Hello good people.
Today, it’s my great pleasure to welcome Julez S Morbus. And it’s a pleasure for two reasons: First, he’s a man who always reaches out for his friends without expecting anything in return (and believe me, this is really rare nowadays). Second, because he chose writing in a genre not many people did, and he’s damn good at it! Let’s see what he has to say, shall we?
The morning, you are tea or coffee?
Definitely coffee. Can't live without my caffeine.
What kind of books do you write?
Erotic romance, mainly transsexual or gay male.
Why did you choose this genre?
I chose transsexual romance because transsexuals always seem to be shown as nothing more than sex toys and I wanted to show they are normal people, just like you and me.
When you write, are you keyboard or paper?
Are you more motivated to write when the sun shines or when the weather is gray?
The sun gives happier romance ideas whereas gray weather makes me think psychological thriller style.
Where do you find your inspiration?
Inspiration generally comes from an image I have seen but occasionally an idea just bursts into life in my head when I least expect it.
When you start a book, do you already have the whole story in your head, or is it built progressively?
Progressively. I never have a plan or goal I just go with the flow.
How do you feel before the release of a book? Fear, joy? And after?
Before mainly trepidation about how it will be received but once I see it in the ebook stores elation quickly follows.
Between your first and last novel, do you feel a change? Do you write differently?
My first novel was a lot longer than recent work yet recent short works flow faster and better.
They say that writers project themselves into the skin and into the head of his hero / heroine, is that the case for you?
I did think a lot about the heroes in my first two releases and how I would behave if i was in the situation they found themselves in.
You define yourself more like a bookworm, a city mouse or a country mouse?
Molière said: “Writing is like prostitution. First we write for the love of it, then for a few friends, and in the end for money.” What do you think about it?
I write for the fun first and foremost, that's why I started and that's why I continue. Getting royalties is just a bonus, not a reason to write.
Your books have already been translated?
Do you pay attention to literary criticism?
Constructive criticism yes because improving all the time is what every writer wants to do, each new book being better than the last but if someone just says 'that book's shit' and gives no reason that's no help to anyone least of all me as a writer. I want to know why it's shit and what they would have preferred me to do differently.
The days are 25 hours. You spend that extra hour in the garden or in the kitchen?
In front of the computer LOL
What is the book you would bring with you on a deserted island?
Too many to choose from but to continue with my writing it would have to be a thesaurus.
In the evening, do you turn off the light directly or do you take the time to read?
Once I hit the pillows the light goes out and I sleep. I read during free time in the day, if and when I get any.
And now, as a gift, here’s the first Chapter of Top Of The Class that you can find at Naughty Nights Press, All Romance Ebooks, and Amazon.
Have you ever had a teacher so hot you just couldn’t concentrate on the work? Were you in need of some “special” after-class instruction and discipline, perhaps?
Julian’s grades used to be at the top of the class in Psychology, but the new lecturer was the most distracting teacher he had ever encountered. Instead of concentrating on his studies, Julian spent his time in her class dreaming of all the things he wished he could do with her.
Ms. Hamilton also knew why Julian’s work had slumped, and keeping him back after class she dished out her special brand of punishment designed to teach him more then just a Psychology lesson.
Only, Ms. Hamilton was hiding a secret; a secret she knew she had to reveal. She just didn’t have a clue how Julian would react.
What is Ms. Hamilton’s secret? Will Julian’s grades improve?
Find out, as Julian begins a journey that reveals as much about him, as it does the beautiful, yet mysterious, Ms. Hamilton.
Holding out my hand, I took my latest assignment from Ms. Hamilton and stared at the top right hand corner to see the large red F circled yet again, my fifth F in a row. At this rate I was never going to pass this damn course, yet, I used to be so good at Psychology. I was once the best in the class, but that was under the old lecturer, Mrs. Alexander.
Ever since Ms. Hamilton took over the running of the course, my grades slowly slipped until they couldn’t get any worse. Ironically, I knew exactly what the problem was. Ms. Hamilton. Don’t get me wrong, she was a brilliant lecturer, better even than Mrs. Alexander, but she was also the most gorgeous woman I had ever set my eyes on, and therein lay the problem.
