Guy New York is a bestselling erotica author and publisher with more than 25 titles to his name. With two full length novels, numerous short works, and a thousand free stories on his blog Quickies in New York, his books have been widely read and occasionally burned.
I haven’t written a lot of bi stories recently, so this was a fun return for me. This short story is pretty over the top and super hot. At least I think so, and if you like bisexual erotica, then hopefully you’ll like it too! Basically the narrator catches his girlfriend’s 18 year-old daughter making out her boyfriend and blackmails them both into sleeping with him. It’s an age old story, I know, but the things he does to that boy…
Here’s a short bit from it:
“Why don’t you both lie down first,” I said, making myself comfortable. “Just next to each other right there.”
They did as they were told, stretching out on the bed on their backs. His cock was limp, but even still it was impressive. Her pretty cunt was just a few feet away from me, and I had to stop myself from licking my lips.
“Why don’t you kiss each other for a while. Oh, and Jared, I want to watch you finger her.”
To his credit he didn’t pause. They rolled over on their sides, pulled each other close, and started to kiss while I watched. He parted her legs with one hand, and within seconds he had two fingers inside her as she moaned into their kiss. His cock twitched to life instantly, and I could smell her from where I was. She slid a leg up over him, giving me a perfect view of his fingers sliding in and out of her, and I couldn’t look away.
“Have you really never fucked her?” I asked him, as I got up and walked around the bed. I sat down right behind her, reaching down to touch her hair.
“No,” he said, leaning back and looking up at me. His hand didn’t stop moving, and Jenny was moaning quietly into the pillow.
“Well, I think we should change that, don’t you? It would be such a shame to waste that cock, wouldn’t it? And besides, I think I want to watch her get fucked.” I had thought about watching her for too long, and there was no way I could wait much longer. His cock was hard and thick, and I longed to see it replace his fingers inside her.
“Please don’t make us,” Jenny sobbed, rolling over and looking up at me. Her eyes were red, but this time she made no effort at all to cover herself. Without thought I reached down and brushed her lips and chin. Her skin was soft and warm, and I ran my hand down her neck and over her breasts before pausing on her stomach. She looked just like I imagined her mother did at eighteen and it was mesmerizing. Jenny didn’t turn away as I touched her, and I leaned in even closer as I started to move again. I touched the light hair above her cunt, running my fingers through it, before sliding my hand down to one thigh. With my other hand in her hair, I suddenly had her exactly how I wanted her. I closed both hands, pulled her head back and her thighs open, and suddenly her cunt was completely exposed.
“Fuck her now, Jared!” I demanded. “I want to see you fuck this little slut, and I want to see you fuck her hard…”
Over the last six years I’ve designed more dirty book covers than I can count. And they’ve changed a lot over the years, partially along with my tastes, my interests, and my ability. In general I’m using photos by The Dirty Gentleman for my very QNY related books: Hana, Winter to Spring, Love & Kink, etc. and I’m using sourced images for my smuttier books and novels.
I’ve recently updated a number of my covers and I like how they are turning out. They feel sexy to me without feeling trashy, and that’s a line that is always difficult to walk. In fact, that’s the line I try to walk in my writing all the time. Smart enough to enjoy, but not so distracting that you can’t get off to it as well.
Here are some of my latest covers, including the one Amazon rejected and one I haven’t announced yet:
The Diary of a Cuckold
Look, some people might be embarrassed to be seen reading this on the train, but not everybody. And just think about it, you might meet someone interesting!
This is one book that I feel hasn’t gotten enough attention. It’s one of the filthiest and funnest books I have. Obviously it helps if you have a fetish for getting fucked by hot guys while your husband watches (or vice versa) but I think it’s pretty enjoyable even if you don’t.
I brought in a lot of the cuckold fantasies but without a ton of the humiliation. Don’t get me wrong, there is some of it. There are plenty of big dicks, a lot of creampies, and a lot of denial play going on, but it’s more about Peter really coming to terms with his turn-on. It’s more about the couple pushing their boundaries over and over again until the tumultuous ending.
I recently published a new book called The Yes Rule! It’s an incredibly filthy and debaucherous tale about two young New Yorkers who decide to say yes to everything. More importantly they make a pact to never say no to each other not matter what they ask. They think it’s love, but they push and they push, forcing the other into the depth of depravity until they can’t climb back out again.
They start off with simple dares: blow a guy at the bar, fuck me in the fountain, but they quickly move on to more intense, and more messed up things. Nobody is really safe from their path of destruction, including Jane’s family and Jack’s best friend.
There is tons of group sex, some hot gay shit, plenty of manipulation, and some violence. It’s definitely not a book for the faint of heart. Hopefully you find it hot and disturbing at the same time and can’t always tell the difference between the two.
The book has some dubious consent (to say the least) and there are some twisted family/incest themes going on as well, mostly with Jane’s little sister and step-father.
Last night we had our eighth Dirty Boys reading, and more than fifty of you showed up to support us. It was a fun, intense, sexy, and definitely a debaucherous night, and you were a wonderful audience! Thank you so much for coming, for supporting us, for buying books, asking for autographs, and saying hello.
