Freya Gersemi: Blog

If you’re reading this blog, then you may already know that I’ve written a number of sexy stories (and novels) that I’m selling online. You may have even read some of them. And it’s possible that you actually have enjoyed my work. You might have imagined yourself actually IN one (or more, you dirty devil, you!) of my stories!

Well, I’ve got news for you!

I am more than willing to write YOU into one of my stories!!

How?

Well, you could be my long-suffering editor. He’s the man of a thousand names. I just call him Figgy.

I wrote him into a recent series of mine (“The Sex Convention” that will be available for download VERY soon!) and it went a little something like this…

Well, actually, let me explain the setup a bit.

My editor likes it when I push boundaries with my writing. I get a kick out of doing that, too, so this works out really well! Anyway, the convention stories involve fictional characters written by real people who all go to a fictional sex convention for a weekend and get involved with all kinds of crazy situations. And the characters are aware that they are fictional. Of course, I had to play with that even more.

So, my fictional character, Cynthia, hooks up with the fictionalized real person, Figgy, in a fictional scene where they are in bed together. Cynthia, who has been writing the sexy stories (even though she wasn’t, it was me, Real Life Freya), is now handing the reins over to Figgy so that he can write the fictional sex scene between them (that is totally real to the two of them).

Confused, yet?

Now, let’s take a quick peek at what I write… I mean that Cynthia wrote… I mean Figgy… Whatever!

“Alright. So, how are we gonna do this, Fig?” Cynthia asked, getting herself situated in the bed.

Feeling a little shy, Figgy turned off the bedside lamp before he pulled his T-shirt off and slipped out of his striped boxers. “I don’t know,” he mumbled as he climbed into the bed next to Cynthia, the girl of his storiesonline dreams. “Whatever you want.”

“This is your story. You can do whatever you want to do.”

Figgy hemmed and hawed a bit until Cynthia finally drew the line. “Look. We all write our own stories. And this is your story, Fig. Write it however you want.”

“I’m not much of a writer, Cynthia. Why don’t you write it for me? The story would be better if you wrote it anyway.”

“Figgy!” Cynthia chastised him. “Then it would be my story. This is your story. And what’s ‘better’ anyway?”

Cynthia looked at him in the murky darkness of the hotel room. He shrugged, then admitted, “I don’t know… I guess I can try.”

“Go ahead,” she urged.

“And with a sweet and happy ending?”

“Always!”

“Okay…” Figgy faltered. “Hmmm…”

“Just write what’s in your heart,” Cynthia said softly and tenderly.

Figgy took a deep breath and then exhaled it all. Taking a smaller breath, he started, “So… I reached over to… touch her… ah… nice breast…”

“Cut it out!” Cynthia barked. “This is me, Figgy! This is Cynthia!” She grabbed his hand and plopped it onto her tit. “Write something like ‘He jumped on her massive melons faster’n a horntoad crossin’ the rud,’ or something fun like that.”

Figgy burst into gales of laughter. “What’s all that?” He finally gasped.

“Southwestern slang,” Cynthia told him, noting that throughout his laughing fit, he had not removed his hand. In fact, the side of his thumb had found her nipple. “You know. Horny toads and shit like that.”

Figgy sucked in a short breath as her fingers wrapped around his member.

“I’m all yours,” she whispered. “What do you want to do to me?” Cynthia gave his dick a light squeeze. “Or what do you want me to do to you?”

“There’s so much…” he sighed.

“Anything you want, stud.”

“Could we just… have sex?”

“You wanna fuck me,” Cynthia whispered the statement into Figgy’s ear.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “I’ve wanted to ever since I first private messaged you about editing your work.”

“I know,” Cynthia told him. “That was your plan all along.”

Figgy blushed in the dark.

“You dirty dog,” she giggled, letting go of his already dripping cock. She rolled onto her back under the sheets and spread her legs. “Fuck me, Figgy. Fuck me.”

With his heart racing, Figgy took a deep breath and climbed on top of her, settling himself between her warm velvety thighs. He felt her lusciously soft belly press against him as he pressed the head of his cock against her, effortlessly parting the plump wet lips of her pussy. Between the precum coating his straining erection and Cynthia’s already prodigious fluids, Figgy easily slid into her hot depths.

