What is Smutpunk
As you can see, smutpunks are regularly asked this question. The answers keep getting better and better.
— Emme Hor (@horbooks) April 16, 2017
Video Trailer: SMUTPUNK on SKATES
Buy Emme Hor’s Books right here on the MJ and Emme Smutpunk Site.
You can check out SMUTPUNK on SKATES which is always free on this site, or go over to Amazon where I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet is permafree.
Besides the free books, Emme has many affordable books for you to enjoy. She’s finishing up the Smutpunk on Skates Bundle (four books) that you will be able to enjoy in one inexpensive book, rather than buying four separate titles.
Learn more about Emme Hor and, of course, buy her work.
Poem by Moctezuma Johnson for Emme
(cue Phish’s “My Friend, My Friend” in your mind’s ear)
My friend, my friend she’s got some skates
A statement from her former date
When she was easy but alone
Without her trusted chaperon
But what of pink glittered wheels
Affix the plug and seal the deal
Grasps the handle, sticks the butt plug
Up ass so tight with smut love
my friend my friend, she celebrates
my friend SMUTPUNKs and masturbates
That’s right, baby, SMUTPUNK riffs as much as Phish, Parliament/Hunkadelic, and the Duke all rolled up on one stage. Now check out my wife’s Book Series called Romance on Skates because it’s glittery awesomeness. And remember, folks, you can’t fax glitter no matter how scantily clad you are.
Love Office Chicks in Compromising Positions? Of course you do! Try more with Emme Hor’s Romance on Rollerskates Series
KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA — 19 MAY 2016 — Insiders are calling this series the Butt Plug Blues (title totally leaked by Moctezuma Johnson, retired smutpunk author) and singing it’s silly, sexy, smutpunkie praises. In each episode an Alpha Male leads Heather to end up with a butt plug up her ass. Somehow she’s always in micro-mini skirts or tight yoga pants and roller-skates. Can this Asian chick be any sexier? Well, the Alpha Male known as ‘That Fucker’ seems to think she can because he’s got a bevy of other girls’ anus’ butt plugs on display in his office on THE BUTT PLUG MANTLE. This cruel alpha, Heather’s boyfriend when the story starts, is out of control. HE’s so bad that Heather’s MILF mother Lana has to step in and help.
It all leads to a massive CLIMAX featuring BUTT PLUGS, ROLLER-SKATES, SKULL CANDY and much much much much smutpunkedly much MORE.
Smutpunk’d by the Alpha FUTA – Bullshit Bulletin #6
by San Esperma de Desgracia
Is it already the Bullshit Bulletin No. 6? That can’t be fucking right, can it? Six? It feels like yesterday that I decided to start writing these. Huh!
Emme’s singin’ the Buttplug Blues agian. <Robert Plant riffing while stoned out of his mind singing Blazed & Cum-fused by MoJo> Lot’s of asses plugged, but few of them know that the butt of a woman was created below.
Times are hard. Hard as cock. SMUTPUNKED ON SKATES is the sequel to sequel to That Fucker, who gets skated by again and again and is ready with a trophy mantel of B _ T T _ L _ G S (would you like to buy a vowel from Vanha? Yes, a “U”. There are two “U”s). Heather’s mother is here to help this time. And everyone knows there’s no lovin’ like the lovin’ of yo mama! There’s also nothing better to muck everything up way worse than it was mucked up in the first place. The Buttplug Blues becomes Mama’s Blues.
Have you met the women of Fuck Force Five, the Five Hive, yet? If you haven’t please introduce yourself here.
Subscribe to the SMUTPUNK Mailer, please — Free Sex and/or Lip Balm is promised†
LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT (if you’re on a computer, no idea where if you’re on another device, somewhere) and subscribe to this site to get notifications of new blog posts. If you’re a writer I’ll be sure to promote your shit, if you’re a reader it means you’ll get free promoted shit. Who wants a FREE SMUTPUNKED ON SKATES? Let me know by email, cute little puppies)
[[INSERT CUTE ARROWY IMAGE HERE >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>]]
It’s called iPick-Up. It’s where you SUBSCRIBE to this website to get your SMUTPUNK fix. Everybody needs her smutpunk or your cunt will go dry. Them’s the breaks. It cures bad breath, alien virus, and asthma. So type in your email thingy and let me stuff your box full of s.punk.
Some Friends Doing Great Things:
Callie Press (aka Queen Kegel) has gotten some really good reviews for her SMASH HIT Erotic Pulp #1 – The SMUTPUNK Reader. See her interview with Brixton Atwood.
