothing more than fellatio. His instrument of full erotic arousal also included being restrained as a necessary feature. She preferred using standard police handcuffs.

Sheila was always willing to give him what he wanted, but for him to be properly flammable Mister Lenny Johnson required bondage. If she didn’t bring the cuffs, he would willingly go and find them for her. The mere sight of the cuffs would starch his cock to its maximum muscular thickness so quickly the event would frequently give him a headache.

If Sheila didn’t want to clean house naked, all she had to do was bring the handcuffs into a room and show them to him. The sight of the manacles would prepare Lenny for everything that was to follow.

Any form of restraint would guarantee her Lenny’s preferred form of sex in near record time. Sitting on his face would frequently turn into an hour-long lust-fest before she would allow him fulfillment. Her most favored form of tending him involved rationing herself to him.

Sometimes summoning the sperm factory would find her kneeling in a room and calling his name. Either clothed or unclothed, all she had to do was show him either the thigh/wrist restraints or the cuffs to get what she wanted. Finding her kneeling anywhere in the house would turn his cock to spring-steel density in a heartbeat.

He loved for her to talk to his cock between slithering applications of her tongue stud. Licking his stones required mercy, if she expected him to last very long. Without mercy, Lenny Johnson would lose control and come almost immediately.

On this day, the memories of lust with the long departed Lenny Johnson crowded her mind. Sheila has decided to sit naked at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee while reading the morning paper. Later she will have to head out on assignment to cover more of the idiotic political scene in the city. In a week, the elections will require her to fly somewhere to cover more of the national pre-election crap. Sheila hates politics almost as much as she hates politicians.

With reading the morning paper foremost on her mind, she heads for the apartment door leading into the hallway. Every morning she customarily leans outside unnoticed to retrieve the paper. No need to fetch a robe - she just extends an arm without anyone’s noticing.

She cracks the door and has a look. The damned newspaper is further along the baseboard than usual. She sticks her head out to have a look around. Nobody is anywhere in sight. It’s about an hour before people begin leaving for work.

The next time she tries the retrieval, she puts more of herself outside than she originally thought would be necessary. The paper remains just out of reach. She can touch the end of the roll, but not enough to grab the thing.

Dammit, this is not working out the way I had hoped it would.

She stretches a little further without success. In fact, her extended fingers push the local news rag another half-inch further away from her. She takes another look along the corridor. Still nobody. Sheila leans more dramatically out through the gap in the door this time. In her new position, she would be fully revealed, with the exception of her left foot. Her elongated position would make her visible to any voyeur who happens to enter the hallway.

She considers for an instant what she looks like in her bunny rabbit slippers, with sun-stroked golden hair and eyes the color of glacier ice. Her appearance speaks of wooden shoes, dikes, and windmills in a far land. She has been told before that she radiates animalistic sexual heat even when she is fully clothed. One man she dated claimed she looked like a bedroom, no matter how she dressed.

She studies the newspaper problem through the door opening again before moving a little further out. She finally does a dramatic stretch that would have made her yoga instructor proud. As her palm encounters the end of the roll, the door nudges her slipper-shod foot aside. The door closes with a latching sound that has a finality to it that she is not likely ever to forget. She turns like a cornered rat to clutch at the thoroughly locked doorknob.

At first, there is a quiet astonishment before full panic sets in. The entire time she fights with the door, she whimpers over her latest lot in life while jerking frantically on the knob.

Sheila now stands cloaked only in overpowering personal terror. She glances feverishly both ways along the hallway. The only way back inside the apartment is either to call the Super to come let her in, or as a last resort, ride the elevator down three floors where she will have to walk boldly to the front desk to beg assistance.

Of course the elevator will shortly be fully stocked with people on their way to work. Riding the system with other individuals while traveling naked would be an edifying experience. She again rattles the door with no hope of access. At the moment, hopelessness has yet to fully establish its atmospheric foothold. Her first thought is that there’s no way she is going to willingly make the dramatically embarrassing trip to the front desk naked. Doing that would create the most disconcerted tale of a lifetime. It would be recorded in all the local diaries as the day when the dumb blonde reporter locked her nude self out of her apartment.