The story I read, The Elevator was from my newest collection of stories called The Ortolan Hunters and Other Disturbing Tales and you can find here it on Amazon. The print version just came out, and it’s a fun little book to carry around if you’re interested.
As always, you all are the best. Today is also the seventh anniversary of Quickies in New York, so thanks to all my followers as well for supporting me over the years. It’s been a pleasure to share, grow, and get dirty with all of you.
Guy New York
“I’m not fucking you if you vote for Hillary,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the couch with his glass of wine abandoned on the coffee table.
“Fine, I’m not letting you if you bro out for Bernie, anyway. We just won’t fuck anymore and that’s all there is to it.” She poured herself a whisky and sat in the windowsill looking out over the city. They had been arguing for weeks, but as the primary got closer it all just got worse. He said she was a liar and too close to Wall Street, and she thought Sanders would be about as effective as John Kerry after a lobotomy.
“I bet she doesn’t even think we should be allowed to tie each other up,” he finally said, breaking their tense silence.
“Yeah, well Bernie probably thinks Pony Play means someone’s doing a local production of Equus.”
“I bet Hillary thinks S&M stands for Stocks and Mutual Funds.”
“Bernie couldn’t choke a girl if he tried, and if he went to slap me he’d probably sprain something,” she said drinking half her glass out of sheer anger.
“Yeah? Well I bet Hillary would pass out if you so much as waved a ball gag in front of her!”
“At least she knows how to take it up the ass without being a little bitch about it!” she screamed back.
“Bernie’s probably fisted more people than she’s kissed!” he yelled standing up and pointing aggressively.
“Bernie’s never fisted his own ass, let alone anyone else’s! He’s more vanilla than a Starbucks latte. He’s whiter than a mayonnaise convention. Bernie’s about as sexy as Trump’s toupee on a bender. He can’t even get it up for his wife, let alone the country!”
She was in his face now, her whisky left on the ledge as they glared into each other’s eyes, circling like turkey vultures. He pressed his head against hers, his breathing tense and shallow as they pushed harder, their hands clasped together in a game of tug-of-war. Without warning, she swept his feet out from beneath him and together they toppled to the floor, her body astride him as she pinned him to the ground.
“She could eat my cunt better than you do, and I would fucking let her,” she hissed, spitting in his face as they fought.
“Just try me,” he growled, his hands pinned above his head as he gasped for breath. She slid up his body, her short summer dress around her waist in an instant as she held him in place with her knees. Before he could start to beg, she pushed down to his mouth, feeling his tongue push against the thin cotton that covered her.
“Prove it,” she moaned, as he reached up and pulled her down harder with strong hands on her hips. She grabbed his hair as he ate her cunt, soaking his beard and lips with her excitement as he still struggled.
“Who are you voting for?” she finally asked, sitting up just long enough for him to gasp.
“Bernie,” he said, before she cut him off once more, smothering him in her pussy. She held him there, not letting him breath before asking him once more.
“Bernie!” he cried, desperately trying to taste her again. Finally she put her weight into it, holding him there for long minutes as his tongue pushed deeply inside her. She pulled his hair harder as her other hand moved to his throat. Squeezing tighter with each second, she felt herself getting closer and closer to her inevitable release.
“Who. Are. You. Voting. For?” she asked once more, her fingers so strong and firm he could barely answer.
“You,” he finally mumbled, “I’m voting for you.”
“Good boy,” she said, pushing down hard as her body began to shake and tremble, her orgasm finally slipping through every nerve ending she had. “Such a good boy.”
“So, can you tell me why you think you’re here?” he asked, taking out his stethoscope. Without thinking I let him slip it inside the thin fabric and against my skin. It was cold to the touch, but he listened as he moved it about, and the familiarity of the procedure somehow calmed me down. I had done all of this before. Maybe everything would be okay.
“My mom thinks I have a problem,” I said, unsure of what else to say. I certainly wasn’t going to offer more than I had to.
“And how about you?” he asked, opening the gown further as he continued listening to my breath. “Do you think you have a problem?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to control my inhalations. “I don’t think so. She’s just crazy and controlling.”
“Well, she doesn’t seem crazy to me, but I can’t tell you if she’s controlling,” he said with a warm laugh. “Some mothers are more protective than others, and some simply worry too much. Do you think she’s just worrying too much?”
“Yes!” I said, thankful that someone actually understood me. “She’s always telling me I’m too loud or too excited. She doesn’t care what I do as long as it’s normal and doesn’t bother the guests.”
“And do you think what you’re doing is normal?” he asked, eliciting a blush from me. I thought of all the late nights, sweating in my bed with my fingers between my thighs, and wasn’t sure how to answer. The truth is, I had no idea what was normal and what wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” I finally said looking down.
“Well, touching yourself, is, of course, totally natural,” he said, finally stepping back and looking me in the eye. “The question is whether or not how you’re doing it is normal. I assume she wouldn’t have brought you here if there wasn’t a real concern, so here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to lie back on the table here and show me what you do at home, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?”
