Eric Ross: Blog

What starts in a dive bar ends with slick thighs, stained velvet, and two strangers, not quite finished.

The Stain We Left is an erotic short story told entirely in first person—from both sides. One night. One place. Two bodies, two minds, tangled in the same heat.

The first half is his: a raw, headlong plunge into lust. He sees her, wants her, takes her. But this isn’t just his story.

The moment he walks out the door, her voice takes over, still pulsing with him, with everything they did and everything she’s still feeling. She’s not a mirror—she’s her own storm. And she’s far from done.

There’s no dialogue. No names. Just sensation, memory, and need—told in two matching but distinct streams. What they shared wasn’t love, but it left its mark. A literal stain on the rug. A deeper one under the skin.

This isn’t a he-said/she-said.

It’s a single night, split open.
Two strangers, not quite finished.

He thought he was the Big Bad Wolf.

But after getting basted in the bakery, milked in the barn, and spanked in the study, Wolfgang Lupine is no longer cocky. Just cock-drunk.

And now, the Pigg Sisters are inviting him to the House of Honey and Discipline for a group project like no other.

One brings frosting.
One brings rope.
One brings a stopwatch and a syllabus.

Not a harem—a comprehensive exam.

• Blindfolds and bundt cake
• Thighs, ropes, and rhyming threats
• A group scene with a very strict “grading curve”
• Cream pies (literal and not)
• And three sisters who turn a wolf into their favorite toy

By morning, he’ll earn a gold-sealed scroll.
But only if he survives.

Read The Big Bad Wolf's Final Exam

Because some fairy tales end with a kiss… and some end in an orgy.

-Eric

Sex isn’t supposed to happen in places like this.

That’s the idea behind Hazard Zones, my series exploring desire where it doesn’t belong—public spaces, off-limits locations, charged environments where pleasure and danger collide. These stories take place in the cracks of propriety, in the places where we’re supposed to keep it together. And then someone doesn’t.

In All You Can Eat, Mia has had it. A week of biting her tongue in meetings, swallowing her frustration at her ex’s smug smile, keeping herself neat, polite, and unmessy. So when a stranger presses close in the buffet line and sparks something low and hungry inside her, she doesn’t flinch.

The setting? Unremarkable on the surface: a crowded, overstimulating buffet line full of steam trays and impatient murmurs. But beneath that clatter, Mia’s poised for something primal. As flirtation builds into reckless touch, she lets herself do what she hasn’t all week—take. Not permission. Not compromise. Just what she wants.

It’s sex as reclamation. As indulgence. As risk, right in the middle of the line.

Buffets were made for appetite. This story is for those who’ve been holding back all week—and are ready to break the rules.

- Eric

Wolf’s thighs are sore. His ego is dented. He smells like frosting and cream.
But he’s not done yet.

Because the final Pigg sister isn’t a baker or a milkmaid.
She’s Bettina Pigg—Headmistress of the Finishing Academy for Proper Young Ladies, disciplinarian of legend, and a woman whose crop has its own syllabus.

Her brick house doesn’t sway. It judges.
And Wolf? He’s about to be gagged, bound, and schooled.

There are no second chances in Bettina’s classroom.
There is, however, a St. Andrew’s Cross.
And a paddle labeled Correctional Studies.

What to expect in Chapter 3:
• Grammar-based punishment
• Gagged obedience
• Crop, cuffs, and cum
• Extra credit earned on an ottoman
• And the world’s dirtiest parent-teacher conference (well... not exactly)

By the time she’s done, Wolf won’t just be panting—he’ll be reciting the alphabet backward while getting spanked.

Read Chapter 3: The Brick House Mistress

And remember: tardiness will be punished.

-Eric

Last we saw him, Wolfgang Lupine had thoroughly tested the structural limits of Penelope Pigg’s straw house—and her self-control. But a well-fed wolf is never satisfied for long.

And now he’s wandered to the stick house of Clarabelle Pigg: Penelope’s older sister, milkmaid of unmatched virtue, spine like a ruler, and thighs like iron churns.

Clarabelle has rules. Clean petticoats. Perfect posture. A tight corset and a tighter grip on her impulses.

But Wolf? Wolf doesn’t play by her rules. He shows up on her porch shirtless, shameless, and suggestively interested in her… cream.

What follows is a sticky symphony of spilled milk, braided rope, and one very full pail. And when Clarabelle climbs on top, it’s not about love—it’s about leverage.

Chapter 2: Clarabelle and the Stick Situation.

-Eric