G-SPOT CHRONICLES: THE SOUNDS

WHO I AM: Marsha L. Lewis aka FACESITTER ([email protected])WHAT I DO: Compose music, Write books, skits, short stories and the occasional poem. I also can cook my ass off. Until I open up a restaurant, I'm catering for bachelorette/bachelor parties, and grown-up events.
WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR ON MYSPACE: I'd like to make a feature film from my book, "G-Spot Chronicles", which has just hit the streets this month. I've had two short films done, so I'd like to graduate from that, to the big screen, although I'd settle for Cable TV/On Demand. lol...but seriously...Like chocolate? Check out my Top Choice Chocolatesâ„¢ blog: "Introducing...Top Choice Chocolatesâ„¢!"
Read any hot new books lately? You haven’t read about good sex, until you have read my debut erotic novel, “G-Spot Chronicles,” which is a bird’s eye account of how 20 something and 30 something friends get their groove on, while they live their everyday lives in Brooklyn NY.
The chronicles begin with Raymond, who is struggling to end his highly erratic, distressing, ‘drama-cidal’ yet pleasurable relationship with Cassandra, a woman he is deeply infatuated with sexually. Only Cassandra doesn’t make this conceivable, with her mouth-watering demeanor, and her unwillingness to give back the keys. Raymond and Cassandra are at the cross roads of their relationship, due to her scandalous, cheating ways.
Then there’s Kim: newly divorced, undersexed, and icy. She is secretly on a quest for her sexual self, and answers to her inner pleas for gratification and sexual exploration. Kim is a young lady, who is restricted sexually by her virtues. She’s on the brink of being released from her protective, prudish shell, thanks to a new lover, Remi.
Her best friend Sharon, is a quiet, secretive erotic dancer, who gets involved with Shon, a porn publisher and womanizer; a man she desired for a long time, sexually. Together Kim and Sharon share sexual experiences that surprise them endlessly…
Petra is the ‘professional lay’ of the bunch, and of the entire borough of Brooklyn. Making her mark in life, with her slew of sex parties, where she is the only female participant, receiving all the attention. She is a shameless home wrecker, with an agenda no one knows about. Petra is the welfare queen, who refuses to slow down her promiscuous ways, and constantly leaps into the pool of male testosterone, with both eyes wide shut.
Kareem is a slick-talking, seemingly quiet dude, with sex constantly on the brain. He and Raymond swap stories, out-doing one another’s narrative experiences every time.
The summer months are dominated by a good plot and hot, scandalous, etched in your mind sex. Memorable exploits are what epitomize G-Spot Chronicles.
G-Spot Chronicles, it's available on amazon.com, iuniverse.com, bn.com, and many other major online bookstores. Read it with the one you love, or the one you’re lovin’!
Stay tuned for the release of the steamy music for the book, “G-Spot Chronicles: The Sounds.” To hear some of that music now, you can visit:
http://www.myspace.com/gspotchroniclessounds
* Oh, and don’t forget: the two short films that were made from this book are available collectively on the DVD compilation “Urban S.L.A.M.” volume one. They are referred to on the DVD as “The Marriage Counselor” and “The Engagement Party.” You can visit www.urbanslam.com to purchase the entire DVD, or, you can purchase the separate films from me, just hit me up at [email protected].
