One of the biggest tests of this to date came with my story, "On the Red Hills of Georgia," which posted last week at Every Night Erotica. I've written about all kinds of things, but race always seemed too delicate, too dangerous, too easy to get wrong.
But like sex itself, if you're not willing to get it wrong, you're going to be boring for the rest of your life. And while this story has a serious subject and message, it's got lots of sex, too. Here's an excerpt:
Maureen shifted uncomfortably. She had hoped for a huge cock the night she’d met Kareem at a club. But she still wouldn’t have given her number to just anyone–or, at least, she didn’t think so.
Kareem pursed his lips and lay back down. “Baby, people like what they like. I don’t know if we can control that. Maybe when I see you’re an Asian girl, there’s a bunch of stuff I expect with that. Maybe you’re doing the same thing to me. But it’s been a year, and I think I see the person you are, too. You know?”
His words made sense, but what he’d made her discover inside herself had her burning with shame. She tried to find a comfortable position. She couldn’t bring herself to face him right now, or to hold him.
He sighed. “You think too much, Maureen.” He turned her toward him, running his hands up and down her spine, parting her legs, wrapping them around his waist.
The best part of Kareem’s body was actually his tongue, not his cock. On their first date, he’d put a cherry stem from her drink into his mouth. A moment later, he showed it to her on his tongue, tied in a perfect knot.
He slid down her body. Her cunt had already gotten wet at some point, and her juices trailed up his chest until he sank his face into her folds. He handled her easily, one hand gripping her ass and the other feeding fingers into her cunt–one, then two, then three. She clenched around his fingers while he traced his tongue in patterns over her clit with exquisite, teasing patience.
Eventually, she came hard enough to forget her worries.
Read the rest here.