Friday, December 4, 2015

IT'S HERE - NEW RELEASE "DeathMyth" is FREE on Amazon Kindle from December 5th through 9th

DeathMyth FREE

http://amzn.to/1OHPCrf

NEW RELEASE
5-star rated Urban Fantasy is FREE December 5th thru 9th
http://www.amazon.com/DeathMyth-Metaphysical-D…/…/B0173PS05Q
Death Myth - A Review
By Yvonne Erwin on November 19, 2015
I was immediately taken in by the author's lyrical writing style. How she wove such a pattern of mystique, madness, heaven, hell, and beauty resonated with me. "I am a black hole," Stella said. That one line blew me away. I can understand how Dr. Leo was slowly taken in by her madness, entranced with it, how he danced around the edges before plunging in, revealing the greatest of human weakness - vulnerability, wanting to believe. Great story. Satisfying ending. Bravo, D.L. Osment!


Thursday, December 3, 2015

Ruling Passion

Please enjoy one of the songs from my musical play. Music by Dennis Chandler. Lyrics by moi.

Thrill


Entire Book I CANNES is now live at www.dlosment.com

My Author Website

The entire book I CANNES - Sections 1 through 15 is now live at www.dlosment.com. Enjoy and let me know what you think.


Sunday, November 29, 2015

The Absolutely True Marlon Brando Ghost Story

I Don't Believe It Myself

You might want to wander over to one of my other blogs and read this story.

Peace out.


Don't forget SKETCHES OF SPAIN is FREE until 3 am EST Monday

My Author's Website

I CANNES - Section 9 - Miguel Makes Contact - is live at www.dlosment.com. Both of these books are about to be published by a for real publisher and this is your last opportunity to read them for free.


#ICANNES9

I love this photograph by the very talented Andrea Claire Maio

Baci Finds a Stick

Saturday, November 28, 2015

SKETCHES OF SPAIN - FREE on Amazon Kindle - November 28th and 29th

The passionate love story that blossomed in "I CANNES" explodes in "SKETCHES OF SPAIN". Naughty and very, very nice.
FREE for two days - November 28th and 29th http://amzn.to/1InTfMq
5.0 out of 5 stars Sketches of Spain
By Yvonne Erwin
This review is from: Sketches of Spain (Paperback)
When Lucy returns from a film shoot in Indiana, eager to see her infant daughter, the last words she ever thought she would hear are, "Estrella is upstairs with her father." Couldn't be. Shouldn't be. But is. And she can't believe how much she still wants Miguel, has always wanted him, and will never stop wanting him.
With those few words, Lucy and Miguel embark on a new chapter in their lives, a concoction of erotic with a splash of domesticity, as they begin their lives as parents and still lovers. They're clever together, funny, smart and oh so sexy. What a romp it is from their reunion to their marriage, to the very end of the book.
This sequel to I Cannes will keep you on the edge of your seat to the very last page which I won't spoil, but it was a surprise to this reader. I literally could not put this book down until I knew what happens next

I CANNES - Section 8 - is live on www.dlosment.com - The Cannes adventure begins

My Author Website

#ICANNES8



Friday, November 27, 2015

SKETCHES OF SPAIN is FREE on Amazon Kindle November 28th and 29th

Buy It Now


The passionate love story that blossomed in "I CANNES" explodes in "SKETCHES OF SPAIN". Naughty and very, very nice.
http://amzn.to/1InTfMq
5.0 out of 5 stars Sketches of Spain
By Yvonne Erwin
This review is from: Sketches of Spain (Paperback)
When Lucy returns from a film shoot in Indiana, eager to see her infant daughter, the last words she ever thought she would hear are, "Estrella is upstairs with her father." Couldn't be. Shouldn't be. But is. And she can't believe how much she still wants Miguel, has always wanted him, and will never stop wanting him.

With those few words, Lucy and Miguel embark on a new chapter in their lives, a concoction of erotic with a splash of domesticity, as they begin their lives as parents and still lovers. They're clever together, funny, smart and oh so sexy. What a romp it is from their reunion to their marriage, to the very end of the book.
This sequel to I Cannes will keep you on the edge of your seat to the very last page which I won't spoil, but it was a surprise to this reader. I literally could not put this book down until I knew what happens next.


