I want fuckery; see that naked ass
Moving up and down, left, right, mine tonight
Bounce it, bite it, slap and tickle all night.
You and me are free as can be, loving
Kisses, lips as sweet as candy would be.
Your breast out; my desire fire hunger
Need to taste the sweet flesh; nipples sucking
Bucking bodies beneath me with you here
Bed squeaks, box springs screaming in surrender
Matching screams from your staccato rhythm.
I want you, to fuck you, 'til we give up this fight.
Could one kiss get you in bed with a stranger? Not likely right? Maybe … Take a peek at Just One Kiss.
I suggest reading the above article on Kenneth Whyte’s views on what AI will do to the publishing industry in the future. While I don’t agree with everything the article says I do think it brings up some good points. AI will definitely have some effect on publishing as a whole and independent and self publishing for sure.
I’m a self published author, as you probably know. There are tricks to the trade as with everything. One of the tricks of self publishing is to have a catalogue. Having just one book makes it hard to get noticed and having more than one book makes it easier to use one to make money off the others. One of the things mentioned in the article is the idea of authors using AI to write more books even using the author’s “tone”. One of the criticisms and an accurate one I believe, is that much of the writing of AI is sterile and lacks depth or oomph or what some would call soul. The article’s writer puts it as creating books that are just “good enough”.
A point made in the article is that with more mediocre books it makes it harder for publishers to afford good books, especially those that would require more of a risk. An example he uses is newspapers. How with the explosion of Internet news, people stopped reading the papers as much and thus many have disappeared. I agree with this for the most part. It’s a situation of finding the needle in a haystack. With so many books of meh quality out there finding a real gem becomes more and more of a slog.
This kinda explains the boom of Book-Tok. With the abundance of choice the role of curator becomes more important and useful. The problem with curators though, is gate keeping and finding a curator that matches your taste. This is an inherent problem with any curation so it’s not like it’s new or pertinent to just publishing because of AI. But it will be a thing that plays itself out, if AI causes an even bigger explosion in published books. And who does the gatekeeping can be problematic especially for marginalized writers and communities of both marginalized writers and readers.
The problem of finding something good that fits your taste and putting something good in front of the people who enjoy that taste just gets harder with more choice especially when a lot of those choices are things you wouldn’t want. Of course one of the “cures” for that will be more AI. Have the AI choose the reading material for you based off of your reading choices of AI material. Yeah, definitely problematic. It’s not like finding that perfect book has ever been easy but now it won’t be nearly as to stumble across it because everything will be sent to you based on what you’ve already wanted when often what you really want is something you didn’t know you wanted.
With AI creating just good enough work, throwing together a book becomes much simpler and faster. Throw it up on the Internet and see what comes in. Publishers aren’t going to buy those because paying you to create a middling book with AI isn’t going to make them money, and publishing is a business don’t forget that. The only problem with that is that for many authors the books they write aren’t blockbusters. They pour their heart and souls into the books but it’s not going to appeal to everyone or even get seen by that many to appeal to. So despite that human element they may match the draw and profit earning of a meh AI written book. As a publisher you may have taken a chance before on the human author in the hopes that they hit a decent niche or they may develop a good selling book maybe with their next book or third, whatever. It was an investment. Now those investments are harder to pay out and therefore riskier. You aren’t going to take as many risks. This is bad for authors as now its harder not only to get seen but to get anyone to even put you out there to be seen. And if you self publish you’re fighting to be seen in the sea of books and you’re fighting on your own without the reputation of a publisher behind you. And you also have to get through the gatekeepers who can be problematic as well.
I think AI will make it’s way more and more into publishing as a whole yet I hope it won’t take it over completely. I don’t think it will. Will it bring down the level of published works and publishing in general? Possibly. Some would say the Internet did that. And there could be an argument made for that case. However, the diversity of visible work has increased. And the top works are still top level. Art in publishing has not disappeared, nor has literary merit suffered catastrophically. So AI is not necessarily the computer generated death knell that some have made it out to be. However, there is a reason for diligence and to be on alert. Artificial Intelligence when used for published works is to be used as a tool. A crutch for some but for others more of an exoskeleton used to enhance their own power to create with more ease and freedom. For it is not often the tool but the hand behind it that determines the outcome. Behind that hand is intent, talent, knowledge to use and wisdom for when to use. This creative soup is then expressed through the use of a tool or tools. So what soup will AI allow us to create? Poisoned toadstool borscht or nourishing chicken noodle AI.
