Archive for March, 2011

Cocksucker: A YA Novel

Posted in erotic fiction, Incest fiction, smut, Valerie Gray, Valerie Grey with tags , , , , , , , on March 17, 2011 by valeriegrey

Ophelia Press will soon release my semi-autobiographical short novel, Cocksucker. It is about a young girl learning how to, and loving…well, the title gives that away.

It is being marketed as a Young Adult novel.  YA fiction today is certainly challenging the norm and pressing the envelope, speaking to the truth teens experience.

Yeah it might shock some, infuriate the conservative mind, but I have a strong feeling that teen girls, and grown women, who read this book will nod and say, “That’s how it was for me too.”

I won’t comment on what teen boys and grown men will say…only that I hope they enjoy this FICTION.

Excerpt for preview:

I had this crazy wild impossible crush on this totally hot guy who lived across the street, Ronny McFarland.  The problem was, he was fifteen and I was twelve, and kind of a nerd, so why would he even bother with someone like me?  I saw the kind of girls who came by to see him, girls his age, or at least thirteen, and they had boobs and wore mini-skirts and make-up. Why would he bother with a flat-chested lanky lass who wore glasses and braces?

It was a challenge, though, and that interested me. Kind of like a complicated algebra equation: it may seem impossible on first glance, but with some brain effort and determination, it can be solved.

I told my friend Heather, who is thirteen and a total sex fiend, about my crush and how I knew I could never do anything about it because I didn’t stand a chance.

“Baloney,” Heather said, “you’re a hot number for your age, Ashleigh. So what if you don’t have tits, you’re sexy as you are.”

Hey, I had bumps!

She stood me in front of the mirror in her bedroom and showed me. I knew my face was pretty, people said I could model some day or even model now. I was tall for eleven, five-foot-eight, and slender. I had a sort of “goth” or death metal chick look because I liked to wear black and paint my fingernails black.

Heather took off my glasses and was like, “You don’t need these.”

But what about my braces?

“Lots of guys like braces, especially men,” she said. “Men like young girls, even if they’re afraid to admit it. They want to corrupt us.”

I wasn’t interested in men; I wanted this fifteen-year-old boy.  But how was I going to catch his attention and get him to fall in love with me?

“Easy,” said Heather, “you give him the greatest sex he’s ever had.”

Problem: I was a virgin and planned to remain that way until I got married, or until I was for sure in love.  Not that I had anything against fooling around otherwise, I just wanted my defloration to be special.

“Then you suck his cock like it’s never been sucked before,” Heather said. “You drain that guy’s balls dry, you suck him off all day and make him blow his wad ten times, whatever it takes, you give him what those other beyotch’s can’t; you show him you’re the Crotch Eating Princess of this town, and he’ll be yours, believe me.”

It will be published alongside a companion novella from Sandra Boise, called The Secret Rituals of Arizona and Montana, also a YA novel about growing up in a not-so-happy house with a single alcoholic mother. It kicks ass over Bastard Out of Carolina.

A Warm Wet Kiss in the House of Incest

Posted in Valerie Gray, Valerie Grey with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 17, 2011 by valeriegrey

My poetry book, A Warm Wet Kiss in the House of Incest, will be published soon by Ophelia Press. The poems are gathered from the past eight or even ten years. I don’t write poetry much but sometimes the Muse Bitch  rubs my noggin.  It is 90 pages of verse.


Here are two for preview:


First Kiss


His first kiss was like candy cane

in December, sweet and hard

w/ all the promises

of Santa—or is that Satan?


I’m talking tongue in my mouth

not a peck on the cheek

or a dab on the lips


I’m talking exchanging saliva

& touching me between the

legs and making me wet


Daddy, kiss me again.

I miss that touch; that embrace;

that feeling of comfort and love.





First Penis


it looked so ginormous

from my



a pulsing purple head

the little hole for pee-pee

thick veins that seemed alive

like Medusa’s snake hair


“strecth,” he said,

“you can do




& he did




my best friend’s father,

smelling of stale beer

& adult semen,


he took my cherry

& made me bleed

only to find a need

I didn’t know

was there.


I became jealous of

my best friend, because

she had this big daddy dick


& I did not (yet)


she would tell me

in secret

how she sucked the milk

from his gianormous

love machine


how he tried to get it in

her butt


how much she hated it,

never knowing I craved




when her daddy loved me

during stolen moments


of sin and warmth