“Ohhh,” she moaned and she felt his cock entering her. She wrapped her legs around his urging him deeper. Cynthia felt him push in a little more and then he stopped.

“Is everything okay?” She asked.

With his dick fully inside the beautiful Cynthia, Figgy replied, “Everything’s perfect.”

Cynthia slid her hands up his back and pulled him down against her body. She relished in the feeling of a naked man pressed against her.

Pressed into her.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.

“Please,” she sighed.

Their lips met, brushing against each other for a wonderful moment, and then he felt the tip of her tongue gingerly worm its way into his mouth. Part of him was inside her and part of her was inside him. His senses were overwhelmed as he felt their bodies dissolving into one. She could feel his cock throb in her while he could feel her tongue sensuously intertwine with his own.

With a subtle rolling of her wide hips, she wordlessly asked him to start fucking her.

And he did.

Pretty hot, huh?

And fun! Just the way Figgy would like it.

Now, let’s talk about YOU.

I can write YOU into a story, too!

You could be a cameo character in a story. You could have a starring role in a story! We can build a story completely around YOU and whatever YOUR personal desires, fetishes, or kinks may be (mutually agreed upon, of course).

Get in touch with me (and regardless of where you’re seeing this blog, I know that you can find me somewhere online – I have faith in you!) and we can discuss the details.

I’m sure that this goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: please keep our interactions professional. Any contact that doesn’t show me basic human respect will simply be ignored. And that’s no fun, is it?

Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you and can’t wait to make ALL of your erotic fiction dreams come true!

Love, Frey

I should be finishing up my Sex Convention stories (I have two done and working on the third part) but I had a thought and now everything’s all a complete mess!

I’ve been mulling around a story for another Alternate Freya-verse where Katie is very perceptive and uses her powers of observation to help solve a crime. But then I wasn’t sure if I should keep re-using my Freya & Friends characters (due to the “No Harm, No Foul” disaster). And the more that I thought about it, I started to go with using a different name and making the main character a unique person.

And then I started researching possible names. And the more I thought about it, the more I started to think that this could be a series. And if it’s a series, then I’ll need more than one character. And the first crime should be something personal to the main character to really draw them into the whole “crime solving” thing.

I kept thinking and thinking.

Well, we all know what happened next, right?

I started writing and now I have a really cool opening scene.

Ugh!!

But I really need to finish what I’m currently working on!

So, here’s the opening scene.

Only half-awake, Akari rolled over and fumbled for the phone. “Hello?” She mumbled, trying to shake off the tendrils of sleep.

The frantic voice on the other end shouted, “Greta’s been kidnapped!”

“Huh?”

“Greta’s been kidnapped,” came the voice again.

Greta was one of Akari’s best friends. Greta also happened to be the only child of Mr. Heinrich Breitenbach, the man on the other end of the phone. Akari immediately sat up in bed. “What do you mean, Mr. B.?”

“She’s been kidnapped. I was watching TV, heard some banging downstairs, then a muffled scream, and when I ran downstairs to the solarium, Greta was gone. She’s nowhere in the house.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes. I’m not sure they believe me though.”

Akari nodded to herself. Greta had a bit of a… wild streak in high school and was somewhat well-known to the law enforcement folks in town. Of course, the fact that Mr. B. was truly a beloved member of the community – not to mention the horrific way his wife had been torn from him and his daughter – and doubly not to mention his wealth – none of the dozen or so different possible charges over the years had even been filed against Greta.

Mr. B. continued, “Of course, they’re sending a cruiser right over, but I wanted to check with you to see if you thought that, just maybe, she went off somewhere? Maybe you have an idea?”

“What’s going on,” Maureen moaned.

Akari covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “It’s Mr. B. He said that Greta’s missing.”

“I’m so sorry for calling you so late.”

“No. Of course, Mr. B.” Akari stifled a yawn. “We’ll be right over.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want you to come over. I just wanted to see if maybe you had any other possible idea where she could be. I mean, I don’t even know if she’s been kidnapped. It just was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“We’ll be right there,” Akari told him. He’s had so much trouble in his life and he was all alone. And he’d always treated Akari – and now Maureen – like family. “We’ll be right there,” Akari repeated and hung up the phone.

