Getting Dirty With D.C. McMillen
I loved (and I do mean loved) playing in the mud when I was a kid.
If I woke up to the pitter patter of raindrops against my window pain, I would feel a surge of excitement. Today, I knew, would be an excellent day.
If it wasn’t a school day, I would grab my bucket and yellow plastic shovel, roll my eyes while my mom helped me into my red raincoat, ensuring my hood was tied securely under my chin, and then run for the garden. I’d spend the morning excavating big fat dew worms, already tunnelling their way to the surface, drop them in my dirt packed bucket and my eyes would fill with dollar signs as I mentally mapped out my route to all of the fishermen’s doors I would knock on. They would only be too glad to purchase worms from a budding entrepreneur. Later, exhausting all of the resources in the garden, I would collect soggy worms along the sidewalk as I walked to each of my customer’s houses.
With my rounds completed and my bucket depleted, I would then make my way to the creek, where I’d usually meet up with friends. We’d splash around in the water and mud, precariously playing with snapping turtles and catching frogs. Plenty of fishermen made it known they would pay good pocket change should I bring them frogs in addition to worms but I had to draw the line somewhere. Frogs were adorable and they made funny sounds and, therefore, were not acceptable bait in my eyes.
Just before my mom would expect me home for dinner, I would rush to the store and spend most of my earnings on five cent candies and a Caramilk chocolate bar for my mom.
Dinner would be waiting, usually Mr. Noodles (the Canadian version of Top Ramen) or Campbell’s soup with grilled cheese because my mother was not exactly a chef, and afterwards we would sit on the living room floor watching whatever was on our one and only television station while playing cards and eating our spoils.
As an adult, I have had a few killer opportunities to play in the mud. I once went mud sliding with friends. Then there was the time my mom and I spent the majority of a three day weekend at an outdoor concert dancing half naked in the mud. This may sound risqué but many of the people in the mud pit were completely naked, not that you could see any detail through the layers of mud coating, and in our defense we were very stoned.
Yes things are simply more fun when they are a little bit dirty.
Perhaps this is why my writing focuses more on erotica and less on romance. And perhaps this is why my stories lack the softness, the sweetness of typical romance stories. In my mind, things are always a little more fun when they get down and dirty. Whether it is how they meet, the location, the position of the bodies, the introduction of a toy, another person or a little pain here and there, I like my stories to have that I’m-so-naughty-for-reading-this element. Writing or reading, it is the stories with a naughty edge that send a tiny thrill down my spine.
Here is an excerpt from my recently released novella, The Rusty Nail.
The short ride home was unusually crowded for an early afternoon. We were forced to sit beside each other which made it difficult to think about what it was I wanted from this friendship, like he asked. I kept trying to figure things out but the feel of his slim, hard thigh against my solid, meaty one would make my mind wander. Then I’d have to start all over. It was very unsettling and as I attempted to piece together my thoughts I just ended up feeling like a giant, jumbled mass of confusion sitting on public transit. I mean, I liked hanging out with him. He was fun and cool. But that didn’t mean I wanted more, right? Wanting a man to play video games next to you on your couch was one thing but – the bus went over a bump and our thighs slammed together. His head hit my shoulder and rested there just a moment before he straightened. Where was I? Oh right, sex with Juan.
I wondered what it would be like. Nothing like sex with Gianna, I guessed. Sex with Gianna was what I imagined being the passenger in a race car was like. It was thrilling, crazy, heart pounding and all I could do was hold on for dear life and enjoy the ride. And if I happened to not want a ride that day, well Gianna could take care of herself. That crazy hot girl even carried a little vibrator in her purse just in case the mood struck her. She did not even need me. Not just for sex, for anything. That girl could take care of herself, me and anyone else she wanted. This was good, of course because a less independent woman wouldn’t put up with me. Still, now that I had lost my job, I just felt so useless.
I bet Juan could make me feel in control, even if that wasn’t his intention. Liking where this was going I delved deeper. How could dominating another man not cause a guy to feel in control? I imagined the power I would feel making someone as hard and masculine as Juan feel soft and vulnerable in my hands. A strong, healthy, beautiful man and I could bend him, twist him, make him gasp and groan with intense pleasure. I was dragged away from my thoughts by Juan’s strangled whisper that ours was the next stop. I realized then that my fingers were digging into his thigh and his hand was on top of mine. Neither of us let go until it was time to get off the bus.
The Rusty Nail is a story about the seemingly random lives of a group of people who somehow find themselves acquainted with a rundown bar on the wrong side of town. If you’re interested in picking up a copy of this smoking hot erotic novella, please visit Amazon or other online book retailers.
D.C.’s BioD.C. McMillen is an up and coming author living in Toronto, Canada. She enjoys writing about dirty sex in questionable places but has been known to write about other subjects, on special occasions.
D.C. is featured in MuseItHot’s Short & Spicy line up with The Rental and the upcoming story A Decent December. Her debut novella, The Rusty Nail, was recently published through Rebel Ink Press, she is featured in several anthologies and pens the erotic humour series Nauti-Lust.
D.C. is obsessed with blogging and Twitter; invites you to look her up on her e-rotica blog, on twitter at @mcmillendc, or on Facebook.