If anyone were to come along with a camera, she would most likely make the local five o’clock news. While she considers her situation with more than a glimmer of self-awareness, she jerks again on the offending doorknob. By now she is displaying wide-eyed terror. In a flash she mentally turns into a trapped rat frantically trying to return to her burrow. Almost as though it’s been scripted, she hears the door behind her unlatch. Sheila turns just her head in time to see Nick Blackstock step out of his apartment. He’s obviously on his way to work.

Nick is probably of Italian descent with a shock of black hair and the build of a weight-lifting aficionado. Sheila has watched him at the apartment complex pool, making Olympic quality dives from the high board. The man is built like a Greek god. He wears a narrow white Speedo when he dives. Every time she’s seen him at the pool, she has wanted to grab his crotch and lead him to her apartment as though he is a trailer attached to a hitch.

She’s never even heard his voice, but no matter. She lusts for him the way a junky lusts for his next fix.

While Nick did those rolling, twisting, heart throbbing dives, desire filled her as though a rose was suddenly turning from a bud to a full blossom within her pelvis.

The first time she saw him dive, she wanted him in her before he ever struck water. A man built like Nick is more than inspirational. His narrow white swimsuit is not much larger than a swimmer’s jock. At the moment, all she can think of is him dressed that way as she turns to face her fate.

She stands frozen in place as they stare at each other. He puts forth a hand as he announces, "Hi, I’m Nick Blackstock. I don’t believe I’ve met you."

"Not now, you idiot!" she wails in panic. "Get me out of the hall before someone sees me!"

His eyes crawl over her body with more than incidental interest. She has a distinct feeling that she’s about to hand out a free ass pass to her orgasm mine in order to get out of the hall. She makes no effort to screen her nakedness from him. There’s no arm across her breasts, no hand cupping her hairless mons. Her Brazilian muff cut is gloriously on display. The aesthetician had worked on her yesterday, so the wax job is as fresh as possible.

She stands momentarily with her arms behind her where her hands still clutch the knob. She suddenly turns again to grapple in vain with the door. It’s entirely obvious to him that she’s been walking around naked inside her apartment. Very soon, it’s going to be apparent to anyone walking past that she relishes nudity. At the moment, reading the morning paper is the furthest thing from her mind. Sheila is currently an individual at odds with her shattered early morning dream.

She decides that Nick is probably the same as Lenny. By now, his cock has assumed the rigidity of a concrete reinforcing rod. His package seems to have grown alarmingly in the last three seconds. She imagines his sex engine pulsing vigorously as it slides into her cunnie.

It’s apparent that he’s not wearing boxers, or his dick would be plainly visible along one thigh or the other. Sheila has read that men have a bovine urge to mate every seven minutes of their lives. Her total research into this subject has been an article she read in a woman’s magazine at the beauty parlor. She figures that her nakedness has urged Nick’s man-toy into its next seven-minute cycle.

She gives up on the apartment door and turns her entire attitude toward being free of exposure in the hallway. Her next thought involves all the delicious friction to be had with Nick on a horizontal surface in his apartment.

She looks at his exceptional thighs. His build suggests that he maybe hung like a stallion. Won’t that be a wonderful change of pace? The thought suddenly occurs that she had tired of Lenny’s breakfast-link-sized cock even before their final spat. Something too big for her to cover would be a delightful change.

After the last thought, the locked door turns her into a throbbing engine of panic. She looks at Nick Blackstock and turns so hot she’s a threat to every doorknob. Her immediate predicament is how to get out of sight within Nick’s apartment. She suddenly decides that begging is in order. Her survival wheels are turning as she considers what awaits her in the hall as opposed to what will be possible beyond Nick’s closed door. Unless he takes pity on her, she’ll very soon become the joke of the apartment complex. There’s no way she’ll live long enough to outlive the humiliation of being a proven dumb blonde.

Sheila is becoming more desperate by the second. The hall is quite long, with many adjoining apartment doors. In the distance, she perceives people moving along the hall on their way to work. Luckily the nearest elevator for those people is in the direction away from where she and Nick are standing. Her luck will shortly run out when someone in the opposite direction decides to head for the elevator.

As nearly as she knows, everybody living near her apartment is a man. In fact, she doesn’t know any women living in the entire complex. The major renters here are apparently single men. Couples with children are discouraged.

There had originally been a moment during her initial distressing discovery when she would not give up attacking the locked door. Her panic was so intense that she must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. She knows that her current ensemble looks so good to Nick that he surely craves immediate carnal initiatives with her.