“You sure she didn’t just take off with some guy?” Maureen asked, stretching and then absentmindedly scratching the side of her naked right boob.

“No,” Akari stated, getting out of bed. “She’s not like that.” Akari looked at her girlfriend who was staring back at her with raised eyebrows. “She’s not like that anymore.”

It’s just frantic typing trying to get all my thoughts into words, so I still need to go over it a few times to refine everything, but I think it has some promise.

I hope it has some promise.

Let me know what you think. Thanks.

Love, Frey

P.S. Oh, um, two new books (smaller ones, just $1.99 each): https://zbookstore.com/a/407/freya-gersemi

I have a new novella out called “No Harm, No Foul.” And boy has it cause quite a ruckus!

I’ll start at the beginning.

I wanted to explore the idea of a woman who uses sex to get what she wants. Namely money, jewelry, a car – you know, material things. And why not? She’s hot, sexy, and can easily manipulate men with her womanly charms. So why not use that for her benefit?

Because it’s wrong?

Immoral?

Mean to men?

Why?

Let’s cut to the chase. It’s simply prostitution under the thinly veiled guise of “love.”

But is it?

A man dates a woman, brings her flowers, buys her a nice dinner, they see a show, and the man may expect something at the end of the night. The woman may offer something at the end of the night.

Did this man just buy sex?

Is that prostitution?

A man buys a woman a drink, she accepts, and they chat. Did he buy an hour of her time?

Let’s rule out any forced prostitution. I think that’s wrong. Trafficking, whatever. Let’s talk about a woman who decides to offer sexual experiences for a price.

People play a plumber to repair a faucet. People pay a masseuse for a massage. People pay to see (or read) sexy material. People pay for a private sex call. People pay for strippers.

Where’s the line, exactly?

Is it actual intercourse? A blowjob? A handjob? Can someone pay someone else to masturbate while they watch? Is that prostitution?

When I made the first draft of “No Harm, No Foul” available, I made the mistake of using existing characters in my fictional world. I call these “other” stories my “Alternate Freya-verse” series. The stories are outside of my main series. They exist in their own little world. But people took umbrage with what they saw as a character that had been so sweet and loving suddenly turned into a dirty whore.

And my story was destroyed by readers.

Hated.

I literally got hate mail over this story!

But the story was up to my usual standards. I certainly NEVER just “phone it in” when I’m writing.

And it had hot scenes.

Masturbation scenes.

Her eyes were facing the girls in front, but she was imagining herself on the beach with a throng of attentive men watching her. She started rubbing tiny circles around her clit. She felt her excitement grow in tandem with her clit engorging as she continued to caress herself. Delilah imagined one of the men intently watching her and rubbing the bulge in his shorts. She imagined him walking over to her. She could see him standing above her, looking down. He reached into his shorts and pulled out the biggest dick that Delilah had ever seen. It waved in front of her face, the fat head of it already glistening with precum in the early afternoon sunlight.

She had to touch it.

But in her mind, this man had a different idea.

As she reached for it, her lips already parting, ready to suck as much of it into her mouth as would fit, he pushed her away. She looked up at him, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair. It hurt, but she liked it. He knelt on the towel between Delilah’s legs, pulling her body down as he went.

Now, between her bent knees, he roughly pulled the bikini bottom aside even more, allowing his cock full access to her pussy. As Delilah frantically rubbed herself in the back of Chastity’s car, in her mind, the man pushed himself into her with a force that knocked her head back.

She gasped as she came.

“Are you okay,” Chastity asked from the front seat.

“Um-hmm,” she answered, not quite trusting herself to speak actual words.

Lesbian scenes.

Men like women with some meat on their bones,” she cooed into Chastity’s ear. “And I know that some women do, too.”