I CANNES - Section 7 - is live on http://www.dlosment.com/#!blog/c112v

I Cannes - Section 7


#ICANNES7

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Read "The Michael Thing" in its naughty entirety at www.dlosment.com

My New Author's Website
I've decided to post my 5-star rated, two-volume "The Michael Thing" in its naughty entirety, a new section each day, beginning today. It is on the blog at www.dlosment.com or you can follow the link above. Each section will be tagged - ICANNES1, for example - for your ease in finding it. I'd love to know what you think.


Thursday, November 19, 2015

Hot New Release - DeathMyth

Woke up this morning to an amazing review on Amazon:

Death Myth - A Review
By Yvonne Erwin on November 19, 2015
Format: Paperback
I was immediately taken in by the author's lyrical writing style. How she wove such a pattern of mystique, madness, heaven, hell, and beauty resonated with me. "I am a black hole," Stella said. That one line blew me away. I can understand how Dr. Leo was slowly taken in by her madness, entranced with it, how he danced around the edges before plunging in, revealing the greatest of human weakness - vulnerability, wanting to believe. Great story. Satisfying ending. Bravo, D.L. Osment!

amazon.com/DeathMyth-Metaphysical-D-L-Osment/dp/1517631513

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

A Murdered Child; An Advent Calendar



When you've had a child murdered, your life takes on an annual cycle dictated by his life and death. For the first few years, it's all you can think of: "_____ years ago, I was pregnant with him." "... I was in labor." "... I was saying hello to my beautiful baby." He said his first word. He learned to walk. A relentless kaleidoscope of aborted anniversaries becomes the calendar in your year.

November 18th was the last day of "The Year of Waiting for David to Die." I didn't know it at the time, but he did. I am driven to share the lessons I learned that year, to somehow spread the word that there is a Universe out there of which we are all apart; that we live before we are born and after we die; that there is magic in this Universe that we all can access; and knowledge that we crave is available to us.

If you've read my books, you know I've told this story before. (See above where I say "I am driven to share".)

It was a January, SoCal day. One of David's friends had a birthday party at Venice Beach. I went to pick him up. All the way home, my older son regaled me with stories of the three dolphins who swam with him - swam away then back again. He was thrilled.

As we walked into our apartment - he walked through ahead of me - he said, "And I learned I am going to die before the end of this year." I demanded further explanation, but he insisted that he wasn't allowed to tell me any more. Allowed? By whom? That wasn't allowed either. The sum of the information that I was "allowed" was that my oldest son would be dead by the end of the year. Oh, I forgot. And that this had to happen because "I was killed in the Viet Nam War and came back too soon."

None of my finely honed skills of emotional blackmail or intimidation did any good. My 15-year-old son was, for the first time in his life, obedient to whomever it was had ordained that I was to remain ignorant. David instantly accepted the decree. He refused to go to school. No big deal, right? Any kid his age would have welcomed an excuse to stay home. He also refused to take Drivers' Ed and apply for a license when he turned 16. Now that was a big deal.

Literally, every single thing that happened that year was shaped by David's imminent death.

I think he knew Friday, November 18th would be his last day. In my last conversation with him, I made him promise to go to the community college which had agreed to accept him as a student even though he had missed half of the eleventh grade so he could sign his application. ("February 6th - _____ years since David would have started college.") He laughed and said he'd do it on Monday "but that's not going to happen, Mom."

Here I am - in the annual countdown to David's death. Hours since my last conversation with him. Hours until his death. Hours until Sgt. Nelson knocks on my door at 6:20 am on November 19th. My own special advent calendar.