Have you signed up for my newsletter? Go ahead and do it now. HereDon’t miss anything new that comes up on The AuthorStew webpage.
or
Follow the page. You are going to follow me? Right? :^)
Pussy willow weep for me Let your leaves drip sweet dew Wet my head as I rest under your limbs
Lush pussy shade me From the burning heat That causes sweat to cover My exposed skin You bring sweet relief
My hands run across your petal leafs My cheek rest on the moss That climbs your trunk from the delta below I inhale the familiar scent of the pussy willow Causing my heart to leap
Hot heat from his hands as he holds me
Tight against his hard chest
Strong hands keep me Still in his embrace
Gentle lips against mine Rough
Full lips press against his Begging forced
Entrance of my tongue
Moans of Passion mark our coming together
Too long apart from his strong arms
Too long Inside his warm heart
Lies my heartbeat, Syncopated with his
I rest my hand Large in his grasp
Together hand in hand
Holding together our Love long lasting
Hand and hand, heart to heart, man to Man
I need him in a way Desperate to know intimate
And untamed born upon our bodies inflicted in
Our desire for one Another each for the other
Knowing no other can satisfy
Too many queens with my King Dom masterfully spark
Fire when his hand strikes Play things are not as they seem
Masked servants are only a temporary pleasure
We both know Sown in discord experimentation
That I lay only in his arms and his hand only in mine
Take me again
Forgiven again for sins shared
Heat cooled by watery
Tears fall on steamy stalks
Crossed and buried
Mutual pleasure satisfied
Coming across our lips
Sappy sighs sing I love my man
My man loves his man
Heated, hot and strong.
Just One Kiss is a short story of one woman’s encounter at the bar with a guy who’s opening line is that he can get her in bed with just one kiss.
Creepy right? Laughable. But … Only $1 ! Enjoy this short, hot, fun read. Find it at your favorite book seller books2read.com/u/3GrGza
Image by João Braun from Pixabay Edited by Author Stew C. Stuart Lewis
Hot flesh wet by my tongue
Taste of fire burns my senses
Drunk on lust, you my bottle and glass
My lips long for more
I hold you open with hands
Words to encourage, threaten and excite
I drag my tongue along your valley again
Bring forth the rain, let the river overflow
Wash my tongue in your desire
Drown me in your wetness
Fornication’s Fire is a collection of 30 erotic poems that feature thoughts and actions dealing with fornication. An act of passion, desire, duty, resignation? All aspects of sexual intercourse are looked at in this hot collection of poems. Click the link to see it on Amazon and Amazon KU https://books2read.com/u/47QgLL
February is Black History Month here in Canada and the United States.
Langston Hughes is one of my favorite American Black authors and poets. He is most known for his poetry but he also wrote a series of short stories known as the Simple Stories based on the main character Simple.
These are fantastic stories of the time and humorous but also show the struggle and hardship of the segregated, and hard pressed situation of Black folk at the time.
My new book is out! After All is Said . . . is a poetry collection with a theme of what happens after sex. after the relationship, after a night of passion, after you’ve given your heart. What comes next? Well read these 30 poems and see.
Fuck my life.
No seriously, fuck it. Fuck it hard. Hard enough to take away the responsibilities, the messed up dreams, the missed opportunities. Fuck it deep. Make me think, take me deeper, shine a light in the dark corners of my mind.
Fuck my life.
Take your dick and shove it in my hole. The hole left by loved ones lost, by those who I loved but never loved me back. Fill my hole. That’s left in my heart. The hole in my head. The one that leaks dread and despair, that lets the demons free on a day pass.
Fuck me and bring me to life.
Don’t like my life? Don’t live it. Consider me dead inside to all your manipulations, your twisted situations, your friends you use only for your benefit. I’m resurrected. Dead to my feelings for you. Dead to your lies and alibis. I’ve been fucked too hard, too deep, too long to lay dead anymore. I’ve fucking been fucked to life and I’m living.