I want to introduce a new friend and awesome tweeter and writer. Find more about this genius brain at @MzPatchouli. She has one of the best websites I’ve seen from a writer. It’s elegant by design and thoughtful by, well, design. Just do yourself a favor and check it out.
MILKED BY THE YETI. Looks like Callie and I have forgotten to write a new piece, between Sarchasmo and FitMan and BurpeeGirl it’s hard to find time between sets of rough BJ Burpees to see what Milky Russian tits are up to. The old titties are still completely free. They won’t be free for long as Assazon wants to charge for all titties, whether Russian or Not. Milked by a Yeti or Not. I don’t set the rules. I just obediently play by them.
Anyway, don’t forget to stay up to date with Milked by the Yeti at literaryporn.net. Big hairy changes are around the Himalayan corner.
You haven’t heard of MILKED BY THE YETI? Do you live under a rock? Well, get yourself a quick one-minute taste at xvideos.com’s trailer of Natasha and Lena in Milked by the Yeti. Please give it a thumbs up if you enjoyed it. Thank you. I made it, so I could really use the encouragement.
Blog Tours & Twitter
Is anybody doing a blog tour or anything because I’m up for hosting a stop. I don’t really even know what that means, but I’d like to try being a host and finding out.
In Twitter news, authors keep blastin out tweets lauding their own books. I do it too, but man I’m getting bored of it. It kind of feels like all of twitter has become bot-territory.
In other Twitter news, dudes keep sending photos of their dicks. I don’t really get that much, but hear from the WPW Nymphettes that it’s pretty rampant. They pretty much think that because you’re a writer of erotica you’re a whore. I’m pretty much as obviously male as Big John Slade, so the ones that send to me with love from India are clearly gay (Mental Note: consider this when marketing toward the sub-continent). I’m going with something alone the lines of “My White Co-Worker Made me a Bollywood Cuckold by Whoring Out My Wife” or something to that effect.
I had something else to say, but it’s gone. I think it was a rant. I have that feeling in my gut. The rant feeling. Ah yes, this business from FaceBook:
I got into a pretty pretty pretty interesting discussion with Ashlee Shades and others on Naya’s post.
There has been lots of criticism (from me) about the fact that a lot of indie writing is fully baked. Sometimes the editing is bad, the plots aren’t well-, well, plotted, and the covers are crappy and even contain errors. I’ve been pretty lenient on the review end of things but the truth is the Zon makes anybody who can type with their thumb on a phone feel like an epicurean capable of doling out Michelin stars to the world’s greatest bistros. They’re not. The first and most essential thing they miss is basic common courtesy. Professional reviewrs have etiquette, even when they loathe something. If they don’t, they don’t last in the industry. A lot of my fellow writers are asking Zon to stop allowing people to read a whole book and then return it. Personally, I don’t care about those clergy members who get riddled with guilt after my sentient dildos made them cum and have to wash away the guilt by returning the book before another clergy member sees it, reads it, and—GASP!—enjoys it. If you want your $0.35 back, go for it you cheap guilty bastard.
The thing that absolutely bakes my noodle is how someone will read 3% of my book and then say they don’t like it. That’s like smelling a bowl of pasta and saying, “I hate Italian cooking.” That’s not a review. I don’t think that should be allowed. Reviews help/hurt sales. But let’s not get me into a rant. I know lots of us have this phenomenon. You work for weeks or months on your baby and then get a one word “awful” with one star from someone who didn’t even have the etiquette to read the thing they are trashing. WTF? How is that allowed? I’m pasting a strangely burnt version of said review. It appears this rocket scientist’s review has suffered in a raging attack of SMUTPUNK arson. No idea how that happened. Callie Press? any ideas? <whistles “Forgot About Dre” while strolling away peacefully> Basically my overall, main arc of a point is that I’m more saying STOP THE BULLSH*T, but I think it’s kind of case by case, so overall I say let these brain surgeons do what they like to do, whether it’s buy and return not read yet review, etc. All of their shenanigans lead to sales movement, publicity, and are ultimately good for the author. I’ve seen theft in my day job, I’m talking hundreds of thousands of dollars, so forgive me but $0.35 isn’t really on my radar as theft. It’s more bad etiquette. The cops callcar robbery “Grand Theft Auto” because the numbers (in most states) are higher than a grand, otherwise, the police say, “f*ck it!, go read the new one by 1- and 5-star king Moctezuma Johnson”
See what’s new at Mr. Blackthorne’s Classy Castle
Some recent posts from mrblackthorne.com:
Poet for Hire
Poet for hire is always a good thing, right? I suggest you click below and buy. You can request the ever-popular hate poem. The poem is emailed anonymously to anyone you choose and features nasty, MJ-style abuse. Great for ex-husbands, bosses, cunt family members, and nemeses. Great for holidays! Comes with or without images! Get your own personalized SMUTPUNK poem.