FACESITTER
Story One LOVE, GHETTO STYLE © 2003 MARSHA LEWISIt was a warm, breezy Saturday afternoon in the heart of Bed-Sty Brooklyn, and Raymond was pissed. A tall 30-something year-old, almond-colored brother with big, sexy eyes and business aspirations, Raymond was recovering badly from a broken heart. He stood at the kitchen window, watching cars speed by. He was looking out for Cassandra: a stocky, but sexy chinky-eyed, exotic-looking 28-year-old vixen from the Bronx. It didn’t help that beauty was on her side. She had long black hair and deep brown-black eyes, like wells. Despite her stunning looks, now that she had an “ex” classification, she was on her way over to pick up the last of her things.At least this time, he thought to himself, he was not the one to screw things up. Raymond was always known as a smart guy, who never had to be lonely, and never actually was. Plenty of women he encountered on a daily basis, to and from his job at Mills Contracting, could fill the void that breaking it off with Cassandra would create. Hell, he had used his rugged looks and status, to get carnal knowledge of a few coworkers, but Cassandra’s sally reigned supreme. He only wanted Cassandra: a hellcat, Queen Of All Brooklyn Bitches. He thought he could never let that woman go, but today was the day.He was a dude with a PhD in contracting, and wits like a steal trap. Raymond had suave; his style was naturally debonair. Women wanted more after a few romps of fun, but his body and mind as an exclusive package, belonged to Cassandra. The papers on Cassandra were M.I.A., and Raymond was pussy-whipped worse than a runaway slave. He was so blind with adoration and desire, he ignored the signs of a brazen cheater.Raymond had been entangled with Cassandra for three long, drama-cidal years. In his mind, they had the best, and the worst of times. As a contractor, he was constantly distracted by their relationship while at work. Cassandra loved staying out all night, partying or whatever, coming home in the wee hours of the morning. Since she worked as a stylist for celebrities, her schedule was flexible; she could sleep all day, and party all night. Raymond had started many a day, bumping into her at the door as he headed out to work, and as she ended her all-night fun. Getting an explanation from her was like pulling teeth, so he just stopped asking. Their relationship was ending now, because Raymond was sick of being played like a fool. On the night that he planned to propose to her, they agreed to meet at the G-Spot Club. There, he found her with another dude, gyrating and kissing like she was trying to make a baby. It took this last brick wall, to decide that it was over. He knew he had a sex siren when they got together, but his loins convinced him to go along for the ride. Hell, he was having the time of his life; no one had ever fucked him like she did. For a while, the perquisites of being with a loose woman out-weighed his dignity. Now, what he wanted was a woman who respected their relationship enough, to know when it was time to come home. Cassandra was too busy having fun, to even think about Raymond’s feelings. It’s not like Raymond had never tried to kick her to the curb. Raymond’s attempts to throw fine ass Cassandra out at least three times previously, were foiled by her excellent sex and professional head. The moment she came in the door, she’d start batting her eyes at him, sashaying around the house, licking her lips and propositioning him for sex. “You gon’ say no to all of this?” she would ask, opening her blouse to show him her breasts. Cassandra seduced him repeatedly, which caused an invisible force field to grow around the keys. Whenever he had the chance to pick them out of her pocket as she slept, or showered, that force field was there. Raymond had the classification of “fool” with most people who knew him, for not wanting to join in on the fun with Cassandra, as she pursued outside erotic adventures, especially when her invitations were always open to him. Raymond’s friend Kareem had heard the reoccurring sad story over the phone while inviting him out for some lay-ups, and decided to come over, bringing his play station. This was such an old routine; the wires were loose and ragged, from Kareem unplugging his play station repeatedly. Nonetheless, he knew a game of football would take the sting off. To Kareem, it was clear that Raymond had been severely pussy-whipped. Raymond could hear his friend Kareem behind him asking something, but he didn’t hear the question, because he was too busy fretting quietly about why things didn’t work out with Cassandra. “I forgave her when she lied, I forgave her when she cheated…I’ve been a sucka for that ho. No one ever cheated on me that many times.” “I hate to tell you this kid, but maybe you was lackin’ in the dick department, or somethin’.” “Never that, man. I know how to beat up a pussy. She’s just a tramp, I never came to grips with that. I never wanted to listen to what dudes were saying to me about her. I thought if it was true, I could change her, make her feel like a queen, and settle her lil’ ass down.” “You know what they say about tryin’ to turn a ho into a housewife.” Kareem chuckled. Raymond stared at him hard. “Ain’t no holdin’ her down. She’s like that Dorothy Dandridge flick. Don’t nag her about where she’s going, just zip her up, so she can go out and be with other men.” “I ain’t gonna lie, man. If I had a woman like that, she might kinda turn me on. I mean, we men have been doin’ that forever.” “It used to turn me on a lil’ sumthin’, sumthin’, but damn, she scarin’ me, dude. With A.I.D.S. goin’ around, free love can’t be a part of my reality no more.” While Kareem plugged in the Play station AKA pacifier, they heard keys jingling outside the front door. It was Cassandra, the ho that broke his heart. “Wassup?” she asked with coolness, as she put down her purse. Raymond noticed the tight jeans hugging her thick thighs and