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  CHECK OUT THE LONG AWAITED SEQUEL TO “Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed”

  THE TRILOGY

  Temptation (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed)

  Confession (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed)

  Grace (Under Mr. Nolan’s Bed)

  “It’s a bit like Flowers in the Attic meets American Horror Story: Asylum meets Eyes Wide Shut meets Peyton Place and Mad Men.”

  This edgy, page-turning saga isn’t just a trilogy, it’s an enthralling reading experience, a non-stop roller coaster ride of emotion that will keep you on the edge of your seat, giving you cliffhanger after cliffhanger until the final, jaw-dropping climax.

  You will be on pins and needles as Selena Kitt plays cat and mouse with you, the reader. You’ll find yourself asking—am I reading a romance? A coming-of-age tale of sexual awakening in the Puritanical, repressed late 1950’s? A commentary on the power and corruption in the Catholic Church?

  Yes, yes, and yes! The mystery and secrets revealed in this new Selena Kitt Classic will have you praying for forgiveness before it’s all over, but in the end, will restore your faith in the triumph of the human spirit and the overwhelming power of love.

  Selena loves hearing from readers!

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  A Twisted Bard's Tale

  Hannah's Choice

  Sibling Lust: In the Barn

  Connections

  Taken

  PLUS EXCLUSIVE to Newsletter Subscribers:

  MOXIE

  By Selena Kitt

  High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!

  YANK

  By Selena Kitt

  Just-graduated David has been brightening up his gray Surrey, England days with the porn collection hidden in his parents' shed, but when he finds that their American foreign exchange student, Dawn, has discovered his magazines, things really begin to heat up.

  David’s parents insist that he look for a job, but Dawn has the week off and is determined to work on her tan. Distracted David finds himself increasingly tempted by their seductive, older foreign exchange student, who makes it very clear what she wants.

  In spite of the Study Abroad program’s policy that no “relations” are allowed between a student and anyone in their host family—not to mention David’s mother’s insistence that they treat each other as “brother and sister,”—Dawn’s teasing ways slowly break down the barrier between them until they both give in to their lust.

  But what are they going to do about the feelings that have developed between them in the meantime?

  Warnings: This title contains erotic situations, graphic language, anal sex, and makes mention of pornography, hammers, interesting uses for rubber bands, dungarees, bikinis, and lots of Britishisms you may or may not have to look up.

  Note to readers: This story appeared in another, now rather infamous book of mine titled Naughty Bits. Yank, previously titled Foreign Exchange, is a slightly less naughty, but no less sexy re-telling of those events--updated and redressed for your reading pleasure.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About Selena Kitt

  Bonus Excerpt!

  More Books from Selena Kitt

  More from Excessica

  Chapter One

  If my mum and dad found out about my collection of porn in the shed, I knew they'd both kick-off and I'd be sleeping under a bench in the Underground, buying papers to keep me warm. For now though, I was buying papers looking for a job. My parents were on at me to find something—and fast. I didn't get why I had to figure it all out, what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. What was the rush?

  Dawn was the problem. Dawn was ruining my life.

  Our foreign exchange student, Dawn, was here on some Study Abroad thing. Not that she was really a stranger—Dawn lived across the street from us when I was a kid. We played Five Stones, Red Letter and Conkers on the playground together until she moved away. She was four years older than me, bossy and annoying, but we’d managed to form some sort of friendship at the time.

  Now she was back—although her ambassador parents were still doing something in America. Dawn had called my mum and asked specifically to be housed with us. I think she had some sort of nostalgia about the old neighborhood. I crowed about having to share my room, so Mum had turned the office into a place for her. Of course, I’d remembered a gangly blonde with braces and freckles, but the Dawn that showed up on our doorstep had grown up into someone else entirely. In fact, she’d grown up so much, I sort of regretted complaining about sharing my room—but Dawn was like a sister to me, really. I mean, we’d practically grown up together.

  Not much had changed, aside from the physical. She was still a brat most of the time, kind of stuck-up and snooty. I thought she would go home during the summer. She was supposed to go back to America for her last year of university, but my parents had made an agreement with hers so she could stay in Surrey for another year.

  My parents kept pressuring me to be “more like Dawn.” What, did they want me to get a job at a local health club for the summer and do nothing but work on my tan and my physique? Because that’s all I could see Dawn accomplishing at the moment.

  I had honestly hoped to spend some time loafing off—er, finding myself—after I finished school, but no. Apparently, Dawn got the welcome mat, but me, their own flesh and blood son, I got threatened with the boot. I didn't get it.

  I shut the back door and looked up at the sky. We didn't get days like this in Surrey very often—so bright and blue and clear. We spent most of our time walking around in a grey haze, looking up at a gauzy film over the sun. Days like today made me remember being a kid, endless summers with no responsibilities, no cares, no worries. So much for that, I thought, flopping the paper down on the patio table and glaring at it.

