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This story only available on Lush Stories. Dedicated to a humble man and a lovely friend.

It isn’t every day one wins the chance to meet one’s favourite writer, and the women of certain lusty circles had been ready to scratch each other’s eyes out over the charity competition. For a mere 3,000 (or $4653.90) donation, anybody with the cash and will to write a poem could enter and be in with a chance to meet Frank Leigh. Nobody remembers if there was a second prize. Or a third. Who cared, when there was Frank Leigh on offer?

Revered and acclaimed the world over for his velvet words, that dripped hot, sticky lust into the eyeballs of women who would do anything to get their hands on him, Frank Leigh was a prize indeed. There were even straight men who would sell their own mothers just to hear his deep, dulcet tones reading out one of his own works, imagining that poetic master teaching them all there was to know about reducing women to a quivering wreck at their feet. Hell, some of them even discovered they were sliding onto the gay scale with a tube of KY and a butt plug when they read his steamier stories.

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