Sarchashmo is the poet for hire. He’ll cockslap any fools into submission. If he cannot, he’ll employ the help of his “friend”, Queen Kegel the Sextacular.
Got something important to add?
Let me know.
I’m always around. Email, comment, tweet, or stop me on the street (grabbing me by the balls is the best way to get my wandering attention).
‘Nuff said, says San Esperma di Desgracia
Get a quick Poem:
†To those over 357 years old
This book is out and I suggest you have a preview
“Find out if Heather is giving or getting the Happy Ending this time!”
Bulletin #3 – EXCITING and COLLIDING Week in SMUTPUNK CAMP | #EARTG #LPRTG #SSRTG #MrBrtg Any more hashtags?
It’s been an exciting week in Smutpunk Camp. Callie released Lyssa #5 – Me Under Glass (Cthulhu Smutpunk Paranormal Erotica), which is a super-imaginative piece.
I was blown away by Me Under Glass, as I am by most of Callie’s work. You will find my review on the product page for her new smutpunk, cthulhu mythos, universe colliding part of her masterpiece. I know she wanted to write a one wank wonder story, but her imaginative brain just wouldn’t let it rest, thankfully.
Callie also has some Erotic Pulp on the way, which I’m not going to reveal what that means but I will tell you that I’ve seen glimpses of it, and even brainhurricaned a few ideas with her, and it’s ball-inflatingly, tit-flauntingly brilliant. If my ass could wink, it would do so here.
Linzi Basset was a guest on the Blog Tour Bus Stop and gave an incredible interview. A few other writers have touched me on the shoulder about doing something similar so a new one is brewing. Let me know if you’re interested. It’s going to be hard to top the Nabokov of Erotica’s debut interview. They say the first is special. I’m glad mine was with Linzi. I heard it was her first, too. See two virgins doing it for the first time.
Linzi also happens to be absolutely rocking the rankings. Man, I’m happy if one of my books takes a quick dip inside the top 100,000. She’s is something like #5 overall. Congratulations. She has a knack for language, and writes a shit ton of books. The combo of hard work and talent are starting to pay dividends for her. She is a shining example to all of us.
Reed James is working on a futanari cuckolding story, title still unknown to me.
The series is Cuckold by the Black Futa. Reed is such a prolific writer. He’s another shining example!
Mr. Blackthorne, as classy and mysterious as ever, has some great new excerpts up. The latest are from JULY CUMMING and JENNY FOSHIA and two writers you know from this site.
That leads me to the big news of the week for Camp Smutpunk, Sarchashmo himself (aka Moctezuma Johnson) is now a Naughty Nymphette, one of the Wicked Pens.
I never thought the day would come but, after befriending about half the group one by one and seeing my wife, Emme, welcomed by them, I thought oh what the hell and joined. They have accepted me better than I could have dreamed, although I am WAY TOO PORNO-LITERARY SMUTPUNK UP THE ASS for some of them. I’m quite honored to be surrounded by such a talented bunch. So check out all the Wicked Pen(i)s on mrblackthorne.com
Lastly, it’s on. The Five Hive (The Fuck Force Five Women In Black Special Unit) are about to throwdown with Butterface, that crawling chaos cunt. The Battle for Alien Relish is on. Get your tickets earlier! Get your tickets earlier! Steel Cage STRAP-on Dildo Match! Get your tickets earlier!
Recent Posts at Mr. Blackthorne’s Site
Triangulum Stain 2 – Alien Relish – January 9, 2016
What’s in a Name? – January 8, 2016
The Pawn of the Phoenix – Excerpt – January 7, 2016
I Am Not A Whore, Am I? – January 6, 2016
Dominating Donna – Excerpt – January 5, 2016
Got some important news to add?
Let me know.
I’m always around. Email, comment, tweet, or stop me on the street (grabbing me by the balls is the best way to get my wandering attention).
‘Nuff said, says San Esperma di Desgracia (in technicolor)
Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG | Mirror – Original Published at mrblackthorne.com
Excerpt of I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor | #EARTG #Erotica #LPRTG
From the Confessions of a Whore Trilogy – This scene from Book 1 takes place somewhere in Anytown, USA
Neil was munching on a green tea ice cream out of the cup and I was eating an ice pop called Vanilla Quickie from a company called “Lil’ Sugar.”