Chastity closed her eyes and leaned back against Delilah. She was almost lulled into a trance by her friend’s fingers caressing and fondling her body. Chastity could feel the tingling start between her legs. She thought of the first time that Delilah had made love to her. It had been so new and so exciting and so frightening all at once. She had never thought about girls in any sexual way, but ever since Delilah showed her just what a woman could do to her, Chastity had barely stopped thinking about what a woman could do to her.

The second time that Delilah had made advances towards her, Chastity had been hesitant only because she wasn’t sure of Delilah’s intentions – she did have a well-deserved reputation, after all – but as soon as Delilah lightly nibbled on her earlobe, Chastity simply melted into an entire night of carnal passions.

Straight sex scenes.

Well, you know. My usual sex stuff! I can’t give everything away, right?

So, I rewrote some things, I changed the names of the characters, and we’ll have to see what happens. Maybe it was simply just a flop? Maybe it was too much of a departure from my normal “sweet and sexy” stories?

Who knows?

But I wrote it. I’m proud of it. And it’s there for anyone that would like to read it.

In the meantime, I’ll keep writing.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Frey

It’s almost Easter Sunday and a new story of mine, “Mulier Unit 05-22-E,” just published on Bookapy, so I figured that now would be a good time to talk about some of the Easter Eggs that I hide in many of my stories, especially this new one.

This blog post does contain some spoilers, so if that bothers you, then read my “Mulier” story first and then come back to this. If you don’t care about spoilers, then carry on!

So… I love to amuse myself and one of the ways that I do that is by sticking all kinds of hidden things into my stories. It could be something like using the name Rufus for a male character who has red hair. Rufus is a Latin word for red.

Or an Easter Egg could be a hidden joke like the name of the French restaurant that Cynthia, one of the characters in my “Freya and Friends” series, likes to go to. She’s more of a “full-figured” girl and the name of the restaurant is “La Fille Rondelette.” In English, that translates to “The Chubby Girl.”

Oftentimes it’s something like the name of my dog used in a story. Or something that I see right in front of me as I’m writing. I just saw a squirrel in my yard, so I may write: “A curious squirrel scratched at the compacted dirt only to scamper away as Beth approached the old house.”

Some Easter Eggs are obvious.

Some are known only to me.

Some of them have already been forgotten by me!

I love adding in funny/odd little treats that most people don’t even know are there. It’s nice when someone discovers them, but it’s also funny to me that they are there in plain sight and never seen. Or at least never seen until I point them out.

Again, spoilers coming up!!

Let’s talk about Easter Eggs in my latest story – which, by the way, is my first (and so far only) foray into the world of sci-fi storytelling.

“Mulier Unit 05-22-E” contained a lot of Easter Eggs for readers to discover. I’ll try to remember them all, but I’m sure there are some that I will miss. There were lots of them in this story!!

It’s a story about a man who gets a female android to help with household chores and eventually things go awry with their relationship. Sexually awry! This is erotic fiction, after all!

Last chance if you want to read the story first!

Here come the spoilers!

So, first off, just the title of the story, “Mulier Unit 05-22-E,” has two Easter Eggs hidden in it. “Mulier” is latin for “woman” or more specifically, a “lawful wife.” And the female android’s serial number spells out “Eve.” “E” is the fifth letter of the English alphabet, “V” is the twenty-second letter, and the “E” is… well, “E.” In the story, the main character and “Eve” end up as the sole inhabitants of a wonderful planet that is a veritable Garden of Eden.

See how that worked out?

And even more obvious, the main character is named Adam. Ha! His last name, Renovare, is Latin for “to renew” (in the story, he and the fake android are banished to a planet and they decide to populate this new world – renew mankind). Also, his personal ID number, 05-04-05-N, spells out Eden.

I’m such a goof, right?

The company that makes these lifelike androids is called Vivus-Droid, Inc. “Vivus” is Latin for “living.” Vivus-Droid, Inc. also makes male androids to be assigned to unmarried women that are called “Vir” Units. “Vir” is Latin for “man.”

It’s all pretty silly, but I have to come up with names and whatnot anyway, so why not give them some type of meaning, right?

The “female” Mulier Unit assigned to Adam, in my story, calls herself Oriella. I thought that name was pretty (I simply did an internet search for female names), but it also means “full of life” in Latin. This wasn’t hidden in the story. I actually spelled out that Easter Egg right in the story because I wanted the Oriella character to try a little humor.