  I sat in one of the folding chairs and took a highlighter out of my pocket. The first thing I circled was a construction company. Maybe I could find something working outside—get a tan, build some muscle. That might lead to getting a girlfriend, I thought hopefully. That got me to thinking about Julie Entwistle, the girl rumoured to wear nothing under her skirts in sixth form. She sat right next to me in English, but I never did see anything—not that I didn't try. For a girl who was supposed to be a slag, she sure kept her legs together a lot.

  Thinking about Julie's skirt, and more importantly, what might be found under her skirt, made my jeans uncomfortably tight. I shifted in the chair, shoving at my crotch and turning the page of the newspaper, re-focusing my efforts. The ad that caught my eye read: Exotic dancers wanted to perform at private, solo, and bachelor parties.

  I snorted—so much for trying to focus. Now my cock was officially hard. I glanced over at the shed, thinking of the boards my dad stored in there that "might come in handy" some day. They c
ame in handy for me anyway—that’s where I hid my porn collection.

  I folded the paper up and tucked it under my arm, heading toward the shed. My dad's toolbox doubled as a step stool and was perfect for sitting on. I dug under the boards, pulling out my meagre collection—two Playboys and a Penthouse, although the latter was a "Letters" edition and the stories were pretty hot. The last one was my favourite, a magazine called Yank, which was way more hardcore than the others. I'd never seen another one before or since, although believe me, I'd looked.

  I opened it up to my favourite page, and there she was. Blond, although clearly dyed because her pubes were dark, a full-breasted and full-bodied girl—really unusual for most spreads nowadays where the models were like stick figures. This woman was, well... a woman.

  The next best part was the layout itself—a girl all alone on her bed looking at porn. Did girls do that? I loved how she rolled over and spread her legs, revealing that there was nothing under her skirt. She started masturbating, and would you look at that, next page, here comes her boyfriend. And the next thing you know, she's sucking him off. God, how I wished it was that easy. Hi there, whoops, didn't mean to interrupt, but since I'm here, zzziiiip, flop, here's this hard cock you can suck...

  I unzipped my jeans and tugged them down a little, slipping my hand into my boxers. Nowhere near as big as the guy positioning his cock at her pink little hole (I loved that picture, her fingers spreading herself open for him like that. Gah! Did girls do that?) but respectable enough—nice and thick, and most definitely stiff. She did it for me, every time. I started masturbating, my eyes skipping from the wet pink of her cunt to her thick, dark pink nipples. I spent some time there, wanking away and staring at the slit between her legs. She spread it open with both hands, and there was a little hole there, right where I wanted to slide my cock, a small dark hollow leading to heaven.

  I got myself good and worked up before starting to turn the next page, because it was my favourite, and it was the image I always came to—her arse up in the air, his cum sliding down her arsehole and cunt. I was looking forward to that image, still staring between her legs. I only stopped for a moment, breathless, to turn the page, and I saw something that made my cock jump and my heart race. There was writing in the margin, near the page number. An arrow toward the girl (God, look how that thick cum slid down that pink slit!) and the words, "She looks like me."

  That was Dawn's handwriting—the fat, curly letters, the heart over the "i." Dawn had been looking at my porn? Why, I wondered? If she wanted to get me in trouble, she could have taken it to my mum. That would be just like her. Instead, she’d written in the margins. And what she'd written! I flushed. It was true, the girl looked remarkably like our foreign exchange student—the dyed blonde hair, the full body, the mischievous eyes, the slanted smile—that was Dawn. Was she just making an observation? Was she implying that I lusted after her?

  I didn't have any more time to think about it. Someone was knocking on the shed door! I stood, tucking my cock back in and zipping up, shoving the magazines back under the pile of boards.

  "David!" It was Dawn. Of course, who else? My parents wouldn't be home for hours—it was only ten in the morning.

  "What?" I called, trying to sound impatient. I tucked my paper back under my arm, grabbed a can of insect spray off the shelf and opened the door.

  She was standing there in a white bikini, the flesh of her cleavage spilling over the top. My cock, with barely enough chance to wane as it was, jumped to life again at the sight.

  "Jesus, Dawn!" I made a face. "Put some clothes on.”

  "It's gonna be sunny and warm all day." She put her hands on her hips and drew my eyes there. "I'm spending my time catching rays!"

  "Whatever." I stepped out into the fresh air.

  "What were you doing in there?" She smirked, peering into the dim shed.

  I waved the insect repellant at her. "Big-arse spider out on the patio table."

  "Sure there was." She moved toward the lounge chair where she had spread a towel. How long had she been out here, I wondered?

  I put the can on the table. "There was. It's obviously crawled off somewhere. Maybe it's on your lounge chair."

  She stuck her tongue out at me. "Quit being such a pain in the arse. I'm in a good mood and you're not going to spoil it."