Wednesday, November 4, 2015

SKETCHES OF SPAIN is FREE ON KINDLE from November 5th through November 7th

AT LAST -- HUNDREDS OF YOU ENJOYED "I CANNES" ON ITS FREE DAYS - HERE IS THE 5-STAR SEQUEL "SKETCHES OF SPAIN"
FREE FROM NOVEMBER 5TH THROUGH 7TH. ENJOY!!!
http://www.amazon.com/Sketches-Spain-Michael-T…/…/B01770XZUC
5.0 out of 5 stars Give this a try
By Sara Knight on October 27, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition
After reading the first book in the series by DL Osment, I just had to get the second instalment "Sketches of Spain". The erotically-charged romance of Lucy Major and Miguel Velasquez continues. I can't say too much about the story without injecting spoilers but things start happening right from the first chapter, as the story delves into their past, present and future. The characters Lucy and Miguel are so meant to be together. They are so well developed you feel every emotion they are feeling throughout the story. It appears Miguel has never forgotten about Lucy just the same as she hasn't forgotten about him. Lucy is a very mysterious character- not only to herself, but to those she is close to. The story moves rapidly along and while the ending is a surprise, the getting there certainly keeps your interest. Very impressed with this author and will look for other offerings from her. Give this a try - I think you will enjoy it.


A Sexcerpt from "SKETCHES OF SPAIN"



I was playing in the wall of closets when I came upon a dress I’d purchased knowing it ticked all the boxes for Miguel. It had buttons down the front from a daring neckline through a flouncy short skirt.
I changed and wandered out to where Miguel was busy being magazine publisher. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing all the jobs I pay other people to do. What are you doing?”
“I have nothing to do but you.”
“I can’t.”
“I want you and when I want you, I fucking get to have you. Understand?”
God, it was fun to see Miguel try to figure out how to get this under control. “Honey, I – ”
“I don’t want you working now.” I took his laptop out of his hands and set it on the floor.
I climbed on his lap and ripped his shirt open. Buttons went flying. I ran my nails down his chest. Then again. This time, longer, slower, harder.
I slowly unbuttoned my dress. I had nothing on under it. I lay back against Miguel’s thighs and fondled my nipples as he watched intently. My knees rested against his chest, and I rubbed them against his nipples. Those nipples were getting harder. My pussy was right up against the growing bulge in his khakis.
My nipples were so hard. I lifted each of my breasts to my lips and sucked on each nipple in turn.
I let my fingers wander down to my pussy and stroked and caressed myself. Threw my head back. Sucked my fingers. Breathed harder and harder as I made myself come.
“You’re operating under a delusion.” Miguel somehow twisted so I was beneath him. Before I knew it, his pants were around his ankles and he knelt between my legs, his cock in his hand. He stroked the head of his cock back and forth across my clit, used it to massage me to orgasm. “You belong to me. When I want to fuck you, I get to fuck you. Don’t play with fire, my darling.”
He held my hands above my head. He bit at my nipples. He pile-drove his cock into me until he came.
“Now, run away while I work.”


Sunday, November 1, 2015

Today is a Wonderful Day for Sex in the Beautiful Catalan City of Girona



Excerpt from "SKETCHES OF SPAIN"