So fuck you.
Upon a sleigh bed in wintry north I came to rest. With elves all in their beds and the jolly old man away. On the naughty list I stay because I can not stay away from her curves and sweet delights. I make my trek once each year. And at her door I do appear. Dressed in my merry best though soon I will undress.
She welcomes me into her bed warm and cozy, past the workshop and presents stacked. No toys tonight will she be needing for upon jollies I’ll be feeding. Joined under mistletoe, our lips will meet and juices flow. Her cheeks red with rosy glow, hair silver like tinsel.
She beckons me with her finger as she lays upon the bed like a sleigh. She reaches for my zipper, to unwrap the package I came to give.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Is this for me?
Hard wood to put beneath her festive tree. Her breast bared, her body my festive feast. I go to dive right in but her fingers she puts beneath my chin.
Slow down Lover, we have all night. Santa won’t be back until morning light.
Our lips meet and tongues collide, my hands travel down her sides, plump and round with much delight. I plan to enjoy throughout the night this round mistress of merriment. Her breasts, round and full, they shake like bowls of jelly, topped with sugar plums nipples, dancing before my eyes. I plan to fill my stocking and her with care for in the morning Mr. Nicholas would be there.
I set to my task with relish and joy, for there was nothing the matter. Make a mess of her, any inhibitions she did shatter. There was no option she would not consider, it was our pleasure to unpack. In a bed shaped like a sleigh aka our sexy sleigh sack.
Between her legs I did feast. Raised hips she did thrust. With every swipe of my tongue to meet. Like the wise men from the east, I followed her hidden star. Mutual desire and trust we shared. Every moan a call through the foggy night guiding me with her shining light.
“Give me your pretty package lover of mine! On this night before day divine!”
I kneeled with my cock at attention, my package wrapped. To dip into this wet winterland, to deliver satisfaction. Over the hills and into valleys her jingle bells I’ll rock. Taking her thick thighs in hand, I send my package inside her. On Dasher, on Dancer, on her face and her tits. It will be a white Christmas once I pull out of her split.
Spread far and wide, let me guide you on this sleigh ride into ecstasy. No silent night for screams will fill the air. Of pleasure and delight Can you hear what I hear? Oh God, Oh God, calling to angels on high. As her orgasm comes nigh. Here cums Mrs. Claus. Here cums Mrs. Claus. Cumming on my thick candy cane.
Faster and faster over her hills of snow. Down her chimney quick, quick, quick, then slow, slow, slow. Moving my body to hers to fill her up so. Baby it’s cold outside but it’s hot in her. Let it snow, let it show. We have all night. Oh what a night.
Give me my present she shouts as my peppermint stick she licks. I am ready to explode, A jack in the box, a new bike under the tree. It’s that best present that you give to me. I explode, a winter storm of white. Cuming and cuming all through the night.
In the morning light, after the packages are all unwrapped, I return from the land of north pole pleasures. Another night of Mrs. Claus ho ho ho. Felt so good and so right. And for one and all it was a good night; riding in a sleigh bed.
My Stories
Do you know I write short stories as well? You can read some for free here or read some of my books here for more polished stories.
Underneath your Miss lil’ toes
Dominant in desire
Fire in my soul
I miss your toes
Over wood
My shining star
Top me with your little pink delight
Do what you will as is your right
My Mistress of Noel
Kissing from my soul
To your sole
And over your mistress toes
Upon my back I lay
Waiting for Christmas day
When you shall step upon my jingle bell
As I get to know your toes so well
Your sweet Mistress’ toes
Over my lips will step
I will suck and lick
Like five little peppermint sticks
If a good boy I’ll be
On your naughty list put me
And your toes will be covered in white
If upon my lips they delight
My Mistress’ toes
Miss little toe
Kisses presented
When underneath I am attendant
So please to thee I beg
Upon bended knee
Please let me be
Underneath my Mistress' Miss Lil’ Toes
Enjoy erotic poetry? Read “The Sex Cycle” and “Seduced by Seduction”. Hot, playful, fun erotic poetry by C. Stuart Lewis. Available on Amazon and other book retailers.
The Author Stew webpage - Stories & Poems 