  Dawn positioned her chair, looking up toward the sun as she did, and then crawled on. Her bikini bottoms rode up between her cheeks and I flashed on the picture in Yank that I'd found the writing on—her arse up in the air, cum sliding down her slit. I sat down at the table, putting the paper in my lap to cover my erection.

  "What's got you so perky?" I scowled.

  She was lying on her back now and she lifted her sunglasses to look at me. "It's my first day on holiday, you git! Two whole weeks off work!" She had come here sounding very American, but after a year, she now sounded like any typical bloody bint. She blended right in with the rest of the slags she hung out with.

  I turned my chair away from her, opening my paper back up. My cock was still throbbing and watching her oil herself up out of the corner of my eye wasn't helping. She was slathering lotion all over, rubbing it into the creases, even between her toes. I could smell the stuff, like coconuts, as if a tropical smell was supposed to make you turn darker.

  "You find anything in there yet?" She dropped the lotion next to her chair and leaned back. Her breasts jiggled in the white bikini top when she did, and I couldn't help watching. Seeing real flesh move was different from looking at a picture in a magazine. I found myself wondering what it would feel like to touch her there, just the top of her breast, all shiny from the oil. I flushed.

  "No." I turned my eyes back to the paper. "There's nothing out there."

  "Well, your mum and dad won't let you scrounge off them forever, you know." She threw an arm up over her head.

  "Sod off!" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not the one who's living with someone else’s parents!"

  I stood up, deciding to go into the house. Maybe take another shower. I felt hot and sweaty, although it wasn't really that warm out yet.

  "Hey." Dawn lifted her sunglasses again. Her eyes were soft and so was her smile. "You wanna do something for me?"

  "If it involves lotion and your back, forget it." I reached for the back door.

  She stuck her tongue out. "If you're going in the house...maybe you could bring out one of your dad's bottles of wine?"

  I raised my eyebrows at her. "The good stuff?"

  "Yeah." She grinned. "Why not? Let's celebrate my holiday. You're eighteen now."

  I opened the door, heading into the house. The kitchen was to the right and I threw the paper on the table, squatting down in front of the wine rack. I found a bottle of dad's favourite wine. It was almost full but had been uncorked. I grabbed it, turning back to the door. Dawn was adjusting her straps when I looked out, lifting her breasts as she did. I sighed, going out.

  "Here." I put the bottle next to her chair.

  "Ta," she smiled. I turned to go and she grabbed my arm, lowering her voice. "Come on, David. Don't be mean. Stay and keep me company. Pull up a chair and soak up some sun."

  I pulled a lounge chair over next to hers and adjusted it. From this vantage point, I didn't have to worry about her seeing where my eyes were going—and they were running—up and down the lengths of her legs, over her full hips and soft belly, toward the rise of her breasts. They lingered there, watching her breathe, and my cock felt like it was going to burst. I was going to have to take a very long shower. I kept having to remind myself that she was off-limits. Not that it mattered—most of the time she rebuffed my attempts at friendship, let alone anything else.

  She picked up the bottle, uncorking it. "No glasses?" She turned to smile at me.

  I shrugged. "You want me to go get some?"

  "I don't have the lurgy." She took a swig and held the bottle out to me. "Here."

  I grabbed the bottle and took a taste, making a face. I wasn't mu
ch of a drinker—the stuff tasted awful. I handed it back to her.

  "Aren't you hot?" she asked. "Why don't you strip down to your pants?"

  I flushed. If I stripped, she might see my erection. She slid her sunglasses down her nose, raising her eyebrows.

  "Come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before, you know."

  Well that was true. We’d played naked in a plastic pool when we were kids. Of course, it had been a long time since then.

  I shrugged, unbuttoning my shirt and tossing it over on the table. I stood to undo my jeans and I saw Dawn's eyes move to my crotch as she took another swig of wine. She handed it to me and I took a long swallow, my eyes burning. I took my time, willing my cock into submission. It partially worked. I pushed my jeans down my hips, stepping out of them and laying back on the lounger wearing just my boxers.

  She handed me the wine again and I drank some more, starting to feel the effects already. My head felt lighter.

  "So do you have any interviews?" She took another drink from the wine bottle and passed it.

  "I had one." I took a swig. I was getting used to the taste. "But it was some insurance thing. It was all a bit dodgy."

  "Nothing else?"

  "Can we change the subject?" I glowered at the wine bottle as I held it up to my lips. It glittered in the sun. "I'm tired of talking about 'my future.'"

  She cocked her head at me, frowning. "Poor little bit." She sighed. "Being grown-up sucks."

  "Wish someone would have told me." I shaded my eyes against the sun. It was really bright. "I thought it was gonna be crackin', you know, getting to do whatever you want..."

  She laughed. "I wish." She handed me the bottle again. "I know you'll find something. You just have to keep at it."

  I snorted. "You sound just like my mum. 'You need to try harder, David.'"

  "Let's change the subject," she agreed. "Let's talk about sex."