THE GONZO COLLECTION
Outrageous erotica fiction in the tradition of Nicholas Baker and Hunter S. Thompson
Published April 24, 2015 by Excessica.com
Approximately 60,000 words
Print edition 192 pages
Amazon UK (Ebook)
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“… the only people who really know (the Edge) are the ones who have gone over.” –Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo journalist.
Take a ride with Daddy over the edge. You won’t forget the distinctively drawn (and extremely horny) characters you’ll meet between these pages. An eighteen year old carnival hand nurses a crush for his gorgeous blond employer. A voyeur and his exhibitionist girlfriend find a window to peek through. A woman awaits her man while crouched naked on the floor, rear end pointed toward the door. An attempted rape is thwarted. A spy bites the dust. A man dates and mates with a fifty-foot woman. Mood and a sense of atmosphere bring it all to life in these twenty one gems of erotic excess.
From “Jail Bait” (Rated X)
Inaccuracies thrive in a vacuum.
A local story persisted that Scaleville had been named after the dull red steel scale
that floated in the air. It settled on all the cars on the downwind side of town, leaving stains on their paint jobs as indelible as the stains on the people who lived there.
The real origin of the moniker was the long-extinct shad run that had once brought such
abundant fish up the river. Early colonists in the area literally lived off the silvery scaled, roe laden protein bounty that had proved so dependable each year. When the paper and steel mills went up, with all their attendant pollution, the runs stopped. Now, those who didn’t understand local history would grow up believing their town had been named for filthy air. Disease-producing metallic particles drawn into our lungs. Dust. Emphysema. Such a distinction.
My luck had finally turned. It took the beautiful, sophisticated Tammy Fitzgerald to make
me realize what a fuck-up I’d become. About time. For years my buddies and I had bummed around the shithole side of town where we were raised. Now it seemed there could be a future for me in Scaleville after all. Lovely blonde Tammy fell for the bad boy all right, but I knew I’d have to change my ways to keep her for any length of time. Couldn’t fuck this one up.
Horace Fitzgerald, the family patriarch, ran the town from behind the scenes. Their
family never actually worked at the mill, but they did exert a lot of local influence. The
Fitzgerald daughters were fortunate to have a powerful father since the younger two did get Scaleville’s attention every now and then. Not in a good way.
Tammy was the first woman I’d allowed to take the reins in our sex. First one to bring
out something in me I hadn’t known existed, not within my sphere of previous experience.
Tammy made love; she didn’t fuck, not just for the sake of fucking like all the other girls. Girls in back seats, girls on the hood of the car, girls out by Funky Lake, where the chemical company dumped their waste. The only ones to swim there were kids who were never taught the source of the water. If you even wanted to call it water at all.
Out in the warm night air, on my back on a blanket spread over a patch of yellowed grass by the foul lake. Tammy straddled me, lowering her bottom, taking me to the hilt. She writhed astride me, transfixed in ecstasy, the round yellow wash of a full moon illuminating her pale, angelic features. Tammy has a way of knowing herself, her own anatomy, finding every inner nook and cranny by snapping or twisting her loins and torso in particular angles, swaying, manipulating the bulb of my penis to some obscure pebbly pocket within her. She leads.
For the first time in my life, I wished the woman I was fucking would come.
About the Author
Daddy X always wanted to be a dirty old man.
He survived the 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and George W. Bush. He maintained an (almost) steady trajectory through Catholic school, a paper route, muskrat trapping, a steel mill, Bucks County, the Haight Ashbury, North Beach, the SF bar business, drug addiction, alcoholism, a stroke, hep C, cancer, a liver transplant, a year of chemo, a stickup at his art gallery while tied to a desk (not as cool as it sounds), a triple bypass, heart attack…and George W. Bush.
Now he’s old, and it’s time to get dirty.
He’s been with Momma X (greatest editor on earth) for fifty years, but she thinks his stuff is too skievy to deal with. They live in northern California with a ninety pound lop-eared hound (17” wingspan) and two cats. Daddy is also published in anthologies by Naughty Nights Press, House of Erotica and most recently in Cleis Press’ Best Bondage 2015.