She glares at him with what she considers to be the provocative stare of an issued challenge. This is the moment when sexual intrigue will overwhelm his mind, and she’ll become his captive golden sexual treasure.

To hell with every newspaper ever printed. Ordinarily she’d have a diversion for this situation. If Lenny were here right now, she wouldn’t be looking for a newspaper. Instead he’d be strapped to their bed with all of his limbs spread wide. He would be anticipating his morning cock sucking. His eyes would be open wide while he eagerly awaits what is about to happen to him. It would be the same thing that’s happened countless mornings before. She wouldn’t have wanted to read the newspaper at all. Instead, her attention would have been riveted on her rapidly arriving session of sexual entertainment.

Nick and Sheila are situated about eight feet apart while he looks her up and down without comment. Sheila quickly wonders how offering her normally forbidden fruit would work. Probably better than anything else. Most men will do just about anything for a pussy session involving a woman who looks as good as Sheila does.

While she remembers how he looks in his Speedo, she imagines that he will probably look better naked than dressed. Few men are that way. She’s betting that Nick Blackstock is one of the lucky ones. No time like the present to find out.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks. She figures his seeing her naked has raised his sexual expectations several notches.

"Immensely," he responds, "but I require more dedicated study before my expectations will be entirely fulfilled."

"What sort of study?" she asks as she begins to lure him further into her web than he knows.

He grins before answering, "The sort that involves compensation for sanctuary within my apartment. You can either wait here the way you are until the Super arrives to unlock your door, or you can entertain my desires within my apartment."

"What sort of compensation?" she manages in a fake whimper.

"The sort I imagined the first time I saw you in your dental floss bikini at the pool," he growls.

"And what were your expectations when you saw me?" she offers.

"I wanted you on your knees paying homage to my cock, before I entertained your lovely treasure."

Further along the hall a door opens and closes. The sound startles Sheila into making a snap judgment when Nick asks, "What’s it worth to hide out at my place with me for the morning? What are you willing to pay me if I solve your dilemma by taking you in out of the hallway?"

"So it’s going to be like that?" she hisses between clenched teeth. "Then it’s probably worth anything to keep from riding down in the elevator dressed like this to beg assistance from the front desk."

"Anything?" he queries.

"You bastard," she wails before again saying, "anything."

Another door opens and closes further along the corridor. The sound gives her a fresh flash of panic. The last thing she wants is for another man to come by and admire her naked figure.

"Time’s running out," he mutters. "What’ll it be, public humiliation or sexual congress in my pad?"

"You are an insufferable asshole to take advantage of me this way," Sheila wails.

While they dicker for command of the situation, a nearby door to the east opens and a man steps into the corridor. He heads away from them toward the nearest stairwell. When Sheila hesitates, Nick offers, "It’s time for me to leave for work, unless you desire sanctuary behind my door. Or perhaps you’d rather stand out here and greet your neighbors as they stroll past on their way to becoming captains of industry for the day?"

"Damn it, please let me in before I create a public disturbance," Sheila caws.

"You already have," he chuckles, "or don’t I count?"

She looks at his face where his flirt muscles are working overtime. They match slow smiles as the situation amps into a more dedicated involvement. Before he says anything else she offers, "I’m twenty-three."

"I’m twenty-five," he mutters. "You don’t look a day over eighteen."

"Thank you," she responds, "I can use flattery right now. Do you really have to go to work?" she asks with hope clouding her voice. "I really need a place to hide out for a while."

"I’m self-employed," he counters. "My apprentice will open for me."

"Thank God," she whimpers as she moves to snuggle against him inside his jacket. Having him pressed against the front of her makes her feel less vulnerable.

"There is something you should concentrate on right now, sugar lump," he offers. "Concentrate on the significance of the word, anything. That single word is now guiding your present set of circumstances. Did you really mean anything, or were you jivin’ me so you wouldn’t have to meet your neighbors in your current state of undress?"

"You cocksucker," she murmurs.

"No, my dear, that is about to become your featured presentation of the morning."

"No dammit, anything but that," she sobs as her emotions finally gain control of her.

"Why, my lovely?" he whispers as he kisses her forehead in a fatherly fashion, "do you fear performing oral sex?"

"No," she wails, "I love giving fellatio. It’s just that if I give you what we both want, I’ll have no place to hide afterward. I’ll be stuck. There’ll be no evading my addiction. You’ll be just across the hall from me."

