Leo Schulz's Blog

Eria Heke: Guys buy the book and read it, on par with once were warriors could be even better, who cares if u r mk, bp, or MM, it's a compelling story about love in a gang environment


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Dolly Doll: Love in the Backblocks

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The author has made the setting as vivid as possible and I enjoyed the juxtaposition of the seemingly idyllic flashbacks and the harsh reality that Dolly and Freddie find themselves in shortly after we meet them. The book doesn't shy away from the realities of their situation, and whilst some parts may be uncomfortable to read, it remains compelling throughout. I liked how major issues are so tastefully handled in this story.


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Dolly Doll: Love in the Backblocks

Viet Nam, Christopher Marlowe, Zen and Harleys: Read this Book!

Leo Schulz is a terrific writer. This book has little to do with Vientiane, but a lot to do with what it means to have a mid-life crisis. The story is at times poignant and at others, laugh out loud funny. If you're looking for a guidebook to Laos this is not the book--the story focuses more on Viet Nam than anywhere else, but it's no more about S.E. Asia than Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is about Harley repair. Yes, it's that kind of book. Oh, and did I mention Christopher Marlowe? A casual study of his plays is counterpoint for aimless travels. This book is entertaining and edifying: you won't be disappointed.


Vientiane: An Abrupt Journey Through Sex, Money, Guilt and Incomprehension

Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness






Leo Schulz


Nine (Donna)


In the morning Donna called me into the bathroom and told me to sponge her body. She fondled my sac and my bottom and touched my nipples as I cleaned her. She told me Stewart had liked me and wanted to see me again. I helped her from the bath and rubbed her with a towel. She waited while I dried her in every crevice, opening her legs, raising her arms, letting me dry between her fingers and toes.

She was not tall but her body was athletic, sculpted, her skin lightly tanned, her hair a beautiful walnut brown. Her breasts and bottom were small and firm, her belly flat, her mound and crease waxed clean as glass.

We went to her room and she lay out on the bed. I lighted a stick of incense, put on a tape of the Commodores and sprinkled her with a warm oil. I started on her toes, kissing them, biting, working around each one with my fingers, then the soles of each of her feet. She lay still, her eyes closed, silent. I did her hands, kissing and sucking her fingers, working them with my teeth and hands, then moved on to her legs, her arms, her shoulders. I spent a long time on her back and neck before turning her over to do the front of her body. I stroked her breasts and gently pinched her nipples. I ran my hands down her belly, long, slow, brushing movements.

At the end I pinched and licked her crease, opening it out layer by layer with my tongue, finishing by pulling back the hood at the top and licking her clitoris with the tip of my tongue.
She made no sound and didn’t move, but let me bring her to fulfillment. I knew she was there only by the slightest tremor in her body. It was a strangely non-sexual experience. She was passive but in control. She didn’t touch me. I didn’t get hard and I didn’t expect or desire to climax.

I helped her dress, pulling on her panties, holding up her bra and fixing the hooks, gathering her pantyhose and drawing them up her legs, helping her on with her dress and doing up the zip. I sat on the bed watching while she did her makeup.

There was a bach not far away where a family from Auckland spent their summers. They had a son, Charles, who lived in Sydney and no longer came every year. Their daughter, Christine, was a year or so older than Mike and me.

At night, after a dinner of heated-over pie and mashed potatoes, we took the Chrysler, picked up Christine, and went to the hot pools. Mike always insisted on paying extra to go into the private pools, but we never went in together. Mike and I sat in one pool and Christine in the one adjoining.

I didn’t think it anything special when Christine gave me her number and suggested we keep in touch in Auckland. It was weeks, it might have been months, before I contacted her. She was keen to meet and we arranged to go together to a school concert. I picked her up in my mother’s Triumph Herald. I was wearing a faux-suede jacket and chequered polyester flares. She wore a full-length, low-cut, black crushed-velvet gown.

She looked a lot better than I remembered. After the concert, driving her home, I pulled into a garage to get some petrol. While we were waiting it occurred to me to kiss her on the mouth. She let me do it, keeping her lips apart and bringing her tongue to mine.

I wanted to do it more and drove to the bottom of Waipuna Road where there was an unlighted track leading down to a jetty. As children we had ridden our bikes there to play on a rope that hung from a branch stretching across the water.