There are a few more Easter Eggs that are much less obvious, so let’s delve into those, shall we?

In the story (last chance to turn back before a HUGE spoiler!!), it turns out that Oriella is pregnant when they board the shuttle to the new planet. This is unknown to the main character, Adam, at this time – as well as unknown to the reader at this time. But in the story, they need to be ready to launch by “1500 hours.” Or three o’clock in the afternoon.

Get it? Because there’s secretly three of them on the shuttle.

Sometimes, I’m pretty darn slick with those Easter Eggs, huh?

And then there are some random ones that no one would really know. The age at which an unmarried person is assigned a droid is 25. For some reason, the number five keeps popping up in my life, so I’ve started to fit it into things, just for fun. And, of course, 25 is 5 squared. So twice the 5s!

There are probably a few more sprinkled throughout that I’ve forgotten, but that’s about it for “Mulier Unit 05-22-E.”

I have Easter Eggs in pretty much all of my stories.

A minor character of mine, Valentina, was a nod to the first erotic writing contest that I ever entered (the contest was to write a Valentine’s Day story, so I wrote “The Valentine’s Day Triple Play” which ended up being quite a fan favorite). I was in the middle of writing a chapter in my first novel, “Freya’s Sexual Adventures - Book 1: The Beginning,” and I needed a woman’s name, so I gave a little shout out to my first contest entry story.

In another short story that I wrote, “Faith” (the first part of my “Faith, Hope, and Love” trilogy), the male lead character is named Finn. Finn is Irish for “blessed.” I chose this name because (more spoilers!), although the character definitely feels cursed, he eventually realizes that he can still be blessed. And he becomes blessed by a woman named Vera, a name meaning “faith.”

Also in the story, there is reference to Finn’s late wife, Ana. That name is of Hebrew origin and refers to the blessings bestowed on Hannah in the Old Testament of The Bible. In Finn’s darkest moment, Ana shines through to give him hope and a belief that he could still have a future without her.

Those are some Easter Eggs on how I play around with names and whatnot.

You know what? All this talk about hidden things and meanings in my work has got me thinking, so at this point, let’s take a quick look at what is probably my most-misunderstood story, “La Petite Mort,” and the secret meaning behind this VERY (under 1K words) short story.

I wrote this over a year ago (a mere month into my erotic fiction writing journey) and posted it online with the description that it was a “departure from my usual style.” I then asked readers what THEY thought it was about. I’ve heard from a handful of people but no one has gotten it right, yet.

That ambiguity was by design, though.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, everything I write is pretty well thought out. My writing may seem light and breezy, but almost nothing is left unscrutinized.

Spoiler alert!

“La Petite Mort” is about an elderly widow sipping coffee alone in her kitchen, fondly reminiscing about the physical love she shared with her late husband many, many years in her past.

And that’s it.

Just a woman’s memory of something in her life from so long ago.

Apparently, my intention of making it vague, succeeded too well! I thought it was clever and well-written and everyone would admire my writing prowess, showering me with praise. I was wrong. The story flopped.

But I really like it. Still.

And some readers did like it, too. But I got comments like:

“At first, I thought it was about a man, but then thought it was about a woman.”

“The story is clearly about one person masturbating.”

“It was someone’s dream.”

That one was pretty close!

Well… now you know how I amuse myself with my writing. Fun, huh?

Thanks for reading and take a peek at some of my stories and see if you can uncover any hidden Easter Eggs!!

And Happy Easter (if you celebrate), Sweet Passover (if you celebrate), Merry Pineapple Upside-Down Cake Day (who wouldn’t celebrate THAT day??), or just…

Have a Great Weekend!!!

Love, Frey

I’m currently writing a story about my main characters (Freya and Friends) and they go to a sex convention where they meet up with all kinds of sexy people and have all kinds of sexy sex.

Anyway, I’m taking a short break from writing and wanted to dump some of what I’m doing into a blog post for you.

So without any further preamble or setup of any kind, here’s where I’ve left off today. I think you’ll be intrigued.

