Chet’s Cum‑Crusted Chronicles 💦

I recently earned my Author 50 badge—thank you, hold your applause—and figured it was the perfect time to start linking to my stories here. Most of them are explicitly connected: anchored in the 1920s, then jumping to the 1960s–1980s, with occasional flashbacks to other eras. A few others are secretly connected, but shhh… those links haven’t been fully revealed yet. 🤫

Readers seem to like my witty banter, historical realism, and—let’s be honest about why we’re really here—hot, messy sex.

To celebrate Thanksgiving, I’ll kick things off with my most popular story, set in mid-November 2024: Bad Medicine. It’s a sex comedy with a whiff of the supernatural, inspired by—of all things—a real-life license plate. Are any of these modern-day characters connected to my historical storyverse? 🤔 Pay attention, and maybe you’ll find the clues!

Be sure to let me know what catches your eye, or any other body parts. 😏 Happy reading!

Chapter 1: January 1st, 1926 is where it all began for me as a writer of smut. I tried my best to provide historical accuracy and embody the zeitgeist of the 1920s, with one major exception: women strove to present a boyish, athletic figure—flat chests and narrow hips—but my ladies have ample bosoms that they don’t mind showing off while they’re sucking dick in the broom closet during a New Year’s Eve party.

There are currently 20 more chapters available, which should give you time to catch up on your reading before I wrap up the series with the final few chapters. 😅 And who knows—if you leave a comment telling me what you liked, you may just influence what happens before we bid adieu to 1926!

Many people think pee play is just plain gross, which I can understand. But I have to tell you, writing these stories has actually helped me overcome a big hangup in my life. I used to have trouble peeing in a public restroom because—I’m not exactly sure? Was I worried that somebody would see how small my penis is when it’s flaccid? (It essentially quadruples in length when it gets hard.) I always had to use a private stall instead of a semi-public urinal. But once I became a prolific author of piss porn, my attitude changed. My piss is awesome! None of these other jokers are as comfortable with piss as I am! Whip it out, let it fly! You could say it was self-help therapee, har har.

Lake Ossipee (Part 1 of 3) is my first story about young Cassie McDougal, whose grandmother Julia features prominently in my series set in 1926. Cassie discovers a desire for pee she never suspected, but the story is about much more than that. Center Ossipee is a real town, near Ossipee Lake—I misremembered the name as Lake Ossipee and decided I liked it better my way—and I made the geographic details as accurate as possible. Charlie Pratt is a composite of every old geezer I remember from childhood, calling soda pop “tonic” in a voice simultaneously gruff and kindly. I thoroughly enjoyed writing Charlie’s New Hampshire Yankee dialect as well as Kevin's Canadian pronunciations.

So even if watersports isn’t your thing, you might enjoy reading this story for the characters and setting. Part 1 has no sex, just bare titties, but Cassie will do a lot of exploration before the summer ends. Please let me know what you think!