We kissed for a long time. Christine suggested we get into the back seat. It was a small car and we were still cramped. I touched her breast. She held her shoulders back for me. I pushed back the straps of her dress and pulled it down to look at her bra, which I tried to unhook. I couldn’t do it and was surprised at her eagerness to do it for me. I knew then she would let me touch her crease.

She did more. She let me strip her naked. Then she started to take off my clothes, saying: why is it always the boy who takes off the girl’s clothes? The sense of her unbuttoning my shirt was intense and wonderful.

It was the first time anyone touched me. We kissed and petted and she worked her way around to get me inside her. I was not sure what was happening. I had never had an ejaculation. I didn’t know what more to do. After a while she eased me off and we got dressed and I drove her home.

http://amzn.to/cardenio

Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness

A new review of Vientiane on Amazon --

http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R3LVXG...

Vientiane: An Abrupt Journey Through Sex, Money, Guilt and Incomprehension

Excerpt from a review by Margaret Picky, an Amazon Top 500 reviewer ...


"Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness" is actually an erotic work, but a very well-written one. I did read it through, despite the sometimes shocking content, or maybe because of it.

This book is definitely not pornographic, and the tone is tempered by the straightforward and sometimes formal language and the use of the past tense. There is little detailed description of sexual acts as the focus is on the situations, experiences, and thoughts surrounding them.

http://amzn.to/1hLlKu5

Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness

Vientiane is free on Kindle until Boxing Day ... what better antidote to Christmas?

Vientiane: An Abrupt Journey Through Sex, Money, Guilt and Incomprehension



Two funny, charming London men set off on the jaunt of a lifetime, a tour of South East Asia - Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia. They set off with only a large-scale map and a copy of a play by Christopher Marlowe, determined to go where chance takes them.

It starts with beer, drugs, beaches and great breakfasts... but soon they are drawn into the dark side of Asian tourism, the hostess bars, brothels and sex villages. They are not nearly saintly enough to resist temptation but neither are they so numb as not to see the cruelty of what they are doing... .

Cardenio - Days and Nights in the Wilderness

An Exemplary Novel

Leo Schulz

Three (My Mother)


My parents had jobs and were gone from about eight in the morning until half past six in the evening. I loved to be in the house alone. I took days off school to dress in my mother’s clothes. She had nice things, including a blonde wig. I took great care to dress as close as possible to a real woman. I often wore her pantyhose but she had suspenders and stockings and I liked to wear them too. I stuffed her bra with tissue, wore a petticoat and made myself up as fully as I could, foundation, mascara, eyeliner, lipstick. I tried different dresses and combinations of skirts and blouses. I put on her jewellery, a string of pearls and a gold bracelet.

Once I was dressed I paraded myself in front of the mirror. I imitated the way women walk and look, the way they stand and sit. I imagined men being interested in me, wanting to kiss me and touch me, feeling my breasts and between my legs.

I loved doing this and wanted to have female clothes of my own.

After a time, longing for more sensation, I went to my father’s tool-room and lighted on a wooden-handled wrench. When I had dressed and worked myself up with posing for the mirror, I raised the skirt, bared my buttocks and slowly and firmly penetrated myself with the handle of the wrench.

http://amzn.to/cardenio

Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness

Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness

Two (Sandra)



I was twelve and we were on holiday in the Bay of Islands. A family arrived to stay in the flat next to ours. They had two daughters, one about my age and the other about seven or eight. My first sight of the older girl was when she climbed down from the boat they had in tow. I was struck and could not stop looking at her. She had breasts and hips and thick white-blond hair.

I liked to dress showy. I wore bandanas and fake sunglasses, primary colours, big floral shorts. I didn’t expect her to speak to me or want to spend time together, but she did. Her name was Sandra. One afternoon we went over to a secluded dell near a cliff-top overlooking the ocean. We kissed for a long time. She let me take off her tee-shirt and bikini-top and kiss and fondle her breasts. I tried to feel her crease but she held my arm firm.

When we were walking back to the flats she said: I knew I would like you.

I had never thought that sex would have anything to do with liking someone.




Cardenio: Days and Nights in the Wilderness