Miguel was asleep when I tucked Sofia into the convertible bed in the living room and joined him in our bedroom.
Not a sight I saw often, my turbo-charged, late to bed, early to rise, husband. He was lit by the full moon as he lay on his back, one arm out-flung. He reminded me of a painting, but I couldn’t remember which.
He would know.
When I first arrived, a blushing bride, I suggested we pull the bed out from the wall of uncurtained windows so I could get in without flashing my bare ass to the population of Girona. Miguel would have no part of it. He wanted me to climb over him. This time, as I did so, he grabbed me around the waist.
“Lying in wait?”
“Hunh-unh. Sleep.”
Well, his eyes were closed. His grip was like iron.
“Sweetheart …”
“Um-hmmm.”
“What’s the painting – famous – nude man with his arm outstretched?”
“Adam in the Sistine Chapel.”
“Oh.”
He pried an eye open. “Why?”
“Want to fuck?”
“Answering question with question?”
“It’s the company I keep. Want to fuck?”
“What are you offering me?” He was hard.
“What were you expecting for ninety-five grand?”
“You wet.”
“Sweetheart, you could have had that for fifty.”
“Fuck, that makes me so hot. I’ve never had a prostitute. How much money do I have around here? Where’s our emergency fund?” He threw me off on my back.
I pulled him down on top of me. “I don’t care how much money you have; you’re not spending any of it on a hooker.”
“Even if it’s you?”
 “Be a good boy and I’ll tell you a story.”
God, I loved the way he moved! He buried himself between my legs.
His hands held mine out and up. He fucked me hard and fast, made me spasm around his cock. He stopped. “What do you want to tell me?”
“About Sofia Toe-Nibbler.”
“At that lunch, she told me sex with you was going to kill me. You said, ‘Why are you still alive, Sofia Toe-Nibbler?’ Your question intrigued me far more than her warning.”
“God, you men are all alike.”
“I thought I was not interchangeable.”
“Do you want to hear the story?”
“That’s the story I was too drunk to remember?”
“Do you want to hear the story?”
“Si, senyora.”
A thought hit my brain and dragged another orgasm aftershock with it. I clenched my teeth and bent Miguel’s fingers backward with its intensity. He freed his hands and dropped to support himself on his elbows.
“I use these fingers, you know. What the hell was that?’
I fought to catch my breath. “A realization.”
“Of what?”
“It’s so …” I started to laugh.
“Keep laughing when I’m inside you and you can tell me anything.”
I kissed each of his fingers. “This just gets perfecter and perfecter.”
“Your first language is what?”
“You can either be a brat or you can have an impossible to repeat sexual experience.”
I felt waves of anticipation converge in that cock inside me.
There were things to consider. I turned my head and found the full moon. All was clear. “Get off me.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Don’t get all hidalgo.”
“Gentilhome.”
“I meant hidalgo. Move. Move. For once in your life, do as you’re told.” I pushed at him. He rolled over on his side, up on one elbow, the full moon behind him, his face in shadow. I jumped out of bed.
I slipped into the froth of pale blue ruffles Sofia and Nicky bought for my 47th birthday. It whispered around me as I ran down the hall to the living room.
Sofia, too, slept in moonlight. The synchronicity made me dance with joy. I lifted Miguel’s bottle of Patron from its shelf.
When I returned, he hadn’t moved. “Back to the headboard,” I ordered.
He took his time. The moonlight now on my side, I could see the amusement in his eyes, the half-smile.
I uncorked the tequila and handed it to him. “Not the whole bottle; enough for ambiance.”
He put it to his lips and swallowed. I took it from him and swallowed some myself before I put the bottle on the floor.
I lay next to him and stroked wherever my fingers wanted to stroke.
“Saturday night – Saturday night? It might have been Sunday night – ”
“Who cares?” My darling seemed impatient.
“Back to our hotel – ”
“We were in Girona Sunday night.”
“Okay. Saturday night. Hotel – the scene of so many of our crimes – you were drunk on tequila. There was a little left. You clutched the bottle in your left hand and me in your right.
“In that mirrored elevator, you asked if alarms would go off if you stopped it. Visions of you reflected naked from many angles as you made love to me washed through me and I dropped to my knees as the door opened. You pulled me to my feet.
“When we reached our door, I was so turned on I couldn’t punch in the code. You stood right, tight, up against me. You reached around and punched in the code and I thought, ‘How does he even know it?’”
“Do you want to know?” Miguel asked as I paused for a breath.
I couldn’t believe he’d said it. “Are you not enjoying this?”
“My darling wife, surely you can tell I’m enjoying this. Más tequila, por favor.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“Aren’t we speaking Spanish this evening?”
I handed him the bottle. “This is what happened. It’s so funny.”
“This?”