“I’m not supposed to!” I said, my embarrassment at what he was asking me to do instantly visible in my cheeks. The thought of doing that in front of him was almost too much to process, but the small chance that he would take my side was also enticing. Was it possible he would tell my mother everything was fine?
“Well, I can’t really tell you if it’s normal unless I see. I’ll dim the lights for you,” he said, turning off the overheads and switching on a small lamp on his desk. “Is that better? Just lie back and show me what you do. This is a safe space, Simone. You have nothing to worry about. Start at the beginning and go all the way through to the end. Just like you do at home, okay?”
I lay back, unsure of what to do, and he walked up next to me like it was the most normal thing in the world. He pulled a stool up and sat down, undoing the strings to my gown with his thick fingers. It fell open on both sides, and when I looked up he simply nodded and smiled, his face as calm as ever. I looked back at the ceiling before finally sliding one hand between my legs and barely parting my thighs.
“Just like that,” he whispered to me, brushing my hair from my eyes. “Just show me what you do at home. I promise, everything will be alright, Simone.”
“A bit creepy, a bit odd, a lot hot. Definitely recommend if you like sexy things that are also complicated and push boundaries…” Emma, 5 Star Amazon review
While I’m finishing up these two novels, I decided to put out a new collection of short stories and a novella! It’s called The Ortolan Hunters and Other Disturbing Tales and it’s just that. It has three short stories and a novella called The Day The Lights Went Out. It’s not exactly erotica, but there is a ton of sex, much of it somewhat creepy and disturbing.
The Ortolan Hunters, which you may have heard at Dirty Boys, is about a couple fighting over the little birds. When the narrator is finally convinced to procure the exotic, and illegal dish, he decides he needs to teach his partner a lesson. It’s intense, delicious, and fairly twisted, to say the least.
The Elevator follows another couple acting out a horrible fantasy with a stranger. It’s a disturbing story of someone flipping the scales when it comes to consent, and you should be warned that it’s pretty fucked up.
The Unicorn is the funny break in the middle, and follows the narrator as he heads over to be the third to some friends who have never had a threesome before. It’s safe to say, nothing goes exactly as planned. I read this one at Dirty Boys as well, but this is the first time it’s been in print.
And finally, The Day The Lights Went out takes place in a NYC Hotel during a blackout. Two strangers meet for a one-night-stand, but get interrupted when the place goes dark. Instead of just getting busy they decide to test each other with stories of their past, each trying to prove how horrible they are. In between each story they discuss sexuality, consent, fetish, guilt, and kink, arguing about feminism and masculinity all the while trying to out do each other. Their stories are filthy and border on the edge of acceptable, often falling off the wrong side. But how much are they making up and how much is true? And more importantly, does it matter?
I hope you’ll take a look and maybe get a digital copy over on Amazon. And, of course, if you like it, nothing says thank you like a nice Amazon review.
Immoral Tales (1974) by Walerian Borowczyk (currently streaming on Netflix) is both horrible and delightful at the same time. Granted, I have a soft spot for slow French films with lots of gorgeous young women lounging about in white shifts doing each other’s hair, but if you expect a pleasant pastoral fantasy this is not that. Broken up into four short stories, they grow both more exciting and more horrible as the movie continues.
The first story, The Tide is a fairly simple tale of two teenage cousins who take a walk on the beach and end up getting a little friendly with each other. Like all of the stories, the camera work is so male gazey that it was even difficult for me at times, and I often like that shit. The story is slow, with lots of lingering shots of our heroine’s breasts as her cousin directs her to undress for him. But there’s something gloriously filthy about their sex (in this case a blow job) as the waves come in and wash over them. It looks uncomfortable, dirty, and in some ways strangely real.
The second story is just pervy without much else going–unless you’re really into Jesus, Catholic guilt, and girls getting off with cucumbers. The basic plot is a girl getting locked in her room, discovering dirty books, and getting herself off while feeling horrible about it. It’s pretty, and has a few hot moments.
And then we finally get the murderous lesbian love story we’ve all been waiting for. Erzsebet Bathory is the story of a countess who kidnaps a bunch of beautiful girls from a local village so she can play with them. I won’t ruin it because it has something of a story to it. It is also slow and has a whole lot of long shots of naked girls in the shower, each one prettier than the next. The near end is great, but the real end of the story is horribly cliche and does exactly what you don’t want it to do. But I suppose that was France in the 70’s.
Finally we get the tale of the Borgia pope we’ve all been waiting for. He gets elected, dresses his daughter up in the pope’s clothes and together with a possible nephew, they double team her. It’s pretty classic, but hey, who doesn’t love some Catholic incest porn on occasion?
All is all, it’s a strange collection of slow stories, tons of nudity, and some actually twisted plot devices. It makes something like 50 Shades feel almost vanilla, while also managing to only be occasionally arousing. But if you like pretty young french women, slow filmmaking, and can handle that much male gaze in one film it can be enjoyable. It’s just twisted and fucked up enough to keep it interesting, and even in our culture of shock porn it’s an impressive tome. Consider it a guilty pleasure, but I found it entertaining, occasionally beautiful, and just gritty and disturbing enough to be hot.