Instead of listening to every word she said, I just stared at her beauty. She had long, flame-red and black hair. Her blouses, although generally loose, struggled to contain the most amazing pair of tits that I had never seen; her thin skirts, which ended just above the knee, clung to her perfect ass beautifully. Then there were her gorgeous, long, smooth looking legs, always covered with stockings, and finally her shoes, four to six inch heels, perfectly polished and the color matching whatever outfit she was wearing that particular day.
Her words went in one ear and out the other as I daydreamed about all the things I wanted to do to her. How I wanted to strip her, slowly, before making love to her right there over her desk. How I wished she would drop to her knees in front of me, release my rock-hard cock and give me the blowjob of my life. It was these fantasies that were ruining my chances of finishing all my courses with a perfect score and I quickly needed to do something about it.
Sitting up straight in my chair, I called out, “Ms. Hamilton?”
“Can I see you after class, please? I need to talk to you urgently.”
“I think you do as well,” she replied, nodding. “Okay, I have a meeting, but I can spare you five minutes.”
“Thank you Ma’am.” I slunk back down in my chair and returned to my increasingly graphic fantasies involving the Professor. I simply couldn’t help myself.
Eventually, and thankfully, the bell rang pulling me from yet another descriptive act of debauchery with the lovely teacher, and as everyone rushed to the door, I stayed in my seat. Apart from needing to talk with Ms. Hamilton, my wandering mind had left me with a slight problem, which would be clearly visible if I stood up.
As the last person trailed out the door, Ms. Hamilton walked over and perched her perfect ass on the edge of my desk, crossing her legs and giving me a small glimpse of the top of her stockings. This really didn’t help with my problem.
“Now then, Julian, what did you want to talk about?” she inquired, her soft voice sending shivers of excitement through my body.
“It’s my grades,” I mumbled, thinking she knew full well why I was not standing to speak with her.
“Well, they have dropped alarmingly,” she snapped. “Are my teaching methods too complicated for you?”
“No nothing like that but….”
“But what, Julian,” she asked, leaning forward, providing me with a perfect view down her blouse.
Her heaving tits were clearly visible, straining against the thin material of her bra, and my slight problem quickly became a very large problem. Inwardly I groaned as my trousers tightened, pulling taut across the bulging member within. I really wished she hadn’t done that.
“Well are you going to tell me?” She pushed, “Or just sit there staring down my blouse at my tits?”
Quickly sitting bolt upright and lifting my head, I mumbled an apology, my embarrassment at being caught evident in the hue crawling up my cheeks. Ms. Hamilton started laughing softly.
“Let me tell you something,” she whispered, “I know you can do this course, I’ve seen your grades from before I took over.”
“I know I can as well but…”
“I have also noticed that you spend most of your time in my class staring straight at me and, at a guess, daydreaming.”
The hushed apology fell again from my lips, my discomposure increasing more at her direct acknowledgement of my ill-timed, improper thoughts.
“No need to be sorry about the staring,” she assured me. “But there is every need to be sorry about your grades.”
Looking up at her suddenly, my surprised mind played over the images that had been running through my imagination for the whole semester so far, and I didn’t quite know how to respond at first. Finally, in a somewhat bolder voice, I responded to her comment, “I thought you’d go mad if you knew.”
“Why would I go mad? Every woman likes to know they are attractive, especially when the person appreciating the view is half their age.”
I breathed out an audible sigh of relief. Still taken aback that she hadn’t been angry, I looked straight at her, becoming courageous.
“Look, Ms, I promise to try and focus more on the class,” I told her. “And less on your gorgeousness.”
The words left my mouth before I even had a chance to think and I felt myself redden again rapidly.
Ms. Hamilton didn’t even appear phased by my slipup. “Well, that’s very nice of you to say, Julian. Thank you,” she replied. “And as for your grades, something tells me that they will start to improve rapidly.”
“I hope so, Ms.” I stood up, forgetting about the problem in my trousers.
“So starting tomorrow, I will see an improvement then?” Ms. Hamilton asked, licking her lips as I began to walk out of the room.
“Definitely.” I called over my shoulder.