Archive for November, 2015

If you would like to read “Good Pussy Bad Pussy – Rachel’s Tale” – we are giving the ebook away for free at the moment. Just for your reading pleasure. So if you’d like to read this exciting sexual thriller, just send us your email address and we’ll send the ebook to you for free.

Send your email address to: amy.aimee14 (at) hotmail.com

And we’ll send the ebook to you right away.


Read Full Post »

Paris on my mind… thinking about Paris… loving Paris… because…

It’s the City of Light, it’s the city of artists and writers, it has the most amazing history, it’s the birthplace of so many powerful and amazing ideas, works of art, books, philosophies, music, cinema. It’s a hotbed of creativity. It has the most amazing architecture, the most amazing boulevards, the most amazing buildings, the most amazing bridges, the most amazing neighborhoods. It has the most amazing hidden alleyways and neighborhoods and cafés and people – everywhere, yes everywhere. Paris also has the most amazing people, the most amazing women and men. The people of Paris are just amazing and Paris has the most amazing writers and philosophers. Just think about it, the list is so long and illustrious and wonderful that it takes my breath away. And yes, it’s just amazing! Amazing! Just think about Paris and its history and it boggles the mind. Because Paris quite simply has the most amazing people. And then there’s the language – French – which is the most amazing of languages – so beautiful and melodious and lovely to speak and listen to. And so many wonderful, beautiful people have spoke that lovely language throughout the ages and are still speaking it today. Oh French… yes, the language itself is so beautiful, poetic, melodious, lovely. BEAUTIFUL. So yes, everything about Paris is beautiful and lovely and wonderful and amazing and magical. And this is only a beginning, only the slightest sketch, the slightest mentioning, only the slightest glance at this immortal city – this City of Light… with its amazing energy and its amazing bridges and walkways and sidewalks and cafes and restaurants and bars and brothels and nightclubs and discotheques and theaters and museums and bookstores and bookstalls along the Seine and shops and boutiques and hotels and palaces and impressive buildings and open spaces…. and then there are those wondrous night lights, that dance of light and the fairies and goddesses and gods, all here, all dancing, all loving and blessing each and every one of us and the whole world with the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Place de la Concorde, Les Champs Elysees, the River Seine, the bridges, La Rive Gauche (the Left Bank), Notre Dame, Arc de Triomphe, Sacré-Cœur, Panthéon, the Sorbonne, the Latin Quarter, Montparnasse, Boulevard Saint-Germain, Boulevard Saint-Michel… and oh yes, there’s so much more… so, so much more…. and did I say… I love Paris….


Read Full Post »

It was as if there was this great sorrow in each of them, a sorrow that was unrequited love, a sorrow that was a song without words, a song without beginning or end. And it was a love so deep and vast and wide that neither of them could comprehend it. And yet it was there, underneath it all, binding them together and blinding them in its Light. So even if they walked and talked and laughed and loved, the Light of this Love flowed through each of them like a mighty river, like a mighty, powerful current which was animating all of Life, including them.

And sometimes they touched upon it in their innocent unknowingness and when this happened, the vast aching and longing was stilled for a moment, stilled and satisfied and surrendered. Because they had unwittingly come home, back to the beginning, back to the beginning of each of us, which was the end of each of us, which was the start and the finish and the stars and the sun and the moon and the wind…

“Rachel,” he said and it touched her heart.

“Yes,” she replied softly.

“I love you.”

“I know,” she said and was as quiet as a soft wind on some far distance ocean that no one ever saw or heard.

And when he heard her words, he smiled and his soul was at peace, as it went dancing through the universe, happy and free at last.


The melody that played in his heart was the same as the melody that played in hers. Though he did not know it, nor did she. But connected they were, beyond time and space, as truly we all are.

It is a wonder how we can go on for as long as we do in our utter ignorance of who we really are, with that sorrow that is unrequited love, tearing at our heartstrings and eating our souls with its never-ending longing.

Oh song of songs!

How we are longing!

Longing for that sacred touch which is our very own, for that homecoming which is beyond any earthly home we’ve ever known, for that surrendering which is beyond any surrender we’ve ever experienced… a surrendering beyond comprehension, where everything falls into place… into that blessed, sacred space, beyond time and remembrance… that we call love…



About Rachel & Albert from the Good Pussy Bad Pussy books.

Read Full Post »

Headlong, headstrong… falling into that blissful state of surrender…

Good Pussy Bad Pussy

By some wild, crazy, roundabout path, Albert guided Rachel to a place where nothing except total surrender was possible.

She was no longer Rachel Somers with an identity worth protecting or preserving. He had robbed her as thoroughly as any man could of whatever it was she was.

He had stripped her bare. Left her with nothing she could identify with, and in that strange, naked state of being no woman she knew, she found herself connected to a sexuality so powerful that it jolted her beyond everyday reality to some awesome cosmic plane she did not recognize.

“This is not me,” she thought. “This is not anyone.”

That was when he plunged headlong, headstrong, into her, finding in her an intensity she did not know she possessed.

She spread her legs wide, baring her soul, allowing him entry everywhere – allowing him anything, everything. And when he raised himself…

View original post 309 more words

Read Full Post »