Neil was staring at me, so I gave him a show. I held the red berry ice pop up to my mouth. My lips were parted, and my tongue was slightly out. Like Lenny, I looked like I was panting from the heat. He was panting cause of the sun, but me, no, it was different. I was hungry for a big, hard cock. In my mind, I was getting it. I was panting as I brought the big, dripping ice pop toward by open mouth. I licked from the very bottom of the shaft all the way to the top while staring into Neil’s eyes. As I repeated this full-length lick while holding the stick at the base I craned my head left and right. Then I put the tip in my mouth and sucked on it. It was so cold against my lips. My hot tongue melted the frozen cream. I pulled it out, “Yum!” I said. The cream was sweet and tasty.
“You’re too much,” he answered.
“Am I?” I taunted him. I shoved the entire length of the thing into my mouth until the ice pop disappeared into the back of my throat. Only the stick was hanging out from my closed lips. I stared at Neil and he looked annoyed. I put on my sad puppy eyes and then pulled the length of it back out of my mouth. In a sweet baby voice I said, “Baby wishes she had something bigger and harder to suck on.”
“Baby!” Neil chided me. He looked down into his ice cream. “Come on, you’re not a whore!”
I laughed. “Okay, you’re no fun, you know that?”
I ate “properly” the rest of the way, peering out at the boring, quaint town of South Pampton. We strolled home, slowly. Lenny was still panting. I looked down at him understandingly. I had been bitten. It was done. Between the hunk whose hands never touched me, the ice pop, and the nasty feeling in my gut, I had to do something.
I tried to let this feeling pass. It just wouldn’t go away. I would be at the supermarket in the aisle with the chocolate syrup and imagine the stock boy spraying it all over my chest. I would be reading a book in the bookstore and want to rip off my clothes and finger myself right there with the book resting on my pelvis.
While with Neil in the copy shop I wanted to be railed by the automaton making a photo copy of one of his geek achievements, something or other about being the Renegade Music Pirate of the Year or something I didn’t care about. All the machines pounded in their robotic, repetitive back and forth. It was too much for me. I wanted to be railed by an automaton. I wanted a fucking machine to do me over and over again until I was trembling. I was jealous of the sex life of a room full of copy machines. I mean, I was so aroused by all this copying that I would have let R2D2 finger me with his gyroscope thingy that plugs in and cracks imperial codes while C3PO diddled my ass with his gold-tipped toe.
That night I went for a bike ride. I rode to Lorna Morris’ house. Her boyfriend was in the back fixing a broken outdoor table umbrella. The shaft was stuck in through the hole of an outdoor table and jammed stuck in the base. I imagined the solid wood shaft of the umbrella going in and out of the hole in the table. Everything was sexy. I was wet. Not damp. Wet. Unbearably wet. Everything was sex.
Inside, I saw Lorna adding the last bits of clothes to the laundry basket.
I sat on the washing machine and spread my legs. I moved to the dryer, which was shaking like a lucky girl getting cunnilingus. I felt the shake and the warmth and inched that much closer to climax. When Lorna came in and saw me legs spread on her bucking machine she threw the basket to the ground. The dirty clothes spilled out everywhere. She got down and let her amazing tongue relieve the pussy-ache. She worked magic on my swollen clit. Tongue, lips, teeth, everything she did felt great. The machine buzzed and whirred to a shaky cataclysmic stop. It vibrated. Lorna licked. She fingered. She teased. My orgasm built and built and built some more.
I was on the verge of squirting across the room. Her boyfriend burst in, I guess he’d heard the buzz, and seeing him and his bulging muscles sent me over the edge. I grabbed the shelf above me so hard I dislodged it from the wall. As I came, I got showered in cascading fabric softener sheets. “So you finally seduced her, Lorn,” her boyfriend said. He walked back out, leaving the laundry room door wide open.
I rode back home feeling the bicycle seat under me. My sex was pushing against the seat like I was neatly in the right place. Orgasm had cleared my thoughts. I was calm. I knew what I had to do.
(continue reading this hot Asian-American Romance – I Am Not a Whore, At Least Not Yet by Emme Hor)
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Emme’s To Do List: Have someone write “I Am Not a Whore” in cum on my bust and photograph! Who do I know that cums that much?
TRIVIA/FUN FACT: Later cum erupts out of a cock, drips down the shaft, and looks like vanilla ice cream dripping down a cone.
Links to Naughty Vids That Remind and Inspire this Excerpt:
Miko Dai (aka my stunt double)
Older Asian MILF (aka my stunt double of the very near future)