ass, as she approached him, and he started to sweat. She tried to kiss him, but he used every bit of strength he had, to turn his face away, as if her breath reeked. Cassandra walked to the window to look at a framed photo of them, during better times. She picked it up, brandishing it like a weapon of emotional guilt. “Dang. You did love me at one point.” “And you loved me like a pair o’ draws.” “You are so tired, Ray. You’re always complaining. Just move on.” “I can move on, when you get your stuff otta here.”Ignoring Raymond, Cassandra looked over at Kareem, who was playing football on the PS2, pretending to be oblivious. “Hello, Kareem.” “Yeah, uh…wassup?” “Her getting her stuff up outa here, is what’s up.” Cassandra approached Raymond slowly, as seductively as she used to, just before she would go out with her girls and not come back until four o’clock the next afternoon. Damn, her lips are so juicy, Raymond thought. Her eyes were flame-colored when she stood in the light, but they were auburn as she approached him. She touched his shirt where the buttons clasp, fingering one of the buttonholes, gazing up into his face. “You don’t have to be so hostile,” she purred. Raymond got hard from the sound of her voice: silky-smooth and seductive, like just-whipped butter. She did something to him with it, and she knew it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up whenever she spoke, and looked up at him the way she did. But his brain told him that he couldn’t give into that anymore. “Look, jus’ get your stuff, okay?” Cassandra licked her lips while she stared up at him. He couldn’t help but think about her whole hot mouth stroking his dick, until it exploded down her throat. Knowing that he was about to give in to his weakness for her, Raymond cursed aloud at himself, and led her into the bedroom by the hand, as if her pussy was on fire. He slammed the door behind him, and spent long moments letting her suck him. Afterwards, he fucked her pussy hard, finishing her off with a cuissade, while he muttered weakly, “This is goodbye…this is goodbye…” Kareem could hear the bed springs squeaking, and it turned him on. He paused the football game, so he could hear the nasty things Cassandra was saying, but it was inaudible over Raymond’s moans and groans. A few moments went by and there was dead-silence coming from the room, along with the smell of sex floating into the place where Kareem sat. When the door opened, Cassandra wiped the corner of her mouth and approached the front door. Snatching up her purse on the way there she announced, “Imma come back another day, aiight?” She was out of breath. Raymond rushed over to the bedroom doorway, pulling up his pants. He called out to her, and she turned around sharply. “Cassandra? The keys.” The look she gave him could have melted cold steel. She slipped through the door, keys in hand. He was going to have to work hard to get his keys back.##COUPLES, LOVERS OF PORN, BLACK SEX , BLACK SEXUALITY, AND EROTICA...NYMPHOMANIACS, CHECK OUT "G-SPOT CHRONICLES" THE BOOK AND THE SOUNDS, CREATED BY THE BOOK'S AUTHOR, FACESITTER!
TO READ THE BLOG FOR THE BOOK, GO HERE: G-Spot Chronicles..This profile was edited with SpaceCodes.com - Profile Editor MySpace HELP Profile Help!You can tell your whole life story in thirty seconds. Its a question of editing. -David Gerrold
Marsha Lewis writing career began on the hallway walls of her mothers section 8 apartment, in a lily-white ghetto. Reveling in her newfound ability to write, she decided that a red crayon was the right tool to make her proud. Her mother was so furious; she gave her a can of cleanser, a sponge, and made her scrub the letters away. This was the start of the controversial moments that would pepper Marshas writing life.Despite being pressured by her mother to study medicine and become the first doctor in the family, Lewis desires were rooted in the written word. She spent all her spare time writing songs, poems and stories. In 1993, she met Betty Shabazz at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn, and she encouraged Lewis to follow her dreams. Shortly following, Lewis wrote her first novella, Gravel, Paper and Glass, and began an endless array of personal writing projects, fine-tuning her craft.In 2003, Marsha finished penning a book entitled, G-Spot Chronicles , which immediately put her on the map with book readers and filmmakers, all before the book would see a printing press. For this book, her penname is FACESITTER. While publishers and agents were hesitant to touch the book, filmmakers Rodney Parnther and Roderick Giles of Clarendon Entertainment, asked her if they could produce films for the first two chapters. Marsha gladly accepted, which made her the first writer in history, to have short films or otherwise, created from an unpublished book. G-Spot Chronicles can be reviewed and purchased at iUniverse.com.
By 2005, one of the films Clarendon Entertainment produced, The Marriage Counselor was competing in the 2005 Urban World Film Festival. Both films adapted from the book are currently available for purchase, as part of a new incentive called New Black Media (http://www.urbanslam.com).Now a mother of two, Lewis not only continues to write books and attempt to collaborate with filmmakers to make films and/or cable network programming, but is composing music, to coincide with her material. She aspires to become the founder of her own multimedia company now in development, Koné Productions. I'd like to meet people who want to make films of the erotic nature, producers, directors, other erotic authors, actors, models who want to act in something provocative, people who want to give donations to the effort to create the first Black erotic series to hit this planet, and folks who like the book and accompanying music. I'd also like to refer people to my music page, which has music I specifically compose for film: "CLICK HERE."
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