"Yes, I will," he admits with a grin. "Isn’t fate lovely? Now that you’ve named your poison, you can come spend the morning gratifying me while I suffer through the effects of your lovely compulsion."

"Oh, fuck," she wails. "You have no idea what a powder keg of latent sexual addiction you’re about to unleash on your head. For God’s sake, let me in now."

He opens the door with a flourish as he ushers in his confessed submissive neighbor. What has happened so far is the hottest foreplay session either of them has ever experienced. No man she’s had sex with ever looked as good as Nick. No woman Nick has seduced has looked as lovely as Sheila.

The diver could break any man in half that she’d ever laid with. If his cock looks anything like the rest of him, she’ll be knocking on his door at all hours of the day and night. With her luck, he’ll have the biggest dong this side of Washington’s monument. If he does, then she’ll be subject to all its intended applications. In a flurry of divine madness, she wonders, Why, oh why, didn’t I put on a robe before trying to retrieve the morning paper? If she had done that, then she’d be in charge of their seduction.

And now, lovely Sheila, she thinks, it looks as if you’re about to become the slut you’ve always wanted to be. Nick Blackstock has you at his mercy. He looks so strong, so fit! Every day is going to be a sexathon until you’ve worn him out. Before that happens, hopefully you’ll have created a goat trail in the hall carpet from your door to his. The carpet will tell the story of what you’ve been doing. Everyone will know you’re fucking him.

You’re about to receive willingly what you’ve been craving since Lenny departed. The way this is working out, a full morning sexathon is near-at-hand. She wonders how long she can use him before he has to crawl away to work.

"Are you ready for a nice, long, soothing session of fellatio?" Nick asks in a sexually superior tone she finds challenging.

Sheila hears herself whimper, "Yes."

"Do we have a deal for certain?" Nick asks. "Providing, of course, that I grant you sanctuary the way you want?"

Further along the hall another door latch opens. Sheila mutters another muted, "Yes," out of desperation. "I’ll give you anything you want! Just hide me for a while."

He starts to let her through the door, but stops abruptly as he probes once more, "Say you want to suck my cock, so I know you’re willing."

"I promise to suck you off," Sheila offers in a low, husky, smoldering voice.

Now that she’s made the promise, she turns so hot she knows that he could use her as a branding iron. She’s not only avid to provide him sexual service, she can’t wait to get started. She wants him to put her on her knees just inside his door. From that position she will convert him into her immediate shameless sex partner.

"How long before you have to limp across the hall in my bathrobe so you can dress for work?" he asks, as his lips nibble her left earlobe.

"You are an absolute prick to take advantage of me this way," she wails.

She notices that her voice has changed. She’s no longer as distressed by her current situation as she had implied. Can it be that the latent-fellatrix gene in her lineage has suddenly been allowed to scurry forth?

Perhaps he’ll want to bury himself to the hilt in her pussy. A good fucking will be acceptable as long as she can perform later in her much-desired killer fashion. She knows that women who look the way she does won’t usually kiss a cock, much less suck one to conclusion. Perhaps remedial training for all those other women is in order.

Poor Nick is about to discover how it feels when his partner won’t stop after he’s finished dropping his load. When that happens, his male appendage will be so sensitive he can’t stand to have it touched, much less sucked. At that moment he will suffer a reversal of need.

Why beat around the bush? Sheila asks herself. The tall, good-looking bastard is undoubtedly a sex glutton. Men who look as good as he does are never unattached. They always have at least one bimbo riding close herd on their sex life. Sheila has always wondered if she could make a man forget another woman.

Nick’s lust-filled eyes are now crawling over her, turning her incendiary. Mornings like this make her wonder why she sent Lenny packing. Poor man, if he were here now, she’d be preparing to worship his cock instead of Nick’s.

"Are you a submissive, cute Lady Sheila?" Nick wonders aloud.

"More than you can imagine," she answers in a low informative voice. It’s as though the two of them have established a two-person conspiracy to subjugate the world’s sex life.

The sound of her admission installs an image in the soft folds of his brain. The image is of fellatio followed by impact fucking. While they settle the terms of their verbal contract, she leans back against his door to cuddle in the protective shelter of his sports coat. His arms go around her to hold her pressed against him. She feels his package through his jeans where it presses urgently against her left thigh. Everything about this morning has turned into a high-risk adventure.