“I told you a story and you kept interrupting.”
Miguel handed me the tequila and put his finger to his lips.
“I put on this peignoir with its matching tap pants and chemise. I told you to sit on the bed as I told you to sit on this bed. I told you the story of Sofia Toe-Nibbler.
“We were in Las Vegas and decided to shop for lingerie. We tried everything on. Dressed up for each other. Strutted our stuff. She bought this silver see-through bra and thong,. It was a demi-bra so it barely covered her nipples.
“I chose a copper-colored corset, one-piece. See, this is what happens when I get to pack only one bag: I don’t bring the naughty lingerie.”
“Who’s interrupting now? Buy more.”
“Oh, yes.” Those images caught me. I ran my nails over my thighs.
“Llucia, tell me. No interruptions.”
“The corset was cut so it curved under my breasts and came to a point between them. It laced down the sides with … what do they call those things … the round brass …”
“Eyelets.” Miguel’s chest rose and fell in deep, calming, get the hell under control, breaths.
“Eyelets. We went back to the hotel and put on our new clothes. We did each other’s hair and makeup, smoked a bunch of pot, got out-of-this-world stoned, and went to bed.”
I met Miguel’s eyes. “This, by the way, is when you took my peignoir off me and used it to play with yourself.”
Miguel knelt and kissed me hard, pulled the peignoir off as he did so. The sight of my beautiful husband pleasuring himself was so engrossing that he had to prompt me. “Oh, my God! You were saying …”
“You want me to continue?”
“Fuck, yes!”
“Okay … I lay on the bed in this haze of lust and pot when I felt an amazing sensation in my toes. I looked down and Sofia sat on the footboard of the bed. It was narrow, maybe six inches wide, and she balanced there with her legs spread and bit my toes one after the other. It felt ...” I shivered and shook my head. There were no words.
“That turned me on so I started to crawl down to her. She spread her hands on the footboard and leaned forward. Her breasts fell out of her bra. She has these beautiful pink nipples – ”
“Damn it, Lucy, if you don’t get over here right now.” Miguel threw the peignoir against the wall of windows.
“That’s as far as I got the last time. But you have to lie back and bend your knees.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then gave in.
I sat on his cock, my back to him, took his right foot, and bit his toes one by one.
“Oh, fucking God, that does feel incredible,” Miguel moaned.
“Don’t come yet.” I twisted to look at him.
“I don’t know if I …” He shook his head.
“There’s more to the story.”
Miguel clenched his body as hard as he could. “Okay.”
I lay back against him. “Give me your hands.”
He did.
“You held me to you by the shoulders … yeah, just like that … which tilts my pelvis up …”
“Fuck!”
“The phone rang and, for some insane reason, oh, that’s right, I couldn’t get you to focus, that’s how you ended up tied up. Don’t get distracted by that. Stay with me. You handed me the phone. It was Sofia and I told her what we were doing – ”
“Oh, God, no!”
“Focus, Miguel, focus. And she said – fuck me – that’s not what she said, that’s what I’m saying. She said, ‘ask him if he wants me to come over.’ So I put the phone to your ear and she asked you. That’s when you said, ‘no.’”
Miguel wrapped one arm across my shoulders and reached down with the other to massage my clit. He raised and lowered his hips to pierce me over and over until he came amid waves of me coming around him.
He caught his breath. “You scared me for a minute.”
I started to sit up. He held me tight. “Don’t move. I like this. So you tied me up?”
“I tied my sash around your mouth because you would not shut up.”
“How did you manage that?”
“You were drunk. You were at my mercy. It didn’t stay on long.”
“But I don’t understand. You know how to make me stop talking. Why would you do that?”
That was a good question. “I could have had you eat my pussy while I told you this.”
“Twice.”
I waved my finger in the air. “But then …” He grabbed my finger.
“Yes, baby.”
“I couldn’t have watched you play with yourself and that doesn’t happen nearly as much.”
I’d never felt Miguel’s laugh against my back like that. Deep belly laugh. Serious laugh.
“What?” I demanded.
He guided my finger down between my legs, used it to play with my clit.
“What are you laughing about?”
When he had made me come, he spilled the truth. “I never make myself come. I save that for you.”
“How can you … we have a lot of sex.”
“Do we have enough sex?”
The evil, evil man I was married to sucked the juices off my finger and I knew his answer to that question was a resounding ‘no’.
“You wear those things,” he noted, “like that flirty skirt – ”
“What flirty skirt?”
“That you wore today. As you ran out of the restaurant, it danced around your thighs. Definitely something that required tribute.”
“While we were shopping or when you went to bed?”
“Or?”
“Miguel!”
“I’ve told you I’m an animal.”
“But I sucked your cock.”
“Which also required review and contemplation.”