Standing in the lush penthouse suite, the three girls held hands and smiled at each other.

“Cynthia, how did Valentina get you up here?” Katie asked.

“There was no way that I was going to let you be the first one to get lucky this weekend.”

“She may still be the first one, you know,” Valentina pointed out.

“Yeah. But I’ll at least be part of it all,” Cynthia said. “First or not – that’s just splitting hairs.”

Katie giggled. “Well, with me, there’s no hair to split.”

“Really?” Valentina asked, arching one eyebrow at Katie. “Well, let’s head into the bedroom and get ourselves a little more comfortable.” As she led her two new lovers towards the double doors leading into the bedroom, she said, “I was hoping that I would see you here at the convention, Katie. I have something that you may like. My friends and I call it ‘The Jackhammer.’”

As they got into the bedroom, Katie saw what she thought was ‘The Jackhammer’ set up on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Oh, my!” She exclaimed. “I’m not sure that’s for me. Maybe Cynthia should try it first?”

“Unfortunately,” Valentina stated, “Cynthia and I spoke in the elevator on the way up and we had a different plan.” And with that, Valentina and Cynthia grabbed poor Katie, threw her face-first onto the huge bed, and Cynthia held her down while Valentina pulled her sneakers off.

Katie had learned that there was no use in struggling against Cynthia – not that Katie really wanted to anyway – so she just lay prone on the bed and asked, her voice slightly muffled by the Egyptian cotton comforter, “Cynthia, why is it always me?”

“Because you can’t pick me up,” Cynthia said.

Katie shrugged. “Fair enough.”

With her sneakers off, Katie’s jeans and panties quickly followed. She heard the telltale ripping sound and then the familiar feel of nylon restraints affixed around her bare ankles.

“Okay. Cynthia, let her go,” Valentina stated. Cynthia did and stood up next to the bed. Katie saw the look on her face and thought to herself, ‘Oh, crap.’

“You’re gonna love this, Katie-bear!” Cynthia told her with an evil gleam in her eyes.

“Katie, on your knees,” Valentina said in a somewhat stern tone of voice that was at odds with the soft and syrupy purr that Katie had heard from her previously. Katie did as she was told. She was willing to play along. Valentina then addressed Cynthia. “Cynthia, take off the rest of her clothes, then take off your own, and then come over here and undress me.”

Cynthia also did as she was told.

As she approached, Cynthia, now barefoot, had to look up to meet Valentina’s suddenly cold eyes. Cynthia rarely had to look up to anyone and standing naked in front of this dark statue of a woman, Cynthia felt almost subservient. Bordering on helpless, even. This was a feeling that she thought had been left behind many years ago in her childhood.

And she didn’t want to have those feelings again.

Except…

There was something in Valentina’s overall demeanor that reassured Cynthia. There was no menace in her eyes. No anger on her face. There was no question to who was in charge, but there was no pall of impending danger. Just a serene calmness.

And Cynthia felt safe.

“Unzip my dress, carefully slide it over my shoulders and to the floor,” Valentina told her.

Cynthia did as she was told.

As she carefully slid the dress down Valentina’s sleek figure, Cynthia was inches from some of the most beautiful body art she had ever seen. Every color and line only accentuated the flawlessly smooth skin and gentle curves of Valentina’s erotically charged form.

When Cynthia was on her knees behind this beautiful woman, holding the delicate silk in her hands, Valentina gracefully stepped out of the dress, turned and told Cynthia to hang the dress in the closet and then come back to the bed.

Once again, Cynthia did as she was told.

“Thank you,’ Valentina curtly told her.

Cynthia nodded.

Then Valentina addressed Katie. “Katie, please get down on your hands and knees.”

As Katie did, her arms trembled slightly in uncertain expectation. But she knew, as always, that nothing bad would happen to her as long as Cynthia was there.

“Cynthia,” Valentina said, “Give me a hand with ‘The Jackhammer,’ please.”

There you go.

If you want to see what happens next, follow me or friend me or whatever you need to do on whatever site you read this on. I would really appreciate that and I promise that what comes next will NOT disappoint you!

Love, Frey