Her firm, cross-eyed fantasy breasts turn into lust demons where they lie pressed against him. Her rack is crowded onto her chest with a narrow crease between them. The crease is another slice of heaven, sent to earth to satisfy a lover. She also loves tit fucking.

Her slim hips offer the thought that when he enters her cunt, the head of his cock will emerge from between her buttocks. She looks too dainty to accept vaginal penetration by even the smallest dick. Everything about the way Sheila looks causes violent palpitations below Nick’s belt. Her appearance supports the thought that her own ecstasy will lead to her physical injury. She looks as though inserting a cock into her will cripple her for life. With such narrow hips, how can it be otherwise?"

She knows he can’t imagine her kneeling in a posture of submission while she attempts to swallow his endowment. At thirty-two, she’s still sultry but a long way from innocent. When she has turned him into her own private sex slave, there’ll be no rules or standards, only the single requirement for faithfulness. She will allow anything he wants without the slightest blush, but he must use no other woman but her.

The wonder of how far she’ll go with him has obviously filled his mind. Little does he suspect that she is fulfilling her own sexual hunger that is in excess of his. If she can hook him on what she’s prepared to do for him, he’ll be knocking her door down every day begging for repeat performances.

Fortunately, she’s willing to do things not socially sanctioned by most women, but only if he will become her very private sexual plaything. Sheila has shameless ways she will use to spoil him for other women. She will become the standard by which he’ll gauge every future playmate by for the rest of his life. The poor doomed soul has no idea that his days of prowling for pussy are about to end.

Sheila has been told by other men that everything about her screams of sexual fulfillment. That trait is especially true after she’s shown them her tongue stud. Even without the stud, her looks remind men of sexual union. She looks as though much is going on beneath the surface. To Nick she represents a counterclockwise tongue swirl.

Sheila knows that what lies ahead for her on this day will involve kneeling on the carpet just inside Apartment 305. After she has performed there, then she suspects that she’ll be the one screaming from atop most of the horizontal surfaces in his suite.

"I hope you chose to remember this conversation from here on," he mutters as they pass through the door. She slips through first with the grace of a gazelle, and then turns to face him. She drops to the carpeted floor in the posture of kneeling submission. Nick closes the door behind them.

He bends down to kiss her before he murmurs, "I love seeing you there, lollipop. You look the way I always imagined you would. Dear God, you are lovely."

Earlier this morning she had considered giving herself a ride on her newly purchased giant dildo. The pussy tamer came complete with veins, muscle lines, and a head big enough to stimulate her G-spot. She had imagined how much she was going to love suctioning the massive dong to a granite counter top before doing the splits down onto the head. She imagined it to be a perfect size for her: six inches long and two inches thick. It would pack her so full of cock she would most likely come during entry. Multi-hip strokes would produce another orgasm about every five minutes thereafter.

Taming her own urges usually took a long time because Lenny had always given her cunnilingus first before fucking her. When he was no longer available, she hooked herself on the pleasures of self-inflicted genital contact. Now that she has hooked Nick, she is prepared to be strenuously involved every time he’s around. She plans on giving her toys a rest.

Sheila has decided that she is as near nymphomania as it is possible for a woman to be and still act normal. She needs a man in long, well-managed sessions involving outrageous behavior. Having a man to subdue, ups the fun factor. Now it appears that being aggressive while being naked in the hallway has favored the fortunate.

Being naked in the hallway was at first terrifying until big Nick rescued her body from the outside world. In a few minutes, he may decide he made a mistake when he took advantage of a maiden in distress. Luckily, she’s no longer a maiden because she suspects big Nick is transporting a cock the size of Florida.

She knows he’s packin’ rigid heat because his very noticeable package has filled out more than when she first observed it beyond his door. An hour of sexual festivities should cure his obvious problem. After she’s tended to his urgent care requirement, then he can hurry away to work.

Unless she absolutely destroys him this first time, she can anticipate a return performance this evening. Later when he has taken the time to consider what happened to him just inside his apartment, he’ll turn randy again. The final misfortune would be for Sheila to have to sleep with a man who has no staying power.

While kneeling she rubs his bulge through his jeans until she decides it’s time to see what he’s packin’. She draws down his zipper as her mind journeys into her most subjective area.